The room smelled of jasmine oil and warm skin, and beneath both of those, faint and unmistakable, the sweet musk of two women who had been touching each other for a long while before he came through the door.
Yan Chi stood with his back against the lacquered panel and let that scent settle into his lungs while the latch cooled under his palm.
The lamps along the wall had been trimmed low, so the light that reached the bed came gold and uneven, pooling in the hollows of the silk and catching on the bodies kneeling in the middle of it.
Qiuyu and Dongyu had stopped kissing when he entered, but they had not moved apart.
They knelt hip to hip with their arms still loosely around each other's waists, two identical faces turned toward him with the same flushed cheeks and the same wet, parted lips, and the same dark eyes gone glassy from the lust worms that had been humming in their blood since Yan Jing put them there. Their breasts rose and fell with quick breathing. Their nipples were already hard. Between their thighs, where their knees pressed into the silk, he could see the shine of wetness that the market's humiliating threads had started and the worms had refused to let stop.
He had known them his whole life, or rather the boy whose body he wore had known them. The memories sat inside him like letters written in someone else's hand. Two little girls in grey servant cotton who had been brought into the Yan household when they were small, who had poured his tea and carried his books and hidden behind the pillars of the training yard to watch him fail, and who had wept quietly in the kitchen the night Yan Jing's kick left him broken. Those memories were clean and sad and he kept them that way, folded somewhere safe. The women on the bed in front of him were twenty years old and had walked through things since then that the old Yan Chi had never been strong enough to stop.
Now the ring on his finger was warm, and they were his. Your first time, a dry voice inside him observed, a voice that still sounded a little like a man alone in a blue-lit apartment. Twenty-six years on Earth and nineteen here, and the first time is two of them at once.
He almost laughed, and the sound that came out of him was rough enough to make Qiuyu's lips curve.
"Master," she said, and the word was gentle, not the trained purr he had heard from her in Yan Jing's mansion. "You're staring at us like you've never seen us before."
"I haven't," Yan Chi said, and found that it was true. "Not like this. Not when it was me you were waiting for."
Dongyu tipped her head against her sister's shoulder. Her mouth was the softer of the two, fuller at the lower lip, and it trembled slightly when she spoke. "We were always waiting for you, young master. Even before. Even in that house." She glanced down at her own thighs, which were pressed tight together and shining at the crease, and some old shame passed across her face before the heat in her blood swallowed it. "The worms make it hard to say things properly. But that part is ours. Not theirs."
The words went into him deeper than he expected. He had been ready for lust, had been ready for the slick practiced hunger that Yan Jing had beaten into them, and he had not been ready for the plain loyalty underneath it, the thread that had tied these two to the weak young master long before any worm or ring made it a chain. He did not know yet how to pull the lust worms out of a body without killing the body. He did not know how strong he would need to become before he could. He promised himself, standing there with his hand still on the latch, that one day he would know. Tonight they were burning, and he was the only cure they had.
He crossed the room in three long strides and stripped as he went.
The outer robe fell from his shoulders. The inner sash came loose under fingers that had suddenly stopped being careful. The trousers went down his thighs and tangled at his ankles until he kicked free of them hard enough to send one boot skidding across the polished floor.
His cock sprang up against his stomach, thick and dark and aching, harder than it had any right to be after the day he had just survived.
A bead of precum already shone at the tip. The twins' eyes went to it at once, identical and hungry, and Dongyu licked her lips without seeming to notice she had done it. He had spent the afternoon with blood on his knuckles and Yan Jing's teeth in the dirt of the market road, and all that violence had been sitting in his belly ever since like a coal, waiting for somewhere to go. Tonight it had somewhere. Tonight it had two wet mouths and two wet cunts and a ring that said they were his.
For years this body had been useless below the waist. For twenty-six years before that, the only body he had known had been his own, under his own hand, in front of a screen that never looked back at him. Heaven had thrown him into a second life with a stranger's face, and this was what the second life had laid on his bed.
He climbed onto the mattress between them, and the silk dipped and slid under his knees.
Qiuyu gasped as his weight landed, a small startled breath that broke halfway into a moan, and Dongyu laughed low in her throat, a lovely ruined sound that did not belong to the shy girl from his borrowed childhood.
In those memories they had bowed at doorways with their eyes on the floor. Those childhood years stayed clean — tea, bandages, soft voices. The women under him now were adults, twenty years old, marked by worms and training and a market road, and their eyes were on his cock, and neither of them looked away.
He settled between them with one knee on either side of Qiuyu's hip and felt the heat of both bodies rising against him like twin furnaces. Soft breasts pressed his ribs from both sides. Soft thighs brushed his. The smell of their arousal filled the space between the three of them until there was nothing else to breathe.
He reached for them both at once, his left hand closing over Qiuyu's breast and his right over Dongyu's, and the sheer weight of what filled his palms made him forget to breathe.
Their breasts were full and high on slender ribs, heavier than they looked, warm all the way through, and the flesh overflowed his fingers when he squeezed and pushed back against his grip with a give he had imagined ten thousand times and never once imagined correctly.
Both of them moaned on the same note, as if they had been tuned together.
He kneaded slowly, then harder, spreading his fingers and closing them again. When he caught their nipples between thumb and knuckle and pinched, the pink tips drew up into tight hard points that seemed to burn against his skin.
Qiuyu arched into his left hand. Dongyu arched into his right. He lifted both breasts and let them fall, watching the bounce, then squeezed again until the flesh bulged between his knuckles and both women gasped.
He turned his head and kissed Qiuyu.
She opened for him immediately, and the taste of her mouth was tea gone cold and something hotter underneath it, sweet saliva and the faint metallic edge that the worms left on everything. She kissed the way she had been taught to kiss, deep and wet and greedy, her tongue sliding along his and then curling under it as though she meant to climb down his throat, and he was too inexperienced to do anything except follow and let her lead him.
While their mouths were locked, Dongyu leaned in from the other side and laid her open lips against his chest.
He felt her tongue drag a hot wet line down the center of his sternum and stop to circle his nipple. Felt her teeth close there very gently and then let go. Felt her lick the salt of the day's fighting from his skin with slow, deliberate patience.
Then she slid lower still, her hair falling cool across his stomach.
Her breasts dragged down his ribs as she went, nipples scraping, soft weight leaving a trail of heat. She kissed his navel. She licked the line of hair below it. She settled between his thighs with her ass in the air and her mouth hovering over his cock, and Yan Chi's hand found Qiuyu's breast again and squeezed hard enough to make her moan into his mouth.
Her breath touched his cock before her mouth did.
The first contact was only the tip of her tongue against the head, a single slow lick that gathered up the bead of clear fluid already leaking from the slit, and Yan Chi's whole body jerked as if she had touched him with lightning.
Lick.
She did it again, slower, dragging her tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head until his hips twitched. Then she wrapped her lips around him and sank down, and the world narrowed to wet heat.
He had watched this act more times than he could count. He had paused it and replayed it and studied it in the dark like a scholar with a forbidden text, and none of that study had told him anything true.
It had not told him how hot a mouth was.
Or how her tongue would flatten along the underside of his shaft and press there while her lips sealed tight. Or how the suction would pull at something deep in the root of his belly as if she were drawing on his spine. Or how spit would run down his balls and soak into the silk beneath him.
Dongyu worked him slowly at first, letting saliva run down his length until he gleamed in the lamplight.
Then faster. Her head bobbed in a steady rhythm and her cheeks hollowed on every upward stroke. When she took him deep, her nose brushed his belly and her throat fluttered around the head. When she pulled up, a long string of spit stretched from her lower lip to his cock and trembled before it broke.
Glk. Glk. Glk.
Schlck. Schlck.
The wet sounds filled the quiet room and braided with Qiuyu's muffled moans against his mouth, and Yan Chi groaned into the kiss and squeezed the breast in his hand until Qiuyu whimpered.
He let go of Dongyu entirely, because there was nothing of her left above his hips to hold, and brought both hands to Qiuyu's chest.
He pushed her breasts together until a deep line of cleavage formed between them and his thumbs sank into it.
Then he spread them apart and watched them sway back. Then he caught both nipples again and rolled them, tugged them, felt her shudder each time he pulled.
When he finally broke the kiss and looked down, her nipples stood up dark pink and swollen from his fingers, and he could not stop himself. He bent and drew one into his mouth.
She tasted of clean skin and the faint floral oil the twins used after their baths.
The nipple tightened against his tongue until it was almost hard enough to bite, so he bit, very lightly, at the curve beneath it, and Qiuyu cried out high and broken and grabbed the back of his head to hold him there. Find the original chapter at NovelPing.
Suck.
Below him, Dongyu moaned around his cock at the same moment, and the vibration of it travelled up his shaft and into the base of his spine like a second heartbeat. He sucked harder and licked circles around the areola until it was slick and puckered, and then switched to her other breast and did everything again, while the twins' moans wound together above and below him into a sound so filthy and perfect that he lost track of which of them was making it.
He had no warning to give and no idea how to hold it back.
The heat that had been building in him since the market gathered itself all at once, low and tight and impossible. Dongyu's mouth kept moving. Qiuyu's breast filled his face. His balls drew up. His spine locked. And then he was coming.
It felt like being struck.
His hips bucked off the silk and thick pulses tore out of him into Dongyu's waiting mouth, one after another, more than he would have believed his body could hold, and she took all of it without pulling away.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
He felt her throat working around the head of his cock as she swallowed. Felt her keep sucking gently through every aftershock until he was gasping. A trickle of white escaped the corner of her mouth and ran down her chin onto her breast, and she caught it with her finger and licked that clean too.
When she finally lifted her head she licked her lips with half-lidded eyes and looked at him as though he had fed her something she had been starving for.
His cock had not softened at all.
It stood up wet and flushed from her mouth, still aching, still hungry, as though the first climax of his life, in either of his lives that counted, had only scraped the edge off something much larger. Spit and cum shone along the shaft from root to tip. Qiuyu stared at it with her mouth open and her nipples dark from his sucking, and the look on her face said she was done waiting her turn.
"Master is still hard," Dongyu murmured, sounding pleased and a little awed. "Yan Jing always needed pills for that."
"Don't say his name in here," Yan Chi said, and was surprised by how steady his voice came out.
"Then I won't," she said. "Not ever again."
She said it lightly, with his taste still on her lips, but the ring on his finger pulsed when she spoke, a faint warm throb that he felt in the bone. He realized after a moment what it was. Through the bond that had settled into place when he slid the ring on, he could feel them both very faintly, the way a man in a dark room can feel the warmth of a fire without seeing it. There were two small pulses of heat beating somewhere behind his breastbone, quick and hungry and tangled with something deeper and steadier beneath the hunger, and when he focused on them he found he could tell which was which. Qiuyu's burned a little brighter and a little more impatiently. Dongyu's ran slower and hotter, like coals under ash.
He wondered whether Yan Jing had ever bothered to notice this, and decided that he almost certainly had not. A man like that would have felt only the leash and never the hearts at the other end of it.
"Master?" Qiuyu asked, watching his face. "What is it?"
"Nothing," he said, and then, because that was not quite true, "I can feel you. Both of you. Through the ring."
The twins exchanged a look, one of those silent sisterly glances that seemed to carry whole conversations in it, and Qiuyu's mouth curved slowly into a smile that was warm and wicked at the same time.
Through the ring he felt their hunger spike — two small pulses of heat jumping brighter behind his breastbone, Qiuyu's impatient and Dongyu's slow-burning, both of them aimed at him now instead of at a bully in another mansion. His cock twitched against Dongyu's cheek where she had rested it after swallowing, and she turned her head and kissed the shaft slowly from root to tip, leaving a shining trail of spit and leftover cum.
"Then you'll know exactly how badly we want you," she said, "and we won't have to waste any more time saying it."