It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. He knew it was wrong. How could he not? It was wrong when the Xingese bastard had been himself. It was wrong for him to be like this with another male. It was wrong for him to be like this with anybody, really, when his brother was sitting, waiting patiently for him to come back, locked in the unfeeling body that he had trapped the poor boy in. It was wrong no matter what. But this was the worst.
It wasn't even Ling.
Of course, there was no denying that the body over him was the prince's, or that the mouth assaulting his own was the prince's. But this was not the prince. This was an abomination, stuck in the prince's body. Not the prince. Not his prince.
Okay, that train of thought had to end right there. The prince had never been his, and especially not after…
No, the prince had never been his and thinking about it would only make him feel worse. Even though it shouldn't. There was no reason for hurt, because he would never open himself up enough for hurt. Anything said was said amidst yelling and screaming and fucking and it meant nothing. All it had been was a mutual agreement for two overly stressed young men, a way to let their frustrations out.
Sexual and otherwise.
But as hands tightened around him and a mouth travelled down to assault his neck (resulting in a low moan, which he quickly stifled) he couldn't help but think that through all the yelling and ranting and fighting, when it finally came down to this, Ling's touch had always been gentler, kinder, somehow.
Less…greedy. He almost laughed at that. Of course, how appropriate.
This was not Ling.
But what did it matter? The person over him still had a warm body.
The mouth now travelled downward, licking and nipping before closing over a perking nipple. He gasped out. No more, he decided. Get on with it, he tried to tell the one who stole the prince's body (no, he didn't steal it, it was given up) by bringing his leg up between the legs of the person over him, causing a low groan. Eyes connected, until he couldn't look anymore. (He couldn't even see Ling in there at all. (Ling was still in there, right?)
The thoughts stopped short when he felt a sudden probing intrusion. He gasped out and shifted from the uncomfortable feeling. He complained, there was bickering, until finally lubrication in the form of cooking oil was found.
There was nothing playful in their bickering, none of the spark in the dark eyes. It was just cold and snapping. Ling had always been more teasing.
First one finger, and soon after, two, scissoring inside him. This person was going quicker than he would have liked. The prince had always been patient, taking the time to make sure he was ready, until he was so ready that he was the one getting impatient. A third finger entered him, stretching him out while curling ad searching before finding the spot that would make him moan. Not that he didn't fight it.
The prince's face curled into a smirk. (It was wrong, all wrong. That wasn't Ling's smirk at all. Ling's was never that cold, just far too self-satisfied.)
He made himself ignore it. He made himself avert his eyes. And when he felt the other's member (it's ok, it's Ling, just pretend it's Ling) push into his body, he stopped himself from bringing his arms around the other, instead gripping the bed sheets.
This person didn't wait for permission to start moving, the way Ling always waited for a sign he was ready.
Each thrust was painful, even after the preparation, until…there. He felt that spot get hit, that perfect spot hit, filling him with an addictive feeling and making him cry out, arching his back. He now moved in rhythm with the other's thrusts, as each now hit him just right. He focused his eyes on the chest above him, slicked with sweat, moving with the rest of the body. This, at least hadn't changed.
There was a hot feeling in his stomach, and he felt the tightening, knowing he couldn't hold it in much longer. No, at least he would keep this shred of dignity. He wouldn't finish before the other. Surely he could at least do that.
But he couldn't and he warned the other only a second before the white liquids spilled onto both of their chests, his own vision turning white as the wave overcame him. A moment later, he felt the other's hot seed fill him. They rode out their orgasms together, before the person in the Prince's body pulled out and move off of him.
And then that person was gone.
And he was left alone with his own thoughts. And just like every time before, he most certainly didn't cry. He didn't even want to, for that matter. Even if he had grown attached to the damn prince. Sure he and the prince had spent a lot of time together, sure the prince had probably known his frustrations better than anyone else, because the prince was the one who he took them out on. He didn't have to worry about hurting Ling, or worrying Ling. He didn't have to worry about anything, he could just scream and be violent and then get rid of that nasty impulse his damn hormones were giving him, and all he had to do was let the prince yell back. And that wasn't exactly hard, in fact, it made his own shouting easier.
Things had started getting a bit weird, sure, when his yelling had turned to talking, to admitting things because he could, not because he had to. When the prince had started showing up to make sure he wasn't getting himself hurt. When the prince had taken the time to give a light caress here, a soft kiss there. When the prince had stopped yelling and started calming him down, and vice versa. But that was just what was bound to happen after awhile. Yelling couldn't last forever. And the act felt better with those things mixed in. Different, but better.
But it didn't actually mean anything. And the fact that it ate him up inside that it wasn't Ling didn't mean anything. The fact that he had to stand outside the door to calm himself down before he could possibly face his brother didn't mean anything. The fact that he almost actually wanted Ling back didn't mean anything.
For all his wanting, there was no meaning. He was just greedy. Or so he would continue to tell himself.
AN: Oh wow, creative title. Anyway, this is my first, so please be gentle! R&R