Author: This episode is the se*y night between 2 husband's, where one is the doctor and the other one is house worker. They're married since 2 years and today, Lan Xichen and Meng Yao wants to entertain each other with a plea*urable night.
Lan Xichen & Meng Yao...
My husband and I...!
3rd person POV.
Xichen reclined languidly on the plush leather couch, his dark eyes tracking Yao's every movement. Steam still curled around Yao's silhouette as he emerged from the bathroom, droplets of water cascading from his freshly washed hair and tracing delicate paths down the soft terrycloth of his pale blue bathrobe. The bathroom's warm humidity followed him, bringing with it the subtle fragrance of lavender soap and clean skin.
His movements were deliberate and fluid, hips swaying with an almost hypnotic grace that spoke of practiced elegance and intimate familiarity. Each step brought him closer to Xichen, who watched with an intensity that seemed to heat the very air between them. Xichen's gaze was a tangible thing - heavy with desire, commanding yet tender, traveling from Yao's face down to the floor in an unspoken, intimate directive.
Understanding passed between them without a word; Yao gracefully lowered himself to the floor, kneeling beside Xichen with the controlled precision of a dancer. His eyes, dark and luminous, met his husband's, waiting - anticipation shimmering in the charged silence.
Xichen's gaze locked with Yao's, creating an electric connection that seemed to pulse between them. His dark, smoldering eyes remained fixed on Yao's face, unwavering and intense, revealing a depth of raw, unfiltered desire. The room's soft ambient light cast subtle shadows across their features, heightening the intimate atmosphere.
Slowly, deliberately, Xichen's long, elegant fingers traced a deliberate path downward, sliding across the fabric of his tailored black pants. The material was stretched taut, outlining the growing evidence of his arousal. Each movement was calculated, sensual - a silent language of seduction that spoke volumes without a single word.
Yao's gaze remained on Xichen as his touch wandered, a subtle, deliberate journey across the terrain of Xichen's torso. From the sharp cut of Xichen's hips, his fingers traced feather-light patterns across the firm planes of Xichen's abdomen, the sensitive tips lingering upon the ridges of his husband's defined muscles. The skin was warm and slightly damp to the touch, the heat radiating off of Xichen's body and melding with the air around them. It carried a subtle undercurrent, an intimacy that only heightened the mounting tension between them.
Yao's breath caught in his throat, a subtle tremor running through his body. His pale skin flushed with a rising heat, a mixture of anticipation and desire coloring his cheeks. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the charged silence, his own body responding instinctively to the magnetic pull of his husband's intent gaze.
The tension between them was palpable, thick and heavy like silk, promising an imminent, passionate encounter that would consume them both.
Yao's hand moved with deliberate, languid grace towards Xichen, his fingers - still radiating warmth from the recent shower - trailing a gossamer-light path. The skin of his palm was soft yet purposeful, each digit moving with calculated precision. As his long, elegant fingers made contact with Xichen's most intimate terrain, a profound electricity sparked between them.
Xichen's breath caught, transforming into a ragged, trembling exhale that spoke volumes of his restrained desire. The mere touch of Yao's hand sent cascading waves of sensation through his body, each nerve ending electrified and hypersensitive. Yao could feel the immediate response - the heat, the growing hardness, the subtle muscular tensions that betrayed Xichen's mounting arousal.
Xichen's hands were fisted in the soft fabric of the couch, his knuckles white with effort as he tried to retain a semblance of control. His back arched reflexively as Yao's fingers traced his arousal. A soft hiss of pleasure escaped his lips, barely audible in the quiet room.
"Yao," he whispered, his voice rough and low. "Don't... tease me."
Yao's eyes flicked up to meet Xichen's, dark and glimmering with suppressed mirth. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive whisper.
"But, darling, where's the fun in that?"
His fingers continued to dance, moving lightly over the growing bulge in Xichen's lap. Each touch was deliberate, calculated to tease and tantalize.
A almost predatory smile played across Yao's lips. He reveled in this exquisite power, understanding precisely how his slightest touch could unravel his husband's carefully maintained composure. The knowledge was intoxicating, sending delicate shivers down his own spine - a complex dance of control and surrender.
His body responded in kind, temperature rising, skin tingling with an anticipatory heat. The desire encrypted itself into his very being, a consuming flame that threatened to overwhelm rational thought. Each breath became a testament to their shared, intense connection - a silent dialogue of want, need, and profound intimacy.
Yao's warm fingers traced a delicate, electrifying path along Xichen's most sensitive terrain. Each movement was calculated, deliberate - a masterful dance of touch that promised both pleasure and exquisite torment.
When his fingers shifted, the unexpected sensation caught Xichen completely off-guard. A deep, resonant moan escaped his lips - raw, unfiltered, revealing the profound vulnerability beneath his usually composed exterior. The sound was rich with desire, vibrating through the charged atmosphere between them.
Yao's gaze, intense and predatory, traveled slowly across his husband's face. He watched with meticulous attention as Xichen trembled beneath his touch, each subtle shiver a testament to the overwhelming sensations coursing through his body. A sense of profound satisfaction bloomed within Yao - a heady mixture of power, love, and unbridled passion.
Inch by tantalizing inch, Yao moved closer, his breath warm against Xichen's skin. When his tongue made contact, the sensation was electric - a lightning strike of pure, visceral pleasure. Xichen's gasp was sharp, desperate, torn between overwhelming sensation and an almost unbearable anticipation.
Yao's tongue moved with exquisite precision - a delicate, maddening circular motion that promised both torment and transcendence. Each deliberate rotation was calculated, designed to unravel Xichen's carefully maintained composure.
The sensation was electric, overwhelming - a symphony of nerve endings igniting with pure, raw pleasure. Xichen's gasping moan emerged deep from his throat, primal and unrestrained, echoing the profound intensity of his experience. His consciousness fragmented, rational thought dissolving like mist, replaced by a consuming landscape of pure sensation.
Xichen's fingers - usually so graceful and precise - clutched desperately at the fabric of the couch, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. His head was thrown back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat, his face flushed and his lips parted in a silent plea for release from the exquisite torment.
Yao's ministrations continued, his tongue tracing a path of pleasure that threatened to push Xichen over the edge, to send him careening into an abyss of ecstasy.
Heat bloomed through his body like wildfire, intense and uncontrollable. Every nerve ending sang with a desperate, urgent need - a visceral, all-consuming desire that transcended thought. His mind, typically sharp and controlled, now existed in a realm of pure sensation, suspended between ecstasy and an almost unbearable anticipation.
Yao watched with predatory satisfaction, each subtle reaction of his husband a testament to his skillful, deliberate touch.
Xichen's control began to fray then, the last vestiges of his restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.
Yao's ministrations were dismantling Xichen's carefully constructed composure, unleashing a raw, untamed energy within him. Yao could sense the shift in Xichen's presence, but beneath it, a vulnerability bloomed - a willingness to surrender to Yao's touch.
"Yao," he gasped, his voice a desperate, trembling whisper. "I can't... Please..."
A desire that overrode his usual restraint. Xichen's hand found Yao's hair, a possessive gesture not of dominance, but of a desperate need for connection, guiding rather than forcing.
The air thrummed with shared audacity, a mutual hunger blazing in their eyes. The sensation was a whirlwind, a heady mix of wet softness that threatened to shatter Xichen's control; he teetered on the edge of oblivion. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure. In those stolen moments, Xichen was lost in the throes of sensation, completely at its mercy, while Yao held the power to grant or withhold. Finally, a deep, guttural sound, a choked growl of pure, unadulterated feeling, escaped Xichen's lips, signaling his surrender.
Yao practically inhaled the steaming broth, the intense, almost overwhelming flavor hitting him with full force. The scalding liquid threatened to make him gag, a wave of heat washing over his palate, but he forced it down, a low groan escaping his lips. Xichen watched, transfixed. His mind struggled to reconcile the sight before him - Yao, usually so refined, so composed, displaying such raw, unrestrained hunger. A shiver traced its way down his spine, a strange mix of shock and undeniable arousal. The image was indelibly etched into his memory, a tableau of unexpected sensuality. Yao's simple words, "Thanks for the food," were delivered with a seductive purr that resonated deep within Xichen's core, igniting a fresh wave of heat.
He rose, extending a hand to Yao, his eyes dark with undisguised longing. Every nerve ending seemed to thrum with anticipation. Yao took his hand, and as he stood, he could practically feel the waves of heat radiating from Xichen. His own body responded in kind, a familiar ache blossoming in his loins, his mind swirling with a potent blend of desire and nervous excitement.
The walk to the bedroom dissolved into a haze of heightened senses, each step a deliberate journey fueled by yearning and anticipation. Xichen's fingers laced tightly with Yao's, his touch a possessive claim, a silent promise of pleasures to come. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of skin sent a jolt through their intertwined hands, their hearts drumming a wild, erratic rhythm against their ribs. Breath hitched in their throats, escaping in shallow, desperate gasps that mingled in the space between them.
When they finally crossed the threshold of the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft, definitive sound, the world outside seemed to vanish. The room itself seemed to shrink, the air growing thick and heavy, saturated with the palpable, electric hum of their shared desire. Xichen's gaze, intense and unwavering, swept over Yao, lingering on the curve of his neck, the flush on his cheeks, memorizing every detail with a raw, undisguised hunger.
Yao felt the weight of Xichen's gaze like a tangible force, his eyes a slow, deliberate burn tracing a path across his skin, igniting every nerve ending in its wake. His own body responded with a delicious tremor, thrumming with an anticipation so intense it bordered on pain. A tight, exquisite tension coiled deep within him, threatening to shatter his composure and unleash the storm of desire that raged beneath the surface.
He closed the remaining distance between them, each step deliberate and measured, and raised a trembling hand to Xichen's chest. Beneath his palm, he could feel the frantic thud of Xichen's heart, a wild, desperate rhythm mirroring the chaos within his own soul. His touch was feather-light, deliberately teasing, his fingertips dancing across the smooth expanse of Xichen's skin, tracing the elegant line of his collarbone, lingering just long enough to ignite a spark.
Xichen reacted instantly to the subtle caress, a low, guttural moan escaping his lips as his eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat that echoed in the silent room, each pulse perfectly synchronized with the delicate dance of Yao's fingertips. He leaned into the touch, a silent plea for more, his body arching towards the source of pleasure like a flower turning towards the sun, desperate to soak in its warmth and bask in its intoxicating glow.
Yao reveled in the intoxicating power he held over Xichen. Each subtle reaction - the quickening of his breath, the almost imperceptible flutter of his eyelashes, the way his body instinctively leaned into his touch - fueled a dark, possessive satisfaction within him. He closed the remaining space between them, his body flush against Xichen's, their clothes now feeling like an unbearable barrier, a frustrating impediment to their desires. His touch grew bolder, more insistent, his fingers tracing a searing path across the sensitive column of Xichen's throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath his skin.
Xichen, emboldened by Yao's nearness, tilted his head and moved his lips closer, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Yao's eyes widened for a fleeting moment, a flicker of surprise quickly giving way to an unrestrained hunger. He surrendered to the kiss, his body softening and melting against Xichen's, as if drawn by an irresistible force. It was a kiss charged with a desperate passion, a raw, primal need that stole the air from his lungs. He returned the kiss with a fervor that matched Xichen's own, his hands slipping beneath the cool fabric of Xichen's shirt, his fingertips tracing the contours of his smooth, heated skin. The kiss deepened, becoming fierce and demanding, a silent conversation spoken with tongues and teeth, a desperate plea for connection and release. Xichen's arm snaked around Yao's waist, pulling him impossibly closer, as if he could somehow merge their bodies, erase the boundaries between them. His other hand clenched in Yao's hair, his fingers tangling in the dark strands, holding him captive, deepening the kiss, their mouths moving together in a frenzied dance. Their tongues met, a tantalizing, intimate exploration that sent shivers down Yao's spine, promising a pleasure that bordered on pain.
Yao responded in kind, matching the urgency of Xichen's kiss with a fervor of his own. An unspoken agreement to abandon all restraint and succumb to the intoxicating power of their desire. His hands, emboldened by Xichen's uninhibited response, roamed freely over his body, exploring every curve and contour with a greedy, possessive touch, memorizing the feel of his skin beneath his fingertips. Their bodies pressed together, a searing brand that ignited a fire within them, the heat building with each passing moment, escalating to a fever pitch that threatened to consume them entirely.
With a surge of emboldened desire, Xichen took control, executing a swift and fluid motion that spoke volumes of his pent-up longing. He spun Yao around, the suddenness of the movement eliciting a gasp, until Yao was flush against the edge of the bed. The plush mattress offered a soft resistance against the backs of Yao's thighs as Xichen advanced. His body pressed intimately against Yao's from behind, a possessive claim that resonated deep within Yao's core, sending a shiver of anticipation cascading down his spine. Their hips aligned, and with a subtle but deliberate pressure, they began to grind together in a sensuous, tantalizing dance. It was a conversation of bodies, a rhythm of desire that promised untold pleasures, igniting a firestorm of need in the pit of Yao's stomach, a burning ache that only Xichen could satisfy.
Yao gasped, the unexpected shift of power stealing his breath. His back instinctively arched, a reflexive response to the intoxicating sensation of Xichen's body molding against his. He could feel the unmistakable heat of Xichen's arousal, the hard, insistent length of him pressed against his backside, and a delicious shiver of anticipation coursed through his veins, setting his nerve endings alight. A moan escaped his lips as he pushed back against Xichen, silently begging for more, craving the friction, the exquisite pressure that threatened to shatter his control.
Xichen's hands, emboldened by Yao's response, roamed possessively across his skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, each touch a deliberate act of claiming. His lips, hot and demanding, found the sensitive curve of Yao's neck, nipping and suckling with a fierce intensity, leaving a trail of dark, possessive marks that would later bloom into a visible testament to their passion, a secret language etched onto his skin. The subtle pain mingled with the pleasure, creating a heady, intoxicating mix that drove Yao closer to the edge.
Yao bit back a moan, desperately trying to contain the sound, but it was a futile effort. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming. The sound escaped his lips anyway, a broken, strangled cry that was both a protest and a plea, a raw expression of the surrender taking place within him. The sound reverberated in his chest, a tangible vibration that amplified the already dizzying sensations.
He felt himself slipping, losing all sense of control as the onslaught of pleasure intensified, each touch, each kiss, each stolen breath sending jolts of white-hot electricity surging through his veins. He tried, in a fleeting moment of defiance, to regain some semblance of composure, to reclaim his agency, but found that his body had become a traitor, responding only to Xichen's touch, existing solely to experience the exquisite torment he was inflicting. He was utterly, irrevocably, at Xichen's mercy.
Xichen's lips curved into a knowing smirk against the sensitive skin of Yao's neck, a low chuckle rumbling deep within his chest, vibrating against Yao's spine. The sound was a potent mix of amusement and triumph, a silent acknowledgment of the power he wielded. He was acutely aware of the effect he was having on Yao, the subtle tremor that shook his frame with every touch, the ragged hitch in his breath that betrayed his mounting desire, the almost imperceptible way his body leaned into his touch, seeking more.
He slowly, deliberately, ran his hands down the smooth expanse of Yao's back, his touch feather-light yet undeniably possessive, as if branding him as his own. Beneath the delicate caress lay a deeper intent, a burning desire to dismantle Yao's carefully constructed defenses, to shatter his composure and reduce him to a writhing, gasping mess of pure, unadulterated need, a creature driven solely by the pleasure he was inflicting. He wanted to unlock the depths of Yao's passion, to unleash the wild, untamed desires that he knew lay hidden beneath the surface.
Yao's breath now came in ragged gasps, his body drawn taut as a bowstring stretched to its breaking point, every muscle coiled with a desperate tension. He was on the precipice, teetering on the edge of reason, his senses heightened to an unbearable degree. Each touch from Xichen was like a spark against dry tinder, igniting a wildfire within him, threatening to consume him whole, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. He clung desperately to the remnants of his control, fighting to maintain some semblance of composure, but he could feel the tight, meticulously wound coil of need within him unraveling, strand by agonizing strand, threatening to spill over in a torrent of raw sensation.
Xichen's hands, knowing and deliberate, moved lower, his fingertips tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the curve of Yao's hips, savoring the feel of his skin, lingering just long enough to ignite a fresh wave of desire. Then, with a deliberate slide, his fingers dipped beneath the Yao's waist, grazing the sensitive skin of his lower back. Yao's breath hitched in his throat, a strangled gasp escaping his lips, a sound that spoke volumes of the exquisite torment and impending surrender he was about to endure.
With a deliberate slowness that heightened the anticipation, Xichen untied the belt of Yao's bathrobe, the silk whispering as it parted, revealing the bare skin beneath. The removal of the robe left Yao feeling exposed, utterly vulnerable, stripped bare not just physically but emotionally as well. Every inch of his skin now throbbed with anticipation, each nerve ending tingling and alive, yearning for the next touch, the next caress, the next wave of pleasure from Xichen. The cool air of the room caressed his heated flesh, a sharp, exquisite contrast to the burning warmth of Xichen's body pressed so intimately against his.
Yao felt the weight of Xichen's gaze like a physical brand, a burning intensity that trailed across every inch of his bare flesh, igniting a firestorm of sensation in its wake. He could feel the palpable force of Xichen's desire, the raw, untamed intensity of his need, and it made his skin blaze with a potent combination of shame and exhilarating excitement, a heady mix that threatened to shatter his composure.
Xichen's hands, now unhindered, roamed possessively over Yao's skin, mapping each contour, every delicate dip and curve, committing it all to memory with a reverence that bordered on worship. His touch was a masterful blend of soft and hard, reverent and demanding, each brush of his fingertips sending seismic waves of pleasure radiating through Yao's body, leaving him trembling and breathless.
Yao could no longer contain the moans and gasps that erupted from his lips, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that was consuming him. His body felt as if it were engulfed in flames, every nerve ending alive and screaming with sensation, his senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree. He yearned to push back, to demand more, to seize control of the situation, but he knew with a dizzying, exhilarating certainty that Xichen held all the power, and he was utterly, irrevocably powerless to do anything but surrender to the exquisite, all-consuming pleasure. He was Xichen's to command, his to pleasure, his to break.
With deliberate movements, Xichen shed the remaining garments that clung to his body, each piece of clothing discarded like a challenge, an invitation to indulge in the feast that was about to begin. As he did, Yao's eyes, no longer restrained, roamed freely over Xichen's body, tracing every line and curve with a hunger that bordered on desperation, a lust so palpable it felt like a physical force. His gaze drank in the sight before him, devouring every inch of Xichen's exposed flesh with a ravenous intensity. The lean, sculpted musculature, the intricate play of shadows and light dancing across his skin, the taut planes of his abdomen - it was a masterpiece of masculine beauty, a vision that sent his heart pounding against his ribs, his mouth suddenly dry with longing.
He could see the raw, untamed desire burning in Xichen's eyes, a dark, predatory gleam that mirrored his own hunger, his own desperate need. It was a look that stripped away all pretense, all societal constraints, revealing the primal, animalistic urges that lay simmering beneath the surface. The knowledge that Xichen was just as consumed, just as affected by this shared craving, only served to intensify his own desire, fueling the fire that raged within him, igniting a desperate need to touch, to taste, to claim, to possess. He wanted to lose himself in Xichen, to become one with him, to erase the boundaries between their bodies and their souls.
Yao's fingers trembled with suppressed longing, his hands aching to reach out, to caress, to possess. They twitched with the almost unbearable urge to explore every inch of Xichen's exposed skin, to trace the sculpted lines of his muscles, to map the landscape of his desire, to leave no part of him untouched, unexplored, unadored. But he held back, fighting against the impulse, reveling in the exquisite torture of anticipation, waiting for Xichen to make the first move, to shatter the fragile dam of restraint and plunge them both headfirst over the precipice of this intoxicating abyss they were teetering upon.
Xichen, sensing Yao's internal struggle, took the initiative, stepping closer until their bodies were almost touching, the air crackling with unspoken desires. His hands, warm and strong, gripped Yao's waist, his touch firm and undeniably possessive, staking a claim that resonated deep within Yao's soul. He leaned in, his breath warm and moist against the delicate shell of Yao's ear, sending a shiver of pure, unadulterated pleasure cascading down Yao's spine. His voice, a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated against Yao's skin, sent shivers down his spine as he whispered the words that Yao had been longing to hear.
"You're mine."
Yao's breath hitched, caught in his chest like a trapped bird, a strangled gasp escaping his lips in response to the raw possessiveness that dripped from Xichen's words. The claim resonated deep within him, stirring a potent mix of fear and exhilaration. But he didn't protest, didn't deny the truth that echoed in his soul. He wanted to be his, desperately craved the surrender, the complete and utter relinquishing of control. He longed to be claimed, marked, owned body and soul by this man who was relentlessly, irrevocably dismantling every defense he had ever erected, brick by agonizing brick.
Xichen's hands, emboldened by Yao's silent acquiescence, traveled lower, sliding down the smooth curve of his hips to grip his thighs with a possessive intensity that sent a jolt of pure electricity through his veins. His fingers dug into the flesh, leaving a faint, lingering ache that was both a promise and a threat. His breath, hot and moist against Yao's ear, tickled the sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation down his spine.
"Say it," Xichen murmured, his voice a low, insistent growl that brooked no argument. "Say you're mine."
Yao found himself incapable of denying Xichen, even if a part of him still clung to the illusion of control. The resistance crumbled, the carefully constructed walls finally collapsing under the weight of his own desire. The words, a whispered confession, slipped from his lips like a sacred prayer, an offering made to a demanding god: "I'm yours."
Xichen's response was immediate, visceral, and unrestrained. A groan, raw and guttural, ripped from his throat, the sound echoing in the silent room like a primal roar. It was as if those two simple words had unlocked something deep and elemental within him, unleashing a force that had been simmering beneath the surface, something fiercely possessive and demanding that brooked no argument.
"Mine," he growled, the word a possessive brand, a claim etched onto Yao's soul.
His hands, fueled by a sudden surge of possessive energy, tightened their grip on Yao's thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh with an almost bruising intensity, leaving a lingering ache that was both exquisite and frightening. With a swift, decisive pull, Xichen closed the remaining space between them, drawing Yao closer until their bodies were pressed flush against each other, every inch of skin making contact, a desperate plea for connection, a silent promise of the pleasures to come.
Yao felt a delicious tremor ripple through his entire body, a visceral response to Xichen's touch, the possessive edge to his actions igniting a primal spark deep within his core. It was a hunger he hadn't known he possessed, a yearning for domination and surrender that had been lying dormant, waiting to be awakened. He leaned into it, abandoning all pretense of control, wanting more, craving the rough, almost aggressive way Xichen was handling him, the way his touch both thrilled and intimidated him. His mind was a swirling vortex of fragmented sensations, all coherent thoughts dissolving in the rising tide of desire, leaving him adrift in a sea of pure, unadulterated sensation.
Xichen's lips trailed down the sensitive column of Yao's neck, his teeth grazing the skin with deliberate intent, leaving a trail of dark, possessive marks that would serve as a visible reminder of this encounter, a secret language etched onto his flesh. He was acutely aware of the effect he was having, the masterful combination of exquisite pain and overwhelming pleasure sending jolts of electricity surging through Yao's system, making him arch and tremble and gasp with every stolen kiss and teasing bite. He reveled in the power he wielded, the ability to elicit such a profound and visceral response with a single touch, a single word. He was pushing Yao to the edge, and he had no intention of stopping.
Yao felt himself spiraling, drowning in a sea of overwhelming sensations, his mind and body completely subjugated by the sheer intensity of Xichen's touch. Each deliberate bite, each lingering kiss, each possessive grip on his skin ignited his nerve endings, setting them aflame with a searing heat that left him trembling and desperate for more, craving the exquisite torment that only Xichen could provide. His hands clenched on Xichen's broad shoulders, his nails digging into the taught flesh, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the chaotic whirlwind of sensations that threatened to consume him entirely. He was losing himself, willingly surrendering to the power that Xichen held over him.
Xichen abruptly broke contact, pulling away just enough to leave Yao gasping for breath, his eyes dark and intense, pupils blown wide with a predatory hunger. His grip on Yao's thighs tightened, his thumbs pressing deep into the flesh, hard enough to leave a lingering ache, a visible testament to his dominance. The pressure was both painful and exhilarating, a thrilling reminder of the power dynamics at play.
"On your hands and knees."
The words were delivered as a command, not a request, each syllable laced with a raw, undeniable authority that brooked no argument.
Yao obeyed without hesitation, the primal force in Xichen's voice sending a shiver of both fear and anticipation cascading down his spine. He lowered himself to the floor, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the burning heat that coursed through his veins. He felt exposed, utterly vulnerable in this submissive position, his backside presented to Xichen in a silent offering. Yet, beneath the vulnerability, a thrilling sense of excitement bloomed, a fierce desire to surrender completely to the man who could reduce him to a trembling mess with just a single look, just a single touch. He was his to command, his to control, his to use as he pleased. And he reveled in the surrender.
In his kneeling position, Yao felt Xichen's presence loom behind him, a palpable weight of desire and power that sent shivers dancing across his skin. Xichen's hands, now free to roam, staked their claim on his body, touching, gripping, exploring every inch of him with a deliberate possessiveness. His touch was rough, almost demanding, a stark contrast to the gentle caresses of the past, yet somehow infinitely more intimate, more profound. It was as if Xichen was branding him, marking his territory with an invisible fire, claiming him not just with his whispered words but with the very essence of his touch. Each press of his fingers, each graze of his palm, was a silent declaration of ownership.
Yao found himself trembling uncontrollably, the waves of sensation crashing over him with an intensity that was almost overwhelming, threatening to shatter his already fragile composure. His mind was a chaotic whirlwind, all rational thought dissolving in the tsunami of pleasure that radiated from Xichen's every touch, every graze, every possessive claim. It was both a taste of heaven and a descent into hell, a tantalizing blend of ecstasy and torment, and he craved more, desperately needing to be consumed by the fire, to be broken and remade in Xichen's image. He was addicted, irrevocably bound to this man and the exquisite pain he inflicted.
Xichen was a wall of radiating heat pressed against his back, a brand searing into his skin with every possessive touch. His fingers, insistent and demanding, dug into the yielding flesh of Yao's hips, nails tracing fleeting patterns that blurred the line between pleasure and exquisite pain. A tremor ran through Yao, anticipation coiling tight in his belly, a sweet agony that bordered on madness. He was drowning in need, each breath a desperate plea for the inevitable release, craving Xichen with the ferocity of a man deprived of air.
Xichen's hands charted a course of fiery exploration, igniting every nerve ending in their wake. The whisper of his lips against Yao's spine sent shivers erupting across his skin, each hot breath a tantalizing promise. There was a raw intensity in Xichen's touch, a burning passion that verged on the untamed, as if driven by an primal urge to possess, to stake his claim with a possessiveness that was both breathtaking and terrifying. Yao felt himself teetering on the precipice, drawn in by an irresistible force.
Lost in a maelstrom of sensation, Yao's mind fractured into a kaleidoscope of fragmented thoughts, pleasure and pain swirling in a dizzying vortex of heat and cold. Every caress, every graze of Xichen's skin against his, sent electric jolts through his system, leaving him trembling on the threshold of an experience he couldn't fully grasp. Yet, amidst the overwhelming intensity, a deeper hunger gnawed at him, his body arching, straining towards the precipice of release that only Xichen held the key to unlock.
Xichen's voice, a low, guttural growl that vibrated against his ear, was a primal sound that resonated deep within his bones, sending a delicious shiver tracing its path down Yao's spine.
"You're mine," he rasped, each word a deliberate claim. "Mine to touch, mine to mark, mine to take."
His hands, possessive and unyielding, tightened their grip, fingers biting into Yao's flesh. A thrill shot through him at the sharp sting, knowing that later, bruises would bloom like dark, exotic flowers against the pale canvas of his skin - a visible testament to Xichen's dominance.
Yao could only manage a shallow nod, his own voice trapped somewhere in his throat, rendered useless by the overwhelming sensations that had turned his thoughts to liquid fire. He yearned to be branded, to be irrevocably claimed by Xichen, to feel each touch, each kiss, like a searing mark upon his soul. He craved the oblivion of being completely consumed by this man, by his raw desire, by the intoxicating power that radiated from him like a tangible force. He wanted to surrender completely, to shatter beneath Xichen's touch and be remade in his image.
Xichen's hands, warm and deliberate, glided down the smooth expanse of Yao's back, tracing the delicate line of his spine with a touch that was both reverent and utterly possessive. He was mapping him, claiming him, memorizing every subtle curve and plane. He wanted to know the precise geography of Yao's pleasure, to elicit every shiver, every sigh, to coax his body into a symphony of responses he had never before imagined possible.
He leaned in, his breath ghosting across the sensitive nape of Yao's neck before his lips followed, nipping and sucking with a controlled hunger at the yielding flesh. He was leaving a trail of dark promises, a constellation of bruises that would later bloom like velvet shadows, a secret language only they would understand.
His body pressed against his husband's slender frame, the hard ridge of his arousal a tantalizing pressure against Yao's hips, a deliberate tease that sent sparks of anticipation shooting through him.
Yao gasped, the teasing pressure a sweet torment that made his body tremble with a desperate need. He instinctively pushed back, seeking closer contact, but Xichen's hands tightened on his hips, a vise-like grip that prevented any escape. The deliberate restraint, the tantalizing denial of what they both so desperately craved, was exquisite torture. Yao arched against him, a silent plea etched on his face.
Xichen's hands resumed their exploration, fingers dancing with wicked precision over sensitive spots that made Yao writhe and whimper. He was a master sculptor, knowing exactly where to touch, how to touch, to mold Yao into a trembling masterpiece of need and raw desire. Each caress was a carefully orchestrated torment, designed to push him closer to the edge.
He nipped at the delicate shell of Yao's ear, his breath a scorching whisper against the sensitive skin.
"Beg," he murmured, the single word a silken command that held the weight of absolute authority. It wasn't a request, but an expectation, a test of Yao's willingness to surrender.
And Yao found himself responding, his body trembling not from fear, but from the exquisite thrill of submission. The command resonated deep within him, awakening a primal desire to relinquish control, to offer himself completely.
Please..." he breathed, the word torn from his throat, a ragged plea laced with an urgency he could no longer contain. His voice was a low, unfamiliar rasp, barely audible even to himself. "Please, Xichen... I need you..." The admission was a surrender, a confession of the profound and all-consuming need that burned within him, a need that only Xichen could satisfy. He was laid bare, vulnerable and exposed, and the vulnerability was intoxicating.
Xichen groaned at the sound of the plea, the desperation in Yao's voice making him shudder with desire. The raw need threaded through every syllable, igniting a fire low in Xichen's belly. He wanted more-so much more. He wanted to see Yao unravel, to watch him surrender completely, every barrier stripped away by Xichen's hands. Yet, even as his own longing threatened to consume him, Xichen held back. A part of him relished the anticipation, the exquisite tension that coiled between them. He wanted to draw this out, to savor every trembling breath and pleading glance, to see just how far he could push Yao before he finally broke.
Xichen's touch grew rougher, his hands gripping tighter, a stark contrast to the gentleness of his words. His fingers dug into Yao's hips, holding him firmly in place, leaving faint marks on skin already flushed with heat. Still, his voice remained soft, almost coaxing, as he murmured reassurances and praise. The duality of his actions-gentle words paired with possessive hands-sent a delicious shiver through Yao, making him arch into the touch, desperate for more. Xichen's control was absolute, and Yao could do nothing but surrender, lost in the dizzying blend of pleasure and anticipation.
"You're beautiful like this, you know that? So desperate, so needy."
His teeth grazed Yao's neck once more, nipping at the already bruised skin. The sting sent a shiver down Yao's spine, sharp and electric, and he arched into the touch, craving more. Each mark left behind was a silent claim, a reminder of Xichen's presence pressed so close, so possessive.
Yao whimpered, the sound escaping him before he could stop it, raw and unguarded. The mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating, making his head spin and his body burn with want. His skin tingled where Xichen's mouth had been, heat pooling low in his belly, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. He wanted, needed, more-needed to feel Xichen's hands roaming over his body, to be held down and cherished and undone in equal measure. He ached to touch Xichen in return, to trace the lines of his jaw, to feel the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath his fingertips.
He could feel Xichen's arousal, hard and insistent against his thigh, could sense the need that was just as desperate as his own in the way Xichen's breath came faster, harsher, his grip tightening possessively around Yao's waist. It was a heady combination, to know that he was the cause of that need, that desire. It made Yao's heart race, made his own desire flare hotter, sharper. He wanted to surrender to it, to lose himself in the sensation and the heat, to let Xichen consume him completely.
He moved his hand on Yao's sensitive part, stroking it gently, his touch feather-light yet deliberate. Yao gasped, his breath hitching in his throat, his body arching into Xichen's touch without conscious thought. Every brush of Xichen's fingers sent shivers racing up his spine, the combination of pleasure and heat almost too much to bear. His skin prickled with anticipation, every nerve ending alive and aching, and he found himself desperately seeking more, his body straining and trembling with want.
Xichen's fingers were strong and sure as they slowly teased Yao to the brink and back, each touch like a spark crackling through his veins. He alternated between gentle caresses and firmer strokes, keeping Yao suspended in a haze of sensation. The sensations overwhelmed him, leaving him trembling and desperate for more, his breath coming in short, needy gasps.
Yao's body was a study in contrasts, his muscles tense with need even as his limbs melted in boneless surrender. His hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, but his hips pressed back against Xichen, seeking more friction, more touch, more of that delicious heat that was driving him insane. The air between them was thick with longing, every movement charged with anticipation.
Xichen began to rub Yao's part with his hand, his thumb circling in slow, maddening patterns. As he continued, he shifted closer, adjusting himself so that he was aligned with Yao's entrance. With exquisite slowness, he pressed forward, letting only the tip slip in, teasing Yao with the promise of more. The sensation sent a jolt through Yao, his body instinctively pushing back, silently begging for Xichen to go deeper. Xichen held him steady, his free hand splayed across Yao's hip, controlling the pace, drawing out the moment until it was almost unbearable.
Yao groaned, the sound a ragged, broken noise caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. His breath hitched in his throat, each exhale trembling with anticipation. Xichen was being almost torturously slow, every movement deliberate, every touch feather-light and maddening. Fingertips traced lazy patterns along Yao's skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake, driving him to the edge of sanity with every tiny movement. He wanted more, needed more, desperately yearned for more, but Xichen was in control, and that knowledge sent another shiver through him, mixing pain and pleasure in a dizzying combination of sensations.
Yao clutched at Xichen, his fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, nails leaving faint crescents as if to anchor himself in reality. His body arched instinctively, seeking friction, seeking relief, but Xichen held him firmly in place, denying him even that small mercy. The room was thick with the scent of sweat and longing, the air charged with electricity. Yao's lips parted, words caught in his throat, as he struggled to find his voice. "Please," he managed to gasp, the word barely more than a whisper, raw and pleading.
"Tell me what you want, sweet boy..."
The command was low, a dark whisper against his ear, the heat of Xichen's breath sending a fresh wave of goosebumps down his spine. Xichen wanted to hear the words, wanted to hear him pleading, begging-wanted to savor every moment of Yao's surrender.
"Please, Xichen... I need you." Yao's voice was ragged, broken with desire. His body was trembling, the tension coiled deep within him, wound tighter with each passing moment of Xichen's teasing. His thoughts were a tangled mess, all rationality stripped away, leaving only need-desperate, primal, consuming. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat echoing the frantic rhythm of his longing.
Xichen groaned, his own desire stoked to almost unbearable heights by Yao's desperate pleading. The sound of his name, broken and ragged on his lover's tongue, was a potent aphrodisiac, fanning the flames of his own arousal.
He pressed closer, their bodies flush, the heat between them nearly scorching. He slowly inserts his part fully inside his little husband.
Yao gasped, the sensation of fullness like a jolt to his system. He was suddenly so very aware of every cell in his body, every nerve ending alive with feeling. It was intense, a mixture of pain and pleasure that was so overwhelmingly intimate. He trembled, body straining, as he tried to adjust to the sensation. He wanted more, wanted to be consumed by it, but he was almost paralyzed with need. His mind was a jumble of incoherent words and desperate need.
Xichen pressed closer, their bodies flush, the heat between them nearly scorching. He moved with deliberate slowness, his breath fanning across Yao's cheek as he gently, steadily, filled his little husband. Every inch was a promise, a silent vow spoken through touch rather than words.
Yao gasped, the sensation of fullness like a jolt to his system. His fingers tightened reflexively around Xichen's shoulders, nails digging in as waves of sensation crashed through him. Each nerve ending seemed to spark with electricity, the line between pleasure and pain blurring into something achingly sweet. He was suddenly so aware of every heartbeat, every shiver, every brush of skin against skin. The intimacy was almost overwhelming-raw, vulnerable, and consuming.
He trembled, body straining, as he tried to adjust to the new depth, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. The world seemed to narrow to the space between them, to the heat and pressure and the sound of Xichen's voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear. Yao's mind spun, a jumble of incoherent words and desperate need, lost in the sensation and the closeness. He wanted more-wanted to be utterly consumed-yet all he could do was cling to Xichen.
...
Xichen lay down on Yao's back. Both were breathing heavily very tired of the activity.
Xichen starts playing with his ear, and suck his neck making hi*keys on it.
"I love you" Xichen said "Love you more" Yao replied.
They hug eachother, and within a few minutes, Yao falls asleep in Xichen arms.
"Baby! Let's wash up." Xichen said but got no response from Yao, as he was already asleep.
"You slept so soon" Xichen said in a low voice. And takes a towel and clean Yao and make him wear clothes, without disturbing him. After that he went to washroom to clean himself.
The end.