Sit Softly On Your Shoulder

Chapter 39: Going Out

On the last night before they have to leave Guangzhou, Lan Zhan turns around to face Wei Ying just as he comes out of the shower. He's only wearing a towel around his hips, and that, too, is precariously fastened by one end haphazardly tucked into the makeshift waistband. A single drop of delicious-looking moisture rolls down his chest between his pecs, gathering momentum as it races over his delectable abs.

Lan Zhan is already moving before he can stop himself, and suddenly, they are only a foot apart.

Sharp, swift energy crackles between them as he stares into stormy silver eyes just as affected by his proximity as Lan Zhan is. Perhaps this uncontrollable urge to take and possess will never go away, a beast made immortal by their combined desire for one another. It can't even be compared to an itch, once scratched and then forgotten; no. This is more than that. A primal urge to carve out a space for each other in their opposing ribcages, to exist in one another's space forever, for all eternity.

With one hand on his hip, suddenly tilted in the coyest gesture, Wei Ying winks at him. “Did you want something?” He asks innocently, fluttering those gorgeous long lashes.

“I had a question,” Lan Zhan murmurs thickly, his mouth drier than a desert. He's too distracted to think, wanting to reach out and draw his husband closer. He wants to follow the path of lucky droplets tracing rivulets over that gorgeous body with his tongue. Wei Ying’s skin is golden, glowing in the light of the setting sun streaming in through the wide windows. A constellation of love bites is already fading on his chest, across his ribs, in the soft underside of his lean but strong arms. If Lan Zhan were to tear off the stupid towel, he would see more of these signs, a line of teeth marks across his tender thighs. He feels proud of himself, marking Wei Ying as his own.

“A question?” Wei Ying asks him playfully, stepping closer. They are only a breath apart now.

Soft flowers, a scent of lotus and orange blossom, make Lan Zhan’s nose flare, stirring up the ever-present hunger inside him. The shower gel, or maybe it's the shampoo in their bathroom combined with Wei Ying’s own natural fragrance, is irresistible to him. He struggles to recall what he wanted to know.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying wants to laugh out of sheer delight. The way Lan Zhan is looking at him now, like he wants to devour him whole, the naked desire in his rapidly darkening eyes going from icy gold to molten lava in a heartbeat. They're blown wide with his irises, just a rim of deep amber circling darker orbs, with everything he wants to do to Wei Ying clearly reflected in his expression. To the point of distraction since Lan Zhan has proven himself incapable of stringing more than four words together. How much his gorgeous husband wants him is not lost on Wei Ying at all; if anything, he's glad the madness of their love isn't one-sided. That he can see it so clearly present.

Madness is still a tame word and not nearly enough, Wei Ying thinks, because there isn't a word in any language that can aptly describe what he feels for Lan Zhan. It's too strong, too intense for mere love, not when it's really devotion × a hundred, with a healthy dose of respect, but so much deeper than that. Every single positive emotion multiplied by infinity. There's no formula on earth able to work it out.

Lan Zhan is already dressed to go out, his cream shirt fluidly moulding to that  impressive chest, tucked into his ivory cigarette pants, open at the neck to reveal his inviting collarbones. Wei Ying shivers, realising that he's being watched with the same longing in return, and still he's unable to look away from Lan Zhan.

But Lan Zhan knows his weakness.

Wei Ying can only look on helplessly as those long and elegant pale fingers, so beautiful a hand, slowly, deftly undoes the fastening at his wrists. Carefully, in the most unhurried and falsely relaxed way, those adept fingers begin rolling the silk of his sleeves up, one glorious inch at a time. Underneath Lan Zhan’s immaculate pale forearms, the muscles interrupted by a singular vein are revealed, and Wei Ying’s mouth begins to water.