Jing Beiyuan glanced up from his book when he heard Zhou Zishu’s voice in the halls. It was late, last he’d heard Zhou Zishu should be off doing something nasty for Helian Yi, and it sounded like Zhou Zishu wasn’t even looking for him.
He paused, thought about whether or not he wanted this to be his problem, and then groaned and stood up. He was curious, and he hated that; curiosity tended to lead to him getting involved in things, which usually made it harder for him to pretend to be a useless layabout who didn’t need to accomplish anything at all.
Jing Beiyuan caught up to Zhou Zishu outside one of their nicer guest rooms. He looked awful, Jing Beiyuan thought, and it wasn’t just because of the bloody tang filling the air around him. “A bath,” he said to Ping’an—who was escorting Zhou Zishu, and looked pathetically grateful that Jing Beiyuan had appeared—and then he stepped forward and grabbed Zhou Zishu’s elbow. The fact that Zhou Zishu didn’t stop him said more than anything else. “Zishu, what happened?”
“It’s not my blood,” Zhou Zishu said first, which was kind of him and also exactly what Jing Beiyuan expected. “Your place was closer than mine.”
That, however, was concerning. So was the way Zhou Zishu’s eyes were dilated, and the care with which he was moving. Jing Beiyuan waved Ping’an off, and led Zhou Zishu into the guest room, far enough from the door that the servants wouldn’t be scared to come in and fill a bath for him. “If it’s not your blood, why did you need shelter?”
Zhou Zishu leaned against Jing Beiyuan. Through the relatively few layers of Jing Beiyuan’s house clothes, and the form-fitting shroud of Zhou Zishu’s stealth garb, he was furnace-warm. “Poison,” he breathed into Jing Beiyuan’s ear.
“Then let me get Wu Xi.” Jing Beiyuan attempted to step back, but Zhou Zishu had always been faster than him. He grabbed hold of Jing Beiyuan, shoving him down into a chair and pinning him in place, and Jing Beiyuan barely had time to realise that hands were on him before he was trapped. “Okay,” he said, voice sticking in his throat as he looked up at Zhou Zishu’s too-wide eyes. “No Wu Xi.”
Zhou Zishu nodded in satisfaction, and his fingers relaxed minutely.
Jing Beiyuan badly wished that he were less aware of exactly where Zhou Zishu’s body was against his, and of the way Zhou Zishu had inserted himself between Jing Beiyuan’s legs. He did not want to remember his first life, and times when their drinking had taken them a little too far. He licked his lips, hoped he was wrong, and asked, “What kind of poison is this, Zishu?”
There was a pause, and then Zhou Zishu moved to sit next to Jing Beiyuan as if they were having a perfectly normal chat. A moment later the door slid open, and a worried-looking gaggle of servants dashed in with a tub and a series of steaming buckets. Jing Beiyuan kept his silence as they filled the tub, watching Zhou Zishu’s tense stillness and overly aware that he had no way to defend himself if Zhou Zishu decided he was tired of waiting.
When the servants were done, Jing Beiyuan dismissed them with a brief word of thanks, and instructed them to leave this room alone until further notice, and then returned to silence. Patience was one of the few battles he was certain he could defeat Zhou Zishu in, especially right now.
It took less than a minute for Zhou Zishu to move. He stood in one smooth motion, hands clenching and opening at his side, and then he strode forward. There was no seduction to the way he removed his clothes, simply brutal efficiency, and yet it captivated Jing Beiyuan far more easily than any brothel-worker’s practiced grace. The scars exposed on his back were different from his first life in the details, but unsurprising in the general. They also did nothing to mar the lean beauty of Zhou Zishu’s muscles and the easy way he moved.
When Zhou Zishu spoke, Jing Beiyuan startled slightly; he’d gotten too focused on the man’s body to realise that he might still answer the question Jing Beiyuan had asked.
“It’s an annoying, but not dangerous, poison,” Zhou Zishu said, still keeping his back to Jing Beiyuan with surprising precision. As he entered the tub, Zhou Zishu glanced over his shoulder with a wicked smile. “If you want to help…”
“You came here for my help, didn’t you?” Jing Beiyuan shook his head; he was fairly certain he knew what kind of poison it was, from the flirtatious way Zhou Zishu was moving and the flush covering his cheeks and stretching down his chest. “What help do you desire?”
Zhou Zishu dipped his hands into the water and drew it over his face, rinsing the stray blood scattered there. “You’re a clever man, Beiyuan.” He leaned on the tub’s edge, grinning at Jing Beiyuan. “Come here and show me your guess.”
Jing Beiyuan stood, robes swirling around him as he strode across the small room, eyes fixed on Zhou Zishu’s. This was a terrible idea. They’d done this a few times in his first life, and he’d studiously avoided getting drunk enough to think about kissing Zhou Zishu—let alone fucking him—in this one.
He stopped in front of the tub and laid his hands on Zhou Zishu’s bare shoulders. “Zishu,” he said, very quietly, “will you regret this tomorrow?”
Zhou Zishu stood up, water washing away from his body. Upright, there was no hiding his flushed cock where it bobbed out of the water. He reached up to Jing Beiyuan’s face, cradling it between hands that Jing Beiyuan knew could snap his neck in a moment. “I came here, didn’t I?” he asked, already pulling Jing Beiyuan closer. “Do you not desire me?”
Jing Beiyuan weighed his options, and chose, “This will not change our friendship.”
“Please just let me fuck this goddamn poison out of my system already, Beiyuan.” Zhou Zishu’s fingers trembled. “Honor our friendship, or whatever.”
Jing Beiyuan leaned forward the last inches and kissed Jing Beiyuan, tasting sweet iron and a sickly honey undertone he thought had to be the aphrodisiac’s effect. Zhou Zishu groaned and surged out of the tub, knocking Jing Beiyuan to the floor and soaking him with his body and the wave of water that followed along.
It was a good thing he didn’t have any special feelings towards these clothes, Jing Beiyuan thought as he allowed Zhou Zishu to tear them open. Shreds of fabric scattered around them, and it was all Jing Beiyuan could do to keep his hands on Zhou Zishu and his body relaxed to accept whatever was about to come.
“If I’d known this would happen,” he said, and then gasped and arched his back as Zhou Zishu’s mouth fastened onto his nipple. “Fuck, Zishu! Gentler, if you can!”
Zhou Zishu’s teeth parted, leaving only his tongue and the suction of his lips, and that was enough to give Jing Beiyuan the focus to say, “If I’d known, I would’ve said we should fuck for the fun of it before now.”
“You wanted to?” Zhou Zishu rose up to meet Jing Beiyuan’s eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Look at you!” Jing Beiyuan gestures at the expanse of beautifully toned muscle braced above him. “Of course I thought about it.”
Zhou Zishu laughed, and then reached down to cup Jing Beiyuan’s dick. “No wonder I thought you’d be interested.”
Jing Beiyuan scowled at him; he was good at hiding his reactions, but Zhou Zishu had sharp eyes. He raised his legs and hooked them around Zhou Zishu’s slender waist, pushing his dick firmly into Zhou Zishu’s grasp. He remembered Zhou Zishu enjoying this before, and thought he likely would still like it. It let Zhou Zishu show off his strength as he carried Jing Beiyuan’s full weight, and brought Jing Beiyuan into good alignment for either rutting against each other or Zhou Zishu fucking into his ass.
Today, Zhou Zishu took advantage of the angle by reaching down and pressing the tip of his dick against Jing Beiyuan’s ass. “Do you do this much?” he asked, pressing in. If Jing Beiyuan hadn’t been able to hear the shaking of his voice, he would’ve thought the slow speed was easy for him to maintain.
“Not for a while.” Jing Beiyuan let his head fall back to the floor as he relaxed into the stretch of his ass. “Fuck, Zishu, just because I like it gentle doesn’t mean I can’t take it harder.”
Zhou Zishu went completely still for a moment, breathing heavily. Then, very carefully, he said, “If you complain I’m going to tell you it’s your own fault.”
“I know.” Jing Beiyuan gripped Zhou Zishu’s shoulders. “Go ahead.”
He shouted in not-quite-pain as Zhou Zishu thrust all the way inside him, withdrew, and fucked in again. Zhou Zishu’s forehead came to rest on his chest, and Jing Beiyuan shifted a hand to clutch at his hair, not sure if he was comforting Zhou Zishu or himself. The world was reduced to the hard floor beneath him, the heat of Zhou Zishu’s body above him, and the burning rush of Zhou Zishu’s dick moving in and out of his body.
It didn’t feel good.
He was being used, and they both knew it, and the hardness of Jing Beiyuan’s own dick was about the situation and the intimacy and the steadiness of Zhou Zishu’s hand wrapped around it. That hand didn’t move, so as Zhou Zishu fucked him the swing of their bodies pushed his dick through Zhou Zishu’s hand.
Jing Beiyuan was aware of the pleasure building up in his body even though this was some of the worst sex he’d ever had. “Fuck me again, better, when you can think,” he gasped, and was rewarded with Zhou Zishu’s laughter. “I know you can fuck me better than this.”
“Is my dick just that good?” Zhou Zishu lifted his head, grinned. “You’re sweeter than I thought, Beiyuan.”
“Fuck you.” Jing Beiyuan dragged Zhou Zishu’s mouth down until they were kissing, hot and wet and messy, and that helped. Even the way their teeth clicked together helped, and the lick and thrust of Zhou Zishu’s tongue matched his dick, and Jing Beiyuan clenched his legs more tightly around Zhou Zishu.
Zhou Zishu squeezed his dick, and Jing Beiyuan rutted into his hand, and when the tip of his dick brushed Zhou Zishu’s stomach he felt that tiny contact shiver all the way through his body. It set off an avalanche of sensation, and Zhou Zishu thrust into him and glanced across his pleasure there, and Jing Beiyuan lost track of Zhou Zishu’s mouth as he came, upsettingly aware that Zhou Zishu was still hard inside him.
He felt the stutter of Zhou Zishu’s rhythm as his own body shook, and then Zhou Zishu’s teeth fastened on the muscle connecting his neck and his shoulder with a muffled curse. Jing Beiyuan stroked his hair with what little thought he had left, wincing at the pain. Nothing good would come of complaining about it now.
Zhou Zishu released his dick, changed to grab his ass, and Jing Beiyuan had just enough time to try and catch his breath before Zhou Zishu slammed into him even harder.
Jing Beiyuan held on, and let his orgasm turn everything soft, and heard a keening noise build up in Zhou Zishu’s throat. “Zishu,” he said, hoping he was remembering correctly, and then letting the words spill out. “Fuck, Zishu, you can come for me, can’t you? I want to hear you, want to feel you spend inside me, fuck, it’s hot when you do that.”
Zhou Zishu grabbed him tighter, the tension in his body ratcheting up until Jing Beiyuan could feel him shaking.
“You want to, don’t you?” he said, and squeezed the nape of Zhou Zishu’s neck. “Be good for me, Zishu. Come, now.”
Zhou Zishu came.
His whole body convulsed around Jing Beiyuan, and his cock pulsed inside him, and Jing Beiyuan groaned at the yet-greater heat filling him now. Slowly, as Zhou Zishu’s muscles relaxed, he sank down on top of Jing Beiyuan, a great weight finally allowed to rest.
Jing Beiyuan stroked along Zhou Zishu’s back and paid careful attention to his own breathing. Zhou Zishu was gorgeous and made entirely of muscle, which meant he was heavy despite how lean he was. It was difficult to notice when he was in control of himself, because he was so light on his feet, but with all his weight sprawled on top of Jing Beiyuan it was hard to avoid.
“Zishu,” he murmured, and kissed Zhou Zishu’s forehead. “Zishu, you’re going to squish me.”
Zhou Zishu whined, but rolled aside. As his softening dick slid out of Jing Beiyuan’s ass, so did a rush of sticky warm wetness, and Jing Beiyuan winced. “We need a bath,” he said, but the idea of moving seemed like too much effort right now. He could already feel bruises forming on his buttocks, and was sure he would need to hide the bite mark on his neck as well. “I wonder if that one’s still warm.”
“It’s got some blood in it.” Zhou Zishu’s voice held a burr of an accent that Jing Beiyuan couldn’t remember hearing much before; it wasn’t court-standard, but it wasn’t far from it. “Still clean enough?”
“Cleaner than your come leaking out of my ass,” Jing Beiyuan retorted.
Zhou Zishu laughed, and nuzzled his face into the curve of Jing Beiyuan’s throat. “I’ll make it up to you next time, Beiyuan.”
“You’d better,” Jing Beiyuan muttered, but he curled his arm around Zhou Zishu’s head and tangled his fingers back in Zhou Zishu’s hair. “I deserve better.”
“So do I.” Zhou Zishu kissed the same spot he’d bitten as he’d come. “Thanks.”
Jing Beiyuan smiled ruefully at the ceiling. “What are friends for?”
Zhou Zishu laughed, and—after a moment—Jing Beiyuan joined him.