Xie Lian has heard about it - the heats and ruts that his clan members experience. He senses it; smells the pheromones in the air running wild every autumn. He sees his clan members deal with it, some preferring to suffer alone while others mate, and then the babies follow.
But he only knows about these things from books and conversations. Conversations where the omegas commune in hushed tones and the occasional giggle. Conversations where the alphas brag about who they’ve knotted - which somehow becomes a competition for whose knot lasted longest.
Xie Lian is different; he has never experienced a heat - or a rut. The rumour that circulates among the clan is that he could be “one of those”, you know (and they lower their voices for discretion), that “can’t get it up”.
It is not unknown in their world, and it happens once every few generations: one that spends his or her entire life not knowing what it is like to be driven by a primal urge to reproduce. One that may never know the pleasures of the flesh, or the suffering of having to spend a heat or rut alone. One that, unfortunately, may never find a mate.
He supposes he must look rather forlorn sometimes, because his clan members comfort him (a little too much), and some assure him that he must be a late bloomer, to which Xie Lian can only smile awkwardly, torn between laughing and crying. They have kind intentions, but no matter how late a bloomer has bloomed, he is a fully grown adult with fully formed horns; and his peers have had several cycles - some have even bred more than twice. Even if he were to consider an induced heat or rut from the sheer amount of hormones in close proximity, it would have happened years ago.
As such, at twenty-eight years of age, Xie Lian remains unaware of his standing in the clan. He does not respond to the alphas, neither is he aroused by the omegas. But Xie Lian has accepted this, this “impotency”, for lack of a better word. It does not bother him, and he takes this as an opportunity to focus on his cultivation. Yet the awkwardness still hangs over him like a dark cloud, especially when his friends excuse themselves to “tend to personal matters”.
And so one autumn, when the days grow short and the air turns cool and crisp, Xie Lian decides to distance himself to avoid the sorry glances. It’s best for everyone too, if the social black hole is not around to “kill the buzz”, as some of the alphas call it.
He retreats to the woods, heading upwind until only the smell of trees and earth linger. It is further than he normally wanders, but it is tranquil, and ideal for meditation. Which he does, with his legs folded beneath him, and his eyes closed. He channels energy through his meridians, feeling it flow through his veins towards his core where it swirls, builds and disperses outwards. A cycle that he repeats, immersing himself in the whispering wind, the rustle of dry leaves and the glow of the afternoon sun.
It is night when he decides to return, and his steps barely take him far before a heavy blow connects with his back. He is knocked over, winded, and his cheek is pressed into the dirt. The weight is heavy on his back and head, and the air is suddenly thick with the smell of… wolf.
The wolf is strong, and its spiritual energy intense. It renders Xie Lian’s energy ineffective, and a cold fear, primordial and instinctive at the knowledge of his helplessness, seizes his body. His limbs are rigid, paralysed, and frozen as he feels sharp claws break his skin. His blood trickles down his temple, where a sharp claw sinks into his scalp. On his back, he hears the tearing of robes, and winces from the hot trail of pain that follows sharp claws - like knives - down his shoulder blade. The smell of iron fills his nostrils. And in his ear, he hears breathing. It is louder than his own, but deep and languid, and its proximity induces tears, springing in his eyes before he is aware of them.
He feels them, hot streams down the bridge of his nose, and he hears them fall, gentle drops on the leaves beneath him. He thinks of appealing to the wolf’s better nature, but being merciful is not part of a hungry carnivore’s nature at all. And as if to cement this belief, he feels the sharp sting of the wolf’s tongue on his back. It dips gently, into the crevices left by its claws, and it parts from his skin. A brief, poignant burn.
The wolf smacks its lips. It savours the taste of blood. And it chuckles, pleased at its discovery.
So this is it, Xie Lian thinks. The end of his uncertain life. What will Feng Xin and Mu Qing say? He hopes, even as he lies bleeding, so close to death, that they will not skin this wolf and hang its pelt on their wall. The food chain is not personal, after all. At the very least, his body will be useful to another. If he cannot reproduce, he might as well be food. He sighs, and the tension leaves his body. He hopes it will be quick.
“Hey, uhm…” He mutters, tasting dirt as his lips move, “If you’re going to eat me, can you try not to leave anything behind? I don’t want my friends to see me… you know, mangled.”
The wolf pauses, its breath hot on the back of Xie Lian’s neck, and then it laughs. It is male; this does not surprise Xie Lian, who bears the full weight of the wolf’s body on his back. But the laugh is cold and mirthless, and the voice is youthful. Melodious, almost.
The weight shifts off his body, and this surprises him. Perhaps even his blood is undesirable. Xie Lian breathes, and with great effort, rolls onto his back. His wounds are not deep, and the pain soon fades into a dull ache.
“I’ve never encountered anyone who asks to be eaten completely,” the wolf says, sitting next to Xie Lian. His posture is languid, resting his arm on a propped leg as he licks the blood and skin from his nails. Black, Xie Lian notices, as he heaves his back off the floor.
“I’ve never known a wolf to stop in the middle of a kill,” he replies warily, “I apologize if my blood tastes bad.” He is almost offended. Almost.
The wolf smirks, and Xie Lian notices how strikingly handsome he is. His hair is dark, wavy, and ripples down his back. His skin is pale, and under an arched brow peers a single obsidian eye that twinkles with a dangerous mischief. The patch that covers his right eye does nothing to his good looks; his nose is sharp, and the faint curve that adorns his lips is even sharper. His robes are red - like blood on snow - which suits him well, Xie Lian finds himself thinking.
“There’s nothing wrong with your blood,” the wolf attests, and Xie Lian does not understand the relief that he feels. Why would it matter if his blood tasted good?
He clears his throat. Adjusts his torn robes as he steals a glance at the wolf’s attire. A fur coat drapes over his broad shoulders, and his robes hang casually, loosely on his body. He has nothing to be ashamed of, really. Xie Lian even secretly envies the defined pectorals and the well developed abdomen, and is only slightly annoyed by the necklaces that draw so much attention to his open collar.
Xie Lian resists a pout. His own body is not too shabby either, but he has always been lithe of frame, and has never been able to attain such mass. He’d long given up on trying, learning to be satisfied with his lean muscles and lean physique. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like this wolf is just showing off. Obviously alpha.
“So… you’re not… eating me, then? I can go?”
The wolf smiles and gestures, his hand strong yet elegant, towards the direction Xie Lian came from.
“... Many thanks,” Xie Lian puts his hands together in gratitude, well-mannered as though he wasn’t an inch from losing his life. He has many questions, but perhaps it is prudent not to ask any, given the circumstance. His steps are cautious in his retreat, and it is not until he finally turns his back to the wolf that he hears that youthful voice call out to him.
“Wait, Gege.”
He doesn’t hear footsteps; the wolf is swift and silent, a truly seasoned predator. One that removes his coat and places it on Xie Lian’s shoulders.
“Your friends will worry, ” he says, a subtle nod towards the sorry state of Xie Lian’s back.
“......” Xie Lian is unable to argue, still dazed and rather bewildered. Instead, he replies civilly, “Thank you, uh…”
“Hua Cheng,” the wolf smiles, kindly this time, “but Gege can call me San Lang.”
Wait wait wait, is he really exchanging formalities with a wolf spirit? That had just attempted to snap his neck not too long ago? His wounds have barely stopped bleeding! They still sting! Xie Lian has no idea how he got swept into this conversation, but as long as the other party has offered a name, it would be rude not to state his own.
“... Xie Lian,” he says at last, imagining how his friends would react to the absurdity of it all - if they ever find out, that is.
They don’t; not until the trees are bare and the branches are covered in layers of snow and frost. It is when the air is clear, and when they catch the musky scent of wolf that lingers on Xie Lian’s clothes. Feng Xin and Mu Qing are livid . The questions come, a relentless barrage of incredulity and anger, which Xie Lian tries to deflect, but his responses only seem to add oil to fire.
“He tried to eat you?!” - But he didn’t.
“And you met him again?!” - To return his coat.
“How many times do you have to return his coat?!” - Until he takes it back. After all, winter is harsh, and San Lang worries.
“San Lang? What if he’s just biding his time? To slit your throat when you least expect it??” - San Lang is a friend; he’s not the indecent sort.
“Not the indece --” Feng Xin’s eyes are blown wide, and his fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white. Words evade him, and anger consumes him. Fraternizing! With A Wolf Spirit! There are rules in this world, and spirits keep to their own for a good reason! And why the coat - if not to indirectly leave his stink?
Mu Qing rolls his eyes, and Xie Lian can smell the sarcasm even before the words leave his mouth. “Well, if self-preservation is a lost concept, I suppose we must give you our blessing to court death. Do you prefer to be buried or burned to be scattered at sea?”
Xie Lian shakes his head, smiling at his overprotective friends.
He has met Hua Cheng several times since their first encounter, and the wolf has never behaved inappropriately. He is considerate, kind - albeit on the cheeky side - but never condescending. It also helps that he is pleasant to look at. But beneath the surface, Xie Lian does enjoy his company, his lack of judgement, and his hedonistic flair.
They meet twice a week; sometimes thrice, and converse for hours. On days when Hua Cheng feels particularly lethargic - and this seems to happen in the afternoons - Xie Lian lays out Hua Cheng’s thick, grey coat and cultivates, with the wolf stretched against his side in slumber.
Hua Cheng sleeps deeply, and Xie Lian meditates to the sound of his steady breathing. There are precious, rare moments that Xie Lian absolutely loves; these are when Hua Cheng lets his guard down as he sleeps, and his large grey wolf ears slip out. Xie Lian thinks they’re adorable, the way they flip in a circle when he tickles the soft tuft of fur at the base. Other times, his tail shows too, and if they are positioned correctly, Xie Lian likes combing his fingers through the thick, silvery grey fur.
And at the end of the day, when it is time to part, Hua Cheng places the coat back over Xie Lian’s shoulders. “It will keep Gege warm,” is what he says, each time without fail.
Feng Xin calls it a stink; a carnivorous, bloody stink. Mu Qing says he may as well be carrying a rotting carcass. But Xie Lian finds comfort in its musky earthiness. It comforts him with its weight, like San Lang’s solid arm across his shoulders, and its scent, uniquely and distinctively San Lang.
Xie Lian is in good spirits despite the winter wind that nips at his cheeks, painting his skin a frost-bitten hue as he treks through the woods for his rendezvous with his canine friend. He does not notice the pinkish tint to his nose, but Hua Cheng does. He chuckles and reaches for the collar of his coat, wrapping it tighter around Xie Lian for good measure.
Hua Cheng naps, longer than usual, and he wakes when the sun begins to dip behind the trees.
“Gege,” he mumbles, resting his chin on Xie Lian’s shoulder. His breath tickles the hair on the back of Xie Lian’s slender neck, and a shiver pulses through Xie Lian’s body. He feels the nudge of Hua Cheng’s nose on his neck, behind his ear, a slight brush against his scent gland, and he hears Hua Cheng inhale deeply.
“San Lang…?”
The nudging grows persistent and eager, a strange urgency that possesses Hua Cheng. Xie Lian finds himself pushed to the ground, pinned once again by Hua Cheng’s weight above him. Only this time, he does not fear being eaten. The musk of Hua Cheng’s scent grows strong, and Xie Lian’s eyes widen as Hua Cheng’s head lowers, nuzzling his skin. The artery that throbs along the side of his neck. Pushing the collar of his robes aside to gain access to his clavicles. Rubbing his glands over the curve of Xie Lian’s fair shoulder.
Xie Lian should be afraid, but his body is surprisingly at ease, and he does not resist. He marvels instead at the process, having never been scented before. It tickles at times, and at others, feels… good. Like a layer of security, or something more tangible than the faint smell of San Lang that eventually fades from his heavy coat.
Hua Cheng’s body is warm, so very warm, and his eye is dark, more so than usual. It lacks the glimmer, the laughter, and the mirth that Xie Lian is accustomed to, and instead burns with a feral hunger. A deep and dark desire that rattles Xie Lian’s nerves and tugs at his navel.
Nervously, he dares to breathe - a quick inhale, a slight gasp. And Hua Cheng’s scent peaks again, heady and intoxicating. “San Lang, are you…”
As if waking from a trance, Hua Cheng blinks. Once, twice. And he immediately withdraws, no longer a predator about to feast, but a puppy - a handsome one - who knows the error of his ways. He frowns, purses his lips, and recollects himself. It is difficult for Xie Lian to fault him, when he looks this lovable.
“Gege, I…” Hua Cheng trails, aware that nothing can redeem his actions. The signs are there - the heightened scent, the lust, the nudging - the onset of his rut. He is damned if he speaks the truth, and damned if he doesn’t. Ultimately, he backs away, and bows with his head to the floor. “San Lang begs forgiveness,” is all he says, and then he waits.
He waits through Xie Lian’s silence, and he waits through Xie Lian’s sigh. Stares at the fibers of the grey coat beneath him, preparing to be condemned.
But it does not come, and he glimpses Xie Lian’s delicate fingers in his periphery, for a second before he feels a hand on his cheek. It is cool, yet it warms his skin, and he stills.
“San Lang ah,” Xie Lian says, his voice calm and merciful, “you’ve done nothing to apologize for, why are you doing this?”
Hua Cheng looks up, and doesn’t dare to feel relieved, despite Xie Lian’s kind and assuring smile. “But San Lang has…” But San Lang has what? He thinks to himself. Lost himself to an innate desire? Even if it was a fleeting moment? Looked at Gege with indecent eyes? Scented… his hands tighten on his knees. Such insolence.
Hua Cheng looks pitiful in his self-deprecation - this magnificent, handsome specimen of a wolf spirit. On his knees in penance, as if their standing on the food chain has been reversed. Xie Lian tries to suppress the laugh that balloons in his mouth, and it escapes his lips as a chuckle.
“It happens to be the best of us, don’t worry about it.” He scoots forward, trying to console Hua Cheng while feeling slightly dishonest. This urge is not something that he relates to, but he imagines it can be quite… hard to deal with. But so is this awkwardness! Xie Lian bemoans internally; frantically thinking of ways to break the heavy silence.
Then he blurts, surprising even himself: “San Lang can scent me, if you want… if… it helps…”
Heavens, what did he just say? Parents scent their children for protection, but between two unrelated adults… A deep flush creeps up his neck and spreads to his cheeks, and he cannot maintain eye contact with Hua Cheng, who looks - stares at him in momentary disbelief.
Hua Cheng maintains his composure, but his scent exposes everything. It rolls off him in waves, and Xie Lian unknowingly edges even closer, drawn by the scent like a moth to flame. His proximity is dangerous, and Hua Cheng can smell his hair, his glands. It riles him, creeps under his skin. It runs straight to his groin.
“Gege, I… wait,” Hua Cheng says, holding Xie Lian at arms length, “perhaps it is best if we… keep our distance. For a week.” For obvious reasons. A wolf’s rut can be brutal. It is the middle of winter, but sweat already beads on his brow, and the sorry look on his face begs understanding.
Xie Lian nods; apprehensively. “Will you be okay?” He sits back on his heels, granting Hua Cheng the space he needs.
This seems to ease the tension, and Hua Cheng’s shapely lips lift at the corners. “If Gege promises to see me again, I will be.”
“Sweet talker,” Xie Lian laughs softly and holds out his little finger, which Hua Cheng hooks, and brushes his soft lips against Xie Lian’s knuckle.
The sensation remains on his finger for days. Xie Lian subconsciously rubs his thumb over it, again and again until Mu Qing asks if he has pinched a nerve.
On the fourth night, before he sleeps, Xie Lian thinks about Hua Cheng, and places his finger against his lips. He lies in bed, swaddled in the heavy warmth of Hua Cheng’s grey coat. He thinks about how Hua Cheng spends his rut: does he spend it alone, or does he have an omega to help him through it? Is he gentle, or is he rough - fucking the poor omega within an inch of his or her life with that impassive face of his?
Xie Lian’s mind wanders, entertaining the thought of Hua Cheng’s naked body. He catches himself blushing, but in his defence, San Lang’s clothes leave little to the imagination. He thinks of Hua Cheng’s lips, pink and sensual against his finger, against his neck, and maybe… on his lips. What would Hua Cheng taste like, feel like? Xie Lian’s finger gingerly slips into his mouth, pressing against his tentative tongue.
He thinks about the weight of Hua Cheng’s body on his own, about the warmth of skin on skin, and that deep voice whispering ‘Gege’ into his ears. His back tingles, and he feels an ache, stiff and strange between his legs. It throbs, tents in his pants, and the rub of fabric as he shifts uncomfortably stirs his nerves.
He reaches down, past a loosened waistband to hold that swollen organ, and the rush that courses through his body causes him to curl. It is fascinating and exhilarating all at once, and he feels the rush of pleasure build with a few experimental strokes. Is this… how it would feel to have San Lang’s hands on him?
He stifles his moans, biting on Hua Cheng’s coat, burying his nose in that alluring scent. He continues to stroke himself in a steady rhythm, which quickens as he feels himself grow wet at the tip. It feels lewd, now that the movement of his hand is lubricated, and his strokes grow short and quick, impatient as the heat in his sex grows unbearable.
He thinks of Hua Cheng as he comes, soiling both his garment and his hand. He is dizzy, and he struggles to catch his breath through parted lips. His body is weak, as if all of his strength has been milked out of him, wet and sticky on his palm.
When he recovers enough strength, and his member softens, Xie Lian drags his body, weak limbs and all, out of bed. His pants are the first article of clothing he removes, pleased to be free of the constricting, damp material. But the relief is short-lived, because he feels a trickle down the inside of his thigh, and it does not come from his front.
“…… Oh.”
When Xie Lian shares his discovery with his friends, he keeps it concise; leaving out the dirty little details that should not be discussed. He does not tell them of how he touched himself again, squeezing and stroking in shallow bath water, and he especially does not tell them of whose name escaped his lips when he came.
He tells them what they are entitled to know, and he watches their deadpan faces, watching him while they fold their arms. It is an eternity of silence, and it makes him uncomfortable. He fidgets. Twists his white robes in his hands this way and that, hoping for the best, until Mu Qing moves.
Without so much as a grunt or a sideways glance, Mu Qing unfolds an arm and flips his wrist. An open-palmed gesture towards Feng Xin beside him, who frowns, says “Fuck”, and drops a small bag of coins into Mu Qing’s waiting palm.
“...... Isn’t there anything you want to say to me?” Xie Lian asks, his voice meek and cautious. He does not expect a celebration, but neither does he expect the response to be this lukewarm. And opportunistic.
The two men, disturbingly calm and unaffected, exchange glances, and Mu Qing finally says: “Thank you?” He tosses the pouch up and down, and it jangles noisily. “For the record, this guy put his money on beta.”
Feng Xin looks away, sullen, scratching his cheek. Xie Lian laughs, finding renewed strength. His friends are kind, and are discreet with this new information. They do not ask about the wolf, or if he - it, that mutt - has anything to do with Xie Lian’s awakening, but Xie Lian guesses they have another wager on the side.
Seven days come and go, but not quickly enough for Xie Lian, who makes for the clearing in the woods at first light. It his spot; their spot. His and Hua Cheng’s. There is a skip in his step, a smile on his lips and a glow in his cheeks. His mind is a spinning top, and Hua Cheng, its axis. He wonders if he is too early, too eager. If he should have waited a day or two. He has heard of ruts that endure for much longer, and for someone of Hua Cheng’s physique… well, it is not impossible.
But he reminds himself to stay collected, as he navigates the familiar terrain. He knows it by heart; every rock and every one of the gnarly branches that span overhead. Like hands, he thinks, some reaching out from either side to shelter his path, others guiding him forward, guiding him towards Hua Cheng.
He looks forward to greeting the other, but it is the other who greets him instead; a stunning vision of crimson, black and silver. Necklaces gleaming against his pale, built chest in the morning sun, dark hair shifting in the breeze. He stands as a sentinel with hands behind his back, alert yet relaxed. Sharp as a blade, beautiful as a flower.
Xie Lian catches his scent, an almost negligible note carried on the air like a modest offering, and his heart beats in response - a silent call that he hides behind his smile.
When Hua Cheng’s arms stretch out towards him, welcome and expectant, Xie Lian does not hesitate to fall into them. He takes his time, burying into the fabric of Hua Cheng’s clothes, his arms tight around the wolf’s sturdy waist. He feels a pair of strong arms enclose around his shoulders and sinks further into them, inhaling the scent that has since faded from the grey coat in his care.
“Gege,” Xie Lian hears his voice over the cadence of his beating heart, “I was going to ask if Gege missed me, but I see I was foolish to doubt.” Hua Cheng chuckles, and Xie Lian can hear it - deep and sonorous, echoing from within his chest.
They do not part, content in their embrace, Hua Cheng’s steady breath over Xie Lian’s ear. He feels Hua Cheng shift, nuzzling his hair, supporting the back of his head. It cannot be helped, Xie Lian admits to himself, that Hua Cheng’s scent has disappeared from his skin. He knows this, yet cannot keep himself from feeling a tinge of guilt. As though San Lang’s scent is something to hold and protect, something he failed to keep on his person.
Hua Cheng nudges his ear, hesitant, and Xie Lian’s hands tighten on his back.
“San Lang…” he says, with great difficulty, having kept these words to himself for some time, “will you… scent me…?” He keeps his forehead against Hua Cheng’s shoulder, apprehensive. He’d offered this prior to Hua Cheng’s rut, but granting a favour is vastly different from asking for one, and he feels his face grow hot, blooming pink.
He understands the implications of his request, and he understands the brazen nature of it. It is not something he offers out of kindness; it is something he wants. Something he craves, like a warm fire on a winter’s night. He hears Hua Cheng’s breath falter, hears the quaver, the hitch. And he hopes San Lang, now sober, does not think differently of him.
But Hua Cheng responds with a laugh, gentle and brief. “San Lang considers it an honour, Gege.”
Xie Lian does not have the time to smile, or feel relief. Hua Cheng dips his head, burying his nose into Xie Lian’s neck, the brush against his skin leaving a prickle in its wake. His lips are gentle, tracing the contour of Xie Lian’s shoulder. Peppering deft little kisses that burn and tickle through the fabric of white robes. And when Xie Lian tilts his head to allow access, Hua Cheng pauses over the spot behind Xie Lian’s ear.
He sniffs once. Pauses. Sniffs again, as though in doubt. Xie Lian feels a lump in his throat. It sinks to his belly and churns like a water mill, and he chews his lip in dismay. This is what Feng Xin had warned him about - and he’d completely forgotten - that an individual’s scent can alter in response to certain triggers. Such as a great shock, or… that .
It is not something that he can notice himself, like the aroma of food or the smell of rain, but it is detectable by others, especially at such closeness. And Xie Lian fears that his scent has taken a turn for the worse. He holds his breath, still and quiet, like he holds Hua Cheng.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmurs, his voice low, serious, and devoid of the playful lilt that he normally speaks with. Xie Lian cannot imagine how he will deal with his shame if the wolf finds him… unappealing. “Gege is…”
Here it comes. Xie Lian winces, bracing for impact.
“... an omega?”
“......”
Don’t announce it, Mu Qing had said, you might as well present yourself to every available alpha. Which was a valid point, Xie Lian acknowledged at the time. But admitting to it is not the same, he justifies internally, before his head declines. A slow and cautious nod.
“I… just found out,” he says, “Does San Lang mind…?”
His answer comes when Hua Cheng presses smiling lips to his gland, and he feels the soft, wet trail of a tongue behind his ear. He shivers, and Hua Cheng whispers, “It makes no difference to me. It’s just… Gege smells… sweeter. I like it.”
And so Hua Cheng scents him, gently slipping cool fingers under his robe, fingertips dancing on his tingling skin. His robe falls from his shoulders, hangs on his elbows. The air is cold, but his skin burns. It burns against Hua Cheng’s hands, against the other man’s neck. It burns from the inside out, and weakens his knees.
Hua Cheng exercises restraint; observes proprieties that remain to be observed, and smiles as he gently pulls Xie Lian’s robes back into place.
This becomes routine, a procedure they cannot do without. It carries them through the following months, their fondness for each other growing with every careful nudge, every controlled brush of skin. And once in a while, when the nuzzling, the innocent press of lips gets too much for Xie Lian, he relieves himself in the privacy of his bed chambers, the image of Hua Cheng embedded deep in his closed eyes.
It is on one occasion, when spring flowers bloom around them, that Hua Cheng rolls over Xie Lian. And in the heat of scenting him, dares to venture a peck on his lips. It is short and chaste, not rough enough to be considered forced, not brief enough to be considered an accident. Hua Cheng’s breath falls on his lips, warm and enticing, and Xie Lian’s surprise is temporary, before loses himself in Hua Cheng’s weight, Hua Cheng’s arms on either side of his head, and Hua Cheng’s intoxicating scent.
He lifts his head, reaching up to receive Hua Cheng’s waiting lips, and it breaks the dam between them. With no further reason to hold back, Hua Cheng’s lips crush his, hungrily, desperately, messily. He gasps, and Hua Cheng’s tongue slips past his lips to plunder his mouth, the erotic drag of Hua Cheng’s tongue against his own coaxing sweet little whimpers. Silken sighs that cause Hua Cheng to growl into the kiss.
It is rough at times and tender at others, but overall fervent, as they try to consume each other. Reaching as far as their tongues can go, tasting, savouring. Xie Lian feels himself grow dizzy, swooning, his hands tangling in Hua Cheng’s hair to keep himself grounded.
When Hua Cheng finally lets him breathe, it is to tilt his head to the side, to mouth at the supple skin of his neck. Xie Lian sighs, rapt, knowing nothing yet feeling everything. Hua Cheng’s tongue is light and teasing; it traces a line down his jugular, a path leading lips to kiss his adam’s apple, the dip at the base of his neck. Xie Lian shivers, the electrifying sensation rippling through his skin and building between his legs.
It intensifies, when Hua Cheng’s cool fingertips slip under his robe to thumb at his nipples; rosy buds that stand taut and sensitive. He moans when Hua Cheng kisses them, casually rolling them under the pressure of his tongue, and Xie Lian claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the embarrassing sound that escapes him.
But Hua Cheng reaches up to pull his hand away, looking up as his tongue continues its assault on a wet nipple. The corner of his lips lift, and he murmurs against Xie Lian’s highly-strung skin, “Let me hear you, Gege.”
His voice is low, sensual, and creeps under Xie Lian’s skin like the flush that burns his body. It fuels the ache between his legs, and he fidgets, squirms under the other man. And then he feels it, the cool air against his belly as Hua Cheng peels his robes apart, the rush of blood that gathers in his erection, and… a wetness. A slow, familiar, obscene wetness that trickles underneath him, filling the air with its unique scent.
Hua Cheng detects it at once; sweet, not cloying, and fragrant, bordering on floral. He has to pause and shake his head, because it arouses him further. Tempts him. Stirs a primal lust that he needs to restrain. For now, at least. He smiles at a blushing Xie Lian, brows furrowed in shame, fully aware of how his body reacts. An innocent, unblemished lamb ready to be devoured.
“Gege,” he says softly, his ebony eye alight with playfulness, dark with desire. “Do you trust me?”
Xie Lian resists the urge to clap back - is this the type of question to ask when your head is between someone’s legs? His cheeks cannot feel any hotter, when he sees the bulge in his pants and the darkening patch that forms, and beyond that, San Lang’s smouldering gaze. He feels he will melt under that gaze, yet it is magnetic, and he cannot look away.
So he nods, meekly at first, reaching between his legs to brush his fingers against Hua Cheng’s cheek. And when Hua Cheng tilts his head to kiss those fingers, Xie Lian relaxes. Life is full of firsts, and he realizes that he cannot imagine this particular first with anyone else but San Lang. Then he smiles, radiant and beautiful, and lifts his hip, allowing Hua Cheng to remove the restricting garment.
Hua Cheng is quick; leaving kisses on the inside of his thigh, grazing teeth and tongue over soft, milky skin. Xie Lian’s thighs tremble against Hua Cheng’s lips, and his breath quickens, when he feels those lips press against his burning length. He leaks - both from his tip and from his entrance, and he whimpers, when Hua Cheng kisses his tip and slides his lips down to envelope his hard flesh. He keens. Hua Cheng’s mouth is hot, moist and comfortable, and Xie Lian grinds his hips upward, despite himself, to seek more of that wet pleasure.
Hua Cheng lets him, sliding hands underneath to squeeze at his tender flesh and lift his slender hips. Xie Lian moans, when Hua Cheng sucks, allowing Xie Lian to fuck into his mouth as pleasure wrecks the beautiful man.
Xie Lian feels himself going mad from the heat, and when he thinks it cannot get more overwhelming, he feels Hua Cheng’s finger, gentle and patient, padding at his entrance. He can feel it from the smooth slide of Hua Cheng’s fingertip against his tight hole - he is wet, dripping and slippery, and his sweet juices trickle down Hua Cheng’s finger. It pools on the coat that they lie on. Coupled with his sweet scent, Hua Cheng groans with desire, his mouth vibrating around Xie Lian’s organ.
Hua Cheng’s finger pushes in, and Xie Lian gasps, his body seizing, clenching around the intruding digit. With the help of Hua Cheng’s tongue sweeping the length of his aching sex, he gradually relaxes, and the strange, foreign sensation starts to feel good; a tingling pleasure that threatens to push him over the edge.
He feels another finger; it slides in slowly, and they twist inside him. Stretching him, stroking his inner walls. Sliding out and back in again. Driving him mad with each humiliating, wet squelch and every brush against his prostate. He moans, cries, and shudders. Tears beading on his lashes as the pleasure takes his body, wave after wave, better than he’d ever imagined. And when Hua Cheng sucks him again he comes, with a long, melodic moan, bucking up into Hua Cheng’s mouth.
When the stars fade from Xie Lian’s vision, Hua Cheng is licking his hand clean, his tongue - which Xie Lian still remembers the feel of against his cock - darting between long elegant fingers. Fingers that were… inside…
He blinks, chest heaving, reeling in disbelief and wonder. So that was… this is...
Xie Lian flushes again when he catches Hua Cheng’s gaze, sharp, cold, yet gentle. Gentle like lips, which press against his forehead. Gentle like the hand, which strokes his hair lovingly. And gentle like his voice, deep and soothing as he whispers little praises into Xie Lian’s ear.
“Gege did so well,” he murmurs, a kiss here, a nibble there. Patient, despite the unbearable ache between his legs. It is hard and tight in his pants - tortured by the sight of a writhing Xie Lian and the sweet resonance of his moans - and Xie Lian feels its heat through the fabric, resting against his naked thigh.
“San Lang,” he says, apologetic, and wonders what on earth he ‘did well’, besides letting San Lang have his way. He does not deny how it made him feel - the ache, the pleasure, the heat - yet it does not seem fair that he is the only one who gets to enjoy all of it. He shifts, and Hua Cheng hisses from the friction. “San Lang hasn’t…”
Hua Cheng smiles, despite his furrowed brows. “Gege doesn’t have to…”
He is cut off; Xie Lian’s palms on either side of his face, pulling him down so nervous lips can silence him. Xie Lian’s lips are soft, moist and sweet - just like their kiss, now tender and exceedingly slow unlike the first. Hua Cheng teaches him, guides him. Turning his head his way and that to suckle on his lip and lap at his tongue. Ending the kiss with a gentle nibble, or a lingering brush of lips, connected by a silvery, gossamer strand.
Hua Cheng is handsome; his hair falling about them like a dark curtain, his lashes sweeping his cheekbones. His shapely lips, which say the sweetest words and do the filthiest things to a person’s body. And Xie Lian is overcome with the urge to just… touch. It is not out of obligation, but desire. A desire to feel Hua Cheng’s hardness without obstruction, raw against his naked skin.
“San Lang,” Xie Lian whispers, mustering courage, “Let me.”
Hua Cheng laughs softly, and kisses the corner of Xie Lian’s lips, guiding a delicate hand to rest over his heart. Xie Lian continues, his hands light against Hua Cheng’s chest, smoothing over his warm skin, taking care to brush his nipples, as Hua Cheng did for him. His hands travel further, exploring every dip and solid curve on the other man’s stomach. He dismantles the belt, pulls at the cord that fastens the waist of black pants.
He cannot help but gasp, when Hua Cheng’s hard flesh finally rests in his palm, dark and swollen, beading at the tip. It is stiff, heavy, and Xie Lian stares, amazed and mesmerized at the same time. If it’s this big now, he wonders, what would his knot be like…? His gut spasms at the thought of being filled by something this thick, of it expanding inside him. It is both terrifying and provocative. He feels himself twitch, and leak.
He moves his hand, an experimental stroke against the hot flesh, and Hua Cheng hisses above him, into his hair. Xie Lian grows confident; his fingers exploring, seeking out the spots that make Hua Cheng twitch and groan. Here - the vein that bulges along the underside, and there - the slit leaking fluids which Xie Lian’s fingers gently spread over the whole of the tip. It makes his strokes smooth, rotating his palm in circles over the burning skin, and he hears Hua Cheng’s breath grow heavy.
“Gege…” Hua Cheng growls, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into Xie Lian’s neck, finding him too precious to be marked, even now. He settles for nuzzling instead, inhaling deeply over Xie Lian’s scent gland. When Xie Lian’s tapered fingers tease him enough, he rests his aching cock against Xie Lian’s, guiding the other man’s hands to hold their flesh together. And then he rolls his hips forward.
Xie Lian hardens again, aroused by the wet drag of flesh on flesh. It is a completely new sensation, incredibly erotic and lewd, and he throws his head backwards in carnal bliss. It exposes his neck, which Hua Cheng kisses, fucking into Xie Lian’s grip.
It doesn’t take long for Xie Lian to reciprocate, lifting his hips in time with Hua Cheng’s, his little gasps and moans egging Hua Cheng’s lust. They grind against each other, painfully slow at first, but increasing in speed as they chase the pleasure. And as it builds, so do Xie Lian’s whimpers. He is close, and buries his head into the crook of Hua Cheng’s shoulder.
“San Lang,” he breathes, swooning, unable to say more as Hua Cheng’s hand joins his. Fingers tighten around their wet erections, and Xie Lian comes again.
He is unsure of how long it takes for Hua Cheng to follow, but it happens, with the slick rub of Hua Cheng’s heavy cock against his. It happens, with Hua Cheng choking out “Gege”, spilling onto Xie Lian’s stomach.
They lie for a time under the plum blossoms, Xie Lian in a sleepy daze as his fingers draw absentminded circles over his stomach, wet with evidence of their indecency. He likes it, in spite of its stickiness on his skin, finding an odd sort of satisfaction as it spreads over the flat plane of his abdomen. He wonders how it would feel if Hua Cheng comes inside him. How it would feel to have this hot liquid gushing into him, filling him to the brim.
Doing this with San Lang, Xie Lian realizes, opens their relationship to something new. It introduces more possibilities - and many, although not all, will be similar. He breathes sharply as he considers this, and thinks of what else he will learn under Hua Cheng’s sensual guidance.
Hua Cheng lies beside him, and watches him with a bemused sort of look on his handsome face. Xie Lian is beautiful, with his slowly blinking eyes and long, dark lashes, the shapely curve of his nose and his sweet, delicious lips.
“Gege,” he says, a playful lilt to his voice, “look here.”
It pulls Xie Lian from his daydreaming, a slow tug at his waning consciousness. He glances towards Hua Cheng, and that beautiful eye that gazes at him - a black pool that draws him in like the starry night sky. In his periphery, a flash of grey. And Xie Lian gasps softly to see Hua Cheng’s wolf ears peeking out from the top of his head.
“Oh?” he muses, and instinctively reaches to touch them. They are soft, and Xie Lian giggles when they move in response to his touch. “Why are your ears out, San Lang?”
Hua Cheng smirks, his air of complacency restored. “Doesn’t Gege like playing with them?”
“......” This sneaky wolf. Xie Lian tugs on a large grey ear in jest, his eyelids heavy with the onset of sleep.
When Hua Cheng chuckles and pulls Xie Lian into his arms, he sighs contentedly. The embrace is warm, with the steady pulse of Hua Cheng’s heartbeat against his back, and Hua Cheng’s fingers entwined with his own. He allows himself to sleep, lulled by Hua Cheng’s breathing as the world around them fades into a deep, comfortable silence.
He does not stir when Hua Cheng pulls the coat over his body, and he does not hear when Hua Cheng whispers lovingly into his nape, “Gege… let’s get married one day.”
It starts with pouches - little, delicate drawstring hemp bags filled with scented herbs and flowers that Feng Xin and Mu Qing hang around Xie Lian’s modest home. They hang these pouches on the doorposts, from the beams that support the roof, and from the corners of Xie Lian’s bamboo bed. They hang them from the windows, and are especially generous with the coat that hangs on the bamboo rack near the far wall.
When Xie Lian comes home several times a week reeking of wolf, they take to gifting an incense burner, and visit every day to make sure it is lit. Its fragrance lingers, on Xie Lian’s clothes, in his hair, and on his skin like morning mist. Xie Lian does not say anything against it, and so neither does Hua Cheng, who takes every opportunity to rub his neck against Xie Lian’s, scenting him aggressively, as if laying claim to his prey under the watchful eyes of another.
They lie together often, having unlocked their passions since their first time together, and spend the days tangled in each other’s arms, drowning in each other’s scent, seeking each other’s touch. Hua Cheng fuels Xie Lian’s desire with maddening kisses, sensual breaths, and his skillful fingers buried deep into Xie Lian’s depths. And Xie Lian reciprocates with his fair skin, flushed pink from the heat and arousal, and his sweet moans when he loses himself in the throes of pleasure.
Hua Cheng learns about Xie Lian’s body - the ticklish parts, and the sensitive ones. He learns the ways to pleasure these parts, the ways to brush Xie Lian’s skin for sweet, soft breaths, the ways to pinch, nibble or press for louder, desperate moans. And Xie Lian’s body learns to react to these touches - like the bumps on his skin that rise when Hua Cheng’s tongue draws circles around his nipples, barely touching, always teasing. Or the shiver that jolts up his spine when Hua Cheng’s tongue sweeps over his erection. Or the curl of his toes when Hua Cheng touches a particular spot inside him.
Xie Lian learns how to accommodate; His mouth around Hua Cheng’s girth, his entrance around Hua Cheng’s slick-coated fingers. It is all lovely, mesmerizing and erotic, and Hua Cheng wants nothing more than to bend Xie Lian in half and take him, savagely and roughly until he moans - no, until he screams. Until feels his body is no longer his own.
But Xie Lian is precious. He is a delicate flower, pure and exquisite, with his jade-like skin, supple flesh, his ebony hair and thick, long lashes. He is something to be treasured, loved, and savoured. Consumed little by little, brewed and steeped in care until the flavour of every shudder and delectable roll of hips melts on Hua Cheng’s tongue, permeates his senses, monopolizes his mind.
So Hua Cheng is patient, unrushed, and waits for his Gege to ask for more.
“More…” Xie Lian whimpers against Hua Cheng’s chest one day as his thighs tremble to keep his hips in the air, while Hua Cheng smooths a hand down the sensual curve of Xie Lian’s back. He stretches that ring of muscle, tight and wet around two fingers, slides in another, and relishes the drawn-out moan that spills from Xie Lian’s petal-pink lips.
Spring becomes summer, three fingers become four, and their love grows wet and sweaty, hot and humid. The fur coat Xie Lian carries with him serves no further purpose, other than being a plush layer for him and Hua Cheng to make love on, and to lie on, unclothed against each others’ bodies as they recover from their pleasure.
It is on such a day, their skin glistening with perspiration, that Hua Cheng discovers how much Xie Lian loves being filled - an undeniably omega trait, but endearing nonetheless. It is after Xie Lian comes, straddled over Hua Cheng’s chest with his lips stretched around Hua Cheng’s stiff and swollen flesh. His slick, fragrant and sweet, spills and spills, despite the four fingers that Hua Cheng keeps inside him, dripping onto Hua Cheng’s burning skin.
Hua Cheng marvels at the beauty of Xie Lian stretched taut around his fingers, how they are swallowed by the tight, sopping hole. He marvels at the way Xie Lian’s body shivers above him, and how the inner walls quickly clench around him when he attempts to withdraw. Xie Lian whimpers in protest, slightly panicked at the thought of being left empty, and Hua Cheng chuckles, obliging by keeping his fingers inside.
But Hua Cheng does not go all the way, Xie Lian observes. He never does. He sometimes nudges his tip against Xie Lian’s wet hole, hissing from the pleasure, rubbing his length against it, coating his cock with slick. At other times, he fucks between Xie Lian’s firm thighs; the burning drag of his heavy cock against the underside of Xie Lian’s hot and electrifying. He comes, on Xie Lian’s abdomen, on his back, in his mouth, on his blushing face, and on occasion, on Xie Lian’s entrance.
Xie Lian appreciates Hua Cheng’s patience, endurance and consideration for allowing him to ease into the various things they try, step by pleasurable step. He ponders, as he lies atop Hua Cheng, whose fingers idly stroke his insides after they’ve both had their fill of each other. He thinks about how Hua Cheng would feel inside him, and how it would feel to have Hua Cheng release into him. Perhaps, even knotting him.
Heat rises in his cheeks at the thought, and he leaks a little, twitches a little. His little reaction does not go unnoticed; Hua Cheng offers a smile, gentle and warm.
“Gege, what are you thinking about?” His voice is low, placid and laced with curiosity. And when Xie Lian is too embarrassed to face him, burying his face into Hua Cheng’s sculpted chest, Hua Cheng laughs. It is a soft laugh, good-natured and tender. And Xie Lian feels the press of lips to the top of his head.
Hua Cheng knows by now, how exactly to wheedle the things he wants from Xie Lian, and it often involves some honesty from him as well. He sighs, enjoying the warmth of Xie Lian’s body on his, and strokes the back of Xie Lian’s head, combing his fingers through long, dark hair.
“Gege, can San Lang be honest?” He pauses, until he is sure he has Xie Lian’s attention. “I… would very much like to mark Gege. If Gege will allow it.”
Xie Lian stills, his heart racing even though he’d just stabilized his breaths. A mark is… the sign of a mate. He jolts up. Hua Cheng’s fingers slip out of him; he feels the rest of his slick pool onto the stomach he sits on, as he searches the depths of Hua Cheng’s eye. He wonders why, of all the things he’d thought about, fantasized about, marking was not one of them. Yet he is not averse to it, and, from the warmth and tightness in his chest, is delighted.
To be a mate - to be bonded to San Lang for life… to belong to each other till death... Xie Lian’s euphoria bubbles up within him, and he feels he might burst. It crashes on him like waves on the rocks; smothers him like a blanket of snow. He is silent, his mind a blank, his mouth gaping.
“Gege,” Hua Cheng laughs nervously, the what-ifs whirling fervently in his head as he gently tucks black strands of silken hair behind Xie Lian’s ear, “say something?”
Xie Lian can hardly remember what he said in reply, but Hua Cheng insists, even years later, that he had blurted: “Knot me.”
---
Their marriage is simple, with only Feng Xin and Mu Qing to bear witness, both sporting complicated expressions on their faces. They have decided, despite their initial shock, to be supportive of Xie Lian’s decision. After all, if this union makes him happy, who are they to complain?
They can, however, slit the wolf’s neck if their friend is hurt in any way, and they communicate this through narrowed eyes each time Hua Cheng happens to look in their direction.
But he ignores them in favour of his blushing bride, as they complete their bows: to the heavens, to their ancestors, and to each other. They drink the matrimonial wine with their arms entwined, and they tie the red ribbon on their wrists - from Xie Lian’s left to Hua Cheng’s right - the symbol of a familial bond, of blood, of passion, of love.
Xie Lian feels his ears tingle and his cheeks burn. It is custom, in marriage among their people, to be presented as they are. There can be no deceptions, no secrets between a couple, and this includes their ears, antlers, and even tails. Being like this in front of Hua Cheng for the very first time has Xie Lian feeling embarrassed, his lashes quivering on his tinted cheeks.
He has never considered himself attractive; or at least, has never thought of himself that way. His antlers, adorned with red silk ribbons and matrimonial jewellery, are neither large nor small. They curve quite elegantly, and taper at the ends. But compared to Feng Xin’s, which are broad and majestic, he cannot help but feel inadequate.
And look at San Lang, he thinks, who wears crimson like the colour was made for him alone. It is striking against his fair skin and dark hair - a layer of sensuality that hugs his sturdy physique, decorated by silver that gleams in the candlelight. It is bright, like San Lang, who outshines everything in the room with his intimidating aura and masculine scent - so distinctively Alpha.
It makes Xie Lian shrink, an instinctive lowering of his head. He wonders if he is more conscious of Hua Cheng’s status - simply because they are getting married. Alpha… he chews on his lower lip in thought. This man, this alpha, whom he’d always called ‘San Lang’, will now become ‘husband’ - the husband with whom he will consummate his marriage. Xie Lian trembles; the reality of the situation seizing his heart and lungs.
Consummate… mark… knot…
He feels his head swim, but he has Hua Cheng to steady him. Large hands grip his wrists, and from above him, Hua Cheng’s low and sensual voice: “Gege looks especially beautiful today; San Lang is truly happy.”
Xie Lian can hardly breathe.
The wolf’s smile is gentle, the look in his eye tender. It is the same look when they kiss, but it darkens as soon as they tumble into bed later at night, Hua Cheng wasting no time in stripping Xie Lian down to his skin.
It is hot, and Xie Lian cannot tell if the heat is from Hua Cheng, or the burning red candles, or from himself. But it is smouldering, like the way Hua Cheng gazes at him, dark with lust and longing. He feels he might crumble under its intensity, from the way Hua Cheng looks over his body with hunger.
He feels the electric trail of Hua Cheng’s fingers following the path of his burning gaze - barely-there touches skimming over his naked skin as Hua Cheng’s eye devours his body. His slender arms. His toned abdomen, his hips, and the organ between his legs.
The lack of action is unsettling; frustratingly uncomfortable, strangely arousing. But overall, difficult to bear. He wants Hua Cheng to do something. Anything but stare at his nakedness. It dries his lips and his throat, but he feels moist below the hips. Xie Lian licks his lips, a quick dart of his pink tongue before he whispers, “San Lang… stop… stop looking…”
Hua Cheng muses, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he leans forward, pinning Xie Lian beneath him. “Gege looks so beautiful in wedding robes,” he says, “but even more so without them. Gege… I want to see what you look like when I knot you.”
His voice is sultry, predatory. A low, feral vibration in his throat, and it chills Xie Lian to the bone. He looks away, embarrassed. Is it because of the compliment? He cannot tell. It is an honest compliment, but oddly indecent in its novelty, and he feels his body burn when Hua Cheng talks about knotting him. Warm breaths fall softly on his ear, stoking the desire that courses through his body.
Fingers tilt his chin, and there is a glimmer in Hua Cheng’s eye before their lips touch, finally, slow and sweet. Xie Lian sighs into the kiss, receiving what is given: San Lang’s soft lips, San Lang’s tongue, San Lang’s teeth. His arms snake around the other man’s neck, and Hua Cheng’s kisses grow ardent. Hungry. Hungry like his hands, which roam Xie Lian’s body, gripping his buttocks and lifting his hips so he can feel Hua Cheng’s desire grind against his own.
The friction is rough, forceful but pleasurable, and Xie Lian moans against Hua Cheng’s lips. Teeth tug sharply on his lower lip, and the sensation drags him into a deep, carnal desire, dizzy with the earthy musk of Hua Cheng’s skin. The scent floods his senses, and he wants it, without obstruction, bare against his body. Bare against his aching cock. Bare, inside him.
He is vaguely aware of his hands helping to remove Hua Cheng’s clothes, of the teeth that graze his neck, and ah, the fingers that pinch at his nipples. They ache, they tingle, and he arches his back, seeking more of that delicious pleasure that ripples through his body.
Hua Cheng is urgent; powered by a raw sort of desire that Xie Lian experiences for the first time. He is not patient, neither is he restrained, and it shows in the way he breathes. In the way he grips Xie Lian’s thighs with a newfound desperation; as if Xie Lian will flee from their bed.
But how can Xie Lian run? Each hungry press of lips renders his knees weak; every roll of hips crippling. And why would he? How many times have they lain together like this, and how many times has San Lang reduced him to a mindless body of flesh and lust? And yet… this night will be different than the others, and his body trembles at the thought of what it promises.
Xie Lian peers through lidded eyes at the man above him. The dim candles cast a flickering orange light on their entwined limbs, deepening shadows that further define Hua Cheng’s chest and every dip and curve of his abdomen. Xie Lian feels every contour under his fingertips, taking shallow breaths each time they move under his touch.
There is a gentle furrow to Hua Cheng’s brows as he rolls his hips forward, and Xie Lian moans when their swollen organs rub against each other, an increasingly smooth slide as Xie Lian feels himself leaking at the tip. The pleasure is good, but it falls short, and he needs more.
Xie Lian’s lips part, whimpering as his hips move in tandem with Hua Cheng’s, “San Lang…” he pleads, as they rub their necks and their hardened flesh. The bed linen beneath his hips is wet, stained with his slick, and the smell of it is enticing. Inviting.
It goes straight to Hua Cheng’s cock, and he growls, biting on Xie Lian’s earlobe. “Gege,” he says, his voice authoritative and dominant, “turn around.”
Xie Lian shivers, and his body leaks in response. It is as if every fiber of his being wills him to obey, and he does, wondering if this is what an Alpha is really like. This… natural ability to make one submit.
“Hips up,” Hua Cheng says, tapping the side of his ass.
Hua Cheng has always been the one to lift his hips, pushing his legs apart, bending him into various positions and pleasuring him to tears. To do it himself, with Hua Cheng simply watching... is... embarrassing; Xie Lian nearly cries into the bed, his cheeks burning. But he obeys, whimpering helplessly into the linen.
Slick dribbles down his milky white thighs, and it fills him with a thrilling shame, a heightened awareness of the trickle of slick on his skin, his parted legs and his exposed entrance. His erection twitches, and Hua Cheng smiles behind him.
Xie Lian shudders, when a cool hand caresses the back of his thighs and follows the round curve of his ass. It is gentle, loving, wicked, and he recoils ever so slightly.
“Don’t move, Gege,” Hua Cheng’s voice hums, dark and dangerous. It reminds him of their first meeting, and a soft whine escapes his lips as he shifts his hips back towards the wolf.
This satisfies Hua Cheng, who kisses his buttocks - gentle touches of lips to soft, unblemished skin that his teeth slowly sink into. Not enough to hurt, but enough to stimulate. He smiles at the soft ‘ah’s that he hears from Xie Lian, and he works his kisses towards the source of that sweet aroma.
It tempts him, drives him crazy. Makes him want to torture Xie Lian, make him cry, make him beg for a knot. But first he nudges his nose against it, inhaling its tantalizing scent. More slick oozes, pearly drops decorating a tight ring. And so his tongue lashes out to catch them, and Xie Lian nearly panics.
This… this can’t be right, Xie Lian thinks, his head dizzy, his eyes glazed. San Lang has never… licked him there before. It has always been fingers - prodding him, pushing into him. But never the tongue. He writhes, shivers, whines. His hips twitch and his muscle clenches.
Hua Cheng strokes his thighs, assuring him it will feel good soon. And it does, with Hua Cheng’s tongue lapping at the drops that fall from that little hole - lightly at first but then with more force, as if determined not to waste even the slightest bit.
It is maddening, and Xie Lian bites down on his lower lip to avoid pushing back against Hua Cheng’s tongue. Instead, his hands tighten in the sheets and his back curves, raising his hips further. A silent plea for more.
He hears a chuckle, and Hua Cheng gently guides Xie Lian’s hands to spread his fleshy cheeks. It grants a clear view of his rear, and Xie Lian has never felt so… exposed. So obscene.
“This is how you present to an alpha, Gege,” Hua Cheng says casually, as though discussing the weather. But his actions are entirely different; his breath hot against Xie Lian’s hole, the drag of his tongue against the sensitive, puckered skin. Xie Lian’s body shudders, and he feels he could die from the pleasure and shame.
He burns, his cock aches - so much it hurts - and the twisting in his gut grows tighter, his pleasure building like a rolling wave. And Hua Cheng starts to push - into him. His tongue traces the inside of Xie Lian’s opening, playing with the rim at times, dipping in at others. Pushing Xie Lian closer and closer to release, only to pull him back. Xie Lian’s soft gasps grow louder, more impatient and pronounced, and his fingers tighten on his ass, keeping himself parted for his hungry mate.
When Hua Cheng sucks, a moan spills from Xie Lian’s lips. It is long and needy, and Hua Cheng rewards him with steady strokes to his leaking cock, fingering at his little slit. Hua Cheng’s hot grip, Hua Cheng’s tongue. Pumping his wet erection, fucking into his dripping hole. It is unbearable, is all he can think about, and Xie Lian comes like this, having endured the teasing for too long.
The tears on his lashes are warm, his breaths heavy. His arms are drained, and he collapses onto his side. Hua Cheng rewards him with butterfly kisses - on the backs of his thighs, on his bottom - soothing him through the ebb of his orgasm. He even suckles an angry red bruise, kissing it gently as he watches it bloom on Xie Lian’s round flesh.
Xie Lian is beautiful; with a sweet hue of pink that blooms across his cheeks, neck and chest. Soft, laboured breaths escaping his parted lips. Hua Cheng watches him intently, focusing on the knit of his brow, and the flutter of his lashes as he slips a finger into Xie Lian, who welcomes it with a soft moan.
Yes, Xie Lian thinks, as Hua Cheng stretches him slowly with yet another finger, this is what he loves. He loves being filled, and he loves it even more that San Lang is filling him. Stroking him. He shudders, when Hua Cheng’s fingers expertly reach his prostate, arching his back when Hua Cheng presses against it.
Hua Cheng smiles, struggling with the lust that ravages his senses as he watches Xie Lian react to his touch. “Gege…” he says, slightly strained, “look how wet you are… is it that good?”
It is - overwhelmingly good - and Xie Lian nods into the pillow, his fingers tight in the blankets.
“Tell me, Gege.” Hua Cheng’s voice is a slow drug, addictive and sweet like honey. It invades him, makes him shiver, makes him desire, makes him comply.
And so he gasps and he pants, grinding his hips urgently against Hua Cheng’s hand, moaning, “Good… it’s - ah, good... San Lang…”
More slick. More fingers. More kisses. Wet and lewd, desperate and crude. They set him alight with a fierce hunger, and he feels himself harden again. He wants; he needs. He feels Hua Cheng’s stiffness against his thigh. And he twists his waist, turning back to seek Hua Cheng’s lips. Soft, full lips that crush against him with a wild, ravenous greed.
“Gege,’ Hua Cheng breathes, heavily and sensuous against Xie Lian’s adoring lips, “can I…”
“Yes,” Xie Lian says, “yes.” He doesn’t know what he agrees to; he only knows what his body wants. Anything San Lang gives, he is willing to receive.
He whimpers, when he is left empty by Hua Cheng’s withdrawn fingers. But he presents himself, properly this time, looking over his shoulder through wet lashes, as if to say ‘Fuck me.’
Hua Cheng is a tightly wound string, drawn tighter and tighter with every moan and movement of Xie Lian’s hips, and he feels the remainder of his restraint snap. He pushes into Xie Lian, groaning as the tip of his hot flesh sinks into that warm, moist comfort. It is tight, despite his preparations, but so, so wet, and he cannot help but hiss.
Xie Lian whimpers, throbs, clenches. The slide is wet, the drag of flesh erotic. But Hua Cheng’s girth is substantial, and the slow push makes him feel like he’s being torn apart. It aches and it burns - the stretch, the plunge. And when Hua Cheng is fully sheathed, the tip nudging against a spot deep inside him, he shudders, and he cries.
Hot tears spring to his eyes. From the immense relief, that they are finally, finally joined as one. From the stretch, which borders on pain but is exceedingly pleasurable. And from satisfaction, that he is filled. Filled, by that thick, hot member that burns him from the inside out - that feels as though it pulses against his inner walls.
“Gege…” Hua Cheng says, his lips on Xie Lian’s shoulder, “look how you’re sucking me in…”
Don’t say it, Xie Lian shakes his head. Hua Cheng feels so good, perfectly inside him; and the knowledge of how lewd his body is only makes him tighten up. Makes him whine.
Hua Cheng chuckles, softly, with difficulty, as he feels he might lose his mind from the sudden clench around his cock. He buries his nose into the crook of Xie Lian’s pale neck, inhaling that sweet omega scent to keep himself grounded. It hardly works.
“Relax, Gege,” He whispers, dipping his tongue into Xie Lian’s ear, “it will be hard to fuck you if you squeeze me like that.”
“...” It’s hard not to clench up when someone is whispering such embarrassing things into one’s ear, Xie Lian almost retorts, his cheeks burning with shame. But Hua Cheng rolls his hip, and all that escapes his lips is a long, lustful moan.
Hua Cheng’s thrusts are slow and shallow, punctuated by sweet little ‘ah’s as his hips snap against his lover’s. The thrusts deepen, once Xie Lian eases into the movement, sliding past his stretched rim and reaching into his tight cavern.
It is hot; it is strange and intense. It numbs Xie Lian’s limbs and electrifies his skin. And he grows stiff, with Hua Cheng’s hand around his throbbing erection. He doesn’t think; he cannot. He doesn’t hear his moans, each sweeter than the last, and he doesn’t hear the slap of flesh against flesh until he feels the other man’s lips kissing his nape. He feels teeth against his skin, and they scrape over the base of his neck.
“It’s going to hurt a little,” Hua Cheng says, tenderly despite his laboured breathing.
Xie Lian barely has time to feel the shudder that rushes to his sex. Hua Cheng’s teeth clamp down, breaking milky white skin, drawing blood. The pain is sharp, a brief sear that quickly yields to his growing pleasure as Hua Cheng’s tongue sweeps over the stinging wound.
“San Lang…” he whimpers, reaching back to grasp the other man’s muscled thigh. He grinds his hips, seeking and wanting more. More of that moist push and pull. Wanting it faster, deeper… “want, ah, more, San Lang...”
The room moves around him; a dizzy spin of colour before he feels Hua Cheng so deeply inside that he cries out. He shivers, toes curling, and his widened eyes stare at the ceiling. It is right where it’s supposed to be, he briefly thinks, before realizing he now sits on Hua Cheng’s lap. The other man’s heartbeat is strong against his back, and he feels lips, sucking bruises into his nape.
His hands are guided again, but this time to his nipples, encouraging him to touch, pinch and roll. “Touch yourself for me, Gege,” Hua Cheng coaxes behind him, his velvety voice like a palpable touch that caresses Xie Lian’s trembling body.
Xie Lian is obedient; mindlessly compliant under Hua Cheng’s command.
Strong hands grip his waist, lifting him slightly so that Hua Cheng’s cock pulls out to the tip. And before he is aware of it, Hua Cheng lets him fall, plunging deeper into him than before.
His back arches, and he chokes a strangled cry from the sudden thrust. But Hua Cheng doesn’t wait; not anymore. He thrusts deep, and Xie Lian’s mind threatens to blank with every snap of hips, every bounce the other man forces him to make. Hua Cheng fills him so well, and all he can think of is how he wants Hua Cheng to fuck him, knot him, breed him.
His navel tightens, and with a particularly deep thrust, he cries, “A-alpha..!”
It sets off something - something feral and animalistic in Hua Cheng, who pushes him down and flips him, raises a leg over a broad shoulder, and pushes into him again.
Hua Cheng is relentless, pulling moan after incoherent moan from Xie Lian’s lips, fucking into Xie Lian’s hot depths with a renewed intensity. He leans forward to kiss Xie Lian, to suck and devour the pink tongue that reaches out to meet his. He kisses Xie Lian’s chin, his cheekbones, and the corners of his tearing, glazed eyes. He nips at Xie Lian’s earlobe, and sinks his teeth into Xie Lian’s neck.
His thrusts grow frantic, and Xie Lian’s cries grow louder, desperate. Like the wet slap of their joining. Like their breaths, hot in each other’s mouths. Like the fire that surges behind his navel, that rushes to his cock. He angles his hips, mercilessly hitting against Xie Lian’s prostate.
“There - right there…” Xie Lian breathes, beads of sweat on his flushed skin, hands stroking his wet length. He leaks, close to coming, and gasps: “San Lang… I’m… ah, gonna..!”
“Come for me, Gege,” Hua Cheng murmurs, “I’ll follow soon.”
Xie Lian comes, uninhibited, crying so loud it borders on shouting. His body convulses over Hua Cheng, hips grinding down, cock spilling onto the messy sheets.
And Hua Cheng grits his teeth, the clench of Xie Lian around his cock maddeningly tight as he continues to fuck into his moaning lover, chasing his pleasure, feeling it build.
He comes with a groan, his forehead pressed against the back of Xie Lian’s shoulder, the frenzied rush of orgasm gathering in his knot. It is large, and its width makes Xie Lian stiffen - lips parted in a choked cry which then gives way to tortured whimpers. His little pleading noises spill from his reddened lips as Hua Cheng empties into him, hot jets rushing against his innermost depths, again and again until the throbbing organ that bulges against his belly has no more to give.
Xie Lian breathes heavily, chest heaving, in a desperate bid to accommodate Hua Cheng’s knot. It fills him, plugs him, threatens to rip him apart. Hua Cheng soothes him, gently kissing between his shoulder blades, his nape, and his scent gland, murmuring soft praises to take his mind off the discomfort. He does not move, for fear of causing pain.
But it is a good sort of discomfort, and Xie Lian sinks back into Hua Cheng’s warm embrace, feeling the rise and fall of a muscled chest against his back. They are sticky, messy, and the air is thick with their mingling scents - but he doesn’t mind it, and he reaches behind to pull Hua Cheng’s arm forward over his waist. He entwines his fingers with the other’s, and leaves a brief kiss on Hua Cheng’s knuckles.
Hua Cheng is still swollen inside him, but their lovemaking is already hazy in his memory; perhaps he will recall it better in the morning.
There is a buzzing numbness on his shoulder, and he runs his fingers over it, as if trying to ascertain the bite mark is really there. His fingertips gingerly pass over the swell of his skin, feeling the ridges of the broken epidermis. They follow the curve of the ridge - a semi circle that leads to another. This is… San Lang’s mark.
He knows it will heal, like the scars on his back from their very first encounter. It burns with his touch, but the heat that grows in his chest is fiercer. And for a moment, he settles in the comforting knowledge that this burning - this fondness for San Lang - will last for much, much longer.
A thought strikes him suddenly, breaking through the fogginess of his mind like a drop of dew that falls on the surface of a lake.
“San Lang…?” he ventures, hearing the other man’s deep breaths against him.
“Mn?” Hua Cheng tightens his embrace, nuzzling against Xie Lian’s neck.
“Um… don’t take this the wrong way, but… how long does a wolf’s knot last?”
Hua Cheng’s reply is a chuckle, and he licks behind Xie Lian’s ear, as if attempting to consume the last morsels of their love making. “An hour,” he says languidly against Xie Lian’s skin, “or more, since I love you. Either way, it’s too late for Gege to regret anything.”
He grinds his hip forward, and Xie Lian yelps in surprise before he laughs, ever so weakly.
“Then, I’ll have to trouble San Lang to knot me for the rest of your life.”
“..... Gege might actually regret that,” Hua Cheng replies, a low growl lacing his voice.
But a grin pulls at the corners of Xie Lian’s lips, and he murmurs: “Then I’ll have the rest of my life to think about whether I will. Since I love you.”