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The dawn seems a hazy faraway concept — too murky at this inhumane time of the morning, and too offensive to contemplate its arrival seriously. Not after a dream as intense as Shen Jiu has just abruptly awoken from, all searingly hot touches of those huge familiar palms, Yue Qi’s fingers unrelentingly purposeful within his thickly lubed yearning passage, and Yue Qi’s mouth performing absolute, deliciously indescribable debauchery.
The dream’s lingering feverish quality only intensifies when Shen Jiu opens up his eyes to gaze down and spot the practiced way Yue Qi hollows his cheeks with this swallowing motion that never fails to make Shen Jiu see stars. Yue Qi notices his awakening and sucks Shen Jiu’s fully erect cock even deeper in lieu of a good morning greeting.
It’s all stark blank after that, overloaded with blazing pleasure and pure bliss. Yue Qi sure knows some strong magic to be able to bring him to completion with such unfailing prowess. Afterwards, sucked clean and neat, Shen Jiu is lazing languidly in his gorgeous nest of pillows and blankets, trying to gather his otherwise wickedly sharp wits after such a mind-blowing experience this early in the morning.
Despite his mind floating muzzily in the heady waves of his afterglow, Shen Jiu is quite set on seducing Yue Qi into joining him in the most urgent fashion, for the selfless man has not moved an inch towards his own orgasm.
More grows Shen Jiu’s outrage when said Yue Qi is found lightly kissing She Jiu — on the forehead of all places! — more of a promise of things to come than an actual kiss — and then proceeding to swiftly get out of their safe warm heaven into the midst of raging winter storm that never ceased throughout all night. Shen Jiu doesn’t even get to taste himself this time around!
That’s quite a stinging betrayal on Yue Qi’s part — nevermind that the previous evening Shen Jiu had been the one to prompt him to hurry on this particular morning so that their especially delicate and sensitive delivery doesn’t go frozen and thusly wasted in this weather. Would be a shame to lose such an expensive order if the courier had to wait longer than necessary.
So it is only natural that Yue Qi takes this matter to heart and follows Shen Jiu’s every whim — just as he’s been prone to be doing for the past how-many years (Shen Jiu would never admit that he’s been counting the exact amount by days and sometimes even hours — all of this still feels just as precious and new for him as on the first day of their getting together.)
And here Shen Jiu nevertheless entertains a mouth-watering thought of mounting Yue Qi in the pale light of dawn, although regularly he would prefer to be the one awake and for Yue Qi to still be delightfully sleepy in this, not yet wholly aware of himself and less likely to be quick to direct the full powers of his innate seductiveness to turn Shen Jiu into the feeble pile of liquid goo, moaning to his abandon and writhing helplessly on his cock (which Shen Jiu plans to be the grande finale of their affairs, surely.)
Yue Qi is so sweet when not fully awakened yet — his body is infinitely responsive, sinfully so: Shen Jiu takes particularly exquisite delight in relishing in the touch of his skin while slowly bringing him to full mast and then riding this absolute weapon of mass penetrative destruction hard and fast — or licking and sucking it till Yue Qi finally awakes — right within the moments of shooting his precious pearly treasures onto Shen Jiu’s zealous face.
It’s not exactly the most recommended skincare routine for the mornings but Shen Jiu is totally willing to repeat this specific moisturizing course as many times as possible for the look on Yue Qi’s face when he comes to his senses — and comes in a more tangible sense — is something indescribably priceless.
Not even a trite “work of art” would end up accurate in its description when it comes to the intense burning look of Yue Qi’s absolutely wild eyes, gone pitch black like two endless abysses staring Shen Jiu right into the core; Yue Qi’s eyelashes quivering in mock disbelief that Shen Jiu has tricked him into shamefully fast arousal and then jerked him off again. Never a sight to miss.
It gets even better when Yue Qi awakes while shooting hot spurts of come into Shen Jiu’s always greedy, always tight and searingly hot passage. Shen Jiu then hovers over him like a starved bird of prey, attentively watching the sleeping face for the first signs of coming to, while his ass is overflowing with semen and his entire lithe body is set on fire, frantically trembling in accordance with the mighty aftershocks of Yue Qi’s pleasure.
It is always a marvel — getting all the more heavenly when an awakened Yue Qi — with his inhuman strength and speed - bodily turns Shen Jiu on his back, wonderfully never quite taking out from his thoroughly bullied and quivering hole while doing so, and is now the domineering predator, hungrily drinking the cries of pleasure from Shen Jiu’s mouth while pounding him into next week.
It is always the best way for Shen Jiu to get fully ready for the day himself — freshly filled to the brim with Yue Qi’s come and most pleasantly sated from their exertive morning activities — that’s certainly his preferred blend of sports, although he keeps telling others he and Yue Qi are busy practicing Tai Chi every morning. Should anyone ever get to discover the extents of their particular custom-tweaked method…
Shen Jiu is sure no one ever would — as Yue Qi, being so unconditionally adamant on organizing the security measures about the safe cocoon of their lives, certainly won’t let a fly get past his defences. It’s calming Shen Jiu’s otherwise ever-present paranoia, soothes his anxieties in the same way Yue Qi does with his words and his body every time Shen Jiu needs him to.
Shen Jiu, as infinitely avaricious as he is, gets needy for Yue Qi’s affections more than he’d ever be willing to admit. It is even more exciting when it becomes apparent how Yue Qi actually craves his in return — endlessly, and with such gut-churning desire that Shen Jiu is only happy to bask in these flames of want, and devotion, and admiration.
In their small family of two, he’s responsible for the works of art, whereas Yue Qi caters for safety, being the chief of internal security department for a very serious, albeit mostly lowkey company that would much rather remain unnoticed by the media. Hence the nature of his work very much affects the ways Yue Qi organizes his and Shen Jiu’s lives — and Shen Jiu loves him for this added sense of security even more.
Granted, this is not just a sense, but a very physical arrangement of the least expected measures that leave Shen Jiu feel protected on the most basic level — the one that he got severely destroyed within his psyche early in life, and had to struggle with the painful remnants ever since. Until he has met Yue Qi, that is.
Safety manifests itself in many forms, when it comes to Yue Qi and his formidable attentions. Safety, having seeped into Shen Jiu’s pores and having made a home in the marrow of his bones, makes Shen Jiu adventurous — in the most mischievous, previously unimaginable ways.
Yue Qi, surprisingly and contrary to all common sense, supports him even in those not so typical kinks and quirks of his — and how can Shen Jiu hold back and not involve Yue Qi with him even in this?
Sure, he’s a master calligrapher in his own right, having made a name for this ruthless, flawless manner of writing, and a manner of teaching even more ruthless. But when it comes to that particular calligraphy contest — as shady as they come, hosted in a darker corner of interwebs like that one — Yue Qi weighs all the potential risks in a matter of seconds.
The risks are aplenty, and the event itself gives off certain scam vibes, but if the idea of a challenge makes Shen Jiu’s phoenix eyes burn with competitive fire in them — who is Yue Qi to deny the light of his life such a whim? Even if it is a dangerous one. Funnily, Yue Qi finds his own jam is mapping out the potential traps the participation might bring, and figures the safest route.
It was not announced as an erotic contest, per se, but the way it was worded and the certain liberties it obviously allowed — starting from the fact one couldn’t even reach the platform it was hosted on without abundant knowledge in bypassing the numerous and crafty restrictions, and continuing with the definite difficulties even the easiest step of creating an account posed, that is not speaking of all the additional measures the mods took to stay as low beneath the radars as possible.
One had to be really set on the quest of getting there, that is, plainly speaking, one had to have gone batshit crazy. Or too inspired by the heady mix of danger and aesthetic beauty of the process a participation in such an underhanded event could bring. In his heart of hearts Shen Jiu never denied the batshit part, but hid it well enough to come off as an arrogant and aloof snob.
The promise of aesthetically unhinged adventure zest though — it did elevate the crazy part to some exorbitant levels. Shen Jiu practically vibrated with ideas, sharing them with Yue Qi whenever he cornered him in their home and just proceeded doing the dirty talk until Yue Qi could no longer handle this flow of unrestricted creativity and bent Shen Jiu over the nearest surface. Truth to be told, this outcome has always been part of Shen Jiu’s plan as well.
One definitely gets more inspired when a discussion with fellow creative leads to certain… Discoveries along the way.
The contest involved calligraphy, and that was what had set Shen Jiu out on that adventure. There was so much more to that dignified, aeons-old practice than the infinite mastering of existing brushwork styles and reproducing the scrolls with chengyu and lines of poetry, which Shen Jiu can now perform with his eyes closed — or freshly out of bed with an online educational workshop waiting for him to teach the video lesson, Yue Qi’s semen still pleasantly hot in his overly tender guts, hands shaking, and body loose and pliant — yet getting back into the state of a swordsman the moment he takes the brush.
There was a sense of undiscovered wilderness beyond the known and well-walked routes, a blood-boiling promise of something savage, most definitely inadmissible and oh so smashingly glorious in its yet unexplored potential. Shen Jiu craved it already despite being unable to even put it to coherent words.
Naturally, Yue Qi was his most important source of inspiration.
Everything about him – his body, his character, his overwhelming, gut-churning intensity, his unexpectedly gentle soul, boundlessly warm loving heart and a cold rational mind expertly hiding it — all of it never ceased to set Shen Jiu on edge with arousal, and want, and suffocating, wing-growing, throat-drying admiration. A human marvel, and the ideal surface to bring Shen Jiu’s most impressive calligraphy to life.
Yue Qi agreed before Shen Jiu even completed his long and eloquent preamble he’s been studiously practicing beforehand, quietly dreading the look on Yue Qi’s face when words such as “darknet”, “erotic”, “contest” and “photography” would appear in the same sentence. His quick and honest agreement felt like a revelation, freeing Shen Jiu of the nasty tension he did not even realize he’d been harbouring for days on end while developing and honing his idea to perfection.
They really put their best into starting out as dignified as the, ahem, more orthodox calligraphy lessons request of its practitioners. Yue Qi only grudgingly undressed his impressive pectorals and stopped at that like Shen Jiu has pleaded him to — as he himself was more than ready to discard any and all pieces of clothing from his person, ridiculously persistent in his conviction that pure art did not require any mundane distractions such as clothes.
Shen Jiu was devoutly thankful to all the higher entities known to man for the small blessing of Yue Qi’s pants having been kept on. He wouldn’t have been able to even start preparing the ink otherwise — for Yue Qi has always been a distraction, every part of him, that is — but with the confidence burning in his eyes, and an impressive bulge protruding more and more prominently from the thick fabric of those pants — how on Earth could anyone in their right mind expect Shen Jiu to uphold to the tedious task of grinding the ink?
Shen Jiu miraculously persevered, somehow, being the enduring scholar that he trained himself to be, bloody blisters and raging distracting thoughts notwithstanding. His hands were shaking non-stop when he attempted to actually dip the special huge brush into the ink — Yue Qi chose that very moment to lie down on their bed, offering the expanse of his gorgeous body as a canvas for Shen Jiu to get as creative with as his heart desired.
Shen Jiu’s heart desired with the same intensity as his other organs. It was dizzyingly maddening. He spelt the ink on the floor and on the bedding. He accidentally brushed an ink stain onto Yue Qi’s arm — the fine hairs on his skin standing electrified and attentive at even the most minuscule of Shen Jiu’s ministrations.
Shen Jiu has never been such an inept and ungainly calligrapher in all his life, years of rigorous studies included. It’s a marvel he didn’t forget the characters he was planning to depict upon Yue Qi’s pecs and abs. Good thing the muscle memory has actually decided to kick in and save him from the otherwise inevitable blunder of an artistic expression.
With some inhuman resiliency Shen Jiu forced his mind to blank out and not think of the way his own painfully engorged member slid tortuously over the ragingly hot bulge in Yue Qi’s pants as Shen Jiu slowly straddled his hips to get into the best riding writing position.
He wrote fast and precise, as calm and collected as a master of his arts could ever be, squirming over the gigantic iron-hard cock he wished to have mercilessly plunging into his own self at the very moment. Seriously, Shen Jiu could have ascended right then and there.
How he managed to retain a presence of mind enough to crawl off Yue Qi, put down the brush and get a camera instead, Shen Jiu doesn’t remember. Just a giddy blur between his straddling Yue Qi’s powerful thighs — and then taking multiple shots of Yue Qi’s toned body with the ink still fresh and glistening upon the tanned skin.
The lighting has been particularly perfect in that golden hour: the low sunset light making Yue Qi’s body almost glow from within. A scene of ancient magic stunning in its arcane epicness. The characters looked like a spell written upon an artifact straight from some heavily guarded heavenly treasury.
There was a moment when Yue Qi asked if Shen Jiu was over with his photoshoot, in a voice so strained and pained from the sheer desire that Shen Jiu has literally thrown the camera away. Thankfully, their bed was already huge enough, and the camera landed in the nearby pillow nest just right.
He could not muster his own voice to reply, though. Instead, in a bout of some divine inspiration, Shen Jiu quickly discarded his own pants and straddled Yue Qi again, grabbing his weeping cock and pressing it into the fabric of Yue Qi’s pants. It was pure, undiluted madness. Shen Jiu blanked out the way he never had before, awakening to the sight of a large wet stain on the fabric — courtesy to Yue Qi — and sticky splashing spurts of pearly white liquid adorning Yue Qi’s abs and pecs — courtesy to his own self.
He expressively forbade Yue Qi to move — not that the man had any physical capability to defy his order, as not only his cock but his entire body had gone entirely numb and limp from the oh so long desired completion. On shaking legs, Shen Jiu had somehow gotten to crawl back to the camera and operate it again, taking the photos of the way the snow-white semen mingled with pitch-black ink, gradually dissolving and transforming the characters he’d oh so carefully written earlier.
Bits of sweat gathered in the dips of Yue Qi’d gloriously toned physique and merged with the other liquids in this splendid alchemy wedding. Shen Jiu could only take one photo after another, feeling his cock going tight and unhappily strained with wild, animalistic arousal once more. So much for a dignified scholar, huh.
Eventually, they’ve never sent those photos anywhere.
Shen Jiu began to shake with rage at the very thought of anyone seeing Yue Qi like this — heavenly debauched with Shen Jiu’s come smeared all over his perky nipples, forming a puddle in the navel and some rivulets amidst the abs. The calligraphy could still be distinguished quite nice even under the additional layers of other liquids, so the photo still met the contest requirements, and yet.
No way in hell was Shen Jiu ever letting any of those photos out of a little keychain-flashcard designed specifically for crypto bros, which Yue Qi tweaked a bit to work as Shen Jiu’s private storage for especially memorable files.
***
And then this flower contest sprang up. How timely — it was midwinter and the plum blossoms were not even remotely planning on blooming, and yet Yue Qi had secured a deal somewhere to get a few branches with freshly opened blossoms.
Shen Jiu had adamantly refused for Yue Qi to pose as his canvas again — this had been a colossal willpower-testing experience far beyond known human limits even for the first time around, and now with this new idea Shen Jiu has invented, he risked not even bringing the project to completion. Unlike himself and Yue Qi. Probably several times. Till the flowers were utterly destroyed.
So this time the canvas is Shen Jiu himself. In Yue Qi’s absence he could’ve prepared himself well and nice, and yet Yue Qi has foreseen just that and has simply asked Shen Jiu to refrain from going through the motions himself.
Of course Shen Jiu knew Yue Qi took great pleasure in preparing him, yet it was mostly for the art now, wasn’t it? But how could he truly deny Yue Qi anything. Even if it was such a harrowing request, throwing Shen Jiu into pits of blazing restless agony, turning him more and more fidgety with every passing minute of not trying anything of what Yue Qi has promised he would be later doing all by himself.
Shen Jiu knows Yue Qi has decided to awake him with a blowjob for precisely this same reason — so that Shen Jiu would be feeling less stressed later on in the day. After all, they have complex artistic plans to adhere to, and a yearning and squirming Shen Jiu won’t do — Yue Qi is just a man, and no saint able to neglect his beloved’s intensely protruding problem.
Therefore Shen Jiu concedes that their bedding, artfully tousled from sleep and some light morning activities, needs no special rearranging and is perfectly fit to host a photoshoot; and therein proceeds to clean himself up. He takes his sweet time soaking in a hot tub and scrabbing his skin raw — not even putting a single finger inside himself, true to his promise to Yue Qi. Shen Jiu may be many things, but he’s stubbornly, painfully loyal when it comes to his Yue Qi.
In his extensive bath activities Shen Jiu loses track of time and only emerges, skin reddened and rapidly cooling waterdrops dripping in rivulets down his lithe body, to the sight of Yue Qi greeting him from the antechamber, a hefty bouquet in his hands. The fresh air suddenly seems stifling outside the bathroom just as it has grown within it.
Yue Qi places the flowers in the vase cleverly prepared by Shen Jiu as part of their plan, and proceeds to wash himself. Shen Jiu is left to stare at the sturdy branches of a winter plum tree in its full bloom. The petals are intense magenta pink diluting into white, looking fluffy and yet stalwart despite their fragility. Shen Jiu brushes his hair and gets on the bed, not caring to even throw a blanket to cover himself.
There’s hardly any need in that. Yue Qi emerges from the bathroom, dressed in his home wear, very cuddlesome and huggable were it not for the bulge seen from the easy stretching fabric of his sweat pants. The bulge certainly would not object to hugs and cuddles, but it sure delivers an urgency to the atmosphere.
Yue Qi pretends to upkeep the air of professionalism with such ardent devotion to the cause that Shen Jiu wants to kiss him senseless. The desire is so potent it creates a vertigo all of its own. Only Shen Jiu could be a professional himself and could thusly exercise inhuman restraint, while definitely not imagining himself rushing to kiss Yue Qi into the next eternity. Perfectly cognizant of his inner struggles, Yue Qi nevertheless stays true to their original plan and puts the camera closer on the bed beside him, getting out an assortment of his other necessary goods.
The antiseptic and the several condoms put one upon the other for sturdiness become instruments of heating up Shen Jiu’s insides and making his arousal skyrocket. All Yue Qi had to do was take one of the most exquisite plum tree branches — they’ve quickly agreed on which one Shen Jiu deemed most fitting for the idea — and clean its stem with medicinally precise motions. And put some condoms on it. And here Shen Jiu thought it was no big deal, when he explained the idea to Yue Qi, marvellously preserving his otherwise thin face intact and only slightly blushing.
The deal was quite big: its stem appeared somewhat crooked and yet requiring much delicacy, as the blossoms were situated right upon its surface and one had to go for dressing the branch in condoms with ultimate care. Of course, Yue Qi managed it flawlessly.
According to their plan, the next step entailed preparing the other participant of the soon-to-be artistic installation. Yue Qi sprints to the bathroom to wash his hands once more, and upon his return produces some fragrant oils for the occasion. Shen Jiu gets on his elbows and knees, and turns his head at Yue Qi expectantly. They speak little, saying so much more with their movements, already rehearsed and yet so excitingly new now that this whimsical thing gets real.
Yue Qi’s fingers also feel wondrously new and unknown, as if mapping an uncharted terrain, although they’ve done this countless times before. He’s stretching Shen Jiu good and loose, circling his puffy rim appreciatively, meticulous in his fast entries and slow, deliberate exits, the exact kind that make Shen Jiu heave his chest with breath hold tight, squirming and aching for a rougher, thicker penetration.
Yue Qi never relents to his whims this quick. If anything, he’s the human epitome of patience. Shen Jiu lowers his head, butting the pillow, and looks in between his legs, underneath his own angrily reddened member weeping into his stomach, to see Yue Qi concentrated and just as leaking into his pants, the stain on the tented fabric growing bigger with each consecutive thrust of his fingers.
Shen Jiu’s skin must be positively emitting flowery scent by the time Yue Qi deems his adequately loosened passage ready for the intrusion. It’s a relief to lie down on his chest and splay his arms wide, only lightly keeping the buttocks in the air for Yue Qi’s better access. Shen Jiu inhales as deep as he can in his agitated state, and closes his eyes expectantly.
He can hear the sounds of Yue Qi lubing the condoms perhaps even more excessively than he does his own member, being extra careful for the object to be as harmless as it is possible when a tree branch goes straight up your beloved’s ass. Dressed in several layers of thick condoms and lubed to indecent stickiness.
The insertion is smooth and makes Shen Jiu moan quietly — the branch is crooked yet not quite thick enough to deliver the feeling of fullness. He can feel his muscles clenching readily around the unfamiliar object, greedily sucking it deeper into the tight passage. He can also hear Yue Qi catching his breath and — what was it, a moan?
Such a low, guttural sound makes Shen Jiu squirm on the bedding until during a particularly lucky move the branch reaches his sweet spot and hits it just right. His neglected reddened cock brutally rubbing the sheets, Shen Jiu splays his thighs wider to find access to that spot again, succeeds and snakes his hand under his stomach to finally grab his cock and squeeze its base before he comes which is not meant to be this early in the plan.
Yue Qi reluctantly lets go of the branch and leaves Shen Jiu to his small delightful squirms while preparing the camera to shoot. He has to put his palm of Shen Jiu’s round ass cheek and pinch it lightly to convey the message for Shen Jiu to stay still. For some very explicable reason it’s nigh impossible to speak or otherwise attempt to use his words in this moment.
The flowers are protruding out of Shen Jiu’s well-worked entrance, highlighting its reddened agitation with their saturated pink hues. The gentle softness of the petals pales in comparison to the glimpses of wetly lubed depths of Shen Jiu’s convulsing passage — its skin clings to the branch and moves with it as Yue Qi barely pushes it in and then draws out to get more shots for the camera.
Shen Jiu gets visibly restless when Yue Qi carefully inserts a thumb alongside the flowering branch to get a better view of the now fully unfurled rim, looking so ethereal with blossoms coming out of it, their petals landing on the blushing wet skin around it, some of them catching on the drops of sweat and lube on Shen Jiu’s taut balls, now almost burgundy purple with unreleased tension.
Yue Qi manages to get some macro shots of plum petals caressing Shen Jiu’s tender balls before Shen Jiu moans for more and cannot take a single branch any longer — however beautiful it may be, it’s still not enough to satiate him, art project or not.
Yue Qi only takes the branch out in time to marvel at how well-stretched and pink Shen Jiu is down there, when said Shen Jiu displays purely snake ways to crawl away from Yue Qi, manhandle him into the nest of pillows together with the camera still on, and straddle him with an expression that clearly does not permit any objections.
Not that Yue Qi could object to such a literal turn of events, when Shen Jiu kisses him aggressively in more of a feral bite than an actual kiss, all the while working a surprisingly neat job with taking down Yue Qi’s pants and positioning himself over his cock finally sprung mighty and free.
Shen Jiu lowers himself in one swift, unshaking motion, intent to finally feel the delicious fullness and hear his balls slapping Yue Qi’s stomach with demand. The slap is a relish, heady and claiming more of the like to continue its course. They both gasp at the impact, and then Shen Jiu rides Yue Qi in earnest, all sweaty and worked up into a fury of having to contend to a branch when a gorgeous, tyrannically huge cock was leaking lonely right behind his well-worked and fiendishly hungry self. No more going without.
Yue Qi might have forgotten how to breathe one or maybe a few times until Shen Jiu is coming all over his chest, trembling bodily and screaming his name, and this is the eventual trigger that brings Yue Qi over the edge. Never fails to do so.
Afterwards they cuddle in their shared mess as Yue Qi has been incredibly plentiful this time around, and hefty amounts of his come are being pushed out from Shen Jiu’s abused rim in tact to his heartbeat. A sight to behold, which Yue Qi dutifully does behold with rapt attention until Shen Jiu has recovered enough strength to blush and swat him away.
Shen Jiu smiles contentedly, feeling complete, stickily wet, and thoroughly debauched, and then firmly forbids Yue Qi to even look at the photos until next day, for the small remaining bit of rational thinking suggests they might not make it out of bed at all, should they really dare to assess the results of their creative outburst now.
They do dare, of course, as the deadline for the contest is somewhat of a pressing matter. It’s silent for a few minutes as Yue Qi clicks through the photos on screen, Shen Jiu standing behind him motionlessly. The tension in the room feels so palpable one could be cutting it with a knife and basking in the outburst of juices.
Shen Jiu’s luscious behind is perfectly anonymous in the shot, the rim coloured deep red and visibly well-stretched, shining with oil, the plum tree branch rich with blossoms and protruding delicately and inquisitively from the soft pink insides into the world.
Nevertheless, Yue Qi is valiantly the first one to admit he cannot envision himself allowing anyone under the Moon to see the masterpiece that is seen on the photos. There is just no way.
Shen Jiu thought himself prepared for the argument and already rehearsed his reasons, yet upon seeing what Yue Qi has photographed with such skill one might think he’s a top-class professional photographer — upon seeing this intimate part of his own self with Yue Qi’s eyes, his gaze adoring even through the means of a camera, Shen Jiu’s will to argue withers away, smothered by an intense bout of raging, possessive horniness.
Yue Qi is undoubtedly right — no one ever gets to see this part of Shen Jiu in such a fashion. It’s one thing to protect his precious Qi-ge from suffering such a twisted version of 'sharing' the peerless treasure that is his partner. It is completely another to let anyone see his very anonymous behind in a way Yue Qi sees him.
For some reason it feels even more intimate when Shen Jiu takes into account all the preparation Yue Qi has subjected him to, fingering him good and loose, going to lengths unprecedented to get the plum blossoms amidst the freezing winter and turn them into a kinky fetish object — all of this can be seen within the shots as clear as a day, Yue Qi’s infinite care overflowing even through the lifeless pixels on the screen. There’s too much feeling, too much Yue Qi — even though the photos feature nothing but Shen Jiu’s backside and nondescript white bedsheets for a backdrop. And the flowers, of course.
Shen Jiu ardently agrees to keep the photos for themselves and to discard the contest with a fervour he did not expect from himself. Although there is something he tells Yue Qi afterwards, once they have the photos secured on a flashcard that only loads its content after a tricky combination of fingerprints and passwords is entered and recognized.
That something entails flowers again, because Shen Jiu just cannot seem to stop. Like a bitch in heat, thinking single-mindedly. Of a way Yue Qi is carefully inserting a flowering object inside him. The way his passage stretches nervously and unpredictably around the new uneven object, this striking unawareness, the not knowing the next move that makes him want to squirm to find just the right spot.
How many stems would it take to reach a fullness Shen Jiu desires? Would Yue Qi let him writhe to completion on his own, or shall he join him? With his fingers or maybe even his own yang root. Each option is equally tempting, yet Shen Jiu muses even further.
What about the lightest touch of flower petals caressing the skin of his balls? What would it feel like if Yue Qi caressed his cock instead? With all his attention focused on Shen Jiu. That must be a particularly strong flower, its petals more powerful like that of a lily or even a lotus.
The flowers would be so delicate and fragile, their gentle rosey colour complimenting Shen Jiu’s reddened skin, looking so careless in contrast to the visible tension in his body. The sight is likely to leave the both of them dry-mouthed and breathless. For purely aesthetic reasons, of course. Definitely an art project to look into and plan accordingly.