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When Han Ye emerged into the humid night, the deck was still milling with activity, men working together at the stern to keep the rudder steady, others at the sails or calling to one another as they sorted through their spoils. He scanned the horizon immediately for the glow of fires, but either they had come farther than he thought, or the pirates had set none.
Han Ye had read about the typhoons that struck the southern coast in the summers: ferocious winds and torrential rains, rising seas consuming everything in their path, and the eerie periods of calm before the storm rose again to its shrieking peak. If the crew was the storm, the captain was the calm, watching and relaying orders from his position near the mainmast.
Han Ye’s fingers itched for a brush. Long Feiye was a cold beauty, with never a hair out of place, but that beauty was transformed tonight. He blazed with purpose. Brighter than the sun, colder than the moon, he thought, and caught himself. He had an agenda on this ship, and admiration would not serve him.
Somewhere on the deck, a child howled in pain or fury. Han Ye’s attention snapped in that direction, and he began to push through the crew members. What he intended to do when he reached the child, he didn’t know, but this was one piece of suffering he could put an end to.
Long Feiye beat him there, barring his way with an arm. “Gongzi,” he drawled, with the same sarcasm he always used when applying that title to Han Ye. “Don’t make me warn you a second time about interfering with our business.” The child was being hauled away to one of the hatches, writhing against the rope that bound him nearly from shoulder to ankles, still releasing those animalistic screams.
“He’s a child,” Han Ye said. “If you intend to ransom or sell him, I’ll pay it. Name your price, Captain.”
Long Feiye gave him a long, slow look. “Wait for me in my cabin,” he said. “We’ll discuss your terms when I’m done here.” He made a gesture with one hand, and his man Chu Xifeng materialized as if from the nearest shadow. From the hand he put on his arm, Han Ye deduced that this wasn’t a request.
He felt Chu Xifeng’s eyes on him the whole time as he paced the cabin, waiting, straining his ears for the child’s screams, but he could no longer hear them.
At last, the captain strode into the cabin. When Han Ye lunged forward to meet him, Chu Xifeng stepped between them, his hand on Han Ye’s chest. Han Ye held himself still, glaring, although he was bursting with the need to throw this man aside and demand to speak to Long Feiye. Chu Xifeng didn’t know who he was putting his hands on, but that didn’t excuse the rudeness.
“Enough,” Long Feiye said. “Xifeng, you’re dismissed.”
As his man left, Long Feiye sat on the floor, gesturing for Han Ye to do the same. From a chest, he pulled out a jar of wine and two cups, offering one to Han Ye.
“Good wine,” Han Ye said automatically, when he’d taken the sip that seemed to be required of him before they could talk business.
Long Feiye smirked. “No, it isn’t. But Han-gongzi’s courtesy is appreciated all the same.”
“About the—”
“Han,” Long Feiye said slowly. “Isn’t that the national surname of Da Jing? I wouldn’t ask, but your accent sounds right.”
“Yes,” Han Ye said. “You’re familiar?”
“I’ve never been, but I’ve met a number of your countrymen. We share the same sea, after all.” Long Feiye set his cup aside, his sharp eyes assessing. “You wanted to negotiate for the child, then. What’s someone like that worth to a gentleman like you?”
Han Ye reached for his purse, but Long Feiye leaned forward to grip his wrist. “No. Not money,” Long Feiye said. His fingers were hot against the thin skin of Han Ye’s wrist, his eyes black and fathomless. This was the snake Han Ye had heard so much about, the pirate captain who had outmaneuvered generals.
“What, then?” Han Ye said. His mouth felt suddenly dry; he licked his lips, and then realized Long Feiye’s eyes had followed the action.
Long Feiye released him, returning to his upright posture. “Has gongzi ever heard of this game? We take turns posing a question, and our opponent can choose to either answer truthfully or drink. If you can go three rounds with me and get me to drink more often than you do, I’ll send the boy with you when we reach port.”
Han Ye raised his eyebrows. “And if I lose?” he said.
“A true answer to one question of my choice,” Long Feiye said.
Han Ye was playing his cards very close to the chest here; he hadn’t won nearly enough trust yet to reveal them. But this wasn’t a mere game of chance: he just had to find questions this man wouldn’t answer. “I accept,” he said.
“I’ll go first,” Long Feiye said. He watched Han Ye for a moment, unreadable, and then said, “It wasn’t a coincidence that we met when you needed a ship, was it? For a princely sum like the one you offered, you could have bought passage three times over on any other ship if you had been in a better port.”
Han Ye smiled. For an opening gambit, it was not an aggressive one. “Since you’ve guessed it, how can I not admit it? Your reputation precedes you, Captain, and I wanted to see the real thing.”
“The real thing,” Long Feiye repeated.
“The stories didn’t do you justice,” Han Ye said. “My turn, I think.” He considered his own first move. The captain was known to be free of vices; either he really was pretty self-denying, or the things he indulged in were not ones he wanted his crew knowing about. Even if the latter were true, three was too few guesses to gamble on landing on the right one. Pride was a better angle. “What’s the worst time you’ve made a fool of yourself?” Han Ye asked.
Long Feiye threw his head back and laughed aloud. It lit him from the inside, even his eyes glittering, and Han Ye caught himself watching the line of his throat before he tore his eyes away. “You play beautifully,” Long Feiye said. “But I won’t give it to you that easily. Very well…When I was young, there was a warrior who taught me some finer points with the sword. He was very handsome. Not burly, like my first teachers, but lithe and graceful. I was just at that age where you begin to really notice these things, and one thing led to another, and…”
Han Ye found himself leaning forward into the delicate pause, his stomach twisting. There were all sorts of unpleasant ways this could go, but it was also the stuff of adolescent daydreams—or of yellow books. Long Feiye’s lips tightened, and then he said, “One morning he came in earlier than expected to drag me out for training and caught me.”
“Caught…” Han Ye said, and then the implication caught up to him. “Ah! Caught you.” He laughed, not quite comfortably.
“Just so,” Long Feiye said. Somehow, he had avoided blushing, while the tips of Han Ye’s ears still felt hot. Had he meant to tell Han Ye so much about himself? Not only that he had been foolish once in adolescence, but that he liked—unless.
“A swordswoman,” he said lightly. “How unconventional!”
Long Feiye only gave him a long look. Han Ye might be playing the fool, but he wasn’t one. So Long Feiye did intend him to understand that he was interested in men.
This gave a very different tenor to what they were doing in this cabin. For the first time, Han Ye wondered if Long Feiye was playing an entirely different game.
“My turn,” Long Feiye said. “What exactly is your family’s position in Da Jing, Han-gongzi?”
The last of Han Ye’s flush was forgotten. This, he could not answer truthfully, and he did not know how much of the truth Long Feiye had already guessed. He might have enough of an idea that an outright lie would break any possibility of future trust. Han Ye took a sip of his wine, summoning a smile. “If I tell you, how should I know you won’t decide to go after more money by ransoming me to my family?” he said. “Let’s keep my family out of this.”
“Fair enough,” Long Feiye said. It was hard to tell whether he was annoyed or amused. “That’s one for me. Can you tie up the game again?”
Pride hadn’t worked. But if Han Ye’s family wasn’t off the table, neither were Long Feiye’s secrets. “Some of the stories say you’re searching for something specific,” he said. “You don’t always hit prosperous towns; you take on targets guarded so well no other fleet would dare. What are you looking for?”
Long Feiye breathed in sharply. A hit, then. Han Ye watched him, a light smile playing around his lips as he swirled his wine in its cup. Answer, or drink? Finally, Long Feiye raised his cup to his lips. Now that was interesting. So he was searching for something.
Long Feiye swallowed, then set aside his cup. He rose to his knees, and for a moment Han Ye thought he would get up and abandon their game. He opened his mouth to protest, but Long Feiye only shuffled closer. He reached out, placing a bent finger under Han Ye’s chin and lifting it. His eyes weren’t burning in anger, as Han Ye half expected, but half-lidded with lazy interest. The gesture, the look, lit a fuse deep in his belly. He knew it was deliberate, an attempt to throw him off or to draw him into Long Feiye’s other game, but his body didn’t much care.
Long Feiye tilted his head. “Han-gongzi. You act like such a straitlaced little gentleman, even on a ship like this, I have to wonder if you even know. But I must ask.” He did not remove his hand from Han Ye’s face, but moved it, stroking along his jawline. Han Ye didn’t know where he would strike, but he saw the snake coiling in readiness. He watched Long Feiye’s lips as they formed the words:
“Top,” he said, with deadly precision, “or bottom?”
There was no pretending to misunderstand his words. His body decided that for him, freezing as soon as the words were out. He let out his breath too late, watching the satisfaction settle over Long Feiye’s face.
Drink, or answer? Han Ye was a crown prince, and he planned to reveal his true identity once he judged that the captain was ready to make a deal. His answer would be too much leverage to give Long Feiye—whatever his game—but they had each drunk once and answered once. If he answered, he still had a chance of winning.
He curled his hand over Long Feiye’s forearm and smiled into his eyes. “Bottom—and now I wonder if that’s what the captain was hoping to hear.”
He was rewarded with a minute widening of Long Feiye’s eyes, a parting of his lips. If he wanted him, he thought, all he would need to do was curl his finger. He leaned forward, placing his mouth to Long Feiye’s ear. “What is your heart’s desire?”
There was a laugh that sent hot shivers through him. “You,” Long Feiye started to say, but Han Ye placed a hand over his mouth before he could get out the whole word. “Your heart, not your body,” he said.
Long Feiye seemed to take a moment to digest that, and then he sighed and drew away. Not very far: just enough to reach out and down the rest of his cup in one reckless swig. Han Ye barely had time to feel the victory before Long Feiye lunged for him, catching the back of his head and fitting wine-sticky lips against his.
Han Ye clutched at Long Feiye’s arm. He meant to push him away, but it had been a long time since a beautiful man had kissed him with such intent. He kissed back instead, rewarded for his cooperation with the touch of Long Feiye’s tongue.
He was halfway to being undressed and they were still kissing frantically by the time Han Ye came to his senses. He was flat on his back with the captain’s tongue down his throat: was this going to help negotiations? And on this ship, somewhere, there was still the child. He put his hands flat on Long Feiye’s chest.
With an inquiring noise, Long Feiye propped himself up on one elbow and broke the kiss. Han Ye missed it immediately. “I won,” he said. “Pay out your winnings, Captain.”
He might as well have splashed cold water on them both. Long Feiye sat up, annoyingly still fully dressed. Han Ye was forced to undo his belt just to get his clothes back in order; he could still feel the brand of Long Feiye’s hand on his chest. When he was done, there was no sign on Long Feiye’s face of what they had just been doing, except for a faint redness to his lips.
“I wasn’t going to sell the boy,” Long Feiye said abruptly. “You weren’t supposed to win that.”
“And yet, I did,” Han Ye said.
Long Feiye took a long breath, visibly marshaling patience. “Come with me,” he said harshly.
Long Feiye led him to another cabin, deeper belowdecks than his own. When they stepped inside, they found one of the crew and the boy, now sleeping deeply. He was still trussed from head to toe. “Well?” Long Feiye said to the crewman, a slight young man.
“It’s as we thought,” he said. “I had to sedate him to stop him tearing up the ship.”
“Thank you for your effort.” At the crewman’s wary look at Han Ye, Long Feiye sighed and beckoned Han Ye forward. “Look, this boy has been subjected to experimentation with gu poisons. He will spend his life dealing with fits of berserker rage, and it’s likely to be a short life. Do you still want him?”
“Why?” Han Ye said, his eyes on the boy’s face. He looked like any other young boy in sleep, small and vulnerable.
“Why what?”
He reached out to touch the ropes binding the boy. The crewman stepped forward to stop him, but the captain must have made some gesture, because he fell back again. “Why do this to a boy so young—why do this to anybody?”
When he glanced back at Long Feiye, his eyes were distant and cold. “He’s a living weapon,” he said.
“Is that why you want him?”
Those eyes met his with the power of a winter blast. Han Ye caught his breath, knowing the answer before he spoke it. “No,” Long Feiye said, and then he caught Han Ye’s arm, hauling him stumbling out of the little room. He moved very decisively, Han Ye not quite keeping up, tethered still by that firm hand.
Long Feiye stopped, turning to face Han Ye. “I have work to do, gongzi,” he said. “The boy will be safe on this ship, and where we take him next.”
With that assurance, he left.
Long Feiye had refused a direct answer to Han Ye’s question: what are you looking for? But, in the end, he had told him after all. Han Ye turned this new information over in his head as he wandered off to his own berth. Someone in Tianning was up to some very bad business indeed, and if he could find a way to link them to the imperial family, he would have the hook he needed to pull Long Feiye into his plans.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
“My apologies to Han-gongzi. It appears it’s going to take us a little longer to get to port.” Long Feiye smiled into the salt breeze, his self-satisfied look at odds with his words.
Han Ye only laughed lightly in return. “I don’t mind. It’s not important that I get there fast. I was thinking about staying with you for a few more stops, actually.”
“Is that so? We may have to negotiate further payment, then.” The way Long Feiye raked his eyes over Han Ye’s body suggested something other than money. Since the night of the raid—the night they had kissed—Long Feiye had taken no pains to hide his interest, and it was a sore test to Han Ye’s fortitude.
“What’s the reason for the delay?” Han Ye asked, valiantly ignoring the innuendo.
“You’ll see soon enough,” Long Feiye said, and pushed away from the railing.
He couldn’t keep getting away with making cryptic statements and then leaving, Han Ye thought in despair. Long Feiye knew very well he had his own agenda on the ship, and he was certain that Long Feiye was teasing him.
As the afternoon wore on, shapes appeared on the horizon—islands. Before long, they were sailing into a narrow channel between two forested cliffs. Han Ye watched the activity on board the ship, doing his best to stay out of everyone’s way as they docked in a sleepy cove. The sun was already below the cliffs, shadows beginning to stretch even though there was still some daylight left.
The boy was brought on deck. Han Ye recognized him at first only by his age; someone had outfitted him in clean, neat clothing—a little large on him—and combed and arranged his hair. He was escorted to the rail by the same crewman who had been with him the other night.
Chu Xifeng appeared at his elbow. Han Ye glanced sideways at him. “Who’s that fellow watching over the boy, anyway?” Han Ye asked.
“The captain’s doctor,” Chu Xifeng said, as if this were a normal sort of person to have on board a pirate ship.
“Ah,” Han Ye said. “Are you looking forward to this little visit, Chu-ge? Is there a town hidden in all those trees?”
“I’ve been tasked with taking Han-gongzi to the place where he’ll be staying,” Chu Xifeng said.
“Bad luck,” Han Ye said sympathetically. Chu Xifeng bowed and gestured past Han Ye. “Ah, right now? Very well. Lead the way.”
There was not, as it turned out, any town on this island. There were small houses tucked among the trees, very clearly not built for long-term stays. The only exception was a small but beautifully-constructed courtyard house in a clearing, and this was where Han Ye was led.
“You’ll have to pass on my thanks to your captain for the hospitality,” Han Ye said as he took a look around the courtyard. It needed a good sweeping, but the house showed no deeper signs of neglect. He had put up with shipboard accommodations cheerfully, but he had to admit that the prospect of a real bed made him feel a little weak in the knees.
“I’ll be happy to accept your gratitude in person,” said an amused voice behind him.
Han Ye turned. Long Feiye leaned in the gateway, arms crossed; he raised his eyebrows in a little challenge. “Come to visit me so soon?” Han Ye said.
“Oh, no. You’re my houseguest,” Long Feiye said. He strode through the courtyard, clapping Chu Xifeng on the shoulder as he passed. “Go get some rest,” he said, sotto voce, and then it was just the two of them. Long Feiye looked over his shoulder as he stepped inside.
“I’m afraid there’s only one bed,” he said, “but you’re welcome to share.”
They ate the same rations as they would have on the ship, but Han Ye was offered the unprecedented luxury of a true bath—even if he had to work to prepare it. Warm and feeling cleaner than he had in a month, Han Ye thought he could easily fall asleep on the floor, as soon as he pried himself out of this tub. Long Feiye appeared in the kitchen doorway, a long silhouette in fewer layers than Han Ye had yet seen him in.
Han Ye sank a little deeper into the bathwater, his knees freezing in the air of the kitchen, but he only watched Long Feiye for a long moment, wondering if he would come in. “Something I can help you with?” he said at last.
Long Feiye stepped into the room, his eyes lighting on Han Ye’s bare shoulders, but turning away before he could get a better eyeful. He draped a shirt and trousers over the top of a chest. “I thought you might like something clean to wear, as well.”
“Do you live here?” Han Ye asked.
“Sometimes,” Long Feiye said. “As much as I live anywhere that isn’t my ship.”
“How kind you are, to put me up in your own home.”
Long Feiye looked at him again, the corner of his mouth curling. “My intentions are far from pure, Han-gongzi,” he said, and the tone of his voice, low and intimate, made Han Ye’s belly clench. He felt equal parts relief and disappointment when Long Feiye left without another word.
When Han Ye had a better handle over his body’s reaction to that little interlude, he dressed and stepped into the courtyard. There was a little room for receiving guests, and he could as easily sleep on the floor there as in Long Feiye’s bedroom. If he entered the bedroom, he had a fair idea of how the evening would unfold. Long Feiye had intentions, and Han Ye was having a harder and harder time convincing himself that he would damage his cause by jumping into his bed.
The reception room was ahead, the bedroom to his right.
Han Ye turned right.
Long Feiye was already in bed, hands folded over his stomach and eyes on the ceiling. He turned his head as Han Ye walked in. Han Ye hesitated, but even if he hadn’t all but made his choice, the siren call of a real bed kept him walking. He sat on the edge of the bed, then laid down in the space Long Feiye had left for him.
It was already a few degrees warmer being within arm’s reach of him. A chill had settled over the island once the sun was down, and it made the bed all the cozier. He thought he really could just fall asleep like this, even with the tingling awareness of Long Feiye at his side.
Long Feiye propped himself on one elbow, leaning over Han Ye to blow out the light. He was practically on top of him, and Han Ye opened his eyes in the sudden darkness, feeling every point of contact between their bodies. The linens whispered as Long Feiye shifted, and then Han Ye felt a hand on his chin. “Han-gongzi,” Long Feiye whispered, the breath from the words landing like butterfly wings against his cheek.
Han Ye reached up, finding the fall of Long Feiye’s hair in the darkness and pushing his fingers into it. He pulled him down, parting his lips before their mouths even met, drinking in his sigh as they came together. Long Feiye made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and then he surged over Han Ye, kissing him like a drowning man. He settled between Han Ye’s legs, skimming one hand up the back of his thigh before he pulled them together.
They broke the kiss, and Han Ye could hear their panting breaths mingling. “Are we doing this?” Long Feiye asked. “Or are you going to run away again?”
In answer, Han Ye fumbled at his shirt until he got it open, goosebumps spreading over his skin as he shrugged it off. Long Feiye realized what he was doing halfway through and began to undo his trousers as well. “Will you take your clothes off this time, or am I the only one who gets naked?” Han Ye asked.
Long Feiye’s fingers paused. Han Ye reached up, smoothing his hands over Long Feiye’s sides, then pulling him down against him. His heart beat rabbit-fast against Han Ye’s chest. “I don’t care,” Han Ye breathed. “But I’ve been dreaming of those shoulders, you know. All I’ve gotten to see is that delicious peek of skin when you leave your collars a little looser…”
Long Feiye stopped his mouth with a kiss, then pulled back. Han Ye trapped him with his legs, but Long Feiye laughed at him. “How am I going to get either of our trousers off like this, you silly fool?” he said. “I’m taking my shirt off, but it’s not pretty, you know.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” Han Ye said.
When Long Feiye finally crawled between his legs again, they were both bare, and the sweet shock of skin was nearly overwhelming. He understood quickly what Long Feiye had hesitated over: serious scarring across his chest and on the back of his hip. Han Ye didn’t linger over it, too busy trying to devour Long Feiye’s mouth. Between kisses, he said, “Are you—going to keep your promises? I’ve been thinking—since that night—”
“What promises?” Long Feiye said into the hollow behind his ear, his fingers tracing maddening paths over the outside of Han Ye’s hip.
“You asked which position I preferred,” Han Ye said, “and you seemed very pleased by the answer.”
“Perhaps we need to go over the definition of a ‘promise,’” Long Feiye said, and kissed him again. It took them some time to surface for breath. By the time they did, Long Feiye was rutting against his stomach, and Han Ye was very, very impatient to get over this little point of semantics and get to know his cock better.
“I promise that if you just fuck me, I will stop arguing with you,” Han Ye said.
“Now that,” Long Feiye said, with a predatory note in his voice, “sounds like a deal.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝
Han Ye woke the next morning with Long Feiye draped across him, one arm tucked around his ribs and Long Feiye’s head resting on his chest. His loose hair was wild, tumbling across his shoulders and into his face. Han Ye gently pushed some out of the way, tucking it behind his ear and getting a good look at his face in repose. He was so used to thinking of that profile as fierce, but he knew now how soft that mouth could be. He almost brushed his fingers over his cheek, but pulled his hand away at the last moment.
Long Feiye’s hand snaked up, catching his and pulling it to his lips. He kissed his palm, then slotted his fingers between Han Ye’s and opened his eyes. Han Ye was ready to melt into the bed and tempt Long Feiye to climb on top of him again when Long Feiye spoke. “Don’t you think it’s about time we were honest with one another, Han Ye?”
Han Ye froze. That was not the name he had given to Long Feiye. Long Feiye rolled on top of him, his legs caging Han Ye’s as he reached up to run gentle fingers over his cheek. “What,” he said, “do you think I’m going to gloat about bedding a crown prince? I’m not that tacky.”
“I meant to tell you sometime,” Han Ye said. “I was hoping to figure out a few more things first before opening negotiations.”
Long Feiye smiled wickedly. “Is that what you’d call what we did last night?” He settled in heavily, pressed against Han Ye from sternum to hip. It was not an advantageous position from which to negotiate; Han Ye’s interest became very obvious, despite the adrenaline still racing through him. But then again, so did Long Feiye’s. “What does His Highness want from a mere pirate?”
“The mind of a great tactician and the fleet to back it up,” Han Ye said. “There’s no mere about it. I hoped you had an axe to grind with Tianning, because the pattern of your attacks didn’t strike me as economically-motivated.”
Long Feiye stopped smiling. “And if I did?”
Han Ye pushed him gently off, then sat up, bunching the blanket in his lap. “What do you know about the relations between Da Jing and the three former Qin states?”
Long Feiye sighed and rolled upright as well. He bent his knee and rested his elbow atop it—very distracting, since it flexed the rather attractive muscles in his legs, as well as giving Han Ye a view of the shoulders he had been lusting over through too many layers of cloth. The scar tissue he had felt the night before formed an angry X over Long Feiye’s chest. Han Ye almost lost himself in looking before Long Feiye spoke. “Which dispute are you looking for leverage in? The mines along the border? Taxes on the road west?”
“The fall of Qin,” Han Ye said. “I want to expose what happened.”
That hit a nerve. Every inch of Long Feiye looked electrified, suddenly, even though all he did was turn his head slowly to meet Han Ye’s eyes. “Why?”
“Because I think it’s linked to something that happened in Da Jing,” Han Ye said. “The fall of the Di family.”
“The traitors?” Long Feiye asked.
“They weren’t,” Han Ye spat, and Long Feiye tilted his head in question. Han Ye took a deep breath, unclenching his fists carefully. “Someone framed them for treason, and I have always found it suspicious that Da Jing suddenly ceded territory on the border directly afterwards. At some point, I started looking into the Qin royal family and what happened to them, and it’s strange. I’ve studied the fall of dynasties in the past, but never have I heard of a royal family simply disappearing like that. Two powerful families, disappeared and discredited just like that.”
“You think it’s one of the three states,” Long Feiye said.
“No. I think it’s the emperor of Tianning,” Han Ye said. “And I think he has his eyes on Da Jing next, unless we can destabilize Tianning first. I happened to notice you weren’t their biggest fan.”
“You think the emperor of Tianning killed the Qin royal family,” Long Feiye said slowly. He was absently running his fingers along the side of his knee, no longer quite looking at anything. Han Ye thought he might have lost him, but it was hard to tell where exactly his head was at.
“It’s fine if you don’t believe me,” he said quietly. “I don’t have any hard proof. But if you’re willing to attack a few strategic targets for me, I’ll help you find whatever you’re looking for. More of those poisoned boys, perhaps?”
Long Feiye looked up. His eyes were hard to look at: deep, dark hollows of pain. Han Ye caught his breath. He had thought he was distracted, but this… “I believe you,” Long Feiye said, his voice low. “I didn’t think anyone else would.”
Han Ye pushed away the blanket and knee-walked closer to Long Feiye. “Then you’ll do it?” he said. “For whoever they took from you?”
Long Feiye nodded, and then looked away, swallowing hard. Han Ye pretended not to see the suspicious glisten to his eyes. “You’re not going to push for my identity?”
Han Ye reached out, resting a hand on his leg and squeezing. “You’re the pirate Long Feiye,” he said. “Whose fleet is going to strike fear into the hearts of emperors, and who…” He faltered a little, then pushed on, quieter. “Who I would like to share a bed with again, although I can’t stay that long.”
“What happened to extending your trip?” Long Feiye asked, with a hint of the usual teasing.
Han Ye smiled wistfully. “That was when I thought you would take more convincing.”
Long Feiye shot him a complicated look, but then as Han Ye watched it transformed, turning into something much more straightforwardly heated. “Who says I don’t need convincing?” he said. It was harder and flatter than flirtation should be, but Han Ye responded to the words instead of the tone. He pushed gently at Long Feiye’s shoulder until he tipped over onto his back, and then he crawled on top of him.
“I’ll convince you, I’ll convince you,” he said. “Don’t worry; I’ll work very hard on that.”
Long Feiye smiled up at him. Han Ye thought it was the most honest smile he had given him yet: small but relieved, just a little shaky around the edges. They had pushed on some tender wounds without meaning to, but Han Ye thought he could salve them. It was a strange certainty to have with a man he had known for so short a time.
“Come here,” Long Feiye said, and Han Ye fell into him.
Now that they were on the same page, their plans could wait another day.