Work Text:
Yang Jinghua was having trouble getting over the fact that, well, he was now dead. One moment he'd been contemplating his life failures, and the next, he was sitting on a hospital bed, dazed and staring at his reflection in the window. He looked different now, younger and prettier, and, without any creepy connotation, so much sexier.
But before he could fully take stock of his situation, a deep, manly voice broke him out of his thoughts. "I'm here to appease you," said the voice, "seeing as I'm going to disturb your death for the rest of your existence by enlisting you to become my spirit shadow."
Jinghua tore his gaze away from his reflection in the window, slowly drawing his hands back from his supple, suddenly-young skin, firm like a healthy young woman's bosoms. "You want me to be your what? Actually," Jinghua added, demurely looking up at the svelte young man with the shining, luxurious white hair, "who even are you? Am I on candid cam?"
"I am Duanmu Xi, a yangmingsi, and no, you're not on candid cam. You're really dead, but that doesn't mean the story is over for you." His voice rumbled like the deepest, most powerful vibrator known to humankind, and somehow, Jinghua felt a delicate flutter of arousal as if merely Xi's voice had elicited a Pavlovian response of sorts.
"Spirit shadow," Xi continued, "As a yangmingsi, I need to take on a spirit to be the extension of myself in the spiritual world. It's a contract, so to speak." Still deadpan, he held out two gold rings, connected by a chain, in his gloved hand.
Jinghua was floored by emotion. Marriage? It made his innocent, virginal heart swoon, clenching desperately for something to fill it, to fill the gap in his life. Just when he'd been complaining that he was a failure at age 23, a beautiful young man, reeking of more sex appeal than a bottle of man-sweat axe body spray, was proposing to him.
Despite the lack of inflection or, really, any sort of emotion...wait, no, because of it, Jinghua was intrigued. How much would it take to break the dam of emotions for this man and make his emotions rush out with the force of a thousand spleen-rupturing orgasms?
"It's fine, Duanmu, or, oh, can I call you Xi?" He licked his lips, reveling in the way that beautiful name rolled in his mouth and slid off his tongue, slick like the most intimate love juice. But then his confidence, capricious as a middle-aged man with erectile dysfunction, deserted him. He lowered his eyes and in a quiet whisper, added, "I have to warn you, I'm not the most exciting person to take on as some sort of pseudo-platonic life partner."
Maybe he was just fishing for compliments, digging deep into Xi to find the his emotional prostate and milk him for all the praise he could get. Maybe he truly was serious and had self-doubt issues. Regardless, Xi knew exactly what to do to make him feel much better.
He took another step forward, filling Jinghua's space with his domineering presence like a furred lumberjack approaching a stump of wood. "I want you," he said, and pressed the rings into his hand.
Their fingers brushed, and Jinghua held on to the contact as long as he could, as if the whorls of his fingerprints had thousands of small hands grasping for their partner on Xi's fingers as well. He didn't want to let go, but he had to so he could slide the rings onto his index finger and thumb.
It felt and fit perfectly, tight around his fingers like a sphincter. And it gave him confidence that maybe this stranger with the chiseled jaw and sharp features like the edge of a butcher's knife really wanted him. It was glorious, basking in the attention of Duanmu Xi's intense, attentive stare, and it felt like he was peeling him apart with his gaze and taking up residence under his skin.
Jinghua shivered in delight and a sudden flush of arousal wracked his body. He couldn't take it. Was love really such an aphrodisiac? It felt like he was drunk on the liquid essence of every romance novel he had ever read.
"Xi," he moaned, "I need you."
His balls and hot man rod felt heavy between his legs as he stood up and stepped closer to Xi, pressing his pure flesh against the sizzling hot bod like a raw steak to a grill. The sparks that flew sure felt like a sizzle, and Jinghua hoped that the sex between them would be anything but rare.
In a flash, Xi swept Jinghua up into his arms, his bulging muscles working to keep all 23 grams of the slender and delicate spirit up in the air. Infatuated, Jinghua ran his fingertips along the curve of one bulging bicep. How was it that the finest specimen of manflesh had more curves than he did, yet somehow manage to be so cut?
Was he a slime that somehow managed to have only the best characteristics whenever Jinghua paid attention to them? Because hell yeah he loved it. Well, he'd love the intimate slime he would pull from Xi in the throes of pleasure even more.
With a burst of robust energy, Xi flexed, and his pecs and abs distended, firm and solid against Jinghua's side. And then, his shirt exploded right off, unable to withstand the sheer rugged force of his muscles, much like Jinghua, who squirmed.
As he shifted, he felt his burning stick, now slick with his own sweet love nectar, brush against his thigh maddeningly. He let out a desperate groan, and, oh, that perfect man could not possible get any more perfect, because he immediately ripped his pants off with one fell swoop, freeing Jinghua's most untouched, tender place to his ravenous gaze.
The earthy, sweaty, undeniably masculine stench of sex filled the air, not just Jinghua's own, but another new, spicy and tangy smell, because Xi had just flexed his built dick muscles and burst the pants right off of his sex. Jinghua's mouth watered and he looked down, immediately met with the sight of the leaning tower of Xi's cock, leaking lava-hot streaks of fluid like a fiery volcano. He wanted that big red monster dong in him.
But in comparison, his own was....so inadequate. He noticed the way his seed plums hung; one was lower than the other, and the left one was slightly bigger, almost disgustingly bulbous to his eyes. The flash of insecurity struck Jinghua once more.
He couldn't let Xi look down! For if he did, would he still consider Jinghua worth of his godly attentions despite his obvious anatomical asymmetry?
Clearly, there was only one solution. To Jinghua, that solution was simply to keep Xi's mouth occupied with his own until they were all but consuming the other's face in an attempt to get as close as two people possibly could, lips and tongues creating a whirlpool of flesh.
Xi also thought that there was one solution, although his solution was completely different. Jinghua clearly just needed a hot, virile man to fuck the confidence back into him, and he was exactly the man for that job.
So thinking, he rubbed the head of his engorged iron rod against Jinghua's moist crevice, slick with both their sweat and Xi's pearly arousal. He gyrated his hips, the blunt tip nudging against the soft pucker of Jinghua's entrance.
He flexed his muscles, the mountains and valleys of his abs rubbing against Jinghua's dick, and gently rocked his hips a few times, knock, knock, knock against Jinghua's most inner door, as if asking for permission to enter.
Jinghua threw his head back and moaned, overwhelmed with sexual ecstasy, and his back entrance relaxed as if granting enthusiastic permission. Involuntarily, the head of Xi's quivering erection penetrated into the flaming tunnel, and he cried out, a throaty sound that echoed in sharp contrast to Jinghua's breathy sighs, whimpers, and moans of wanton pleasure.
He planted his large, rough palms on the pale white globes of Jinghua's ass and pulled them apart, clearing the way for his ass pirate to plunder the depths between the virgin islands. The more he entered, the more it felt like he was pulled in, peristalsis in the throat down under dragging him deeper and deeper into the welcoming heat, deeper and deeper into his core.
Jinghua was unspeakably aroused at this point, unable to do much but push himself repeatedly and desperately against that leaking, crimson rock deep within himself. He trembled, all insecurities forgotten as he chased after his pleasure as one would a lost lover, impaling his submissive body onto the triumphant cock.
Deeper and deeper Xi went, it felt like, and Jinghua felt himself nearing the edge of an unknown precipice. Never in his life had he felt like this, like he was about to be whole yet falling apart in the same moment, and, faced with the unfamiliar, he quailed and clung to Xi, his man, his hard rock in the midst of the onslaught of waves upon waves of unceasing pleasure.
The raw musk of sweat and sex dripped heavily from the air between them, a heady scent dripping from their engorged penises, and, as they edged closer and closer to the point of no return, Xi tugged Jinghua up for a possessive kiss. Their lips mashed together like mating octopi, tasting and biting and lips twining together.
And then Xi started thrusting, mirroring with his tongue what his solid and firm tongue as doing below, plundering and ravishing both termini of Jinghua's digestive tract at once. Yet despite how much Xi was taking from him, Jinghua felt like he was blooming, the electric pulses of pleasure in his body expanding his consciousness, expanding his cock until it was like a balloon about to pop.
The two of them chased after this carnal pleasure, swollen balls bouncing against each other like increasingly heated gaseous molecules in an enclosed space, Jinghua's cock bouncing between them in a steady pa pa pa like the snare drum of a solemn military marching band, their bodies bobbing together like they'd been caught adrift in a tempestuous storm.
Then suddenly, it happened. Jinghua's organic creamsicle seemed undergo a grand mal seizure, jumping and twitching as it spurted his high fructose porn syrup across Xi's sculpted chest, pale splatter art against the canvas of well-defined muscles. He clamped down on Xi as he came, exerting the pressure of sliding tectonic plates on the core of his heart, and Xi couldn't help but follow, erupting his magma deep within Jinghua, who squeezed him harder yet, as if trying to milk every last bit of it to drink the last vestiges of that pouring flame.
The sex was so good they both passed out, awakening to find that they'd done it on top of Jinghua's corpse, in a morgue, with a ring of spirits around them regarding them with curiosity and frustration. Despite the absolute explosion of spiritual energy swirling about their bodies, the thick stench of sex and sweat and slowly cooling manyonnaise had all but formed a physical barrier, keeping the spirits out and preventing them from feasting.
Because, in the name of love, the only two who could feast on each other were Duanmu Xi and Yang Jinghua themselves.