From CEO to Concubine-Chapter 208: Back to Basics (R18)

The astonishment on Liu Yao’s face soon gave way to a fondness that was so sincere it made Yan Zheyun’s cheeks heat up in a way that sitting boldly on the emperor’s lap couldn’t.

Or maybe what made him go red in the face was the reproachful pinch that Liu Yao had delivered to his bottom. It had just that slight hint of roughness that left him feeling heady and Liu Yao seemed to have a much better handle on his kinks than he did, always managing to toe the line in such a perfect way that Yan Zheyun couldn’t help but want to submit.

"Don’t look at me like that," he insisted, keen to detract from the sudden shyness that overtook him. "Less staring more—"

"I’ve made you lonely."

Warm lips pressed themselves first to his left cheek, then his right, just over where his blush bloomed brightest. "I’m sorry."

Yan Zheyun leaned forward, let himself get pulled so tightly against a firm chest that he couldn’t hold back a quiet oof.

"Not that lonely," he murmured, nuzzling against Liu Yao’s temple before planting a kiss there in return. "Just concerned. You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you? Don’t deny it."

Liu Yao gave him a contrite smile in response. "I didn’t know what to do with you," he confessed. "Ah Yun, you didn’t see yourself lying motionless for days, as thought you were already a carved statue in your tomb." He let out a helpless laugh. "Even after you returned to me, bringing along with you a surprise beyond all expectations, I still have nightmares of those excruciating evenings spent by your lifeless side, begging gods I never once believed in to give you back to me."

"Ah Yao..." If he put himself in Liu Yao’s shoes, it would be impossible not to wake in horror every night.

"I feared you would stop breathing." Liu Yao shook his head, like he had to physically reject the thought even as it invaded his mind. "How many mornings when I had to leave for court...in the palanquin there I would think to myself, what if I came back and you were gone again? What if I’d conjured you up in my head and all this while it was I who had gone mad with longing?"

Yan Zheyun took Liu Yao’s head to his chest, rubbed gently at the pressure points while whispering soothing words. "I’m real," he promised. "It sounds..."—insane, unfortunately—"fantastical but it’s true."

Slowly, Liu Yao began to nod. "Even if you weren’t," he said decisively, "it doesn’t matter anymore. They day they bury you is the day they bury me."

To the modern person, this might sound extreme to say the least. Before, when Yan Zheyun only had memories of the 21st century, he might have considered this to be unnecessary. Mourning a loved on and carrying the beloved memories of them whilst continuing to live the life as fully as they would have wanted him to would have been his ideal. Of course, each to his own, and that version of him would have acknowledged Liu Yao’s sentiment but found it difficult to comprehend.

Now, with all the pieces of the puzzle slotted in together for the full picture, he finally understood the idiom ’to share the same blanket whilst alive, to share the same grave when dead’ (1).

Life in these times were just filled with so much more sudden separations, so many more chances of ’death do us part’. The mere thought that that one person could be snatched away any moment by cruel circumstances beyond one’s control—circumstances that were everyday in a world of turmoil—made them love harder.

The worst times were often the most epic times.

But enough mulling over these dark thoughts. He’d let Liu Yao suck him into a spiral of negativity too and if he didn’t serve up a healthy dose of distraction soon, they were both going to be up all night with insomnia over the uncertain future.

Reaching down between their bodies, he soon found what he was looking for—it was stealthily making its presence know bit by bit anyway—and grabbed it unceremoniously, eliciting a soft hiss from Liu Yao. Perhaps they really hadn’t rolled around in the sheets for too long because it took Liu Yao’s body no time at all to salute Yan Zheyun for all the personal attention.

"Does this feel real enough to you?" he goaded, leaning away with a deliberateness that allowed Liu Yao to admire the curve of his spine, the arch of his collar bones as he bent back over Liu Yao’s desk, sending the pile of memorials behind him tumbling carelessly to the floor. His robes, which he’d made sure to tug loose subtly during their conversation, now gaped open at all the right places to reveal a sliver of snowy skin underneath the layers of finery. Yan Zheyun watched as Liu Yao’s gaze roamed lower and lower till it arrived at the eager bulge between his spread thighs, the pink tip peeking coyly past the elegant embroidered cranes already glistening in the lantern light.

Liu Yao indulged it with a teasing rub of his thumb and Yan Zheyun let his head fall back against the desk with a satisfied sigh.

He’d missed having Liu Yao’s hands on him.

"This sovereign has neglected Zitong’s needs." Those hands wandered deeper, swimming through the sea of fabric like a nimble carp in its element. Deft fingers slid between then behind, Yan Zheyun accommodating their delicious invasion by opening his legs as wide as they could go. They would burn tomorrow morning, as they were wont to do whenever Liu Yao enjoyed him, serve as a reminder for the rest of the day of whose arms he’d spent the night cradled within.

"Your Majesty doesn’t appreciate the gift I prepared for you?"

Liu Yao leaned in so closely that Yan Zheyun could see himself reflected in the dark pools of his eyes. "No underrobes and a passage already oiled with my favourite ointment? Ah Yun has come prepared indeed."

Yan Zheyun let out a huff of laughter, his breath fanning out against Liu Yao’s cheek and pushing him just that tiny bit further away from his self-control. This banter that they shared in ’bed’ was familiar; to the version of himself who lacked memories of the past, the way they their bodies had moulded into each othe with such remarkable ease was uncanny to say the least. Even when Liu Yao had believed the enslaved son of the ex-prime minister to be harbouring ulterior motives, there was no denying the intense physical attraction they had felt for one another.

And as for Yan Zheyun, falling in love at first sight right in front of the art piece he hadn’t known he was the painter of...back then, he hadn’t realised that his first glance at Liu Yao had been him looking back over years and years of companionship and affection.

It was no wonder then that even as CEO Yan Zheyun, he’d been aware for as long as he could recall that he had an inclination towards men. It was even less of a mystery now why, even acknowledging his sexual preferences, he never once felt the urge to act on them.

Someone was waiting a whole universe away for him to come home. And now, finally, he was back where he should be.

An odd bristly feeling over the head of his cock made him throw his eyes open, just in time to see Liu Yao swivelling one of ridiculously fancy calligraphy brushes over it. It was Yan Zheyun’s favourite brush too, the long body carved out of ivory in the theme of summer grapes. The style was reminiscent to that of a Ming Dynasty antique his grandfather had once spent a whopping six figures to bid for in an auction and when Yan Zheyun had first seen it, he had found it unfathomable that Liu Yao was using it to essentially reply work messages.

Now, he couldn’t believe Liu Yao was using it as foreplay.

But before he could protest—he liked borrowing that brush, he’d prefer to continue doing so without getting a raging hard-on—Liu Yao’s fingers slipped straight into his tight hole, working him open expertly with one hand even as the other brought the brush up higher to trace feathery circles over the sensitive little nubs on Yan Zheyun’s chest.

"You’ve missed me here too, I see." Liu Yao kept his commentary light and he moved his buried fingers at a leisurely pace, building the pleasure up in Yan Zheyun at a tantalising pace that was just a touch of ’too slow’. It made Yan Zheyun writhe, the embarrassment at being literally in the palm of Liu Yao’s hand, for him to play with as he wishes, making his pale skin flush with an alluring radiance.

And when Liu Yao’s annoyingly dexterous fingers twisted just so right, it made him gasp and arch his back to try and get more friction on his cock, which was now weeping a pearlescent pool into the dip of his navel.

A tongue licked purposefully into it, tracing a searing path as its owner savoured his essence. Before Yan Zheyun could say anything, warm lips mouthed a deliberate path down to engulf his cock in an all-encompassing heat.

It was a long winter but in here, Yan Zheyun could only feel the humid dampness of sweat carressing his skin as it ran down in rivulets. He was uncertain and uncaring as to whether it was Liu Yao’s or his own.

Back when they were younger, they too had fooled around, hidden behind rock formations in the gardens and under the blankets of the crown prince’s bedroom in the Eastern Palace. Liu Yao had loved fucking his mouth—still did, to be fair—pressing his thumb into the hollow of his Ziyu’s cheek and pushing his long hair out of his face so he could admire the view.

But now, it was Liu Yao who took him down his throat, swallowing eagerly as Yan Zheyun shuddered and came, licking the remnants splattered on the corner of those wicked lips as he came back up and leaned in close and—

"Ah! Don’t kiss me with that same mouth—"

It wa late, of course. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted himself on Liu Yao’s tongue but it always disconcerted him for some reason.

Having experienced the invention of the microscope, this pseudo-self-fellatio was even less appealing to him.

But his idiosyncrasies made Liu Yao laugh, nuzzling into his cheek gently as he remarked, "You never spit when I finish in your mouth but you resent your own scent?"

...that was a different story. Liu Yao had always been his exception.

Wanting to avoid that discussion, Yan Zheyun wriggled demandingly against the solid hardness that was rubbing itself against the back of his thigh. Liu Yao’s desire was probably close to unbearable by now, and he expected his husband to get straight down to business, but of course, Liu Yao never did like to obey anyone.

Especially not in bed.

When Yan Zheyun found himself turned onto his belly to be fucked hard from behind, he’d started out confused. Confused and incredibly aroused, because when he attempted to turn his head to ask Liu Yao why they couldn’t do this face-to-face—he’d missed him, wanted to see him—Liu Yao took him by the jaw and held him in place.

"Just like this, Zitong. Hold it there for me."

"What are you doing—nngh!"

It was rather tough to finish sentences with a monstrosity slamming deep into his ass, Yan Zheyun noted through a hazy stupor. It wasn’t the first time he’d learnt this and it wouldn’t be the last either. Distantly, he thought he could hear some rustling, feel a tickling sensation on his back, catch a whiff of the scent of ink through the thick smell of lust that lingered heavily in the air.

But mostly, all he could focus on was the rhythm of Liu Yao’s thrusts and the wet noises coming from between their bodies.

"Mm, don’t move, my love."

It was like Liu Yao had a personal radar for how close Yan Zheyun was to climaxing. Without fail, he always knew just went to stop to keep him hanging on the precipice, the pleasure ramping up with the torment to form an exquisite tightening in his underbelly.

This round, however, Liu Yao took his time.

"What are you doing?" Yan Zheyun asked again, unable to stave off the desperation in his voice by this point.

In response, the tickling on his back became worse. But Liu Yao had released his face by now and he was too tired to do anything but let his neck hang low as he tried valiantly to push back on his elbows and fuck himself on Liu Yao’s cock.

"Just a bit more," was Liu Yao’s cheerful reply, his hips circling lazily as he kept Yan Zheyun pinned against the desk and impaled upon him.

It was the most delicious of lies. Yan Zheyun didn’t know how much longer Liu Yao took to stop painting him—yes, live production of pornography was what he ended up calling it when he saw himself portrayed with eyes glazed, lips gasping, never mind that Liu Yao insisted it was art—but the entire ordeal felt like it lasted the entire night. Yan Zheyun hadn’t thought it possible to come that many times. Once, he might have blamed it on transmigrating into a novel. Now that he knew this was a literal parallel universe, he only the laws of this reality to blame.

Refractory periods? That was for the plebeians of his old world, apparently.

He was so out of it by the time they were done that he didn’t manage to stay awake long enough to witness Ying Yi’s most excruciating of urgent reports, done with his head bowed so low he might as well have kowtowed to spare himself the awkwardness of dropping in when his boss was just done having sex.

Just done as in still performing the ongoing process of pulling out.

"This really couldn’t wait?"

Ying Yi might have winced by his mask concealed it anyway.

"In response to Your Majesty, Heir Zhenhai has been spotted in the capital without imperial permission. Our sources have reported that he is looking for a courtesan that resembles His Highness, Fengjun..."