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Yu Ziyuan felt hot lightning in her veins when Jiang Fengmian got up to leave, dismissing her so easily. How dare he? This was her home, her domain, and her child. “Jiang Zongzhu,” she addresses him to remind him who he is, “it seems like some things I have to say. Look carefully - this is your own son, the future head of Lotus Pier. Even if you frown upon him just because I was the one who bore him, his surname is still Jiang!” She presses Jiang Cheng forward firmly, forcing her husband to face his neglected son as she forces herself not to waver in her next words. “… I don’t believe for one second that you haven’t heard of how the outside people gossip, that Sect Leader Jiang has still not moved on from a certain sanren though so many years have passed, regarding the son of his old friend as a son of his own; they’re speculating if Wei Ying is your…”
“Yu Ziyuan!” Jiang Fengmian shouts - no, snaps - at her.
Seething at his interruption, she stops trying to rein in the thunder in her voice, “Jiang Fengmian! Do you think that anything will change just because you raised your voice?! Do you think that I don’t know you?!”
She has to turn to scream her final words at her coward husband’s retreating back when he leaves the room altogether to escape his own mess. She has no intention of letting him escape this time, so she follows him out of A-Cheng and Wei Ying’s room in a flurry of violet robes.
“Just where do you think you’re going, Jiang Fengmian?” She demands as her fingers wrap tightly around his wrist. For a cultivator, he has such ridiculously soft hands, reflecting his gentle nature - and how all the hard work around here falls to her. Her grip is anything but gentle as she forces him to a halt and yanks him to face her.
“San niangzi,” he calls softly, meeting her eyes. “You are angry, I know it, but we should not fight in front of the children. Especially not about… such things.” His gaze flicks away for a moment.
Yu Ziyuan snorts. “When will you ever acknowledge it then? Because it seems like you avoid being alone with me at any cost, and it does nothing to convince me your old feelings for Cangse have dissipated!”
At this, Jiang Fengmian’s eyes return to hers and he nods slowly. “San niang is right, I have avoided the subject for too long. It is time we talked, isn’t it?” His hand shifts in hers so he can clasp her wrist in return, so gently that her own grip loosens almost imperceptibly and she briefly doesn’t notice how infuriatingly he had framed his words. Taking back control, as if it was his idea to talk and she was the one being unreasonable until now. “Come,” he says, and begins to lead her away to his chambers.
“No.” Not on his turf. He would not regain the upper hand so easily, and she would not allow him to appease and silence her like some submissive wife. “We will speak in my chambers.” She doesn’t wait for a response before pulling him in the opposite direction through Lotus Pier’s open-air hallways.
“Of course, as my wife wishes.”
You, shut up! You don’t have a choice in this! I don’t need your acquiescence, we will speak on my terms regardless of if you want to or not. She lets herself scream at him in her head before saying, much calmer, “Now you know who your wife is?” and tugging him along faster. She wants him out of breath, showing some sign of humanity and vulnerability. She wants the soft echo of how he said ‘ wife’ out of her head.
“I’ve always known you as my wife, Yu Ziyuan,” Fengmian lies.
But he uses her name so differently from how he had shouted it moments ago and her palm sweats as they near her quarters. She wants to believe him the way she had twenty years ago when he’d promised to push the past aside and do right by her as his wife, even if their match was political.
“You’ve always known me as your second choice,” Yu Ziyuan mutters with more pain in her voice than she had intended.
Their footsteps fall softer now over rugs instead of wood as they cross the threshold into her antechambers. Yinzhu and Jinzhu stand like statues, twin pearls, but neither husband nor wife even notices their subtle nods of greeting. Yu Ziyuan doesn’t care what they see or hear - they already know her mind on this matter among many others, so she continues.
“What you have always known, Fengmian, is that you could have had that perfect woman, but instead you got me, got the children you had to have with me !” she wants to sob from rage. Her innocent babies do not deserve this just for being from her womb - can’t this supposedly gentle and fair man at least settle his wayward heart for their sake? Ah, maybe he could have, if it hadn’t been for Wei Ying. When the child he had really wanted - Cangse’s child - was suddenly his to raise, how could any affections for A-Cheng and A-Li survive?
Jiang Fengmian was silent for a while, and the two could hear the distant shouts of the boys, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, arguing with each other somewhere far off in the Pier. It was no real concern when the brothers loved each other with no relent, but Yu Ziyuan wonders if her husband blames her for that too. A-Cheng could have only gotten his temper from her, after all. But wasn’t it on both of them, as parents, if the only example of love they had set was shouting and arguing? Didn’t it take two to fail so miserably?
Yu Ziyuan closes the doors to her innermost chamber, muffling those voices. She lets go of Jiang Fengmian’s hand, but he doesn’t release his own warm grip on her, instead using it to guide her against the wall until she can only face him.
“Don’t say such things,” he pleads with those dangerously soft, dark eyes. “That woman” - thank every deity that he doesn’t speak her name, Ziyuan couldn’t bear to hear how he says it, couldn’t bear comparing it with how he says hers - “was my best friend’s wife. You, Yu furen, are mine.”
Just as Yu Ziyuan realizes she has no fight left in her, Jiang Fengmian is kissing her, for the first time in a long time, and it is terrifying how his hands feel so caring when they slide around her to hold her close. She could easily forget everything she resents him for. So she does, letting her old fantasy of Jiang Fengmian, the one who could tell his wife he loved her without lying, take the real one’s place.
That’s how she finds herself parting her lips to him with a soft sigh. His warmth enters her mouth as he strokes his tongue against hers with a hum of satisfaction. Yu Ziyuan wonders who he is imagining, with his eyes so conveniently closed, and the thought makes her bite down fiercely. Her teeth catch his tongue, then his lower lip when he tries to retreat. “ Zizi ,” he gasps. Good .
“Hm? Isn’t this the one time you like how mean I am?” Yu Ziyuan has to release him to speak, but the way his one endearment for her fell so instinctively from his lips had appeased her doubt.
As does the way he nods helplessly and leans back into her mouth. In reward, she smooths her hand down his muscled back and straight waist until she can stroke up and down the sides of his hips. Her firm touch has him panting easily. This is the kind of desperation you get for leaving your wife’s bed cold, she thinks when she feels his muscles flexing under her fingers, his hips fighting with his dignity to shift under her ministrations so she’ll be touching somewhere he wants her more.
Only because she is the deprived wife in question, she relents. Her grip falls squarely on his ass and she squeezes. Pardon her for being a little needy, too. And, oh, he feels so good in her hands, all smooth fat over rippling muscle, each cheek well rounded in her palm. She can’t stop her own low groan mixing with his at the sensation.
Without breaking their heated sealing of lips, Jiang Fengmian wrestles with his robes until his belt hits the floor and violet fabric pools off his shoulders. The only thing keeping them pinned on his body is now Yu Ziyuan’s hold. She is quick to dig her nails into the flesh of him, through too many layers to really hurt, before grasping at the fabric to tear away outer and inner robes at once. So many lavish layers. She casts them as far off into the room as she can, baring the sect leader in nothing but thin pants that do not hide the bulge filling them out.
Yu Ziyuan has no time to preen at how hard he feels pressed into her front from just some teenage-level kissing and touching. Her husband has gotten straight to work on her own robes now, ripping them open to reveal her creamy torso and the dip between her small breasts - she rarely bothers with under garments in the Yunmeng humidity. He stops there for a moment, letting her stand disheveled, bare skin framed by curtains of purple. Under his sweeping gaze, she feels more lewd than she would be fully naked.
With a deep inhale, Jiang Fengmian lowers his lips, reverently, to her collar bones. His breath is scalding as he mouths over the ridges and Yu Ziyuan has to arch her back when her knees almost buckle, flushing at how her robes fall further away from her body with the movement. Jiang Fengmian seizes the chance to slip his hands back around her waist, pressing at the small of her back to push her hips against him before they slide all the way up to the nape of her neck and tangle into her thick hair.
Yu Ziyuan wears few ornaments. Beyond her ring, which doesn’t count as a spiritual weapon, her only daily jewelry consists of a few bejeweled pins in her hair, and Jiang Fengmian now works at gently tugging them out, letting the braids she had in fall and unravel. It was clumsy - it wasn’t as if her husband had much practice with taking down a maiden’s hair, and he was also occupied with now stuffing his face between her breasts while rutting his erection on any part of her he could reach.
Instead of helping him, Yu Ziyuan relaxes into all the sensations she hasn’t felt in so long. The relief of having her hair free from its complex styling alone was enough to make her shudder and sigh, let alone the tugging at her scalp, the mouth across her skin, the hot length of her husband pressed against her through fewer and fewer layers of fabric.
Just as Jiang Fengmian grasped at the final pin, he released it again without removing it. Letting the rest of the pins he’d collected clatter to the floor, he finally, finally pulled at his wife’s robes until they fell to the ground so he could smirk at the confirmation that she wore only the sheerest cotton pants underneath. Yunmeng is so gods damned hot.
Yu Ziyuan didn’t quite squeal in surprise when he wrapped an arm under her hips and lifted her up entirely, but it was a close thing as she squeezed his sides with her knees to stay up. It was unnecessary with a sect leader’s cultivation, which Fengmian showed off as he kept her aloft with just one arm, using the other to tug off one of her boots before practically tossing her in the air and then catching her with the opposite arm while he did away with the second boot.
As her shoes thumped to the floor, Yu Ziyuan gave him a look. He only flashes her a cocky grin, so reminiscent of the young man he used to be. “Not surprised, are you, Zi Zhizhu?” He teases. “Forgotten all those night-hunts together?”
She swallows, not sure if he means to remind her of his cultivational prowess or the times the two of them had snuck away to put his agility to other uses, like they were doing now. They were young, after all, and couldn’t resist their physical urges even when love had nothing to do with it. And a young, weary-hearted Jiang Fengmian had needed to distract himself somehow when his best friend inevitably slipped away with one Cangse Sanren for their own affairs. Yu Ziyuan had been more than willing at the time, hoping to win his heart in any way she could.
Now, she rolls her eyes pointedly, then rolls her hips pointedly. Jiang Fengmian lets her down, deftly undoing the drawstring of her pants before reaching up for her final hairpin, letting her step out of the trousers herself. When she looks up again, he is regarding the simple jade pin with a complicated gaze.
It was particularly thin and delicate, shining like a long needle, and topped with a carved jade lotus. A fine silver chain hung from the tip of each of the lotus’s nine petals and ended in a deep purple gem. It had been a gift from Jiang Fengmian, slipped into her hair by his own hands the morning after their wedding night.
Yu Ziyuan swallowed as she gauged her husband’s gaze, willing him not to say anything. She wouldn’t know how to respond, doesn’t even know why she still wears it every day like she’s clinging pathetically to a sliver of hope. She doesn’t avert her eyes quickly enough when Jiang Fengmian looks up at her from the pin with a soft smile.
“I just remembered something,” Fengmian says. “Hold this for me a moment, will you san niangzi?” With a wink, he slides the pin horizontally between her lips and she instinctively bites down on it’s length, like some rogue with a rose. “ My niangzi,” he breathes as he eyes her.
Then, he loosens the drawstring of her thin cotton pants and pushes them down to pool around her ankles. The Yunmeng Jiang sect leader is on his knees in the blink of an eye with his hands wandering up and down Yu Ziyuan’s muscled thighs and his nose pressed between them, inhaling deeply. Groaning, he turns to the side to mouth at her inner thigh, just where it meets her pelvis, biting quickly before dragging his tongue across the offended skin, then further, over her parted labia, and his mouth was finally locking with the source of her sweet scent.
Yu Ziyuan hisses around the pin, first at the nip of his teeth - impudent! - and then at the knead of lips and tongue over her pussy. Sparks fly straight up her spine and she has to stop her knees from wobbling and revealing just how easily she is taken apart by just a flick of her husband’s tongue. She dares to look down, taking in Jiang Fengmian’s closed eyes and delicate nose bridge, with the rest of his face pressed into her patch of wild, damp curls. He seemed lost in her taste, mapping every fold of skin lazily with his tongue and panting through his slack mouth.
With the tang of metal in her mouth to ground her, Ziyuan grunts in complaint at his lax pace. Leaning against the wall, she slings one of her legs over his shoulder, opening herself up for him while pinning him closer, and grabs his head by the back of his guan to push his face into her growing slickness. Jiang Fengmian makes a desperate sound high in his throat at her roughness and Yu Ziyuan is sure his cock is twitching violently beneath his trousers. Yes, this wife of yours knows just how you like it-
She doesn’t finish her pleased thought when Fengmian hooks an arm under her other thigh, pulling it over his shoulder at the same time as he gets his feet under him and rises smoothly from the ground. He is once again taking nearly her whole weight, this time as he remains sloppily eating her out like he’s starved himself just for this chance. Yu Ziyuan’s center of gravity is careening out of her own control and she has to let go of his head to slap both palms back to steady herself. Her fingers are splayed and tense while her back arches, clinging to the wall just like the spider she is.
Jiang Fengmian changes his grip on his wife, spreading his ample swordsman’s hands under her ass to hold her up and open for him to taste. Holding her like this must be even harder, and yet he pushes her even farther up the wall and steps in closer, nearly having to crane his neck to keep his mouth on her. He gives a pleased hum in approval of her new position; her ass cheeks resting in his hands, legs folded up nearly against her chest, and her bare feet on bare shoulders for some modicum of balance.
Yu Ziyuan has no intention of making this easy for him, writhing with every curl or jab of his lithe tongue and bucking her hips wildly into his mouth, sacrificing her precious connection to the wall that was her only security against gravity - besides her husband. She’s dizzy, whether from the pleasure coursing through her or the way she is one wrong move from falling to the ground, but she manages to think, attempting the impossible, indeed, Jiang zongzhu . You’re a worthy match yet. She doesn’t bother trying to say it out loud around the hairpin, only managing to gasp and groan.
Despite her thrashes and demanding undulations, Jiang Fengmian’s cultivation holds out flawlessly. His arms hardly tremble in keeping Yu Ziyuan aloft, and he even maneuvers his thumbs to spread her ass cheeks apart, making way for his tongue to explore across her puckered rim. It’s unfair that Ziyuan can’t reach down to run her hands across those flexing biceps or veiny forearms. The most she can do is press her hands over his and encourage the way his fingers are squeezing and digging into the flesh of her ass, her hips, her upper thighs. Whatever they can reach.
Through it all, Yu Ziyuan clamps down on that hairpin. It feels like a task - a challenge - to keep it in her mouth no matter what reactions Jiang Fengmian tries to drag out of her. She will not fail, not when her aim is so much easier than her husband’s current feat of sheer strength. Unable to command his wanton mouth the way she wants to, Ziyuan can do nothing else but continue to writhe, now with no ulterior motive, and throw her upper body forward off the wall, curling over Fengmian’s head as she tries to get more pressure on her clit.
For a moment, it seems like Jiang Fengmian finally staggers. Yu Ziyuan feels a burst of triumph before it’s overshadowed by panic and the urge to scream ‘Jiang Fengmian do not drop me!,’ except that she can’t because of the damn hairpin , and then all is well because of course he hasn’t lost his balance, he is simply walking to the bed, wife held high above him and face still plastered between her legs. Yu Ziyuan has to whine in defeat, clinging to his neck so she doesn’t topple over his shoulders.
Seating himself on the edge of the bed, Fengmian finally drops her into his lap. Yu Ziyuan comes face-to-face with the sight of her creamy white arousal smeared across the entire lower half of her husband’s face. It robs her of breath and speech, her lips finally falling open to release the hairpin. Fengmian deftly catches it with a grin, “Thank you for keeping this safe for me, Zizi,” he whispers as he roughly toes off his boots, legs shifting beneath Yu Ziyuan.
“Jiang Fengmian,” she scoffs. Then, she has nothing else to really say, because she feels warm at the inane words, and likes the inane nickname, and this sect leader just looks so filthy with his lips glistening from her juices that she just can’t decide if she wants to stare or never meet his eye again. “Have you forgotten how to locate a woman’s clitoris?!” She finally manages with some real heat, remembering how she had just been contorting desperately to get his attention there.
She tries and fails to look him directly in his eyes, instead drawn to his mouth when his tongue lolls out and slowly licks up the traces of her around his lips. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself regardless,” he noted when he was done, swallowing pointedly.
Unable to deny it, Yu Ziyuan simply presses her lips into a thin line and glares.
“Yu furen,” Jiang Fengmian presses a fleeting kiss to her lips, “Zi Zhizhu,” and another. “ Watch. ” He hooks his fingers into his waistband before sliding back across the bed, leaving his final undergarment behind to splay his legs bare across the mattress in one fluid motion.
Yu Ziyuan still kneels at the edge of the bed, but she leans forward on her hands with her eyes glued to his flushed and leaking length. She does indeed watch as he takes himself lightly in one hand, stroking over the raised veins of his shaft before holding himself still because his other hand… his other hand is guiding that wickedly thin hairpin right into the weeping slit of his swollen red tip.
He’s doing it to himself (and Yu Ziyuan briefly hopes he spiritually sanitized the pin before… taking it inside him like he is), but Fengmian still whimpers as it sinks in, eyebrows drawn. The length of the metal disappears agonizingly slowly to the sound of his soft keens. Ziyuan hardly notices his eyes squeeze shut and his head fall back as she crawls closer on her elbows to settle between his legs.
They had only done this once before - unless Jiang Fengmian had taken to slipping things down his dick on his own time - and it had, of course, been Yu Ziyuan’s idea, wanting to see him splayed out across that line between pain and pleasure. She didn’t really want to hurt him, just make him feel more intensely than he ever had before. Back then, so early in their marriage, she had been the one guiding the very same hairpin into him while he stared at her with wide eyes. She had been gauging his every reaction then, making sure the balance of sensations was as she wanted it, never too much, but now - now she watched and it was gorgeous .
Finally, what had to be nearly five cun of slender metal disappeared into rigid flesh, and only a jade lotus sat like a crown atop Jiang Fengmian’s cock, still gently held upright with one hand. The chains that fell from the petals dangled down around his length, amethyst gems dragging lightly across sensitive skin as they swayed.
Fengmian releases a shuddering breath and relaxes into the sensation, safer the second time. He has only a moment before Yu Ziyuan’s hands are on him. She avoids jostling the pin too much but replaces his slender fingers with her own, pinning the cool chains against him and running her loose grip up and down until he shivers. Her other hand reaches for his balls, lifts and rolls them and feels how tight even they are from the earlier tension. “You love this,” she breathes.
“Mm.” Fengmian whines in response, his hands are clenched at his sides. “My wife knows how to please this husband in ways no one else has,” he murmurs.
“Is that so?” Yu Ziyuan is painfully aware of her own throbbing clit, how she is still sopping and leaking down her thighs, unsatisfied, but seeing Fengmian strung out like this, she wants to push him a little more. Or a lot more, because when next will she have the chance? Her middle finger extends down from her grip on his balls, tracing the thin skin behind them until she presses firmly on the rim of his asshole.
Jiang Fengmian yelps, hips arching off the bed. “Please, Yu furen! My hole - you know I’m already so sensitive right now!”
“Shhh,” Yu Ziyuan lets a smirk she’d been holding back spread across her face. “Just how much do you want to let Yinzhu and Jinzhu know of what I’m doing to you?”
He gasps and jolts up, staring at her. “They - they’re here? In your antechambers?” His eyes flick to the door and back.
“Of course, where else would my personal guards be?” She arches a delicate brow. “They are on duty. I never dismissed them.”
“B-but,” Fengmian gapes for a while. “My cruel wife!” He collapses back with a groan. “They’ve heard everything ! Their cultivation is more than high enough...”
Yu Ziyuan hums in agreement, letting her finger circle the flesh of his rim thoughtfully. “Yes, they can certainly hear everything. And they will know if you displease me.” With those words, her finger breaches his tight ring of muscles.
Jiang Fengmian wails, loud and long, as his soft flesh accepts her to the first knuckle, then the second. His bobbing member fights to twitch without disturbing the pin within it, and Ziyuan can’t tell what the resulting sensation is like, but it elicits tears gathering in the corners of Jiang Fengmian’s eyes and a string of curses very unbecoming of a sect leader.
“You want them to hear,” Ziyuan drops her voice to shame him, “You like that they’re listening. It excites you.” Her finger is working in and out of him in minute shifts as she goads him into a flush that spreads from his ears to his chest. “Depraved and desperate, aren’t you? Willing to take whatever I give you and willing to let my maids hear it?”
Her husband nods. “I’m just- ah, niangzi - I’m just Zi Zhizhu’s little bitch for her to play with,” he whimpers out, seizing the tinge of humiliation she has offered and running with it.
“Good, then, you know your place,” when Fengmian looks up at her with wide, expectant eyes, she smirks. “Yes, you can have a reward for that - play with your nipples, Fengmian. They look so pathetic, all hard and flushed without even being touched.”
He obeys greedily, hands flying to his chest to roll both nipples at the same time. Yu Ziyuan takes the moment of distraction to push a second fingertip into him. The dual sensations have him arching like he’s been struck by lightning, but Ziyuan doesn’t let up. She knows his limits, and he has always been able to take two of her slim fingers perfectly dry, to just past the second knuckle. How he must handle himself on his rare nights of vice and risking yin deficiency for release, for his entrance to always yield this way for her… she shivers at the thought.
She uses her other hand to thumb at the base of his cock, rubbing soothing circles while she ruthlessly stretches his asshole on her scissoring fingers. Looking up at Jiang Fengmian’s body, she finds he has the thumb and forefinger of each hand latched around a nipple, simply pinching and tugging like he’s holding on for dear life.
Inside Jiang Fengmian is hot and wet - not slick like a cunt, but soft and welcoming with the slight natural moisture of his body. Yu Ziyuan twirls her fingers as she wishes. They pull against every inch of his walls as she inches them deeper. When her fingers sink in as far as they will go, she crooks them to press his bundle of nerves.
When he yells out - “San niangzi!” - she again uses it as a distraction to slide her other hand up his length and grip the jade lotus poking so lewdly out of the crown of his dick. With a light tug, she begins to drag the pin out. Fengmian’s moans pitch up high and breathy, so quiet because he can’t even manage to scream anymore.
“Who told you to do such disgusting things with my belongings?” Yu Ziyuan clicks her tongue. She doesn’t expect more than the whimper she gets in response.
When the pin is halfway out, she pauses, and then pushes it back in part of the way. Just to listen to all the musical hitches in her husband’s breath as she does it. Slowly, slowly, she fucks him with the pin, pulling out just a little more than she pushes back in, until it finally pops out of him with a shlick - lord knows what fluid has risen up to line it. She continues to circle the fingers she has inside him over that smooth nub the whole time, but as soon as the pin is out, she yanks them away as well.
Sitting back, she takes in the state of Jiang Fengmian, left breathless and empty. His dusky hole twitches at the loss, clear as day between his widespread legs, and his previously dammed slit is leaking pre-cum in pulses that dribble down the full length of his arousal. His hands are slack over his chest, trembling slightly, and his eyes have drifted closed, though tear tracks sparkle across his cheeks and temples from all the different positions his head had thrashed in while he cried.
All his shameless noises have reduced to unintelligible, wheezing murmurs that fill Yu Ziyuan’s ears as she leaves the bed. She sends a spark of spiritual energy down the length of her hairpin, cleaning it, before setting it at her vanity.
When she returns, her husband has recovered slightly. She finds him with his gaze transfixed on her, drinking in the image of his wife wearing absolutely nothing but Zidian. How long it has been since he looked at her like that… Ziyuan basks in the unfettered hunger and appreciation. To still be wanted like a fresh spring maiden, even in this body that has carried two children and collected decades worth of night-hunt scars - she shouldn’t need this assurance as much as she does. Yet it also shouldn’t be as unfamiliar as it is.
Yu Ziyuan pushes her thoughts down as she prowls back to bed, instead letting the hand with Zidian drop to circle softly against the peak of her sex. It gets the reaction she wants; Jiang Fengmian tracks her movement with his gaze and catches his bottom lip between his teeth.
She lays herself out on the bed beside him, pulling a knee to her chest so he can see clearly as she plays with herself. Spread out as she is, she pumps two fingers into herself at once while her palm presses down on her clit. “Do you think you can last long enough to fuck me to my climax, husband?” She eyes his trembling, stimulated length as she adds a third finger. The only reason he had yet to spend was either the edge of pain that she had given with the pleasure or because he was using his cultivation to hold back.
Jiang Fengmian brings himself to a kneel but still only gapes at her and blinks. In a purple flash, Zidian unfurls across his chest. Fengmian’s whole body jerks at the dual sting of the thin whip and its electric charge, yet Ziyuan could swear he leans into it. “Answer me! Yes or no?” She snaps.
Zidian is at barely a fraction of its power, laying down only as much pain as she plans in the flick of her wrist and flare of her dantian, so Fengmian can easily take its sizzling length in his hands, though he shivers with it. “Help me last for you?” He tentatively lays the tip of the whip over the base of his cock.
Ziyuan takes her cue with a dangerous smile, and Zidian snakes it’s way around his root, looping over each testicle and back again. She tamps down the current running through it, but lets it constrict enough that Fengmian hisses. That should be enough to hold him back until she is ready.
The rest of Zidian’s length glows as it hooks Jiang Fengmian in and pulls, guiding him over Yu Ziyuan’s body. His hands go to her waist, digging into the soft flesh of her stomach and dragging upwards to her tits, lightly marked from his earlier suckling. The slippery head of his cock bumps against the lips of her pussy, which has been steadily leaking from just the sight of Jiang Fengmian undone. With a few nearly frictionless thrusts, his length slides through her wetness before the inflamed head finally aligns and catches at her entrance.
Fengmian drops his head until his nose brushes Ziyuan’s neck as he slides into her with little resistance. He is slender and curved between his legs, neither particularly long nor thick, looking pretty and delicate when he is erect and feeling - well, really feeling perfect inside Yu Ziyuan’s soft heat. Perfect for both of them, pressing at all the right places even when he’s perfectly still as he is now.
A fresh wave of her husband’s tears wets Ziyuan’s neck. “How did I ever let myself forget how good this is?” he murmurs thickly against her skin, tasting the combined salt of her sweat and his tears.
“We managed two children out of the most begrudging marriage in all jianghu. At the least, the sex had to be good,” Ziyuan scoffs, but wraps her legs around his waist.
The words brought up too many memories for the both of them. Of the woman that Jiang Fengmian had, in all honesty, loved deeply, and would have spent his life with if it had been anyone besides his own best friend who had caught her eye instead. Of the way he and Ziyuan had wanted to make things work, just never enough to give it an honest effort. Of those two children who were the only good things to come of this union in the end - plus the one extra, who was good too, but carried too many reminders.
As if sensing her own efforts to hold back tears, Zidian flared in Yu Ziyuan’s hand, sending a spark across Jiang Fengmian’s back (though it still died out before reaching his groin) that had him rocking into his wife. All too eager to forget the bitterness, they both moaned as their hips rolled against each other.
After all their roughness with each other, this part is gentle. Their cries filled each others’ ears, but only because they are so close together and not because their voices are raised. Wife and husband cling to each other, foreheads pressed together as Jiang Fengmian pushes their hips into the mattress rhythmically.
Zidian slithers of its own accord, binding two bodies tightly together and filling the air with the scent of lightning. Fengmian sits back on his heels, pulling Ziyuan with him to sit in his lap as he thrusts upward to fill her, pulling nearly all the way out before burying himself fully again. Her hips roll in time with his, meeting him halfway, and one of his hands is pinned between them to caress her clit, alternating soft circles and dragging strokes, while the other holds her close.
Yu Ziyuan captures her husband’s lips when she feels the tension low in her stomach build to a point of desperation. Zidian coils up so tightly it sinks into their skin, squeezing flesh in a manner sure to leave indents. With every wave of the rising tide within its master, the spiritual whip sings with gentle electricity that pulsed into the couple’s bones.
Their kiss was thoughtless, just open mouths pressed together in an attempt to connect their bodies in yet another way, and Ziyuan cries out into it when she reaches her orgasm. Zidian glows with warm light and current, the tail end unwrapping from Fengmian’s cock without Ziyuan’s command.
As Yu Ziyuan’s muscles flutter around him in ecstasy and the vice grip on his balls loosens, Jiang Fengmian grunts and gives a final thrust. Pressed up into Ziyuan, back arched, he comes in forceful pulses that add to the heat and mess of their joining. Zidian’s tail dances happily around them in its own throes while the two cultivators ride out their climaxes with tense muscles holding each other up.
The two finally collapse with wet faces and bodies still pressed together. Zidian, sated, shrinks back into its dormancy on Ziyuan’s finger while they catch their breath.
Indeed, both their bodies were left marked with lines of red from the whip. Fengmian massages what indents he can reach on his wife’s skin without moving too much. With a tch of annoyance - though edged with rare affection - Ziyuan waves her hand lightly and uses her spiritual power to heal away the marks on both their skin, leaving them as pristine as before.
“You didn’t ask if I wanted to keep them,” Jiang Fengmian notes quietly. Yu Ziyuan snorts and doesn’t meet his eyes, but pets a hand down his side, perhaps in apology. For his part, Fengmian uses his own spiritual power to perfunctorily clean their skin of the sweat, sexual fluids, and what neither would admit were copious tears. They would still need to bathe eventually, but moving now would shatter what peace they had built temporarily under the canopy of this bed, and neither was quite yet ready.
Jiang Fengmian re-settles his arms around Yu Ziyuan when their heartbeats return to normal. His face rests against her damp hair. “Maybe I should remind you more often that even if you are still called Yu furen, you are also Jiang furen, hm, san niangzi?” he muses.
He likely doesn’t expect an answer, because one callused hand immediately trails down to where Yu Ziyuan is still over-sensitive, teasing over her clit before his middle and ring finger dip past her entrance and swirl within her. Jiang Fengmian waits for her overstimulated pout to relax again before bringing his slickly coated fingers to his mouth and sucking them thoroughly clean under her rare, calm gaze.
Yu Ziyuan gives only the barest hint of a smile before she rests her cheek on Jiang Fengmian’s chest with a deep sigh and closes her eyes. She will lay with her husband for as long as neither of them are needed outside. She trusts that Jinzhu and Yinzhu, knowing the situation as well as they do, won’t disturb them until it’s necessary.