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Yuan Zong leads the way to the bathroom, then takes Xia Yao's bag to his room. Thank the gods that his sister has already retreated to hers; he doesn't feel like sharing Xia Yao right now. Or ever, if he's honest. 

He goes to set the bag down at the foot of his bed - and pauses. They haven't discussed where Xia Yao is going to sleep. It wouldn't be the first time they've shared a bed, but things feel different now. Xia Yao came all the way out here to see him, on foot, in the dark and cold. Yuan Zong shivers with the thought of what that means. He doesn't like the idea of Xia Yao sleeping in the guest room all alone. He would prefer not to leave him out of sight for too long if he has any say in it.

A soft call of "dage" rouses him from his contemplation, and he drops the bag and hurries towards the bathroom where he left Xia Yao. They meet in the hallway, Xia Yao nearly tumbling into his chest when he steps out of the room. He takes a step back, looks up at him with wide eyes, then grins. Yuan Zong's hands twitch with the urge to reach out and put his hands on him, anywhere he'll let him.

Xia Yao pushes his bottom lip out in a pout. Yuan Zong's mind immediately conjures an image of leaning down to tug that lip between his teeth, run his tongue along it, suck it gently into his mouth until Xia Yao's knees buckle and he falls into his arms, trembling with --

He blinks. "What's wrong?"

Xia Yao crosses his arms over his chest. He's still wearing his jacket. "I'm cold." He sniffles just for good measure. "W-warm me up."

As much as Xia Yao sounds like he's teasing, his teeth are chattering, shoulders pulled up to his ears, and the tip of his nose is reddened.

Yuan Zong swallows, his desire to wreck the man in front of him battling his need to protect him. The latter wins - for now.

He nudges Xia Yao gently back towards the bathroom, pushing the door open with his shoulder. Xia Yao stares up at him.

Yuan Zong kneels down to turn on the faucet of the tub, plugging it and letting the water run hot until steam rises into the air. Yuan Ru has assembled a bunch of bath bubble liquids next to it and he picks one up at random, sniffs it, finds the scent inoffensive and drops a generous amount in the water. Immediately, soapy foam forms across the surface of the water.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Yuan Zong doesn't think he really needs to explain this.

"Take off your clothes," he says instead.

Xia Yao's eyes are huge when he turns back to face him, arms wrapped protectively around his own torso.

Yuan Zong sighs and stands. Xia Yao stumbles back into the sink as though to bring more distance between them in the tiny room. Yuan Zong tries not to let that sting. There's evidently something in Xia Yao's past that keeps pulling him back whenever they get close, and he's not going to force himself upon the other man. He just hopes that one day Xia Yao will find the courage to stay.

He lowers his gaze and gestures towards the tub. Then he turns to leave. "I'll make some tea."

He determinedly does not look back to see if Xia Yao is heeding his instruction. In the kitchen of the holiday home, he fills the kettle with water and sets it to boil, grabbing his favorite blend from the shelf. The routine is grounding, and he focuses his attention on these movements, on the sound of the water as he pours it over the leaves, the heat and fragrance of the steam that rises up to greet him, the familiar feel of the gently warming porcelain against his palm where he's holding the tea pot.

The similarities are too blatant. His mind returns like an elastic spring to the mental image of Xia Yao sinking into the bath  - his skin flushing with the heat of the water, the slippery porcelain against his palms as he braces himself on the edges of the tub, the scent of the bath supplement enveloping him...

Yuan Zong swallows back a groan and squeezes his eyes shut for a second. He wants, wants, wants so badly. He has been holding himself back for weeks, and now Xia Yao is here, in his house, having come specifically to see him - he doesn't think either of them have any illusions who he's here to visit, although his sister may get a different idea.

In the morning. He'll deal with her in the morning. For now, he prays that she sleeps with her headphones in, listening to music as she often does here, since the remote house is too quiet for her tastes.

Yuan Zong sets the pot and two cups down on a tray and makes his way out of the kitchen. In the hallway, he hesitates. There seems to be little point in taking the tea to his bedroom if Xia Yao is going to stay in the bath for any extended amount of time. That is, if he has decided to get in at all.

He presses his lips together and shifts the tray so he's holding it one-handed against his waist, using his free hand to rap his knuckles softly against the door.

The answering slosh of water makes his pulse accelerate, his grip on the edge of the tray tightening unwittingly.

"Yuan Zong?"

Xia Yao sounds quiet, unsure.

Yuan Zong inclines his head and confirms in a low voice, "It's me."

Then he realizes Xia Yao may not have been asking if it's him as much as why he is disturbing him.

He clears his throat, feeling his ears burn with the knowledge that just behind the door, Xia Yao is naked. Wet, even.

"I have your tea," he adds. "Should I leave it out here?"

"You can -  umm." More splashing, then a soft yelp. "Ow."

Yuan Zong's hand closes around the knob before his mind has made the decision - he forces himself to hold still.

"Yao-er?"

"I'm - fine. You can... come in. If - if you want. I didn't lock it."

Yuan Zong keeps his gaze lowered as he turns the knob to let himself in, so the first thing it falls on are Xia Yao's jeans lying in a heap on the tiled floor with his boxers still tucked inside of them. Yuan Zong grits his teeth and lets his gaze sweep past them. Unfortunately there's not much else to look at in the small room, and so his eyes land as if by force of attraction on the bathtub that currently holds the object of his devotion.

Xia Yao's skin looks damp and flushed although the water reaches only up to just above his waist with the way he is sitting, back straight instead of leaning against the wall, knees drawn up as though the tub wasn't long enough for him to stretch out his legs. He isn't quite looking at Yuan Zong, holding his left arm against his chest, hand rubbing at his elbow. Yuan Zong places the tray on the lid of the toilet.

"Are you hurt?"

Xia Yao shakes his head slightly. "I just banged it against the faucet," he explains, and then he looks up with a pout, his sparkling eyes betraying the sincerity of the expression. "You startled me."

Yuan Zong bites back a smile and averts his eyes. "I apologize. How can I make it better?"

He doesn't realize how suggestive it sounds until Xia Yao sucks in a breath, his back going rigid for a second.

"I'll -" Yuan Zong swallows. "I'll leave you to it. There's a pain relief ointment in the cabinet if you -"

Xia Yao's right hand shoots out to grab the nearest part of Yuan Zong that he can reach, which happens to be his thigh, just above the hollow of his knee. He watches, hypnotized, as wetness seeps into his pant leg, darkening the fabric around Xia Yao's touch.

"No! Don't - don't leave, dage. You said you would make it better."

Xia Yao is working hard to keep the pout on his face now that any playfulness has receded from his eyes. He looks scared, almost, but he's still holding on to Yuan Zong's leg with an iron grip.

Yuan Zong thinks with a jolt of how vulnerable Xia Yao is allowing himself to be right now. He reaches down to pluck the fingers off his thigh, gently, holding them in his own.

"Okay. I won't go."

He kneels down at the side of the tub, placing Xia Yao's hand gingerly back on the edge.

"Here," he says, keeping his voice soft, "I'll make it stop hurting, alright?"

Xia Yao holds perfectly still as he reaches for his other arm, allowing him to slide his hand around his biceps so he can turn it enough to get a look at his elbow, Xia Yao's shallow breath the only sound in the room. The skin is barely reddened, the very subtle imprint left by the faucet fading quickly. Yuan Zong keeps his eyes focused on just this part of Xia Yao's body as he rubs his thumb gently across the mark, squaring his jaw when Xia Yao makes a soft little noise that could be either discomfort or pleasure.

When Yuan Zong glances up at his face, Xia Yao's eyelids are lowered, his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Giving a clear indication that it's the latter.

Fuck. Fuck.

Yuan Zong lets go of his elbow, letting it fall back against Xia Yao's body. He would sell his soul to be allowed to take care of Xia Yao forever, but this is torture. He's going to lose it.

"There," he murmurs, his voice sounding rough and alien to his own ears. The steam of the bath is clouding his mind. "All better."

"Thank you, dage," Xia Yao whispers. "Can - can I have my tea now?"

Yuan Zong is glad for the excuse to turn his back on him for a second, so he won't be tempted to ogle the sheer expanse of his bare skin, close enough to touch. He hasn't taken advantage of his state of undress before, even shielded him with his own body in the showers, so he's not going to start now.

He won't touch him unless Xia Yao asks.

He pours tea in one of the cups, but instead of handing it over to Xia Yao's outstretched hands, he raises it to his own mouth and takes a tentative sip. Xia Yao watches him with slightly parted lips and whines pathetically when Yuan Zong sets the cup down again beyond his reach.

"It's still too hot to drink," he explains, mouth twitching with the effort to hold back a smirk at Xia Yao's expression. "Finish your bath first."

Xia Yao sighs dramatically and wraps his arms around his knees, resting his cheek on them. "Zong-dage. You promised you would warm me up."

Yuan Zong sinks into a cross-legged seat next to the tub. The tiles are cold against his backside, but he can hardly feel it with the way Xia Yao is glancing up at him through his lashes.

This man is going to drive him insane.

He hums. "You're still cold? Why don't you run more water?"

Xia Yao turns his head and puts his hand on the faucet, running his fingers aimlessly over the metal. "It's too bad this tub is so small. Otherwise, you could..."

He swallows the rest of his sentence, voice trailing off like he's lost his courage.

Yuan Zong's heart beats against his ribs. Otherwise, I could...? What, get in with you? The idea is tantalizing. He can't allow himself to dwell on it if he wants to make it out of here in one piece. He shouldn't even be here. He should get up and bring as much distance between them as possible while Xia Yao is naked.

But Xia Yao asked him to stay, and how can he deny him that?

"Anything for Xia Yao," he hears himself say.

Xia Yao looks up sharply, then away again just as quickly, his cheeks coloring in.

"Dage," he whispers.

"Yes," Yuan Zong says, as though in answer to a question. He can't think of much that Xia Yao could ask him right now that he wouldn't say yes to, anyway.

"Will you wash my back for me?"

The request is uttered so shyly that it could easily be interpreted as innocent. It doesn’t matter so much whether Xia Yao has an ulterior motive; Yuan Zong is here to take care of him first and foremost, and whatever else happens is up to how brave Xia Yao feels later. This solicitation of intimacy, this sign of trust is bold in itself; it's a gift that Yuan Zong is not going to spoil.

I will give you what you ask for, he thinks. No more and no less.

He pulls a washcloth from the cabinet below the sink and unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves so he can roll them up. Xia Yao leans forward, curving his body around his knees to make room for Yuan Zong to dip his hand with the washcloth in the warm, soapy water behind him. The instant he places it carefully on his shoulder blade, Xia Yao inhales shakily, his muscles stiffening under Yuan Zong’s touch. He lets his hand rest there for a moment, until he can hear Xia Yao take a deep breath and feel him relax ever so slightly.

Yuan Zong begins to run the washcloth in slow circles across his upper back, applying more pressure where Xia Yao’s muscles feel especially tense. After a while, Xia Yao lets his head fall forward, exposing the back of his neck, so Yuan Zong gently brushes the skin there, wetting the ends of his hair in the process. When he digs his fingers into the muscle connecting his shoulder and neck, Xia Yao lets out a soft moan that goes straight to Yuan Zong’s cock. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second before he goes back to kneading the spot, eventually moving on to the other side of his neck to repeat the motion there.

“Dage,” Xia Yao murmurs when his shoulders have drooped in relaxation, his face hidden in the narrow space between his knees.

He hums.

“What about the rest of my back?”

So Yuan Zong runs the washcloth along the protruding ridges of his rounded spine until his hand slips beneath the surface of the water, rubbing his lower back in a caress that has little remaining washing purpose. He keeps moving his hand, mapping out the shape of his waist, the shallow dimples near the base of his spine. If he moved any lower, he would feel the cleft of his ass.

He doesn’t. Nor does he try to peer into the water as the soap bubbles begin to dissipate, instead keeping his gaze focused on the rosy tips of Xia Yao’s ears. Xia Yao’s breath has become heavy.

Yuan Zong runs the washcloth across the wet skin of his upper back where he’s covered in goosebumps and murmurs his name, just to check whether he’s fallen asleep.

Xia Yao makes a faint, inquiring noise in response.

Yuan Zong swallows. He hasn’t prepared anything to say, and so his mouth produces the question that has been in the back of his mind this whole time.

“You came all the way out here,” he says softly, wiping the cloth from left to right, following the outline of his shoulders. “Why?”

Xia Yao is quiet for a moment as Yuan Zong moves the cloth to massage the back of his neck. His answer is muffled against his kneecaps, and Yuan Zong holds his breath to be able to hear him clearly.

“I wanted to see you. Is that not enough?”

His heart swells against the confines of his chest, and his fingers twitch, unintentionally squeezing the base of Xia Yao’s neck. Xia Yao makes a sound like a whimper, causing all the hair on Yuan Zong’s arms to stand up.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, “it’s enough.”

He shifts closer until his left side is pressed up against the tub and his elbow hooked over the side of it, forearm resting gingerly on Xia Yao’s back since his hand with the washcloth is still placed between his shoulder blades.

“I’m glad you did,” he adds, and then he fits his hand more thoroughly around the back of Xia Yao’s neck, exerting a little pressure with his thumb on one side and his first two fingers on the other.

Xia Yao shivers from what Yuan Zong is willing to bet is not the cold. The entire room is filled with steam from his bath, the air sticky and hot.

“Dage,” Xia Yao mewls.

Yuan Zong bites his tongue. “Hmm.”

“Are you done with my back now?”

Yuan Zong lets out a breath and begins to draw his hand away. As he does so, Xia Yao finally raises his head. His cheeks are flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and dark. He reaches for Yuan Zong’s hand before he can pull away entirely and holds onto it as he lies back in the tub, the water lapping at his chest, his small, dark nipples.

Yuan Zong absurdly finds himself envying it, but the feeling only lasts for a second, because then Xia Yao tugs the washcloth off his hand to press his palm against his cheek.

“Feel,” he says. “All warm now.”

Yuan Zong feels utterly dumbfounded. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. The first thing that comes to mind is tracing the line of Xia Yao’s cheekbone with his thumb.

Xia Yao smiles, his eyelids fluttering.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs.

Yuan Zong kind of wants to cry. He also wants to climb into the tub, fully dressed as he is, and straddle Xia Yao’s lap, rolling their hips together until Xia Yao comes apart underneath him.

“I want to be good for you, too,” Xia Yao says, jolting Yuan Zong out of his fantasy.

“Xia Yao,” he rasps, tortured. “You -”

He can’t form a coherent sentence. The way Xia Yao goes from sweet to brazen in the blink of an eye is enough to give him whiplash.

Xia Yao leans his face into the touch of Yuan Zong’s hand which is still cradling the side of his face, looking up at him with a kind of animalistic curiosity.

“Zong-dage,” he murmurs. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Yuan Zong stares at him until uncertainty flickers across Xia Yao’s face. Then he moves, raising himself up onto his knees and shifting until he can face him, sliding his hand down to his neck.

“Yao-er,” he says softly. “Is that what you want?”

Xia Yao’s gaze drops to his mouth. “I want…” He swallows, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “I - want. Yuan Zong. Please.”

That’s all the encouragement Yuan Zong needs. Bracing himself on the edge of the tub with his free hand, he leans in to brush their mouths together. There is a second when their breath mingles, hot and humid, in the space between them - then Xia Yao closes that space, pressing forward. He moans as their mouths slide together, parting his lips, and Yuan Zong licks hungrily into his mouth before he can think better of it. Xia Yao makes a sound like an aborted whimper, his hands coming up to grip Yuan Zong’s shoulders, wet and warm, and the water sloshes around him, splashing the front of Yuan Zong’s shirt. It only furthers his arousal. He tilts his head and does what he imagined earlier - sucking Xia Yao’s plush bottom lip into his mouth and biting down on it with all the restraint he can muster up. Xia Yao’s breath hitches in his throat and his fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulders, hard.

When they break apart, they’re both panting. Xia Yao tips his head forward onto Yuan Zong’s shoulder. He has pulled his knees up again, legs clenched together tightly, and Yuan Zong’s mouth goes dry quickly with the thought of why.

He lets his hand drift from Xia Yao’s neck to his shoulder and presses his lips to his cheek, his jaw, the spot just below his ear, tongue flicking out to taste the hint of salt on his damp skin. 

“Good?” He murmurs, just to be a bit of a dick.

Xia Yao whines, and Yuan Zong lets out a laugh that causes him to flinch, no doubt because it tickles.

“I take it back,” Xia Yao mutters, his voice giving away his pout. “You’re mean.”

Yuan Zong kisses his earlobe, nibbling at the satiny skin. “I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Touch me more,” Xia Yao demands greedily, his breath caressing the side of Yuan Zong’s neck. There’s not a trace of innocence left in his voice now. “Touch me everywhere.”

Yuan Zong feels lightheaded for a second, like all the blood is rushing from his brain to his crotch. He can’t swallow the moan down as quickly as it escapes him, and he’s sure Xia Yao is smirking at this achievement.

He pulls away so he can see what he’s doing, to watch his own hand trail from Xia Yao’s neck down past his collarbones, tracing the outline of his blush.

He can feel Xia Yao turn his head to observe it as well. His thumb circling one of Xia Yao’s nipples draws a sigh out of the other man, then a gasp as he pinches it roughly between two fingers. Xia Yao's thighs shake with the effort of holding their position. Yuan Zong tries not to think of what he might see once they fall apart.

Inclining his head to brush his lips against the top of Xia Yao’s head, he cups a little water in his palm and brings his hand up again to let it run down the abused nipple. Xia Yao whimpers.

Yuan Zong wants to hear him make that sound all the time. He rubs the other fleshy bud between his fingers too, teasing Xia Yao with splashes of water against the sensitive skin until he’s writhing and his legs kick out, heels thumping against the other end of the tub.

They both hold still for a moment, Yuan Zong cradling Xia Yao’s face against his shoulder, his own face turned so he can glance back at the door, listening hard.

There is no sound coming from the rest of the house. Yuan Zong exhales, releasing his grip on the other man.

Xia Yao sinks down into the water until it comes up to his nose, pulling his legs up again. There are almost no bubbles left now, and it’s getting increasingly more difficult for Yuan Zong not to let his eyes stray below his waistline.

Xia Yao lifts his chin above the water.

“She’s - she didn’t hear us, right?”

Yuan Zong shakes his head. “She’s sleeping, most likely with her earbuds in. Still… we should try to keep it down. The walls are thin here.”

He doesn't want to think about his sister now, about how she would feel knowing he's seducing her crush in a bathtub. He wants to be selfish. 

Xia Yao nods, his eyes sparkling, before dunking his face fully into the water. When he comes up again, his eyelashes are clumped together, strands of hair plastered to his forehead, dripping water down his cheeks.

His mouth, too, is wet.

Yuan Zong shuffles around on his knees and reaches for him until he can fit his hand around the back of his head and raise him up gently, just far enough to kiss him again. Xia Yao melts against his mouth, pushing his wet hands into Yuan Zong’s hair. His blunt fingernails scratching across his scalp feel like heaven. Yuan Zong sucks gently on the tip of his tongue, swallowing Xia Yao’s responding moan.

“How long have you wanted to do this for?” Xia Yao rasps when they part.

Yuan Zong blinks, leaning his forehead against Xia Yao’s. “I…” He swallows. He can’t very well say, from the time I first saw you, because surely that’d overwhelm Xia Yao. But he can’t exactly pinpoint the moment he realised that he wanted him. It just thrums beneath his skin like a truth, like he knows his own name. He settles on, “a while.”

Xia Yao shivers in his arm. “So we could’ve been doing this before… Zong-dage,” he complains. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Yuan Zong thinks he’s really been very obvious with his intentions. “Why didn’t you?” he asks mildly.

Xia Yao averts his gaze, blinking rapidly. Yuan Zong takes pity on him, kissing the corner of his mouth, his upper lip, the side of his nose. 

“Doesn't matter. We’ll do it a lot from now on,” he offers.

That seems to placate Xia Yao for the moment, and he turns his face to capture Yuan Zong’s mouth again.

Their kisses have lost their initial frenzied rush, softening into a slow, delicate play, Yuan Zong’s fingers pressing gingerly into Xia Yao’s jaw, tilting his head. He’s like putty in his hands, his eyelashes tickling Yuan Zong’s cheek, soft huffs of breath brushing his face.

“Yuan Zong,” Xia Yao whispers eventually, shivering a little. “The water.”

Yuan Zong reaches out to touch the surface to find that it has cooled.

“You want to come out?” He asks, but Xia Yao shakes his head, his arms snaking around Yuan Zong’s neck so he can press himself up against his warmth.

Yuan Zong indulges him even as his shirt begins to stick to his skin with moisture, fumbling with the faucet to add more hot water to the bath. Last he checked, Xia Yao’s fingers weren’t pruned yet.

He runs his fingers through the water, trying to mix it so it doesn’t scald Xia Yao’s skin. Meanwhile, Xia Yao has begun mouthing at his neck, his tongue lapping at Yuan Zong’s Adam’s apple.

The warning, “Behave,” escapes him without any forethought. Xia Yao stills and makes a quiet, evidently involuntary noise. 

Interesting.

“Zong-dage.” Xia Yao’s voice rumbles against his skin when turns the water off again.

“Hmm.” Yuan Zong draws his hand up Xia Yao’s side, allowing it to linger on the dip of his waist, thumb tracing the edge of his ribcage.

Xia Yao noses at the hollow of his throat.

“Aren't you going to…” He pauses. “I gave you permission, you know. To touch me everywhere.”

Yuan Zong feels the words prickle under his skin. He tightens his hold on Xia Yao’s waist.

“You want that, huh?”

Xia Yao tugs at the collar of his shirt so he can slide his mouth over his clavicle. Yuan Zong smooths his hand up to tease his nipple one more time.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Yao-er,” he commands in a low voice.

Xia Yao gasps against his skin. Then he bites down on the bone. The sweet sting of it almost makes Yuan Zong’s eyes roll back.

He slides his left hand from the back of Xia Yao’s head around to cup his jaw, tilting his head back to make eye contact. Then he brings his other hand to his knee with just enough pressure to let Xia Yao know that he could move it out of the way if he wanted to.

He’s not going to, not unless Xia Yao asks, but he has a suspicion Xia Yao likes to feel his strength. Xia Yao’s eyes, pupils blown wide, confirm his theory. He swallows visibly, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Dage.”

Yuan Zong tilts his head back a little further.

“I asked you something. Are you not going to answer? I thought you said you wanted to be good for me.”

“I do -” Xia Yao gasps, protesting. “I am. Zong-dage. I want you - to touch my - my -”

He falters. Yuan Zong leans in as if to kiss him, but stops with only an inch or two separating them, holding Xia Yao’s head firmly in place when he strains to close the gap.

“Say it,” he murmurs. “Tell dage where you want him to touch you.”

Xia Yao whines softly. One of his hands folds over Yuan Zong’s on his knee.

“My cock,” he whispers.

Yuan Zong lets him lean back against the wall of the tub. Slowly, his eyes wander to where his hand is perched on Xia Yao’s knee. He squeezes it gently, looking back at Xia Yao’s face. Xiao Yao bites his lip, nodding almost imperceptibly, and tips his knee to the side. The water has cleared, giving Yuan Zong an unobstructed view of his lap, and his mouth waters as he looks his fill.

Xia Yao’s narrow cock is so hard it’s almost flush against his stomach; the tip, at level with his navel, is already leaking pre-cum. Yuan Zong thinks dizzily that he probably could have made Xia Yao come untouched just by stimulating his nipples.

Another time, maybe.

Xia Yao whines when he takes too long. Yuan Zong lifts his gaze to his face again to find him blushing vigorously.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuan Zong says, just to see him blush some more.

He can tell Xia Yao is trying to pout, but then he smiles coyly.

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“So are you going to - oohhh.”

Xia Yao breaks off with a mewl because Yuan Zong has reached into the water and wrapped his hand around his length, stroking slowly up the shaft until he can press his thumb to the head, sliding it across the drops of pre-cum collecting there. He smears them as he moves down again, but it wouldn’t have been necessary to aid his movement; the water allows for a smooth glide on its own.

Above the water, Xia Yao makes short, aborted noises, like he’s trying not to moan. Still, he’s loud enough for his voice to echo around the tiled bathroom. On the spur of the moment, Yuan Zong reaches out with his free hand to cover his mouth. Xia Yao’s eyes widen.

“Open,” Yuan Zong prompts him.

He does, allowing Yuan Zong to insert two fingers into his mouth. His head swims with filthy thoughts for a second, but then he swallows and says, “Bite when you want to make a noise.”

Xia Yao stares at him. Yuan Zong smiles and drags his thumb over the tip of his cock again.

“Understand?”

Xia Yao starts to whimper, but then a determined look appears in his eyes and his teeth clamp down on Yuan Zong’s fingers instead.

The pain is delicious.

“Good,” Yuan Zong praises, continuing to stroke him slowly.

Every time he swipes his thumb through the steadily replenishing mess of pre-cum at the tip, Xia Yao yerks beneath him, his incisors cutting into Yuan Zong’s skin. He’s so wet all over, even regardless of the bath. His tongue slides against Yuan Zong’s fingers, saliva pooling in his mouth. Yuan Zong wipes a fleck of drool off the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

It’s filthy and unbelievably arousing, and he can’t help but lean in to press his mouth to the side of Xia Yao’s neck and suck the sensitive skin into his mouth. Xia Yao gags and chomps on his fingers. Yuan Zong wonders hazily if he’s going to break the skin.

He pulls away when he’s certain that his effort will leave a mark. Xia Yao watches him, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides, scrambling for purchase on the slippery sides of the tub. The muscles of his stomach and thighs contract visibly as he tries to push his cock up into Yuan Zong’s loose fist.

Yuan Zong huffs at his impatience and tightens his grip a little. 

“You want to come?”

He has a half-formulated plan of saying something along the lines of “You’ll come when I let you,” or “Then be good and hold still” next, but Xia Yao surprises him. He lifts his chin as if he’s going to nod, but then he shakes his head instead.

Yuan Zong stares at him.

“No?” he asks incredulously.

Xia Yao shakes his head again and makes a soft noise. Yuan Zong gives a cock a sharp tug before he releases him, pulling his fingers out of his mouth, pressing the tips against his spit-slick, swollen bottom lip.

“Dage,” Xia Yao croaks, clearing his throat. “Don’t want to finish yet.”

Yuan Zong raises his eyebrows.

Xia Yao lowers his gaze, self-consciously pulling his shoulders up to his ears. Then he firms them down and looks back at Yuan Zong to assert resolutely, “I want you to fuck me.”

Yuan Zong has to grab the edge of the tub to steady himself because he feels, for a moment, like he’s about to faint.

He should say, Next time. He should be reasonable and responsible and tell Xia Yao to wait. He’s fairly certain Xia Yao has never done this before.

What he says instead is, “You’re sure?”

Xia Yao doesn’t avert his eyes this time, although Yuan Zong can tell he wants to. His cheeks are flushed with heat and desire. He nods again. 

“I’m sure, dage. Please fuck me.”

Yuan Zong lets out a breath. Then he swallows and says, “Get on your hands and knees.”

Xia Yao blinks at him and then hurries to execute his command. His fingers slip on the bottom of the tub when he tries to brace himself.

This isn’t going to work. He'll get knocked onto his elbows if he hasn't got a good grip, face in the water.

Yuan Zong shakes his head. “Not like this.”

Xia Yao glances back at him, watching as Yuan Zong moves to the end of the tub to clear away some of the bottles there.

“Here,” he says. “Put your arms on the edge so you can hold yourself up.”

Xia Yao does, crossing his arms on the ledge and resting his cheek on them.

“Good,” Yuan Zong reaches out to brush a hand through his hair. “That’s better.”

Xia Yao’s bare back stretches out before him, his build athletic but slim by comparison. He has already touched him there, has run his hand down the entire length of his spine, but with the washcloth preventing actual skin contact. So when he reaches out now, it still feels new, almost greedy - a head-rush to be allowed to put his hands on that slender waist and feel Xia Yao suck in a breath, to smooth his palm along his spine and up to his shoulder blades, to stroke his hands down his sides again until they rest on the small of his back.

Xia Yao lets out a little sigh.

When Yuan Zong slides his hands lower, palms cupping his cheeks, and leans in to kiss the base of his spine, he shivers.

“Dage.”

Yuan Zong hums.

“Baby,” he tries out.

Xia Yao makes a surprised little noise like a mewl. Yuan Zong squeezes his cheeks.

“Do you see the washcloth?” Yuan Zong asks. “Can you hand it to me?”

Xia Yao shifts to fumble around at the bottom of the tub in front of his knees, then reaches back a shaky hand to pass him the soaked washcloth. 

Keeping his left hand in place, Yuan Zong holds the washcloth above him and wrings it out one-handedly. The water drips down his lower back, trickling down the cleft as Xia Yao shudders and moans, the noise muffled by his forearms that he has buried his face against.

Yuan Zong thumbs his cheeks apart a little, dips the cloth in the water, and does it again, watching Xia Yao’s hole twitch as the beads of water dribble past it. His own cock jerks with interest at the sight.

He continues this process for a minute, watching Xia Yao grow increasingly fidgety, before he places the washcloth on his cheek, caressing the skin he didn’t get to wash earlier with the sodden fabric, and then slips it between Xia Yao’s cheeks, rubbing against his hole. 

Xia Yao lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a cry.

Yuan Zong hears himself shushing him, leaning down to press kisses to his back dimples as he runs the cloth gently but firmly down his cleft.

“Dage,” Xia Yao moans.

“Good?” Yuan Zong asks.

Xia Yao’s breath hitches, and then he presses back against Yuan Zong’s hand. He’s so warm.

“More,” he whimpers. “Please.”

Yuan Zong swallows. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’ll give you more.”

He drops the cloth, pulling Xia Yao’s cheeks apart with his hands, one thumb ghosting over his hole.

“Xia Yao. Have you ever touched yourself here?”

His love is quiet enough that he cranes his head to be able to glance at his face, finding it flushed and shy.

Xia Yao nods.

Yuan Zong smiles encouragingly. “Good. That’s good. This won’t feel as strange then.”

With that he leans back in to kiss the base of his spine again, just shy of where his cheeks part, and purses his mouth to let spit dribble out and down the cleft, his thumb spreading it over Xia Yao’s hole. Xia Yao whines softly at the sensation. Yuan Zong adds more spit until Xia Yao’s hole is coated in it before he presses the tip of his thumb to the center of it, breaching the rim.

“Yesss-" Xia Yao groans, cutting himself off suddenly. When Yuan Zong peers around his body, he finds with a jolt that Xia Yao’s mouth is clamped around his own wrist.

Fuck, that’s hot.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he urges him, even as he has to swallow a moan.

Xia Yao rolls his eyes at this apparently trivial concern.

Punishingly, Yuan Zong inserts his thumb deeper, past the first knuckle; Xia Yao gags around his mouthful of wrist bone. He continues to fuck his thumb in and out for a moment, but the spit dries up before long and so Yuan Zong pulls out before the movement becomes chafing.

Xia Yao whimpers and releases his wrist to complain.

“Zong-dage, why are you stopping?”

Yuan Zong feels his body still under his hands as Xia Yao apparently holds his breath.

“Yao-er?” he asks.

“I’m not… ready yet,” Xia Yao says quietly. “I’ve only ever… I’ve never had anything bigger than my fingers, I -”

There’s a hint of panic seeping into his voice. Yuan Zong’s throat constricts.

“Oh!” He strokes his cheeks, his soapy thighs. “No, no, baby, I wasn’t going to - not yet, don’t worry. I’m taking it slow with you. I won’t hurt you.” He kisses the fleshy part of his hip. “I’ll be gentle. You okay?”

Xia Yao takes a slow, shaky breath and nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thank you, dage.”

“Shh. Don’t thank me for that. You still want -”

“Yes,” Xia Yao interrupts him. “Still want you to fuck me. I’m not gonna change my mind.”

“Alright. Just making sure.”

Yuan Zong gives his right cheek a little smack, too gentle to truly sting, but catalogues the responding stutter of breath and the soft moan in his mind. They can explore that another time, hopefully. Gods, he needs this to not be the only time.

Before he can form another thought - or worse, ask Xia Yao for confirmation that he’ll want to do this again - Yuan Zong thumbs his cheeks apart again and licks a stripe across his hole.

Xia Yao makes a high-pitched keening noise, poorly stifled against his own skin, and pushes back against him as though on instinct - Yuan Zong thinks belatedly of the still unlocked bathroom door. He can only hope his sister remains fast asleep because he can’t possibly let go of Xia Yao now to prevent her from walking in on them.

“Never had anyone do that to you before?” He guesses. Even if Xia Yao has been with many women, that wouldn't necessarily mean he's ever been eaten out.

Xia Yao shakes his head wildly, the motion visible in his shoulders, a wiggle that traverses almost the entire length of his spine down to his bottom.

Yuan Zong feels a shameful, possessive sort of satisfaction at that. The first to make him feel this sort of pleasure.

“Can’t very well do this to yourself, huh?” He sucks a kiss against the inside of Xia Yao’s cheek. Xia Yao whimpers what sounds like a “no,” or maybe just “ohh.”

“Can you spread your legs for me, baby?”

Xia Yao obediently pushes his knees apart as far as they will go, constricted by the narrow frame of the tub. Water sloshes around his legs and over the edge onto the bathroom floor where it seeps into Yuan Zong’s pants at his knees. He pays it no mind. The adjustment in Xia Yao’s position is not much help, but they will have to make do.

“Good boy,” he murmurs against Xia Yao’s skin, smirking as he moans in response.

Burying his face between his cheeks, Yuan Zong licks him until he’s soft and wet. 

He hasn’t led a very promiscuous lifestyle by any means, but he cut his teeth early in his military career, gained hands-on experience - good and bad - over the years in the realm of things men can do to one another. He knows the ropes, and he’s glad about it now that he can put that knowledge to use on the man in front of him. He’s never been quite so infatuated with anyone, never wanted to please someone so much with hardly any regard for his own desires. It’s dizzying. 

On the far end of the tub, Xia Yao muffles a cry in the crook of his arm when Yuan Zong breaches him with the tip of his tongue. He opens easily for him now, but Yuan Zong takes his time as promised, fucking his hole like this until his tongue begins to seize. Only then does he allow himself a break, leaning his forehead against Xia Yao’s cheek. Xia Yao sighs, drawing in a deep, ragged inhale, as though he hasn’t been able to breathe properly while Yuan Zong was rimming him.

“You still good?”

Xia Yao whines. “Wouldn’t I say so if I weren’t?”

Yuan Zong nods. “I should hope so. You can tell me to stop at any point, Yao-er, you know that, right?”

Xia Yao sighs. “I won’t want to.”

Yuan Zong reaches into the water between his legs without warning, squeezing the base of his half-hard cock. Xia Yao mewls.

“I asked you a question,” he says in a low rumble.

“Yes, I know,” Xia Yao squawks.

Yuan Zong brushes his fingers up his length, a feather-light touch.

“‘Yes, I know,’ what?”

Xia Yao’s breath falters. “I know… that I can ask you to stop.”

Yuan Zong drags back his foreskin, shaking his head. “Who are you talking to?”

Xia Yao stills. Yuan Zong gives him a moment to think it over before he swipes the pad of his thumb across the tip of his cock. 

“Dage,” Xia Yao moans.

He presses his thumb against the slit. “What was that?”

At last, Xia Yao seems to grasp what he’s after and gasps out, “Yes, I know, dage.”

“There it is,” Yuan Zong smiles, giving him a few measured pulls. “Good boy.”

Xia Yao whimpers when he lets him go.

Yuan Zong contemplates the merits of scissoring him open here, like this. Surely there must be some lotion among those beauty products he cleared away earlier that could be used as a lubricant. But then he notices Xia Yao shifting his weight. The position must be hard on his knees.

"Yao-er," he murmurs, trailing his hand down his thigh. "You're uncomfortable."

Xia Yao makes a dismissive noise. "Keep going, I'm okay."

Yuan Zong huffs. "The water's getting cold again. Let's get you out of there."

Xia Yao sinks back into a seat, turning his head.

"Zong-dage, I don't want to stop."

Yuan Zong chuckles and pushes himself up into a stand, grabbing his fluffy bathrobe from the hook on the door.

"Did I say we'll stop? I just think we'd be way more comfortable in my bed, don't you agree?"

Xia Yao's eyes widen.  "Yes."

Yuan Zong reaches into the water to remove the plug before he holds his hand out to help Xia Yao up. Then he wraps the robe around his wet, shivering form, bunching up the hem of it so it doesn’t get drenched.

As Xia Yao climbs out of the tub, his feet slip on the tiles. He stumbles into Yuan Zong, who catches him, pulling him into his chest.

“Oops,” Xia Yao giggles, looking up at him with a silly grin. Yuan Zong rolls his eyes indulgently, holding on to his elbows tightly.

“Careful,” he chastises him.

“Dage,” Xia Yao says after a moment, pushing his lower lip out in a pout. “I can’t walk like this.”

He tries to pull his arms out of Yuan Zong’s grip, but Yuan Zong notes how he’s quivering now that he’s out of the water. He tugs the hood of the bathrobe up over his wet hair.

“No problem.” Bending down, he sweeps one arm underneath Xia Yao’s knees and the other around his middle to pick him up. Xia Yao yelps, his arms flying to Yuan Zong’s neck so he can cling to him for dear life, as though he’s worried Yuan Zong might drop him.

“Yuan Zong! Put me down!”

He hums, using his elbow to open the door and carrying Xia Yao bridal style down the hall. “In a minute.”

Xia Yao giggles even as he flounders in his arms, his own hands locked behind Yuan Zong’s head, at odds with his request of being set down. And then, just as Yuan Zong is shouldering open the door to his bedroom, he feels Xia Yao’s teeth graze the shell of his ear - and nearly loses his balance.

“Xia Yao,” he growls softly.

Not even close to heeding his warning, Xia Yao licks his ear. His tongue is hot on the cartilage, as is his breath when it fans the damp skin. Yuan Zong recalls him clinging to his back drunkenly mouthing at his ear, biting hard enough to draw blood at one point, and the memory makes his cock twitch.

Yuan Zong grits his teeth and pushes into the room, depositing Xia Yao on his bed not particularly gently. Xia Yao’s breath escapes him in a puff, but then his expression transforms into a mischievous one. When Yuan Zong tries to straighten up, he finds himself trapped by Xia Yao whose ankles are linked behind his knees. 

Yuan Zong shakes his head mildly. “Yao-er. Let me go lock up.”

Xia Yao seems to contemplate this for a second. Yuan Zong raises an eyebrow. “You must be mad if you think I would leave right now. ”

Now that I’ve got you here, in my bed, naked and asking to be fucked…

Xia Yao narrows his eyes and releases him, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch him as he steps over to the door and turns the key. Yuan Zong returns immediately, kicking off his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, leaving him in only his underwear. Xia Yao watches hungrily as he shucks his clothes, his eyes raking over Yuan Zong’s bare torso.

He smirks as if to ask, Like what you see?

“Zong-dage,” Xia Yao whines, a blush high on his cheeks. “I’m getting cold again.”

Yuan Zong crawls over him, bracketing his body with his knees, and leans down to kiss him chastely, not sure if Xia Yao will mind where his tongue has been. “You should dry yourself off,” he whispers when he pulls away, “you’ll get sick if you stay all wet like this.”

Xia Yao bats his eyelashes at him. “You’re not going to help me, dage?”

Yuan Zong sighs, reaching behind himself to drag the blanket from the foot of the bed up over Xia Yao’s feet. Then he grabs the front of the bathrobe and begins to rub him down with it. Xia Yao lets out a squeak, pressing his lips together when it chafes his nipples. His abdominal muscles are hard and trembling under Yuan Zong’s touch as he moves down his body. 

Suddenly, he throws his head back on the pillow, hips bucking up against Yuan Zong’s hand. Yuan Zong squeezes him through the thick fabric, relishing his moan. He pulls apart the robe at his waist and leans down to lick his abs, following the outline of his muscles with his tongue.

“Dage,” Xia Yao whimpers, his legs twitching underneath Yuan Zong, pinned down by his weight. “First you towel me off, now you’re making me wet again?”

Yuan Zong hums against his skin, trailing kisses across to the other side. His chin brushes the tip of Xia Yao’s cock in the motion, causing him to gasp softly.

“Baby,” he murmurs into Xia Yao’s belly button. “Can you reach into the top drawer and pass me the small bottle?”

Xia Yao blinks. “Sure.” 

Yuan Zong mouths at his waist, listening to the sound of rummaging and then Xia Yao’s intake of breath before the bottle is held out to him.

His preference for smooth wanks means he takes a travel-sized bottle of lube with him when he’s on the road for more than one night, and it comes in handy now.

Yuan Zong smiles, running his free hand from Xia Yao’s hip down his thigh. “Can you bend your knees for me?”

Xia Yao does, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He’s watching Yuan Zong with sharp eyes.

Yuan Zong settles between his bent legs. “Going to open you up now,” he announces, uncapping the bottle. “Unless you have any objections.”

Xia Yao shakes his head, eyes wide. “No,” he says immediately, his fingers gripping the sheets to either side of his body, “no objections.”

Yuan Zong kisses his hip. “No need to be scared. I’ll prepare you thoroughly.”

“I’m not sc--” Xia Yao begins, then cuts himself off with a gasp as Yuan Zong presses one lube coated finger to his hole.

“Relax,” Yuan Zong murmurs, “I’ve got you. Take a deep breath for me, baby.”

He waits for the rise of Xia Yao’s chest before he pushes his index finger past the ring of muscles.

Xia Yao presses his lips together, then flicks his tongue out to wet them. Yuan Zong turns his face to kiss the soft inside of his thigh.

“Talk to me, Yao-er.”

“Mhmm.”

Yuan Zong pushes deeper, meeting hardly any resistance. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Xia Yao gasps out. “Feels good, dage.”

“Good,” Yuan Zong murmurs, pulling out and pushing back in slowly.

“Zong-dage,” Xia Yao whines before long. “You can use more. Please. I can take it.”

Yuan Zong drizzles a little more lube onto his fingers before he adds a second one. Xia Yao stretches around his fingers as he scissors them apart, sighing in pleasure and pushing back against him. Yuan Zong thinks about Xia Yao touching himself in his room at home, alone in his bed at night, fucking himself on his fingers, moans muffled against his pillow. Would his face also look like this - eyes closed, lips parted, and cheeks flushed? He swallows hard, his cock straining against the front of his underwear.

But this isn't about his own pleasure, it’s about Xia Yao’s. Watching him closely, Yuan Zong twists his fingers, searching -

Xia Yao yelps, his hips bearing down on Yuan Zong’s hand. “Yeah. Oh, fuck. Do that again, dage.”

So demanding, Yuan Zong thinks, smiling to himself. But he obeys, curling his fingers on the next push to rub against his prostate again.

Xia Yao whimpers, clenching around him, and rolls his hips. His cock bobs with the movement, and a drop of pre-cum lands on his belly, briefly straining to stay connected to the head of his cock by a thin string.

Yuan Zong’s mouth waters at the sight. 

"Yao-er," he murmurs, "let me take care of you." The request feels superfluous at this point, but Xia Yao still meets it with a soft little noise of assent.

Keeping up the motion of his hand, Yuan Zong bows his head to press his lips to the side of Xia Yao’s cock.

"I'll make you feel good," he promises, mouthing at the silky skin. "I'll make it stop hurting." 

Xia Yao mewls.

Yuan Zong runs his tongue along to the head, sloppily lapping up the pre-cum that has collected there before he puts his mouth to Xia Yao’s belly to lick up that little drop as well.

“Dage,” Xia Yao pants, sounding tormented.

Yuan Zong looks up at him. “Xia Yao. I'll give you anything. Just tell me what you want.”

He means it - it should probably terrify him how much he means it. He wants to worship the man in front of him.

A glint appears in Xia Yao’s eyes. “More.” And he accentuates the statement with another roll of his hips.

Yuan Zong keeps his eyes on Xia Yao’s face as he pulls his fingers out, adding a third. At the same time that he pushes in again, he fits his mouth around the head of Xia Yao’s cock and sucks him down.

Xia Yao's hands flit to Yuan Zong’s hair, gripping it tightly. His breath and hips stutter alike. With some effort, he raises his head to watch Yuan Zong sink down on his cock as far as he can without gagging.

Luckily Yuan Zong’s job required him to learn multitasking. He sucks him sweet and slow, coordinating each push and pull of his fingers with the up and down of his mouth. Each time he comes up, he presses his tongue against the vein on the underside of Xia Yao’s cock. Each time he fucks his fingers into him, he twists them to brush against his sweet spot. Xia Yao is clearly struggling, caught between wanting to buck up into his mouth and down against his fingers. When Yuan Zong fits his lips around the head of his cock and hollows his cheeks to suck, Xia Yao’s fingers twitch in his hair, pulling harshly.

“Too much - dage - I’m -”

He pulls off with a pop, stroking his free hand up Xia Yao's thigh to feel his muscles tremble. 

“You alright?” His voice sounds throaty to his own ears.

“Close,” Xia Yao gasps, face distorted. “Don’t want to - please - I want you -”

Yuan Zong pulls his fingers out slowly, watching Xia Yao’s hole clench around nothing. A low groan escapes him at the sight.

“I know,” he murmurs, stroking his hand up Xia Yao’s side and crawling up his body to kiss his heated cheek. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

Xia Yao whimpers, turning his face to receive a proper kiss. “Please, dage. Want to come with you inside.”

Yuan Zong hums, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Yao-er… Are you ready for me to fuck you now?"

Xia Yao hesitates for just a second too long.

Yuan Zong pulls away, watching him blush.

“Zong-dage." Xia Yao’s gaze drops to his hips. “I want to see you first.”

He can hardly deny him that. Yuan Zong pushes his boxer briefs down his thighs, shifting his weight so he can pull them past his knees and fling them off the bed. He’s so hard even the drag of the elastic waistband against his skin and the gust of chilly air that follows it almost feel like torture.

Xia Yao stares at him, his eyes huge and dark.

“Fuck,” he says then, very softly. “Zong-dage. You’re so… big.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll go slow.”

“I’m not worried,” Xia Yao says, his gaze darting up to Yuan Zong’s face. “I want to touch you. Can I?”

Yuan Zong lets out a breath and nods. Xia Yao sits up, reaching out to run a tentative hand across Yuan Zong’s abdominal muscles, down his thigh. Yuan Zong isn’t entirely sure if his fingers are still a little bit cold or if his own skin is just feverish with arousal. He waits with bated breath for a touch that doesn’t come. Instead, Xia Yao pulls his hand away, fumbling around in the sheets between them.

Before Yuan Zong can begin to wonder, he hears the pop of the bottle lid and the familiar squelch of liquid being squeezed from it.

Oh, gods.

When Xia Yao wraps a slippery hand around his length, it’s all he can do to bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Fuck.”

Xia Yao giggles somewhere near his ear. “Hmm.” He drags his hand slowly up Yuan Zong’s cock, pausing at the head to swipe his thumb across it. His gentle, exploratory touch feels like heaven and hell at the same time. Yuan Zong moans low in his throat.

“I was wondering what it would feel like to touch another guy’s cock," Xia Yao muses idly. "It’s nothing like I imagined.”

Yuan Zong blinks, struggling to get words out. “Have you never - with another man…?”

Xia Yao shakes his head, his eyes trained on Yuan Zong’s crotch. “I like it… But maybe I just like it because it’s yours.”

He tightens his grip a little on the next stroke; Yuan Zong lets out a gasp.

“Yao-er. You - you have to stop - if you want me to fuck you.”

Xia Yao smirks up at him, eyes sparkling. “Does it feel that good, dage?”

Yuan Zong forces himself to reach out and grip his wrist. “Xia Yao. Stop.”

Xia Yao pouts at him. “Fine. But next time I want to make you come like this. No -” His eyes widen. “Next time I want to suck you off.”

Yuan Zong groans. “Yes. Next time. You can do all of that… next time.”

Xia Yao lets go of him with a smile. "Now how do you want to do this? Should I be on my back? On my hands and knees?"

Yuan Zong tries not to dwell on how much thought Xia Yao has put into this; he's close enough that he fears he might come the second he enters him. Instead, he thinks about how he can make this experience good for him, maximising pleasure and minimizing pain.

"Lie down on your side,” he says after a moment.

Xia Yao shrugs off the robe entirely and curls up on his side, looking up at him expectantly. Yuan Zong can’t help but smile. He leans over him to reach into the drawer and grab a condom, brushing a kiss against Xia Yao’s jawline in the motion. Xia Yao’s fingers coil around his wrist.

“Do you always keep condoms here just in case or -”

Yuan Zong exhales through his nose. “Less clean-up when you get yourself off with one,” he explains. 

He wonders if Xia Yao’s question was inspired by jealousy of hypothetical hookups Yuan Zong might have, or if he thinks that he’d calculated for their current situation, neither of which are accurate.

Yuan Zong has, however, had necessity to take himself in hand more frequently in the past months, thoughts of Xia Yao’s mouth and hands and his lithe body bent over various surfaces haunting his dreams as well as increasingly his waking hours. Which is why he prefers keeping condoms at hand rather than having to change his sheets every night.

The furrow between Xia Yao’s brows softens.

“Oh. Right. And now we need one because…?”

Yuan Zong raises a brow. “For the same reason. Also it’s just a sensible thing to do in general, even when no party involved can get pregnant.”

Xia Yao’s face darkens with a blush and he hides it in his hand. “Right. Right,” he repeats, groaning softly. “I’m not a virgin, I swear, I've been with loads of --" He cuts himself off and swallows. "I’m sorry I’m asking such stupid questions.”

Yuan Zong leans down to kiss his heated ear. “Don’t be embarrassed. If you’re confused about something I do, you should ask.”

He lies back and rolls the condom on, giving Xia Yao a moment to recover.

“I don’t wanna turn you off by making a fool of myself,” Xia Yao grumbles into his hands.

Yuan Zong chuckles without malice. “Xia Yao, you couldn’t. Do you have any idea how completely irresistible you are right now?” He runs a hand down his side for emphasis, fitting his palm around his hip bone.

Xia Yao lowers his hands enough to glance up at him. “Really?”

Sidling up to him from behind, Yuan Zong buries his face in his neck and murmurs, “really. You drive me insane. Don’t think there’s anything you could say right now that would make me want you less.”

Even his scent, clean skin and sweat, is intoxicating.

Xia Yao is silent for a moment. Yuan Zong comes to regret his last statement the second he hears him draw in a breath, slipping a hand under his chin just in time to turn his face and kiss him before he can speak.

“That was not a challenge for you to think of something ridiculous to say,” he points out when he pulls away from Xia Yao’s thoroughly kissed mouth.

Xia Yao licks his lips, mischief still sparkling in his eyes. “Guess you’d better keep me quiet then.”

Yuan Zong heaves an exaggerated sigh. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

Xia Yao presses his hips back against him and smirks. “I think you know the answer to that, Zong-dage.”

Yuan Zong has to take a deep, calming breath so he doesn’t come right then and there. He really can’t afford to draw this out any longer.

Lube. He needs the lube.

“Yao-er,” he grunts, “can you find the -”

Xia Yao passes the bottle to him over his shoulder. Good thing at least one of them kept track of it.

“Thanks.” He slicks himself up quickly and then presses two lube coated fingers of his right hand to Xia Yao’s hole, testing the waters.

Xia Yao groans. “Put it in already before I die.”

“So dramatic,” Yuan Zong murmurs, lips against the back of Xia Yao’s neck. He keeps them there as he nudges his cock between Xia Yao’s cheeks and lines himself up.

He can hear Xia Yao’s breath falter.

“Pull your legs up a little, baby.” Yuan Zong runs his left hand along Xia Yao’s thigh to the crook of his knee, nudging it forward. “It’ll be easier like that.”

Xia Yao draws his legs up to his chest. Yuan Zong presses soothing kisses to the nape of his neck as he finally starts pushing in, inch by agonising inch.

Until his hips are flush with Xia Yao’s.

They’re both breathing hard. Yuan Zong wraps an arm around Xia Yao’s waist, holding him against his chest. 

“Okay?”

The glide has felt smooth to him, like he had prepared Xia Yao adequately, but he needs to make sure.

“Yeah,” Xia Yao gasps, intertwining his fingers with Yuan Zong’s. “Yeah. It’s - weird. Full. But it’s - good. I just have to…”

“Tell me when to move.”

Xia Yao feels so tight and hot around him. Yuan Zong tries to distract himself by nibbling the mark he left on his neck earlier. 

“Okay,” Xia Yao murmurs a moment later, squeezing his hand. “Zong-dage. Move.”

Yuan Zong pulls out slowly, struggling to get his right hand underneath Xia Yao’s hip so he can adjust the angle before he pushes in again. Xia Yao rewards him with a sharp intake of breath as Yuan Zong’s cock brushes against his prostate.

Yuan Zong kisses the soft skin below his ear. “There you are, baby.”

He aims for that spot again on the next thrust. Xia Yao clenches hard around him when he hits it this time, letting out a soft whimper.

Yuan Zong groans. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

Xia Yao begins to push back against him, his motions accompanied by little noises of pleasure, interspersed with gasps of “yes” and “please” and “dage”. Yuan Zong disentangles their hands, holding him by the waist to give himself some control over the depth and severity of his thrusts. He’s trying to go slow, but it’s all getting to his head - the heat and the friction, the way Xia Yao’s body feels in his hands and against his mouth and around his cock, the sounds he is making. The sense of pleasure is so intense, so all-encompassing, Yuan Zong isn’t sure whether he’s swimming or drowning in it.

He almost doesn’t notice how tightly he’s squeezing Xia Yao’s waist until Xia Yao whines and reaches for his hand, drawing it up his chest instead.

“Sorry,” Yuan Zong gasps. “Didn’t mean to -”

Xia Yao rolls his hips back against him, effectively cutting off his breath and speech. His hand guides Yuan Zong’s fingers to his left nipple. Yuan Zong rubs his thumb across it, then lifts his hand to Xia Yao’s mouth.

“Make them wet,” he murmurs into his ear.

Xia Yao moans softly as he opens his mouth for Yuan Zong’s fingers again, swirling his tongue around them in such an obscene way Yuan Zong curses, feeling his cock jerk inside of Xia Yao. He pulls them out, tracing a wet path down Xia Yao’s neck and chest. Xia Yao’s skin feels hot, almost feverish, and his back arches when Yuan Zong teases his nipples with spit-slick fingers. 

“Yes,” he hisses. “Unngh. Fuck. Dage.”

Yuan Zong’s hips snap into him on their own accord, and Xia Yao mewls before he can apologise.

“Yeah. Harder, Zong-dage.” His voice sounds high-pitched and raw, almost a little delirious as he begs. “Fuck me.”

Yuan Zong buries his face in the crook of his neck, pinching his nipple hard one last time to hear him make a sound somewhere between a cry and a broken moan, before he returns his hand to his waist for leverage. Xia Yao’s breathy little noises are ceaseless as Yuan Zong starts fucking him without rhythm or restraint, chasing relief.

His blood is rushing in his ears when he feels Xia Yao’s blunt nails scrape across the back of his hand as he fumbles for him again. The words are almost unintelligible, buried between moans, but Yuan Zong can make out “close” and “touch me.”

He slides his hand across the plane of Xia Yao’s belly where his muscles are contracting until he finds his ramrod cock.

Xia Yao’s entire body goes rigid moments after he touches him. Yuan Zong can’t tell if he’s making any noise at all because his vision whites out as Xia Yao seizes around his cock, and his pulse hammers in his ears, drowning out all other sounds.

When he comes back to himself, he’s curled around Xiao Yao’s body. Xia Yao’s cock has slipped out of his grip as it softened. He can feel his heartbeat through his back - or maybe that’s his own heart pounding against his ribs. It’s hard to tell them apart right now.

“Yao-er,” he manages after he’s caught his breath.

Xia Yao makes an indistinct noise, remaining motionless. Yuan Zong swallows, cradling him against his body, pressing his lips to his shoulder. 

“Talk to me.”

Xia Yao whines, “can’t. ‘m dead. You’ve killed me.”

His theatricality provides Yuan Zong with an odd sense of relief. He runs his hand soothingly down Xia Yao’s side, feeling him shiver at the touch, and thinks, I love you. 

It’s less a flash of insight than a dawning on something he has known intuitively for a while and never allowed himself to put in words. It may be too early to say it out loud, but the certainty of it seems to fill the space between his ribs with warmth.

He swallows, burying his nose in Xia Yao’s hair and letting his hand rest on the jut of his hip.

After a moment, Xia Yao stirs, letting out a soft breath.

“You’re still inside me,” he notes.

“Ah.” Yuan Zong blinks, reaching down. “So I am.” In the heat of the moment, he didn’t even notice. 

Xia Yao makes a little noise of discomfort as he pulls out. Yuan Zong kisses the back of his neck. “Sorry about that.”

He ties off the condom, pushing himself up into a seat to toss it into the wastebasket. Sitting up, he looks down at Xia Yao, taking in the way he is curled in on himself. He looks exhausted, all flushed cheeks, bitten lips, and lowered eyelids.

“Are you alright?” He asks gently.

“Mhhnm.” Xia Yao rolls over onto his back, squinting up at him. Then his face splits into a grin. “I feel great.”

Yuan Zong smiles back indulgently before he sobers up. “Any pain at all?”

Xia Yao seems to contemplate this. He writhes a little, stretching out his spine, and then winces almost imperceptibly. “I wouldn’t call it pain. But it’s - yeah. I can still feel you.”

Yuan Zong presses his lips together. He lost control at the end, giving in to Xia Yao’s pleading for maybe more than he could take.

“I like it, though.” Xia Yao’s fingers find his wrist, wrapping around it. “It’s like a reminder of when you were in me. And I liked that. A lot.”

His bluntness is disarming. Yuan Zong huffs a little, lowering himself onto his side again. Instantly, Xia Yao scoots closer to press himself up against him, and Yuan Zong opens his arms.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he murmurs against Xia Yao’s temple.

“As if you couldn’t tell.”

Yuan Zong drags his fingers through the mess on his belly and smirks. “I had an inkling.”

Xia Yao squirms, snickering involuntarily when Yuan Zong digs his fingers into his waist to tickle him.

“Dage!”

“Hmm.”

“What about you?” He nudges Yuan Zong’s shoulder, which Yuan Zong takes as his sign to turn onto his back, pulling Xia Yao with him. Xia Yao props himself up on his chest, looking down at him. “You… you thought about this before.”

Yuan Zong hums affirmatively. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.

Xia Yao chews on his bottom lip. “So… was it as good as you imagined?”

Yuan Zong reaches up to trace the side of his face with his fingertips. “No,” he says, finding brief sadistic enjoyment in Xia Yao’s shocked expression before he amends, “better.”

Xia Yao half-heartedly slaps his chest. “Yuan Zong! You’re so mean.”

Yuan Zong can’t help but grin. “Only because you like it when I’m mean.”

Xia Yao’s eyes widen. “What? Preposterous.” But his cheeks are reddening even as he protests.

Yuan Zong lets out a content sigh, folding his hands behind his head and waiting for Xia Yao to stop grumbling about his completely accurate “baseless accusation”.

Eventually, Xia Yao burrows his face into his breastbone, one leg coming up to wrap around his waist. He’s so clingy. Yuan Zong adores that about him.

“Do you always talk this much when you’re -” Xia Yao clears his throat. “I think this may have been the most you’ve ever talked to me.”

Yuan Zong snorts at the exaggeration.

At least he’s relatively sure it’s an exaggeration.

Xia Yao’s question is warranted, though, because Yuan Zong isn’t normally this talkative during sex, either. It’s just…

“Wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself,” he murmurs. “Plus,” he adds after a second, “you liked it when I was talking to you. It turned you on.”

Xia Yao’s whine of complaint confirms his assumption.

“Zong-dage. Stop teasing me.”

Yuan Zong laughs and wraps his arm around Xia Yao’s waist, flipping them over and taking advantage of Xia Yao’s surprise by leaning down and kissing him again.

Xia Yao surges up to kiss him back after a split-second, arms coming up around his neck. Yuan Zong licks into his mouth leisurely, savouring him like a dessert on a full stomach. Now that their hunger has been sated, their kisses are slow and tender.

Xia Yao’s lips are red and swollen when Yuan Zong draws back.

“So gorgeous,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the apple of his cheek. “My Yao-er.”

Xia Yao hums breathlessly. “Yours.”

Yuan Zong feels his breath escape him. He buries his face in Xia Yao’s neck, revelling in the feeling of Xia Yao idly playing with his hair. His fingers are warm now, far from the icicles they were when he arrived.

Mine, he thinks dizzily. 

He wants to ask what that means, but he won’t. Not now. Not just yet. They’ve made such a leap in their relationship in the past few hours that Xia Yao surely will need some time to come to terms with it.

Also, Yuan Zong is tired. It must be the early hours of morning now, and he’s been up since dawn. He can feel his eyelids beginning to droop. Xia Yao is a warm and comfortable pillow, at least until he fidgets beneath him and lets out a soft noise of discontent.

Yuan Zong shifts his weight more thoroughly on top of him to hamper his movement. Xia Yao holds still for all of three seconds before he whines.

“What,” Yuan Zong mutters.

“I’m sticky,” Xia Yao complains with no small amount of indignation.

Yuan Zong’s laughter is muffled by his skin. “And whose fault is that?”

“Hm. Yours,” Xia Yao concludes, “seeing as you made me cum.”

Yuan Zong finds it hard to argue against that. 

“How rude of me,” he agrees.

He pushes himself off Xia Yao, briefly contemplating a trip to the bathroom to fetch a wet cloth, until he realises Xia Yao is still lying on top of the bathrobe. He tugs one of the sleeves out from underneath him and finds it sufficiently damp.

Xia Yao squirms when he nonchalantly uses it to clean first him and then his own chest where some of the stickiness has transferred during their postcoital cuddling.

“There,” Yuan Zong says, dropping the sleeve. “All clean.”

Xia Yao pushes his lip out in a pout; Yuan Zong leans in to bite it, causing him to bat him away with a yelp.

“Zong-dage,” he sulks.

Yuan Zong rolls his eyes indulgently. “What else?”

Xia Yao’s stomach growls in response.

Of course. It must have been many hours since he last ate.

“Alright,” Yuan Zong sighs, pushing himself up. “I’ll get you a snack.”

“And my tea,” Xia Yao reminds him when he gets up.

Yuan Zong can feel his eyes on him as he steps into his underwear. He may not feel the cold as much as Xia Yao, but on the off-chance that Yuan Ru wakes up, he really doesn’t want to be walking around in the nude.

He stops by the bathroom first to get the tray as he’ll have to warm the tea up again anyway. In the kitchen, he puts Xia Yao’s mug in the microwave and hunts down the leftovers not consumed by his party guests. When he returns to the bedroom with his loot, the bed is empty.

He stops abruptly, looking around and letting out a breath of relief when his eyes land on Xia Yao’s bag by the foot of his bed where he left it before. Xia Yao can’t have gone very far if he’s decided to leave that behind.

The sound of the flush and padding footsteps make him unclench his fingers and set the tray down just in time to see Xia Yao appear in the doorway, wearing the sullied bathrobe and carrying his bundle of clothes.

“Hi,” he says, his cheeks flushing at Yuan Zong’s stare.

Yuan Zong swallows and smiles at him. “Hi.”

Xia Yao deposits his clothes on the floor with little care. “Figured it might be better if your sister didn’t stumble across those later.”

He fishes for his boxers in the pile and tugs them up his legs.

Yuan Zong nods. “Oh, yeah. No. That was… good thinking.”

They both stand there for a moment, thinking of the same but unwilling to bring it up.

Then Yuan Zong takes a breath and gestures to the tray. “Got the goods as requested.”

In the morning. They’ll deal with that mess in the morning. He's too happy right now to ruin the moment.

Xia Yao’s eyes light up. He throws off the robe and makes himself comfortable on the bed, wrapping Yuan Zong’s comforter around him. Then he makes grabby hands towards Yuan Zong, who moves the tray to the middle of the bed so he can reach it better.

Xia Yao ignores the tea and snacks. “Come here, you have to keep me warm.”

Oh. Evidently the grabby hands were for him. Yuan Zong presses his lips together and crawls in after him, his arm coming up around Xia Yao as the other man snuggles happily up to him.

They sip their tea in comfortable silence, which must be a testament to how tired Xia Yao is, although his mouth being occupied with eating may also have something to do with it. 

As the number of snacks diminishes and the frequency of Xia Yao’s yawns increases, Yuan Zong moves the tray off to the bedside table and shuffles down to lie on his back, pulling Xia Yao into his arms. He goes willingly, nestling up to him with a contented little sigh.

Yuan Zong thinks hazily that this might just be the sweetest sound he’s ever heard in his life before he, too, is claimed by sleep.