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yayadhira · 4 years ago

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Qiucheng, post ch. 300 - Mid-Autumn Festival

for @mopillow, @handsomechickendick | @itssomekindofheaven and @harucchi-19d, who have so warmly welcomed me into their Qiucheng lair

[ao3] for aesthetics and other visual aids

“These are friggin' delicious," Qiu said as he chewed, forking yet another piece. Each mooncake was beautifully crafted, clear-cut designs on fresh handmade pastry, wrapped around high quality lotus seed and red bean paste fillings. “You not eating?”

“Go ahead and eat them all,” Cheng said into his whiskey. The music in the club was dulcet and engaging, the lights painting everything in a scarlet hue. It only made him more maudlin.

Knocking their knees together, Qiu cussed at him. “Stop moppin' and spill already. What's gotten you so gloomy?”

Dithering, Cheng shook the tumbler, ice clinking against the glass and the golden liquid sloshing.

“Wait,” Qiu told him, a sneer beginning to form, “don' tell me: kid brother was havin' fun with his buddies after all and wanted nothing to do with ya.”

His pride sufficiently maimed, Cheng killed his cigarette and let his silence speak for him.

“Spot on, huh? You're so simple. Since you're so lonely I’ll keep ya company for a while, aren't I a good pal?”

“I don't mean to interrupt your plans for the evening.”

“What're you even saying now, after knockin' on my door and invitin' me for a drink with that pitiful look on yer face.”

That hit the target right in its core and Cheng’s grimace was discreet, his subtle smile not reaching his eyes. “Am I really that pitiful, Ah-Qiu?”

Qiu munched, thinking it over. “Well,” he began, “at least ya've got me so I guess not completely.” He grinned at Cheng over his own tumbler filled with tea, all squinty pale eyes framed by pale lashes and above them equally pale brows. His skin was slightly red at the height of his nose and cheekbones, prone to sunburn as he was.

His mean streak, Cheng was convinced, only made him more captivating. It was radically honest. Qiu, as a rule, always was. Cheng liked it – honesty – and valued it highly. It was a scarce trait to have in their business. In this world they skulked in.

Truth was, Cheng was tired: of having to watch the way he acted, the way he spoke, the way he looked to others. He was fed up and weary of having to always be on his toes and to think twelve moves ahead. Exhausted, of having to follow in his father's ways and uphold the He tradition, of having to be at Jian's beck and call, of being hated by the person who mattered most to him.

He, too, wanted to be honest.

And perhaps he could be, here: a couple glasses down, with his most trusted man. The one he had long ago entrusted with little Tian's rescued puppy, with his own life on multiple occasions, with decisions on his behalf many a time.

Stretching his fingers, Cheng tentatively rested them atop Qiu’s hand, which stilled, utterly immobile under his touch.

Caught unaware, Qiu finished swallowing his food before saying anything. “You comin' on to me, Cheng?”

“What if I were?” he suggested.

“You're drunk.”

“I'm not. A bit of liquid courage is hardly enough to take me down.” Contemplating his own choice of words, Cheng paused. “Will you take me down?”

Qiu snorted, sounding mostly vexed. “Can't proposition me if yer not under the influence?”

“Must I prove myself? Stand up and walk in a straight line?”

A smirk danced at his lips as Qiu shook his head. “Straight? Don't think that's what we're workin’ up to here.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

“As if I'd turn you down,” he said, and looked, awfully, as if he had no other choice.

Appalled at the prospect, Cheng sobered. “I am not ordering you to do anything,” he disabused.

Qiu shot an incredulous look his way. “Idiot,” he muttered in a huff. Decision apparently made, he tapped at the bar with his knuckles.

"Hey, master,” he called to the bartender. “Put it on the tab, will ya? I'm takin' the boss here home. Think we've had enough for today."

Without haste, Qiu gathered his jacket as well as his helmet from the hostess at the entrance and pulled his fingerless gloves on. Outside, he noticed Cheng standing a good feet away, looking oddly unsure.

“What're ya waitin' for? Hop on,” he told him, extending the spare helmet in his direction.

Cheng studied him, considering. Turned only to make sure his car was properly locked and then accepted the offering, fastened it and angled up onto the bike in a graceful arch, chest to Qiu’s back, arms around his torso. Qiu smelled like tanned hide, menthols and a lingering sweetness of the baked goods Cheng had brought him.

Qiu was a natural driver and the motorcycle came to life between his legs, the engine purring and giving its all. The drive was either too short or Cheng got too lost inside his own head because in no time they were winding down, parking in Qiu’s garage beside the two jeeps he kept as if manifestations of the two of them: one white as a quill, the other black as coal.

At once, Cheng felt like a bull in a china shop. He hadn't done this in a long while and whenever he did he simply went with the flow. Accepted the compliments and the overtures and somehow ended up in a bed, somewhere. More often than not with a voluptuous beauty. More often than not a female one.

He wasn’t used to taking the first step, to making a move on someone he yearned for. Flirting for the sake of networking was one thing – it was a skill he'd honed to a fine edge and every once in a while put into practice, knew its success rate. Flirting with the intent to seduce, because he was honestly attracted to someone – not so much. Cheng felt too young and inexperienced in such a situation, at odds with his actual age and the handfuls of people he'd entertained in an intimate capacity over the years.

Qiu, on the other hand, was never lacking in company. The women seemed to enjoy his presence, always flocking up to him at parties they hosted or attended, at bars they frequented or owned. Cheng didn't actually expect his awkward and stilted invitation to be indulged. While Qiu certainly didn't seem the type to be put off by being advanced on by a man – Cheng had seen him receive attentions of the sort and be amused by them, turning them down as amicably as he did the women who didn't seem to capture his interest – Cheng had never witnessed Qiu flirting intently with one, much less anything more telling than that.

Maybe that was what had given him the push to try his luck. The probability of being accepted being low had appealed to his self-deprecating, masochistic and depressed self. Qiu had been right to call him pitiful, indeed.

Inside, he was given no time to reverse the situation or take his words back. As if insightful to Cheng’s every thought Qiu encroached on him from behind and nuzzled into his neck, lipping at cotton and skin alike, his gloved hand coming up to pluck at the collar of Cheng’s turtleneck and give him access to the scarred tissue there, darker than his skin tone.

Intent now on taking as much out of the encounter as he was able, Cheng gave himself into it. Found Qiu’s hair, scratching at the short strands, and murmured his approval. Hands found the buckle of his belt, pulled the length of it through the loops and flung it at the couch. It landed on the floor with a metallic clinking no one bothered with.

Cheng remembered, when there were no barks or pattering paws, that Qiu had taken Gengi for his annual check-up and that the ageing dog was staying at the vet clinic for various examinations. He spared a thought for him and his long life, pampered and spoken for and far from having been buried six feet under.

Then stopped thinking of all but that moment, as Qiu wandered beneath his top, short nails scratching upwards making his muscles tense in response. The leather soft and lukewarm against his nipples when Qiu squeezed his pec. Stirred, Cheng turned his head, searching for Qiu’s mouth with his, eyes lidded.

“You sure you're sober enough for this?” Qiu asked, wanting to make sure.

Inside Cheng’s chest something went tight and it ached.

“Yes,” he assured, using the hold he had on Qiu to pull him close, catching his lower lip with his teeth and slipping his tongue inside at the earliest opportunity. Eyes half-open he observed as Qiu acquiesced immediately, as if every wish of Cheng’s was his command. His eyelashes were lowered and his frown deep in concentration.

It came to him, how much Cheng loved his expressions. Over the years, every time he’d teased Qiu he’d had a thought: one of wanting to photograph every single one and keep an album, so that he could, in time to come, peruse it at his leisure.

Leading him by the hip bones, Qiu pressed him to the door and folded to his knees, taking Cheng's trousers down with him. Carefully, he goaded the legs past without taking off his shoes. He caressed his calves on the way back up, taking in the muscle wrapped in sock garters, the shine of his shoes. What a picture he must make, Cheng mused.

"Damn," was what Qiu whispered under his breath, so he must have agreed with that sentiment.

Cheek against the wood, Cheng tried to get his pulse under control and wetted his dry lips. Turning him around, Qiu latched onto his neck again and Cheng returned his hand to his hair. When Qiu took one thigh and tugged, Cheng understood the silent request and put his free arm around his wide shoulders, letting his weight be lifted easily.

Back bumping into the door, Cheng braced himself as Qiu tilted his chin up and nibbled at him until they were kissing again, open and wet. He wrapped his legs impossibly tight around Qiu’s toned middle to tether himself and pushed at the leather jacket until it fell from Qiu’s shoulders to stack onto the floor as well.

Gloved hands returned to his ass, carrying him into the bedroom. The mattress whined at their combined weight as Qiu let them fall into it without much care. Qiu’s hands left his undercut disheveled, long overgrown fringe loose of wax and falling into his eyes.

Qiu looked rather amused at his own doing and took his time as he ghosted fingers over Cheng’s underwear before slinging them away. Cheng said nothing, just got a handful of black t-shirt and pulled, a ripping sound reaching their ears. Snaking his legs back around Qiu he rutted up against him, raking at his back, and then got his teeth on him, taking his earlobe hostage.

With a resounding groan Qiu was shucking off his own pants and boxers, somehow not dislodging Cheng from what he was doing. Committed, Cheng didn't let him take the remaining garments off of either of them. He latched onto him, delving greedy palms inside his clothes, pressing at his lower back and nape, whiskey-flavored kisses getting Qiu drunker than any amount of beer.

He was too on edge to hold back, got one hand on Cheng’s cock and took the measure of it gingerly, leather on skin. On the slender side, long as hell. Qiu could just bet he'd taste as good as he looked, whenever Qiu actually managed to put his mouth on him. Without needing his encouragement Cheng mimicked him, took him in his large hand, elegant fingers gripping and exploring.

Tremulous, Qiu felt Cheng’s fingertips at the patch of hair below his navel, trailing down to his crotch. Felt as Cheng grabbed him with determination, thumb on one side of him as if hefting the hilt of a sword, taking in his thickness.

They stroked each other with no hurry. Cheng wasn’t vocal but he let Qiu know what he liked with the frequency with which he shook and the way his breathing changed. The small twitches and jerks wherever their skin came in contact, the tightness around his eyes and mouth, or the low hums at Qiu’s ear.

Truth be told Qiu hadn't done it much, but he'd done it enough. He got to three fingers before he even thought about putting his dick in Cheng, stretching him nice and slow, looking for the spot that’d make him see white. Cheng – his stoic and noble Cheng – jumped in his arms. With eyebrows scrunching just so, his mouth falling open, he was a goddamn vision.

He huffed, a smile escaping him as he pulled a condom on. He then took that chance and thrust his tongue in Cheng before he did it with his cock, lube easing the way. Powerful-limbed, Cheng was clutching at him, pushing for faster but Qiu gripped himself tight and swiveled his hips at a tortoise’s pace, waiting for the flesh around him to give before advancing. He was straining, gagging to plunge inside to the root. With Cheng so hot and pulsing around him he couldn't muster thoughts of anything else but rutting into him, making him sweat in his fancy turtleneck as if he were in a sauna and fucking the come right out of him till it went watery and see-through.

When he was finally in to the hilt his t-shirt was sticking to him like a second skin. Qiu was pretty sure his butt cheeks were bleeding, too, from how hard Cheng's nails dug into them, and his breath was labored.

Finally opening his eyes he got to appreciate the sight that greeted him: He fucking Cheng, flushed and dripping pre-come like a fountain into his dark happy trail, his head a bird’s nest. The sweater had been pushed up to his underarms, dusty nipples begging to be teased and perspiration had gathered under his knees when Qiu finally bit his fingerless gloves off and got his hands there. Cheng helped him out of his soaked clothing, tossed it away and curled his arms under his, their noses smushing together, lips too.

They moved against each other in this as they did while sparring: watching out for openings, striking fast and observing every move. Falling back when in doubt and, when sure, going in for the kill. Whenever it looked like it was about to end with one of them being the victor they’d tone it down, change their approach, turn around the odds. At the tail end of their stamina they’d allow their bodies to succumb to their limits.

Qiu watched, mesmerised, as his own cock slid in and out of Cheng’s body, stretching skin opening for him, allowing him inside Cheng’s corded body, to touch him so deep. Watched as Cheng tensed and relaxed in turns, jut of his cock taut and leaky. His hooded sharp eyes were looking alive for once, no longer dead inside, and his lip kept trembling, just barely. Qiu couldn’t resist – couldnt resist Cheng – and bent down to steal another kiss from him. In the middle of it got caught in Cheng’s unrelenting counter-attack and felt fed from, devoured both above and below.

It caught Cheng unaware when Qiu started stroking him, he could tell. Not letting him catch his breath, Qiu kept grinding purposely into his prostate, intent on making him blow before bursting himself. Cheng snatched away from his mouth to gasp a silent cry at the ceiling, clinging to his cock like a vice with his insides.

Enduring the sweet torture, he milked Cheng to the very end and waited for him to collect himself before trying to pull out without triggering overused nerves. Cheng didn't let him get even halfway out, crossed his ankles and engulfed him back, turning Qiu to putty as he went on kissing his neck and scratching his hair.

“Ah-Qiu,” he whispered, voice gone to shit, and Qiu snapped. He threw Cheng’s knees over his shoulders and drove in until everything was blurry and his brain turned to mush, pleasure so intense he couldn't even move a muscle after, stamped on top of Cheng like a sack of handpicked turnips.

"I'll get up in a sec," he mumbled into Cheng’s collarbone, his voice muffled by the fabric. He was gearing himself up to actually doing it and thinking Cheng must be dying with that thing still on.

Cheng didn't tell him it was fine, that he didn't mind in the least. He just kept stroking Qiu’s head absently, his eyes closed, looking peaceful. The moon faked her brightness well, shining on them through the window. Cheng had a couple of lanterns he’d bought for Zhongqiu Jie in the trunk. If Qiu was in the mood for it they could still go and light them up, release them to float up into the sky. Write a riddle, maybe. Qiu was good with those.

“Oi, Cheng,” Qiu said some time later, when he'd gotten Cheng wiped off. Ridden him of semen and sweat and had also cast out, increasingly annoyed, Cheng’s remaining shoes, socks, garters and top.

Lazily, Cheng turned to him and waited as Qiu gave him a once-over.

Cheng looked hella good, Qiu thought, stress lines gone, body lax.

“Ya wanna go steady?” he asked seriously.

Cheng watched him closely, waiting for the punch-line. “I'm afraid I'm not a very fun person to go out with,” is what he chose to reply with.

Pillowing his head on one arm, Qiu snorted. “I'm the one who's been stuck with you pretty much 24/7 for years, ya know? No one would know better what they're getting into, just sayin’.”

In the comfort of the warm sheets, Cheng absorbed what he was saying. And also what he was not saying.

“And you still would want to,” he concluded, still skeptical.

Qiu’s eyes softened a bit, his smirk flagging into more of a smile. "Yeah.”

“I see,” Cheng said. “Should we exchange house keys?” he offered, his now good humor apparent.

Qiu looked like he wanted to laugh at him but wouldn't let himself break. “We've done that already.”

“Get a dog then?”

“Way past that.”

We are, Cheng thought, aren't we. They had made a blood pact and exchanged cups. They had stitched each other’s bodies back shut. He didn’t see what could be more monumental.

As he was wont to, Qiu read him like a book, sensing his inner turmoil.

“Doesn't change much, y’know. Not anything worth writin' letters about. Doin' whatever we feel like is just fine. I've been with you all this time. Still gonna stick with you from here on. That's more than enough for me.”

Cheng suppressed any what-if induced panic as he took in his meanings. He shuffled even closer though it was practically an impossibility at that point. His hand he layed heavily at Qiu’s side while their temples met, gently knocking together.

"Carry on then," he ruled out.

Qiu just huffed, pleased. “Understood.”

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yayadhira · 4 years ago

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yayadhira · 4 years ago

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Just what I needed

Daddies big chest

(A response to this post)

I created a solution to our lack of father figures boobs.

This could be a consolation post since some of us are kind of thirsty bitches for them.

…

He Cheng

Qiu

#BIG TITTIES POST #he cheng #brother qiu #daddies #19 days #qiucheng #big chest

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yayadhira · 4 years ago

Text

Daddies big chest

(A response to this post)

I created a solution to our lack of father figures boobs.

This could be a consolation post since some of us are kind of thirsty bitches for them.

…

He Cheng

Qiu

242 notes · View notes

yayadhira · 4 years ago

Text

Post ch. 337 - National day special

With guests gone and the staff dismissed for the night He Cheng returned to the room he'd left Qiu in hours before. As expected there he was still, his snoring muffled by the dark pillow He Cheng had dumped on his face, huge and haphazardly two thirds out of the couch, with a couple of empty bottles and stains decorating the floor nearby.

He Cheng kicked at his foot and pressed the pillow down once before he flung it away.

The snoring stopped abruptly.

“Back to the land of the living?” he asked, unimpressed.

“That crap you made me chug down almost was the death of me,” Qiu mumbled, slurring a bit, muscles flexing as he brought his arms to cross and hide his face from the harsh light.

The mood was eerie. It felt like the whole island had fallen silent around them, private to the core.

Deftly taking off his cufflinks, He Cheng turned the dial so the light became dim, then gracefully straddled Qiu without a word, starting to shrug out of his shirt and laying it tidily on the back of the couch, black on white.

Inconvenienced, Qiu grunted at the weight on his pelvis. “Weren't ya missin’ the tie before?” He frowned, confused at the garment.

“How long ago do you think that was? I had to deal with some things that required some semblance of decorum.”

“No idea,” Qiu retorted at the rhetorical, baffled. Then he took notice of their positions and what those entailed. “What're ya gonna do if I can't get it up ‘cause of that rich pig’s piss?”

“Are you implying I'm not enough to turn you on?” Plunging into the glass he was cradling, He Cheng plucked out a small cube of ice and sucked the whiskey out of it.

Qiu snorted. “If it's you,” he said, “then you can just stand there doing nothing and that’ll do it for me.”

Ice held between his teeth He Cheng dipped, circling Qiu’s nipples until they tightened to peaks. “So easy? How about I rub my chest against your back, wouldn’t that be better?”

Teeth bared and hissing at the cold Qiu hummed as he recalled the eye catching ladies from the party. “Jealous?”

Not breaking eye contact, He Cheng lit a cigarette and took a puff. Next he pressed it to Qiu’s lips and inched one knee against his unguarded crotch, putting his whole weight into it for the impudence.

Huffing at the dirty move, Qiu almost dropped the cigarette. His lip curled. “Gonna make me pay for it?”

He Cheng collected his cigarette, inhaled one final drag and put it down on the smudged glass laying next to Qiu’s head. He bowed down and took advantage of Qiu’s open mouth to blow the smoke into his lungs.

“Why did ya get rid of the goatee?” Qiu asked mournfully, thumbing along He Cheng’s clean shaven chin. “Scratch felt nice.”

He felt heavy all over. Yawned so wide his jaw cracked and then rotated his shoulders to get feeling back in them. “So?” Qiu challenged, growing more aware, “What would you do? Hypothetically,” he offered.

“Hypothetically,” He Cheng started and then let the pause sink in. “I could say I’d fuck you dry. But then again, it's not punishment if you enjoy it, is it?” he wondered, thoughtfully, twisting Qiu’s nipple harshly. It earned him a heartfelt hiss, large hands flying to grab his clothed tights. “Since you're a slut for pain.”

Qiu pulled He Cheng close by the tie, roping it around and around his fist as he did.

Deliberately He Cheng sank index and middle fingers into his tumbler of whiskey, letting them drip on Qiu’s lips. They parted slightly to let the liquid delve in, Qiu surveying his every move. Then He Cheng smeared them across his own chest, down to the navel, just above the button of his slacks.

“You tryin’ to train me to appreciate the taste or something?” Qiu asked, bemused, bending obediently to lick the trail left for him to follow.

“You tell me. Is it working?”

Still holding the tie, Qiu used his other hand to zip He Cheng down, sneak into the opening and wrangle his stiffening pretty cock out.

As He Cheng studied him critically, he took a drink, unaffected. Then he let a thin stream fall from the glass to lather his dick in Qiu’s grasp. The last of it he swallowed before sending the tumbler skidding across the slippery floor

Qiu encouraged him to move until he could suck at He Cheng, lapping him up and then down, slurping every drop from him. The taste was astringent, burning down his throat in a dry way he wasn't personally a fan of, favoring the bitter beer to the scalding and woodsy cramp of the malt.

Deeming it sufficient, He Cheng pushed his face away, offering the two fingers he'd delved into the whiskey for him to clean up as well. Qiu’s gaze was heavy with lust more than drink, the small amount he’d consumed temporarily knocking him off but rapidly metabolized, losing to his size in the long run.

He allowed Qiu to slather his cock in licks and kisses again before taking him in fully, the long length of him, as he kept his eyes locked on his face. He Cheng let his pleasure show, gradually, breathing growing shallow at the steady pressure of Qiu’s throat, constricting, and the scorching wetness surrounding him.

Reaching back he lunged at Qiu’s crotch, finding his target and squeezing. Qiu peeled away from his throbbing cock, his head snapping back, veins thick and tense all the way up his neck and his forearms. His fingers were crushing He Cheng’s own blood vessels, the skin beneath the fabric bruising under the assault and the brutal strength.

“Goddamnit, Cheng,” Qiu rumbled, voice shattering as He Cheng switched between a threatening and possibly impairing clutch and rubbing him in teasing circles through the gray trousers.

He unbuttoned him then snagged the tight black boxers down to Qiu’s knees, not without snapping the wide elastic band against Qiu’s balls first, the loud smack echoing in the wide enclosure. Wordless, Qiu went impossibly rigid, his cock so erect and flush with blood it resembled carved marble and oil painting alike.

Turning efficiently, He Cheng positioned himself so he could bend and take the head between his teeth, scoring the fragile spongy flesh. Qiu jolted and quivered beneath him, overcome.

“Who was it that said they couldn't get it up again,” he wondered aloud.

Qiu’s range was enough that he got the tie around his fist again, using the leverage to force He Cheng down, slowly but unequivocally, until he was so far down his throat He Cheng gagged. Making use of one of his heeled loafers to press into Qiu’s chin, He Cheng lifted it up at a jarring angle. Then he bore down and started deepthroating Qiu to the best of his ability, showing no mercy.

The tightness and whiskey warm embrace of He Cheng around him was a rush and a high and Qiu’s heart raced, a wild horse between He Cheng’s legs, powerful and in tune with his rider.

“Gonna come,” Qiu tried to say, “I won't last— Cheng—”

Ripping away from his dick Cheng ordered, “Don’t,” and Qiu curbed his desire, every cell in him listening to the command, vibrating with need, control so tight it choked.

With elegance, He Cheng eased up with his shoe. He turned to take in the view: Qiu grimacing, miserable, fists white knuckled around He Cheng’s black socked ankles. He patted his cheek with the tip of one shoe.

“Color?” he checked, stretching back to pluck one shoelace out. Carefully, Cheng created a ring surrounding Qiu’s root, staving off his orgasm.

Qiu had to clear his throat before he could make a decent sound. “Green,” he rasped, almost snarling, “so fucking green.”

Following reassurance Qiu got to tugging He Cheng to his face hips first, mouthing at the base of his cock, no hands. He Cheng handled himself and slid inexorably inside, fucking right in, deep and unforgiving, making Qiu snag an arm around him to keep him from going anywhere. Qiu’s own pelvis fucking into nothing desperately, his vocal cords vibrating furiously around He Cheng.

Head dipping down He Cheng let loose a sigh, enjoying himself and simply breathing down on Qiu’s cock, watching it bob, so firm, slapping onto Qiu’s abdominal and soiling the washboard planes in pre come.

Qiu was attempting to get at his own dick when He Cheng swatted his hand away hard once, twice when he repeated the gesture. He groaned deeply, used that arm to curl around He Cheng instead, feeling up his ass. Absorbing the strength of his thrusts, his inner muscles clenching rhythmically around He Cheng until he came, quietly and lasting.

He Cheng undulated, rejoicing the sensations, back and shoulders cracking as he was drunk and swallowed to the last drop, Qiu not letting go until he’d softened and slipped from his swollen mouth. Licking his lips, He Cheng looked back. He confiscated Qiu’s limp hands in his.

“Back on the tie,” he directed and waited for Qiu to obey, tremulous yet diligent. Then he guided the other to Qiu’s dick. “Touch yourself,” he said and Qiu did. “Harder.”

Doing as he was told Qiu gripped both the tie around He Cheng’s neck and his own cock, both going red with the force.

“Come on my face,” He Cheng ordered as he untied the shoelace, and Qiu exploded, come landing on He Cheng’s closed eyelids and lips.

He couldn't bring himself to continue pumping after releasing the first wave, going completely numb, so He Cheng put his own hand atop his, kept him going until there was nothing left. Until all Qiu was letting out were gravel and torn sounds, his throat fucked out and his mind blown.

He Cheng stopped only when Qiu mustered a weak yellow, knee jerking nonstop, his middle unable to stop clenching and unclenching, dick hypersensitive and pushed to the limit.

“Next time I catch you ogling a woman's breasts I'll chain you to the gym bench, stuff you full and I won't let you come for days,” He Cheng said, perfectly composed. “I'll be so gentle you won't feel a single tinge. You'll hate every second of it.”

Qiu shuddered, picturing it. He couldn't fucking wait.

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yayadhira · 4 years ago

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As sad as this update makes me for tianshan, It also breaks my heart for He tian

Even for He cheng, because I think he understands how awful this situation feels to his brother

He tian has always known how his father was, and by a very young age was already confronting what disobeying his father meant

Wich lead to him hating and not trusting his brother. Because as much as He cheng loves him, he knows that his fathers orders come first. He Cheng still “killed” the dog he risked his life to save, just because his father said to. That formed what working for him meant in He tians young mind

So his entire life he’s been fighting against this path he knows his father’s going to put him on. Trying to become better, to distance himself, make friends, and keep them safe. Especially Mo, He tian helped and pushed him again and again to live to his max, to enjoy and have fun.

I think He cheng very much loves He tian but as he said He Cheng’s now completely obedient to his father, he’s the exact thing that He tian fears becoming, witch is why he “hates” his brother so much

And now he’s being forced into abandoning the path he worked so hard to form for himself. He’s know for being polite, charming and studious in his school. He did everything he could to help Mo guanshan and get closer to him, to not only give his love but also receive Mos love (in Mos own way lol)

Now his father is forcing to abandon it all, this free life with his friends and the person he loves. He’s forcing He tian into just another one of his obedient men

He cheng knows this, and I think it pains him almost as much as it pains He tian

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yayadhira · 5 years ago

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Hello, thank you for your work, you are a small blessing in everyday life. We can often read that in the story of 19days, MoGuanShan will go away at one point, and for a long time. This is something that would be sourced with certainty and very likely. I would love a bad ending for HT & MGS but I would like to know what are its clues / elements / art that suggests that to so many readers. And what you think

Heyyy anon hoho! awkward laughter cuz I'm way too fcking late with this, I'm so so sorry

First of all, thank you for the sweet words and your patience if you're still here with me 👀

Now, I wasn't quite sure if you really meant MGS or JY? Other than translating, I'm not that active in the fandom, you see.

So I'm just going to share my thoughts on the future of tianshan. Not really MGS disappearing, but rather HT, it seems. If you actually wanted to know about JY's kidnapping™, my askbox is always open~

---

The only clues/art/elements that suggest a future distance between tianshan/disappearance of HT to me are the Christmas specials.

Yet, I see no bad ending here, but I smell angst brooding hidden behind the curtain of this timeskip...

The first Christmas special introduces us to a MGS working overtime on Christmas. OX's artstyle makes it hard to guess their age here but they're definitely already out of school. Though nowhere near their 30s, I may say, as they don't strike the defined cheek bones OX uses on adult He Cheng and Qiu-ge. My speculation is: They're young adults in their early 20s.

MGS is surprised to see HT again, which was the first tug on the fandom's spidey senses.

High-school tianshan are almost always seen near each other. No matter how much MGS tries to perfect his hide-and-seek skills, HT will track him down with his hair cockroach antenna (or phone calls or buzzcut), even bother him at work, just to be ✨close✨.

So, it's interesting to have HT being the one to apparently leave the country for indefinite amounts of time and not keep in touch with MGS that much (just like when he had to visit his father), making that the second tug.

HT doesn't know MGS's work schedule, MGS doesn't know about his arrival. But still, HT is the one to come back to him. Was he gone and bout some shady mafia business, maybe doing normal work, maybe buying condoms and lube just to fck with MGS? (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Well, he at least has enough money to buy fancy stuff and fancy cars buuut...

---

In the second Christmas special we have MGS not taking any of HT's shit; just like in the good ol' times. Personally, it's a bit concerning how HT didn't even have to do more than being himself and he's already pissing Mo off.

Really makes me wonder, how slow the slow in their slow burn will turn out to be. Did their relationship progress further but was set back once HT had to distance himself? Does MGS simply dislike HT wearing a scarf but leaving the jacket open? Is it solely to spite the analysts who see no character development here?

At last, it's a clue to a 'not-happy ending'. I wouldn't say that it's going to be an unsatisfying and purely physical/sexual relationship they have cuz that's not what it started as. HT must have seen something in MGS clocking ZZX's lights out back then, why else would he pick him off the streets to cook for him?

Maybe there was a speck of personality or background story HT wanted to unlock in single player mode. Or he just has some... interesting masochistic and voyeuristic tendencies, if it only was MGS's actions which caught his interest and not the reason behind.

Anyways; back to the old shenanigans, He 'lp, I definitely don't own 5 cars' Tian just can't keep his hands to himself, still totally enamoured by little Mo's bad boy image ꈍᴗꈍ

Whether Mo doesn't physically resist cuz he's driving or for other reasons is free to your imagination~ And we're moving on to...

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Christmas Day Nr 3 :D Mo living in a small storage unit? Mo having the guitar sitting on his bed?? Mo reading and studying??? What does this tell us hmmm

MGS kept to his principal of getting things done himself. Being in favour of rich boy HT and living in a garage instead of a villa has to mean something, whatever that may be.

Moreover, the guitar indicates him now knowing how to play it. It being in the corner however might hint at the unsuccessfulness to have a ONE DAY consisting of all 4 dorks.

What's he reading tho? Is he studying it too? Is it for work? A new hobby? Would HT make a typical remark on it? Yes. Yes, he would. And he would use it to get him into bed with him (｡◕‿◕｡)

Hope that rant cleared some things up for you! If it left you with more questions, I'd take it from you.

Have a nice day <3

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yayadhira · 5 years ago

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With about 300 chapters so far, I was certainly spoiled for choice but chapter 252 has been my most favorite one ever since it was published. Recently there have been a couple of very strong contenders (the chapters about MGS asking for the black studs and She Li’s backstory) but none of them quite managed to beat chapter 252.

It’s no secret I have been a big He Cheng stan pretty much right from the beginning. HC was portrayed as one of the bad guys: violent, dark, and emotionless. He was yet another dangerous link between the four kids and the criminal underworld. And not only that, but his loyalties seemed to lie in the wrong end of the good-evil spectrum.

Up until chapter 252, the fandom seemed to have quite a lot of HC antis, especially after HT’s nightmare about HC burying the puppy (ch 228). It was somewhat interesting how some readers took that flashback at face value so easily when it was clearly from HT’s point of view and a nightmare at that. My favorite thing about ch 252 is that it revealed to us HC’s point of view, his human side, and showed how much he actually loves his little brother.

Let’s compare the two sides of HT learning about what had happened to the puppy according to HC. Here’s HT’s nightmare version (ch 228):

The point of view is very much HT’s. We, the readers, are put into the perspective of a little child and forced to look at the world from a point of view that makes us feel powerless. Everything seems intimidating and looms over us.

In addition, the color pallet is dark and gloomy. HC is dressed in a black jacket that reminds us of his connections to the violent criminal underworld. Killers dress like that. The abstract background is grey and oppressive. The only light that we have comes from somewhere behind HC effectively hiding his face in shadows.

The mood is desperate but at the same time, HT is afraid to ask directly what had happened to the dog. His question of “where did you hide it?” is somewhat indirect and hopeful. It’s as if he’s not quite sure if HC is a threat or not.

Suddenly HC makes direct eye contact with HT by looking down at him. His eyes seem cold in a way that takes HT aback because maybe he doesn’t quite recognize that cold stare in them. The way he is facing HT feels almost impatient and like he just wants HT to drop it already. In the last panel, our point of view swings to the opposite end. Not only do we see what kind of shocked and horrified expression HT is making but we’re also towering over him and become even more aware of the power balance. It’s almost like we are saying “I buried it” and to suddenly become the villain makes us feel uncomfortable and sympathetic to HT.

Now, chapter 252 picks up after that but there are noticeable differences. First of all, the point of view is more neutral. We’re lookers-on rather than tied to either perspective or violently shifted between them.

Instead of the vagueness of a dream, we now have an actual environment we can grasp and place. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and there’s a lot of greenery around. HT isn’t dressed as a hitman but in a rather neutral T-shirt.

HT’s body language and facial expressions are also vastly different. Instead of intimidating and cold, he seems passive, almost submissive as HT takes his betrayal and accusations out on him.

By just standing there HC seems both helpless and determined. All he can do is to let his brother see him as a monster and be the cause of his heartbreak but at the same time, he firmly believes it’s the right thing to do. If it meant HT would become the kind that will survive in their world, so be it. To give in right now would be a disservice.

This chapter also was somewhat of an ode to HT’s perhaps unexpected gentle side. We saw him look after HT when he was sick in chapter 229, but it was painfully obvious how reluctant HT was to rely on his brother. In other words, he didn’t feel comfortable showing weakness around him or let his guard down which tells its own sad story. Over the years, HC had become “the type of person HT hates the most”.

But when HC finds little HT crying by himself, he gently coaxes HT to reveal his tear-streaked face and comforts him.

The bandage on his neck reminded me of his quite different reaction to HT crying in chapter 183:

Let’s keep in mind, these two chapters are most probably only days apart from each other. How much HC is struggling with trying to raise his little brother as he thinks is needed? Does he feel conflicted about telling him to toughen up at such a young age? Would he rather comfort him than dismiss him?

For me, the first emotional punch was when little HT - tears still running down his cheeks - asks if their father will bury him too if he one day won’t follow his orders. (I already talked about this quote a little in my answer.)

The whole puppy incident seems to have been a turning point for young HT. At such a young age, he had come to realize certain things about his family and how much it didn’t make sense to him. To him, this isn’t what family should be like. The almost accusing tone of his question already has a seed for his future rebellious nature.

HC’s reaction to that kind of surprised me at first. I wasn’t expecting such an exclamation from him:

To be honest, I don’t really know what to think about it. On one hand, I believe he was shocked by HT said. Of course. But on the other hand, is he perhaps also feeling guilty? Is he partly dismissing and essentially ignoring HT’s worries because it’s painful for him to see his little brother lose his child’s innocence way too early?

The situation of HT and HC isn’t something I haven’t seen in fiction before. There’s the older sibling who’s been raised to have a strong sense of family and duty. They’re also often a surrogate parent of sorts to their younger sibling and carry the heavy burden of trying to raise them according to their parents’ orders. Even if it meant to break their hearts. At some point, the younger sibling grows to despise the lifestyle and rebels against the family while the older one tries to mediate in the between.

I mean, that panel is like straight out of Supernatural and Dean Winchester’s mouth, right?

Despite seeing what kind of world his family lives in and what kind of a man he’s becoming, HC still hangs onto the idea of not walking away from the family. It’s become the only life he knows. He’s being the shield between their father and his brother; trying to raise him tough, strong, and hard but at the same time he doesn’t quite have the heart for it. He wants to cherish and protect HT’s innocence but also knows he has to break it.

That panel is probably my most favorite one of 19 Days yet. The writer in me loves it so much. Imagine the surprising weight of little HT. His little feet and that lonely sneaker bouncing in mid-air as HC walks. HT clinging to the back of HC’s shirt, and his little chin digging into his shoulder.

And it’s from that climax of physical comfort and HC’s words we cut to this lonely line in complete darkness:

Again, a turning point in HT’s character development. The beginning of the brothers drifting apart. Imagine HC having that muttered as a reply to what he said. It must have broken his heart and saddened him. By always being loyal to his family and following his father’s orders he’s made the person he loves the most in the world say such a thing.

But at the same time imagine how much heartbreak HT must have gone through to lose faith in his brother and family like that. Children love unconditionally and rely on unconditional love, and it takes a lot of pain and distrust to break that.

OldXian is excellent at intensifying the feels with those kinds of black panels and seems to often use them to tie flashbacks and present together. After this piece of backstory, we cut to current HC who’s smoking and appears to be deep in thought as if he had been thinking that memory just now:

Naturally, he looks older but also weary. He’s seen a lot of life since that memory and probably lost some of his youth’s idealism. He’s gotten good at what he does for a living but it’s come at a cost. And it’s clear the past still haunts him sometimes. Maybe he even regrets something.

It doesn’t look like he allows himself these kinds of moments that often.

I also love this chapter because it makes my Qiucheng heart sing.

We don’t know much of anything about HC and Qiu’s past. It seems Qiu is somewhat of a HC’s right-hand man but it’s unclear for how long they’ve known each other. One possibility that warms my Qiucheng soul is that Qiu was already around when HC was young and had to deal with the puppy somehow. And that would further suggest HC trusted him enough already back then to rely on him with such a matter. Maybe Qiu even knew about HC’s gentler side and how much his heart was breaking over his little brother?

To me, Qiu seems like the type who would quietly let HC vent without making a big deal about it or offering that much advice. It was more important that he just listened and was there when needed without asking too many questions. He knows that in their line of work, it is what it is.

It looks like these days Qiu is the only witness of HC’s softer side and regrets.

I really hope HT will find out the truth about the dog one day. It’s obvious he doesn’t hate his brother but it’s painful for him to be around HC. We can only guess why HC hasn’t told HT the truth, but to me, it feels like he’s hiding the dog in order to punish himself. Or rather, he doesn’t think he deserves to be forgiven by HT. Or maybe he doesn’t see a point in that? Maybe he wants to hide his softer side from HT to make him tougher and harder?

30 day 19 Days challenge

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