westwhere | Sweet Treats

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Sweet Treats

WHO: Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen
WHEN: as everyone has settled into their respective groups in Taravast
WHERE: Xiao Xingchen's room
WHAT: Xue Yang needs sweet treats
WARNINGS: ~~...to be determined, but it will be grossly affectionate~~ definitely smut tbh
It hasn't taken Xue Yang long to find out where Xiao Xingchen is located and he is determined not to let something as silly as this ruse and whatever purpose they are playing these roles for get in the way of spending time with him. He has no stake in how this goes, one way or the other, all he cares about is here in this room. All he cares about is him.

He watches, for a while, unseen (naturally) from the window. At an opportune time, he slips inside, only to quietly move past Xingchen and right onto the bed. It's still foreign how soft it is, but not something he'd be opposed to getting used to. As fabric rustles against fabric, he has no doubt that Xingchen will notice him before long, and no further interest in keeping his presence secret, so as he stretches out on the man's bed, shameless as ever, he speaks up.

"Ah, how you've missed me. Daozhang! What do I get for coming to visit you?"

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It's taken Xingchen a couple of days to really start settling into their new dwelling. Ever since...he's had to get used to mentally mapping out areas he inhabits as quickly as possible, and especially when he traveled from town to town before settling down in Yi City. He had to do it in the brothel at Sa-Hareth, and then the farmhouse, and now in this huge palazzo, even if he's really only allowed to be in this half of it. But he's adapting, as he always does, and tonight finds him simply winding down before he rests.

His room is dark; he has no reason to light a candle if he's alone, but he goes about laying his foreign clothes across a chair further in the room and then sitting in front of the useless vanity in his inner robe to take off his blindfold and let his hair down. He expects no one to see him in his private quarters, after all. He's opened the window to let the pleasant air in, even if it also brings with it the other sounds of the city. It's so different from Yi City, so much livelier, and Xingchen isn't sure if he likes it or not. But for now, he keeps the window open.

As he runs his fingers through his hair he wonders how his friend is doing on the other side of the building. Xingchen has picked up the pendant they've been given to communicate privately amongst themselves and contemplated trying to speak with his friend directly, but...he doesn't know how he'd find him. He still doesn't know his name. In the end, he just accepts that his friend must be all right. He's the clever one, the one with the street smarts. If Xingchen had to count on any of them making it through this whole situation, he'd pick his friend.

Still doesn't mean he doesn't miss his company, though.

But his thoughts are interrupted when he hears that rustling behind him. Immediately, his hand shoots out toward Shuanghua where it's been resting against the vanity beside him. And then that voice speaks up and he exhales in relief, his shoulders dropping from their sudden tense posture. His hand leaves Shuanghua's hilt. It's all right. He's safe.

"Please, come in." He can't keep the amusement out of his voice, nor the smile from slipping onto his face, as he rises to approach the bed. He reaches down and pats around at the side of the bed, making sure he has space to sit, and joins his friend. "I hope you were not seen on your way here." Xingchen isn't sure what kind of punishment any of them would receive for fraternizing with each other, but he doesn't want to risk it. While he speaks, he reaches out toward the table next to his bed and pulls open the little drawer, taking out a little bag made of gold, crinkly paper. He opens the bag as quietly as he can and picks out a little parcel, also wrapped in that same gold paper. Xingchen has no way of telling, but it seems everything here is gaudy and opulent.

He holds out his hand with the piece of candy resting on his open palm. "For you."

"You wouldn't know, daozhang, but when I don't want to be seen, I'm hard to spot." Xue Yang was endeared by his worry, but not quite as endeared as by what he does next. It makes him sit up, a wide smile on his face, and then he shifts closer, close enough to align their bodies, sides pressed up against each other. He reached for the candy, not yet opening it and instead just taking it so he can hide it in his fist and hold it close against his chest.

Breathing seemed difficult and he pressed his stinging eyes together tightly, finally exhaling. "Did you think of me when you got this? You must have. It makes sense, I know you always miss me."

He laughed, as if that was something worth mocking - however gently - as if he hadn't moved across the palace the first chance he got, as if he truly thought of much other than Xingchen. "How do you like it here? I keep getting propositioned by ladies, more on the old and ugly than young and fair side... They are rich though."

Which he supposed could compensate for those shortcomings. "It doesn't seem fair, us in different factions." His pout is most definitely audible. "I'll have to visit often."

Feeling his friend react so positively to the candy makes Xingchen smile and he ducks his head with a little bit of pride. It doesn't always take much to appease his friend, but it still feels good when he can manage it. And then to have them pressed so close together, well. He enjoys that, too. The warmth of another person, someone who likes him, someone he likes in turn. He can't help but laugh a little at the question. "Of course I thought of you. I promised I'd make up for my lack while on the road, didn't I?"

Xingchen still feels a little guilty for having given away the few pieces of candy he arrived with back in Sa-Hareth. They were always meant for his friends back in Yi City, but here he's had to adapt. He'll never tell his friend this, though. There's no reason to upset him over something so small.

As for how he likes Taravast, Xingchen tilts his head in thought. "It's certainly more comfortable here. I've never had so much trouble getting out of bed in the morning in my entire life." How do people sleep in such plush beds? "I hope you've been treating these women with respect, no matter how pretty they are. I'm sure they all have their merits." Even if it is just money, in the end.

He sits there for a moment, just enjoying his friend's company, but then finally leans over to bump their shoulders. His voice is quieter, sincere. "I'd like if you did." And then, even quieter, just above a whisper, "I've missed you."

"If I sleep with you here, daozhang, will we ever get out of bed?" He laughs quietly, purposefully turning his head so the little puff of breath hits the side of Xingchen's neck. The question could be innocent enough, but there's not strictly a reason to put a hand on Xingchen's thigh. Yet there it is, a warm and steady presence. He doesn't move it yet.

"You must know that those women would rather I treat them with a little less respect and a lot of something else, but surely I'm too pure for that. Shouldn't they be the one told to respect me? You ought to be worried about that, how am I supposed to fend the ladies off?" He shifts closer still, as if truly seeking protection and refuge from Xingchen, even though there obviously aren't any ladies - however respectful - to hide from around here.

But it does mean that he's close to Xingchen's ear, even his most quiet whisper can be heard. "I've missed you too. I never stop."

Too true, perhaps, but his mind is on the moment now. His lips brush against Xingchen's jaw and he feels heat rise inside him. Nothing has ever been like this before. No one else has ever mattered.

The breath is so close and Xingchen can't stop the shiver that runs up his body, but he laughs again regardless. "We'd have to get out at some point." His friend is so close, though, and he welcomes it, all but melts into the warmth at his side and the breath and the touch. Even the ridiculous words his friend says aren't enough to dissuade Xingchen from keeping up this intimacy. They're finally in private, after all. He can allow himself this much.

It's obvious these women his friend keeps mentioning aren't a real threat, either to his friend himself or whatever the two of them share. If Xingchen were a jealous person, then maybe he'd be more upset, but he has no real reason to be. His friend likes to rile, to get reactions out of people. Sometimes it works on Xingchen. Maybe it's working now in its own way. Or maybe his body is simply reacting to the lips on his jaw, promising more.

They're finally in private.

It's all right now.

Xingchen breathes in, breathes out, turns his head. His lips miss his friend's mouth, catching the corner of it instead. Breathing out a ghost of a laugh, maybe a little embarrassed, he corrects himself and tries again, this time finding those lips he seeks. More tingles bloom through his whole body, warm and excited.

A gasp against Xingchen's lips, because somehow he hasn't expected the other to kiss him first. Somehow he hasn't expected the eagerness either, not without more coaxing, not without more teasing. But that doesn't mean he hesitates with responding in kind. Kisses deeply, eyes closed, so they are both in darkness and only with each other.

Xue Yang props his foot up on the bed to try and roll on top of Xingchen, his hands tracing his body, settling on his shoulders for the moment. Less to hold him down and more just to hold him. To be there, to feel him. His heart is hammering away in his chest and he feels warmth, Xingchen's warmth, and his body responding to that. He moves his hips to grind down, clearly proving his eagerness, and he presses his eyes together tightly, because they're burning in a peculiar way.

Breaking away from the kiss, he stays close enough to speak against his lips still. "Tell me what you want, daozhang."

That he wants him. That he's not disgusted.

Not yet.

The answering gasp doesn't escape Xingchen's notice and he can't help but feel a little proud of himself. For once, it seems, he's surprised his friend. It's easily forgotten, however, when he's urged to lie down and he happily cooperates. He sets down the little bag of candy down on the bed, but it falls over as they embrace, some of the pieces spilling out to the ground, the little clacks as they hit the floor going ignored.

No, Xingchen has something much more important within his hold now. He kisses back, easily, accepting any touch given him, and dares his hands to explore in turn. They find his friend's waist without trouble, then smooth up his back, clutching suddenly at his shoulders when their hips get to know each other a little better. It's Xingchen's turn to gasp, then, but his lips turn up in a smile and he laughs a little. Out of embarrassment? Perhaps a little; his body, too, has not been unaffected by all this. But there's a warmth in his laugh, announcing his happiness.

When that question traces his lips, though, his smile softens a little. It's easy enough to answer, and he's sure they both know what he's going to say, but it still feels a little heavy. What does Xingchen want? So much, and he'll never voice the majority of it.

He wants Song Lan to come back. He wants Song Lan to no longer hate him, though he has no right to either.

He wants to make things right between him and his master, so he can think of his time on the mountain with fondness and not focus on their last farewell with guilt.

...He wants to see again. He can't. He shouldn't. But he's already begun to forget the details of Song Lan's face. He wants to see another sunset. He wants to see A-Qing's smile, which must be so bright, considering how exuberant she is. The world is so full of beautiful sights and he truly didn't appreciate them before and he just wants one more day, one more hour, one more second.

He wants to see his friend's face, just once, just for a moment. Selfish. Selfish.

There's only one answer to this question in this moment. Xingchen brings a hand around to his friend's face, the backs of his fingers brushing over the skin.

"I want you."

What a sweet lie it is. Xue Yang smiles as he lets Xingchen touch his face, then he leans down to kiss his cheek, give a small lick, think about bloody tear tracks drying on his skin. His laugh is quiet, even if he's not quite certain what's funny, and then he cuts himself off by trailing kisses along Xingchen's jaw, lower down to his neck, where he finds a spot he wants to mark.

He's determined to leave a mark that will last, in so many ways, so it's no wonder he bites down at first, soothes with his tongue, then sucks soft skin between his teeth, wanting to bruise it. It will fade, with time, but he hopes that the memory doesn't.

Leaving Xingchen's shoulder, one of his hands moves between their bodies, to get under Xingchen's robes. He lifts himself up so he can undo them, elbow resting on the bed, his eyes on Xingchen's face. "You are beautiful."

How much does that matter for a blind man to hear? He's not sure, but he feels the need to tell him anyway. "The most beautiful."

His friend has always been far more willing to touch him, has always cared little for how it might appear to others that he does so, but then they've lived mostly adjacent to everyone else in Yi City, so Xingchen can understand this carefree attitude. It's taken some getting used to, after Song Lan's aversion to contact, but Xingchen has never disliked it. And now that he's given himself over to it and trusts the privacy and darkness of his room he craves it more and more.

Each touch, every kiss could easily overwhelm him and they nearly do. He feels special under his friend, wanted, and as teeth find a place to latch onto his neck, he doesn't stop the moan that crawls up his throat. Yes, he hopes that noise says, you are welcome to make a home in my skin. Please, he breathes a moment later, look at me and find me desirable.

Selfish.

His hands thread their way into his friend's hair, undoubtedly making a mess of it. He should feel bad. He probably will later. But to touch, to feel, to exist like this in this moment, is too tempting. Xingchen lets it wash over him.

Selfish.

He should help with his clothes or his friend's clothes. There are so many places he could put his hands and he wants to do it all at once, he wants to do so much.

This isn't the first time his friend has openly complimented him, but it hits harder right now. Instead of letting it roll off his shoulders with a little smile or shake of his head Xingchen gently pulls his friend up for another kiss, their noses bumping a little awkwardly at first. "Whatever you're doing...it's working."

"I've not even started, daozhang~" He says it with a lilt to his voice, then kisses the corner of Xingchen's mouth, marvelling at his own reactions perhaps even more than Xingchen's, although it's the latter that he treasures more. Still, in spite of being far from inexperienced, this is different for him. It's never meant anything to him, whatever he's done, whatever's been done to him. It's only now that his heart beats so fast.

However, that doesn't take away from his experience, so it is no wonder that when he sits up, knees on either side of Xingchen, and disrobes, it actually doesn't take him long, there's a practised ease with getting naked. He reaches for one of Xingchen's wrists and holds it so he can lead his hand to his now bare chest, eyes on Xingchen's face. "You should know I'm very handsome. It'd be hurtful if you weren't appreciative of it, so make sure to keep it in mind."

The tone, of course, is teasing, but there is a hint of breathlessness to his voice. This is a lot for him too, in ways he couldn't have predicted. "I'll mark you all over, daozhang. You want to be mine, don't you?"

I've not even started, he says, a promise of more to come. Xingchen's lips part with a little sigh as he waits, his arms falling to the bed beside his head. Every movement his friend makes above him feels almost exaggerated. The rustling of clothes does nothing to hide what's really happening. In his mind, Xingchen can imagine how this scene appears.

(He doesn't know what his friend looks like, of course, but he knows the general shape of him - his height, his slighter frame - and that's enough to give him something to focus on.)

The sounds of his friend's clothes disappears and the weight of him rests against his own hips. Xingchen breathes a little faster, more shallow. His mouth goes dry and he has to swallow. His hips wiggle slightly, trying to keep his excitement from showing, though he's sure that's a futile effort.

It's an effort immediately abandoned when his friend makes him touch and Xingchen happily, eagerly complies. "Then I should get a better look at you." His other hand joins and he feels the warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Every day he has to reach out and map out his surroundings in some form, but never has it been as enjoyable as this. Hands move over his friend's chest as first requested, then down his sides until he can wrap around his waist. Just for a moment. It feels nice, to hold. Further down, over hips, then along the tops of strong thighs, but Xingchen, while definitely interested, moves back up. Hands reach his friend's neck, his jaw, and Xingchen's thumbs trace the shapes of that face, finally coming to rest on his lips.

"Yes. Very handsome."

His thumbs drag at that bottom lip before he pulls away entirely. He, too, can tease, it seems. "I'm right here. All night." If his friend is going to threaten such promises, then Xingchen can at least encourage them.

Edited (Phone typing hard) 2021-09-24 19:08 (UTC)

His lips part readily when Xingchen's thumbs drag on them, his tongue moving to touch them. He swallows when they are moved away, eyes half-lidded, because every touch from Xingchen, it's more than any touch by anyone else. When he chuckles, it ends up muffled, as he moves down again, pressing his lips against Xingchen's neck, where he'd marked him before. While his tongue traces the mark, his hands deftly work there way under Xingchen's clothes, his hips lifting up so he can part them.

"I want to taste you all over, daozhang," he tells him, promises perhaps. Either way, he seems determined to make his words reality, his fingers leading the way down, but his mouth following. Gracing his collarbone, then hovering by his chest, the tips of his fingers moving over his nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He licks over the nub, then nips it, playfully more than anything, wanting to explore just how strong a reaction he might get.

"Lower?" The question is spoken with his lips barely lifting away from his skin, breath right against the sensitive spot he's just licked. But his movements have stilled, as if he doesn't intend to proceed unless Xingchen tells him.

His neck seems to be a favorite place of his friend's, but Xingchen's body welcomes him, moving so as to give him easier access to the warm flesh there. To kiss, to lick, to bite, to suckle, Xingchen will indulge him in all of these. He sighs, giving his body over to be appreciated like this.

But his friend doesn't stop. That clever mouth announces desire and Xingchen responds in affirmation, his body arching into the touch, little whines escaping as sensitive nubs are sought out and taken advantage of. No one has ever touched him like this, no one apart from his own curious fingers on lonely nights in abandoned places. His cries here are different from the little surprised keens he drew past his own lips. Now someone else will hear him, will witness his pleasure.

He should be embarrassed, shouldn't he? Letting himself be unwrapped layer by layer like this. Except this is his friend and they enjoy each other's company and this act is one of trust and intimacy like no other. He wants to share this with him. So he arches up his hips to seek out friction with the man above him and moans deeper in his throat when he finds it.

The window is still open. Xingchen has long since forgotten about it.

Lower, his friend asks, and Xingchen doesn't even hesitate.
"Please." He slips his hands between their bodies. His fingers fumble to finish baring himself, shaking as he unties his trousers. But he wants this, even if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. His skin feels hotter than he ever remembers it feeling, but he hooks his thumbs into the band of his trousers and starts to shimmy them down.

Every sound Xingchen makes, it fans the flames of his desire, so he can be certain that they will be burned into his memory. Xue Yang shifts his weight onto his knees to adjust his position, hands moving down quickly to assist him in undressing.

There's supposed to be nothing between them and when that is finally reality, there is a moment where he holds his breath, his hand against Xingchen's stomach, the other on his thigh. Splayed out like this beneath him, has there ever been anyone more beautiful? He doesn't believe there can be. There's nothing to better accent that pure appearance than the signs of lust. Flushed cheeks, parted lips, the marks he's left on his skin already.

It's almost reverence he feels. Still, when he moves after those few heartbeats, there is no hesitation. His fingers wrap around his hard shaft, thumb swiping over the tip, smiling at the wetness he finds.

"Are you eager?"

Hardly a question that needs an affirmative answer when it is so plain to see, but he finds satisfaction in asking anyway.

"I want to find out how sweet you taste there. Will you let me?"

As the cooler air kisses his newly-bared skin, Xingchen shivers a little, though it could also be blamed on the anticipation of this moment. Or, perhaps, it's how he feels the other man's gaze on his naked body, left this way for him to be enjoyed or appraised. Xingchen can't help but feel like just a thing to be seen like this, but he trusts his friend not to mishandle this vulnerability. So he lies there, his chest rising and falling faster than normal, a flush spreading over his cheeks a little more.

It's a little scary, this moment of inaction, but exciting, too. He remembers his friend is also naked, though that must be easier to experience around a blind man, when one's body cannot be perceived so bluntly.

All of his little insecurities or fears are shoved away when his friend takes him in hand, however. Xingchen moans, his hips bucking up, trying to get more of that touch. Yes, he's eager. Probably too much. Suddenly he feels younger than he is, impatient in ways he usually isn't. "Isn't it obvious?" His voice is breathless, but he smiles. And, before he can stop himself, "I thought I was the blind one." Under any other circumstance, he would probably consider such a jest in poor taste, but right now it is kind of funny and he chuckles for a moment, or at least until his friend insinuates that he wants to go farther with this.

It's a lot and it's happening so quickly, but they're here and Xingchen is clearly ready. His smile softens out into something more fond and he reaches to touch his friend, finding his thighs, or his body, or his hair, whatever he can reach. Touches of encouragement and affection. "Yes," he whispers. "Yes."

When he laughs it's quiet, as seems appropriate, intimate like that moment, but nonetheless amused. How can he not, when there is his daozhang, so readily joking with him on this level? Of course, this also means that now, as he changes his position, as his mouth is so close to his hardness, his breath can be felt between his fingers, right against sensitive skin. Still just a precursor to what is to come.

When Xingchen's searching hands find his hair, he closes his eyes, revelling in the feeling. It is more than all the encouragement he needs. His lips part to take him in, one hand on his hip to hold him down, but his own eagerness getting the better of him anyway, moving his head down almost immediately.

He knows how to relax his jaw, he's familiar enough with the mechanics, but that's not what matters here. What matters is that this is Xingchen, tasting Xingchen, feeling Xingchen. It's new, because nothing else could ever compare. The skill may come from experience, but the devotion on display is born from nothing other than this being Xingchen, this being them. He presses his tongue against his length as best he can, moving up only to suck on the tip instead, and only to immediately go down again. He doesn't want to take it slow now. He wants an onslaught of pleasure.

Strands of hair part easily for his fingers and he feels the warmth of his friend's scalp beneath them. It's always nice to feel hands in his own hair, whether just to comb through it or make it presentable for the day; he hopes this, in return, can give his friend some of the same pleasure.

Of course, Xingchen can't focus on that for long as his friend moves quickly, already taking him into his mouth. Xingchen releases a long breath, allowing himself to almost disappear in this simple, but wonderful act. He immediately feels satisfied and so warm and he wants both to stay like this all night and to find his pleasure if it means he can do it with his friend.

Luckily, it seems that friend makes the decision for him. That mouth is already warm, but the introduction of his tongue makes it all hotter, so when he lifts off, even for a moment, the cool air hits his wet flesh even harder than before. He gasps at the chill, but that grows into a keening sound as he's sucked and enveloped again. Xingchen's hips move against the bracing hold and his fingers tighten in his friend's hair of their own accord, both things he knows he should control better, if not from experience, then from common courtesy.

"Sorry," he gasps out, fingers loosening somewhat. The last thing he wants to do is hurt his friend who is doing such a good job making him feel good.

At Xingchen's apology, Xue Yang has to pull away for a moment to keep from choking, because he has to laugh. What a polite man, even now. He shouldn't be surprised and he isn't really, but it does entertain him. Endear him too. "No need. I like that you're eager."

And he's certainly had rougher, not that any of that is on his mind right now. Not that there is really space for anything in his world right now, other than Xingchen. The taste of Xingchen as he takes him in again, the feel of his silken skin, his hardness. Those sounds he makes, of course. He wishes he had a way to hear them again and again, but never forgetting would have to do.

When he feels Xingchen tense, as he has one hand on his thigh, the other on his hip, he pauses, then pulls away. Both hands on the mattress on either side of him, Xue Yang pulls himself up, rather purposefully dragging along him. He says nothing now, not quite trusting his own voice, and too eager to find Xingchen's lips instead. When he kisses him again, he hopes he tastes himself that way. He lies stretched out on top of Xingchen, no space between them, and his hips move, seeking friction.

There are better ways to do this, but the way he feels about Xingchen, that intensity, for the moment it makes it hard to think past more than the most immediate desires, seeking to fulfil their lust.

This shared intimacy, their soft laughter, makes it easier for Xingchen to smile. He's still a little shy about everything and unsure if he's doing it all right - or enough - but the reassurance definitely helps. When his friend gets back to work on him, one of Xingchen's hands returns to simply thread through his friend's hair. He's careful not to tug or get too tangled up in it, but he wants to encourage him, reward him.

I like you is on the tip of his tongue, but then his friend does something, sucks just right or laves his tongue over a specific spot, and he moans instead, cutting off the louder sound by biting his lip. It feels so good. He had always imagined this would, but reality proves to be much better than his imagination ever could be.

They're at this for an unknown amount of time, maybe it's just a few minutes, maybe it's far longer Xingchen never really tried to keep track - but he does feel his gut start to tighten, his body start to tense, which doesn't take a genius to figure out what that could mean. Luckily, his friend seems to recognize this and pulls off of him. It's both a relief and a disappointment, in that Xingchen is able to breathe for a moment, but then he was close to being satisfied!

Kisses are satisfying, too, though, and he welcomes his friend without argument, his own body rolling up to meet the one on top of his own. There's a lingering taste on his friend's lips Xingchen hadn't tasted before. His own taste. Should he be disgusted by that? He isn't. It's just more proof that they've come together like this. Hands move down from his friend's hair, over sharp shoulder blades, along that warm expanse of back. He grips his friend's hips and holds him down, so flush, and presses up into him again, just more this time. He gasps...and then does it again. "I like...how you fit here. Against me."

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Sweet Treats

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