EGRV 34 | The Waves

Lips kissed lips, scars found scars.

Chi Yu couldn’t even recall how they had walked through the hotel room door that day. The alcohol had fermented from that kiss in the small alley, spreading from the tip of his tongue to his fingers. He was too drunk. Whoever drives remembers the way, and from the moment Chi Yu sat in the passenger seat, the controlling string in his brain snapped.

It was Liang Muye who went to the front desk to get the key card. It was Liang Muye who retrieved both of their backpacks from the car. It was Liang Muye who reparked the car. And it was Liang Muye who gripped his wrist and led him to the room. His grip was surprisingly strong, fingers almost digging into Chi Yu’s flesh.

The door closed, but the noisy thoughts in his head didn’t. Only during the kiss did his ears finally find quiet. Chi Yu broke free from his grasp and pressed him against the wall of the entryway.

“Why are you…” Liang Muye looked at the person in front of him, a rare urgency in his expression.

If it were entirely up to him, he probably wouldn’t have started with a kiss right away. Kissing is a very intimate act, one from which too much can be read. Chi Yu’s kiss was thirty percent technique and seventy percent attitude—an attitude that was urgent, desperate, trying to grasp onto something.

He didn’t respond with equal fervor because Chi Yu’s urgency and competitiveness were running ahead of even desire itself, as if he might burst into flames the next second.

Perhaps sensing this, Chi Yu got serious with him, hurriedly trying to take off his own clothes, even forgetting that his right hand was in a cast and sling, wincing in pain as he moved.

“What’s the rush?” Only then did Liang Muye reach out, lifting the black hoodie from behind, almost like he was embracing him.

Chi Yu finally toughened up and countered, “You’re not in a rush?”

Desire surged in that moment. He turned the tables, pressing Chi Yu against the wall. Lifting his arms, he peeled off his quick-dry shirt, revealing solid, powerful muscles. Arms belonging to a climber, every small muscle group developed. These arms had conquered countless routes—famous ones, nameless ones, rock faces, glaciers. Now, putting them to a humbler use, he curled his arm, firmly pinning Chi Yu’s left wrist, and kissed him.

Chi Yu was shirtless like him. Their chests pressed tightly together. When Liang Muye glanced down, he noticed that as they faced each other, the scars on their collarbones overlapped perfectly like a mirror image. His on the right, Chi Yu’s on the left.

Lips kissed lips, scars found scars.

He moved his hand, gripping Chi Yu’s shoulder, tracing that scar, then moving down to his chest, his waist, and finally slipping into his pants. The other man’s body was fit and powerful, exactly as he had imagined, perhaps even more lethal.

Chi Yu didn’t remember how long they kissed in the entryway, seemingly until he blacked out. Clothes were strewn across the floor. When they separated, he panted with one hand propped on his knee, legs feeling weak as if he had just skied two double-black diamond runs. He looked up at Liang Muye and saw he was in a similar state. Those perfectly shaped lips, which he had just traced with his own, were parted as Liang Muye breathed heavily, uttering three words.

“Go shower.”

Liang Muye dragged him into the bathroom, rummaging around until his gaze landed on a white trash bag. He wanted to help Chi Yu untie the sling with his hands, but saw that Chi Yu had already undone it with his teeth.

Right, it was just a fracture; he was surely no stranger to this level of injury.

He put the white trash bag over Chi Yu’s right arm as a crude waterproofing measure, then pushed him under the shower spray.

The kisses that followed changed flavor entirely. Gone was the urgency, gone was the competition; it was all possession, possession from head to toe.

Liang Muye pressed him against the wall, hand on his waist, kissing him persistently. His other hand reached down, gripping both of their painfully hard erections, not moving yet, just holding them.

As the hot water poured down, Chi Yu’s face instantly flushed red. He realized he was currently half-man, half-trash-bag, and wondered what exactly the other guy saw in him; he felt ridiculous. Now, he was the one unable to concentrate.

Thinking something was wrong, Liang Muye removed his hand and asked, “Water too hot? Too cold?”

Chi Yu shook his head.

“Where does it hurt? Your arm?”

He shook his head again. His arm had stopped hurting long ago. Two Vicodin pills were still in his ski jacket pocket. Hydrocodone extended-release, sure, but it couldn’t compare to sex.

Liang Muye smiled then. 

“Say something.”

Chi Yu didn’t speak. Liang Muye turned to grab the shower gel, lathered him all over, then took the showerhead and rinsed him from head to toe.

Using the slickness of the soap, he gripped both their shafts and slowly stroked up and down. Chi Yu’s breath hitched. He wanted to use his hand too, but he only had one usable hand, and its wrist was still pinned against the wall.

Hot water streamed down Liang Muye’s head and cheeks, forming rivulets and streams, flowing into the ocean named desire. They fell into a tacit rhythm, Chi Yu thrusting his hips in time with him, allowing Liang Muye’s hand to slide down to the dip of his spine and squeeze his buttocks.

After a long while, he moved his hand away, and Chi Yu finally spoke: “Don’t…”

Liang Muye looked down at him, eyes patient, waiting for the rest. In terms of looks, he took after Han Zhixia; the inner corners of his eyes were round and full, looking very gentle, while the tails swept upward, giving him an air of arrogance.

Chi Yu finished, “Don’t stop.” He was honest, at least.

“Wait until we’re out,” the man turned to shut off the water, leaving Chi Yu with a view of his broad, defined back. 

“I’m afraid of getting water inside. I don’t know about you, but I can’t control myself.”

That sentence made Chi Yu’s cheeks burn.

dried off and lying in bed, Liang Muye’s hands were replaced by kisses, travelling from the tip of his nose to his lips, down to his neck. Chi Yu was already overwhelmed, but the next second, Liang Muye moved up to kiss his left earlobe. His hearing was unbalanced, relying mostly on his left ear, so the nerves there were exceptionally sensitive; it turned red at a touch. Liang Muye seemed to have discovered this secret, not only kissing but tugging at his small silver earring with his teeth, sucking on it until his ear was thoroughly flushed.

From ears, to neck, to face. His skin was fair, and the redness showed clearly.

Chi Yu couldn’t take it anymore. Turning passive into active, he flipped over and pressed Liang Muye down. Then he straddled him, naked, using only his left hand to press their erections together, just as he had in the bathroom.

Liang Muye looked up at this sight and was instantly rendered speechless, blood rushing to one place.

He did have a type. His past partners were invariably beautiful, exquisite people who played docile roles beneath him. That sex was monotonous, largely because he was also acting—playing the role of someone in total control of his own life. What he gained was not just pleasure, but supreme power.

But now it was different. Chi Yu’s legs were incredibly powerful; you could see the muscles bunching when he exerted force. Those were legs that could master speeds of a hundred kilometers an hour. Now, those legs were tense, clamping around his hips. And that hand—rough, chapped, with calloused palms, the hand that played with mini screwdrivers—was gripping his hard shaft, stroking up and down.

He only felt his cock throbbing with pain. He said, “Use some force, don’t be afraid.”

Chi Yu lowered his head and focused on the movement. After a while, he grew impatient. 

“Unfair.”

“What’s unfair?” Liang Muye felt like he was going to explode from the touch. Seeing Chi Yu take the initiative, he had ceded control even if he had to grip the bed frame to endure it. But now, at the critical moment, Chi Yu was talking about fairness?

Chi Yu stopped moving and raised his hand. 

“I’m using my left hand.” His right hand was still wrapped in plaster. His left hand could do many things—touch snow, remove screws—but it couldn’t do this well.

“…” Liang Muye laughed in exasperation. 

“It’s not a competition. Lie down.”

Chi Yu obeyed this time, lying beside him. Liang Muye fished a small bottle of oil from the nightstand, rolled over to pull him into his arms, securing Chi Yu’s body with his right arm across his shoulder. He poured some oil into his hand, gripped Chi Yu’s shaft with his left hand, and moved quickly.

“I’ll use my left hand for you, too.”

Back in the day, the first hurdle he overcame in climbing was the imbalance of small muscle groups in his left and right arms. After injuring his right shoulder, he had climbed the wall using only his left hand for three months, developing that left-hand strength and control. Who would have thought the results of that hard training would be used here?

“You’re fucking… cheating.” Chi Yu couldn’t see; he assumed the practiced movements meant he was being tricked.

Liang Muye raised his free right hand in front of him. 

“Open your eyes, look closely.”

Still feeling it wasn’t enough, he said, “Open your mouth.”

Chi Yu started to speak, but Liang Muye covered his mouth with his right hand, inserting his index finger directly inside, turning the rest of his words into muffled sounds.

Now it was perfect—top and bottom in the same rhythm. Chi Yu’s penis trembled, pre-cum leaking out, serving as extra lubrication. Liang Muye spread his legs, placing his own rock-hard cock in the middle, telling him to clamp tight. His mouth couldn’t close, his legs couldn’t close, he couldn’t say a word; he could only close his eyes and pant rapidly.

Having proven himself, seeing Chi Yu wasn’t looking anymore, he freed his palm. Using the glistening saliva as lubricant, he eased open Chi Yu’s buttocks.

Chi Yu understood immediately. He hesitated. 

“I don’t want to…”

Liang Muye stopped, turned him around, looked him in the eyes, and asked, “First time?”

Chi Yu said, “Not exactly.”

“Only ever topped?”

“Not that either.”

“Afraid of pain?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt it was impossible. This was the guy who pinned him against a wall and kissed him with his arm in a sling. If not for that fractured bone limiting his performance, Chi Yu would probably be riding his leg right now, swallowing his erection whole, hips moving fast…

When he couldn’t see it, he imagined it. Now that he saw it, tasted it, the valve on his desire couldn’t be stopped. He wanted it even more.

Liang Muye never forced things, so he settled for the next best thing. 

“Fingers, is that okay?” He had confidence in this; he could make Chi Yu want it.

Chi Yu glanced back at him, then nodded. 

“Okay.”

One hand moved rapidly, while the other, slick with oil, reached into his rear entrance to find that spot. When he added a second finger, Chi Yu called his name. Just two words: Muye. He didn’t know this stemmed from an initial misunderstanding. But Chi Yu had gotten used to calling him that, and when his guard was down, this somewhat inappropriate intimacy slipped out.

Citrus, lemon, amber, musk. The scent of the oil filled the room. Chi Yu felt surrounded by this atmosphere, as if a giant hand were pushing him toward the center of the ocean. He couldn’t see the shore, only the rolling, scalding waves.

Like the drink he ordered for him—Delirium Drive. The path of ecstasy and excitement leading to the loss of oneself.

Liang Muye responded in a low voice, lowering his head to bite the skin of his nape. Usually, when he got a room to have sex, he went straight to the main event. No one owed anyone anything; he hadn’t compromised and served someone like this in ages. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been this patient. And patience needs an outlet. He increased the force of his hand, inserting two fingers, pressing and rubbing somewhat fiercely on the spot that made Chi Yu lose his voice.

Chi Yu arched his neck like perfect prey. So he lowered his head and bit, canines sinking deep into the skin. Whether it bled or not, he didn’t know, but a mark was definitely left.

The stimulation in front was already fatal enough, but the sensation behind was strange. Sour and itching, an insatiable chasm sending him to the crest of the wind and waves.

Within five minutes, he came trembling in Liang Muye’s hand. In that instant, his back suddenly arched, even bumping into the person behind him. He heard Liang Muye give a muffled grunt, but he didn’t let go.

Liang Muye spread his fingers, smearing the semen over Chi Yu’s lower abdomen. Chi Yu, still in the afterglow, kept his eyes closed. Liang Muye raised himself up to look at him. Chi Yu looked incredibly handsome when he came; the muscle definition was stark against his fair skin, turning red at a touch, his inguinal grooves deeply recessed, his waist and abdomen tight and firm.

After a good while, Chi Yu conceded defeat. 

“Alright, you win.”

Liang Muye found this competitive streak adorable and said, “Then I’ll give you a chance to win, too.”

Sure enough, he took the bait. 

“Okay, tell me.”

Liang Muye said, “Say you want it.”

Chi Yu had just come; his mind was blank. Without thinking, he opened his mouth and said, “I want it.”

His dry spell had been far too long. At this moment, it was as if he had suddenly let go of all scruples and walked into Eden.

Behind him, Liang Muye tore open a condom with his teeth, taking no more than two seconds. By the time Chi Yu realized what he had agreed to, it was too late. The hard tip pushed in, and he already felt uncomfortable. All the reasons for refusing penetration came flooding back—he wasn’t afraid of pain, of course, but it was uncomfortable, shameful, troublesome. Too intimate. It required him to submit.

“Wait, wait. I’ll use my mouth to help you, okay?” He backed away, attempting to renegotiate.

“Coach Chi,” Liang Muye called him from behind, the title making his cheeks burn again. 

“Trust me. Don’t be nervous.”

He had his tricks. He made Chi Yu lie on his back again. One finger was already inside, the other arm wrapped around his shoulder, lowering his head to kiss him. He had discovered early on that when it came to kissing, Chi Yu gave it his all, never doing it halfway. Once his lips were busy, his body naturally relaxed.

He found that sensitive spot inside, then straightened his finger to press against it. He used plenty of lubricant, warming it in his palm before entering. Chi Yu resisted a little at first, but quickly adapted.

Liang Muye knew, because Chi Yu told him himself: It seems okay.

He added another finger. When he hit that spot, Chi Yu’s thighs tensed. He panted softly in Liang Muye’s ear, and following the rhythm of the thrusts, told him occasionally, “Faster is okay.”

He propped himself up on one hand, three fingers inside Chi Yu. When Chi Yu reached a peak of pleasure, he pulled out, gripping his inner thigh and buttocks.

Chi Yu propped himself up with his good arm and urged him, “Continue.”

Liang Muye watched him, thoroughly worked over by his fingers, a thin sheen of sweat covering him, before slowly saying, “Chi Yu, let’s do it once. I want to make you feel good, make you happy. If it hurts or feels bad, you can call stop at any time.”

Chi Yu wasn’t one to refuse, and in front of him, he had zero resistance.

Liang Muye entered him face-to-face. Lubricated thoroughly and relaxed, Chi Yu frowned in anticipation, bracing for pain, but the pain didn’t come. He had seen the size clearly in the bathroom, yet he swallowed it all.

All of Liang Muye’s patience had been used on foreplay. Now that he was inside, seeing Chi Yu wasn’t calling stop, he picked up the speed. Holding Chi Yu’s ankles, he pushed his legs up, thrusting deep with full force, burying himself to the root, then withdrawing, repeating the motion.

He asked Chi Yu to make some noise. 

“If it feels good, say something.”

Chi Yu cooperated. Every time he thrust in, he let out a sound, hooking Liang Muye’s soul away. He gripped the sheets to control his strength.

There was a deep, long surgical scar on his left ankle. Liang Muye tilted his head and bit that scar.

Chi Yu finally couldn’t hold on, crying out, “Muye… stop for a second, stop, ah…”

Before he could finish the sentence, his moans pitched higher. Sweat blinded him, forcing him to close his eyes. The sensory overload was too intense; he was almost instinctively pushing away. Liang Muye wiped the sweat for him, watching Chi Yu open his eyes again.

His eyes were magical. Even though Liang Muye was taller and on top, it felt like Chi Yu was looking down on him, glancing at him from the corners of his eyes.

Liang Muye thought to himself, Chi Yu isn’t the only one with a competitive streak. He let him rest for a moment, teasing his erect penis, and only when Chi Yu caught his breath did he re-enter. He thrust only once, but this time it was deep and angled upward. Chi Yu’s arms instantly tightened, his breathing becoming heavy.

“Mmh… right there…”

Liang Muye ordered him, “Hold me.”

Chi Yu’s hands were a bit cold. He raised his left hand perfunctorily, draping it carelessly over his neck.

“Faster,” he urged.

Liang Muye laughed at him. 

“What’s the rush?”

He found the spot and slammed against it relentlessly. Panic flashed in Chi Yu’s eyes. With only one movable hand, he had to hold on tight. Pleasure exploded almost all at once. Chi Yu instinctively clamped his legs together, hooking them around Liang Muye’s lean, powerful waist, staring straight at him.

Liang Muye’s upper body muscles were beautiful, covered in a thin layer of sweat like a sculpture by an old master. His expression during sex was also devoted, as if all his focus and passion were given to the person before him, as if his world contained only you.

In that moment, Chi Yu understood what Cheng Yang had said while drinking that day: Liang Muye is good, maybe a little too good. All his exes are fucking hung up on him.

Chi Yu closed his eyes again, willing to drown in this ocean of desire.

But Liang Muye noticed almost immediately and said again, “Chi Yu, open your eyes.” He stopped moving below, his fingers stroking his neck, then his ear.

Chi Yu was rarely ordered around like this. usually, as a teacher, he gave the orders, and Liang Muye was a good student who always listened. At certain moments, he would forget that Liang Muye was actually much older than him. But now, it was the opposite.

Chi Yu didn’t want to open his eyes, but more than that, he didn’t want the other man to stop. Finally, he lost to desire, opened his eyes, and actively moved his hips, his tight hole swallowing Liang Muye’s purple-red erection again.

“Fuck!” Liang Muye couldn’t hold back a curse. Pinning Chi Yu’s shoulder firmly with his elbow, he slammed hard into that sensitive spot from below. Chi Yu couldn’t help moaning. Knowing he hit the right spot, Liang Muye folded his legs back, put his whole weight on him, and fucked him hard on that point.

Chi Yu watched as Liang Muye fucked him, the slapping sound of flesh against flesh loud, the bed shaking violently. Until the pleasure threatened to drown him—Liang Muye hadn’t even touched him in front—Chi Yu was screaming, his eyes losing focus.

Liang Muye held back. Quickly pulling out, he flipped Chi Yu over with one hand, then pinned his left wrist to the headboard. Using his last shred of reason, he grabbed a pillow: “Cushion your right hand.”

Chi Yu turned his back to him, lowered his waist, and stuck his butt up. His entrance was red from the repeated thrusting, his inner thighs marked with red streaks and pinch marks. The lubrication was too thorough; it made squelching noises, juices flowing as soon as he entered, like a peeled peach. Chi Yu was clearly pushed to the limit too; as soon as Liang Muye thrust in, he cried out, calling his name, asking him to let go of his hand.

Liang Muye didn’t let go. Instead, he slapped his butt—a slap for every thrust. Not too hard, but loud. Chi Yu whimpered and moaned, feeling messy with pleasure.

He reached around to touch Chi Yu’s penis and found the front was already soaked, pre-cum coating his hand again.

Liang Muye felt sorry for him, so he gave him a few strokes. Chi Yu’s waist went soft immediately. 

“Mmh… help me again, I want to come, help me…”

Liang Muye agreed verbally, but his hand didn’t help. Instead, he used his thick, hard cock to ram him mercilessly. He pounded that same spot repeatedly, practically squeezing his sac into the entrance.

“You aren’t… mmh, ah, ah!”

Chi Yu was half shaken by the thrusts, half trembling in his thighs. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he cried out loudly and came, his body shuddering in the afterglow, unable to stay on his knees. Liang Muye hugged him tightly from behind, kissing and biting his neck fiercely, slowly thrusting during his aftershocks.

Chi Yu kept those eyes open, turning his head to kiss him in that awkward position.

The competitive sex came to a pause; Chi Yu was relying on him like a small animal. He didn’t even let him pull out. When Chi Yu kissed him, Liang Muye suddenly felt his heart racing. He lowered his eyes and whispered in Chi Yu’s ear, “I’m going to go faster. Tell me if it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Chi Yu whispered back. 

“Does it feel good?”

Liang Muye chuckled low, his upper body trembling with it. He said, “Chi Yu, it feels fucking amazing.”

Liang Muye held him with one arm, but the leverage wasn’t great, so he pulled Chi Yu down to lie on his side, lifting one of his legs, thrusting deep and fast.

At the final moment, his hands interlaced tightly over Chi Yu’s chest, squeezing him until he could barely breathe, then panting low and biting his neck, he came into the condom.

When it was over, Chi Yu was soaked in sweat, his neck and chest covered in hickeys—his skin was just too fair, too easily marked. Liang Muye held him and wouldn’t let go, and Chi Yu didn’t complain. He could feel every beat of his heart; it was as if the two of them were connected.

Ten minutes later, Liang Muye pulled out. He stood up, tied the condom, threw it in the trash, and without a word, went into the bathroom and closed the door.