Guardian Ficlet: Confined
Dec. 22nd, 2021 08:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Confined
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat
Fandom: Guardian
Pairing: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan
Rating: G
Word count: 715
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: The only thing preventing Zhao Yunlan’s shriek of surprise is the hand that clamps firmly over his mouth before he has a chance to even draw breath.
Author notes: This was written forundeadrobins' Kissathon and china_shop's prompt 'confined spaces'. Posted on AO3 at the time but because I also like to have my fics on my DW, here it is.
Confined on AO3
The only thing preventing Zhao Yunlan’s shriek of surprise is the hand that clamps firmly over his mouth before he has a chance to even draw breath. A strong arm circles around him, effectively trapping his and he’s pulled back, deeper into the shadows between the large crates.
“It’s me,” Shen Wei hisses into his ear, a fraction of a second before Zhao Yunlan attempts to bash his nose in with the back of his skull. His body goes lax with relief, and for a few seconds, his head ends up resting against Hei Pao Shi’s shoulder. Then Zhao Yunlan’s higher cognitive functions kick in and ever so helpfully provide him with a mental picture of their relative positions; Shen Wei holding him close from behind, hand still over his mouth, Zhao Yunlan’s head tilted right back, throat wantonly on display.
He may have had a few daydreams that featured a set up similar to this but most of them didn’t take place in the middle of a case, with their suspects well within hearing range. Some did, sure, but that was between Zhao Yunlan and his imagination, and not something he’d expected to actually happen.
Right now, he needs to at least pretend to be a professional.
He licks Shen Wei’s palm. It has the desired (well, practical, for now) effect and with a startled exhale Shen Wei moves his hand.
“What are you doing here?” Zhao Yunlan hisses right back. “I thought you were following the others.” They’d split earlier when the group of dixing-re smugglers had and Zhao Yunlan has followed his half of the gang to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Dragon City.
“I was,” Shen Wei says. His arm is still around Zhao Yunlan’s waist, the folds his cloak shrouding them both. Zhao Yunlan tries not to sink any further into what feels more like an embrace than… Whatever this is. “They’re headed here.”
As if on cue, two men stumble through the back door carrying a large package between them. They don’t attempt to be quiet or discreet, cursing loudly as they manoeuvre the awkwardly shaped object in, pausing to catch their breath exactly where Zhao Yunlan had been standing thirty seconds ago.
Slowly, the two of them withdraw even further into the cramped space between the storage units. Zhao Yunlan holds his breath, listening intently, but the cadence of complaints doesn’t change and finally the two smugglers carry the package past their hiding place and toward the rest of the gang in the warehouse office.
Zhao Yunlan expects Shen Wei to let go of him. He doesn’t, not straightaway.
“On a count of twenty,” he whispers. His face is so close Zhao Yunlan can feel the edge of the mask where it presses against his skin, Shen Wei’s warm breath underneath it making the small hairs behind Zhao Yunlan’s ear stand up.
He nods, grasping for words but finding none, acutely aware of every point of contact between their bodies. He could turn around right now, press Shen Wei into the dark corner and find out if he has what it takes to shake the Black Cloaked Envoy’s control. It’s tempting, and the way Shen Wei’s grip on him tightens anew suggests he knows exactly where Zhao Yunlan’s thoughts have strayed.
“Count of twenty,” he repeats, lips grazing the shell of Zhao Yunlans ear in a way that must be deliberate. Realising that doesn’t exactly help. “One.” Shen Wei breathes the word right into his ear.
Fuck.
“Two,” Zhao Yunlan continues, tipping his head to the side because two can play this game and he’s never once backed down from a dare.
“Three.” Shen Wei takes the invitation and mouths the number into the stretched tendons at Zhao Yunlan’s neck, mouth hot, the tip of his tongue flicking over skin for a split second.
Then he vanishes.
Zhao Yunlan sways on his feet, hand coming up to touch the spot where Shen Wei’s mouth had just been. “Four,” he exhales shakily, fingertips rubbing over the thin strip of wet skin; the undeniable proof that he hadn’t just imagined everything.
It’s definitely something to think about. Perhaps even do about. But later.
Right now, Zhao Yunlan needs to move.
“Five.”
Right now, there’s work to do.
***
Title: Confined
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress KatFandom: Guardian
Pairing: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan
Rating: G
Word count: 715
Disclaimer: Not mine, only playing
Summary: The only thing preventing Zhao Yunlan’s shriek of surprise is the hand that clamps firmly over his mouth before he has a chance to even draw breath.
Author notes: This was written for
undeadrobins' Kissathon and china_shop's prompt 'confined spaces'. Posted on AO3 at the time but because I also like to have my fics on my DW, here it is. Confined on AO3
The only thing preventing Zhao Yunlan’s shriek of surprise is the hand that clamps firmly over his mouth before he has a chance to even draw breath. A strong arm circles around him, effectively trapping his and he’s pulled back, deeper into the shadows between the large crates.
“It’s me,” Shen Wei hisses into his ear, a fraction of a second before Zhao Yunlan attempts to bash his nose in with the back of his skull. His body goes lax with relief, and for a few seconds, his head ends up resting against Hei Pao Shi’s shoulder. Then Zhao Yunlan’s higher cognitive functions kick in and ever so helpfully provide him with a mental picture of their relative positions; Shen Wei holding him close from behind, hand still over his mouth, Zhao Yunlan’s head tilted right back, throat wantonly on display.
He may have had a few daydreams that featured a set up similar to this but most of them didn’t take place in the middle of a case, with their suspects well within hearing range. Some did, sure, but that was between Zhao Yunlan and his imagination, and not something he’d expected to actually happen.
Right now, he needs to at least pretend to be a professional.
He licks Shen Wei’s palm. It has the desired (well, practical, for now) effect and with a startled exhale Shen Wei moves his hand.
“What are you doing here?” Zhao Yunlan hisses right back. “I thought you were following the others.” They’d split earlier when the group of dixing-re smugglers had and Zhao Yunlan has followed his half of the gang to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Dragon City.
“I was,” Shen Wei says. His arm is still around Zhao Yunlan’s waist, the folds his cloak shrouding them both. Zhao Yunlan tries not to sink any further into what feels more like an embrace than… Whatever this is. “They’re headed here.”
As if on cue, two men stumble through the back door carrying a large package between them. They don’t attempt to be quiet or discreet, cursing loudly as they manoeuvre the awkwardly shaped object in, pausing to catch their breath exactly where Zhao Yunlan had been standing thirty seconds ago.
Slowly, the two of them withdraw even further into the cramped space between the storage units. Zhao Yunlan holds his breath, listening intently, but the cadence of complaints doesn’t change and finally the two smugglers carry the package past their hiding place and toward the rest of the gang in the warehouse office.
Zhao Yunlan expects Shen Wei to let go of him. He doesn’t, not straightaway.
“On a count of twenty,” he whispers. His face is so close Zhao Yunlan can feel the edge of the mask where it presses against his skin, Shen Wei’s warm breath underneath it making the small hairs behind Zhao Yunlan’s ear stand up.
He nods, grasping for words but finding none, acutely aware of every point of contact between their bodies. He could turn around right now, press Shen Wei into the dark corner and find out if he has what it takes to shake the Black Cloaked Envoy’s control. It’s tempting, and the way Shen Wei’s grip on him tightens anew suggests he knows exactly where Zhao Yunlan’s thoughts have strayed.
“Count of twenty,” he repeats, lips grazing the shell of Zhao Yunlans ear in a way that must be deliberate. Realising that doesn’t exactly help. “One.” Shen Wei breathes the word right into his ear.
Fuck.
“Two,” Zhao Yunlan continues, tipping his head to the side because two can play this game and he’s never once backed down from a dare.
“Three.” Shen Wei takes the invitation and mouths the number into the stretched tendons at Zhao Yunlan’s neck, mouth hot, the tip of his tongue flicking over skin for a split second.
Then he vanishes.
Zhao Yunlan sways on his feet, hand coming up to touch the spot where Shen Wei’s mouth had just been. “Four,” he exhales shakily, fingertips rubbing over the thin strip of wet skin; the undeniable proof that he hadn’t just imagined everything.
It’s definitely something to think about. Perhaps even do about. But later.
Right now, Zhao Yunlan needs to move.
“Five.”
Right now, there’s work to do.
***