The humid air clung to their skin, thick with the scent of heated wood and a strong fragrance of sandalwood blended with plumeria. Xiang Yu’s groan was a low, resonant vibration against Han Xin’s chest, a sound of pure fucking pleasure that went straight to Han Xin’s cock. Xiang Yu turned with his back towards Han Xin kneeling in the water.
Han Xin swiftly grabbed hold of him. His arms tightened, a possessive band of muscle around Xiang Yu’s torso, his hips finding a slow, grinding rhythm that made the water in the wooden tub slosh gently around their entangled figures. Feeling Xiang Yu’s pants that were down his thighs were getting in the way, he took them off and tossed them to the very edge of the tub.
"Fuck, Xin-ge..." Xiang Yu gasped, his head lolling back, the strong column of his throat exposed and begging to be tasted.
Han Xin obeyed the silent command, leaning in to press his mouth to that damp skin, nipping and sucking until a dark bloom began to form. His hands slid from the fierce embrace, his fingers making quick, efficient work of the sash holding Xiang Yu’s inner shirt closed. The thin fabric fell open, revealing a sculpted chest, water droplets catching on the hard planes of his abs, beading on the tight, dark peaks of his nipples.
Han Xin didn’t hesitate. His palms slid around, cupping the heavy muscle of Xiang Yu’s chest, his thumbs finding those nipples and rolling them, pinching them between his fingers until they were hard, little pebbles. Xiang Yu arched into the touch, a broken sound escaping his lips. "Yes... right there. Don’t fucking stop."
"I have no intention of stopping," Han Xin growled against his ear, his voice rough with want. He kissed a wet trail from Xiang Yu’s shoulder up to the sensitive spot just behind his ear, his hips never ceasing their steady, promising push against the cleft of Xiang Yu’s ass.
The steam coiled around them, partially concealing their bodies, painting a lewd, panting picture of desire.
Han Xin’s hand dipped into the water, fingers slicking through the heat to find the entrance that had already loosened up. He spat into his palm, the crude gesture somehow intensely erotic, and slicked his own length, the pre-cum already beading at the tip making the glide easier. He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against that tight, clenching hole. He pushed in.
Xiang Yu’s gasp was sharp, a violent intake of breath as his body yielded, stretching to take Han Xin’s girth. He leaned his head back fully, resting its weight on Han Xin’s shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. Han Xin slid one hand up to caress Xiang Yu’s throat, not squeezing, just holding, feeling the frantic pulsebeat there as he pushed deeper, deeper, until he was fully sheathed in that incredible, tight heat once more.
"Ah fuck.... you feel good," Han Xin groaned, turning his head to capture Xiang Yu’s lips in a savage, claiming kiss. Xiang Yu moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by Han Xin’s tongue. His own cock, hard and leaking, bobbed in the water with every slight movement.
Han Xin began to move, a slow, deep withdrawal followed by a hard, driving thrust that made the water surge around them. His free hand roamed over Xiang Yu’s stomach, caressing the defined ridges of his abs, feeling the muscles clench and jump under his palm. He shifted his angle slightly, searching for it, and then he found it. He drove into that sweet spot with his next thrust.
Xiang Yu’s whole body trembled violently. A high, keening whine was torn from his throat, a sound Han Xin had heard from him before. "Ahh there! Husband, fuck, right there!"
Han Xin’s rhythm became punishing, each thrust a deliberate, powerful stroke aimed directly at that bundle of nerves that was unmaking the man in his arms. Xiang Yu’s groans climbed in pitch, becoming desperate, needy. His hand splashed into the water, gripping his own cock, stroking himself in time with Han Xin’s relentless invasion.
"Mm... mm... I am so close... fuck," Xiang Yu panted, his words slurred with pleasure. "Fuckkkk, Xin-ge... Ah Xin-ge..."
Hearing his name called like that, so sweetly and so wrecked, was Han Xin’s undoing. He buried his face in Xiang Yu’s shoulder, sinking his teeth into the muscle there in a gentle, possessive bite as he thrust long and hard, burying himself to the hilt. "Yu Yu!" he roared, his own climax crashing over him. His vision whited out as he pulsed inside, filling him, his body convulsing with the force of his release.
The sound of his name triggered Xiang Yu’s own end. He convulsed, his back arching, his hand working furiously over his cock before he came with a choked cry, his seed mixing with the bathwater, his body shaking through the aftershocks.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged panting and the gentle lap of water against the sides of the tub. The steam continued to rise, obscuring their spent forms. Han Xin kept his arms wrapped around Xiang Yu, still buried inside him, both of them trembling from the intensity.
It didn’t take long before Xiang Yu was begging for more and Han Xin still hard and hungry, was more than willing to continue.
His fingers curled at the edge of the wooden tub, his knuckles turning a stark white as he clutched the smooth, wet rim. Every muscle in his back was a taut, rigid cord.
Hot water sloshed over the side, dripping onto the stone floor with a steady, rhythmic tap tap tap that was utterly drowned out by the sound of his own ragged groans.
Han Xin’s name was a choked prayer on his lips, a sound torn from somewhere deep and raw inside him. His husband’s grip on his waist was absolute, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, sure to leave dark, beautiful bruises that Xiang Yu would trace with reverence tomorrow. Each powerful, driving thrust from Han Xin sent a shockwave through Xiang Yu’s entire body, jolting him forward, the edge of the tub digging into his stomach. The water churned around them, a chaotic, warm vortex matching the tempest Han Xin was stirring within him.
"Fuck, Yu Yu," Han Xin growled, his voice a low, gravelly thing that vibrated through Xiang Yu’s very bones. His hand slid from Xiang Yu’s waist, up the slick plane of his back, and wrapped around his throat possessively.
Han Xin’s palm was searing hot against his skin, the pressure just enough to make Xiang Yu’s head spin, to make every one of his nerves sing with absolute submission. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel~fire~net