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It was a night made of the sheen of silver butterflies and a love that spanned 800 years. The very air sung, a melody beyond understanding dancing in this intimate space.
It threaded across his skin and made him smile, made him blush, made him happier than anything else.
It was a quiet night in Paradise Manor, and Xie Lian was standing before the bed with liquid steel racing down his spine and anticipation making him tremble.
There, on red cloth and made of pale skin, was a ghostly sacrifice unlike any other. The man spread out on crimson sheets was so beautiful, and Xie Lian could only stand and smile, stand and flush.
Hua Cheng really did look lovely, bound by the white silk of Ruoye. He looked lovelier still with that gentle smirk, with that teasing look.
He was just so lovely.
Xie Lian took a step closer, felt nerves tremble up his skin. There was a fire in his stomach, burning so very gently, and E-ming was heavy in his hand. He was shaking, with this, with what he was about to do.
But San Lang was here, and with him, Xie Lian could do anything.
The metal beneath his palm was smooth. His hands were shaking, but he felt safe.
He could do anything, with San Lang here.
Xie Lian couldn’t help but rub an experimental finger over the edge, feel its heft and shining silver inlay. The hilt was more rounded than usual, sharp corners melted away at his quiet and blushing request. A soft dappled light made E-ming gleam like it was beneath a thousand lanterns.
Xie Lian had never seen a sword more beautiful. He had never seen one so willing to bend itself for him, either, so willing to be molded long and thick.
It felt right, in his hand, fitting into his calloused fingers like a blade should. It felt heavy, and like it would sit so well in—
He felt a gentle flush shade his cheeks, stain him red and blushing with the ideas.
It would fit so well.
Beneath the warm light of the lanterns, he couldn’t stop his racing heart. Thoughts of a slick slide and warm stretch, of E-ming’s quivering, of how well Xie Lian would be filled—
It was too much, the excitement leaving him breathless. He couldn’t quite believe he was going to do this, couldn’t quite believe he had even suggested it.
Bashful eyes darted up, met Hua Cheng’s lazy gaze. That look could catch him like nothing else, could make him feel a thousand strings of joy.
It could make him feel an unfamiliar hunger, too, and that consumed him now. The ghost looked beautiful, wrists pinned above his head by the careful ties of Ruoye. Winding silk wrapped up his arms, making strong muscles flex and shake. Xie Lian had been held up by those hands, had felt safe in those arms.
Xie Lian had driven into that body before and felt whole.
Hua Cheng was bare and hard, spread out on crimson sheets as sacrifice and gift. Xie Lian could not look away. He let his eyes trail over ghostly pale skin, over the strong lines of muscle and lean build. San Lang looked like a hunting cat made human, all predator’s strength and hidden claws.
Those claws never came out for Xie Lian, never even peaked out. Hua Cheng was always so careful to tuck them away and make them dull, to cradle Xie Lian with worshipful hands.
But he knew they were there, knew what danger rested glimmering and sharp beneath that handsome smirk.
He may only ever see a kind smile on those lips, but he loved the whole of this man. He let his gaze flicker down, embarrassed and hungry.
That cock was beautiful too, where it dripped a slow line of precum. It was long and slender, curving up to pierce the sky. Xie Lian couldn’t drag his eyes away from the red flush at the tip, couldn’t look away from the small twitches of San Lang’s hips.
But he was bound to the bed and helpless, and that made Xie Lian’s gentle blood go hot.
The ghost was truly such a graceful man, and he had the cock to match. The man worshiped Xie Lian as god, but in this moment, this god wanted to get on blushing knees and bow before his love.
He quite wanted to see San Lang lose that grace, wanted to see him gasp. It was a good thing that in the light of these gentle lanterns, he could do a thousand things.
“Ruoye,” he called, ever so quiet and gentle. The cords creaked around San Lang’s wrists, twitching and making the man hum pleasantly. He shifted across the bed, crimson silk moving with his body like a river of flower petals.
Xie Lian tucked the reaction away for later, into the careful corner of his mind he reserved for San Lang. Perhaps San Lang would like to be, ah, bound more in the future?
They had all the time in the world to explore that too, but for now Xie Lian had a mission.
They had agreed to this, agreed to this exploration. Xie Lian would hold the power this day, they had agreed.
As if you do not already hold my everything, Gege, Hua Cheng had laughed out at that. Xie Lian had blushed the words away even as he reached loving fingers to cradle San Lang’s face.
His hands felt so right, pressing gentle into that cold skin.
But tonight wasn’t about the power between them but Xie Lian’s own power. He wanted the ease of sexuality, wanted to feel comfortable and strong in his own skin. He wanted to be able to look at the lewd stretch of San Lang’s body and feel a burning love without shame.
Xie Lian wanted it all.
He looked down at Ruoye, pet careful fingers across the white cords.
“Ah, please, around San Lang’s cock.” The pretty white fabric shifted for a moment, as if embarrassed, as if eager. After a moment caught on spider webs and the hesitation of silk, Ruoye wrapped itself twice around the base of that curving cock.
San Lang just drew in a hissing breath and smiled, small and so very happy. “Gege is feeling very adventurous today. I can’t wait to see what Gege does to my body.”
The ghost arched his back with the words, pulling at the white cords wrapping around him. The long line of pale skin looked tempting and sensuous, spread over crimson silk.
“San Lang, please,” Xie Lian pleaded, feeling a terrible mix of embarrassment and arousal curl in his skin. He was blushing a deep cherry red, he could tell, heat building across his cheeks relentless as the dawn.
But he could not look away. Hua Cheng had let himself be bound and laid bare. Here, the great ghost king was at his mercy and in their bed.
In the light of the lanterns of Paradise Manor, there was no greater sight. He looked at the trust in San Lang’s eyes, at the way his hands rested loose and easy in white silk.
For this man, Xie Lian would truly do anything. Even if it meant forcing down a blush, even if it meant stumbling through sexuality he didn’t quite understand yet.
Even if it meant using the silver length of E-ming’s handle as a tool to—
To fuck himself with, he thought, and flushed all the harder. The blood in his body was split between his cheeks and his cock, and he could hardly stand from the dizzy spell of arousal.
The delicate light made this room look so lewd, made the stretch of bare skin endlessly erotic. In his hand, E-Ming trembled all the harder, smooth silver warm to the touch and ready.
San Lang just smiled, looking for all the world like a sacrifice laid out before a god.
And wasn’t that what he was, truly?
Xie Lian was the one blessed, to have such a magnificent man as his own. He couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face at the thought, shy as a blooming flower. The lantern light couldn’t hold a flame to the beauty of San Lang’s skin.
“But gege, with you standing over me like this, how could I not have such thoughts?” The voice was teasing but there was love swimming in the depths of that tone, a darkness Xie Lian could never see into.
It was worship made into flesh and carved into a thousand statues, and it was a place Xie Lian could not touch yet. It made him want to hold the ghost close, to never let him go. He would speak words of praise and encouragement into pale skin, use all of his godly command to ask San Lang to listen.
It made him want to turn 800 years of a life hard lived into happiness and give it to this man.
He smiled, and it was small as a blooming flower. Beneath his curious hands, E-ming shivered, vibrating with excitement and almost knocking out of his hands.
“Ah, careful little one, careful.” Xie Lian stroked up the handle, felt it press into his palm. It was warm to the touch, but not nearly as wide as San Lang.
It was longer though, and he wondered if he could take it all, wondered if this would fit into his body. He hadn’t tried something so...
So big.
He flushed harder, color creeping down his neck. But he soothed careful fingers over E-Ming’s cool metal, gentling the sword. It gleamed in the lantern light, silver made warm and loving.
It was such a good blade.
“I don’t want to drop you,” he said, and watched it gentle. He kissed the handle in thanks, felt E-ming tremble ever so quietly. But…
But that wasn’t what he should do, was it? He was here to explore, here to be brave. That was the right path forward, the one his gut told him to follow.
Xie Lian had never turned away from the right path before.
He wouldn’t start now, in the space of their crimson bedroom. Ever so softly, he opened his mouth, let the tip of his tongue flicker out across the smooth handle.
E-ming tasted like nothing, really, metal flat and bland in his mouth. But before him the ghost king moaned, and in his hand the demon blade shook.
Xie Lian felt that unstoppable blush coat him like flower petals. San Lang sounded so beautiful, when that smooth voice broke into a helpless greed.
He just looked hotter, twisting against Ruoye and over the loose silk behind him. Pale skin stood stark on red fabric, and oh how those muscles bent and strained.
They had barely begun, and already San Lang looked like he might break.
Xie Lian licked at the metal again, and won a moan.
“Gege, please,” San Lang began, words whispering out like the man was ready to beg. A long cock twitched, dripping precum across Ruoye’s white length.
Xie Lian would have to thoroughly wash the bandages later, whisper a thousand blushing apologies into the fine silk. He’d have to oil E-Ming’s handle too, if he could manage without the red creeping across his ears.
San Lang opened his mouth to speak again, and Xie Lian leapt forward, heart pounding like he had crushed a mountain.
He couldn’t bear to hear the ghost beg now, not before he’d worked up his nerve. He pressed a panicked hand forward, gentle across those smooth lips. Heat bled into his skin and made him shiver, but he just looked down into loving eyes and blushed all the more.
“Sorry, San Lang, but I’ll get too embarrassed if you say it.”
There was a chuckle against his hand, soft and fond. Hot breath brushed his fingers and made them shake, made them tremble.
San Lang’s eye crinkled, looking for all the world like Xie Lian hung the stars. That look always made him so breathless.
“I’ll be good for you, gege,” the man whispered into his skin, pressing a kiss to the edge of his palm.
Xie Lian tried not to break, before those words. He forced his lungs wide, forced air into his system. If he delayed any more, he’d lose his nerve.
“Thank you, E-ming,” he said, and pet the handle one last time, winning a delighted purr in response. Quick fingers had a bottle of oil in his hands and shaking ones had it open and ready.
E-ming looked a beautiful silver, covered in the slick sheen of oil and shaped like the finest jade pillar. Xie Lian gulped at the size, already imagining the stretch and burn.
He had already worked himself open for this, had already pressed blushing fingers into his body until he was trembling. He hadn’t wanted to do this over San Lang’s body, not with the man beneath him and bound.
That would have been too much for his shaking confidence and new exploration to take.
And he couldn’t let San Lang stretch him out! By the heavens no, not with how clever the man’s fingers were. It would defeat the entire purpose of the fine white ropes binding San Lang to the bed.
Xie Lian could only blush so hard, after all.
He flipped E-ming behind him in a smooth motion, felt the slick handle come alive in his trained hands. It was warm and so very big, and he was more than ready.
“Gege, wait, you aren’t—” San Lang surged against Ruoye at the motion, worry crinkling his handsome face. But he was tied down and kept still, the fine white silk pulling him back onto the bed.
Xie Lian shouldn’t have found San Lang so beautiful, at his mercy. But lantern light made that pale skin glimmer like the stars, and Xie Lian never wanted to look away.
He waved a shaking hand at the worry, pressing the cool metal of the hilt against his hole. It was wet and slick with oil, and the edge slipped in so very easily.
He couldn’t help the gasp that tore from him, echoing out and over San Lang’s skin.
“No, it is okay San Lang I already, ah.” The blush was crawling up his face and consuming him, like the spread of fire and the drip of sweet honey.
San Lang had kissed it away, so many times before. Ghostly lips always felt so lovely, pressing against his face and leaving his heart fluttering.
But this time Xie Lian was the one who needed to be strong.
“I already stretched myself,” he finished, and let E-ming sink into him in a slow slide. He noticed a thousand sensations, painting across the muscles of his body. First came a gasp, broken from his lungs and so very small. Second came a whimper from the stretch, the feeling of being full.
It felt incredible, cold metal forcing him wide and leaving him shaking for air. He leaned down to press his forehead to a cold shoulder, to steady himself in this.
He felt more grounded, touching San Lang’s skin.
“Gege you can’t just say that,” the man moaned, low and breathless. It sounded like the words were broken, from their tone, from their helpless tremor. San Lang shifted over crimson silk, moving to support Xie Lian’s weight even bound, spreading his legs to catch and hold Xie Lian’s shaking body.
Xie Lian wanted to be pressed against him and held in these arms for an eternity.
But right now, he had a purpose.
“Further, E-ming,” he said, between careful breaths and through the wide stretch. The sword pressed in on his command, not quite trembling but certainly relentless.
“Ah,” he gasped, the sound punched out and nearly drunk. He shifted, breathed out into the crook of San Lang’s shoulder and watched ghostly skin shiver.
The stretch was so much. He felt like he was being cored open and made anew, E-ming’s fine handle reaching deeper into him than anything before. With a gasping moan, he turned his face, panted against San Lang.
He felt so strong, feeling the man tremble against him. That beautiful eye had gone dark and hungry, desperate in a way Xie Lian had not thought to see.
He wanted to see it beg, wanted to see it go wide with arousal.
Xie Lian wanted this man’s everything, and it was his to take.
Freely given, gege, I have always lived for you.
“Gege, please, let me touch you.” The words were quiet and breaking, like San Lang was a starving man inches from the sweet water of an oasis.
Xie Lian trembled, at the tenor of those words. What a heady power was this, greater than anything he had felt before. He had been a prince and a pauper, a god and a broken man.
San Lang was worth more than 800 years of life, and Xie Lian wanted to show him that. He couldn’t do anything but shake his head, couldn’t do anything but blush and moan.
He was supposed to be strong, now, with San Lang bound in pretty white silk before him.
There was a moment then, as E-ming stretched him open, as Xie Lian panted. It was the calm before the storm that was surely to come.
And come it did, under gentle lanterns and in the voice of Hua Cheng.
“E-ming,” San Lang said, and Xie Lian felt a terrible anticipation creep up his skin at that tone. The sword knew its master’s purpose, could read the ghost king’s thoughts. It would only ever obey, but what was the command?
Like thunder rolling in with clouds, the sword began to vibrate.
Xie Lian couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. It was so much, the stretch of that cold handle pushing him to his limits and the trembling pushing him so far beyond.
He moaned, surprised and louder than thunder, louder than a scream could have been. E-ming just burrowed deeper, pressing in far enough that Xie Lian was filled to the brim and trembling, shaking so hard how had he agreed to this how—
He fell forward, arms collapsing beneath the tremors, by the heavens he couldn’t think.
There was only the pressure of E-ming vibrating through him, through his bones and into his skin, only the ragged breaths of San Lang puffing across his hair, only the stretch of his lungs as he couldn’t take in enough air.
It was so much, and he came like that, painting ghostly skin white with pleasure. A trembling of overstimulation rocked through him, relentless and on the edge of pain.
He let his weight fall down, no, his weight was torn down, all his strength draining into trust and his body pressing over San Lang’s. A cock pressed into his hip, bound body holding his.
He was panting, he realized, through the last shocks of vibrations.
“Gege, gege are you okay?” San Lang sounded worried, above him, voice sharp with an undercurrent of fierce need.
The vibrations stopped with the words, and Xie Lian couldn’t help but moan again, at the loss, at the terrible loss.
He had liked that far too much to let it stop, held felt the stretch through every crack of his skin.
He wanted that back, he realized, through the aftershocks of orgasm, through the earthquake raging in his blood.
Why did San Lang sound worried, when there was nothing to worry about? There was nothing here but that storm, nothing but Xie Lian’s brain melting out of his ears.
Eight hundred years of innocent thoughts lay broken and shattered on crimson silk, and Xie Lian couldn’t bring himself to care.
No, there was nothing to worry about at all, he thought, and felt his arms tremble.
“Gege, you have to untie me, please, let me touch you.” The words were pleading, enough that Xie Lian shivered at them.
Like a true scrap collecting god, he gathered the shattered pieces of his mind back together, levered himself up again. Shaking hands pressed into San Lang’s chest and felt it tremble in turn beneath him.
There was cum staining that ghostly chest pale and milky, a long smear of passionate paint on beautiful skin. He had done that, he realized, and watched it drip down the hard line of Hua Cheng’s abs.
He had done that.
“No, we—” he stopped, took a trembling breath. Every piece of him felt afire, caught in a vice of arousal and shaking moans. E-ming was still sitting tight and wide inside him, and Xie Lian didn’t even have the strength to blush.
But San Lang looked so beautiful, beneath him.
“We had a plan, San Lang, and I want to do this for you.”
They had worked through so many details of this, made it a thing for both of them. Xie Lian wanted to explore, wanted to make the sexuality between them that of equals.
He wanted his body to understand what pleasure was, and to know how to take it.
“I want to do this,” he said, through a blush and trembling lips. Stained white with cum and panting, San Lang looked like he had been given the world.
The man nodded, and that was all Xie Lian needed.
He shifted backwards, pulled E-ming out with trembling fingers. He couldn’t help the moan on the slide out, couldn’t help the gasp. Ah, he felt so empty now, and his hole was sensitive and twitching.
That stretch had truly been incredible. He gave the blade a kiss, gentle and praising, before setting it off the bed.
There was a man bound on crimson silk before him, and they needed nothing between them now.
He touched at the white silk across Hua Cheng’s cock, stroked Ruoye to call it back to him. But a quiet voice stopped him, smooth as silk and yet so very desperate.
“No, Gege leave it on. I want to be able to please you longer,” the man said, like it wouldn’t make Xie Lian tremble, like it wouldn’t shake him to the core.
A blush crept up his face again, but he couldn’t care right now.
San Lang was below him, bound and panting. San Lang was between his thighs, aching and needy for him.
Xie Lian only ever wanted to make this man happy, and oh was the man looking up with devotion.
Xie Lian could get lost in that look, could drown in it. He wanted nothing more, wanted everything.
And San Lang had given it, with a free heart and a devoted soul.
For a supposed god of misfortune, Xie Lian was truly lucky.
San Lang was here, and that was all that mattered.
He lowered himself down a slow movement at a time, sliding over that long cock like it belonged in him.
The stretch was lovely, filling, making his toes curl with pleasure and his heart beat like he had leapt from the heavens.
He sank down, took that cock to the root. He felt full, of love and devotion and the press of San Lang. His thighs spread around narrow hips, pressing into crimson silk and stretching it.
It was soft and delicate, but not as soft as the skin under his fingers. Xie Lian wanted to run worshipful hands over, wanted to let San Lang feel all the love that bubbled in his veins.
There was a blush blooming high on his cheek bones, but with San Lang bound beneath him, he couldn’t feel anything but right.
“Ah,” he gasped, the sound punched out of him. Oh, he could cum from this alone, from the rush of having San Lang bound and between his thighs.
The ghost was trembling, eye hungry and lips ever so slightly parted.
Xie Lian wanted to kiss them until he was breathless, until he ascended from the taste of San Lang. If this is what pleasure was, if this is what sexuality was, Xie Lian would do it for an eternity.
He wanted so much.
“San Lang,” he said, and meant my world my love.
The man understood, thrusting his hips up, helpless. Hua Cheng looked wrecked, cum staining his skin and arms straining against Ruoye. Red silk framed him, made the long lines of his body lewd and beautiful.
He looked like a man made desperate by need. Xie Lian had never felt more powerful.
“Gege, please, untie me. Let me please you,” the words were begging, quiet. Xie Lian just sighed around the cock in him, sighed around the blood pumping in his veins.
“Not—” His hips twitched, San Lang’s cock twitching with him. The man moaned and Xie Lian couldn’t do anything but moan in symphony. “Not yet, San Lang.”
That never-ending blush was crawling across his nose now, as he lifted himself up only to fuck down again. Crimson silk shifted with the movement, the flexing power of his thighs pressing against Hua Cheng’s hips.
His legs were shaking, Xie Lian noticed distantly, trembling as if he was a leaf in the wind. They stayed like that for long moments, until he couldn’t think through arousal and the hands on San Lang’s chest were twitching and scrambling.
The pieces of his mind had broken apart and shattered, before this pleasure. But San Lang looked no better, mouth open in an endless low moan, in broken pants and begging gasps.
“Ruoye,” he called at last, and the white silk unspooled from around San Lang’s cock. He could feel the edge flutter in his hole, feel it slip out and tease him. The gasp that ripped from his throat was organic and orgasmic, and he clenched around San Lang and knew pleasure.
It was time for them to cum, together.
“San Lang, please,” he said at last, and the man moaned out an as you wish, in response.
There was a phantom sensation across his skin, delicate and light, trembling and beautiful. It made him shiver, sent tremors shooting up his chest like the touch of a lover.
He looked down and blushed a river of red across his cheek bones.
“San Lang,” he said, dismayed and so very embarrassed. This had not been planned, had not been discussed.
Through the blush on his cheeks, he could not bring himself to mind.
Perched on the end of his cock, silver wings glimmering, was a small butterfly. It shone in the lantern light like a fine jewel, a treasure made of wrath and gentle wind. It looked so innocent, and yet with each flap of its wings he shivered, the sensation unbearably good.
The ghost between his legs and in his heart smiled, teasing and so very wicked.
Xie Lian loved him.
“Sorry, gege, but I can’t just watch anymore.”
And with the words there was a surge of butterflies around them, a hundred silver wings flapping in the air and leaving it breathless.
They touched everywhere on Xie Lian, gentle kisses to the skin of his neck, across the long stretch of his back, down and over his tingling nipples, on his cock—
He couldn’t help the moan that dragged from him, and it turned breathy and trembling as he was driven further and further and—
And he came, clenching onto San Lang with a long cry. There was an answering moan and last deep thrust up, by the heavens he could feel that cock in the back of his throat, and San Lang came too in a rush of sticky warmth.
Together, as they had agreed. They would ever walk side by side.
Xie Lian collapsed forward, into the support of a thousand beating wings of metal and gentle wind. His legs were shaking, he realized, as silver butterflies lifted him up and settled him against San Lang’s chest.
For a moment, he could only sigh, eyes fluttering closed. The skin beneath him was cool, to the touch, Hua Cheng’s chest heaving like the man had fought a war.
And perhaps they had, for each other’s pleasure. Xie Lian smiled, soft and gentle and so very happy.
This night truly was made of the sheen of glimmering wings and a trust deeper than the ocean.
“Gege,” came a smooth voice, hoarse from moans but erotic all the same. Xie Lian shifted, muscles loose and trembling from pleasure.
He would ever answer that voice. “San Lang?”
“Is gege going to leave me tied up?”