”…and—and—he’s just like—that!” Jin Zixun finished with feeling, waving his cup in a wide arc. The pale pink wine spilled over the rim and on his hand and into his sleeve, dyeing the golden fabric a weird pinkish orange.
”I know,” Su Minshan said with a solemn nod. He poured more wine into Zixun’s cup before filling his own cup, then saluted with it. ”Here’s to our mutual suffering,” he said.
They drank.
In all honesty, Zixun wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this particular establishment and with this particular company. The inn was on a more modest side—not what Zixun would usually visit, especially when traveling with his uncle—but it was clean and the wine was okay. And the serving girls weren’t too ugly to look at.
”I just can’t understand what makes him so special,” Su Minshan said, frowning into his cup.
”Yeah,” Zixun agreed.
”For sure, the background is a factor, as is a sharp mind and the core and such, but…” he shook his head.
”And it’s not like his core is that strong,” Zixun added.
”Mn,” Su Minshan said with another solemn nod and squinted at the bottle. ”And, like, looking down on people is bad. Espshe—esphe—ah, es-spe-cial-ly when you claim to be righteous and pro justice and such.”
”But also, just prancing around and showing off,” Zixun said.
”That,” Su Minshan agreed.
The bottle was empty, which was rude because the wine, albeit weird-colored, imported stuff, was good. Zixun hailed the server to bring another bottle.
” ’Sides, ’snot like either of them has est-tab-liss-shed their own sect,” Su Minshan said, walking carefully around the longer word. ”Which I have.”
”Good for you!” Zixun said, raising a toast.
Su Minshan was Guangyao’s friend and usually didn’t bother mingling with the other Jin, but apparently their shared hatred for that Wei and Hanguang-jun was enough to build a rapport. And if Zixun was honest (which he usually didn’t care to be), he didn’t have a wide selection of drinking buddies to choose from. Zixuan was mooning over the wan and limpid Lady Jiang and therefore completely useless, and Zixun’s own group of acquaintances was…eh. He didn’t feel like spending time with them.
And Su Minshan was okay.
They kept on drinking and talking, and as the night wore on, the world around them got increasingly hazy. At some point, they ended up leaning against each other, and then Zixun realized his hand was on Su Minshan’s thigh.
High on Su Minshan’s thigh.
”Um,” he said.
Su Minshan lolled his head on Zixun’s shoulder, and the move made his neck seem long and elegant. Zixun had a sudden urge to kiss it.
…wait, what?
”Your hand is hot,” Su Minshan muttered. ”I like it.”
”I want to fuck you,” Zixun’s mouth said while his mind screeched to a sudden halt.
The inn happened to have a room available, and somehow they managed their way up there. Zixun’s head was spinning and he was almost sure he was going to be sick, but at the same time, he was so hard it hurt. He’d never—he wasn’t a cutsleeve!—but he’d spied glances at other men, sickeningly fascinated by their bodies and the way their cocks were similar and so different from his own.
Su Minshan was yanking his robes off while walking backward, and Zixun zeroed in on his skin and muscles and—oh, the hard line of his cock. He squeezed it, and Su Minshan shuddered to a halt, letting out a whispery moan that morphed into a whimper as Zixun added a bit more pressure. His own cock was throbbing in the confines of his clothes, which made him tear his hands away from Su Minshan to get undressed. He dropped his robes on the floor without looking and kicked off his trousers, almost tripping over his own feet when he forgot about his shoes.
Su Minshan let out a small sound when the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he dropped to sit down almost absent-mindedly, his eyes on Zixun’s cock. When he reached out his hand, it was like a pull that forced Zixun to stumble forward until his cock was in Su Minshan’s hand.
”So much softer than I thought,” Su Minshan breathed, leaning forward to rub his cheek on Zixun’s cockhead.
It was obscene.
It was fucking amazing.
None of the whores he’d slept with had treated his cock like it was their favorite thing, like they wanted to imprint on it like a cat in heat. Zixun wanted to rub his cock all over Su Minshan’s lips, push it into his mouth, and come on his face. The thought made his cock twitch and his hips jerk forward, startling Su Minshan from his reverie.
”I want—” he said, and took Zixun in his mouth. He gagged almost immediately and ended up licking along the shaft instead, slobbering saliva all over Zixun’s cock, making it slick and glistening.
Zixun swallowed.
”Turn around,” he said, jerking his head at the bed. His voice came out in a hoarse croak, and in some other situation, he might’ve been embarrassed. Now he was just getting light-headed and feverish as Su Minshan scooted back on the bed before turning around and getting all fours.
There was no fucking way he was going to fit in.
His hand shook as he reached out to cup Su Minshan’s buttock, letting his thumb grace along the edge of his hole. It twitched, contracting a couple of times, and then Su Minshan let his back arch lower, making his backside almost like an offering. His cock hung heavy between his legs, and Zixun let his other hand cup it, giving it a couple of tugs. It leaked into his hand; thick globs of precome, and he swiped it across his hole. The sight made something in him curl up in disgust, and yet he was mesmerized, leaning forward as he pressed his thumbs in, pushing the precome in. The inside was pink and hot and tight and still way too fucking small.
Zixun gathered saliva in his mouth and spat into the hole. Once, twice, thrice. Each glistening glob of spit made him shiver and his cock throb and he had to take himself in hand to stroke himself a couple of times.
And then he put a knee on the bed and pushed in.
It was insanely tight. He watched, wide-eyed, as his cockhead pressed against his thumb, stretching Su Minshan’s hole open a bit, and just as he thought he’d just give it up and use his mouth (what? No!) instead, the head popped in. Zixun let out a hiss and kept pushing, giving himself a moment to adjust to the pressure and heat.
Then he grabbed Su Minshan’s hips and slammed all the way in.
It took no time at all to lose himself in the sensation, and then he was fucking with abandon, letting out a grunt every time his hips hit Su Minshan’s behind. Su Minshan was panting, but Zixun neither knew nor cared if it was because of pain or pleasure. This was the best fuck he’d had in his life—he didn’t have to think about how much force he used (not that he really spared it a thought in the first place) because he was fucking a man, a cultivator, who could take everything he had to give.
And he did.
When his knee slipped, he backed up a bit to get better leverage, which changed the angle slightly. The next time he fucked in, Su Minshan let out a garbled yell, and then he started moaning, high, breathy sounds and incoherent words that meant nothing to Zixun—that is, until Su Minshan started to tremble and then seized up with a wail.
”Fuck,” Zixun choked and started thrusting wildly, letting out a grunt each time he slammed in. After only a handful of thrusts, he yanked Su Minshan close in a vice grip and came so hard his legs nearly gave out.
When they actually did give out, he let go of Su Minshan’s hips and took a swaying step back, watching with sick fascination as his softening cock slipped out, leaving the hole gaping slightly and leaking come. With absolutely zero coordination of his limbs, Zixun slid to sit on the floor and leaned his head back on the bed.
Next to him, Su Minshan was a shivering, incoherent mess. He’d collapsed on the bed with his chest and head smushed into a pillow, ass up. His cock was still semi-hard, and like in a trance, Zixun leaned over and took it in hand. It was hot and silky (and yes, as Su Minshan had earlier said, so much softer than he’d thought), and Zixun could feel Su Minshan’s pulse thundering within it. A bright bead of come dangled from the head and Zixun caught it with a finger and brought it into his mouth, making face at the taste. It still made him want to be sick, but the feverish want was still throbbing in him, pushing him to do things he’d never otherwise even think about.
That’s what he told himself when he pushed himself on his knees, toppled Su Minshan over, and took his cock into his mouth. It fit in there nicely; a warm, twitching, solid mouthful. He bobbed his head, tried sucking a bit, then swallowed; it earned him a hiss and whine from Su Minshan, who tried to wriggle away.
”Too much,” he mumbled. ”Too…too much.”
There was something exhilarating about it, having another man twitching under him, trying to get away from the stimulation. Zixun smiled around Su Minshan’s cock, pressed his forearms on his hipbones, and locked him in place.
He wanted to test this out, and he didn’t give a fuck if Su Minshan didn’t like it.
It didn’t take long for Su Minshan to start trashing and clawing at Zixun’s hands as he first forced his cock back into hardness and then sucked him until he convulsed and came with a thin wail. By then, Zixun was back to hardness, so he stood up, spat Su Minshan’s spend into his hand, and then fucked into it hard and fast until he orgasmed again, splattering his come on Su Minshan’s twitching body.
And then, thoroughly spent, Zixun crawled on the bed, and passed out.
He woke up to a raging hangover. It took him a moment to come back to himself, to figure out where he was and why. When he did, he barely managed to lean over the bed before he threw up.
”I’m never drinking that shit again,” he muttered, slumping back on the bed.
”Mn,” a (regrettably) familiar voice said from the other side of the room.
Startled, Zixun let out a small yelp and sat up, clutching a sheet on his chest. Su Minshan was sitting at the table, drinking something from a cup. He was already dressed, his hair done, no indication of what had happened the night before.
”I’m not a cutsleeve—!” Zixun stammered, something hot and ugly and nothing resembling arousal rising in him. ”It was the drink. The foreign, pink wine.”
”Neither am I,” Su Minshan snapped, two bright red blotches high on his cheeks. ”And we’ll never talk about this.”
”Deal,” Zixun said.
”Deal.” Su Minshan echoed. He cleared his throat, straightened his lapels, and stood up. ”Good day, Jin Zixun,” he said before hurrying out.
Zixun let out a long breath and flopped back on the bed.
Fuck.
He’d need to bribe the staff to keep their mouths shut. Not a word of this…disgrace could reach his uncle. Fuck. And he needed a bath because there was another man’s spend on him and it was already itching.
Fuck.
At least most of Jinlintai—and especially Guangyao—was busy planning the 100th day celebration for Zixuan’s whelp. It would keep them too occupied to notice if Zixun wasn’t feeling all himself, recovering from the effects of that weird imported alcohol.
Because that’s what this was. A drunk mistake. Nothing more.