(DAY 6: #96) THE PRICE OF FALLING (3/6)

[exoments_mod]

Summer is starting to properly claim the land, temperatures rising when Yixing’s beeper goes off at his hip and his heart stops for a moment. They never used to have any of these beepers; they aren’t expensive, but with the size of the hospital it simply never made sense to invest in them. However, since Yifan’s admittance and the other starting to have bad days more often, Junmyeon has decided that the beepers are for the best. “Just in case,” the elder had said when he had handed Yixing the little device.

Just in case Yifan has such a bad day that they’ll immediately need to call for help, the brunette’s brain had automatically supplied.

The beeper hadn’t been in use so far, and Yixing feels strangely reminded of the day of Yifan’s admittance when he dashes through the hallways, only to come sliding to a halt in front of the blond’s room. He’s panting, which is slightly ridiculous since it is almost impossible to have any long distance between two points inside the small, two-story building; but the adrenaline pumping through his veins elevates his breathing without the need for physical exertion.

“I found him like this, but he doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’m not even sure if he can hear me at all,” Jongdae informs him immediately, sounding worried. The nurse has been attending to Yifan for almost as long as Yixing has, and Yixing is sure that some sort of friendship has build between the two during that time. It’s only natural for the feline-eyed male to be worried, but Yixing doesn’t even stop to pay his friend any attention.

His eyes immediately zoom in on Yifan, sitting curled up on his bed, fingers digging into the flesh of his arms in a manner that looked painful. The elder is unmoving, his eyes clenched tightly shut, but Yixing can hear his muttering voice, although he’s too silent for the healer to understand anything.

“Yifan!” Yixing calls out, a bit more forceful than he usually might, trying to catch the other’s attention. But just as Jongdae said, there is no reaction even when the younger rushes to Yifan’s side. The elder stays in his curled up position; not even lifting his head to acknowledge Yixing’s presence.

Up close the sounds Yifan is producing form discernible words, words that Yixing can understand as soon as he leans in. “Want, want, need to.” The same words, voiced over and over in the baritone of Yifan’s voice. Every single one of it pierces through Yixing’s, makes him turn more frantic. The only thought remaining on Yixing’s mind is that he has to get Yifan out of this state, one way or another.

Madness will come and claim them all, when the desire gets too strong.

Yifan’s behaviour is too close to madness, painfully so, and Yixing can’t have that. He hasn’t found the way to heal Yifan yet.

“Yifan? Yifan it’s me,” he says with more calmness than he feels, grabbing Yifan’s arms. “Yifan, this is Yixing. Please talk to me. I will help you get whatever it is you want.”

For a moment it seems as if Yifan remains in his own world, then suddenly his head lifts a little. His eyes are open but strangely unseeing. Yet they focus on Yixing, as the elder weakly mutters. “I want to fly.” His fingers tighten into his arms, his fingernails breaking the skin. Yifan doesn’t even seem to notice. “I need to fly.”

“No you don’t,” Yixing replies, even though he know that yes, Yifan needs to fly. “Yifan, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Open windows mean bad days. Yixing’s brain supplies. It’s a split second decision, really, to step forward and hug Yifan’s head to his chest. If he blocks the light out, perhaps it will lessen the temptation.

“It’s okay Yifan. It’s okay,” Hh whispers the words even though he doesn’t believe them, running one hand through the other’s soft hair while the other is splayed against Yifan’s shoulder blade to hold him close.

“Yixing, I need to fly,” Yifan responds, and at the sound of his own names a wave of relief washes over Yixing. The feeling is short-lived though, because Yifan doesn’t show any signs of relaxing, his fingers gripping as tight as ever.

“Yifan, let go,” the younger softly says, moving his own hands to cover Yifan’s, trying to pry his fingers away but the other doesn’t budge. “Let go. Hold onto me.”

“I can’t,” Yifan seems to be talking to himself, his head shaking slightly as if to underline his statement. “I am not allowed to let go.”

The words make Yixing startle for a moment, before the meaning of Yifan grabbing onto his arms so tightly finally registers with him. He has to hold onto himself because otherwise he’s afraid of losing himself.

Icy fear settles in the pit of Yixing’s stomach at seeing how far gone Yifan is. Sure, he has had a few worse days, but never before has Yixing seen him in such a state. “It’s okay. Hold onto me instead.” His tone has long since lost its calmness, turning beseeching instead as he leans down to come to eye level with the other male. “You are not alone in this.”

But Yifan refuses to move, instead shaking his head as he whispers “No, no, no” over and over again. The harder Yixing tries to pry his fingers apart, to convince the blond that he should relax, the more fervently Yifan refuses, the volume of his voice raising, shaking his head vehemently.

Ceasing his attempts, Yixing takes a step back instead, hoping that it will make Yifan relax. The elder does stop trashing as a result, but he curls into an even tighter ball than before.

“Jongdae?” Yixing calls for the nurse, eyes staying glued to Yifan’s hunched form. His voice sounds like a croak to his own ears, so the healer clears his throat before trying again. “Jongdae? Can you please get some tranquilizers?”

He loathes the idea of having to put Yifan on meds to get him to calm down, but he frankly doesn’t see any other way to get him out of his distress. The younger male is at Yixing’s side within a minute, holding out a syringe to him. Yixing takes it with a heavy heart. “I’m sorry,” he leans close enough to whisper into Yifan’s ear, before he finally injects the needle into Yifan’s arm.

The elder doesn’t react to the sensation at all as if he’s too lost in his own world to even register what is happening around him. Yixing mentally counts to ten and then Yifan’s body starts relaxing. With the sedative taking its effect the tall blond slumps, and Yixing uses the opportunity to guide him to lie back down on the bed.

Yifan is still mumbling something to himself, but the sounds are too slurred for Yixing to be able to make out any words. A few minutes pass in silence where Yixing simply watches Yifan’s features relax in sleep. His thoughts are a mess, and he doesn’t even realize Jongdae is still at his side until the younger gently places his hand on Yixing’s shoulder.

“Ge, are you okay?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

In any other situation Yixing might have claimed to be perfectly fine. He hates it if other people worry about him, but his stomach feels as he’s about to throw up.

An idea has formed in his mind, and feels as if it can’t wait any longer. “I’m sorry Jongdae. I’m not feeling that well. Can you please tell Junmyeon that I headed home earlier today?” His voice sounds strangely hollow.

In the back of his mind he registers Jongdae voicing an affirmation, and asking whether there’s anything he can do to help, but Yixing just shakes his head. He even flashes a small smile at the younger that’s meant to be reassuring, but in juxtaposition with his behaviour it’s such a stark contrast that it doesn’t end up being reassuring at all.

The minute he steps out of the hospital he has his phone in his hands, looking through his address book for one specific contact. There is one person he has to see now. The only person who can help possibly help him.

---
Yixing knows Park Chanyeol from highschool. They used to frequent similar circles of friends, and even though they never were extraordinarily close, they got along well enough.

Yixing hadn’t seen him for years, until Luhan started dragging the healer along to meet-ups of their old group of friends. Ever since he suddenly appeared at Luhan’s doorstep, Yixing has made sure to go along with the elder’s invitations as often as possible. There have often been days where he needed to take his mind off of things for a while, and these meet-ups provided the perfect opportunity.

Now he doesn’t just want to talk, however.

He has been planning on making more tests concerning wielder’s powers ever since he read that (wretched) book, but he never got around to it. At that moment however it seems like his only chance, and he clings to the hope that he’ll be able to gain some valuable insight.

If only a wielder’s power can harm another wielder’s power, it would only be logical that a healer can also restore someone else’s power. After all, if a power can influence another in a negative manner, it should also be possible to influence it in a positive way. Yixing simply needs more information to work with. Perhaps I simply haven’t yet figured out correctly how a fire wielder’s power damages tissue. I just need to find out more about it.

So he contacts Chanyeol, the only fire wielder he knows. It surprises him that the other immediately agrees to meeting up, and that way he finds himself on the clearing of a small forest near the hospital, standing opposite of Chanyeol.

They exchange a few phrases of greeting, but Yixing hasn’t come to chit-chat, so he gets down to business pretty quickly. “Chanyeol, I need your help with something.”

The taller male cocks his head slightly to the side, and the wide grin he always seems to be wearing turns a little questioning. “I kinda guessed, what with you asking me to meet up all of a sudden. But sure, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

There probably is a subtle way to approaching this topic. One that involves explanations and coercing, but Yixing’s mind isn’t exactly in the best working order. “I’ll need you to burn me,” the smaller says, lifting his left arm in order to provide a target.

The smile on Chanyeol’s face slips, and he gapes at the brunette, but doesn’t say or do anything else.

“Go ahead, burn me,” Yixing prompts again, his left arm remaining outstretched.

Chanyeol looks at him as if he’s just sprouted a second head, and takes a small step back. “What?” he asks incredulously, as if he’s not quite sure whether he heard correctly.

“As I said, go ahead and burn me. I need to find something out, and I can’t expect anyone else to do this for me. You’re the only one who can help me with this.” Yixing is completely calm, resolved. His request is uncommon to say the least-crazy, really-but the healer doesn’t waver.

Chanyeol on the other hand does. His hesitation quickly makes way to disbelieving indignation. It’s not easy to throw the taller off-track, to elicit anything but a silly laugh a wide grin from him, but in that moment he looks downright horrified. “Have you lost your mind? I won’t!”

“It’s okay Chanyeol. I can heal myself the way I can heal anyone else.” The older tries to appease the other, fitting a reassuring smile on his features as he takes a step forward.

Chanyeol reacts by taking a corresponding step back, as if Yixing could somehow grab his hands and force the flames out of his fingers. “That’s not the point here! Even if you can heal, why would you want to hurt yourself in the first place?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? There is a matter I need to do research on, and for that I need burns caused by a fire wielder.” Yixing’s calm façade is slowly starting to fall apart. The beseeching, almost desperate tone seeps into his voice without him even really noticing.

If I can experience a fire wielder’s fire first hand, perhaps then I’ll be able to help Yifan better.

Chanyeol studies him with intent, then his features bunch together in a frown. The expression is so uncommon and unexpected on the taller’s face-downright unfitting-that Yixing spontaneously feels like bursting into laughter. He refrains himself from it because Chanyeol is already looking at him as if he’s gone mad, and laughing now would probably only support that assumption in the red-head’s eyes.

“This is because of him.”

It’s not even a question, but rather comes out sounding like an accusation. Yixing doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about, it’s obvious to the both of them. Yifan has arisen often enough as a conversation topic between Yixing and Luhan during for all of their friends to know about the hospital’s permanent patient by now.

He wonders why Chanyeol has such a violent reaction to the mere idea of Yixing helping Yifan. It’s his task as a healer, isn’t it? To help people?

“It is because of him,” he agrees, because what use would denying it have? Chanyeol knows either way. “With my current abilities I can’t help him any further, so I have to look for new methods.”

The fire wielder just narrows his eyes again, crossing his arms in front of his body in a gesture of defiance. “You would go that far for him? Letting yourself be burned when you don’t even know for sure whether or not you’ll be able to heal the burns properly?”

Every word of Chanyeol’s, every second of inaction passing by chips away at his composure, his patience running thin. “I do know that I can heal the burns your fire causes, I already healed all of his burns, so you don’t need to worry about that,” he insists, moving his arms in a gesture of emphasis.

Chanyeol just eyes him skeptically. “But then why? What do you hope to gain if you already know how to heal these wounds?”

Yixing wonders whether Chanyeol knows that he just voiced out loud what the small, sensible voice inside Yixing’s head has been saying ever since he decided on this plan. So he tells Chanyeol what he has been telling himself to quench that voice so far. “Knowledge.”

It is a weak excuse, and voiced out like this Yixing notices the edge of desperation in his voice, but he continues denying the unreasonableness of his actions.

Chanyeol however gapes slightly at him, before huffing in disbelief. “I hope you know how ridiculous you’re being. Going to such extremes, for the off-chance of gaining a little knowledge.”

“I don’t think you understand, Chanyeol. I have to try at least, don’t I?” Yixing knows that raising his voice will get him no step closer to his goal, but he just can’t help himself. “He is my patient, and I have to do everything in my power to help my patients.”

The sentence is followed by silence, and Chanyeol is just studying him. His gaze hardens a little around the edges when he finally takes a step forward instead of only ever moving backwards. “I think you’re lying to yourself if you believe that’s your reason.”

The words sound odd to Yixing’s ears, and he automatically tilts his head in puzzlement. A faint smile creeps back into Chanyeol’s eyes at the gesture, but there’s still bitterness in his voice when he continues. “This is not something you should do for any patient of yours, going to these lengths. I know you tend to endanger your own health to help others, but there is a limit.”

“Isn’t that my choice to make?” Yixing argues in defiance, but he knows he’s already lost the battle.

“It is,” the taller agrees, and steps closer still, coming to a halt directly in front of Yixing. He lifts his hand to splay gently against Yixing’s cheek in a gesture of unexpected intimacy. “But I will have no part in it, Zhang Yixing. I would love to help you, but this is something I simply can’t do.”

There’s something in Chanyeol’s gaze right before he turns around and leaves the clearing that makes Yixing wonder if he might have been a bit too oblivious around the other back when they were in high school.

(He also wonders if he looks at Yifan with a similar gaze, helplessness, fondness and pity all mixing together.)

---
His steps carry Yixing back to the hospital that night all on their own. Ever since parting with Chanyeol, he has been wandering around aimlessly, walking in order to clear his head a little, to push back the suffocating helplessness.

It was crazy in the first place to ask Chanyeol, to assume that getting into contact with a fire wielder’s power would get him any new information. Healing Yifan’s wounds hadn’t been a problem, so what could he possibly gain from doing the same for himself? Perhaps it was nothing but an attempt to punish himself after all, a foolish notion that he has to go through similar trials as Yifan if he’s not able to help him.

The hallways in the hospital are deserted, and pretty much all lights turned off. It is a normal sight at night, since they hardly ever have enough patients staying overnight in the small building to warrant a lot of staff to be present. Yifan is the only patient at that time, so there is also only one nurse sitting at the nursing station, just in case.

She looks dubious when Yixing tells her that she can go home because he will supervise Yifan in her stead, but when the healer smiles and reassures her that it’s really okay, he still has work to tend to from when he left earlier that afternoon either way, she gets up and thanks him with a bow before disappearing down the hall to fetch her personal belongings from the staff room.

For a moment, Yixing contemplates putting on his lab coat that he stuffed so unceremoniously into his locker before heading out to meet Chanyeol, but he decides against it. Due to the size of their hospital and Junmyeon’s policy of all the staff members viewing each other as a family rather than a business, there really is no need for formality, especially not in the middle of the night. Instead, Yixing slouches into a chair behind the counter, opening the first two buttons of his shirt because it feels too constricting, and sets to work. He busies himself with looking through medical files at first, sorting and completing records that he hasn’t paid that much attention to in the last few weeks.

It’s probably half an hour after his colleague has passed him on her way out, wishing him a good night, that Yixing finally gives in. He’s been wanting to go see Yifan ever since he set foot into the hospital, but he reasoned that the other would be asleep either way, and that seeing Yifan now might not be a clever idea in general. Not after the emotional turmoil he’s been going through, and with how he’s questioning why Yifan can put him into such a state of distress and restlessness.

And perhaps it’s exactly because of that that he eventually finds himself sneaking into Yifan’s room as silently as possible.

As expected, the blond is fast asleep in his bed, with the curtains drawn. Pulling a plastic chair close, Yixing carefully takes a seat right beside him, just studying his face. He looks relaxed like this, a stark difference to how Yixing saw him that afternoon or to how guarded his expressions have become as of lately.

Yixing can’t help but worry about how often Yifan claims he’s fine as of lately. Instead of being a sign of improvement it looks more as if the taller is resigning, as if he’s trying to accept that he’s never going to feel any different again.

It turns Yixing’s insides to think about it, and unconsciously he reaches out his hand to gently stroke Yifan’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the apology coming easily to his lips now that Yifan is asleep. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you.”

He continues petting the blond strands, until suddenly the other male stirs in his bed. “Sorry for waking you,” Yixing apologizes, a fond smile on his lips as he watches Yifan blink sleepily, eyes darting around in disorientation for a moment before settling on the outline sitting beside his bed.

“How are you feeling?” the smaller asks in a hushed voice when Yifan sits up, scooting back slightly on the bed for a more comfortable sitting position.

“I don’t know,” the elder answers, one hand rubbing at his eyes, and it’s the most honest answer Yixing has heard from him in a while.

A sad smile graces his features, and he hopes that Yifan can’t see it in the dim light. Dragging his fingers through Yifan’s hair one last time-because the other still seems too sleepy to mind the motion-he makes as if to get up and leave.

He barely manages to stand before Yifan’s hand catches his arm, preventing him from moving away. The blond’s grip is strangely warm on Yixing’s skin, and the smaller looks from his arm to Yifan and back in surprise. “Don’t go.” Yifan croaks, sleep still present in his voice, eyes widened almost as if he’s scared. The taller gives Yixing’s arm a tug, effectively bringing him back to the bedside.

It’s not as if Yixing planned on resisting the motion, but he’s still taken by surprise from the unexpectedly needy gesture.

“Please stay.” Yifan’s voice is tinted with something that sounds like a hint of desperation and it makes Yixing’s insides clench. There is nothing he wants more than to take that desperation away, but he is clueless as to how he could possibly do that.

With his tall frame Yifan is only barely a head smaller than Yixing when he sits up on the hospital bed. Another pull and Yixing comes stumbling forward, but Yifan catches him. He winds his long arms around the smaller’s waist, burying his face into the crook of Yixing’s neck that’s on his eye level. Suddenly Yixing is enveloped by warmth. It startles him but he quickly comes back to his senses when Yifan’s hands fist into the back of his shirt. Lifting his own arms to wrap them around Yifan’s frame, he pulls the taller male closer, in reassurance that he’s not going to go anywhere.

Minutes pass like this, with Yifan just breathing in and out, and Yixing trying not to squirm too much whenever the gusts of hot air brush past his neck. Instead he focuses on running one of his hands up and down Yifan’s back a little, as if to calm him. He doesn’t know what prompts Yifan to suddenly move, but he jumps slightly when the other’s breaths are suddenly replaced by lips.

Yifan doesn’t let himself be deterred though by the startle, and keeps on pressing soft kisses along the column of Yixing’s neck. A gentle shudder runs through Yixing’s body, and even though the sensation if far from unpleasant, he should pull away. His mind tells him he has to pull away.

And yet, he can’t. Yifan’s fingers are shaky where they press against his back, his breathing slightly shallow and the other just appears so vulnerable, in need of something, someone to hold onto, that Yixing simply can’t pull away.

No, that’s what you’re trying to make yourself believe. That you’re doing this for him, that it’s him needing to hold onto you, when in reality you want to hold onto him just as tightly.

For the first time, Yixing allows himself to question his motives, and to consider Chanyeol’s words. He wonders why Yifan's case is so important to him, that it might not be just his solidarity and pride as a healer that's costing him his sleep at night, that's fostering the desperation he feels at being helpless around Yifan whenever the other has a bad day. Perhaps he doesn't want to help Yifan because he's a patient who's suffering, but because he's Yifan, and Yixing doesn't want to lose him.

So he tilts his head a little to the side, giving Yifan’s more room and hums approvingly. At the same time his hands start moving up and down Yifan’s back with more pressure, more purpose. He finally allows himself a shiver when Yifan’s hot breath ghosts over his neck, before immediately being replaced by a mouth. Seemingly encouraged by the lack of resistance Yifan changes from just kissing Yixing’s skin to sucking on it lightly. It has Yixing gasp at the stimulation, his neck always having been his weak spot, and his hands involuntarily curl into the fabric of Yifan’s shirt as his breathing picks up, only to hitch again when Yifan soothes his tongue over the aggravated spot.

At the same time, the taller’s hands have started to travel, easing down far enough to be able to slip underneath Yixing’s shirt, splaying against the warm skin of his back. Yixing is rather grateful for the fact that he unbuttoned his shirt earlier when Yifan’s mouth starts moving lower, down the column of his neck to the collarbones that are exposed, nipping and teasing the skin along the way. His hands move in exactly the opposite direction, up Yixing’s back, taking the hem of his shirt with them. The taller’s hands are slightly calloused, but somehow they still feel like feather light touches on his skin, and Yixing lets out a shuddering breath.

With the elder sucking bruises to his chest, Yixing’s hands try to look for purchase, and while one simply fists into the back of Yifan’s shirt, the other cards into Yifan’s hair. The elder hums at the sensation, and Yixing feels the vibration of it on his skin. A low moan forms in his throat when Yifan continues his ministrations, and when the other strokes up and around his chest to run his thumbs over Yixing’s nipples, the moan escapes after a startled gasp.

Spurred on by the noise, Yifan turns on the bed, letting his legs drop to the floor so that he’s fully facing Yixing now. Without a second of hesitation Yixing follows Yifan’s hands guiding him to stand between Yifan’s spread legs.

Yixing can feel his pulse hammering as Yifan’s fingers continue to tease his nipples under his shirt, and with half-lidded eyes he watches the elder with rapt fascination. The taller male still has his eyes closed, and looks utterly concentrated, almost single-minded, as he continues licking along Yixing’s collarbones. Yixing on the other hand is quickly losing his composure, with every touch of Yifan’s, every lick and kiss and bite and rubbing he can feel his blood rushing south.

In the back of his head, an indignant voice screams at Yixing to stop, that he’s at the hospital, his goddamn work place, and that he’s about to break the “No sex in the office” rule in the most literal sense. The hospital might feel like a second home to him rather than a workplace more times than not, but there still is a sense of prudency that should hold him back. However Yifan’s skilled mouth is drawing sinful noises from him, and somehow his desire to be close to the other is stronger than his embarrassment at that moment.

It doesn’t take any more than a simple nudging of Yifan’s for Yixing to lift his arms, enabling the elder to finally strip him out of the shirt. It’s then that Yifan stills for a moment, as if in consideration, but before Yixing has the chance to think more of it the other has delved in again already, this time tilting his head slightly so that he can press hungry kisses to Yixing’s ribs.

The cold air hitting his skin and Yifan’s wet mouth along his ribcage make Yixing release a moan, as his hips buck forward on their own account. The other takes the motion in stride, and Yixing is almost sure he sees the hint of a smile play on Yifan’s lips as he moves upwards. Yixing is panting by the time Yifan’s mouth reaches the younger’s nipple, and he seems to take downright delight in giving the bud kittenish licks, making Yixing gasp, the younger’s hands fisting helplessly in Yifan’s hair.

The elder’s hands have moved from his back to holding his waist again, so his hips can’t snap forward, looking for friction the way they want to when Yifan sucks gently on Yixing’s nipple. Being restrained like this only ends up making Yixing more desperate, and he feels how his moans keep on getting louder, in proportion to his breathing getting shorter.

It’s unfair, Yixing thinks, how he is half naked already while Yifan is still fully dressed, so his hands start pulling at the back of Yifan’s shirt, hoping that the other will get the hint. He does, pulling away temporarily to allow Yixing to draw the shirt over his head, before immediately resuming his previous task.

Yixing can already feel his erection starting to strain against his pants. There just is something to Yifan’s touches, a combination of softness and roughness, and Yixing can feel his skin tingle in the path of Yifan’s fingers. With the other’s shirt finally out of the way, Yixing let his fingertips dance across Yifan’s bare back as well, though their position prevents him from doing pretty much anything else. A gentle shudder runs through Yifan, reminiscent of the one Yixing had felt, and it’s all the incentive Yixing needs to apply a bit more pressure to his hands, digging his fingertips slightly into the planes of Yifan’s back.

Yifan has a nice back. Broad shoulders, strong muscles rippling beneath his skin in reaction to Yixing’s touches. It makes the younger want to run his hands up and down it properly, but his motions are always interrupted by sudden jerks when another wave of arousal shoots through his vein.

Yixing doesn’t know how long they spend like this, but at one point his moans start getting interspersed by breathy calls of Yifan’s name. By that point Yixing is hard, and beads of sweat are starting to form on his forehead. He feels a bit embarrassed by how easily aroused he is, but Yifan is a very handsome person, with a very skilled mouth, and Yixing just feels desperate for his touch. He is also desperate for finally getting more body contact, so he takes a step forward, crowding Yifan’s personal space. The elder immediately understands, but while he expects the other to simply scoot back, or to lie down, he does not expect Yifan to stand up.

Caught in a moment of confusion Yixing lets himself be turned around, the back of his legs suddenly hitting the mattress, and then he understands. He has given in to doing things the way Yifan wants to do them either way, so he willingly moves onto the bed. Yifan doesn’t even wait for him to have laid down completely before he has crawled on top of Yixing. It’s almost looks like it’s a compulsion for Yifan to go back to worshipping Yixing’s chest, more desperate in his movements now than he was just a few moments before.

The new position enables Yixing to comfortably curl his fingers into Yifan’s hair, and he closes his eyes to let the sensations wash over him. His moans have long since become unrestrained, and even Yifan’s name leaves his lips easily now.

The elder moves along his chest, travelling from Yixing’s stomach up to his nipples, over his collarbones and down his ribs again. It’s starting to become a torture, really, because even when Yifan doesn’t restrain his hips, Yixing can only reach air when he bucks up since the other’s body is too far away. Eventually Yixing lets out a frustrated whine, followed by a gasp and a drawn out moan when Yifan bites his nipple in retort.

Unwilling to stay passive any longer Yixing urges Yifan with tugs to move upwards, and the elder complies with the impulses. He crawls up Yixing’s body, moving over Yixing’s collarbones and his throat, until his face is finally hovering over Yixing’s.

When their eyes meet they both still suddenly, as if they are collectively holding their breath. A hint of hesitation flickers through Yifan’s body, as if he’s only now realizing who he has been kissing. Yixing wonders what he must look like now, disheveled hair, panting, his lower lips slightly red from where he has bitten on them.

They just look at each other with heaving chests for what feels like eternity and only a heartbeat at the same time, a sudden moment of calmness in the middle of a roaring storm. Then resolution flashes through Yifan’s eyes, and within the blink of an eye he delves down to claim Yixing’s lips for the first time.

The younger’s body arches up, trying to meet Yifan half way while at the same time instinctively trying to get as much contact with Yifan’s body as possible. He succeeds in bringing their chests together.

All of that is forgotten however over the press of Yifan’s lips to his. Yixing has been in denial over the fact that he was wondering how Yifan’s lips would fit onto his own, but even if he had allowed himself to imagine it, he doesn’t think he would have come close to reality. Not because the reality was so much better than anything he could ever have imagined, but because there was something distinctly Yifan in this kiss, in the way their mouths danced together, and without experiencing it Yixing wouldn’t have stood a chance at picturing it.

Their kiss doesn’t start out gentle, or slow. They’re both way too far gone for that. Their kiss consists of them messily clashing together, tongues stroking along lips and invading mouths and Yifan sucking on Yixing’s bottom lip to make him spill a continuous string of low moans, his knees turning weak while his hips buck upwards.

Yixing’s hands move from Yifan’s hair, traveling down the other’s back until they reach the waistband of Yifan’s pants. He doesn’t let his hands slip in, just pushes the tips of his fingers underneath the fabric, but the motion is enough to have the other let out a breathy whine as his hips grind down.

Finally, Yixing’s mind sings when the motion has their clothed erections rub against each other, and he throws his head back as he gasps. Yifan simply goes back to nibbling at his throat, but at the same time continues rutting against Yixing, and the younger brings his hips up in time to match the other’s movements. The sensation is enough to get Yixing so the edge, but at the same time not enough, and Yixing is caught between moaning and whining. It’s Yifan who lets his hands travel down to tug on the waistband of Yixing’s pants first, and Yixing is more than happy to lift his hips a little, enabling the elder to strip him naked.

For a moment, Yixing feels exposed, especially with Yifan looking at him with a gaze that’s indecipherable in the darkness of the room. But then the elder sits up on his knees so that he can drag his own pants down, kicking them off the bed quickly. A soft moan escapes Yixing at the sight of Yifan’s cock, but the sound is quickly kissed from his lips as Yifan is back to covering the smaller’s body with his own within seconds.

When he lowers his hips this time, their cocks brush against each other without any barrier of clothing between them, and the sensation lets a keen rip from Yixing’s throat, before he switches to moans between labored breaths. His hands grabbing at Yifan’s ass, he half-guides, half-follows the elder’s movements. Their kisses have turned sloppy as they both can’t manage to get enough air into their lungs to properly kiss, so it’s really more like they’re sharing the air between them than properly kissing.

There still is a sense of desperation to Yifan’s movements, his hands gripping a bit tighter at Yixing’s, while the younger is fisting the sheets, but also a sense of calmness. Yifan’s eyes almost look appreciative, as if they want to remember every moment of this. Fixing Yifan’s eyes, Yixing holds his gaze and leans up. There’s just something in the elder’s gaze, some edge that begets a feeling of restlessness in Yixing. It squeezes his heart because there are too many emotions running through him at the moment for him to be able to deal with all of them, to sort them out.

He feels helpless, and raw, and so connected to Yifan at the same time, and he tries to pour all of that into the kiss. A part of him is afraid that the other will recoil, somehow taste the emotions and decide that he better get away. Yixing has no delusions that them being in this position right now might not be about him specifically, but rather about Yifan needing an outlet. This might very well just be a desperate attempt of Yifan’s to fill the hole in his soul with physical pleasure.

And yet Yixing can’t help himself, but Yifan doesn’t pull back. On the contrary, he stills the movements of his hips and just presses Yixing deeper into the pillows, kissing back with more passion than the younger would ever have expected. When they part, they are both panting. Yixing feels the layer on sweat where their lower bodies and chests are pressed against each other, and while he reasons that it should feel gross he is so unbelievably turned on by the feeling.

“I think…,” he whispers, trailing off, taking yet another risk by breaking the silence that has been residing between them so far. When Yifan only looks back at him expectantly, Yixing continues to speak, embarrassment prickling up his neck. “I think,” Yixing tries again, licking his lips, “we keep some lube in the nursing station….”

Yixing lets the statement trail off, all the implications and questions hanging in the air between them without him having to voice them. Yifan regards the younger with an intense gaze, then he leans down for another kiss. This one is gentle, surprisingly so, and when Yixing’s chest constructs he has to be careful to prevent the kiss from breaking him down.

Instead, he jumps from the bed when Yifan pulls back. Under normal circumstances, Yixing reasons he should be very embarrassed to be running around stark naked with a raging hard-on in the middle of the hospital. It was his work place for goodness’ sake, but for one he knows that he and Yifan are the only people in the building, and frankly he is too aroused to particularly care. Nonetheless, he is immensely relieved when he finds the lube in the first supply cupboard he opens, exactly where he remembers seeing it.

Within less than a minute he’s back in Yifan’s room, placing the lube on the bedside table as they resume their old positions. After sharing a few more kisses Yifan moves to uncap the bottle, spreading lube over his fingers. The sight alone make Yixing moan a little as he spreads his legs farther, giving Yifan easier access and a confirmation that he wants this at the same time.

Yifan leaves one last kiss on Yixing’s lips, before moving back down his chest again, paying attention to it in the same manner he had in the beginning.

The elder’s tongue tracing the lines of Yixing’s faint abs is very arousing, but it’s not enough to completely distract him from the wet and cold sensation as Yifan rubs his index finger along Yixing’s rim.

He forces himself to relax nonetheless when Yifan pushes the first digit it, slowly, giving Yixing time to adjust around the foreign intrusion.

The first finger is hardly any problem, though the second one makes Yixing squirm slightly. He’s good at covering it up though. When Yifan moves his mouth from Yixing’s chest to lick a hot stripe from the base of Yixing’s cock up to its tip, Yixing gasps loudly, and releases the breath he was holding in a loud moan. His hips try to snap upward, and when they move back down they move right on Yifan’s fingers.

The third finger more of a challenge and Yixing has to control his breathing forcefully while he tries to keep his face relaxed at the same time in order to not worry Yifan. With the elder’s lips having enveloped his cock though, Yixing finds that the stinging sensation is bearable. Yifan thrusts all of his fingers in and out at an increasing pace, changing the angles. It takes him a few thrusts, but suddenly Yixing’s eyes widen as a keen echoes from the walls, his back arching from the bed as Yixing tries to gather his breath.

“There,” he pants, and besides Yifan’s name and suggesting that they should get lube, it’s the first time he says anything since they started. But the sensation feels too good, and Yixing can’t help but getting vocal. “Please, Yi-Yifan, there.”

The elder stopped sucking Yixing off the moment he finds his prostate, but while Yixing mourns the missing heat around his cock a little, the feeling of Yifan rubbing his fingers against Yixing’s prostate over and over again makes him feel way too ecstatic to complain. By the time Yifan pulls his fingers out Yixing is already breathless, panting heavily as he watches Yifan lube up his length. His legs automatically widen to accommodate the taller male.

Strangely enough there is no moment of hesitation in Yifan now, when he aligns himself with Yixing’s entrance and pushes is. They release a simultaneous groan, Yixing however because Yifan is big and the stretch it definitely more than from Yifan’s fingers. Yifan, on the other hand, looks tense from having to fight the urge to simply thrust right into the smaller’s body, but he restrains himself, inching forward steadily but slowly.

Once he’s fully seated he stills. Like this his face is right above Yixing’s and he has himself braced on his elbows situated on either side of Yixing’s head. The expression in his eyes is a mixture of lust, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed, but there is also a sense of vulnerability.

They are both stripped naked, stripped raw in that moment, and Yixing keeps his eyes locked with Yifan’s when he rolls his hips. He keeps his eyes locked with Yifan’s when the elder begins to move, and even when the thrusts start to feel good enough for Yixing to start moaning again.

He only breaks away when Yifan angles his thrusts just right and suddenly Yixing is arching off the bed again, his fingers scrambling for purchase on Yifan’s back. Of course they don’t find anything to hold onto, and Yixing is afraid he left scratches on the other’s skin, but Yifan neither ceases his thrusts nor does he complain. He only groans, but it sounds more approving than anything else.

The keens Yixing releases seem to spur on Yifan even more, because his pace increases until he is thrusting into the younger so quickly that Yixing can’t even seem to be able to properly breathe between one thrust and another. He is just about to grab his own neglected erection being rubbed between their chests, but Yifan is quicker, reaching between them to curl his long fingers around it.

Yixing finds it difficult to decide whether to move back onto Yifan’s cock or up into his hand, but it’s a short internal battle as he quickly feels the coils in his stomach. It doesn’t take more than one well-aimed thrust to his prostate together with the tightening of Yifan’s hands, and he’s cuming, Yifan’s name sounding like a mixture of a sob and a keen on his lips as his nails dig hard into Yifan’s back.

Yifan climaxes with a drawn out grunt after a few more shallow thrusts, his chest pressed close to Yixing’s and one hand beneath Yixing’s back, holding the smaller body close to his. Or his own body close to Yixing’s, it’s really not possible to tell.

After he has milked himself dry, they both still, Yifan collapsing on top of Yixing, but the smaller doesn’t mind. Quite the opposite; Yixing buries his nose in the crook of Yifan’s neck and takes a shaky breath, inhaling the other’s scent. It’s musky, an unmistakable scent of sex clinging to both of them, but there’s also that distinctly Yifan touch below all these overlaying smells, and it makes something untangle within Yixing. He forgets all about where they are, all the things that have been weighing him down as of lately. Right then all that he cares about is Yifan’s warm skin pressed close to his, their ribcages move in sync as they try to catch their breath.

They’re sticky and sweaty, but neither of them wants to move to clean up. Yifan just shifts slightly so that he’s only half lying on Yixing’s chest, his legs tangled with Yixing’s and his arms wound tightly around the other’s torso. Yixing reciprocates by throwing his arms over Yifan’s shoulder, holding the other tight as well. He doesn’t want to ever let go again.

Right before he drifts off to sleep he wonders when his motives for helping Yifan shifted from selflessness to selfishness.

( Part 4)