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Jingyan fucks him carefully. It could almost be called gentle – almost, because there’s an edge to it, some sort of barely restrained undercurrent caused by an underlying core of confused desperation, like a yearning, like Jingyan is chasing something he can’t name. He can’t go all out because he has to hold back, because he is and always has to be mindful of Mei Changsu’s health.
He’s not sure where this desperation stems from, and he can’t even begin to list possible causes. He doesn’t know whether the feeling is related to Mei Changsu, if he’s a catalyst or maybe just a person who happened to be in the right place at the right time to serve as an outlet; to somehow bring to light what’s always been inside Jingyan, or maybe just ever since he lost Xiao Shu.
Mei Changsu is lying on his back beneath Jingyan, his hair is loose and spread out around his head on the ground, a couple of strands on his chest. Jingyan shifts his weight to lift one hand and slowly slide it down Mei Changsu’s neck and over his shoulder, making the strands on his chest slip to the ground in a silky wave, joining the others.
Mei Changsu catches Jingyan’s hand in his own and smiles, gives Jingyan’s hand a light squeeze before Jingyan pulls his own hand away and puts it on the ground again, for better leverage.
Lying on the ground must be less exhausting for Mei Changsu, so it’s good they’re doing it this way, Jingyan thinks. He can’t take his eyes off Mei Changsu, and at the same time he can’t keep his mind from wandering. Even though this situation and most of all this position are so very different from what Jingyan is used to, he still can’t help thinking about the past; he can’t help comparing Mei Changsu to the only other man he’s ever been with.
With Xiao Shu Jingyan never had to be this careful, or this mindful about his health; there were fewer restrictions set by his body’s limits. Being with Mei Changsu is all steady and thoughtful silences instead of hushed laughter and good-natured banter. It’s restrained thrusts instead of frantic and careless tumbling around, and apart from that one first kiss with Mei Changsu, there’ve been no more kisses, whereas Xiao Shu could never get enough of kissing Jingyan, and Jingyan was just as happy spending hours doing nothing but kissing Xiao Shu.
Jingyan can’t quite understand how Mei Changsu and he got to this point, how a late-night visit could so suddenly turn into a late-night tryst.
It was just the two of them in Mei Changsu’s room, discussing strategies. When Jingyan made to leave and Mei Changsu stood up to bid him farewell, Mei Changsu must have been exhausted from a long day and an even longer talk, or maybe it was a delayed effect of his illness, or maybe it was everything at once. Jingyan doesn’t know exactly what happened, he only knows Mei Changsu wasn’t too steady on his legs, that he had stumbled standing up, and Jingyan had rushed to catch him against his side, ducking under Mei Changu’s arm to allow him to catch himself. Jingyan had put his own arm around Mei Changsu, had held fast to Mei Changsu’s waist with one hand and laid the other to Mei Changsu’s chest, placed just above his heart, and in the ensuing frozen silence, the combination of Jingyan’s startled exhale and Mei Changsu’s labored breathing had seemed like the only sounds in the entire world. For a moment, Jingyan had been spellbound by the erratic beating of Mei Changsu’s heart beneath the palm of his hand.
He’d been acutely aware of the weight of Mei Changsu’s arm around his neck, and of the heat radiating from him in such a stark contrast to the relative coldness of the room.
He'd closely watched Mei Changsu’s face for any more signs of distress, but mostly noticed the dark sweep of his lashes, fanned down low, and the tremor in his breathing that Mei Changsu seemed to be trying to suppress, maybe in an effort to appear stronger, less affected by whatever had come over him before. When he’d spoken up to thank Jingyan in the same breath as apologizing for troubling him, his voice had sounded strained. Winded.
“It’s no problem at all”, Jingyan had answered. Then he’d asked how he could help, had asked if Mei Changsu was alright. Mei Changsu had promised “I’m okay, now. It was nothing. I got up too quickly, that’s all,” and that had drawn Jingyan’s attention to his lips, which had looked soft, so very soft. Jingyan had known he’d had someone in his arms who was incomparably clever, arguably the most brilliantly strategic mind to ever exist; who was very strong in mind and resolution. But right then and there, everything about Mei Changsu had looked soft, had looked vulnerable. No corner of that cunning mind would have been of any use when Jingyan had him in his arms like that, because right then Mei Changsu had had no defenses, no sharp edges, wasn’t in control the way he usually was, and before he knew it, Jingyan had pressed his lips to Mei Changsu’s forehead in a kiss.
The robes’ fabric on Jingyan’s shoulder had pulled tight as Mei Changsu’s hand had gripped it, and Jingyan had felt Mei Changsu’s breathing halt under his hands, and in a split-second Jingyan had decided it was all or nothing, and it should be this, and now.
So he’d closed his eyes and said “please”, had kissed Mei Changsu again, very softly, lingering in the light contact.
Jingyan has no idea how exactly this innocent, even deniable event had led to Mei Changsu lying under him like this, robes open around him, Jingyan with his own clothes in similar disarray, still half-draped over his body and continually sliding down; with Jingyan between Mei Changsu’s legs, with Jingyan inside Mei Changsu, the vial of oil they had used now lying empty next to them on the ground. Jingyan had been very careful with that, too, had made a point of extensive preparation, until Mei Changsu’s breath had hitched and he’d practically begged Jingyan to stop teasing.
“It’s not teasing,” Jingyan had answered, “when one intends on following through.”
And Mei Changsu had been accommodating all the way, going with it, and he’d been very malleable in body where Jingyan knows he’s not in mind. However, there’s no question of Mei Changsu not wanting this, not now, not anymore, even though there’d been a point when it hadn’t been quite so clear. Mei Changsu had already been mostly disrobed, and he’d hesitated for a moment and said “Your majesty,” but then hadn’t continued that address with either a question or a statement; he hadn’t even asked Jingyan to wait or to go slow. So Jingyan had told him to please tell him to stop if at any point he should object to what they’re doing, to which Mei Changsu’s answer had been clear as day, saying “there is no need to stop.” Jingyan’s heart had sped up and he’d pressed his face to Mei Changsu’s skin in relief, stomach fluttering, momentarily overwhelmed by everything – the situation, his feelings, the brilliant man looking at him with fever-bright eyes, and yes, Jingyan thinks, he’s always been attracted to brilliant people. Questionable ethics aside, there was no doubt about the brilliance of Mei Changsu’s tactics.
Xiao Shu had been a really good strategist, too, after all, which made Mei Changsu the second exceedingly brilliant man Jingyan has ever been with, and despite the blatant differences between the two, Jingyan can’t help comparing them.
He finds not only those stark differences, but also similarities, and those throw him off most. They make him lose focus; they make his mind loud and slippery, make it jump back and forth in time, and comparing little details and major attributes soon has his head spinning all the more.
But then again those similarities mean nothing.
There is no way they can mean anything at all.
Maybe everyone has the same reactions. Anyway, how would Jingyan know, having only two men to compare? Maybe everyone arches their back like that when they’re being entered slowly. Maybe everyone tilts their head back like this, with such an elegant, sensual curve, and maybe everyone’s mouth would open to let out this exact sound were they in this position. There may not be that many different ways for a man to hitch up their legs to wrap them around their partner like that, and maybe any other person would tremble as well if Jingyan inched closer and stilled all movement for a while in favor of simply stroking his hands down their sides and resting it with thumb and fingertips pressing in just above their hips.
Maybe everyone’s breath would hitch when he then increased the pressure, because maybe everyone enjoys being marked that way, and Jingyan finds himself unable to stop leaving small marks, leaving small bruises all over Mei Changsu’s body, even though Mei Changsu doesn’t – or doesn’t dare to – leave his own marks on Jingyan in return. Mei Changsu touches him like he’s afraid Jingyan will break or maybe disappear completely if he holds on too tightly.
Xiao Shu, on the other hand, had always given as good as he got, and he’d liked digging in his fingers as well as playfully nibbling at Jingyan’s skin.
Jingyan nips Mei Changsu’s skin, too, trying it out with this new partner and liking it well. He presses tiny kisses to Mei Changsu’s skin, over the marks as well as on unblemished parts, but he won’t kiss Mei Changsu on the lips, no matter how inviting they look.
No matter how soft they are.
And Jingyan knows just how soft they are, because when Jingyan had first laid Mei Changsu down and opened his robes, he’d leaned over him to take it all in up close. Mei Changsu had looked up at him with a serene smile tugging at the corner of his lips, with his hair loose around him, and he’d looked so soft all over, so inviting, radiant, really, and nothing like Xiao Shu at all, aside from how hungry they both made him feel.
Mei Changsu had tilted his head up and tentatively kissed Jingyan, just a gentle touch of his lips to Jingyan’s, mouth closed, nothing heated and more of a question than anything else. Since then there’ve been no more kisses, because that time Jingyan had turned his face away and demonstratively created a distance between them by moving down Mei Changsu’s neck and pressing a flutter of kisses down Mei Changsu’s throat, down to his clavicle, and Mei Changsu is clever, so clever, which means no more hints were needed to prevent further kisses.
Only now, looking at Mei Changsu under him, Jingyan isn’t so sure he’s made the right decision. Perhaps not, but he doesn’t know for sure, he doesn’t know, and he can’t think.
Everything is too much.
Xiao Shu had never been one for lying down for too long. Instead, he’d liked to ride Jingyan, had liked to straddle him, and he’d said by sitting on top of Jingyan he could get Jingyan to reach deeper, and he’d liked that. They had both liked that, and kissing had been easier that way, too. However, Jingyan had always suspected the real reason was that Xiao Shu was impatient and had too much energy, and this was the best way to spend his energy and to ensure as little need for Xiao Shu’s patience as possible by putting himself in charge.
Jingyan hadn’t minded. He’d always loved watching Xiao Shu like that, moving up and down, and he’d loved to put his hands on Xiao Shu’s hips and directly feel their movement. He’d loved to feel the weight of Xiao Shu pressing down on him, the feeling of his hands pressed against Jingyan’s chest for balance, and the way Xiao Shu would occasionally bend down for a kiss.
And kissing Xiao Shu had been unforgettable. There hadn’t been anything better than kissing Xiao Shu every way and any time, kissing his smile, his frown, his breathless laughter, there had never been anything like it.
Mei Changsu’s hand on his side brings Jingyan out of his thoughts with a jolt. His vision swims and everything within his sight is blurry before his eyes and mind refocus. He shakes off the dizziness and notices he’s picked up speed while thinking, and now Mei Changsu is the one who has his head turned away, turned to the side, and it’s not to evade a kiss, because in contrast to Jingyan, Mei Changsu is probably not even thinking about kissing any longer.
Mei Changsu is flushed, the color high on his cheeks, and Jingyan feels his face go hot as well, thinking how healthy it makes Mei Changsu look, thinking how well that look suits Mei Changsu, but most of all in shame, because he knows how inconsiderate it was of him to let his mind drift like that.
Jingyan takes a deep breath in, trying to steady his own heavy breathing. But Mei Changsu looks like he’s so much worse off, and Jingyan huffs out, annoyed with himself, annoyed with forgetting to be careful. Mei Changsu looks completely out of breath, and it’s no wonder with the unconscious force of Jingyan’s thrusts, so Jingyan slows down until it’s all almost lazy thrusts.
He leans down and kisses Mei Changsu’s cheek, right beside his beauty mark, then kisses it again, and once again. He whispers an apology to Mei Changsu’s skin, who shakes his head languidly, light-headedness making his movements sluggish, and answers a breathless “I’m fine, I feel fine, I feel good.” Jingyan blindly reaches for Mei Changsu’s hands, not lifting his head or stopping his summer rain of kisses. He finds Mei Changu’s wrist and brings it up next to his head, slides his own hand up into Mei Changsu’s and interlaces their fingers, then squeezes gently, and he finally manages to push the noise in his mind further away.
He tries to concentrate only on this, tries to enjoy the moment, because it’s too noisy in his head anyway, too much confusion and turbulent, conflicting thoughts and feelings, such as guilt for lying with Mei Changsu while thinking about another person, and for lying with Mei Changsu in the first place, considering the power relations complicating any such dalliance, and also because it feels like betraying Xiao Shu. But most of all he’s feeling guilty for not properly kissing Mei Changsu at the same time as feeling guilty for wanting to kiss him very much, so much that he feels a painful, churning tug deep in his stomach.
He misses Xiao Shu.
This might be as close as he’ll ever get to him again.