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With a head injury like his, Qian has always known there might be complications.
All kinds of complications.
The kind he eventually gets after the surgery, however, was not on his Bingo card. For some reason yet unknown to modern medicine, his neurons are now constantly blazing up, increasing his sensory input to the point where his brain struggles to process the data. It, kind of, freezes then, or rather, gets stuck, experiencing the same sensations over and over again. As a result, those sensations feel intensified and prolonged, which means…
Once achieved, Qian’s orgasmic bliss lasts. For hours on end—he lies there, basking in the euphoria.
The pleasure of Yuan’s every touch lingers.
Every excited, tingling feeling in his body remains.
Never-ending afterglow.
All day.
Every day.
That’s what his reality feels like now.
What it can feel like. If he chases pleasure, that is.
Which he does.
He does.
He absolutely does.
Horny.
One simple word, like a click of a switch—and Qian’s love life goes from no sex to all the sex.
Now, his world is perpetually hazy with lust.
Constantly filled with dazed arousal.
Always on fire.
It revolves around Wei ZhiYuan.
His Xiao Yuan.
His little brother.
The one who makes love to Qian, again and again. Over and over. Day and night.
Yet, somehow, it still doesn’t feel like nearly enough.
In his desperation, Qian is insatiable.
Always wanting.
Ever longing.
Yuan-Yuan-Yuan.
Always there. Always by his side.
He craves his brother’s presence constantly.
Painfully.
He ends up just the way he’s always feared.
The irony, huh?
Just like his late mother, Qian becomes an addict. Only, Yuan won’t let him beat himself up over it, not for a second. Because Qian’s addiction is to his affection, which Yuan, as it happens, has an absolutely endless supply of.
Whenever Qian needs him, Yuan is there.
No matter what he desires—his comforting embrace or his dick—Yuan gives it to him.
“…Even though I know that, in the end, you might not want all that I’ve given...”
Ah, it feels like those words Yuan once said are from another life now. Because, in this life, neither of them could even imagine it—Qian not wanting anything Yuan gives him.
He wants it. He wants it. He wants it.
Yuan’s love, Yuan’s care, Yuan’s devotion.
Qian was such a fool rejecting it all before.
Having tasted it properly just once, he can’t stop anymore.
He takes, and takes, and takes.
Greedy. Ravenous. Avid.
As if he still can’t believe it’s all his to take.
Has always been his.
Heavens, how could he possibly not realize it right away?
How could he be so stupid as to not come to appreciate Yuan’s reverent affection sooner?
How many times did Yuan purposefully place himself in a lower position than his Da Ge, looking up at him, stars in his eyes?
Look at me, Ge. I’m worshiping at your feet.
And how many times did Qian miss that clear message in the past?
Anyway, it’s definitely impossible to miss now. Not when Yuan, the new Yuan—the one who looks all mature and handsome in his classy outfits; the one who’s confident, with a smug grin and that commanding presence about him; the one who’s now so tall that he towers over Qian, making him look small and vulnerable in comparison, making Qian look up at him, for a change—that Yuan still doesn’t hesitate to lower himself to his knees before Qian.
I’m at your service, Ge.
Such devotion…
Who would dare ignore it?
Qian knows he is the luckiest man alive to be on the receiving end of it.
That concept alone gives him so much joy that, amplified by his fucked-up brain, it turns into real, sensate pleasure felt by every cell in his body. Only adding to his already insatiable lust.
It doesn’t help that he knows how easy it is to get what he wants, either.
“Xiao Yuan…” Qian doesn’t need to say more, coming to stand by his brother’s desk, flushed and breathless, dressed only in a white shirt barely covering his thighs.
“Xiao Yuan!” he knows he will be panting, and moaning, and screaming out in just a few moments.
Because, in just a few moments, Yuan will be on him.
In him.
His hands will be everywhere at once—his waist, his chest, his neck.
Fast.
Impatient.
Desperate.
“Call me didi,” Yuan will whisper—he always does—as he moves inside him, that little perverted brat.
He won’t let Qian forget just how deliciously twisted their pseudo-incestuous relationship is.
He just likes to rub it in Qian’s face, doesn’t he?
He likes to rub…other things in Qian’s face, too.
All over his face.
And even when Qian’s flushed cheeks are already glistening with pearly wetness, Yuan still has the impudence of gasping out, “Gege… Gege…”
Brothers or lovers?
Yuan refuses to choose.
It’s both with him.
Always both.
Love and lust.
Wei Qian and Xiao Yuan.
Gege and didi.
Their relationship is a drug. Forbidden but tempting.
Qian can’t get enough. Not anymore.
He needs it, craves it, over and over.
He never wants to come down from his high.
Dazed, reeling, his senses in constant overload—he feels too good to ever quit.
Eventually, inevitably, he starts getting too distracted, too needy to work at the office anymore.
One evening, Yuan has to carry him out of there in his arms.
They never go back after that.
Yuan won’t let him, no matter how Qian begs. Not after he had to take Qian, right there, in the back seat of his new car—fuck him through what seemed like a panic attack, and withdrawal, and a tantrum all at once—until he passed out.
Only to wake up in an unfamiliar place…
*****
Qian guesses that Yuan’s programming gigs must be going much better than Qian’s company’s entire business. At least, judging from the look of the apartment he’s bought for them.
High up, on the 36th floor.
Far away from the dirty, dangerous streets of the poor neighborhood they grew up in.
Panoramic windows.
Open-plan.
Just one space for them to share, no matter what they do.
Perfect space for Qian to feel safe and comfortable in.
And Qian does.
He feels content.
Floaty.
He’s never really experienced such relief before. Like all his burdens have suddenly been lifted off his shoulders. Like he’s gotten himself a new, much better version of life.
A parallel universe, where everything is different, where Wei Qian has a chance to start over.
And this time around, it is Wei Yuan who takes Wei Qian home with him.
Wei Yuan is the one who provides for Wei Qian now.
The one who cares for Wei Qian.
Cooks for Wei Qian.
Never leaves Wei Qian alone for more than an hour.
Wei Yuan has finally gotten everything he’s ever wanted. It’s now his turn to dominate every aspect of Wei Qian’s life with his overwhelming, smothering affection.
And Qian…luxuriates in it.
Basks in it.
Thrives in it.
Not feeling even a little bit trapped or oppressed.
And why would he?
He’s not like Yuan. He doesn’t want to bear the weight of responsibility for every single thing, forever and ever. He had to in the past, for many years, but that doesn’t mean it comes to him naturally. In fact, he finds it deeply traumatizing.
Before, in their unhealthy, codependent relationship, Qian had to assume the role of the Giver of care and used to force Yuan to be the Taker of it, even though the boy kept stubbornly refusing, always striving to be more.
And now, after so many years, when the tables have suddenly turned, and Yuan’s finally gotten the role he’s always wanted, Qian has no choice but to admit: Yuan the Taker was cute, but Yuan the Giver is sexy.
This whole new dynamic, this full role reversal—it suits them better.
It clicks.
It finally feels right.
If Yuan wants to be in charge—let him. Qian gives in to him. Fully. No regrets.
Isn’t it hot of them to be like that—for Yuan to have full control when Qian has none?
It feels so good to Qian. Almost euphoric. Bringing him back into that blissful headspace he was in on their first night together.
Yuan asked him then if he could take care of him for the rest of their lives, and Qian said yes.
Dropping all his defenses.
Letting go completely.
Allowing himself to be swept away by the whirlwind of Yuan’s desire.
After that, his memories are a blur—covered with a warm golden veil.
All he has is sensations.
The delightful, floaty feeling of being a boneless puddle of joy.
The dazed feeling of the world around him swimming and breaking into frames. Just a series of flashing glimpses—out of order, out of focus— hazed, as if shot through a misted window.
Sweat-slicked bodies—entwined.
Sighs, whines, moans—breathless.
Touches, kisses, thrusts—rushed, desperate.
His lust-addled brain shuffles the images, and sounds, and sensations in a dizzying kaleidoscope, piecing them together into a dream-like sequence.
A sensual, erotic fantasy, echoing with shaky exhales and mewls of pleasure.
Qian can’t get it out of his head, no matter how he tries.
All he can do is recreate it in reality—over and over again.
Sprawl languidly on the bed.
Bask in the shower of kisses and caresses Yuan smothers him with.
Pant.
Moan.
Lose all sense of reality.
Only hold on to Yuan as he moves inside.
Repeat.
That’s all Qian knows now.
That’s all he needs to know.
Let Yuan take care of the rest.
He’s such a responsible adult now.
All serious.
Steadfast.
Intent on pampering Qian in every way imaginable.
Eager to shield him from any hardships.
Overeager, even.
Dangerously so.
Every time he deems Qian stable enough to leave the apartment, and takes him out for walks or shopping, Yuan acts too protective and possessive of him. He gets…intense. To any random onlooker, he might even come off as too controlling. The pair of them probably gives off obsessed kidnapper and his brainwashed victim vibes, which…
Okay, not entirely wrong, to be fair. But Qian finds Yuan being unhinged like that too arousing to ask him to tone it down.
Still, he sometimes can’t help but worry that someone might actually call the police for domestic abuse. After all, under Yuan’s tender care, he looks…mauled—with all the bitemarks, and bruises, and scratches pressed into his skin.
Spelling out Wei Qian belongs to Yuan.
Making Qian feel elated.
Spoiled.
Adored.
Worshiped.
That is exactly why, inside the apartment, he only wears Yuan’s dress shirts—those proverbial white flags on the conquered fortress of his body.
And that is also why, outside the apartment, he wears a white leather collar, only partially hidden under his clothes.
He just loves wearing physical manifestations of Yuan’s possessiveness.
It pacifies him—that tangible proof of him belonging to Yuan.
To Yuan alone.
And it’s not just about Yuan being his first and only lover.
It’s about his body being perfectly conditioned to only get aroused by Yuan’s scent and only come on his cock, or not at all.
Agh, it gets so frustrating sometimes!
Because even though he is constantly horny and ready to spread his legs for Yuan any time, his responsible little brother refuses to fuck him for a while after an especially hard session, insisting that Qian’s body needs a break to properly recover.
He’s stubborn like that. He won’t budge, no matter how Qian begs him.
Qian becomes restless then.
He roams the apartment, haunting Yuan like a lustful ghost.
He whines like a bitch in heat, demanding to be dicked down.
Sometimes, he even wears the ears and the tail from the same set as his collar—all gifted to him by Yuan himself.
Yuan suffers then, visibly, but still refuses to be seduced. No wonder, he’s had so many years of practice when it comes to self-restraint, after all.
Qian gets his suffering now. Truly. That’s why he doesn’t really mean to be a tease, but his unfortunate health condition makes him nothing more than a desperate cock slut. So when Yuan refuses to fuck his ass, Qian offers his mouth.
He still remembers that first time they went to a romantic dinner together. That evening, Yuan tried to feed him a piece of meat too big to comfortably fit into his mouth, so Qian…obediently opened up his lips anyway.
Since then, nothing’s changed. Qian still loves to choke himself on Yuan’s dick until his mouth is full and his head is empty.
It really helps.
It pacifies his overwhelmed senses.
But, unfortunately, not for long.
And not even Yuan returning the favor can distract him from his need completely.
While Yuan pleasures him with his mouth, Qian pleasures him with his moans, loud, and wanton, and unrestrained (it’s nice to have soundproof walls).
“Ahh! Agh, didi! Didi, please…”
Just the way Yuan likes it.
And, oh, he likes it. He likes it a lot.
Sometimes, Yuan even comes like that, just from seeing Qian writhe and cry in pleasure under him. But Qian…
Qian still can’t reach his peak, not even like that. Not unless Yuan pushes inside him and fucks him until his malfunctioning brain turns off from sensory overload.
“Didi, please, please! Didi knows how badly Gege needs it. Didi must give it to Gege now!”
At this point, Qian will usually shed actual tears, shaking bodily, panting like a dog, and trying to reach for Yuan’s dick like a maniac.
Whenever it comes to that, Yuan yields.
Well, almost.
No matter how Qian tries his resolve, Yuan still tenaciously adheres to his conviction that Qian should not be allowed to do anything that could potentially harm him. So, no, he still won’t fuck him. But he is not completely without mercy, either.
He will offer Qian the next best thing.
“Behave.” He will affectionately ruffle Qian’s already mussed-up, sweat-matted hair. “Or I will have no choice but to tie you up.”
After such promises, just how is Qian supposed to be good?
He ends up bound, of course.
Always.
Every single time.
It might take a few moments, but, eventually, he will relax into the rope coiled around his body completely, just like he relaxes into Yuan’s embrace.
The red shibari cord will be riding against his skin, giving him sensual pleasure for hours on end. Grounding him, pacifying him, holding him together—like the red thread of fate.
Qian absolutely delights in being bound by Yuan.
To Yuan.
*****
Yuan may be strict with Qian at times, but he always makes it up to him once his body has recovered enough to take him again.
“Do not resist,” he will whisper, suddenly rising from his working station and invading Qian’s personal space.
As if Qian could.
Not a chance.
Not with Yuan’s mouthwatering scent overriding any self-preservation responses in his brain.
There is no way Qian would try to fight Yuan off, not even as part of a play. His body is too hopelessly conditioned to take, take, take—whatever Yuan wants to give. But Yuan, having been rejected by his Da Ge so many times in the past, is still not used to Qian giving in to him so easily. So Qian knows, even if only subconsciously, Yuan still expects a bit of a struggle, every time. And Qian wishes to make it exciting for him. To that end, playing a little chasing game is the best he can do.
Yuan seems to enjoy that now. Knowing that Wei Qian can never get away from Wei ZhiYuan. Knowing didi will always catch his gege in the end.
Yuan will grab him from behind.
Press his face into his neck.
Inhale.
Bite.
Qian’s knees buckle every time he does that.
Caught, claimed, helpless—he slumps back against Yuan’s chest, waiting for his younger brother to pick him up and carry him to bed.
Qian likes to be carried. Or rather, he likes it that his Xiao Yuan is so tall and strong now that he can do it for his da ge.
Effortlessly.
Just scoop him up in his arms and carry him wherever he pleases.
Like a dragon kidnapping a princess.
Qian doesn’t mind being devoured by such a beast.
He likes the idea of being a princess too.
Deep down, he’s actually always suspected it—that he was initially meant to be a princess, instead of working his ass off, trying to survive. A single mother of two.
Subconsciously, he’s always been trying to be a little softer, a little more feminine, despite his life demanding that he must be tough.
Granted, before, he could only manifest it in subtle hints—like when he used to wear those ridiculous single mom cardigans.
He doesn’t wear them now.
He lets Yuan dress him up, in any way he pleases—because Yuan is also the one who undresses him after.
So, no more mom clothes for him. But that’s alright. He doesn’t need those anymore.
Now, he can do better than that. He can do whatever the fuck he likes, so…
He takes flower-scented bubble baths.
He wears lip gloss.
And…
…he shaves his entire body.
He loves to watch his own pale, hairless thighs tremble around Yuan’s head as he eats him out.
He loves to feel Yuan’s seed dripping down their smooth skin when he walks.
He loves how Yuan’s mouth instantly fills with saliva at the mere sight of them.
Does Yuan actually know Qian secretly wants to be a princess?
Perhaps, not. But he sure treats him like one.
Babygirl vibes, he calls it. Whatever that means.
He even likes it when Qian plays it up for him a little—acting petulant, acting spoiled.
As if he is the younger brother, and Yuan is older, and not the other way around.
As if it’s not enough that Qian is already in the habit of coming to bother his little brother as it is, distracting him from his work with a needy whine on his pouting lips.
“Didi…”
One little word.
Deliciously forbidden.
It never fails to get Yuan going in seconds.
Because didi is how Qian calls his brother to come and be his lover.
And even then, Qian has the audacity to play it coy—his own little brother’s blushing bride.
“Didi, come to bed. Help your gege undress.”
Yuan takes him then.
Actually fucks him—not just makes love, like usual.
Hard.
Fast.
Mercilessly.
Fervently.
All want.
All need.
Claiming Qian’s body with every thrust.
Coaxing it into that blissful state of complete surrender Qian is constantly trying to reach.
Bruises bloom like roses all over Qian’s chest, indents of teeth oozing red, liquified possessiveness.
Imprints of fingers scatter over the jade of Qian’s thighs, wind like bracelets around his ankles and wrists, adorn his neck.
His body arches up to meet the motions of Yuan’s hips.
It shudders.
Convulses.
Qian’s insides feel like they’re melting from the heat.
His eyes roll back into his head.
His toes curl.
“Didi, please! I can’t— I can’t, Xiao Yuan… Yuan… Yuan!”
He screams.
He cries, choking on his sobs mixed with moans, his chest heaving violently.
He thrashes under his little brother, working himself into a frantic frenzy—only to be caught.
To be pressed down.
To be subdued.
To be forced to be good and take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Take it.
Until his eyes lose focus, delirious and glazed over.
Until his body goes limp, supple and unresisting.
Until his mind slips out of hysteria and into ecstasy.
And even after that…
For a while longer.
With his face pushed into the pillow, with his mouth open around pathetic whines and dripping with saliva, with his hair clutched in a controlling grip of Yuan’s fist—he is made to take it.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until Qian is first incoherent, then barely conscious, then, finally, out entirely—his overwhelmed brain going to safe mode and shutting down to protect itself from getting fried.
Yuan calls it ‘fucking Ge out to a state of a mindless doll’.
Qian calls it ‘blissful reset’.
He loves it.
Loves not only getting his pleasure from Yuan, but also being used for Yuan’s pleasure as well.
Witnessing all of his little brother’s inhibitions gone.
Seeing his eyes dark and his expression feral.
Waking up so full of his come that Qian thinks he might actually get pregnant one of these days…
He even asked Yuan about it once, his heart sinking into his stomach with dread.
“Xiao Yuan, do you want to have a baby?” was what he said.
Do you regret having me because I can’t give you a child? was what he meant.
Yuan’s embrace on his waistline tightened almost imperceptibly, drawing Qian’s back to press flush against his chest, as they lay on the bed, naked and almost glowing with sweat in the warm lamplight.
“Gege is being silly again.”
Qian could feel Yuan’s lips grazing the sensitive skin of his nape as they stretched into a smile against it.
“No, I don’t want a child. All my love is for you only. Always has been. Always will be. I can’t give it to anyone else but Wei Qian.”
*****
Awareness returns to Qian slowly, bit by bit.
First, he registers that Yuan has already slipped out of him.
Then, he realizes that his movements are no longer restricted, which means Yuan has already removed the bondage ropes.
His skin doesn’t feel sticky and gross, so Yuan must have cleaned him up, too.
His mind is still pleasure-addled, and his body is still convulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He will be like that for a while yet—hours will pass before he stops being just a pathetic shaking body on the bed.
Although, if he manages to appear pathetic enough, Yuan just might be convinced to fuck him again, turning his ordinary ‘mindless doll’ into a ‘mindless sex doll’.
Qian wants that.
Wants that now.
Wants Yuan to fuck him through this orgasm and into another. And another.
“Didi… Nghh…” he whines, as pathetically as he can.
Yuan is by his side in an instant.
“Here, Ge, drink some water.”
Despite Qian’s weak protests, Yuan manages to make him drink with practiced, almost professional ease.
“Come on, don’t be stubborn now, Gege. Be good for me and swallow it.”
Qian does.
He always swallows.
“Aha… Aha… Aha…” he pants, his chest rising and falling in building agitation.
“Nghh… Mmhm…”
He bites his lip.
His head lolls on the pillow from side to side.
His hands come up to rake through his tousled hair with shaky, impatient motions as he starts writhing and squirming on the bed in agony of his endless pleasure.
“Didi… Didi, please…”
He knows he looks sinful like that—arching his body, spreading his legs, letting his hot, wet mouth fall open around his moans.
He looks up from under his drooping eyelashes trembling over his flushed cheeks. A temptation incarnate.
But Yuan shakes his head, resolute.
“No, Ge. Not yet. You’re still too out of it.”
Then, the ungrateful brat proceeds to cover Qian with a blanket, wrapping him in it, almost swaddling him up.
As if it could possibly lull Qian’s desire to sleep!
Fuming, Qian tries to wriggle away, but Yuan’s strong hands grab his shoulders and pin him down to the bed with effortless ease.
“Behave now.”
Yuan looms over Qian’s face, and Qian immediately stops struggling, going pliant under him, and opens his wet lips in breathless anticipation of a kiss.
Yuan leans in even closer and presses his lips to his…
…forehead.
“………”
Qian’s nose tingles with a sudden urge to cry in frustration.
He worms his hand from under the blanket and swats the insufferable brat’s chest.
“How dare you kiss me like a brother?! Your come is still leaking out of my hole!”
“………”
Yuan’s eyes get dark, almost inhuman, in just a fraction of a second. His voice cracks.
“Gege…shouldn’t test my self-control like that.”
Yuan concealed his feelings for Qian for many years, but Qian can’t manage to conceal his, even for a moment. His whole body convulses in pleasure from just the look of primal, animalistic hunger Yuan burns his body with.
There is a beast inside his little brother—staring at him with his impossibly blown pupils.
Qian wants that beast to eat him.
Swallow him whole.
“Didi… Your da ge needs you inside him now.”
The growl Yuan releases is far from human.
*****
Barely a year ago, Qian couldn’t even picture himself giving in to his little brother’s advances. But no matter how far away Qian pushed him, Yuan kept mulishly coming back, crashing against his defenses.
Hopelessly.
Helplessly.
Let me in!
Let me in!
Let me in!
The proverbial unstoppable force unable to move an immovable object.
And now, look! Not even a year later, it’s Qian who’s chanting, with desperate urgency:
Push into me!
Thrust deeper!
Fill me up!
After all, if the unstoppable force can’t move the immovable object, it doesn’t mean it can’t move inside it.