Warning: Swearing and some violence. Yaoi Lemon at the end.

Chapter Six: Pink Chrysanthemum

Chein Po hummed softly to himself as he made his way through the trees. He had needed to go and relieve himself but then wanted to sit by the river to meditate before retiring to bed. He heard rustling and stopped humming and looked around, muscle tense and ready to defend himself against any surprises that would jump at him. He spied a shadow going past him a few yards away and stared, recognizing Captain Li. The man seemed to be upset and unaware of his surrounding. He started to follow but paused, glancing over his shoulder for some reasons and spotted a pink shape several more yards farther out, closer to the river. He turned and made his way silently as he could with his massive body.

He felt his heart wrench at the sight when he got to the bank of the river. Curled up in a tight ball was Ping, huddled over his knees and hugging his legs tight. He could hear the young man struggled to control his breathing. He knelt and gingerly touched Ping's back and saw him jerked but stilled. "Ping?" He asked.

Ping looked up over his shoulder to see Chein Po and flustered. He had thought he would calm down but broke down again as memories attacked him. He sat up and rubbed his eyes furiously, smearing the makeup across his face. He glanced down at his sleeves and cursed, dipping it in the river to soak it and clean his face. Chein Po waited, watching him.

Finally, Ping sat back on his heels and sighed, "I'm fine," he sounds forced.

Adjusting himself to sit cross-legged and slipped his hands into his sleeves over his round belly, he replied gently, "you are not. You are upset, and that is clear. I have seen Captain Li heading back to the camp." He saw Ping drop his head and his hands began to comb his long hair, he assumed out of nerves. "Has he upset you about your performance tonight?"

"No."

An eyebrow rose, "oh. I see. Then it was a lover spat." Ping shot a disbelieving look at Chein Po and stammered, but the man pinned him down with a glance and quieted. "It is not that hard to notice. It is a habit of mine to observe people. People often ignore me because of my size and soft nature growing up, and I learned to observe people passing the time. That's how I learn who to trust and who not to trust." He nodded to himself, "of all men in the army, there are few that I do not feel trustworthy and Chi Fu is one of them. He may believe he is above everyone, but he is also greedy."

Ping chuckled weakly, "I think everyone saw that."

Chein Po smiled and turned to the smaller man. "When I first saw you, I saw something special in you. I knew somehow you will bring this army a gift. I also saw how you and the Captain look at each other. It was clear you both knew each other before coming here."

Ping exhaled a long sigh and found himself calmer than before. Chein Po seemed to have that kind of effect on everyone, it was his special gift, much like he was gifted in singing and dancing. The man was trustworthy, and he felt he could trust him. "Yes. Our fathers are good friends and were comrades in the past. Shang," he paused and shook his head to correct himself, "Captain Li and I met about a month ago when he and his father visited our home to rest before coming here. We became close."

"Very close, I presume?"

Ping peered up to the other man through his hair and nodded meekly. His quiet voice confirmed, "we were lovers until tonight. He decided to end things to avoid troubles."

"Ah, I see." Chein Po replied, and they became silent watching the river shimmer under the half moon.

Ping's mind whirled with memories, and his lips began to quivers, and he cursed himself for being so weak and rubbed his eyes to prevent any more tears. He finally broke the silence, pain lacing his voice, "it hurts when he does that. I understand why he did, but it still hurts."

The larger man withdrew his hand from his sleeves and patted Ping on the back gently. "There is no gain without pain. He did what he believed was right. Perhaps he was afraid of being weak, you do have that power to sway men with your voice, your look, and movement. I would believe you would be able to bring down the Huns with a song and a dance." Ping gave a small giggle at the thought.

Chein Po smiled and continued, "but be strong. If you and Captain Li are tied together with red string, you both will find your ways back together. Right now, it seems not to be ideal. If you two truly love each other, trust in that and be patient."

Ping felt the burden he did not know ease off his shoulders and his heart's pain lessen. It still hurts, but Chein Po's words were a soothing balm. "Thank you." They fell silent, sitting together and gazing upon the glittering slow moving river in comfortable silence.

After the moon had reached its zenith, Ping stood up and brushed the pink gown and turned to Chein Po, "thank you for your words. Please do not tell anyone else, I would not want Captain Li to lose face."

Chein Po stood up and bowed his head, smiling gently. "It is not mine to tell."

Ping smiled and nodded, "good night. See you in the morning."

The larger man watched as Ping made his way back to the tent, he looked down to see a chrysanthemum on the ground and remembered that Ping had worn it in his hair earlier. He picked it up and observed the flower. Indeed there was a red string between the two men, and they did not know it yet. He let the flower drop from his hand and left it there.

WhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemumWhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemumWhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemum

The next few weeks were the hardest for Ping. He struggled through the training and constantly flinched inwardly at Shang's disapproving look. The other men were improving slowly, but it was painfully obvious Ping lagged farther behind, lost every sparring fights, could not hit any targets, stumbled and fell. The only saving grace of his own was his balance and grace that kept him on his feet and persistent stubbornness that kept him going.

Shang withdrew emotionally farther and farther as he went on day by day. He no longer found joy or pride of being a soldier training the men, they proved to be a difficult bunch. He felt like he was on a decline of failing and disappointing his father. It was even disappointing having to watch Ping fail in about everything constantly. He had not allowed Ping to give out any more performance because he felt the men did not deserve it, also at the same time, he thought he did not deserve to watch Ping sing or dance.

He started to lead his group up the mountain run, "Time is racing toward us, 'til the Huns arrive," he told the men and led the run. The group ran along the trail, each had a bamboo stick over their back with sandbags on each end. "Heed my every order, and you might survive."

Halfway up the trail, Chi Fu gestured toward the back with a condescending look. Shang looked back to find Ping had fallen and struggled to get up. He ran back, it was not the first time, and he grabbed the stick from the smaller man's back. Ping gaped as he looked up and fisted the ground in frustration and got up, jogging along, remaining in the back and fuming to himself.

During archery practice at night, learning to dodge the flaming arrows. Ping was among the group that was to shoot the arrows. He pulled back the bowstring and watched as Ling ran across. He recalled how the man had teased him the first few days and aimed at the man's feet, intending to hit near his feet. The arrows had no tips, just blunt end with a swaddled cloth dipped in oil and lit up. He let loose, and his eyes went wide, his aim had hit the target, the right on Ling's end, sending the man hollering and hopping around trying to get the fire to stop burning his pants. He snickered under his breath and saw Shang shot him a look and sobered up.

Ling had managed to get the fire out and came to collapse next to Ping, "I wonder who shot that one!"

"Payback," Ping muttered darkly. "For the beetle and apple."

Ling gaped at him with surprise, pointing the finger at the smaller man, "You shot that arrow?"

"So what of it?"

Ling grinned and slapped Ping's back, sending him off balance. "Well, fair is fair. I think your aim is getting better."

"Like that matters." Ping got up as it was his turn to do the run.

Shang had overheard the conversation and guilt ate away at him. He was impressed that Ping had been holding his own so far, but he was not up to par yet. He suspected that he might need to send Ping home soon, for his own safety and the army's safety, given if he does not show more improvement. It was minimal but not enough. He gave the order, "Fire," and watched as Ping maneuvered through the flaming arrows. He could see that he had been using his grace and graceful movement to avoid getting singed. Perhaps there is some good advantage of having a small body, he hoped.

Training continued on. Ling and Yao ended up pranking Ping often and getting pranked back in return. It became common nearly daily, there was something new each day and the soldiers found it amusing. Ping would find snakes in his bed and retaliate with frogs in the other men's bowl of porridges. Ping had his clothes stolen and had to show up to training with the pink gown and Shang had ordered him to go back and get properly dressed. Ping had snuck in Yao's tent to find his clothes and ripped the seams in all of the man's pants. Yao ended up tearing his pants the next several days, showing his hairy bottom to the world. Ling replaced Ping's oils with itchy oils. Ping had shown up with welts all over his body and dumped the oil in Ling's rice bowl as he was eating it. Ling had, unfortunately, took a bite of his food and his tongue was swollen for a couple days. It went on back and forth to the army's amusement.

The started to practice shooting rockets, they were to aim and shoot the rocket to hit a target in the field. No one managed to hit the target and was way off. Shang rubbed his face in frustration. It seems that men could not understand simple math. He looked up, remembering Ping had been a good strategist and hoped perhaps the smaller man would be able to hit the target. He searched in the darkness to find him and spied him. Ping was angling his rocket, and a surge of hope rose in him. Ping has seemed to be angling the rocket correctly, carefully measuring the distance and was about to strike the fuse.

Then all the sudden, once the fuse lit and he was not sure what had happened, the rocket seemed to lose balance and Ping grabbed the rocket to hold it up, forgetting it was already lit. He winced as the rocket blasted with a loud explosion. He gasped as he watched the rocket flare way off course and toward the campsite. It landed on a tent near his own with a loud explosion, and the tent erupted in flame. He saw Chi Fu standing outside the tent, looking shell-shocked. He groaned in frustration and glared at Ping before shouting, "That's it! We're done!" And he stormed down to the campsite.

Ping looked on in shock, holding the empty smoking barrel. He had everything perfectly aligned and all set to fire the rocket. But the legs that held the rocket had been kicked underneath, and all he could think were to grab it before it fell, thinking it would explode right then on everyone. But it did in his arms, searing big time and covering his face in soot. He slowly glanced up to see Ling covering his mouth, torn between deciding to laugh or apologize. Ling had kicked his rocket off balance on purpose.

He threw down the rocket and stood up and shouted, "you did that on purpose! How dare you!" He jumped and tackled the thinner man and started to pound on Ling's face, all the same, time screaming in frustration and anger.

Shang had run to see if Chi-Fu suffered any damage and found him to be all right, having only just exited the tent just before it exploded. He was just charred on the back side. He then heard shouting and looked up to see men gathering in a circle around the commotions.

Chi Fu looked up and asked, "are your men fighting?"

Shang was at a loss, "what? That can't be." He jogged back up the hill and pushed his way through the crowd to find Ping and Ling fighting, rolling on the ground, punches flying. He narrowed his eyes and stepped in to break the fight. He got caught in the jaw by Ping's excellent roundhouse. He shook his head in surprise and observed briefly that Ling and Ping were actually fighting with the skills they learned from military combat. Having enough, he grabbed the smaller man to pry him off Ling. "Stop this right now!"

"He did it!" Ping spat, spitting blood out of his mouth. He was sporting a black eye, scratches and bruises littered his face. Ling looked no better. "He made me lose my target on purpose!"

"That's enough. You two, my tent now!" Shang bit out and dropped Ping down, pointing down the hill to the campsite. Ping started to object, and Shang pinned him down with furious a glare, "now!" He turned to the others, "clean up this mess and go to your tents. I do not want to hear anything more tonight." The soldiers scrambled to clean up, and Shang stormed down the hill, following Ping and Ling.

Once they reached the tent, he ushered them into his tent and demanded them to kneel before him and bow their heads, hands on the ground. Chi Fu tutted beside him and stroking on his paper with his brush. Shang's eye twitched at the sound of the brushstrokes. He glared at the two men prostrate before him.

"Several weeks now, you two had been at each other with petty pranks. Tonight, your pranks had gone too far!" He was aware of the pranks and was secretly impressed that Ping had held his ground and retaliated back every time. It was amusing at first, but as it has gone on, it became tiring and bordering dangerously until now.

Ping winced at Shang's angry words and closed his eyes, keeping his forehead to the ground. He did not know why he had jumped to beat Ling senselessly. Ling had fought back as well.

Shang continued, "I am not sure if I want to hear your explanations." He glanced at Ling, "Ling?"

The skinny man rose to his knees but kept his head down. "I have only intended to make this fun, to keep the spirit up," he quietly replied.

Ping whispered faintly, "my ass."

"Ping!" Shang snapped, having heard the comment. "Explain yourself!"

Ping rose and turned his head up defiantly to meet Shang's angry eyes with his own furious eyes. Chi Fu gasped and shouted, "disobedient! I knew it! Keep your eyes down!"

Ping refused, ignoring the governor and spoke, his voice even, "it did start out as playful pranks. Ling and Yao had chosen me as their main target, and I felt that I needed to retaliate to hold my position and not being viewed as a weak man. Yes, tonight we have gone too far and put a man's life at risk."

"No! It was a deliberate attempt!" Chi Fu spat.

Shang shot his hand up to Chi Fu and growled, "shut up. It was not a deliberate attempt, and I have witnessed it myself. Not another word out of you and I don't give a fuck if you run off to the Emperor at the moment." Chi Fu stammered and shut his mouth, his eyes wide. Shang turned back to the two men, "Ling, starting tomorrow, you are on latrine duty for a week, and Yao will help you."

Ling winced and bowed to the ground, "Yes, sir."

"Tell Yao and get out of here," Shang told him, and Ling scrambled and escaped the tent.

Ping stared at the Captain, waiting for his punishment. Chi Fu narrowed his beady eyes at him and muttering under his breath to himself about proper punishments for little ducks. Shang clenched his hands at his sides and closed his eyes in deep frustration and bit out, struggling to control his voice, "Chi Fu. Shut the fuck up and get out. I will handle Soldier Fa."

Ping winced at the use of his name but refused to drop his eyes. He did not want to look down timidly anymore. He had enough of being a weaker man. Chi Fu sputtered and turned on his heel and strode out of the tent, muttering how he will report the incident to the Emperor and General Li.

Shang clenched his fist several times before forcing himself to relax slightly and stepped up to Ping, looking down at the defiant eyes that stared back at him under the mask of soot. The eyes were beautiful, glittering and so full of fire. He regretted not having seen it before, the strength and the fire within Ping. He knew his next words were going to be a lie, but it had to be done. "You are on the bottom of the list in this camp, with the lowest scores. There is no redeeming you to allow you to stay on. You are unsuited for the rage of war." He felt his chest go hollow, "So, pack up, go home. You're through."

Ping felt the air leave him, choking him as he stared up at Shang's hard face. He stood up and bowed before turning to leave the tent.

The Captain watched as Ping left and sagged once the flap fell down. He murmured more to himself, "How could I make a man out of you?" He felt thoroughly exhausted, and the guilt gnawed at him even worse. His heart and head ached. He did not want to see Ling go, he did not want to hurt him, but it had to be done. He told himself it was because Ping had not shown any improvement and unsuited. But it was a lie. Ping was actually starting to show improvement, he was at his turning point. He sent him home because he wanted Ping to be safe, to wait for him to come home after the war like a good wife and greet him with a beautiful smile and loving arms. He slumped down on his bed and buried his head in his hands, cursing himself. It was not going to happen, the damage has been done. They parted with pain and anger.

Ping had gone and packed his small tent silently and was ready in no time at all. He strapped his bag onto Khan's saddle and then grabbed the reins, leading the giant horse through the camp. His mind went to his family as he walked past the tents. He was afraid of his father's reaction. He had dishonored his family by failing in the army. He is a ghost now. Maybe he should do his family a favor and not return home, but go somewhere else and make a living on his own. He could find another opera house and go under a different name.

He led Khan through the camp, the road he needed to take was on the other side. Everyone had gone to sleep, and the moon was at its zenith. He felt hollow as he trudged along the path. Khan nickered softly, nudging his shoulder in comfort, sensing his master's troubles.

"I'm fine, Khan," Ping told the horse softly, patting its nose. "Let's go home."

As he passed the center of the camp, he saw the discs on the ground beside the pole and frowned. He recalled his father saying something a long time ago, "You can't have discipline without strength, or the other way around. They are tied together."

Ping understood instantly and picked up the discs. He finds that his strength had improved since the last time he had picked them up and it dawned on him that he was actually slowly getting better. It was just that they did not notice it yet.

"Be a man," Ping started and tied the discs together, joining the two and slung it around the pole, pulling it tight. "We must be swift as a coursing river," He started to climb the pole, using the discs to make his way up. "With all the force of a great typhoon," it wasn't difficult, but it took some effort to hold on and keep going. All he had to do was to find a way to do his best by using the advantage his small body could give. He exhaled, "with all the strength of a raging fire." Nearly the top, he was starting to have audience below, and they were cheering him on. He kept going, slipping every once in a while and made it to the top as dawn began to rise. He looked down and saw Shang stepping out of his tent. He grinned, finally understanding the meaning behind the words of being a man, and finally felt like he was a true man for the first time in his life and said, "mysterious as the dark side of the moon." He flung the arrow down and gave a look to question Shang of his position in the army when he looked up.

Shang had heard cheering and wondered what was going on and stepped out of his tent to see soldiers around the pole. The arrow whizzed by him, making him look up in surprise to see Ping on the top. He smiled in pride and saw the question on Ping's face and nodded. He can stay after all. Ping had figured it out.

WhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemumWhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemumWhiteMagnoliaPinkChrysanthemum

Ping combed his long damp hair as he stood in the river. It had been a long week, but he felt relieved that he would not be sent home. He had proven himself by taking the arrow from the top of the pole and saw the pride shined in Shang's eyes. He had missed the man, and the training had taken the toll on their relationship. His failing was humiliating, and it had hurt, in his mind, body, and soul. But after retrieving the arrow, he was given another chance and proved that he did improve, being able to shoot and hit targets, launch a rocket and have it explode precisely on target, do the complex katas and hit Shang across the jaw in sparring fight and hold his own. Much to Chi Fu's displeasure, Ping had improved, and the entire army had harmonized and proved themselves to be worthy of the Imperial Army.

He heard the soft snap of a twig and glanced over his shoulder to see Shang standing there. "Hey." He said and turned back, running the comb through his hair once again. The entire week, the man had been giving secret smiles and prideful look every time Ping had done something.

Shang had wanted to see Ping and searched for him in the campsite, only to find his tent empty and saw the towel missing and made a guess that the younger man would be at the river washing up. Ping liked to be clean, and Shang appreciated that it made it all the better for him to taste Ping's skin. Thinking of kissing the pale skin of his lover that he had long missed caused him to groan in frustration and was about to throw the tent flap down but spied something on Ping's makeshift pillow, it was a pink chrysanthemum. He reached in the tent and picked it up. He brought it to his nose and inhaled its earthy scent, it wasn't sweet but smelled like earth after the rain. It seemed fitting for Ping, pink and delicate yet with a manly scent. Making his mind, he made his way to the river past the forest.

He stood there on the bank, watching as Ping run the comb through his long hair. His back was to the bank, and he could see Ping's slender form. The water was up to his hip, just hiding half of his buttock and below. Ping's graceful movement of combing his hair reminded him of a naked water goddess under the moonlight. He shifted and allowed his foot to break a twig, to alert the other man.

"Hey," was all he got from Ping and it felt like a stab to his heart. He could not blame Ping for his attitude, with what had happened that night a week ago. The training in the past several months had been hard, and Ping struggled most of all. His position as the Captain was stressful, especially under Chi Fu's beady eyes and being disappointed in his soldiers' failure caused him to direct it all upon Ping when he had really not intended to do.

With determination to make up to Ping, he kicked off his shoes and undressed. Soon, he was wading in the water toward Ping. The smaller man did not turn but tensed as Shang reached him. He reached out and grasped his shoulder, feeling the tension, "Ping."

Ping closed his eyes as he felt Shang's warm hand grasping his shoulder in a firm grip. It had meant that Shang was not going to let him slip off easily. He turned and faced him. He found they were standing toe to toe and he did not have to look up so much anymore, he had grown, and his eye level reached Shang's nose instead of his collarbones.

Shang had noticed this too. He reached and tilted Ping's chin to bring his eyes to meet his own. "You've grown. You lost your roundness." He allowed his hand to caress the angular face, it was still feminine but no longer cute like a girl. He had transformed into a mature beauty. He dropped his hand and stepped back, giving Ping room. He allowed his eyes to drop down, taking in the naked torso, noting the muscular definition that replaced the soft feature he once had. Ping had grown up in the past few months, and he regretted not noticing it until now.

Finally, Ping broke the silence, "what is it you want?"

Shang remembered why he came to the river in the first place and met with Ping's mysterious eyes. He ran his hand through his loose hair and replied, "I wanted to talk to you. I apologize for treating you like…"

"Shit? Garbage?" Ping suggested scathingly and crossed his arms and stood there with his hip cocked, he glared at the taller man. "Yeah, it's expected for a superior to treat his soldiers that fail again and again."

Shang looked ashamed, "I have no right to do so. I was stressed and disappointed and took most of it out on you."

Ping sighed and dropped his arms to his side and turned halfway away to look down the river. "It hurts when you did that to me. But…" He turned back and stepped up to Shang and reached to rest his hand on his chest, "it made me improve. Gave me enough motivation to prove myself when I thought I could not." He saw Shang's surprised look and continued, "don't think I forgive you for that. It is easy to take it out on someone who is closest to you, but the damage is harder to repair."

Shang covered Ping's hand with his own and brought it up to his lips, kissing the fingers. "You're right. What I did was not forgivable. You have proved to me this week alone, and I can see that you can improve further. You have become one of the best soldiers now." He turned the hand he held over and inspected it idly, noting the calluses. It wasn't there before. "I can't promise that I would stop mistreating you, I am not perfect, and I do get angry and upset sometimes. I wanted to make it up to you every time I hurt you, but I was a coward. Tonight, I decided to stop being a coward and come to you and apologize."

Ping softened at his words and nodded, "Shang," he started and felt the other man's strong arms wrap around his slender waist and bring him close as their chests touched. He had missed his touches and the feel of his skin on his. He stood on his toes slightly, not having to reach far up and kissed Shang. He had missed the Captain so much.

Shang tightened his embrace and returned the kiss with more passions. He felt like the world of burdens eased from his shoulders the moment the lips touched his own. He could never have enough of Ping. He still smelled like magnolia blossoms, and he missed that. He felt Ping's leg rise and wrap around his waist to draw them closer and groaned. His member became hard and rubbed against Ping's length. He moved his lips to trail hot, open-mouthed kiss down his neck and his collarbone. Ping's hands wrapped in his hair and clenched.

He reached down with his hands and grasped Ping's bottom and lifted him up, feeling the slender legs wrap around his waist. He turned and slowly made his way back to the bank while kissing Ping's lips, making them red and swollen. He sucked at the bottom of the lips and heard him mewl in pleasure. With every step through the water, their groins rubbed together, and it became almost unbearable.

Finally reaching the bank, Shang reached and pulled his tunic and laid it down under Ping and allowed him to lie back on the ground. He began to rock his hip against Ping and ran his hand across his chest and teased his nipple. Ping threw his head back and moaned softly, bucking his hips against Shang in rhythm.

"Please… Shang," Ping begged softly and pushed against Shang to get him to lift off him slightly, "wait."

Shang frowned and looked down at Ping and asked, "what is it?"

With redness rising to his cheeks, Ping bit his swollen lip before replying softly, "I want to do it."

"Do what?" Shang asked, confused.

Ping pulled Shang down and whispered in his ear, "pink chrysanthemum."

Shang blinked and frowned as he looked back at Ping. It only took a moment for him to realize what the other man meant. "Oh… oh!" Ping nodded and twisted under Shang's arm to reach to his supplies and pulled a bag and dug into it before bringing out a small pot. He turned back and held it to Shang. He took it, confused at the pot.

"Oil. You will need to use oil for it. That's my magnolia blossom oil," Ping explained, blushing.

Shang glanced down at the pot and smiled. He uncorked it and smelled it, finally figuring out why Ping had always smelled like the magnolia blossom. "This is what you use…"

Ping laughed, "yes. I use that for my skin to keep it soft. I love the smell."

"So do I. Every time I smell it, I think of you. I can not think otherwise. My White Magnolia."

Ping laid back and spread his legs wide, showing his most intimate parts to the older man, his face dusted pink, "Please, be gentle."

Shang felt his member throb painfully at the sight of Ping spread wide eagle before him, offering his body. He swallowed hard and glanced down to the pot in his hand before looking up to see the pink chrysanthemum below Ping's sack. He could see it pulsing under the moonlight and felt his throat go dry.

He tilted the bottle to let the oil slick his fingers. He did not need much, it was slippery and brought himself to settle in between Ping's legs and reached down, letting his fingers circle the puckered hole. He watched as Ping gasp at the coolness of the oil and made a tiny wince as he slipped a finger in. He leaned down and whispered, "relax… I'll go slow."

Ping nodded, "yeah. It feels strange." He gasped as Shang started to thrust his finger in and out. Soon, the uncomfortable feeling was gone and gasped as he felt sensation build up in the depth of his abdomen. It was strange as it was coming from behind his member, much deeper. He wondered if that was what women felt like, feeling from the inside.

Shang felt the muscle around his finger relax and throb against his finger, sucking him in. He added a second one and watched in pleasure as Ping's face contorted into different expressions of desire. He moved them in and out and twisted his fingers around, trying to find where Ping would feel the most pleasure. Soon, Ping was panting and mewling. He spread his fingers open, testing the hole.

Ping gasped as Shang's fingers started to do strange things to him. He threw his head back and whined, "please!"

A third finger was added, and Shang found that Ping was stretched out enough and relaxed. He withdrew and poured some more oil before setting it aside and rubbed his throbbing length until it was slick. He moved closer and allowed his tip to push at the entrance. Ping grasped his shoulders and Shang leaned down, kissing his lips, drawing the plump lip to suckle on it and bite gently. He pushed in and gasped as the heat enveloped his length, sucking him in deeper.

Ping's eyes went wide as he felt the tip go in and grasped on Shang's shoulder tightly. It was not as painful, and he was grateful that Shang was going in slowly, filling and stretching him. He let out a lustful moan as Shang filled him to the hilt and breathed hard. He felt full, so deeply connected to the man above him.

Shang grimaced at the throbbing heat that surrounded him. It was so not like bedding a woman! Ping was tight and so hot and drew him in deep, and it was beyond wonderful. He felt like he was going to come right then but held back, he did not want to finish so soon. He rested his head on Ping's shoulder, waiting for the intense sensation to settle. He felt Ping start to move against him and gasped. He heard his mewling begging and drew back out until his tip was the only thing left in and pushed back in. Ping's nails bit on his shoulder, and he gave a small scream. Shang repeated the motion starting slow and increasing the speed. Ping's legs wrapped around him, holding him tight. He kissed his lover as he lost himself in the sensation.

Ping let out moans and mewls every time Shang pushed back in him, filling him up over and over. Soon, Shang found the sensitive spot inside him and started to hit that particular spot over and over faster. They were panting and clenching at each other, meeting thrust for thrust. Shang's balls slapped against Ping's bottom, and he grasped Ping's member not to neglect the length and stroked in the rhythm of their thrusts.

"Ping!" Shang bit out, "I am coming…"

"Please, Shang!" Ping whimpered, "I am coming too… fill me up, please."

Shang groaned at how dirty Ping sounded, like a wanton concubine. He sped up and gasped as his member throbbed, spilling his life fluid deep inside Ping. Ping came too all over their chests, coating them in the sticky fluid.

Shang panted, trying to get his breathing under control. It felt much more intense than running the marathon, and he collapsed onto Ping. He could feel his lover stroking his back lazily and pulled himself out, causing a small moan and rolled over onto his back next to Ping. He gazed up at the stars and murmured, "that was something…"

Ping laughed softly and turned to mold his body to Shang's side and rest his head on the broad shoulder. "Yes… it was."

"Pink chrysanthemum?" Shang asked as he glanced down at Ping who laughed in response.


References/Notes in this chapter:

Duck: I couldn't find a better reference than this. Duck is a reference to paid boy-toy in Chinese culture for bored housewives. I tried to find better term but keep getting results to sites that I did not want to go to. x_x;

Being a ghost: in Chinese culture, if being disowned or without honor. A person is considered a ghost, no longer existing in the family's eyes. It's worse than being dead. (correct me if I am wrong)

Are you enjoying the story? Please do let me know. I'd like to hear your feedbacks, thanks!