The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]

Chapter 307: Chapter 307 - On his knees *

The fingers moved slowly — down the crease, back up, mapping him like a man learning terrain. Jian shifted his stance wider without being asked and felt Xing Yu’s approval in the kiss he pressed to the back of his neck, open-mouthed, teeth grazing the knob of his spine.

Then his fingers parted him.

Jian’s breath caught.

”There,” Xing Yu said, almost to himself.

The pad of one finger circled him. Light. Barely a touch. A slow teasing drag over the rim that made Jian’s hips push back all on their own.

”Xing Yu—”

”Patience.”

”If you say that word one more time—”

The finger pressed in.

Just to the first knuckle. Just enough that Jian felt the stretch, that strange intimate fullness, and a sound came out of him that was half gasp and half moan.

Xing Yu went still behind him.

”Again,” he said.

Jian turned his head to look over his shoulder. ”What?”

”Make that sound again.”

Jian’s face went hot. He turned back to the wall, ears burning — and Xing Yu pressed deeper, and the sound came out again exactly the way he’d wanted it to.

”There,” Xing Yu breathed.

He pulled out slowly and pushed back in, a rhythm so gradual it felt like a personal attack, each pass a little deeper than the last, curling at the end like he was hunting for something. Jian’s hands scrabbled at the wall. His thighs started to shake.

Then Xing Yu added a second finger.

Jian’s back arched so hard his chest left the wall.

”Oh — *oh*—”

Xing Yu pressed his mouth to the space between his shoulder blades and kept going, working him open with the same focus he’d give a battlefield. The stretch burned and then didn’t, easing into a slick heat that made Jian rock back onto his hand without meaning to, chasing it.

”Look at you,” Xing Yu said softly.

”Stop fucking narrating everything.”

”You’re taking it so well.”

”Xing Yu!”

”Yes?”

Jian’s voice came out wrecked. ”More.”

Xing Yu obliged. His fingers crooked, searching, and found the place that made Jian’s vision go white at the edges.

Jian’s cry bounced off the walls.

Xing Yu paused. Then deliberately did it again.

”That’s it,” he murmured. ”Right there.”

Jian had gone boneless. He was sagging into the wall, held up mostly by Xing Yu’s other arm banded across his stomach, and Xing Yu just kept pressing that spot, slow and steady, until Jian’s whole body was strung tight as a bowstring.

”I’m—” he gasped. ”Xing Yu, I’m going to—”

”Not yet.”

”*Why*—”

Xing Yu pulled his fingers out.

Jian made a sound of genuine betrayal.

Then Xing Yu turned him by the shoulders, bent, and lifted him — *lifted* him, like he weighed nothing — and carried him the few steps to the bed. He set him down on the edge and knelt on the floor between his knees.

Jian stared down at him.

A Farian general. The most feared man on two planets. On his knees on a bedroom floor, between his thighs.

”You’re—” Jian started.

Xing Yu pushed his legs wider and lowered his head.

The first flat drag of his tongue made Jian’s hands fly into his hair again.

He was thorough here too, of course. He was thorough about everything. He licked him open with long, wet strokes, then pressed the tip of his tongue in, and Jian’s hips jerked off the mattress and had to be pinned down by two strong hands. Xing Yu worked him like that until Jian was trembling, then slid one finger back inside alongside his tongue, and the combination of stretch and wet heat pulled a long, broken moan out of him.

”Fuck—”

Xing Yu hummed against him.

Jian’s eyes rolled back.

He lasted longer than expected, mostly because Xing Yu kept pulling off at the last second like a man who’d decided to make tonight last. Every time Jian got close, the mouth would ease back to a lazy drag, gentling him down, and Jian would groan his frustration at the ceiling.

”You’re doing this on purpose.”

A warm laugh against oversensitive skin.

”Yes.”

Finally — finally — Xing Yu crooked his finger onto that spot and sealed his mouth over him at the same time, and that was it. Jian came with Xing Yu’s name in his mouth and both hands fisted in his hair, back bowing off the bed, held down and held steady and completely undone.

Xing Yu stayed with him through all of it, tongue gentling him down through the aftershocks, until Jian was twitching and over-warm and had to push weakly at his head.

Only then did he sit back on his heels.

His mouth was wet. His hair was wrecked. His eyes were soft in a way Jian had never seen.

Jian flopped back onto the mattress, chest heaving.

”Okay,” he managed.

”Okay?”

”Okay. Farians. Fine. Worth the wait.”

Xing Yu smiled and climbed onto the bed beside him, and Jian immediately rolled into him, tucking his face into his shoulder, one leg thrown over both of his.

”But,” Jian mumbled into his skin.

”But?”

”Next time.” He tilted his head back just enough to look up at him, still flushed, still breathing hard, and let his hand slide down Xing Yu’s stomach — low, deliberate, fingers brushing the hard line of him that had gone entirely unattended. ”Next time, no stopping. And no leaving you like this.”

Xing Yu’s breath caught for the first time all night.

”That,” he said quietly, ”is a threat.”

”That’s a promise.” Jian wrapped his fingers loosely around him and squeezed once, just to watch his jaw tighten. ”I’ve waited five years, General. I plan to be *thorough*.”

Xing Yu’s arm came around him and pulled him in tight.

”Next time,” he agreed.

Outside, the celebration lights of the capital pulsed faintly through the leaves, the whole planet still awake and glad. Inside, the room had gone quiet except for two people breathing.

Jian was asleep within minutes, one hand still loosely curled where it had no business being.

Xing Yu stayed awake a while longer, moving his fingers slowly through Jian’s hair, watching him like a man counting something he’d been afraid he’d lost.