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Jin Guangyao is not an easy person to raise a child with.
Jin Guangyao never loses his temper, never raises his voice, only ever gently chides in a patient, benevolent sort of tone. He is the first to praise Jin Ling and the last to tell him no, forever unflappable in the face of a seven year old who has been given the world - or at least, as much of it as money can buy. Jiang Cheng is not a bad uncle. In fact, he thinks he’s a very decent one, all things considered. But next to Jin Guangyao, it’s hard to look anything other than fucking terrible.
Of course, Jin Guangyao is also the person who has given Jin Ling the world, at least in part. He showers him with gifts at every possible turn, with all the freedom of wealth that the Jins possess. This is overindulgent and excessively lenient and incredibly short-sighted, as Jiang Cheng has told Jin Guangyao at every opportunity, but it has never been a pressing issue - until now.
Jin Guangyao is kind and patient and spineless, but he is also indecipherable. Beyond his delicate courtesies and the vaguely sickening smile always drawn on his face, Jiang Cheng can see nothing, and it puts both anger and fear in him, because he cannot trust what he cannot see. This is not strictly the reason Jiang Cheng has travelled to Koi Tower two days early, intending to shout all of his rage out at Jin Guangyao before he is put under any obligation to return his pleasant nods at the coming conference. It may be a contributing factor, but it is not the cause.
The cause is the stupid, perfect, adorable puppy, which Jiang Cheng very much did not get Jin Ling.
When Jiang Cheng arrives, he wastes no time. It may be just past six in the morning, but Jiang Cheng has no doubt in his mind that Jin Guangyao is already awake and moving. The servants outside look equally confused and panic-stricken to see him.
“Jiang-Zongzhu,” one of the serving girls says, smiling in the same plastered way Jin Guangyao often does. “I hope your journey was pleasant. Lianfang-Zun will be happy to see you, I’m sure. Is there anything we can assist you with?”
“No, thank you. Where is Jin-Zongzhu?”
“I believe he is in his study at the moment. I can tell him you are here to see him-”
“Don’t trouble yourself. I know the way.”
Jiang Cheng does not miss the smile fall from her face when he strides away. She is not nearly as good at holding it as the esteemed Lianfang-Zun.
The door is not locked and Jiang Cheng barges in without knocking, ready to bark out a suitably angry Jin Guangyao!. When he sees the man in question, however, the words vanish from his mind. Jin Guangyao is sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. Meditating. His hat sits on the table beside him, and the collar of his robes is slightly loosened. Jiang Cheng freezes where he stands.
It only lasts a moment. The man turns his head sharply as the door opens, and for a split second, Jiang Cheng swears he sees something cold in his eyes.
“Jiang-zongzhu,” Jin Guangyao says calmly, a diplomatic smile covering his face. “You are here early.”
He smooths his collar with two fingers, and Jiang Cheng realises he is staring. Jin Guangyao always wears tight collars in public. Fitted at the base of his neck; no looser, no lower. Understated. Any skin below that feels - private. Like something Jiang Cheng shouldn’t be allowed to see.
It all somehow feels like something he shouldn’t be allowed to see. Jin Guangyao in his private office, in his waking hours, when he does not need to do anything for anybody. He is wearing braids, Jiang Cheng suddenly realises, woven intricately at the crown of his head, and it doesn’t make any sense, to wear such an elaborate style and hide it from the public eye.
Perhaps his wife likes them. They make him look different, somehow. Younger.
“Jiang-zongzhu,” Jin Guangyao repeats. “Please, sit.”
At his familiar smile and gesturing palms, Jiang Cheng remembers why he is here. He straightens his back and remains standing.
“Jin Guangyao,” he starts. “Could you please explain to me why Jin Ling has returned from his last visit to Koi Tower with a puppy at his side?”
“Ah, did he not tell you?" Jin Guangyao lowers his hands into his lap. "A-Ling got into a fight with some of the other Jin disciples while he was here. The poor boy was very upset. Inconsolable, really. I believed the only thing to do was to provide him with a gift, to take his mind off it.”
“Oh? And you couldn’t get him a kite? A new set of golden marbles? Was a dog the only thing that came to mind?”
The other man blinks, cocking his head ever so slightly. Jiang Cheng feels his anger build. “Jiang-zongzhu, forgive me, but I believe we agreed that a dog would be a suitable gift for A-Ling the last time we spoke.”
“For a birthday! From both of us! Not as a way to wheedle A-Ling out of his daily tantrum!”
Jin Guangyao’s smile falls by a millimetre. “I did not realise you felt so strongly. These details were not clarified in our discussion.”
“Well, perhaps you should not assume the details of an idea that I proposed.”
“My apologies,” Jin Guangyao stands up, graceful as always, and walks towards him, “but perhaps Jiang-zongzhu should not assume that this one knows the unspoken details of his proposal.”
Jin Guangyao seems much smaller without his hat. Emboldened, Jiang Cheng takes a step forward.
“Jin Guangyao, I know you are not stupid. I suggested getting him a dog. How could I not want a part in gifting him it?”
“I apologise for causing you upset, but truly, I did not intend to. I believe this is a simple misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding! Convenient, for you to misunderstand this, of all things. How many presents have you given A-Ling? More than he can fit in his head! With the Jin Sect’s extraordinary wealth, how could my birthday and holiday gifts ever compare? I wanted one thing to give A-Ling that he would truly cherish, to show him he doesn’t need these indulgent, short-lived things, and you took it from me the second you got the chance!”
The other man is silent for a long moment. He is no longer smiling, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Jiang Cheng decides he prefers it.
“I only wish to make A-Ling happy. And you wish to invalidate my attempts, so that your own hold greater value?”
Jiang Cheng takes another step forward. “What are you saying? You know you spoil the boy. I am left to teach him discipline and restraint while you remain spotless in his mind. How can A-Ling possibly grow up well when you will give him a puppy on any day of the week? What will he expect when his birthday comes?”
“The dog cost far less than any of the birthday presents I have gifted him in recent years. I am sure his expectations can be matched.”
Something in Jiang Cheng snaps. From the moment he had discussed a puppy with Jin Guangyao, he had begun putting money aside, preparing to get Jin Ling the best dog he could find - a dog just like his new Little Fairy. And apparently, this amount of money is nothing to Jin Guangyao. He could probably get their nephew ten Little Fairy’s, and the Jins would not feel the loss. Such is the result of letting other sects fight wars on their behalf.
Before he can think better of it, he steps forward and grabs Jin Guangyao by the collar.
“You!” He snaps. He sees fear in the other man’s eyes for a moment, and then something placid, unfeeling; it shuts Jiang Cheng out. “You flaunt your wealth just as your father did!”
“I do not,” he says immediately. His voice almost matches his eyes, but there is something slightly sharper in it. “If the Jiang sect requires help, they need only ask.”
“You insult me!”
“Believe me, that is not my intention.”
“And what is your intention?” Jiang Cheng tightens his grip. Up close, Jin Guangyao’s face is framed by thin, delicate hairs, too short to fit into his braids. He smells faintly of cloves and honey. “Tell me, Jin Guangyao, do you wish to isolate Jin Ling from me?”
Jin Guangyao stares at him for a long moment, and then breathes out a strange sort of laugh Jiang Cheng has never heard from him.
“Jiang-zongzhu, is this truly your concern? Do you really not notice how A-Ling looks up to you? He only acts the way he does because he wants your affection. It is true, I am soft with him. I shower him with gifts and compliments, and yet - do you know how much more one approving word from you would be worth, compared to all my praise and encouragement? You teach him, perhaps, but do you reward him for learning? And I’m afraid I must ask, what kind of restraint do you teach A-Ling? It cannot be restraint of anger.” He pauses, as if to remind Jiang Cheng of the position they are currently in. “Even so, A-Ling fashions himself off you as if you are the only thing in his world that matters. I have no wish to isolate him from you. I only wish you did not do it yourself.”
Jiang Cheng is shocked into silence. He has never heard Jin Guanguao speak like this to anyone. And yet, the man has not lost his temper. Far from it. His words are precise; intricately wound. Sharpened to hurt.
Jiang Cheng wants to send his fist ringing against Jin Guangyao’s moon-pale cheek. He wants to see Zidian flash across his skin. But the man’s eyes are dark and round and pretty and for a moment, as he spoke, Jiang Cheng saw something ugly in them. Saw right into the other man, into whatever hatred he keeps pressed beneath the surface. Jiang Cheng wants, more than anything, to see it again.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jiang Cheng growls, tightening his grip on his robes and pulling him closer for good measure. “Bastard.”
Jin Guangyao stiffens. He immediately looks downward, head slightly bowed, eyelashes shadowing his eyes - a perfect image of deference. But Jiang Cheng sees it. The way his eyes flash with rage, just before he can cover it. It makes Jiang Cheng’s knees go weak. He waits and waits for something more, but when the smaller man meets his gaze, he is unreadable once more.
“Jiang-zongzhu,” he murmurs. His breath fans against Jiang Cheng’s neck and Jiang Cheng’s stomach curls, his hands suddenly far too hot. “I fear I have overstepped. Your relationship with A-Ling is not my business, truly.”
Of course - Jin Guangyao will not be goaded into showcasing his anger. He is far too clever for that.
“Don’t expect me to believe you truly think that,” Jiang Cheng says. “My relationship with A-Ling is just as much your business as your relationship with him is mine.”
Jin Guangyao’s eyes harden slightly. “Exactly. I am glad we understand each other.”
He says it so simply, so coolly, but the message is clear - this conversation is over, whether or not Jiang Cheng wants it to be. Even so, Jiang Cheng cannot convince his own hands to release him. Jin Guangyao’s mouth is parted, just slightly, and the tip of his nose is tinged a pale pink. Almost flushed. It makes something in Jiang Cheng coil up so tightly that he cannot move, cannot breathe, cannot think.
Some distant, hypothetical version of Jiang Cheng could do whatever he wanted, in this moment. He could pin Jin Guangyao to the wall, could press lips against lips, could wrap a hand around his throat until he admitted the depth of his anger. But these possibilities only remain if he keeps hold of Jin Guangyao’s robes.
Jin Guangyao is patient, and has tolerated a lifetime of men’s anger; men’s ways of handling a body deemed suitable to receive their petty violence. But even he cannot tolerate forever.
“Jiang Wanyin,” he says quietly. “Please.”
The hypothetical Jiang Cheng tugs him closer and kisses him like he has never kissed anyone before, all hunger and rage and desire.
The real Jiang Cheng does what Jin Guangyao is asking for, and releases him with shaking hands. Above Jin Guangyao’s mussed collar, there is a triangle of pale skin that Jiang Cheng has never seen before, and he feels ill at the sight of it.
The other man steps back and does not look him in the eye. He straightens his collar with two fingers, turns to retrieve his hat, and places it delicately atop his head.
“If that is all, Jiang-zongzhu, I will see you at the coming conference,” He says, his voice steady and mild and not quite pleasant. “I am sure a room has been prepared for you by now.”
Jiang Cheng wants to say something, anything, but it feels impossible. Instead, he attempts a nod, and leaves Jin Guangyao’s office much more quietly than he came.
ー
Jiang Cheng cannot stop pacing. He has moved from his room to the hallways to the gardens and back to his room, and still, he cannot bear the thought of sitting down.
Jiang Cheng had his first kiss when he was fifteen, with a Nie disciple. He noticed her staring at him in the weeks he was studying at the Unclean Realm, her eyes dark and bashful, always looking away. Wei Wuxian had teased him viciously about it. Just to get you to shut up, Jiang Cheng said, finally at his wit’s end, I’ll go and introduce myself.
She was quiet and sweet, scared of judgement but prone to it. She would make pointed comments about the other disciples sometimes, her eyes glinting slightly, as if her and Jiang Cheng were in on a joke that no one else understood. He didn’t like that. He liked it when Wei Wuxian or Nie Huaisang made comments like that, but not her.
One way or another, he kissed her, awkward and endlessly worried that someone would come across them. She surprised him with smooth proficiency, which at first only made him embarrassed at his own inexperience, but eventually filled him with something like desire. He knew even then he had no real feelings for the girl. Even still, for weeks after, their kiss replayed in his head and made him hot and coiled up inside. It wasn’t the person that brought that feeling about, but the sensation; the mere act of touch.
It is not the person, but the act of touch. Jin Guangyao’s breath on his neck, his thin body arched towards him, his chest rising and falling against his fist. Jiang Cheng paces. He is unaccustomed to touch. His body does not know what to do with it; it reacts in confused and inexplicable ways. The Nie girl was plain, barely pretty, and his body still reacted in ways that shamed him but also relieved him, if only in the way they matched the normal bodily reactions of boys his age.
Jin Guangyao is prettier than the Nie girl. Jiang Cheng had never let himself see it before, but it is clear, now - Jin Guangyao’s eyes dark and cold, his neck pale, unmarred, stretched over his Adam's apple. He paces furiously. He cannot think like this, or his body will react in ways he does not want. Ways which will only bring him shame.
He is brought to a standstill by a knock on his door. A servant girl, inviting him to dinner with the Jin inner circle. He should have expected it, really. It would be terribly rude of them to not offer. Unfortunately, it would be even ruder of him to refuse.
He wants to bite the girl’s head off. He wants to get on a boat to Lotus Pier and never see Jin Guangyao’s face again. But Jiang Cheng knows his duties. He braces himself, smooths his robes, and follows the girl to the dining hall.
—
Jin Guangyao is perfectly pleasant during dinner, despite Jiang Cheng’s newfound inability to look him in the eye. From Jin Guangyao’s performance alone, it would be impossible to tell they had any disagreement at all. When the other Jins inquire about Jiang Cheng’s early arrival, Jin Guangyao quickly supplies an explanation about discussing a new plan for Jin Ling’s training and education, seeing as Jin Ling will eventually be Jin-Zongzhu. From this, he moves the conversation seamlessly onto what the Jins would like to see in their sect’s future. Jiang Cheng knows this is not a kindness towards him, and still, he feels indebted somehow, and ashamed of his treatment of Jin Guangyao in the face of it.
Jin Guangyao’s pleasantness continues during the following day’s dinner, the three-day Conference, and every single time Jiang Cheng sees him after this. He makes polite remarks, discusses policy, and inquires about Jin Ling’s wellbeing with no hints of coldness. It is as if their encounter in Jin Guangyao’s office never happened at all.
Or, at least, it would seem like that, if only Jiang Cheng could match his act.
It is ridiculous, he knows. He has fought countless battles, has felt the burning hand of Wen Zhuliu, has seen his sect destroyed and rebuilt it himself, inch by inch - and the one thing he cannot bear to face is the stare of another man. Even worse, the stare of a bastard. The stare of someone who, in another life, would be bowing at his feet.
Jin Guangyao notices too much. Jiang Cheng knows if he looked him in the eye, the man would see right through to the root of his shame. The hard, terrible pit of desire has planted itself in Jiang Cheng and its tendrils crawl in him, fighting to see the light. Jin Guangyao comes from a certain background. If he is to recognise anything, it is a man at odds with his own desire.
And still, the desire is there. Jiang Cheng cannot look him in the eye, but that does not mean he cannot look at all. He steals glances from far away, from off to the side, when Jin Guangyao will not notice his stare. Worse than this, his mind holds onto these glimpses, flashing them before him in the dark of the night. But as the months go on, something else emerges from his glimpses of the man - something real.
When Jin Guangyao is nervous, his hands curl into themselves. He places them behind his back as if it is some dark secret, his thumb stroking the ridges of his knuckles in a self-soothing manner. Jiang Cheng recognises this easily, because he has often felt the urge to do the same thing and stifled it with a fist. Sometimes, Jin Guangyao’s fingers will simply twitch at his sides and then press gently against his robes, and Jiang Cheng knows this is his own way of stifling.
It is always a small movement. Always carefully contained, never drawing attention to itself. Even when no one seems to be watching, Jin Guangyao acts as if everyone is. When he turns away from a crowd, his smile does not leave him; only the light in his eyes. When a fellow sect leader says something idiotic, Jin Guangyao’s jaw tightens, but only for a moment. And if they say something rude, his eyes trail them for a while after, almost predatorial, but shrouded by his typical pleasant warmth. Always stifled. It makes Jiang Cheng desperate for the anger he saw in him once before.
There is a Jin disciple, some loud-mouthed twenty-something, who does not put much effort into feigning respect for Jin Guangyao. He insults him often, but only once with no one watching - no one but Jiang Cheng, far in the distance. And Jiang Cheng finally gets his wish. Jin Guangyao’s eyes flash with unabashed rage, burning hot for less than a second, before he covers it with calm authority.
Months later, the disciple disappears. It would be utterly absurd to assume any connection between the two events, but he finds himself fearful all the same. Fearful, and outraged at this potential crime - and yet, when he sees Jin Guangyao’s unveiled anger in the dark of the night, his body still reacts, hot and coiled up inside. And so his shame grows and grows, into something he has no name for.
—
It has been over six months since the original encounter in Jin Guangyao’s office, when a servant politely informs Jiang Cheng that Lianfang-Zun has requested to speak with him privately.
Jiang Cheng is only at Koi Tower to drop off Jin Ling and briefly discuss policy. He expected limited contact with Jin Guangyao, and the thought of private interaction makes him feel slightly sick. But to refuse the request would be to insult their leader and their sect, and he knows how quickly word travels.
“Very well.”
“He is currently in his office, if you would like to follow me-”
He puts his hand out to silence her. “I know the way.”
He knocks when he gets to Jin Guangyao’s door. The man says come in, pleasant as always, and when Jiang Cheng enters, he finds him knelt at the table where he had meditated previously.
“Jiang-Zongzhu, thank you for coming to speak with me. I know you must be busy. Please, sit.”
“I am busy, Jin-Zongzhu. What is this about?” He demands, sitting nonetheless. Jin Guangyao simply smiles, and gestures to the teapot on the table.
“Tea, first?” He asks, ignoring Jiang Cheng's question with the utmost politeness. Jiang Cheng nods brusquely and watches the man’s pale fingers wrap around the pot’s slender handle.
“How was your journey here? Pleasant, I hope?”
“Pleasant enough.”
Jin Guangyao smiles; nods delicately. “The winds have been gentle. They are often not so merciful, this time of year.” He pauses. “And Jin Ling had an acceptable journey as well, I imagine. I’m sure you remember, not so long ago he was easily frightened by harsh weather while sailing.”
“Jin-Zongzhu, if you requested my presence to discuss the weather, I don’t know why it needed to be a private affair.”
The man takes a moment’s pause, putting the tea pot down and resting his hands gently atop his lap.
“Very well. I know you can be restless. In truth, I only wanted to ask if there is something I have done in recent months to upset you.”
Jiang Cheng’s stomach drops. If Jin Guangyao has noticed a change in him, he has surely already figured out its cause. And yet, he is still asking Jiang Cheng questions. Either the man isn’t as clever as Jiang Cheng thinks he is, or Jiang Cheng is being drawn into a trap.
“You have done nothing to upset me. I am merely- under stress, recently. Do not worry yourself by reading into it.”
Jin Guangyao's smile grows almost pointedly fake. “I appreciate your concern, Jiang-Zongzhu, but if I may be honest, I struggle to believe you. Is there truly nothing you can think of?”
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Nothing.”
“I recall your reaction to A-Ling’s puppy. You were quite unravelled-”
“This was not in recent months-”
“And yet ever since, you have not been the same.” Jin Guangyao’s voice is slightly too firm, too quick to interrupt. It strikes a nerve in Jiang Cheng.
“You are mistaken. Do not be so arrogant as to assume any change in my demeanour revolves around you.”
Jin Guangyao is silent. His hands do not curl behind his back, or press against his robes. He is calm and still, like a beast stalking its prey. Like a hyena, smiling as it lurks.
“I notice things, Jiang-Zongzhu. I have not arrived where I am today by being complacent,” He says. “People did not often look me in the eye, when I was younger. You always have. More out of hostility than respect, I imagine, but nonetheless. Now you avoid my eyes so well I would think you were terrified of them. And I know, because I notice you, that you look at everyone else with perfect ease. So, forgive me if I cannot believe that this has nothing to do with me.”
Jiang Cheng panics. His mind goes blank. The only thing he can think to do is try to prove Jin Guangyao wrong.
“I can look at you,” he insists. He glances up to meet the other man’s eyes, and immediately feels a sickness rise in his throat. He looks away.
“Oh, I know you can look at me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that as well,” Jin Guangyao says, his voice tinged with a sort of derision that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach twist. “I want you to look me in the eye.”
“I just did.”
“Not like that,” he murmurs, and before Jiang Cheng knows what’s happening, Jin Guangyao is reaching across the table and hooking a finger under his chin, gently pushing his head up so it’s in line with his own. “Like this, see?"
If it were anyone else, Jiang Cheng would have slammed their wrist onto the table before they could get another word out. Instead, he freezes at Jin Guangyao’s touch and, in his panic, does exactly as he is told. He grits his teeth through the nausea and holds his stare. Jin Guangyao’s gaze is expectant and vaguely cold, softened at the edges by the same short, delicate hairs that Jiang Cheng noticed months ago.
“Your hat,” He blurts. “You’re not wearing your hat.”
“I figure I can bare myself of it, when it is just the two of us. We know each other well enough, do we not?”
Jiang Cheng scoffs. “You’ve always worn it around me. What‘s so different now?”
“Indeed. What is?” He lets the question hang in the air, waiting for an answer. When Jiang Cheng provides nothing, he sighs softly. “Please tell me, would you prefer the hat on or off?”
“Excuse me?”
“Surely Jiang-Zongzhu grasps my meaning. Am I not merely something for him to look at?”
Jiang Cheng’s stomach drops yet again. He is a fly caught in a web. He grabs Jin Guangyao’s wrist and pulls his hand away from him, holding it firmly in the air. “You make an absurd accusation.”
“Jiang-Zingzhu, don’t tell me you truly believed I wouldn’t recognise the way you look at me.” He wrenches his wrist away and grasps Jiang Cheng’s chin in his hand. His eyes are now entirely cold, and it sends an awful thrill through Jiang Cheng. “How you’re looking at me now, even when you do not want to.”
He presses his fingers in harshly, too close to his throat, and a sound leaves Jiang Cheng - some terrible sound, halfway between a gasp and a whimper. Jin Guangyao stills, staring at him with a strange expression, as if he is recalculating something.
“I don’t - I have no interest in men! You slander me!”
“Of course. That’s left to people like me. Like mother like son, isn’t that how it goes? Pleasing men is in my blood.” He pushes his finger into the side of Jiang Cheng’s neck, feeling the quickness of his pulse. “Someone of Jiang-Zongzhu’s birth could never possibly…” he lets the sentence fade on his lips. “He, of course, has refused to marry because he has not yet found a lady worthy of being his wife. His eyes don’t linger on women because they are a distraction from his duties. And I must be mistaken,” he presses his thumb to the pulse on the other side of Jiang Cheng’s neck, his hand now wrapped around the top of his throat. “about why his heart is beating so quickly right now.”
Jiang Cheng’s mouth goes dry. His cock stirs under his robes traitorously. “You are,” he says weakly.
“Of course,” he murmurs. He stares at him for a long moment, his eyes flicking to his lips almost imperceptibly before meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes again. “Men like can be pleased by other men. Served by other men. But Jiang-Zongzhu - you want to please, don’t you?”
He presses his fingers harder into his neck, and a desperate breath leaves Jiang Cheng in place of any argument. Jin Guangyao moves his hand upwards, edging at his lips, and Jiang Cheng complies, parting them just slightly. Slowly, carefully, Jin Guangyao slides a finger into his mouth. He presses it against the heat of his tongue, their eyes still locked, and Jiang Cheng can’t think, can’t speak, can’t deny. He can only pant lightly against the other man’s knuckle as he moves gradually towards his throat, slipping over and under his tongue. When he goes far enough that Jiang Cheng stiffens, he pulls it out, dragging spit along his lower lip.
“Stand up,” he says. Jiang Cheng, as if in a trance, does so without question. Jin Guangyao walks away to lock the door, and then moves towards a display table in the corner of his office. He removes a vase and various trinkets from it before gesturing the other man over.
When Jin Guangyao backs him against the table, Jiang Cheng is half fear, half desire. He has no idea what he’s doing, and even less idea what Jin Guangyao might do. Right now, the man is looking at him almost indifferently, his eyes passing over Jiang Cheng’s lips, his neck, his chest. The only thing that gives him away is a slight flush in his cheeks.
“Like this, wasn’t it?” Jin Guangyao says. He wraps a hand around Jiang Cheng’s collar, far more gently than the latter did to him months ago. “Did you enjoy having me at your mercy, Jiang-Zongzhu?”
Something in his mocking tone knocks Jiang Cheng halfway out of his trance. “Only in the sense of retribution,” he says, trying to ignore the way his voice quivers. “To punish someone who did me wrong.”
“Punishment?” Jin Guangyao lets the word sit on his tongue for a moment. “Tell me, how would you have punished me further?” His tone is undoubtedly seductive now, twisting Jiang Cheng’s words into something languid and repulsive.
“It wasn’t like that,” he scowls.
“Oh, is it not?” Jin Guangyao says, and laughs - actually laughs, not some courteous titter or mocking exhale. “Feel free to leave, then, if it is not like that.”
“It wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t like that, but it is now - is that right?”
Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. He can’t say it. He can lust privately over Jin Guangyao, can let him press him against a table and pry his mouth open with his fucking fingers, but he can’t say the words aloud.
“I will fucking leave,” Jiang Cheng spits instead.
Jin Guangyao waits for a beat, ever patient. Jiang Cheng stays exactly where he is.
“You would rather die than admit your own desire, wouldn’t you?” Jin Guangyao says, pulling him closer towards him. “So stubborn. That has always annoyed me about you, Jiang-Zongzhu.”
Jiang Cheng has never, in all his years of knowing Jin Guangyao, seen the man admit his annoyance towards anyone. And now he says it as if it is perfectly natural. Jiang Cheng can’t quite process this. Still, he wants to see more. Wants to prise open whatever side of Jin Guangyao this is and keep it just for himself.
“Is that right? Is that all that annoys you?” He taunts, trying to mask his curiosity. Jin Guangyao raises a brow and laughs again.
“Would you like a list of insults? Is that what excites you?” He says. “You are very predictable. That is another one.”
Jiang Cheng’s mind whirls. “And what excites you? To have me in this position, when you have a wife in the building over?”
“So indelicate with your words,” Jin Guangyao says, his expression darkening. “That’s another one. I hardly think my wife is your concern, when you cannot seem to get one yourself.” He moves one hand under Jiang Cheng’s collar, cold fingers stroking the skin below, and Jiang Cheng jolts. “This is all you can get, isn’t it? A few touches behind a closed door. Whatever I choose to give you.”
“Fuck you,” he snarls.
“Shall I kiss you to quiet you down?” Jin Guangyao murmurs, moving his hand to the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck. “Or can I only use my fingers? Will anything else send you into a panic?”
The sting to his pride is the final straw. Jin Guangyao is too close to him, his careful twisting words hot against his neck, and Jiang Cheng needs to prove him wrong, needs to feel like he has some semblance of control over the situation. He pulls Jin Guangyao in by the waist and kisses him, hard and desperate. Jin Guangyao surprises him by kissing back just as hard. Immediately, it’s overwhelming. Jin Guangyao twists at his robes, his tongue edging at his mouth. His waist is small and warm in Jiang Cheng’s hands and desire jolts through him, harsh and dizzying. He pulls away.
Jin Guangyao’s pupils are blown, but beyond that, his face is a mask. He lets go of Jiang Cheng’s robes very gently.
“Jiang-Zongzhu, do not agitate yourself,” he says. “Follow my lead.”
“I will follow what I wish,” Jiang Cheng snaps, out of breath in spite of himself. “You may be Lianfang-Zun, but I do not take orders from you.”
Jin Guangyao smiles. “Who will give orders, if not me? You cannot even name your desire.” He slides his hands along Jiang Cheng’s arms and pushes them behind Jiang Cheng’s back in one smooth motion. Then he wraps one palm over Jiang Cheng’s hands and pins them to the table; firm, but not forceful.
Jiang Cheng is stronger than Jin Guangyao. He could break free easily. And yet, he doesn’t.
“So tense,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, folding his other hand over Jiang Cheng’s jaw to tilt his head upwards. “You must relax, Jiang-Zongzhu.”
His lips are on his neck before Jiang Cheng can reply. Jin Guangyao kisses all from his jaw to his collar until Jiang Cheng slowly slackens against him, panting softly against the crown of his head. Jin Guangyao’s lips are warm and soft and precise and somehow, for a moment, Jiang Cheng’s mind goes quiet. Then, Jin Guangyao moves below his collar and changes his pace entirely. He sucks at the delicate skin of his collarbone, digs his fingers into his wrists, makes Jiang Cheng squirm against him. When he bites down hard enough to leave a mark, Jiang Cheng lets out a strangled cry, immediately wrenching free of Jin Guangyao’s grasp to clamp a hand over his mouth. Jin Guangyao pulls away, and looks up at him.
“Don’t,” he says, encircling Jiang Cheng’s wrist again with two delicate fingers. “Let me hear you.”
Jiang Cheng moves his hand away to speak. “You are not the only one who could hear. We’re not in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
Jin Guangyao shakes his head. “There is a silencing spell on this room. No noise in, no noise out. No one will hear you.”
“A silencing spell?”
“I value my privacy, and my focus. Koi Tower is not often quiet.”
“You have a silencing spell on this room. No noise in. You have this - all the time,” Jiang Cheng says in disbelief. The Jin Guangyao he has witnessed in the last six months is far too paranoid for that.
“Yes, I believe that is what I said,” Jin Guangyao says, raising a brow.
“And how do I know you’re not lying?”
Jin Guangyao smiles a very small smile. “I suppose you will just have to trust me.”
Jiang Cheng thinks of the twenty-something disciple. Thinks of the anger burning beneath Jin Guangyao. He hesitates. Then, Jin Guangyao tugs at the sash of Jiang Cheng’s robes and everything vanishes from his mind except the hand almost touching his skin. He is very weak, in this respect. Shamefully so. He slides his own robes off his shoulders very quickly, and Jin Guangyao smiles again.
“So eager,” he murmurs. Then he leans in closer, slotting his slender body between his legs, and oh, Jiang Cheng is embarrassingly hard and Jin Guangyao is pressed tightly against his cock. He lets out a broken gasp and Jin Guangyao presses in closer, pinching down on his nipple at the same time.
“Please,” Jiang Cheng whispers, voice quavering.
“Please what?”
“Don’t. I can’t say. You know I can’t.”
“Do you think you’re in a position to tell me to do?” Jin Guangyao asks, wrapping his other hand around the nape of his neck. He shifts, his robe sliding along Jiang Cheng’s length, and Jiang’s Cheng’s mouth falls slightly open. “Do you?”
“Yes,” he snaps, unable to help himself. He’s too pent up to be perfectly deferent, and Jin Guangyao is too fucking infuriating.
Jin Guangyao only breathes out a laugh. “Of course,” he reaches down to run a thumb over the head of Jiang Cheng’s cock. “You are Sandu Shengshou, after all.”
He ghosts his hand over Jiang Cheng’s length, giving him only the lightest of touches. Jin Guangyao watches, observes, as his cock twitches in his hand, and Jiang Cheng looks down as well, letting out a shaky breath. Jin Guangyao waits a long moment, and then begins stroking him, his touch slow and faint and not at all enough. Jiang Cheng writhes, growing impatient.
“Stay still,” Jin Guangyao orders softly, not even looking up. Jiang Cheng tries to do as he says, pressing his palms against the table to steady himself. Then, he watches himself rut into Jin Guangyao’s hand and thinks he might just fucking die of embarassment. A smile flickers onto Jin Guangyao’s lips and Jiang Cheng can’t look anymore. He looks up, looks away, tries to focus on the ceiling, but Jin Guangyao’s hand purposely stills and Jiang Cheng feels himself buck into it more quickly. The smaller man lets out a breath that sounds either pleased or amused or both.
“Jin Guangyao,” Jiang Cheng warns, his voice unsteady.
“Yes?”
“You know-” he starts, the words catching in his throat. “You know I need...”
“Yes?” Jin Guangyao says again. Jiang Cheng is silent, squeezing his eyes shut as he ruts into the other’s hand, and Jin Guangyao laughs softly. “So desperate. I cannot do anything, unless you say it.”
Yes you can, Jiang Cheng wants to say, of course you fucking can, but he knows it will do nothing.
“More, I need more. Please,” he whispers instead. Immediately, Jin Guangyao spits on his hand, wraps it firmly around the other’s cock, and begins to stroke him properly. Jiang Cheng knows he won’t last long. Jin Guangyao moves quicker than he expects, his hand fluid yet sharp, and Jiang Cheng can barely think. He presses his lips together as tightly as he can to stop any sounds from leaving his mouth, still ashamed in spite of it all. Jin Guangyao notices this and frowns.
“Jiang-Zongzhu,” he says, sliding his other hand from the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck to cup his chin. “Let me hear you. I told you, only I will hear.”
Jiang Cheng hesitates, but when Jin Guangyao twists his hand particularly hard, he lets himself moan very softly.
“Good, that’s good,” Jin Guangyao purrs, smiling as if genuinely pleased, and something shifts for Jiang Cheng; as if he retreats, into himself, or into Jin Guangyao, the rest of the world losing all its edges. Sounds leave his mouth and he doesn’t care enough to stop them; likes them, even, because Jin Guangyao likes them. The other man kisses him again, cupping his chin tightly, and Jiang Cheng bucks into his hand, moving in time with him.
Everything is a blur, after that. He kisses Jin Guangyao harder and jerks when the man pinches his nipple, his mouth falling open against Jin Guangyao’s. The other man quickens his pace and Jiang Cheng whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut again, grabbing at Jin Guangyao’s waist for support.
“Jiang-Zongzhu,” Jin Guangyao says, pinching harder. “Are you close?”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng chokes out.
“Already?” Jin Guangyao breathes, and Jiang Cheng ruts harder into his hand. He grips Jin Guangyao’s waist tighter, and the man clicks his tongue. “Jiang-Zongzhu-”
“Not that,” Jiang Cheng says. He is almost floating, almost gone, and the name keeps pulling him back. “Don’t call me that.”
“What would you like me to call you?” Jin Guangyao asks. Jiang Cheng says nothing, his throat suddenly thick, and Jin Guangyao strokes him harder, almost ruthlessly. “What would you like me to call you?” he says again, more sharply, his lips pressed to his ear.
“Ah-” Jiang Cheng cries out, writhing against him. “A-Cheng,” he breathes, almost a whisper. “A-Cheng.”
Jin Guangyao is silent for a moment, and Jiang Cheng suddenly realises what he has said. “Wait, I-”
“A-Cheng,” Jin Guangyao says, as if the word itself is praise, and Jiang Cheng’s vision goes white. He lurches forward into Jin Guangyao’s shoulder and writhes against his thin body as the man strokes him through his orgasm. After, he rests on Jin Guangyao and catches his breath. The patterning of his robes is rough against Jiang Cheng’s cheek.
After a moment, Jin Guangyao carefully moves Jiang Cheng off him, goes to a drawer in the corner of the room, and comes back with a smooth, square cloth in his hand. He wipes his hands with it and then does the same for Jiang Cheng’s stomach and manhood, cleaning up after the other man. He’s so gentle that Jiang Cheng stays in his pleasured haze, eyes half-lidded and unusually soft. When Jin Guangyao kisses him, he returns it languidly, wrapping his hands around Jin Guangyao’s robes as if they are the only thing tethering him to earth.
They kiss like that for a few minutes, smooth and soft, until Jin Guangyao suddenly deepens it, wrapping a hand around the back of Jiang Cheng’s neck. He shifts his body, pressing up against Jiang Cheng’s length again, and Jiang Cheng jerks away, oversensitive.
“Stay,” Jin Guangyao whispers into his mouth, pressing his fingers harder into his neck, and Jiang Cheng does as he’s told. Jin Guangyao loosens his belt and reaches through the slits of his robes to hike them up. He slides his bare leg against Jiang Cheng’s cock, slowly but firmly, and the other man whines into his mouth. Their kiss grows messy, Jiang Cheng tugging hard at Jin Guangyao’s robes, hands trembling at the seams out of fear or pleasure or both.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he sees a small vial of oil on the edge of the table. Jin Guangyao must have retrieved it along with the cloth. His brain short circuits - Jin Guangyao plans for them to go all the way. Before he can decide not to, Jiang Cheng slides a hand through the slits of Jin Guangyao’s robes, resting it on his upper thigh. It feels like something he shouldn’t be allowed to do, but Jin Guangyao doesn’t stop him, and so he travels upward, pushing his robes up so he can reach his hip bone. Jin Guangyao continues shifting against his cock and Jiang Cheng pants against his lips because it’s too much, far too much, but it’s also somehow perfect. He feels himself somehow growing hard again and he moves his hand along further, squeezing lightly at Jin Guangyao’s ass. When the other man lets out a small sound, barely audible, Jiang Cheng squeezes harder, running a hesitant finger along his entrance. At this, Jin Guangyao’s breath hitches and he breaks the kiss off, taking Jiang Cheng’s hand off him as he pulls away.
“You’re assuming that I take,” he says.
Jiang Cheng is silent for a moment. “Do you not?” he asks. There is something about Jin Guangyao, he thinks, that makes it seem like he would. Perhaps because he is small and in some way delicate, like all the men who would take in the pictures Nie Huaisang showed him as a teenager.
Jin Guangyao’s jaw stiffens, and then he lets out a breathy laugh. “Not for you,” he says, as if the mere idea of it is unthinkable. There’s something like disgust in Jin Guangyao’s voice and it makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach sink and burn hot all at once. He wants to hear it again, hear it as Jin Guangyao presses his fingers into his skin or forces his chin upwards. He also thinks if this happens, he might break in two.
Before Jiang Cheng knows what’s happening, Jin Guangyao licks at three of his own fingers and then takes them into his mouth, sucking lightly. Jiang Cheng flushes. He can barely look, it’s so fucking hot. Jin Guangyao’s gaze stays on Jiang Cheng as he pulls them out, bringing his hand down and circling a finger along Jiang Cheng’s entrance. Jiang Cheng freezes up, sucking in a breath, and Jin Guangyao visibly swallows.
“Yes?” He asks, eyes unblinking.
Jiang Cheng takes a moment to find the words. He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but all he can think of is the finger pressed against him, and how pleased Jin Guangyao would be with him if he took it, and maybe, maybe, how much he wants to feel it inside of him.
“Yes,” he whispers, staring back at Jin Guangyao. The other man pushes his finger in, slowly, gently, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t breathe until he’s knuckle deep. Jin Guangyao stills for a long moment and then pulls out, thrusting back in slightly quicker. Jiang Cheng gasps, and the corners of Jin Guangyao’s mouth flicker upwards, almost imperceptible. He continues thrusting his finger in, gradually increasing his pace, and he eventually slides a second one alongside it. Jiang Cheng squirms against his hand and Jin Guangyao kisses his neck, grazing his teeth along his skin as he opens Jiang Cheng up carefully.
“A-Cheng,” Jin Guangyao says after a while, breath hot against his neck. “Take one more, and I’ll show you something.”
Jiang Cheng nods, letting out a weak okay, and Jin Guangyao adds another finger, working it in slowly and then spreading his fingers inside him. Jiang Cheng shudders, his mouth falling open, and Jin Guangyao thrusts in a few times before pulling his fingers slightly out, and curling them sharply upwards. Jiang Cheng moans, reaching out to grip Jin Guangyao’s waist, and the man repeats the action, watching Jiang Cheng intently.
“Is it good?” He asks. Jiang Cheng only nods, his throat thick, and Jin Guangyao looks at him expectantly. “Yes?”
“Yes, yes,” Jiang Cheng stammers, and the other man smiles. He resumes working his fingers in, hitting his prostate every few thrusts, and Jiang Cheng falls apart a little more each time.
“Good,” Jin Guangyao says. Then his gaze grows harder, and he breathes out a little laugh. “You’re what everyone thinks I am, A-Cheng,” he murmurs. “What they want me to be.” He moves his fingers faster, more ruthlessly, and the sounds coming from Jiang Cheng turn slightly strangled. “Look how well you’re taking it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a whoreson.”
Jiang Cheng whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, and Jin Guangyao swiftly pulls his fingers out.
“I’m going to take you,” Jin Guangyao says softly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
When Jiang Cheng thinks back to this moment, he will hate himself for wanting this. Right now, though, the thought doesn’t even cross his mind. “Yes,” he whispers, opening his eyes. “Yes, please.”
Jin Guangyao smiles. “Good.” Jiang Cheng watches intently as he grabs the vial from the table, hitches up his robes, and coats his length in oil. He’s average-sized, though slightly larger than Jiang Cheng expects, considering the rest of him, and there’s something - pretty, about it. About him, a few strands of hair falling over his face, his small hand wrapped around his cock.
“Aren’t you going to take off your robes?” Jiang Cheng asks. He wants to see the rest of Jin Guangyao; wants Jin Guangyao to let him, wants to have that part of him to keep.
“No,” he says simply, moving closer to spread oil over Jiang Cheng’s entrance. Jiang Cheng feels a sting of rejection and reaches out to run a hand along Jin Guangyao’s length. It twitches in his hand, and the rest of Jin Guangyao freezes for a moment, before relaxing slightly into the touch. Jiang Cheng strokes him hesitantly, watching for his reaction, and sees Jin Guangyao’s eyes flutter shut for a moment before he forces them back open.
“Lay on the table,” he says, running his hands along Jiang Cheng’s waist. Jiang Cheng does so, and suddenly feels much less assured. He’d prefer to see Jin Guangyao properly, to have his body pressed up against his. The other man pushes Jiang Cheng’s knees up and parts his legs, and Jiang Cheng feels himself tremble.
“I want you - closer,” he says. He thinks he sees a flash of irritation in Jin Guangyao’s eyes, only for a split second, but the man still leans in, placing his other hand on Jiang Cheng’s back to push him nearer, so their lips are inches apart.
“Like this?” he asks. Jiang Cheng nods.
“Yeah. Yeah, you can…” Jiang Cheng trails off, leaning in to kiss him. Jin Guangyao pulls slightly away.
“I can what?” he murmurs.
“You can-” he stops, the words stuck in his throat. “Take me.”
Jin Guangyao smiles and leans back in, kissing him languidly. He enters him, stopping once he’s about an inch in, and Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath.
“More?” Jin Guangyao asks after a few moments, watching Jiang Cheng intently. Jiang Cheng nods, and Jin Guangyao continues, moving slowly, his mouth gradually forming a little ‘o’ shape, his eyes never leaving the other man. When he bottoms out, Jiang Cheng whimpers, and Jin Guangyao gasps out a stuttered breath.
“I’ve never… I…” Jin Guangyao stumbles, his voice slightly choked. “You feel good.”
“You feel good,” Jiang Cheng echoes, trying to figure out how to breathe. He tightens around Jin Guangyao without meaning to and the other man moans softly, closing his eyes for a moment.
“Good,” he says, almost timidly, tightening his grip on Jiang Cheng’s back. Jiang Cheng grinds against him, trying to adjust, and Jin Guangyao’s mouth gapes slightly. He rolls his hips to match Jiang Cheng’s and they stay like that for a while, grinding against each other, both gasping at the feeling.
“Please,” Jiang Cheng breathes, “More.”
Jin Guangyao nods, a small smile gracing his lips, and thrusts shallowly into him. Jiang Cheng chokes and Jin Guangyao does it again, and again, his eyes fluttering shut as his movements grow sharper. He breathes out little moans each time he thrusts in, his head tipped upwards, and Jiang Cheng feels something tug at him.
“Look at me,” he says, his voice unusually breathy. Needy. “Look at me.”
He wants it to be like when he used his hands on him, watching as Jiang Cheng reacted to his touch, as he came into his palm. The smile, however, leaves Jin Guangyao’s face.
“I’ll look at you when I want to,” he says, thrusting into him more harshly and dragging a moan from his throat. He reaches one hand up to move up the nape of Jiang Cheng’s neck, tugging at his hair so that his chin is forced upwards, and Jiang Cheng’s mind goes fuzzy. “You don’t tell me to do things. You ask - nicely,” he says. “Do you know how to ask for things nicely, A-Cheng?”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng stammers, gasping as the other man begins thrusting at different angles. “Please. Please, can you look at me?”
“Look at what? Look at you taking it?” Jin Guangyao meets his eyes, breathing out a small laugh. “You look like a mess, A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng whimpers, squirming around Jin Guangyao’s cock. The other man leans down to kiss him, open-mouthed and messy, and then moves down to his neck. “You’d be ashamed, if you could see yourself right now,” he bites down, and Jiang Cheng whines. “You take it so well, don’t you?” He bites again. “And beg so nicely. Who would think Jiang-Zongzhu acts like this?”
Jiang Cheng can’t keep up with it, how swiftly Jin Guangyao switches from praise to derision. Everything is blurred, up in the air, the sounds he’s making barely audible to him as Jin Guangyao thrusts faster, sucks down hard on his collarbone. Then, Jin Guangyao hits the spot that made him cry out before and he jolts, grasping at the edge of the other man’s robes.
“There. Fuck. Please,” he says. Jin Guangyao grabs one of his hands and pins it onto the table as he fucks him harder.
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Jin Guangyao purrs. Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, gasping out, and Jin Guangyao tugs hard at his hair with his free hand. “Come on, look at me. There we go.” He snakes his hand up towards Jiang Cheng’s throat and presses down on either side, and Jiang Cheng forgets how to speak, how to think. He lets out some choked up please in a voice that sounds far away, not his own.
“A little more specific, please,” Jin Guangyao says, tightening his hand around his neck.
“Please touch me. I want to - I can come, if you touch me-”
“I’m not touching you, A-Cheng,” Jin Guangyao smiles, mercilessly gentle.
“It hurts,” Jiang Cheng says, and it’s true, he’s painfully hard. Jin Guangyao lets his throat go to cup his cheek, and Jiang Cheng gasps for air.
“You can handle that, can’t you?” He kisses him, voice slightly rough from exertion. “You’ve already come once, so you won’t come again until I do. Do you think you can do that for me?”
Jiang Cheng lets out a yes before he can even think about it. He doesn’t think he’d really be able to come without his dick involved, anyway. That doubt remains for a few minutes, until Jin Guangyao shifts to hold up Jiang Cheng’s hips.
“Fuck, you’re-” Jiang Cheng chokes. The angle makes him go deeper, harder against his prostate, and Jiang Cheng feels his legs shake. “Fucking hell, fuck.”
“Oh,” Jin Guangyao lets out a laugh, this time unmistakably cruel. “You swear like a commoner.”
“I need to come, I’m so close,” Jiang Cheng gasps.
“You don’t need anything.”
“Let me, please, I’ll make it up to you after-”
“No,” Jin Guangyao says, dragging his fingers along the precum pooling at Jiang Cheng’s stomach, just brushing the tip of his cock. “You’re not going to come. You’re not going to beg to.” He slides his fingers into Jiang Cheng’s mouth. “You’re going to be good.”
Jiang Cheng could bite the fingers in his mouth. He could punch Jin Guangyao in the face. He could just come, and the other man wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Instead, he sucks his own precum off his fingers and tries to calm his breathing, focusing on the sensation of each inhale and exhale.
“There we go. That’s it, that’s good,” Jin Guangyao praises, running a thumb along his cheek. In the same breath he increases his pace, and Jiang Cheng cries out around his hand. “You’re so good, A-Cheng. So good at letting me fuck you.”
“Mhm,” Jiang Cheng moans, somehow startled at the word fuck leaving Jin Guangyao’s mouth.
“That’s all you want, isn’t it?” Jin Guangyao pulls his fingers out of Jiang Cheng’s mouth and drags them along his nipple. “To be praised.” He pinches down, and Jiang Cheng cries out.
“Fuck, you can’t - I can’t, I’m going to come, if you do that-”
“You’re not going to come, A-Cheng,” he pinches harder and Jiang Cheng writhes, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re going to do what I say.”
Jin Guangyao twists at his other nipple, his thrusts jolted now, and Jiang Cheng nods frantically, clenching tight around the other man. Jin Guangyao gasps out, gripping Jiang Cheng’s hip hard with his other hand, and with a choked moan, comes inside him.
He pulls out after, panting hard, and Jiang Cheng feels his come leak out of him. Before he knows what’s happening, Jin Guangyao has three fingers inside of him and his other hand tight on his cock. He strokes him quickly, ruthlessly, his fingers hard against his prostate, and it only takes a few seconds for Jiang Cheng to come, back arching against the table. He thinks it’s the hardest he’s ever come in his life; as if his whole body coils into itself, and then releases.
After, he feels both entirely peaceful and entirely empty. Jin Guangyao keeps a hand rested on his stomach for a long while and Jiang Cheng focuses only on the feeling of his skin, warm and slightly calloused, despite the softness of the rest of him. Right now, Jin Guangyao is the least pretty he has ever looked. His braids are loose and slightly matted, a thick sheen of sweat covering his face and chest. Jiang Cheng wants to hold the moment in his hand. Wants to take whatever messy, jagged part of Jin Guangyao this is and keep it just for himself.
Then, all at once, Jin Guangyao disentangles himself from Jiang Cheng and walks off elsewhere, out of Jiang Cheng’s vision as he lies on the table. A few minutes pass and Jiang Cheng begins to panic. Maybe this is all a trick, a trap, a long-winded scheme, to what end he has no idea. He sits up frantically only to find Jin Guangyao returning with his robes on, his hair fixed, and a cloth in his hand.
“Do not worry yourself. I only went to clean up,” Jin Guangyao says gently. He kneels at the table and runs a hand along Jiang Cheng’s arm. “Lay back down.”
Jiang Cheng is too physically exhausted to refuse. Jin Guangyao dabs a warm, damp cloth very gently across his face and Jiang Cheng fights the urge to close his eyes, to be lost in the feeling. He wants to watch Jin Guangyao. Wants to follow his calm, newly shielded expression and steady hands.
Jin Guangyao pretends not to notice this. He only looks at the cloth, as he moves it carefully downward, bringing it slowly from his neck to his chest to his stomach.
There is no romance between them, Jiang Cheng knows. Whatever existed on this day, in this room, was purely physical. But right now, Jin Guangyao moves so softly, so patiently, that Jiang Cheng could weep. He focuses on staying very still; on revealing nothing. But when Jin Guangayo presses the cloth to his entrance, Jiang Cheng shudders in spite of himself.
Jin Guangyao’s eyes flicker up to him. He pauses, and then says, “You were very good, A-Cheng.”
Jiang Cheng does not know how to respond to this. Part of him wants to close his eyes and hear it again, again, again. The other part is utterly horrified that someone else now knows this about him. That Jin Guangyao knows this about him.
“Shut up,” he mutters half-heartedly.
Jin Guangyao is, once again, unreadable. His hand tightens slightly around the cloth, and then releases.
“Do not take anything harsh I said to heart. It is only a role I played, just as you did,” he says. Jiang Cheng, again, does not know how to respond. Jin Guangyao waits for a reply, and then furrows a brow. “I apologise, if I was too harsh.”
Jiang Cheng suddenly feels very ill, because apparently, Jiang Cheng was supposed to have been playing a role. Because apparently, the level of cruelty he enjoys is enough to send Jin Guangyao into a moral dilemma. Into pitiful concern. Jiang Cheng looks away.
“Fuck off. You know you don’t need to do that.”
“I only wish to be certain.”
“You know already,” he snaps. “Don’t make me fucking- humiliate myself by saying it aloud.”
Jin Guangyao looks at him very carefully. He is perfectly, horribly neutral. And then, he breathes out a very small laugh.
“You see, I cannot always be certain. After today, I would have thought you enjoyed humiliating yourself,” be murmurs, brushing his hand lightly over Jiang Cheng’s cock.
“Ah. Fuck you,” Jiang Cheng says, and everything in him relaxes. If nothing else, there is an understanding between them, of how to follow the twists of desire. Of how to skirt around the core of this desire, and still trace it forward.
Jin Guangyao brings the cloth to his cock very chastely, and Jiang Cheng closes his eyes; lets himself be taken care of. Just for a moment. Just for a moment. Everywhere is cold, except where the other man touches. He thinks of the twenty-something disciple; thinks of the rage in Jin Guangyao’s eyes; thinks of the softness, now. So many years of knowing the man, and still, he cannot understand him. He thinks the gentleness feels more real than anything. It feels very good, and very terrifying.
It is a long while before Jin Guangyao pulls away from him. Jiang Cheng opens his eyes, and sits up slightly.
“Feel free to stay here as long as you wish. I will only be meditating,” Jin Guangyao says.
Jiang Cheng knows very well that this is his queue to leave. Even if he does not want this to be the case, he knows. Whatever has just happened between them cannot last forever.
“No. I should- be on my way. I have work to attend to.”
“Of course,” Jin Guangyao nods politely. Jiang Cheng hates this - to be a recipient again, so quickly, of his perfected courtesy. He stands up and puts his robes on hurriedly, suddenly wanting to leave very badly. He finds a mirror on one of Jin Guangyao’s shelves, and fixes his hair as best he can in it. He cannot tell if it looks fine or terrible. He glances over an Jin Guangyao without quite meaning to, and the other man gives him a smile.
“A very uneventful meeting between Sandu Shengshou and Lianfang Zun.”
Of course, Jin Guangyao knows what to say. Jin Guangyao always knows what to say, so much so that this is really quite meaningless, but Jiang Cheng lets himself feel comforted anyway. Lets himself soften, just slightly.
“Indeed. I will see you at the Spring conference, Jin-Zongzhu.”
“I will look forward to it,” Jin Guangyao says; very measured, very polite, but with something almost playful in his eyes. Almost promising something further. Something only for Jiang Cheng to see.
When Jiang Cheng walks to the door of Jin Guangyao’s office, he thinks this: I have done something very strange, and very thrilling, and very terrible. He looks back, just for a moment, at Jin Guangyao’s soft, placid smile, curled around the mouth which has pressed so harshly against Jiang Cheng’s neck, which has breathed into his ear all the words he wants to hear. And maybe, maybe, I will do it again.