Capturing My Demon King Costar

MY COSTAR DOESN'T LIKE BEING TOLD HOW TO TOUCH ME

A bad situation can always get worse, which is what happens when the photographer says.

"Pull down his lip with your thumb, Xin laoshi."

Xin Hulei wavers in place for a moment, clearly reluctant, but finally he drags his thumb down Yao Shen's lip.

Yao Shen can feel the grooves of his thumb catching on the smooth skin of his lower lip. A part of him is screaming at him to bite Xin Hulei's thumb and draw it into his mouth.

He looks up at Xin Hulei, and finds his eyes stuck on his mouth, Xin Hulei's own lips open on breathless exhale.

He's looking at Yao Shen as if he's debating whether to push his thumb past his lips.

An ambiguous charge passes between the two of them, until it's broken by the photographer telling them to change positions.

"Now Yao laoshi please lie on the bed. Xin laoshi, put one knee up on the mattress as if you're going to climb on top of him."

Yao Shen lets himself drop backwards with an aggrieved sigh. This sucks so much. He wants to strangle the photographer with the strap of his own camera.

He turns to face the camera and arranges his features into a mask of bashful desire -- which doesn't even make sense because according to the novel's events Xie Huan and Yan Shuyi fucked in every available surface they could find, before the extra chapters. So this blushing virgin act on the wedding night is pointless.

At least the new position affords him the advantage of not having to look at Xin Hulei's face.

It doesn't spare him from feeling his presence above his body, and remembering the last time they were like this, but with a lot less clothing between them.

---

They cycle through a series of equally suggestive positions, each of them worse for Yao Shen's blood pressure.

He thinks things can't get worse and then the photographer tells him to sit on Xin Hulei's lap.

"Excuse me?" Yao Shen asks. His eyes probably look a little crazy.

"I know laoshi must be tired but we're almost done," the photographer says, not at all apologetic.

Gritting his teeth, Yao Shen climbs up onto Xin Hulei's lap, supporting himself on his shoulders.

He's afraid that if he sits fully on Xin Hulei's lap that he won't be able to hide how much the close proximity is affecting him. This entire exercise is just one big, cruel reminder of everything Yao Shen will never have again.

"Xin laoshi, pull down the back of Yao Shen's robe, exposing his nape to the camera," the photographer says after taking a few shots.

Yao Shen has his back to the camera so he doesn't bother hiding his grimace. His position means that he's slightly taller than Xin Hulei, and he looks resolutely at a spot above his head.

Xin Hulei wraps a handful of fabric in his fist and tugs it down in a swift move.

Yao Shen can't help the shiver that rushes through him at the brusqueness of Xin Hulei's touch. He's probably growing as agitated as Yao Shen.

"Don't squirm," Xin Hulei whispers, through gritted teeth.

How can Yao Shen not, when every second he spends in this position makes his blood run hotter?

Xin Hulei's free hand curls around Yao Shen's waist, keeping him in place. The careless display of dominance knocks all the air out of Yao Shen.

"Beautiful, hold that," the photographer says, the shutter clicking loudly.