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It’s not the first time Sui Zhou has found himself in a situation like this.
Not the second, or the third. He’d like to say he’s lost count but that would be a lie. He values each time he and Tang Fan have teamed up to go undercover—there is something intensely satisfying about working together, matching his skills to Tang Fan’s, feeling like they’re making a difference, doing the right thing. But the times like this? When circumstances necessitate Tang Fan wheedling a favor out of Cui Mama, when he gets her ladies to dress him up and paint his face? When Tang Fan drags Sui Zhou to the brothel or some private banquet, flirting with him even more obviously than usual, playing at romance or something like it?
These times Sui Zhou remembers in particularly excruciating detail.
They are so close to what he wants, is the problem. It’s not real, though. Sui Zhou thinks. What you have is already more than you deserve.
But it’s too easy to go along with. Tang Fan hanging off his arm or pressed up against his chest, somehow managing to look coyly up at him through his eyelashes even though they are nearly of a height? Not having to guard his own expression, to stare as adoringly as he always wants to, seeing Tang Fan blush and duck his head, hiding his expression in Sui Zhou’s shoulder, snuggling closer? Sometimes he could almost imagine it’s real.
***
Sometimes Tang Fan takes it further. The first time it happens is a surprise. They follow their suspect, a broker of shady information, out of the main areas of the brothel and into the private hallways, thinking to catch him meeting one of his clients. When he turns back unexpectedly, they’re nearly caught. Tang Fan grabs Sui Zhou by the arm and spins him into the wall, pressing him back with his whole body and reaching up with both hands to grab his jaw, pulling him in and joining their mouths together.
Sui Zhou’s hands instinctively come up to steady Tang Fan by the hips. His mouth opens in a gasp as his back collides with the wall and Tang Fan collides with his front, so the kiss starts deeper and wetter than Tang Fan could possibly have intended. Tang Fan doesn’t hesitate for more than a breath, though, a hitching gasp of his own, before he presses forward harder, moaning.
Just for show, says the part of Sui Zhou’s mind that is always awake to danger. To keep our cover. He doesn’t mean it.
Their suspect passes them by without stopping.
After a moment, Tang Fan pulls away, breathing hard, his gaze seemingly stuck on Sui Zhou’s mouth before he looks up. His eyes are wide and shocked, nearly frightened, and Sui Zhou has to fight to loosen his grip on his hips, pushing him back a little so that he can get some breathing room. So that he doesn’t pull him back in. He didn’t mean it. This isn’t something you can have.
Tang Fan blinks and stumbles back, his expression going opaque; he opens his mouth, and Sui Zhou braces himself for whatever he’s about to say.
A burst of laughter from one of the rooms down the hall interrupts them. Tang Fan looks away and laughs. “I can’t believe that worked! Sui Zhou, I’ve written it into two of my books myself, it’s such a cliché!” He stoops to pick up the fan he’d dropped and hides his face behind it. Sui Zhou can’t see his full expression but his eyes look thoughtful.
The ruse had worked, and it became a part of their toolkit, to use as needed. They don’t talk about it, and Sui Zhou never initiates it himself. It’s not selfish if you’re just… letting it happen. And if sometimes that means that he gets to hold Tang Fan closer while Tang Fan has his way with him, well, Sui Zhou isn’t complaining.
Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. Take what you get, it’s more than you deserve.
***
Sometimes, like this time, their stakeout is slow. Their quarry—a smuggler, according to Wang Zhi’s suspicions and Tang Fan’s research through a year’s worth of shipping manifests—is loitering in the main foyer of the brothel, drinking slowly and watching the girls, waiting for his contact. He’s not paying them any attention, and the brothel is quiet in the midafternoon, so it’s easy to keep track of him.
As they wait, Tang Fan forgets to stay in character, and more of his real self shines through. They’ve started debating what Sui Zhou should make for dinner and it’s almost like a normal conversation, the ones they have after Dong’er has gone to bed, keeping each other company while Sui Zhou cleans the kitchen or Tang Fan idles through the paperwork for his cases. A normal conversation, although one with Tang Fan invading his space even more closely than usual. Sui Zhou lets it happen, opening his posture and slouching back as Tang Fan pets his chest, playing at drunkenness. He loops an arm around Tang Fan’s waist; not pulling him in, just appreciating having him near.
Tang Fan cuddles into his side anyway. “We haven’t had duck in so long,“ Tang Fan whines. “And you do the thing with the crispy skin that makes me want to—” He cuts himself off, fanning his face. He’s a little more flushed than the powder can cover. “Well, the thing with the crispy skin that’s amazing, anyway! Please, Guangchuan.” He pouts, a look that wouldn’t be out of place on the character he’s playing, but that Sui Zhou has seen almost daily since they met and knows is purely authentic Tang Fan. Sui Zhou has thought a lot about this playful, pleading look, the way Tang Fan bites his lower lip to keep from smiling even as his eyes curve up, sparkling with good humor.
It’s too much, too close. Sui Zhou tears his eyes away to check on their smuggler just in time to notice that the contact has apparently arrived. The two move away from the entrance, deeper into the brothel. From the looks of it, they’re headed towards one of the tables at the back.
Sui Zhou turns back to Tang Fan to find that he has noticed as well. “Back to work, Sui Baihu?” he says quietly. The look on his face is… complicated. Disappointed in the mouth but determined in the jaw. A little eager around the eyes? Sui Zhou doesn’t know if Tang Fan’s face is just unusually expressive, to show so many different things at once, or whether Sui Zhou has just been looking so much, hoping so much, that he’s attuned to even the smallest shifts of eye and lip.
Sui Zhou nods, glancing towards an alcove near where their suspect and his contact are settling down. He looks back at Tang Fan, raising an eyebrow. They have developed a… routine, of sorts, for how to get close to conversations that they want to listen in on. But Sui Zhou won’t be the one to start it, no matter how much he wants to. If Tang Fan has another plan, Sui Zhou will go along with it.
Tang Fan smiles crookedly, nodding back. Sui Zhou lets out a breath, showily downs the rest of his cup—they’re known to the staff, so it’s just water—then sweeps Tang Fan up into his arms and carries him towards the alcove. He sways as he does it, playing drunk; the ornaments in Tang Fan’s hair chime and he nearly hits Sui Zhou in the face with his fan. Tang Fan turns his initial startled yelp into a giggle and bats at Sui Zhou’s chest, kicking his legs and mock-struggling in a way that only makes it harder for Sui Zhou to keep his balance.
There’s a likely couch in the alcove, but the positioning is tricky—he’ll have to put his back to their suspect and trust Tang Fan to keep an eye out over Sui Zhou’s shoulder. He hesitates, his hold on Tang Fan tightening, the calluses on his fingers catching in the silk dress.
Tang Fan’s face goes concerned, meeting Sui Zhou’s eyes before sweeping over the alcove, couch, and suspect in a lightning glance. His expression clears and he giggles again. “Oh, honey,” he says in the high voice he puts on when he plays this role. “Let’s sit down and get comfortable, and I’ll let you…” He makes a show of leaning in to whisper in Sui Zhou’s ear, but says quietly in his own voice, “I won’t let anything happen to you, Guangchuan. I’ll warn you if you need to fight.”
Sui Zhou tries to hide a shiver by nuzzling into Tang Fan’s neck. Also for show—things are quiet enough that they need to blend in convincingly. “Be careful,” he says, feeling only somewhat reassured. Still, he tumbles them down onto the couch, draping Tang Fan across his lap and leaning back so Tang Fan can arrange himself over his chest, with a line of sight on the suspect over Sui Zhou’s shoulder.
Don’t take more than you’re given, Sui Zhou reminds himself. He just barely braces his left arm up Tang Fan’s back, tucking his hand gently over the nape of Tang Fan’s neck under the fall of his hair. His right arm by contrast he locks across Tang Fan’s lap. Otherwise, based on previous experience, Tang Fan had a tendency to wriggle and Sui Zhou only had so much self-control. He allows himself this—he folds his fingers into the crook of Tang Fan’s knee, pulling him deeper into his lap, and lets his thumb trace a path back and forth over the top of his thigh.
They’re more obvious here, if their suspect or his contact should look over, so they have to play the part. They can’t talk above a murmur, not and still hear the conversation next to them. Tang Fan starts the ruse slowly, dropping his fan beside them on the couch and leaning forward to cross his wrists behind Sui Zhou’s neck. He is warm, pressed against Sui Zhou’s chest. He glances towards their suspect, and then leans his head in closer to Sui Zhou’s, rubbing the tip of his nose across Sui Zhou’s cheek.
“Is this alright, Sui Zhou?” Tang Fan seems to hesitate, his breath tickling over Sui Zhou’s lips. Sui Zhou can’t see the expression on his face, but he sounds uncertain. As though they haven’t done this half-a-dozen times already, to Sui Zhou’s chagrin and increasing frustration.
“It’s fine, Tang Fan. Do what you need.”
Tang Fan sighs sweetly before he leans the last inch down, kissing the corner of Sui Zhou’s mouth once, soft like a whisper, then again, and again. Sui Zhou resists the urge to use the hand on the back of Tang Fan’s neck to guide him, to slide his fingers up into his hair and press him down. He lets Tang Fan do what he wants. He waits, breathing the scent of Tang Fan—paper and ink and candy.
Tang Fan draws back briefly, glancing over Sui Zhou’s shoulder before leaning in again. This time he doesn’t tease but he is still gentle as he fits their lips together, sliding his fingers into Sui Zhou’s hair. The kiss is still almost chaste, and it is driving Sui Zhou insane. It goes against his instincts not to listen to the conversation between their suspect and his contact. Given the evidence already in the shipping manifests that Tang Fan had let slip while rambling through his elaborate justification for their coming here, it is definitely not important, though, not deserving of his attention compared to the feeling of Tang Fan in his lap, the taste of him on his lips. He can’t help but kiss back, making it a little deeper, wetter, mouthing at Tang Fan’s lower lip. Sui Zhou can feel the muscles in Tang Fan’s thighs twitch as he tries to wiggle closer against the grip Sui Zhou has across his legs. He settles with a frustrated grumble in his throat and a huff through his nose that tickles over Sui Zhou’s mustache. He tightens his fingers in Sui Zhou’s hair and nips him just a little before licking over the bite.
Sui Zhou has entirely lost track of time when Tang Fan startles and draws back again to look over his shoulder, giving a small gasp before diving back in and deepening the kiss. Distantly, Sui Zhou registers the sound of their suspect pushing his chair back and standing up.
Sui Zhou starts to pull away but Tang Fan whines in protest, grabbing Sui Zhou by the jaw with both hands and tipping his head back, arching forward against and above him in such a way as to sweep his hair forward around their faces. With the change in angle and the pressure of Tang Fan’s thumbs in the hinge of his jaw Sui Zhou’s mouth drops open and Tang Fan deepens the kiss ruthlessly, sweeping his tongue over Sui Zhou’s upper lip, scraping over his mustache before licking in and over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Tang Fan trembles just a little and makes a sound that would have been a hum if his mouth had been closed. Sui Zhou recognizes it, distorted or not, from hundreds of meals—a sound of greedy satisfaction.
Desperately, Sui Zhou uses the hand he had unwittingly tangled in Tang Fan’s hair to wrench him away. Calm down. He doesn’t mean it. Not the way you want. Given that Sui Zhou was the one pulling them apart it is still wretchedly hard not to chase after Tang Fan’s lips as he comes away gasping, lower lip trembling and wet, tongue swiping over it. Tang Fan’s eyes are dark and glassy when blinks them open. He’s barely holding his own weight, sagging into Sui Zhou’s grip on his hair, his back shifting under Sui Zhou’s arm as he sways forward again. His lips are red now less from makeup, and more from friction and the burn of Sui Zhou’s facial hair.
Sui Zhou forces himself to lean back and away. If they start again he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. He untangles his hand from Tang Fan’s hair and slides it down to shake him a little by the scruff of the neck, trying to redirect his attention away from what they’ve been doing and back towards what they ostensibly came here for. “Did you get what you needed?”
“W-what?” Tang Fan blinks at him, his eyes clearing slowly.
Did you get what you needed from me? Sui Zhou thinks, but he plays along. “Are they gone? Did you get what you needed from their conversation?”
Tang Fan closes his eyes and leans away, taking a deep breath. He licks his lips once more, mouth going tight where a second ago it had been so soft. From where he’s holding him, Sui Zhou can feel his back go tense.
When he looks back at Sui Zhou his expression is complicated again. His eyes are sad and his mouth rueful; the overall effect is something like fondness and guilt and disappointment but all he says is, “Yes, Guangchan, I got what I could. It’s enough.” His left hand smooths down Sui Zhou’s neck and shoulder, fixing his collar where it had come askew, and reaching out with his right hand to tuck Sui Zhou’s hair back into place, fingers grazing over the shell of his ear.
Enough. Enough. Sui Zhou stands more abruptly than he means to, dumping Tang Fan out of his lap but reaching out to steady him by the upper arm when he stumbles and yelps. Just that, he holds him for a moment as Tang Fan gets his feet back under himself, and then Sui Zhou steps away. “Good, let’s go home. We can pick up some duck on the way.” What you have already is more than you deserve. It’s enough.
Tang Fan sighs and smiles. “You are too good to me, Sui Zhou,” he says, but he doesn’t look as excited about the duck as Sui Zhou had hoped.
***
The next day, they go to the palace so that Tang Fan can report to Wang Zhi. He waves them to a seat across from him and has tea brought as Tang Fan begins.
Sui Zhou doesn’t bother listening closely—Tang Fan had explained it all yesterday morning before insisting on their trip to the brothel. Instead he studies Tang Fan, trying not to be too obvious about it. Especially in front of Wang Zhi, who misses nothing as a rule. And who, moreover, had recently started stopping by the guardhouse every few days to make insinuating comments that were probably exactly as unsubtle as he meant them to be, about everything from the romantic poem that was popular that week to northern horseback riding techniques.
But Sui Zhou is worried about Tang Fan. He had been oddly subdued after the brothel. He hadn’t pestered Sui Zhou while he cooked dinner. He had perked up as they ate, making inarticulate sounds of pleasure while licking duck fat from his fingers, but instead of keeping Sui Zhou company while he cleaned up, he had made excuses about having to finalize some things for his report and escaped to his room. Even Dong’er had noticed, giving Sui Zhou a long, questioning look before retreating to her own room. Sui Zhou didn’t know what to tell her. I don’t know what he’s thinking either.
Tang Fan had still been quiet in the morning, and through breakfast, and on their walk to the palace. It was making Sui Zhou increasingly concerned; what had he missed and how could he fix it? This quiet Tang Fan was hard to read and he was making it more difficult by avoiding Sui Zhou’s gaze, even though he couldn’t seem to resist taking little sipping glances out of the corner of his eye. Twice, Sui Zhou had noticed him staring when he thought Sui Zhou wasn’t paying attention. The look on his face was something like he got when he was denied some dish or treat he’d been pining for, the corners of his lips and brows turned down, but that didn’t make sense. Don’t you know I’m always paying attention? That I always try to give you what you want?
Wang Zhi drums his fingers on his desk and his eyes dart from Tang Fan to Sui Zhou and back as Tang Fan comes to the end of his report. He tilts his head, considering, before nodding to himself and leaning forward over his desk, over the pot of tea they had been sharing. “And you got all of that simply by reviewing the shipping manifests?”
Tang Fan goes very stiff, locking eyes with Wang Zhi, whose smile goes mean and delighted. It is a familiar look, mischievous. It makes him seem his age for a change but it nonetheless puts Sui Zhou on edge. It is a look that usually means trouble.
“It’s just that I need to make an accurate report to the Emperor,” Wang Zhi drawls, “so that we can ensure this corruption is prevented in the future.” He puts on a pious look, “The detail that all of the necessary information could be gleaned from the shipping manifests, without any additional investigation, is very important.” He looks at Sui Zhou for a beat before looking back at Tang Fan. “Miscommunication would be so unfortunate.”
Tang Fan’s gaze follows Wang Zhi’s over to Sui Zhou. He seems to get stuck for a moment, his eyes flicking over Sui Zhou’s face before meeting Sui Zhou’s gaze, widening in what looks like realization before tearing away. Tang Fan turns back to Wang Zhi, swallows and says hoarsely, “Yes, it would.”
***
And now Tang Fan is tense as well as quiet, stalking homeward without a glance at Sui Zhou. Sui Zhou hates it. He hadn’t thought that Wang Zhi of all people would have brought this thing between them to a head, but he supposes he should have expected it, given the way he’d been prodding Sui Zhou about it. Poetry and riding. Miscommunication. He has to find some way to fix this.
“Are you... angry?” he tries.
“You weren’t surprised.” Tang Fan neither looks at him nor pauses his stride, his spine stiff, his long legs snapping angrily at the skirts of his robes.
“No?”
“You knew the manifests were sufficient.”
“Yes?” Sui Zhou isn’t sure where this is going, but he doesn’t think he is going to like it.
“You knew I had enough to take to Wang Zhi yesterday morning, before we went to the brothel, before I...” Tang Fan stops, spinning to face Sui Zhou. He gestures wildly, waving at his own face and making a long pass down his body presumably meant to express, “Before I had to go undercover as a prostitute again?”
“Yes?”
Tang Fan growls in frustration, flailing his hands up in the air and then reaching for Sui Zhou as though he wants to shake him. “Sui Zhou! Then why—?” He stops abruptly before he makes contact, going so pale so quickly that Sui Zhou startles forward thinking he might have to catch him in a faint. Horrifyingly, Tang Fan recoils from him, stumbling back a few steps and Sui Zhou freezes. “Did you know? Were you, were you humoring me? Did you feel sorry for—?” His eyes are dark in his pale face, wide and wet and hurt.
Sui Zhou can’t stand this and he can’t leave it until they get home to try to fix it. He surges forward, grabbing Tang Fan by the upper arms, pulling him into a nearby alley and pushing him up against the wall, crowding him in with his body so he won’t try to get away.
Tang Fan tucks his chin down, refusing to meet Sui Zhou’s eyes. Sui Zhou can see the muscle in his jaw clenching tightly. So stubborn, he thinks fondly, helplessly.
“Wang Zhi is right.”
Tang Fan startles and his eyes flick up for a moment before diving back down to fix somewhere in the middle of Sui Zhou’s chest. “What?”
“About miscommunication.” Sui Zhou sighs and tries to relax his posture, even though he can feel anxiety winding up his spine. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Tang Fan. Please talk to me.”
Tang Fan takes a deep breath through his nose, pressing his lips together and pulling his shoulders down and back. He looks up and meets Sui Zhou’s eyes.
“I have been taking advantage of you.” He laughs once, humorlessly. “Even more so than usual.”
“You haven’t.”
“No, Sui Zhou! You don’t understand. I… I’ve been greedy. You’ve given me… you always give me so much. Too much! I shouldn’t force you to give more.” His mouth twists and he looks away.
Sui Zhou shakes him a little where he has him by the shoulders. “You haven’t. You couldn’t. Tang Fan, tell me what you want!”
“You! I want you!” Tang Fan is blushing, color high on his cheeks, but he sounds defiant and his eyes are blazing as he looks up again. He shoves his body forward against the pressure of Sui Zhou’s hold. “See? Greedy. You gave me nearly everything and I just wanted more! I want everything from you—”
Sui Zhou kisses him, pressing him back against the wall with his whole body, getting his hand up just in time to protect Tang Fan's head, scraping the back on the brick. It doesn’t matter as much as the feeling of Tang Fan going with it for a moment, mouth soft and open, before he makes a protesting noise and pushes back against his chest. “Guangchuan, no, you don’t have to—”
“Runqing, Runqing,” Sui Zhou speaks over him, and Tang Fan stutters to a halt.
“I want it too.” It’s a relief to say it at last.
“You want…?”
“The same. Everything. With you.”
“What?” Tang Fan’s face goes so quickly from tragic to affronted that Sui Zhou can only smile. “Since when?”
“Probably not long after the first time we did this.” Sui Zhou jostles him against the wall gently.
“That was…” Tang Fan is searching his face intently “So long…?”
“Yes.”
Sui Zhou isn’t sure what expression is on his face. Disbelief, maybe, happiness, definitely. Tang Fan seems to find whatever he’s looking for, though, and finally relaxes completely, slumping forward, resting his hands on Sui Zhou’s chest and thumping his forehead down on Sui Zhou’s shoulder. “Ugh, I feel so stupid. But why didn’t you say something? Why did you let me? If you didn’t know…”
“I... I was happy to take what I could get.” Sui Zhou tightens his arms, his hand pressing down on Tang Fan’s head, digging his fingers into his hair. He is glad he doesn’t have to look at his face for this part. “I knew you... cared... and that you enjoyed it. When we pretended. But I didn’t think you would ever— that you would want what I...” It was humiliating to admit that he had been willing, glad even, for whatever scraps he could gather. Never enough, just pieces he could cobble together into something near to the whole of what he really wanted, which was everything. You don’t deserve this. “Tang Fan, I—”
Tang Fan wriggles free, pulling back only far enough that he can glare at Sui Zhou, bunching his hands into fists and thumping them down against Sui Zhou’s chest.
“You impossible man! Impossible! How could you think that I wouldn’t, that I didn’t… You are impossible!” His hands unclench and smooth up Sui Zhou’s chest, over his shoulders, hooking behind his neck. His expression softens, an almost wondering look. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”
He lets Tang Fan pull him in. “Yes,” Sui Zhou says because it was true, “Yes, Runqing.”
The last syllable gets pressed against Tang Fan’s lips.
Sui Zhou hadn’t considered how much Tang Fan had previously been holding back; he is forced to rapidly reevaluate. Tang Fan’s kiss is hungry, devouring, and yes, greedy, but in the best ways. Sui Zhou can’t doubt that he’s wanted. Tang Fan pulls Sui Zhou’s lower lip between his teeth, tongueing at it before letting go and biting at his upper lip, teeth dragging against his moustache. Sui Zhou shudders at the feeling.
Tang Fan feels him shudder and whines, surging forward, nearly overbalancing them both. Sui Zhou presses back, pinning him to the wall again. Sui Zhou licks into his mouth and he opens wide, moaning, sucking on his tongue. They are pressed together completely but Tang Fan is still pulling him impossibly closer, wrapping one leg around his hip insistently.
Sui Zhou twists his head to the side, breaking the kiss, panting. Tang Fan bites his jaw and rolls his hips. “Tang Fan! Not in this alley!”
“Why not?” Tang Fan tightens the grip of his leg, pulling his hands from Sui Zhou’s neck to reach for his face, sliding his palms along his jaw, chafing at the stubble and trying to pull him back into the kiss.
“Because.” Sui Zhou takes a deep breath. “Because I have plans for you. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“Oh, I have plans too, Guangchuan! For how often you’ve shoved me up against an alley wall, some of them will work just fine right here!”
That was definitely a thought for later but, “Please,” Sui Zhou says, and if his voice cracks a little he’s beyond embarrassment now. “Please, Runqing. I want to take my time with you.” I want everything, all of you, always, he thinks but doesn’t say.
From the way Tang Fan’s breath hitches, from the way his heated gaze goes soft around the edges, he hears it anyway. “Alright, Guangchuan.” He gentles his grip on Sui Zhou’s jaw and runs his thumbs along Sui Zhou’s cheekbones. The look on his face is one Sui Zhou hadn’t thought to hope for, pure and uncomplicated. “I want you to have everything you want.” Love, beloved; his eyes are shining with it. “Let's go home.”