Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mingjue is furious. He’d always suspected Huaisang was up to no good when he went out on weekends and didn’t come home until 4am. Still, his brother is an adult, and so Mingjue hadn’t questioned it. Huaisang already complains that Mingjue is too controlling. But this? This is unconscionable. He’s let so many things regarding his brother slide but he cannot–will not–excuse away this.

He’d been at a work party, some holiday thing his white bosses insisted on throwing despite most of Mingjue’s staff not actually celebrating Christmas. He already hates work gatherings. Why can’t they all just do their jobs and be done with it? He doesn’t need to be friends with these people. 

Especially not Wen fucking Ruohan. The head of finance, Wen Ruohan for whatever reason seems to be especially interested in befriending Mingjue. Or tormenting him. Mingjue isn’t really sure which. Not when at said party Wen Ruohan mentions offhandedly to Mingjue about his ‘interesting family.’ Mingjue’s not stupid. He knows Wen Ruohan got the promotion his father had always wanted, and has held the position for the last 20 years. So he assumes this is something about his father that Mingjue does not care to drag back up. He can manage civility towards the man, but not much more than that. 

“My family is doing well, thank you.” There. That should get Wen Ruohan to drop it.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sure. Especially that brother of yours. He seems to be doing quite well for himself. Set to graduate summa cum laude next semester? Very prestigious. Shame about his chosen career path, but well, one must follow one’s heart, I suppose.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingjue blurts out before he can stop himself. Whatever trap Wen Ruohan is trying to lay for him, he’s just stumbled right into it. Huaisang is in business school, about to join the company just like his brother and their father before them. Clearly Wen Ruohan, who already knows more about Huaisang than Mingjue ever expected him to, isn’t talking about that. 

“Oh, no need to play coy with me, Mingjue. I understand it would be quite the scandal if the higher ups found out, but I can assure you of my discretion. In fact, I wanted to extend an offer of my advice in this matter. My own sons certainly had their…youthful dalliances in their time, though I must admit neither of them ever moonlighted in such a fashion.”

Whatever Wen Ruohan is trying to insinuate, and Mingjue still isn’t clear on what that is, has got to be bullshit. Huaisang might like to party a little harder than Mingjue would like, but he keeps his grades up and has never been in trouble academically, legally, or otherwise. He’s a good kid.

“I’m handling it just fine.” Mingjue grits out, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to be over.

“Oh, that’s wonderful news. I know that were Chao’er taking his clothes off for money, I’d be much more frazzled. But it’s reassuring to know you’ve got the situation well in hand.”

“Indeed.” It’s a miracle Mingjue’s eyebrows don’t hit his hairline. Because what in the everloving fuck does Wen Ruohan mean by that? It’s obviously a lie, or it’s something so misconstrued that Wen Ruohan thinks he’s got some kind of dirt on Huaisang and Mingue that he obviously doesn’t have.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your evening then. I confess to only bringing it up because I was worried for you.” And with that Wen Ruohan swans off in the opposite direction to interrupt whatever his niece and her brother are talking about on the other side of the room.

Bullshit. Wen Ruohan never worries for anyone but himself.

–

As much as Mingjue tries to put the thought from his mind over the next week, he can’t. As much as Mingjue knows that’s exactly why Wen Ruohan brought it up in the first place, he can’t. It’s not possible…except that he has to be sure it’s not possible. He doesn’t have any proof one way or the other. Hell, he doesn’t even know what “Huaisang is maybe taking his clothes off for money ” could even entail. Does he have some kind of secret OnlyFans account? Is he–no, Wen Ruohan would have said if Huaisang was having sex for money. His exact words were “taking his clothes off.” Was this some kind of one-time incident that Wen Ruohan got wind of, or is it still happening?

He would ask Huaisang, except that Huaisang lies to him approximately all of the time. “Yes, I went to the gym this week, Da-ge.” “No, I’m not still talking to Wei Wuxian even after you told me he was a bad influence, Da-ge.” “Of course I don’t have a secret sex website of some description that I am using to make money I don’t have any use for, Da-ge.”

That’s what Mingjue doesn’t get–what on earth does Huaisang need the money for? Mingjue makes plenty enough to support them both through Huaisang’s schooling, and he married rich besides. Xichen’s got more money than some cities. People turn to sex work–Huaisang is not doing sex work–out of desperation, right?

The whole thing is nonsense no matter which way Mingjue slices it. Wen Ruohan was just trying to piss him off, and it’s worked long enough. Mingjue is a better man than that. Xichen is starting to pick up on his bad mood, anyways. Of course Mingjue didn’t tell him what he was upset about, because it’s not even real . 

Which is why Mingjue is calling his ex at 11pm on a Friday night after Xichen’s gone to bed. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Meng Yao is the only one who might have answers.

“Mingjue?” Meng Yao answers warily.

“I know you still talk to Huaisang.”

A long silence, and then, “Is this the kind of phone call I want my lawyer present for?”

“Haha.” Mingjue says, without mirth. “I need to know where he is right now.” Huaisang had left the house around 6pm with a breezy “Bye Da-ge! Don’t bother waiting up!” the same way he does every weekend. It had been prudent for him to stay with them until he graduated.

“Why would I know that?”

“Because he likes you. Because he’s lying to me…and because I don’t know Wei Wuxian’s phone number.”

Meng Yao barks a laugh. “Seems that’s not all you don’t know, Da-ge.”

“Just tell me Huaisang is out drinking at some bar right now with his stupid friends like he always is.”

“How did you find out ,anyways? I’m dying to know who got you so riled up.”

“I haven’t found out anything, because there’s nothing to find out. Tell me there’s nothing to find out, that’s all I want out of you.”

“Oh, Da-ge. You know, I’m almost sorry for you? If I didn’t think you deserved this, I’d hate for you to learn the truth this way.”

“Meng Yao!”

“Alright alright, don’t get your panties in a twist. For the record, you did not hear this from me, understand? Huaisang will never speak to me again if he knows I told you.”

“Maybe that would be for the best,” Mingjue shoots back, mood darkening by the second.

“And then who would you call when didi doesn’t come home one night, hm? You need me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Eloquent. But if you really don’t need to know, then–”

“Goddammit. I need to know. Just–fucking–please tell me.”

“I’m going to text you an address. What you do with that information is entirely up to you. Huaisang was sure you’d never find out, but he’s sure about a lot of things. For the record, I’ve never seen him do it. Xue Yang was the one who told me in the first place. Huaisang wasn’t going to tell anyone, I think.”

“Seen him do what, exactly?”

“Oh no, if you don’t know what Didi’s up to, then it’s much funnier for me that you learn the hard way. Just go to that address. Even you can figure it out from there.”

“Fine,” growls Mingjue, hanging up before he can really start in on Meng Yao, who he must remember is doing him a favor. That snake is just as bad as Wen Ruohan, in his own way.

A few seconds later, his phone pings. There’s the promised address. Mingjue whirls towards the garage door, punching it into his GPS so furiously he gets it wrong three times before finally grabbing his coat and wrenching the door open.

–

Which brings him back to the present moment. Here in front of this–this…establishment. The Gilded Cage, it’s apparently called. Deep into the seedy part of the city, Mingjue hadn’t particularly wanted to leave his nice car parked here, but needs must. And he is livid. Because it’s not merely a bar, or a dance club. It’s a strip club. And, if Wen Ruohan and Meng Yao’s horrid insinuations are to be believed–still maybe debatable, Mingjue has to cling to that hope–Huaisang isn’t here as a patron. 

Taking off his clothes for money–maybe anonymously on the internet would’ve been easy enough to cover-up, but this is the kind of place that anyone could just walk into. Wen Ruohan had found out. Did he–did he come here as a patron? Did he see Huaisang–

No. That way madness lies. Mingjue cannot let himself think about what Wen Ruohan did or didn’t see his didi do here. Maybe Huaisang just got drunk and decided to play stripper for an evening. He doesn’t work here. This is not his “chosen career path.” This isn’t anything but a foolish mistake, one that Mingjue is going to correct immediately as soon as he’s paid the entry fee and made it inside. Huaisang probably isn’t even here. This is, rather, somehow Wen Ruohan and Meng Yao conspiring together to get Mingjue to go to a strip club against his will–or something. 

He ignores that Wen Ruohan and Meng Yao, to his knowledge, have never met.

He ignores a lot of things as he blows past the bar into a seat at a table in the shadows at the very back, sitting as far away from the stage as possible. He ignores the way even setting foot in this place makes his skin crawl. He ignores that the whole building smells like sweat and cheap perfume, the kind that always gives him a headache. He ignores the other patrons and even the other dancers, waving away the one who tries to get him to buy a drink, scanning the room with a laser-focus for one person in particular. One person who, after five minutes, he’s about to write off as not in the place at all, until the announcer comes over the speaker to hype-up the next dancer.

“You all know them, you all love them, it’s Nightingale!”

The crowd closer to the stage all cheers, a few of them holding out money in anticipation before the dancer has even shown themselves. 

The curtain at the back of the stage opens on a mass of feathers, and Mingjue’s stomach flips and sinks before the dancer has even shown their face. 

All the feathers are Huaisang’s exact favorite shade of emerald green.

Mingjue wants desperately to keep pretending that doesn’t mean anything in and of itself, but then from the giant feathered fans pokes a pvc-booted foot, shiny black material all the way up to the thigh. And just on the inside of said thigh, Mingjue can see Huaisang’s tattoo, the one he hid from Mingjue for months until Mingjue accidentally walked in on him changing in the bathroom. The one he’d raked Huaisang over the coals for, but ultimately couldn’t do anything about. It’s some kind of bird which–then it clicks–it’s a fucking nightingale.

Does the tattoo equate to the stripping? Or the stripping to the tattoo? Mingjue is maybe too busy keeping the red from his vision to suss it out. Huaisang’s had the thing for a little over two years now. 

The music continues, The minute you walked in the joint, I could see you were a man of distinction, a real big spender , and Huaisang fully emerges from the backdrop of feathered fans to slink forward towards the pole at the end of the stage. He’s wearing a little lace carnival mask, but it’s not obscuring enough of his face to be a real disguise. It must just be there for the aesthetic. Other than the long black shiny boots and matching long black shiny gloves, he’s not wearing much. Some kind of strappy green lingerie that Mingjue isn’t sure how he got into, much less how he plans to get out of. And a collar, thick black leather with silver studs in it. 

He’s good at working the pole. Mingjue has never known Huaisang to exercise if he could possibly get out of it, but somehow he’s had practice at this. Even Mingjue knows you can’t do half the tricks Huaisang is pulling without significant core and thigh strength. The way he treats gravity like more of an option than a fact, the way he’s got perfect splits, the way he makes everything look effortless and graceful, it’s captivating for a moment.

But only a moment, because then Huaisang starts undressing. And then Mingjue remembers that there are other people in the room, people who are about to see parts of his didi that no one should be seeing. Certainly not these skeevy assholes. Huaisang shakes his ass for the crowd and gets bills stuffed in his g-string for his efforts. These people are touching him .

Mingjue is halfway over to where Huaisang is, ready to drag him bodily down from the stage, before he realizes both what he’s doing and that doing it might get him thrown out of the club, maybe arrested. There’s nothing he can do until the song is over. Fuck. Huaisang is mostly out of the lingerie now, still in the gloves but the boots are gone to reveal fishnets underneath. He’s even got nipple tassels on. He peels a glove off, slowly, sensually, and tosses it behind him onto the stage. Is he going to get fully nude? Mingjue doesn’t know if that’s a thing at strip clubs or if there are rules against it. He can’t get any closer to the stage, both because of the crowd already there but also because he has no idea what would happen if Huaisang saw him there.

What is Mingjue’s plan here? He needs one, clearly. He’s done most of this on impulse, but now he needs to step back and regroup. He needs to get Huaisang somewhere alone, where he can’t deny knowledge of what Mingjue is talking about, nor run away to one of his friend’s houses for a few weeks like he’s done in the past. Meaning Mingjue needs to confront him here. There’s probably no way for Mingjue to get backstage, either. So, what are his options? Wait behind the building until Huaisang leaves? They’ve probably got some kind of security making sure the dancers aren’t being harassed that way. Every other dancer in this place appears to be a woman, Mingjue has noticed, making this whole situation even stranger. 

Then he gets the idea. It’s really a terrible idea, because it means giving this sordid establishment more of his money, but if it works then Huaisang is going to be so embarrassed he’ll agree to come home with Mingjue and not come back. He’s seen the back rooms from his vantage point. He’s seen the dancers and their clients go into them. If he could get Huaisang into one of those, he can have it out with no possible deniability, and won’t Huaisang be shocked when he goes in and finds that the person who ordered the private lapdance is his own da-ge? 

It seems like the only real way to get Huaisang alone. He’s tried the whole ‘waiting up alone in the dark for Huaisang to come home late’ routine before. It’s never worked. But he’s never followed Huaisang out before. Surely that would knock some sense into him, the idea that anyone could just wander in here and see what Huaisang was getting up to in public.

Mingjue is walking over to the bar and paying for his dance before what he actually plans to say to his brother has formulated in his mind. Since Huaisang is still dancing, thankfully still wearing a bare scrap of cloth over his junk, he’s instructed to go and wait in room 4 until ‘Nightingale’ can get changed and get over to him. The whole charade is costing him $250, not counting his entrance fee.

The shade of white Huaisang turns when he first walks into the room and sees Mingjue there, sitting in the chair, arms crossed, makes it worth the money.

“Da-ge!”

Mingjue doesn’t say anything, only continues to glower. Let Huaisang dig his own grave.

Only, that’s not what happens. Because although Huaisang was clearly shocked when he entered the room to find Mingjue, he seems to get over it fast, schooling his face back into neutrality and visibly collecting himself. 

“So you’re here. You found me. Congrats.”

And Huaisang is in no position to give him attitude, but here Mingjue is getting it anyways. “Pack up your things. We’re leaving.” He can chew Huaisang out in the car. He’s got that much self-restraint.

“Oh no. I’m on the clock until 3:30. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with some friends for a while if I need to, you–”

Mingjue is out of the chair in an instant, ready to grab his brother by the wrist. So much for self-restraint. 

But Huaisang holds a hand up to stop him. “The minute you touch me I yell for security and you get thrown out. There are rules here, Da-ge. See that?” He points to a corner of the room where Mingjue can just make out a little blinking red light. “Smile, we’re on camera. They want to make sure no one has sex in these rooms. So I suggest you leave. Now.”

Mingjue, ever stubborn, just sits back down.

Huaisang blinks. Mingjue can’t tell what the new look of surprise is for, until Huaisang grins, a nasty thing.

“Unless you want to stay. It’s your hour, after all.”

“Of course I’m staying. I’m staying until you and I leave this place and go home, where we will be having a long and thorough discussion about appropriate behavior for a new graduate about to enter the professional workforce. And you won’t be going out on the weekends anymore. Not when you can’t be trusted to comport yourself in a way befitting the ethical standards that–”

“Uh huh.” Huaisang waves him off. Mingjue digs his nails into his palms to keep from yelling so loud that security comes to throw him out. Forces himself with everything he has to stay seated. Huaisang isn’t going to win so easily. Huaisang has turned around to fiddle with some panel in the wall. It’s connected to the speakers somehow, as music begins blaring through them. Whereas the song he’d been dancing to on stage was upbeat and danceable, this song is slow and sensual, dirty beat thudding through the air.

Is he hoping to drown Mingjue out so they won’t have to talk? Or, wait, what’s he doing now? Why is he–

“Huaisang put that back on!” Mingjue nearly shouts. Huaisang ignores him and continues undressing, slipping out of his mesh top and short shorts until he’s back in that ridiculous thong, the collar, and nothing else. Mingjue tries and fails not to look at his crotch. The thin green material only barely covers Huaisang’s cock, making it look bigger than it probably is by virtue of having it nearly spilling out. It’s obscene. Mingjue in his panic doesn’t know how to look anywhere else.

“Normally you have to pay extra for nudity, but I’m giving you the friends and family discount,” explains Huaisang, far more casually than the situation warrants. “If my Da-ge wants to stay for his hour, it’s only right I give him what he paid for.”

“Huaisang don’t you dare.”

“Oh, no one is stopping you from leaving, if that’s what you want to do. You aren’t allowed to touch me, but I don’t have that rule. In fact, since you insist on staying, I get to touch you all I like.”

“Huaisang this is insane, even for you. I’m your brother . Why don’t you just get dressed and we’ll go? You’ve had your fun.”

“Da-ge, my fun is just getting started.” With that, he presses a finger to Mingjue’s lips and hushes him. All Mingjue can do is fall silent, waiting for whatever Huaisang deigns to do next. He’s not going to let Huaisang scare him into leaving, that was supposed to be his job.

The beat thrums through Mingjue’s body as Huaisang slides a finger all the way up from the buckle of Mingjue’s belt to just under his chin, lifting Mingjue’s face to look Huaisang in the eyes. So this is happening. Huaisang is choosing to act out, and Mingjue is going to bear it, even if that means getting a lapdance from him. He needs to show Huaisang that he can’t just be ordered around however Huaisang likes. That this is unacceptable behavior and Huaisang is going to regret it. Clearly his brother is trying to get him to leave, so that’s the last thing he’s going to do.

Suddenly, Huaisang’s ass is right in his face. It’s round and soft, and Mingjue can’t say he’s never noticed its size before when Huaisang was wearing jeans. The Nie men have good luck in this area. Mingjue doesn’t want to think about it.

Fuck , he’s thinking about it. 

Huaisang shimmies a little, circles his hips, arches his back, ass cheeks jiggling and bouncing.

A wave of old shameful heat overtakes Mingjue. Oh no. No no no. He’s over this. He got over this. He is married for fuckssake. 

Everything is suddenly careening to a place Mingjue desperately does not want it to go. He’s angry. He’s so angry. He needs to hold on to that anger so nothing else gets in its way. Certainly not the sick little thread of want he hasn’t felt in years, not since Huaisang was seventeen. Mingjue had still been dating Meng Yao and they looked so much alike and sometimes the wires got a little crossed and it wasn’t his fault and he never did anything about it and–

Now Huaisang lowers himself into Mingjue’s lap, flowing down over him like water. Mingjue needs to get up, right now. He needs to leave before Huaisang notices anything strange. He gets as far as putting a hand on Huaisang’s hip to lift him off when he’s slapped away. 

“No touching! You can sit on your hands or put them behind the chair if that makes it easier.”

Mingjue is so fucked. It’s too late to go back now. He’s paralzyed by the no touching rule, or maybe just his own weak will. 

He puts his hands behind the chair back. 

He tries closing his eyes, but that only makes him focus on the sensations more acutely. The feeling of Huaisang sitting against him and grinding his hips. If he had any blood left in his brain he wouldn’t care about getting kicked out of the club, but three seconds ago it all left southward, the exact moment Huaisang’s plush ass made contact with Mingjue’s clothed dick. 

Huaisang had been facing forward, but as he leans back to increase their contact further, Huaisang’s back pressed fully against Mingjue’s front, he turns his head to give a little teasing bite to Mingjue’s earlobe, out of the camera’s line of view. 

Mingjue gasps. “Please don’t,” he whispers.

“I knew it. Or well, I didn’t know it, but I knew there was something I didn’t know. Got the hots for me, Da-ge?” Huaisang teases. There’s an edge to it though. Huaisang knows he’s won, and he knows Mingjue knows it, too. 

Mingjue’s about to start crying. He can’t tell if it’s from the humiliation or from how good it all feels. “Can we please just go home?” 

Huaisang laughs, an unkind thing. “What, to Xichen-ge? I bet he doesn’t even know you’re here, does he? Can you imagine what he’d say? When he finds his supposedly faithful and true husband in a seedy strip club, getting a lapdance from his own brother and liking it?”

“Stop,” Mingjue begs. 

Huaisang stands up then, but it’s only so that he can turn around and straddle Mingjue properly. “You paid for this, not me.” Huaisang leans their foreheads together as he rocks his hips. “Besides, ah , maybe I’ve got a few secrets of my own.” He’s breathing heavy, but his movements shouldn’t be making him tired. Mingjue can scarcely believe it–is Huaisang also into this?

What a horrible brother he is, to be sitting here letting this happen. Huaisang’s not a child, he’s 21, but that doesn’t make him the responsible one. Mingjue’s the adult. He should have the self control not to do this. But when will he ever get the chance again? To feel Huaisang so close? 

“I’d kiss you if I could. But even I can’t break the no sex rule. I can do this though.” And he begins unbuttoning Mingjue’s shirt. “As long as your clothes don’t come off I can mess with them all I like.”

Huaisang is clearly hard, too. His little thong was barely containing his cock soft, and it’s not doing any better when Huaisang’s hard. The light is too dim to make out much, but Mingjue swears there’s a tiny dark patch right where the tip of Huaisang’s cock is starkly outlined against the fabric. Huaisang has lost most of his finesse, but he’s still skirting the line between dancing and humping Mingjue’s thigh. 

He undoes the last button and pulls Mingjue’s shirt open to reveal his chest. Huaisang is apparently allowed to run his soft warm hands all over Mingjue’s chest, squeezing his pecs. Mingjue throws his head back and looks up at the ceiling, though he finds no rescue there. 

“Nooo, no Da-ge, look at me. Keep looking at me. Don’t you try and pretend I’m someone else,” Huaisang demands. 

Mingjue shakes his head and looks back at Huaisang. The thought hadn’t even crossed Mingjue’s mind. How could he? He’s a lot of things, but he’s never been able to lie, not even to himself. That’s how he ended up in this mess in the first place, isn’t it? Because he hadn’t been able to convince himself that Wen Ruohan was full of shit, because he knew, deep down, that it had to be true. It should’ve been easier to blind himself.

But then he wouldn’t know what Huaisang looked like, needy and kittenish, gasping out a moan as he seeks out friction and touch that’s surely crossing some kind of line for the club. Mingjue’s hands are sweating as he uses every last ounce of strength to keep them clasped behind himself. He’s afraid they might break the chair.

Vaguely, Mingjue realizes that this isn’t the same song they started out with. How many songs has it been? How long have they been at this? He paid for an hour, how much longer are they going to mutually suffer?

As if Huaisang could read his mind, he answers the question. Or maybe Mingjue had spoken aloud. He has no idea. 

“This is the last song. When it’s over, you’re going to get your phone out.”

“What, why?” Wasn’t there a rule about phones too? 

“You’re going to call Xichen-ge and tell him you aren’t coming home tonight. And then you’re going to go get a hotel room and wait for me there until my shift is over.” 

Mingjue’s blood runs cold. “Huaisang, no. I can’t do that.” 

Huaisang reaches behind his own neck and unclasps the collar. He fastens it around Mingjue’s neck, snapping it closed in the back. It’s still warm and supple from Huaisang’s body heat, just a touch tighter than feels comfortable, due to the difference in their sizes. Huaisang hooks a finger under it and pulls Mingjue forward. 

“Oh no? You can’t?”

“Please don’t make me.” But Mingjue already knows he’s lost. How could he disobey? His brother is so enthralling. Everyone who meets him loves him in an instant, and Mingjue’s only ever wanted the privilege of staying in his sway. 

The music dies, and Mingjue digs in his pocket for his phone.  

“And you can’t tell him why either. No excuses, no lying. I know you wouldn’t anyways, but I mean it.”

Mingjue’s sweating as he pushes Xichen’s name. Xichen’s a light sleeper. He’ll wake up for this.

“‘Lo?” He sounds barely awake. 

“Xichen, it’s me.” 

“Mingjue? What? Where are you? Are you out somewhere?” Xichen is much more alert now, clearly worried. 

“Tell him you won’t be coming home tonight,” Huaisang repeats. 

“I won’t be coming home tonight.” 

“Mingjue, where are you? Why aren’t you–”

“I can’t tell you why. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Now hang up the phone, Da-ge.” 

It’s the hardest thing Mingjue’s ever done, and the easiest. “I’ll talk to you later, Xichen.” 

He hangs up. Not ten seconds later his phone starts buzzing again, Xichen trying to call him back. 

“Turn your phone off until you need to text me the room number of the hotel.” 

Mingjue turns his phone off. 

"Good boy," Huaisang purrs. "Now, your urge is going to be to wait until you aren’t hard anymore to leave. Don’t. Let them see. Let everyone see what I do to you. I want them to know.”

Huaisang nods, and Mingjue nods along with him, following his movements like he’s the cobra and his little brother has the flute. How had this situation gotten so far out of Mingjue’s control? He’s entranced, helpless. 

There's a fleeting ghost of pressure to his cheek–a kiss–and then Huaisang flits out of the room like none of the last hour just happened. 

Mingjue slumps down in the chair. He knows he has to get up and leave, but he needs a moment to collect himself. He's got a mission now, after all, though he can't bear to imagine what Huaisang intends to do with him once they're alone in a hotel together. He'll go insane. Or maybe come in his pants, he isn't sure which. 

This is not at all how he thought his evening would go. He thought he had control over his emotions. Maybe not over his brother, but over himself, at least. Mingjue puts his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and breathes until there's a knock on the door and a voice yelling that he needs to vacate the room so the next customer can use it. 

Right, because Mingjue is a customer here, not a brother. He's practically a john; he's already paid, after all. The sex is yet to come, but Huaisang hadn't been coy. They're going to fuck, even if Mingjue refuses to think through the details. Mingjue can't tell if Huaisang had been harboring the same secret insidious crush Mingjue had or if he's just trying to prove some kind of point in the sickest way possible. It doesn't matter, neither answer is going to change the outcome, nor is Mingjue able in this moment to disobey. 

He stands up, and walks out through the main room, past the dancers, past the bar, and out the door, shirt unbuttoned and still tenting his pants. 

–

He’s not going to fuck Huaisang in a hotel on this side of town. You shouldn’t be about to fuck Huaisang at all, his treacherous mind reminds himself. The lapdance was an impulsive thing, but this is premeditated. You need to go home to your husband. But he’s dug himself too deep now. He can find some excuse for Xichen; he can’t disappoint Huaisang. This is a one-time thing, just to finally get it out of his system. He has no idea what he’s going to do about Huaisang’s stripping. Normally Xichen would have sound advice, but Xichen can never know about any of this. 

Mingjue pulls into the parking garage of one of the nicer hotels in the city, not so nice that they won’t have a room available, but it’ll be clean at least. On the way up to the front desk, he takes his wedding ring off and slips it into his shirt pocket. He doesn’t care what the staff thinks.

room 734 is the only thing he sends to Huaisang. The less of a paper trail, the better.

b there in 30 comes the reply. Thirty minutes to get ready. Or leave. If he were a better man, he’d leave. 

He gets a drink from the minibar and sits on the bed, waiting. 

His erection had finally died down on the way to the hotel, but the knock on the door alone is enough to make his cock twitch. He doesn’t expect Huaisang to be in jeans and a t-shirt, the same ones he’d left the house in earlier. Mingjue had drummed up some sort of high-class escort outfit in his imagination, a trench coat over lingerie, maybe. But this isn’t an escort, it’s his brother, just Huaisang.  

He’s got a bag slung over his shoulder, the one Mingjue had bought him back when he took ballet lessons as a child. It still has the name of Huaisang’s old studio emblazoned on the side. Huaisang gave it up when it got too strenuous, and Mingjue nearly laughs to himself thinking about the workout Huaisang got tonight. 

“What’s that look for?” Huaisang frowns, crowding his way past Mingjue into the room and flinging his bag onto the table in the corner, “Are you making fun of me?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Just wondering where all that energy was for your third grade dance recital.”

“Not lucrative enough to be worth my time.” As if that explains everything. “But we aren’t here to discuss my career plans, got it?”

“But–” a glare from Huaisang. “Alright. You tell me what we’re here for, then.”

“I’m here to fuck you. You get to figure out why you’re here, that’s not my job.”

Mingjue is speechless. The handful of times he’d been weak-willed enough to imagine this scenario actually happening, he’d always been the one topping. Huaisang wants to fuck him?

“You want to fuck me.” Mingjue finally manages to parrot. “I thought I might–”

“Despite my boyish good looks, I’m not a bottom,” Huaisang interrupts coldly. “My guess is neither are you, but you’re going to let me do whatever I want, aren’t you, Da-ge? You always do.” He gets right up in Mingjue’s space as he pronounces this, as if daring Mingjue to shove him away or contradict him. Mingjue can’t.

“What’s in the bag?” That’s maybe a safer topic. 

“Costumes. Condoms. Lube. Nice attempt at deflection. Doesn’t Xichen fuck you?” Huaisang counters, not letting Mingjue get away with the subject change.

“I’ve never…um. No one’s ever, before,” Mingjue confesses to the floor, red-faced. 

“Damn, not even your husband?” 

“I don’t want to talk about Xichen right now.”

Huaisang strokes the side of Mingjue’s face with a soft hand. Mingjue leans into the touch. “My poor da-ge, half a virgin, so unfulfilled. No wonder you started perving on your little brother.” 

Mingjue’s eyes fly open. “That’s not what happened! Huaisang, I swear I’d never, it was just an accident, I–” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Huaisang drops his hand and breaks into a grin, then. “Relax, Da-ge. You’ll do fine. I’ll be gentle.” Huaisang laughs to himself, like the cliche is funny.

When did Mingjue’s life turn into a bad porno?

“Anyways, that’s enough talking from you. Get undressed and on the bed. I’ll be right back.” With that, Huaisang grabs his bag and disappears into the bathroom.

Mingjue stares at the closed door for a minute, before snapping out of it and remembering his instructions. He never told Huaisang he’d agree to be fucked. Honestly, the idea fills Mingjue with something akin to dread. But whatever Huaisang wants, he’s going to get.

Mingjue’s fingers fumble with his buttons, remembering how nimbly Huaisang had undone them earlier. This isn’t freaking Huaisang out even a little? How can he be so nonchalant? Mingjue wishes he had an ounce of Huaisang’s confidence right now. There’s one emotion he’s missing right now though: guilt. He’s nervous, sure, and he’s jeopardizing a lot of things, not least of all his marriage, but he can’t bring himself to regret being here. Maybe tonight was inevitable. 

He leaves his clothes in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. The last thing he has to take off is Huaisang’s collar. He reaches behind his neck to unclasp it, and then hesitates. Huaisang has more than proven he doesn’t need an outward sign to let the world know that Mingjue is his, but…

Huaisang’s eyes widen when he sees Mingjue kneeling on the bed, hands behind his back, still wearing his collar. It’s Huaisang’s second real shock of the evening, and this one he doesn’t recover as quickly from, letting out a low impressed whistle. 

“That how you wanna play tonight, Da-ge? You wanna be good for me?” The ‘costume’ he changed into is a black lacy body-stocking, crucially lacking a crotch for easier access. Mingjue wishes it showed more skin, but he can’t deny that Huaisang looks gorgeous. His eyes are drawn straight to Huaisang’s cock framed by the lace. It’s larger than he’d expected, even soft, and the delicate wrinkled skin of his shaved balls looks tantalizing in the low bedroom light.

Mingjue nods. He and Xichen don’t play like this, but Meng Yao had wanted it, sometimes. Mingjue is used to being in the dominant position, but he knows what submission looks like. He knows Huaisang already owns him in all the ways that matter.

“I’m all yours.”

“Oh, very good. Yes, you are. From now on you’ll answer me ‘Yes, Didi’ or ‘No, Didi,’ got it?” 

“Yes, Didi.”

“Do you want a safeword?” 

Mingjue thinks about it. “No, Didi.”

“Trick question. Do you know the stoplight system?”

“No, Didi.” Meng Yao had never safeworded. Mingjue doesn’t even remember what they decided on using.

“If I ask for your color, and you said green, what would that mean?”

Mingjue gets it. “Green is good, Didi.”

“And yellow?” 

“Not…as good?” Ok, maybe Mingjue doesn’t get it, not entirely. 

“It means we’ll slow down and talk about it before deciding whether to proceed or not. If you’ve never been fucked, you might want that one in your back pocket.” 

“Yes, Didi.”

“Good. So what color do you use if you want to stop?” 

“Didi, I’m agreeing to this, aren’t I? I don’t need to sto–”

Smack. The sound of Huaisang backhanding him rings loud in the otherwise silent room. Mingjue hears it before it registers what happened. Then the sting, and suddenly Mingjue understands that Huaisang is deadly serious.

“What. Color.”

“Red, Didi.” 

“Good. Good boy. And I trust you’ll use it, if you need to. That goes without saying.” 

“Yes, Didi.” And Mingjue finds he actually means it.

“Better. Now, lie down on your stomach.” Huaisang must pick up on the way that makes Mingjue freeze in place, because he pets Mingjue’s flank, like he’s trying to calm one of Xichen’s horses. “Shh, I’m going to go slow. You’ll have a bad time if you aren’t relaxed. I wouldn’t punish you in that way; I want you to enjoy yourself.” 

“Can I ask for something?” Mingjue feels daring, just a little. Huaisang wants to take care of him, which is emboldening and thrilling all at once. He’s so used to it being the other way around. 

“No guarantees you’ll get it,” Huaisang warns, “but you have permission to ask.” 

“Before, in the club…you said you wanted to kiss me.” He trails off, waiting for a response. 

Huaisang remains silent and still, standing beside the bed, and eventually it occurs to Mingjue that he’s waiting for Mingjue to actually ask. “Kiss me? Please?” He adds for emphasis, just to be polite about it. 

Huaisang is launching himself into Mingjue’s arms before Mingjue can fully react, and they both fall back onto the bed. It’s like Huaisang is trying to attack him mouth-first, but he’s not unskilled. Huaisang licks his way into Mingjue’s mouth after leaving his lips kiss-bitten and red, sucking on Mingjue’s tongue and humming his satisfaction into each kiss. 

Even if this is all Huaisang ever gives him, it will be worth it, just for this. Mingjue’s hands come up to run over Huaisang’s lace-covered back and down to his ass, which he’s wanted to grab all night. There’s a little slit in the fabric here, and Mingjue wriggles his hand in under the material to grasp at bare skin.

“Fuck, you beg so pretty.” Huaisang gasps. “Da-gege, you’re so perfect, just made for me. We were meant for it.”

“How long,” Mingjue manages. “How long have you wanted this?” 

Huaisang rolls his eyes in a way that makes him look every bit Mingjue’s bratty baby brother. “Only ever since I figured out what sex was, obviously. I never thought you’d actually come to the club, but hell if I didn’t imagine a thousand ways I’d dance for you. A thousand ways I’d get you under me, just like this.” 

Mingjue licks his lips, and that makes Huaisang dive back in for more, halting the conversation for another set of long minutes. And, fuck, is that Huaisang’s hard on Mingjue can feel growing against his thigh? Mingjue isn't small, and he’d sort of assumed Didi would be proportional, but he doesn’t feel proportional. Mingjue finds himself repeating more porn cliches in his head. How the hell is that going to fit? Xichen can take Mingjue, but Xichen’s had practice. Even with Huaisang’s promise of going slow Mingjue is skeptical.

“Shh, calm down, Da-ge. You're tensing up again.” Huaisang tries to gentle him with unsuccessful results. He sighs. “We have got to get you out of your head.” With a final obscene lick over Mingjue’s lips, Huaisang sits up, breathing heavy. 

“Alright, now turn over. I’m not going to touch you anywhere new for now, just a backrub. We’ve done those before.” 

They have. Mingjue hasn’t asked for one in years, thinking it would be too risky of an activity given his illicit desires, but now Huaisang would probably welcome it if he gets hard.

“Color.” 

“Hm? Oh right. Green, Didi.” 

“Good boy.”

“Hang on, I’ve got oil in my bag.” Huaisang gets up, and Mingjue gets an eyeful of the cock that’s meant to go inside of him at full hardness. It’s certainly the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. And then he feels bad for that thought because surely his husband’s is supposed to be prettier. But Huaisang’s cock arches up in an elegant curve, head perfectly in proportion to the shaft and nicely rounded. 

“Can I suck you?” Comes out of his mouth without his permission.

Huaisang laughs, and this time it’s warm, indulgent. “Have you earned that? I don’t know that you have.” 

“Sorry, Didi.” 

“I’ll take it under consideration,” Huaisang acquiesces. “Now turn over. Don’t make me ask again.”

Mingjue turns over, head facing away from Huaisang. A strip of black cloth appears in his vision, held by a slender hand. 

“Lift up your head.”

A blindfold? Ok then. He complies without further questioning. Mingjue’s vision becomes totally dark as Huaisang ties it snugly behind his head. 

“You look so beautiful like this, you know.” Huaisang trails his fingers across the collar and hooks a finger under it, tugging gently. “All mine. Like it should be.”

Mingjue moans at the first touch of Huaisang’s clever hands across Mingjue’s broad back. Huaisang’s always been good at this. He keeps the pressure even and sensual, not usually what Mingjue wants out of a massage, but he figures that Huaisang really going for the knots wouldn’t be conducive to relaxation. True to his word, Huaisang keeps his touch platonic, but it doesn’t stop Mingjue from getting hard, just like he used to fear he would. But right now Huaisang’s in charge, and it’s ok for Mingjue to let go and feel whatever he wants to feel. He takes deep breaths as he lets Huaisang turn him boneless and needy. 

Mingjue doesn’t know how much time has passed when the touch to his lips comes. At first he thinks it’s one of Huaisang’s fingers, but, no, it’s too big. Then it hits him. Oh fuck . He opens his mouth so Huaisang can slide his cock in, just the head, while he continues massaging Mingjue’s back. 

“Don’t try sucking, just open up for me, you can do that.” 

Mingjue moans again at that, and he can hear Huaisang’s pleased little hum. He tries his best to be wet and open for Huaisang, lets his tongue go fat and soft, a welcoming orifice for Huaisang to use as he likes.

Huaisang never gets much further in his mouth than the tip, never so far as to make Mingjue gag, or even be uncomfortable. It’s both considerate and maddening. Mingjue can suck cock, he’s good at it, even. But Huaisang told him not to suck, so he doesn’t. He concentrates instead on the flavor of Huaisang’s skin bursting over his tongue, his steadily leaking precome, salty and slick.

“You can suck now, but keep it gentle. If you make me come too soon there will be consequences.” Huaisang emphasizes that last word, consequences , and Mingjue knows down to his bones that he won’t like whatever consequences means.

So he keeps it light, soft little suckling motions. Whether by accident or design Mingjue doesn’t know, but it soothes some deep down part of him that was still worried. He’s so focused on nursing at Huaisang’s cock that he barely even registers when Huaisang slides an oiled finger between his cheeks. All he feels when Huaisang circles his hole is another wave of pleasure, enough that he rocks his hips against the bed a little, seeking friction. 

“Hold still. Better yet, lift your hips up a little, there you go.” Huaisang reaches under him to pull his cock backwards between his legs before directing him back down. The finger circling his hole trails its way down over Mingjue’s balls and right to the tip of his cock. He can’t see what Huaisang is doing, but he can feel every second of it as he’s petted in this way, starting from the top of his ass over his hole down to the tip of his cock, over and over. It’s hypnotic, and Mingjue lets himself be lulled by it, letting the pleasure slowly build.

He’s so out of it he can’t even warn Huaisang when he comes. It sneaks up on him the way Huaisang used to, when they were little. Mingjue feels drunk, delirious, overwhelmed. The orgasm courses through him in waves, rippling out through his whole body right down to his toes. Huaisang’s lazy shallow rocking into his mouth stops while Mingjue is caught up in the throes of it, and when it’s over Huaisang pulls out entirely. 

Mingjue lets out a sob at the loss. It’s not the first time an orgasm has made him cry, but it’s the first time in his memory that he doesn’t do anything to try and hide it. Xichen always tries to fix whatever he thinks is wrong, and Meng Yao used to make fun of him. Huaisang just pets his hair and murmurs soothing nonsense low in his ear. 

“Oh, Da-ge, that was beautiful. You’re so beautiful. If I’d known you’d take it so well I would’ve made a move when I was still in high school. Shh, it’s ok. Cry if you need to, you’ve had a lot happen today. I’m sure it’s been overwhelming.”

Mingjue feels wrung out and empty. So so empty. He needs–he needs…

“Fuck me,” he begs. “Please, Didi, please fuck me. Stop teasing, I can’t take it anymore.”

“Shh, shh. Alright. Good boy, you can have it. Honestly, it’s so hard to deny you. You don’t know how you get to me, Da-ge.” 

Mingjue eventually quiets back down, silent tears still making their way from under the now-damp blindfold and running down his face.

There’s nothing but pleasure, nearly too much, when Huaisang finally–finally–slides a single finger, dripping with massage oil, into Mingjue. Mingjue had always assumed that it would feel strange, uncomfortable. For all that his previous partners seemed to enjoy it, Mingjue never understood the appeal until this exact second. But Huaisang got him so thoroughly relaxed beforehand, was so careful about it, treating Mingjue like he was fragile and precious. He doesn’t remember being treated like this before. It’s heady; it’s more than a little embarrassing. He never wants to give it up. Why should he have to be the one in charge all the time? 

Suddenly a fresh wave of just shy of too intense pleasure hits him, right as Huaisang crooks his finger. “Fuck!” he yells. 

“I can’t believe you never even got curious about your prostate. Sometime I’m going to show you my toy box, it’ll blow your mind.” 

Mingjue isn’t coherent enough to respond to that, so he just moans again.

Huaisang laughs, but Mingjue doesn’t feel made fun of. It’s like Huaisang is letting him in on the joke, like this is now something they can share that no one else is privy to.

“You take me so well. So fucking pretty, so hot. God, why are you so hot? I nearly chafe my dick off when you walk around the house in basketball shorts and nothing else.” As he’s speaking he’s slowly pumping his finger in and out, making sure to brush over Mingjue’s prostate again on every down stroke. 

Mingjue doesn’t dare try to speak. He probably couldn’t if he wanted to. Huaisang’s words feel strangely far away, like Mingjue is floating somewhere just outside his own body. He registers that his brother is speaking, but the content is lost in a haze of warmth and pleasure. His brain is turned off and all Mingjue can do is trust Huaisang and feel. 

He thinks there might be more than one finger in him now, or maybe Huaisang is alternating, he’s not sure. No, it’s two. Huaisang is scissoring them apart, getting Mingjue ready more intently. Earlier he’d been intimidated by the prospect of Huaisang’s cock inside him, but now he’s impatient for it. He’s vaguely aware that he’s hard again, too. Huaisang doesn’t touch his cock and Mingjue doesn’t feel any real need to address it. The strange floaty sensation holds him in place, keeps him calm. It’ll happen when it happens. Huaisang’s in charge of everything for now. 

“If I weren’t such a greedy bitch I’d finger you all night. But you’ll take whatever I give you, won’t you?” 

Mingjue nods, or thinks he nods. Huaisang pets his hair with his free hand, sending tingles from Mingjue’s head all down his back. 

“So deep down you can’t do anything but take it. Can you take a little more now?” 

Mingjue tries to say something in the affirmative. It comes out slurred, like he’s drunk. “Yesss Didi.” 

“You’re lovely. Just for me. All for me.” 

The third finger teeters on the edge of uncomfortable. It’s odd, but Mingjue likes the feeling, likes being full of Huaisang, fingers so deep Mingjue can practically feel them in his throat. His cock is going to be bigger–a lot bigger. Mingjue is more than ready.

He’d managed to stop crying, right up until the moment Huaisang’s fingers all withdraw. Fresh tears overtake him, grief at the loss of the sensation. He finds enough of his voice to cry out “don’t stop!” and is silenced by Huaisang leaning down to kiss him. It’s sloppy and wet, on Mingjue’s end, but Huaisang doesn’t say anything disparaging.

“You’ve got a choice now. You can stay like this, on your stomach, or you can turn over on your back. Which do you want?”

“Turn over,” Mingjue manages through heaving breaths. “Wanna see you.” 

“I’ll allow that. Let me take this off.” He unties the now-soaked blindfold and then darts his head down to lick away Mingjue’s tears. The sensation of Huaisang’s hot little tongue at the corners of his eyes startles Mingjue out of his emotions.

“Mmm, the way you taste, Da-ge. Now flip over.” 

With a great amount of effort, Mingjue does. From this vantage point, Huaisang towers over him from his place at the side of the bed. He doesn’t remember ever having to look up at his brother before. Mingjue blinks a few times, adjusting to the light.

“Color?” 

“Green, Didi.” 

“Good. Very good. You’re going to love this, I promise.” And Mingjue believes him. Mingjue’s cock is steadily leaking onto his thigh and Huaisang reaches down to give it a few pumps with his slick hand. Mingjue wimpers. 

“Too much? That’s ok. You’re going to come on my cock, anyways.” 

Mingjue wimpers again, a thin high noise. Oh fuck, really? Is that even possible?

Huaisang doesn’t bother elaborating, since he’s busy slicking his own cock up. 

“Legs on my shoulders, there you go. Remember to keep relaxed for me. Breathe out when I push in.” Mingjue can do that. He can do whatever Huaisang says, just so long as Huaisang comes and fills him up right now. 

His cock is definitely bigger than his fingers had been, but not so much that Mingjue can’t take it after Huaisang’s careful prep work. He exhales as Huaisang bottoms out in one even smooth stroke. There. That’s perfect. Just what Mingjue needed, and all this time he never knew. How had he been so blind? 

A long moan escapes Mingjue as Huaisang begins to move, keeping his steady pace. It’s too much; it’s not enough; it’s perfect. Mingjue never wants it to end. Huaisang is forcing little breathy sounds out of Mingjue on each thrust in, each time Huaisang’s balls slap against Mingjue’s ass. He hits Mingjue’s prostate like a bullseye every time, the curve of his cock working to his advantage and pressing right up against it, dragging slowly back over the spot with firm pressure as he pulls out. All Mingjue can do is hold on for the ride. 

Mingjue reaches up to run his hands down Huaisang’s lace-covered chest. The sense-memory of Huaisang doing the same thing to him earlier that night makes him shiver. He lands on Huaisang’s full hips and lightly rests his hands there. Not trying to guide Huaisang or direct in any way, just wanting another point of connection. Even so, Huaisang pauses in his rhythm to grab Mingjue by the wrists and pin them back against the bed. The new position gives him more leverage to thrust even deeper, something Mingjue didn’t think was possible. 

“Hands down,” Huaisang growls, eyes narrowing. “Next time I’ll tie you up.” 

Mingjue doesn’t know which gets him hotter, the prospect of being tied up or the prospect of “next time.”

“If only your husband could see you like this. He has no idea how well you take it. Could he fuck you half as good as I can? Would he be able to take you apart and put you back together?” 

Mingjue’s cock jumps from the words alone. This is so wrong, he loves it so much. 

“Poor Da-ge, no one is making sure you’re seen to, are they? That’s why you need me. I’m here for you. I’ll always, ah , be here for you. I was born for this.” Huaisang is on the verge of rambling, but every word goes straight to Mingjue’s cock. The sheen of sweat on Huasiang’s brow is entrancing. Mingjue likes knowing that this is effort for Huaisang, that he’s willing to expend it for Mingjue’s pleasure. 

To say nothing of Huaisang’s declaration that he was put on this earth just to fuck Mingjue. Fuck, that’s hot. Mingjue turns the idea over and over again in his mind, flying to scenarios where that statement was actually true, that Huaisang had been raised as Mingjue’s future spouse, rather than his brother. 

“You like that,” Huaisang pronounces, as a large spurt of Mingjue’s precome lands on his stomach. “I can tell you like that. I would’ve let you, you know. It’s a shame you’re too good of a person. You could’ve trained me however you wanted. But maybe it’s better this way, because you don’t know what you need. But I do.” 

His thrusting has picked up by now, giving Mingjue a proper pounding. The smack smack smack of skin hitting skin sounding so loud Mingjue’s afraid the people in the next room are going to complain. Let them, he thinks viciously. 

He eventually loses track of time in the ebb and flow of sensation. Huaisang starts speeding up more and more, movements growing erratic as he chases his own pleasure.

“I want you to-to come with me. You can do that, right?” Huaisang pants, hips rocking forward and forward and forward.

Mingjue isn’t sure. “Dunno…touch me Didi, please.” 

“No. You come on my cock or you don’t come, so figure it out. And hurry up because I’m close.” 

“Keep talking then,” Mingjue says.

Huaisang nods his assent. “You never guessed, but I was an exceedingly horny child. Remember that time your favorite expensive underwear went missing? The silk ones? You never thought to check under my mattress. I returned them after they stopped smelling like you.”

Mingjue remembers the incident in question. “You were, right there, yes–y ou were thirteen!” 

“I used to steal your clothes all the time. I used to use your back massager as a vibrator. If I’d known that all I needed to do to get you under me was give you a lapdance I’d have done it years ago. I’ve hated every single boyfriend you’ve ever had, up to and including that useless husband of yours. I’m so fucking jealous all the time, only you’d never know. I should’ve been an actor, really. If I had my way, he’d never touch you again. No one would. If I–if I had it my way, I’d, fuck , I’d make you wear my collar permanently.” 

Huaisang punctuates this speech with deliberate thrusts right against Mingjue’s prostate, and that’s enough to tip Mingjue right over the edge. He nearly screams as his second orgasm overtakes him, come landing halfway up to his chin.

Huaisang follows him half a dozen shaky thrusts later, turning his head and biting Mingjue’s calf hard in an attempt to muffle the noise. That only makes Mingjue shout louder, the painpleasure doing something strange to him, making everything more intense.

There’s a loud knock on the wall behind Mingjue’s head, which makes Hausiang burst into tired giggles. 

“I think the neighbors heard you, Da-ge.” 

“Shut up.” Mingjue’s face isn’t thick enough to handle the additional mortification, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Huaisang lets him get away with it for a few minutes as he gently sets Mingjue’s legs back down from his shoulders and pulls all the way out. The first moment Mingjue feels truly uncomfortable is when he feels the slide of Hausiang’s come leaking out of him. He’s not sure he loves that as much as the rest, not when all the arousal has been wrung out of him and all he feels is calm.

Huaisang must see his grimace, because he asks, “You want a shower?”

Mingjue nods. Huaisang helps him up, and thankfully he only wobbles a little. It’s not painful, though Mingjue supposes it might be after he sleeps on it, but it’s no longer particularly sexy, either. 

“Time is it?”

“Nearly dawn. I don’t suggest we sleep here if we can avoid it, but we’ve got time for a shower.”

Xichen will be awake soon. Mingjue won’t be there, and he’ll be worried. He tries vaguely to think of an excuse to tell Xichen, but what can he possibly say? He’s a terrible liar, but telling him the truth is unthinkable. 

“What am I supposed to say to Xichen about…everything?” 

“Depends,” Huaisang says warily while he fiddles with the water temperature. “What’s your end goal?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you trying to break up with him?” 

“What?” Mingjue’s incredulous. “No! That’s insane.” 

“Not to me,” Huaisang replies darkly. “You know how I feel.” 

Wasn’t that just dirty talk in the moment? Huaisang wasn’t…wasn’t serious , was he? About hating Xichen? About wanting Mingjue all to himself? “Surely you know that that can’t work. I mean. It just can’t, Didi. This was already too much, we can’t do it again.” But even as he says it he feels his resolve crumbling. “Ok, we can’t do it very often.”

“Uh-huh.” Huaisang turns around and motions to Mingjue to remove the collar. Mingjue wishes Huaisang would take it off himself, but maybe it’s best that he doesn’t. “Whatever you say Da-ge,” he says, voice carefully neutral as they step under the hot spray. 

Now Mingjue’s really stepped in it. He tries to placate. “Think about it. We’re brothers. We could get in serious trouble. And maybe you hate Xichen, but I don’t. I don’t want to hurt him.” 

“But hurting me is fine, is it?” Huaisang accuses, hurling the words like a knife aimed at Mingjue’s heart. Then he takes a breath. “Look, just drop it. Tell Xichen that you had to stay out to drive one of my friends to the ER or something. He’ll believe that.”

“Huaisang, I’m sor–” 

“Stop. I refuse to hear your half assed apology. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to let me keep dancing. For you I will graduate, keep my grades up like I always have, but I’m not ever going to go work for some stuffy office. I can’t do it. And I’m moving out, as soon as possible. 

“Didi I–”

“No. These are my terms. I’m moving out, because you need somewhere to go whenever your stupid boring vanilla life and your stupid boring vanilla husband gets to be too much. Whenever you feel like you’re going to crawl out of your skin, you come to me. If that’s all I can get then I’ll take it, but you owe me at least this much. Got it?”

Mingjue doesn’t have it in him to fight Huaisang on this, because his brother is right. “Alright. You know best.” 

“Damn right I do. Now turn around, I’ll do your hair.”

–

They dress in silence. Huaisang leaves first, instructing Mingjue to wait 20 minutes before checking out so it’s slightly less obvious they’re leaving at the same time. Now that his brother is gone, all that’s left in Mingjue’s mind is his husband. This one night, for better or worse, has irrevocably changed his marriage. He still loves Xichen very deeply, but Huaisang has shown him, in a single fell swoop, every single flaw in their relationship. 

He keeps thinking about it in the car, watching the sun rise over the city. What is he going to say? Huaisang’s excuse was more than plausible. Xichen would buy it. It would be easy to keep Huaisang as a side-piece. But can he do that? To Xichen or Huaisang or himself ? 

He doesn’t have any good answers by the time he’s pulling into their two-car garage. He does a solid walk of shame up the garage steps, in through the living room, to the kitchen where he can see Xichen’s profile, nursing a cup of tea. His husband looks up when he hears the door close, red eyed. He’s clearly been crying. Mingjue had turned his phone on for the drive home and saw the 37 missed calls, the frantic texts. 

Where are you? Call me. 

Please Mingjue, I’m worried. 

Mingjue? Please pick up the phone. 

Mingjue just tell me where you are. 

The relief that crosses Xichen’s face when he sees Mingjue is enough to finally make Mingjue feel guilty. He hadn’t, the whole night, not until this exact second. 

“Mingjue! Where were you? Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok. But where were you? Your call worried me so much. I didn’t sleep all night.” Xichen sets the tea down with a clatter, spilling some as he gets up to rush over to his husband.

Mingjue takes a deep breath. Whatever comes out of his mouth next will make or break him, and likely Xichen, too. He doesn’t want to break Xichen. He doesn’t want to give up Huaisang. Anything he says now will determine the rest of his life. 

It’s not until he’s saying the words that Mingjue finds his decision made.