Work Text:
They will do it for each other.
Ever so often, with the office to themselves, Shi De will pull a slumped-shouldered Shu Yi against him. Hold him back to his chest, slender body molded to and aligned to him. He will push gentle thumbs into the tendons where neck meets torso, voices and skin humming with the embrace and the exchange of energies inside breaths let out, trickling along spines.
Sometimes it’s for the simple gift of comfort, a break, a physical reminder of I am with you. Sometimes it’s to renew resolutions to just keep going a little longer.
When Shu Yi returns the favor one night, it grows into something more altogether, something that makes Shi De’s knees weak just thinking about it.
It becomes a thing they do:
It will be Shu Yi’s hand splayed out along Shi De’s collar bone.
Shu Yi will come close behind Shi De, fingers rubbing the tiniest circles into the topmost parts of his chest muscle, sensitive and stiff with a hidden soreness too often. And it will make Shi De aware once more, every time, how tight he has become around there, letting loose too long a time coming. Every time.
“Gao Shi De. Lean on me. Give me your weight.”
Shu Yi will speak it against his ear, barely above a whisper but voice catching and carrying, with the tenderest of tones.
Shi De will lean back, Shu Yi’s other hand coming around him and to his chest, just resting there, the center of his ribcage. And Shi De will wonder what Shu Yi feels underneath his palm: Be it Shi De’s heartbeat, or the reluctant loosening of muscles around it, just because that is who Shi De is. Or something more.
And most of the times Shu Yi will repeat it:
“Give me your weight, Gao Shi De.” Because as much as Shi De tries, his body always seems to only allow that gradual sinking into it.
Sometimes, there will be a smile against Shi De’s neck, making the hairs on his nape stand on end so good, making him warm all over.
And some of the times, Shu Yi will explain again, speak those words, never any less soft, never any less patient. A ritual, a cue maybe, and only love in his voice:
“Gao Shi De.” He will draw out the syllables and they will fall and cling around Shi De like a drizzle of summer rain to his skin. “You know I can take it. “
Sometimes even more: “I will never initiate this, if I don’t feel up to it. Or if I need to be on the receiving end of this. I am up to it now. And if that changes, I will let you know.”
And then:
“Gao Shi De. Lean on me, allow me to hold you.”
And Shi De will try, and Shu Yi will know that he is trying. And he will carry his weight like this, the weight Shi De can let him have. Humming his contentment into Shi De’s neck, like praise.
Shu Yi’s hand will carefully work the sides of Shi De’s neck, a languid massage, inside an absolute embrace, that never ceases to amaze Shi De.
He will be all wrapped up in Shu Yi, the grip on the tendons of his neck moving so slow, gently pulling, kneading deep. Shu Yi’s arms will be his frame, and that pulse point of warmth on his sternum where Shi Yi’s palm simply lies will feel like it holds Shi De up just as much as that solid chest behind him.
And like this, the muscles of his neck so used to carry tightness will carry relaxation down Shi De’s whole back instead, starting from under Shu Yi’s fingers.
Shu Yi, whose breath will be hot and slow in Shi De’s ear, whose heartbeat against him will narrow Shi De’s whole world down to its thrum.
Sometimes, Shi De will get hard. But there is never any expectation.
Even if the mood does get more heated at times, Shi De has a feeling that sex is not what Shu Yi has on his mind as the goal for this, most times at least.
This is safety and comfort and letting tension go.
Not that they are mutually exclusive, though, those feelings.
Because Shi De never knew before that he could be turned on, yet be so calm and at peace at the same time; warmth and pleasure flowing from Shu Yi’s touch, filling him up inside.
When Shu Yi seems satisfied with the loosened give of tendons and muscles in Shi De’s neck, his skin there probably all flushed and rosy, when he will be satisfied with what he feels underneath his hand on Shi De’s chest, within the rhythm and depths of his breathing,
it will come to a close like this:
There will be kisses on the back of Shi De’s neck, slow and soft slide and press of lips, just above the line of his collar.
That will be the moment when Shi Se feels like he wants to cry. From joy. From something he doesn’t have a name for.
And he will turn in the embrace to find Shu Yi’s lips with his own.