Archive of Our Own

*

“You’re so fucking stubborn, you know?” Xue Yang mutters as he works. His forehead is glistening with sweat. “If you hadn’t…” He grits his teeth, huffing almost violently out of his nose. “None of this would’ve happened.” He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his arm. “Whatever. It’ll be fine. I’m fixing it. Aren’t you always saying I need to take responsibility for my actions? Well, I am.” 

Once he’s done, he steps back to inspect his work. He smiles, a little shakily, and runs a finger along the row of thick stitches he’d just finished. 

“As good as new. Now, it’s time to wake up.” 

*

“You put a tracker on my car?! Xue Yang, what the fuck?” Song Lan holds the small electronic device up accusingly. 

Of course, Xue Yang doesn’t look at all remorseful. He never does. No, Song Lan corrects himself, he never is. 

“I just want to know where you are! Why is that so wrong? Are you hiding something, hah?” Xue Yang’s response is predictable by now, but it still makes Song Lan angry. And frustrated. So frustrated. 

“Oh, just stop it! You always do this! No, Xue Yang, I’m not hiding something! I’m not cheating on you!”

They’ve had this argument more times than Song Lan can remember. He’d been sympathetic to Xue Yang’s insecurities at first and tried his best to accommodate him. He hasn’t had an easy life and trust doesn’t come naturally to him, but at this point it’s getting to be way too much. Xue Yang isn’t just distrustful, he’s controlling.

“But I… I can’t do this anymore. I feel like a prisoner. You don’t even want me to talk to my own family!” 

Song Lan has thought about breaking up for weeks now, but when things are good they are really good. Or at least, they used to be. Lately, the good moments have been few and far between, making the bad even more obvious. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” Xue Yang’s expression suddenly shifts. He looks panicked, and Song Lan feels a sting of guilt. He pushes past it, though, steels himself. This is something that he has to do. 

“Yes. I’m sorry, A-Yang, but this isn’t working. It hasn’t for a long time. You… you need real help. I can’t be your therapist and your boyfriend.”

Song Lan hadn’t noticed Xue Yang reaching out for a kitchen knife while he was talking. He’s stronger and bigger, but when Xue Yang launches himself at him, he’s so taken aback that he doesn’t even get the chance to defend himself. 

The first stab pierces through his shoulder, making him stumble back and trip. He falls heavily into the floor, hitting his head against the tiles. Dazed, he watches as Xue Yang pounces on him, raising the knife high and plunging it down again. And again. And again. 

He loses consciousness after the fourth stab. 

*

“Everything should be like you’re used to,” Xue Yang murmurs as he strokes along Song Lan’s chest, “Except… I had to get you a new heart. Yours was too destroyed to fix, but it’s okay. I found a good one. Fresh. Only stopped beating minutes before I carved it out.” 

He smiles as he pats Song Lan’s chest, right over his heart. 

Song Lan stares back at him. 

“Oh, I forgot! Since you were saying such shitty, nasty things to me before… I cut your tongue out too. You can have it back if you behave yourself, though.” 

He hums to himself as he cleans up the operating table Song Lan is laying on. “The chains are just so you don’t get any stupid ideas,” he continues, his tone light and casual as if he’s talking about something perfectly mundane, “Clearly, you can’t be trusted not to leave if I give you the chance.” He sighs and clicks his tongue. “Should’ve made sure you couldn’t much earlier…” 

He strokes his hand down Song Lan’s sides and hips, giving his thigh a squeeze. “I considered not sewing your legs back on, you know? But… I like them too much.” 

Everything about Song Lan is so attractive. Everything from his broad shoulders to his muscled chest, his strong thighs, big hands and huge cock. When Xue Yang had first seen him - at a museum exhibition about ancient Chinese funeral rites, funnily enough - he’d been wearing a polo shirt so tight Xue Yang could almost see his nipples through the fabric. 

That’s when the obsession had started. 

*

Xue Yang has always had obsessive tendencies, but he’s gotten better at suppressing them, to appear interested in someone a normal amount. So, when he first spots the incredibly attractive, well-built man at the museum, he manages to keep from staring like a creep. Instead, he subtly moves closer to the other man while pretending like he’s only looking at the exhibit. 

As he gets closer, he notices that the man is taking notes. That piques his interest. 

“Is this your homework?” he asks, a little playful as he keeps a respectful distance. 

The man looks up, surprised, but he doesn’t look weirded out. “No, but it may end up being homework for my students.” 

“You’re a teacher?”

He nods. “University. Chinese history.” 

“Oh, cool. I’m just here because I find this stuff interesting. I’m a mortician, so it comes with the territory.” 

“A mortician? Really? That seems like a difficult job.”

Xue Yang shrugs. “Not really. My mom owned the mortuary and I just took it over when she died. I guess I’m used to it. Besides, when you’re around death all the time, it seems like less of a scary thing and more… just natural. The one thing aside from birth that every person on this planet will experience one day.” 

The other man looks at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Xue Yang curses inwardly. Shit, he’d made things weird. Sometimes he does that - scare people away by talking too much about death. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” he starts, but he’s interrupted by the other man. 

No, you’re right. Death is natural. We are just afraid of it because we don’t know what happens after.” 

Xue Yang smiles and nods, relief flooding his body. “Yeah, exactly. I’m Xue Yang, by the way.” 

“Song Lan.” 

*

“You’re so fucking hot,” Xue Yang groans, “Can you still get hard like this? Fuck, it doesn’t matter, I’ll help you.” He fumbles for Song Lan’s cock. It’s cold like the rest of him, but it’s stiff enough to make good use of. 

Xue Yang can’t wait. He straddles Song Lan’s unmoving body and positions himself over his cock. Despite how wet he is, it still hurts when he sinks down on it without any kind of warm-up, but he’s never minded pain during sex. That’s part of the appeal with the size of Song Lan’s cock. Even with plenty of foreplay, there is usually some pain. Stinging, throbbing pain as that thick cock spreads him wide, plunges into him. 

Song Lan stares at him the whole time, mostly quiet, but Xue Yang can hear a couple of strained groans leaving his mutilated mouth. It’s not much, but it’s enough to rile him up even further. Song Lan has always been pretty quiet during sex anyway - especially in comparison to Xue Yang. That makes the noises even sexier, even more desirable. The best thing had always been to hear Song Lan moan his name. A bit of a shame that he can’t hear that now, but hopefully, Song Lan will behave and earn his tongue back.

He rides him fast and hard, until he comes around his cock, gasping loudly as his cunt squeezes down around him. 

As he collapses down onto Song Lan’s chest, he sends a grateful thought his mother’s way for making this all possible. 

*

“Mom, what are all these papers?” Xue Yang glances around his mother’s office. It’s not often that she lets him inside, but this time she said that she had wanted to show him something. 

“Oh, that’s what I wanted to show you,” she says with a little smile. She gathers up the large stack of papers that have piled up on the desk next to the old typewriter. She shows him the first page which simply bears the title: Resurrection Theory by Xue Lian.

“It’s my thesis. I’m finally finished.” Pride shines in her eyes, potent enough that Xue Yang feels it too. 

“My research is going to revolutionize the field of evolutionary biology,” she declares happily. Xue Yang isn’t really sure what that means, but he still nods in agreement. Of course his mom is going to do good and great things! He’s always known that. She’s meant for bigger things than just running a mortuary. 

*

He lays on top of Song Lan after, gently tracing a finger along his chest. His body feels warmer now, less stiff. 

“I didn’t want to have to do this, but… you gave me no choice,” he murmurs with a sigh, “I love you too much. I can’t let you go. I won’t.” 

He looks up at Song Lan’s face and smiles, but it's a desperate sort of smile, fraying at the edges. “You’ll forgive me one day, won’t you?”

He gets no response.