Spoiled. That’s what it was.
Jiang Xi was going to becoming horribly spoiled. Drawn into wakefulness each morning between two lips casually attempting to suck his soul straight out of this mortal frame. Thighs, balls, everything tickled by coarse yet well-trimmed hairs; both abrading to the point of discomfort and causing his toes to curl.
A very purposeful part of these daily assailments.
At least when Xue Zhengyong had a mouth full of his cock, he was too busy to spew whatever nonsense came to mind. Or murmur saccharine endearments that did not dye Jiang Xi an ‘alluring pink from hairline to toe tips’. Contrary to popular opinion. Nor did it make him quiver, breath catch, hands scrambling to cover his mouth. To stifle throaty moans. He hated sentimentality.
He hated when those eyes greeted his, filled with amusement and fondness. Locked on him as Xue Zhengyong lazily bobbed his head, tongue tracing the vein pulsing at the underside. Ceaseless in his movements but not in any particular hurry.
“Insatiable,” he huffed out, voice sleep rough and falling just short of even. He almost convinced himself that’s what this was about; Xue Zhengyong being a horny bastard every waking hour. It was much easier to swallow than someone so devoted they wanted him to rouse from sleep in the best of ways.
Xue Zhengyong chuckled. Knowingly. The vibration felt all around Jiang Xi’s cock and straight through to the base of his spine. The warmth and mischief in his eyes swelling in equal measure as Jiang Xi’s still parted lips let slip a gasp. A hand came down to tangle into his hair. Stuck between pulling him close and pushing him away.
Xue Zhengyong went on with his task. He won’t be satisfied until Jiang Xi was. Until he greedily consumed the fruits of his labor.
“The breakfast of champions,” he remarked without a hint of shame, licking his too-red lips. Every. Single. Time.
That idiot glowing with pride as Jiang Xi groaned. Half the time trying to disappear under his pillow and dissect the poor choices that lead him to suffer this obnoxious oaf each morning. The others smashing said pillow into a smug, openly adoring face in indignant, red-faced fury.
Yes. He was definitely going to become disgustingly spoiled by this infuriating man.
The myth he constructed in his head, of Xue Zhengyong’s horny switch flipping the second he opened his eyes, fell apart pretty easily. After Jiang Xi tried to hide away or assault him, Xue Zhengyong just laughed–that obnoxious, hearty laugh he can feel inside his bone marrow, buzzing in his mind long after the sound of it fades away–and retreated to the bathroom for one of his patented glacial showers.
A burgeoning morning routine the past month.
Xue Zhengyong swallowing Jiang Xi down whole first thing then sauntering off to deal with his neglected cock under the guise of getting ready for the day.
He never expected anything in return. Never asked for anything. He didn’t even try to cuddle afterwards; respecting how much Jiang Xi disliked it. In his defense, Jiang Xi became easily overstimulated once he orgasmed and a warm body wrapping around him, rubbing against every inch of exposed skin, was too much too soon.
So Xue Zhengyong always gave him his space in those moments. Content to lie at his side, staring adoringly at him in silence. Waiting patiently for calm, even breaths and the little nod – permission to inch in closer. Settle beside him. A strong, confoundingly comforting arm draped about his middle. Not quite spooning but in no way sleeping apart.
It must be a trial for such a tactile man to look and not touch. To fight his every instinct to pull Jiang Xi close, tuck him securely in his embrace and glide together on the warm updrafts of their lovemaking.
No, their basic carnal acts.
No… Their lovemaking. It really couldn’t be categorized as anything else.
Xue Zhengyong didn’t do casual, didn’t approach these things halfway. He was intense and soft and maddening and steady.
A lighthouse, Jiang Xi thought once, in the midst of Xue Zhengyong’s dizzying care. Too far gone to reprimand himself for indulging in sentiment.
A large structure, standing tall on a cliff side for all to see. Flashing out a bright garish light. Impossible to ignore. But that light was more than just for show, to garner attention. It was to keep people safe.
To guide them home.
Jiang Xi sat up and took in the room around him. Each piece of furniture, right down to their arrangement, had been to his specifications. The fabric for their curtains, the expensive sheets pooling at his naked waist. The tidy row of potted herbs he kept on a corner table which permeated their room with a subtle medicinal scent.
While everything was designed to please him, make him comfortable in the rough transition of sharing his life with another person – Xue Zhengyong shone through in it all. Jiang Xi couldn’t tend to his plants and not imagine Xue Zhengyong searching for the exact table to fit what Jiang Xi deemed the perfect spot; not too much sun or too little. Not too warm or too cold.
He couldn’t draw the curtains open to let in the sunlight every morning without a strong reminder of finding Xue Zhengyong setting up blackout curtains to help him sleep better. For when he needed to work night shifts at the hospital. He hadn’t asked and he certainly hadn’t complained. It was his job. He just downed a few extra cups of coffee and soldiered through.
But Xue Zhengyong noticed. He noticed and fixed the problem with little fanfare.
He noticed Jiang Xi hated the cold and set to checking and resealing all the windows in their apartment. Made sure the heat was set to high during the winter months. Despite Xue Zhengyong growing up on a mountain and thriving in bitterly cold weather.
He noticed Jiang Xi–and his stomach–didn’t care for spicy food. So he quietly reined in the liberal chili pepper usage, toned down the heat to an acceptable level. Added a few bitter and sour dishes to his repertoire for good measure.
In their whole apartment, only a handful of items belonged to Xue Zhengyong alone: his clothes, cooking utensils, and decorative fan. A vibrant eyesore hanging on their living room wall, gifted by his deceased older brother and thus never criticized.
There were so little physical embodiments of Xue Zhengyong in their home. Yet he could be found in every square inch.
Jiang Xi listened to the sound of running water accompanied by a pleasant baritone singing some indistinct tune. His mind wandered. Several minutes tick by. Then he drew in a long breath, closed his eyes, and held it for a count of three. Exhaled, slow, letting many things drift away along with it.
He climbed out of bed, opened the bathroom door. Quick, like ripping off a bandage, before he came to his senses and fled, Jiang Xi stepped into the shower behind Xue Zhengyong.
Slotted himself into place against his slick muscular back.
“Baobei...?” Usually called in a sweet, exaggerated tone, now surprised. Questioning. A touch of cautious excitement he can’t suppress.
Jiang Xi didn’t answer.
Xue Zhengyong’s inquires stick in his throat as two hands wrap around his half hard cock; one stroking tentatively up the shaft, the other curled near the tip. Thumbing his slit. A sensitive spot.
“Fuck,” Xue Zhengyong swore loudly under the steady stream of cold water. It didn’t take much to coax him into full hardness. The near-frigid temperature nothing compared to Jiang Xi’s skilled hands.
Afraid to knock Jiang Xi off balance on the wet tiles, Xue Zhengyong leaned forward onto the wall. His pants rough and shaky, rutting into dexterous fingers meant for the precision of a scalpel. Taking him apart with little effort. Jiang Xi’s lightly callused thumb relentlessly toying at his tip. Neat concentric circles ending in sharp, vigorous rubs at his slit before starting all over again. Water and ample amounts of pre-come helping along Jiang Xi’s fluid motions. In the same patient manner Xue Zhengyong used to torture him not ten minutes ago.
The small shower stall filled with the patter of water on tiles, harsh breathing, and Jiang Xi’s name mangled in praise. Desperate encouragement and swears.
“Yes, yes, shit! Xi-ge treats me so good.” Heaved into the wall where Xue Zhengyong nuzzles into it.
“Oh baobei, more. Don’t stop,” nearly whined into crossed arms as Jiang Xi tightened his grip, ramping up his pace.
“Xi-ge, fuck. Your finger, ah, oh god. Oh fuck.” Husky babbles tumbling out of him when the digit making him shake pressed down harder on his raw tip. Stretched his weeping slit to the very edge of painful.
The responding jerk nearly smacked Jiang Xi into the stall door. But he held on, worked Xue Zhengyong through his orgasm. Very grateful for the shower water quickly washing away his spent. And no small amount of smugness at how the tense muscles against him went lax, twitchy. Especially those once sturdy, thick legs.
“Fuck. I can hardly stand,” Xue Zhengyong croaked. Part disbelief, part breathless humor. He’d come close to shouting himself hoarse. The way he leaned heavily on the wall reinforced his words.
Other people might be embarrassed to come so undone by a simple handjob. Xue Zhengyong certainly didn’t show any signs of shame. He was reveling in it; eyes closed and face split in an enormously content grin. Little wobbly laughs escaping as he struggled to catch his breath. An effort made all the more difficult when Jiang Xi did not, as he expected, pull away. Arms came up to hold Xue Zhengyong around his waist, pressing him in closer to the wall, a steadying weight curled against his slick back.
The water still pouring over him was just a hair short of freezing yet Xue Zhengyong’s entire body felt warm. He felt the one at his back shiver and fumbled to turn it off. Another laugh, more robust and filled to the brim with fondness, bubbled out of him at the teeth-chattering complaint hissed beside his ear, “You had better be excessively grateful I risked hypothermia for this.”
“Grateful isn’t the word, baobei.” Jiang Xi found the one in his shivering embrace turn, actions smooth and steady once more. He was outside the stall and wrapped in a towel before he could respond. Strong hands lightly drying him off – taking care of him again. “Touched might come closer but it still isn’t enough.”
Unwilling to concede so easily, Jiang Xi grabbed a towel as well. Set to work patting him dry in a less tender, leisurely fashion. A bit hurried and rough. It only made Xue Zhengyong chuckle in his ardent, vexatious way. More sentimental drivel falling from his lips.
“More special treatment? If you’re not careful, Xi-ge, I might fall in love with you-”
His teasingly affectionate words were affectively cut off as the towel threatening to rub his skin raw was slung over his head and yanked him down into a forceful kiss. The usual firm, exasperated, ‘shut your mouth before I expire from embarrassment’ kind. The one Jiang Xi used to stem those sweet words that made his heart swell against his will, liable to crumble his already weakened resolve.
But Xue Zhengyong still smiled into it. Let himself be tugged back to the bed. Pushed down onto the mattress and subjected to all manner of delights from a very beautiful, determined man. A relentless onslaught of fingers and teeth and cock until his mind was a pleasant fuzzy haze, voice gone, body jelly. He didn’t have the strength to leave their bed for the rest of the morning. Possibly even for the rest of the day.
Of course, with his wonderfully weary body encompassed in Jiang Xi’s embrace, self-satisfied smile pressed into Xue Zhengyong’s somewhat damp hair and nimble fingers tracing a bruised bite mark at his collarbone, he was in no rush to move. Maybe not ever again.