Chapter 2.

The sun shone through the curtains, gleaming brightly on his face. Unwelcome heat and blurred brilliance flooded his senses, waking him; unlike most other mornings, this one didn't begin with a kick-start. Yao's eyes fluttered open lazily, not ready to face yet another day, which was sure to be full of surprises as usual. Just as he was about to sit up with a vexed groan, he was dreadfully reminded of the past night's events by the pain and increased width he could feel at his entrance and... The awkward sloshing he heard when he turned from side to side. He cringed, wrinkling his nose.

Oh shit, forgot to clean THAT...

Finally managing to clench his ass, so that none more of the liquid would leak, he stood up and stretched his back, taking his time to flex the taut muscles. A soft smile had crept onto his lips as he turned and watched the Briton still snoozing peacefully, unhindered in his rest.

And then, one thought collided head on with his briefly-lived happiness.

"Ohfuckingdumplings, what am I to do?!"

He clamped his mouth, realizing he'd shouted. He hadn't dressed the man: possibly the worst mistake of his life. Now sweating nervously, Yao hurried off to the shower, mumbling away to himself and deciding he'd take care of one mess at a time.

"Oh this is bad, I don't know how he'll take it if he wakes up... Damn all this.."

Just as the Chinese man had his own problems to tend to, so did the Brit squirming uncomfortably in the sheets, who appeared to be regaining some kind of consciousness.

All around Arthur was suddenly hot, very hot. Dark clouds of smoke surrounded his view, making it difficult to perceive clearly where he was.

He was laying somewhere, and the ground seemed to melt beneath his skin. He tried to stand up, but his body just wouldn't respond to his commands. The Englishman looked up and… Was that... A volcano? What the hell?! Then he heard somebody's voice. Wait, did that mean that the volcano was actually talking? Yeah, it was… It said something about dumplings… What.

What the fuck is going on here.. Agh!

A deadly shock of pain coursed through his spine, shooting up to his brain, making him crumble to his knees and lift his hands to hold his temples. Arthur shut his eyes, waiting for the torment to end. When he opened them, the light that pierced his pupils made him regret his action immediately; it may have been a dream, but the headache was certainly real.

Goddamn hangover. What the… Oh God.

He sat up, clutching his head in his hands, and looked around himself, only to find that he was alone in the room. Questions, so many bloody questions asked and left unanswered. The place felt terribly familiar, although he just couldn't put his finger on it… Leaving that to later thought, another query came to mind: why was he completely naked and laying on a couch in someone's house? Moreover, he didn't even know what had happened the night before, nor what could've led to this; simply fantastic. Well, considering his pitiful situation, it really wasn't such a bad thing.

Meanwhile, Yao quickly stripped, carelessly leaving his boxers on the bathroom floor, then jumped into the shower to cleanse himself. Taking care of certain things after sex was never pleasant, no matter how good it had been, and goddammit had this been spectacular...!

Drunk or not, the erotic ambassador sure knows how to... Yao slapped himself mentally and immediately got to work. Stretching himself out once again to let all of the Briton's come out, he groaned loudly at the horrifying feeling of the lukewarm, gooey liquid running down his leg.

"Nngh.. God, Arthur, how long have you held back...?"

As the last drops slipped out, he retracted his fingers and washed the rest of himself thoroughly, wondering how long it would take before he could walk normally again.

Idiotic Englishman, I hope YOU get to fucking bottom next time...

His mind wandered as his gaze did; the jet of hot water above his head sent little, transparent droplets flying down at him, which drenched his pale skin. The heated humidity made it a bit hard to breathe inside the shower, it felt like he was suffocating in the feverish temperature he was enclosed in.

His back arched, his eyes opened wide along with his mouth in a loud moan—Arthur's body was too close to his own, it was too damn hot. Those lips traced his inner thigh, sending flashes of arousal into his cock, and breathy moans came soon after, though he didn't know who'd voiced them. He was burning, his skin blazed, an inferno raged.

How many time's he'd imagined these scenes, Yao couldn't even fathom, and for one night he'd managed to have the Briton all to himself. Good, so damn good…

And obviously, moments later, after having opened his eyes and cast a glance at the water swirling down the drain, he noticed was erect. Sighing in desperation, he started fondling himself, unaware of how loud his moans really were.

Hands clasping the sides of his head, almost tearing out strands of blond hair, Arthur ranted to himself, unable to remember anything. How much did he drink?!

"Never again, I swear…"

Yeah, he'd said so last time, the time before that, and… Never mind. The more worrying fact was that he'd slept with somebody, if the dirty couch, the dozens of beer bottles all over the floor and his own clothes strewn on the sheets that barely covered his crotch meant anything at all. And clearly he hadn't bottomed, or his ass would've been a complete mess. N-not that he knew that by experience or anything, absolutely not!

Now the biggest question remaining was: with whom did he have the pleasure to shag? Ah, fuck it. He couldn't think straight since his head hurt too much.

Only one thought appeared in his foggy mind.

I need to piss.

He got up, legs still weak, stumbling quite a couple of times. When he reached the hallway, Arthur realized that he had no idea of where he was going, but then the sound of running water hit his ears and without a moment's hesitation, he went straight for the door where the noise was coming from. Arthur opened it fiercely and ran to the water closet, sighing in relief as his bladder emptied. Suddenly, as the Englishman took in the fact that he'd been led to this room for one specific reason, he looked over at the shower and saw the figure inside it: he could distinguish long, dark hair, which was enough to send him collapsing onto the toilet seat.

Knees feeling weak as the water pelted his bare skin and stimulated his frayed nerves, Yao leaned panting against the cold, tiled shower wall. His imagination ran wild, with the fresh, vivid and unrestrained memories of the past night tainting his thoughts relentlessly.

Getting off now wouldn't feel anywhere as good as the earlier climax, but he could only imagine it did while his hands became poor substitutes for Arthur's penetration and soft touches.

"Nngh, Arthur... Oh, fuck, so thick... Go in, I'll be your bitch..."

Spit dripped down his jaw as his fingers' attention was divided: the right hand went to pump his shaft slow and hard, the left went to poke into his entrance, quickly gaining access since it'd been opened so roughly just a few hours ago. Uncontrollably moaning the Briton's name, he rocked back onto his own fingers, taking them in further and trying to touch his sweet spot; a feather light caress over his prostate was enough to send him over the edge.

He nearly swooned when the release left his body.

Wet hair splattered onto his forehead and stuck uncomfortably to his neck, Yao slumped against the damp wall. Closing his eyes and mechanically turning off the water, then opening the shower box, he stood shell-shocked (and stark naked) in front of the Englishman who still sat on the toilet.

"..."

Awkward, dead silence. Blood pounding in Yao's ears. This time, he really did faint.

Arthur stared at the man who keeled over in front of him, not really knowing what to do. He blinked a few times, his massive eyebrows furrowing into a miffed expression. Trying to put all the pieces back together, the memories of the previous night hit him like a stab in a bleeding wound.

Shit.

He stood up, not averting his gaze from Yao, deciding that it was best not to leave him on the floor like that.

The Brit took a large, creamy white towel and began wrapping the other man in it, until a shade of bright pink stained his cheeks. Jesus, this was embarrassing.

So soon as he finished, one arm went to the Chinese's back, the other under his knees, and he lifted him easily, finding Yao surprisingly light. He headed for the door and dashed headlong into the long hallway, looking for the man's bedroom.

"Bollocks! Where the bleeding hell am I supposed to go?!"

Once he finally found it, he went straight to the bed, placing the man in his arms on it gently, and observed him for a few moments. The slim form of his white body lay peacefully on the mattress, it really looked like he was knocked out. His eyes skimmed those slim, birdlike legs, and when they stopped at his hips, the sight of his own hands gripping them tight appeared suddenly in his mind, making him flush and look away. He coughed, trying to hide his growing arousal.

"Need to... Uh... Find some water." he said, swiftly walking back to the door, not sure whether he needed it for the man or himself.