Deep in the Act: Chapter 56

Gao Zhun rubbed his fingers strangely. It felt like something was stuck on his fingertips, like a woman’s foundation or something similar. He thought about it, couldn’t figure it out, took a quick shower, walked out. His luggage was already packed, standing alone by the wall. Zou Yun lay on the bed, back turned, saying very ordinarily: “I’m turning off the lights.”

The lights went dark. Gao Zhun got in bed. Almost the moment he lay down, Zou Yun turned over, his hand reaching to his chin, gently touching. Gao Zhun grabbed his hand, before he could brush it away, the person was already entwining around him. It was just fumbling and kissing, but Gao Zhun couldn’t take it, resisting in disgust. A silent struggle. Gao Zhun put in effort and pushed him away, turning his back.

Zou Yun sat up, whether enduring or angry, suppressing his breathing for a while, then flipped over and straddled Gao Zhun, forcefully turning his face, forcing him to look up. The curtains were drawn, the lights were off, logically you shouldn’t be able to see anything. But there was just that tiny bit of light, coming from somewhere, casting on Zou Yun’s face, letting Gao Zhun see him clearly.

“Do you absolutely have to go?” The muscles at the corner of Zou Yun’s mouth twitched, asking fiercely.

Gao Zhun nodded. Immediately, that hand slid to his throat. Zou Yun asked again: “Think carefully, leaving or not?”

Gao Zhun still wanted to nod, but this time he couldn’t nod down. Zou Yun was choking his throat, his thumb pressing on the Adam’s apple, applying just a bit more force and he could crush him. Gao Zhun kicked his legs in distress, both hands grabbing Zou Yun’s wrist, wanting to make a sound, but his vocal cords were already sealed shut together with his windpipe.

The grip grew stronger and stronger. The suffocation intensified bit by bit. Gao Zhun struggled frantically, but it was useless. Only the old mattress emitted sharp creaking sounds. In such a desolate dark night, it was nothing more than insect chirping.

He began to moan. From lack of oxygen, his vision blurred, his consciousness unclear. He felt something fall on his face, ice cold, it was tears, dripping all over. Amid the waves of blood pounding against his eardrums, he could hear Zou Yun’s sobbing.

Gao Zhun tried hard to look up. A distorted, pitiful face, crying so miserably. Very unreal, suddenly there was music: Afraid of tragedy repeating, it’s my fate my fate, the more beautiful something is, the more I cannot touch it…

That sound buzzed and vibrated. Gao Zhun furrowed his brows. It was Zou Yun’s phone ringtone. Probably changed while he was smoking waiting for Gao Zhun to come back: Actually what’s the use of me cherishing you again, could it be that this time if I hold you tight it won’t come to nothing?

It didn’t seem to hurt so much anymore. His whole body floated up. His fingers loosened. His mouth opened unconsciously. His vision was like frosted glass after rain. Vaguely he saw a person crying, didn’t know who it was, didn’t know if they were good or evil. Gao Zhun was about to abandon this battered body, about to shed the shell on his body. Before leaving he reached out his hand and wiped that wet face.

The clamp on his neck suddenly released. Cold air rushed into his lungs. The walls of his windpipe felt a hissing pain. The heaviness and dizziness from oxygen deprivation returned all at once. Gao Zhun coughed violently. Zou Yun climbed down from his body, sitting wretchedly at the head of the bed, curling up and hugging his head: “Get out…” he said: “You get out of here.”

The phone was still ringing: Your heart and eyes mouth and ears also have no fate with me, I can’t hold onto any of them…

Gao Zhun’s body was like sparse wheat waves on an early summer hillside, rising and falling faintly. He sat up and swayed back and forth a few times, got out of bed to get dressed. Behind him Zou Yun said: “Take them,” he pointed at those shoes in front of the TV cabinet: “Leave cleanly.”

Gao Zhun left. Dragging his suitcase with one hand, carrying the shoes with the other. No attachment, not even resentment, let alone fear. It was all over. His nightmare, and those absurd years… Passing by that Sahara downstairs, he only then felt his throat burning, but still lit a cigarette. In his ears he seemed to hear Zou Yun humming in that broken Cantonese: Let this puff of smoke rise, while my body sinks, how I once wanted wanted so much to draw near…

Decadent, humble, desperate. They were the same. Even when he took a taxi to Fang Chi’s place, standing at that door that had been closed to him for two months, Zou Yun’s singing hadn’t faded: Still waiting for you to tell me I shouldn’t have used my feelings wrongly, I have premonitions about everything, then unable to open both eyes, watching fate arrive, then the sky surges with dense clouds again…

But the doorbell only rang once and the door opened. Fang Chi stood there in pajamas, as if he had long known he was coming. One hand took his luggage, the other went to pick up those shoes.

Gao Zhun walked straight into the bedroom. He hurt too much and was too tired. But the moment he saw that bed Fang Chi had just gotten up from, remembering all their lingering on it, his breathing grew rapid. Unbuckling his belt, taking off his pants, he reached into his underwear. The blanket was half open, the bedsheet messy. He looked at it greedily, both hands rapidly shaking at his waist, an unbearable hum coming from deep in his throat.

Fang Chi came in from outside, looking at him in shock: “What are you doing?”

Opening his eyes, his neck hurt especially. Gao Zhun tilted his head, saw Fang Chi, childlike lying beside him, hair a mess. Milk tea colored morning light came through the curtain gap, casting on brown eyelashes, making Gao Zhun want to touch them. Reaching out his hand, then somewhat reluctant, he moved to get out of bed. His rear wasn’t very comfortable, chafed, as if he had overdone it.

Lifting the blanket, just about to swing his leg over, Fang Chi wrapped his arm around his waist from behind, gently pressing him back onto the bed. Gao Zhun tensed his face and lowered his eyes. The inner corners of both eyes near the whites were slightly red: “I’ll go wash for a…”

Fang Chi kissed him, earnestly, rubbing against his lips, chin, and the purplish red bruises in the curve of his neck, from top to bottom, left to right. Not like a kiss, more like some kind of excessive tenderness: “Don’t make my heart ache anymore…”

Gao Zhun was about to speak when his thigh was suddenly pressed by something hard, rubbing close against him: “No,” he immediately curled up his knees: “Too many times yesterday…”

Fang Chi made no sound, pushed up with effort and got on top of him: “I might be crazy…” in a hoarse voice he said: “My mind is full of this kind of thing,” he bit Gao Zhun’s ear: “I want to stick it in, stay inside you all day, not come out…”

Such explicit sweet talk, coming from Fang Chi’s mouth, was poison. Gao Zhun swallowed it too: “I… can’t come anymore, want me to blow you?”

He looked up at Fang Chi trembling, unwilling to spoil his mood. Fang Chi tucked his knee and folded one of his legs, his other hand going down, reaching between his buttocks. But Gao Zhun’s hand was blocking there, covering his swollen privates.

Forehead against forehead, Fang Chi rubbed against him yearningly. Gao Zhun was very stubborn, simply wouldn’t let go. After futilely pleasing him for a while, Fang Chi simply grasped his engorged member and squeezed it between his fingers. Gao Zhun couldn’t believe it, looking at him with a red face in bashful shame. The more he was looked at like this, the more Fang Chi went overboard, sliding his glans across every possible crevice. His knuckles were rubbed sticky. His middle and ring fingers opened weakly. Fang Chi pushed in from between them.

“No…” Gao Zhun pushed his lower abdomen with his slippery hand, but it was useless. He was in, just a small bit. It didn’t hurt, but Gao Zhun had an expression of distress. Fang Chi wanted to make him happy, so he gave a squeeze on his limp member.

Maybe it was sensitive, or maybe he squeezed too hard. Gao Zhun cried out. His rear contracted violently. With one sudden squeeze, he actually pushed Fang Chi out from his buttocks. Such great force. Fang Chi felt like he had been struck by lightning, roaring as he came.

Gao Zhun touched his own wet crotch. Having been out messing around for so long, having someone shoot up his butt could still make him tremble with excitement. Fang Chi lifted the blanket and looked down. Not much came out, just a palm sized wet spot on the bedsheet. While panting he went to kiss Gao Zhun’s mouth again. Gao Zhun relaxed with legs spread, softly hugging his arm, twisting his neck and nibbling at him.

This kiss was long, the kind with no purpose, purely for necking. Gao Zhun enjoyed this moment foolishly. The more aroused he was the more fearful he became, afraid that Fang Chi was just a vague experiment with him. Those sucking sounds, that saliva, were sweet in the mouth, but tasted bitter going down the throat… Suddenly, his buttocks were gently bumped twice, with a soft squelch, he was entered.

“Ah ah?” Gao Zhun panicked and squirmed, pinned at the waist and thrust deep: “You… didn’t you just…”

Fang Chi had already started thrusting. An ordinary position with nothing special about it. But Gao Zhun was being bumped up and down by him, actually moaning urgently as if about to climax. Fang Chi hugged him tight, as if worried he would run away, clamping his arms and pressing him against his chest. Gao Zhun couldn’t break free from him, could only keep his butt open and be rapidly poked by him.

After going at it for a while, he was practically crying, pitifully so, one cry higher than the last. Fang Chi, like any straight guy who only knew how to go at it hard, had no technique, didn’t know restraint, relying on passion and a good waist, tormented him until he came. Gao Zhun really had nothing left to shoot. A little transparent fluid dripped on his stomach, a true prostate orgasm.

Fang Chi still wasn’t satisfied. Gao Zhun endured him, feeling like his butt couldn’t close anymore. With every thrust, his toes cramped and curled tight: “My butt, my butt can’t take it anymore… you come, please!”

Fang Chi came, like those absurd nights before, vibrating desperately on Gao Zhun’s body, sucking his sweat damp cheeks, letting out obscene roars. Gao Zhun vibrated with him. After the vibration passed, it was like losing breath, collapsing dead together.

“Hold me, okay?”

“Don’t let go of me… even if you break me don’t let go…”

“You promised, you promised to treat me better!”

Those humble pleas from the past, those hysterical moments when feelings ran deep, like an old coin, flipping, drawing a long arc before dropping into water, finally heard some echo.

Fang Chi, as Gao Zhun said, stayed stuck inside him unwilling to come out. Gao Zhun swayed his waist: “Get out…”

“Wait a bit…” Fang Chi lay limply inside him, rubbing with unsatisfied desire: “Wait a bit more…”

“No,” Gao Zhun was afraid he would get hard again: “Feels like it won’t close…”

“It will,” Fang Chi cupped his face, not doing anything, looking as if he couldn’t get enough. Gao Zhun felt uncomfortable all over from being looked at like this, scolding him: “What are you looking at?”

“Looking at how pretty you are.”

Gao Zhun’s face instantly flushed red, his lips slightly trembling: “Nonsense…”

Fang Chi traced his ungroomed eyebrows with his finger, black and still damp with sweat. Then the deeply set eye sockets, somewhat bruised from excess. Down to the narrow nose bridge, and the soft philtrum below the nose tip.

“Don’t…” Gao Zhun liked him touching, but was awkward, not admitting it verbally.

“Is it…” Fang Chi seemed to be talking to himself: “After sleeping together, does that count as being together?”

“Being together,” what a tempting phrase. Gao Zhun had thought about it so so many times, to the point of despair: “I’ve slept with so many people,” it couldn’t count as revenge, he deliberately provoked him: “Are we all together then?”

Fang Chi was silent, withdrawing from his body. Gao Zhun immediately regretted it, anxious, but biting his lip and making no sound. He thought Fang Chi would get out of bed, like those bed partners who had gotten their fill from his body. But he didn’t. He gently touched Gao Zhun’s rear: “My god,” it was like a hole had opened up there. He lifted the blanket wanting to look, but was stopped by Gao Zhun: “Don’t look,” from shame, or inferiority: “It’s not pretty…”

Fang Chi didn’t force it then, holding him and lying down, slowly rubbing his buttocks, his lips pressed against his temples and ear contours, kissing frequently. Gao Zhun pillowed in his embrace, peeking at him in delighted surprise, afraid of being discovered, his eyelashes blinking carefully.

“Spread your legs.” Fang Chi said.

Gao Zhun was afraid, hesitantly opening a crack. Fang Chi propped his legs up over his own waist, two fingers probing between his buttocks, pressing on the muscles at the perineum. Gao Zhun shuddered. He had never seen this kind of play, his eyes widening with novelty. Fang Chi saw what he was thinking, smiled helplessly: “Massaging the perineum helps the anal sphincter relax, many hemorrhoid patients do this.”

Gao Zhun lowered his head, relaxing his limbs, his two hands passing through his warm armpits, hugging that lean back.

In the afternoon, the two of them finally left the bed. When about to shower, Gao Zhun discovered that stuff on his fingers again, fresher than last time, somewhat sticky, faintly flesh colored. There were also a few spots on the back of his hand and arm. He could be certain this was a woman’s makeup. He pursed his lips and spaced out for a while, turned on the shower, silently washed it off.

After eating, his lower back hurt badly. He wanted to go for a SPA, asked Fang Chi to accompany him. Before leaving he saw those shoes at the entrance, white and glaring. Whether intentionally or not, Fang Chi said: “They really don’t look like your shoes.”

Gao Zhun glanced at him. In that glance there were a thousand words, but he couldn’t speak them, only saying: “Throw them away.”

So Fang Chi took the shoes and threw them in the trash bin downstairs. The two took a taxi to a nearby men’s club nearby, asked for a double room. In the changing room they stripped naked, wrapped in bath towels and climbed onto massage tables. Soon a male and female technician came in. Gao Zhun was an old hand, snapping his fingers: “The guy come over.”

So the woman walked to Fang Chi’s side. He pillowed on his wrist, tilting his head to look at the bed next to him. Gao Zhun closed his eyes, enjoying the man pushing oil on him with varying pressure. The man’s hands were large and thick. When pushing to the small of his back he arched down and asked: “Can the towel be untied?”

Gao Zhun hummed, himself pulling open the towel. The cloth hung loosely over his waist and hips. With the force of the man’s palm on his muscles, it slid left and right. In just three to five minutes, Fang Chi watched Gao Zhun’s skin redden in his hands.

Fang Chi coughed with clear displeasure. Gao Zhun opened his eyes. Clearly he was enjoying himself, his peach blossom eyes half closed, looking at him hazily. That look made Fang Chi stare dumbfounded. Gao Zhun smiled, saying to that man: “Harder… mm, a bit harder…”

He was rubbed until he trembled all over, the curves of his shoulders and back contracting and releasing. His waist hollowed out, his buttocks rounding up plumply. The towel rubbed lower and lower, revealing a small strip of butt crack. Fang Chi felt he couldn’t take it, watching him with sweat all over his face, listening to his meaningful hums. After enduring about half an hour, the masseur left. Gao Zhun satisfyingly climbed down from the bed, casually gathering the towel with both hands.

Fang Chi propped himself up on his waist unable to get up from the bed. Gao Zhun passed in front of him, bending down to give his lips a dragonfly touch: “Come on,” he half turned his head, with a pair of bright captivating eyes: “Want to shower together?”