author: kagome_angel

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He could drown. He knows this. Shi Wudu's sharp smile in response to his capitulation is all teeth and cunning and self-assurance; it's the equivalent of a siren's call leading him to his doom. These waters could tear him limb from limb, and he'd die, content.

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"What are you doing here?" There's no real curiosity tucked into the inquiry. Shi Wudu doesn't sound surprised. He doesn't sound pleased. He doesn't sound wary. He sounds predatory. It's like he's ready to pounce, ready to drag Pei Ming under until his lungs fill with water and he succumbs and is left to drown.

Well, given that Pei Ming has entered the palace of the Water Master without the explicit invitation to do so... Pei Ming can almost understand why Shi Wudu's hackles would be raised. But this is a farce, all for show. Shi Wudu can pretend to be as offended and as disagreeable as he likes, in this respect, but Pei Ming Knows how things really are.

How Shi Wudu really is.

He looks up at the Water Master from where he lounges in one of Shi Wudu's fancy chairs. "I'm here to see you, of course." He says it as it's the most obvious thing in the three realms (it is).

"You saw me earlier this evening," Shi Wudu counters matter-of-factly, raising one perfectly-arched brow. He stalks over to where Pei Ming is sprawled, stopping just outside of reach, gazing down at him. "Does that not count for anything?"

"It counts for plenty," Pei Ming answers, and the response is equal parts amicable and airy. "You know that I am grateful for any opportunity to be in the same space as you, but...." He trails off purposefully, for effect, and when he picks his confession back up, he's pitched his voice low: "Gatherings are one thing, but I was hoping for something a little more intimate."

Shi Wudu frowns down at him, and Pei Ming is reminded, intensely, of just how much he enjoys when he has to look up at the other god. It's a fitting thing, Shi Wudu being above him in this way. He scoffs, his next question decidedly mocking: "Do you ever have any thoughts in that mind of yours that involve something other than base desires of the flesh?"

"I have plenty of thoughts that aren't that," Pei Ming argues. "Have you forgotten that I am a general and have been praised as a brilliant strategist?" He smirks suggestively. "I have plenty of thoughts involving you that also aren't that as well, but also plenty that admittedly are; they intertwine so smoothly, you know."

"Mmhmm." Shi Wudu's hummed reply is noncommittal, unimpressed. He says nothing more—doesn't try to argue. He might be loath to admit his susceptibility in regards to being told such things, but Pei Ming knows the truth; he knows that Shi Wudu likes hearing these things from him. For all of his feigned protests and his attempts at a flat affect, Pei Ming can see through it all, to the man beneath the cool facade. In actuality, he reacts positively to Pei Ming's compliments, but is not always forthright about it on a surface level.

Pei Ming has never, and will never, complain about having to peel away the layers that Shi Wudu wraps himself up in, whether said layers are figurative or literal.

In regards to the physical aspect, though, Pei Ming allows his gaze to rake appreciatively over Shi Wudu's frame during the lapse in conversation. It isn't the first time this evening that he's done so, but now he's closer and it's just the two of them here; they have no appearances to upkeep in this space between them. They have no one else to answer to here and now except each other, and so Pei Ming greedily drinks the sight of the Water Master in: He is adorned in cobalt and silver; his outer robe is silky and luxurious, bespeckled with what appears to be diamonds, exploding galaxies reflected on rippling water, very befitting of him. His hair is partly up, a silver guan covering his topknot, held in place with a matching zan. His earrings and the chain looped around his neck compliment his outfit, completing his ensemble perfectly. Pei Ming cannot help but stare, and he has a feeling that Shi Wudu knows this; he suspects that the Water Master inwardly preens at the attention.

"Have you had your fill of staring?" Shi Wudu asks after a long moment, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He sounds like he wants to be annoyed, but he seems unable to quite pull it off. He lingers just outside of Pei Ming's reach. Pei Ming has half a mind to sit up, grab his wrists, and pull him onto his lap.

Now, there's a thought. He files it away for possible later use, provided that Shi Wudu doesn't take the initiative himself (and he might—he enjoys the control).

"At you? Never." It is a truth that others might take for flattery instead, but Pei Ming knows that Shi Wudu recognizes it for what it is; for just an instant, his sharp gaze softens, blink-and-you-miss-it (and Pei Ming does not miss it). "Rainwater and starlight suit you. You're beautiful, Shui-ge."

"I am not one of your women." Shi Wudu's tone is full of haughty indifference, but his expression is more telling, leaning towards something akin to indignation. He's doing his utmost to hide the seed of bitterness that he's buried deep, and with anyone else, it would be a success.

They have known each other far too many centuries to keep secrets, to hide parts of themselves. Pei Ming has long given up the attempt. He'll convince Shi Wudu to join him in this, one of these days.

Just not today.

"I am not one of your women," Shi Wudu repeats, as though he believes that Pei Ming has a sudden issue with hearing loss, and he adds, sneering: "Just because you wax poetic does not mean that I am going to crumple in complete submission." There's a glint in his eyes that Pei Ming cannot – and never has been able to – ignore. It is thrilling.

"I am well aware of who and what you are," Pei Ming responds. "and believe me when I say that I do not want you to be what you aren't." He meets Shi Wudu's gaze, holds it as he continues, "What is in front of me, right now, is precisely what I need."

Shi Wudu tuts at him. "Such a flatterer." He brushes a lock of hair behind his shoulder, putting a different, tantalizing angle of the very kissable, biteable skin of his neck on display. Pei Ming stares openly, knowing that it's a measure of provocation on Shi Wudu's part. Such a fucking tease, the Water Master is.

(Pei Ming loves it, though. He loves every part of Shi Wudu, but this is also something that he doesn't say.)

"An honest flatterer," Pei Ming corrects, shifting in his seat. "Did you miss me while I was away?" He leans forward, hands reaching to touch, to hold, to pull down and in like he contemplated doing earlier, but Shi Wudu doesn't allow it. He steps back, and Pei Ming frowns slightly. He won't pout—not yet, at least.

Shi Wudu ignores his question in favor of asking one of his own: "Did you think that you could come into another's domain and touch the contents as you please?" He stands there, perfectly stern, utterly unapproachable—at least, to anyone that isn't Pei Ming. Thing is, Pei Ming still finds himself hurtling into Shi Wudu's gravity, even (perhaps even especially) as the Water Master halts his progress, keeps him from fully entering his atmosphere, delaying the inevitable collide.

That's quite all right, as far as Pei Ming is concerned. He enjoys every game that they play, and before the end of the night, he will have attained what he's come here for.

(He also doesn't say: the sex is always phenomenal, but another thing he enjoys is how vulnerable Shi Wudu becomes post-orgasm; he always, always lets Pei Ming stay, always curls into his embrace, always allows his touches and his kisses, without feigned resistance. It's enough to make Pei Ming's heart ache in the sweetest, most genuine way.

Pei Ming has never stayed with anyone, after; he's only ever wanted to, with Shi Wudu.

That alone speaks volumes, he knows.)

A feeling of pure possessiveness spikes high inside of him, and he almost asks, Am I now not allowed to touch what is mine? He doesn't push his luck, though—at least, not in that manner. Instead, his lips curl into a small smile and he says, "Forgive me. However can this humble, undeserving man make it up to you?" His voice drips sarcasm and honey all at once and he leans in, giving the impression of someone who is listening intently.

(To be fair, he is.)

Shi Wudu takes a step closer, and for a fleeting moment, Pei Ming thinks that he is merely going to surrender, or ask to be touched, but things are not always what they seem, and simplicity doesn't really seem to fit the Water Master's mood, tonight.

(This is also perfectly fine, as far as Pei Ming is concerned.)

Shi Wudu lifts a leg and extends it; the martial god watches him curiously, breath catching just so when that foot comes to rest against his chest. "You're a general, aren't you?" Shi Wudu asks, not bothering to wait for a response before applying pressure, and Pei Ming is pushed until his spine is flush with the back of the chair.

He could resist, if he wanted to.

He does not want to.

More force—it's slight, but definitely noticeable. "Aren't you?" Shi Wudu repeats.

Pei Ming finds his voice, tells him, "Yes," and fuck, he shouldn't be this breathless right now, not yet.

"Generals take orders," the Water Master murmurs. The pressure leaves his chest—Shi Wudu's foot comes to rest back on the floor. Pei Ming is almost disappointed, but as usual, Shi Wudu keeps things interesting: "Follow my orders, and I might find it in my heart to forgive you."

This is not a philanthropic offer, not an opportunity for penance, not a precursor of a potential pardon. This is a challenge, and Pei Ming would be a fool, not to rise (in every possible sense) to meet it.

He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and he does not miss how those dark eyes follow the motion. "Issue your orders, then, Shui-ge," he whispers.

Hands busy themselves with untying and unclasping. Shi Wudu's outer robe is the first thing to go, the bejeweled garment shimmering as it slides from his body and pools onto the floor below, light and water in motion, like the night sky reflected in the rippling sea.

Pei Ming waits patiently as Shi Wudu silently strips layers away from his body; he wonders if he looks as calm as he's trying to pretend to be, his pulse hammering loudly in his ears all the while. He realizes he's staring, lips parted, as the Water Master's torso is fully bared and he subsequently begins working on the garments concealing the lower portion of his body. Perhaps he doesn't look remotely calm; perhaps he only looks anticipatory and hungry.

Once Shi Wudu is fully nude, he straightens to his full height, having bent down to remove his boots and push his trousers down his thighs. He steps gracefully out of everything, speaking again only when his task is complete: "You are to stay right there, in that chair. You are to keep your hands to yourself until I say otherwise. You are to endure. Do you understand?" The space between them lessens once more (not enough) and one of Shi Wudu's slender and elegant fingers lifts Pei Ming's chin, forcing him to tilt his head back further.

"I understand," Pei Ming husks, and even though he isn't terribly fond of not being able to touch until he's given permission to do so, he is more than intrigued to see what his companion has in mind for him.

Besides, he knows that obedience really does it for Shi Wudu—something about having a strong martial god (who can sever a head from a body with one swing of a sword) at one's mercy, Pei Ming supposes.

(The thing is, with or without issued commands, Pei Ming would do anything this man desires; he would be fully at his mercy, regardless.)

Shi Wudu's eyes are raging storm clouds over a tempestuous sea—these are dangerous waters, but Pei Ming has survived them before. He has submerged himself quite purposefully and returned to shore coughing up saltwater and heaving great gulping lungfulls of air, only to immediately ache for the feel of the waves lapping at his skin once more.

This man is a craving. An addiction.

And Pei Ming is practically shaking with the need of that next hit. He is a dehydrated man in the desert, and Shi Wudu is his oasis. His lips are parched, his throat dry. This thirst is an all-consuming thing.

He could drown. He knows this. Shi Wudu's sharp smile in response to his capitulation is all teeth and cunning and self-assurance; it's the equivalent of a siren's call leading him to his doom. These waters could tear him limb from limb, and he'd die, content.

He is well and truly fucked, but he can't be bothered to care much about this, either.

"Very good, General," Shi Wudu purrs, and isn't it funny how that little bit of teasing praise sends sparks of heat straight to his cock?

(Except it really isn't funny, at all.)

He might not be able to touch at the moment, but he is able to look, and Shi Wudu's body, clothed or unclothed, definitely deserves to be admired. If he isn't allowed to worship with his hands presently, he will do so with his eyes.

His gaze roams over Shi Wudu's naked form, following the lines of lean muscle, mapping out every dip and curve. He zeroes in on the places that he knows are the most sensitive, longs to press his lips and tongue to them. He lingers, too, on what proves to him that he isn't the only one getting aroused, here, already. He wants his mouth there, as well, wants to feel the heaviness of Shi Wudu's cock on his tongue. He also wants to request that the Water Master turn around, so that he can see his back, his ass (more places where he wants his hands and mouth to traverse).

Pei Ming wants quite a lot, but he is eager to receive whatever it might be that Shi Wudu intends to give him.

He distantly wishes that he'd thought to bring a bottle of oil with him, on his person. Tucked away in his clothing. Oh, to watch Shi Wudu prepare himself, in front of him....

Shi Wudu's hands lift his robes, pushing them aside, bunching them around his middle so that he can set to work on his belt. He makes quick work of it, and then he tugs at Pei Ming's trousers. "These need to go," he says, and Pei Ming lifts his hips easily, helping with the removal process.

Pei Ming opens his mouth to say something—something clever, something sharp, but any remotely coherent thought dissolves into nothing as soon as Shi Wudu lowers himself to the floor, swiftly removing both of his boots before ridding him of his trousers altogether. Then those hands are on Pei Ming's thighs, lightly and teasingly caressing. The Water Master smirks and it is devastating in much the same way that a typhoon is devastating, a beautiful and destructive force of nature. This is the only warning that Pei Ming is given before that hot, wet mouth closes around his half-hard dick and sucks, and the only sound that works its way out of the general's throat is a strangled moan.

Shi Wudu hums around the flesh in his mouth, clearly pleased with Pei Ming's reaction. His tongue slips and swirls and presses and curls, the tip of it gliding along the underside of Pei Ming's cock, base to head and back again. His tongue explores while his lips work their way steadily down, jaw relaxing until he can take the entire length of him into his mouth, his throat. And fuck, Pei Ming wants to slide his hands into that waterfall of dark hair and grip tightly—he wants to hold the Water Master in place, keeping his mouth where he wants and needs it, and he wants to thrust his hips up and watch Shi Wudu take it until he spills into his throat. He wants Shi Wudu to want that, too.

He can't, though. He's been forbidden to touch, for now. He'll be a good boy and wait for his invitation. His permission.

Pei Ming's hands clench into fists and his nails dig into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave marks. It's agony, in a sense—this deprivation, this cruel, teasing game.

He has, perhaps, fallen in love with a bit of a sadist, in some respects.

(He has, perhaps, always been a little bit of a masochist, in some respects.)

Long lashes flutter and those storm-cloud eyes are gazing up at him as Shi Wudu's mouth continues to work him over slowly, increasing the pressure and the speed gradually. Pei Ming isn't allowed to touch, but Shi Wudu lacks that constraint and he makes a show of it purposefully, his hands sweeping up along Pei Ming's calves, the backs of his thighs, down and around to his knees, lightly petting. One hand slips between his spread legs, fingers teasing at his balls before grasping and squeezing lightly, swallowing him down in the same motion and making him gasp and tremble. Heat explodes inside of him, spreads deliciously, twists and then settles – momentarily, at least – in his cock. Pei Ming can feel himself throb in Shi Wudu's mouth, can feel pre-cum drip onto that waiting tongue.

He manages to keep his hips still, manages to keep them from jerking up, but only just. It's a tempting thing, and Shi Wudu always looks so pretty when Pei Ming forces him, when he shoves into Shi Wudu's mouth and throat a little too hard, a little too fast, giving him a little more than he can handle in the moment.

Sometimes, he pulls off of Pei Ming, coughing, eyes wet with unshed tears caused by the overstimulation of his gag reflex, and he looks so angry and unbelievably sexy in those moments that it would be so easy for Pei Ming to just lose it and let go right then and there, but Shi Wudu doesn't always appreciate the feel of cum on his face.

(Pei Ming has learned that he prefers it inside of him, in some aspect. Although, there was that one time Pei Ming got him to come untouched just from stroking himself to completion and Shi Wudu watching; he'd painted Shi Wudu's ass and back with his release, and that had done something for Shi Wudu back then, clearly. He'd made a mess beneath himself within the span of heartbeats.)

Sometimes, he just steels himself and takes what Pei Ming gives him, twists the situation until it's Shi Wudu that's demanding what Pei Ming is all too happy to give (and sometimes he's all too helpless to do anything but give), his hands on Pei Ming's hips, pulling him in, taking him as deep as he can until there's nothing left to take, nosing at his pelvis and looking as triumphant as one can look with one's lips stretched around a dick (pretty fucking triumphant, as it turns out).

Tonight, Shi Wudu watches him. He takes every inch of Pei Ming's cock and he sucks until his cheeks hollow; he builds a rhythm but then he slows down; he lets Pei Ming slip from his mouth, and the wet sound caused by the motion is deliciously obscene. The general manages a low sound of protest which morphs into a hiss of pleasure as that wicked tongue licks a stripe up the entire length of him again, and all the while, those eyes stay fixed on his.

The eye contact only adds to the intensity of it all—makes that heat crawl all through Pei Ming's body, makes him leak pre-cum at the slightest touch of that tongue, those lips, those teeth, on his already-sensitive, over-heated skin.

Shi Wudu's tongue gifts him with kitten licks, soft, barely-there, and then it's long, slow, rougher strokes. More pressure. More everything. Pei Ming has already lost count of how many times his head has hit the back of the chair and lolled to the side, his eyes closing without his permission as he surrenders himself to sensation and simultaneously continues to fight the ever-present need to put his hands all over the man who is, at the moment, completely in control of his pleasure.

(His heart, as well, but he bites that back, groans helplessly again instead as a hand joins the tongue in the delectable torment, fingers slipping over slick skin, and yes, the Water Master knows exactly where to touch, exactly how to grip and stroke, and if his intent is to make Pei Ming come here and now, he's approaching that goal at a rapid rate of speed.)

All at once, everything stops—hands and mouth are gone, leaving Pei Ming bereft, adrift, clutching at what remains of his composure, which is now in tatters. He can't even manage a sound of surprised protest; he feels only anticipation when he drags his eyes open to find that Shi Wudu is now standing once more before him, and his self-control takes another massive blow as he notes that his companion is just as affected, just as aroused as Pei Ming himself is.

Shi Wudu's cock is hard and heavy and wet at the tip. If Pei Ming could put his hands or mouth on it right now, he would.

He can't. He doesn't.

(It's a close, close thing.)

"I thought they could stay," Shi Wudu begins, gesturing at the clothing that is still covering Pei Ming's torso, "but they're going to need to go. Get rid of them." His voice is quiet but commanding—this is the deceptive eye of the storm; Pei Ming knows it well, welcomes it. Welcomes whatever onslaught the Water Master will bring when the winds pick back up and the seas grow choppy.

Pei Ming begins to rise and Shi Wudu takes a step back, allowing him room to maneuver, to unbutton and unfasten and shift and remove; he can feel Shi Wudu's eyes on him, can feel his stare; he swears it becomes more intense with every layer of clothing that is removed.

He allows everything to fall onto the floor beneath him. He's barely fully disrobed before the Water Master issues another command: "Sit back down, closer to the edge of the chair. You're going to need to give me room."

Pei Ming is quick to obey, to position himself in a manner that he hopes is satisfactory to Shi Wudu, and his breath catches when he seems to get it right on the first attempt; Shi Wudu approaches and lowers himself onto the chair, straddling Pei Ming, knees bracketing his thighs. If Pei Ming could touch right now, he'd run his hands up the Water Master's hips, waist, sides. He'd brush his fingers over his nipples; he'd rub them until they were taut, hardened little pebbles, and then he'd put his mouth there, lave tender attention upon them with his tongue.

Food for thought, for later. Right now, he'll let Shi Wudu have the control; he'll follow wherever he's lead.

He'll do whatever he's told.

Hands settle on his shoulders and Shi Wudu leans in, their foreheads touching briefly before Pei Ming lifts his chin for a kiss, expectant and hopeful. Shi Wudu makes a soft sound of annoyance but he is indulgent enough, fitting his lips easily against Pei Ming's, and when the general sneakily tries to wrest some form of power in this respect, the Water Master is quick to put him in his place, quick to remind him of just who is in charge here and now. Shi Wudu's kiss is hard and hot and wet—teeth and tongue and dominance as he freely and greedily explores territory that he is all too familiar with, by this point.

Command and conquer, over and over. How ironic. How beautifully appropriate.

(Shi Wudu is the only one allowed to do this. Allowed.

... As if Pei Ming could ever have the power to deny him anything.

It isn't even a convincing illusion.)

By the time Shi Wudu pulls back, his teeth catching on Pei Ming's lower lip on the retreat, nipping and tugging and making heat zing through him, heading straight for his cock, both of them are a little breathless. Shi Wudu's eyes are darker, molten, and Pei Ming thinks his own probably look much the same.

(Reciprocity.)

There's a slight shifting, and then there's friction between them. There's the tipping back of Shi Wudu's head as their cocks brush, and Pei Ming surrenders to impulse, kissing, licking, biting at exposed skin—to ignore it would be nothing short of a criminal act.

Of course, he pays for his disobedience. One of those hands leaves his shoulder and tangles in his hair, using it to jerk his head back. The act wrenches a gasp from Pei Ming, pain and pleasure coalescing, converging, making him leak and throb against Shi Wudu's abdomen.

Shi Wudu's glare is sharp and cruel and it probably shouldn't serve to turn Pei Ming on even more, but it does. "Disobeying issued orders, general?"

Pei Ming raises his hands. "I'm not touching you, Shui-ge," he states, equal parts placating and smug. "My hands are right here. How have I disobeyed you, hmm?"

Shi Wudu moves in close again, close enough that his next words are murmured against Pei Ming's lips: "You know exactly what you're doing. Behave yourself. Be a good boy for me, and maybe I'll let you come, too."

Ah, so this crafty little demon of his does have something in mind.

He'll have to be on his best behavior now, won't he?

"I'll do as you say, Shui-ge."

The hand in his hair loosens, pets him lightly, mockingly. "Good." Shi Wudu doesn't kiss him, and that is a true punishment.

Pei Ming's head swims with thoughts, with questions, with contemplating what next because Shi Wudu's hands are on him and both of their bodies are bare and he thinks that neither of them are prepared for--

Those clever, naughty hips move, a slow drag of skin-on-skin, and rational thought shatters and scatters and that self-satisfied smirk that Shi Wudu gives makes it worse and better and what is self-control, again?

"You were thinking," Shi Wudu tells him, matter-of-fact, not questioning. He knows—knows him well. "Contemplating what the next moves will be. Seeing scenarios in your mind."

Love and sex can be battlefields all their own.

"I am a strategist," Pei Ming replies in reminder, biting his lip and groaning when Shi Wudu moves against him once more. "Can't help it."

"Let me make it very simple for you, then." Those hands move to his face, cupping it. They slide down his neck, to his chest. One slips further down between them, closing around his dick and stroking, giving him more friction, which makes something inside of him absolutely splinter. Pei Ming knows how to set a bone fracture; there's no fixing what Shi Wudu does to him. Never has been.

(He wouldn't want to fix it even if he could.)

"You are going to do what you are told to do," Shi Wudu continues, and his voice and gaze are turbulent, threatening things. "Nothing more and nothing less. You will stay motionless while I take what I need from you. Do you understand me?"

Pei Ming's spine turns to liquid at the words; Shi Wudu can manipulate him so easily with a touch, a word, a glance. "Yes," he answers, and his voice is hoarse, like he needs moisture on his lips, tongue, in his throat. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

He is about to be drenched he knows, and it'll be all he can do to manage breath-to-breath; this is not a welcoming, warm pool. This is a torrential downpour amidst already-rough waters. This is everything that Pei Ming knows the Water Tyrant to be, and yes, he wants every bit of it.

The hand that's moving leisurely up and down his cock stops and he watches, curious and puzzled, as Shi Wudu reaches behind and underneath himself, raises up a little higher on his knees. A hint of an unidentifiable something flits across his features and then it's gone, and when he shows Pei Ming what he's retrieved, Pei Ming feels the air go still between them—or maybe it's just the breath inside of him that gets stuck momentarily. It's punched out of him in the form of a low moan at the thought of--

"How long has that been inside of you?" he asks when he trusts his vocal cords to do more than just make nonsensical noise. There's a tremor at the edges of the words; there's an outpouring of all that needy, desperate heat into them. His thighs tense and he has to clench his hands into fists again because if he doesn't, he's going to completely go against everything that Shi Wudu has told him. He's going to grab those hips and pull that body down onto himself; he's going to fuck up and into him until they both come and ohhhhhh if he did that, Shi Wudu would give him absolute hell for it later but fuck it would be worth it, wouldn't it?

(It would, it would it would.)

In Shi Wudu's hand is a plug, crafted from the finest jade that Pei Ming believes he has ever laid eyes on. It's slick with oil, which Shi Wudu uses to his advantage. He swipes his other hand over the plug, gathering some of that oil, spreads it over Pei Ming's cock with his palm and his fingers.

"Since before that ridiculous banquet earlier," Shi Wudu replies impassively. He's careful when he sets the plug aside, bending like a contortionist to reach the floor, to drop the plug into the cushioning fabric of Pei Ming's robes. His movements are fluid, quick, and precise. It's easy enough for him to reposition, to take Pei Ming in his hand and angle him where he needs him to be.

"You were hoping for this," Pei Ming starts, incredulous and ignited. "You were hoping I'd come."

"I was expecting," Shi Wudu immediately corrects. "I know you, remember?" His lips twist into one of those characteristic, cool, calculating smiles once more. "And you are not the only strategist in the room, general."

Shi Wudu sinks down onto him and he takes Pei Ming's cock so easily into himself, so well. The plug has worked him loose, has made him relaxed enough to take all of Pei Ming without pause, without the need to adjust, without the need to take it slowly.

Shi Wudu doesn't have to be careful, and he isn't. He cants his hips, rolls them steadily, moves up and down roughly, his hands like vices on Pei Ming's shoulders, digging in, sharp and painful and so exquisitely good.

Pei Ming is grounded and floating all at once. Shi Wudu is a dark, powerful creature atop him, crashing upon him like insistent, never-ceasing waves, and whatever shreds of composure that he still possesses are battered about and eroded away and all he knows is this: The feel of Shi Wudu above and all around him; the power the other holds, keeping him restrained with nothing more than words and promises, as efficient as any physical restriction—perhaps even more so, because this is Shi Wudu and he is everything, whether he is aware of that fact or not.

He wants to move with him; he wants to match that rhythm, wants to meet him thrust for thrust, but he hasn't been given permission and so he stays still, losing himself in the sights, sounds, sensations. Letting himself be used, just as the Water Master pleases. He lets Shi Wudu take. He lets himself give, freely. He's learned that no matter how cheeky he is with this man that he's known – and loved – for centuries now, he'll always topple for him at a mere look. He'll always mold himself to be that which Shi Wudu needs, at any given moment.

(He'll just be a complete shit about it, beforehand, and Shi Wudu will be an absolutely spoiled brat in return, and this is how they work, isn't it?)

"That's it," Shi Wudu hisses, encouraging. His hips start moving faster, harder, more insistent. These soft little noises are working their way out of his throat and his head falls back, eyes tightly shut in what Pei Ming feels is concentration. He's beautiful, so perfectly beautiful and he's well within his element here, commanding with his body, with his touch.

Touch. Pei Ming is overwhelmed with the desire to touch. It's a primal urge. It's a visceral need. His fingers twitch and tingle and he's not entirely certain how much of it is due to wanting to put his hands on Shi Wudu and how much of it is due, perhaps, to some form of oxygen deprivation by now—his breaths are escaping him in stuttering, labored moans, like he's the one exerting himself when he's just sitting here. Although, to be fair, he is fighting to stay still. There's sweat beading on his forehead, dripping down his chin. He can't take a deep breath; Shi Wudu steals the air away from him with the quick, messy bouncing of his hips.

Shi Wudu cries out, loudly, the sound echoing off the walls, and Pei Ming growls, feeling Shi Wudu clench around him. He knows that Shi Wudu is getting close, closer. He's climbing, too, higher with every descent of Shi Wudu's hips.

"Please," Pei Ming hears himself say, but his voice sounds distant, unlike himself; it's like he's immersed in water and everything's distorted. Of course, that could just be the whooshing of his own blood in his ears, pulse as loud and erratic as his breathing. He's not certain what he's asking for—to touch Shi Wudu, maybe. To watch and feel him come. To come with him.

Maybe all of the above.

Definitely all of the above.

Those ocean-deep eyes blink open and Shi Wudu's gaze is somehow sharp and yet unfocused, all at once. Those long lashes flutter and his rhythm falters just slightly before he finds it again, slamming himself down onto Pei Ming again and again without any semblance of anything resembling mercy, until: "Touch me," he groans, and he sounds as perfectly helpless as Pei Ming feels.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He wraps his fingers around Shi Wudu's dick, starts stroking him in time with the quick, urgent, hard rocking of those hips. Shi Wudu is hot in his hand like he's hot around him and it feels so good to contribute to his pleasure in this way, too, actively. It feels amazing, to have him pulsing in his hand and tightening around his cock at the same time.

It doesn't take much—four brisk jerks and Shi Wudu is making a mess of the both of them, cum spurting and spilling on already-damp skin. While Shi Wudu is still falling apart (he's so fucking incredible like this), shaking and squirming on top of him, Pei Ming can't help it, can't keep his hips from bucking up, once, twice, burying himself as deeply as possible into that clenching heat, and then he comes as well. He raggedly whispers Shi Wudu's name like a prayer as he does, as the Water Master's hips keep slowly moving, milking him for everything he's worth, and what else can Pei Ming do, aside from surrender to the waves of pleasure as they wash over him, consuming him entirely?

Ecstasy eventually edges into overstimulation for the both of them and their motions slow further before stopping altogether. Shi Wudu then proceeds to do all but collapse against Pei Ming's body; he's trembling and so is Pei Ming, but the general is all too happy to support the other's weight, to wrap his arms around him and hold. Shi Wudu enjoys being coddled after sex although he'd never admit it, and Pei Ming is content to indulge him (and he would freely admit this, if asked).

"I didn't give you permission to move and you moved," Shi Wudu grumbles, close to his ear. His teeth are sharp as they nip at his earlobe.

"Couldn't help it." Pei Ming shifts just slightly, just so, delighting in the little gasp that Shi Wudu gives in response. "You felt too fucking good, you know. And I seem to recall someone telling me that if I moved, they'd stop... but they just kept going."

"Shut up." Shi Wudu is hiding his face against his neck.

The water has receded, for now, the tide merely lapping at the sand. Touch and retreat.

And yet, Shi Wudu is seemingly at ease, lingering here as Pei Ming gradually softens inside of him, and then he lifts his head and grimaces. "Let's go to bed. This chair isn't comfortable."

"I was wondering if you were going to have us stay here the rest of the night." Pei Ming is careful when he moves, careful when he hoists Shi Wudu in his arms so that he can carry him properly. Before he steps away from the mess of robes on the floor, he kneels.

"Don't worry about those," Shi Wudu scoffs. "You can wear one of my inner robes, if need be."

"I'm not worried about our clothing," Pei Ming replies as he retrieves the jade plug from where it's nestled in his discarded robes. "I'm after your clever toy—it can serve another purpose, can't it?"

"Such as?" The query is unanswered until Pei Ming rises and walks to Shi Wudu's chambers, Shi Wudu's bed. He deposits the Water Master gingerly upon it, and then he fits himself between those thighs once more.

"This can keep what you've taken from me inside of you, can it not?" he asks, delicately probing at Shi Wudu's entrance. He doesn't hear a protest, but he does hear a soft gasp, and that's invitation enough. It's an easy slide—the plug fits right into place, and it does seem to keep his release inside of Shi Wudu; even after lingering there for several breaths, just watching, he sees nothing except for the way those muscles clench lightly around the intrusion.

"You are a truly depraved soul," the Water Master accuses, but all the bite is gone—clear skies and calm waters.

"You seem to like my soul well enough, for the most part," Pei Ming retorts, hope rising in his throat, fluttering like trapped birds, and he beats a hasty retreat to the bath before Shi Wudu can argue or look at him in any way that might make his heart sink. Minimal cleanup for himself, and the same for Shi Wudu, who has taken his hair down somewhere between Pei Ming's disappearance and reemergence.

Pei Ming does the cleaning for Shi Wudu, and he is still as Pei Ming wipes at his abdomen and thighs with the warm, wet cloth. He's about to head out of the room again, to dispose of the cloth, when fingers curl around his wrist and tug. Funny how this brat can be even more demanding, post-orgasm.

"That can be retrieved later as well," Shi Wudu points out. "Come here." He says nothing in regards to Pei Ming's last comment and Pei Ming is glad that he doesn't.

The cloth is dropped onto the floor and Pei Ming slides into bed with Shi Wudu; he leaves a little space between them, and then forgets how to breathe when Shi Wudu closes the distance, curling into him like it's the most natural thing in all of the realms. This isn't the first time, but Pei Ming still feels like this, every time.

(It's only ever meant something with Shi Wudu, and that terrifies him, but it's a fact that he resigned himself to a long time ago.)

There's silence, then, save for their breathing and the soft rustling of the sheets when one of them moves. Pei Ming does not sleep, but he does pleasantly drift. He thinks that Shi Wudu must have nodded off, but the Water Master surprises him, as he so often does: "Maybe I did."

"Hmm?" Perhaps he's actually sleepy, or even half-asleep, but he's ninety-seven-percent certain that Shi Wudu's statement makes absolutely no sense.

There is a moment's hesitation before there is a reply: "Maybe I did. Miss you," Shi Wudu clarifies, and Pei Ming immediately feels two things: a sweet, spreading warmth in the center of his chest, and an unspeakable ache, originating from the same spot.

Shi Wudu is clingy, sometimes. Pei Ming savors it like it is the finest gourmet meal he's ever consumed.

"I have been known to have that effect," Pei Ming supplies, laughing as Shi Wudu smacks him on his side. He can feel the weight of that glare.

"Take this plug out of me," Shi Wudu tells him after they briefly lapse into silence once more.

"Is it uncomfortable?" Pei Ming asks, concerned.

"No, not at all." Shi Wudu shoves at him lightly until Pei Ming rolls over onto his back, and Shi Wudu drapes himself over his upper body. "I want you back in me. Take it out."

Shuddering heat rolls down Pei Ming's spine at the words and he touches Shi Wudu's cheek, finds himself asking, "Already?"

"Yes."

The plug is as easily removed as it is inserted, Pei Ming finds, and Shi Wudu makes this soft, choked noise once it's out, and that sound alone makes him suck in a breath and it leaves him in the form of an approving hum. Sparks dance along every point of contact between them and Shi Wudu leans in, his breath tickling Pei Ming's lips as he speaks.

"Try to keep your head above water, hmm?" Light and teasing, but a challenge nonetheless. The tide is slowly rising and it's only a matter of time before Pei Ming has been engulfed once more.

An answering grin playing on his lips, he replies with the only thing that seems fitting: "I shall endeavor to do so."

All bets are off the moment Shi Wudu's lips touch his, though.

-.-.-.-.-