From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 114: A Summer Night in Spring (R18)
Summer must be upon us.
This errant thought ran through Yan Zheyun’s mind before dissipating like wisps of smoke when he tried to grasp onto it. It was too warm, sweat sliding down the curve of his spine to pool in the dip of the small of his back. Despite the sticky heat clinging to his skin, he shivered when an open-mouthed kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck, his fingers twitching in reflex and clanging against the wrong string at the wrong time.
A discordant note rang out in the air, the ambiguous tension in the air somehow heightening instead of dissipating when he felt Liu Yao’s laughter stir stray hairs tucked behind his ear.
"Ah Yun is out of practice?" was Liu Yao’s teasing comment as he slid his fingers through the long silky strands that he had lifted and pulled to the side to give him better access to the creamy fairness hidden underneath. Yan Zheyun didn’t have to be able to see himself to know what he must look like. He could feel his body burning in the places Liu Yao had lavished his attention on, a haziness blurring his vision as he tried his best to focus on the piece he was performing—what was he performing again?
He wasn’t really out of practice, he was just—
Liu Yao was playing dirty. His hand had slipped around to Yan Zheyun’s front a while ago—just as Yan Zheyun was attempting to flick his fingers out in a series of quick triplets that would mimic a horse’s gallop—and it now splayed over Yan Zheyun’s abdomen with a firm, suggestive weight that was impossible to ignore. And yet, whenever Yan Zheyun capitulated and chased after his touch, relaxing his posture for even a split second, he would chuckle and admonish with a gentle, "Focus, Ah Yun."
Focus, Yan Zheyun’s ass. If this wasn’t a deliberate attempt to drive Yan Zheyun crazy with lust, Yan Zheyun would give up his family name.
"Your Majesty is the one who needs to pay more attention," Yan Zheyun managed to say, purposely referring to Liu Yao by title to show his ’displeasure’.
Or maybe he was flirting back, pushing the limits, trying to see what Liu Yao would do with his deliberate decision to go against what Liu Yao wanted, even if it wasn’t an imperial command, per se...
Was it an imperial command? Or just a preference from a lover who wished to be on closer terms? Except said lover just so happened to be an emperor...
It was impossible to think with Liu Yao sucking light bruises onto the slope of his shoulder like that—and when had his robes come loose?
"This sovereign has never paid more attention," Liu Yao murmured. The vibrations from his speech travelled through Yan Zheyun’s sensitive skin and deep into his being like Liu Yao was trying to etch himself there irreversibly. "The exact shade of Ah Yun’s blush, the way Ah Yun’s body trembles when I do this—" he slid his hand a bit lower until it settled right above where Yan Zheyun’s robes had a faint but unmistakable tent and Yan Zheyun couldn’t bite back an unbidden gasp.
"Shh, don’t stop playing, I’m enjoying the music."
I’ll show you ’enjoying the music’, Yan Zheyun thought uncharitably, but as though in a trance, Yan Zheyun found himself complying, as though his hands had a will of their own. Liu Yao let out a pleased hum, tucking his chin into the crook of Yan Zheyun’s neck as he let go of Yan Zheyun’s hair, letting it cascade down that slender back again. He ran his free hand down Yan Zheyun’s arm before long fingers encircled a pale wrist, Liu Yao’s thumb tracing the lines of the faint veins that lead to Yan Zheyun’s hand idly.
"I didn’t like the way her bracelet looked on you," Yan Zheyun heard Liu Yao breathe out, quiet like an afterthought, as though he was just musing lightly about something inconsequential. But his grip had tightened hard enough to lift Yan Zheyun’s hand from the string, and although Liu Yao seemed to notice that he was being an inconsiderate concert patron and let go right after, it was impossible for Yan Zheyun to miss his slip.
"I won’t have to wear it again," he replied simply. And then, to reassure, he added, "I don’t even like bracelets."
Liu Yao’s hum was contemplative. "Ah Yun dislikes bracelets? How about something else?"
Before Yan Zheyun could make a suspicious inquiry as to what exactly Liu Yao had in mind, the emperor reminded him to continue playing. He had no choice but to comply, even if he was slowly but steadily losing the ability to concentrate, the song unfurling at a touch of his fingertips coming from a muscle memory ingrained so deep within him he didn’t even have the presence of mind to recognise it anymore.
"When did you first pick up this bad habit?" Liu Yao’s index finger tapped against a fluttering pulse, keeping time for Yan Zheyun in an utterly distracting way. "Ah Yun’s left hand floats like a butterfly over the strings with a lot of artistic flair but..."
"Very little pragmatism," Yan Zheyun finished for him. He shrugged, jostling Liu Yao with the gesture and earning himself an indulgent nuzzle on one temple. "I don’t remember. Very young?" For as long as his memories went back, his teacher had said that his left hand had too much ’character’ and that his fondness for the aesthetics of his performance meant that he was in danger of compromising on accuracy.
Yan Zheyun had made up for it by practising harder, until the scores were ingrained into his brain, his hands flying of their own accord over the instrument without him having to think about it. Perhaps he had been uncharacteristically stubborn about his playing style but it was uniquely his.
For some reason, that had felt very important.
"You said you didn’t mind."
"I don’t."
Yan Zheyun suddenly recalled something else that Liu Yao had said and he turned his head slightly to meet Liu Yao’s eyes, a wry smile forming as he tilted his chin up with playful defiance.
"Yan Yun was informed that Your Majesty didn’t keep guqins in Qianqing Palace," he mocked lightly.
Liu Yao chuckled against the curve of Yan Zheyun’s cheek, then, as though deciding the skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he pressed a sloppy kiss against it. "Ah Yun bears such long grudges," he sighed but there was no heat to his words, which were heavy with a lazy fondness.
"It’s only been a couple of months."
Liu Yao sighed again, quieter this time. "Has it? It feels like I’ve known you for an eternity now."
Yan Zheyun fell silent. Liu Yao had voiced his inner thoughts. An uncanny feeling had persisted ever since their serendipitous meeting in front of that painting back when Yan Zheyun had been nothing more than a slave and Liu Yao had been nothing more than just handsome, stern Young Master Huang. Young Master Huang, whom Yan Zheyun had assumed unattainable but not nearly as unattainable as the Son of Heaven himself.
And yet, here they were.
It was funny the way the world worked.
"Ah Yun." Liu Yao’s voice had gone rough with desire, the innate gentlemanly restraint he seemed to clothe himself in as part and parcel of his imperial dignity fraying at the edges before coming undone when Yan Zheyun closed his eyes obediently and tilted his chin up for a kiss.
Through the fog of lust that thickened in Yan Zheyun’s mind, he could vaguely feel Liu Yao rising abruptly from his seat and a small part of him yearned to protest when he heard a loud clattering of wood on stone when the guqin tumbled off the table. There should have been pain too because his knee had knocked into something solid, but Liu Yao palmed at the sharp juts of his hipbones through the thin fabric of his casual robes and Yan Zheyun’s attention became sorely limited after that.
He didn’t know how they made it back into the bedchambers or whether any of the servants had been around to see Liu Yao push him up against the wall, so violently that if his shoulder blades really were ’pipas’ like their literary description compared them to, they would have snapped into two.
Asking Liu Yao just what it was about Yan Zheyun that he liked was too much of a 21st-century question for Yan Zheyun to voice, even though the need to know the answer niggled at him and he knew that it would only grow with time. But there were some liberties that couldn’t be taken without spoiling the mood.
Making out aimlessly like horny teenagers on a corridor that would be a national heritage in the 21st century was a satisfying alternative though.
When at last he hit the soft silk covers, hair fanning out around his face like the waves of the sea at night, he gazed up at the man who hovered over him, giddy with the realisation that this was the first time Liu Yao had initiated the intimacy between them, and let his legs fall open in silent invitation.
This sensation of submission was...more embarrassing than he would like to admit, the foreignness not unpleasant but—but so difficult for him to swallow his pride and just acknowledge—and so he squeezed his eyes shut and missed the way Liu Yao’s eyes darkened, his gaze hot and predatory as it took in the sight before him.
"At Liu Wei’s birthday banquet..." He punctuated each word with a small, pointed bite, nipping and sucking against the long line of Yan Zheyun’s clavicle and feeling Yan Zheyun’s breath hitch in his throat with a sense of satisfaction.
"W-what about—?" Yan Zheyun managed to gasp out, one hand flying up to tangle in Liu Yao’s hair as the fingers of the other twisted the sheets underneath. He tried his best to sound calm but couldn’t help the slight wavering note at the end of his question when Liu Yao flicked his tongue against the nub his mouth now covered. He didn’t realise he arched his back to chase the electrifying pleasure that the wet hot pressure against the hard nub but the action didn’t go unnoticed by Liu Yao, who laved a long glistening trail down to dip into Yan Zheyun’s navel, noting when the faint muscles beneath the smooth abdomen he was lavishing his attention on contracted beneath the firm weight of his tongue.
Sensitive. It felt like every part of Yan Zheyun’s being was slowly but surely being infiltrated by Liu Yao, the heat of his touch, the scent of his skin, all of it leaving an irreversible mark behind.
"Every single man present that night had his eyes on you," Liu Yao muttered. His tone was still deceptively gentle as he toyed with the sash of Yan Zheyun’s robe, which was making a last valiant attempt to hold everything in place. But the atmosphere had shifted somewhat, Yan Zheyun could sense. Beneath Liu Yao’s flippancy was something dark and predatory, a possessiveness that was more intense than Yan Zheyun had anticipated. It was less reminiscent of the rational emperor that Yan Zheyun knew Liu Yao was and bore a stronger resemblance to the extremeness of the scumbag gongs that infested the novel.
Yan Zheyun wasn’t sure what had occurred to cause this shift in Liu Yao’s attitude towards him but he didn’t let his confusion show. Did it matter? Not really. As long as the mutual respect remained, as long as Liu Yao’s response to his jealous thoughts didn’t ruin the both of them, Yan Zheyun found that he didn’t mind.
Who didn’t wish to be desired by the object of their desires, after all?
"They might have had their eyes on me," Yan Zheyun responded after a moment’s delay. Under Liu Yao’s ministrations, he was languid with a pleasure that left him feeling boneless, his head tilted to one side to allow Liu Yao more access to the neck that he seemed to have a fixation on, his hips stuttering upwards as Liu Yao pressed a heel firmly against the bulge of his aching cock.
He felt Liu Yao stiffen with displeasure at his words and reached up to cup Liu Yao’s cheek in a comforting gesture, much like how an older brother might tease a younger child—he failed to realise the irony of it, was too far lost in his enjoyment of the moment to see the way Liu Yao’s eyes widened ever so slightly—before pulling Liu Yao down for a kiss.
"But all they saw was layers upon layers of dance robes and a golden mask." He finished the rest of his sentence against Liu Yao’s jaw before reaching between the tight press of their bodies to undo his sash himself, pushing Liu Yao back a fraction so he had enough space to part the folds of his robes and unveil his body.
It was nothing that Liu Yao hadn’t seen before and...and yet it felt different now, the genuine wish to offer himself up making this gesture feel far more monumental than fingering himself in the bath in preparation for a penetration that had never happened did.
But when it came to sincerity, once Yan Zheyun set all the acting aside and chose to bare his emotions upfront, expressing himself became a lot more awkward. He wasn’t sure if his cheeks would ever lose their pink tinge again, had no idea when he would move past the embarrassed phase and into shameless ’old couple’ interactions with Liu Yao. Liu Yao was still watching him, listening to him, and Yan Zheyun couldn’t bring himself to say anything mushy at this point because he was one careless kindling away from combusting, so he threw an arm over his eyes and mumbled, "All yours, Your Majesty."
All his.
Summer really must be upon them. Liu Yao’s embrace was like a sudden storm, escalating without warning, the thundering of their hearts echoing through Yan Zheyun’s veins in tandem as Liu Yao consumed him with a fervency to his passion that overwhelmed Yan Zheyun’s senses. It felt like Liu Yao was everywhere at once, inside, above, his mouth plundering Yan Zheyun’s lips hard enough to bruise, his fingers leaving imprints on the thinner parts of Yan Zheyun’s skin, such as his wrists and hips and the supple flesh of his upper thigh, which would purple by the time dawn rolled around.
He rolled over onto his stomach when Liu Yao coaxed him to, head pillowed on his arms as he felt Liu Yao’s knees nudge his legs further apart, a shameful excitement flooding him when he realised what he must look like, hips raised high in the air for Liu Yao’s convenience, the most private parts of his body on full display. There was just enough glow from the dim candlelight for Yan Zheyun to make out the detailed embroidery on the silks that were now damp with his sweat and clinging to his skin. Thus, it stood to reason that Liu Yao could also see—and feel—everything, from how Yan Zheyun gave a full-body shudder when Liu Yao spread his cheeks further for a better look at the small opening nestled within to how his hole fluttered against the first slick press of Liu Yao’s finger past the tight rim.
"I can’t tell if you’re trying to push me out or suck me in." Liu Yao’s voice was hoarse, his words pressed in the dip between Yan Zheyun’s slight shoulders as he eased his finger deeper into that tight heat, eliciting a quiet keen from below him as Yan Zheyun failed to hold back the sounds falling from his lips.
Yan Zheyun wasn’t a stranger to being fingered open. Even the smell of peaches was familiar, the same expensive ointment that was used as a lubricant in this era that indulged in the practice of physical love between men. But Liu Yao’s fingers were thicker than his, longer, and seemed to brush against places that he couldn’t reach, sending jolts of lust pooling with a dichotomous mix of pleasure and discomfort in his groin. His cock stood proud against his stomach, not quite the same formidable length and girth as Liu Yao’s but at full attention nonetheless, and he tried to rut against the sheets underneath to generate more friction but a small burst of pain against the fullness of his ass forced a startled, incredulous gasp from him.
Liu Yao...had...spanked him?
As though predicting that Yan Zheyun would have a lot to say about that, Liu Yao reached over and took Yan Zheyun in one huge, calloused hand, giving him a long, firm stroke.
"Ah Yun said he’s mine earlier." Yan Zhyun faintly caught Liu Yao’s words, which were tinged with a smugness that indicated he was feeling rather pleased with himself. "No touching what’s mine."
Yan Zheyun was in no state of mind to refute that.
It didn’t take long to reduce him to a rambling, incoherent mess. Liu Yao seemed insistent on milking him dry, ignoring Yan Zheyun’s plaintive cries that he was close and sending him over the edge with another twist of his wrist, matter-of-fact like this hand of his that Yan Zheyun was spilling his come into wasn’t the same one that held a brush and wrote down decrees that could shake the nation. He was well-stretched too, could feel an easier give whenever Liu Yao’s fingers—and at some point, he had started taking three at a time—thrust back in, never missing the bundle of nerves that blindsided Yan Zheyun with pleasure whenever it was hit.
"E-enough," Yan Zheyun panted out, struggling to turn his head to meet Liu Yao’s eyes before abandoning the attempt when Liu Yao found that spot again and Yan Zheyun hovered on the cusp of over-stimulation, feeling like everything was too much at once but also just not enough to send him over the edge once more. "Come in, I want—"
Liu Yao’s heartbeat quickened. Yan Zheyun knew this because he could feel it racing against the skin of his back from where Liu Yao’s chest lay against it, his breathing turning ragged and heavy as he pressed his face fiercely into the crook of Yan Zheyun’s neck like he wanted to weld their bodies together.
"Soon," he heard Liu Yao say. "I promised you a marriage, I’ll keep my word—"
A promise? Marriage? What—
But Liu Yao didn’t give him time to puzzle that out.
"Press your thighs together...that’s right, hold them like that for me..."
Slick, wet sounds filled the air behind him but before Yan Zheyun could figure out what was going on, he felt a hot hardness slipping between his legs, so big that it slipped between the groove of his cheeks to rub up against his entrance.
"You feel so good," Liu Yao sighed, and that was all the warning Yan Zheyun had before Liu Yao’s started a punishing pace, hips snapping forward so brutally that Yan Zheyun was shoved into the sheets, pinned down and at the mercy of the man fucking his thighs. He nearly buckled under the force but one firm arm wrapped around his waist to haul him up, hold him in place so that Liu Yao could better take his pleasure from him, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing so loudly in the room that Yan Zheyun was certain everyone on the corridor outside could tell what they were doing.
Although perhaps they could guess from the noises he was making, unable to contain himself as the head of Liu Yao’s cock brushed against the underside of his own with each thrust, reminding him just how huge it was, how full it would make him feel if it just slid into him—
From the point Yan Zheyun’s attempts at speech degenerated into wordless, airy, punched-out ’ah’s and Liu Yao coming in heavy ropes of come against his belly, legs, and the sheets, he lost track of time. All he knew was that Liu Yao had cleaned him up, had wrapped him up in his robes before lifting him and calling for assistance because emperors apparently didn’t see any problems about having others change their semen-stained sheets for them.
"I could feel you clenching against me," Liu Yao murmured into his ear as he cradled Yan Zheyun close. Yan Zheyun could hear the bustling in the background, courtesy of whichever unfortunate maids or eunuchs had to play midnight housekeeping services.
He kept his eyes shut and refused to acknowledge the teasing with a response. He couldn’t even feel bad about ignoring the ruler of the country because exhaustion weighed his eyelids down. He had heard his young master friends boast about ’fucking so-and-so’s brains out in a hotel room the night before’ multiple times but he had always thought it was an exaggeration, a bit of hyperbole born of young male machismo.
He knew it was possible now. Even sleeping until noon wasn’t enough to help him recover brain function, and it was only after lazing around Qianqing Palace and being pampered by servants the rest of the day before crawling into bed with Liu Yao at night that he suddenly remembered...
’Promise’. ’A marriage’.
And, most terrifyingly...
How did he play an entire song on the guqin yesterday without hearing it before?
