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Zhou Zishu had barely removed his false mustache, tucking it away securely, when Wen Kexing's curious voice drifted from beside him. "So, what is this for?"
He glanced over. Wen Kexing sat at the table with Zhou Zishu's disguise tools, his face twisting in disgust as he sniffed a small container. "You applied this on your face?"
Wen Kexing's voice held such a startled note that Zhou Zishu had to suppress a laugh. Indeed, Wen Kexing was crafted for life's more exquisite pleasures. Zhou Zishu couldn't fathom him ever smearing dirt on his face or letting his hair go unkempt just to evade recognition. Even within the privacy of his own chamber, he seemed to carry a perfume, its sweet fragrance reaching even Zhou Zishu's less refined nose. No, Wen Kexing seemed more akin to the pampered wife of a nobleman than a wanderer marked by countless journeys.
"This can change the structure of a person’s face. For example, a person’s nose or cheekbones."
Unsatisfied with this explanation, Wen Kexing immediately reached for the next item within grasp. "What about this?"
"Stop touching!" Zhou Zishu gently batted his hand away, but this only seemed to sharpen Wen Kexing's curiosity.
"I want to know!"
"It's a hip pad," Zhou Zishu murmured sullenly, a faint blush touching his cheeks. What did it truly matter if he had sometimes donned female attire? At times, no other path presented itself for infiltration, and a woman's silhouette made him far less conspicuous than his true form. He certainly wasn't embarrassed, not at all! Yet, the expression on Wen Kexing's face wasn't quite aiding his self-conviction.
Instead of dwelling on it, Wen Kexing gestured to the next object, this time wisely refraining from touch. "What about this red one?"
Right, that was enough. There were truths Zhou Zishu preferred not to speak openly, and his past strategies within the Window of Heaven were among them. To silence Wen Kexing's probing questions, he rose, crossing his arms before him.
"If you want to know everything, why don’t you kneel down and pay your respect now?"
This insatiably curious man! Even now, Wen Kexing gazed up at him with eyes wide and expectant. Zhou Zishu tried to push away thoughts of what other emotions might align with those dilated, dark eyes. To maintain his composure, he simply raised an eyebrow.
"Call me shifu and I’ll teach you everything."
He saw a slight tremor in Wen Kexing's lips as he inhaled. The intensity of the gaze from his humbled position so thoroughly compelled Zhou Zishu to divert his thoughts. Why did his own words have to carry such double meaning? Kneel down and I'll teach you everything—had he been less thick-skinned, he surely would have flushed crimson with both shame and arousal. As it was, he simply stared down at Wen Kexing with a composed, unreadable face.
Wen Kexing swallowed, and some of the profound depth in his eyes receded with a blink. "It’s just an insignificant skill, why be so cautious to pass it on?"
Zhou Zishu sensed they were on safer ground now, able to easily slip back into their playful banter. Why, then, did he feel compelled to press the issue? His lips moved of their own accord, words forming without his conscious command.
"So, are you learning or not?"
The curiosity had returned to Wen Kexing's gaze, though it was not the simple curiosity of a student. It was the keen assessment of a man gauging his companion's desires, seeking to read his face, to penetrate his innermost thoughts. When Zhou Zishu's expression offered no easy answers, Wen Kexing drew a deep breath.
"Even I, the wise Philanthropist Wen, know that learning is a lifelong pursuit." He tilted his head slightly, a gesture of inquiry. "And I have read that teaching and learning mutually benefit each other. When one instructs, both master and pupil should gain."
Zhou Zishu understood the import of Wen Kexing's words, the question hidden within. He nodded silently, a sign of his assent, yet he was surprised when Wen Kexing immediately slid from the chair. His knees met the floor, the sound softened by the many layers of his robes, but it was clear he hadn't descended gently.
"So eager?" he asked, needing to voice the question to mask the ripple of concern beneath.
Wen Kexing smiled up at him. "You know, as a great philosopher and poet, I am always keen to learn."
And oh, the lowered timbre of his voice, combined with the sight of Wen Kexing on his knees, his head at the perfect height for a touch of the hand—Zhou Zishu was already half-hard, merely imagining what he could do to him. He wanted to toss him onto the bed, strip the clothes from his body, have him above him and beneath him, utterly exhausting him until morning, until he forgot his verses and proverbs for hours.
Zhou Zishu blinked, pushing the images from his mind. There were more immediate things to consider, such as the real Wen Kexing before him, who still hadn't moved closer.
He decided to take the first step, as he so often had in their brief acquaintance. Despite all his beautiful words, Wen Kexing had never sought to put a single one into practice. That would change today.
Holding his breath, Zhou Zishu stepped forward, bringing Wen Kexing's face mere inches from his groin. Wen Kexing blinked up at him, his eyes half-hopeful, half-lost, like a dark brown sea just after a storm.
"A-Xu," he whispered, licking his lips. That suggestive gesture almost made Zhou Zishu thrust his hips forward. "You truly desire this? This isn't a test?"
Zhou Zishu's patience began to fray. "You are not my student. Why in heaven's name would I test you?"
A brilliant smile spread across Wen Kexing's face, wide enough to reveal his dimples. Zhou Zishu longed to kiss them, but at this moment, both desired other things more.
He took another step forward, so that Wen Kexing's nose lightly brushed against his crotch. It didn't quite elicit a moan, but Zhou Zishu exhaled heavily, and he could see the same naked desire he felt mirrored in Wen Kexing's gaze.
"It seems, however, that you are testing me. My patience, at least."
It was the most playful "Now hurry" he could muster. Wen Kexing didn't need to be told twice. Bracing his hands on Zhou Zishu's thighs, he leaned forward, his lips finding the fabric of Zhou Zishu's undergarment stretched taut over the growing bulge at his crotch. Wen Kexing began to kiss and lick him through the cloth, his saliva soaking through the material, leaving a wet stain.
The devotion with which he did it softened Zhou Zishu's knees and hardened his cock. He needed Wen Kexing's mouth on his bare skin, and he needed it now. He couldn't bear to wait any longer.
He gently pushed Wen Kexing back by the shoulder, allowing himself to shed his undergarments. When his cock was freed from his trousers, it stood hard and high, and Wen Kexing's eyes fixed on it hungrily.
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu said, his own voice sounding foreign and uncontrolled in his ears. It was a plea disguised as a command, yet Wen Kexing obeyed instantly, kissing the tip and then tracing along the shaft. His eyes were half-closed, his dark lashes a soft shadow against his cheeks, as if savoring a sweet delicacy. Zhou Zishu seized this brief distraction to bury his hand in Wen Kexing's silken hair. He needed it for purchase.
Wen Kexing looked up at him, a grin on his lips. "Are you impatient? I thought a merciless and cold beauty such as yourself possessed patience like—"
He got no further. Zhou Zishu had used the hand in his hair to press his head down. It was not a gentle gesture, but it silenced Wen Kexing, turning his mouth to deeds it was far better suited for. Obediently, his lips closed around the tip of Zhou Zishu's cock, his tongue gliding along the underside.
It was a wet, warm sensation, and Zhou Zishu suppressed a groan as Wen Kexing took him a little deeper, feeling the sides of his mouth. His fingers instinctively tightened in Wen Kexing's hair, and Wen Kexing looked up at him, then began to suck.
His cheeks hollowed as he tilted his head forward, relaxing his throat. As Zhou Zishu's cock slid deeper, Wen Kexing gagged slightly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, yet he continued, using his tongue to bring Zhou Zishu even greater pleasure.
Zhou Zishu made the mistake of looking down. The sight of Wen Kexing on his knees, his red mouth stretched around his length, his eyes glassy and moist—it was too much. He let out a loud groan, and Wen Kexing groaned with him, the sound vibrating against his skin.
"Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu said, slightly breathless, feeling the need to say something. "You take me so well. Have you practiced this before?"
A shimmering blush spread across Wen Kexing's cheeks, having nothing to do with his current position and everything to do with Zhou Zishu's words. He swallowed; Zhou Zishu felt it. Curiosity drove him to press Wen Kexing forward a little more than was comfortable.
"Will you be good for me? Will you let me fuck your mouth until I come?"
A wicked groan tore from Wen Kexing's throat, and his face deepened in color. Zhou Zishu saw that he had begun to massage his own cock through his clothes.
"That's good. Relax your jaw."
Immediately, the muscles in Wen Kexing's jaw yielded a little more, giving Zhou Zishu the freedom to thrust in and out of his mouth. He tried it a few times, savoring Wen Kexing's muffled sounds, and when Wen Kexing gave no sign for him to stop, he quickened his pace.
They gasped and moaned together, Wen Kexing almost louder than Zhou Zishu, despite his mouth being filled. Threads of Wen Kexing's saliva ran over his chin and down Zhou Zishu's cock, and more tears welled in his eyes until his skin was red and blotchy. He looked undone, on the verge of truly weeping, and oh, how this sight drove Zhou Zishu to climax. If he ever took up painting again, he would have to capture this image.
His cock slid faster and faster through the warmth of Wen Kexing's mouth, seeking the gentle pressure of his tongue. The wet tightness, the obscene sounds issuing from his parted lips—it all felt so good. Zhou Zishu gripped the back of Wen Kexing's head with both hands, trying to hold on, yet he still slumped forward slightly as he came. His seed spilled into Wen Kexing's throat, and he could hear and feel Wen Kexing dutifully swallow.
With a shudder, Zhou Zishu leaned back. His cock slipped out of Wen Kexing's mouth with a wet plop. Breathing deeply, he too sank to his knees, bringing himself to eye level.
As he looked at Wen Kexing, his own length made a valiant attempt to rise again. Cheeks and mouth flushed and slightly damp, eyes feverishly bright, and hair disheveled from Zhou Zishu's hands, Wen Kexing presented a sight Zhou Zishu hadn't imagined so depraved even in his dreams—and he had many such dreams.
More tenderly than before, he stroked Wen Kexing's cheek, feeling the hot glow of his skin. "Does your jaw hurt?"
Wen Kexing had to clear his throat to speak, and when he did, his voice was hoarse, like after a dry, cold winter night. "It was worth it."
But Zhou Zishu saw that speaking was an effort for him, so he silenced him. "I promised you a kiss when you were sober, remember?"
He placed his other hand on the other side of Wen Kexing's face and drew him into an open, heartfelt kiss. Wen Kexing's lips were unusually moist and slick against his own, and Zhou Zishu could taste the bitter tang of his own come, but he found that it didn't bother him. It only made the moment more intimate, the feeling even stronger.
Wen Kexing groaned against his lips, and Zhou Zishu moved his right hand from his face to his groin. He didn't want to leave Wen Kexing to his own devices. But as he brushed over the spot where his cock lay, he found his clothes already stained. He paused.
"Lao Wen," he said, gently parting his lips from Wen Kexing's. "Did you...?"
Wen Kexing blushed all the way down his neck, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "What could bring this humble student greater satisfaction than to satisfy his master?"
"You," Zhou Zishu said, with a tone of loving exasperation. "You truly still have much to learn from me."
And then he kissed Wen Kexing once more.