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“I don’t run,” Fei Du said placidly, crossing his legs at the ankle. He was with great dignity ignoring Luo Wenzhou shaking a pair of red running shorts in his face. Luo Wenzhou pondered the odds of successfully wrestling them onto President Fei without said president doing himself an injury in resistance, and concluded they were low to none.
“Not even if chased?” Luo Wenzhou suggested, waggling his eyebrows. He abandoned the carefully chosen, slightly too small shorts - goodbye, dreams of long legs flashing in the morning sun. He tossed them over his shoulder and crawled on top of his husband on the couch.
“Especially not if chased,” Fei Du said, rolling his eyes, legs spreading to make room for Luo Wenzhou between his skinny thighs easily. No play of resistance at all! Rude! “Where’s the dignity? No. Let them catch me. All I need to get out of it is my mouth, anyway.”
His mouth, which knew exactly what it was doing, curled into a smug leer. What a pest. Luo Wenzhou managed to pull himself away after several lingering, nipping kisses, because he wasn’t to be beaten so easily.
“The body needs stimulus,” Luo Wenzhou argued, and rolled them off the couch, landing on his back with a thud, a disgruntled Fei Du perched on top of him. His startled blinking was exceptionally adorable, but Luo Wenzhou refused to be distracted. “Running even ten minutes a day can significantly lower your cardiovascular risk!”
Another beat passed. Fei Du blinked again, then deployed a cocked head and an insultingly slow raise of an eyebrow.
Fine, so Luo Wenzhou had been stuck at a checkout line in the corner store and sped read his way through a number of articles in the least objective-looking of the magazines there. Elevated heart rates, blah blah, risk of death decreased in old age. Exercise good, lounging about eternally like a pampered Persian kitten bad, was the general conclusion.
And unlike Luo Wenzhou’s other lazy beasts, Fei Du was still a bit scrawny, despite Luo Wenzhou constantly stuffing food in him. Fei Du certainly didn’t get the exercise their furry children did. He refused to walk at any speed higher than a saunter. He drove everywhere. He, whenever possible, slouched decoratively against the walls of elevators rather than take the stairs. What aerobic workout did he really ever get?
Fei Du sighed, then pulled Luo Wenzhou’s hand over, pressing it against his chest so that Luo Wenzhou could feel Fei Du’s heart beating gratifyingly fast beneath his palm. With the elegant tailored cotton over it, you couldn’t see or feel the scars.
“See? My heart is perfectly adequate,” Fei Du said softly. His hair was falling loose down around his face, a tiny soft smile crooking the corner of his mouth.
Too tender to keep prodding today, Luo Wenzhou decided. Anyway, Luo Wenzhou was in it for the long game. He could be patient. There had to be some form of non-sexual cardio exercise that Fei Du would be willing to tolerate, or failing that, could be bribed into.
“Let’s keep it that way,” Luo Wenzhou said, and rolled them again, nuzzling Fei Du into the rug. Probably vigorous love-making had to be at least of some use as a cardiovascular exercise, probably.
Maybe running was too proletariat for his highness, Luo Wenzhou concluded, after a bout of admittedly breath-taking exertion. What did rich people do for exercise? Ride horses? Abso-fuckinglutely not. Out of the question. Golf? There was no way golf could possibly involve any real body movements. You didn’t even jog from hole to hole, for fuck’s sake.
Maybe fencing?
Despite having just been thoroughly worked over, his dick twitched suddenly, imagining President Fei all in white, looking down his nose at Luo Wenzhou with a sword in his gloved hand.
…yeah. Maybe fencing.
***
First thing Fei Du did when Luo Wenzhou suggested it was laugh at him.
“It’s not a sword,” he said pityingly - well, it would have been pitying years ago, but now Luo Wenzhou saw a bright sparkle in the over-exaggerated eyeroll, a hint of pink in Fei Du’s cheeks. He was pretty sure, though neither of them were saying it, that Fei Du liked Luo Wenzhou bustling around worrying over him and his health. Well, obviously he must, or he’d have witheringly torn Luo Wenzhou apart by now. Couldn’t just take care of himself, had to be bullied into it and pretend he didn’t like it. What a pain in Luo Wenzhou’s ass.
“It’s a pointy stick made of metal, of course it’s a sword,” Luo Wenzhou said, sneering back joyfully. “Obviously we don’t use a lot of pointy sticks on the force, since we’re not just bored schoolboys playing at being men.”
“Aren’t you trying to convince me to do this?” Fei Du asked, an actual smile on his face now.
Whoops. Whatever, he sensed weakness.
“What the hell do you use, if not swords?”
“Mm, depends. You’d be more of the saber sort, you big brute,” Fei Du murmured, typing away on his phone, his glasses glinting in the morning light. Luo Wenzhou slurped his coffee and fended Yiguo away from the pastries his foolish husband had left unguarded. “I favored the épeé, naturally. More straightforward than the foil. And of course I prefer the French grip.”
The French what? “This all sounds very homoerotic,” Luo Wenzhou noted, and let himself daydream briefly about some impossible universe, meeting Fei Du in their school days as the heartthrob basketball player, mooning after smirky, elegant Fei Du with his french grip, what the fuck.
“They’ll be here by 12:30,” Fei Du said suddenly, setting the phone down and picking up his pastry, which Luo Wenzhou had defended from cat bites with his life. Not a word of gratitude for it. His was a thankless lot of public defense.
“What will,” Luo Wenzhou grunted, wrestling his own cream bun back from his youngest heathen child, who grumped at him and flounced off, tail twitching.
“Your fencing whites,” Fei Du drawled, doing that thing he did where he looked over the tops of his glasses like an evil gay incubus demon and smiled. “Obviously.”
White whats?
“My what?”
Fei Du’s smile was identical to the look Yiguo had when someone left out an easily accessible food item - pure smug devilry. Unlike the cat’s satanic glee, however, Fei Du’s expression was equally infuriating and arousing.
“You didn’t think I was going to fence alone, did you?”
...Well, shit.
***
This was stupid. Fencing was stupid and dumb and only rich people would think it was worthwhile, but Luo Wenzhou was going to learn how to smack that stupid fake sword out of his beautiful husband’s hand if it killed him.
“Shixiong,” Fei Du laughed, and fine, maybe Luo Wenzhou didn’t mind so much, when there was a healthy flush to Fei Du’s cheeks. And it wasn’t as though he was going to let Fei Du rub his stupid faux-sword along someone else’s, at least not until Luo Wenzhou could do it properly himself, so Luo Wenzhou was going to have to figure this fancy flashing footwork bullshit out.
Because he wasn’t a total idiot, he accepted the outstretched hand pulling him up, though he did indulge in the urge to lay there like dead weight for a while until Fei Du rolled his eyes, still laughing.
“This isn’t a wuxia show, you nerd,” Fei Du smiled up at him.
“Whose the nerd always watching over my shoulder when he’s supposed to be doing businessy things on the computer!” Luo Wenzhou accused, outraged, then felt a flutter of startled warmth as Fei Du spun Luo Wenzhou around suddenly, then pressed against his back.
Fei Du had taken to bottoming with minimal protest and with, frankly, a lot of demands, but every now and then there were moments like this where he took charge and it was - fine, it was a bit thought-provoking. Marginally of interest. Luo Wenzhou occasionally considered it.
“Like this,” Fei Du, the consummate flirt, murmured, his voice like a rich red wine. One hand slid caressingly down Luo Wenzhou’s biceps, down to the wrist. One calf pressed warm along the side of Luo Wenzhou’s own, nudging him forward into a slow-motion lunge. It used different muscles than Luo Wenzhou usually did; there was a gentle burn that felt good. “Relax. You're holding your shoulder too tense. I can see where you're going to move before you start.”
“Sounds familiar,” Luo Wenzhou grumbled, but let himself be moved a few more times. Let his shoulders loosen, his body moving under Fei Du's direction. Maybe they ran through the stances a few more times than he really needed. “Okay, okay, quit babying me, I got it. Get off! I’m going to beat your ass.”
“Sure, shixiong,” Fei Du laughed in his ear, and then put his mask back on, sauntering off to the other side of the battlefield.
Almost instantly, Fei Du moved like water, evading the straight-forward smack of Luo Wenzhou’s blade to flick a touch somehow against the side of his ribs. It was just barely hard enough Luo Wenzhou thought it might bruise.
“You’re so fucking fast, and you don’t want to run?” Luo Wenzhou grumbled, and settled back into the stupid en garde position thing, determined to get at least one hit on Fei Du before calling this off.
“To tell the truth,” Fei Du sighed, scoring another goddamn point, not that anyone was keeping track, except the two of them, who would never forget it. “I never wanted to fence, either. It was merely more tolerable than the other options at school.”
Argh! How did he keep getting the stupid sword behind Luo Wenzhou’s back like that? Ah, moving this way exposed the shoulder. Fine. Two could play that game.
“Then why’d you agree to do it with me now?”
Luo Wenzhou sensed the glitter of a leer beneath Fei Du’s mask. “Because I knew your tiny waist would look entirely edible in fencing whites, of course.”
It was true - Luo Wenzhou's waist-shoulder ratio was extremely well displayed in this get-up. And while Fei Du was distracted leering down at Luo Wenzhou's ass, Luo Wenzhou lunged, and scored his first point of the hour.
“Hah, eat that !” he laughed, seeing a flicker of genuine surprise and amusement on his husband's face.
Okay, maybe there was some appeal to the sport. Fei Du was fun to chase around. And Luo Wenzhou wasn’t the only one whose ass looked delicious in long-legged whites.
“Using my own methods against me? Shixiong is a fast learner.” Fei Du was grinning. There was a trickle of sweat dampening his brow. He looked good. He looked damn good, especially when his eyebrow shot up as Luo Wenzhou finally successfully blocked him. “I do like a good parry.”
“I’ll parry you,” Luo Wenzhou leered, much more cheerful now that he felt he had somewhat of a handle on how to defend himself against Fei Du’s sharp sticks. “This is definitely gay as hell, you know. Stop rubbing your sword against mine, it’s distracting.”
“Just being strategic, darling,” Fei Du purred, and yeah, Luo Wenzhou would have been extremely homosexual about this whole sport if he’d been a teenager, watching Fei Du fight.
Because Fei Du was, despite having only mild interest and moderate musculature, clearly capable of excelling. He moved with graceful economy, each flicker and feint executed and planned almost instantaneously. You could watch his clever, quick mind work in an unusually visible and physical way. Luo Wenzhou was barely holding his own. Which was kind of hot, in all honesty. Luo Wenzhou had dated a lot of men before, but rarely any who could hold a candle against him in any kind of physical arena.
Luo Wenzhou might not be able to flirt, bully, or bribe Fei Du into running or lifting weights, but between this sword bullshit and enthusiastic acts of coitus, Luo Wenzhou felt at least moderately better about the future of Fei Du’s cardiovascular health. Luo Wenzhou knew Fei Du had never really expected to survive through his grand revenge, and now he was in uncharted waters. Fei Du had lived the last decade in a state of constant planning, and counterplanning, and backup counterplanning. He wasn't floundering now, exactly, but Luo Wenzhou just wanted to remind him that he had options. That there was a lot of life to still explore, and enjoy.
From the way Fei Du grabbed his ass on the way off the court, Luo Wenzhou got the feeling Fei Du was on the same page.