#'actually my name is hua cheng' (<- still sounds fake as fuck)

[lazycranberrydoodles]

rare pen doodles cause finals week is grinding me into a fine dust

[touchmycoat]

If you're still taking prompts from the smut list: 5, 7, 12 or 22 for He Xuan / LQG. Sexual or not, considering the leverage!au, those quotes could be job related.@.@

((Smut dialogue prompts))

5. “Take your clothes off. Right now.” 7. “Hands behind your back.” 12. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.” 22. “Look how good you take it.”

Word Count: 3267 Leverage!AU

(i)

"Take your clothes off. Right now."

Liu Qingge was halfway out of his shirt before he really registered the order, and then He Xuan was next to him yanking the shirt off the rest of the way before Liu Qingge could pull it back down.

"Pants."

"Back off," Liu Qingge tried to snap, but was quickly losing ground as He Xuan backed him up among the racks of clothes and stage design props. And when he smacked He Xuan's hands away from his belt, He Xuan smacked his hand right back with his own belt buckle.

"You heard her," He Xuan said, low and dangerous in something that sounded a lot like the fuck around and find out voice he reserved for marks. "Models and designers only."

"So you be the model."

He Xuan tugged Liu Qingge's belt off with a neat yank. Then he took a step back and folded his arms.

"Fine. Then talk fashion."

Liu Qingge had to resist the urge to fold his arms in mirror, because in his current state, it would look just a little too much like he was covering himself up out of shyness.

"Shen Qingqiu?" he snapped into his earpiece.

"Sorry," Shen Qingqiu coughed. "All I know are brand names."

"Come on, Liu Qingge," Luo Binghe chimed in, all schadenfreude, "you were hired for your body."

"And not to rush but Lan Xichen is being held hostage..."

"Fine." Glaring vicious murder, Liu Qingge thrust out a hand at He Xuan. "What do I wear?"

With a smug not-smile, He Xuan turned on his heel and tossed the long end of Liu Qingge's belt over his shoulder. When the leather smacked against his back, Liu Qingge's gaze flickered.

"You're not wearing anything," He Xuan snorted. "Just shut up, follow me, and flex."

(ii)

"State police! Nobody move!"

He Xuan, slipping his fake detective badge away, of course made for Liu Qingge first, who stood in the middle of a pile of broken noses and unconscious bodies, as was his wont. A frenetic, giddy smile split the mark's bloody mouth (which had already been split once by Liu Qingge, before the private security forces moved in) as four policemen stepped into the room.

He Xuan grabbed Liu Qingge by the back of the neck like an errant puppy and shoved him face-first against the wall.

"Hands behind your back."

Behind him, the mark was babbling some thank god, where have you been bullshit, but He Xuan was too busy not-smirking at Liu Qingge's hissed curses when the cuffs went on too tight. Then there was a hand on his elbow. For the sake of the con, He Xuan didn't tear the man's arm off.

(Didn't unleash Liu Qingge on him; what the mark got a taste of before was really just a friendly nip.)

"Cheng Luan, was it?" He Xuan growled into Liu Qingge's ear. "I've been looking forward to this moment for a long time."

"Hey, excuse me—"

Then he was hauling Liu Qingge around to bury a fist in Liu Qingge's gut. It was real—it had to be at this proximity—but He Xuan had already given Liu Qingge's stomach a little tap to signal where he was going to hit. His knuckles found flexed muscles, but Liu Qingge doubled over anyways.

"Whoa, whoa hey—"

With a palm over Liu Qingge's jaw, He Xuan pulled him up and squeezed. Liu Qingge's pupils were completely blown when he glared at He Xuan.

"Wait just a moment, look, are you, are you one of them?"

He Xuan gave Liu Qingge's face another little shake, and Liu Qingge actually growled. Adorable.

"I'm talking to you!"

"What?" He Xuan finally snapped back, tossing a look of annoyance down at the CEO-of-the-week beside him.

"I'm asking," the mark said, throwing his hands up in exasperation, "if you're one of the dirty cops I pay off! Holy Christ, you really are all just a bunch of meatheads, huh? Don't know anything but violence, but it's fine, you're doing me a favor here. Make sure he goes away for good for me, alright? Whatever you did to that last Chen guy, I want you to double for him. I'll pay you double too, just make sure he really, really suffers."

Rabid blood-thirst slipping away in an instant, He Xuan moved his grip down into Liu Qingge's shirt collar and pulled Liu Qingge up straight. There was a loud plastic snap, as Liu Qingge broke the fake link in the cuff behind his torso.

"Hear that? He wants you to really suffer," He Xuan said as he plucked the detective badge out of his pocket and tossed it across the room. As they walked past the dumbstruck mark, Liu Qingge got right up into his face.

"He's lucky I didn't break his jaw."

"I don't—You're not real cops?!"

He Xuan didn't know how the mark hadn't pieced it together yet—he'd already answered that question with the detective's badge. One of the four men who'd entered with him—real police officers—had caught it, and pocketed it with the solemnity that spoke volumes about whom that badge belonged to. A fallen cop, perhaps, one set up and ambushed by his own, who were in turn on the payroll of a local arms-dealing CEO.

"You actually punched me," Liu Qingge complained on their way out. He Xuan eyed the halved handcuffs still hanging from his wrists, and the skin rubbed red beneath the teeth.

"You're the one who told me I wasn't putting my hip into it."

(iii)

The cuffs this time were real. At Xie Lian's light-voiced, inflection-less call, He Xuan hauled Liu Qingge out into the swimming pool.

"Is this the man who's been giving you trouble?"

The trafficker smiled, toothy and depraved, as he drank in the sight of Liu Qingge's bare feet and torn clothing. Liu Qingge jerked forward in He Xuan's grip and spat at his feet.

"Sang Jingxing, I'm going to fucking ruin you!" he promised.

"Master Fangxin," Sang Jingxing applauded, "you truly exceed your reputation. This man's managed to avoid me for days."

Weeks, actually, but He Xuan didn't bother calling him out on it. He let Xie Lian's mild little smile take care of that.

"You've proven your skills..." Sang Jingxing continued, glossing over the look. "Alright, you've got a deal."

Xie Lian touched Sang Jingxing's outstretched hand with the very tip of two fingers in lieu of a handshake. His hands were even gloved.

"Thank you for your time, Master Sang. We'll be on our way now."

"Ah, just a moment." Of them three, only Liu Qingge's feet slipped on the tiles, and that was because they were meant to, with He Xuan hoisting him half-up in the air like this. "Master Fangxin, if you'd be so kind—I like to do all my inquiries and reconnaissance in-house."

Meaning, he wanted to keep Liu Qingge. With any other underground criminal boss, the threat would be torture by electricity, blunt force trauma, and dismemberment. Sang Jingxing had all of the above plus one favored trick up his sleeve—one that made the slip of Xie Lian's eyes over to him go icy cold.

"Ah yes," Xie Lian said, smiling just barely, "I've heard of Master Sang's proclivities. Several stories involve this precise setting, I believe—a VIP hotel swimming pool. With as many men."

Sang Jingxing chuckled, and so did the eight bodyguards poised around his surroundings.

"Drains and plenty of water, you understand," Sang Jingxing leered. "Gentlemen like yourself always frown upon a touch of more libidinous fun. Such a shame, for a figure like yourself."

"I'm going to tear out his eyeballs," Hua Cheng said calmly through the comms, and He Xuan thought he saw a touch of genuine humor light the corner of Xie Lian's mouth.

"It's true I don't personally participate in such methods, but you've got the wrong idea," Xie Lian spoke, shrugging. He waved a hand in gesture to He Xuan. "It's simply that I've already promised my trusty lieutenant here the same reward."

"No, you're certain? Then he simply must demonstrate." Simpering, Sang Jingxing clapped once and loudly, the sharp sound echoing through the tiled room. Liu Qingge was stiffening in He Xuan's hold. "Such a fine specimen—I actually said to my men how lucky we were that a man like that was coming after me. Surely you won't deny me a taste?"

Xie Lian had really perfected the look of heedless nobility, completely ignorant to the suffering of people beneath his station.

"If Ming Yi doesn't mind, I certainly don't."

He Xuan was instantly in motion, marching Liu Qingge forward and slamming him over the nearest table. He had to swipe aside fruits and cakes and coffees to do it. With Liu Qingge bent over, he tore one sleeve of Liu Qingge's shirt clean off, before moving down to Liu Qingge's pants.

They hadn't planned out of any of this, but Liu Qingge knew damn well there was only one thing he was meant to do in this position—he struggled like his honor depended on it (and it certainly did), bucking and kicking and twisting even after He Xuan slammed his forehead twice into the table.

"Feisty," He Xuan heard Sang Jingxing comment gleefully. "Just say the word if you want any help."

"My lieutenant's not a fan of touching what other people have soiled," Xie Lian commented idly, to Sang Jingxing's chuckles.

When a toss of Liu Qingge's head almost broke He Xuan's nose, He Xuan's hand found a roll of plastic wrap sitting by the fruits. This was the good stuff too, translucent and thick, breakable only by blades.

Forcing Liu Qingge down with a well-jabbed elbow, He Xuan flung the box off the roll of wrap and yanked a clear film over Liu Qingge's face. Fast as anything, he pushed the roll through the crook of his elbow and wrapped another bunched-up loop over Liu Qingge's neck.

Then he started pulling. Liu Qingge's back arched, plastic divoting instantly into his mouth, into his nostrils on an inhale. When he exhaled, He Xuan adjusted his left hand, pulling the cling film even tighter to not let any air in or out. Soon enough, the noises of Liu Qingge's ragged choking were echoing through the room.

"Wha—He Xuan?" came Shen Qingqiu's voice over the comms, alarmed. "Liu Qingge? What's going on? Xie Lian?"

"Alright, alright! That's enough!" Sang Jingxing said, laughing brightly and clapping his hands. "Don't whet my appetite if you're not going to feed it. You can take him, but on the off-chance there are any pieces left, why don't you have your man bring it back around? I'm less persnickety about those sorts of things than your man."

"I'll see what I can do," Xie Lian replied. "Ming Yi."

But He Xuan still hadn't let up. He could feel each of Liu Qingge's unfinished breaths lose rhythm in their panic, Liu Qingge's body going slack under his weight. Still, he kept his hands taught, leaning forward and pinning Liu Qingge's hips to the table with his—

"He has to sell it, A-Yuan-ge, Sang Jingxing's only testing—"

"Ming Yi."

He Xuan halted. Released his hands.

Liu Qingge spat the plastic wrap off his face and promptly vomited bile onto the table.

"I said, we're leaving." Xie Lian's voice this time was icy, and Sang Jingxing almost clasped Xie Lian's shoulder with a sympathetic hand until he thought better of it.

"Everybody gets carried away sometimes. Boys will be boys."

And he had the nerve to wink at He Xuan. If He Xuan were any less good at keeping his own feelings under wraps, he'd have hauled across the room and beaten Sang Jingxing to a pulp by now.

"I have no use for attack dogs that don't follow my order," was all Xie Lian had to say on that. He inclined his head, and that was all the order He Xuan needed to pull Liu Qingge up again and march him back out the room.

(Ignoring what felt like a very little but very real flinch when his hand closed over Liu Qingge's shoulder.)

A bit later, they parted ways with Xie Lian, who would make his exit through the hotel lobby. He Xuan and Liu Qingge took a circuitous route to the back of the hotel garage, where Liu Qingge shrugged off He Xuan's gesture to help, instead marching over ten meters of rough gravel ground on bare feet to get to his shoes and their car.

"Oooh," Luo Binghe murmured in his I'm-cracking-a-safe-so-have-little-brain-to-mouth-filter voice. "Trouble in paradise?"

"That's why you should always ask for consent before choking people," Shen Qingqiu mumbled mutinously. "Liu-xuedi, can you even speak right now?"

Liu Qingge snarled, but didn't answer, which definitely meant that he knew his voice would be compromised. A rough red line was carved across the left side of his neck where He Xuan had applied most pressure, and He Xuan couldn't help but stare at it when they got into the car.

It wasn't until Liu Qingge smacked a hand against his steering wheel that He Xuan looked up, and saw Liu Qingge mouth clearly and angrily, drive!

Pressing on the cabin lights above their heads, He Xuan articulated his motions as he moved in to pluck the earpiece from Liu Qingge's ear. Then he did the same for himself, gathering the two comm pieces into one fist. Liu Qingge looked at him with a distrustful frown the whole time.

"I'm sorry," He Xuan said, simply and honestly. He didn't bother giving any reasons or excuses or promises, only his regret, pure and true.

Liu Qingge watched him back for one long moment, before rolling his eyes.

You had to take off the comms to apologize? he mouthed, clearly angling his face and exaggerating his lip movements for He Xuan to see. Something tight between He Xuan's lungs loosened and slipped away, and He Xuan turned back to face the steering wheel, the tight line of his own lips relaxing.

"Sorry," he said, dropping the comms into the cup-holder between them. "I don't read lips."

(iv)

"Xuedi, you know my money's on Binghe," Shen Qingqiu had shrugged.

"And I'd bet on you, Liu Qingge, but I'm afraid with my luck, you wouldn't want me to," Xie Lian had laughed apologetically.

"He Xuan," Liu Qingge now demanded to know, rounding on He Xuan and crossing his arms. He Xuan just adjusted his glasses and kept typing on his computer. "Who's your money on?"

They were after a black widow predator, so of course Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge had made the bachelor auction into a competition.

By the door, Luo Binghe was rolling his eyes.

"Oh sure, go crying to daddy when you're losing a bet—"

He Xuan personally thought Luo Binghe, of all people, had no business mocking other people's relationships with the term "daddy." But that wasn't why he interrupted.

"Keep talking, Luo Binghe, and I'm changing my mind."

Luo Binghe brightened, standing up straight.

"Wait, you mean?"

"A hundred on you."

Whooping with a brilliant and admittedly handsome grin, Luo Binghe lifted his chin at Liu Qingge in a gesture of triumph.

"Told you I'm going to get a higher bid. But chin up, maybe you'll defy all, and I do mean all expectations and take home the pot. Cheers, He Xuan."

With that, he left, closing He Xuan's apartment door behind him, leaving only He Xuan and a very, very betrayed-lookng Liu Qingge standing inside.

He Xuan finally shut his laptop screen and looked up, meeting Liu Qingge's glare with an unapologetic look of his own.

"Yes?"

With a huff of disbelief, Liu Qingge turned and stormed away. Mid-storm, he paused, pivoted, and stormed right back.

"You're always—!" He jabbed a finger into He Xuan's chest, and He Xuan let him. He Xuan even circled over to the other side of the counter to let him. "Mocking me."

With a sound of agreement, He Xuan took a step closer. And as always, Liu Qingge read exactly what he wanted in a gesture, and didn't back away, despite clearly wanting to stomp off somewhere and lick his wounded pride in peace.

He Xuan nudged up his chin with a single knuckle, and allowed himself something just a tiny bit smaller than a smile, but no less true.

"And look how good you take it."

(iv)

It started after they stole an election, and then a country, and then took down Wen Ruohan.

"Take your clothes off. Right now."

It caught aflame between bright, almost disbelieving stares that they'd pulled off such a thing, and that Lang Qianqiu was now legally the president-elect.

"Hands behind your back."

It surged into all-consuming fire with Liu Qingge, all pliant limbs and steel-certain center as always, making his way into He Xuan's hotel room.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you."

"I fucking dare you."

It found them encased in sunlight, warm and oven-hot on this tiny European island. Luckily, the AC was on full blast, cooling the room enough that Liu Qingge and He Xuan could comfortably heat it back up again.

Indeed, Liu Qingge was sweating, and He Xuan was wiping his own forehead and body clean with a wet washcloth by the open-planning bathroom sink. At a leisurely pace, He Xuan twisted open a complimentary glass bottle of sparkling water and quenched his own thirst.

He made sure to gulp loudly enough that Liu Qingge, panting and grunting on the bed, could hear what he was doing. And sure enough, Liu Qingge growled in response.

A look of pleasure broke out over He Xuan's face, and he strolled back to bed, dangling another bottle between his fingers. He didn't open it though, opting instead to watch the little show he'd left going on the bed.

They'd co-opted one of the hotel curtain rails and some white satin curtain ties. The rail was currently tied between Liu Qingge's ankles as a make-do spreader bar. When he was fucking Liu Qingge, He Xuan had hauled that spreader bar far over Liu Qingge's head, hooking the center over a point on the headboard. Beneath Liu Qingge's thus-lifted ass, his hands were tied, wrist-to-wrist by yet another white curtain tie.

After he'd finished and before he'd gone for a towel and a drink, He Xuan had said, if you want me to fuck you again, don't let any of my cum leak out.

So now Liu Qingge was left to compress and contort himself every time he felt He Xuan's spend leaking out of him. When he saw He Xuan so blatantly watching, Liu Qingge went red—but that didn't stop him from gritting his teeth and chasing after a leaking trail with his straining fingers.

He Xuan hummed, pleased, as Liu Qingge fingered the cum back into himself, which inevitably just smeared white liquid even more messily over his exposed hole and the flesh of his ass.

"Look how good you take it," He Xuan murmured, getting back onto the bed.

Due to his position, Liu Qingge sounded a bit winded as he spoke, all of his abdominal muscles engaged to keep his hips and legs up like so.

"Don't you ever get tired of giving orders?"

It was a lighthearted complain, as meaningless as Liu Qingge, such a meaningful man, could make anything sound. It might have struck a nerve in He Xuan on any other day, but on this day, it liquefied in his belly and turned to warmth, pleasant like hot tea.

Because he understood that against all odds, this was Liu Qingge understanding him. Liu Qingge's exasperation, rather than humiliation or frustration at being put in such a position and given such a task, was proof that he knew what it was that made He Xuan tick. He got it, He Xuan's thing with orders.

That was why he was so damn good at taking them.

So He Xuan cracked open the second bottle of water and placed it between Liu Qingge's palms. Lifted an eyebrow when Liu Qingge realized He Xuan had no intention to help him get that bottle to his mouth (or vice versa—as such, it might actually be easier for him to get his mouth to the bottle).

"To you?" He Xuan murmured as he sat back against the pillows to watch the show. "Never."