Chu Wanning brings it out after the first time of the night Mo Ran comes inside him.
Mo Ran hasn’t even caught his breath yet when Chu Wanning murmurs hazily for him to pull out. Confusion wheedles into his post-orgasmic haze, but he acquiesces, and he carefully shifts his hips back and pulls his cock free, still half-hard and already missing the warmth of his shizun.
“Are you all right?” he pants, concern clearly breaking through his arousal. He scans his husband’s body hurriedly, searching for telltale signs of injury.
Chu Wanning shakes his head mutely. “N- No. No, I…” There’s a high flush in his cheeks, and his belly is a mess of drying come from the two orgasms Mo Ran has fucked him through. His breathing is significantly heavier too and it looks like he does have more to say but not the air yet, so Mo Ran combs his fingers through his sweat-damp locks and waits until he’s composed himself enough to speak.
“Have something for you,” Chu Wanning rasps.
Mo Ran tilts his head inquisitively. They’re skin-to-skin, the covers long shucked off the side of the bed, and he has a fleeting thought of, I have everything I want here.
As if knowing what he’s thinking, Chu Wanning shakes his head again. He pushes himself up to an elbow, prompting Mo Ran to sit back on his knees while he reaches for their bedside drawer. He’s clearly looking for something, but Mo Ran’s gaze is distracted by a glimmer of wetness between his thighs. His fingers dip into that entrance without thinking, pushing his come back inside (where it belongs, he struggles not to think). He feels his Wanning’s thighs quiver around him, but Chu Wanning lets him do as he wish until he finally brings out what he was looking for.
The moment Mo Ran sees it, he freezes.
“Don’t just look. Take it.” Chu Wanning’s phoenix eyes are less sharp like this, dark and softened by arousal. He doesn’t look at Mo Ran as he shoves the object into his free hand.
Mo Ran continues to stare down at it.
He hears a swallow, and he looks up just in time to see Chu Wanning completely cover his face with his hands. He’s not quick enough to keep Mo Ran from seeing an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his expression – and Mo Ran realizes it’s probably because the fingers of his other hand are still buried in him, and he hasn’t said a word.
Swallowing, he eases his fingers out, earning him a small nnh. “Wanning,” he begins, throat dry. “What is this?”
“It’s—!” Chu Wanning’s voice is partly frustrated, partly mortified, and completely muffled into his palms. “It’s. For you.”
It’s long, thick, and shaped an awful lot like his cock, which is currently nudging against Chu Wanning’s hip and starting to fill with interest again. It’s the color of jade but not as stiff, he finds out with a squeeze.
It’s not— He doesn’t mean to. It’s just instinct, something he does when he’s got himself in hand, and surprisingly the material yields a little under the pressure, drawing out a small, “Oh,” from him.
Of course, Chu Wanning sees this, and his pretty eyes that had finally dared to peek over the tips of his fingers are promptly hidden again as he grits out, “Mo Ran.”
“Hm?” Mo Ran says, glancing listlessly from the device – plaything? Artificial cock, that’s what it is – and sees the tips of his husband’s ears reddened beyond help, he’s filled with a rush of warmth. “Baobei.” He tries to stroke soothing circles into Chu Wanning’s thigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just…” Completely surprised. Possibly dreaming. “Did… Did you buy this from…?”
A moment later, there’s the barest shake of Chu Wanning’s head.
Mo Ran arrives to another conclusion so quickly that his head spins. “…Wanning. Did you make this?”
“Can you please stop holding it up!”
The tone, audibly mortified and utterly incriminating, stuns Mo Ran into a brief silence.
His Wanning made this. For him.
A smile tugs at Mo Ran’s lips before he can help it. “Shizun wants me to put it down…” he says, daring to tease. Even when bare and spread around him, his Wanning is adorable. “Down where?”
Chu Wanning lowers his hands just enough to shoot him a lethal, scathing, absolutely malevolent glare. Mo Ran, stupid with love, bursts into a small laugh and lowers himself on an elbow so he can kiss the back of the other man’s hands.
“Don’t call me that when you’re…” Chu Wanning mutters.
“Okay, okay,” Mo Ran relents. “I’m sorry, Wanning.” Still smiling, he smooths back his husband’s sweat-damp hair and kisses his forehead, far too chaste for the device he’s holding. He can’t believe Chu Wanning, who blushes when Mo Ran rightfully calls him beautiful and still struggles to meet his eye and Mo Ran is pressed in the deepest he can go, has made him this.
The inspiration is clear: they’d gone into town a week ago in search of spare parts for Chu Wanning’s latest commission and run into a certain merchant selling luobojing that turned out to be not at all related to radishes, but to some book called the Size List of the Great Heroes of the World. Chu Wanning had flushed so red that Mo Ran thought it was from the heat. He’d flushed even worse when they were at the end of the street, and Mo Ran teased, “Something like that could be useful in case you ever miss me.”
Chu Wanning had stormed ahead of him, looking incensed beyond belief and leaving Mo Ran to catch up.
It looks like he wasn’t all that eventually caught up.
Mo Ran tries to imagine his Wanning bent over the desk, working out the designs of the device. Chu Wanning must have been very careful to wait until he was alone to mold something so lewd – was that was he was doing when Mo Ran was doing errands? That image of those nimble fingers working the details to perfection strikes him with a bolt of arousal, and his cock twitches in interest where he’s pressed against Chu Wanning’s inner thigh. It’s too bad Mo Ran couldn’t have walked in on him, and perhaps helped him test it right there, bent over his studious workbench—
Mo Ran takes a deep breath, tempering the want that surges in the pit of his belly.
“Baobei,” he murmurs, kissing down where Chu Wanning’s hands can’t shield his jaw. “Let me say thank you? You absolutely didn’t have to, but you made this for me... You’re the smartest, most talented—"
“Stop,” Chu Wanning says weakly.
Mo Ran makes a noise of denial. “I love you.” He kisses his way back up to Chu Wanning’s face, nosing at the back of his knuckles. “Wanning,” he coos, “please look at me?”
He waits patiently until the man beneath him finally goes lax and lets him tug his wrists down. Chu Wanning is covered in a beautiful flush that spreads all the way down to his chest, making Mo Ran want to kiss him all over.
Mo Ran will. Later. Maybe after he’s—
“I saw the way you looked at them.” Chu Wanning’s voice had lowered into an angry mumble, though it doesn’t actually seem directed at Mo Ran. “If… If you want one, it should be from somewhere trustworthy.”
“Oh.” Mo Ran needs to think of something smarter to say, but he feels too ridiculously endeared to be eloquent, and it all comes down to him wondering how he managed to get so lucky to end up with Chu Wanning. “Shizun is so thoughtful.”
Chu Wanning squirms. “I said…”
“I remember,” Mo Ran assures quickly, kissing his cheek. Chu Wanning’s gaze is fixed stubbornly somewhere on the ceiling, anywhere but Mo Ran’s eyes or the toy still in his hand. Mo Ran, however, can’t look anywhere but.
Certain thoughts float serenely through his mind, like lotuses drifting on water: Wanning…alone…sculpting…thinking about my…
Mo Ran’s throat works around a stifled groan. “Wanning,” he croaks. He brings up the jade toy between them again, painting an obscene illusion of the cock resting on his lover’s chest, and wantwantwant beats insistently at his self-composure. “Do…you want to try this tonight?”
Chu Wanning’s gaze darts away for a fraction of a second. Years ago, Mo Ran might have missed it, but now he knows Chu Wanning as well as, if not more, than himself.
He’s already had him twice, but he thinks of how his Wanning likes to be pushed just a little too far sometimes. He thinks of how, despite the years they’ve had together, it’s still difficult for Chu Wanning to ask for the pleasure he wants and deserves. It’s not that Mo Ran would ever deny him – it’s the sheer number of years he spent never asking for anything for himself.
So when Chu Wanning can’t seem to form an answer, Mo Ran carefully rephrases, “Can we try it tonight?” because it’s always been easier for Chu Wanning to say yes for others than for himself.
Chu Wanning presses his lips together. After a great pause, he answers stiffly, still not looking at Mo Ran, “It’s yours. Do what you want with it.”
Mo Ran pauses too. I want to do you with it, he tactfully decides against saying. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to, baobei.” He’s almost shy – never mind that his fingers were just inside of him a few minutes ago.
Chu Wanning releases a slow, careful breath. When he speaks, he speaks clearly: “If I did not want it, we would not be discussing it anymore.”
And like that, an unthought-of possibility enters Mo Ran’s thoughts – that Chu Wanning perhaps made this because he wanted it too. It’s an astoundingly unlikely idea, but the thought of Chu Wanning, so pristinely kept in his image, relying solely on of the memory of Mo Ran’s cock in his hands, in his mouth, in him, sparks a bright, gleeful desire in Mo Ran.
“All right, Shizun,” Mo Ran says sweetly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his lips. The tip of the toy inadvertently drags along a pale collarbone, and Chu Wanning tenses again beneath him, like he knows what Mo Ran is going to ask next. “Did you really make it as big as me?” He’s tempted to line it up against himself and look, but the sight might make him think of his gorgeous Wanning stretched around both lengths at the same time, and that is a dangerous thought.
“Of course not. It—” Chu Wanning cuts himself off with a bite of his lip.
It only piques Mo Ran’s curiosity further. Why ‘of course not’? It what?
It doesn’t look like he’s going to get an explanation though, so he prods further, “Ah, well, even if it isn’t, still really well-made, Shizun, almost exactly like mine everywhere else. How long did you spend making it?”
How long did you spend thinking about me?
This time, Chu Wanning merely tilts his chin to the side, his jaw tight.
Any other time, Mo Ran would cup his chin and coax him into looking at him again. However, with his one arm busy propping himself up and the other holding the fake cock, he instinctively taps the head against Chu Wanning’s cheek.
“Mo Weiyu!” Chu Wanning instantaneously jerks at the contact, expression indignant, but the movement actually only smacks the tip more soundly against his cheek. Heat instantly flares over his cheeks and in Mo Ran’s cock— the real one, the one he can’t help but groan and thrust weakly against Chu Wanning’s hip.
“But Shizun,” he says, voice raw. “I can’t put it in you dry.”
And he won’t, because the little container of slick is still beside Chu Wanning’s spread knees and technically his shizun’s entrance is already dripping too.
Chu Wanning doesn’t see through him, though. “You—” His pretty lips part around words he can’t seem to form. He stares up at Mo Ran, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark.
For a moment, they simply stare at each other, one waiting for the other to crumble first.
Mo Ran slides the jade tip to the corner of his lips.
Chu Wanning’s gaze turns even more lethal – but there’s a different layer of heat to it, matching the one in Mo Ran’s.
And as he expects, with the gentlest of pushes, Chu Wanning’s eyelashes lower and his lips part pliantly around the tip. Mo Ran feeds him the length, relying on muscle memory to tell him how much is too much, and he's barely halfway in when Chu Wanning makes a small noise like a whimper, and oh.
Mo Ran sucks in a breath, gaze flitting up worriedly, but Chu Wanning’s own eyes have fluttered shut. What prompted the sound, Mo Ran isn’t sure, but Chu Wanning remains compliant underneath him.
He’s had his mouth around Mo Ran before, has willingly lowered himself between Mo Ran’s legs, has let Mo Ran feed him his cock until his lips stretched thin around its girth, but Mo Ran has never seen him do it this close. The candlelight casts the trembling shadows of his lashes, tempting Mo Ran to kiss him, but Mo Ran is more entranced by how well he’s taking the toy and doesn’t want to miss a single moment of it. Of course that cock isn’t his, but he relishes every slide in as though it was, remembering how the wet, warm velvet of Chu Wanning’s mouth feels around him.
He’s slow, easing in and out rhythmically and pushing just a little bit further each time. Saliva drags along the length each time he pulls out, only to coat Chu Wanning’s lips when he pushes in. “So good,” Mo Ran whispers, finding one of Chu Wanning’s hands and pressing it to his own mouth for a kiss, “Wanning, you’re taking it so well.”
And maybe he presses in a little too deeply for it or it’s just the praise, but Chu Wanning makes a small noise, a desperate little sound that’s about as good as a moan for Mo Ran. Mo Ran finally slides the dick free of those lips, watching with a carnal satisfaction as they tremble around a gasp but don’t quite close. He looks wrecked already, and Mo Ran’s blood is singing.
“Wanning,” he asks, pleads, “can I—?”
Chu Wanning’s eyes flutter open, tinged with the faintest red to match the wet flush of his lips. He nods once, minutely—and in case Mo Ran should miss it, he crooks a leg and tilts it open. His cock lies stiff and leaking against his stomach, his ass flushed from how hard Mo Ran had fucked him before, and Mo Ran wishes he had an ounce of artistry in him so he could paint the sight for himself.
So good and so beautiful and other praises fall indiscriminately from Mo Ran’s tongue as he fumbles blindly for the oil. Chu Wanning’s brows knit together at that, the closest he’s looked to protesting all night, and Mo Ran kisses him before he gives him his habitual I’m not. Someday, Mo Ran kisses into him, hitching a leg over his shoulder and pressing close until Chu Wanning’s hips lift slightly off the bed, someday, I’ll make you believe it.
The toy is dripping by the time he brings it to Chu Wanning’s entrance – he can never be too careful. More of his come has dripped out, staining the sheets below, and Mo Ran can’t help but rub the tip against that soft, stretched rim to try to keep any more from escaping.
All he does is smear it. “It’s coming out,” he mutters, disappointed.
Chu Wanning makes a stiff noise and covers his eyes with the back of his hand. “You…”
“Shameless, I know,” Mo Ran sighs, and he guides the toy in.
Chu Wanning accepts him with breathtaking ease. Mo Ran is transfixed by the sight of that impossibly large object – and he’s bigger than this? – sinking into his Wanning’s hole. He stops halfway, draws out, feels the shudder of Chu Wanning’s thighs. He pushes back in and presses well past halfway the second time, and one of Chu Wanning’s hands shoots downwards to grip his forearm.
Immediately, he stills, looking up at Chu Wanning.
“I’m fine.” His husband’s voice is hoarse, his breathing roughened again. “Just— start slow.”
Mo Ran nods, leaning down to guide his hand away from his eyes. “Slow,” he agrees, pressing their lips together. Chu Wanning tastes sweet, and Mo Ran threads their fingers together and pins his hand above his head.
Between their legs, he finally starts pulling out again. Looking down, he can see the come he inadvertently drags out with it. Again, there’s that disappointment, simmering with the baseless urge to fuck in again, to fill him with more. Maybe that time, he’ll replace his cock with the toy right afterwards to make sure nothing can escape.
The thought inspires others.
Could his Wanning keep it inside whenever Mo Ran leaves a whole day for town? Could he keep it inside whenever he comes with Mo Ran to town? Could he walk straight with something pressing so deep in him, would he have to lean against Mo Ran for support, would he sit down and feel it spearing him open—would he let Mo Ran fix it on a seat somehow, and would he let Mo Ran see him fuck himself on a chair until he comes all over himself?
Mo Ran’s dizzy with the possibilities, gripping the soft flesh of Chu Wanning’s thighs so tightly that it’ll leave a bruise. “There’s so much,” he finds himself moaning on a thrust. “Fuck, baobei…”
Chu Wanning’s fingers twitch. He’s biting his own lip so hard that it looks like it might bleed.
“it's so big, and you’re taking it all, look.” Chu Wanning finally breaks and gives a breathy “ah” when Mo Ran tilts his hips up a little higher, making it easier for him to pump his wrist. He doesn’t know when he began to speed up, only that now every time he drives the toy in, it makes a lewd squelch.
“Can’t believe you,” he mumbles, “so full, is it this full too when I’m inside you? Does it feel as good, Shizun?”
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning gasps, suddenly arching off the bed, and Mo Ran realizes he’s hit that spot inside that’s made him come apart untouched before.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers reverently, slipping an arm under his husband’s head and cradling him close. Chu Wanning is bent nearly in half, his leg scrabbling weakly at the covers for some kind of stability, but each shove of Mo Ran’s wrist knocks him askew. In the end, he has to hold onto Mo Ran’s shoulder with one hand while the other remains uselessly gripping Mo Ran’s forearm, the same one that suddenly starts its pace anew, slamming the toy inside him and scraping mercilessly against his sweet spot each time.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chokes out with each thrust, “too deep, Mo- oh- Mo Ran—”
Mo Ran would kiss him if he didn’t absolutely relish those rare sounds. He drops his head into the nape of Chu Wanning’s neck, promising fervently against the heated skin as he starts thrusting back in anew, “I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here,” and he releases Chu Wanning’s thigh to grip his cock instead.
“Nngh—!” Chu Wanning arches into his hand and Mo Ran lets him, starting a rhythm to complement the toy slamming in and out of his hole. He’s never felt more in-control of himself – it somehow feels as if he can reach deeper, can grind against his that little spot as hard as he wants, as hard as he does.
Chu Wanning shudders against him, scrabbling weakly at his arm—it isn’t until a moment later that Mo Ran feels a jolt of spiritual energy from the contact.
His pace stutters as he pulls away from the mark he’s leaving on his husband’s neck. “Wanning—?”
Chu Wanning’s head lolls back. Sweat makes his skin glow, his parted lips making Mo Ran miss the sight of them wrapped around his cock. His wrist subconsciously twitches, twisting the toy deeper, and Chu Wanning’s frame racks with pleasure.
He squeezes Mo Ran again. “It- It can—” Another jolt.
Somehow, Mo Ran understands. He exhales slowly, an unnamed eagerness pooling in his gut. He gathers Chu Wanning into his arms, and then he feeds the toy hilt-deep at the same time he feeds it a tendril of spiritual energy.
Too many things happen at once: the toy suddenly buzzes to life, Chu Wanning cries out in his arms, and warmth spills all over his hand. It’s the buzzing that deafens him to all else, jolting him with a near-violent desire. Mo Ran bears Chu Wanning through a shaking orgasm, sweeps him into a kiss, and fucks him through it.
Chu Wanning’s kissing has become sloppy, and he almost throws Mo Ran off with how suddenly he arches off the bed. “Mo Ran,” he breathes, over and over, voice hitching higher and closer to a sob as he’s pushed into the realm of oversensitivity, “Mo Ran, Mo- R— ah!”
Mo Ran sits back abruptly, causing the leg to slip from his shoulder. Suddenly unanchored, Chu Wanning’s hips cant up from the bed, tremors wracking his entire body from the toy still buzzing inside of him, tilting downwards precariously without anything to hold it in place. His cock pulses over his stomach with the last bits of come, on the verge of coming dry.
“Wanning?” Mo Ran catches one of Chu Wanning’s hands, squeezing firmly until Chu Wanning turns hazy eyes to him. “Are you—”
Chu Wanning’s grip is crushing. “Mm- A- Aah—” His hips thrust up again weakly, knocking the toy just a little looser. It jostles that small pool of come on his belly and sends a rivulet running down one side of his stomach, and it should be filthy but there’s nothing about his shizun that isn’t beautiful.
Mo Ran is about to drain the toy of power when, through the buzzing, he hears a plaintive, “K- Keep going.”
Pride wells up in him, soaking into his desire. Mo Ran cups a trembling thigh and whispers, “Just a little bit longer, then. Turn for me, baobei, please.”
Chu Wanning looks lost, his lashes wet with tears and fluttering with the struggle to stay open. His hands slide over the bedsheets without gripping anything at all and he's shaking so much that Mo Ran has to help ease him over onto his stomach, and there, this.
The sight of his cheeks stretched and the base of the toy tilting out has Mo Ran almost coming untouched. Almost.
He grips himself in his hand, the same one covered in his Wanning’s come, and hooks his other arm around Chu Wanning’s stomach and hefts him up to kneel. There's a shiver of delight when Chu Wanning lets him. He feels his shizun try to rise only for his upper body slump forward, unable to hold himself up, but it's, “Perfect,” Mo Ran rasps, “perfect, that’s it.” His own hands are shaking slightly as he grips Chu Wanning’s hip with one hand and feeds his cock between the soft columns of Chu Wanning’s thighs with the other. He pushes until his stomach is flush with Chu Wanning’s tailbone, pushes until the toy has been pressed all the way back in just as deeply, and keeps him there, savoring the hot, wet heat of his thighs.
Chu Wanning jerks under him, and he sobs into the pillow, “Mo Ran.”
“I have you.” Mo Ran sounds just as broken, bending low to kiss the top of his spine. “I’m right here, Wanning, I love you.”
The trembling of Chu Wanning’s thighs is no longer discernible from the vibrations travelling from inside him, through his thighs, and straight to Mo Ran’s cock. It’s nothing like he’s ever felt before, and his Wanning’s sounds are nothing he’s ever heard before either – open, raw, honest - as Mo Ran begins to roll his hips.
“Fuck,” he moans, drawing out and thrusting back in, slow, so he can feel every tremor and Chu Wanning can feel every bit of his length. His thighs are slick with oil and come, and the unyielding thrum of the toy has Chu Wanning clenching them together without Mo Ran even asking, creating a hot, perfect valley for Mo Ran to sink into. Mo Ran pushes in and grinds, gasping, "Wanning, mmh, how are you always so tight—"
He's been on the precipice for hours, but finally, last of his patience slips.
Mo Ran fucks him like this: fast, harsh, desperate. The pretty swell of Chu Wanning’s rear bounces each time Mo Ran pounds in, shoving the jade cock deeper in with him while Chu Wanning’s hair pools like ink over the sheets. Something about the way his shoulders peek out from below those strands looks almost demure and it spurs Mo Ran faster, hips snapping viciously as he chases his own end.
“Next time,” he promises lowly, “next time, I’ll fill you up and have you mount it, baobei, want to see you work on another while you sit on it, full of me, until you can't move without remembering what it's like to have me inside you— fuck—”
His imagination undoes him and he comes with a shout, shoving in at the same time he yanks Chu Wanning back onto his cock. His hips stutter, and momentum pitches him forward, spilling into Chu Wanning’s thighs and pushing in as deep as he can go simultaneously, as if trying to grind his come into him. He forgets the toy, how it inevitably screws just as deep and suddenly thrums to an entirely new volume, spiked by a sudden lash of energy.
“M- Mmn—ngh!” Chu Wanning cries out hoarsely, his thighs clenching almost painfully tight around Mo Ran as a round of even stronger spasms overtake him. Mo Ran squeezes his eyes shut with a soundless groan, following him deeper into the sheets, fingers digging into soft hips as he fucks through the last waves of his climax, coating the insides of Chu Wanning's thighs until he's dripping.
“Mo Ran.” It takes a moment for the small voice to filter through his consciousness. “M- Mo Ran, please, Mo Ran.”
Chu Wanning is begging.
Mo Ran fumbles blindly for the base of the toy and saps it devoid of energy. The thrumming dies down, and Chu Wanning’s knees unceremoniously give out. This time, Mo Ran manages to catch himself before he falls on top of him and sends the toy any deeper. Gingerly, he pulls out from his thighs, leaving Chu Wanning sprawled on his front and trembling on the sheets, and what a sight that makes.
“Baobei.” Mo Ran’s voice cracks with affection. Careful, careful, he turns Chu Wanning’s cheek and kisses his tears away as he eases the toy out. Come trickles out after it, and with the other stains and marks Mo Ran has left on him, his shizun is a picture of debauchery. Mo Ran can't help but slide two fingers over his entrance, down to his thighs. Chu Wanning makes a punched-out noise, and Mo Ran hushes him as he swipes come up and into him. With nothing to stop it, it spills back out almost immediately, of course. But Mo Ran- Mo Ran likes to watch.
“Mo Ran,” Chu Wanning mumbles. His gaze is unfocused. Faraway.
Mo Ran tears his gaze away to bury his face into the back of his shizun's hair. “You were so good to me," he whispers, kissing him there. Gently, he maneuvers them away from the wet spot on the bed. “So good, baobei. Thank you so much.”
He holds him, stroking his hair and whispering reassurances as Chu Wanning rides out the last of the tremors. It can’t be more than several minutes later when Mo Ran looks down and discovers his eyes have slipped shut completely, sleep smoothing out the lines of his face and making his shizun look young and vulnerable.
“I love you,” Mo Ran whispers to him.
Chu Wanning dozes on.
It’s all right, Mo Ran thinks as he brushes a kiss to his cool forehead, he can always tell him again later.
With a little bit of spiritual redirection, it can move too.
This discovery comes after Mo Ran has carried Chu Wanning out of the bath, laid him on the bed, and picked up the jade phallus to wash. In a slightly clearer state of mind, he poured the slightest bit of energy into it again, wondering to what extent he could control it, and… Well.
“Oh.” Chu Wanning’s voice is soft, wondrous. He’s still coming down from his high, his features unguarded for once. He blinks sleepily at the writhing toy. “That’s…”
“For another time,” Mo Ran says quickly, drawing the energy back out before Chu Wanning can finish the thought.
Once it’s been washed, he places it where back in the drawer he first saw Chu Wanning take it out of. Then Mo Ran puts out the lamp and crawls under the covers to join his husband.
In the dark, Chu Wanning seeks him out with his hands. Mo Ran hums to let him know he’s there, gathers him into his arms, and lets him curl up against his chest. Mo Ran likes how he fits there, well within his reach to protect.
He expects him to fall back asleep quickly, but a few moments later, he hears his shizun mumble, “Was it good?”
That Chu Wanning is still thinking of him— Mo Ran thinks he could cry. “Perfect, baobei,” he swears, kissing the top of his husband’s hair. “Always.”