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“I’ll give you anything you want.”
And Mo already knew that, didn’t he ? That He Tian would give him all the money he could ask for, would give him his apartment and opportunities he could never have otherwise. Mo knows how He Tian feels about him. He thinks he has known for a while.
How he feels about He Tian, though, that has always been a tangled mess.
But not today.
Not now.
It is the furthest thing from complicated now, as his lips open up under He Tian’s, as he’s the first to dart his tongue out and taste what he never allowed himself to, before. Although he was shaking before, he feels entirely too stable now, with the desk at his back and his hands lifting to grab onto He Tian’s neck.
If he listened carefully, he could pick up the sound of the TV his mom turned on, and the water running in the walls from the other apartments, but he doesn’t. He’s entirely too caught up in the slide of He Tian’s mouth, the way he presses into him and his thumb pushes on his chin so he’ll open his lips wider. And he is assertive, yes, intense in his characteristic way, but he doesn’t take the lead. No, he lets Mo do all the work on that front, and fuck does he enjoy it.
This has been a long time coming after all, but the heat of He Tian and the eager way he brushes his tongue over Mo’s teeth, it’s all new and thrilling. The hand on his throat is a hot presence, encouraging him to tilt his head this and that way, deepening the kiss to the point of filthiness, enhanced by the thigh between Mo’s legs.
Yes, Mo Guan Shan knew, logically, that He Tian would give him everything. But he never thought he could -was able- to give him this : agency. He feels powerful under He Tian’s hunger, high on lust and a desire finally snapping after years of restrain. And the kiss is intoxicating, so utterly good Mo is dizzy with it. Mo loves him, loves him with all that he is and can ever be. And yet it’s only tonight, as he grasped He Tian’s wrist and led him into his room, as he intertwined their fingers together, that he told himself : let him love you.
Although it has been the most difficult thing to do until now, it’s so easy. And he knows, deep down, somewhere he will not reach for, that he cannot keep this. This perfection, this feeling, it’s not for people like him, and he is not made for it.
What do you want ?
This; this and more, and everything He Tian can give, for however long he can have it. And he knows, already, despite his realism and cynicism and low self-esteem, that this is the point of no-return. That he will grab onto this and not let go, that he will fight to the death to keep it.
When he pulls back, he does so with his teeth around He Tian’s tongue. Just for a second, just to tease. He Tian is the most overwhelmed he has ever seen him. Eyes wide jumping all over his face, lips remaining parted distractingly, their redness sending a jolt of pleasure along Mo’s spine. His body is completely still, as if he’s afraid to move or breathe and jeopardise this moment.
Neither of them slides away, though Mo is certain he is expected to. That’s what he has accustomed them both to. The desk digs into his lower back, almost painful, and it takes little work to lean against it so that it’s more comfortable; he makes sure not to leave an inch between them. He’s still cupping He Tian’s face, and he doesn’t let go.
“Was that it ?” He Tian jokes, except it’s raspy and hoarse and has the opposite effect as intended. Mo wants to bring him down again, wants to rob him of his ability to joke and taunt and say what he means as well, to the point he’s as much a mess as Mo himself.
Reminding him of his question, of Mo’s wordless answer -a finger to his lips, an admission he has kept to himself long enough- renders the moment even more sacred. He won’t allow jokes to strip it of its honesty. They’ve gone too long on misunderstandings and distrust, and this is the time for neither.
“Yeah.”
The steady blush on He Tian’s cheeks is fascinating, even more so than the shaky breath puffing against Mo’s lips. He must be as overwhelmed as he looks, because next thing he’s starting to pull back a bit.
The edges of bandages rasp against the ones wrapped around Mo’s neck. Mo can’t help it; he stops He Tian’s retreat by grabbing his wrist, and presses a kiss to his covered palm. The memory of it, open and bleeding all over the floor, still makes his shaky. He’s the one always hurt, with scars and bruises all over his body. He Tian is an immovable force, and it feels absolutely wrong that She Li got to mark him like that, that he got hurt protecting Mo of all people.
“It’ll heal,” He Tian says now, barely above a breath, his voice thick with emotions Mo can still taste at the back of his throat.
“It will scar,” Mo counters.
The look that studies him is entirely too disarming, and yet Mo can’t find it in himself to try and escape, like he would have done before. Like he will probably do tomorrow. But not tonight. Not with He Tian watching him like this, with his hands bandaged and the imprint of his lips a weight on Mo’s.
“I don’t mind.”
“I do. It’s not…”
Words were never his forte, and so Mo lets his head fall forward with a sigh, pressing his forehead against He Tian’s shoulder. Fingers find their way to his hair and start scratching at his scalp. His chest feels too full to breathe.
“He doesn’t get to do that,” he murmurs into the place he’s hiding, half-hoping He Tian won’t pick up on the words.
If he does, Mo loses the answer, because suddenly he’s very much attached to the place of He Tian’s neck his mouth can reach. He feels a strangle there, in his throat, when he starts sucking in earnest, but he’s on a mission.
No, She Li doesn’t get to mark him, but he did. Mo Guan Shan isn’t about to let it slide.
(because, as much as he is He Tian’s, He Tian is his).
Right now, he’s taking a page out of He Tian’s book. Being nonchalant with his desire, unconcerned of the consequences. Given the hitches in He Tian’s breath at every snipe of teeth, he guesses there are no complaints. And he won’t lie, though he’s focused on his task, the sheer power that fills him is addictive. He can understand why some like it.
To have He Tian, of all people, yielding to him like that, waiting for his go-to before kissing him and then, arching his neck to the side to help Mo mark him, feels like a drug. He takes more than too much time, enjoying the jump in his pulse every time Mo slides his tongue on pale skin, the tightening of the grip in his hair.
Once he’s satisfied, he has to tear himself away lest he keeps trailing bruises all over the skin openly offered to him. He pulls back until he can face He Tian again, hands now placed innocuously on his waist. He’s still bracketing He Tian’s thigh, which has fortunately remained completely chaste. He’s so broad under his touch, so protective. It’s enticing in ways he didn’t think possible.
Mo lets his gaze roam over He Tian’s face, and feels a little thrill at the time it takes him to gather himself back together. His skin is warm under his shirt.
“Little Mo, if you wanted to mark me so bad you should have asked.”
“Do I have to ?”
He doesn’t know what spurs the words out of him.
He Tian has always pushed him to his limits in ways Mo wasn’t even aware of. He urges him to express his feelings and give words to desires Mo was always ashamed to even have. And he doesn’t know how to, how to be so carefree with words that you can just say what you mean and what you expect and what you feel. But he also knows how to read Mo’s own language so goddamn well it made Mo sick at first. Doesn’t anymore. Because He Tian’s language is so obvious to him now, that he can guess what he’ll do before he does it; guess what lies beneath the edge of a smile or the crease beside his eye.
So now he knows, watching the curl to his mouth, the tongue wetting his lip, that this will go too far too quickly if they remain on the same track.
He is very aware of the bed behind He Tian, just a step away in his cramped up room. For a moment, he ponders pushing him down on it, climbing into his lap. Not letting up until there’s no thought left in his mind, until He Tian has no room to breathe.
Abruptly, he’s reminded of his promise : “I’ll obey your every word from now on”. They seem to drill into his brains never to leave again, and he has no idea how he’s going to concentrate on anything else anymore. The intensity of tonights seems like it won’t ever fade.
“Thank you,” he starts, pushing a finger against He Tian’s mouth when it opens on a protest, “for believing in me.”
“Of course.”
It’s such a simple answer, like it’s an evidence. Like Mo is capable of anything. And it feels like it, sometimes, when He Tian tells him such things (that he’ll do anything for him, that he matters, that he cares for him, that he believes). And he looks at him like it, too.
No expectations. No assuming. Just pure adoration. Even though it’s usually too much, tonight it just makes Mo want to bury in He Tian and never come back up.
God, he fucking loves those eyes, no matter how hard it sometimes feels to be under their scrutiny.
“Can you stay ?” He asks, already knowing the answer and comforted in the absolute certainty.
He Tian nods. His bandaged hand squeezes Mo’s neck, and he whispers against his finger :
“Whatever you want.”