high content (take one shot)

 by yiyuehua

 

 

Premise Tags: Modern Day,

Detectives, Memory Loss, Mystery,

Alcohol/Drugs, Colleagues,

Pining, Confessions, Marriage Proposal.

Content Warnings: Hints of Dubcon

(Sex under influence for both parties, but

where one party seems to remember more),

Consumption of Drugs/Alcohol,

Heavy Profanity, Explicit crack and smut.

 

 

 

 

(85% alcohol)

 

One drunken dawn, he is poised to jump.

It is the searing pain of his lower back, the unfamiliar feeling of his spine giving out, and dreadfully, he knows what had gone on even before his mind catches up to alacrity. Compare his backside to his legs which will buckle beneath him with a single step, his body threatening to collapse pathetically out of bed and onto those porcelain floor tiles. He had just woken, and everything is already going terribly wrong.

The room he’s in is nouveau riche in all aspects, including that abstract art piece hung tastelessly by the center. The expressionist painting is illuminated by some slivers of sunlight, though daybreak does nothing more than to emphasize just how ugly it is – some faceless monstrosity shaped like a person, some orange triangles and more dented circles.

It’s just as demented as his current predicament.

To make matters worse, his head is splitting and then there’s his torso that’s fully bared and marred with pinkish specks – there are a lot of them, damnit – and it takes all of his one working braincell to attach the pieces together. He immediately sweeps his eyes to the other side of the bed.

It’s empty.

The relief he feels lasts for less than a second. As he raises his hand to massage his temple, he notices a very distinct, very sparkly, absolutely beautiful piece of gemstone banded on his ring finger. Tens of carats of pure, valuable diamond, so pristine it could rival some of the most expensive rings in the world.

“…Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely as he turns his hand over, examining the glistening jewel. The scintillations, blue and silver, match the color of his eyes. “What the fuck.”

He groans miserably, sweeps a hand over his raven-black hair, and decides to delay the matter. His coping mechanism comes in clutch as it should.

He is not acclimated with one-night stands, not at all, and neither is he one to get engaged to whichever stranger he’d impulsively crawled into bed with. He must’ve been inebriated to the point of actual dementia because there’s no other way he’d be this irresponsible otherwise. He needs to sort out last night’s events, draw out the suspicions and all that, but for now…

He sighs and takes some long, shuddering breaths to calm down.

On the bedstand is a pile of neatly folded clothes and a cup of water. He takes a tentative sip. Not drugged, he concludes. Room temperature. It’s been sitting out here for a while. Whoever it was that left it also happens to be considerate enough to place a pack of painkillers by his side. He downs two in one gulp, throws off the quilt covering him and slowly gets dressed. The clothes fit perfectly.

The furniture here all clash – modern porcelain with antique mahogany, stacked bookshelves, mohair sofas, the room so cluttered it can be a storage instead. The curtains are gaudy as well, made from intricately woven silk and embroidered with blossoms. He pushes the drapes aside, unlocks the balcony door, and steps out.

Cheng Jin, at the prime age of twenty-five, is poised to jump out of the goddamn window because he cannot for the life of him remember being on the hundredth floor of some luxury glass building, looking out at dim-lit skyscrapers at the break of dawn, staring down at the pavement of a foreign country, watching the few cars whizz by in slow motion, standing lifelessly as the horizon casts shadows on his ashen face.

The early spring birds are chirping a kind of satanic chant, some cacophony to his ears. He watches a brown sparrow flap its frail wings and dive downwards. Surprisingly beautiful, the way the golden dawn shines on its hindlegs, basking it gloriously all the way down to city concrete.

Belatedly, Cheng Jin ponders if he should take a leap as well. New York City never looked this horrifying in photos.

“Fuck,” he reiterates for the third time.

His head throbs. It’s best he grabs all his belongings and makes a run for it as quickly as possible. A similarly effective plan of action is to throw the ring down the trash bin – or, his mind suggests helpfully, sell it. It does look expensive, after all.

Cheng Jin lifts his hand to the sky, examining the jewel. It’s even more striking under sunlight. The diamond catches onto every shade of gold, its luster fitting exceptionally well with his pale, slender fingers. Fitted to his size, his mind suggests again. Meticulously designed.

Last night, he had been…

“—Awake?”

A voice startles him so abruptly he suffers from whiplash, crashing onto a potted plant by the balcony and almost toppling over the metallic fence. A hand reaches out to firmly grasp his forearm before he freefalls a mile to his death. Cheng Jin turns, very slowly, and locks eye contact.

The man standing in front of him is, by every standard, blessed with good looks – high-tipped nose, chiseled jawline, straight brows. His eyes, too, are an attractive brown, some hue between tea and fine wine.

The man is also awfully, dreadfully familiar.

“…” It takes him five seconds to form coherent words. “…Captain Luo.”

“Are you alright?” the other asks as he gently guides him back inside. There’s a conversation needed to be had and none of them are keen to disregard it. The captain flicks his gaze over to the marks on his neck, the hickeys that dot from clavicle down. “We should apply ointment.”

Cheng Jin springs up and immediately grabs the older man by the collar, pinning him against the balcony door. He ignores the way his body aches at the action. Then he drops his voice into a low, dangerous whisper. “Do I look alright?”

The tension is piercing. If it weren’t for how groggy he feels, Cheng Jin would’ve surely decked the captain in the face – nevermind that he’s his superior and nevermind that the man towers over him by almost a whole head. Captain Luo sighs and reaches to pat him softly, conceding to the aggression. To Cheng Jin’s utter mortification, he feels an object tap on his shoulder blade once, twice… the hardness of it all signaling back to the similarly shaped ring he wears on his left hand.

Captain Luo is hesitant. The tips of his ears are rosy pink. He shifts his glance to the ugly painting, the open curtains, the bluebell flowers coiled around the windowsill – shifts his glance to anywhere, really, but at Cheng Jin. It’s rare to see such stupefaction on the man’s face and even rarer for him to cough a little when spotting the matching diamond on Cheng Jin’s finger.

A minute later, the man clears his throat and says, slowly, “I should explain the situation, but in fact… I don’t know an appropriate way to phrase it, nor do I remember too much more than you do. I’d like to make it clear I didn’t assault you.”

“You don’t remember?” Cheng Jin inquires quizzically. “You don’t remember why I’m—why we’re here in this five-thousand a night poseur hotel room with the ugliest interior layout I’ve ever seen? Nor why I woke up naked with a hundred thousand dollar engagement ring on my finger, nor why you, Luo Feng, have a matching one?”

“Exactly,” he replies. “When I woke up this morning, I only remember sleeping with you—in snippets. Bits and pieces. If you give me some time, I might be able to think it through…”

“You—” Cheng Jin’s head chooses to break at this moment. He feels a seismic wave rippling and frying his brain circuits, then comes overwhelming nausea and pain that render him immobile. He gasps and topples forward, resting his head on the other man’s chest. Hangovers never feel this horrible. “—Ngh, I don’t remember anything, Captain. My head hurts… I feel absolutely…”

“Shh,” Luo Feng coaxes him, gently stroking his hair. The fingers cradling him by his ear are especially soothing. “Try to relax and we’ll break down the situation, Xiao-Jin.”

Right. The situation is as baffling as it is mortifying. Firstly, he has no recollection sleeping with the precinct captain. The event itself is absolutely shocking considering how much of a jock Cheng Jin thinks the man is – all looks and nothing else, incorrigibly flirtatious, rambunctious, annoying… and every other type of insult he’d manifested after a year of acquaintanceship. If it weren’t for, again, Luo Feng’s good looks backing up a solid eighty-five percent of his existence, then the rest of his character traits are abysmal.

Cheng Jin’s thoughts fly in rigmarole, but alas he hums in affirmation. “Alright.”

“How far back do you remember?”

The scalp massage temporarily appeases the insults that are threatening to spew out of his mouth. Cheng Jin takes a moment to answer, “…The plane? No, it was after I landed with you, I suppose. We were holding an investigation at… somewhere. Uptown Manhattan. Bright lights, epilepsy, noisy. Vetiver cologne, the scent of something distinctly sweet…mn..headache-inducing. I don’t know any more.”

Luo Feng frowns and seems lost in thought. The gears are visibly turning in his head. “My memory holds similar. I can add that it was a pub and can attest it was noisy – and if it may hold more significance, I can also add there was a shoot-out.”

He jolts. “A what?”

“A shoot-out,” Luo Feng repeats with a subtle smirk – not subtle enough, however, that the twinkle in his eyes gives it away. “You should be familiar with them, no?”

“Not that I’d like to be.” Cheng Jin pushes himself off and walks over to the nearest mohair sofa, sinking down on the soft fabric. He undoes the top button of his shirt for comfort, ignoring the way the other man is observing every movement like a hawk. “Let me reorganize. We were sent on an investigation overseas, we ended up in a bar, we got involved in a criminal shooting, then we got drugged and—”

“From my memory, it was you who got drugged,” Captain Luo’s correction doesn’t make him feel any better, “and then I went to cover your ass, only to have a bullet whizz by my face, my life flashing before my eyes. And then this handsome captain took a knife to the back because his reckless subordinate couldn’t manage to walk down the fire escape fast enough, resulting in—"

“Aren’t you distorting the narrative?” Cheng Jin retorts sharply. “I’ve just recalled that this self-proclaimed handsome captain was found hiding behind the counter as I provided assistance to our team. If there’s anything that particularly sticks out, it would be that you were flirting with a patron next to—”

Luo Feng clicks his tongue. “You remember more than I expected. Are you lying to me?”

“I recall more details when you keep talking nonsense,” Cheng Jin shoots back. “How did I get drugged? I don’t normally… screw up this bad.”

“How should I know?” Luo Feng tells him. “Didn’t I say I don’t remember that well?”

“Captain, as per usual, you are incredibly useless,” he says with a sigh, already preparing to leave and head to the shower.

“Wait, wait, don’t go yet,” the man almost pleads him, gesturing him to come to the couch. “As two incredibly intelligent and talented young men, a little bit of amnesia is nothing we can’t handle, right? Let’s sit and talk about this nicely, Xiao-JinJin… please?”

Cheng Jin gives him a look that screams volumes, but he acquiesces anyway. It’s another five minutes of thinking in silence and five more minutes of strange tension – neither of them is actually looking at each other, but Luo Feng is acting suspiciously strange, never daring to venture his sight below Cheng Jin’s collar.

Cheng Jin raises his brows. “What?”

“…I’ve pieced the important parts together,” Luo Feng says, now opting to look up at the ceiling.

“And?”

“Allow me to reenact what I know.” Luo Feng sighs, seems to steel himself, and then shifts his body closer to him. It’s an obvious dereliction of personal space when their thighs brush too intimately, too naturally. The captain drapes an arm over his shoulder, leans in close and says, “I am playing the role of target Suzuki Keiko, a beautiful woman in her early thirties, head of Aoi-tori, the Blue Birds who are extensive to drugs, trafficking and racketeering among various other… not-so-legal schemes. She had gone overseas via flight AVA-6301 bound New York City on the first of April.”

Cheng Jin actively ignores the skin contact but to no avail. He gets even more perturbed when the captain’s diamond ring flashes in his direction. The design isn’t tacky at all – it suits the man rather well, he would have to admit – but how exactly did the matching happen and who in the world paid for it? It better not be him, else bankruptcy would need to be filed.

“And you are playing the role of Luo Feng, beloved captain of our homey Narcotics Division,” the man continues with an irritating drawl of his syllables. “It goes like this: 8:30 PM, Xiao-Ming, Xiao-Fu, old man Wei and our good officer Cheng Jin head into ‘Venus Mix Up’, an unsuspecting pub in the Upper East. You, Luo Feng, were ahead of schedule and approached the target first.”

Cheng Jin bites lightly on his bottom lip, a small action he does when pondering. Things are fuzzy, but he’s intelligent enough to form a likely sequence of events – the yakuza that’s been off-radar for months, international trafficking, probably some sort of synthetic drug heist swept under the rug. All in all, it was an operation gone horribly wrong for their division.

He’s so preoccupied he doesn’t notice that Luo Feng had gone completely silent, staring at him in a trance. Cheng Jin taps his fingers on the cushion. “And then? Why did you stop?”

“…No reason.” Captain Luo regains his composure and delves back into topic. He places his other hand on Cheng Jin’s lap and says, “Suzuki was quite touchy. She was flirting with me like this, probably took a liking to me and offered me a drink too. If I didn’t drink it, I’d raise suspicions so naturally, I agreed. I was planning to divert her attention and get rid of it somehow, but… Well, to my surprise, Cheng Xiao-Jin downed it all in one go.”

Cheng Jin raises a brow. “Why would I?”

“You told me it would be a disgrace for the captain to be out of the game so soon. You substituted for me and collected intel in my place.” Luo Feng looks at him. “Though I doubt you can remember now. There was a high possibility of the drink being roofied – and right I was because you started slurring half an hour after.”

“And the shoot-out?”

“Xiao-Ming messed up. One thing led to another and then we had an entire syndicate on our tails. As for the convenient, collective memory loss…” Luo Feng frowns. “It would be gas strong enough to take you down in three seconds flat. Intel has word of a bio-agent still in its experimental stage – code ‘Azure’, toxicity rating, dependence potential, both extremely high. The side effects should be what you’re feeling right now.”

“What about you?” Cheng Jin breathes softly. “Did you inhale any?”

“Of course I did,” Captain Luo tells him. “I went to save your dumb ass only to get hit with short-term memory loss.”

“That’s nothing new,” he muses. “You also did say you took a knife to the back, though it’s unfortunate the bullet didn’t make contact.”

“Are you going to be like this?” Luo Feng says, his eyes twitching. “Your captain is still very hurt, you know.”

“I can’t imagine it hurting more than—” His backside starts to throb at this very moment, reminding him of the rigorous activity that must’ve happened the night prior. He’s more flustered as he catches sight of the bruises on his chest. Some are deep red, standing out on otherwise fair skin. He tentatively rubs at a sore on his nape. He winces. It’s a bite mark. “You… are you an animal?”

“Last night…” Luo Feng gingerly raises a thumb to touch the same mark, trying to soothe it as much as he can. “It was you who initiated while I was still…aware. I can remember some bits, like I’ve mentioned. The rest is uncertain. I am positive that Azure has an aphrodisiac factor, taking into account how delirious you—we were.”

“I—” A faint pink forms on his ears, tracing down to his cheeks. He avoids eye contact and stares at the open space in front. “We will disregard whatever happened last night, Captain Luo.”

“And the ring?”

“The ring…” Cheng Jin carefully stands up, placing extra care to not dislocate his hip. He walks to the rack by the bathroom door and grabs a towel. He turns and says, “Let’s get it pawned off today. Wait for me.”

Luo Feng watches quietly. The open curtains stream morning light inside the room, bouncing off porcelain tiles, dyeing his shirt and trousers in bouts of gold, softening the man’s noir features. Strangely, the place isn’t as overly gaudy anymore. It’s almost domestic – the way Luo Feng dulls the pristine backdrop, the way he matches too well with that complementary cotton shirt and those plain hotel slippers.

A long while later, the captain lets out a soft sigh.

“Alright.”

 

 

✿✿✿

(10% apple juice)

 

Poor decisions were made as soon as they left the hotel room together. It isn’t the fact that they’d gotten stared at five times by strange and giggling concierges, nor is it the fact that their one-night stand accounted for a hefty fifty percent of their biweekly federal budget – Cheng Jin is already racking the numbers in his disoriented brain. He can also attest that the worst possible thing to experience in this lifetime is actively being by the captain’s side in a public space.

Take, for example, how the man had tried to flirt his way through the extra service charges and then subsequently dragged the poor Cheng Jin down to the luxurious buffet downstairs – “my treat,” Captain Luo had told him with a wink. Good things never came their way, of course, because then the man had gotten into a fistfight with the chef for serving his steak rare instead of medium rare, though Cheng Jin could hardly tell the fraction of a difference. Apparently, it was off by six seconds.

“Are you deaf or are you blind?” Luo Feng had shouted as he pushed the plate away, the utensils clanking down to premium plush rug. “I said ‘medium rare’, you fool! This is the third time you’ve gotten it wrong – I said, very clearly, three minutes and twenty-eight seconds on one side, three and a quarter on the other, sear it over the grill, throw in some fucking butter—”

“Fuck you!” the American chef had replied with an aggressive flip of his middle finger. “Don’t tell me what to do, motherfucker!”

And so, Cheng Jin had witnessed an engaging melee and while it may had been entertaining to see somebody potentially sock the captain’s smug face (he doesn’t place bets, however), he’d need to have the patience of a saint after the man had pulled him into the very personal, very trivial scuffle as well. Cheng Jin, with a throbbing headache and all, was forced to cover for his team captain’s absolute fuckery to stand in the middle of a dozen angry hotel staff, a dozen more waiters and chefs equipped with razor-sharp forks and even sharper butcher knives.

The conflict only subsided when he roughly kicked Luo Feng in the back, pinpointing the knife injury he’d supposedly taken while on the run last night. Without apologizing, Cheng Jin hauled the older man out of the buffet and physically threw him out to the streets… And now, here they are – two grown men stranded in the middle of the city, one of them positively livid and the other not apologetic in the slightest.

The captain turns to speak. “Xiao—”

“—Do not.” Cheng Jin holds a hand out in warning, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Do not open your mouth.”

They’d taken a taxi to the heart of the Big Apple, ditching all job obligations and other pressing matters for a more capitalistic venture – namely, selling off the two glorious diamonds still decorating their fingers. Neither of them has taken off their rings yet.

A billboard sign blares obtrusively within sight. It’s showing an advertisement on wedding chapels, something about gorgeous venues, rooftop views, one-of-a-kind celebrity endorsed event spaces. Two blocks down and another ad pops up – “spring it up to her,” it reads in tacky cursive, and then there’s a caption slapped on in twelve-point Helvetica, “fresh white roses for the marriage season.”

Someone has to appeal for more variety in NYC posters because he’s getting fed up with the same pretty-faced actress in a wedding gown holding a pristinely arranged bouquet. She’s mocking him.

“Hey,” Cheng Jin speaks suddenly. “We didn’t… sign any papers, did we?”

Luo Feng pauses and so does he.

Amidst locomotion, amidst thousands of citizens speeding to work on a bright Monday morning, the two policemen are incomparably still. Off-duty and off the field, it’s almost like they’re vacationing away in a city of fever dreams. There have been stories of impromptu elopes, late-night rendezvous and secret encounters that hold much more meaning. New York City is always prone to gossip.

The captain looks at him. Their eyes meet – coffee brown orbs and equally as dazzling cerulean. There is no jest to be found. “Would you like to?”

Cheng Jin furrows his eyebrows. “What are you asking?”

The other man reaches for his forearm. “Cheng Jin, what I’m trying to say is—"

A loud ringtone blares through, the volume of the nursery song so piercing it threatens to combust his eardrums. Cheng Jin covers his ears with a loud groan. The ringtone is atrocious, probably one of the many jokes their fellow squad mate, Fu Zhihao, had pulled days ago. Lu Feng immediately reaches into his pocket and pulls out his smartphone.

Of course he would have the latest model with customized gunmetal and all, that filthy rich vulgarian.

“Hello?!” Captain Luo shouts after glancing at the caller ID. “After ignoring all my calls, you’ve the nerve to reach out to me now, old man Wei. Might I add that I’m your superior—what? Du Ming? Where the hell is the old man? Where the hell are you? Where the hell is everyone?”

The person on the other line says something inaudible, but it sure does irk the captain.

“The investigation hasn’t ended yet, you idiot cabbage!” Luo Feng waves his hand madly in the air, as if arguing with a specter in front of him. He looks deranged. “What kind of injury?! A bullet or two is not a problem, spit on it or something—hospital? Do you think I’m stupid? I hear music from the bloody speaker. Du Ming, you better run quickly because when I get my hands on you, I swear on my left nut I will—"

The captain gets more creative with his insults as the conversation carries on.

“Do you have abalone for brains?” His volume is raised to the world. “Your puffer-face will be unrecognizable after I’m done with you, shithead, so say your prayers and…"

Cheng Jin feels another impending headache. He wishes the sky will collapse and swallow the captain whole – it’s alright if he gets taken out in collateral as well.

“You fucking bloated chipmunk!” Luo Feng, a handsome, eye-catching, about-190-centimeter-tall man can be seen standing right in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling passionately at a smartphone, blocking the way of every irate passerby. The public disturbance isn’t put off by the angry stares whatsoever as he spews a string of colorful expletives in Chinese, his mouth speed rivalling that of the country’s hottest top rapper.

“Du Ming, Fu Zhihao, Wei Donghai, see if I don’t cut off your paychecks and your dicks while I’m at it, you goddamn slackers—what did you say?! You left? Where the fuck do you think—you’re leaving your division captain in Times Square while you go KTV with your preteen friends—I don’t give a shit if you don’t understand English! What happened to all the proficiency classes you’ve taken, you unreliable dolt? Can you not absorb knowledge, fucking egg tart, you son of a custard—"

The mobile phone falls to the concrete ground at an applied force of Cheng Jin times gravity. The screen fissures into a million glass webs. A two-thousand-dollar device lost to wrath. He picks it back up and silently hands the broken phone to the captain. It’s been reduced to rubble.

“Luo Feng.” He states very cleanly, concisely. “Shut up.”

“…” Captain Luo heeds the warning poorly. “…Xiao-JinJin, for someone so pretty, you are exceedingly scary when mad.”

Cheng Jin chooses to not linger on the topic. It’s not the first time the captain had teased him for being ‘pretty’ but if they get into another argument over this, there will be at least one foreign corpse in New York soil. He closes his eyes, sighs for the tenth time today, and continues to walk.

“…Right,” Luo Feng suddenly says in epiphany shortly after, “I forgot to ask them what happened.”

“Amazing,” Cheng Jin deadpans. “You are an utter joy to be with, Captain Luo.”

Flashing billboards, neon traffic lights, bustling crowds, honks and more – it’s difficult to single out a store from the sheer intensity. Too-tall buildings come into view and Cheng Jin is no city hustler, so imagine how lost he is without a working GPS. Immediately, he regrets destroying the captain’s device. Speaking of the captain…

Cheng Jin would like to think that the both of them are actively going around looking for pawn shops, but the other man seems to have an agenda of his own. They’d only split for a good five seconds before Luo Feng returned with two hotdogs, a bag of peanuts and a salted pretzel.

“Xiao-JinJin,” he tears off a piece of the pretzel and holds it close to his mouth, “say ‘ahh.’”

“Are you here for a tour?” Cheng Jin asks.

Luo Feng smiles at him and rubs his hair – the smaller man is appalled by the contact with those grease-covered fingers. “You should eat something. Your complexion isn’t looking healthy and I’d hate for my subordinate to faint under my care.”

“I don’t feel well,” he responds, refusing to take a bite.

“Are you pregnant?” asks Luo Feng with an exasperating curve of his lips. “Cheng Jin, I don’t know if it’s very possible, but I’m willing to bring you to the doctor for a check-up. We did do it quite rough last night. Can you guess how many rounds?”

“…You need to know when to stop talking. I clearly told you we should forget—hold on.” Cheng Jin doesn’t miss the Freudian slip. He looks up at the black-haired man. “Captain, you said you couldn’t remember vividly.”

Luo Feng sighs softly. His tea-colored eyes crinkle up not in the teasing way, but in the way that hints somber and a small tinge of hesitance. “How convenient for you to have no recollection, Xiao-Jin, but it is difficult for me to forget. I can recall more clearly now that you’re in front of me. Why is it that you can’t?”

“I don’t know,” he says with a slight furrow, dejected brows and all. “There’s a large gap I can’t fill. I figured getting some fresh air would help with the migraine but walking this much is already tiring. How much inhalant did I take in?”

Luo Feng looks at him and says slowly, “Enough for you to lose your mind and kiss me.”

“…It sounds out of character no matter how deeply I think about it,” he replies with a sigh. “You’re not exactly my type, Captain Luo.”

In fact, Cheng Jin thinks the man cannot be further from an ideal – obnoxiously loud, extremely annoying, operates on a single braincell… However, he is admittedly a capable officer and an even more capable squad captain and is rather intelligent despite his loudmouth showing otherwise. When it comes down to it, Luo Feng can handle his weight. On good days, the captain would rap less than ten beats a minute and actually lead an applaudable investigation.

On the other, more common bad days, that foolishly brave muscle-head doesn’t comprehend the concept of the danger of picking random fights with strangers on the streets or of creating more chaos than actually solving it. He is a policeman for Christ’s sake, so would it kill for him to be civil?

All that aside, a redeeming quality would be how considerate he can be. Take, for example, the many times he’d bailed Cheng Jin out of serial murder cases, armed robberies, clutched through hostage situations and all types of red-threat predicaments. The buffoon makes up for his lack of social etiquette with his charm. Cheng Jin can reminisce on the few times he’d actually looked cool.

How in the world Cheng Jin finds the captain agreeable enough to remain in the same division, the reason would be that once under a blue moon, under a torrential rain and upon shooting stars, Luo Feng’s presence is—

“I’m not your type?” Luo Feng asks, interrupting his internal monologue. The older man seems genuinely disappointed in such a reveal, his face scrunching up in pique. He leans closer. “Really?”

Chiseled features, handsomely dark brows, a jawline that could cut. The sun brings gloss to his blemish-free skin, making him look more to be a 3D printed model. He has rugged characteristics that’d land him a shoot for a Vogue magazine, one of those spring season issues that showcase more eight-pack abs than clothes.

When the captain brings both hands to squeeze Cheng Jin’s cheeks, a sudden analepsis hits.

“Cheng Jin,” the man had murmured last moonlit night. There were sprawled bedsheets, discarded clothes and entangled limbs. The air smelled of musk and woody cologne, a linger of sex and sweet pollen. Cheng Jin’s fingers were curled onto a dark dress shirt, holding onto the fabric so tightly it must’ve ripped.

The breaths by his ears were distracting. He might’ve zoned out and accommodated to every lowly-spoken command. In between rough creaks of the bed sounded pained gasps and pleasured moans. Muffled words and filth were lost in inebriation. When he opted to stifle himself with the back of his hand, Luo Feng had gently grasped his wrist and pinned it away. They sunk into a kiss that was all tongue and saliva, then when Luo Feng parted for a brief millisecond, also disoriented and hazed, there was more fondness than pure, feral rut.

Cheng Jin, frenzied beyond relief, found himself captivated by a pair of soothing, hazel-colored eyes. It reminded of deep carnations and rare spring blossoms. The man dipped his head low, pressed a soft kiss on the mole beneath his eye, and whispered, enchanted, “You are unbelievably beautiful.”

And Cheng Jin was oddly, incomprehensibly drawn.

He’s thrown back into alacrity when he feels a thumb rubbing on the edge of his eye, touching that same spot where he’d been kissed a night prior.

“Cheng Jin,” Luo Feng says with a frown, “are you alright? Should we send you to a hospital after all?”

The sunshine has warmed up his face. Cheng Jin’s perpetually cold expression has turned into more of a fluster again – eyes fidgety, lips slightly parted, cheeks tinged. He opens his mouth hesitantly to ask, “…Have you heard of Stendhal syndrome?”

Rampant confusion. The captain stares at him as though he were the outlandish one for a change.

“No,” Cheng Jin shakes his head in dismissal, “nevermind.”

 

 

✿✿✿

(4% sparkling water)

 

 

“Ten grand,” says the retailer, a balding man in his mid-seventies. He takes a disinterested glance at the ring and does a long drag of a foul-smelling cigar. Burning ammonia. “Take it or leave it, future boy.”

The jewelry store is as decrepit as the man’s receding hairline. Located in the most bizarre back alley of rich folk Manhattan, the tiny, 500-square feet booth is just about the shadiest place they’d stumbled upon today. The awning is half tilted, the ‘open’ sign is ominously drooped, the front glass display is smashed into smithereens – a recent break-in from the looks of it.

They’d resorted to this place specifically because no other would take in such an expensive ring without advance notice, but why Captain Luo thought a back-alley retailer would have the cash is beyond fathomable.

A non-suspect green fern plant is propped near the corner, looking so out of place and innocent. There’s a permit stamped onto the graying wall – a legal business, it indicates, nothing fishy to see here. The old man owner has a hunched back and a decades-old tattoo running from his back up to his neck. He must’ve been quite a character in his prime.

Luo Feng slams his hand on the glass counter. The contents inside rattle forebodingly. A necklace topples over and falls to the ground. If scrutinized closely, the sapphire choker is surrounded by specks of rare crystals – extremely expensive, just like everything here. Very shady.

“I said six hundred grand, you third-rate scam artist,” the captain says imposingly, towering over the store owner. Luo Feng taps his fingers on the diamond band. “Your eyes must be failing due to old age. Does this ring look that cheap to you? Are you looking down on me?”

“Secondhand,” the old man says, completely unfazed. “Lowering my offer to eight, since yer filthy fingers smeared dirt on it.”

“Excuse me?” Luo Feng spits out. “Do you know how many people would line up to hold my hands? You’re lucky I don’t jack the price higher instead.”

“Run along, kiddo.” The owner shoots a look at Cheng Jin – who, by the way, is remaining uninvolved to the side and trying his best to disappear – and then says, “If y’all looking for quick, dirty cash, better off selling that pretty boy over there. Two blocks down, ‘round the corner – hooker club.”

Cheng Jin, a mere bystander, takes a sharp stab to his ego. He frowns and prepares a comment to retaliate, but not before Luo Feng violently kicks the display table, cracking the glass into shards. He grabs the man by the collar and sneers.

“Keep your comments to yourself, geezer.” He hardens his grip. “I’ll break your jaw.”

The man is obviously used to conflict. He flicks the cigar soot in their direction. “Take yer business elsewhere. This place ain’t buying fake stolen goods. Want six hundred grand for a shiny piece’a shit rock? I’ll give y’all another hint: head to the west side comedy club and tell yer jokes there.”

“Oh yeah?” Luo Feng hoists the man up to eye-level – quite impressive, actually, to be able to lift a man up with one hand. “I’ll take my business to the police station, sleazy bastard, for defamation.”

“Go ahead, lover boy,” the jeweler says. “Y’all think the metro’s gonn’ do jack shit? Not in this city. The police ain’t here.”

“I am the police, old fucker!” Luo Feng turns to his companion and says loudly in Chinese, “Xiao-Jin, show him your badge. We mean business.”

Cheng Jin feels the need to interject before things take another hectic turn. “Captain Luo, you cannot arrest a person in a foreign country outside of your jurisdiction, let alone for no valid reason.”

“What do you mean?” the man says. “The reason is that he indirectly called you a hooker with ill intentions—I mean, fine, you’re pretty, I get it. I know. But how dare he check you out? Sexual harassment is no trivial offense.”

Cheng Jin doesn’t follow. “What?”

“Why would I let it slide when some sleazebag insults my partner?”

“…” Cheng Jin walks forward and slaps him on the back. The captain immediately lets go of the store owner. It made for a strange sight – a 190-centimeter man threatening a person half his size – and if there were any other witnesses, the consensus would be that Luo Feng is more delinquent than police. “Luo Feng, you are an idiot.”

“…Ow,” the man groans as he massages his back. “Cheng Xiao-Jin, did you forget I have a knife wound?”

“I did forget,” he says, pulling Luo Feng out of the store. “You are certainly energetic.”

The captain looks crestfallen. It seems he’d really wanted to continue the banter with the old man – not that Cheng Jin would enable him any further, because he has a sneaking suspicion that the geezer is ex-mafia. The store permit stapled onto the wall doesn’t look like a local business license, but a license to carry. Whatever’s going on here – the American province is beyond their scope.

The jeweler fixes his crumpled shirt and sends them away with a derisive snort. “Take it to the alleyway, brats.”

Luo Feng, brainlessly reactive, is ready to pounce. “What’d you say, you—"

“Captain Luo.” The younger man leans against the door, one step away from abandoning his squad leader. “I am going to leave.”

“…I’m coming,” Feng Luo replies with some reluctance.

He really does leave the store, but not before flipping the bird at the old store owner, who in turn hurls a glass shard in their direction. It’s unfortunate it completely misses the intended target and scrapes Cheng Jin, the innocent bystander. He had raised a hand to block his face, but the shrapnel slashes his palm. Blood dribbles out, bright red on milky white skin.

Feng Luo is livid. He’s about to stalk up to the counter and possibly empty a whole clip onto the elderly’s mane before Cheng Jin tugs him back and away. The captain opens his mouth to protest.

“Shh,” Cheng Jin slaps his hand on the other man’s mouth, effectively silencing him, “don’t cause another commotion.”

“…” Luo Feng sighs. He takes ahold of Cheng Jin’s hand and examines the wound closely. It’s not a serious injury, not shallow but not too deep either. “Fine. I’ll let it slide, Cheng Jin, but I don’t like it.”

New York City is incredibly chaotic and especially more so when Cheng Jin is traveling with a wayward companion who is strangely overprotective. Luo Feng keeps glancing at him even ten minutes after they’d haphazardly dressed the cut on his hand. The captain looks at him as though he were a fragile vase.

“Do you really have to be like this?” asks one very perturbed Cheng Jin.

Luo Feng looks at him. “Like what?”

The sidewalk is doused with rainwater. The spring season is prone to intermittent drizzles, but they hadn’t the time to prepare for a deluge. Shortly after exiting the small-scale jewelry store, the clear clouds have darkened into an off-gray. The rain soaks them both in a minute.

They’re crammed under the refuge of a bus station along with ten other unfortunate souls caught in the sudden downpour. Whichever intel Cheng Jin had collected about New Yorkers had turned out quite inaccurate, because the so-called antisocial, tourist-hating hermits certainly don’t find it problematic to be glued to each other like magnets.

The fifth person to bump into him was a pretty teenager with the sharpest eyeliner he’d ever seen, winged up to her brows. The sixth was a young, coquettish woman who’d so conveniently stumbled onto his chest. She had blinked at him apologetically, her miles-long false lashes fluttering with the wind.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she had said with a drawl to her syllables.

“No problem,” he’d told her as he steadied her foothold. “Be careful.”

“You’re really cute.” She had tapped at his chest and leaned forward, purposefully tilting her head for added effect. She smelled of designer perfume and luxury BMWs. “Are you sing—"

Luo Feng had pushed her away. “No.”

Not the strangest thing the captain had done (there are too many incidents that would top), but now, a few minutes later, the entire bus station entourage is convinced they’re gay lovers. Cheng Jin, with his disheveled hair, heavy-lidded eyes and an increasingly painful headache (it’s come back again), is plastered protectively by Luo Feng’s side.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Luo Feng asks him. “Don’t you know that strangers are dangerous? What if you get kidnapped? How would I find you in a city of 8.5 million?”

“Why would I get kidnapped, Luo Feng?” he sighs. “I can handle myself. You’re overbearing.”

“…I know.” The man has an uncharacteristically unsettled look on his face. He takes Cheng Jin’s hand again, interlaces their fingers together and says, “I know you can. I just… didn’t want her to have your number, alright?”

They speak in Chinese when conversing with each other. Even without context, the crowd coos at them from the background. Hushed giggles, excited whispers, an inhuman squeal of a person tapping away at a mobile phone, furiously texting and taking photos at the same time. One particular girl is even brazen enough to turn on the camera flash. Strange city folk.

“Xiao-Jin,” Luo Feng frowns at the lack of response, “are you angry?”

He’s not angry. He’s so… absorbed in those tea-colored eyes that reality starts to distort.

Gray clouds, darkened skies, sounds of muffled gunfire, yelling, screaming, the blares of incoming sirens. Cheng Jin was gasping heavily, holding himself upright against a graffitied wall, the cold sweat dripping down his forehead. His heart was palpitating two hundred beats a minute. The drugs hit him hard. He was so unaware he couldn’t handle it.

It was euphoria and pain all in one – his head splitting so much he couldn’t think, yet there was unfamiliar heat that bubbled inside him, craving relief. He staggered and almost fell, then he was lifted by a pair of rough arms. His senses were so dulled, yet he could smell a whiff of vetiver cologne, a sweet and warm spice.

“Fuck.” Luo Feng had sounded distressed. There was also a slur in his words. “Cheng Xiao-Jin, stay awake for a little longer, fuck, I don’t know if I can…”

Cheng Jin saw raven-black hair, caramel-brown eyes glinted gold by the streetlight, a tinge of red on the man’s ears. The details he still can’t recall clearly, and neither does he know why he had an urge to pull Luo Feng in closer – just, the latter looked extra handsome.

“Captain,” he’d murmured weakly before he passed out, “stay with me.”

Oh.

Pelting raindrops, cascading thoughts, a deafening rumble of thunder, the bus station silent in comparison – he’s back again. Cheng Jin is as still as a statue. He’s still holding hands with the captain.

A cherry tree leaf drifts its way downward, falling gently onto his soft black hair. Around them, the trees have started to sway with the wind, pelting down more droplets and even more petals, decorating the sidewalks in pretty pinks and whites. The flowers make their way downstream and Cheng Jin stares in a daze. His eyes reflect the paleness of cherry blossoms, the translucence of early spring rain – and there is as much beauty as there is falter.

He looks incredibly lost.

“—Cheng Jin, are you listening?” Luo Feng has been talking to him for half a minute, but he hasn’t registered a single word. The captain brushes the leaf off his hair. “Don’t ignore me. Let me know if you’re angry. Let me know if you don’t like—"

“I cannot recall going to a jewelry store.”

Cheng Jin remembers the part where they’d been driven. It wasn’t a police car they were in, but some random yellow taxi the captain had hailed shortly after. He himself was fading in and out of consciousness, so there wasn’t much to take note of sans the humming of the engine, directions being told in sotto voce, the GPS going off once in a while. Two point five miles, take a left to a blind pick hotel with a fancy French name.

He remembers some parts in the hotel quite well too. The night was as consensual as it could be with both men high off drugs.

“…We didn’t go to one,” Luo Feng replies slowly.

He quirks a brow. “We didn’t go to one? How did we end up like this, then?”

At Cheng Jin’s confused expression, the captain continues with a small, frustrated sigh, “The rings are customized. Five months planning, three months in the making, three weeks delivery, one week withheld. Reference price is seven hundred thousand each. They could have been higher, if you wanted, but I thought—”

“What?” Cheng Jin finds himself too confused today.

“What I’m saying is I didn’t buy them last night.” A vehicle speeds across the road, sending a deluge of dirtied street water their direction. The slush dyes their shoes brown. Luo Feng is too uncharacteristically flustered to care. He rambles on. “I never said I did. It’s been in my pocket for—ugh, damnit—I’ve been wanting to give it to you for a while, but it turns out my inebriated self had done it first. Anyway, don’t you think the color matches your eyes? Am I being too forward or Cheng Xiao-Jin, aren’t you just too slow to catch on? I mean, doesn’t the entire division know that I… Fuck, but really, I never intended for all this to happen, so if you don’t want it, then fine, throw the ring away, pawn it like you wanted to…”

Luo Feng doesn’t wait for a reply. “You can take mine too. Seven hundred grand times two minus transaction fees, more than one million dollars, alright? This much money isn’t a single chip to my hedge funds—”

“Hedge funds?” Cheng Jin cuts him off. “Are you looking down on me, you capitalist swine?”

“You told me you liked money!” Luo Feng is stressed out. It’s quite entertaining to see that perpetually smug-faced idiot, rich son of whatever tech monopolist, stumble with his words. “The first time old man Wei asked about your ideal type, you clearly said, ‘has a good family background, is a good listener, is good-looking, filthy rich, intelligent, must have scored within the upper one-percent tile in the nation’s public safety exam.’ Look at your handsome captain. You tell me what I’m lacking. Don’t I fit the criteria? Cheng Xiao-Jin, with such high requirements, who else is there but me?”

“What you’re saying is – you proposed to me with a twenty-carat diamond ring because I am a materialistic, money-grabbing parasite?”

“What I’m saying is…” The captain wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in. Their bodies are close enough to touch, their uncomfortably soaked trench coats clinging onto each other. The warmth radiates from them both. Luo Feng leans in and says, finally, “Cheng Jin, I really like you. If you don’t want to marry me yet, how about you date me first?”

The sky flashes bright white. A loud rumble of thunder followed by excited chatter. While some spectators are having a feast, a few others are carrying on as though nothing happened.

“Tch,” grumbles a teenage pedestrian who’s only here to wait for the bus, “kids these days.”

It’s not the ideal location for a confession but sue him if he’s majorly affected. Cheng Jin hopes the raindrops hide the embarrassment he’s feeling and hides how his normally pale face has turned into subtle pink shades of fever. The petals continue to fall, and his eyes are a glossy shade of seafoam blue. They remind of the ocean breeze, of springtime hydrangeas and pretty leaves. Soft yet vibrant.

He buries himself onto Luo Feng’s chest. The captain gets the hint and turns to the crowd.

“The fuck are you staring at?!” Luo Feng yells out. “Is this a Broadway show? Scram, all of you! And you—give me that umbrella!”

He snatches an unsuspecting passerby’s tacky red umbrella (without permission) and opens it fully, swerving the canopy to hide Cheng Jin’s fluster from the eyes of the crowd. A few seconds later, Cheng Jin tentatively raises his head.

There is no sunshine, so why the captain radiates so brightly is a mystery to behold. He’s just as annoyingly handsome in casual clothes as he is in uniform. His black, wet hair is slicked up for convenience – Cheng Jin hadn’t ever looked at him this closely before, but he’s beginning to understand why he felt so heated last night. His thoughts must show on his face because the captain chuckles, the low vibrato keeping him in deadlock.

Luo Feng leans forward once more. “Your answer?”

“…Mn.”

“Mn?” Luo Feng’s eyes twinkle. “Is that all?”

“Captain Luo,” he says with a lick of his lips, “if you’d just keep your mouth shut for a minute, I’d find you to be mildly agreeable and easy on the eyes.”

“Cheng Xiao-Jin,” Luo Feng releases their intertwined hands and then cups the younger man’s jaw, tilting his head for easier access, “do you consent to a sober kiss?”

He does.

 

 

✿✿✿

(1% distilled doubts)

 

He shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the clothing rack. His combat boots squelch out rainwater and dirty city debris. Times Square may be one of the better maintained areas of touristy New York, but it hardly means it’s clean. The city itself reminds of cigarette buds, cheap wine and red-light perfume. At least, during some seasons, it can be called scenic. Cheng Jin throws his socks into the nearby basket and fixes his shirt collar.

“I’m soaked,” he complains to his companion who follows behind closely.

“I am too,” Luo Feng reminds him as if it weren’t obvious enough.

His black shirt is drenched even darker, clinging onto his unnecessarily built body. It must be emphasized again that the man is good-looking, and he knows it, so much that his confidence has skyrocketed in the past few hours for him to pull his shirt off like a trained stripper. Slowly, deliberately, hooking his lips up when he catches Cheng Jin staring in irritation.

“Like what you s—"

“Put your shirt back on,” Cheng Jin snaps at him.

The torrential downpour had left both of them scrambling to the nearest hotel, abandoning what was supposed to be a date to the movies. As far as first dates go, that one certainly tops the list of ‘most memorable’ – and not positively so. It had started decent, when Luo Feng behaved long enough for them to catch the climax of some show about man-eating cannibals, consequential serial killers and braindead detectives. How suiting.

It only went downhill from there.

“Dumbass!” Luo Feng had decided to comment on the main lead’s incompetence. He talked in English purposefully. “How does it remotely make sense that he couldn’t see the perpetrator in broad daylight? The dude was right in front of him and you’re telling me he can’t piece it together? Are people into dumb cops nowadays? He’s not even as hot as the reviews described. He should be fired for wasting civilian tax money. If he were in my squad, I’d fire him day one on the job—no, one minute into the job. Isn’t that right, JinJin?”

Cheng Jin at the time was sleepily propped to one side, eyelids drooping down in bore. “…Mm?”

“And that brunette fucker – does he think he’s detective Conan?” Luo Feng continued to ramble without any regard for the others around them. “They’re blatantly plagiarizing great media and unrealistically tossing—"

“—Shut up!” yelled an irate audience member. He was a 185-centimeter-tall, big and burly man with the most jacked up arms Cheng Jin had ever seen. Even he, an accomplished policeman, would have a hard time wrestling with those. The blond-haired man lifted himself up from the dainty theater seat. It had creaked forebodingly, struggling to hold his weight. “How dare you talk shit about Richard Jacuzzi? He’s a two-time music awards winner, a crowned champion of live action, a full-time voice actor and a part-time porn star. He has more credentials than your himbo boyfriend over there, gay motherfucker!”

Cheng Jin, who was simply existing and minding his own business, was insulted yet again.

“Come at me.” Luo Feng wagged his fingers in mockery. “I’ll beat you hard into cardiac arrest, rearrange your monkey face so badly even your own mother won’t recognize you.”

The cops were called.

Ironic. After a bloody wrestle he had entirely no part in, Cheng Jin had found himself strapped in the backseat of a police car, handcuffed and due to be arrested – by association, despite himself insisting that he, in fact, had no relationship with Luo Feng, the goddamn fool.

“Do you know this man?” the stern-faced policemen had interrogated him like they would a murderer. There were sirens blaring, hectic yelling, and even louder shouts from Luo Feng who was making the situation worse by the minute. He was saying something about a violation of his rights, an arrest warrant and a vengeance to be carried.

“Not at all,” said Cheng Jin. “I don’t know him.”

They’d gotten out of it – thanks to Luo Feng’s status and connections – but Cheng Jin had decided that he no longer wanted to resume the date and no, he didn’t want to ‘ride a Ferris wheel’ nor did he want to ‘go to the botanical garden and hand-pick a bouquet,” and he absolutely did not want to ‘go stargazing’ in a starless city. He didn’t even want to be in the same vicinity as the man, his free trial boyfriend.

Yet here he is anyway – at another exorbitant hotel.

“Sorry, Xiao-Jin…” Luo Feng wraps him in an embrace, nuzzling his face close to his neck. “I was wrong. Forgive me, hm?”

The open shades let in slivers of moonlight, casting pretty glows inside the otherwise dim room. The time is two past midnight, and the guests some doors over have long turned off the lights. The darkness brings with it a certain kind of lull, a moment of repose after a hectic day. Cheng Jin feels himself settling slowly, his mind recovering from the whiplash of chaos to calm.

The captain’s bare chest is touching the wetness of his shirt.

“One day with you is a whole decade off my life,” Cheng Jin states as he unbuttons the top of his shirt, preparing to shower.

Luo Feng drops a light kiss on his nape and murmurs, “Are you still willing to date me?”

“When did you start liking me?”

“Day one.”

“Day one,” repeats Cheng Jin dully, “when you, substitute instructor Luo, scouted me in the academy entrance exam three years ago and called me a porcelain vase – all looks and no substance, pampered, high-maintenance, weak-willed, missing two more sets of abdominal muscles, should be propped in a modern art museum with how expensive—"

“Day two.”

“Day two, when I bumped into then-Lieutenant Luo at a homicide robbery case while off-duty, and you pegged me to be a potential culprit solely because I was ‘clad in dirty, black rags that look too cheap to be near a high-profile antique store’ and then—mn—!”

Luo Feng silences him with a kiss. A hand wraps around the back of his head and another sneaks its way onto his waist, dipping lower to hipbone and down. The captain traces over the subtle curve of his back and a particularly sensitive spot makes him jolt. The hickey on his lower back heats up even through his clothes. His light gasp is swallowed up greedily, Luo Feng taking initiative to slide in a tongue to deepen.

“Then day 750, when I abused my power and transferred you over to my division.” Luo Feng gets a few words in before licking and sucking at his lower lip, pleased by the soft sounds elicited out of his lover. “And you, Cheng Jin, when did you like me?”

“—Today?” The captain is good enough of a kisser that Cheng Jin finds his thoughts melting away. This time isn’t soft and pliant like it was the time under the umbrella, not at all comparable to the two-second smooch that made him shyer than he’d admit. His eyes, flecked by golden lamplight, are needy and wanting. “I don’t know.”

Luo Feng’s eyes, too, have an undercurrent of something dark. Slowly, the two of them back toward the edge of the king-sized bed – and Cheng Jin isn’t drunk but isn’t quite sober either, for he’s complying to the deep kisses, wrapping his arms around the man’s body, mindlessly reciprocating without a word. Luo Feng chuckles lowly and murmurs by his ears, “Today? You’re lying to me.”

His back touches soft blankets and he has half a mind to respond raspingly, “Perhaps you are… quite handsome so…”

Then he promptly shuts up when a warm hand dips under his still-soaked trousers, cupping his hardening erection. A few light brushes have him quivering into the touch, his body reacting despite his own stifled moans. Luo Feng watches him, entranced, taking in every twitch of his muscles, eyes flitting to his glistened damp skin. There’s an enticing trail of light pink on Cheng Jin’s body, markings from the night prior, and his dress shirt, half-buttoned, is transparent enough for them to show.

Luo Feng leans to suck another bruise on his neck, his clavicle, then down some more, working his way in a trance. A warm tongue encircles his nipple and the captain takes his time to lap at it, tugging it between his teeth. Cheng Jin raises a hand instinctively, curling his fingers on soft, black hair.

“—Captain Luo,” he pants out, veering more and more on edge, “don’t bite… I’m still…”

He trembles when Luo Feng does bite, albeit gently, and Cheng Jin finally has an idea of why he slept with the man inebriated. Luo Feng has a way of taking him with those honey-tinted eyes, that unfairly sculpted jawline, and then there’s his healthily tanned body, firm abdominals built through a decade of training and hard work.

He gets rougher with the handjob, so much that Cheng Jin feels the drag of the diamond ring across his member, feels every callus of those hands that are close to undoing him. His body is desperate to receive, bucking into his lover’s touch. His eyelashes are slightly quivering, casting long shadows on his rosy face. Cheng Jin is an unkempt mess, his shirt pulled apart, his hair mixed with sweat and rainwater, and yet, under copper-hued lamps and crystal-light flecks, he is immaculate all the same.

“Cheng Xiao-Jin,” the man murmurs, his teeth grazing on a reddened nipple, “the way you look right now is incredibly arousing.”

“Nn—close,” he chokes out, scrunching his eyes in overstimulation. He cums with a particularly rough shudder, spilling all over his clothes and on the captain’s bared stomach. Cheng Jin has a habit of stifling his noises with the back of his hand, but it’s not like the captain would let him, opting to take ahold of his wrist and pinning it overhead.

A sudden flashback, a déjà vu of a drugged-out night, and like that time too, the two of them sink into a passionate kiss. The night is filled with coaxing whispers, pretty compliments, skin on skin, searing heat. Luo Feng hums appreciatively, the low drawl sending heated shivers down his spine. “Perfect.”

“…” He turns away, his full body flushed and sheened with sweat. Pretty moonlit evening, romantic sepia lamplight, glossy blue eyes that match the night sky. His ears burn red.

Luo Feng laughs and pins him even deeper into the mattress. “So you are even more shy when sober. Very cute.”

The fabric of his wet dress shirt clings onto both of their bodies, and the captain takes initiative to strip him out of it entirely. The shirt is thrown onto the floor, followed by his pants and soaked trunks. Luo Feng nibbles gently on his bottom lip, continuing to pamper with kisses that melt – he has learned by now that the captain really likes kissing and as for Cheng Jin himself, he may be onboard as well.

His lips are moist with saliva and bitten pink-red, an enticing contrast to fair skin and light-dazed eyes. There are no excess sounds sans the intermingle of their breaths, soft wind chimes, the pitter-patters of rain against the grand hotel window. Cheng Jin chooses to comment when Luo Feng so naturally reaches behind his pants pocket and grabs a small, clear bottle.

“…You hide lube in your pockets,” he says with clear judgment in his tone. “Are you a pervert?”

“Just in case.” Luo Feng smirks at him. “Purchased it earlier along with the band-aids. I was prepared to have sex with you in an alleyway if you were willing.”

“Definitely—not,” he manages to choke out as Luo Feng flicks his nipple, pinching and teasing it between his fingers. The area is unbearably sensitive, perked red and supple. They must’ve done too much last drunken night. “A-Ah—"

The man’s obvious erection is digging into his bare thighs and Luo Feng grinds up experimentally, watching for a reaction. Cheng Jin twitches immediately, only for his legs to be hoisted up and nudged apart. The precum’s already seeped through the fabric of Luo Feng’s expensive black slacks, rubbing warmly on the curve of his ass.

“Luo Feng—” his breath hitches despite himself, “I don’t know if…I can…”

Luo Feng busies himself with the lube, smearing and warming it meticulously with his hands. He is very thorough with preparation, never rushing, always seeking affirmation from Cheng Jin before he goes any further. He leans down and kisses the mole under his eye.

“Let me continue?” he murmurs, the lust evident in his voice. It’s guttural, the way he says it, the syllables rolling off his tongue like caramel, so magnetic Cheng Jin can’t help but nod. With some warning, the captain prods a finger inside his heat. He furrows his brows in discomfort, feeling the pain from just one digit.

“It’s still swollen here,” Luo Feng comments, sounding suspiciously pleased as he inserts another finger. It goes in smoothly, Cheng Jin’s hole still stretched from many rounds of sex. The lube eases the glide, but Cheng Jin squirms from the sensation, his fingers curling on his lover’s naked chest. Luo Feng teases a third, slowly circling around his rim.

“Because you were too rough—!” He wasn’t prepared for the sudden sting, an electrifying jolt that makes his head spin. An agonizing brush against his prostate prompts a low moan, and Luo Feng digs in deeper to appease. The fingers scissor him open, sending waves of more pleasure than pain. Already, he feels himself hardening again, his body craving for more. “Nn… Feels…”

“Good?” A few pampered strokes later, Luo Feng removes his fingers. There’s the sound of a belt unbuckling, the leather slapping onto the ground, then the sound of a plastic foil being ripped apart. The captain guides him upright to the edge of the bed and he deliriously complies, too wrung out to care. Luo Feng hands him the condom.

“Put it on for me?” The captain smiles at him, the satisfaction too apparent in his eyes. “With your mouth.”

“…” Cheng Jin narrows his eyes at the condom dangling in front of him and at the smug grin on his captain’s face. “Are you teasing me?”

“Absolutely,” Luo Feng responds with a chuckle. “You did it very sexily last night and I’d like to relive that memory again.”

“Impossible,” he states though his ears are flaming red. “I have no experience doing this.”

And yet, he acquiesces when Luo Feng gives him a doting peck, and then he finds himself unzipping the captain’s pants with his teeth, both of his wrists held down firmly so he can’t cheat. Of course Luo Feng’s twisted brain would be into power plays and everything kinky, though he doesn’t complain about that part anymore when he’s tugging off those thousand-dollar pants, actively trying to not bite a hole through the fabric.

“This is unnecessary,” he whines as he finally gets out the button.

“It isn’t.” The mirth can be heard well enough without looking at the man’s face. “It turns me on even more.”

Cheng Jin bites at the cotton fabric, dragging it down with his teeth, leaving it to dangle down the hip. Luo Feng wasn’t lying when he said he was turned on, because his cock is straining against the front of his boxer briefs, hard and pulsing, the warmth of it felt near his face. In a rare display of boldness, Cheng Jin leans forward and presses his lips on the large bulge, giving kittenish licks that he knows will send the man in overdrive.

“Xiao-Jin,” comes the warning from above, “aren’t you more of a tease?”

He hums and finally slides down the last piece of clothing. Luo Feng’s erect member rubs at his cheek, smearing precum on his dewy skin. The scent of musk envelops the air, numbing his senses, and then Cheng Jin finally registers how well-endowed the man is. He stills in alarm, no longer continuing his act.

Luo Feng tilts his head up and places the condom in between his lips. He smirks. “Well?”

“…” He doesn’t speak but his eyes give it away. However, he still bobs low and tentatively wraps his mouth around the tip, maneuvering his tongue to slide the condom on Luo Feng’s length. The low grunts from above spur him on and he tries his best to accommodate, unfurling the latex inch by inch.

“Good,” Luo Feng murmurs, tugging gently on his hair and pushing him back down on the bed. He grins at him and says, “Cheng Xiao-Jin, I hope you remember it well this time.”

The captain pours more lube, purposefully letting some dribble onto Cheng Jin’s upper body. He doesn’t have time to focus on the coolness of it before Luo Feng’s member slides in between his cheeks and smears precum by his entrance. The tip slides in, rubs into him slowly, teasingly, but then Luo Feng thrusts in suddenly, drilling hard inside his walls, going at him so quickly he has no time to prepare.

“—!” His body arches backward, constricting from the foreignness. Cheng Jin flinches, his eyes quivering per each thrust, and it’s a miracle he stayed sane enough to reciprocate a kiss. He’s flushed on bedsheets, hair damp and disheveled, legs angled for easier intrusion. It wouldn’t have hurt as much if his rim weren’t this swollen, but Luo Feng is really, unnecessarily big. He lets out a pained gasp and prompts his partner to slow. “—Ngh… hah…Luo Feng, a bit slower, I…”

“I’m sorry,” the captain whispers as he drops tender kisses along his jawline. “Relax for me…”

“…Unbelievable,” he rasps out, “how did we—do this before, n-ngh…”

“I was rougher before,” Luo Feng informs him with a light chuckle. “But you also enjoyed it so much we went for four rounds before you passed out. Should we try for more?”

He draws a quivering inhale, places a hand on his captain’s chest – his heart is pounding hard – and then leans forward to bite on his neck. Hard. “Captain, shouldn’t you be more…nn.. gentle with me? I might ditch you and—ugh—sell the ring…”

Luo Feng laughs – and how has Cheng Jin never noticed how nice-sounding his laugh was? Low and rumbly, pleasing to the ears. The man snaps his hip upward and slams right into his prostate, eliciting the prettiest, lewdest moan from his lips. Luo Feng bites him back and murmurs, “Cheng Xiao-Jin, from our little rendezvous the other night, I’ve learned where you like it and how rough I can handle you.”

Familiar musk, woody cologne with a low note of spice, the earthy scent of rain and midnight breeze. The bed creaks from strain and Cheng Jin, entirely dazed, wraps both arms around his lover’s body, prompting to slow yet urging the opposite. He digs his nails into Luo Feng’s shoulder blades so hard it’d leave marks for a week. His lover doesn’t mind in the slightest, merely hooking his leg up, settling him on his lap and quickening the pace.

“I fucked you like this last night,” Luo Feng murmurs in between hard thrusts, “then you couldn’t take it and dug your fingernails into my back. I admit I lied about a knife wound.”

The noises they’re making fill up the entire space – obscene squelches, stuttered gasps and feral grunts. Luo Feng is pulsing veiny and thick, filling him beyond what he thought was possible, but he’s stretched to accommodate. Cheng Jin isn’t soft or weak by any means – years on duty have shaped him to be rather lean and fit – but even he has a hard time keeping up.

He flinches as the captain bites him again on the chest, and while he may have retaliated if in a more rational state of mind, he could hardly divide his attention from the hands snaking to cup his ass and the filth that Luo Feng spews into his ears. Of course he’d be chatty and downright annoying in the bedroom as well.

“You also begged for me to slow down,” Luo Feng bites the tip of his ears, “but Cheng Xiao-Jin, when did you learn how to kiss so well?”

“—Shut up,” he manages to choke out. “Why are you so—annoying—"

He laughs. “You also told me to shut up as well.”

A particularly powerful thrust has him spasming onto Luo Feng’s bare body, clinging on for balance, and Cheng Jin is left needing. Pleasured purrs escape his lips and subconsciously, he nibbles on his lover’s ears, pleas for faster, harder, and Luo Feng appeases him all too well. The captain rams into the same spot, coaxing him to finish. He reaches orgasm again, moaning heavily in between wet squelches and slaps, sounding completely wrecked and spent.

Luo Feng is still stroking him even after release. He’s pumped dry, smearing both of their bodies with cum, and he doesn’t know how much more he can take. Cheng Jin almost begs for his lover to finish, grinding himself down on his throbbing cock, sinking as far as his body could allow. Luo Feng lets out a low growl and sucks another mark on his collar.

“Cheng Jin,” he grunts out, a wild tinge of red flickering in his eyes, “you’re taking me in perfectly like this.”

He strains himself to swallow up the full girth of Luo Feng’s cock, flinching when the tip can almost be felt up his navel. Luo Feng is mercilessly bouncing him on his lap, chasing after release. Slick flows down his upper thighs, oozing out of his hole in excess.

“Captain,” he rasps out, “a-ah… any more and I will—"

“I want to cum inside you and fill you up,” Luo Feng murmurs. “Would you let me?”

Cheng Jin slinks onto his chest, giving up all dominance. “Ngh… We did it without…nn.. protection last night… so what are you…a-ah.. wearing a condom for?”

Luo Feng blinks at him. “You remember?”

“It would be strange not to…” he mutters weakly. “Captain Luo, you are my first sexual partner. Congratulations for taking my virginity.”

“The societal-driven concept of virginity bears both stigma and—"

Cheng Jin grabs him and kisses him.

It’s not heated like the others they’ve been sharing during sex, no tongue and no messy exchange of fluids. It’s a two-second peck similar to the one under the rain. Dancing raindrops, sweat-sheened skin, chocolate-brown eyes and pretty, dusky blue. It’s unfortunate there are no stars in such a bright-lit city, no auroras of note, but the atmosphere’s as romantic as it could get with these two men, so unalike and so ill-suited.

Yet, some things aren’t written on paper. They rendezvous in the dead of night, settle under soiled bedsheets and hold their diamonds close together. When the kiss breaks off, Cheng Jin looks up with a fond smile on his face.

“Then congratulations for being the only person I’ll sleep with – drunk or sober.” Cheng Jin bites him lightly on the lips. “Though if you’d fix up that mouth of yours, I might refer to you more willingly as my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Luo Feng repeats in a strange trance. “I like the way it rolls off your tongue.”

“Then, my boyfriend,” his body throbs in reminder and he flushes pink again, wincing at the still-engorging length slotted inside him, “finish up or I won’t be able to move for a week.”

Luo Feng lifts him off his lap, tosses out the condom and grabs the lube once more.

“Hmm? Wouldn’t that be nice?” he whispers, sucking on his neck. “Our date was cut short, after all.”

Luo Feng slots right back in.

 

 

✿

 

Author's Account:

yiyuehua (SH).