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"How do you feel today?' Wen Kexing asks.
It's become a ritual for them each morning, here at Saijun Mansion. The residence is quiet and peaceful and reminds Wen Kexing of the too-short time they'd spent at Four Seasons Manor before Zhou Zishu was captured and the manor burned. If it was up to Wen Kexing alone - if Zishu wasn't hurt - he'll travel to Jin on foot if he has to, and rip the life from Prince Jin with his bare hands. There's not much Wen Kexing can do now except wait for Zhou Zishu to recover from his injuries - or as best as he can with the Nails suppressing his vital force and his meridiens withering - but this, this at least he can do, helping Zhou Zishu comb out his hair each day when he wakes. He's asked A-Xiang to rub the wooden combs he uses for Zhou Zishu's hair in a fragrant mix of sandalwood and jasmine oils, and now the whiff of sandalwood he can smell as he slowly runs a comb through Zhou Zishu's hair makes him smile.
He knows Zhou Zishu can't smell it anymore, but - soon he will. Wen Kexing thinks of the Great Shaman's words, and can't feel anything else but a light, buoyant hope.
"I'm feeling much better," Zhou Zishu says, as he does every morning. Wen Kexing knows that even if he isn't, he'll say the same thing, and feels a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His A-Xu, ever stubborn, always shouldering all his burdens on his own.
"I'm sure you are," he replies wryly, and strokes the comb downwards. It glides through Zishu's hair easily, aided by the oils, and Zishu's hair feels like silk in his hand, thick and rippling. The jade hairpin he gave Zishu the day after they'd arrived at Saijun Mansion rests on the table before them, in front of the bronze mirror, ready to be pinned in his crown - Wen Kexing hasn't seen Zhou Zishu use any other hairpin since. It makes his chest feel both warm and tight all at once.
"Where's Chengling?" Zhou Zishu asks.
"I sent him to practice," Wen Kexing answers. "Steps for two hours, internal breath movements for two hours. Don't worry about him, A-Xiang and that silly boy of hers are watching over him."
He sets the comb down, smooths out Zhou Zishu's hair a final time with his palms, and then twists his forelock up expertly into a crown. Zishu reaches out for the jade hairpin and holds it out to him silently; he takes it and slides it into the bun, pinning it in place.
"Beautiful," he says with satisfaction; and watches with even greater satisfaction at the colour that rushes into Zhou Zishu's cheeks.
There's a soft knock, and Wen Kexing feels a brief flare of irritation at the interruption. He's perhaps gotten a little better at controlling his mercurial temper and his emotional swings since meeting Zhou Zishu, but the habits of an entire lifetime are hard to break.
"Come in," Zhou Zishu calls.
It's a servant boy who enters; Wen Kexing recognises him as one of the Seventh Prince's personal servants, generously loaned to Zhou Zishu during their stay in his residence. He's holding a steaming basin of hot water, cotton cloths as white and clean as snow draped over the rim, and bows first to Zhou Zishu, then to Wen Kexing.
"My lords," he says. "I'm here to tend to Lord Zhou."
Since he was rescued, Zhou Zishu hasn't allowed Wen Kexing to see his injuries. Perhaps he knows Wen Kexing will fly into a rage - as rightly he should; if Zhou Zishu thinks Wen Kexing is the kind of man who would let him be hurt by anyone without returning the favour a thousandfold then he's in for a big surprise - and, caught between being unable to deny Zhou Zishu anything he wishes and being unable to stand up to Zishu's iron-walled stubbornness, he's backed down from this struggle and allowed the servants to tend to Zishu's wounds instead.
But this morning - it's a good morning. There are birds singing out in the courtyard, replete with pear trees in blossom; the air is warm with the last vestiges of summer, and if he strains to listen, he can hear Chengling counting out loud in the training ground beyond the courtyard as he works on his steps. Zhou Zishu is looking at him in the mirror, a smile on his face, and Wen Kexing - there's nothing he wouldn't do just for Zhou Zishu to keep smiling like that. And who would take better care of him anyway, his lifelong soulmate or a random servant?
"Alright," Wen Kexing says out loud. He walks over and plucks the basin right out of the surprised boy's hands. "You may leave."
"My lord?" the boy says uncertainly, just as Zhou Zishu says, "Lao Wen?"
"I said, leave," Wen Kexing says, and injects just enough menace in his voice to leave the servant boy stumbling over his feet as he bows and exits the room as quickly as he can.
"Lao Wen, what are you doing?" Zhou Zishu asks.
Wen Kexing sets the basin on the bed, and then turns towards Zhou Zishu. "Come here," he says, and pats the space on the bed next to him.
There's a frown creasing Zhou Zishu's smooth forehead. "Lao Wen, the servants can do it. Tell the boy to come back."
"You'd rather let a stranger touch you and see you, than me?" Wen Kexing says. "A-Xu, what is there that I can't see or hear from you? You were the one who said this, remember?"
Zhou Zishu hesitates; Wen Kexing sees that tiny crack in his resolute obstinacy, and pounces.
"I promise I'm not going to go crazy," he says softly. "I just want to - let me take care of you, A-Xu. Please. I just want to look after you."
Zhou Zishu remains silent, but Wen Kexing can sense him wavering, and he grins.
"If you won't come here, I'll go over," he says, and makes as if to stand up; but Zhou Zishu gets to his feet first and makes his way to the bed, frowning the entire time.
"You're a pest, you know that?" he says once he's settled on the bed the way Wen Kexing wants him, cross-legged on the edge.
"Don't be like this, A-Xu," Wen Kexing coaxes. "I'm willing to bow and scrape and serve you, and this is how you react?"
Zhou Zishu just sighs, but Wen Kexing can see the glimmer of a smile forming on his lips. "I mean it though, I'm much better. I don't want you getting angry when you see - the scars."
"I said I won't," Wen Kexing says. To be honest, he isn't entirely sure if he can keep that promise; but having Zhou Zishu here like putty in his hands while he gets to care for him - maybe that's enough to calm his rage. He reaches out and slowly, carefully, loosens Zhou Zishu's belt before pulling his robe open and down his shoulders, exposing his white underrobe.
Zhou Zishu takes a deep, rattling breath, and Wen Kexing puts a hand on his chest. He can feel Zhou Zishu's heart thumping under his palm faintly, so faintly - curse those Nails.
"Tell me if you get cold," he says quietly, and slides his hand downwards until he reaches the thin silk rope tying Zhou Zishu's underrobe closed. One tug is all it takes for the silk to loosen, and then Wen Kexing is able to slide the underrobe fully off his shoulders.
It reminds him strongly of the time they first met, when Zhou Zishu was still in disguise and they'd sat by the riverbank after the battle with the Drug Men. He'd done this then too, peeled open Zhou Zishu's robes layer by layer, sucked the venom out of his shoulder wound. He'd known for sure then that underneath the disguise lay a rare, unparalleled beauty, because it shone through in the fineness of Zhou Zishu's bones, the smoothness of his skin, the elegance of his posture. He'd also known that he'd be willing to fight and die for this man even though he hadn't even yet seen what he truly looked like.
He's glad that he was right on both counts.
Zhou Zishu is actually right - his injuries are healing rapidly, thanks to the Great Shaman's skills, and they don't look as bad as Wen Kexing had feared. The marks of his torture - the puncture holes where he was impaled through his shoulders, the whip wounds - have mostly scabbed over, and there's no sign of infection. Wen Kexing lets out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
His eyes, though - they're drawn to the scars left by the Nails, and his stomach lurches. If he could take those in Zhou Zishu's place - if he could dig the Nails out of Zishu's body himself and drive them into his own body in return for Zishu's life - he'd do it willingly and joyfully in a heartbeat. Instead, all he can do is dip a cloth into the basin and watch his hands pink up in the hot water.
"Lao Wen?" Zhou Zishu says, and Wen Kexing abruptly realises that he's been frozen in place, boiling his own hands off while he's fixated on those thrice-damned Nails. He takes the cloth out hastily, wringing it dry.
"I'm fine," he says.
"I told you you wouldn't like seeing it," Zhou Zishu murmurs, as Wen Kexing brings the wet cloth to the puncture wound on his left shoulder and bathes it carefully, front and back. The water in the basin is steeped with medicinal herbs gathered by the Great Shaman himself, and smells of root and earth; but they're certainly doing wonders on Zhou Zishu's injuries. He dips the cloth into the basin again, and then bathes the wound on Zhou Zishu's right shoulder. The rest of his injuries - the cuts, the welts - get the same tender treatment; Wen Kexing makes sure to attend to every last mark on Zhou Zishu's body.
Through it all, Zhou Zishu sits calm and steady, his breathing even. Wen Kexing isn't sure if they hurt him anymore - but he also knows Zhou Zishu's enormous tolerance for pain. Zhou Zishu's calmness and the fact that the injuries are healing well are probably the only things holding back his temper, roiling deep down in the recesses of his mind.
He sets the cloth down and wets his lips when he's done. Zhou Zishu looks back at him steadily when he brushes his thumb tentatively over the puncture in his right shoulder.
"Does it - does it still hurt?" he asks.
Zhou Zishu smiles. "Not at all. The medicines and herbs the Great Shaman found for me - they've been a great help."
Wen Kexing looks at the wound, under his thumb. The new skin is still raw and pink over it, nearly red against the paleness of his thumb.
"A-Xu," he says, "you know that when you're well, I'm going to kill every single one of them, right? That dog of a prince. Zhao Jing. Everyone who's ever hurt you - I'm going to kill them, and I'm not going to give them the pleasure of a quick death."
The smile on Zhou Zishu's face grows brighter. "I know," he says.
There's a Nail scar, thick and twisted and ugly, right beneath the wound on Zishu's shoulder. Wen Kexing finds himself staring at it again. He can't - he can't imagine the will it must have taken, to do this to oneself, to know that you've imposed on yourself a death sentence. But it's Zhou Zishu, and Wen Kexing has never known anyone with a stronger will. And if the heavens allow, and the Great Shaman can remove the Nails, then it's all Wen Kexing can hope for, that Zhou Zishu's prodigious willpower carries him through the rest of the way. He can't help but slide his thumb downwards and over the thickened scar tissue of the Nail, but the next moment Zhou Zishu's hand flies up as if on instinct, grabbing him by the wrist.
"Lao Wen, what are you doing?" he says.
Wen Kexing lifts his eyes to meet his. Panicky - Zhou Zishu always gets so panicky and sensitive about the Nail wounds.
"Do they hurt?" he asks quietly.
Zhou Zishu smiles again, but this time his smile is wry and twisted. "Why don't I do it to you so you can see how it feels?"
It's not a no, then. Wen Kexing feels the ache all the way down to the marrow of his bones. If he could - if only he could -
"If you doing it to me meant you could rid yourself of these accursed things and be well again, I'd let you do it a hundred, a thousand times over," Wen Kexing says out loud.
This time, Zhou Zishu's smile softens. "Lao Wen," he says, and Wen Kexing feels the grip on his wrist slacken before Zhou Zishu places his own hand over Wen Kexing's, sliding his fingers into the open spaces between Wen Kexing's fingers. Wen Kexing's thumb still rests on the Nail wound. It's colder than the rest of Zhou Zishu's skin, choking off his meridiens and vital energies. "Even if that could help me - I would never do that to you. How could I do this to someone I love with my whole heart?"
Wen Kexing's heart jumps into his throat, and before he realises it, he's lurched forward, pressing his lips to Zhou Zishu's; and Zhou Zishu's mouth opens easily and sweetly under his.
They haven't done this in a long time, not since Four Seasons Manor, and even then everything was rushed in quick, stolen moments in between caring for and teaching Chengling. But here - it's different here. They have time. The servants are gone for the morning, no one will disturb Zhou Zishu in his recuperation until the evening, and Chengling is hard at work training for the next four hours.
He tips Zhou Zishu backwards onto the bed; Zhou Zishu makes a surprised little sound into his mouth, and he sits up immediately. "What is it?" he asks, holding himself above Zishu's body, eyes raking over his wounds. "Did I hurt you?"
Zhou Zishu blinks up at him. "No," he says. "You just surprised me, that's all. I'm fine. I'm not hurt."
The way Zhou Zishu is laying on the bed - his robes are pooled around his waist, puddled in a mass of soft linen underneath his body. Willowy waist and long legs, Wen Kexing thinks. He'd said that to Zhou Zishu when they first met. His upper body is exposed to Wen Kexing's gaze, and even though it's peppered with scars, his skin is beautifully soft and smooth, gleaming in the morning light.
Zhou Zishu lifts his arms and loops them around Wen Kexing's neck. "Come back here," he says, and Wen Kexing slides his hands over all that smooth pale skin and brings his mouth down to kiss along the sharp jut of Zhou Zishu's clavicle.
Zhou Zishu gasps and jerks, and the next thing Wen Kexing hears is a loud clattering.
"I - I kicked the basin over, I think," Zhou Zishu says breathlessly. "The floor is going to be a mess - "
"Leave it," Wen Kexing says. "I'll get A-Xiang to clean it up later -" and punctuates his words with another kiss, this time on the soft spot where Zhou Zishu's neck slopes into his shoulder. Zhou Zishu is particularly sensitive there, he's discovered; and he's rewarded with a full-body shudder.
"What's got into you this morning, Lao Wen?" Zhou Zishu says with a breathless laugh, even as his hips hitch upwards, trying to find some friction against Wen Kexing's body.
"Just because," Wen Kexing says, and tears his mouth away from where he's sucking a dark pink mark into Zhou Zishu's skin, pushing himself upright just enough to pull impatiently at the lower half of Zhou Zishu's robes until they're fully opened, spread out over the bed, Zhou Zishu naked and open to his gaze. There's a blush settling high on his cheekbones, but he's not shying away from Wen Kexing's eyes like he used to anymore. Zhou Zishu is half-hard, and as Wen Kexing stares, he seems to swell even further, the head of his cock flushed a pretty pink.
"Are you going to just - stare?" Zhou Zishu says.
"No," Wen Kexing says, and lifts himself until he's standing up and off the bed. The overturned basin is at his feet, water pooling and herbs scattered, but he steps heedlessly through the mess until he can swipe the bottle of sandalwood oil from the table. Then he yanks at his belt; and by the time he makes his way back to the bed where Zhou Zishu is waiting for him, he's shrugged his outer robe off and flung it - somewhere. A-Xiang can get it later too.
But even with Zhou Zishu's obvious impatience - even with his own need throbbing in his belly - he takes a few moments to appreciate the way Zhou Zishu looks, pliant and soft in his bed. "Beautiful," he says again; and this time Zhou Zishu turns his face away, hiding it in the crook of his arm.
"You keep saying that," he says.
"Because it's true," Wen Kexing answers, setting the little stoppered bottle of oil carefully by the pillow. He peels off his underrobe before he climbs back on top of Zhou Zishu's warm, slender body. And even like this, in the midst of his embarrassment, Zhou Zishu still spreads his legs to fit Wen Kexing's body between them like it's as natural as breathing, still grips his hips with his knees like he's afraid Wen Kexing will get up again.
"Look at me," Wen Kexing says.
"No," Zhou Zishu says into his arm, contrary, his face still turned away. Wen Kexing looks at the smooth exposed column of his neck, and places a kiss on the hinge of his jawbone, licking his way down his neck to the wound on Zhou Zishu's shoulder. Zishu shudders again, and his arm falls away from his face.
"Look at me," Wen Kexing repeats, and this time Zhou Zishu does. His eyes are half-closed, indolent and pleased. He makes Wen Kexing's heart ache.
"That's good," Wen Kexing says, and leans down to kiss him full on the mouth.
His cock slips neatly into the soft spot between Zhou Zishu's thigh and groin when they're in this position; he likes it because it means he can cradle Zhou Zishu as they kiss and rock together, Zhou Zishu's cock sliding against his abdomen, their bodies pressed fully against each other from mouths to toes. He can feel how wet Zhou Zishu is, how he's leaking over his own stomach and Wen Kexing's. He can hear every hitch in Zhou Zishu's breath, feel every helpless jerk of his hips.
He'd probably be perfectly happy just holding and kissing Zhou Zishu like this for hours, but Zhou Zishu lifts his legs higher and locks them around his waist, and Wen Kexing feels his cock slide into the cleft between Zishu's legs, like it's meant to be there.
Zhou Zishu's eyelashes flutter, and he rocks himself upwards, as if he's trying to pull Wen Kexing into him. "Lao Wen, you're too slow," he says against Wen Kexing's lips.
Wen Kexing doesn't reply. His mouth is fully occupied, licking over Zhou Zishu's neck, the slope of his shoulders, drunk on the taste of his skin. When he brushes a soft kiss over one of the puncture wounds, and then again over the cool spot where one of the Nails is lodged, Zhou Zishu gasps, hips bucking, and Wen Kexing has to stop for a second as Zhou Zishu's legs tighten around his waist. He's leaking, too, slicking up his own way as he rubs his cock in between the cleft of Zhou Zishu's buttocks, and now -
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu says, a hint of petulance in his voice.
"I'm not slow, you're the one in a hurry," Wen Kexing replies, but he takes hold of the bottle of oil he'd placed next to Zhou Zishu's head earlier and unstoppers it blindly, unwilling to remove his mouth from Zhou Zishu's body. When he pours the oil liberally over his fingers, it drips onto Zhou Zishu's belly and onto the robes pooled under him, filling the room with the sweet woodsy fragrance of sandalwood.
"You're getting everything dirty," Zhou Zishu says.
"And you're full of complaints," Wen Kexing replies. "We'll just take a bath later to clean up. How about that, A-Xu? I'll send A-Xiang and Chengling and all the servants away, and we can stay in there as long as you want. And we can do this again in the bath, if that's what you want."
He sits up on his knees, but only so he can see Zhou Zishu's face when he grips one of Zishu's legs with his clean hand, pushing it back towards his chest, opening him up even more, and rubs his oil-slicked fingers over Zhou Zishu's hole. Zhou Zishu doesn't disappoint; he squeezes his eyes shut when Wen Kexing works a finger gently into him, as if he's in pain, but Wen Kexing can see from the tiny smile on his face and his quick little gasping breaths that he's not.
"You want - you want to do this again later?" Zhou Zishu murmurs. "Insatiable. Once is enough."
"Once is never enough with you," Wen Kexing says in return, and is rewarded with Zhou Zishu blinking his eyes open at him and bestowing him with that wide, brilliant smile. And truly, there's nothing better that Wen Kexing can imagine than being in a hot, steaming bath with Zhou Zishu, his cock fitted snug and tight inside him, making him feel warm and comfortable and good, taking care of him, while all the cares and troubles of the world fall by the wayside.
Wen Kexing takes a little more time to work a second finger into him; Zhou Zishu is tight after the weeks they've gone without each other, and Wen Kexing would rather bite his own fingers off than hurt him. "Tell me if it hurts," he says.
"It - doesn't," Zhou Zishu says; his voice cracks halfway through the words. "It - it's good like this. Lao Wen, stop being so slow, I can take it, I'm not going to break - "
Wen Kexing doesn't know how to tell Zhou Zishu that yes, he may be on the verge of breaking, but that even if he does, Wen Kexing would use his life to hold him together. So he says nothing in favour of sliding a third oiled finger into Zhou Zishu, and watches as his face slackens with pleasure.
They haven't done this too often - or at least, not often enough for Wen Kexing's liking - that each way Zhou Zishu's body reacts to his touch is still a pleasing surprise. He's learned that Zhou Zishu is sensitive to touch - every press of Wen Kexing's lips to his skin, every stroke with his tongue, makes him jerk and gasp; his fingers slowly twisting inside Zhou Zishu, opening him up with care, makes him tremble and his skin flush red. Zhou Zishu's right foot is in the air, sole facing upwards, Wen Kexing folding his right leg back with a firm grip on the back of his thigh, and he can see the fine tremors rippling all through the muscles in Zishu's leg as he works his fingers in and out. The redness of his cheeks has travelled downwards, blooming on his neck and chest, as if he's drunk, and his belly is gleaming with spilled oil and the wetness leaking from his cock. Only the scars where the Nails are stand out, stark white against the flush.
He's beautiful. Even scarred and broken, he's the most brilliant and beautiful thing Wen Kexing has ever laid eyes on.
"It's good now, Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu says breathlessly, lifting himself up on his elbows to look up at Wen Kexing. He's totally oblivious to the sappy things Wen Kexing keeps thinking about him, which is why Wen Kexing is more than willing to say them out loud all the time, and not just to watch him blush. "I'm ready."
Wen Kexing nods and disengages his fingers, one by one, slowly and carefully. Zhou Zishu's hole clings to each one as he slides them out, like his body doesn't want to let go of him. It makes a hot, greedy curl of want rise in his lower belly, at the base of his cock.
He takes the oil bottle up again and pours more oil into his palm before he rubs it over his cock to slick himself up; and then he takes hold of Zhou Zishu's other leg and slings it over the crook of his elbow. Zhou Zishu is full-on trembling now, and when Wen Kexing fits himself at his hole, a clear bead of thick precome splashes from the head of Zhou Zishu's cock onto his stomach, adding to the shiny mess already there.
"A-Xu," Wen Kexing says.
"Mm?"
"Love you," he whispers, and eases his way into Zishu's body.
Zhou Zishu gasps out loud, spine arching up. He's normally quiet when they do this, doesn't make much more noise than a gasp here and there, or in the harshness of his breaths. But it's enough, it's more than enough, for Wen Kexing to know his A-Xu is being taken care of in all the ways he knows how.
The quickness in which they settle into a rhythm doesn't take Wen Kexing by surprise; despite their lack of opportunities for such, Zhou Zishu and himself have always shared the same mind in everything. He folds his body over Zhou Zishu's, nudging Zishu's legs back until his knees are pushed against his chest in a delicious show of flexibility, and sinks deeper into him as his lips search out Zhou Zishu's mouth again.
"Is it good like this?" he asks breathlessly. Zhou Zishu's lips are warm and hungry against his, and he's squeezing down on Wen Kexing with every movement he makes, every slow thrust into his hole. He shifts his grip on Zhou Zishu's legs, readjusts his angle, and the next time he rocks in, Zhou Zishu gasps again, mouth falling open. Wen Kexing feels him tangle his fingers into his hair, fingertips digging into his shoulders, as if he needs something to hold onto to ground him. "Is it good?"
Zhou Zishu's eyes are bleary, lips red from his insistent kisses. "It's - perfect," he breathes. "Just - like this, keep going like this - " he breaks off to gasp again as Wen Kexing grinds just right into him, right where he's most sensitive, and his cock drools yet more; Wen Kexing can feel the wetness between their bodies, Zhou Zishu's cock slip-sliding between their stomachs, and Zhou Zishu's warm, tight hole gripping his cock each time he pulls out. Zhou Zishu is right. It is perfect.
"You're mine," Wen Kexing says. "A-Xu, you're mine."
And something in this makes Zhou Zishu's eyes snap open, makes the haze of pleasure lift from them, because they're clear and bright when he looks up at Wen Kexing and says, "Lao Wen, you're mine."
Wen Kexing's hips stutter, losing their rhythm. Every time - Zhou Zishu has this effect on him always, and he holds so much power over Wen Kexing that he doesn't even realise he has. Zhou Zishu tightens down on his cock, and Wen Kexing doesn't mean to, but -
"Don't - do that," he gasps. "You're going to make me finish much too fast."
"So what?" Zhou Zishu says, challenging. "I like it, Lao Wen."
Wen Kexing is moving faster now, his body hurtling towards orgasm, just from Zhou Zishu's words, just from the way Zhou Zishu's body opens up for him and clings to him. He thinks blindly about power; about his heart and life being placed in Zhou Zishu's hands, about how Zhou Zishu has the power to break both in an instant if he so wishes.
But he knows Zhou Zishu won't.
"A-Xu," he says, looking down at Zhou Zishu, and Zhou Zishu looks up at him and smiles, tongue peeking out between his teeth, their bodies working in tandem against each other, and Wen Kexing lets himself fall over the precipice.
He thinks he cries out loud; he's not sure. All he can feel is the mind-numbing eruption of pure pleasure, the tingling in his body, the way Zhou Zishu's hole grips his cock tight as he comes; and Zhou Zishu looking at him with his eyes pleased and soft and utterly in love.
"Oh my - heavens," Wen Kexing gasps, his body shaking. His hair is wet with perspiration, sticking to his back and shoulders. He manages to lift himself upright with some difficulty, and looks down at where they're joined. He doesn't want to pull out; but he shifts himself slightly, just to watch a trickle of come leak out of Zhou Zishu's stuffed-tight hole. It's warm and wet inside - wet with his come, he realises with a jolt, and knows that he'll never be tired of feeling this.
But Zhou Zishu's cock is still hard, slippery and gleaming above his hole, and Wen Kexing needs to attend to him. He wraps a hand around Zhou Zishu and strokes his cock slowly from tip to root, and watches as Zishu arches his back again into a pretty curve, his skin pink and his nipples hard and dark.
"Don't - don't pull out," Zhou Zishu says breathlessly. "Stay inside, Lao Wen. I want to feel you when - "
"A-Xu, wild tigers and mountain wolves couldn't drag me out of you even if they tried," Wen Kexing says, and rubs the pad of his thumb over the soft, sensitive crown of Zhou Zishu's cock. A soft whimper breaks free from Zhou Zishu, and Wen Kexing feels him clamp down again on his cock, still hard inside him.
"That's it," he tells Zhou Zishu encouragingly, and works his hand up and down on his wet cock. "I want to look at you, A-Xu. I want to hear you say my name - "
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu says in a soft stuttery sob, and then his cock jerks in Wen Kexing's grip and he's coming, spilling over his fist, his hole squeezing and pulsing around Wen Kexing.
When Zhou Zishu's body has grown limp and languid, Wen Kexing finally, and with some regret, allows himself to slip out of Zhou Zishu's hole. Zhou Zishu makes a soft noise of protest, but Wen Kexing gathers him close, and fumbles to pull one of the messy, crumpled robes on the bed over him, so he won't get cold.
"Why did we stop doing that?" Wen Kexing wonders out loud.
Zhou Zishu gives a tired chuckle. "Because we were on the road for weeks, with Chengling next to us. Surely you don't want to do this in front of our child, do you?"
Wen Kexing frowns. "In the future," he says, "when you're well, and we've rebuilt Four Seasons Manor - I'm going to make sure we build our private chambers in a separate wing, as far back as possible from the rest of the manor, and I'll lop the feet off anyone who dares to come in when I've got you in there."
"What a nice future I'm going to have, with such a murderous soulmate," Zhou Zishu remarks; but he's smiling, his cheeks pink, and Wen Kexing - he's happy.
---
Later, Wen Kexing carefully guides Zhou Zishu into the vast wooden tub that he's ordered the servants to prepare, steaming with hot water. Someone - probably A-Xiang, good girl - has added a few drops of sandalwood oil to the water to scent it, and scattered handfuls of pear blossoms gathered from the pear trees outside so they blanket the water.
Zhou Zishu winces as he lifts a leg to step into the tub, and for once, instead of fretting over Zhou Zishu's pain, Wen Kexing can only feel smug.
"Stop grinning," Zhou Zishu says as he sinks down into the tub. "You're a jerk."
Wen Kexing can only grin wider. "Yes, but I'm your jerk, so what can you do about it?" he says as he steps in behind Zhou Zishu. It takes a fair bit of splashing about, but soon they're properly arranged to his liking, Zhou Zishu between his spread legs with his back to Wen Kexing's chest, his head tipped back on Wen Kexing's shoulder.
Wen Kexing wraps his arms around Zhou Zishu, and his fingertip inadvertently finds the Nail scar at his solar plexus. He strokes it, gentle, and feels Zhou Zishu sigh.
"You'll be fine," he says quietly, and kisses Zhou Zishu's temple. "And if you aren't, I'll find a way. I swear."
Zhou Zishu puts his hand over Wen Kexing's. His eyes are closed, but he smiles, a small closemouthed one.
"I know," he says. "Lao Wen, it's my combined good fortune of three lifetimes, to have met you in this life."
Wen Kexing kisses him again, because - he doesn't know what to say. His heart feels full to bursting.
"Love you," Zhou Zishu says, soft, and Wen Kexing presses his nose to Zhou Zishu's cheek and drinks in the scent of sandalwood.