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The walls were too close.
Not metaphorically — not in the way they always were throughout years of social regret, bad decisions, and the memory of his own godsforsaken death closing in on him at all sides until Yin Yu couldn’t breathe…
(As if he, a ghost, needed to breathe.)
No, this time, the walls were literally too close, and Quan Yizhen was right there.
Their limbs were an entangled mess of confusion in the pitch blackness, leaving Yin Yu confused as to which way was up. Focus. He just needed to focus—
Quan Yizhen balanced between his legs with the curve of his knees settled snugly beneath Yin Yu’s hips. He could feel every rise and fall of the god’s chest from where they were practically pressed into one another. Every one of Quan Yizhen’s breaths washed over Yin Yu’s face, down his neck, and into his robes. Yin Yu tried not to mimic the harsh gasps, but it was difficult when the forced proximity made it second nature to mirror every breath.
Every inhale. Every exhale.
Each a constant reminder of their closeness, making an already enclosed space even smaller.
It was suffocating. It was unbearable. It was—
“How,” Yin Yu choked out, “did this happen?”
The box flared with light. Yin Yu flinched against the sudden blinding burst. Once the stars were blinked out of his eyes, he saw that Quan Yizhen had summoned a tiny palm flame. He was probably trying to be helpful, but all Yin Yu could think was: TOO CLOSE!
Yin Yu’s back pressed against the wall of their box-prison, and upon seeing Quan Yizhen right there, he jerked back, smacking his head good and hard against the cold stone behind him. He grimaced against the pain and closed his eyes, trying to give himself a moment’s reprieve from his panic to think.
But now that he’d gotten a good look at their situation, it was even worse than he imagined.
Quan Yizhen’s free hand was braced next to Yin Yu’s head, the martial god’s neck hunched down to account for the shallow height of the box. Quan Yizhen was trying to give Yin Yu room, but he literally had no extra space to give. In fact, his attempt to give Yin Yu any sort of grace was probably causing him more discomfort — as if this situation wasn’t already fucked up to begin with.
“Shixiong doesn’t remember?” Quan Yizhen asked.
The question had been rhetorical. Of course Yin Yu remembered. Everything had just happened so quickly.
Ever since Quan Yizhen cultivated Yin Yu’s soul back from the brink, the two of them had been rebuilding their relationship. Their friendship.
As such, when Yin Yu had time off from his duties as the Waning Moon Officer — a brand new addition to his job thanks to His Highness Xie Lian — he would accompany Quan Yizhen on prayers. Most of the time, Yin Yu was really only there to provide conversation, logical deductions when solutions weren’t straightforward, or to cheer Quan Yizhen on.
The last option was the one he thought he’d hate the most, but watching Quan Yizhen work, killing beasts with ease, was actually quite pleasurable. It reminded Yin Yu of all the untapped talent he’d seen in the filthy little homeless boy running around outside his sect’s training grounds during his mortal days. Seeing that potential at its peak filled him with pride. It wasn’t that the envy was gone, per se, but he was able to appreciate his role in Quan Yizhen’s success a little bit more than he used to.
Which brought them to this mission. Yin Yu had known something was off about the prayer when Quan Yizhen shared the details, but he had been too slow to put said details together. He’d seen the spell array a moment too late. His attempt to push Quan Yizhen out of the way had only caught him in the blast as well. Yin Yu thought they were both going to get blown to smithereens.
Being trapped in a box was not the worst outcome, though it was definitely not ideal.
“I remember,” Yin Yu amended. He pressed his palms against the walls on either side of him, chest heaving as he lost against the urge to hyperventilate. “I just… fuck.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and shot an entire reservoir of spiritual power from his right palm. The blast of light was absorbed by the stone as if it were nothing. Yin Yu tried again.
“I don’t think it’s working,” Quan Yizhen offered.
Yeah, no shit! Yin Yu almost snapped before remembering himself. “We need to get out of here. Yizhen, can you—?”
The question hadn’t even left his lips before Quan Yizhen reared his elbow back as far as he could — which wasn’t nearly far enough but would have to do — and punched the wall directly behind Yin Yu’s head. He knew Quan Yizhen would never hit him, not accidentally (his skill was far too good for a mistake such as that) and definitely not purposefully. Yin Yu flinched away from the full might of a martial god releasing their power so close anyway. It would never not make the ghost flinch. It was the only logical reaction to such a display.
And yet the wall didn’t budge.
Quan Yizhen scowled. “Something’s wrong with this box. It won’t break.”
Okay. There was not much in the three realms that could withstand a direct punch from General Qi Ying, which meant either this was one of those few substances or…
“Something is probably draining our spiritual power,” Yin Yu murmured.
That would explain why Yin Yu’s spiritual blast had felt paltry. It wasn’t that the wall was absorbing anything. He’d essentially hit the thing with a child’s worth of energy. And while Quan Yizhen was naturally strong, most mere mortals wouldn’t be able to punch through solid stone, especially factoring in the potential thickness. Which left…?
Yin Yu focused on the spot where his palm pressed into cold stone in an attempt to keep still. He pushed a tiny stream of spiritual energy out, following the path of his energy as it passed through the sediment and rock until eventually — it found open air.
Okay. That was good. That meant they weren’t buried on top of everything else, so they only had to find a way to break the box. The tendril of spiritual power wrapped around the box, allowing Yin Yu to assess the dimensions and shape. The information left the ghost feeling marginally better about their situation than he had two seconds prior.
“Yizhen, we need to—”
“Yes, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen cut him off, eager.
Far too eager.
Quan Yizhen’s face was still entirely too close for Yin Yu’s comfort. Hot breath wafted across Yin Yu’s ear and made his entire body shudder. Yin Yu jerked back, but with nowhere to go, it was more like he simply jumped in place. The movement only served to remind him of the very real fact that Quan Yizhen was stuck between his legs. Yin Yu’s nose was practically against Quan Yizhen’s collarbone; he was so close he could smell the faint aroma of orange blossoms from his hair.
It was entirely too overwhelming.
Yin Yu swallowed thickly, suddenly wishing Quan Yizhen would put out his palm flame so he could at least hide in the darkness of his misery. “We should, um… try to move the box. If we can’t break it with strength, then we’ll try gravity.”
Quan Yizhen blinked at him. “And how would we do that?”
“We, ah, push in the same direction at the same time. Hopefully, with enough momentum, it will cause the box to tip.”
“Okay.” Quan Yizhen paused. “But what if the ghost is watching?”
“Ah.” He hadn’t thought about that. “We can’t worry about that. Getting free is our first concern.”
“Yes, Shixiong.”
Yin Yu wished he could block out all of the sensations traveling through his dead body right about now. Every word Quan Yizhen spoke vibrated through him, allowing Yin Yu to feel the utterances long before any meaning became clear. Every time Quan Yizhen turned his head to speak to Yin Yu’s face directly, the breath no longer went down his neck but touched his lips instead, almost as if they were about to kiss.
Yin Yu really wished he wasn’t thinking about kissing at a moment like this.
“You’re stronger,” Yin Yu said, determined to keep his voice level. “When you’re ready, just… give the wall a shove. Up… up here.”
His elbow scraped the stone on his right as he pointed toward the upper part of the wall his back rested against. Quan Yizhen braced his hands against the spot, and Yin Yu shifted, trying to find a good way to leverage his own weight. But then his crotch brushed something, and he immediately froze. Quan Yizhen probably didn’t need his help. He had this. Right?
Right.
“Ready?” Quan Yizhen asked.
Yin Yu flushed and turtled down into his collar, managing only a tiny nod. Quan Yizhen must have seen because he reared back his elbows again — both of them this time — and gave a mighty shove. It took two tries before Yin Yu’s world tilted, and a second later, what little wind was left in his ghostly lungs was knocked out of him as he ended up with a lap full of martial god.
“Y-Yizhen!” Yin Yu choked out.
“Sorry, Shixiong! I—”
Quan Yizhen wriggled as he tried to find some way to lift off of him. However, gravity and the cramped space of the box left him stuck in place. If Yin Yu thought having Quan Yizhen sitting between his legs had been bad before, it was nothing compared to his former shidi lying between them. The pressure and weight left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Yin Yu’s wonderfully stupid plan hadn’t even worked (though he thought he may have heard something akin to a crack when they landed), and now any leverage and momentum they had before was gone. Yin Yu couldn’t foresee a way for Quan Yizhen to roll them again, even if he wanted to.
Yin Yu braced the soles of his boots against the wall-turned-ceiling, wondering how they were supposed to roll again. Maybe if he followed Quan Yizhen’s example, he could kick out with enough force to right them once more. They could rock back and forth until the stone gave away—
Lost in his thoughts, Yin Yu didn’t realize he had lifted his hips while he considered the angle until his thigh brushed something. Quan Yizhen dropped his head forward, making a small sound that sounded suspiciously like a moan. Yin Yu’s eyes bugged out as he froze.
“Don’t… don’t move,” Yin Yu ordered.
“Yes, Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen said in a strained voice, as if this was the hardest thing he’d ever agreed to.
His forehead came to rest on Yin Yu’s shoulder. The limbs keeping Quan Yizhen suspended over Yin Yu shook.
Yin Yu had a sneaking suspicion exhaustion wasn’t the cause, but he didn’t want to ask, fearful of the answer. The longer they lingered in their precarious position, the louder Quan Yizhen’s harsh and ragged breaths echoed throughout the box. And gods help him, despite all Yin Yu’s attempts to stay calm, he could feel his own body warming up.
Desperate, Yin Yu brought two fingers to his temple and recited the most embarrassing password in the three realms, before: “Chengzhu?”
No answer.
“Shixiong smells good,” Quan Yizhen murmured, sounding half-dazed.
Oxygen, Yin Yu thought idly. He was probably running out of air. Yin Yu didn’t need to breathe, but Quan Yizhen still required the sustenance to get by. He didn’t see any way for air to circulate in this box, so it made sense that Quan Yizhen was starting to show signs of hypoxia.
“Try to breathe slowly,” Yin Yu suggested. “We need to rotate the box again — maybe back the other way if we can—”
Yin Yu yelped as Quan Yizhen suddenly collapsed on top of him. The martial god babbled out a string of apologies, but Yin Yu’s brain could not comprehend any of it. What little bit of controlled thought he had left was all-consumed by the hard weight compressing his body down into the floor of the box. Yin Yu closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, feeling intimately the slide of his Adam’s apple up and down his throat.
“Y-Yizhen,” he sputtered, “are you okay? Are you—?”
“Shixiong’s so warm,” Quan Yizhen rumbled in his ear.
Abruptly, Yin Yu wished he did have to breathe, so the lack of oxygen could knock him out and allow him to escape this mortifying situation.
“You’re so warm. It’s so hot…”
Dizzily, Yin Yu thought that made no sense. He was a ghost. Of course he wasn’t actually that warm. And if Quan Yizhen were growing hotter by the second, he wouldn’t be the one causing it to happen. Except, his blood did feel like it was trying to boil beneath his skin. Every available inch of his body was in contact with or completely compressed by Quan Yizhen’s body; it was doing things to him that Yin Yu was trying desperately to ignore.
“Chengzhu?” Yin Yu tried again, desperately.
Still no answer.
“Why doesn’t Shixiong ever message me?” Quan Yizhen whined.
Kill me now, Yin Yu thought. Then he remembered he was already dead. Kill me again, he amended.
“I wish Shixiong would message me…”
“Yizhen, now isn’t the time to talk about that,” Yin Yu interrupted, his heart hammering in his chest. “We should, um…”
What was the plan again?
He needed to get leverage, try to flip the box. Quan Yizhen was still lying completely on top of him, seemingly devoid of energy or will to try again. That didn’t mean Yin Yu had given up. As he tried to find purchase on the stone walls with the soles of his boots, he shifted beneath the martial god; Quan Yizhen made a pitiful sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper.
Fearing that he was in pain, Yin Yu lifted his head to look down — and regretted it instantly. Their bodies laid flush against one another, robes in disarray, and Quan Yizhen was looking up at him. His eyes glittered in the light of the palm flame, his face flushed with a thin sheen of perspiration across his forehead and upper lip.
“Shixiong…”
The sound that escaped Yin Yu’s throat was beyond embarrassing, but it must have done something to Quan Yizhen as the next second their lips were touching. Yin Yu stiffened, eyes wide, as he waffled between kissing back or dispersing into nothing. He did neither, parting his lips in an attempt to speak — to perhaps halt this ill-timed peck. Quan Yizhen mistook the signal as an invitation and plunged his tongue into Yin Yu’s mouth.
Yin Yu gasped as Quan Yizhen’s hips rutted down, the sound melting into a groan. There was no room in this box, but that was no excuse for why Yin Yu didn’t immediately push the martial god off of him. He knew Quan Yizhen would listen. Instead, he moaned shamelessly as Quan Yizhen gripped his hips in his strong hands and thrusted, driving their pelvises together.
“Fuck,” Yin Yu inhaled sharply.
“I like you,” Quan Yizhen said sincerely, which felt entirely out of place paired with what his hips were doing. “I like Shixiong so much. I love Shixiong. I want—”
“Maybe… maybe now isn’t the time?” Yin Yu tried.
The heat was definitely starting to go to Yin Yu’s head now. Maybe the lack of oxygen as well — though that made no sense. He felt disoriented and completely at Quan Yizhen’s mercy as the god continued to rock his hips, the curve of his cock in his pants feeling more and more obvious with every passing second. His own aching member begged for more attention; it took Yin Yu’s last shred of sanity not to buck upward.
“Shixiong needs to know how I feel,” Quan Yizhen said, his voice soft and filled with a heartfelt affection juxtaposing the bruising force slamming into Yin Yu’s thighs. “I need you to know—”
His voice caught, and Yin Yu reached up to catch the back of Quan Yizhen’s curly head, feeling inexplicably protective suddenly.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “It’s okay, you told me. You—”
Well, perhaps Yin Yu was going to say more but apparently reassurance was one of Quan Yizhen’s kinks. The rutting grew more intense, and Yin Yu threw his head back with a groan.
He was so incredibly trapped. Not just by the stupid box — he doubted he’d be able to move even if he and Quan Yizhen were tangled up in bed together with his god’s body acting as a hot and heavy shield against the rest of the world on top of him.
Quan Yizhen ripped open Yin Yu’s robe. Literally. Yin Yu winced as he considered the damage before the thought floated away, replaced by the feeling of Quan Yizhen cupping his pecs and pinching his nipples. His back arched, pushing into the touch, the back of his head slamming against the stone harder than he intended in his need to chase the touch.
“Shixiong…” Quan Yizhen groaned.
“Oh shit,” Yin Yu gasped.
He squeezed his eyes shut. This was ridiculous. They were stuck in a box. They needed to be trying to escape. The malevolent spirit could be watching them right now, waiting to kill them at their most vulnerable, but Yin Yu couldn’t think straight.
Now that he’d given in, it was like he couldn’t stop his body from wriggling of its own volition in the tiny space afforded him. Quan Yizhen moaned every time their clothed cocks — Intentionally? Unintentionally? Yin Yu didn’t even know anymore — touched.
“Okay, okay, fuck.” Yin Yu didn’t curse often, but when all other words failed him, he was as eloquent as General Nan Yang, apparently. “Let’s just… get this out of our system, then we can focus on escaping, okay?”
Quan Yizhen blinked at Yin Yu, as if he’d never seen anything like him before. “What does that mean?”
“It means, it means,” Yin Yu whined in a voice that sounded nothing like him, “more… Touch me more, Yizhen.”
He was possessed. It was the only explanation for the filthy words as he bucked up into Quan Yizhen. The alarm bells firing off in his head, telling him to keep his cool and not grind against his shidi, had long since been silenced.
Yin Yu’s arousal thrummed in his ears, nearly as loud as Quan Yizhen’s heavy breathing. Hands wandered down abdominal muscles to reach the top of Yin Yu’s pants. There wasn’t enough room to pull them off, but Quan Yizhen wasn’t deterred as he tugged the hem down far enough to allow Yin Yu’s cock to spring free.
“Pretty…” Quan Yizhen murmured.
Yin Yu’s entire face was aflame. He choked back a whimper, somewhere between mortified and incredibly turned on, as he attempted to reach for Quan Yizhen’s pants to do the same. But there were too many elbows and walls and layers of clothing in the way. Quan Yizhen whined, attempting to help, fingers undoing his sash to push aside the material and get to his erection, which had formed an impressive tent in his white pants.
“Shixiong…” Quan Yizhen whimpered.
Hating to hear him suffer, Yin Yu shooed away his hands. “It’s okay, Yizhen. I’ve got it.”
Then — taking a page out of his shidi’s book — Yin Yu grabbed the front of Quan Yizhen’s pants and tore them open, seams ripping under his former martial god strength. The garment split in two, and Quan Yizhen’s fat leaking cock fell out, ignoring gravity in its magnificence. Yin Yu audibly gulped at the sight.
In me, he thought like a crazy person. He wanted that thing in him. Pronto.
Except there was absolutely no way that was happening while they were stuck here. They could barely bring their cocks together as it was, let alone find a way for Quan Yizhen to get to his entrance.
Speaking of bringing their cocks together — that was exactly what Quan Yizhen did, gathering their erections in his fist. They both groaned, their pleasure echoing against the stone walls.
Quan Yizhen looked up and kissed Yin Yu again. This time, Yin Yu hummed happily as their lips slotted together. He didn’t even mind the enthusiastic exploration of Quan Yizhen’s tongue this time; he moaned around it, his hips thrusting up into Quan Yizhen’s fist. Despite the lack of lubricant, their members slid against one another easily, aided by sweat and leaking pre-cum.
Yin Yu’s nipples were so erect and sensitive that every slide felt like too much. Pain mixed with pleasure, eliciting gasps and groans in tandem with Quan Yizhen’s fervent thrusting between Yin Yu’s legs. Saliva coated his lips as Quan Yizhen pulled away from the sloppy kiss to continue running his tongue down Yin Yu’s throat instead. Yin Yu could do little more than lay there, completely at his mercy, while Quan Yizhen jerked him off and worshipped as much of his body as he could reach.
There were probably worse places he could be.
Somehow, even while stuck in this sweaty, hot, claustrophobic box, they began to find a rhythm. Like a dance, the two began to move together — thrusting into Quan Yizhen’s fist, one after another. Having never done this before, Yin Yu had no idea if there was a better technique to be found, but it didn’t matter.
Everything felt wonderful. Delicious and hot and just uncomfortable enough for Yin Yu to wish they were in a bed, but not so uncomfortable that he couldn’t wait until they were in a bed. It was enough to whet his appetite to try so many other things.
The remnants of their robes added to the heat, growing heavy with sweat and spit as their ministrations became more desperate. Yin Yu wanted his robes off. Not just torn open but completely gone.
Quan Yizhen’s hair grew frizzy from the humidity, tickling Yin Yu’s nose and chest as curls cascaded over his shoulder. Yin Yu reached up, burying a hand in the fluffy hair, and pulled hard, forcing them into another passionate kiss. Their tongues tasted each other, teeth clinking from the ferocity, as Quan Yizhen’s hand squeezed around his cock.
“Fuck,” Yin Yu groaned as the kiss broke.
Quan Yizhen’s head fell to his chest, which Yin Yu didn’t think anything of until his mouth found one of Yin Yu’s exposed nipples. The Waning Moon Officer gasped, back arching, as the martial god caught the sensitive nub between his teeth. Quan Yizhen had sharp teeth and the self-restraint of a toddler; he was definitely going to leave marks if he kept biting him across his chest and pectoral and now the other nipple—
And who the fuck cared?
Yin Yu whined, fingers fisting into the curls, forcing Quan Yizhen’s mouth to stay there, to keep doing what he was doing, because it all felt too fucking good to stop. The pressure in his abdomen continued to climb and climb until finally — it exploded. Quan Yizhen’s name fell past Yin Yu’s lips over and over again, babbled and sobbed out, as he came first.
Quan Yizhen growled, approving of the sight and sounds of Yin Yu coming undone. He didn’t let go of his softening cock, however. He continued pumping the member in his fist harder and faster as he jerked himself to completion. All the while, Yin Yu wriggled and whined, overstimulation sending electric signals up his spine until Quan Yizhen joined him over the cliff. His cum joined Yin Yu’s, splattering all over the ghost’s chest and abdomen.
“Shixiong,” Quan Yizhen whispered, his words breathless, “can I kiss you?”
It was such a strange request. They had just kissed. Several times. But Yin Yu found himself nodding all the same.
Quan Yizhen beamed before he gathered Yin Yu in his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Whether Quan Yizhen realized he should slow down the kiss or he no longer had the energy for the sloppy desperate makeout he’d subjected Yin Yu to before, it was unclear. Either way, Yin Yu sighed into the kiss, tangling his fingers in Quan Yizhen’s hair as he languidly kissed back.
His back hurt. His ass hurt. The back of his head hurt.
But this was nice.
Until it wasn’t.
“We should…” Yin Yu cleared his throat and broke the kiss with a blush. “Escape? Maybe?”
“Okay!”
Rejuvenated, Quan Yizhen did his best to sit up. Then, using his martial strength, despite the awkward angle, he flipped the box twice more before the stone finally crumbled around them. It took all of five minutes for Quan Yizhen to kick the ghost’s ass — cock waving in the wind thanks to his shredded pants. Yin Yu (who was a little bit more decent) locked the menace away in a spirit pouch.
“Are you hurt, Shixiong?” Quan Yizhen asked.
Yin Yu was trying very hard not to stare at Quan Yizhen’s exposed dick, but it was proving impossible. The appendage was already hardening again, the excitement of battle pumping the martial god’s blood in all areas. He blinked, trying to recall the question he was just asked.
“Um… yes?” Wait, that wasn’t right. “I mean, no.”
Yin Yu brushed his hands over his chest and stomach, flaking cum falling around his feet. He needed to wash up. He needed to report to Hua Cheng. He needed to get this spirit to Ghost City to face proper punishment. He needed…
“Shixiong, can we do that again?” Quan Yizhen asked. When Yin Yu simply stared at him, his face fell. “I meant what I said earlier. I like Shixiong a lot. I’d like to do that again.”
Yin Yu’s eyes flickered down to his hard cock. Yeah, no kidding.
“I…”
“Do you like me?”
The question was so innocent, so sweet, but it was undercut by the drying semen all over Yin Yu’s body. He attempted to brush more of it off. More white flakes fluttered to the ground. He could just toss the dice in his pocket and escape. He didn’t technically have to answer him. He could run as he had always done. And yet…
He still really wanted to know what it would feel like to be filled with Quan Yizhen.
Deciding to be brave, Yin Yu looked Quan Yizhen in the eye. “Yes. I do. And we can do that again. But let’s get back to my room at Paradise Manor first?”
Quan Yizhen brightened, and his cock bounced in time with his curls. “Okay!”
Yeah, Yin Yu was going to have to do something about that. Immediately.