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Chapter Text

“Do you even know what kind of danger you were in? How could you be so stupid?”

The Envoy’s voice is bitter and full of reprimand, but Zhao Yunlan barely listens to his scolding. He’s too busy shutting the blinds in his office, ensuring no one outside will see what’s about to go down. He bites his lip to hide his smile. He doesn’t want to piss off Lord Black Cloak any more than he already is—though, if he thinks about it, he wouldn’t mind if the Envoy was rougher than anticipated. 

At first, he didn’t understand what had him in such a fit of anger. It had been a normal case, well, as normal as their cases were. The Dixingren had a specific ability that enabled her to allure and enchant, and once she was able to seduce, she would strike, sucking the life force from her victims like a vicious, sexy vampire. 

Kinky. 

As they discussed who would be bait, of course, Zhao Yunlan would offer himself to such a vulnerable position. Yes, he was willing to sacrifice himself for his team at a moment’s notice; he was just that great of a leader. In no way was this tied to his curiosity about what it would be like to actually die from sex. For it to be so good that you have a death-orgasm—he remembers being told once that the French word for orgasm means “little death.” Needless to say he’s intrigued. 

And who can blame him? Zhao has been pining hopelessly after a certain professor who he doubts even lusts after him let alone actually sees him as a possible partner. If Zhao is so goddamn horny that he’s willing to get his life force temporarily sucked then who dares to stop him?

His interest was no doubt worrying to everyone on the team, except for one member who seemed downright enraged and had arrived shortly after Zhao engaged with the target. The Envoy appeared from his vortex in the alley where Zhao was getting kissed within an inch of his life—literally—and ripped the gorgeous cold-blooded Dixingren from his arms, immediately dragging him into the ominous black void only to appear inside Zhao’s office. 

It took him a moment to piece together what had the Cloaked Envoy so furious, and for the sake of his hard dick, he prays he’s not wrong. 

“There.” He says as he closes the last section of shades. He stalks toward the door and locks it. The click is loud and it interrupts the Envoy’s rant. The silence is deafening. 

He hears footsteps then feels the Envoy’s presence behind him, electrifying and heady. Zhao swallows, trying to compose himself as the Envoy’s hand grips his shoulder, spinning and pressing him against the door, crowding against him with an incredulous gaze. 

“Are you even listening?”

Zhao licks his lips, watching those dark, hooded eyes beneath the mask track his teasing tongue. This is as close as he’s ever been to the Envoy and the thrill at his body pressed snuggly against his own makes him want with a ferocity that is unknown to himself. 

“Maybe Lord Black Cloak should teach me a lesson.” He murmurs, distracted by the hand now gripping his waist in a tight hold. 

“I think your near-death should’ve been enough of a lesson.” The Envoy breathes. 

“I don’t know,” He drawls, he drops his gaze, surveying the length of the Envoy’s cloaked body before he reaches his eyes once more; the Envoy’s gaze is incredibly dark with a heat so palpable Zhao feels scorched from the inside out. “I think I need to be punished.” The Envoy’s sharp intake of breath emboldens him. “I think you should fuck me until I can’t walk, so every time I try to do something reckless, I can think of nothing but your large co—”

The breath escapes his lungs as the Envoy’s mouth meets his, a firm pressure coaxing his lips to open so the Envoy can tease and lick into him.  He is grounded by the gravity of the Envoy’s kisses; everything around him floats, weightless and suspended. His sole existence is tied to where their mouths meet. 

The Envoy drags kisses from his mouth to his jaw. He kisses with an intensity that makes Zhao feel claimed, mapping out the things that belong to him with each press of his mouth, licking and sucking wherever he pleases, wherever his mouth lands. Zhao clutches at the Envoy’s shoulders, fingers squeezing the fabric, as he sucks a mark against his neck. The barely-there trace of teeth and tongue as he swallows around the raised skin makes a shiver race up Zhao’s spine. 

“Be careful what you ask for,” the Envoy breathes against his cheek. 

The Envoy spins him around, presses against his back. Teasing fingers trace the seam of his crotch. His cock hardens even more and he arches into the feather-light pressure, aching with an unquenchable heat. Deft fingers unzip his jeans, sliding his pants and boxers down, and Zhao watches them fall to his feet, momentarily distracted by the charged atmosphere and the tickling breath of the Envoy behind him. He gulps as he feels fingers linger by his hips before a hand grips his cock, squeezing from root to tip. Zhao moans loud before biting his lip. The hand leaves too soon and a command is given.

“Let me hear you.” The Envoy’s voice is rough with lust. He snaps his fingers and a subdued silence settles over them. Zhao can hear no sounds from outside the door, so he assumes they won’t be able to hear them either. He’s giddy with anticipation and the intimacy of the Envoy’s heated touches as he sinks to his knees behind him.

The first wet brush of tongue has Zhao grasping the door frame with a shaky grasp. He never would have thought the Envoy would be so shameless, lick at and tease and touch his most intimate place, but fuck the way he licks into him as if he’s a treasure to be discovered as if he’s unraveling something precious and previously lost to him, something he’s devoted his whole life to find; it leaves Zhao breathless.

“Lor—ah—Lord Black—fuck.” He can’t think of anything but the blossoming bliss uprooting his very being, leaving him weightless, buoyed only by the Envoy’s steady hands. A finger eases past his rim and he arches into it, greedy for more. 

There’s something about the Envoy that undoes something in him. Others find his presence unsettling and often disturbing. He’s a formidable force with immense power. Zhao doesn’t find himself quaking beneath it though, despite the shaking of his unsteady legs. He feels at peace with his touches, falls apart safely in his arms without any reluctance or fear. He doesn’t know what the Envoy wants from him, but he is happy to receive it. Anything , he thinks, give me anything. 

“I’ll give you everything.” 

He hadn’t realized that he moaned his helpless plea out-loud, but the Envoy sounds wrecked from it as if he’s on the cusp of losing all control. He thrusts two more fingers, slick with lube, into Zhao’s tight heat, and Zhao gasps against the bright pain mixed with the building, heated pleasure.

He’s never been this needy in bed, never so desperate. His past relationships have been a slew of one-night stands, mostly with women and sometimes with the occasional man, but he was always the one who instigated things, took the lead, helped them fall apart. Sure, he came almost every time, but he’s never experienced the shocking vulnerability, like static across his skin, raising goosebumps in its wake despite the heat enveloping him. 

The Envoy lines his cock up to Zhao’s entrance. The folds of the cloak are cool against his flushed skin. Looking over his shoulder, he nearly whines at the hunger he sees in the Envoy’s gaze. His dark eyes are coal-black, surrounded by a thin ring of white, and his hand has a strangling hold on his hip as he eases into Zhao with a deliberate efficiency, purposeful and surging with unbridled energy that splits Zhao open, pre-cum budding at the tip of his dick. He thinks he could come right now if the Envoy simply commanded him to. 

“Fuck,” he groans. The unhurried slide of the Envoy’s dick sends a thrill through his being and he dares to press against the welcome intrusion, inching him deeper, but his movements are halted by the Envoy’s iron grip as he growls and slams into him completely, shocking the breath from his lungs.

Zhao braces himself against the door. His nails dig into the frame. He desperately tries to catch his breath, dizzy with the buzzing in his skull and the liquid magma pooling in his gut. Before he’s fully recovered, before he’s fully ready, the Cloaked Envoy slides out of him, leaving just the tip at his entrance. 

“Is that all you’ve got, Lord Envoy? I didn’t realize you had such low stam—fuck!” 

The Envoy’s hips snap forward, sliding into him then pulling out only to ram into him so slow and so deep. Again and again. It’s too much and not enough. Zhao wanted punishment, but god this is torture in the best way. He wants to come from this alone but Zhao fears he’ll die before then.

He feels a smirk against his neck as the Envoy’s dick slams back into him, pressing against the place that has him gasping at the stars dancing in his vision. 

“Fuck me harder. Make me feel it for days.” Zhao moans, beyond overstimulated, intoxicated on the heady high that envelops his brain; it makes him babble nonsense as he rides out the burning waves cascading inside him. 

The Envoy groans with dark promise before ramming into Zhao, thrusting deeper than he had before and nudging, minute presses against his prostate. God, he sounds just as ruined as Zhao feels and an intoxicating thrill settles in his veins at the thought of unraveling the Envoy’s tight grip of control. 

“God, you’re so good to me, making me take it—ah!” He gasps as the Envoy increases his relentless pace, latching his teeth onto his neck and shoulders, finding his sensitive spot white on the left side of his neck. 

Zhao’s moans are long and drawn out, catching in his throat with every slick slide. God, he’s ready to come, he’s been ready for what feels like ages. He reaches for his dick, but dark energy ensnares his wrist and presses his palm against the door. 

“You’ve got to be—!” The complaint dies on his lips because of the exhilarating feel of the dark energy holding him captive. The Envoy’s hand is quick to wrap around his throbbing cock as he thrusts into him with fervor, pumping him toward his climax. 

His hot breath burns sweetly against Zhao’s cheek. “Come for me.” The growling restraint in his voice undoes Zhao and his release is searing and bright, continuous and never-ending as the Envoy plows into him. His vision blurs and he presses all his weight into the door; the dark energy swirling around his hands holds him steady. 

Zhao has come countless times by his own hand as well as others, but never like this, never where he feels like he’s losing all of his insides, limbs becoming jelly-like like he’s entering an abyss so deep and welcoming, and rarely when his partner comes after him, filling him up and easing him through the aftershocks with the gentle rocking of his large cock that has him shuddering, breathing the words, “Let’s do this again,” before passing out. 

He’s drifting, weightless in strong arms. He’s vaguely aware of a wet cloth and return of his boxers and jeans, faintly processes the barely-there press of lips against his own. 

Zhao wonders what Shen Wei’s kisses would taste like. He presumes he’d lick traces of herbal tea maybe even nip a hint of mint from those plush lips. The way Shen Wei presses his pen against them now has Zhao wanting to ensnare his mouth with his own in a devouring kiss. He wonders what it would be like to have that enticing mouth wrapped tight around his—

Shen Wei looks up at him, the corners of his smile soft, and endearing and Zhao adjusts his position, using his coat to cover the bulge forming in his slacks. They’ve been working on this case in Shen Wei’s office for approximately three hours. Another Dixingren has escaped to the surface, one with a similar ability to the previous vampiric woman. 

This new Dixingren can charm with her voice; her sweet melodic soprano enchants and enthralls, and once under her spell, she can command you to do anything she wishes—and her commands involve the suicide of her victims. The ones she chooses to be her victims are alarmingly similar in stature, looks, and disposition to dear Professor Shen, but he doesn’t seem fazed.

His confidence in his own safety is incredulous to Zhao, but he’ll be damned if anything happens to Shen Wei. Hence, the recent, constant need to be near him so that he can prevent this woman from taking another life. Not just any life, but a life that Zhao has come to appreciate and respect. A life he considers to be more important than his own. For reasons he can’t name, he feels that Shen Wei’s continued existence is his responsibility. As if it’s given to him by a higher power, or there’s something between them that is cosmic and destined. 

Zhao knows he sounds insane. He would never voice these feelings to the man before him. But every time he’s near Shen Wei he feels an otherworldly pull to him, an enticing electricity that zips through his being and tethers him to the calm, collected professor. For now, he’s content to study Shen Wei, to learn more about him, befriend him and be a confidant in ways no one else is. The only problem is this: Zhao is a horny bastard.

And the thought of sinking his cock into Shen Wei, enveloping himself in his scent and taste and touch and sound as he fucks him long and hard and good has him breathless and aching in a way he has never felt before. It’s nearly at the front of his mind whenever he gets a brief glimpse of  Shen Wei’s profile. 

“Zhao Yunlan, are you all right?”

Shen Wei’s concerned murmur startles him from his lustful thoughts and he drops his teacup onto this office floor before it skitters to a halt underneath the table near Shen Wei’s feet.

“Fuck, I’m sor—” Zhao stands, moving to Shen Wei’s side only for the professor to drop to his knees and bend over right in front of him, backside up in the air, on perfect display for Zhao to grasp those hips and grind his hardening, clothed cock against his ass, teasing Shen Wei with a heavy palm against the front of his slac—

Shen Wei picks up the empty teacup and stands, straightening out his shirt and pants. Zhao clears his throat and adjusts himself before sitting back down. 

“Not a problem. It didn’t break.” Shen Wei smiles at him, completely innocent and oblivious to his dirty thoughts. Zhao wishes Hell would swallow him whole. 

He doesn’t catch any of Shen Wei’s explanations regarding the case for the next five minutes, he just nods helplessly, laughing to ease the building tension. 

Fuck, he needs to get laid. He makes a hasty excuse then exits with his dignity barely intact. 

Zhao thrusts into the tight circle of his fist, pleasure pools tight and hot in his gut, and he groans against the dueling thoughts in his mind. 

Two nights ago, he was thoroughly fucked senseless by an all-powerful entity that enforces Dixingren law and ensures Earth stays safe, keeping the peace of a war that happened tens of thousands of years ago. 

He gasps at the insanity of it all as he clenches the base of his cock to keep from coming too soon. He wants to make this last. His mind jumps to thoughts of the gorgeous, collected, endearing, intelligent, (did he say a gorgeous) Professor Shen next door who he has come to value as a true friend, but he wants so much of him, needs too much from him.

The cursory glances and longing gazes are so goddamn obvious. He doesn’t understand how Shen Wei hasn’t picked up on his near-constant arousal with the arm he throws around his shoulder, when he gives him his jacket, or the way he sucks his lollipops like they are the professor’s dick, perfect for sucking and licking and teasing and tasting. He curses as he quickens his hand, rubbing a finger along the tip of his cock, arching into the sensitivity as it zaps lightning up his spine. 

With the Envoy, though he’s great at fucking (legitimately superb), Zhao knows there’s no future with him. He’d never get to see behind the mask. 

He can only hope that the searing ache in his chest and the insurmountable yearning that draws him to the enigma that is Shen Wei will guide his steps, lead him to the man he wants to call home. 

He comes thinking of Shen Wei: his soft smile and fluttering eyelashes of just an hour ago as he gazed at the crime scene photos.   

Zhao is furious. He’s seething with a wave of blinding anger that has him gripping the front of Shen Wei’s crisp shirt in trembling fists. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Shen Wei’s eyes widen. They’re coal-black like the night sky, and Zhao feels like he’s been this close to him before, but that’d be impossible. He has been nothing if not respectful when lusting over Shen Wei. Now, though? Now, he doesn’t give two fucks about propriety. 

The Dixingren they had been trying to catch, the one Lin Jing named “Siren,” had almost struck again, stealing another life. Except this time, the victim was nearly Shen Wei and the indescribable fear that coursed through Zhao’s veins, chilling him to the very core at the sight of Shen Wei in his apartment with a blade to his own throat, fuels his inexhaustible fury. He shakes Shen Wei who seems dazed but quickly collects himself. 

“I ran this by you last night. I told you I would use myself as bai—”

“I don’t remember agreeing to any of this!”

Shen Wei sighs, exasperated as if his life wasn’t just taken from him, taken from Zhao. “After you spilled the tea, I suggested—”

Zhao has heard enough; he swallows down the guilt that threatens to overwhelm him—if he had just been listening to Shen Wei instead of wanting to fuck his pretty mouth then he would have been able to stop this before it even happened. His hand rests on the base of Shen Wei’s neck, his fingers tangling in the strands of hair at his nape. Shen Wei stills his movements entirely, gaze locked in Zhao’s darkening eyes. 

“Don’t ever put your life in danger like this again,” Zhao demands, noticing the shudder that travels down Shen Wei’s spine. “I won’t allow you to throw my heart around like this.” 

The logical parts of his mind switch back on, and Zhao swallows thickly, just now realizing how close he is to Shen Wei. An embarrassed flush at his intense display has him speechless, and he begins to loosen his hold, but before he is able to, he’s caught in a searing kiss. He vaguely hears Da Qing give an indignant yelp before slamming the door to Shen Wei’s apartment. The Siren is nowhere to be seen. She disappeared out the window before they could catch her; Zhao had been too preoccupied with removing the wretched blade from Shen Wei’s neck. 

He starts kissing his neck now, trailing his lips down his jaw, sucking on a spot that has Shen Wei grasping at his shoulders and arching into the length of his body. 

“Ku—Yun—ah!” Shen Wei groans and Zhao is dizzy with want. 

He palms Shen Wei through his jeans, a hard pressure that Shen Wei bucks into helplessly. 

“Bed?” Zhao breathes the question against Shen Wei’s neck. 

He nods in response, pulling Zhao into another heated kiss.

They stumble backward in the direction of his bedroom, shedding their clothes, getting tangled in the mess of them, dropping them haphazardly at their feet. They’re both fully naked by the time he pins Shen Wei against his bedroom door and drops to his knees. Shen Wei’s cock is hard and leaking and Zhao’s jaw aches, yearning to have Shen Wei rock himself into his mouth, nudge the back of his throat until he’s gagging, tears spilling from his cheeks. He decides to make his fantasy a reality. 

He teases the head with his tongue, kitten licks that torment and when Shen Wei’s head thuds against the door, his hooded eyes watching, enraptured by Zhao at his feet, Zhao sinks half of him into his mouth.

Shen Wei’s thicker and longer than he expected and his mouth waters at the weight of him on his tongue. He bobs his head at an even, steady pace, using his hand to pump what he can’t quite get into his mouth. 

“Yunlan.” His name is spoken like a desperate prayer, reverence pouring from Shen Wei’s mouth as Zhao worships his cock. 

Zhao eases off his cock and strokes him steadily, squeezing at the base of his cock to permit his impending orgasm. He wants Shen Wei coming down his throat so deep that he’s all he can taste, but before that, he has some things to say. 

“God, do you know how long I wanted this?” He begins, and Shen Wei’s glazed, obsidian eyes beg the answer from him. “Ever since we shook hands, holding longer than what is considered socially acceptable, I wanted you.” 

“Yunlan—” Shen Wei groans, arching into the slick slide of Zhao’s hand. “Wanted you for so—ah—so long.”

Zhao grins against Shen Wei’s hip, tongue and teeth and lips working the skin there, sucking and licking and biting until there’s a purple bruise. Shen Wei responding hiss turns into a needy whine.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that? You’re so well put together and collected, but god does it make me want to unravel the tight hold on your control.” 

He blows on the bruising mark, and Shen Wei shivers, his hands finding purchase in Zhao’s soft strands, guiding Zhao back to his red, leaking cock. 

He tastes the pre-cum budding at the tip, savoring it, and goes down on him once more. He could easily get addicted to tasting Shen Wei, treasuring his whole body, mind, and soul. He’s enthralled by the steady hands in his hair, caressing the base of his neck, and the molten heat in Shen Wei’s eyes. 

He grips Shen Wei’s hips and urges him forward then pressing him back, encouraging him to fuck his mouth raw. Shen Wei’s eyes widen and he grips Zhao’s hair tighter in his grasp. 

Zhao relaxes his jaw and welcomes the first thrust that cuts off his breath and nestles his cock against the back of his throat. He wraps his hand around his own dick, too hard and aching to ignore any longer, as he swallows around Shen Wei, working the head with the back of his throat and meeting his hungry stare. 

On his knees, it’s as if he’s worshipping something holy and divine as if he’s beseeching and pleading for things he can’t name, promising with his entire being without even uttering the vows.

The atmosphere is heady and dizziness settles in his brain like fog. He distantly assumes from the lack of air, but he doesn’t care, only sucks harder and encourages Shen Wei to fuck rougher, pumping his own dicker faster and faster until Shen Wei comes with a breathy shout of, “Ah Lan,” and spills into his mouth. He swallows completely before he pulls off gasping, resting his head against Shen Wei’s hip, feeling hands trace patterns against his temple.

Shen Wei whispers something so familiar that Zhao feels he’s heard it tumble from someone else’s lips in the same fashion, but his mind flutters in and out consciousness as he finally finds his release; it ignites his limbs in a steady fire that burns so sweetly.  

He comes back to reality with his mind still slightly untethered, but he sees Shen Wei’s worried frown and he smiles at him. He wants to tell him to not be anxious, that he wanted all of that and more; he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted Shen Wei, and now that he has, he won’t let him go. 

Shen Wei caresses Zhao’s cheek with an incredulous, “You’re insane,” whispered against his forehead, followed by a gentle kiss. He carries Zhao in his arms like a blushing bride to the bed. Zhao is too wrecked to care, and vaguely registers how fucking sexy it is that Shen Wei can pick him up so easily. 

Shen Wei lays him along one side of the bed, and Zhao registers a damp cloth cleaning up the mess. In its absence he rolls over and opens his arms wide, simply waiting for Shen Wei to return and cuddle within them, no doubt in his mind that he won’t. His smug smile as Shen Wei curls into his embrace earns him a fond, chaste press of lips. 

Sleep beckons him. 

Zhao wakes, blinking against the sunlight that peeks through the window pane. As he recalls last night, a wide grin stretches across his face, pinching his cheeks. He glances over to his side where a still sleeping Shen Wei is cuddled against him, arm around his waist, head resting on his shoulder. 

He brushes the fringe off Shen Wei’s forehead. He never would have thought he’d have this opportunity, to see Shen Wei unguarded by the lingering vestiges of rest, tangled under the covers beside him. A peaceful longing for whatever results from this, as if Zhao knows this isn’t just a one-night fling, warms his chest. 

He leans down to press his lips against Shen Wei’s nose, his cheek, his forehead. When he leans back, Shen Wei’s arms wrap around his neck, bringing their mouths together in a lazy, relaxing kiss that melts him from the inside. He moves to hover over Shen Wei, arms bracketing his head, pressing against the pillows, and straddles his hips. He deepens the kiss with a teasing lick at the seam of his lips and Shen Wei welcomes him in, sucking on his tongue.

Zhao moans as Shen Wei’s hands rest in his hair, gripping the base of his neck and pressing up into him. The hot brand of his cock burns to the touch and he groans out a question. 

“Lube?” 

Shen Wei’s eyes are dazed but he nods and reaches underneath the pillow next to him. Zhao wants to ask how it ended up there, but he’s too eager to sink into Shen Wei’s tight heat that he forgoes asking. With quick efficiency, he squeezes the lube onto his fingers and guides them down until he traces Shen Wei’s entrance. 

Shen Wei gasps, eyes unfocused but still set on Zhao. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and Zhao watches the rise and fall of his chest as he eases a finger inside him. 

He’s mesmerized by the cloudiness in Shen Wei’s vulnerable gaze. He clenches around his finger, arms pulling him until their mouths meet. He sucks and licks and teases as Zhao adds another finger, fucking him open and loose. 

At Shen Wei’s encouraging moan, Zhao slides in a third finger, scissoring and feeling for his prostate, dying to hear the cry that will echo in his mind for the rest of the day. When he finds it, the whine Shen Wei releases is the sweetest music. 

“I’m ready, Yunlan.” Shen Wei pants against Zhao’s cheek. 

He eases into Shen Wei, hands trembling, eyes never leaving his wanton stare, looking at Zhao if he was fictional, imaginary, not really here. Zhao relates to that sentiment because all of this is surreal; this has never been what sex felt like before. Fuck, it feels so much more than that. His very soul is vibrating, pulsing with the intense heat of a thousand suns, burning so bright in his chest that he feels he will combust as he sinks into Shen Wei and kisses him senseless. 

When he’s fully inside him, Zhao pulls just millimeters away to rest their foreheads together. “Is it crazy to say that I love you?”

Shen Wei’s eyes widen and tears fall, igniting his cheeks in a flushing pink. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words.” 

Zhao kisses him as he fucks him slow and deep, pouring all his unspoken feelings, emotions and thoughts he doesn’t think he’d even be able to describe, into his steady movements, thrusting into Shen Wei with a deliberate focus that has them both coming up for air, panting with the blissful tension uniting them. Shen Wei moans, head thrown back, eyes closing as Zhao grinds into him. He clenches tight, coming with a gasping exclamation of, “Ah-Lan!”

Shen Wei’s distant gaze clears; his eyes are defenseless and wide as if he’s unmasking himself, revealing to Zhao the secrets of old. Zhao succumbs to the obsidian depths of his eyes, locked in his enthralling need, and releases with a heated groan. 

It had been a long night, but they finally caught the Siren, thanks to the help of the Envoy. At the sight of Brother Black, Zhao felt an immediate pull, an indescribable lust combatted only by the warring guilt that he should want anyone but Shen Wei. He purposefully kept his distance from the Envoy, only talking when needed. The team definitely noticed his less amiable, flirtatious nature, but because they know what’s good for them, they didn’t comment on it. 

Now, as the Envoy appears in his office, walking toward him with a purpose, he finds his resolve weakening. “Brother Black, I wasn’t expecting you to return.” He tries to offer an easy smile, but it feels forced and uncomfortable. The Envoy must see through it because his frown is immediate. 

“I hope I’m a welcome surprise.”

It’s after hours; everyone is either at home or asleep, and Zhao can’t stop the thrill of delightful promise that licks up his spine at the Envoy’s commanding presence causing him to shiver and back up, putting distance between them, cursing his horniness. It was a blessing this morning as he climaxed so hard that he thought he’d never be able to come again. His Xiao Wei confidently proved to him that wasn’t the case by sucking him into his exquisite mouth, showing him ways to suck cock that Zhao hadn’t ever experienced before.

He normally would be more than willing to play whatever game the Envoy has in store if he didn’t have someone waiting for him. Someone he finds irreplaceable. Someone that he can’t hurt. Someone he wants to vow all sorts of ridiculous things: his protection, his loyalty, his life, his love, his future.  

The Envoy quickly shortens the distance between them with soft, sure steps and leans into the length of him, his body settling nicely against his, and Zhao welcomes the familiar, bruising grip on his hips. Fuck the fact that he can already feel the Envoy’s hard cock grinding against him, leaves him breathless and whining out the name of the man he yearns for deep beneath all the lust, wants in ways he can’t fully explain, needs him like gravity that grounds and steadies: “Shen Wei.”

The Envoy stills his movements at Zhao’s moan, and like a crack of thunder, separates from him immediately. He appears across the room looking bewildered and alarmed. 

Fuck, this isn’t how you’re supposed to break up with someone—granted, Zhao’s pretty sure that he and the Envoy were never, how you say, an item, but he didn’t mean to moan out Shen Wei’s name. When he had it planned in his head of how he would break the news to Brother Black, he expected noncommittal acceptance from him. In his dreams, Zhao couldn’t help but imagine him being jealous and possessive of him, fucking him against his desk until Zhao succumbs to a future full of getting dicked down by the Great Cloaked Envoy 

But now? The look of utter confusion and worry that unsteadies the formidable enforcer’s movements has Zhao as equally confused. 

He laughs to ease the tension and wags a finger at the Envoy who startles from whatever ruminations he was in with a sharp intake of breath. 

“Brother Black, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about somethi—”

“How did you know?” The Envoy’s expression has turned solemn and reserved as if guarding himself against whatever Zhao is about to say. 

He has no idea what the Envoy is talking about, so he perplexingly continues. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I have thoroughly enjoyed our—" he coughs awkwardly, “experiences, but I have found someone that I want—”

“No need to say more.” The Cloaked Envoy interrupts, his face pale underneath the mask. He steadies himself by grasping the bookshelf in the corner. There’s an undeniable pain that settles across his features. 

Zhao wants to comfort him, but he fears any words he could say would just make things worse. It’s as if the Envoy really saw something in what they did. Granted, if Zhao didn’t have Shen Wei, he’d be all for continuing whatever was conspiring between him and the Envoy. But choosing the Envoy over Shen Wei? The mere idea guts Zhao and makes his resolve firm.

The Envoy’s next words are rushed and his voice is soft, softer than Zhao has ever heard it and it sounds so familiar as if he’s heard that tone countless times before. 

“This won’t affect our work. I will continue to aid you and your team.” 

With a flair of his hand, the vortex opens, and the Cloaked Envoy steps through, leaving Zhao to feel as if he’s lost something just as he was able to grasp it.

Chapter Text

At first, Zhao thought nothing of it. He knows Shen Wei is busy. Not only is he an intelligent, hardworking professor, but he also helps out the SID. Granted, if Zhao recalls correctly, over the last three days, he’s seen less of Shen Wei and more of the Envoy. This shouldn’t be so worrying considering they still haven’t caught the Siren, much to the Envoy’s probable annoyance. His near-constant presence must be related to the SID’s unsuccessful attempts to lure out this Dixingren. However, if that is the reason for the Envoy’s more appearances, Zhao still doesn’t have an explanation for Shen Wei’s absence. 

He has tried reaching out to him. He texts him updates on the case, with no response received in return. He calls Shen Wei’s office phone during the day to inquire about his classes and studies, but he doesn’t pick up. He hasn’t had the guts to knock on his apartment door at night; the nagging thought that Shen Wei is no longer interested in Zhao prevents him from crossing the hall and demanding a reason for his cold distance. 

It’s been approximately two days, six hours, 10 minutes and 37 seconds since their last encounter when Zhao lovingly brought Shen Wei to his climax. His cock twitches at the thought, and he adjusts himself, trying to pay attention to the Envoy’s analyses. 

“The Siren is relentless with the suicides she’s caused. She finds the most opportune times to strike and does so with an efficiency unmatched by any Dixingren I’ve experienced so far.”

Zhao can’t focus; all he can think about is how much he misses Shen Wei’s cuddles. He longs for his soft, endearing smiles and blushing cheeks with an intensity that steals his breath and leaves him exhausted. He rests his head in his hands and closes his eyes. 

Tonight, he’ll finally knock on Shen Wei’s door.

Shen Wei’s guarded smile that nowhere near reaches his eyes at the sight of Zhao on his doorstep, makes the despairing worry from before—of Shen Wei wanting just a one-night, or rather one-night and one-morning stand, from him and nothing more—resurface in Zhao’s mind. He frowns at Shen Wei’s refusal to meet his eyes, and his unwillingness to invite him inside his apartment. 

“May I come in?” He suggests. 

Shen Wei flinches, a flickering grimace distorting his once collected features. The anxiety that turns in Zhao’s gut ignites into a fierce fury that steadies his voice, shakes the clenched fists at his side. He laughs, a mocking grin pinching his cheeks, keeping the burning in his eyes at bay. 

“Such animosity, my dear professor. What have I done to deserve your aloofness?”

Shen Wei’s gaze finally meets his, but it’s vacant, no affection from before lighting his stare. The lack of it inflicts a sharp, piercing ache in Zhao’s chest. He wags a finger at Shen Wei and laughs again.  

“I thought there was something between us. I thought you felt—” He cuts himself off, clenches his jaw, and stares resolutely at the ground. “All my life, I’ve felt like something’s been missing—” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “Then, you come along, and, with each interaction, this loss inside me diminished.” He finally raises his head to meet Shen Wei’s gaze. 

Shen Wei looks stricken and confused, brows pinched and shoulders tensed. He grips the doorframe with a strength Zhao didn’t expect. 

With a heavy sigh, he loosens his fists. “You know, I came over here wanting an explanation, but,” he offers a lopsided smile, “it’s okay. You don’t owe me one.”

His feet carry him to his apartment door; he’s drained and exhausted, eager for sleep, but he’s going to have a restless night of tossing and turning, dreaming of the nonsensical patterns Shen Wei had traced onto his arms as they laid in bed three nights ago—a time that feels so distant and far from the present, Zhao wonders if he imagined it all.

He grips his doorknob, about to open it and succumb to the lonely night, but Shen Wei’s voice stops him. It’s a fractured, wounded sound that carries, echoes in the somber silence of their apartment floor.

“You said there was someone else.” 

Everything clicks. When Zhao works on a case, he imagines all the clues like puzzle pieces. Eventually, he and his team will find the way the pieces fit, but it takes time and contemplation, the pieces weigh in the back of his mind, in his subconscious, drifting aimlessly until they begin to latch together with such a quickening speed that springs him into action. The pieces that snap together now propel him to spin toward Shen Wei. 

Shen Wei’s eyes are wide and bewildered, tears brimming at the corners, spilling down his cheeks and he aches to comfort him. Yet, he ignores the impulse. 

“You said you wanted someone else.” Shen Wei breathes. 

Zhao needs an answer to all of this, demands the truth be laid out so that he can understand.“I’m pretty sure I told the Envoy that I wanted someone else. He never let me finish my explanation,” he drawls, “but I was going to tell him that I was in love with someone else. And although I thoroughly enjoyed my interactions with him, this person meant more to me than a good fuck.”

Shen Wei drops his eyes to the floor, loosens his grip on the door frame, and swallows. 

Zhao gives an exasperated, fond sigh, and crowds into his space. He brings Shen Wei’s face to his, finger tipping his chin up to truly hear the earnestness in his next words, see the vulnerability in his teasing smile. 

“It was you, you beautiful idiot. The person I wanted to be with was— no— is you.”

A startled breath escapes his Shen Wei’s mouth, and Zhao laughs, soft with relief, hand cradling his cheek, stroking his soft skin. “I moaned your name because I wanted you not because I knew you were apparently the Envoy.”

The admission dawns on Shen Wei; the solace in his eased posture and the way his arms wrap around Zhao’s neck, pulling him close as he calls his name, encourages Zhao to catch his mouth in a gentle and reassuring kiss. 

“I love you.” Shen Wei murmurs; the words muffled against Zhao’s lips spread a blooming warmth in his stomach. He deepens the kiss, hands tangling in the feathery strands at the base of Shen Wei’s neck, arching against him. Shen Wei grips the front of his tee, dragging him inside his apartment, kicking the door closed and pressing him against it. Zhao’s sole existence is focused on the hands that tug his slacks and boxers down; he kicks them off his feet and across the room, pulling Shen Wei to him once more. 

He clutches at Shen Wei’s shoulders as his hand swipes over the tip of his cock, budding with pre-cum, then slides down, a firm pressure pumping with a steadiness that makes his head spin. He releases a shattered breath. “Not taking our time, are we?” 

Shen Wei’s breath tickles his jawline as he drops a kiss to his pulse, noses at the soft skin there, and breathes in. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, darling,” he groans as Shen Wei’s tongue teases his neck, teeth nipping, mouth forming a forceful suction; knees bending under the weight of Shen Wei’s need. 

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” Zhao complains and tries to steady his hands as he fumbles with the buttons of Shen Wei’s shirt. Shen Wei huffs a laugh, at Zhao’s frustrated growl when he finally gets one done. He pauses for a brief second, hoping this isn’t one of Shen Wei’s favorite shirts, then in one swift move, he yanks it open, unraveling the threads, buttons skittering across the floor. 

Shen Wei pulls back from him; his dark, obsidian eyes narrow, and before he can scold him, Zhao runs his hands underneath Shen Wei’s ruined shirt. 

He could easily be a model, Zhao muses and runs his hands along the firm muscle, splays his palm against his taut stomach, fingers catching in the ridges of it. He skates his hand back up, grazing a finger over a nipple. Shen Wei gasps, hand coming up to grasp at Zhao’s wrist. His eyes are hooded and they implore him, pray for something Zhao would be willing to give in a heartbeat if only he knew what it is he wanted. He reconnects their mouths,  pouring all he can’t fully express into the heated press of their lips. 

He helps Shen Wei out of his jeans and boxers, hands steadying him, refusing to stop kissing him even as Shen Wei laughs, stumbling and bracing himself against the wall. Once he’s finally naked, Zhao tugs Shen Wei back to him, kissing him once more, letting Shen Wei walk him backward until he’s pressed against the wall. Zhao gasps at the manhandling; he can feel Shen Wei smirk, acknowledging that he knows what his strength does to Zhao. The only thing that’s left in their way is Zhao’s shirt, which Shen Wei pulls over his head without a moment’s hesitation. 

Shen Wei grips Zhao’s thigh, lifting his leg and hitching it above his hips. Zhao wraps his leg around Shen Wei’s waist and gasps at the zinging static as Shen Wei fists himself and Zhao in a tight hold, pumping, a slow and languid tease that has Zhao’s head thudding against the wall. 

He grips Shen Wei’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “If we don’t slow down--” Zhao moans out brokenly, Shen Wein’s fists harder, stopping just to swipe his finger over Zhao’s leaking cock, then pumps faster. He can feel his release building, can taste the euphoria on his tongue, feel it the subtle tensing of every muscle in his body. “Shen Wei, I’m--fuck--” His breath leaves him as he comes, his vision blurring and his world swaying, grounded only by Shen Wei’s firm hand on his waist and lazy fisting of his cock, easing Zhao into a blissful oversensitivity. He whines at the intensity, and Shen Wei leans in, resting his lips against  Zhao’s jawline. 

There’s a definite hardness pressing into Zhao, grinding against his thigh, and he moans at its searing touch. Shen Wei hasn’t come, was able to hold off, led him through a mind-numbing climax just to tempt him with the promise of more. Zhao might not be able to get off again so quickly, but he will be damned if he leaves Shen Wei unfulfilled. 

He feels a smirk against his neck as Shen Wei begins to pull away from him, but he halts his departure, wrapping his arms around Shen Wei’s waist, whispers into his ear, sultry and smooth, “Lord Envoy--” he begins, smiling wickedly at the Shen Wei’s sharp inhale as he pumps Shen Wei’s cock, sliding it between his thighs, clenching his muscles tight. “How dare I leave you wanting?”

Shen Wei’s breath shudders out of his lungs, warms Zhao’s neck. He clutches Zhao’s hips, hard enough to bruise, and jerks against the pressure surrounding his dick. Zhao’s brain is muddied by his orgasm and the hunger in Shen Wei’s frenetic thrusts. The slick slide of his cock rubbing between his thighs sends a possessive thrill through him. No one should ever be able to see Shen Wei like this except him and his thoughts turn violent at the possibility of past lovers. 

But the desperate hunger that drives Shen Wei’s stuttering hips, calms his aggression. He is the only one from now on, only one who will see Shen Wei like this, succumb to this intoxicating want, and fulfill his overwhelming need. 

His mind centralizes on Shen Wei’s whine, hidden in the biting suction on his neck. Zhao has never wanted like this before.  He’s the Envoy. Knowing this should make Zhao wary. In all honesty, it just makes him harder, aching for Shen Wei in every way Shen Wei wants him, will have him, for however long.

Shen Wei burns to the touch, sweat beading on his brow, and he glows with a vivacity that leaves Zhao dizzy; a supernova bursting with unbridled energy in the great expanse of a never-ending dark sky. 

Zhao tilts his chin up, leaning into him, ensnaring his lips in a warm kiss. No tongue or teeth. Just the heated press of their mouths and unspoken promises spinning like stars in the gravitational pull of their cosmic souls; Zhao swallows Shen Wei’s cry, his climax, bright and hot like the sun.

“Shen Wei,” Zhao whispers. He rests his elbow against the bed, lifting himself up to get a better look at Shen Wei’s profile. Zhao wraps his arm tighter around him as he rolls his head to the side, blinking against the drowsiness that makes his limbs heavy, his body warm. It’s dark save for the glow of the city lights on the street outside; they cast shadows in the corners of the room. 

 His response is a soft hum.

“Would you ever have told me you were the Envoy? If my wonderful body hadn’t seduced you--hey don’t laugh!”  Zhao ridicules, though his besotted tone softens the edges of his rebuke. Shen Wei’s huff, full of fond amusement, is laced with tendrils of sleep; it sounds light like a spring breeze. 

“Yes,” he says, entwining his fingers with Zhao’s, bringing the hand at his waist to rest against his chest. “But I don’t know how I would have told you.” He breathes deeply, pulling Zhao closer to him. He follows without restraint, lying back down, his hand clutched in Shen Wei’s grip, pressed against the drumming of his heart. “I imagine you would have found out because someone was injured. Maybe even me. ” Shen Wei presses a kiss to the back of Zhao’s hand, lips lingering on each knuckle. “But I would have told you.”

“Good.” Zhao hides his smile at the nape of Shen Wei’s neck. “I have another question.”

“Hmm?”

He bites his lip, holding in his delight at both embarrassing Shen Wei right now and being punished by the Envoy in the future because of it. “Can you still fuck me in your Envoy get-up?” 

“Zhao Yunlan, you are shameless.” 

Zhao kisses the flush heating Shen Wei’s skin. “You love it.” 

He waits until Shen Wei composes himself. 

“Is that a yes?” 

A beat of silence; then a wicked promise.

“Yes.”