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A lot in Zhang Haixia’s life made more sense in retrospect than otherwise because he was missing a key to interpret the code. There was a book in their Shifu's library, one of those modern Viennese ones she had just received, that held one of these, and on the day he read it, an explanation unfurled for him at long last.
The term confused him at first. He translated it from the German as he read - not his best language to begin with - before rolling it around his mind: oral fixation. He wasn't much interested in the causes at first, but as soon as he read the description, he knew who it meant. A strong, obsessional need to have things in the mouth.
That was Zhang Hailou alright.
There had been cherries first, as kids. Haixia still remembered the proud grin with which Hailou had produced the knotted stem from between his missing front teeth. But he hadn't been the only one to notice the ease that Hailou had with his tongue, and not just in words. Soon enough, their Shifu had begun testing options. There had been poison capsules, of course, but that had been expected of agents. Antidote capsules too, more surprising, and various microfilms. Then one day, playing around the weapon room, Hailou himself had attempted to hide a small razor blade between his lips, just to see if he could.
And like all good accomplishments, it had started with a spectacular failure.
Haixia had watched his sworn brother's face contort with panic, then followed his trail of muffled screams out of the room. When Haixia had caught up with him, Hailou's mouth had been cherry red and inflamed, his tongue swollen around the cuts. Haixia's own mouth welled up with saliva at the memory. The blade had fallen out, stained and glistening on the sandy ground, next to a mouthful of spit that remained dark for weeks before the rain washed it away. Even now, he could still see Hailou's face as it had looked up at him. At twelve years old he had found his calling, and his bloody smile had already been sharp and full of teeth.
In later years when Shifu drew that snake, Haixia had stared at its fangs and imagined their bite, and he'd remembered that smile.
Smoke came after that, a first cigarette bumped off a senior during training, which the book had predicted. The smell remained on Hailou for days. It was not unpleasant in itself, it even went well with his natural smell, which is something that Haixia kept to himself. He had learned early enough that it was polite not to tell people about their smell, and didn't acknowledge to himself the way he breathed in deeper whenever Hailou was near. He refused to think about the way this smell steadied his heart, because it would mean recognising that he had cheated his training - he was always better when they trained in pairs, and for good reason.
Now smoke was part of that smell. Even when Hailou thought it cleverly concealed, it stuck to his hair and to his clothes. Wherever Hailou went, the trail of tobacco accompanied him, and when they were close together, it wrapped like a bubble around them, like a sanctuary.
But there were worse things, like the way Hailou's mouth curved at the corner to accommodate the stick, or the way his tongue moved around it as he spoke, drawing complicated volutes in the air that dissipated with the wind.
The first time they had shared a breath mid spar after that terrible habit had started, Haixia had felt himself suffocate.
Later on still and they were adults, proper ones, official ones, and they started to drink as all agents did. Hailou had developed a taste for whisky that he liked to roll around his tongue, savoring, he said, the oiliness of it. The thought made Haixia's head swim, even as the liquid made his throat burn. He imagined it like the broken sea of a windstorm, crested white, tossing and breaking over Hailou's tongue. He thought of the sharp cold blades hidden in that mouth like treacherous reefs, and of the smoke like a rolling fog. He could drown there, he thought. When Hailou had offered a taste he'd said no, but Hailou had held the bottle up to Haixia's lips with a smile that was still sharp as a knife, and so he'd closed his eyes and swallowed the fire with the smoke.
Haixia wondered if somehow during the day he had gotten poisoned. He was well used to the taste of liquor by now, its bitter and oily taste not like the true sweet wine he preferred, but familiar. His Zhang blood should have prevented any true intoxication anyway, so there was no explanation for how dizzy he felt right now apart from poisoning. Or maybe an infection.
Well, there were the sixty two hours and forty seven minutes of wakefulness, if his watch was accurate - and it always was - plus the thirtysomething kilometers they had walked to make their way back to this hotel room.
There was also the cramped way he had had to fold himself onto the couch next to Hailou, in the low light of late evening, still too wired from their latest adventure to sleep but too tired to even speak. And then Hailou had reached for that damned bottle of whisky and offered it to him, warmer than the room for having been lugged around inside of his bag all day, and Haixia had not even thought of refusing this time. He had drunk straight from the bottle first and had passed it back to Hailou who had paused as their fingers overlapped on the glass. Haixia's eyes had lingered on the open mouth of the bottle, and on Hailou’s lips closing over it in his turn, and then on his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed a long mouthful of it, the white column of his neck moving around it before his head fell back onto the headrest.
Haixia has forgotten that he was staring by now, his eyes half lidded as he watched Hailou's agile tongue chase the droplets hanging over his lips, hypnotizingly. Restless, it then sought out the hidden blade, pulling it out with a familiar hollowing out of his cheek and a twirl of that tongue. Haixia’s own mouth had dropped open without his notice, and he felt himself mimicking the movement with his own, tracing shapes over his soft palate. He could smell Hailou's breath from where he sat on that small couch, even a normal person could, probably. It was mostly whisky by now, cigarette smoke, with some of that fried bread they had shared earlier when they'd reached the city gate. The stench of cooking oil clung to their clothes along with the dust of travel, and underneath it the smell of their bodies, sweat, skin, Zhang Hailou’s familiar, comforting smell. Still, Haixia’s heart thumped louder than usual, unable to tear his eyes from his sworn brother's mouth.
He thought of that book, and of those strange German words.
The blade turned over and popped out between Hailou's lips. Behind them, his tongue played with the holes at the center of the metal sheet, holding the blade out and rocking it gently back and forth, his breaths even, his eyes closed. Haixia had seen him do this in sleep too, so it was a toss up to know if he was still awake or not. The soft pink tip of his tongue flattened underneath the blade like it was tasting it. It glistened with saliva that probably tasted like alcohol and fried dough and suddenly Haixia couldn’t breathe.
They had had nothing else all day to eat or drink but that bread and the whisky, so he couldn’t have been poisoned. Maybe it really was an infection. He certainly felt feverish enough. But there had to be something wrong with him. There was no other explanation for the urge that came over him, telling him to reach out, delicate fingers slipping into Hailou’s mouth to grab at that blade and put it onto his own tongue. In a trance, he could picture it before he did it, the soft wet warmth of Hailou's tongue under his fingers, the slippery, unyielding metal against his own still carrying with it whisky and smoke.
Halfway through Hailou's hand shot up and stopped him in midair, taking the blade from him.
“Absolutely not,” he said, like he could read Haixia’s mind, or maybe his face. “You don't remember how painful that training was?”
Haixia thought of cherries and stained lips, of the darkened ground, and that proud smile. They were so close that he could count every prick of unshaven hair on Hailou's chin and the shared breath was making Haixia dizzy. He could feel Hailou's eyes on him, wide open now, but he couldn't look away from those lips. They formed his name, calling it so softly that it was barely a sound.
Haixia reached out again and drew a finger along Hailou's mouth. That dangerous mouth. Even disarmed of its weapon it made his belly ache at the thought of its taste. Hailou was close enough that he could try, prod the softness of those lips with his teeth, chase that second hidden blade with his tongue. Haixia inhaled and the air was all Hailou, the smell and taste of him like he was pulling him into himself, and before he realised it they had moved and Zhang Hailou was kissing him, tipped over the armrest of the couch. It was his teeth that bit into Haixia's lips and his clever tongue that invaded his mouth, spreading the sweet venom of his taste. Haixia grabbed onto his clothes to keep himself afloat, to keep him close. He remembered the words of their mentor long ago - a snake indeed - as Hailou left his mouth to close his lips around Haixia's pulse. His whole body was alight, fire coursing through every vein. His heart stuttered and fluttered like a bird caught in a trap, pinned under the weight of Hailou’s body, tangled with his limbs. He could feel him everywhere pressing against him, except where he wanted him most. Unclasping a hand, he carded it through Hailou’s hair and pulled sharply until he could find his mouth again. It was a relief, such sweet delicious relief to kiss him at last, to find him waiting and wanting too. His hands roamed Haixia’s body, groping and grabbing at his shape like they themselves were hungry. And Haixia wanted too, he wanted so much. Changing his hold on Hailou’s hair, he tipped his head sideways and began exploring his mouth like he always dreamed of until Hailou moaned out of breathlessness, breaking out from him with heavy pants. Their foreheads rested together, sharing a single scarce breath, but Haixia wouldn't allow more distance than this. Haixia’s heart burned with the exertion yet he was counting down the seconds until he could tighten his fingers again and bring that dangerous mouth back to his. An idea sparked in his mind at the thought, and before he could stop it it had spread over his face like a fireworks display.
“What?” Hailou asked, with a curious smile.
Haixia wondered.
Was he possibly the one with the oral fixation?
He looked at Hailou's face, flushed, his round eyes glazed and blinking softly in confusion, felt the weight of him onto his own body, the warmth of his skin through their clothes. With a quick dart of his tongue Hailou moistened his lips and Haixia's eye snapped toward them.
No, he decided. As always, Zhang Hailou was the problem. Haixia just happened to be obsessed with him as a whole, and caught his madness as a side-effect.
“It's all your fault, you know,” he announced.
Hailou laughed, his head falling back.
“Whatever you mean by that, you're probably right.”
The devilish smile spread his pretty mouth again and Haixia gave up all pretense of reason. He pulled on his hair and brought him back down against him, kissing him until neither of them could breathe.
They fell asleep on the small couch, exhausted, yet still tangled together.
As dawn broke, the sun woke Haixia who in turn poked at Hailou until some semblance of wakefulness was reached. Once upright, he dragged him toward the bed the way he always did when they were younger, except the bed had felt much larger then than it did now as they tumbled into it. Hailou was much closer, for one, having pushed his leg between Haixia's, slipping his hot fingers underneath Haixia’s shirt and around his waist with a contented sigh.
“I could get used to this,” he mumbled, and it was years of practice that made the words intelligible to Haixia.
Haixia's answering laugh was only a breath against the top of Hailou's head, tucked under his own chin. He started to drift back into sleep when he felt Hailou's lips moving against his neck. For a moment he allowed it, thinking it only restlessness, or the aforementioned oral fixation, but Hailou's hands started to move too, caressing his side and then grabbing a handful off his ass over his pants. Haixia stiffened.
They had barely slept a few hours and Haixia could feel sleep pulling at his mind and his eyelids, but he couldn't stop his heart from racing nor his body from stirring against Hailou. He mapped the circuit of Hailou’s mouth in his mind, first against his pulse, then down to the hollow of his collarbone. It followed the ridge of his throat back up, pressing soft whispers against his jawline, then once more against his lips. Haixia held him there for a moment longer, savoring the feeling. Hailou’s hands had moved to his front and were tracing the contours of his stomach muscles as they kissed. When they broke apart for breath, he tugged at Haixia’s shirt until the first button popped off.
“You can't sleep in those clothes, can you?” he murmured against Haixia's lips, who wholeheartedly agreed.
“You can't either,” he replied, tugging at the decorative cords.
Hailou's embroidered shirt had an open neck and needed wriggling to get out, which he achieved after some groans of complaint, but Haixia's buttons needed undoing so he got started on them. He very quickly got his hands swatted away.
Hailou chided.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the patient one?”
Haixia smiled, his eyebrow tugging up by reflex at the lecture, but very quickly understood why his action had been opposed. Half naked, Hailou had returned to press against him, propping himself up over Haixia's thighs and pushing him down on the mattress. He worked the remaining buttons off from the top, closing his lips over every new inch of skin they revealed. He trailed off halfway to explore Haixia's chest and Haixia had to put a hand to his own mouth to keep the noises down lest the rest of the hotel woke up. His hips buckled under Hailou's weight and all sleep had definitely deserted him by now. His other hand found the top of Hailou's head as it moved down his body and rested on his hair, still dusty from the day.
Hailou scooted down to sit over his knees once the shirt was opened and found the soft piece of skin underneath Haixia's navel. He bit down, gently, but Haixia felt like lightning had struck through his frame. He scrunched up his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose to regulate his system. This was all Hailou's madness, he knew it. It wasn't right to feel so much from just a touch, and yet, when Hailou’s hands reached for his belt, Haixia’s last resolve broke down like crystal glass. He should stop this, he told himself, they were gross and exhausted, he could smell every kind of dirt on both of them, and the part of him that he had allowed over the years to drift into dreamland kept on telling him that there should be flowers and silk linens involved. But Hailou's hand cupped him through the fabric of his pants and Haixia’s hands dropped back down onto the mattress at the sensation, as if his whole body had just lost all of its strength. The belt slipped off from around him, and his fly popped open before he knew it. He opened his eyes in the dim light just in time to see that devious, satisfied smile stretch Hailou’s lips before he pressed them to him. The only sound that passes Haixia’s lips at that was a sigh, probably because most of his soul had left his body. Whatever heaven was, it had nothing on Hailou's mouth dancing on his skin, he thought.
Zhang Hailou, that … that sinner, flattened his pink tongue to the underside of him and twirled it around his tip like he had trained for it on one of those imported candies he liked so much. He took him fully into his mouth then, the heat of it burning a hole of desire through Haixia's belly. It had an edge too, like one of Hailou’s blades, spring loaded and begging for release. Haixia didn't protest when Hailou toyed with him slowly, when he licked and sucked and kissed him, too overwhelmed to think about asking for more, but that edge sat within him, cutting him with every small gasping breath that he took. His hands clenched and unclenched on the sheets, clawing for something he couldn't name. When it felt like he couldn't possibly take any more, Hailou groaned against him and swallowed his entire length. With a sharp cry like a clap of thunder, Haixia's chest lifted from the bed as he came. Smiling around him, Hailou patted his stomach to shush him as he licked down the last of him, kissing his way up Haixia’s heaving chest before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Shh. People are gonna think that I gave in and murdered you.”
He might have, Haixia thought. It certainly felt like he had left his body for a while back then. A second kiss followed with the intoxicating taste of himself floating on Hailou's tongue, and it took a second for Haixia to realise that the steady rhythm was not that of his thundering heart yet to calm, but of Hailou’s hand pumping himself in search of his own release. With a gasp Haixia reached out, laying his hand over Hailou's. For a moment, Hailou had that smile on his face that was not entirely sane, but bent forward to hide it in Haixia’s neck, groaning again as he spilled hot and sour on Haixia’s stomach. The smell of it was overpowering, the entire room full of the both of them, every last gasp of air. Anyone could smell that, not just him. Hailou has let himself fall down beside him, still touching him everywhere from toe to shoulder. Tomorrow, or rather today he guessed, they would need to wash everything in here. But for now, sleep called again, irresistibly. There was one last thing Haixia needed before giving in, and like everything, it was Hailou's fault. Haixia reached blindly for and found Hailou’s head. Unresisting it turned to him, and Haixia kissed him, drifting away with only the anchor of Hailou's lips holding him to this world.