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Hua Cheng and Xie Lian dislike coexisting in silence.

They’d been apart for eight hundred years — eight centuries without being able to speak to each other. For the majority of that time, Xie Lian hadn’t been able to have a real conversation with anyone at all, and Hua Cheng didn’t care to speak to anyone who wasn’t his god.

Now that they’re together, though, they fill the silence with gentle conversation and laughter. (And moans. Many moans.) Even when they don’t speak, there’s some sort of noise to put them at ease — the faint sound of skin brushing against skin, the crinkle of paper unfurling, the beating of butterfly wings, and so on.

Now, as Hua Cheng lounges against his husband in complete silence, he realizes something is off. Xie Lian has been quiet for a while, which isn’t particularly concerning on its own, but the fact that his eyes haven’t moved from their spot on the scroll he’s reading is. 

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says gently, startling him out of his trance, “are you alright?”

Xie Lian rubs his forehead with two fingers and offers up a sheepish smile. “Sorry, sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a moment. I’m alright.”

Hua Cheng hums and reaches up to tilt Xie Lian’s jaw towards himself. He gives him a searching look and can’t help but focus on the light blush dusting his cheeks. “Is something on your mind?”

“No!” Xie Lian yelps a little too quickly, cringing when Hua Cheng raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “I mean, uh— no, there isn’t.”

Hua Cheng leans a little closer. “Try again.”

Xie Lian tries to draw back with a squeak, but Hua Cheng doesn’t let him. It’s clear now that he’s ruminating on something he’s embarrassed about, which means it’s probably something sexual. In that case, Hua Cheng doesn’t mind being a little rough in his quest to coax the truth out of Xie Lian.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Xie Lian says insistently, waving a hand. “Just a daydream. Really, San Lang, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m more curious now than I am worried,” Hua Cheng murmurs, pressing a short kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Will gege tell me about his daydream?”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen. “Um!” he yelps, but he doesn’t follow it up with anything else.

“Oh?” Hua Cheng grins. He lifts a hand to trace his fingertip against the rosy blush on the tip of Xie Lian’s nose. “Is gege’s daydream of a more… salacious nature?”

Xie Lian sighs and turns his body towards Hua Cheng. He collapses against his chest, burying his face in it and wrapping his arms tightly around Hua Cheng’s waist. “...You could say that,” he mumbles, the words muffled by the fabric of Hua Cheng’s robes.

Hua Cheng tuts sympathetically, his hand raising to stroke the back of Xie Lian’s head. “Won’t you indulge this husband, gege? You’ve heard so many of my fantasies, but rarely do I ever get the chance to hear yours.”

“That’s because San Lang has already made most of them come true without even being told to.”

Now it’s Hua Cheng’s turn to flush. His hand stills, and his heart soars. “Oh,” he says softly, but quickly recovers. “And what about this one?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Gege.”

“And weird.”

“Gege,” Hua Cheng says again, his tone playfully exasperated. “I let you roll around in the mud with me just a few days ago. Nothing you say will faze me.”

“You didn’t ‘let’ me do anything,” Xie Lian protests, pinching his waist. He draws back a little to breathe and make his voice clearer. “I seem to recall you begging me to take you apart, no?”

Ah, so this is Xie Lian’s new strategy: to get out of confessing, he’s going to try to fluster Hua Cheng enough to distract him. Luckily, Hua Cheng only smiles. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, his voice going sultry and low. “I’ll always beg my god for anything he can give me. So will you give me this, gege? Will you tell this husband what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”

“San Laaaang!” Xie Lian cries, nosing back into Hua Cheng’s robes. When he feels Hua Cheng’s chest rumble with laughter beneath his cheek, he reaches up to swat his husband’s shoulder gently. 

A beat of quiet passes. Then Xie Lian says something into Hua Cheng’s chest, his voice muffled. Hua Cheng is adept at reading and understanding Xie Lian, but his ears can only carry him so far. “Hm? What was that?”

Xie Lian huffs, his shoulders drawing up and deflating with the sigh as he draws back just enough for there to be space between his mouth and Hua Cheng’s robes. “I want you to use one of your clones.”

Hua Cheng stills. “What?”

“See!” Xie Lian says sharply. He must be pouting. “I told you it was weird!”

“No, it’s not, I just—” Hua Cheng tries to speak past the sudden dryness in his mouth. “You want two of me?”

“No,” Xie Lian says, pulling away enough for his face to be visible. He keeps his gaze downturned, though, staring at his lap rather than meeting Hua Cheng’s eye. “Well, maybe later. Just not this time.”

“You just want the clone?” Hua Cheng asks, the words softened with what must be insecurity. 

“I think you’re misunderstanding me,” Xie Lian says, lifting his gaze to finally meet Hua Cheng’s eye. “I want the clone to take me,” he says, voice so low it’s barely audible, “and I want you to watch.”

Hua Cheng thinks he might ascend again. “You just want me to watch? Nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” Xie Lian nods. “I always tell you how I wish you could see yourself, but there’s only so much mirrors and butterflies can do. I want you to see yourself up close.” He pauses, suddenly looking sheepish. “Is that alright?”

“More than alright, gege, it’s just…” Hua Cheng swallows. “I’ll get jealous.”

Xie Lian laughs. His smile lights up the room, and for a moment, Hua Cheng forgets what they were even talking about, too enamored with the way his husband’s eyes crinkle up into crescents when he’s happy. “I know,” Xie Lian grins, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Don’t worry, San Lang. I’m prepared to deal with that.”

-

“This is demeaning.”

“You like it.”

“This is degrading.”

“You like that.”

“Gege!”

Xie Lian laughs. The visual is a stark contrast to the rope he’s holding taut in front of him, eyes sparkling with a certain kind of mischief that spells doom for Hua Cheng. “I told you,” he says, voice soft, “we don’t need to use the rope. We don’t even need to do this. I only want what you’re comfortable with.”

“I’m comfortable, gege,” Hua Cheng assures him, looking anywhere but the rope. If he looks at the rope, he’ll get so hard that even his robes won’t be able to hide it. “It’s just… I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll be right here, sweet boy,” Xie Lian murmurs back, leaning down to kiss Hua Cheng’s forehead. It’s an awkward angle from where they’re positioned — Xie Lian standing, Hua Cheng kneeling at the foot of the bed — but it works. “I’ll be able to see you the whole time, and you’ll be able to see me. And you.”

Hua Cheng does little to conceal his frown. “Don’t remind me.”

Xie Lian huffs. He kneels and kisses Hua Cheng’s cheek, then stretches out the coil of rope again. “Arms behind your back, please.”

Hua Cheng complies. Xie Lian settles into his lap and half-embraces him, reaching around him to tie the rope securely around his wrists. Xie Lian’s hands work so gently against his own that Hua Cheng nearly melts into putty; the only thing truly keeping him upright is Xie Lian’s chest against his own. Like this, there isn’t a doubt in Hua Cheng’s mind that his very interested cock is making itself known against Xie Lian.

The rope is secure, but not so snug that it hurts. The fabric, too, is soft against Hua Cheng’s skin.

“Is it too tight?” Xie Lian asks, leaning back to inspect Hua Cheng’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“Not at all.” Frowning, Hua Cheng raises his head so that his pout is in full view. “But I miss touching you already.”

“You are touching me,” Xie Lian says teasingly, draping his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck for balance as he begins to press soft kisses to Hua Cheng’s face — at his widow’s peak, along the curve of his nose, against the seam of his eyepatch, and so on. 

Hua Cheng basks in it. “Gege’s going to miss me too, it seems.”

Xie Lian hums. “I need to get it out of my system,” he smiles, kissing both Hua Cheng’s cheeks. He moves up to his temples, then back down to his jaw and chin, dotting chaste little kisses everywhere but the one place Hua Cheng is aching for it.

“Gege!” Hua Cheng complains, prompting a quiet chuckle from Xie Lian before he finally, finally presses his mouth where it belongs.

The kiss is slow, sweet. Xie Lian doesn’t deepen it, just kisses him again and again until Hua Cheng whines his indignance and tilts his head the slightest bit. Xie Lian huffs against him, drawing closer before his tongue darts out to lap at the seam of Hua Cheng’s lips. He moves gently, the glide of his tongue soft and slick against Hua Cheng’s mouth as he finally parts his own and kisses Xie Lian the way he’s been itching to.

Finally! Hua Cheng sighs a pleased little noise into Xie Lian’s mouth, the latter taking the opportunity to drink it in greedily. He doesn’t stop there; Xie Lian kisses him like he intends to ravish him, like he’s trying to swallow every unnecessary breath Hua Cheng takes, every mewl, every bead of spit that rolls off his lips, and all Hua Cheng can do is sit there and take it. With his hands bound, he can only tilt his head and move to Xie Lian’s rhythm.

Hua Cheng moans a soft protest when Xie Lian pulls back, a string of spit unfurling between their mouths as they part. Panting, Hua Cheng looks up at Xie Lian and tries not to let his hips cant upward. It would be so easy to rut up against Xie Lian like this, and he’s been aching to do something since the first press of Xie Lian’s lips against his own. 

He’s going mad. Hua Cheng’s tease of a husband is driving him mad.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng breathes, meeting Xie Lian’s eyes with the most lascivious look he can manage. “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to have to ask for us to stop this.”

Xie Lian’s brows draw up in concern, and he puts a little more distance between himself and Hua Cheng, snapping the shuddering line of spit that had connected them. Hua Cheng feels his half of it swing back to meet his chin, and he can’t help himself from shifting his lips to suck it back in. He swallows as Xie Lian’s eyes glint.

Despite his obvious arousal, Xie Lian’s voice is soft when he asks, “Are you alright?”

“No!” Hua Cheng fusses. “You can’t kiss me like that without fucking me, gege! It’s not fair!”

Xie Lian curls in on himself with a laugh, his shoulders shaking as he pitches forward and buries his face in Hua Cheng’s neck. “How unfortunate for you, then,” he says dryly. 

Suddenly, Xie Lian latches onto the sensitive skin of his throat and sucks. Hua Cheng gasps, tilting his head to the side to allow better access. “Gege,” he sighs, feeling hot all over. “Gege, gege, please let me suck you off before we start.”

A puff of air cools the slick patch of skin on his neck as Xie Lian pulls back, laughing. “Hmm.” He pauses as if to consider it, then levels Hua Cheng with a flat look and says, “No.”

“You want it,” Hua Cheng purrs, a little desperate. He rocks his hips up slowly once, then lets them rest again. 

“I do,” Xie Lian says easily. He reaches forward to brush Hua Cheng’s hair back from his face, then leans in close, his gaze molten gold as their eyes meet. “But I practiced eight hundred years of abstinence, and I’m more than capable of going without.”

Hua Cheng breathes out shakily. His thoughts feel a little fuzzy just from this.

“You’re only trying to delay the inevitable, San Lang,” Xie Lian tells him, his voice low and smooth. “I know what this is. You’re trying to stall so you don’t have to make a clone.”

“I promise he won’t care if we stall,” Hua Cheng says, breathless. When his eye begins to water, he honestly can’t tell whether he's acting or being genuine anymore. “Please?”

“That won’t work on me,” Xie Lian says. He kisses Hua Cheng’s cheek, a stark contrast to his words. “I know you’re faking. You’re not getting out of this.” He reaches around Hua Cheng with one hand and hooks one finger into the cord binding his wrists. “Not getting out of these.” 

Hua Cheng gasps at the feeling of his nail scraping the inside of his wrist. He whines, helpless, and Xie Lian’s eyes soften for a moment. Gently, he says, “But there’s a difference between playing like this and actually meaning it. If you need to stop, tell me.”

“I’m okay,” Hua Cheng croaks, his voice strained. If he feels Xie Lian’s bare skin touch his again, he might come in his pants.

He doesn’t come when Xie Lian’s hand brushes against his cheek, but it’s a near thing. Xie Lian cups the side of his face gently, his gaze searching. “Even if you’re just uncomfortable but don’t want things to stop entirely, you have to tell me. In the array or with a butterfly. Okay?”

“En.”

“Good boy,” Xie Lian coos, kissing the tip of his nose. Hua Cheng is dazed by it, eye unfocusing as Xie Lian smiles at him. “Now. Can you make a clone for me, San Lang?”

Hua Cheng hums, clearly displeased, but closes his eye and does as told. He doesn’t like to look at them when they first form — doesn’t like looking at them at all, really, but especially not now. 

Here’s the thing: Hua Cheng tolerates the clones a smidge less than he tolerates himself. He can coexist with them — he can even refrain from insulting or attacking them when Xie Lian is around — but that doesn’t mean he has to like the sight of his clone. Especially not when said clone is about to fuck his husband in front of him.

“Oh, San Lang,” he hears Xie Lian breathe as he shifts atop Hua Cheng’s lap. “He looks just like you.”

“Of course I do, gege,” comes his own voice from a mouth that is not his own. 

Hua Cheng’s eye snaps open. His clone meets his gaze coolly, taking Hua Cheng’s murderous glare in stride. He’s standing near the foot of the bed, a perfect copy of Hua Cheng himself, and he smirks down at Hua Cheng as if seeing himself bound and kneeling is the funniest thing in the world. 

Hua Cheng can’t help but snarl. How dare he. How dare he call Xie Lian by his most intimate name when he’s just a shitty imitation of Hua Cheng. The only reason he doesn’t break free of the rope around his wrists and lunge at the clone is the grounding weight of Xie Lian in his lap. 

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says sternly, clearly meant for Hua Cheng himself, but the clone grins.

“Yes, gege?”

Hua Cheng closes his eye and takes a very deep breath. He will not attack this one. He will not attack this one, not in front of Xie Lian, not when the violence could touch their marital bed. His jaw is tight when he opens his eye again, loosening only when he meets Xie Lian’s concerned gaze.

“You’re alright?”

Hua Cheng nods mutely. He doesn’t want anything he says to be used against him by himself, of all fucking people. In this moment, he realizes he should become less of an asshole — there’s no doubt in his mind that the clone will find humor in antagonizing him, just as Hua Cheng himself finds humor in antagonizing others.

“And you’ll tell me if you want to slow down or stop?”

Again, Hua Cheng nods.

“Verbal answers, please,” Xie Lian asks, thumbing against his temples soothingly. 

“I will, gege.”

The clone is still watching, but he wouldn’t dare mock a response Xie Lian specifically requested. In this, at least, Hua Cheng is safe to answer.

“Good,” Xie Lian murmurs, leaning forward to kiss him again. When he draws back, he’s undoing the sash of his robes, but that’s all he does; his robes hang open while he curls the sash around a few of his fingers idly. “Any questions before we start? Anything you want to say?”

“Mm, one. Gege, how will you distinguish us when you’re talking to one of us?” Hua Cheng asks.

“He can call me San Lang and call you Hua Cheng,” offers the clone.

Hua Cheng whips his head around to see the clone still standing in the same spot, wearing the same condescending smirk. His stomach roils with bitterness. “I didn’t fucking ask you,” he growls, heat flashing through him with the intensity of his anger.

“Easy,” Xie Lian commands, his voice so harsh that Hua Cheng blinks, startled.

Ah. Of course Xie Lian wouldn’t take kindly to this sort of behavior. The clone is, after all, still a part of Hua Cheng. Even if he’s an asshole.

“But no, I’m not going to call you two different names. You’re both my San Lang, aren’t you?” Xie Lian asks, still winding the sash around his fingers and unfurling it to stretch it out. Wind, unfurl, wind, unfurl, repeat. Hua Cheng is mesmerized. 

“Then—?”

Xie Lian smiles down at him. “Oh, it’s really not an issue.” Suddenly, he digs his nails into the center of the stretched-out sash and tears it in half. Hua Cheng watches with a wide eye as Xie Lian drops one piece of it and balls up the other in his hands. “You won’t be responding to anything I say tonight.”

“Gege?!”

Suddenly there are fingers in his mouth, and Hua Cheng’s gut instinct is to close his lips around them and suck, groaning. Xie Lian laughs, forcing his mouth back open before he tucks the fabric inside. “There. Bite down for me.”

Flushing, Hua Cheng obeys. His teeth sink into the fabric; it’s just plump enough to fill his whole mouth, silk-smooth against his tongue. A small piece of it even protrudes from his lips. He begins to open his mouth to tug it in fully, but Xie Lian pinches the little white tuft of fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “Keep it there,” he says firmly. “I want it there.”

Hua Cheng moans weakly around the gag and resigns himself to his fate.

He won’t deny the fact that he’d be happy to have any part of Xie Lian’s clothing in his mouth — or any part of Xie Lian, really — but the purpose it serves tonight is humiliating. He can feel it begin to soak through in his mouth, and the sensation only keys him up further.

“Now,” Xie Lian says, his hand falling away from Hua Cheng’s face. He stands, bracing his elbows against the bed for balance. His evening robes are still loose without their sash, and Hua Cheng can’t stop staring at the sliver of skin that peeks out from the fabric meant to cover Xie Lian’s sternum.

But Xie Lian pays him no mind. His hand brushes the back of Hua Cheng’s neck as he steps around him and walks towards the edge of the bed, straight into the clone’s arms. Hua Cheng tries to protest and chokes around the fabric in his mouth. The clone snorts, but doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Be nice to him,” Xie Lian says softly, leaning a little closer.

“He isn’t nice to me,” the clone says. “How is that fair, gege?”

Again with the ‘gege.’ Hua Cheng wants so badly to dissipate him right here and now, but he becomes transfixed by the new view of Xie Lian leaning up to balance himself against the clone in exchange for a little more height. “It doesn’t have to be fair,” he says, trailing a hand down the front of the clone’s robes. “But I’m asking you to. Please?”

Hua Cheng doesn’t have to think hard to envision the look on Xie Lian’s face — it isn’t the right tone of voice for genuine begging, but it sounds exactly like the tone he uses when he’s after something with those wide, alluring eyes. It’s the voice he uses when he knows he has Hua Cheng wrapped around his finger, when he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

Hua Cheng stifles a laugh into the cloth. It’s strange to see Xie Lian in action from a spectator’s view, but nothing could ever outweigh how wholly bewitched he is by his husband. It’s downright hysterical how quickly the clone’s expression shifts to pure want.

“Of course, gege,” the clone says, glancing at the edge of the bed. This time, when he meets Hua Cheng’s eye, he does nothing. 

“Good,” Xie Lian all but purrs, leaning up to kiss his jaw. “Thank you. Now, if you’d please—?”

The clone grins, head tilting to slot his mouth against Xie Lian’s and pull him close. When Hua Cheng works past his initial urge to scream, he finds that it’s… not the worst thing, watching an exact replica of himself kissing his husband. From this angle, he can see the reactions Xie Lian has all over his body; he gets a full view of the shiver that runs down his spine in time with the clone’s hand and the slight, excited tremble of his raised feet as he kisses back earnestly.

Xie Lian must be fairly worked up, because he wastes no time in falling onto the bed and tugging at the clone’s robes to beckon him in. Hua Cheng takes a deep breath around the gag, promises he will not ruin whatever comes next, and watches dutifully.

This new angle is better. Like this, Hua Cheng watches from the corner of the bed as Xie Lian lies on his back, caged in from above by the clone. Hua Cheng is close enough to see the expressions on Xie Lian’s face, but not nearly close enough to touch him. He keens at the reminder that even if he were close enough, he couldn’t touch his husband — his arms are bound tight behind him.

The noise alerts Xie Lian, who hurriedly turns his head to the side to meet Hua Cheng’s gaze. Whatever he finds there must be distressing, because Xie Lian sighs with pity. “Oh, sweet boy,” he murmurs, hand stretching out in an attempt to reach the edge of the bed. He falls short, but the new craned angle of his neck is inviting enough for the clone to eagerly latch onto it, mouthing and sucking everywhere Xie Lian is most sensitive. “San La— ah, easy, oh—”

“But gege,” the clone says against his throat, “aren’t we supposed to put on a show for him?”

Xie Lian looks away from Hua Cheng, refocusing on the clone. It stings a little more than it probably should. “Ah,” Xie Lian sighs, more out of exasperation than pleasure as he gently pushes the clone back. “I suppose we are. You take the lead, then.”

The clone’s grin is wolfish. “Gladly.”

Then he’s diving back down to kiss Xie Lian roughly, the two gasping and groaning into each other’s mouths as the clone begins to undress Xie Lian. Hua Cheng can only sit and watch as reverent fingers trace down Xie Lian’s sternum, his sides, his hips. He feels some strange combination of jealousy and mind-numbing lust, his cock so hard in his pants that even breathing seems to agitate it.

The clone waves a hand and dissipates his own robes, leaving himself completely bare. Xie Lian’s robe is splayed open across the crimson bedsheets, and atop it rests Hua Cheng’s husband, his beautiful husband, flushed and soft and sweet and so far out of his reach. Hua Cheng buries his face in the bed for a moment, completely overwhelmed as he listens to a soft whimper chased by the lewd, unmistakable sound of his husband being stretched open.

“Are you alright?” the clone asks, and Xie Lian only moans in response, the sound trilling with his affirmation. “Good, gege. Another?”

“Please,” Xie Lian breathes, his voice ragged, and Hua Cheng collects himself enough to lift his head and watch as Xie Lian is given another finger. He can only see half of Xie Lian’s flushed face, but it’s one Hua Cheng knows well: his eyes fluttering, his brows lax, his pink petal lips stretched open in a quavering moan. The sound pitches louder as he suddenly spasms with his entire body — good, the clone found his prostate. 

“San Lang,” Xie Lian gasps, eyes snapping open as his body begins to react to his most sensitive spot being abused, jerking in every direction. One moment, he’s rutting his hips down for more, and the next, he’s arching off the bed like he’s trying to escape the clone. “Ah! San Lang, more, please—”

“So good,” the clone murmurs, pressing Xie Lian back down against the bed and bruising kisses against the column of his throat. “You sound so pretty for me, gege. Are you sure you can take another?”

“I can take it!” Xie Lian cries, face crumpling into utter desperation. “Please, pl—please, San Lang, I need—oh, oh, yes…”

A sudden squelching sound echoes through the room—a third finger, most likely. Hua Cheng’s pants are so tight he thinks they might rip. He oscillates between being exorbitantly turned on and jealous to tears. 

He wants many things: to break free of the rope binding him, to spit out the gag, to kiss and fuck Xie Lian stupid. The latter should be his priority, but Hua Cheng knows Xie Lian is being thoroughly taken care of right now. Instead, the thing he wants most is to rut against the corner of the bed like an insatiable mutt, even if all it does is soften the sharp edges of the pain throbbing between his legs.

Hua Cheng watches, aching and mesmerized, for a good few minutes. His eye tracks the rise and fall of Xie Lian’s spine against the bed as he writhes with pleasure, the subtle up-and-down jerks of his shoulders as the clone stretches him hard and fast, the way his voice fails him mid-sentence as he begs for more.

Finally, the clone seems to decide he’s ready. With practiced precision, he slips his fingers out of Xie Lian, drizzling more oil onto them to slick up his cock and press it inside with a low groan as Xie Lian encourages him. 

“More,” Xie Lian gasps, throwing his head back and tilting it over to meet Hua Cheng’s eye. As the clone’s hips finally press flush against the backs of his thighs, Xie Lian mewls, one hand stretching out towards the edge of the bed. “San Lang…”

Hua Cheng knows without a doubt that Xie Lian is speaking to him, not the clone. He wants desperately to answer, to reach out and close the distance between their palms, but his wrists and tongue remain bound and useless. He whines, jutting out his chin to rest it against the bed as he stares at Xie Lian with a pleading look. Hua Cheng doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Anything, really.

The clone begins to move.

At first, it’s in short, slow thrusts forward, fast enough to coax pleased noises out of Xie Lian but still gentle enough to stretch him without hurting him. He’s speaking to Xie Lian in low, hushed tones, but Hua Cheng can’t focus on anything but the way Xie Lian’s expression twists with pleasure each time the clone moves.

“More,” Xie Lian breathes, his voice shaky. “Just— please, San Lang, a little more?”

Hua Cheng glances up and finds the clone’s gaze settled coldly on his own. He looks back to Xie Lian, then to the clone. There is, at the very least, one thing they can both agree on: he needs it rough today. No words need to be exchanged between them, just a curt nod from each as the clone braces his hands on either side of Xie Lian and begins to fuck into him hard and fast.

Xie Lian wails, eyes going wide as his hands fly up to his face just to cover the obscene stretch of his mouth as it shapes his moans. His voice is muffled by his hands when he cries, “San Lang!” 

“Yes, dianxia?” the clone asks, feigning innocence even as his thrusts jostle the entire bed. The mattress shudders beneath them and against Hua Cheng’s throat. His hips aren’t close enough to the bed to get any friction from the bed, but oh, he wants it.

“Too mu— oh, too much, San Lang, it’s too much!”

“You know what to say if you want me to stop,” the clone purrs, leaning down to nip once at his collarbone and pull a sharp whimper from him. “Is that what you want?”

Xie Lian makes a low, miserable noise that lingers in his closed mouth. It pitches up into a keen as the clone changes the angle of his thrusts, but Xie Lian doesn’t answer.

“Ah, so it is,” the clone says, his voice dripping with overexaggerated disappointment. “My apologies, gege, we can stop here.” 

He pulls out.

Xie Lian’s eyes turn glassy, his expression shattering as he surges up to pull the retreating clone back down. “No!” he sobs out loud, his voice desperate and cracked open. “Please, no, I need— I want—”

The clone laughs. “You’re sure?”

“I am!” Xie Lian cries. 

“Are you?”

Xie Lian whines. “Please, San Lang, I need you,” he says, the words broken up by not-quite sobs. 

Hua Cheng aches, the pain pulling a cry from him that is only partially muffled by the gag. It’s enough for Xie Lian to notice though, as he turns his head as quickly as he can in his daze, searching Hua Cheng’s eye for something. “San Lang?” he asks, voice breathy. “Are you alright?”

Eye squeezed shut, Hua Cheng nods, chin dipping into the mattress as he does.

“What’s wrong?” Xie Lian asks, clearly unwilling to leave this be. 

Hurts, Hua Cheng says weakly into the array.

Xie Lian’s brows furrow, then soften again as the clone abruptly pushes back inside, filling him to the base with one smooth thrust. He moans jaggedly and fights down the rest of his noises as he looks intently at Hua Cheng. “What hurts?” 

It hurts, gege, I need— I need to touch myself, please untie me so I can— fuck, gege, it hurts so—

“Oh,” Xie Lian breathes, eyes falling shut with what must be relief. “No, I’m not going to un— ah! Not going to… untie you…”

Hua Cheng makes a distressed noise around the sash in his mouth, now soaked and ragged from how hard he’s bitten down on it.

“But you have a perfectly good bed in front of you, so why don’t— oh, San Lang— why don’t you use that?”

Hua Cheng wastes no time. Thank you, he chants into the array, hips driving forward to grind his clothed, aching cock against the mattress. It’s painful and blissful, too much and not enough. Thank you, gege—oh, fuck, thank you!

Xie Lian huffs a laugh as he meets Hua Cheng’s eye and finds him hard at work. Half his face is buried in the mattress to further muffle the desperate little noises pried out by each thrust against the mattress. The other half can’t stand to look away from the vision in front of him, of his husband being fucked within an inch of his life while Hua Cheng can do nothing but watch and pleasure himself.

Hua Cheng shivers when Xie Lian moans again, loud and sweet as the clone drills into him. The air is thick and warm with the scent of sex. It carries the echo of skin against skin, of slickness and desperation. It’s intoxicating, and it drives Hua Cheng so close to the edge that he has to abandon his frenzied rutting and settle into shallow, placating thrusts against the bed.

“You’re so tight,” the clone murmurs. “Fuck, are you close, gege?”

Xie Lian nods frantically. “Please,” he gasps. “Please, I want to—”

“You want to come?”

“Yes!”

“Hm. Alright.” 

Suddenly Hua Cheng sits up straight, eye wide and alert as he registers the sharp cry of distress that comes from Xie Lian. The clone is no longer inside him, but still hovers over him, pressing gentle kisses to his hairline. “We’re not done,” the clone soothes. “It’s alright, gege, I just want to move us to make this a bit better for you, okay?”

A sniffle, followed by a soft noise of affirmation. Hua Cheng wants to be angry at the rough treatment, but he knows just as well as the clone does that Xie Lian loves to have his orgasms ruined before he can properly come. It makes him delirious and desperate for more, and he loves letting go and allowing Hua Cheng to decide everything for him — their position, their pace, and when they come.

“I’m going to move you now,” the clone says gently, shifting to slip his hands beneath Xie Lian’s back and knees. He lifts him slowly, smiling at the way Xie Lian instinctively nuzzles against his chest, before walking on his knees towards the foot of the bed and depositing him there carefully. 

Xie Lian doesn’t seem to realize how close he is now to Hua Cheng. The clone meets his gaze, eye narrowing before he leans down to kiss Xie Lian’s forehead. “I’m going to get a few pillows for you, alright? Your San Lang will keep you company.”

“You’re both my San Lang,” Xie Lian protests, his voice soft and sleepy. He’s slow to process the clone’s words, making an indignant noise in his throat when the clone moves away before he suddenly remembers the other half of the sentence.

With sparkling eyes, Xie Lian flips himself over onto his belly and gasps, face lighting up with a smile when he realizes how close he is to Hua Cheng. “Hi,” he breathes, reaching out to cup Hua Cheng’s face. Hua Cheng hums his nonverbal greeting and tries to lean into the warmth of his hand, but the clone returns sooner than anticipated.

“Oh, gege, you’re exactly where I want you,” praises the clone. He deposits two pillows beside him and strokes a hand down Xie Lian’s naked back. “Raise up so I can put these under you, please.”

Though he’s reluctant to take his hand away from Hua Cheng, Xie Lian complies, lifting himself onto his knees so that the clone can slide the pillows beneath his hips. He goes easily when the clone guides him back down, his back now curving down in a slope against the bed. Like this, he can hold Hua Cheng’s smoldering gaze, and it seems to only make him blush harder as the clone positions himself.

“San La— ah, San—” Xie Lian’s voice hitches with a whine with each word he tries to force out, trying desperately to push his hips back against the clone. Finally, he manages to groan, “In me!”

The clone wastes no time. Again, he slides into Xie Lian in one forceful thrust, and Xie Lian’s eyes blow wide, pupils eclipsing the sunset gold of his irises as his jaw drops and hangs there. His mouth tries to move in the shape of the words he wants to say, but his lips tremble too badly for Hua Cheng to decipher anything.

“I’m going to move now, gege,” the clone says slowly, and then he truly lets go.

The noise that rips itself out of Xie Lian isn’t a wail. It isn’t even a moan. It’s closer to a shout, one that grows louder as the clone begins to fuck into him mercilessly, the pillows giving him both a better angle and more leverage. Hua Cheng can’t help but begin to rut harder against the bed, staying in time with the clone’s rhythm and stuttering with each sound Xie Lian makes. 

“Deep,” sobs Xie Lian, fingers clawing into the blankets and tearing them. “San Lang, you're so— so deep, oh—”

“I am,” the clone coos, his voice nothing short of adoration. “Did gege forget how much he loves this position? Has it been that long since this San Lang fucked you?”

“No— ooooh…” 

The clone leans down to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against Xie Lian’s spine. “I think you have,” he rasps. “I think you’ve spoiled your San Lang rotten, and now he’s too greedy to fuck you anymore.”

Xie Lian whines. He needs to know it isn't true, he must, so Hua Cheng hums loudly around the cloth in his mouth, a wavering protest of “hm-mm!” that has Xie Lian pressing a smile into the blankets. 

“Gege,” the clone says, voice so low and reverent it could be a whisper. “Oh, gege, dianxia, you’re so beautiful like this. Are you getting close again? Do you think you can come just from being filled up like this?”

Tears spill down Xie Lian’s cheeks with the force of his desperate nods. His mouth is dark and swollen from biting it to hold in his noises, and his eyes are half-lidded and unfocused as they stare at Hua Cheng. Every muscle in his face contorts with pleasure, and every part of Xie Lian — his mussed hair, his fingers clawing against the sheets, the bead of drool that rests against his bottom lip and threatens to spill over at any moment — only points towards his impending orgasm. 

Beautiful, Hua Cheng thinks. Desperate, debauched, and beautiful.

The thought must accidentally slip through the array, because Xie Lian’s eyes regain a little more of their focus as his hands slide forward and grip the edge of the bed. He pulls as if he’s trying to crawl forward to meet Hua Cheng. “San Lang,” he breathes, reaching for Hua Cheng. It’s an awkward stretch, but they’re close enough that they could kiss if not for the cloth gagging Hua Cheng.

The clone doesn’t stop driving into him, not even when Xie Lian cranes forward to cradle Hua Cheng’s face in his hands. If anything, it only spurs the clone on into fucking him impossibly harder. Hua Cheng can feel the tremors that run through Xie Lian’s hands with each deliberate nudge at his prostate, can feel Xie Lian’s hot, stuttering breath fan across his gagged mouth. If Xie Lian is close, Hua Cheng will be soon to follow. Maybe a little too soon.

“San Lang,” Xie Lian whimpers, the warm press of his hands tightening against Hua Cheng’s cheeks. His eyes squeeze shut, forcing out more tears that Hua Cheng wants so desperately to clean away. He’d use his mouth if he could just get a little closer. “Oh, San Lang, I’m so— I need— say something!”

“You heard him,” croons the clone with a low grunt. “Say something.”

Hua Cheng keens, wanting nothing more than to spit out the sash in his mouth. He grinds harder against the bed, pulling more soft noises from him that grow louder the longer he sustains himself. Soon he’s groaning around the gag, the sound lewd as he desperately chases his own pleasure. 

His eye does not stray from Xie Lian’s gaze, and he smiles when his husband’s eyes finally snap open again, pupils dilating as he sucks in a reedy breath and whines. “Close,” he mewls, his voice small and desperate. “Close, I— I’m close, San Lang, please, I’m so—!”

“Then come, dianxia,” murmurs the clone, the rhythm of his thrusts still unrelenting. “Come, and then I’ll fill you up like you want.”

Xie Lian’s entire body hunches in on itself, but it has nowhere to go. He sobs, pressing half his face down into the bed as he shakes with the force of his orgasm. “San Lang!” he wails in a litany. It is the only name he knows how to speak, the only two words he can remember.

He’s still weeping when he starts to come down, his body trembling with aftershocks. He lets out a long, low moan when the clone curses and delivers a few final thrusts before groaning and emptying himself exactly where Xie Lian wants. He shivers with it, and his eyes go half-lidded with the same sated, sleepy look he gets every time he’s plugged up with come.

Hua Cheng might lose himself just from this. The steady grind of his hips against the mattress certainly isn’t helping him keep it under control. His cock has leaked enough to make a mess of the inside of his trousers, but the slide is so perfect that he can’t bring himself to care. He’s so close, so close from watching his husband shake apart, and he can’t hold on any longer when the man in question dazedly cups Hua Cheng’s face again and cranes his neck forward.

“San Lang,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse and reminiscent of a moan. He presses the gentlest of kisses against Hua Cheng’s forehead, lips lingering there to let warmth spark through every fiber of Hua Cheng’s being, and Hua Cheng wails, driving his hips so hard into the bed that it shakes and creaks as his vision whites out.

Hua Cheng is a little hazy when he begins to recover. Xie Lian’s warm hands are still cradling him like he’s something precious, though his ass isn’t in the air anymore — the pillows are gone, and the clone works behind him, no doubt gently cleaning between Xie Lian’s legs with a damp cloth.

“Mn, there you are,” Xie Lian whispers, kissing his forehead again. “So good, San Lang. You did so well. Come here?”

Hua Cheng tries, but it’s difficult to rise from his knees when his hands are bound behind his back. He makes a soft noise of protest, and Xie Lian’s eyes widen before he lets out a little laugh. “Right, sorry,” he says, his bashful smile so radiant it brings heat to Hua Cheng’s face. 

Xie Lian moves a little further forward, checking behind him to ensure the clone has finished working. When he receives a nod of confirmation, Xie Lian smiles, crawling off the bed. His legs wobble a little, but he stays upright as he bends over to pick Hua Cheng up and deposit him on the blankets. “Much better,” Xie Lian grins, settling on top of Hua Cheng’s lap. 

It shouldn’t arouse him this much, considering he just came, but Xie Lian has always had this effect on him. 

“Are you alright?” Xie Lian asks, brushing his cheek with one hand while the other trails down his chest. Hua Cheng nods weakly, earning him an even wider smile. The hand holding his face slides down so that it cradles Hua Cheng’s jaw, thumbing against the white tuft of fabric that protrudes from his dry lips. “I’m going to take this out now.”

Hua Cheng hums enthusiastically, but instead of simply tugging the sash out with his thumb and forefinger, Xie Lian leans in and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then another, slightly higher. Another kiss, a little to the right of the last one. Hua Cheng’s eye widens and then softens as he realizes his husband is pressing soft kisses to the entire perimeter of his lips. 

While Xie Lian is distracted, Hua Cheng wiggles his numb fingers and dissipates the silent clone behind him. Good riddance.

Just when Xie Lian has finished tracing the outline of Hua Cheng’s mouth with his own, he draws back. Now, Hua Cheng expects, he’ll tug the end of the sash out with his fingers, right?

Instead, Xie Lian leans in and kisses Hua Cheng, mouth parting a little as he crowds further in. He takes the fabric between his teeth and draws back, tugging it with him as he goes. Hua Cheng whimpers, relaxing his jaw enough for the rest of the fabric to be pulled out by Xie Lian’s mouth. He feels it loosen against his tongue, unspooling and gliding wetly past his spit-slick lips until his mouth feels far too empty.

Xie Lian waits in front of him, the tail end of the strip of fabric dangling between his teeth. He’s simpering, eyes sparkling, and Hua Cheng’s mouth goes dry. “Gege,” he rasps, but has no other words. If he isn’t hard again, he’s at least halfway there by now.

Xie Lian parts his teeth just enough for the fabric to fall between their laps, and then he’s diving in, mouth bruising a kiss into Hua Cheng’s waiting lips. They both moan, their movements frenzied after being apart for so long. “Gege,” Hua Cheng tries to murmur against his lips, but Xie Lian swallows the noise, pressing closer, kissing harder. He’s relentless, licking into Hua Cheng’s mouth and sucking like he’s drawing out air.

The kiss is insistent, demanding. Hua Cheng feels drunk off it, his head dizzy as his mouth slides hungrily against Xie Lian’s. When he rolls Xie Lian’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucks, it draws a soft, pleased sigh out of Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng nearly ascends again. His cock twitches stubbornly in his pants.

Hua Cheng almost wishes Xie Lian had been drawing out air, because every nerve in his body protests loudly when Xie Lian pulls away to take an actual breath. Still, though, it gives him a chance to speak. “Gege,” he says, his voice faint and his head fuzzy. “Gege, please untie me.”

Xie Lian gasps, immediately reaching around him to begin to undo the knot blindly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he works. “Does it hurt? Did I tie it too tight?”

Hua Cheng shakes his head, panting shallowly. “No, I just— I need to touch you, gege, please.”

At this, Xie Lian laughs, lighting up as he finally pulls the knot loose and guides Hua Cheng’s arms back in front of him. He massages the feeling back into his wrists and forearms, pins and needles evaporating wherever he touches.

“Needy,” Xie Lian teases lightly when he releases Hua Cheng’s wrists. Immediately, Hua Cheng wraps his arms around him, holding him close and letting a hand slide up and down his back to stroke the skin there. Xie Lian relaxes in his embrace. “I missed you, too.”

Hua Cheng hums against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. His skin is sticky and salty with sweat, and Hua Cheng can’t help but press a reverent kiss to it. “Let me bathe you.”

Xie Lian chuckles. “You really did get jealous of him, didn’t you?”

“I want every trace of him off you, gege,” Hua Cheng pouts. “He’s not your real husband, he’s just a cheap fake.”

He yelps when Xie Lian pinches his hip, drawing back with a frown. “Don’t say things like that when he can still hear…” Xie Lian trails off, looking around the room before letting his jaw drop. “San Lang! You didn’t even let me say goodbye to him!”

Hua Cheng kisses him again, just because he can. It softens the pout on Xie Lian’s face. “Fine,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of Xie Lian’s mouth, then his nose. “Next time, I’ll let him stay a little longer so you can say goodbye.”

Xie Lian pauses, eyes wide and mouth pursed like Hua Cheng has just said something groundbreaking. “‘Next time?’” he asks, a slow, unsure smile creeping across his face. “You liked it? You want to do it again?”

Hua Cheng flushes. It’s enough of an answer for Xie Lian to squeal in delight and dive back down to kiss him again and again and again.