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When Fu Xuan storms into the Seat of Divine Foresight, it is empty except for Jing Yuan.
It's almost patronizing to see he cleared the room out, as if he thinks she can't control herself. As if she hasn't spent the last century as his shadow, keen to all of his whims and schemes. There is little Jing Yuan can do to surprise her these days—but it doesn't stop him from being deeply, and incredibly, infuriating.
"General," she snaps, stalking towards him where he sits on a cushion at his game board, chin in palm and legs spread lazily as he stares down at a piece. "I hope you've prepared a compelling excuse as to why you couldn't attend the meeting with the Yuque this morning like I specifically asked."
Jing Yuan looks up at her, a smug little grin curling the right side of his mouth. She wants to smack him so hard his ears ring. "There's no need to look so dour. From all accounts, the Yuque representative was quite satisfied with the proceedings. Dare I say, even a little taken with the Master Diviner."
Fu Xuan crosses the game board, wishing the pieces were physical just so she could kick one aside. She comes to a halt just in front of him, arms folded across her chest as she glares down at him. The height difference isn't nearly as much as she'd like.
"I am hearing deflection where I expect an explanation, General."
Jing Yuan settles back on his elbows, sprawled out below her. It's oddly vulnerable for him—like he trusts her. Or just knows implicitly that he's the better fighter. Both options make her grit her teeth. "I wasn't aware I owed you one, Fu Xuan."
There's an edge to his voice that Fu Xuan nearly mistakes for a threat, if not for his bare grin. No—it's a taunt. Jing Yuan seeking a reaction like an untrained pup. Trying to get under her skin. And she is so very tired today, so very on edge, so very done with Jing Yuan's endless little games.
She stomps down on the cushion with one foot, her heel landing right between the join of Jing Yuan's legs, the toe of her shoe still raised but dangerously close to his groin. She flashes her teeth in a tight smile as Jing Yuan's eyes go wide, staring down at her foot.
"Sometimes, the best way of getting the answer you want is the crudest," she says, pressing her shoe down just a little. Her heart is racing, the way it does when Jing Yuan does this to her—goads her into her basest instincts, into these moments that bleed strangely into the personal, into whatever lies beneath their barest mien of professionalism in public. On days like this, she is at risk of becoming just like him. "Was that not one of your first lessons for me?"
Jing Yuan cocks his head, making no move to protect himself. "And I also taught you that idle threats make both you and the enemy complacent."
Fu Xuan sneers at him and leans all her weight down on him.
Jing Yuan curls over like a taut bow, groaning. She feels a vicious sort of satisfaction in it—until she feels him grab her ankle in one big hand and press her down on himself even harder.
Fu Xuan does not flinch, but that's probably more shock than resolve. Jing Yuan pants beneath her and her pulse pounds in her ears. They've never done—this. In all the time they've toed the line, Jing Yuan has never made an advance. And she, certainly, has never touched him.
Jing Yuan looks up. His smile is gone—instead, his eyes are dark and focused, his teeth clenched. His canines are long like a Foxian's, just as dangerous. The grip on her ankle is iron. She is reminded, suddenly and violently, that Jing Yuan has been a hound of the Hunt for a very, very long time. That he has laid far more people in their graves than in his bed.
"My lady," Jing Yuan says softly. "You are at risk of joining a game where the rules change every match and a win state is sometimes unattainable from the first move."
Fu Xuan scoffs to hide the shake in her voice. "You seem to forget that I am a grown woman, General. I have been playing politics for years without your guidance at every turn."
"You have not played it in the bedroom." Jing Yuan's gaze goes a little distant. "I have ensured you didn't have to."
Fu Xuan falters. It is rare, nowadays, that Jing Yuan can make her hesitate, but the thought of him accepting advances—performing favours—in her place makes her feel fuzzy.
It also makes her incredibly mad.
"Jing Yuan," she hisses, leaning down and grabbing him by the tassels on his collar. She tugs him forward, into the toe of her shoe; she can feel him growing hard beneath her sole. "I am neither a child nor a fool. And you are not my brother. I do not need you skulking about, protecting my nonexistent virginity."
Jing Yuan's breath shudders at the tug. His hand slides up her leg until he cups the back of her thigh, his grip so tight she thinks she may be bruised in the morrow. "I like this virtuous saviour complex you've invented for me. It's much more chivalrous than the truth."
"The truth being?"
Jing Yuan leans closer; she drags her hand up in warning, tightening his collar until he coughs. "Perhaps I simply enjoy being the focus of your attention and took care of any rivals."
Fu Xuan studies him. "You are teasing me."
"Some people think my sin is indolence," Jing Yuan says, voice strained and the line of his neck tense from her choking. "In truth, my great sin is how terribly covetous I am. I have not given up control of the Luofu in seven hundred years. Do you think I would give you up any quicker?"
Fu Xuan breathes through her nose to calm herself. She is buzzing with anger. Her stomach is terribly warm, her panties wet. It is, all in all, a horribly potent combination. "You should be muzzled," she says. "You are making a fool of yourself, thinking I am something you possess."
"I have been foolish over a great many things in my life," Jing Yuan says with an indulgent smile. "But you of all people should know that you come when I call."
"Is that what today was? A way to make me heel?"
Jing Yuan's smile only sharpens. "Are you going to do something about it if I say yes?"
Fu Xuan laughs, only once. Then she steps back, out of Jing Yuan's reach, and heads for the door.
"Fu Xuan," Jing Yuan calls after her, a nasally whine. "Where are you going?"
"To deal with matters that actually require my attention." She glances over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. "I think your hand will suffice for your needs just fine."
She manages three more steps before there is a rush of air and hands on her hips. Jing Yuan presses himself to her back, a warm heat, the line of his cock against her spine. "I could just keep you here," he says, low and smooth, and she can't completely hide her shiver.
"You could not," she says, and she means it—no matter how dangerous he is, how clever, how annoying, Jing Yuan has her trust for a reason. "But I could be convinced to stay."
His hands run idly up her sides, brushing over the slits where her ribs are bared. "Oh? And what is the Master Diviner's price for such benevolence?"
Fu Xuan turns around to face him. She has long since learned the art of looking down at him, despite the way he looms over her with his darkened eyes and his greedy hands. "You may beg," she says, a hand on her hip, waiting.
Jing Yuan's eyes widen—it is barely a flicker of movement, unnoticeable to the average person, but triumph makes Fu Xuan's cunt throb. "A heavy price indeed," he says, his head tilting, his smirk unwavering. "How can I be sure I'll get what I want if I do so?"
"You'll get what I give you," Fu Xuan snaps, "and that's all you need."
Jing Yuan regards her for a long, terrible moment—terrible, because she wants him to agree. Terrible, because she wants him at all. Then he lowers himself, posture perfect, onto his knees. There is a grace to it she has rarely seen even from priests of Lan, a testament to the discipline he has kept himself to for centuries.
"Fu Xuan," he says softly, blinking up at her through his thick lashes, hands resting loosely on his thighs. "Please."
Fu Xuan draws her gasp into a long inhale to mask it. She had wanted him to say more. To grovel. But hearing just this, a single plea from a man who has made composure his greatest weapon, she finds herself satisfied in a way another's body could not achieve.
"Good boy," she says, and he rolls his eyes fondly even as his cheeks darken. "Now we're going to do what I came here to do. Come."
Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully, following at her heel as she walks back to his desk. She makes sure her dress is straight as she sits down in his chair, surveying him. She has never seen his cock before, has never joined him in the baths or locker rooms like Yanqing does, and she finds herself needing to know the shape of it where it bulges in his pants.
"Undress."
Jing Yuan's sigh is beleaguered. "This outfit takes a while to don and doff, you know."
She leans back in the chair, crossing her legs. "I have time."
She doesn't. And neither does Jing Yuan—she knows not all of Jing Yuan's sleepy facade is a lie. He sleeps only a few hours a night, rises before the artificial lights of the Xianzhou have marked dawn, and does not usually conclude his duties until he's heading back to bed. It's no wonder he sleeps whenever and wherever he can. Perhaps the greatest gift she can give him is a break.
Slowly, reluctantly, Jing Yuan strips himself of his layers, folding his clothes neatly onto his desk. Fu Xuan has read a handful of the hundreds of fan novels about him that circulate the Xianzhou in sheer curiosity; they fail to capture the truth. Jing Yuan is strong and soft in measures, his body riddled with ancient scars, his cock heavy between his legs, but it is his expression that captures her—wary and waiting, as if facing battle. She wonders when he last treated sex as pleasure instead of work.
"Good," she says, her voice steady. The cruelest thing she could do to him right now would be to soften. She points in front of her. "Come here."
Jing Yuan approaches her with a smirk, but she does not miss the tenseness in his shoulders and stomach. "Yes, General," he teases, a little more fire to it than usual, and she narrows her eyes.
"You're going to kneel," she says, spreading her legs, "and keep that mouth of yours occupied."
Jing Yuan studies her. Her game is not nearly as clever as he thinks—she wants to shut him up for once. It might also do him some good. Head tilted down guardedly, Jing Yuan kneels between her legs, his smile cagey.
"In all our years knowing each other, I have never witnessed you kneeling," she says, reaching out a finger to tip his chin back up. "And yet here you are, on your knees for me a second time today alone."
"There are worse positions," Jing Yuan says easily. "And the view is pleasant enough."
Fu Xuan flushes. Even like this, it is so easy for him to put her on the back foot. "It will only get better," she says, and slowly draws up the hem of her dress. She feels nearly euphoric at the speed with which his gaze snaps to the join of her legs, how his mouth parts. "Remove my underwear."
Jing Yuan leans in, grabbing her thighs, but not to obey—he buries his face against her clothed cunt and inhales. She wants to squirm. Wants to make a noise. Instead, she buries her hand in his thick hair, twisting a lock around her fingers in warning. Jing Yuan's eyes flutter back open, heavy and hazy as he looks up at her, and he licks over the gusset of her panties.
Fu Xuan pulls his hair hard, until he's falling back and groaning. There is little victory in it when she sees his cock bob eagerly between his legs. "When I give an order, I expect urgency, Jing Yuan."
Jing Yuan's laugh is breathless. "Of course, General," he says, and slips his hands under her dress to slide her panties off. It is coy, how he sits back on his heels and waits so patiently for her next command.
"You're going to put your mouth on me," she says, watching him light up, "while I recount the details of the meeting with the Yuque."
"Fu Xuan," Jing Yuan whines—he whines!—and looks up at her with pleading eyes. Slick runs down her cunt to his chair. "Did you not consider I avoided the meeting for a reason?"
"Of course I did. This is a punishment, Jing Yuan, for putting me through that alone."
Jing Yuan sighs, his head drooping onto her thigh. "If I apologize, will you spare me?"
"You may apologize by eating me out," Fu Xuan says dryly, "while I brief you. Am I clear?"
Jing Yuan nods against her thigh, and she grabs his chin, nails digging into his cheeks. "Answer me, Jing Yuan."
Jing Yuan's breath stutters. "Yes, General."
"Then listen," she orders, and drags him to her cunt.
Jing Yuan follows obediently, and she releases him when he nuzzles into the hair over her pussy. She holds herself still as he trails his mouth down over her clit, over her folds, pressing a kiss there. His tongue slips out, barely teasing into her, and she allows both of them a moment of pleasure before she grabs Jing Yuan's ponytail.
"Keep still now," she says. "Keep me warm."
Jing Yuan's moan is almost inaudible, but she feels it against her and sees his eyelids flutter. She gives him the barest hint of a smile before she starts talking. "As you surely knew when you decided not to attend, we called the meeting to address a collision of flight paths for our logistics vessels—"
She recounts the meeting in excruciating detail, but it is Jing Yuan who holds her attention. His hands rest dutifully on his thighs, his mouth covering her clit and the top of her cunt. The tension slowly leaves his body as she rambles about route scheduling and cargo loads, his shoulders relaxing, his eyes falling shut. He moves only to swallow, if even remembers that, his drool just as tacky as her slick between her thighs.
It is harder than she anticipated to focus—not that she anticipated anything about this day. Jing Yuan's mouth is warm and wet, his tongue occasionally licking at her before he settles again, and it gives her a rush of euphoria she could not have predicted to think this is closest she'll get to the sensation of fucking him with her own cock. But even greater is the power that comes from seeing his defenses crumble at her feet, the lion of the Xianzhou no better than a house cat under her hand.
She breaks when he takes to suckling at her clit, her whole body pulsing with each tiny lick of his tongue. "Jing Yuan," she says, softer than she intended, tugging his head away from her. "Enough."
Jing Yuan blinks up at her, his eyes teary and dazed. "Yes, General," he says, his swallow heavy, and she knows he's gone when he doesn't even mention her not finishing the report.
"You listened well," she says, turning his head back and forth with the ponytail like she's inspecting a show dog. "Perhaps you deserve a reward."
He nods clumsily, still clutching her thighs, and she laughs. His eyes clear up in understanding when she presses her shin to his cock, his balls rubbing against the ribbons around her ankle.
"You may come, if you can," she says derisively, folding her arms across her chest as she leans back.
"Fu Xuan," Jing Yuan says, voice hoarse and brow furrowed, "do you not think that unfair?"
"Is that what you're calling me?"
Jing Yuan's jaw clenches, his hands tightening on her legs. She is reminded that he could throw her off this chair in an instant. That she could not stop him. Then he relaxes, his patience returning. "Of course, General," he says, and trails his hands slowly down her legs to wrap around her calf.
There is no hesitation in him when he rolls his hips against her leg. She thought, for once, she'd see him show shame—but Jing Yuan is unflappable even like this, naked and humping her leg like an animal. He keeps his eyes on her even as he begins to pant, as his eyelids grow heavy, and it takes all the restraint he has ever taught her not to reach for her own cunt and get off to the sight, too.
"Look at you," she says lowly, lifting her toe to dig the toe of her shoe into his balls, and Jing Yuan gasps and jerks. "What would your people say to see you like this?"
Jing Yuan huffs out a coy laugh. "They would seethe in jealousy that the Master Diviner deigns to give me such attention."
Her mouth twitches. She knows better than to give him an opening—but she supposes he's been behind for enough of this game, and she's yet to play her final card. She grinds her toe into him, his clutch on her leg growing tighter.
"You are speaking too much," she decides, and leans down to grab his jaw with one hand and shove three fingers in his mouth with the other.
Jing Yuan chokes, perhaps more in shock than from the intrusion itself. She feels over his tongue and teeth, inspecting them, before thrusting her fingers in time with his humping. When his movements become erratic, sloppy, she flashes her teeth in a triumphant smile.
"Much better. All the mighty General needs is a foot on his dick and something to suck on, isn't that right?"
JIng Yuan makes a noise she can only describe as a whimper, his eyes rolling back as he gags around her hand, and she nearly comes herself as she feels the warmth and stickiness of his cum smearing over her leg.
She draws back when he quiets, resting her heel on his thigh to inspect the damage. "What a mess," she says, sighing, looking at her ruined tights. "You're going to have to make this up to me, Jing Yuan."
Still panting, he nods, leaning back against his deck. "Let me finish eating you out. I promise that will be worth the cost of laundering them."
Humming, Fu Xuan reaches down and scoops what she can of his cum off of her leg. Then she holds it out to him. Jing Yuan scowls, but obediently sucks her fingers into his mouth, licking his own cum clean. When he pulls back, she pats his head with a mean little smile.
"You had your chance to make me come," she says loftily, and his head tilts warily. "For all you talk of calculated risks, you played it too safe today."
Jing Yuan's mouth widens as she stands and straightens her dress. "Good move, General," he says, his grin wide and proud.
Fu Xuan scoffs and heads for the door, Jing Yuan's surprised laughter following her the whole way.