EGRV 35 | Yours

Don’t want the trophy, but I’ve got to get some kind of reward.

Under the bath heater light, Liang Muye stared at his own face in the mirror, his expression a little serious.

When exactly did he start to feel something was off? Perhaps it was when Chi Yu turned his head to kiss him right after his orgasm.

It wasn’t that it felt wrong, but rather, it felt too right.

Li Xiangwan, who had played the field for most of her life, had once complained to him that men never truly grow up. He had laughed it off back then. But at this moment, he felt she had been right all along.

The year he was seventeen, Beijing was hit by a once-in-a-decade downpour. He had driven Han Zhixia’s SUV around with his first boyfriend. That boy was a cellist from the music conservatory. After his graduation recital, all the girls swarmed him for autographs and photos. But Liang Muye had pressed him against the back seat of the SUV, kissing him with the cold rainwater, feeling like he held the entire world in his arms.

Now, with Chi Yu looking at him like that, his seventeen-year-old self was back. So much desire, so many impulses, so many “I wants.” They surged through his blood, breaking through all constraints.

About two or three minutes later, he turned on the water, then opened the door and asked Chi Yu, “Do you need my help?”

Chi Yu said no. His voice sounded distant. Liang Muye, not feeling reassured, turned the water off again, walked out, and asked him once more.

The man was already off the bed, standing with one hand propped on the mini-fridge door, lost in thought. On the desk sat a half-empty, open bottle of Coke Zero.

So he likes this.

Liang Muye was about to step forward when he suddenly remembered something. 

“Come downstairs with me for a second,” he said.

With that, he started getting dressed himself. Liang Muye was as fast at dressing as he was at undressing. In a few swift movements, he was fully clothed and even helped pick up Chi Yu’s clothes from the entryway, including his own black hoodie.

Seeing him like this, Chi Yu froze for a moment. 

“Are you in a hurry to leave?” He almost thought Liang Muye had just come for a hookup and was ready to pull up his pants and bolt as soon as he was done.

Liang Muye simply said, “Forgot something.” He handed the clothes over, helped Chi Yu put them on one by one, and even put the sling back on for him.

“Car keys?” Chi Yu asked.

“I have them.”

“The Coke…”

“Yeah, bring it.”

Chi Yu, bewildered, could only let himself be led by the nose.

Liang Muye’s strides were large, seemingly more rushed than when they first entered the room. He gripped Chi Yu’s wrist tightly with two fingers, weaving left and right, leading him back to the parking lot.

His car was parked in a secluded spot. Chi Yu, still holding the half-empty bottle of Coke, was practically dragged through the snow. They both slipped and slid before finally reaching the car.

“What did you leave behind that you need me to help get?” Chi Yu thought and thought. The only thing he could think of that required two people was, “Oh, the snowboards, right? Yours or mine?”

Liang Muye figured that this guy’s thoughts would probably never stray beyond the confines of a ski resort, so he didn’t argue. He deftly opened the trunk and leaned in to rummage through his backpack.

The snow was coming down hard outside. He gave Chi Yu another tug, gesturing for him to get in and take shelter. The light inside the car was dim. Chi Yu, covered in wind and snow, ducked into the expanded trunk of the Highlander and saw Liang Muye pull something large out of his backpack.

“Is this…”

Before he could finish the question, he understood. It was shaped like a snow mountain, with the WinterLasts event logo. The ocean fiber plastic was light, glowing with a golden sheen in the night. It was his first-place trophy.

Chi Yu bit his lip, his feelings complicated. After a long moment, he said, “It… actually, it didn’t really matter.” Trophies were symbolic; the result was real. Chi Yu wasn’t good with words, and with his guard down, he always realized after speaking that his phrasing wasn’t great. He quickly added, “But thank you.”

He reached for it, but for the first time, Liang Muye didn’t let go.

“It does matter.” Watching Chi Yu tug at the trophy like a game of tug-of-war, he pulled it closer to himself before finally loosening his grip and handing it over. 

“What’s yours is yours. No one can take it away.”

Chi Yu looked up, his gaze serious.

Liang Muye thought he was about to launch into a lengthy rebuttal, but instead, Chi Yu tossed the trophy aside and lunged at him again, pressing him down onto a stack of snowboards. The pressure on his back was a little painful, and he had to remind Chi Yu, “Watch it, don’t hurt yourself again.”

He didn’t know why Chi Yu suddenly felt the urge to kiss him again, but the way he leaned in with his eyes closed was so inviting. Liang Muye had no time to ponder the logic and just tumbled together with him again.

Having been thoroughly satisfied in the hotel room, Liang Muye was now in a rare service-oriented mood. He pushed Chi Yu down onto a flat space in the middle, pulled down his pants, and took his already-hard erection into his mouth.

“What are you…” Chi Yu’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Liang Muye sucked a few times, found a gap, and said unhurriedly, “Don’t want the trophy, but I’ve got to get some kind of reward.”

Chi Yu bucked his hips restlessly, pushing his cock deeper into his throat. Liang Muye accepted it all, his lips enveloping him, opening every nerve and every fold, his tongue licking the sensitive tip.

What’s yours is yours, Liang Muye had said. Chi Yu didn’t know if he was talking about talent, sweat, honor, a sincere heart, or something else.

As he neared his climax, a thought flashed in Chi Yu’s mind. He suddenly tugged on Liang Muye’s clothes, signaling him to look up. His legs were bare, and in the limited space, he lifted his left leg and planted his foot on Liang Muye’s solid shoulder.

“It’s mine?”

Liang Muye’s eyes curved into a smile. He took Chi Yu’s left leg, placed it beside his face, and held his ankle, his straight nose brushing against the scar as he licked it. Then he lowered his head and swallowed, deep-throating him.

It was too sexy, too erotic.

The orgasm came without warning. Chi Yu’s penis twitched, and streams of semen flowed out, shooting all over the man’s face, lips, and even into his mouth.

He was a little embarrassed, but Liang Muye didn’t mind at all. He wiped his lips with his forearm and gave his delayed response: “It’s yours.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped. He heard Chi Yu curse, “Fuck.” Not caring that his ass was still bare, he reached out and turned off the only light source.

Then he spread his legs, pulled down his own pants, fished a condom out from somewhere in the car, and after putting it on for the other man, guided his penis and lowered himself down. There was still plenty of lubricant inside; the entry was so smooth that within minutes, they had returned to their previous rhythm. But it was different from the brightly lit hotel room. Much more chaotic, much more intimate.

Chi Yu didn’t even have time to take off his clothes. He lifted the hem of his T-shirt, biting it between his teeth, and pressed his chest and nipples against Liang Muye’s face. In the darkness, his body was the color of moonlight, silver like water. His skin felt cool to the touch, but his heart was pounding hotly.

Liang Muye used a bit of skill, pinning his hips to stop him from moving around, and thrusted hard from below. Chi Yu had nowhere to brace himself. Looking around, he could only haphazardly prop himself up on the edge of a vertically placed snowboard.

The steel edge was cold and hard; he had just sharpened it yesterday. With only one hand to support the weight of his upper body, the edge immediately cut into the palm of his left hand. Chi Yu didn’t need light to see; he could feel that it was the Team T, his stiff Nitro board, the steed that had carried him to his reclaimed honor. He sucked in a breath.

“What’s wrong? Let me see.”

Chi Yu obediently extended his palm, but Liang Muye didn’t look. He licked the palm directly, then took his hand and guided it to the place where they were tightly connected.

The hard penis was completely buried in the tight entrance. Chi Yu’s muscles twitched, clamping down on him even tighter.

Liang Muye didn’t hold back his strength this time. He didn’t let Chi Yu brace himself on anything in the car; Chi Yu’s entire weight was pressed against him. He held Chi Yu’s prominent hip bones, grinding against him relentlessly. Chi Yu’s full buttocks pressed against his own raised hips, the sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the small space of the trunk, making one’s ears burn. He moved his hand over, forcefully pinching out finger marks.

Each thrust was fiercer than the last. The car shook with his movements, as if trying to shake off the accumulated snow. Chi Yu covered his face with his hand, but he couldn’t stop the panting. In the darkness, their genitals swung wildly, his mind a chaotic mess. There was no cold or discomfort, only boundless pleasure. He felt like he had fallen into a spring pond, overflowing with desire.

Or maybe he just couldn’t take the pounding anymore. His head hit the car ceiling several times, making him dizzy. His bones might have been harder than his snowboard, but his head was no match for a car’s steel frame. Liang Muye couldn’t bear to watch and finally laid him down, pushed the snowboards out of the way, spread a sleeping bag underneath, and lowered himself to continue, holding him.

Chi Yu’s left ankle was still in his grip, his toes pressing against the icy window, smearing the condensation. A layer of frost had formed outside, a natural curtain. Behind the curtain, the two were like trapped beasts. By day, they put on a collar and acted human; by night, they showed their true colors, revealing an insatiable desire.

Liang Muye drove deep, hitting the most sensitive spot inside him, giving him no time to breathe. A tingling numbness spread from that point throughout his body. Chi Yu tensed all the muscles in his waist and abdomen until he was exhausted and cramping, his vision blurring. He had never had sex like this, penetrated by pleasure from beginning to end. With the slightest movement, he would tremble uncontrollably. It was no longer just one spot that was sensitive, but an entire region, his whole body.

At the end, Liang Muye’s hand roamed over him, from his waist to his lower abdomen, to the two points on his chest. He pinched his nipples and held them, thrusting into him relentlessly, making him cry out, making him talk. As the pleasure exploded, as if it weren’t enough, he moved in time with his rhythm, his left arm wrapped around Chi Yu’s lean, powerful waist. Only at the very end did he pay attention to the swollen, blood-filled penis, skillfully jerking him off. Not even a minute passed before Chi Yu came again.

By the end of this session, he was almost deprived of oxygen, completely unable to remember what he had shouted during his orgasm.

His return to reality was Liang Muye cleaning up the battlefield beside him.

Even with the seats all folded down, it was still difficult for Liang Muye to clean up inside. He kept bumping into things. Chi Yu couldn’t watch anymore. 

“Just leave it, I’ll clean it up later.”

His voice was hoarse, his mouth dry. Only then did he remember the half-bottle of Coke he’d brought down. Relying on his familiarity with the terrain, Chi Yu successfully located it in the dark, handed it to the other man for a few sips, then gulped down the rest in one go.

Chi Yu had always liked small, enclosed spaces. He had spent two or three years climbing in and out of this tiny space, and he actually found it spacious. Now, with a six-foot-plus Liang Muye crammed inside, it felt just right. He suddenly had a selfish wish that the snow would never stop falling, that the Sea-to-Sky Highway would be blocked for ten days or half a month, that he wouldn’t have to go anywhere and could just hole up in the trunk with Liang Muye, playing cards, chatting, and drinking Coke.

It was Liang Muye who first fished up the trophy from where it had been thrown on the floor. 

“Hold onto this.”

Only now did Chi Yu get a chance to look at it closely. The trophy was shaped like a mountain peak, sharp on one side and more rounded on the other, with several snow ridges evenly distributed on the front. He placed his hand on it, caressing the curve of the rounded side. The Dog Leg, connecting to the out-of-bounds glades, is on this side.

“Is this… the highest peak of Whistler Mountain?” Liang Muye leaned over, taking the hand that held the trophy as he asked.

Chi Yu was stunned for a moment, then shook his head. 

“No.”

The silhouette was so distinct he would recognize it in his dreams. It was Mackenzie Peak in the freeride mecca of Revelstoke. It was the home mountain of the two founders of the WinterLasts environmental foundation, and the location of the very first WinterLasts Freestyle Challenge.

Three years ago, he and Liang Yichuan had secretly packed their gear in the dead of night, rushing to compete in this very event. The official, IFSA-sanctioned races wouldn’t allow registration in the final week. The one he wanted to secretly sign up for was this charity challenge. WinterLasts had contracts with ten ski resorts in North America, rotating the venue each year. That year was the tenth anniversary, and the event had returned to its home mountain.

He had thought this competition would be the end of everything, but it turned out to be the beginning.

Liang Muye’s other hand rested on his shoulder, fingers tracing the ink on his shoulder blade, inch by inch. It tickled a little.

“Your tattoo… what does it mean?”

“It’s… a ski run.”

After the intimacy, with the warmth still lingering, he wanted to use the question as an opening to tell him everything. It was what he had promised himself, and what he had promised Gao Yi. But with Liang Muye’s hand holding his, he wanted to turn this single moment into countless moments.

He changed his mind. Liang Muye was always a passerby, and his moments were destined to be fleeting. So, he would drag it out a little longer, just a little longer. Until he left. One month, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty hours. He knew it was wrong; he knew it was selfish, greedy, dishonest. But he had given so much; he just wanted to hold onto something for himself. Even if it was fake.

Chi Yu’s head started to spin again from overthinking. His hand went limp, nearly dropping Mackenzie Peak on the floor again. Liang Muye, quick-eyed and deft-handed, caught it. He was about to say something, but then he saw that Chi Yu—in his most familiar trunk, nestled between his arms—had closed his eyes and fallen asleep.