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Cold metal kisses Liu Xiao’s lips, but he barely feels it. He’s engulfed in the flameless fire of a successful set-up, tension like invisible smoke in the air.
He’s kneeling on a plush, expensive cushion. Xia Fei sits on an equally plush sofa in front of him, settled between Vein’s legs, and seems all too happy to have Vein’s chin on his shoulder and calm voice right in his ear. Liu Xiao’s exactly where he wants to be, as well – one hand keeping Xia Fei’s thigh wide open, the other wrapped around Vein’s ankle.
Their bodies and minds are lax from Vein’s expensive wine, and whatever was in Xia Fei’s special glass that made him laugh and even smile at Liu Xiao over dinner, but how they got here is not important anymore. Liu Xiao always works hard to place the right pieces in the right position, and some are easier than others. Alcohol. Boredom. The human weakness of wanting to flirt with danger and the inability to ignore danger flirting back.
Vein played his part well, too – everything did hinge on him agreeing to defile his precious Felix, and he sure seems to be in an extra playful mood tonight. Xia Fei just has that sweet sort of purity about him. It’s hard to resist the urge to paw at it, to ruin him.
And with a gun in his hand, perfectly pliant as he allows Vein to guide him into pressing the tip of the barrel down on Liu Xiao’s flattened tongue, that layer of innocence is peeling off of him as fast as expected, like skin that was never meant to fit right.
It doesn’t matter that his eyes are stuck between intrigued and unsure, the same look he’s been wearing far too often lately, or that he’s restless, one leg bouncing, his hands shaky.
His heartbeat doesn’t lie.
Liu Xiao has rarely needed to use his power to read him. He wears his emotions and opinions on his face, the truth always peeking through the cracks in his naive little mask.
Liu Xiao doesn’t need to check. It’s fun to take in Xia Fei’s erratic rhythm, Vein’s eerie patience, and know they match his own anticipation.
Vein holds Xia Fei’s hand still. With long fingers and a gentle but practiced grip, he keeps Xia Fei away from the trigger. Whether the safety is on or not, Liu Xiao doesn’t know. Didn’t ask, didn’t expect Vein to say anything about it, doesn’t really care. It’s the kind of uncertainty that excites him the most. It goes beyond trust, hope, or probability.
Thrill is only a small part of the fun. And sure: this, right here, is the most fun he’s had in a while. Everything can turn into a fun game with the right attitude, but Liu Xiao always plays to win.
Tongue flat, he gives the gun a nice, long lick, tilting it upwards enough for Xia Fei and Vein to have to push it down again, to assert control. The gun is cold and thankfully mostly smooth, but he needs to get it wet. So he does.
He meets Vein’s hungry gaze. Sees fire. Finds the heat of it reflected in Xia Fei’s eyes, flickering in wait. Then he finally sinks down on the barrel and watches the sparkle ignite, listens to Xia Fei's heartbeat explode into a drum song, violent and chaotic. Just how he likes it.
Xia Fei can’t look away, keeps staring at Liu Xiao with that mix of righteous horror and inexplicable hunger, that familiar in-the-headlights look getting swallowed up by dark pupils to match dark desires.
Liu Xiao bobs on the gun, shamelessly letting out all the wet, breathy sounds that arise. He swallows the barrel deeper and deeper until his bottom lip brushes Xia Fei's fingers. Pulls back. Repeats. Makes sure to hold eye contact even when his eyes get teary.
Xia Fei breathes deeply, heartbeat steadying. Vein’s grip has grown lax. It’s mostly Xia Fei chasing Liu Xiao’s mouth whenever he pulls back, helpless to his greed and none the wiser.
Skilled hunter that he is, Liu Xiao can’t help the instinct to pounce when he spots an opening. He presses a hand against Xia Fei's very obvious bulge. Xia Fei gasps, twitching in Vein's embrace. It pushes the gun deeper into Liu Xiao’s mouth, hard edge reaching the back of his throat and causing him to gag. Xia Fei’s heart keeps singing as the gun’s muzzle leaves Liu Xiao sore. Xia Fei just stares, panting, not even pretending to be sorry about it.
He curses when Liu Xiao cups his cock again, eyes fluttering shut for a short, vulnerable moment. He keeps reacting like Liu Xiao is sucking him off, so Liu Xiao will act like it's true.
It gets even easier and more fun after that. A cock would feel better than hard metal. He allows Xia Fei to make him choke on it, sensing Vein’s sureness behind the action. He gags loudly, and this time he barely feels the sting because he’s distracted by the way Xia Fei’s thighs shake under his hand.
Then comes the nausea. It hits him so suddenly, a fire rising up and out of him. He leans back and turns around fast enough to puke all over the carpet, narrowly avoiding the feet on his side and his own body.
Heaving, he tries to pull himself up, but he retches again. His throat burns, his eyes sting with tears. He shakes, breathes, waits.
When he’s certain enough that it’s done, he hears Xia Fei slurring whiny apologies and finds his hands awkwardly hovering close to Liu Xiao’s shoulders. His panic is cute, the way he holds himself back from breaking unspoken, stubborn barriers even cuter.
Vein wordlessly offers Liu Xiao a handkerchief, studying him carefully. Liu Xiao accepts it with a nod, pats his mouth dry and clean. Doesn’t bother with his eyes, figures the hot tears streaming down his cheeks will help him out.
“Sorry about that,” he croaks. Has to clear his throat after, but the itchy feeling doesn’t leave.
He doesn’t miss the spike in Xia Fei’s heartbeat at the sound of his rough voice, nor the heat of Xia Fei’s gaze as he kneels between their legs like nothing happened.
Vein’s back to holding Xia Fei’s hand still. Liu Xiao reaches for the gun, places two fingers under the barrel and tips it upwards, gently pulling it towards him. It follows easily. The eyes on him are eager and curious.
He opens his mouth, the sound wet and obscene. Vein wastes no time to slide the gun back inside, delicate but sure and wearing a satisfied smile. Liu Xiao knows it’s all him because Xia Fei’s expression is… complicated, but Liu Xiao finds the tip of his cock perfectly hugged by his skinny jeans and swipes a thumb over it, back and forth, and that seems to erase just enough doubts from his mind.
Careful not to overdo it again, Liu Xiao resumes his movements. He must look so vulnerable, sweaty and shaky and clearly sensitive, gag reflex already overstimulated.
Vein says something he can’t hear, and Xia Fei’s hips start chasing his hand. The gun slips halfway out of Liu Xiao’s mouth. He feels a mess of spit dribble over his chin.
Xia Fei’s body arches into Vein’s torso, hips stuttering hard against Liu Xiao’s palm. He comes like that, eyes half-lidded and slowly blinking down at Liu Xiao like he just can’t look away. Liu Xiao feeds his imagination, keeps bobbing on the tip of the barrel and palms his cock with the same teasing pace.
Xia Fei’s eyes stay on Liu Xiao, even with the distraction that is Vein mouthing at his neck and teasing his skin with sharp teeth. Vein’s heart is beating quicker than it has all night, nothing like Xia Fei’s fun songs, but it’s a nice melody nonetheless. His rule is no marks on Xia Fei – how much that’s for the job and how much for Vein’s own self-restraint, Liu Xiao’s still in the process of figuring out – and he’s yet to break it. So, no marks. Just tongue and teeth and private, sultry praise, probably straight out of Xia Fei’s wettest dreams, and still-
That heated gaze remains stuck on Liu Xiao’s abused mouth.
Victory has many looks and just as many flavors. Tonight, Liu Xiao wipes his face clean and savors the bitter aftertaste of metal and bile.
He stands up on shaky legs, pants feeling surprisingly tight. But the fun is over. The game is done. And he needs to rinse his mouth far more than he needs to chase a fleeting release.
Xia Fei's eyes drop down, cheeks darkening when he realizes he’s been caught. Liu Xiao just holds his hands up innocently when Xia Fei tells him to shut up, all slurred and whiny.
Vein tells them to behave, already busy cleaning his gun.