Chapter Text
Jin Zixuan was startled out of a light doze on the sofa by the sound of an unfamiliar car coming up the driveway to the palatial home he shared with his fiance, the Yunmeng Jiang heir Jiang Cheng. He stood and twitched the curtains, but it was just Jiang Cheng, stumbling out of a cab. He looked rough, but that was none of Jin Zixuan’s business: their engagement was political, a PR stunt to atone for high-profile missteps at both Jiang Corp and Jin Corp.
The gravel crunched as Jiang Cheng made his way into the house, and the car pulled away. Jiang Cheng marked every Saturday night as unavailable on their shared calendar. He drove himself somewhere, and came home about two hours later than it was now. Sundays, he spent contentedly spaced-out on the couch, his hair poking every which way over his favourite hoodie, a gift from his sister, mellow in a way he wasn’t the rest of the week. Jin Zixuan had started looking forward to Sundays, the day Jiang Cheng was most pleasant to be around. They’d hang out and watch sports or play video games and it felt… normal. Fun.
They’d been living together for about six months now, since Yu Ziyuan’s very public disavowal of Jiang Cheng’s adopted brother, Wei Wuxian, for coming out, had created a PR firestorm with the Jiang Corp’s largely gay consumer base. (Apparently they hadn’t realized that making everything purple had endeared them to the gay community.) This had followed on the heels of another embarrassing revelation of Jin Guangshan’s many affairs, this one in the form of another orphaned gay half-brother for Jin Zixuan. Teenaged Mo Xuanyu had been taken in by Jin Zixuan’s half-sister, Qin Su, who certainly had no love for the Jin Corp and wasn’t afraid to make statements as such, and Madams Jin and Jiang had come up with Jiang Cheng’s engagement to Jin Zixuan as a way to finally generate some good press and regain market share.
Jin Zixuan was straight - well, straight enough - but he liked living with Jiang Cheng. He was tidy and respected the house rules. His sister Jiang Yanli, who was dating Jin Zixuan’s best friend Mianmian, often came over to cook them both dinner and say nice things about Jin Zixuan’s hair, face and general demeanor. Despite superficial similarities, it was about a thousandfold improvement on Jin Zixuan’s previous roommate, his cousin Jin Zixun.
Jiang Cheng had come into the house, but not into the living area proper. Jin Zixuan frowned. Wherever Jiang Cheng went on Saturdays, he had always driven himself home before, and he hadn’t looked right, somehow, getting out of the car.
“Wanyin?” he called, and stuck his head around the corner, looking down into the foyer. Yes, there was definitely something wrong. Jiang Cheng was sitting, curled up, just inside the door. When he left, he’d had a jacket and, oh yes, both shoes, but appeared to have lost one. That couldn’t be a great sign. “Wanyin?” Jin Zixuan asked again.
Jiang Cheng was shaking, he noticed. He didn’t lift his head from his knees. “Zixuan,” he said, and Jin Zixuan could hear the effort it took for him to keep his voice steady. “Can you call my jiejie?”
“Of course,” Jin Zixuan said, concerned. “Are you…”
Jiang Cheng’s voice shook. “I really need to talk to jiejie.”
Jin Zixuan nodded, and sat down on the first step, closest to Jiang Cheng. The phone rang and rang. “She’s not picking up,” Jin Zixuan said, and was alarmed when Jiang Cheng let out a breath that sounded very much like a sob. Jiang Cheng was very much a crier, but in the way of tearing up at sad commercials, not sitting sobbing in the foyer. Jin Zixuan thought it was kind of cute, the way big, tough Jiang Cheng could be so soft. “She and Mianmian were at Wen Qing’s bachelorette this weekend, and Mianmian mentioned they might not have service. Can I…”
Jiang Cheng let out another hitching breath. “Wei Wuxian,” he said. Jin Zixuan hesitated. Jiang Cheng hadn’t spoken to Wei Wuxian for months, not since the incident. “Can you - please.”
Wei Wuxian picked up on the third ring. “Peacock.”
“Wei Wuxian,” Jin Zixuan said, feeling awkward. “Wanyin is…” He didn’t really know what Jiang Cheng was, besides shivering in a heap just inside their front door.
“Is he there? Put him on.”
Jin Zixuan awkwardly held his phone out to Jiang Cheng. “It’s your brother,” he said, and poked him in the knee with the phone. Jiang Cheng lifted his head, looking at the cell like he’d never seen one before. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jiang Cheng lifted his head from his knees. He looked wrecked, his eyes red-rimmed and his lips chapped and bruised, like he’d been biting them. There was a purpling mark over one cheek that looked like a handprint. He took the phone. “A-Xian?” he said, his voice shaking.
Jin Zixuan only half-heard Wei Wuxian through the phone, some comforting nonsense that sounded like “Gege’s here,” and then Jiang Cheng started gasping out an explanation that was actually more difficult to understand than Wei Wuxian, on the other end of the phone. Jin Zixuan thought about leaving them alone, but Jiang Cheng had come home missing a shoe and a car, and was curled in on himself like his whole body hurt, and he had Jin Zixuan’s cellphone. “Ah, didi, you know better,” Wei Wuxian said, just the slightest hint of chiding in his voice, and Jiang Cheng burst into heavy sobs. Wei Wuxian gentled his voice, offered more soothing words, and then Jiang Cheng extended the phone back to Jin Zixuan.
“Peacock,” Wei Wuxian’s voice snapped down the line. “Do this right and I’ll owe you an enormous favour. Fuck this up and I’ll kill you. How much do you know about BDSM?”
“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, and Wei Wuxian’s sigh crackled down the line.
Jiang Cheng had at least calmed down to no longer actively sobbing when Jin Zixuan hung up with Wei Wuxian a few minutes later, having sworn on his future as the president of Jin Corp to look after Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin?” he said, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible. “Can I touch you?”
Jiang Cheng hesitated, and then nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor. Jin Zixuan hesitated, and then sat down next to him, pressing their arms together. That wasn’t so bad. It was basically what they’d do on the sofa together tomorrow, anyway.
It didn’t seem like enough. Jin Zixuan braced himself. What would Mianmian do? , he asked himself, and slid his arm across Jiang Cheng’s shoulders.
Jiang Cheng froze, and then leaned into Jin Zixuan. “Sorry,” he said, and rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, this is stupid.”
“It’s okay,” Jin Zixuan said, and then realized that they were still sitting just inside the front door of their excessively large home. “Can I take you somewhere more comfortable?”
Jiang Cheng hesitated again, and then nodded. “I need to take a shower,” he mumbled. Jin Zixuan kept his arm wrapped tight around Jiang Cheng and helped him to his feet. It was almost sweet, the way Jiang Cheng listed into him once they were standing.
“Let’s go,” Jin Zixuan said, and for some reason, steered Jiang Cheng into his own bedroom rather than Jiang Cheng’s. Was this what Mianmian would do, he wondered, as he half-carried Jiang Cheng to the ensuite and turned the shower on. She’d probably want Jiang Cheng to be comfortable, and Jin Zixuan’s bathroom was bigger and more luxurious and featured more gold trim and was therefore better. The honour of Jin Zixuan’s inner Mianmian was satisfied.
"Can you," Jiang Cheng asked, still shivering, and Jin Zixuan let his head fall sideways, resting his temple against the top of Jiang Cheng's head. Still, no words were forthcoming.
"Whatever you need, Wanyin," he promised.
"Can you help me take my shirt off?" Jiang Cheng asked, his mouth twisting desperately. "Sorry, it's, it's pathetic, but…"
"Woah," Jin Zixuan said, and squeezed Jiang Cheng's arm. "Who said you were pathetic? I don't mind."
"I should - I should," Jiang Cheng said, and took another deep, sobbing breath in.
Jin Zixuan desperately wished anyone else was here. He'd never been good with crying. "Hey there, now," he said, his voice cracking, and Jiang Cheng took another horrible sobbing breath. "Wanyin, what happened?" Zixuan couldn't imagine what had gotten him like this. "You're one of the strongest people I know, what'd… they… do to you?"
Jiang Cheng leaned a little harder into Jin Zixuan's shoulder. "It's stupid," he mumbled.
"Do I need to call the police?" Jin Zixuan was having trouble imagining anything less than a mugging causing this level of distress, and even then, Jiang Cheng was an accomplished martial artist. Jin Zixuan was sure he could have beat up his attackers. This was worse, some kind of violation of trust.
Jiang Cheng shook his head. "No, just," he said, and his face tightened again. The next words came out as if squeezed from deep within. "Was doing a scene - and - the dom was newer, and we talked about limits, but he was, he called me names, and I have some limits with impact too but he…"
Jin Zixuan's total experience with BDSM had consisted of the occasional porno in which a pigtailed woman in a plaid skirt moaned things like "punish me, daddy," but between this description from Jiang Cheng and his call with Wei Wuxian earlier, he could imagine the scene, imagine what Jiang Cheng went out to try to get. He was suddenly livid that Jiang Cheng hadn’t gotten what he wanted.
"A-Cheng, that's terrible," he said and gave into the urge to cuddle Jiang Cheng closer. Jiang Cheng shivered hard and came easily, his muscular body relaxing against Jin Zixuan. “No wonder you’re shook up, baobei. Come here.”
"I should have safeworded sooner," Jiang Cheng said, pressing his face into Jin Zixuan's shoulder. "I was - I did bad."
Jin Zixuan is intimately familiar with Madam Yu, at this point. He's heard her shout at Jiang Cheng for less than nothing, and he's seen Jiang Cheng sit, head bowed and take it. It's not fun to watch; sometimes it's been so bad it makes him grateful for Jin Guangshan as a parent, and it is damn hard to make his dad look good. There are little white marks on Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, too, and he’s heard through the grapevine how Madam Yu was with Wei Wuxian. It’s not surprising this would be complicated for Jiang Cheng.
"You always try and see things through," Jin Zixuan said. Jiang Cheng's hair was starting to stick to his face in the humidity of the bathroom. Jin Zixuan carefully smoothed it away. Jiang Cheng shivered again and burrowed closer. "It's a good thing about you."
"He didn't even hit me that hard," Jiang Cheng said, like it was being ripped from him. "I just - not on my back, I just -"
"He was supposed to listen to you, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let's get you clean," Jin Zixuan interrupted. He helped Jiang Cheng struggle out of his t-shirt. There were several harsh red lines across his upper back, but his chest was what drew Jin Zixuan’s eye. Jiang Cheng’s pectorals were mottled dark red, bruising dark purple in places like something had bitten into his flesh, particularly around his nipples. Jin Zixuan swallowed, imagining what had made the marks. "Ow, A-Cheng, I'll get you some salve. These look like a lot."
Jiang Cheng nodded and peeled off his sweatpants to climb under the spray. Jin Zixuan tried not to look, but Jiang Cheng did have an amazing body. It was totally straight to watch the water roll down the hard lines of his chest and back to compare, right? If his eyes dipped lower, to Jiang Cheng’s cock and ass, well, straight men looked.
Jin Zixuan’s phone buzzed. It was Wei Wuxian. How is he?
The spectre of having his legs broken by his fiance’s older brother spurred Jin Zixuan back to action. He roamed around their house, texting one-handed, gathering the supplies he’d need and bringing them back to his bedroom. Jiang Cheng’s quilt, apparently a treasured gift from Jiang Yanli, went on the other side of Jin Zixuan’s bed. He scooped up chocolate, some protein bars and a blue gatorade from the fridge. He found salve for bruises in Jiang Cheng’s bathroom.
Good enough , Wei Wuxian texted back, when Jin Zixuan had finished his report. My bb likes to hear he did well. You’re one of the only people he can stand. Don’t mess this up .
Wei Wuxian was five days older than Jiang Cheng, and he’d never understood their big brother/little brother vibe, Jin Zixuan thought, trying to ignore how it made his heart warm to hear that he was one of the only people Jiang Cheng could stand. He’d heard it often, from his mother, that Jiang Cheng could tolerate him, but never in this context, that prickly A-Cheng only put up with a few people and Jin Zixuan made the short list. It made him more resolute to look after Jiang Cheng.
“Wanyin?” he said, sticking his head back into the bathroom. Jiang Cheng was still just standing under the spray, his eyes shut. “Ready to get out?”
Jiang Cheng blinked his eyes open but didn’t move. Jin Zixuan thought back to what Wei Wuxian had texted. “Time to get out,” he said, and grabbed his bathrobe off its hook. “Here we go.”
He wrapped the bathrobe around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders, catching a flash of his ass and thighs, mottled purple and red, as he did so. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He thought of himself, his hand on Jiang Cheng’s ass, telling him he was a good boy, pinching his inner thighs, leaving marks.
Was it gay to want to spank your fake-fiance until he cried? A butt was a butt, right? Jiang Cheng’s being amazing didn’t mean anything, and anyway…
Jiang Cheng was just standing there, dripping. Jin Zixuan found another towel and carefully wrapped his hair in it. Wei Wuxian had been very clear on what to do next.
“Wanyin?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I hug you?”
Jiang Cheng stiffened, embarrassed, and then nodded. Jin Zixuan pulled him into his chest, careful of the red marks on his upper back, and squeezed, and Jiang Cheng softened after a few seconds and nuzzled into his shoulder. It felt really nice. Jin Zixuan hadn’t been hugged in a while, either.
“A-Cheng,” Jiang Cheng rasped.
“Hmm?”
“Can you call me A-Cheng?”
“Of course, sweetheart. A-Cheng.” Jin Zixuan let himself hold on for a few more seconds and then released Jiang Cheng and started steering him into the bedroom. “Here, let me.”
“You don’t have to,” Jiang Cheng said, and swiped his arm over his eyes again. “You don’t - I can -”
“Hard to reach your own back,” Jin Zixuan said, and then thought of Wei Wuxian breaking his legs. “And I want to. Can I?”
Jiang Cheng nodded stiffly again and Jin Zixuan helped him take the bathrobe off and lay down on the bed. “Okay?” he asked, and busied himself tucking Jiang Yanli’s quilt in around Jiang Cheng, like he was draping him for a massage. “Good? Warm enough?”
“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, and his voice sounded better, a little dreamy. Jin Zixuan cracked open the bruise balm, painting gently over the red stripes on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder blades, and then fussed with the quilt, putting a towel down over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders so he could be covered with his quilt but not get it dirty.
He twitched the bottom of the quilt up, pulling the blankets at the end of his bed to cover Jiang Cheng’s feet and legs. “Can I touch?” he asked, looking at Jiang Cheng’s powerful inner thighs.
“You don’t have to,” Jiang Cheng said, but he sounded hopeful.
“I know, but can I? I want to look after you.”
The little tuft of hair showing at the top of the blankets, all that remained uncovered of Jiang Cheng, moved up and down, and Jin Zixuan rested his hand on the back of Jiang Cheng’s knee and then slid upwards. He listened to ASMR massage videos sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, and they were all very emphatic that the person being massaged needed to be touched at all times. He could do that for Jiang Cheng. He didn’t mind touching him at all times. Was that gay?
“Fuck, A-Cheng, your muscles,” Jin Zixuan said, rubbing the bruise cream into the purpling bruises over the tops of Jiang Cheng’s thighs. “You’re like one of those hot statues.” He lifted the quilt a little higher, revealing the swell of Jiang Cheng’s ass. “I bet guys line up to do this stuff to you.” Jin Zixuan felt a sudden sting of jealousy for all those other guys. Was that gay?
Jiang Cheng shifted and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. The little tuft of ink-black hair sticking out from the blanket shook back and forth. “Not really,” he said, sounding sad again. “It’s too hard to make me go down.”
“They’re just lazy,” Jin Zixuan scoffed. His head was filling with pictures of Jiang Cheng, Jiang Cheng on his knees, Jiang Cheng pushing his chest forward for whatever had made all the little purpling marks, Jiang Cheng with loops of rope around his arms and legs, his muscles biting into it when he struggled against it. “You’re worth making an effort for.”
Some of the tension softened out of Jiang Cheng’s muscles. Jin Zixuan finished smoothing the cream over the delicious curve of Jiang Cheng’s ass. “Roll over,” he said, holding the quilt out of the way, uncaring of his own sheets.
“I can -” Jiang Cheng said.
“I’ll do it,” Jin Zixuan said, finding the note of command he used at work to yell at Jin Zixun and his father’s other lackeys. “I’m looking after you. You’re my fiance.”
Jiang Cheng rolled over. Jin Zixuan fussed with his quilt again, framing him with it, and then reached up and tilted Jiang Cheng’s head back and forth, looking at the bruise on his cheek in the light. “I told him not to hit my face,” Jiang Cheng said, his voice a little shaky again, like he was scared of what Jin Zixuan would say.
“What a rat-fink,” Jin Zixuan said, surprised by his own vehemence, and reached for the icepack he’d grabbed from the kitchen. “Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji are coming tomorrow night, and all three of us will go and break his legs for you.” He fussed with the icepack. “Here - wait, it’ll be too cold for your hands, let me…” He folded a washcloth to make a pad for Jiang Cheng’s fingers, and then pushed his hair off his face again. “You’re so good, A-Cheng, don’t worry about that asshole.”
Jiang Cheng’s whole face went soft, the ever-present lines between his eyes relaxing. Jin Zixuan was suddenly seized by the urge to make him do it again. Jiang Cheng should always look soft and sweet and relaxed, lying in Jin Zixuan’s bed.
Those were weird thoughts to have before touching someone’s nipples.
Jin Zixuan took a deep breath, and smoothed his hand over Jiang Cheng’s pillowy pectorals. “Looks like a lot here,” he observed, dipping his hand back into the salve.
“I like it on my chest,” Jiang Cheng said, and then flushed, his face turning sad again. “He kept saying things, though.”
“Breaking legs is too good, I’ll kill him,” Jin Zixuan hissed. “What did he say?”
“I was - like a girl, and…”
Jin Zixuan looked down at the magnificent vista he was spreading arnica over. “This is a man’s chest,” he said, rubbing his thumb over Jiang Cheng’s nipple. The little hiss he made went straight to Jin Zixuan’s dick. “I’d know.”
He finished with the salve and pulled the quilt back up over Jiang Cheng’s chest, tucking it around his shoulders, and then settled in next to him, ignoring the sudden desire to bite at Jiang Cheng’s pectorals. “Get comfortable,” he said, still not sure why he suddenly enjoyed ordering Jiang Cheng around so much. “You’re staying here tonight.”
Jiang Cheng rolled, carefully, and pillowed his head on Jin Zixuan’s chest. Jin Zixuan wrapped his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and let his hand run through Jiang Cheng’s hair, the other one coming up to settle on Jiang Cheng’s hip. “Good boy,” Jin Zixuan told him, and Jiang Cheng shivered. “My A-Cheng. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Zixuan,” Jiang Cheng mumbled, and Jin Zixuan made a little pooh-poohing noise.
Jiang Cheng drifted off quickly, but Jin Zixuan lay awake, feeling the weight of his fiance soft in his arms, smelling the salt-sweat smell of him that came from being wrapped in a towel, a quilt and all Jin Zixuan’s blankets, and feeling his dick twitch as he imagined all the things Jiang Cheng must do at that club. There was no getting around it. Imagining licking a trail from a man’s nipples down to his dick was definitely gay. Jin Zixuan was… maybe not straight.
Finally, he gave up on sleep and let go of A-Cheng’s hip to reach for his phone. If a person wanted to know more about BDSM , he texted Wei Wuxian, and got back a gif of a witch cackling and a whole bunch of links. He stayed up for a very long time reading, enjoying the feeling of Jiang Cheng’s silky-soft hair between his fingers. So what if he was gay for Wanyin, his A-Cheng? He was so hot, who wouldn’t go gay for him?
Jiang Cheng was still a little fuzzy when he woke up the next morning, and Jin Zixuan took absolutely flagrant advantage of it. He dragged Jiang Cheng to the couch, still wrapped in his quilt and wearing a pair of Jin Zixuan’s sweatpants, and ordered him his secret-favourite breakfast, chocolate-chip-blueberry pancakes, which was what Jiang Yanli made for A-Cheng when she and Mianmian visited. He found a comb and an oil treatment in Jiang Cheng’s bathroom and bullied him into sitting on a towel-covered cushion on the floor so Jin Zixuan could comb it through his hair, a basketball game playing on the television. The whole time he did it, his heart beat a secret tattoo of mine, mine, mine.
Mine, he thought, as he rubbed another layer of the salve into the deep purpling bruises on Jiang Cheng’s ass. Mine, he thought, when Jiang Yanli returned his call, and Jiang Cheng melted into Zixuan’s side while he talked to her. Mine, mine, mine, he thought, holding Jiang Cheng’s ice pack to his bruise while he napped with his head pillowed on Zixuan’s thigh.
“You know,” he told Jiang Cheng, elaborately casual, when he’d woken up from his second nap just as his favourite dinner arrived. “I could try domming you.”
“You wouldn’t want to,” Jiang Cheng disagreed, curling over his knees again on the couch. “I’m too much work.”
Madam Jin, a Yu by birth, often said that the Jins were like dragons or dwarves or some other horribly possessive storybook creature. Jin Zixuan had always thought it was a reference to his father being short and having that horrible little beard, but now he could kind of see it. Mine, mine, mine, mine.
“My A-Cheng is not too much work,” he said, and Jiang Cheng looked up at him, startled.
“Do you - have you?” he asked. Jin Zixuan supposed that this was a reasonable question. Until yesterday he’d never given a moment’s thought to any of it, but now…
“I’ve thought about it,” he said, eluding over the fact that he’d done all his thinking between 10pm and 4am last night. “At least you know I’d respect your limits.”
“We could try,” Jiang Cheng said. His face was losing the scrunched up look it had had. “Are you - I mean, I thought you were straight.”
“Not completely,” Jin Zixuan said, as if his gay awakening hadn’t finished that morning with him furiously beating off in the shower to the idea of biting Jiang Cheng’s magnificent pectorals. “I’ll send you an email and you can tell me your limits and your words and stuff, okay?”
“Sure,” Jiang Cheng said, starting to blush, and they were saved by the doorbell ringing.
“Peacock!” shouted Wei Wuxian. “Peacock, open the door!”
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wanji came and hung out for a while, and somehow even that was good. Jin Zixuan was very confused as to what was happening. Jiang Cheng’s hobgoblin brother looked too thin, he thought, sending another order for Jiang Cheng’s favourite dinner, plus tofu noodles for Lan Wanji. Whatever Wei Wuxian didn’t eat, Jiang Cheng could have for leftovers. Wei Wuxian needed to be looked after too - he was the worst person in the world, but he was Jiang Cheng’s and A-Cheng was Zixuan’s.
Jiang Cheng, on the sofa, was getting choked up again, apologizing to his brother, who had pulled him into his shoulder and was wiping the tears off his face. Good, this was good, Jin Zixuan thought, and went to tuck Jiang Cheng’s quilt more securely around his shoulders. Everything soft in the world for his A-Cheng.
“Wei Wuxian, Lan Wanji and I will go get his car,” Jin Zixuan said, and grabbed Jiang Cheng’s spare keys. He paused. “Baobei, where did you leave your car?”
Jiang Cheng explained. Lan Wangji let out a quiet “Mn,” and glided away. Jin Zixuan followed.
“Baobei?” he heard Wei Wuxian asking, his voice amused, as they left.
Jin Zixuan stayed up very late finding the best checklist to send to Jiang Cheng, and then scheduled the email for later, after work. Jiang Cheng replied an hour or two after he sent it, still not home. Did you eat dinner? Jin Zixuan emailed him back. I’ll send something to your office.
I took leftovers, Jiang Cheng replied. :)
Over the next few days, Jin Zixuan took delivery of an enormous quantity of sex toys. He stocked the fridge with Jiang Cheng’s favourite snacks, and quality tested cushions and mats to see how they’d be to kneel on. “Are you going overboard?” Mianmian asked him, on their Thursday night phone call. Jiang Cheng was at his regular gym class. Maybe, if this went well enough, next week he’d let Jin Zixuan massage him after. A-Cheng on his knees. A-Cheng’s hair in Jin Zixuan’s hands. A-Cheng letting out a soft moan as Jin Zixuan massaged his neck.
“No,” Jin Zixuan said. “We should take a massage class together. I’ll pay. It’ll be a nice surprise for Yanli. A-Cheng is happy when A-Li is happy.”
“Okay, you are, but you know what, I like it,” Mianmian said. “Sign us up.”
Finally, it was Friday night. Jiang Cheng came home from work on time, for once, and disappeared into the bathroom to clean up. Jin Zixuan busied himself plating snacks for after in the kitchen.
They sat together in the spare bedroom Jin Zixuan had taken over, after, pressed shoulder to shoulder, and Jin Zixuan explained what he was planning. Jiang Cheng nodded, looking nervous. “Usually, there’s more pain,” he said, looking at the floor. “But I’ll try it. It’s okay if I don’t go down for you, I won’t be mad.”
Jin Zixuan nodded. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, because he’d been thinking about this all week, and Jiang Cheng hesitated, and then agreed. Jin Zixuan leaned in. Jiang Cheng’s lips were pillowy and warm, and they parted under Zixuan’s when Zixuan pulled his hair, letting Zixuan taste him.
This was good. Jin Zixuan probably should have thought more about his first kiss with a man, but Jiang Cheng was his, and so it didn’t matter. When he pulled away, Jiang Cheng’s eyes were already glassy. Good.
“On your knees, A-Cheng,” he said, and Jiang Cheng slid down, onto the cushion Jin Zixuan had positioned just so. “You’re perfect,” he said, and slid the bathrobe away, revealing his fiance’s toned, naked body. Later he was going to lick it.
“Am I - is this how you want me?”
“Arms out,” Jin Zixuan said, and made a few minor adjustments to Jiang Cheng’s posture, how his hair sat. “Yes, perfect,” he said again, and set a dictionary over Jiang Cheng’s outstretched palms. “Hold it for as long as you can. So good,” he said, and settled in to watch.
It didn’t take long for Jiang Cheng’s arms to start shaking. He’d spent yesterday night practicing with his sword and his arms were already tired. “So good,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes went half-lidded. “Keep holding on for me. Keep your back straighter.”
Jiang Cheng straightened up. His back spasmed, and his arm wobbled, threatening the dictionary. Jin Zixuan went to grab it. “No!” Jiang Cheng said, struggling back into position.
“No, you want to stop, baobei?” Jin Zixuan asked.
“No, don’t take it,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll hold it. Let me - I won’t drop it.”
Mine, mine, mine, Jin Zixuan thought. “It’s okay if you do drop it,” he said, and Jiang Cheng looked up at him, his eyes still glassy. “You’d still be my good boy.”
“What?” Jiang Cheng asked.
“Mm,” Jin Zixuan said, and reached forward, petting Jiang Cheng’s razor-sharp cheekbones. “A-Cheng is my good boy if he holds it as long as he can. If he can’t hold it any more and drops it, he did what I asked him to.”
“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said, and his shoulders came down from his ears. “And you’ll still look after me again?”
“We could stop right now and I’d still look after you again,” Jin Zixuan told him. “Do you want to stop?”
Jiang Cheng shook his head. “This is good.”
“You’re good,” Jin Zixuan said, and watched, possessively, one hand rubbing over Jiang Cheng’s cheek, as he fought and fought to be good, until his arms shook and gave out and the dictionary fell to the floor.
“Was that -” Jiang Cheng asked, his whole body shaking. “Did I - Was I good?”
“So good,” Jin Zixuan said, and leaned in to kiss Jiang Cheng again. “My A-Cheng, so good. Do you want more?”
“Yes, more,” Jiang Cheng said, leaning after Jin Zixuan. His whole face was relaxed, and his voice had dropped and was starting to slur. Jin Zixuan’s inner dragon Jin purred with satisfaction. He knew what his A-Cheng needed.
Jin Zixuan had jerked off to this next thing so many times in the last week he’d started to worry he’d rub the skin off his dick. “Good boy,” he said, and pulled out restraints for Jiang Cheng’s biceps, securing them behind his back, and pushing his chest forward. He stopped to admire. “Fuck, A-Cheng, your chest.”
“Is it good?” Jiang Cheng asked, pulling himself straighter. “Is it what you want?”
“Exactly what I want,” Jin Zixuan said, and leaned in to do what he’d been wanting to do all week, mouth at the big muscle of Jiang Cheng’s pectorals. “Mine,” he said, and Jiang Cheng shuddered, pushing into his mouth. “Can I bite you?”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said, immediately, and Jin Zixuan sunk his teeth into the beautiful curve under Jiang Cheng’s nipple. “Fu-uck,” Jiang Cheng moaned, his hips thrusting forward.
Jin Zixuan followed up with a pinch right next to the bite mark. “This good?”
“Fuck, yes,” Jiang Cheng said, hips thrusting again, his cock red and glistening at the tip. “Do you like it?”
“So much,” Jin Zixuan said, ignoring how hard he was getting in his pants. This was about A-Cheng. “Can I use clamps?”
“Uh-huh,” Jiang Cheng said, and Jin Zixuan’s cock pulsed in his pants. These had come special ordered, designed to tighten as the chain was pulled on. He pinched the dark skin of Jiang Cheng’s nipples and let the clamp bite in.
Jiang Cheng made a strangled noise. “Okay?” Jin Zixuan asked, leaning in to kiss Jiang Cheng’s face, his watering eyes. “Good? Say stop if you don’t like it, A-Cheng, I’ll take them off. You’ll still be my good boy.”
“It’s good,” Jiang Cheng gasped. “Please, the other one?”
Jin Zixuan did what he asked, and then placed the chain in Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “It’ll tighten as you pull,” he told Jiang Cheng. “Let go if you want me to take them off, okay?”
“Hnnn,” Jiang Cheng said, and tried to nod. The chain wasn’t long and he had to stay bent forward to keep from yanking the clamps tighter. He looked so good.
Jin Zixuan went back to pinching the rounded skin of his pectorals, down over his hip. “A-Cheng,” he said. “Can I jerk you off?”
“Hnn,” Jiang Cheng said again, hips thrusting forward, and nodded, the chain pulling at his nipples. “Ow. Please, yes.”
“Fuck,” Jin Zixuan said, “You’re so good for me.” Jiang Cheng made that same deep sound in his throat and flexed his body, the chain pulling. He was breathing like he’d been running, his chest heaving. Jin Zixuan hastily grabbed for the lube on the bed, and slicked his hand up. “Fuck, A-Cheng,” he said, closing his hand around Jiang Cheng’s hot cock. “So good for me, so handsome, fuck, look at you, my A-Cheng, gonna -”
Jiang Cheng took a sobbing breath and came so hard it hit his chin, shaking against the chain, pulling it. “A-Xuan,” he sobbed, and the chain fell from his mouth. “A-Xuan.”
“Oh fuck,” Jin Zixuan said. “You’re so hot.”
“I didn’t ask permission,” Jiang Cheng said, tears spilling down his face. “I didn’t ask you.”
“My good boy, I didn’t tell you to ask,” Jin Zixuan said, shoving his pants down. “Can I keep the clamps on you for another minute, baobei, you look so good, I want to…”
“Yes, yes, A-Xuan,” Jiang Cheng said, and Jin Zixuan tugged the chain to see him flex forward, his nipples angry red under the clamps. Jiang Cheng made that same strangled noise, back bowing, and Jin Zixuan pressed his cock against Jiang Cheng’s firm abs and came his brains out between his pectorals.
He floated for a few seconds, after, and then came back to himself, realized he was still tugging at the chain and Jiang Cheng was tilting forward, sobbing with overstimulation. “Good boy,” Jin Zixuan said, before he even thought of breathing, and released the clamps. “Fuck, A-Cheng, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you’re so good, you’re the best.”
“Did I do it right?” Jiang Cheng asked, tears still rolling down his face. “Was that what you wanted?” He pressed forward, into Jin Zixuan’s shoulder, his hands still bound behind him, and Jin Zixuan pulled him in as hard as he could, squeezed him as hard as he could.
“My A-Cheng, you were so perfect,” he murmured. “You’re exactly what I want, you’re mine, going to look after you so well now, take such good care of you.”
They rested on the floor, until Jiang Cheng started to shiver, and then Jin Zixuan bundled them into his shower, his heart pounding mine, mine, mine. Under the spray, it became impossible to stop himself, so he didn’t, just bent and pressed messy kisses all over the bruises on Jiang Cheng’s chest. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said, picking up his wrist to kiss there too. The bruises. His bruises. Fuck.
The water never got cold in the Jiang-Jin house, but eventually, after Jiang Cheng stopped shivering and Jin Zixuan had him as clean, as moisturized and as kissed as he could possibly make him, he bundled them off, back into his bed, and presented the blue gatorade and chocolate truffles.
“Would you ever want to again?” Jiang Cheng asked, resting his head against Jin Zixuan’s shoulder.
“Every day, if you want,” Jin Zixuan promised, and Jiang Cheng turned his face up, smiling. “Twice a day. Just tell me if I’m doing it right. If there’s anything you want, I’ll get it. If there’s anything you don’t want, I’ll make it stop.” He realized he sounded slightly insane, but there was nothing he could do about it. Mine, mine, mine.
“Careful, I could get used to this,” Jiang Cheng said, and snuggled closer. Jin Zixuan handed him his gatorade again. His A-Cheng had to stay hydrated.
“You’d better,” he said.