. ex-liumang .

But so long as Zhao had the chance, he'd give Ichiban everything - because he wanted it just as fervently. He wanted to share small everyday moments, share space and lives. He wanted to know Ichiban by touch, by scent, and be known in return. He wanted to hold hands and kiss in public, to call each other 'partner' and 'lover' and 'husband', until his fear was just a memory.

He wanted as much time with Ichiban as possible, in a world so uncertain.

Familial, platonic, romantic-- it hadn't mattered to him. He felt the implications of his friends' love, but he hadn't realized he'd been craving to hear the words until he did.

Zhao loved him, and why shouldn't he believe him?

He hadn't given him a single reason to doubt him before, so taking those words as nothing but the uninhibited truth was another bout of ease.

Leaning in closer, he pressed firm, gentle lips to the crook of Zhao's neck. The affection was brief, but punctuated his feelings nicely. Lifting his head back up, he grinned big at Zhao again.

"I... dunno about you, but I think that's a good vibe to go to bed to." He was sure the adrenaline of the day would have him crashing sooner or later. Probably erring on sooner, given the distinct desire building up to just lean against Zhao and rest.

Another soft hum slipped out at Ichiban's kiss to his neck. Just that one was already enough to make him want countless more, everywhere his fiance could reach. For now, Zhao couldn't help but mirror some of that endearing grin when their eyes met again. "Just what I was thinkin'."

Though he'd presumed they would have to part while he got ready for bed, Ichiban's suggestion was an obvious improvement. "You can hold me as long as you want." A sudden whim had Zhao brushing a kiss to the end of Ichiban's nose. "Just gotta get my pants off 'n brush my teeth. C'mon."

While it did take some careful movements and adjusting, he managed both without breaking from Ichiban's embrace - dropping his shorts and peeling off his leggings, then crossing to the sink to brush his teeth. For the latter, he was the one who had to turn around in Ichiban's arms this time, resting his free hand over the man's palm while they occasionally locked eyes in the mirror.

Zhao angled his head subtly into Ichiban's kiss. In a way he couldn't quite define even to himself, his fiance's praise reminded him how real the achievement felt. This wasn't top scores in school, or winning a competition, or taking over the Liumang - it was better, like when he'd help his former subordinates with literacy, or how Auntie Chen would ruffle his hair for getting a recipe right. Something that mattered. The feeling let him melt a bit more into Ichiban's hold, eyes closed again just to bask.

Everything with Zhao... it was so brand new, but he was so excited for that change. Despite his actions, he really wasn't in a hurry for anything. He really did just feel so intensely for Zhao. He felt like he needed to act on it before Zhao realized he was way too good for him, or something.

"I love you." The words slipped out with ease, without a real thought behind them. It was just how he felt, and when was Ichiban Kasuga ever quiet about how he felt?

But so long as Zhao had the chance, he'd give Ichiban everything - because he wanted it just as fervently. He wanted to share small everyday moments, share space and lives. He wanted to know Ichiban by touch, by scent, and be known in return. He wanted to hold hands and kiss in public, to call each other 'partner' and 'lover' and 'husband', until his fear was just a memory.

He wanted as much time with Ichiban as possible, in a world so uncertain.

His own hum carried understanding, for both Ichiban and Aoki. From what he remembered about the latter's story, he got why so much care could feel smothering, especially to someone with that much pride who'd grown up in the 'family business'. He also got how sincere all those instances must have been from Ichiban's side, though, and how it must've stung to be pushed away and derided every time. Another reason to admire the compassionate heart his partner still had.

Zhao's half-smile softly resurfaced at the kiss to his shoulder, and broadened a bit further when he could hear a similar one in Ichiban's tone.

He appreciated that, despite their mutual anticipation, the other man didn't rush those last careful touches sweeping over each pale line. Once Ichiban finished, Zhao kept his own movements slow and easy as he turned where he sat. Meeting those sweet dark eyes again stirred up his mix of nervous relief and unvarnished love. It showed clear in his expression for a breath, before Zhao leaned in to wrap his arms round Ichiban. He let out another, more audible sigh through his nose while tucking it against the other's neck.

"Thanks, Ichiban," Zhao murmured. A beat, then his embrace tightened and his eyes shut once more as he added in a whisper, "...Fuck, I'm glad you can touch me." Another slight pause. "I, I think part o' me was... scared, that Mabuchi ruined any chance of this."

Too proud.

Too devastated.

"It's all right. We wouldn't have let him. We're too stubborn for that, right?" He joked lightly, resting the side of his head against Zhao's. "Even if I couldn't touch you like that yet, it would've been okay." It didn't matter how much he relished in the warmth he was experiencing in that moment. What did it matter if Zhao was upset through it?

"We could've just tried again, and again, and again... And take breaks, obviously. Wait until you were ready. But we're not ones to give up." It would've been all okay to him if he could never hold Zhao like that. Holding his hand was enough for him. But, something told him that Zhao wouldn't have put up with just succumbing to what Mabuchi put him through.

"You did it, though. You did great." Lifting his head back up, he turned it to press a kiss to Zhao's head before leaning against him again. Zhao had always seemed so strong to him. He admired that strength, but cherished the softness he'd been allowed to see since they'd met. Ichiban was still very much looking forward to seeing the casual ease they would eventual grow accustom to once they started living together.

He let out a short breath of a laugh.

Zhao angled his head subtly into Ichiban's kiss. In a way he couldn't quite define even to himself, his fiance's praise reminded him how real the achievement felt. This wasn't top scores in school, or winning a competition, or taking over the Liumang - it was better, like when he'd help his former subordinates with literacy, or how Auntie Chen would ruffle his hair for getting a recipe right. Something that mattered. The feeling let him melt a bit more into Ichiban's hold, eyes closed again just to bask.

He appreciated the steady pace in the meantime, slow and gentle but never lingering long enough for Zhao to worry. Eyes remaining closed while Ichiban's touch traveled further, he felt the subtle craving itch for more contact spread from his palms up through his arms. Despite how close they were right now, and how important this was - or, maybe because of that? - Zhao wanted so badly to pull Ichiban into an embrace. He wanted more of that realness, more of the other's warmth both physical and metaphorical. Still, he stayed put for now, and tried to focus on his other feelings from moment to moment.

Zhao appreciated his fiance's encouragement, even though he could feel where Ichiban's hands were. The praise that followed was a surprise, but one that only made his heart flutter and reddened the outer curves of his ears. If there was any embarrassment to be found, it was in how Zhao's mind clung to the words. He hadn't quite been lacking for praise in his life... on second thought, that had mostly been teachers back in his school days, and something had always felt hollow about it. But this, simple reassuring compliments from Ichiban, overflowed with sweetness as it both lightened his heart and simmered low in his belly. That could be mentally examined later.

"I--... guess the muscle memory's still there. Or, I guess since it's mainly in my head it's just normal memory? ...Ah, hell if I know. What I mean is just..." The admission wasn't really a failing on his part, so why did he feel so hesitant to talk about it? The sensitivity of the matter, he guessed. It hadn't even really been that long since...

"...Before I got arrested, I used to care for the young master. Ryo Aoki, Masato Arakawa back then. He didn't really like when I'd say stuff like that, 'cause he'd usually tell me to shut up. He hated when I babied him." His voice lost its energy the longer he spoke of him. Despite how much he wanted to pretend it wasn't, the wound was still fresh.

Ichiban hummed out softly, leaning his head down slightly to press another kiss to Zhao's shoulder.

"At least you like it, I guess. I'm lookin' forward to that hug," he remarked, his strengthening smile reaching his voice again. "Better get to it, then, huh?" There wasn't much left of Zhao's back for him to feel, so he was hoping that mean they were pretty much in the clear. For Zhao's sake, he hoped it all was a good sign, that they wouldn't have to worry too much about Ichiban's touch being an issue.

His own hum carried understanding, for both Ichiban and Aoki. From what he remembered about the latter's story, he got why so much care could feel smothering, especially to someone with that much pride who'd grown up in the 'family business'. He also got how sincere all those instances must have been from Ichiban's side, though, and how it must've stung to be pushed away and derided every time. Another reason to admire the compassionate heart his partner still had.

Zhao's half-smile softly resurfaced at the kiss to his shoulder, and broadened a bit further when he could hear a similar one in Ichiban's tone.

He appreciated that, despite their mutual anticipation, the other man didn't rush those last careful touches sweeping over each pale line. Once Ichiban finished, Zhao kept his own movements slow and easy as he turned where he sat. Meeting those sweet dark eyes again stirred up his mix of nervous relief and unvarnished love. It showed clear in his expression for a breath, before Zhao leaned in to wrap his arms round Ichiban. He let out another, more audible sigh through his nose while tucking it against the other's neck.

"Thanks, Ichiban," Zhao murmured. A beat, then his embrace tightened and his eyes shut once more as he added in a whisper, "...Fuck, I'm glad you can touch me." Another slight pause. "I, I think part o' me was... scared, that Mabuchi ruined any chance of this."

Zhao hadn't anticipated so much detail in his fiance's reassuring declaration, but it was such a kind instinct it pulled an adoring smile onto his face for a moment. He kept his eyes low-lidded, not quite shut; he wouldn't let them close until he felt Ichiban's touch again. "'kay," he murmured with another nod, now holding onto the recent memories of the touches over his front as well, to remind himself what to expect.

The gentle press of fingertips on his upper back snared and honed his attention anew. Yet here again, it wasn't whetted too sharp, didn't drag him back to the bad old days. Zhao still knew he was here, in what would soon be their apartment, safe under the hand and gaze of a man he trusted and loved. Taking a measured, silent breath through his nose, to ensure his mind remained clear despite the stubborn little tangle of nerves raveled in his gut, Zhao replied, "Still okay." He let his eyes close then. "I like the way your hands feel."

Ichiban kept going with only a few short pauses in between some of the motions. His hands never lost their gentle touch. One day he wouldn't have to be so gentle. He hoped one day he could press his hands against Zhao without the fear that he might end up making him recoil. They'd get there, he just needed to be patient.

"...We're gettin' there. Almost done," Ichiban attempted to encourage Zhao as he would get farther across his back. "You're doin' great. Bein' so brave." He could hear a voice scolding him. He was being too much again. He was treating him like a kid. Shit--

He appreciated the steady pace in the meantime, slow and gentle but never lingering long enough for Zhao to worry. Eyes remaining closed while Ichiban's touch traveled further, he felt the subtle craving itch for more contact spread from his palms up through his arms. Despite how close they were right now, and how important this was - or, maybe because of that? - Zhao wanted so badly to pull Ichiban into an embrace. He wanted more of that realness, more of the other's warmth both physical and metaphorical. Still, he stayed put for now, and tried to focus on his other feelings from moment to moment.

Zhao appreciated his fiance's encouragement, even though he could feel where Ichiban's hands were. The praise that followed was a surprise, but one that only made his heart flutter and reddened the outer curves of his ears. If there was any embarrassment to be found, it was in how Zhao's mind clung to the words. He hadn't quite been lacking for praise in his life... on second thought, that had mostly been teachers back in his school days, and something had always felt hollow about it. But this, simple reassuring compliments from Ichiban, overflowed with sweetness as it both lightened his heart and simmered low in his belly. That could be mentally examined later.

Even just that first, stuttered syllable hooked Zhao's entire attention. A hint of bafflement soon gave way to more endeared affection. See? Man, what had he done to deserve Ichiban? Zhao was sorely tempted to turn around then and there for a kiss.

Instead, he glanced back over his shoulder with a small, soft smile. "Hey; you're doin' fine, Ichiban. I'm nervous too, but I know I'm safe here. And it's sweet that you asked. Really." A beat of genuine consideration. "...I think for this time, I want you to tell me, yeah. Just so I don't get jumpy when nothin's wrong, 'n I can start getting used to it again." He turned back around, closing his eyes and taking a long, measured, silent breath.

He just... hoped he wouldn't end up fucking it up.

"Got it. I gotcha, Zhao. Speak up if you need me t'stop, okay?" Before Zhao looked away, Ichiban pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder. One last bit of comfort, reassurance before they continued on.

He waited for Zhao to turn his head back again, carefully preparing himself, too. It would be all right. They would be all right.

"Okay, um-- gonna start. I'm gonna go from top right to bottom right, 'n' keep goin' like that. Like reading a book." A familiar pattern maybe might help? He didn't know. At least it would give Zhao a pattern to anticipate, at least.

"...All right, I'm about to feel." He gave Zhao a moment to brace himself if he needed it, then placed his thumb and the left side of his man against the back of Zhao's right shoulder. The grooves of scar tissue... it vaguely made him wonder if the boss's facial scar had felt similarly. He wondered how it must've felt, having something like that in a place so moved so much. For a moment, Ichiban wondered how he got it.

His mind was wandering. He needed to focus.

Zhao hadn't anticipated so much detail in his fiance's reassuring declaration, but it was such a kind instinct it pulled an adoring smile onto his face for a moment. He kept his eyes low-lidded, not quite shut; he wouldn't let them close until he felt Ichiban's touch again. "'kay," he murmured with another nod, now holding onto the recent memories of the touches over his front as well, to remind himself what to expect.

The gentle press of fingertips on his upper back snared and honed his attention anew. Yet here again, it wasn't whetted too sharp, didn't drag him back to the bad old days. Zhao still knew he was here, in what would soon be their apartment, safe under the hand and gaze of a man he trusted and loved. Taking a measured, silent breath through his nose, to ensure his mind remained clear despite the stubborn little tangle of nerves raveled in his gut, Zhao replied, "Still okay." He let his eyes close then. "I like the way your hands feel."

He managed a slight smile when their gazes met. Eyes falling shut for a long moment as he subtly leaned into Ichiban's kiss, Zhao found it easier to let his smile widen a bit afterward. "Yeah. I'm good, Ichiban." A soft squeeze to those perfect hands in his. "...Thanks." Everything that one word carried was too much to manage aloud.

When the other man asked about continuing, Zhao did give it a moment of consideration, just to be sure in his answer. "I'm good to keep going," he nodded. "There's a few on my thighs, but my back's got most o' the rest." And with his upper body already bared, showing his back first would be faster.

"Uh--" Ichiban's hesitant voice stuttered out before the words had properly processed in his head. "Do you, uh, want me to tell you? Before I touch? So you know when it's comin'?" He didn't know if it might be necessary, or if he was just getting way too nervous about all of it all over again. Ichiban just... really, really didn't want to freak Zhao out. While he hadn't ever dealt with anyone as scarred up as Zhao, he had encountered several people in jail that hadn't taken kindly to being touched by people they didn't have their eyes on.

Even just that first, stuttered syllable hooked Zhao's entire attention. A hint of bafflement soon gave way to more endeared affection. See? Man, what had he done to deserve Ichiban? Zhao was sorely tempted to turn around then and there for a kiss.

Instead, he glanced back over his shoulder with a small, soft smile. "Hey; you're doin' fine, Ichiban. I'm nervous too, but I know I'm safe here. And it's sweet that you asked. Really." A beat of genuine consideration. "...I think for this time, I want you to tell me, yeah. Just so I don't get jumpy when nothin's wrong, 'n I can start getting used to it again." He turned back around, closing his eyes and taking a long, measured, silent breath.

Ichiban's quiet, comforting answer bled a little warmth through Zhao's veins. Swallowing silently before his throat could tighten to an ache, he whispered in utter sincerity: "I do. I know." Even if it was a given, it still meant the world to hear it declared so frank and earnest. And Zhao could at least admit to himself how grateful he was for another grounding foothold.

Especially as Ichiban's touch continued to roam over his front. Zhao watched again, only distantly recognizing the whim to reciprocate itching in his palms. His focus remained fixed on this moment, on fingertips finding each pale line of a cut and each warped edge of a burn, on his own body's responses.

Ichiban nodded his head in understanding, letting the words sit and linger in the air as he was finishing the front of Zhao's body. When he did, he carefully trailed his hands down his arms as he took both of his hands into his own. He looked up at Zhao, his eyes still searching for something. Like perhaps something from the last moments of touching might've triggered something.

"...That wasn't so bad," Ichiban concluded, though, as the silence sat between them for a moment. He leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Zhao's lips, pulling back a moment later. "You did great. Are you all right?"

He knew what Zhao had said, but he needed to make sure.

He managed a slight smile when their gazes met. Eyes falling shut for a long moment as he subtly leaned into Ichiban's kiss, Zhao found it easier to let his smile widen a bit afterward. "Yeah. I'm good, Ichiban." A soft squeeze to those perfect hands in his. "...Thanks." Everything that one word carried was too much to manage aloud.

When the other man asked about continuing, Zhao did give it a moment of consideration, just to be sure in his answer. "I'm good to keep going," he nodded. "There's a few on my thighs, but my back's got most o' the rest." And with his upper body already bared, showing his back first would be faster.

He followed Ichiban's guidance to the couch. After sitting as well, Zhao turned almost in tandem and adjusted his legs a little so the distance between them wouldn't be awkwardly wide. It didn't surprise him that his fiance started at the same spot as earlier. Zhao's heart thrummed harder under Ichiban's palm, anticipation mixed with a bit of consciously-chosen hope. He could do this. They could do this.

Ichiban's first touch along the edge of the nearest burn felt a little strange to Zhao as well. But more than that, it was... both similar to yet different from his own hand. Not different in a bad way, by any means, as Ichiban's fingers wandered to one of the long thin scars on the other side of Zhao's chest. Not bad at all; he welcomed it, to his own relief.

"Just... I would never hurt you. I hope you realize that," he told him softly. He felt like it was a given, but something he felt like he needed to utter aloud as he was treading over dangerous territory. Hopefully as something for them to hold onto, so Zhao wouldn't potentially feel unsafe. ...He didn't know if that made sense aloud in the same way it did in his head, but hoped it would help.

Ichiban's quiet, comforting answer bled a little warmth through Zhao's veins. Swallowing silently before his throat could tighten to an ache, he whispered in utter sincerity: "I do. I know." Even if it was a given, it still meant the world to hear it declared so frank and earnest. And Zhao could at least admit to himself how grateful he was for another grounding foothold.

Especially as Ichiban's touch continued to roam over his front. Zhao watched again, only distantly recognizing the whim to reciprocate itching in his palms. His focus remained fixed on this moment, on fingertips finding each pale line of a cut and each warped edge of a burn, on his own body's responses.

"I know," he breathed, soft and with a tenderness he wasn't sure he'd ever expressed aloud before. "And you can lean on me too."

It was Zhao's turn to glance down at himself, then back up to Ichiban's gaze. Oddly, he wasn't sure if he could stomach a white lie, even if it'd make him seem better recovered, after pouring out so much raw truth. "...I dunno either. Haven't been with anyone since the coup happened, and I'm not sure if what's okay from my own hands is okay from anyone else's. But... but I wanna find out."

"Yeah," Ichi answered. But then came the hard part, of learning about those boundaries together.

Taking his hand from Zhao's chest, he took hold Zhao's hand again. Gently, he'd begin to guide him back over toward the couch. Somewhere a bit more comfortable, so they could sit and start to figure it out.

He waited for Zhao to sit down before he'd turn to face him as best he could. Raising his hand back up, he'd rest it back where Zhao had guided it. Touching anything but the smooth skin felt like an intrusion, but that was the point. They needed to get a little uncomfortable to find true comfort in one another.

And so Ichiban took the plunge to carefully run his finger along the burn. It felt... strange. It wasn't similar to anything he'd felt before. He'd burned himself before, but nothing that scarred like that. His touch wouldn't linger for long, instead soon stretching over to feel the scar from the cut that had been made there. Cuts were a bit more familiar territory. It wasn't too different feeling from the scar he had across his own chest.

He followed Ichiban's guidance to the couch. After sitting as well, Zhao turned almost in tandem and adjusted his legs a little so the distance between them wouldn't be awkwardly wide. It didn't surprise him that his fiance started at the same spot as earlier. Zhao's heart thrummed harder under Ichiban's palm, anticipation mixed with a bit of consciously-chosen hope. He could do this. They could do this.

Ichiban's first touch along the edge of the nearest burn felt a little strange to Zhao as well. But more than that, it was... both similar to yet different from his own hand. Not different in a bad way, by any means, as Ichiban's fingers wandered to one of the long thin scars on the other side of Zhao's chest. Not bad at all; he welcomed it, to his own relief.

While Ichiban eked out words past what sounded like the threat of tears, Zhao dropped his shirt aside to instead step closer. He moved slow, as gentle as he could muster, and rested his hands on his fiance's shoulders first. At the other man's apology, though, he cradled that sweet, handsome face in both palms.

But, nothing could be done about that now. In that moment, it was about Zhao. It was about Zhao revealing something difficult and personal to him, and he needed listen about as well as he could.

"Shouldn't I be the one comforting you?" Ichiban jested half-heartedly, his smile weak even as their foreheads stayed pressed together. He brought his left hand up to hold over Zhao's, unsure of whether it'd be okay if he touched Zhao anywhere else. God, he really was having trouble keeping his eyes off the scars across his fiance's body.

"I get it, though. Us guys... us mafia, yakuza guys... we always gotta stomach a lot of stuff alone, right? But we don't have to anymore. You don't have to anymore. You can... You can lean on me, y'know?" He was glad Zhao felt like he could tell him about all of this now. None of it would negate the guilt he felt in regard to everything, but it wasn't about him.

"I know," he breathed, soft and with a tenderness he wasn't sure he'd ever expressed aloud before. "And you can lean on me too."

It was Zhao's turn to glance down at himself, then back up to Ichiban's gaze. Oddly, he wasn't sure if he could stomach a white lie, even if it'd make him seem better recovered, after pouring out so much raw truth. "...I dunno either. Haven't been with anyone since the coup happened, and I'm not sure if what's okay from my own hands is okay from anyone else's. But... but I wanna find out."

After the idea came out, at first it reminded Zhao of uncorking a wine bottle. And he was a bit of a metaphorical lush for Ichiban. He let the other's words flow uninterrupted, simply listening with a blatantly fond smile. When Ichiban's gaze lifted to offer a firmer, frank declaration, Zhao's expression eased a bit without losing any warmth. "You always do, Ichiban. Sex is just one more way, for both of us; the kinda way I'd love to try with you."

Another short kiss, though Zhao was slower to pull away this time and didn't move as far, distracted by gathering his nerve. "There's just one thing I gotta... maybe tell and show ya, first."

He didn't want to retreat from Ichiban's hold, but it'd be easier to shed his shirt. Even so, Zhao again didn't step too far back. His fingers paused a moment on the top button. Just do it, man. Like rippin' off a bandaid. "You, uh, you remember that whole coup shit a while ago?" Once the first button was undone, it felt just barely easier to keep unfastening the rest while he spoke. "When your buddy hauled me out. Got me bandaged up 'n all that, but... some of it was bad enough to stick around."

Zhao tried to ignore the tremble in his hands as he shrugged off his shirt. Pale lines of varying lengths and angles were strewn over his chest and midriff, a few lancing into the back of the leopard prowling down his left side in full color. More scars were scattered down his upper arms; on his right shoulder was a particular cluster of them, the first character of 'traitor' carved with perfect stroke order before the interruption of rescue. Starker than even those lines were three roughly rectangular burns on the right half of his chest, seared into his skin by glowing-hot iron. Though Zhao didn't yet turn, the worst density of scars were on his back, and more on his thighs remained hidden by his pants.

Between fighting, the information he was still trying to process, and everything else, they hadn't been the ones to find Zhao. They'd been too busy dealing with Mabuchi and Ishioda. The fact that Mitsu had been able to find and save Zhao... Ichiban owed him one big time and forever.

The guilt had faded into the background as time passed, as Zhao and he had gotten to know each other. It was never acknowledged. He had doubted it every would be again.

Seeing all that was presented to him, though, Ichiban stood in silent shock. Eyes wide, he couldn't focus on a single spot for long. He felt his chest heave, his throat become tighter. He couldn't imagine the amount of pain Zhao had to have been in. The regret he'd felt for not being able to help Zhao had already been immense even when they weren't that close. The reminder now of how he'd already failed him tremendously was crashing down upon him.

"That--..." Finding words for it was nigh impossible. What could he even say? His throat felt determined to making speaking even more difficult than it already was.

"I... I didn't know it'd been that bad." His voice came out a bit strangled, struggling through swallowing back the large lump in his throat.

While Ichiban eked out words past what sounded like the threat of tears, Zhao dropped his shirt aside to instead step closer. He moved slow, as gentle as he could muster, and rested his hands on his fiance's shoulders first. At the other man's apology, though, he cradled that sweet, handsome face in both palms.

Giddy thrill mingled with flustered affection in his toothy smile at Ichiban's frank echo, said so easily Zhao could actually believe it. His expression softened somewhat when the other lingered in a pause, those gorgeous expressive eyes darting down then back up, and hands apparently far more reluctant to settle than Zhao's. Had he toed a line?

He let Ichiban's wheels churn, even as worry-tinged curiosity threatened to burn away his patience. His partner was more than honest enough not to let something hang unspoken, especially when it seemed important.

Zhao tilted his head a bit, his worry fading though his curiosity remained, as Ichiban stumbled through a couple requests. It didn't take much dwelling to realize what the other meant by 'this whole thing', and the thought eased his look further. He lifted one hand from Ichiban's waist, but only to instead cradle his fiance's cheek. So damn sweet, you must bleed honey.

Anything in mind. Shit, did he?

... C'mon, man. No use being shy about it. They were gonna spend their lives together. He needed to just push through this awkwardness and make it through to the other side.

"Maybe we could-- uh... y'know, try to... do things? Would it be too early to try to, like--..." Be an adult, man! Just say it! "-- y'know, um. Try having sex?" As hard as it was to get the words out, Ichiban had at least said them bluntly enough, rather than beating around the bush or mumbling them out.

"I'll be super honest-- uh... so, I really do mostly just know bits from the soapland I grew up in. I don't really know the, like... manners that comes with dating, or stuff like that. Maybe I'm just getting a little excited. I-- I really don't mind waiting. For anything. I just..." Ichiban trailed off as he looked at Zhao a bit more firmly.

After the idea came out, at first it reminded Zhao of uncorking a wine bottle. And he was a bit of a metaphorical lush for Ichiban. He let the other's words flow uninterrupted, simply listening with a blatantly fond smile. When Ichiban's gaze lifted to offer a firmer, frank declaration, Zhao's expression eased a bit without losing any warmth. "You always do, Ichiban. Sex is just one more way, for both of us; the kinda way I'd love to try with you."

Another short kiss, though Zhao was slower to pull away this time and didn't move as far, distracted by gathering his nerve. "There's just one thing I gotta... maybe tell and show ya, first."

He didn't want to retreat from Ichiban's hold, but it'd be easier to shed his shirt. Even so, Zhao again didn't step too far back. His fingers paused a moment on the top button. Just do it, man. Like rippin' off a bandaid. "You, uh, you remember that whole coup shit a while ago?" Once the first button was undone, it felt just barely easier to keep unfastening the rest while he spoke. "When your buddy hauled me out. Got me bandaged up 'n all that, but... some of it was bad enough to stick around."

Zhao tried to ignore the tremble in his hands as he shrugged off his shirt. Pale lines of varying lengths and angles were strewn over his chest and midriff, a few lancing into the back of the leopard prowling down his left side in full color. More scars were scattered down his upper arms; on his right shoulder was a particular cluster of them, the first character of 'traitor' carved with perfect stroke order before the interruption of rescue. Starker than even those lines were three roughly rectangular burns on the right half of his chest, seared into his skin by glowing-hot iron. Though Zhao didn't yet turn, the worst density of scars were on his back, and more on his thighs remained hidden by his pants.

Ichiban's grin back at him, even when it was tinged with nerves, shored up Zhao's unspoken determination.

"Not too long at all. And time flies when you're havin' fun, right?" He punctuated with a softly lingering kiss near Ichiban's shoulder. Fuck, he really wanted to keep kissing his fiance all over, anywhere he'd be allowed. Instead, Zhao rested his cheek where his lips had pressed, watching the other man with half-lidded eyes and an affectionate smile. He liked getting to be 'soft Zhao' around Ichiban more and more, with every passing day.

Was he smooth enough to figure out his first try? ... Yeah, probably not. Wouldn't stop him from trying, though.

Ichiban squeezed Zhao's hand once before he'd begrudgingly let go, while he'd resist gently against Zhao's other arm around him so he could warn him of the turn before he ended up accidentally twisting his arm with it. It felt a bit awkward as he swiveled around to face him, but-- well, it could've definitely been worse. And now he was face to face with his fiancé. Seemed like a victory to him.

His smile grew once they were facing one another, where he'd lean in to press his lips to Zhao's.

"You deserve it, too," Ichiban echoed the sentiment, words spoken barely centimeters from Zhao's lips. It seemed like something was whirring around in his head, given the way he had briefly paused to stare at his lips, and then back up into Zhao's eyes. Tentative hands carefully were placed at each side of Zhao's hips, but were prepared to rip them away at a moment's notice.

He knew... well, he more or less knew the general idea of all of the intimate stuff. He was just also genuinely afraid of Zhao thinking of him the way the women at Shangri-La thought of their most "pathetic," "creepy," or -- any of the worst of their clients. Ichiban knew he could learn, it was just the first time of going through the motions that felt the most nervewracking. The last thing he wanted to do was to cross a line he didn't even know was there.

"Can you-- uh..." Ichiban stumbled over his words, struggling to keep himself from looking down and away. "...help me? Figure this-- this whole... thing out? An' tell me if I do something wrong?" By that point, he did involuntarily end up glancing downwards.

Giddy thrill mingled with flustered affection in his toothy smile at Ichiban's frank echo, said so easily Zhao could actually believe it. His expression softened somewhat when the other lingered in a pause, those gorgeous expressive eyes darting down then back up, and hands apparently far more reluctant to settle than Zhao's. Had he toed a line?

He let Ichiban's wheels churn, even as worry-tinged curiosity threatened to burn away his patience. His partner was more than honest enough not to let something hang unspoken, especially when it seemed important.

Zhao tilted his head a bit, his worry fading though his curiosity remained, as Ichiban stumbled through a couple requests. It didn't take much dwelling to realize what the other meant by 'this whole thing', and the thought eased his look further. He lifted one hand from Ichiban's waist, but only to instead cradle his fiance's cheek. So damn sweet, you must bleed honey.

Zhao just hoped he wasn't doing some kind of mixed signals thing. He didn't think he was, but that didn't stop his brain from going haywire apparently. Past experience seesawed between insisting he hold off on expressing any overt intimate interest, and fearing that very lack of expression might've come off like he didn't want intimacy with Ichiban, when nothing could be further from the truth. He craved more of this kind of closeness too, after rarely ever risking anything like it before. To just watch Ichiban's nighttime routine felt like a privilege, of sorts.

C'mon, man. Chill out. Gotta learn somehow.

He placed a hand on Zhao's arm, encouraging the contact between them. He looked back toward him, a small grin gracing his features. The nervousness there was present and not exactly easily hidden.

"Y'know, I heard it takes about three weeks for something to turn into a habit. ...Or something like that. Three weeks doesn't sound too long to me, though." Getting used to it all, and then it just becomes the norm. It was really what he wanted out of things. A comfortable life filled with love, with care. Living in a way that would be able to make the boss and the young master proud of him.

Ichiban's grin back at him, even when it was tinged with nerves, shored up Zhao's unspoken determination.

"Not too long at all. And time flies when you're havin' fun, right?" He punctuated with a softly lingering kiss near Ichiban's shoulder. Fuck, he really wanted to keep kissing his fiance all over, anywhere he'd be allowed. Instead, Zhao rested his cheek where his lips had pressed, watching the other man with half-lidded eyes and an affectionate smile. He liked getting to be 'soft Zhao' around Ichiban more and more, with every passing day.

The hold of their hands, in the midst of the world buzzing along around them as usual, underscored that certainty.

One more squeeze to Ichiban's palm while Zhao entered first, then he lifted his free hand in a slight wave to Nancy. "'Scuse the intrusion." That grin from his partner - from his fiance - was infectious. "Sure, I could go for one." A beer might ease the sharpest edge of Zhao's nerves over the thought of changing clothes later, and of being pressed close enough Ichiban might notice the scars.

"Here ya go!" One of the open bottles was offered to him, while he took a swig from his own bottle a moment later.

It would all be a learning curve: that almost constant closeness with Zhao, to feel like he was just existing around him instead of trying to impress him all the time. He just... really didn't want Zhao to come to the realization that he was way too good for him. He want to keep this for as long as he could. Zhao was willing to marry him, but it wasn't like anything bound them to one another. Things could always change, for the better or for the worse.

He shouldn't worry about stuff like that, right? They were happy. For now, they both really did seem happy. Ichiban just hoped it stayed that way for as long as possible.

Ichiban downed his beer quicker than intended, but he pushed that off from his mind. Instead, he'd start stepping back toward the other side of the one-roomed apartment so he could start stripping down. That day's clothes were tossed into his hamper, leaving him in his underwear: his white tank top and boxer shorts. And with that came the rest of his routine of brushing his teeth and washing his face, all the while keeping an eye on Zhao to see that he was doing all right in what would soon be their shared space.

Zhao just hoped he wasn't doing some kind of mixed signals thing. He didn't think he was, but that didn't stop his brain from going haywire apparently. Past experience seesawed between insisting he hold off on expressing any overt intimate interest, and fearing that very lack of expression might've come off like he didn't want intimacy with Ichiban, when nothing could be further from the truth. He craved more of this kind of closeness too, after rarely ever risking anything like it before. To just watch Ichiban's nighttime routine felt like a privilege, of sorts.