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Healing took time.
Zhou Zishu knew this – Wu Xi and Ye Baiyi had both driven that into his head over and over and over, until he wanted to scream. Until their words echoed through his dreams and drove him, panting, into wakefulness once more.
He knew it took time. He knew he’d agreed to this. He knew this was the best possible outcome.
But, sometimes, all that was terrifyingly hard to remember.
He forced himself to take another step up the trail. The wooden snowshoes Chengling had built dragged at his feet, far heavier than a few slats of wood crisscrossed with leather straps should have been. His thighs burned as though he’d sprinted up and down the mountain a dozen times, while his breath seared his throat and lungs. His heart pounded like a frightened rabbit’s, too fast and too hard for his ponderous pace.
Today, he’d made it halfway down the snow-covered hill. Farther than he’d done last week – exactly one switchback more.
It didn’t feel like enough progress. The trail was hard-packed snow, the kind that made for treacherous footing, but it was far easier than wading through drifts, snowshoes or no snowshoes. The disciples ran it each day to build their endurance; the senior disciples ran it twice.
For them, it took an hour. Zhou Zishu had been on the trail for three, and still wasn’t back at the top.
Gritting his teeth, he took another step. The snowshoe skidded on ice, sending him pinwheeling forward like he was a gangly boy again, unable to control his own limbs.
Wen Kexing, of course, caught him. Wen Kexing would always catch him.
Zhou Zishu jerked away from that too-gentle grip. “I’m fine,” he snarled preemptively.
Wen Kexing held up his hands. “I know.” But his gaze was full of worry, full of a softness that grated against Zhou Zishu’s skin.
Hells, he hated this. Hated the way he kept reaching instinctively for qi to propel him forward, only to run into those damned glass walls locking away his meridians. It’d been over six months – he ought to be accustomed to the lack by now.
But he wasn’t, and he didn’t know if he ever would be.
He was grateful to be alive – of course he was! Every time he kissed his Lao Wen or watched Chengling master another move, it was easy to remember why he’d chosen this. But, on days like today, when the sky was a blustery grey and the cold ate into his bones and every step was agony… he tried to be happy. Tried to be grateful. Yet, sometimes, it felt like the gratitude was enough to choke him.
He took another step, careful to place the snowshoe on the flattest part of the trail. Careful to set his weight down slowly, so he could control it if he slipped. So very careful, just like everyone was careful around him…
You aren’t weak, Wen Kexing kept telling him. But they both knew it was a lie. He kept expecting to see disgust in the eyes of his disciples – he was shocked it hadn’t happened yet, if he was honest with himself. He kept searching for it, waiting for Han Ying or Chengling or, heaven forbid, Wen Kexing to look at him like he was a burden.
Somehow, they kept looking at him like he was still the man he’d once been. And, at moments like these, that burned as much as the scorn would have.
Another step. Another pause to pant, cursing his trembling legs. The air stung what little skin he had exposed – he was wearing every outer layer he had, warm fur lining his robes and gloves, with a thick scarf wrapped around his face. Only his nose and a bit of cheekbone was visible to the elements, but that was enough to make him shiver.
He was always cold, these days. But it wasn’t as bad as it had been when he’d had the nails, and he clung to that as he huddled beneath his layers.
Besides, the exertion was helping to warm him – wasn’t that something?
“A-Xu.” A hand caught his sleeve.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d spun. His hand clamped down on Wen Kexing’s wrist as he yanked it away from his sleeve. Knowing it was petty, knowing it was cruel, he squeezed with all the strength he could find.
Bones ground together beneath his fingers. Wen Kexing’s eyes went very wide, then very dark. “A-Xu,” he repeated, a new tone in his voice.
Zhou Zishu squeezed harder. Something jagged and raw roared to the surface as he snarled, “I do not need coddling.” Every word fell from his lips like shards of glass, tearing open his throat.
Wen Kexing sucked in a breath. Furious with himself, Zhou Zishu dropped the wrist he held like it had suddenly burst into flame. Turning away, he forced himself to take one breath, then another. “It’s a bad day,” he offered, as close as he could come to an apology with the curdled fury still surging through his veins.
He was so very, very sick of trying to pretend he didn’t feel helpless. But he was even more sickened by the way he took out that frustration on his soulmate. It was childish, and selfish, and stupid, and he knew it, yet he kept lashing out. Honey-thick gratitude and sour frustration and something thin and cold that he didn’t want to name all blurred together into a meld that turned his stomach.
He took another breath, just as Wen Kexing started, “I can help…”
All pretense at calm fled. Zhou Zishu spun back around, pushing his soulmate against the nearest tree by both shoulders. “I don’t need help.”
A strange light burned in Wen Kexing’s eyes. “You never have,” he murmured, lips quirking to the side. His gaze darted to Zhou Zishu’s mouth, then back to his eyes. “Even when you might benefit from it.”
Zhou Zishu crowded closer. He wanted to rake his nails over that smirk, and he hated himself for it. “I am not weak.”
“Ah, A-Xu, have I ever said you are?”
Zhou Zishu caught his hand when it went to touch his cheek. “The way you look at me when you think I’m not watching? All those little worried glances? I’m not some precious little ornament that’s going to shatter if you take your eyes off me.”
Wen Kexing flinched. It was a tiny thing, invisible if Zhou Zishu hadn’t been as close as he was. “That’s,” he started.
“No.” Zhou Zishu dug his nails into the tendons on the inside of Wen Kexing’s wrist. “Stop treating me like an invalid.”
He took an icy pleasure in the way Wen Kexing twisted against the grip. If he’d wanted to break free, he could have – Zhou Zishu held no illusions on that score. But it would hurt.
Part of Zhou Zishu wanted him to try. Wanted to hear the hiss of pained breath and see the way Wen Kexing’s jaw would tighten.
He shouldn’t want to hurt his soulmate. The rational parts of his mind, the parts not howling against his helplessness, knew that. But there was an ugly pit of need growing in his stomach, and it was begging for blood.
Wen Kexing’s gaze dipped to his lips once more. “Am I not allowed to worry?”
It sounded like a taunt. “I don’t need your worry.” I don’t need your pity.
But it wasn’t pity in his soulmate’s night-dark gaze. It was a swirl of things, most of which Zhou Zishu couldn’t read, but pity wasn’t one of them.
Then the corners of Wen Kexing’s mouth curled up, bright and challenging. “I thought we’d talked about this, my lovely, stubborn A-Xu. You don’t want me to worry? Then make me stop. Make me…”
Zhou Zishu crashed their mouths together, stealing whatever else he was going to say.
It wasn’t a kiss. Kiss implied gentleness, or at least lust. This was all teeth and tongue and blood, a punishment for a transgression Zhou Zishu couldn’t name. Maybe, simply, a punishment for caring.
He sank his teeth into Wen Kexing’s lower lip, tasting copper. Wen Kexing shuddered and whined into his mouth, struggling once more to free his arm, but Zhou Zishu leaned his full weight against the wrist he held pinned and continued to devour Wen Kexing’s mouth as though he could swallow down all the horribly soft words and worries. As though this one kiss, a kiss that wasn’t a kiss, could erase months of sapping weakness.
They hadn’t been celibate, in those months. But they hadn’t played rough, either. Gentle lovemaking, tender kisses and touches and orgasms that swelled and ebbed without ever fully peaking… nothing like this.
Zhou Zishu grabbed the front of Wen Kexing’s robes with his free hand, twisting the fabric until his soulmate’s breath hitched from the way the collar dug into his neck. He bit Wen Kexing’s lip again, wanting to hear his soulmate whimper, but Wen Kexing remained stubbornly silent. Only a choked inhale gave any hint that he felt the pain.
Oh, Zhou Zishu thought dizzily. Yes. He wanted more of those little not-sounds, as many as he could wring from his soulmate’s body.
Hungry, he broke away from the kiss so he could slide his hand up from Wen Kexing’s chest to his neck. He clamped down hard on already-abused skin, right over the red marks where fabric had rubbed – blood chokes did not take any qi. “Lao Wen.” He watched like a starving man at a banquet as Wen Kexing’s mouth fell open, little gasps wrenched from his lungs. “Stop worrying.”
Yes, he thought again. The curdled mess inside him shifted, sharpened, leavened by a gratitude that sang like Wen Kexing’s flute – unforced, a bright golden melody that cut away the guilt and the thing he would not call fear no matter how close it came. He’d wanted a reason to remember why he’d chosen this? This was it.
When he loosened his grip, Wen Kexing’s gaze was hazy. “Oh. A-Xu. Brighter than the winter moon, sharper than an icicle, oh…”
If he could talk in such a way, he was far too coherent. Blood humming, Zhou Zishu squeezed once more so he could watch every little flinch and twitch of his soulmate’s reddening face. Wen Kexing sagged against the tree, struggling just enough to abrade his wrist against the bark – or maybe he was just trying to get some friction between his legs.
Deliberately, Zhou Zishu shifted so the front of his soulmate’s robes just barely brushed his own. Wen Kexing whined. “A-Xu. Please.”
That was better. But it wasn’t enough. Zhou Zishu shifted to grip his soulmate’s jaw, hard enough to bruise. “Did you hear me?” he taunted. He wasn’t sure he cared about the answer anymore, but it did make for a lovely tool.
“Yes. Yes. Please!”
Zhou Zishu leaned in so his breath washed over Wen Kexing’s ear. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I heard you!”
Zhou Zishu bit down on the lobe. Wen Kexing cursed under his breath, and Zhou Zishu bit harder. He wanted – needed – more of that. More begging, more whimpers, more everything. More reasons to celebrate life.
But he’d asked his Lao Wen a question. “What did I say?” he hissed, releasing his bite.
Wen Kexing tried once again to grind against Zhou Zishu. His free hand scrabbled for purchase in Zhou Zishu’s robes, trying to haul him closer, but he didn’t have any leverage. Even Zhou Zishu, weakened as he was, had no trouble resisting. “Tell me,” he ordered, quiet but harsh. The voice he used when interrogating prisoners. “What did I say?”
Wen Kexing’s hand dipped to his own groin. Now, that wouldn’t do – Zhou Zishu abandoned his grip on his soulmate’s jaw to grab his wrist. “Really?” he purred. “This desperate already? Have I been neglecting my faithful wife?” A trace of guilt followed on the heels of the words, but he pushed it underneath the golden melody, and it went silent.
“A-Xu!”
Zhou Zishu pulled both wrists up over Wen Kexing’s head. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
Wen Kexing stared at him, eyes half-lidded as his tongue darted over his bloodied lip. “You said. Not to worry.”
“That’s right.” Zhou Zishu gave him a bladed smile. “And what are you going to do?”
Wen Kexing’s eyes flared. “Are you going to stop making me worry?”
Casually, Zhou Zishu dug his thumbs into pressure points at the base of Wen Kexing’s wrists. His soulmate swore and bucked against his grip, and the hungry pit in Zhou Zishu’s stomach yawned wider. More. He wanted to put his soulmate on his knees, turn him into a writhing, begging mess.
He was close to begging already. Transferring both wrists to one hand, Zhou Zishu brushed a teasing touch over Wen Kexing’s groin. “Are you worrying now?”
Wen Kexing’s throat bobbed. “Cruel, cruel A-Xu.” He made an aborted attempt to free himself.
Zhou Zishu shoved his hip back against the tree. “That’s not an answer.” With so many layers of fabric between them, he couldn’t feel Wen Kexing’s heat, but he could see the way his chest heaved. So turned on already – it made the darkness inside Zhou Zishu purr.
“Should I be?” Wen Kexing challenged.
Zhou Zishu tipped his head to the side, considering his soulmate. “Perhaps.” He ran a gentle finger down the line of Wen Kexing’s jaw, picking up traces of spit from their messy kiss earlier. The skin was red, but not bruised. That was a pity.
Wen Kexing opened his mouth to say something – protest or challenge or plea, Zhou Zishu didn’t care. Before a single word could issue forth, he stripped off his glove, then thrust three fingers into his zhiji’s mouth.
Wen Kexing gagged and swore around the fingers, the expletive muffled but recognizable. “Shh,” Zhou Zishu ordered. “Behave.”
He had to close his eyes for a breath when Wen Kexing began to suck. It shouldn’t have been so arousing, but the slick slide of his tongue went straight to Zhou Zishu’s groin. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but it still made shuddery pulses of heat race up and down his spine.
“See, Lao Wen, isn’t that better?” he murmured when he could ensure his voice was steady. “You can’t worry like this.”
In answer, Wen Kexing bit down on his fingers.
Zhou Zishu pulled them out and slapped him. Hard.
Wen Kexing’s head snapped to the side. A punched-out gasp hissed from him, half shock and half pain; when he looked back at Zhou Zishu, his pupils were blown wide. “Oh fuck. Shixiong, please...”
Zhou Zishu soothed the blow’s sting with another light touch between Wen Kexing’s legs. Nothing more than a simple press of his palm, yet it made Wen Kexing whimper. Zhou Zishu laughed coldly. “So needy, Lao Wen.”
“A-Xu, please…”
Zhou Zishu arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“Please. I need…” Wen Kexing didn’t finish the sentence.
“You need?” Zhou Zishu laughed again, careful to keep it icy. It was hard – golden lightning was bubbling up inside him, and he wanted to laugh for real – but it was worth it for the expression on his soulmate’s face. “Do you think you deserve anything?”
Wen Kexing squirmed at that, hips bucking in fruitless circles. “Please. I’ll stop worrying, I swear.”
“No, you won’t.” Zhou Zishu was very confident about that. He glanced around. This far into the forest, no ghost would venture upon them, and all the disciples were busy building the new Siji Pavilion. They were as alone as they ever were.
But he didn’t feel like being nice. A frantic bit of fumbling in the snow, hands on each other’s cocks… no. That would be far too easy.
Oh, but he didn’t need to be kind, did he? His Lao Wen would beg regardless.
Something shifted inside him, like a broken bone settling back into place. If he could make his soulmate beg… ah, perhaps there was strength left in him, after all.
He stooped to gather a handful of snow in his ungloved hand. It began to melt in his palm immediately, making him shiver, but he refused to show it.
Instead, he looked at Wen Kexing with all the arrogance he could muster. “Well? Get it out.”
Wen Kexing shot a wary glance at the snow Zhou Zishu was holding, but scrambled to obey. Zhou Zishu watched, inwardly amused, as his soulmate fumbled to part layers of fabric. Regretting his eagerness, perhaps, given the cold? But still hungry. Still needy.
Still his.
Wen Kexing groaned as he closed a hand around his cock, pulling it free of his trousers. “A-Xu. What are you…”
The snow was fully melted now. Zhou Zishu shook off the droplets, crowded Wen Kexing back against the tree, and took his cock in an icy grip.
Wen Kexing wailed. “A-Xu, A-Xu, oh fuck, don’t…” Pain filled his voice, but his hips bucked into the grip, cock flushed and rock-hard.
Oh. Oh, yes. Wen Kexing’s whimpers set his blood alight; the cock in his hand burned like a brand against his chilled skin. He stroked once, twice, gripping too hard, and Wen Kexing swore and begged and cried. “Please, A-Xu, you can’t… oh gods, don’t stop, please…”
“So desperate,” Zhou Zishu murmured in his ear. “Do you think you deserve to come, Lao Wen?”
“Yes. Yes!”
“Really? Do you?” Zhou Zishu deliberately slowed his pace.
Wen Kexing made a broken sound and buried his face in Zhou Zishu’s neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to coddle you, I swear, I just…” He thrust into Zhou Zishu’s hand, precome leaking down his shaft despite the cold and the pain he had to be feeling.
The hungry, feral shards inside Zhou Zishu, the ones that shrieked in protest whenever his Lao Wen gave him those worried looks, growled. They wanted more – wanted to see their Lao Wen broken. But he was doing well, and that did deserve a reward.
Zhou Zishu sank his teeth into his soulmate’s neck. “If you can come in the next ten strokes, you can come.”
“Oh fuck. Oh, A-Xu, please…” Wen Kexing’s words dissolved into frantic moans as he thrust harder, breath ragged.
“One. Two. Three.” Zhou Zishu didn’t think Wen Kexing could do it, no matter how eager he was. But he wasn’t inclined to be yielding. If Wen Kexing had to walk all the way back to the mountain with a stiff dick, well… that would make release all the sweeter when it finally did come.
“Four. Five. Six.”
And watching him would be a better reason to keep going than any Zhou Zishu had yet found.
“Seven. Eight. Nine.”
“A-Xu, A-Xu, you can’t…” Wen Kexing chased his fist. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead despite the winter chill. His dick was an angry red, hard enough it had to hurt, and Zhou Zishu knew he wasn’t close enough.
“Ten.” He pulled his hand away. “A pity.”
Wen Kexing slumped into him, cock twitching. “Please. A-Xu. I’ll stop worrying, I swear, I’ll do anything you want, just let me come. Let me touch myself, or touch me, or hell, fuck me against the tree, I don’t care, just let me. Anything. I swear. I’ll do anything.”
“Yes, you will,” Zhou Zishu told him. Broken shards ground against each other within his chest, a sharp pain, but one that felt good. Healing. “Once we’re back home.”
“A-Xu!” Wen Kexing looked up at him, outraged.
Zhou Zishu kissed him lightly on the lips. “Yes, Lao Wen?” He felt himself smile, the first real smile in far too long.
Slowly, Wen Kexing smiled back. “Nothing.”
***
It had been easy, there on that snow-covered trail, to feel like the world might be slowly sliding back into place. But sour frustration crept back in as Zhou Zishu made his painful way up the trail. How could it not? Wen Kexing was impatient, too wired to modulate his steps the way he normally did – he kept speeding up, then checking himself with an apologetic glance over his shoulder. Zhou Zishu, meanwhile, plodded onwards, cursing his body.
It was, he had to admit, amusing to see his Lao Wen so keyed up. He tried to focus on that, not the grinding pain in his knees and the ache in his calves – tried to keep his voice light when he told Wen Kexing that every silent apology earned him another minute of teasing before he’d be allowed to come. But he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice entirely. Once, he could have run up this rocky trail, ice and snow be damned, and fought a full squadron of soldiers at the end of it. Now, if he had to fight, he’d get his throat slit in seconds.
They were safe here. He knew they were safe – his own men patrolled the borders, as did the ghosts, while dozens of traps kept away any intruders. And his Lao Wen would never let any harm come to him.
But that wasn’t the point. If he couldn’t do it for himself, protect himself, protect his shidis…
He forced his legs to move faster. If he could hike fast enough, coerce recalcitrant muscles into behaving, maybe he could forget that cold lump of something-that-wasn’t-fear that never, ever left him. If he could seize control over something, no matter how small, even if it was only how much agony he forced his broken body to endure… maybe. Maybe.
It hurt, but he was used to pain. The snowshoes strapped over his boots shifted, creaking with each step as they slid on the slick, packed snow – he’d have to ask Chengling to add some spikes to the base. Winter would hold the mountain trapped for weeks or months more, and he was determined to make it to the base of the damn trail before the snows melted. If he could make it all the way down, he could…
He gritted his teeth. He could what? What was the point?
Oh, he knew he was being petulant. It wasn’t something he was proud of. But the thoughts swirled around his head like the treacherous dark waters of a rapid river, ready to suck down anyone unwary enough to draw near. For one brief, glorious moment, when he’d pinned his Lao Wen to the tree, they’d hushed, but it wasn’t enough.
He reached for the memory of the heat that had surged between them. This is why you chose to live, he reminded himself. For him. For all of this. For his disciples and his soulmate and the future they were building together. One day, he’d make it to the base of the mountain, then beyond. He’d find ways to kill that didn’t need qi, retrain his body to move and run and fight.
And he would hold his soulmate close.
He glanced up to see Wen Kexing waiting at the next switchback. His hands were folded in his sleeves, face a playful mask, but there was a dark desperation in his eyes. The corners of his mouth were a bit too tight, his smile a bit too wide, and the sight made the golden melody sing once more. Zhou Zishu smirked.
Wen Kexing, seeing that smirk, pouted dramatically. “My soulmate is so cruel,” he whined. “Won’t you give your wife some relief, A-Xu?”
The maelstrom of frustration slowed into a treacle flow as Zhou Zishu looked his soulmate up and down. “No.”
Wen Kexing’s lips parted in shock. “Heartless,” he accused. His sleeves swayed as he took a step forward. “Is there nothing I can do to persuade you otherwise?”
Take him, a voice inside Zhou Zishu whispered. Here, in the snow. He’ll beg, you know he will.
But at least half of the begging was feigned, right now. Wen Kexing was many things, but he had a diamond-hard control over himself when he chose. He made those big puppy eyes at Zhou Zishu as a distraction, because he wanted to make Zhou Zishu smile. Because he was, despite everything, worried.
I don’t need your pity, he thought, but it held less sting than usual. He looked Wen Kexing over, noting the casual stance, the pristine fall of his skirts. No, his Lao Wen might want sex, but he wasn’t nearly as desperate as he pretended.
Yet.
“You can wait,” Zhou Zishu told him.
He shouldn’t want to hurt his soulmate this badly. Shouldn’t crave the tears and whimpers. But he did. And his Lao Wen needed it, too, he suspected. Needed that edge, the sharp sting of catharsis when he finally broke.
Zhou Zishu was looking forward to breaking him.
They continued up the hill, one agonizing step at a time through the thinning trees. At the end of one switchback, when Zhou Zishu paused to catch his breath, he found himself leaning against a leafless birch tree. Its bare branches jutted against the grey sky like skeletal fingers clawing out of the grave, slender and smooth. More branches littered the ground, product of a recent wind storm.
A seed of an idea began to sprout. Zhou Zishu retrieved the nearest fallen branch, a whippy thing as long as his arm, and swished it through the air. Yes. It would do.
Wen Kexing made no mention of the branch, but Zhou Zishu caught him sliding sidelong glances at it when he thought Zhou Zishu wasn’t looking. Amusement curled through him, and it was easier, after that, to keep going. The frustration in his gut took on a sharp edge, anticipatory; his exhaustion stopped mattering. Maybe his own body wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t obey, but he could play such a symphony with his Lao Wen’s.
As soon as they were back inside the mountain, Wen Kexing made to head for their quarters, but Zhou Zishu stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No.” Rather than head up, he went down, deep into the bowels of the mountain, to a very particular room. Wen Kexing trailed after him, breath quickening – several times, he tried to make conversation, but Zhou Zishu ignored him.
He wasn’t tired anymore – adrenaline and the transmuted frustration had taken over. The burn of sore muscles was a distant thing compared to the burn in his blood, sullen fire that gathered in his groin and made his smile something edged and cold. The few ghosts they passed shied away from him with terrified looks.
Wen Kexing sucked in a breath as Zhou Zishu pushed open the door to the torture chamber. “A-Xu.” He said it like a prayer.
Zhou Zishu paced around the room, lighting lanterns. “Strip.”
One corner of his mouth curling up, Wen Kexing obeyed. He drew each layer away from his body with the practiced grace of a courtesan, no shame whatsoever as he bared himself – far more self-assured than Zhou Zishu wanted him, right now, but they had time.
He selected a few things from a chest, then turned back to survey his soulmate. Wen Kexing, naked as the day he was born, arched an eyebrow. “Does my A-Xu like what he sees?” He dragged a lazy hand down his own chest, toying with a nipple. His cock hadn’t returned to full stiffness, but it rose under Zhou Zishu’s assessing gaze.
His Lao Wen was gorgeous like this, all lean lines and rippling muscles. A tiger in human skin, pure predator – though the newly-lit brazier hadn’t had a chance to warm the room, he showed no signs of cold. No weakness despite his nudity.
Hunger curled inside of Zhou Zishu. He wanted to peel back that aura of invincibility, expose the soft underbelly he knew lurked beneath. Wanted to rake his nails over that perfect, scarred chest, leave red welts that wouldn’t heal for days. Bite a trail of bruises down his neck or up his thighs. Wreck him.
His own body was such a fragile, foolish thing, these days. Balky, unwilling to yield. But he knew the body in front of him better than his own, and he wanted so many things from it.
He paced in a slow circle around his soulmate, admiring the way the lantern-light played over his silky skin. “Hmm. Not bad,” he murmured, tracing a finger down Wen Kexing’s spine. His zhiji shivered. As Zhou Zishu had expected, one of his hands dropped to his own cock, squeezing roughly.
Zhou Zishu caught that hand and wrenched it behind Wen Kexing’s back, a shoulder lock that required little strength to maintain. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”
“Ah, A-Xu, will you still deny me?” Wen Kexing complained.
“Yes,” Zhou Zishu told him, purely for the pleasure of hearing Wen Kexing’s indrawn breath. Reluctantly, he released his grip. “Behave.”
As soon as he stepped away to retrieve the first of the items he’d chosen, Wen Kexing went to touch himself again. Zhou Zishu snorted. “Brat.” He let Wen Kexing get two strokes in before recapturing both of his wrists. “I said, behave.”
“Or what?” Wen Kexing breathed.
With quick, precise movements, Zhou Zishu wrapped the rope he’d selected around Wen Kexing’s wrists. It was rough, with scratchy fibers that would soon abrade any tender skin, and he tied the knots tight enough to make Wen Kexing hiss. “You do want to come, don’t you?” He glanced up at the hook hanging from the ceiling, gauging distance, then threw the bundle of rope. Easier with qi to control it, but it only took two tries to get the rope caught.
Wen Kexing sucked in a breath as Zhou Zishu pulled, yanking his wrists over his head. “A-Xu,” he whined. “You wouldn’t really leave your wife wanting, would you?”
Zhou Zishu selected a second hank of rope. “Is my wife going to behave?”
Wen Kexing smirked. “Oh, A-Xu, I’ll be very, very good to you if you’ll let me.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips.
Zhou Zishu gave that pink mouth a scornful glance. “Not much you can do with that where you are.”
Wen Kexing spluttered. “And whose fault is that?”
Ignoring him, Zhou Zishu folded the new rope in half and looped it around Wen Kexing’s waist. It settled right above his hipbones, digging into the lean muscle – already a pink line was forming beneath it, which made something deep inside Zhou Zishu purr. He knelt so he could lick at the little divot beside Wen Kexing’s hip, letting his breath ghost over his soulmate’s cock as he did. Wen Kexing whined wordlessly.
Then he whimpered as Zhou Zishu knotted the rope, split the strands, and pulled them on either side of his cock and balls. “A-Xu, what are you…” His words dissolved into another whine as Zhou Zishu added a second knot to the rope.
“Shh,” Zhou Zishu told him, drawing the rope between his legs. Oh, his soulmate was lovely like this, cock framed by the rope – he was fully hard now, and a bead of liquid had already formed at the tip. He squirmed as the knot behind his balls dug in, and Zhou Zishu smirked.
Then, with a twist of his shoulders, he knocked Wen Kexing off balance long enough to catch his ankle and draw it up behind him. Wen Kexing swore and fought to regain his footing. “A-Xu! You are so cruel!”
Those words were truer than Wen Kexing realized, Zhou Zishu thought with cold amusement. He knotted a cuff around his soulmate’s ankle, then rose to his feet. Where… yes.
Wen Kexing shuddered all over as the rope settled around the base of his neck. “A-Xu.” He lifted his chin, eyes sliding closed as Zhou Zishu tied off the rope back at his ankle.
Oh, yes, this was perfect. Zhou Zishu stepped back to admire the picture his soulmate made. One leg bent behind him, rope around his neck and cock, hands bound above his head… yes. He reached out and gave Wen Kexing’s shoulder a little push.
Wen Kexing swayed, gasped, and cursed. “Oh holy fuck, A-Xu, you…” He trailed off, squirming in his bonds. That only made the rope around his cock and balls shift more, rubbing in a way that had to be maddening – painful friction, not enough and too much all at once.
“You wanted an incentive to behave, didn’t you?” Zhou Zishu kept his face icy as he looked his soulmate over. “As long as you stay still, you’ll be fine. Start squirming or fighting…” He shrugged. The more Wen Kexing struggled, the more the rope would pull against his throat and groin. It was a beautiful little predicament.
And it hadn’t taken any qi.
Bones, set wrong, had to be rebroken in order to heal. Zhou Zishu felt something like that now, a louder echo of what he’d felt in the forest. The way Wen Kexing was looking at him, eyes so wide and dark… no pity there, no worry, just hot desire. There was some pretense left, a few shreds of a mask, but not many.
And Zhou Zishu knew how to strip away those last fragments.
Wen Kexing twitched as Zhou Zishu retrieved the birch switch he’d found in the forest. “Ah, A-Xu, I said I’d be good,” he murmured, watching it like he might watch a coiled snake.
“But you don’t want to be good,” Zhou Zishu returned. He flicked it through the air for the pure pleasure of watching Wen Kexing flinch. “You want someone to make you be good.”
“When have I ever not been good?” Wen Kexing protested.
Zhou Zishu struck him with the switch. He yowled, more from surprise than pain – it hadn’t been a hard blow. “Whenever it suits you,” Zhou Zishu told him, voice low as he prowled around the bound man. He lashed out again, hitting Wen Kexing’s upper thigh. “Whenever you give me those looks of yours.”
“I…” Wen Kexing had to break off to gasp when Zhou Zishu struck his other thigh. “I’m not…” he protested.
“I keep telling you. I. Do. Not. Need. Your. Pity.” Zhou Zishu punctuated each word with a blow, littering Wen Kexing’s ass and thighs with delicious pink marks. Wen Kexing jerked at each one, breath hissing through clenched teeth.
“It’s not pity!” he gasped as soon as the blows stopped. “A-Xu. Zhiji.”
Zhou Zishu ran a hand over the marks he’d just made. Then, just to be cruel, he seized the rope looped around Wen Kexing’s neck and pulled. “Do you think I’m weak?” he whispered in Wen Kexing’s ear, only half-wanting the answer. Yes was the truth, had to be the truth, and he didn’t want to hear it.
“No,” Wen Kexing managed. His back arched in an attempt to ease the pressure on his throat, and he whined as the rope between his legs pulled taut. “No, you’re not.”
Zhou Zishu shoved him back upright. “Don’t lie, Lao Wen.”
Wen Kexing cried out, cock jumping. “I’m… not,” he gasped when he could speak again. “Oh, fuck, A-Xu, please, please…”
That was real begging, no pretense left. Zhou Zishu circled so he could see his soulmate’s face. No tears yet, but those wide eyes, that open mouth… the muscles of his shoulders were corded with strain, his unbound leg quivering as he fought to stay as still as he could.
Zhou Zishu ran the tip of his switch up the inside of that leg, hunger flaring as Wen Kexing simultaneously tried to get closer and flinch away. “Not lying?” he asked softly. “You’re a very good liar, Lao Wen. I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth!” Wen Kexing’s hips shuddered forward in a futile attempt to grind against the air. “A-Xu. You’re not weak.”
This time, the words sounded like the truth. Zhou Zishu struck him across the chest anyway. Wen Kexing jerked and swore. “A-Xu!”
“Say it again,” Zhou Zishu ordered.
Wen Kexing took a shuddering breath. “You’re not weak. You’re perfect. My wonderful, deadly, terrifying A-Xu…” Another blow took him across the chest, leaving a diagonal to cross the first welt. He groaned. “My cruel, vicious soulmate…”
Zhou Zishu smirked. “You say the sweetest things.” And, if they were true…
He circled his soulmate, trailing fingers along the red marks from the switch. His Lao Wen, Valley Master, terror of the jianghu… only Zhou Zishu could bring him to this. A tiger, tamed.
Or, perhaps not tamed, but baring its throat nonetheless.
He gave Wen Kexing a little push, all that was needed to send him off-balance given his precarious position. The Valley Master cursed as the ropes binding him drew tight, something perilously close to a sob breaking free from his chest. “Oh, A-Xu, please, touch me. Take me, split me open, use me, something, just let me feel you. Please, please, oh gods…”
Yes. This was what he’d wanted, what he’d needed without knowing it. So many reasons to live, and they could all be counted in the twitches and whimpers of the man in front of him.
A slice of a knife, and the ropes around Wen Kexing’s ankle dropped. Another cut, and his hands were free – he stumbled forward, mouth open in a silent yell, and Zhou Zishu caught him tenderly. “Shh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his soulmate’s shoulder.
Then, without any warning whatsoever, he shoved Wen Kexing at the nearest wall.
His soulmate caught himself on his outflung hands, bracing a second before Zhou Zishu seized his hips and yanked them backwards. “Oh fuck, thank you, zhiji, fuck,” Wen Kexing whined as Zhou Zishu kicked his legs apart.
“Oh, don’t thank me yet.” The storm inside him might have calmed, all the sickening turmoil melted away, but frozen, razor-sharp desire still pounded within him. And his Lao Wen begged so very beautifully… it would be a shame to cut that short.
Keeping a bruising grip on his soulmate’s hip with one hand, Zhou Zishu stripped away the rope from Wen Kexing’s cock and balls with the other. He didn’t bother to be too gentle, and, judging by the way Wen Kexing’s dick twitched in response, that was the right choice. He was burning up when Zhou Zishu took him in hand, slick with precome, and he yowled when Zhou Zishu began to jerk him off. “A-Xu, A-Xu, A-Xu! Oh gods, please, can I…”
“Yes,” Zhou Zishu told him. That was, after all, the plan. He ground his own cock, still covered by too many layers of fabric, against Wen Kexing’s ass. He’d barely noticed how hard he was when he was whipping his Lao Wen, but he could feel it now, an ache demanding far more than he was giving it.
Cursing, he dropped Wen Kexing’s dick in favor of fumbling for the ties of his robes. Wen Kexing whined a protest, but stayed where he was, not even trying to touch himself.
“Good shidi,” Zhou Zishu murmured. He yanked off his belt, dropped it on the floor, and snapped the ties on his outer robe when they refused to cooperate. The inner robe, he didn’t bother undoing, just parted enough to push his trousers down.
Both of them groaned when Zhou Zishu pressed back against Wen Kexing’s ass. “Oh, please, A-Xu, please…” Wen Kexing begged, half incoherent.
“Soon,” Zhou Zishu promised. He wrapped a hand around his soulmate’s cock once more, stroking roughly. “Come for me.”
A minute, maybe two, and Wen Kexing convulsed. Zhou Zishu stroked him through it, covering his fingers with his soulmate’s release. “Good,” he whispered into Wen Kexing’s shoulder. “You’ve been so good, shidi. Let me reward you.”
Whether it was a reward was a bit of a question, he supposed as he thrust two slicked fingers into his soulmate’s tight hole. Overstimulated, Wen Kexing sobbed, but he bucked back against the intrusion regardless. Zhou Zishu barely had to do anything as his soulmate fucked himself open, mewling and cursing all the while.
One day, he’d see if he could make Wen Kexing come again just like this. But not today. He crooked his fingers, nailing that spot inside Wen Kexing that made him howl, then pulled his fingers out.
That earned him a whine, one which quickly spiraled upwards in pitch as he pressed back in with his cock. It had to hurt – his soulmate was a vise around him, almost too tight – but Wen Kexing didn’t protest. He was so perfect it made Zhou Zishu want to cry.
He was crying, he realized – his cheeks were damp and his eyes stung as he thrust into his soulmate’s welcoming heat. He couldn’t bring himself to relinquish his bruising grip on Wen Kexing’s hips, so he let them fall, dripping onto his Lao Wen’s back in time with his thrusts. Without consciously deciding it, he slowed to a rough, steady rhythm, gasping each time he bottomed out. He was drowning in his Lao Wen’s cries, flayed apart by the pain-pleasure coursing through him, and he never wanted the moment to end.
It had to, of course. With one final groan, he drove as deep as he could and shuddered all over. His vision went white as a climax so fierce it hurt tore through him, going on and on and on until he thought he might crack apart. It was as though every drop of frustration and self-loathing from the past six months had been ripped out of him along with the orgasm, leaving a sated shell. Empty, but not the hollow horror that overwhelmed him so often, these days.
With the last of his strength, he maneuvered them sideways so he could collapse onto a chest. Wen Kexing whimpered as he pulled out, wobbling on fawn-clumsy legs to sink to his knees at Zhou Zishu’s feet. “Oh. Oh, A-Xu. My A-Xu.” He pressed a sweaty forehead against Zhou Zishu’s thigh.
Zhou Zishu stroked his hair with trembling fingers. “You were so good, Lao Wen,” he whispered into the hush. “So good for me.” He dabbed away a tear that trickled down Wen Kexing’s cheeks. His soulmate looked wrecked, hair plastered to his neck and cheeks red from the exertion. His lips were red, too, raw where he’d bitten them, and his eyes were swollen from crying. Bruises colored his neck and back, cane marks overlapping to form a brutal grid that made something deep inside Zhou Zishu purr. He’d done this. No martial arts, no qi, just him. And his Lao Wen had loved every minute of it.
“My wonderful, cruel A-Xu,” Wen Kexing slurred. He cuddled closer to Zhou Zishu, who spread his legs to embrace his soulmate. He kept petting Wen Kexing’s hair even as exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him – he wouldn’t trade anything for this. His Lao Wen, kneeling before him, wholly without masks. Taken to pieces.
Carefully, tenderly, Zhou Zishu helped him put the pieces back into place. With each mark he traced, Wen Kexing’s shivering calmed, his tears slowing. Zhou Zishu was still crying, a distant part of him realized, but he didn’t care. In this hazy moment, where the world had narrowed to the two of them, tears were unimportant. Badges of pride, perhaps – he dabbed another one away from Wen Kexing’s face, then licked his fingers. “So good,” he said again. “Lao Wen. My Lao Wen.”
“My A-Xu. Mine.” Wen Kexing curled a hand around his ankle. “Zhiji.”
“Zhiji,” Zhou Zishu agreed. He kept stroking Wen Kexing’s hair and back, avoiding pressure on the welts. Every stroke was slower, the leaden feeling returning to his bones, but that didn’t jar him from the soft, floaty place he’d found. Let his body be heavy and clumsy – right now, it didn’t matter. How could it, with his soulmate before him? So beautiful… a glittering diamond with a red, beating core that only Zhou Zishu could pull out into the open. Even more beautiful when cracked open as he was now.
“Ah, A-Xu…” Wen Kexing pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee. “You are…” He shuddered in a way that made the darkest parts of Zhou Zishu laugh. “Perfect,” Wen Kexing concluded at last. He laid his head back against the inside of Zhou Zishu’s thigh. “Mine.”
Mine. Yes. That was right. He was Wen Kexing’s, and Wen Kexing was his, and that was right. No matter what tricks his body played, they had each other.
Gratitude welled on the same golden song he’d heard earlier, and it wasn’t the thick, choking kind he’d tried to summon so many times in the past months. No, this was light and freeing, light enough that it almost could have sent him flying the way qi had once. He was so very glad to be alive.
Between his legs, Wen Kexing shifted and made a pained sound. “Ah. As lovely as this is, A-Xu, I am too old to spend hours on my knees on a stone floor. Might I request a new venue?”
Zhou Zishu found himself smirking. “Such a pampered Valley Master you are.”
Wen Kexing matched his smirk. “Is my A-Xu saying he doesn’t enjoy comfortable beds and delicious wine? I’m sure we can arrange for pallets on the stone and vinegar instead.”
Zhou Zishu swatted him, just hard enough to make him wince as the welts on his back pulled. “Behave.”
Wen Kexing’s smirk fell away as he looked up, eyes wide and dark. So young without any of his masks, yet even now the deadly sharpness of his gaze was clear. He was a monster just like Zhou Zishu.
Right now, though, there was something else in those eyes. “A-Xu.” Wen Kexing hesitated. “Can I draw you a bath?”
Zhou Zishu’s heart stuttered, then restarted. Oh, Lao Wen. “Yes,” he said slowly, tasting the words as he said them. He wouldn’t, couldn’t turn down such a heartfelt request. “Yes, you may.”