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The gentle breeze of the quiet night tickled Chung Myung's cheeks.
He laid on the grass near a cliff with Tang Bo who sat next to him, a bottle of Sichuanese wine clutched loosely in Tang Bo's hand, while Chung Myung nursed his own. The distant glow of a small village flickered below.
Chung Myung still buzzing from the alcohol and the invigorating chill, stretched an arm out and, with a surprising gentleness, grabbed a few strands of Tang Bo’s dark hair that had fallen across his shoulder.
He squinted at them, then pulled them closer to the moonlight.
"Oi, Bo-yah," he slurred, a hint of genuine curiosity cutting through his usual tone.
"How come you're already going grey? Look at this, pure white?" He tugged lightly. "Is it all that poison? Eating away at your qi, is it?"
Tang Bo merely sighed, he took a slow sip from his bottle, the moonlight glinted off the mouth of the bottle. He shook his head slowly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"The poison, Hyung-nim," he started, "is not even a mild inconvenience. Have you not thought of another element that might be stressing me out? My qi isn't being eaten by the poison.. it is more like you're sucking it out of my poor body."
Chung Myung blinked, "Yah, what is this brat talking about?" he scoffed, pushing himself up onto an elbow and tugging at Tang Bo's hair.
Tang Bo chuckled, a warm sound that mingled with the cool night air. He finally turned his head meeting Chung Myung's gaze.
"What am I talking about? I'm talking about you, Hyung-nim. You are so violent, your unwillingness to let me treat you when you're hurt, your ability to turn a peaceful morning into a full-blown war zone.. " He looked up at the sky, almost as if he was talking about some tragic event, "Do you know, even your venerable Sect Leader SaHyung? I hear he's sprouting more silver than a winter mountain peak these days. It seems to be a universal reaction to you."
Chung Myung huffed, his grip on Tang Bo's hair loosened, then tightened again, but this time, he used it to yank.
"You insolent bastard!" he grumbled, pulling Tang Bo off his balance and sending him sprawling onto the grass beside him with a soft thump.
Before Tang Bo could even properly protest, Chung Myung's foot shot out, connecting with his shin with a loud thud. "Who gave you the right to talk about my Sahyung like that!"
Tang Bo let out a surprised grunt, then an unrestrained laugh bubbled up from his chest, echoing across the quiet cliffside. He rubbed his shin, still grinning. "See? This! This is precisely what I mean! It's only natural, Hyung-nim.. I can only take so much. You're too rough."
A deep silence settles between the two before Chung Myung speaks up again.
"Sucking the qi out of you ,huh? Guess you'd enjoy that." The expression on his face is unreadable, and Tang Bo feels like he has made a mistake, "or maybe not, can't have you turn fully gray."
__
Months later, the crisp air of early spring embraced Mount Hua. The snow had receded, leaving behind a beautiful tapestry dotted with buds of plum blossoms. A flurry of commotion at the main gate announced a not so unusual visitor. Tang Bo, looking far too cheerful for someone who’d just traversed mountain passes, arrived with a small caravan of porters, each filled with crates.
"Taoist Hyung-nim!" he called out, a wide grin splitting his face showing off his dimples as he spotted Chung Myung, currently attempting to 'supervise' a group of disciples in sweeping duties, which mostly involved him shouting and occasionally kicking their brooms- if not the children themselves..!
Chung Myung froze, then slowly turned. His eyes widened at the sight of the crates, then narrowed suspiciously at Tang Bo. "Bo-yah? Wha are you doing here? And what's with all the baggage??
Tang Bo merely chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Just a little gift for my esteemed Hyung-nim and his fellow Sect members, Sichuanese wine, aged to perfection. Im sure the Sect Leader would enjoy some too as everyone trains." He winked, then added, "And I heard from merchants the plum blossoms were particularly vibrant this year."
Chung Myung's eyes gleamed, the mention of wine and a fight were an amazing mix. "Training? You think you're ready for another beating, brat?"
"Always, Hyung-nim. Always."
And so, the day unfolded as only a day with Chung Myung and Tang Bo could. The bottles of wine were freed from their crates with the help of a rather enthusiastic Chung Jin who thanked Tang Bo.
The Twin Saints quickly took the wine into their hands as they ascended one of Mount Hua's secluded peaks, the air growing colder, thinner and cleaner. The plum blossoms, nurtured by the gentle spring sun showed their delicate petals.
Their sparring session began innocently enough, a playful dance of punches and dodges, fueled by the Sichuanese wine. But as the sun climbed higher and the wine flowed freer, the fight into something more intense.
Chung Myung in a whirlwind of blossoms moved like a phantom, his sword a pink blur. Tang Bo weaved around him, his sleeves concealing a deadly arsenal. Steel collided against steel, a symphony sang throughout the peak.
Daggers, tipped with the subtle shimmer of poison, flew from Tang Bo's hands, aimed with deadly accuracy at Chung Myung. But each one met the unyielding edge of the Plum Blossom Sword, deflected with a casual flick of the wrist, sending them spinning harmlessly into the blossom-filled air.
"Is that all you've got, Bo-yah?" Chung Myung taunted, his voice laced with exhilaration, a wild grin plastered across his face.
He ducked under a venom-laced sagger, the wind of its passage stirring a lock of his hair. "Pathetic! Mount Hua's Third-Grade disciples could do better!"
Tang Bo merely smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The best gifts are always saved for last."
A few times a stray dagger or perhaps a more potent mist from one of Tang Bo's hidden vials found its mark. A faint, tingling sensation would spread through Chung Myung's arm or shoulder, a subtle burn that he barely registered amidst the thrill of the fight.
He knew Tang Bo wouldn't use anything truly lethal on him, not yet. But the extra kick, the subtle disruption to his qi made the thrill better.
"More poison than needed," he'd grumble, but his eyes would sparkle with an almost perverse delight. It was just another way Tang Bo showed his... affection.
The hours melted away in a haze of motion and laughter. Their qi surged, their bodies pushed to their limits, until finally, with a powerful, sweeping strike, Chung Myung disarmed Tang Bo, sending his last dagger spinning into the distance.
Tang Bo, breathless and flushed, stumbled backwards, his back hitting the rough bark of an ancient plum tree with a soft thud. Before he could regain his footing, Chung Myung was there. The Plum Blossom Sword struck the tree trunk just above Tang Bo's shoulder, the sharp thwack echoing in the sudden silence.
Their chests heaved, breaths ragged and uneven. Stray strands of hair that framed his flushed face.
His eyes fixed on Tang Bo's. Tang Bo, equally breathless, felt the rough bark against his back, the cool steel of the sword inches from his ear, and the searing heat of Chung Myung's body pressed close. The scent of plum blossoms and expensive Sichuanese wine filled the air.
"See?" Tang Bo gasped, "Still too harsh, Hyung."
Chung Myung's lips, still curved in a feral grin from the fight, twitched. His eyes dropped from Tang Bo's, scanning his face, lingering on the slight flush of his cheeks, the rapid pulse at his throat.
With a quick motion Chung Myung pulled the Plum Blossom Sword from the tree and let it fall with a heavy clatter.
His hand, still trembling slightly from the poison he had circulating in his body, cupped Tang Bo's jaw, his thumb stroking the soft skin just beneath his ear "Tired yet, Bo-yah?"
Tang Bo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and dark as they met Chung Myung's. The rough bark of the tree felt less like a support and more like a trap.
Then, Chung Myung dropped to his knees before Tang Bo.
"Don't worry," Chung Myung murmured a promise, "I'll help you tire out even more. Let's see what 'harsh' truly means, hm?" A wicked, knowing smirk played on his lips.
Tang Bo swallowed hard, a dry click in his throat. "Hyung," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper, "my qi... it's already depleted."
Chung Myung chuckled, "Oh, I think you've still got plenty of energy left in you, brat. Plenty."
Without breaking eye contact, Chung Myung’s hands moved, surprisingly gentle yet possessive. He unfastened the tie of Tang Bo's outer robes, pushing the silk aside, then deftly unlaced the sash of his trousers. Chung Myung pulled the fabric down past his hips, pooling around his ankles amidst the fallen plum blossoms.
Chung Myung’s gaze lingered, appreciating the sight, before reaching out. His fingers, roughed from the fight, closed around Tang Bo's cock.
It sprang to life in his grasp, already thick and eager. Chung Myung’s thumb brushed over the sensitive head, a slow rub that sent a jolt of pure sensation straight through Tang Bo.
A soft moan escaped Tang Bo's lips, a sound of surrender. Chung Myung’s grin widened at the victory.
A low groan rumbled from Tang Bo's chest as Chung Myung’s hand began to pump, a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent shivers through his already overstimulated body.
Then Chung Myung stopped. Tang Bo’s breath hitched. But Chung Myung only lowered his head, his dark hair falling forward, a bit of a mess since he didnt bother to retie it. Tang Bo watched as Chung Myung’s lips, still curved in that wicked grin, parted.
Slowly, Chung Myung took him in. The warm, wet embrace started at the tip, a soft suction that made Tang Bo arch his back against the rough bark. Then, inch by agonizing inch, Chung Myung’s mouth enveloped him fully. Tang Bo’s eyes rolled back, a strangled gasp escaping his throat as Chung Myung’s tongue mapped every ridge and vein. He felt the soft pressure, a perfect fit.
Tang Bo’s hands shot out, fingers tangling in the soft, dark strands of Chung Myung’s hair. "Hyung," he rasped, his voice thick with disbelief and pleasure, "I... I didn't expect this surprise."
Chung Myung hummed, a low sound that vibrated against Tang Bo’s pulsing cock. His grip tightened on Tang Bo’s inner thighs.
Then, with a subtle shift, he pulled back, just enough for the cool air to kiss the slick, exposed head of Tang Bo’s cock.
But Chung Myung wasn't done teasing. His tongue darted out, tracing the swollen head, tasting the sweet, salty precum that beaded at the tip.
Tang Bo's cock was undeniably sizeable, a proud length that had often demanded attention, but after so much time, Chung Myung had grown accustomed to its girth.
Chung Myung pressed his pink lips fully to the engorged head, his tongue flicked, carefully tracing the sensitive tip.
"Still acting like it’s the first time I drop to my knees for you, Bo-yah?" Chung Myung murmured, but Tang Bo can sense his mocking tone.
Tang Bo’s tried to explain his reasoning , but the words caught in his throat, tangled with the pleasure.
How could he articulate that it wasn't the act itself, but the image? The Plum Blossom Sword Saint, the fierce, unyielding 'demon' of Mount Hua, the man whose very presence commanded awe and fear.. on his knees.. before him.
It was the fever dream of every enemy he’d ever faced, to see Chung Myung humbled, laid bare. But only Tang Bo, the notorious Tang Clan scion and Dark Saint, got to witness it, to feel it.
Chung Myung chuckled, "You can use both hands, you know." The invitation, the permission to take, shattered Tang Bo’s lingering reservations.
His fingers, tightened in Chung Myung's black hair pulling gently. With a soft groan of surrender, he began to move. Slowly at first,
Then, as the warmth of Chung Myung’s mouth enveloped him, Tang Bo leaned into it, pushing deeper, his hips beginning to find a rhythm against the rough bark of the plum tree, the sweet scent of blossoms and desire filling his lungs.
Just the thought of it always ignited in Tang Bo’s mind: to feel his cock pressed tightly around Chung Myung’s throat, spilling his cum into that mouth that speaks with so much ego and drinks too much. The image alone made him even harder, a sudden surge of blood that made his vision swim. He looked down, his eyes meeting Chung Myung’s.
And there they were- those infamous eyes, tinged with a faint, intoxicating flush, a dizzying shade of pink that Tang Bo had only seen a handful of times, usually when Chung Myung was pushed to his absolute limit, or.. like now, when he was utterly engrossed.
The look in those pink eyes was enough to make Tang Bo trip, to send him spiraling into a delicious abyss where nothing else mattered but the sensation, the pleasure.
Chung Myung hummed again, a soft, encouraging sound against his cock, a silent permission. Tang Bo took it, his initial tentative thrusts growing bolder. He pulled on Chung Myung’s hair-not too harsh obviously- a silent command, and Chung Myung obeyed, taking him deeper, allowing Tang Bo to set the pace.
The soft, gentle rhythm that started gave way to something greedier. With each thrust, Tang Bo felt the wet heat engulf him, the soft yet sharp tongue pressing deliciously against the underside of his cock.
A tremor started deep within Tang Bo, he could feel the pressure building within him like a volcano threatening to erupt. His hips bucked harder against Chung Myung's mouth.
"Hyung- ah I’m going to cum!" The words tore from his throat.
But just as the first wave of exquisite sensation threatened to overwhelm him, just as his muscles tensed for the inevitable release, Chung Myung’s hand shot up. Not to push him away, but to grasp his wrists, his rough fingers surprisingly gentle as they stopped Tang Bo’s frantic thrusting.
A sharp, frustrated gasp escaped Tang Bo’s lips as Chung Myung pulled his face away, the sudden coolness of the air on his slick, swollen cock an agonizing jolt.
Tang Bo’s eyes, unfocused and glazed with desire, met Chung Myung’s. The pink tint was still there, but now it was accompanied by a glint of pure mischief. His lips, still wet and glistening with spit curved into that infuriating, victorious grin.
Chung Myung's free hand shot down, not to push away, but to grasp the very base of Tang Bo’s cock. Simultaneously, his other hand tightened its grip on Tang Bo’s wrists, pinning them firmly. Tang Bo was caught and denied of his climax.
Chung Myung leaned back slightly, his head tilted, those infuriatingly pink eyes glinting up at Tang Bo. His voice held a teasing tone. "Now, now, Bo-yah. We can't have you getting any more grey hairs from our... endeavors, can we?"
Tang Bo let out a strangled groan, his hips instinctively twitching, a desperate, almost pathetic attempt to find friction, to rub against anything that might bring him relief.
The Dark Saint found himself utterly powerless, his most intimate desires held hostage by the Plum Blossom Sword Saint. He could feel the pulse of his own blood, the frantic thrumming of his cock against that firm, unmoving palm, like a hilt held by a master swordsman.
"Taoist Hyung-nim... ugh... it hurts!" Tang Bo rasped.
His grip at the base of Tang Bo’s cock slackened, just enough to send a jolt of false hope through the Dark Saint’s veins, a cruel tease. Then, Chung Myung’s hand glided upwards pausing midway, fingers tightening once more. His thumb traced the prominent throbbing vein that pulsed along Tang Bo’s cock.
A flicker of something unreadable crossed Chung Myung’s features- perhaps the barest hint of pity for the writhing man above him, but more, a distinct pang of self-interest. He knew that denying Tang Bo his release meant denying himself the full experience for the night.
Chung Myung let out a low, contemplative hum, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "Well, now, Bo-yah, since you're so... eager... to finish what we started, perhaps we can negotiate." He paused, letting the words hang in the air, a nicely placed bait. "Tell me.. is there anything you might want to do to me in return?"
A pervert, indeed, knows a pervert.
The words were barely out of Chung Myung’s mouth, when Tang Bo’s eyes, still wide and dilated with frustrated lust, snapped into focus.
"I'll fuck you against that tree," Tang Bo rasped, his voice raw, devoid of any shame or hesitation. His head tilted slightly towards the ancient plum tree whose branches were heavy with the promise of spring blossoms. "I’ll lift you up, pin you there, and bury myself in you until you can’t speak.. and I’ll fill you until you’re overflowing."
The declaration hung heavy in the air, just the truth of what Tang Bo craved, his eyes burning with an intensity that promised to turn every word into reality.
Chung Myung’s infuriating grin widened, a slow, predatory curve of his lips.
Chung Myung hummed again. He knew the feeling well, the hunger that gnawed at Tang Bo, the need to invert their usual dynamic, to seize control, even for a moment.
It was true, more often than not, it was Chung Myung who dictated the pace, who held the reins, who rode Tang Bo into breathless submission. But there were times when Tang Bo’s own possessive nature surged to the forefront, demanding to be satiated. And in those moments, Chung Myung found a different kind of pleasure to the very man who usually knelt before him.
"Against the tree, you say?" Chung Myung murmured and finally, released his hand that put pressure on Tang Bo’s throbbing cock. He let go of Tang Bo’s wrists too, freeing him with a casual flick of his fingers.
Tang Bo gasped, his cock springing free, slick and engorged. He didn't waste a second. His hands, no longer restrained, shot out, grasping Chung Myung’s waist as he rose up and pushed him against the tree.
Chung Myung let out a laugh as Tang Bo spun him around. He didnt even try to ground himself, letting Tang Bo manhandle him as he wishes for the night at least.
Tang Bo’s eyes, dark and possessive, devoured Chung Myung’s face. "You asked, Hyung," he breathed, his hips already pressing against Chung Myung’s dressed behind.
"Well, Bo-yah," Chung Myung purred, "don't keep me waiting."
Tang Bo’s hands trembled reaching for Chung Myung’s sash. His fingers fumbled with the fabric, eager to peel away the layers of silk and expose the warm skin beneath.
Just as his fingertips brushed the silk, a sudden, sharp rustle of leaves sounded from the distance, followed by a familiar, slightly exasperated cough.
"Chung Myung-ah! Are you up there, you rascal?" The voice, deep and resonant, belonged to none other than Chung Mun, Chung Myung’s Sahyung.
Chung Myung’s eyes, which had been half-lidded in anticipation, snapped open. The predatory grin vanished, replaced by a look of panic. His head whipped around in a blur, and his hands shot out- one hand clamped onto Tang Bo’s pants, yanking his pants upwards with a desperate tug, while the other pushed Tang Bo firmly away, dissolving their intimate contact in a breath.
Tang Bo, still hard and bewildered, stumbled back. He watched as Chung Myung, with another frantic sweep, attempted to smooth down his own rumpled robes and pat his disheveled hair, all while trying to appear nonchalant.
A moment later, Chung Mun’s face, framed by his neatly tied topknot and a concerned frown, appeared at the top of the stone walkway leading up to the peak. His gaze swept over the scene, taking in the two figures standing awkwardly amongst the fallen petals.
Chung Myung’s hair was sticking out at odd angles, his robes were twisted, and his cheeks were flushed a vibrant crimson that had nothing to do with the cool evening air.
Tang Bo, standing a few paces away, looked equally dishevelled, his own hair a tangled mess, his breathing still a little too heavy, and his eyes still wide with a mix of shock an longing. His pants were definitely not quite pulled up all the way...
Chung Mun’s gaze lingered on Tang Bo’s barely-contained state, then flickered to Chung Myung’s wide, innocent-looking eyes. He let out another, more deliberate cough, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken questions.
"Ahem. Chung Myung-ah," Chung Mun finally managed, his voice carefully neutral, though a faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Dinner is being served. The elders are waiting." He paused, his eyes darkening slightly as he added, "And Tang Bo, you're welcome to join us..."
Chung Myung, mortified, squeaked out a hasty, "We'll be right there, Sahyung!"
It took a full minute for Chung Myung’s face to not be as red as a plum blossom, the heat still radiating from his cheeks like a small furious sun.
He waited until the last rustle of Chung Mun’s robes had faded down the stone path. He fiddled with his sash, tugging at it pointlessly, avoiding Tang Bo’s gaze. The last person who needed to see him get fucked by Tang Bo.. it was certainly his Sahyung. Or anyone from the sect in general, for that matter.
Chung Myung liked to believe he had not an ounce of shame in his bones, that he was utterly beyond such petty human frailties, but when it came to his Sahyung, it was different. Very different.
He cleared his throat, a small, pathetic sound. He pointed a wavering finger at Tang Bo, trying to inject some of his usual tone into his voice, but it came out as a rather squeaky command. "You..you you can sneak into my room after dinner." He added, almost as an afterthought, "Don't be late."
Tang Bo blinked, a slow, deliberate blink. A corner of his mouth twitched, ah, really?
"Sneak into your room, Hyung?" Tang Bo finally drawled with suppressed laughter "Fine, I won't be late."