Yu Wenzhou likes to observe. Whether it’s in Glory, studying his opponent's play style, or in the bedroom.
Here in Su Mucheng’s bedroom, there are some things that can only be fully appreciated from a distance. Like the way she pulls the most delightful noises from Huang Shaotian’s lips. Yu Wenzhou is well-versed in how to play his partner's body like the finest of instruments, but as an observer, he’s free to take in each sound at his leisure, turn it over in his mind until it’s fully cataloged and memorized.
Distance brings clarity. Yu Wenzhou watches and takes note.
Huang Shaotian is all bluster when Su Mucheng secures the padded cuffs to the four corners of the bed, bragging about his endurance and spewing a bright stream of taunts and challenges. When the last cuff closes tight, he wriggles on the bed. To anyone else, it looks like his usual enthusiasm but Yu Wenzhou knows him better than that. He’s testing the strength of cuffs. “Do your worst, Mucheng, you’ll see, I can last all night. Watch me!”
He’s always like that in the beginning. Energetic and indomitable, even when he’s stark naked. It makes it that much more fun to watch him succumb in the end.
Su Mucheng pinches the inside of his thigh until he yelps and bucks his hips. It’s the only movement he’s allowed the way he’s tied. “That’s Captain to you,” she tells him.
There’s an undertone of surprise to her laughter when, this time, Huang Shaotian’s cock twitches in time with his hips.
“He likes authority,” Yu Wenzhou says from his place by the desk, still in the suit he wore to his press conference earlier. He's not hard beneath his clothes but he's getting there, taking his time, and if Huang Shaotian wasn't so busy verbally digging his own grave he'd surely have something to say about Yu Wenzhou's speed preference. His fingers play over the bulge in his pants, drawing out the first simmers of heat to his skin. “Don’t mind his mouth, Captain Su, he wants to be put in his place.”
The spark dancing in Su Mucheng’s eyes promises all kinds of mischief. “I can see that.” Turning back to the bed, she trails a fingernail down the center of Huang Shaotian’s chest, scratching lightly at the fine hair on his stomach. “Are you going to be good for us, Shaotian?”
Huang Shaotian’s breathing turns heavy, filling the air with his excitement. From his vantage point, Yu Wenzhou can see his toes curl in time with the arch of his back.
“Answer her.” Yu Wenzhou prompts.
The response is immediate and eager. “Yes, Captain.”
Yu Wenzhou knows that tone of voice as intimately as his own name. He frowns. “I said answer her, not me.” Because that particular ‘Captain’ wasn’t meant for Su Mucheng.
Understanding dawns on Su Mucheng’s face. She’s always been exceedingly sharp. It’s one of the things Yu Wenzhou likes best about her. Her intelligence, her competence, her lack of mercy. Most people speak of her beauty first, when they mention her. And while it isn’t an inaccurate statement, Yu Wenzhou doesn’t understand why that attribute is always given the highest priority, not when everything else about her rages like an inferno.
Huang Shaotian raises his head from the bed, pulling at his restraints to send them both an affronted glare. “I said ‘Captain’ like she asked, what do you mean I didn’t answer her, I was so good. Didn’t you hear me be good? You’re not allowed to punish me when I didn’t do anything wrong.”
It’s cute, the way he tries to bluster himself out of trouble. Normally he’s just as sharp as either of them, but their silent exchange has gone unnoticed over his head. It’s isn’t entirely his fault, not really. His arousal is already fogging his thoughts, the combined effect of the cuffs and all the attention turning his mind slow.
Even if his mouth is still going strong.
“Captain, tell her, tell her how good I can be, she never believes me because Old Ye tells all sorts of lies and none of them are true, and then she laughs at me. Well, there was that one thing that was true but it wasn’t my fault. Even when we play Glory she says that I—”
Su Mucheng grabs hold of his chin, nudging his mouth shut and tilting his head to look at her. “I know you can be good for Wenzhou. Everyone knows that. But what about for me?”
She’s lovely like this, her hair loose and sweeping against her breasts, brushing against Huang Shaotian’s skin when she leans over him. Yu Wenzhou enjoys watching them, the long familiarity of their friendship translating into an easy trust that naturally draws them together. They’re both naked, but unlike Huang Shaotian, who’s spread out like an offering, Su Mucheng exudes coiled power. She’s positioned herself on the far side of the bed, facing the room. Facing Yu Wenzhou. It’s considerate of her to give him such a good view, and he’ll be sure to thank her properly once she's finished wringing noises from Huang Shaotian. The last several times they spoke, she dropped hints about missing his sharp tongue.
Yu Wenzhou looks forward to reprising that particular effort. He licks his lips, imaging the tang of her filling his mouth. Distance has its place, but there’s also something to be said for a more hands-on approach.
“Yes, Mu—I mean, Captain. Yes, Captain.” To Huang Shaotian’s credit, he focuses on Su Mucheng’s face rather than her breasts. His fists open and clench where they’re stretched wide above his head. As wide as his spread legs, and Yu Wenzhou is far enough away to notice that every time he tries to close them and fails, a tiny shudder goes through his body. It puts his cock on perfect display, bobbling and swelling between his legs.
Su Mucheng’s face lights up in an indulgent smile. She pats Huang Shaotian's cheek and leans in, kissing him deeply. A muffled groan escapes his lips, barely audible before it’s swallowed up. Once Su Mucheng has taken her fill, she straddles Huang Shaotian’s lap, rubbing herself against him until he’s fully hard. Each movement comes with a symphony of sound, a melody of moans and whimpers in perfect time with the sway of Su Mucheng’s hips.
Huang Shaotian lays pleading on the bed and they’ve barely gotten started.
“Open,” Su Mucheng says, tracing his lips with her fingers.
Huang Shaotian does what he’s told, sucking at her fingers with noisy abandon. Every time he’s particularly loud, she reaches down and strokes him, and it isn’t long before his keen mind grabs hold of the pattern.
The noises Su Mucheng pulls out of him—high-pitched and whiny and loud around her fingers—are different from the moans and grunts from last week’s post-match liaison with Han Wenqing, or the long, breathy panting sounds Xiao Shiqin was so good at coaxing from his mouth. It’s too bad Yu Wenzhou didn’t think to record the audio before they started.
Slowly, he draws the zipper of his suit pants down. It makes its own noise, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. Huang Shaotian’s mouth is shiny with spit, and a beautiful pink flush has worked its way up Su Mucheng’s chest.
Yu Wenzhou unknots his tie and strides over to the bed. He’s had his fill of distance.