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“There’s only one solution,” Zhou Zishu said with the resigned air that only a heterosexual platonic soulmate who had never indulged in any homoerotic finger and wine jar fondling could manage. “We’ll have to dual cultivate.”
“We just did that,” Wen Kexing managed to pant out, listing helplessly against Zhou Zishu’s side, silvery hair catching the abundant ambient white light of the completely enclosed space that contained only two dim torches. “All that hand-holding paid off; now you’re not dead. A-Xu, I’m so glad you’ll survive beyond me…”
Zhou Zishu, who through any reading of the text would be happy to live on with his soulmate dead, confined to a mountain unable to indulge in any of life’s pleasures, and separated from his disciple- and who would by no means emulate Ye Baiyi’s decision to immediately descend and have a roaring time drinking away the last few months of his life, should Wen Kexing pass away- cleared his throat heterosexually. “I meant the more… physical type of dual cultivation,” he clarified, mouth pinching together in a tight line, as would any man’s at such an unexpected task that he had in no way ever imagined.
“There’s no other way I would prefer to go,” Wen Kexing said with a sharp inhale, staring starry-eyed at Zhou Zishu’s handsome, beautiful face, unsullied by suspect charcoal smudges in the place of actual chin hairs. His bright eyes glistened in the ample light of the aged, tiny flames that they had long ago left behind in the other room; a gentle wind from the completely sealed underground chamber with no ventilation moved his starlight-colored hair appealingly. Zhou Zishu gently brushed it back from his face and cleared his throat.
“Ahem,” he said. “Then I’ll just…”
“Please,” Wen Kexing said, wrapping his suddenly mobile arms around Zhou Zishu’s shoulders and lying down, pulling Zhou Zishu atop himself. Zhou Zishu’s cock, out of respect for the time-sensitive nature of the dual cultivation, was already hard. He sucked in a breath as it pressed against Wen Kexing’s chiseled abs, tangibly sculpted like sexy rock beneath his extravagantly photogenic robes. Wen Kexing’s lips were kissing his mouth.
“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing breathed, pressing up like a sinuous wave beneath Zhou Zishu’s dick. The cold air of the mountain cave was suddenly stifling; maybe like this, they would be able to melt their way out of the snow entombing them? Zhou Zishu imagined the cold snowmelt pouring over himself in hopes that his dick would get the message. It did not. “A-Xu, kiss me-”
Zhou Zishu, veteran of many brothel encounters ending in an assassin bursting through the walls, kissed back with great experience. The walls of the armory, his thoughts raced, were unfortunately thicker than the brothel walls that he was used to breaking down, much like Wen Kexing’s dick was thicker than the genitals of most of the brothel workers. Zhou Zishu’s cock began making a valiant attempt to batter down the steely walls of Wen Kexing’s abs, head-first, dragging his hips behind it and a moan from his and Wen Kexing’s mouths. Wen Kexing clutched at Zhou Zishu’s back, and rolled him beneath himself.
The huge shelves of snow outside settled with a creaking groan, pressing more firmly around the entrance to the armory.
Within, something began pressing firmly against the entrance to a separate ‘armory.’ With twin sighs, Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu’s heads fell back as a cock slid easily inside a body, wet with the sort of ubiquitous internal-use-approved oil that all single men with equally single platonic soulmates carried on their persons at all times. The true qi in their meridians pulsed and rippled.
“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing moaned, hips twitching in pleasure. Through a long and careful process of mutual discussion, taking into consideration Wen Kexing’s health and general inability to move, Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing had decided together that the only option was for Wen Kexing to top. He was, after all, a few centimeters taller.
“You feel so good,” Wen Kexing panted, long pale hair swaying forward in a curtain on both sides of his neck. The dual cultivation seemed to already be working- Wen Kexing’s energy was picking up, his hair teasing against Zhou Zishu’s nipples and scars with each thrust as Zhou Zishu’s virgin ass began to regret its generosity. Wen Kexing’s huge dick was stretching him so wide he couldn’t think. “A-Xu, you’re so tight. Unh, you’re going to make me come-”
Zhou Zishu supposed he could be indulgent and forgive Wen Kexing for being a quickshot just this once, since this was a one-off and Wen Kexing was, technically, on the verge of death. Generously, he raised his hand and patted Wen Kexing’s pretty head, then let his hand fall to cup his face.
“It’s fine, Lao Wen,” he said, voice low and strangely husky for some reason- weird. “You can let go.”
“Hhng,” Wen Kexing said articulately, and immediately his unnecessarily thick cock started pumping come into Zhou Zishu. “Oh- oh. A-Xu, I-”
“Yeah,” Zhou Zishu said, free hand closing around his own cock and starting to jerk it viciously. “Just like that- that’s good, Lao Wen- you feel it? Is the dual cultivation working?”
“A-Xu,” Wen Kexing choked out on a sob, and licked his tongue into Zhou Zishu’s mouth like it was the last thing he wanted to do before he died. Judgmental of the impropriety, Zhou Zishu moaned loudly and arched his waist up onto Wen Kexing’s cock to show his affront, coming all over his hand. “Yes- yes,” Wen Kexing panted, still fucking forward into Zhou Zishu’s tight body, his hard, wet cock provoking tiny lightning bolts of intense pleasure as Zhou Zishu shook through his orgasm while squeezing around it.
It took a few minutes before the aftershocks died down enough that Zhou Zishu’s fingers, toes, and hole stopped tingling. Finally, he was recovered enough that he dared to push gently at Wen Kexing’s (sculpted) shoulder, where he lay mostly lifeless on top of him, cock resting soft inside Zhou Zishu’s no longer virgin hole. “You had best not have actually died, Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu said with a frown, when Wen Kexing didn’t respond. “A terrible way to go.”
“It would be an honor,” Wen Kexing countered, the mostly unintelligible mumble almost lost into Zhou Zishu’s bare shoulder.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Zhou Zishu said with a sigh.
It was his word… of honor.