Chapter 4: His Turn

"Hands on the bedpost," Han said.

Mo looked at him.

It was the second night, the lamp burned low, and the whole Fort had gone to sleep around them.

"I thought I was the prisoner," Mo said.

"You are. Hands on the bedpost, Lord Mo."

Slowly, with a look that said he knew exactly what he was doing, Mo lifted both arms and wrapped his fingers around the black lacquer.

The silver chain slid down his wrist.

Han stood over him in the lamplight, in nothing but his unbound hair, and let himself look.

Mo lay back against the pillows, naked and enormous, and the white hair spilled over his shoulders and chest.

He was scarred everywhere.

A long pale seam crossed his ribs, a burn marked his right hip, and a puckered mark sat under his collarbone.

"I gave you that," Han said, touching the one under the collarbone.

"Fourth duel. You were wearing the green armor."

"You remember what armor I wore?"

"I remember everything. I was in a tomb. I had a great deal of time."

Han bent and put his mouth on the scar.

Under his lips, Mo drew a sharp breath.

He kissed down from there, slowly, over the broad chest, the hard stomach, the old burn on the hip.

With each kiss he felt Mo's heartbeat grow louder against him.

Han's own.

He could hear it from here, thudding in a chest that was not his.

He laid his palm on the scar over Mo's heart, and for the first time he tried what Mo had done to him.

He pressed.

The beat slowed.

Mo's whole body went taut, the cords of his neck standing out, and his knuckles whitened on the bedpost.

"Zhaohe."

"Yes?"

"That's... a lot."

"You did it to me."

"I'm aware." Mo laughed, short and breathless. "I'm learning why you looked at me like that."

Han smiled, and let the heart go.

It jumped in Mo's chest.

"Good," Han said.

He settled between Mo's thighs, a thing he had not planned and had imagined many times, and took Mo's cock in his hand.

It was thick and heavy and flushed dark at the head, wet already.

Han had never done this to anyone in his life.

He had been taught by one man, a long time ago, who had always been the one to be done to.

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