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This was a world of eternal winter, brittle and jagged. There was no narrative of redemption to be unlocked. The air tasted of hunger and snow. The shadows on their heels were not wolves but something other, something worse. With their elongated snouts and numerous legs, they beat the ground as Lin Qiushi and Zhu Meng dashed towards the door. The noise melded with the pounding of Lin Qiushi’s heart and the thrum of Zhu Meng’s pulse. The soundscape made Qiushi think they might already have been assimilated into a single monstrous entity. Zhu Meng’s nails dug into his wrist, prompting a flash of clarity. The world around them crackled like glass.
Despite the bone key in Zhu Meng’s grip, Qiushi felt this world wanted to swallow them whole. The designer in him whispered how much the crude key resembled a sacrificial dagger.
Home and yet not home. Back in his own bedroom, Lin Qiushi felt like half his soul lingered in a cruel moonlit world, trampled by savage beasts. He leaned against the wall and didn’t dare close his eyes. Besides, he didn’t want to.
Ruan Nanzhu was sitting on Qiushi’s bed, removing his wig with a sigh – a welcome sign of reality. Qiushi regarded Nanzhu’s dishevelled state with fondness. A skirt really hadn’t been an ideal choice for this door. There were scratches and claw marks on Nanzhu’s calves. Blood seeped slowly through the ruined stockings. Nothing life-threatening, which was a small miracle. Qiushi drew a shaky breath. The warm air was comforting and suffocating at once.
“Let me help,” he said, knowing it wasn’t really needed. There were few things Nanzhu couldn’t accomplish on his own. But Qiushi had got used to offering, and Nanzhu had yet to say no. He had said a number of other things instead just to see Qiushi flustered.
“Go ahead.” Nanzhu extended his leg in a coquettish gesture, unmindful of his wounds. Something glitched in Qiushi’s brain. Nanzhu’s low laughter teased his ears, one of his favourite sounds. He must have frozen to stare. But wasn’t he meant to do that? They were together, after all – a development continually interrupted by near-death situations. Qiushi found his concentration faltering alarmingly around Nanzhu.
He knelt and started to work on the strap of one ankle-length boot. How Nanzhu was able to run in those heels remained a mystery. Qiushi tried to focus on that but didn’t quite manage, not when his fingers touched barely covered skin radiating warmth, especially not when Nanzhu moaned in relief as the boot was removed. The reaction was genuine, yet Qiushi knew that it was also meant for him.
It was always like this – Nanzhu guiding and provoking him, curious to see what he would do. It wasn’t that Qiushi minded being led when it made Nanzhu happy. It wasn’t like he tolerated it like some chore. Not at all.
But in this moment, Qiushi felt restless. Not quite at home in his skin, like something wild had followed him out of the door. He could still smell crushed pine needles and blood. The scent reminded him sharply of Nanzhu upon their first meeting. A beautiful and deadly apparition who refused to let go of him no matter what. No one had ever stuck around like Nanzhu. No one was like Nanzhu.
The off-kilter beat of Qiushi’s heart refused to settle. It echoed in his ears, protesting this stillness. He was shivering, shaken by the cold burn of ice. But most of all he was wrecked by a covetous desire, startling in its sharpness, impossible to ignore.
He felt like a hunter.
He wondered if that was what Ruan Nanzhu felt inside the doors.
But they got out, and Qiushi was still – like this, still wanted with a feral intensity.
He was hyperaware of their proximity. His hand was spread wide on Nanzhu’s calf, the ruined stockings peeled off to reveal smooth skin marred by claws. Qiushi didn’t dare look up. He feared that the shadow of Nanzhu’s eyelashes, the twin beauty marks and the darkness in his watchful eyes would set off some uncontrollable reaction.
Qiushi knew his own unruly heart, but his body went often neglected. The way he felt now was unsettling. Like maybe he shouldn’t be trusted around precious things.
“I think that was the worst of it,” Qiushi said as he finished securing the bandage. His voice was steady enough, so he risked a glance – he had to make sure Nanzhu was all right. His touch lingered on Nanzhu’s ankle like he couldn’t bear to part.
Too late, Qiushi realised his mistake. Always unfairly perceptive, Nanzhu’s eyes widened a fraction at whatever he saw in Qiushi. Of course he would notice something strange. Qiushi swallowed, caught. At least one of them had a grasp of the situation when he was unravelling.
“Enjoying yourself down there?” Nanzhu asked after a beat, light and teasing. The normalcy of it threw Qiushi off. Nanzhu ran his toes down Qiushi’s back, and each bump on the vertebrae sent sparks through frayed nerves. Qiushi straightened with a jerk. The shivery sensation spread to his extremities, lighting him up from the inside. It was hard to stay still, impossible to stop his hand from trembling. He knew Nanzhu could feel it. Qiushi bit his lip too hard and tasted blood.
Then some unseen tether snapped and he was scrambling up on the bed, invading Nanzhu’s space, stealing all the space between them. Blood pounded in his ears as his leg pushed between Nanzhu’s sprawled thighs. Qiushi heard a low sound that didn’t have time to be approving or disapproving before he kissed Nanzhu full on the mouth, dirty and to the point.
After a still second Nanzhu relented, parted his lips and let Qiushi in, offering up his brazen heat. Nanzhu’s soundless laughter melted into the kiss, which did absolutely nothing to clear Qiushi’s head. He bit Nanzhu’s lower lip mindlessly. He had never kissed with such abandon, never done the things he craved now.
Nanzhu was unusually pliant under the onslaught, almost wary of scaring Qiushi off. Only his nails dug into Qiushi’s back with unrestrained force. He let Qiushi mark his throat, leave a bruising bite under his ear, worry his pierced earlobe and the precious earring with his teeth and tongue. His breathing hitched as Qiushi ground his knee between his legs through the knee-length skirt.
The greedy beast in Qiushi liked that. It was like someone had turned off thought and everything that got in the way of them, of this. He shoved Nanzhu down on the bed, at once achingly present and feeling possessed. He trapped Nanzhu’s wrists on either side of his head, leaning his weight into it. Nanzhu could have broken the hold easily. Nanzhu could have objected to any of this handling. But he didn’t.
“Qiushi…” he said, testing the grip on his wrists, a trace of a curious smile on his lips.
Qiushi looked down into his eyes. They glinted like polished stone, no longer unreadable. There was a soft light in Nanzhu’s gaze when he looked at Qiushi, something saved for him alone. Desire was plain in Nanzhu’s expression, shaken into rare openness.
“Let me,” Qiushi said hoarsely, “let me have you.” Madness spilled from his mouth, yet he couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t stop wanting. A sane part of Qiushi waited for Nanzhu to kick him off the bed and wrest back the control he had relinquished. But the expected return to normalcy never came.
“You want it like this?” Nanzhu asked, glancing at his captured wrists and his dishevelled clothing and finally Qiushi’s eyes, whatever he saw there. Like this wasn’t something earth-shattering, like he wasn’t offering himself like a lamb to the slaughter, like sharing this desire wasn’t a question at all – it was only a matter of how.
Somehow that grounded Qiushi. The ridiculous shamelessness of this man that he wanted fiercely, desperately, just like this.
“Yeah,” he said, feeling the insides of Nanzhu’s wrists with his thumbs, counting his quickening pulse. “Is that all right?”
“As long as you like it.” Nanzhu licked his red-bitten lips and glanced pointedly downwards, directing Qiushi’s gaze. He was still half-dressed in Zhu Meng’s door world clothes. Qiushi hadn’t given it much thought, so taken over by the desire to possess Nanzhu completely – his warm blood and beating heart and everything he was composed of.
Qiushi’s mind cleared momentarily. He became extremely aware of their circumstances. Nanzhu’s hair was tousled and sticking up after removing the wig. He had discarded the torn cardigan; his white blouse was still neatly buttoned all the way up to his mauled throat. The pleated skirt was rucked up between his bare legs, the stockings abandoned for a lost cause. This display of pristine ruin had Qiushi trembling, trying to hold back whatever it was in him that wanted to take and devour.
Maybe he made a noise of assent. Maybe his thoughts were loud enough.
“Then it’s fine,” Nanzhu said. Qiushi knew the sound of Nanzhu’s breathing better than anyone else, could tell how unaffected he wasn’t. “Tell me who you want.”
Qiushi frowned – wasn’t it obvious enough? Nanzhu stretched out, showing off the long arch of his body. His words and gestures were slow and languid, giving Qiushi ample time to appreciate this. “Do you want Zhu Meng?” Nanzhu’s voice changed subtly. “Or do you miss Baijie that badly?”
“I just want you,” Qiushi said helplessly. “All of you.”
He realised distantly that this might be greedy, but it was true. Qiushi wanted this beautiful person under him on the bed right now. Everything he was and everything he could ever be.
“Then I guess you’ll have Ruan Nanzhu.” A small smile tugged at Nanzhu’s mouth. “Whoever that is.”
Qiushi shivered all over as Nanzhu stared up at him with glittering eyes. Close but not close enough…
Unbidden, Qiushi heard again the faint crackling of ice, saw Zhu Meng’s distant figure amidst the black trees.
The trees were people. A forest of humans frozen into grotesque shapes, their statuesque bodies reaching towards heaven. They made Qiushi think of the hunting shadows not far behind. Were the beasts once beings of flesh and blood, now trapped in monstrous shells?
Zhu Meng called to him, a white cutout against black ice, and Qiushi ran. Every tree he passed – every person in the petrified forest – they were all holding a bone key. The chill threatened to freeze his lungs. They never reached the door, Zhu Meng said as she took Qiushi’s hand. The key will work. Trust me.
They dashed through the forest, and the trees groaned mournfully, turning to stare at the passage of the living.
Qiushi started as he was bitten, a burst of pain in the underside of his arm. He blinked, and Nanzhu was right there, his mouth twisted in a displeased pout. Qiushi let out a shuddering exhale. They really got out, even if Qiushi wasn’t all here yet.
“Pay attention,” Nanzhu ordered. “Look at me.”
And that was achingly familiar, Nanzhu demanding things, being unreasonable and impossible. Qiushi wanted to forget the door, forget every world in existence. Nanzhu had said have me and that was all that mattered. Any calm he might have summoned evaporated at the thought.
Qiushi looked at those red lips and sharp, white teeth and absolutely had to stake his claim. The kiss was sloppy and biting, filthier than anything in Qiushi’s experience. He groaned into Nanzhu’s mouth as their breath mingled, neither of them willing to part. When they inevitably did, Nanzhu’s eyes were half-closed, the shadow of his eyelashes stark on his cheek. The impression of yielding was impossibly alluring.
Qiushi couldn’t bear it. He ran his hand through Nanzhu’s hair, felt the unbearable softness of it, and he followed the urge to fist his hand and pull back hard, baring Nanzhu’s throat.
Nanzhu moaned at that, surprise flitting across his features. Qiushi stared at the purpling bruises mottling Nanzhu’s beautiful neck and the skin yet to be claimed. He saw the way Nanzhu dug his freed hands into the covers, holding on. For Qiushi. He was hit by a swell of need and greed and affection, all twisted up.
He had to have Nanzhu’s throat under his hand, thumb digging into the soft skin. He had to feel the silky fabric of the white blouse, so fine was nearly see-through, and touch the hardened nipples not quite concealed. The slide of fabric under the roll of his thumb and forefinger was hypnotic. It wasn’t hard to figure out what to do with Nanzhu writhing under him, moaning when Qiushi sucked his nipple through the fabric, his hands buried in Qiushi’s hair.
“Bite,” Nanzhu told him with a hitch in his breath, and when Qiushi did so without hesitation, too wound up to be gentle, Nanzhu all but vibrated in his skin. His eyes were always on Qiushi, fixed on his mouth, his tongue. The fabric grew soaked, fully transparent. Qiushi could see the faint, tempting flush and taste salty skin through the shirt. And that was good, that taste belonged in his mouth as he worried the flesh between his teeth, while Nanzhu hissed curses at him yet pulled him closer.
But this wasn’t enough to sate the snow-scented hunger, a craving that might have always lived in him, waiting. Qiushi was so focused on Nanzhu it was close to an out-of-body experience. He slipped his hand under the blouse which had become messily untucked, felt smooth, feverish skin, and gave the front of the shirt a hard tug. The desecrated cloth was torn open, the buttons came undone, most ripped off altogether. The buttons were pearly and round, perfectly incongruous like everything about Nanzhu. They scattered all over the sheets. Nanzhu looked somewhat scandalised – like he hadn’t done much worse – but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. His hips stuttered against Qiushi’s thigh, still separated by layers of clothes.
On another day, Qiushi might worship him. Today he wanted to devour him. As their eyes met, Qiushi saw something sharp and joyful in his partner. He felt his desires must be written all over his face, clumsy and savage, but Nanzhu didn’t seem to mind. He was watching Qiushi like someone who’d love to be devoured. And Nanzhu was always clear on what he wanted.
Qiushi’s mouth went dry at the sight of revealed skin, the small imperfections and silvery scars that would disappear soon enough, the red imprint left by the waistband of Nanzhu’s skirt. Nanzhu tugged at the hem of Qiushi’s shirt with impatience.
“Off,” he said, and Qiushi obeyed because it was logical enough. His sweater and button-down lay on the floor in a wet heap already. There was only the undershirt left to pull over his head. He let it drop aside, aching need evaporating any self-consciousness. Anyway, it was fine as long as Nanzhu wanted him; Nanzhu who ran a single finger from the hollow of Qiushi’s throat down to his chest and suddenly raked his nails all the way down to the waistband of Qiushi’s jeans. He had been growing them for Zhu Meng. Qiushi gasped at the fiery sensation.
Nanzhu’s fingers worked on buttons and zippers as deftly as on any locks. Qiushi caught his wrist before he got much further. His hips bucked at Nanzhu’s knowing touch, but that wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to be distracted – couldn’t afford to be distracted, absolutely refused to let go. He closed his eyes against the compulsion, but that only made it worse.
Zhu Meng was faster than him, sure on her feet in those damn heels. When Qiushi slipped, their grip faltered, and he tumbled alone into the twilight beneath the trees.
The shadow beasts were close. He could hear the shifting snow as they moved but couldn’t make them out in the leaden dusk. It felt like everyone had disappeared and he was alone in the world. Alone until he’d feel the first bite.
He was calm. There was no sting in being left behind. Zhu Meng had the key. She would get out, she would survive. That was what mattered.
Something clamped on Qiushi’s wrist, so hard he thought it was the jaws of a beast. But it was only the grip of Zhu Meng’s strong fingers.
Don’t let go again, she growled. I’m not fucking leaving you here. She stood over Qiushi, pale and luminous. Her hand was a brand around his wrist, and in the other she held the key like a knife.
The ice crust cracked ominously. Qiushi saw Zhu Meng whirl towards the beasts, saw her strikes connect with something solid, saw dark fluid splatter on the snow. She was madness, she was a vision – and she never let go of Qiushi. Or maybe he didn’t let go of her.
Seems to work well enough, Zhu Meng said when the beasts had been dealt with. She twirled the bone key in her hand, the dagger-like stem gleaming black. Qiushi stared at cross-shaped handle with its three sharp spikes, dripping with Zhu Meng’s blood.
Qiushi turned Nanzhu’s hand and kissed his palm, the raised scars still visible. Small wounds faded quickly outside the doors. Small sacrifices melted like snow. Qiushi was good at forgetting – not the events but what he had felt at the time. He never forgot anything to do with Nanzhu, though. The visceral, breathless quality of the memories remained. The burning sensation of having come in from the cold never faded.
Nanzhu raised his fingers to Qiushi’s lips and traced their shape, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. He brushed smeared lip gloss from the corner of Qiushi’s mouth. “You’re not all here, are you?”
Qiushi shook his head slightly, unwilling to dislodge Nanzhu’s fingers. “If I stop to think, I’m back there.”
“Look at me.” Nanzhu stared at him intently, like he could see right through Qiushi down to his unsettled bones. It would have been uncomfortable with anyone else, but this was Nanzhu; none of this would have happened without Nanzhu.
Nanzhu must have found what he wanted, because his gaze strayed back to Qiushi’s lips. “Well, I don’t mind,” he said. “Don’t think. Don’t stop. Don’t think I’d let you do anything I didn’t want. I’m not into selfless sacrifices.”
Every word hit home somewhere desperate and yearning. Qiushi knew all that, knew what Nanzhu was like, but that was practically an invitation. It made everything a little less heavy. You’re safe, Nanzhu didn’t say. I’ll catch you, he didn’t say. But he might as well have. If Nanzhu wanted to see this through, then it must be alright to be wild and strange, to want so badly Qiushi could taste it.
Qiushi parted his lips as Nanzhu slipped two fingers in at once. The taste of him, immediate and demanding, rushed Qiushi back to a world of warmth and sensation. He sucked without thinking, worrying the rough-smooth skin with his tongue. Mildly salty with the sweet residue of blood. Qiushi hadn’t seen any blood outside the door – maybe wiped quickly on the black cardigan. He bit the digits and Nanzhu cursed, crooking his fingers and pressing down on Qiushi’s tongue.
“You better not do that with my cock in your mouth,” Nanzhu said, but his voice was very low, his eyes darker than ever.
That made sense, a logical step in the sequence when Nanzhu’s fingers were already fucking Qiushi’s mouth. That was what he wanted, that might sate this hunger he no longer found so disconcerting. Want coiled in Qiushi’s belly and suffused his limbs. He let go of Nanzhu’s fingers and glanced up.
“Your cock is still under your skirt,” Qiushi said. He could trace the shape of it through the grey fabric. Nanzhu was about to push the skirt aside. Qiushi caught his hand and brought it up to Nanzhu’s chest instead. “Let me,” he said, a dark timbre in his voice. “Just touch yourself.”
Nanzhu raised an eyebrow but followed Qiushi’s direction. He touched his reddened nipples with spit-slick fingers, pinching and rolling them like Qiushi had done with his mouth, and occasionally let the edge of a fingernail catch on the sensitive flesh. His accelerated heartbeat told Qiushi just how much he liked that, not that he was trying to hide it. The way he arched shamelessly into his own touch was mesmerizing.
Qiushi wanted to do that to him, he wanted to do everything, take over Nanzhu so that he’d never want anything else. Then his gaze fixed on the pearly buttons scattered on the sheets, little gleaming droplets of white, and he was hit with an image and followed it without thought.
Nanzhu glared at him for stopping, for being so slow, but his attention was quickly drawn to the pearl Qiushi held between his fingers. He touched Nanzhu like that, rolling the pearl against his nipple, hard and round, white on red. Nanzhu’s eyes widened and he made a sound low in his throat, a slight tremor under Qiushi’s hand.
“Qiushi, you…” But there were no words to follow.
“Like this,” Qiushi said, “do it like this.”
He didn’t know if it was unreasonable or something people did, but Nanzhu was breathing hard as he took the pearl from Qiushi. Their fingers touched briefly. Nanzhu’s nail bit into the soft pad of Qiushi’s thumb in passing. Then he did as Qiushi had asked, tormenting himself with his slender fingers, pushing the pearl hard into his nipple, pinching the flesh like he was imagining teeth.
Qiushi’s cock throbbed at the sight and the sound of it, the stifled moans and the rustle of sheets and the quiet brush of skin on skin. He had been hard ever since he had knelt to take off Zhu Meng’s shoes. He had meant to ignore it, but now… He had to tear his gaze away. There were other things he wanted, and right now he felt capable of them, not yet too stuck in his own skin.
He ran his hands up Nanzhu’s thighs, under his skirt, and found the uncharacteristically practical boxer briefs he was wearing – women’s since he was a stickler for detail. Qiushi felt oddly fond of him for that. He dragged them down, briefly distracted by the flowery design, which elicited a hiss from Nanzhu as his tightly confined cock was freed. Qiushi tossed the underwear aside.
The sight of Nanzhu like this hit him low in his gut. A vision in white and cream and red on Qiushi’s bed. The blouse spread like tattered wings, revealing tanned skin. The faint outlines of muscles and the reddened nipples he kept playing with, although it made him squirm. His legs, bare and endlessly long, parted and bracketing Qiushi’s hips. The grey skirt, bunched up indecently and tented by his hard cock. Nanzhu in this undefined state, fearless and wanton and wanting, was more than Qiushi could bear. He wanted more than he’d ever wanted in his life.
So he reached for Nanzhu’s cock again, felt the slightly catching fabric against his palm, the satisfying hardness in his hand. He stroked Nanzhu like that, through the skirt, and Nanzhu tensed all over, his thighs clamping Qiushi’s sides, shuddering against the sensation. Still, he didn’t protest as Qiushi continued, only dug his heel into Qiushi’s back. It must have felt raw, the rub of fabric against bare skin. The noises Nanzhu made grew unrestrained, impossible to categorize. He bucked into Qiushi’s hand, chasing the sensation that was both torment and relief.
Qiushi was the one who couldn’t stand it anymore. His hand shook as he let go, he was shaking all over. Nanzhu opened his eyes, dangerously bright as he got up on one elbow. Colour bloomed high on his cheeks, prettier than any makeup. He looked ready to pounce Qiushi if he dared to stop.
Qiushi had no intention of stopping. He flipped the skirt aside and finally saw Nanzhu’s cock and all of him bared. His cock looked achingly hard and as big as Nanzhu always bragged, but Qiushi no longer felt weird about it. Now he just knew he wanted that cock, wanted to please Nanzhu so that he would never let go.
Qiushi lifted his eyes as a single white pearl rolled down Nanzhu’s abdomen. Nanzhu was smiling at him, wicked and lovely. He held a handful of pearly buttons, gathered who knew when, and slowly let them cascade down his body. Qiushi’s breath caught as the white droplets spread on Nanzhu’s skin, rolled down the crease between hip and thigh and skirted his beautiful cock. Qiushi realised belatedly why he had been so fixated on them. Of course, Nanzhu had known all along. He stared at Qiushi with challenge, never mind that he was stripped and spread out like an offering, and scattered the pearls on his stomach with his palm.
Qiushi didn’t think, couldn’t think. He took Nanzhu’s cock in his hand, the heat of it scalding, and jerked him off with a single-minded focus. The angle was awkward, but he could hear the smallest noises Nanzhu made, listen to what he liked, what made him loud and careless. He’d meant to use his mouth, but he was too caught up in this. Then Qiushi’s gaze strayed to the pearls dotting the sheets, all innocent innuendo.
Nanzhu moaned as Qiushi’s spit-slick thumb played with the head of his cock. He was watching everything with half-lidded eyes and saw Qiushi pick up another pearl. Nanzhu was breathing heavily, biting his lip, as Qiushi placed one round pearl on the head of his cock. The suggestive sight hit Qiushi hard, almost as hard as the fact that Nanzhu allowed this. He swallowed and teased Nanzhu lightly, and the slightest pressure had Nanzhu trembling. Pre-come welled up obscenely around the pearl. It seemed Nanzhu couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight, but eventually he leaned back with a curse. He fought to keep still, his muscles tensed, the beautiful line of his throat exposed.
In that moment, he was Zhu Meng in her pearls and Ruan Nanzhu in his refusal to back down, he was everything Qiushi wanted and loved with a desperate covetousness. Yet even Nanzhu’s control had to snap, and he fucked into Qiushi’s grip, chasing the long-denied release. Qiushi obliged him, and it didn’t take long before Nanzhu came with a hoarse shout. Come spilled on Qiushi’s hand and spattered on Nanzhu’s stomach. Distantly, Qiushi heard the dull sound of a pearl hitting the floor.
He wanted to burn everything to memory. Arousal zinged through him from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet. It was hard to stay still, to think, to breathe. He had worried his lip raw and hadn’t even noticed. But he couldn’t look away from Nanzhu, couldn’t miss any of this. Nanzhu was gasping for breath, one arm thrown over his head, the picture of perfect ruin. Like this, Qiushi could feel the satisfied relaxation in his limbs, not the customary controlled ease but a true letting go. He kissed the inside of Nanzhu’s carelessly tilted knee. Although he burned, something primal in him was satisfied.
He was about to take care of himself, more than content to watch, but Nanzhu would have none of that.
“Qiushi,” he said with accusation in his voice, and Qiushi blinked at him, barely capable of thought.
Nanzhu’s reaction speed was remarkable for someone who moments ago had been a boneless heap of limbs. He rolled up, hooked his arm around the back of Qiushi’s neck and swung himself into his lap, all in one smooth motion. His lips found Qiushi’s, burning and swollen, tasting faintly of blood and sticky lip gloss. Nanzhu kissed him, unrestrained and overwhelming, like a demon out to steal Qiushi’s soul; he already had that. He ran his hand down Qiushi’s throat and spread his fingers over Qiushi’s heart like he wanted it for a keepsake; he was welcome to it.
Their lips parted, wet and messy, and Nanzhu pressed his forehead against Qiushi’s while his hands moved downwards.
“Qiushi, Qiushi,” he said, his lips a breath’s width away. “Won’t you let me have this?”
Nanzhu didn’t stop, had already knocked aside Qiushi’s hand, and Qiushi’s mouth was dry with all the things he couldn’t articulate.
“You – yeah,” he stammered, less than eloquent. He wanted to tell Nanzhu that he could have anything. He wanted Nanzhu to know how much Qiushi liked him like this, in any shape and any world, but he could only pant foolishly in Nanzhu’s hands, well and truly caught. Maybe Nanzhu didn’t need to be told any of that.
“Good answer,” Nanzhu said. His large hand was on Qiushi’s cock, already addictively familiar. His touch made Qiushi feel like someone’s property, cherished and greedily guarded. Desperation evaporated the lingering strangeness of someone else’s slick touch on him. Blood rushed to his face as he realised how loud he was, and worse, how it turned him on. He liked listening to himself, the hitched breaths and raw noises he couldn’t smother. His hearing picked up everything to the point of distraction.
Qiushi glanced down, wanting to see, and sucked in a breath. The skirt was arranged neatly to cover them both. He could only make out the movement of Nanzhu’s hand under the pleated fabric, and that shred of propriety made the scene all the more obscene.
Nanzhu chuckled, light and teasing. Qiushi looked up and saw the quirk of his mouth and the spark in his eye, and that belonged to Nanzhu and Zhu Meng and all the sides of this person Qiushi had yet to meet.
“You like it, Qiushi,” he said, still in that tone that wasn’t quite Zhu Meng but not far off. Qiushi’s hips stuttered as Nanzhu played with the head of his cock, the memory of what he’d done to Nanzhu vivid in his mind. His sanity was fraying. It was too much in so many ways, and he’d waited for so long. An inarticulate sound escaped him, his hands fisting in the back of Nanzhu’s blouse.
“Fuck me then,” Nanzhu said like the menace he was. “Fuck my hand like you’d fuck Zhu Meng in this skirt. You want it so badly. Take it. Take her.”
Half invitation, half command, all dirty. Qiushi’s hands gripped Nanzhu’s waist as he gave in and did just that, fucked into Nanzhu’s grip and imagined slick heat and slivers of bared skin, fear and excitement burning like a toxic fire in his belly. He would be listening for footsteps because they were inside a door, in plain sight; this was madness, yet he was unable to stop. And all the while Zhu Meng would be telling him, too loudly, what to do, how she wanted to be fucked.
“Nanzhu,” Qiushi panted desperately, “I’m going to – can I –” He had no idea what he was even saying.
“So polite,” Nanzhu said, and Qiushi’s breath hitched as his cock was gripped firmly. “Would you be like this with Zhu Meng? A gentleman? Or would you give her what she wants? You’ve fucked her until she can’t stand it, Linlin. She tightens around your cock just like this, aggrieved yet helpless as she comes again and again. She fucking loves it, she’s sobbing with it. And she knows she has to walk with your come between her legs for who knows how long…”
Qiushi moaned, on the verge of orgasm, and Nanzhu pulled back the skirt covering them. The feather-light brush of fabric was intolerable, every sensation magnified and molten under Qiushi’s skin. He bucked into Nanzhu’s fist, held onto him with clumsy desperation, licked at his sweat and bit down on his exposed neck. Sounds stuck in his throat as he came, breathless and shaking.
Qiushi must have lost a bit of time after that. Unsure whether to be mortified about it or not, he felt Nanzhu tracing the furrow between his eyebrows. They had made it under the covers, and Nanzhu had got rid of the ruined blouse – and the rest of their clothes, by the feel of it. Fine, Qiushi was definitely embarrassed by that. Nanzhu must have felt the shift in his expression.
“Back in the world of the living?” he inquired solemnly, like he wasn’t asking whether Qiushi had recovered from fucking himself stupid.
“Fuck off,” Qiushi said, but it came out sort of warm and mellow. He hid his face against Nanzhu’s chest.
“But I like it right here.” Nanzhu’s arm came to rest around him, and Qiushi had to admit that he liked it right there, too. “With my imaginative partner. You were quite inspired today. Any reason in particular? Or was it just the skirt?”
Qiushi groaned. “It was not not the skirt. Do we have to talk about it now?”
“Of course. If I want a repeat performance, I need to know how to get one.” Nanzhu said it easily, like he hadn’t noticed anything off about Qiushi and had forgotten all about the door they had survived. Qiushi knew he was faking it, of course.
“Then I guess you’ll have to wait for inspiration,” Qiushi said archly. He glanced up at Nanzhu. “You really liked that, didn’t you?” In his vague ideas of this relationship, Qiushi hadn’t imagined Nanzhu relinquishing control like that. But he had to admit that his ideas had been very vague.
“Wasn’t it obvious? You’re mine.” Nanzhu’s arm tightened around him. “In every possible way. And I liked the way you were today.”
“Me too,” Qiushi said. “Liked you. I mean, like you, obviously…”
“You know, maybe it’s better if you stop talking.” Nanzhu shifted so that they were face to face, close enough to kiss. His palm skimmed over Qiushi’s cheek, the scar from the door barely there, catching as woollen fabric. Qiushi leaned in for the kiss before his furious blush became obvious.
He was tired, tired and overwhelmed, extremely conscious of his body and its newly awakened desires. He was also very aware of Ruan Nanzhu, naked and warm in his bed, trading drowsy kisses with him. He was no longer cold. The disorienting sense of being caught between worlds was gone. Qiushi sighed into Nanzhu’s mouth. If his grip on the back of Nanzhu’s neck was more proprietary than usual, if there was a little more hunger in his eyes, there was no need to dwell on it.
He just didn’t want to let go.
The arch of gnarly tree-roots emitted a gentle glow. The door was of solid ice, the keyhole a jagged pit. Outside the spill of light, shadows gathered in tight clusters, rustling and whispering. Qiushi kept a wary eye on them as Zhu Meng fiddled with the lock. He saw no human footprints in the gloam.
“Are we the only ones left?” he whispered, so quiet he thought only he would hear it. But Zhu Meng did.
“It may be a condition,” she said. “Only a fixed number of people allowed to leave. Who knows.”
Zhu Meng cursed. Glancing back, Qiushi saw her blood-slick hand slipping on the key, bone skidding on ice. His heart froze for a beat. Why would she not switch hands – unless she couldn’t let go? He saw the tension in her jaw as she persisted, the spikes threatening to shred her palm. She would cut her tendons rather than give up. Pearls of sweat gathered at her hairline, freezing solid.
Something was still missing. There had to be something more, something he could do.
The useless clue flashed through Qiushi’s mind, a mere a slip of nonsense poetry.
Give me the key that locks your tired eyes,
And I will lend you this one from my pack,
Brighter than coloured beads and painted books that make men wise:
Take it. No, give it back!
A key of bright colour. A key for locking tired eyes.
Two people, two keys.
He saw the dripping red key in Zhu Meng’s grip. He knew he was the reason Nanzhu could sleep inside the doors.
Give and take.
Qiushi followed the thought as it was born. He turned to Zhu Meng, barely feeling the sting as something bit his heel. He covered her cold hand with his own. His body shielded her back like when they were in bed, trying to fall asleep fast.
“Let’s do it together,” he said. “You’ll lend me the key, right?”
Zhu Meng looked at him, then smiled at their joined hands. “I changed my mind. I'm taking it back.” She laid her other hand on top of Qiushi’s. Of course she remembered the words of the clue. “When did you wise up?”
Together, they twisted the key in the lock. It moved as though through water. The door melted away, revealing a tunnel of light. Zhu Meng picked up the next clue, and Qiushi pulled her along, their hands still tangled together. He wouldn’t let go before they had returned to reality, not then, not ever. Not anymore.
The faint shadows following in Qiushi’s footsteps were soon swallowed by the light. He never saw them.