Reach the zone (don't drop the ball)

by penandtheducks (ao3)

Chapter 1: Jiā

Only the breaths, ragged, and yet long, whizzing, that Stephen released could be heard as he laid on the table with the blindfold he knew to put on every time he stepped into this room, their room. He was naked, blissfully so and was already holding his limbs away from his body, ready to be held, handled, the moment Wong would be here. And here he was now. 

He stayed by the door he'd closed back behind him right away, safely locked, noisily so. He watched him as his chest rose, and fell, and rose again as he angled his head like he was looking right at Wong through the slip of green silk around his eyes. Wong's gaze was sharp as he let Stephen stew some more, feeling himself tent the latex at his crotch harder and higher with every second that passed and Stephen's breathing didn't smoothen, and Stephen's stomach didn't relax, his hands balled into fists as he resisted the urge to stroke himself.

"You ready for me?" Wong suddenly broke the silence, biting the inside of his cheek when Stephen's response came reflexively - his back arched and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to keep from making too much noise, still self-conscious. Not for much longer. 

"Answer me." 

Wong's voice came out stark, despite the arousal eating at his throat. It was easy, after all these years, to glide into the persona he'd developed, that was both what he needed and what Stephen wanted, Stephen's Master. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Faster next time, slut." Wong slapped him across the chest, hard, and unannounced. And again, on the other side. "That was next time. Pay attention." 

"Yes, sir." Stephen moaned. 

And that's when Wong realized it, "The towel, Stephen," he growled, grabbing his husband's face by the cheeks, his fingers digging hard as he repeated against his mouth, "You didn't get your towel out." 

Stephen whined, his face burning under Wong's touch even through the gloves he wore. Shame. 

"I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry." He cried and Wong couldn't have that, could he?

"Shut up." He slapped Stephen's cock, watched him draw his legs tight together to shield it from the blow and listened for the delicious keen Stephen let out. With a practiced kick in the automatic drawer by his knee, Wong got it opened and took out the burgundy towel he always used for Stephen's head, the only tethering comfort he got apart from his touch, when the time was right. And this distracted idiot forgot it because they'd waited too long between two sessions, of course he did. 

Wong slipped his hand under Stephen's neck and grabbed at the hair at his nape, roughly hoisting him up to a seating position, the noise of Stephen's skin dragging across the glass top of the furniture melting with that of Wong's suit squeaking. He pushed the towel to where Stephen’s head had been just as he claimed the man's mouth, keeping his hold on Stephen's hair, his hand fisting in it as he clashed their teeth together and pushed his tongue past Stephen's lips. It was all-encompassing, the desire kissing Stephen always sparked within him. A desire to own, and mark, and play. A desire to love Stephen the way he demanded and deserved to be. 

When he was satisfied with the state of his submissive's lips, all raw red and bitten, Wong pushed him back on the table. Stephen's hips were already canting upward, demanding attention on his cock. Wong left it unattended, and instead turned his focus towards Stephen's nipples. "Keep your hands where they are."

The tendons in Stephen's neck strained as he pushed his face closer to Wong, a few inches of table separating him from his thigh while the rest of his body tensed. "Yes, sir." 

He knew what was coming. 

Testing Stephen's limits was more a pretense than what they were actually doing, Wong knew him too completely, and Stephen him, for them to be anything but essentially connected, but testing Stephen's control? That was the game every time. 

Wong slapped his chest in quick, repeated blows that rang in the room and only barely managed to not drown out the cries Stephen let out from them. He didn't move, only writhed against invisible restraints when Wong next grabbed fistfuls of his pecs and twisted hard, pinching one way then the other, putting his whole arms into yanking at the man's flesh. The noises out of Stephen's throat, those always caught Wong right in the stomach, his blood rushing harder and harder south with every new one, and today was no exception. He was so hard in the latex that he had to let go of Stephen to rearrange himself.

"Oh yes," he breathed as he freed his cock and balls through the opening between his thigh and the crotch area. He tugged on his cock a few times, watching Stephen lick his lips at the sounds he made. "You're pretty like this." Wong's voice came out rough, still stroking his length slowly as he pushed two fingers inside Stephen's mouth, making him gag, over and over again. Stephen sealed his lips around the digits and sucked all the same. 

The skin of his chest was an angry red, the pinkish lines of his scars melting into the harsher hue of Wong's marks. He was all but rubbing his thighs together, a hair short of disobeying his orders to stay put, and that was the draw to go on to the next step. With his fingers still stroking Stephen's tongue back and forth, Wong leaned down to kiss his forehead, breathing in the slight sweat of his husband's hair. 

"Time for your cuffs." He whispered, grinning at the moan Stephen gave him, still sucking on his digits. "Such a whore, love, such a pretty whore." 

Wong took out his fingers as suddenly as he'd pushed them in, and got to work shackling Stephen's wrists first, then his knees, and ankles, with the black-leather-padded cuffs that hung in the appropriate spots of the table, and then finally, he came to a stop at Stephen’s neck. He brushed his gloved hands over the taut skin of his throat, pressing increasingly hard as he bent down again to kiss him, upside down, claiming, dirty, wet. And then took a hold of either end of the collar hooked into the table just below Stephen's towel. 

Stephen gasped when the buckle was finally closed over his throat.

"Thank you, sir." He moaned, his voice all sorts of ragged already. 

"You'll thank me later." Wong smirked, and again, without warning, he punched the flesh of Stephen's pecs, hard, making him arch against his very real bonds this time, and shout in both surprise and pain, and repeat. "Fuck I love those sounds, you know I do." 

Wong kept going, kept slapping and pinching and punching, closing his knuckles over and over against Stephen's nipples and chuckling at the grunts and cries his husband let out. 

"Now, now you can thank me." He breathed in Stephen's ear as he stopped, massaging the heated skin of the chest he'd just beaten crimson. 

"Th-- Thank you, Master." Stephen sobbed.

Wong smiled in his hair, then licked a path from his ear to his cheekbone, to his lips, a broad stripe over his sub's mouth. 

"Now for both our reward," he whispered.

The knowledge of what was to come, the anticipation and build-up for this moment that was only an introduction really put Wong's senses on overdrive, and he just knew Stephen felt the same. 

"Please…" Stephen turned his head to the side.

Wong grinned even as he slapped his face, hard. 

"Correct yourself, right now whore." He growled. 

Stephen sobbed, "Please, sir, your cock, sir, please…" 

"Much better." Wong bent down to open the small drawer on the side of the table and retrieved the red light ball he always kept handy. "Here," he whispered as he closed Stephen's right hand around the ball, "hold onto that for me?" 

Stephen nodded quick, desperate to get on with it, and Wong laughed. And then he hooked his thumb in the side of Stephen’s mouth, angling his head just so as he took a step to stand at the edge of the table and didn't waste anymore time before he gripped the base of his cock and pushed home. "Fuck fuck fuck." 

The wet heat of Stephen's mouth, and the needy strength he put in sucking Wong's shaft made him thankful he'd put on a ring before walking into the room. He removed his thumb from Stephen's mouth, smearing the man's saliva on his cheek as he started fucking his throat in earnest. The gagging sounds, wet and stark in a room otherwise silent made Wong gasp, and Stephen still managed to moan long and low every time Wong pulled out even slightly. Fuck. 

Wong couldn't help the way his fingers mapped out Stephen's features on the one side he could reach, couldn't help caressing his husband's face throughout the wrecking of his mouth, couldn't not pass them into the man's hair and tug just a bit, and then more, and then using it to pull Stephen's mouth off his cock. 

"Breathe." He ordered, voice hard, stomach burning from the strain pulling out long enough to allow it demanded of him. He distracted himself with stroking Stephen's face still, gentle in the way he dragged the pads of his fingers over his sensitive skin. Wong wriggled his fingers under Stephen's blindfold then, a spur of the moment decision born of the need to look into his eyes when he'd next push into his mouth.

"Blink." He said, just before he pulled it off, and Stephen did so, fast, wet blinks as he adjusted to the rush of white light all around them. " Yes , much better." Wong stroked his cock again as their eyes met, and he put the head of his cock against Stephen's open mouth. 

Stephen grinned, his eyes glassy when he stuck his tongue out to lick pointy little licks over the silky, precome-coated skin. 

"Cocky," Wong smiled, and then snapped his hips forward, delighting in the way Stephen's lashes fluttered closed, and snapped back open. 

His bright gray-blue eyes latched onto Wong's. They moaned in time when the next thrust brought the man's cock all the way to the back of Stephen's throat and he seemingly stopped controlling the impulse to fuck into it - he never actually lost control, hadn't for a decade, and Stephen knew it, and sobbed in pleasure as best he could as his face was fucked, and his lungs tried catching on but couldn't. 

"Look at you, taking it like the greedy little slut you are, hmm," Wong let go of Stephen's hair to slap his chest again, in rhythm with his thrusts, merciless as he took everything Stephen had to give. "You take it so well, made for my cock to live inside your pretty little mouth." 

Stephen's lashes were wet with the need to breathe, his face turning redder and redder as his throat convulsed around the intrusion, making Wong see too many stars too quickly. He drew back with a harsh pull of his hips, laughing softly at the way Stephen strained his neck to follow him but couldn't. 

They caught their breaths quietly, Wong's fingers dancing over Stephen's face, and his throat and chest again. He pressed into the red skin of one pec, then the other, flicked a nipple just for the sake of seeing Stephen alternatively flinch then arch his back for more. 

"You set yourself on here so I assume you want the sheet, not the suit, yes?" Wong asked when Stephen's ribs didn't expand as far or as often to accommodate his panting anymore. 

Stephen bit his lip, his thighs contracting as if to bring them together but he couldn't, not with the cuffs closed tight around his knees and ankles. 

"I need a yes, a no, a color or a ball drop, Stephen." Wong told him, taking a step away from the table. 

That seemed to snap him out of his chasing friction long enough to respond, which was all Wong was after. 

"Sheet, yes. Please, sir." His voice, fuck his voice, Wong once again bit the inside of his cheek to keep his tortured exhale in check.

"Good boy," Wong answered him, watching his husband's lips open on yet another moan. 

He walked forward again, until he could kick another of the drawers open, a much longer, much thinner one this time. Stephen bit his bottom lip hard at the characteristic noise of the wood whooshing in its slide filling their ears and Wong reached out to cradle his cheek. 

"Ready?" 

Stephen nodded against his head. Wong tsked. 

"Not good enough and you know it, tell me." 

Stephen's eyes widened at the harsher tone, his mind clearing up a bit. He worried his bottom lip as he looked into Wong's, the way he did when vocalizing his desires proved hard, even after all this time. So Wong put that part of his mind on hold again. 

He swung his arms and slapped Stephen's cock again, immediately pressing his palm and fingers into the ache of the blow and watched as Stephen squirmed, his cheeks red with a blush that wouldn't leave him until he rested again, and that wasn't on the agenda just now. Wong kept massaging Stephen's cock with the heel of his hand, slipping fingers lower, just teasing, wanting to bite his own lip as his own cock twitched in want. 

"Tell me, right now," Wong repeated, holding onto Stephen's crotch possessively, his voice growly. 

"I… yes, sir, green." Stephen arched his hips into Wong's grip. And Wong let go. 

"Good." 

He stepped away from the table once again, leaning down to retrieve the neatly folded rectangle of sheer latex sheet they'd need. He looked right into Stephen's eyes as he let it flow unfolded, first one way, then the other, until his arms were stretched far apart and higher than his head to keep it off the floor. He walked around the table, to Stephen's shackled feet and started gliding the sheet over him. He slowly laid it on his feet and dragged it up his body, watching as it immediately fit over Stephen's limbs, clinging to them and falling heavy between his legs, the air escaping its nest. 

He reached Stephen's neck, and paused, gazing into Stephen's blown-up pupils, studying the parting of his husband's lips, and only found want, craving, longing, so he kept going. 

"There you go," Wong whispered as he dragged the sheet forward again, until he was standing behind Stephen's head and all that Wong could see of the man, he did so through the sheer, lightly pink-tinted latex that covered him, and he could let go of the last corners of the material, and watch it fall, gravity helping, to flow just shy of the floor. 

Wong stayed put for a few minutes, watching Stephen for any sign of panic, any jerky motion of his limbs or chin or for the red ball in his hand to roll to the floor, and when nothing came, he let himself enjoy the view. His cock was standing proudly, up and away from his stomach with how aroused he was, and he let his hand sneak down and tugged, stroked himself to relieve the pressure. He kept it there too, as he walked back to the side of the table to watch Stephen breathe against the latex, watch as the material sunk against his open lips with each of his inhales, then filled again all around his face on the exhales. 

He jerked his cock, tighter and tighter as he passed his free hand over Stephen's body, smoothing the sheet over the planes of his chest and stomach, and let go completely to do the same over each of his thighs. He moaned as he saw Stephen arch his back into his touch, and complied, put his hand against Stephen's crotch teasing both his cock and front hole through the thick barrier. He moaned again when Stephen sobbed in relief, his breathing visibly accelerating with how the sheet dragged up and down quicker, and how it sunk further against Stephen's lips and teeth when he tried taking in deeper breaths. 

Wong circled Stephen's neck with both his hands, feeling the bob of his throat as he swallowed what little saliva he must have been producing, then, softly, tenderly, caressed up his jaw, flattened his palms over Stephen's cheeks, and forehead, and let his thumb swipe across his closed eyes and nose, before finally going to massage his head over the sheet. His suit and gloves squeaked as much as the sheet did all along and Wong's own breathing was quickening. 

His head filled with all kinds of thoughts in those moments where they reached the peak of what Stephen needed - from his husband's safety to his husband's pleasure to his husband's beauty, all wrapped in his sheet, and breathing as little or as much as the waves of arousal hit him, Wong couldn't keep his hands off him, whether he was grabbing one of Stephen's ankles or pressing his hands over his mouth to deepen the experience, whether he was rubbing Stephen's cock through the fabric or licking it from the side of the table - it was all about Stephen, and Wong eventually even forgot his own dick was demanding any kind of attention from him. 

Stephen generally came from this alone, the repeated teasing and further shortening of his air supplies, and today looked like it was taking that path again. Wong's senses were on high alert as he intensified his jerking Stephen off through the rubber, and his hand pressed harder and more often over Stephen's throat or mouth, pinched his nose too sometimes, and still kept a keen eye on making sure he didn't black out either. The sheet drowned out Stephen's noises a bit, up until he started to really lose all grasp on reality and all that mattered was chasing the high of his under-oxygenated environment and the harsh and yet still smooth friction of Wong's palms frotting against his dick over and over again. He would sob and moan and cry and he was pleading now, pleading nonsensically, his words more tearful and desperate whimpers gaining in intensity than any string of sounds forming words. And Wong grinned as he kept pushing, pushing harder and further for Stephen to tip over the edge. 

"Sir, Master, Master, ah, oh, please, pl--" Stephen was lost, so lost and his hips kept jerking up and off the table until he tensed all over, stopped breathing altogether, his face an imprint below his sheet and he cried, and he came. 

Wong took his hand off him once Stephen stopped trembling with the aftershocks and immediately started peeling off the sheet. 

"There you go," he said, leaving it folded in half by Stephen's midsection to put both his hands at Stephen's jaw, cradling him as Stephen's eyes looked around a bit wildly. "I'm here, you did so good, dove, so good." Wong leaned down to rest their foreheads together. "Catch your breath." 

They stayed like this for another few minutes, until Stephen weakly pulled at the cuffs still holding him down to signal his coming back to the land of the living and Wong smiled. 

"Here or bed?" He asked, his eyes searching Stephen's. 

"Bed," Stephen mouthed more than he said, forgoing the title in his exertion, and Wong allowed it. 

Time to wind down. 

He nodded, "Alright." 

Wong brushed his thumb over Stephen's bottom lip before going back to taking the sheet off his husband, and then swiftly unbuckling the cuffs from his legs and arms, going for his neck last, always last. He traced the circle of the leather around Stephen's neck, in awe still, after all this time and certainly forever, of the beautiful contrast of his skin with the shining black collar. He unfastened it regardless, Stephen's lashes fluttering at the brush of his fingers there. 

"Come on, beautiful," Wong caressed Stephen's thighs after he'd put his ball back in its drawer, then helped him straighten up and face him over the side of the table. "Let's get you somewhere softer." He smiled. 

Stephen looped weak arms and even weaker legs around him and Wong lifted him, forever grateful that Stephen, despite his long limbs and broad shoulders, was still a pretty light weight to take. He carried him out of the room, passing the hallway to their bedroom knowing full well that Stephen was watching every picture on the walls as he laid his head on his shoulder, grounding himself. The door of their bedroom was ajar and Wong pushed it with his foot before walking in. 

Stephen nuzzled his neck just before Wong leaned down to lay him on the bedspread, and he couldn't help but kiss those lips when he did. "Be right back," he whispered, and smiled softly when both Stephen's hands closed around his shoulder and elbow. "We need to clean up a bit." 

Stephen's answer came in the form of a tired sigh, making Wong smile harder. 

"Won't be long." He reassured him. 

With one last trail of his fingers down Stephen's chest, Wong walked to the en-suite. He fetched a few hand-towels from the cupboards under the sink, smiling at the old kid toys they still had stored in there before he closed them back and started pulling the zipper of his suit down. 

He pulled off his gloves, smiling at the pop and swish of the latex, groaning when the ring came off next, and then finally wiggled gently out of the rest of the suit. The cool air on his sweat-ladden skin felt good, the quick and heated shower he took to rinse it off as well as the baby powder he always used to slip into his outfit, even better. 

All in all, his own clean-up only took him about ten minutes. He made sure to hang his suit inside-out off the wall of the shower to be thoroughly cleaned after, before taking the hand towels and warm water bowl he'd prepared, only then becoming more and more aware again of his neglected cock. 

He walked back into the bedroom to find Stephen curled on his side facing the door of the bathroom with a dopey smile. 

"Wash-up time, Strange boy." Wong whispered with a silly voice just to witness the grin spreading on Stephen's face.

"Need you," he said, wiggling the fingers of one hand in Wong's direction and brushing his thighs together. Temptator.

"In just a minute, let me do this, okay?" Wong sat by Stephen's side, depositing the bowl on the nightstand and wetting one of the towels with it. He wrung it out so it wouldn't drip and gently, every so gently, passed it over Stephen's face, immediately following it with the dry hand towel he had left so Stephen wouldn't go cold as he dried. 

He repeated the process in his neck, and over his chest - smirking at the hiss Stephen let out from the still sensitive zone - all the way down his body until he reached his feet and stopped to massage his soles for a few minutes. Relaxation looked best on Stephen always, and the way that it made him go lax on the bed, his arms slung by his head and his legs opening for Wong's appreciation, well, there was only so much time Wong could still keep a hold of himself. 

"All clean and pretty," he whispered as he kissed Stephen's ankle.

"Meaning I can get my Master inside me now?" Stephen opened one eye to look at him, the shiver that passed through him as he said the word, a sign that subspace was still clinging to him at least a little. 

"Don't be so cocky, sir ," Wong raised an eyebrow at him, both his hands sliding up Stephen's legs from his ankles to the inside of his thighs as he knee-walked up the bed, grinning like he rarely did outside of home, and Stephen was exactly that, home. 

Wong stole a page from his husband's book, he shot him a wink, and then leaned down the last inches or so that separated him from Stephen's core, laying down between his legs and letting his hands round up behind his thighs to grab his hips and go down on him. Stephen cried instantly, his hands flying down to Wong's smooth head and neck, for purchase, for stability, anything to keep him sane when the next thing Wong did was suck his cock into his mouth and stroke the opening of his front hole mercilessly. 

"Grab the lube for me?" Wong asked, trying for stoic but failing when Stephen's response to his stopping his ministrations was to cant his hips down and try to grind against his face, only barely stopped by Wong's grip on his hips. 

Stephen twisted around a bit to get into the box under the nightstand, and he waved the bottle next to Wong's head as soon as he found it. 

"Good boy," Wong kissed his thigh, testing the levels of consciousness of Stephen's mind as much as he indulged himself. For as much as he'd tried pretending otherwise years and years ago, Stephen always triggered his instincts to care for and protect him, pet names and praise were just a part of it. 

He breathed hot air against Stephen’s cock, lapping at it as he watched every expression that passed through his husband’s features before he popped the bottle of lube open, grinning at the reflexive thrust of Stephen’s hips. He coated two of his fingers as best he could before he placed his clean hand back on Stephen’s hip, took Stephen’s cock in his mouth again and resumed teasing at his entrance. Moans and heavy breaths once again filled the air, and Wong decided to cut the chase. This was no longer about pushing either Stephen or himself, this was their version of aftercare, this, was how they reunited as husbands rather than dominant and submissive. 

He pushed one finger in, trying to stretch Stephen as efficiently as possible before wiggling his second finger in as well. Wong sucked more harshly, playing with Stephen’s nerves as he cushioned his cock against his tongue, thick muscle working Stephen’s arousal expertly as he kept fucking into his hole. 

“Wong, please,” Stephen whined, “I need you, come on.” 

Once upon a time, Stephen would never have been able to ask for it the way he did now, freely, and if Wong bit into the meat of his thigh for it, he immediately soothed it with kisses and soft touches. 

He didn’t say anything as he took his fingers out of the man, nor when he used what slick remained on them to lube his cock and hissed at the stimulation. He only smiled, when he leaned down until he was on top of Stephen, laying between his parted legs, and guided his cock to his hole. They only looked into each other’s eyes when Wong started pushing in, and wiped his hand on the bedspread so he could hold Stephen’s. 

Stephen gasped, the one hand Wong wasn’t holding making its way to Wong’s back and gripping it hard. He wound his legs around Wong’s waist and tried to pull him closer, he always did. Wong resisted.

“Give yourself time,” Wong whispered against his lips, before kissing him, then only did he start giving little thrusts of his hips forward.

He went slow. He took Stephen’s mouth, over and over again. He swiped his tongue past his lips, let it meet Stephen’s, breathed in the hot air Stephen gave him and back the other way. 

They lost themselves in the soft grind of their hips, not stopping when Wong bottomed out for the first time, or when a harder thrust dragged Wong's pelvis against Stephen’s cock and his legs contracted around him. Wong smiled, when Stephen started moaning and babbling again.

“That was good, that was so good, I needed it so much.” 

His voice was breathy, and desperate again, and Wong smiled harder, his hips stuttering as the highly arousing image of Stephen under his rubber sheet came back to the forefront of his mind, melting at the edges with that of his husband right now, laid on their bed, his hair a salt and pepper halo around his head, his face once again flushed and his body as close to his own as it would ever get. 

“Anytime, beautiful, you know it.” Wong spoke with his lips all against Stephen’s temple, the fingers of his free hand splaying in his hair. He brushed their noses together as he started snapping his hips harder, watching Stephen’s mouth rounding around cries, and sobs, and altogether sounds that seemed to exist for the sole purpose of driving Wong closer and closer to orgasm himself.

“I’m…” Stephen, squeezed his hand hard, meeting Wong’s every thrust as he ground his cock against him too, “I’m going to come, right, fuck, I’m…”

Wong swallowed his moans as much as he gave his own to Stephen to do the same, kissing him more frantically the more Stephen’s inner muscles cramped around his cock, and they came together, Stephen’s cock hot against his pelvis, and his own dick twitching as it sent his release deep within his husband. 

They stayed like that for a long while, foreheads sticking to each other's necks, arms tight around each other's backs, breathing long and hard and passionate. Sated. Burning with both exhaustion and a fire that would roared as high and powerful as ten years prior, maybe even more so. 

Wong got off Stephen and rolled to the side when it seemed sleep was trying to claim them both. He shot a look at the clock on Stephen's side of the bed, not really surprised to see it was well past 10pm. He wasn't hungry, and Stephen's only response to his silent question was to shake his head and roll over over until he was half-laying on top of Wong's chest, and one of his legs found its way between Wong's thighs. 

"Sleep," he said, his voice muffled in Wong's shoulder. 

"Yes, I could use some sleep too. Good night, jiū ."

When Wong woke up the next morning, it was just shy of 8am and one look he didn't need to the other side of the bed confirmed Stephen was already out of it. He smiled as he heard the clatter that came from the end of the hallway, as little of it as he could hear one floor up as he guessed Stephen was in the kitchen, and he wasn't alone. 

Pepper must have been a little early, he mused and proceeded to get up without losing more time. 

He made his way into the shower, grabbing the soft brush he used to clean his suit and washed himself as much as the latex he cherished so much. He hung it back on the shower wall to dry once he was done and was quick to dry himself up and slip into the underwear and tee-shirt he'd taken with him. Back into the bedroom he pondered whether or not to put on the sweatpants Stephen so liked to see him wear but he figured he might as well put on his slacks already, Saturday practice was no joke in this house, this way he'd be ready when the time came to usher the boys out. 

He was smiling the whole way down the corridor, and then the stairs and it didn't stop when he finally reached the threshold of the kitchen. 

Wong could see Stephen was engaged in a battle with pancake batter while their youngest was trying his best to put his fingers into the bowl unnoticed - as if - from where he sat on the counter next to Stephen. Neither of them had seen him but Zhao did and immediately jumped from his seat at the table to run to him and catch him into a hug. 

"Morning, son," Wong laughed as he ruffled his son's hair.

He caught Stephen's gaze as his husband turned around, bowl still in hand the second he heard him. They smiled at each other, Wong always relieved to see Stephen was showing all the signs of a healthy release and none of the grimmer symptoms of subdrop. 

"Lian! Oh my God, you little devil!" Stephen exclaimed as he spotted the boy trying to take advantage of his father's distraction to once again put his fingers in the pancake preparation. "It's not even good right now, I'll never understand why you do that." He huffed again, but none of the others took him too seriously, he was grinning too hard. 

Wong's hands left his son's shoulders so he could lift his chin and lean down. 

"Kiss?" He presented his cheek and Zhao huffed in much the same way as his dad but still went for it, and if Wong laughed at his antics the twelve-year old didn't seem to mind it much. In fact, he pressed another kiss to Wong's cheek before he went back to his chair. 

Zhao never talked, or really rarely, when he was caught by surprise, or was extremely angry or frustrated, he'd always been that way. The doctors they'd taken him to had diagnosed him with a form of selective mutism, and had linked it to a potential trauma they didn't know about, given the lack of consistent records for him prior to his arrival in their little family at the age of two. He didn't even have a name when he was found. So he hummed, and laughed, and groaned as the moods came and went, and signed the rest of the time when he had something significant to say that he couldn't convey otherwise. 

Wong's fondness for the little sigh that left his son's lips as he stared at the breakfast preparations with longing washed over him. He turned around and put his hands on his hips in a much exaggerated gesture. 

"What about you, the kitchen thief, no hello for me?" 

Lian whipped his head up, and where Zhao was most often quiet if not silent, Lian was everything but - he squealed with glee. 

"Of course hello! Hi! Hello! Morning, Father," he finally grinned as he reached Wong's feet and held up his arms.

Wong laughed, his cheeks flushing just a bit when he picked up Lian and and he kissed both his cheeks as loudly as he could, Stephen's gaze all the while trained on him, soft and loving. 

"Alright, you boys sit while we try to fix you something." Stephen eventually interrupted them, and made a come hither motion of his free hand for Wong to come to him. 

"Morning, you," Wong smiled as Stephen nuzzled his shoulder gently. 

"Sleep ok?" Wong asked, taking the bowl of batter from Stephen's hands and putting it back on the counter as he pulled out a pan from the cupboard. 

He didn't do it on purpose, didn't really put much thought into it, but every chance he got to brush a hand down Stephen's arms, or his back, or cheek, as they made breakfast and the boys told them about their sleepover at Aunt Pep and Christine, Wong took it. After scenes tended to lead him there, and the look in Stephen’s eyes told him it was much appreciated too. 

Wong couldn't erase the small smile that stayed on his face all through breakfast and then still as they got ready for both the boys soccer practice sessions. 

Zhao was making sure Lian's seatbelt was on when Wong came back out of the house with the last bag they'd need, Stephen right behind him to close the door when the man tugged on the soft collar of his shirt and murmured in his ear, "When we get back, I want us to talk about you, taking me, in the middle of our favorite club for the " show don't tell" night in two weeks." 

Stephen clicked his tongue, dropping a kiss to Wong's jaw from behind, laughing at the expression on his face, most certainly beyond startled, before he pushed towards the car where their sons were still waiting for them. Soccer practice was going to be difficult to follow with that mental image.

Chapter 2: Lái Fú

The Sorcerer Enchanter club was one of many places Stephen and Wong had gone to over the years to find some like-minded friends and enjoy their bond to its, almost, fullest whenever the itch became too strong. It also happened to be the last and only place they now frequented, and had been going to ever since they'd moved to the wide New York suburbs when Zhao was given to them and having a house became the most pressing project on their list. 

They had never gone all the way though. And so, for a variety of reasons, Wong was not possessive in the traditional sense of the word. He did not throw fits of jealousy, did not need to know every last thing happening in Stephen's life - nevermind the fact that he did know everything anyway because they were never really apart, but that was another discussion entirely - he did not ask Stephen questions on who he talked to and most importantly, they had friends who they'd already played with numerous times. Pepper and Christine first, and then Natasha and Tony, and then all six of them together. 

But no matter the state of undress of Pepper and Natasha's submissive partners during play, Stephen had always been fully clothed, and the rare times he received actual sexual completion, Wong made sure a thick layer of rubber separated any eyes from his husband's body. Not only because he was his, and his only, and because once upon a time, and it still happened from time to time, Stephen had been very shy about showing even an inch of his skin, and when he'd decided to let Wong in, Wong had vowed to protect that trust, always, and this was especially true in moments when the man was most vulnerable, subspace evidently included. Which was the reason it was very hard to concentrate on practice that Saturday. 

It wasn't the first time Stephen had had new ideas - he got those all the time, the fool - but this was so far removed from what Wong had expected him to throw his way that his mind was working overtime. He frowned at Stephen from his bench to where the man stood chatting with the mother of Lian's best friend, trying to figure out when this desire had bubbled enough inside the man he loved for him to bring it up in a way that ensured Wong would give it some real thought. May was a very nice woman, but right then, Wong wanted nothing more than to manhandle Stephen into coming to sit next to him and talk this through, right here, right now. 

Bad idea, definitely a bad idea. Conservative neighborhood and all that, and polite conversation did not generally revolve around what way everyone went about having sex with their significant other, now did it? Wong rubbed his face and forced his gaze back on either of the fields his sons were playing on. 

He was finally completely focused on the game when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder.

"Rogers," Wong nodded, an almost imperceptible half-smile drawing on his face as his favorite bench partner sat down next to him with a huff. 

"I wish you'd call me Peggy, I really do."

"That would mean losing the look on your face, Ma'am." He tilted his head before sitting back, letting his shoulders and head rest on the curved half-wall behind them. 

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Peggy gave a soft laugh. "How are you today?" 

"Good," Wong nodded, he knew she didn't really expect him to expand further than that so he didn't force himself, that was why Peggy Rogers was one of the people he tolerated the most at the games, her non-nosiness. "You? How's Sarah?" 

Peggy smiled at that, like she always did when she could talk about her kids - sweet, sometimes scary but still, woman. 

"Pouty?" She said, a soft laugh following. "She wants to join the soccer team, but can't."

"Oh? But coach Hill let in kids at any stage of the year last year?" Wong crossed his arms. 

"Yeah, but Sarah's still 6, can't make the team before 7." She explained and then stalled Wong with a hand in the air, "Lian's a late year baby, that's why he got in last September."

"Ah," Wong nodded, "well, everyone will be thrilled to have her next year then." He allowed a small smile to form on his face at the little sparkles in Peggy's eyes. She really was a sweetheart. 

"Where's Stephen at?"

"Gossiping." Wong clicked his tongue, his gaze wandering to his husband fleetingly before going back to Zhao as the boy shot the ball to one of his friends - good shot - Wong bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't stop thinking about it. 

"Something going on?" Peggy, ever the all-seeing eye, prodded. 

"Stephen likes bringing up important things before we leave home, to 'let me stew', he says." Wong confessed, watching Peggy's lips distend in a slightly teasing smile.

"So you're stewing?"

"I'm stewing." Wong nodded. And that was it. Thank God for people who minded their own business. 

Stephen eventually made his way to the bench, sitting next to Wong with his arm coming around the man's shoulder, just in time for the actual practice game to start, and for them both to dissolve into a cloud of supportive shouts. 

They did enjoy their time on the side of the field, and the boys looked so proud when they managed to score or deliver the ball to their teammates in a really efficient way. None of them would trade that off for anything, and they didn't have to. 

Wong stole glances at Stephen every now and then, and Stephen at him. The bastard even winked at him right before the coaches whistled the end of the first round of games and the kids rounded up to their parents for water and snacks. 

"You did good, baby, so good." Stephen told both their children in turn, and winked at Wong again. 

It was a long Saturday. 

Of all the looks and double-entendres Wong had had to endure during the day, surrounded by over fifty children from seven to thirteen and double the number of parents, it was when Stephen stopped it all and grew quieter that Wong knew he really meant for this discussion to happen. 

They had what Wong insisted was a dinner of samosas and wokked vegetables, but which actually was a large buffet, to great hilarity of the three men in his life. He couldn't help it, once he started cooking, food piled up without his awareness or real consent. No one really complained though. When it came time for the boys to wind down, Wong excused himself to his study. Tomorrow was inventory day at the library, and they would all go together, but there were still things Wong could only set up by himself. He made a few calls to his assistant and a few of his librarians to once again reassure them that he didn't need them to come in this time around, and by the time he was done, he came out to the sound of Lian running around upstairs and Zhao's music filtering out of his open door. 

Wong smiled at the laughter he heard, louder and louder as he took the steps one by one. He knocked on Zhao's door gently and peaked his head in. 

"Ready for bed?" 

Zhao shrugged. 

Wong made a questioning noise at the back of his throat, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows. 

Zhao raised his hands and signed quickly, so quickly it looked like he almost didn't want Wong to understand what he was saying. Tough luck. 

"No, Lái Fú, Katie won't be there tomorrow. But you'll see her next Friday when you guys all go to Nat and Tony, ok?" 

Zhao shrugged again, but Wong decided to not push him. He'd come around with what really bothered him soon enough. 

"Tuck you in?" Wong signed, and stifled a laugh when Zhao's answer came in the form of a huff, but the boy still slid under his covers anyway. "Switching to the cradle song?" 

Zhao hummed his assent, and there they went. Wong pressed his son's second most listened-to playlist and kissed his forehead while readjusting his comforter. 

"Dad will be here in a minute. Good dreams." he whispered, taking just a minute to watch his son as he closed his eyes, the jet black fringe of hair that always fell into his eyes brushed to the side for once. 

The mood was quite different in the next room though. Wong couldn't hold in his grin, a rare thing that was only ever triggered by his family and which was bound to happen when the sight he was treated to as he pushed Lian's bedroom door open was that of his son contorting on his bed as Stephen attacked him with tickling fingers and roaring noises. 

"The tickling lion is out, I see." Wong bit his lip. 

Neither stopped their playfight for his benefit, they just looked at him, both their faces showcasing their blissed out amusement. Wong sat on the edge of Lian's small desk and let them have their moment. 

Stephen pounced on the boy, blocking his legs from kicking as he tortured his ribs and neck in turn, barking out laughs that echoed in Lian's own crystalline giggles. They looked happy and carefree, and Wong could watch them go at it for hours even if he didn't generally join in. 

They calmed down quickly enough, and then it was only a matter of showering their youngest with the more expressive love he needed, and for Stephen to go into Zhao's room as well to hug him and kiss his forehead with soft "love yous" and "good night my miracles".

Wong was in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of dinner when Stephen came to find him. He smirked gently at the look on Stephen's face, not apprehensive per se - none of that between them - but nervous all the same. 

"You look like Lian when he's up to something he knows we wouldn't approve of." Wong remarked, putting the last plate in the dishwasher and straightening up. 

Stephen huffed but didn't deny it. 

Wong washed his hands and turned back around, supporting himself on the counter and gripping the side of it gently. 

"Bathroom?" He said simply, his head tilting to watch Stephen as he inhaled sharply. 

"Yes, yes let's do that." 

Wong nodded, motioning for Stephen to go ahead, and following right behind as he did. He watched, as Stephen's shoulders rolled with his conflicting nerves and desire to relax at what was coming. 

"You know what to do," Wong said, allowing his voice to take on a steelier tone and smiling at the shiver that ran through Stephen.

Stephen hoisted himself up on the counter between their his and his with only a slight start while Wong retrieved the razor, cream and towels from the cupboard. "Stop that," he hissed when he saw Stephen glare at his hands. 

Stephen sighed, "I can't help it."

"You relax, and you let me do it, simple as that." Wong said. 

He put his supplies down and opened the tap for the water to warm up, sliding between Stephen's legs as smoothly as he could, then slid his hands under the hem of Stephen's shirt. 

"Arms up." He whispered in Stephen's ear, slowly taking the blue garment off him before folding it and placing it on the other side of what was generally Stephen's sink. 

Wong watched his husband gulp, watched him blinking rapidly to chase away his emotions, like always. 

"Don't," he said, "let go." 

He put both his hands at the back of Stephen's head, sliding them from his collarbones, up his neck, to behind his ears until he could massage his skull gently and angle his face so he could stare into his eyes. 

"You're safe, you're loved, you're--"

"Home," Stephen completed, like he always did. 

The beginning of his subspace symptoms were starting to show in the weight he leaned into Wong's palms, in the way the muscles of his face slackened gradually. 

"Good boy," Wong whispered as he brushed their noses together. "I need you with me tonight, dove," he reminded him anyway. 

"I know," Stephen said, a hint of fake exasperation like a veil over the words. 

"I'd hope so, smartass." Wong smiled. 

With one last brush of his thumbs over Stephen's cheekbones, Wong let go of his head. He plugged the sink and stopped the tap when enough water pooled at the bottom, then wet one of the towels. 

"If you're expecting me to say anything until you explain yourself we have a long night ahead of us." He said as he passed the towel over Stephen's cheeks and jaw. He might have laughed too, when Stephen's immediate response was to blush under his fingers, but the ask had been too sudden for him to not want actual answers this time around. 

"I..." Stephen faltered, letting Wong tilt his head back as he geared up to lather the bottom half of his face in shaving cream, "Last week? What you did with Nat?" He asked, biting his lip before continuing, "Got me thinking, I wanna do that." 

Wong spread the cream over Stephen's jaw and the triangle of hair on his throat, his fingers gentle, and efficient. He raised an eyebrow at the man's words, knowing Stephen was watching him even without looking up into his eyes. 

"Hands and knees isn't an option Stephen and you know it." Wong said simply. 

He rinsed his hands to rid them of the excess cream and give Stephen time to clarify. 

"No, I meant…" Stephen sighed, frowning as he looked for words that did not come, and eventually just went for it, the fog of his mind not helping in keeping up any delicacy, "I mean, watching her fuck you was such a turn on, I... I wanna give you that."

It was Wong's turn to frown at that. No matter the way his cock twitched in the confines of his pants and underwear at both the memory of Nat's thrusts and the image of Stephen in a similar state, he couldn't help but hiss. 

"It's not about you giving me things." He waited for Stephen to meet his gaze for that one, tutting when he tried to answer right away. He passed the blades of the razor in one smooth stroke along Stephen's cheek.

When Wong nodded his go ahead, Stephen started again. 

"I know it's not… Come on, you know what I mean…" he said and his voice was so whiny Wong had to snort. 

Wong brushed the back of his hand over Stephen's fingers where they gripped the fabric of his shirt, then sobered up. "No, not really, love, even the girls, or Tony have never seen us that way, so I need you to explain what changed." 

Stephen's hands started to fidget more and more as Wong finished off the shaving of one cheek and paused to let him keep going. 

"But… I just… I want to do that…" 

"Strange." Wong grabbed Stephen's chin and pulled gently until they were looking directly into each other's eyes again, Stephen's legs pressing against his hips with his nerves. The younger man huffed, closing his eyes and visibly counting to ten before he opened them again. 

"It doesn't make sense." He breathed out, his eyes misting over once more. 

"It doesn't have to." Wong interrupted, "It never has to make sense . I still want to know." 

Stephen nodded, "Give me a minute?" 

"Take as long as you want," Wong reassured him. "Tilt up again." 

They sunk into the moment for a few long minutes, neither of them making any noise, neither of them trying to hide the way they watched each other, Wong to check Stephen was okay, Stephen probably to check on Wong's reactions. Wong made sure to put all his serenity behind each pass of the blades, behind each tilting and angling he did with Stephen's face to make sure he got all of his stubble. 

It was always soothing, being here, just the two of them, intimate in such a way that stemmed from hurt, but which they made bloom into something that was only theirs, like so many other things in their lives. The tremor in Stephen's hands after his car accident five years prior was still a really sore spot. It could have been much worse with how his car had gone off road and into the water but the loss of his fine motor skills when stressed would never stop to frustrate Stephen. 

When he was done with the shaving, Wong rubbed Stephen's skin, first with another wet towel, then with the oil he kept for that purpose exactly, the faint sandalwood scent filling their nostrils alike and serving to further relax Stephen. Then he washed his hands and wiped the stray droplets of water off Stephen's shoulders and neck. 

"Bed or couch?" Wong asked, the better option would have been the white room, of course it would have, but that wasn't an option when the kids were home. 

Stephen leaned down to press his face in Wong's neck, and Wong's hands automatically came up to wind in his hair. 

"I think bed." 

"Feet or arms?" Wong asked again, and wasn't surprised when Stephen's answer was to loop his arms and legs around him securely. 

"Alright, here we go, Strange boy."

Wong carried his husband to bed, smiling softly at the way he whined when they parted like he always did. 

"Lemme undress. Lose your own clothes and think about what you're going to tell me."

"That's all I'm doing," Stephen tried to sound upbeat but really he sounded ashamed, which wasn't supposed to be in the cards. 

"I'm not liking your tone, dove." Wong whispered as he got into bed and laid on his side, his head propped up on his hand. 

"Anal." Stephen started and Wong's eyes widened for just a second, just a moment to be surprised that this was where Stephen wanted to pick up their discussions, but then it made sense so he nodded. 

"Keep going." 

"Catsuits, I think. But no hoods. Mask for me? I want to see you." 

Wong hummed encouragingly, but when Stephen stopped there, worrying his bottom lip, he prompted him again. 

"Position?" 

Stephen visibly shook himself, blinking a few times to clear his eyes of the fog of whatever place he'd gone to before gazing back at Wong under his lashes. 

"On your lap? I just… I want to… fuck this would be easier if I was under." Stephen groaned, rubbing his face a bit more roughly than Wong liked. 

"I know, sweetheart," he took a hold of Stephen's wrists then, and raising on his knees, he had Stephen lay on his back and pinned his wrists above his head before he straddled him. "There." He leaned down to pluck a kiss off Stephen's lips, trailing smaller ones down his jaw before straightening up again. "Tell me, you want to what?" 

"Belong to you. I want to belong to you in public ." 

Wong drew in a sharp breath at that, laughing softly when Stephen's lips formed a self-satisfied smile. 

"So catsuits, breathing half-hood, face-to-face. Restraints?" Wong counted off, exercising pressure over Stephen's wrists with every new item on his list. 

"Arms pinned behind my back, with those cuffs you bought for--"

"Christmas two years ago. Okay, good." 

"Does that mean you're saying yes?" Stephen batted his lashes, seductive ass. 

"No." Wong shook his head, and tutted again when Stephen started showing his disappointment. "Can I suggest something?" He said, letting go of Stephen's wrists to sit back on his lap.

Stephen looked at him curiously, raising on his elbows and tilting his head up to watch Wong's face. 

"Of course."

"I say we try that, or something similar, with Tony and the girls next Friday. Tony has Harley so we'll have the house to ourselves since--"

"Since Harls can keep the boys and Katie, yes. Yes, ok."

"Ok?" Wong asked again, his eyebrows raised trying to make sure Stephen wasn't pulling something when he actually wasn't comfortable with the idea. "We'll have to discuss it with them like we always do but that's something you want to do? Want me to fuck you, in front of our friends?"

"It's like a test-run, I like the idea, yes. Let's do that." Stephen nodded. 

"Okay," Wong nodded as well. "Come here then."

Stephen grinned, but sat up as told, "Got myself an aroused husband?" 

"Something like that, hmm," Wong smiled, then curled his arms around Stephen's waist and shoulders and yanked him into another kiss, moving so he wasn't sitting on Stephen's lap anymore but sliding down until they were both lying down, and he was wedged between Stephen's legs. "Something like a husband you've fed things to think on," he whispered, his voice rough as he started grinding against Stephen's groin. 

Stephen keened a soft moan, not loud enough to be a problem, but Wong still put his hand on top of his mouth, for good measure. 

"A husband who really, really wants to fuck his husband now." 

Wong met Stephen as he bucked his hips up, then encouraged him to lift his legs around his waist. He patted the floor for the bottle of lube they'd left on the floor the night before and didn't waste any time opening it and slicking up his fingers. 

"A lucky husband, who was losing his mind all day over the sight of you, walking around," Wong slid a finger in Stephen's hole, gentle on the upstroke, "Chatting up the ladies," he started pumping it, sucking faint marks that would fade as soon as they appeared on the man's neck, "with those jeans…" Wong groaned. 

"Oh yes, those do flatter my ass, don't they?" 

"Shut up," Wong laughed and Stephen joined him, his hands sliding from Wong's shoulders to his chest, then belly and waist. 

"Kiss me, and fuck me." Stephen gasped just as Wong pushed a second, and third finger in all at once. 

Going from there to being inside Stephen wasn't very long, neither was reaching that peak moment where both of them were almost ready to tumble over the edge. Stephen's hands cradled Wong's cheeks as they kissed, lips caressing and teeth grazing, and biting, and tongues licking about messily. 

"I love you," Stephen whispered, just before his legs contracted and the muscles surrounding Wong's cock did as well, and both of them came, drowning their respective sounds in each other's necks, chasing the aftershocks with just a few more thrusts of Wong's cock inside his husband, just a few grinds of his stomach against Stephen's pelvis and cock. 

When Wong came down from his high, his dick slipping out of the other man, he rolled them around until Stephen was the one of top of him and brought their lips together again, tangling his fingers in the man’s hair and ravishing his mouth with nips and caresses all the same. 

"And I you, always." Wong said when they finally parted to pant in each other's faces.