“Ququ,” Feng Xiao said, entering the room Cui Buqu periodically wished was actually private to everyone instead of having an obnoxious standing exception by the name of Feng Xiao, “I want to know how much you can take.”
Cui Buqu considered the papers he had been studying—background for a potentially intriguing case that could keep boredom at bay, albeit not as well as Feng Xiao inevitably would—and then sighed and turned to face his erstwhile rival. There was no point in pretending there was any other reason for his presence, especially when Feng Xiao was fiddling with a very particular piece of jade. “I think we have amply proven how much I can take,” he said, eyes pointedly flicking to Feng Xiao's crotch. “Many times, in fact.”
Feng Xiao beamed at him. “Not like that.”
This was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Cui Buqu could feel it in the air, even if he wasn't a peerless martial artist like Feng Xiao.
When Cui Buqu didn't respond, Feng Xiao sighed loudly. “Don't you want to know?”
“Was Feng-er planning on hiding his conclusions from me?” Cui Buqu raised his eyebrows.
“It's polite to ask.”
“We both know that courtesy is never the virtue between us.” Cui Buqu deliberately turned his back on Feng Xiao. While he wouldn't be able to devote his full attention to this matter, he could still write notes for his agents in the southern regions to help them deal with suddenly-questionable trade routes that he did not actually care about very much right now.
Feng Xiao's hands slid onto his shoulders. Cui Buqu hadn’t seen him set down the jade, but a glance confirmed that it was exactly where he expected. “What virtue is there?” Feng Xiao asked, voice gentle enough to be concerning. He smelled like astringent cleansers and oleander, as always, and Cui Buqu debated whether he would be worth telling him that as it had been a warm day, Cui Buqu was not smelling his best. He hadn't even washed his hands since eating lunch.
In the end, he decided that since Feng Buqu was here to proposition him, sweat was not currently one of his worries. “Honesty,” Cui Buqu said, voice cold, forbidding any emotion to come through.
Feng Xiao, of course, laughed in delight. “You have the best jokes,” he purred into Cui Buqu's ear. “But I'm not here for your humor today.”
“What do you want?” Cui Buqu asked, writing precise notes about people his agents should contact or watch. He knew Feng Xiao could see, but they were past this level of secret mattering; their information networks had interwoven into a complex tangle that had made many of the newly-promoted upper ranked members of both Bureaus cry when they first learned where some of the most delicate information came from. If Feng Xiao was working on the same case, he could have come to the same conclusions.
Feng Xiao tipped Cui Buqu's head up, but he kept writing anyway. He didn't need to see his fingers to finish a string of characters, though it certainly helped. He had trained himself in this precision as a child, and so long as his body was well he could easily maintain the skill.
That his hands hadn't shaken in a long time was something Cui Buqu begrudged needing to thank Feng Xiao for, and so he didn't. If dual cultivation was the only kind of cultivation Cui Buqu could practice, and Feng Xiao the most active and delighted partner in the art Cui Buqu could ever ask for, then Cui Buqu thought it obvious why he hadn't sought it out in all the long years of protecting his fragile body. Even now, when Feng Xiao periodically appeared to further their studies, he still didn't think it necessary for maintaining himself.
Still, it was pleasant, and there were things to admire about Feng Xiao.
His way of explaining himself was not usually one of those things, unfortunately.
“I knew you missed me,” Feng Xiao said as Cui Buqu's fingers finally stilled and he laid his pen aside. “You get so twitchy about cases when we're parted for too long.”
“It's been two weeks,” Cui Buqu grumbled, finally deigning to meet Feng Xiao's brilliant eyes. “Hardly such a long time.”
“Yet you counted every day I was gone, mourning your loss of my peerless perfection.”
“You do so love to display yourself.” Cui Buqu patted Feng Xiao's head like he was a particularly active puppy. “Get to the point.”
“I told you when I came in; I want to know how much you can take.” The light in Feng Xiao's eyes was definitely dangerous. He flicked Cui Buqu's shoulder, sending just enough qi into the strike that Cui Buqu scowled at him; it would leave a bruise, and he knew Feng Xiao knew that. “We've worked so hard on cultivating your body, Ququ; don't you want to know how much you can now endure?”
Cui Buqu sighed. He'd endured plenty already, and they both knew that. “Why?” he demanded, pushing Feng Xiao back enough that he could stand up and look him in the eye.
“I just want to know,” Feng Xiao said, fidgeting.
Cui Buqu stood there for a moment, watching the fidgeting. Then, suddenly, it came together. “Feng-er,” he said slowly, “how are you planning on testing this?”
“Strikes with a cane,” came the immediate answer. “And then a most pleasant session of dual cultivation, to ensure I don't deprive Zuoyue Bureau of their precious commander for too long.”
Cui Buqu studied Feng Xiao's face: The earnestness of his words, the expanded pupils of his eyes, and the flush high on his perfect cheekbones all spoke to this being some fantasy of his. He wouldn't be surprised if it came of being a demonic cultivator, but Cui Buqu prided himself on his knowledge of people; while demonic sects cared little for the trouble they caused, plenty of ordinary people enjoyed the thrill of pain.
He didn't think he was one, but Feng Xiao had proven that he liked many things that he would not have thought appealing before exposure.
So he rolled his eyes and said, “How many strikes?”
“Ququ,” Feng Xiao breathed, scolding despite his clear delight, “if you know how many times I will hit you, I know you will endure them. You are far too stubborn.”
“Then when will you stop?” Cui Buqu shook his head sadly. “If you will keep going until I collapse, then I'm afraid we won't be able to practice dual cultivation at all.”
Feng Xiao studied his face, more sober than Cui Buqu expected. Abruptly, he said, “I will write it down.”
“Hm?”
“The number of strokes.” Feng Xiao moved past Cui Buqu to pick up a blank scrap of paper and the still-wet pen. “I will write it down, and fold it up, and you can check the number to ensure I wasn't lying to you. I trust your ability to count will remain unaffected.”
Cui Buqu nodded acknowledgement. He had honed many mental skills such that they would be unaffected by illness or torment; counting was a simple one.
Feng Xiao took this as agreement, of course, and wrote a few quick characters. Then he blew on the paper, and Cui Buqu thought there was some qi in that air, expended for the trivial task of ensuring the ink was quickly dried. Useless, but it meant that when Feng Xiao folded the paper and offered it to Cui Buqu there was no way it would leave any stains.
“Leave it on the table,” Cui Buqu said. “I don't need to hold it.”
Unsaid was that he had seen Feng Xiao write down the words. If he wished, they both knew he could review that memory and know exactly what Feng Xiao had written down.
Cui Buqu did not plan to, but he smiled sharply at Feng Xiao, thinking to make him wonder if he had. “I assume you brought an implement.”
Feng Xiao inclined his head. “I know that Commander Buqu is loathe to leave his private rooms for our sessions, so of course I planned ahead.”
Loathe to leave his rooms was not precisely accurate, in Cui Buqu's opinion; he had simply put in the effort to create an array which, when activated, made his rooms soundproof. Only he and Feng Xiao were supposed to know where it was and how to activate it, and so long as he was with Feng Xiao, he was safe.
Feng Xiao had already activated that array by placing the jade keystone, of course.
Cui Buqu tilted his head in question, when Feng Xiao hesitated. Feng Xiao’s eyes tensed briefly in acknowledgement of the weakness Cui Buqu was not calling him on, and then he drew a slender wand out of his sleeve, extending it for Cui Buqu to view. “Is it satisfactory?”
Cui Buqu's lips curled instinctively. He had been tormented in many ways as a child, but never with a cane. It was fortunate, he thought, for otherwise he might have more objections to Feng Xiao's desire. “You can make anything into a weapon, no matter how poorly made,” he said lazily. “What matter is the stick? Only you know if you will break it by accident when enthralled by the work of your own hands.”
Feng Xiao's throat jumped. “I will not break it,” he said, and Cui Buqu knew that no ordinary person would hear the arousal in his voice, but it was clear to Cui Buqu's trained ear. “Nor will I break you, Ququ.”
Cui Buqu smiled. “Isn't that what you desired to determine?”
Before Feng Xiao could respond, Cui Buqu stripped the robes from his back. He let them hang down from his belt, covering his lower half. Feng Xiao's eyes darkened as his eyes roamed across the bare expanse of Cui Buqu's chest, lingering on his nipples and the shadowed trails of hair.
“Acceptable?” Cui Buqu asked.
“Hardly,” Feng Xiao purred. The cane's tip extended, traced a chilly line down Cui Buqu's sternum. “I want to be able to reach all of you, Cui Buqu.”
Cui Buqu heard his own breath stutter, and knew his pulse was racing. Once, he would have worried about that, or about his breath coming so fast and harsh. But right now, with Feng Xiao's peerless energy pulsating around him and resonating with the qi he had donated last visit, Cui Buqu knew he was in no danger of collapsing from such frustrating internal flaws.
“Then make this fair,” Cui Buqu said, not moving a muscle in his body even as the cane tapped on his shoulders and prodded at his nipples. “Feng-er, please strip as well.”
“Since you're asking so nicely,” Feng Xiao drawled, and in the blink of an eye he was nude. His cock sat, fat and half-hard already, between his perfect muscled thighs.
Preening peacock, Cui Buqu thought, he has so much skill, and he uses it for this?
But Feng Xiao had agreed, and done his part, and so Cui Buqu must as well. Slowly, because this was where he had control, Cui Buqu undid his belt and let his many layers fall to the floor. Feng Xiao watched, for once silent in his rapture, as Cui Buqu's body was unveiled.
Cui Buqu had asked, once, what Feng Xiao admired about his body. The blithe answer about how Cui Buqu strove determinedly for perfection despite the flaws he had been born with made little sense, and the way Feng Xiao had kissed every scar on his body while praising his resilience had been yet more bizarre. It hadn't been unpleasant, precisely, but Cui Buqu had never asked again, and since then Feng Xiao had not offered anything more specific than his endless store of flippant and questionably serious complimentary words.
Instead, Feng Xiao watched him, and touched him, and let his qi speak for him in every way that mattered.
For instance, right now Feng Xiao was perfectly still in a way that meant he very much wanted to move. Cui Buqu smiled sharply at him, pausing with his final layers still covering the area he knew Feng Xiao coveted most. He turned around, watching the aborted movement of Feng Xiao's hand, and then let the last bits of cloth drop, exposing his bare body. His hair was still nearly pinned up, because while in many other encounters Feng Xiao liked to run his fingers through Cui Buqu's hair, Cui Buqu did not want his hair in the way of Feng Xiao's stick.
“Acceptable?” he asked again, meeting Feng Xiao's eyes in the mirror he had carefully placed in his room for such matters. It hadn’t been wholly intended for sex—being able to see a person standing behind him had many uses—but Cui Buqu readily admitted it was quite useful for it.
“Yes,” Feng Xiao said, and he raised the cane. “Are you ready?”
“How much am I allowed to move?” Cui Buqu asked, curiosity finally overcoming him. “Or cry out?”
Feng Xiao laughed. “I leave that up to your stubbornness and will,” he said, almost sweetly. “But I believe that you will exceed every expectation I have.”
Do not move, Cui Buqu heard. Do not cry out.
He hadn't been planning on doing either, but it was good to hear that Feng Xiao didn't think he would need to. Cui Buqu breathed in and out once, deeply, and felt grateful for the practice that made it possible. “Very well,” he said. “Begin.”
The first strike was almost gentle.
Cui Buqu had braced himself for a line of pain splitting his back in half, but Feng Xiao had controlled his blow such that it stung no more than the earlier flick of his finger. Cui Buqu cocked his head at Feng Xiao. “A love tap,” he said, smirking. “Go on, I know you can do better.”
Feng Xiao nodded curtly and said nothing. This time, when he struck, Cui Buqu couldn’t see him move. His back was free of all but his most chronic aches, and then pain blazed along his shoulders, bright and hot, and there was no warning. Cui Buqu steadied himself internally, breathing through the pain, but as his breath crested another blow came, and another.
The part of Cui Buqu’s brain that loved patterns and remembered them broke through to realize that Feng Xiao wasn’t striking randomly, though it felt like it as his back warmed to the cane. Feng Xiao was writing on his back with precise strokes, showing off his control while also saying I love you and You are mine and You’re beautiful like this. The words trailed along his shoulders and down his body, firming on his ass (I love to touch your body) before dancing along his thighs (so strong down the right and so fragile up the left) and curling around his sides (mine and love repeated in endless variations).
Cui Buqu’s eyes fell shut. He wasn’t certain when they did, as he lost himself in the haze of counting strokes and keeping his mouth shut and his body balanced upon the ground. He could feel himself sway, distantly; his muscles were loose and open, holding him upright through habit alone. It was not quite meditation, nor the healing trance which acupuncture sometimes induced, but it was more similar than Cui Buqu had expected it could be.
The pain which had surged at Feng Xiao’s first blow had turned from raging fire to a glow he could bask within, ebbing and flowing with Feng Xiao’s words. Cui Buqu breathed into it, listening to the hiss of Feng Xiao’s cane through the air and the counterpoint of their breaths: His own, stuttering as carefully calibrated blows fell and rushed through him without knocking the wind from his lungs; Feng Xiao’s, steady but slowly speeding up as the scent of arousal and bruises filled the air.
Cui Buqu’s count had far surpassed anything he had expected. But then, he had expected steady blows, not sentences inscribed onto his skin until he himself was a talisman of Feng Xiao’s affections.
The last characters (and he knew they were the last after the second stroke, because he knew Feng Xiao’s pride as surely as his own), driven deep enough into Cui Buqu’s body that he knew they would be visible for days to come, were ones he was intimately familiar with: The characters of Feng Xiao’s own name.
Cui Buqu gasped at that, the only sound he had allowed himself to make; it was not at the pain, but about the beautiful and principled intimacy of having his lover’s name etched into his back by reddened skin and barely-contained blood, a brazen proclamation of ownership that nobody would ever see.
Silence, for a moment, and then Feng Xiao touched his back with his bare hand.
Cui Buqu whimpered once before he slammed his throat shut again, the guttural sound bursting from him without time to be halted as the pain he had so carefully suppressed burst with the near-clinical gentleness Feng Xiao could display. His body had suffered worse indignities in battle or neglect, and yet Feng Xiao’s deeply-hidden kindness could break him more surely than any weapon.
Feng Xiao came close enough that Cui Buqu could feel the rippling heat of qi that surrounded him, and the tip of his cock brushed against Cui Buqu’s abused thighs. He shuddered, body on high alert yet unable to move as he descended from the high cloud Feng Xiao had beaten him into. He wanted Feng Xiao to move closer, to set every line he had worked into Cui Buqu’s body into bright and blissful pain, but Feng Xiao did nothing of the sort.
Instead, Feng Xiao kept his careful millimeters of distance and kissed him at the base of his neck, and Cui Buqu felt stray hairs that had somehow escaped from his tight bun cling to the sweat coating his skin. That Feng Xiao kissed him anyway, the tip of his tongue escaping to lick hot lines of possession, spoke volumes about the lines he would cross if Cui Buqu asked to—and the ones he would cross even if Cui Buqu said nothing at all.
“Forward,” Feng Xiao said, but Cui Buqu did not move. Even with Feng Xiao’s hands holding him upright, his body did not want to remember how to walk just yet.
A sigh gusted along his ear, and Feng Xiao pushed him forward with his own body, muscles rubbing against the lines of pain in just the way Cui Buqu had desired. He relaxed into the pain, letting Feng Xiao bear his weight with strong hands. It set a different array of pain thrilling against Cui Buqu’s battered consciousness; he welcomed it, embraced it, just as he embraced the heat of Feng Xiao’s core and cock burning against his ass.
Feng Xiao moved him forward, step by careful step, until he could deposit Cui Buqu on his bed. Cui Buqu sprawled out, body warm and relaxed in a way he rarely felt. He was uncomfortable, mostly because his own cock was trapped beneath him in a way that was at odds with its desire for attention. However, the pain which he had expected to simply suffer through had sung into his bones in a way he was entirely pleased by.
Pain given in desire, it seemed, was different than torture inflicted purposelessly. He supposed this was no surprise, but Cui Buqu had never thought himself interested in experiencing such things personally. In this, as in so many other things, Feng Xiao had overturned his expectations.
“You’re so heavy,” Feng Xiao was saying, fond exasperation coloring his voice. “I’ve put so much effort into this encounter, can’t you help out even a little?”
“No,” Cui Buqu said, rousing himself just enough to respond. He took a breath, readying himself, and then turned over so he could smile blissfully at Feng Xiao. The weight of his body brought Feng Xiao’s name into beautiful life against his back. He felt his eyes flicker shut a few times before he brought himself under control once more. “Your experiment. Your effort.”
Now he could see Feng Xiao again, and Cui Buqu openly allowed himself to admire him: Smooth skin already flushed with arousal, dark eyes staring hungrily at Cui Buqu, dark hair guiding Cui Buqu’s own eyes down to the already-wet thick cock straining towards Cui Buqu’s body. Cui Buqu smiled and let his head fall back, perfectly aware of how much Feng Xiao enjoyed looking at the lines of his slender throat, and said,“You promised dual cultivation, Feng-er.”
Feng Xiao made a noise that might have been a word but seemed to primarily be an expression of need.
He fell upon Cui Buqu, sealing their lips together as if he, not Cui Buqu, were the one in need of a qi transferral. Cui Buqu groaned into his mouth as the additional weight sent pain surging along his skin, but his hips bucked up into Feng Xiao’s; body saying keep going, I want this while his mouth was too busy with the hot wet force of Feng Xiao’s lips and tongue and teeth.
Cui Buqu grabbed at Feng Xiao’s hair, whining in frustration as he encountered a hairpin and had to take a few precious seconds to free Feng Xiao’s perfect hair. He tossed the ornaments away, not caring where they landed, and buried his hands in silken-smooth locks with all the strength in his body. Feng Xiao moaned into his mouth as Cui Buqu tugged, dragging Feng Xiao’s mouth down to where he wanted it.
Feng Xiao was never good at following directions; he resisted, nipping and licking his way down Cui Buqu’s chest instead of going directly to Cui Buqu’s cock. While that also felt good, and Cui Buqu appreciated the contrast between the gentleness of Feng Xiao’s tongue and the delicious ache in his back, it wasn’t what he craved most ardently. “You wanted me to put effort in,” Cui Buqu panted. “Yet you resist my efforts! Make up your mind, Feng-er!”
Feng Xiao looked up, chin resting in the hollow between Cui Buqu’s ribs, and laughed. The rich sound rippled across Cui Buqu’s body, sending tingles along his limbs. “You wouldn’t like me if I were easy, Ququ.” He smiled, vicious, and his fingers dug deep into Cui Buqu’s hips. “But I do like your thoughts, so today I will listen.”
Cui Buqu barely heard those last words; he was too busy screaming as his hips jerked up into Feng Xiao’s grip and his body electrified with the new and deeper pain.
Relief came in the form of Feng Xiao’s perfect mouth, made more perfect because while it was upon Cui Buqu’s cock it couldn’t be saying any words. Soft lips brushed the head of his cock, followed by a hot tongue, and Cui Buqu’s scream modulated into a long shuddering groan. Feng Xiao took this as encouragement, and Cui Buqu lost all ability to form coherent words as Feng Xiao opened his mouth and took the entirety of Cui Buqu’s length.
The heat and pressure was a test of his control. Cui Buqu knew he could come in a moment, if he allowed himself, but he did not want to give Feng Xiao such satisfaction. He wanted to prolong this moment, the way his body felt suspended between pain and pleasure and Feng Xiao. He let out a deliberate sigh, and then shoved his hips into Feng Xiao’s face.
A laugh, more a vibration than a sound, resonated through Feng Xiao’s chest and straight into Cui Buqu’s cock. Cui Buqu arched his back as qi surged up and entered his body, a cooling blast that left him groaning more the pain ever had. The absence of pain let pleasure come to the forefront, and in that moment Feng Xiao began to move.
Cui Buqu couldn’t do anything to help, with Feng Xiao’s hands firm against his hips, but he could watch as Feng Xiao crested and sank down. Each movement was smooth, and flowed into the next without pause. Cool air struck Cui Buqu’s cock one moment and then was salved by Feng Xiao’s tongue in the next. There was no other contact, no other sound, and Cui Buqu’s hands dug into the bedsheets, twisting fruitlessly as he wished he could hold onto Feng Xiao’s hair.
Feng Xiao looked up and met his eyes. Slowly, delicately, he pulled back until just the tip of Cui Buqu’s cock was in his mouth. His tongue danced along the sensitive skin, and Cui Buqu shivered, muscles tensing as he tried to move more of himself into Feng Xiao. It wouldn’t work. It never worked. That didn’t stop him from trying.
“Are you holding yourself back for my sake?” Feng Xiao asked, his words flickering across Cui Buqu’s cock. “You don’t need to.”
“Fuck you,” Cui Buqu gasped. “Not everything is about you.”
Feng Xiao sat back, his own leaking cock now on display as his hair swept in front of his shoulders. “Do you think you can last long enough?” he asked, voice deep. “That seems a fine test, to me.”
Cui Buqu paused, thinking it through, and then laughed. “Feng-er,” he said, taunting, “just because I am not a martial artist does not mean I lack control.”
Feng Xiao smiled at him and rose up onto his knees, extending one arm to pluck a certain jar from Cui Buqu’s side table. It seemed like nothing more than one of the many jars of medicine he kept at hand, but they both knew perfectly well that its purpose was only incidentally medicinal. Feng Xiao offered it to Cui Buqu, who took it silently. He unscrewed the lid, dipped fingers into the thick liquid, and reached through Feng Xiao’s helpfully spread legs to his ass.
They had done this many times, and never once had Feng Xiao offered to prepare either of them. Cui Buqu was unsurprised; that he was willing to participate in such a potentially-unsanitary act as sex was bending quite far enough, for Feng Xiao. Cui Buqu rubbed his fingers in gentle and purposefully insufficient circles around Feng Xiao’s asshole, watching with a smile as Feng Xiao’s face moved through a multitude of expressions and settled on annoyed.
“Cui Buqu,” he growled, reaching down to drag his fingers across Cui Buqu’s still-sore back.
At the pain, Cui Buqu shuddered, and his fingers slipped into Feng Xiao more forcefully than he had intended.
It didn’t matter, because the breath Feng Xiao sucked in rippled through both their bodies, and Cui Buqu withdrew his fingers only to fuck them in again. The pressure and the heat—yet greater here than in Feng Xiao’s mouth—quickened both their hearts, and Cui Buqu wasn’t surprised when Feng Xiao reached for the lubricant himself and dragged a handful along Cui Buqu’s cock.
Cui Buqu had to stop moving his fingers for a few seconds, forehead pressing against Feng Xiao’s hip, as his vision whited out at the fierce pressure of Feng Xiao’s slick hand. He didn’t want to prove himself wrong, and so no matter how much his cock ached, he refused to come yet, when he hadn’t even felt Feng Xiao’s body fitting so perfectly around his own.
“Enough,” Feng Xiao said, and Cui Buqu was pleased to hear that his voice was rough and no longer perfection itself. “Lie down, Ququ.”
Cui Buqu didn’t protest; they both knew that Feng Xiao could set a far stronger and more satisfying pace for both of them. He pulled his fingers out, wiped them on the spare cloth Feng Xiao absently handed him, and lay back, slick cock ready and waiting for Feng Xiao’s slick hole.
Feng Xiao settled himself on top of Cui Buqu, reached down to steady his cock, and then sank down onto it in one smooth and practiced motion.
Cui Buqu felt Feng Xiao’s pleasure emanate in waves through both their bodies as the qi Feng Xiao unthinkingly shared with him during sex took on the flavor of their actions. Feng Xiao adjusted himself slightly, then rose up and fucked himself down again, and again, and again, until it was all Cui Buqu could do to keep himself still enough and prevent himself from coming.
Feng Xiao’s body was beautiful, and perfect, and with every slide of his perfect ass along Cui Buqu’s cock, pleasure swept through him from the pit of his stomach through to the furthest tips of his fingers and toes, electric and bright and thoroughly overwhelming. Cui Buqu didn’t bother trying to hold back his moans, and Feng Xiao’s own gasps and bitten-off curses formed a beautiful counterpoint to the sounds.
The only warning he had before Feng Xiao came was a single moment of stillness and a perfectly enunciated, “Cui Buqu.”
Then Feng Xiao’s body shuddered and heat spilled over Cui Buqu, thick and wet on his stomach and wild across the rest of his body. Feng Xiao’s muscles pulsed in time with it, and Cui Buqu let his own control finally slip, spilling himself into Feng Xiao as the world turned to dark and perfect emptiness where nothing but pleasure could survive.
He came back to himself some minutes later to the chilly evidence of Feng Xiao’s fussy cleaning wet upon his body. He was tucked against Feng Xiao’s body, his back to Feng Xiao’s front, and Cui Buqu sighed and shifted a little closer. Feng Xiao’s pulse moved lazily through them both, and the myriad lines beaten into Cui Buqu’s back already felt like they had been made a week ago, instead of less than an hour past.
“Feng-er,” he mumbled, feeling the deeper ache of his lover’s name still writ into his muscles. “Why did you write, As many as I want instead of a number?”
Feng Xiao’s laugh was sweet, for once. “Because I hadn’t fully decided what I wanted to write.”
Cui Buqu nodded, accepting that answer.
Then, before Feng Xiao could ruin the moment, he allowed himself to slip into a true and proper sleep.