Hua Cheng did not want to spend his birthday in the grand palace or Ghost city. He wanted to spend the day alone with gege at the small humble shrine where this life together began.
Despite Xie Lian’s protests that they should do something special, Hua Cheng insisted they while the day away lounging in the Puji Shrine.
“Gege asks me what I wanted and this is all,” was his cheeky reply any time Xie Lian tries to convince him otherwise.
They made a slight stop into the market half way through the day, Xie Lian remarking that, at the very least, he needed to purchase a few things to make a proper meal for the occasion. He’d reluctantly accepted another gold bar from Quan Yizhen for the occasion and had Hua Cheng transform it into a more easily used bit of currency.
So the day passed with easy conversation and warm laughter, a bit of cuddling and kissing here and there, an ‘excellent’ meal – “Gege has really outdone himself!” – and watching the sunset together.
As night falls and they make ready for bed, Xie Lian offers to comb through Hua Cheng’s hair. Of course, he readily agreed.
“To be pampered by gege is a tremendous honor.”
Xie Lian laughs, taps his head lightly with the comb as punishment then goes about his task.
The soothing repetitive sound and the gentle drag of the comb through his hair, the knowledge of being cared for by Dianxia and that this moment existed only for them; Hua Cheng felt himself blissfully content. He closed his eyes and reveled in it for as long as Xie Lin wished to continue.
After a while, he was drawn back to himself when Xie Lian put down the comb and began fixing his dark shiny straight hair into a somewhat messy braid. And one glance downward revealed that woven into the loose braid were white flowers emitting a light fragrant scent.
When he tries to turn around and thank his thoughtful gege, a hand touches the back of his hand, light but firm enough to keep him still.
“Do not move.”
Hua Cheng obeyed without question. It was a rare thing that Dianxia spoke to him in that authoritative voice and he coveted it greedily. There was no way he would do anything to scare Xie Lian away from taking control.
The braid is finished and Xie Lian goes to work unburdening the mighty Ghost King of his robes, maneuvering him with little effort. By the time the last stripe of fabric is cast aside, his cock was already standing proud and flushed. But remained perfectly still, ever devoted and obedient.
“San Lang,” Dianxia’s voice is low at his ear and thick with promises of better things to come. “Can you summon those silver bangles for me?”
“Of course.” Hua Cheng complied immediately, soon covered in several silver bangles at his wrists, ankles and neck. Every little movement rose a pleasant tinkling sound in the small shrine.
“Now, put your arms above your head.” Once again Hua Cheng happily followed Dianxia’s orders. To his utter surprise and delight, Dianxia moved back to the sack they’d used to carry the food back from the market and pulled out a long, strong rope. It was made of a finer material than an average coarse hemp and as Dianxia tied it around his wrists - tight enough to keep him immobile but not enough to cause pain - it felt smooth against his skin.
The arousal pulsing between his legs grew more urgent as those strong hands lifted him up off the ground and deposited him over their sleeping mat with care. He was the Ghost King, a Supreme, Crimson Rain Sought Flower, master of Ghost City and conqueror of thirty-three gods – but Dianxia always handled him as a precious treasure. If he weren’t a ghost, the whole thing would leave him breathless each time.
That being said, when Dianxia took the rope and tossed it over the rafter above them, tugging on the other end until Hua Cheng was hoisted so his knees barely touched the mat, he couldn’t help a little gasp. Dianxia let the sultry, commanding act drop a little as he rubbed a hand at his upper back and asked with mild concern, “Is San Lang comfortable?”
“Yes,” came his quick reply, breathy and a little too eager. Dianxia chuckle softly and placed a kiss at the back of his neck. The kisses slowly transformed into little nips spread languidly across all of the exposed skin within reach: neck, shoulders, back. They were such a perfect distraction that Hua Cheng nearly jumped as an oil slick finger teased at his rim.
“Don’t move, San Lang.” That low, firm tone was back, spoken against a fresh bite mark at his shoulder, and vibrating through his entire body.
He nodded and stayed perfectly still, even as that slick finger pushed inside. Even as it was joined by another. And another. Soon three fingers were curling and stretching and pressing inside. A thunder storm lived under his skin: electric and powerful and making all the hairs on his body stand on end.
It became increasingly difficult to remain motionless.
Abruptly, the fingers left him. Another sharper gasp escaped moist, parted lips and he was rewarded with his Dianxia’s satisfied laugh, not wholly unaffected by their little game. It caused the burning coil inside his belly to tighten.
A swift tug of the rope and Hua Cheng was pulled onto the balls of his feet. He can hear the rustle of clothing behind him and feel the other end switching hands as Dianxia disrobed. Never once did he let Hua Cheng fall, holding his weight with ease.
To be denied the immense pleasure of watching Dianxia undress only served to stoke the fires of his longing. He’d seen the unmatched beauty, the full glory and splendor of Dianxia wearing nothing but an alluring smile many times at this point. Still, he was ever consumed by a fierce need; a ravenous little beast that could only be momentarily satiated.
This hunger was forgotten as Dianxia laid down on the mat underneath him and languidly stroked himself with the same oil now dripping down Hua Cheng’s thigh. His other hand loosened its hold and gave the rope some slack, lowering a mesmerized Hua Cheng closer and closer to that wet length.
Dianxia stopped the rope with the tip just barely brushing against its home, Hua Cheng settled back on to his knees. Licking his lips, he pleaded with Dianxia without saying a word. They both knew Hua Cheng would stay like this for ages, forever, until he was given permission. He waited centuries to be at Dianxia’s side once more, he could endure a few moments of delicious torture.
“My pretty San Lang. Will you fuck yourself on me?” It took such a long time for Hua Cheng to convince him to use dirty talk in bed. Even then, Dianxia would only do so sparingly. And, if he is completely honest, the rarity of it had much more of an impact.
Hua Cheng swallowed, nodding emphatically as he felt himself being lowered a small bit and Dianxia used the hand still at his cock to guide it inside the welcoming hole. He wanted to scream as the length sank in about half way and not an inch more. But he was grateful for whatever Dianxia deigned to give him, grinding his hips up and down.
Every slight movement was accompanied by the cascading peals of the silver bangles jangling together, mingling with his deep quiet moans and the hums of appreciation beneath him.
Little by little, Dianxia allowed him to take more inside. When he came very close to taking the whole length, he was hoisted back up to the original height. Crimson Rain Sought Flower, Ghost King, Dianxia’s dear San Lang - he let out a loud whine at the sudden denial.
His thighs were trembling and a small pool of pre-cum collected just above Dianxia’s naval. Hua Cheng gazed down at the other half of him, his Dianxia, that single dark eye half-lidded and unfocused. Quivering lips worked wordlessly around a fervent plea but he would not ask for more than he was given. No matter how his insides clenched desperately around Dianxia’s tip.
Dianxia’s free hand comes to rest at his narrow hips. It pointedly ignored the flushed and leaking cock and simply thumbed at a jutting hip bone. He smiled, so sweetly, and if it weren’t long dormant already, Hua Cheng’s heart would have stopped beating.
Without warning, the rope was let out further and Hua Cheng’s full weight came slamming down to meet the hips sharply thrusting upwards.
After all the teasing and attention, Hua Cheng was shoved over the edge immediately. This time, he did scream. He tossed his head back and rode out the shocks rippling through him as Dianxia held his hips in a near bruising grip, chasing down his own release.
Hua Cheng kept moaning senselessly into his arm, only partially aware that his spent cock was filling up again. He was too busy reveling in the sensations of being used by Dianxia, helping his beloved reach that same height and overcome with the knowledge that his body was the sole vessel for Dianxia’s pleasure.
“My San Lang, my beautiful San Lang,” Dianxia called for him, an insistent prayer from a god. Hua Cheng forced his eye open, meeting the gaze fixed up at him; as if he were the only sight worth beholding in the whole world. As if he were precious, cherished. As if he were truly beautiful.
A sob wrenched out of his mouth as it hangs open, body twisting into a taut arch, and he’s falling apart all over again. Dianxia keeps working inside him, hard and fast, drawing out high whines out of his oversensitive and squirming San Lang.
The pace was relentless. Hua Cheng could do nothing but keen helplessly into his trembling bicep, in sheer disbelief that he was getting hard for the third time in a row. If he were anyone else, he’d seriously doubt being able to walk the next morning.
Dianxia’s breathing came in harsh pants and the rhythm of his thrust slipped, fell into an erratic pattern. He had never stopped calling for his San Lang. That name hung on his lips in a shuddering moan as he held Hua Cheng’s hips still and finally coated his insides in twitching heavy spurts.
And that was enough for Hua Cheng too.
After taking a moment to catch his breath, Xie Lian carefully pulls his slumped and quivering husband up far enough to slip out of him. Then he sat up and let the rope go while wrapping a secure arm around Hua Cheng’s waist. Completely fucked out and barely coherent, he leaned against Xie Lian’s body as the rope was untied and cast aside.
Xie Lian rubbed gently at the wrists, forgetting in his own sated state that such a thing was not necessary for a ghost. Though, for San Lang, he’d probably do it anyway. The whole while, he’s whispering words of praise and adoration. Hua Cheng simply nuzzled into gege’s damp neck, far too spent to even reply.
The move earned him more of gege’s soft laughter and a hand stroking through his hair.
“We certainly are a mess. Let me fix that.”
Hua Cheng whined in protest but was gently shushed by gege as he leaned over to grab a waiting rag to wipe them both clean. He made quick work of the task, not wanting to agitate San Lang’s overstimulated skin or be parted from him for too long. He loved how the fearsome Ghost King clung to him whenever given the opportunity, but these moments where San Lang was strung out and whiny - unhappy if they aren’t close for even a second - were his absolute favorite.
The rag tossed aside next to the rope, Xie Lian laid back against the mat, arranging San Lang into a comfortable positon atop him and nestled between his legs.
“Rest now, San Lang.”
“No,” Hua Cheng mumbled childishly, gaining enough strength back into his arms to grasp tight to Xie Lian. “If I do, that’s less time that I get to spend with gege.”
“Oh, San Lang.” Xie Lian sighed, patting at the back of this silly husband’s head, the fondness abundant in his voice and smile.
Instead of insisting, he pressed a series of tender kisses into Hua Cheng’s silken hair. A hand combed through that hair, just as their evening began, and sneakily coaxed a stubborn Ghost King into a deep, restful slumber.
In the quiet of the shrine that embraced them, a cozy little world all their own, Hua Cheng caught a whisper just as he drifted off.
“Happy Birthday San Lang.”