Maybe My Soulmate! (GL)

yubing broke the kiss, breathing heavily. ”you can touch now.”

it was all the permission yuxin needed. her hands went straight for their prize, cupping the lace-covered mounds, her thumbs stroking the hardened peaks through the fabric. a groan rumbled in her chest.

”take it off,” yuxin pleaded, her voice thick with need. ”yubing, please, take it off.”

”impatient,” yubing chided softly, but she complied. she reached behind her, and with a few deft movements, the corset came undone. she shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

freed from their lacy prison, her breasts bounced softly. yuxin made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a prayer.

”all yours,” yubing whispered.

and yuxin, the powerful ceo, the titan of industry, bowed her head and worshipped at the altar of her wife. she feasted, her mouth and hands working in perfect sync, lavishing attention on each breast as if it were the most important project she’d ever undertaken.

yubing arched her back, her fingers digging into yuxin’s hair, her soft moans the only music in the room now.

this was their love language. it wasn’t just sex; it was a conversation. it was yuxin’s shameless, all-consuming adoration and yubing’s complete, trusting surrender—and tonight, her playful, seductive dominance. it was the teasing, the power plays, the laughter, and the overwhelming love that underpinned it all.

later, wrapped in each other’s arms amidst the rumpled sheets and extinguished candles, yuxin was quiet for a long time.

”what are you thinking about?” yubing asked, her head resting on yuxin’s chest, right over her heart.

yuxin’s hand was, predictably, resting on yubing’s breast, her fingers stroking the soft skin in a lazy, contented circle.

”i was just thinking,” yuxin said, her voice soft and serious for once. ”that zhao wei character from the gala. his company’s stock took another nosedive today. some exposé came out about him stealing code from a startup.”

yubing looked up. ”did you have anything to do with that?”

yuxin met her gaze, her expression unreadable. ”i might have made a phone call to a journalist friend. pointed him in the right direction. a little tip for his disrespect.”

yubing was silent for a moment, then she laid her head back down. she wasn’t surprised. she knew the woman she married. yuxin was fiercely protective, a dragon guarding her hoard. and yubing, and their life together, was her most precious treasure.

”you’re terrible,” yubing murmured into her skin.

”i know,” yuxin said, pressing a kiss to her hair. ”but i’m your terrible.” she gave yubing’s breast a gentle squeeze. ”and besides, he was getting in the way of my primary business.”

”which is?”

yuxin grinned, her naughty spark returning. ”this. my full-time, pro-bono job as the official caretaker and chief worshipper of the magnificent su yubing mounds.”

yubing laughed, the sound vibrating through yuxin’s chest. she slapped lightly at the offending hand. ”you’re ridiculous.”

”and you’re perfect,” yuxin said, her voice softening again. she pulled yubing closer, until there was no space left between them. ”absolutely, ridiculously perfect.”

..

..

the aftermath of yuxin’s corporate assassination and yubing’s seductive counter-attack was a week of blissful quiet. or, as quiet as it could be with mo yuxin in the house, whose primary mode of communication was physical. she treated yubing’s body like a newly discovered continent, mapping its territories with a relentless, single-minded focus.

it was during one such mapping session, with yuxin’s face buried between yubing’s breasts as she lay on top of her on the living room floor, that yubing made a pronouncement.

”we need a vacation,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by yuxin’s hair.

yuxin’s head popped up, a look of deep concentration on her face. ”i am on vacation. this is my spiritual retreat. my mecca.” she gestured with her nose at yubing’s chest.

”i mean a real vacation,” yubing clarified, running a hand through yuxin’s short, dark hair. ”no phones, no meetings, no journalists you need to secretly ruin. just sun, sand, and… well, this.”

yuxin considered it. a dedicated, uninterrupted period of time to focus on her life’s work. the logistics were appealing. ”where?”

”i was thinking that little private island we bought last year and never visited,” yubing suggested. ”the one in the andaman sea.”

yuxin’s eyes lit up. she remembered the purchase—an extravagant, impulsive buy after a particularly good quarter. a tiny speck of white sand and jungle in the middle of an azure nowhere. isolated. secure. no paparazzi. no zhao wei.

”operation: boobs on the beach is a go,” yuxin declared, scrambling to her feet. ”i’ll have the jet fueled. pack your smallest bikinis. no, wait, don’t pack any. i’ll handle the wardrobe.”

yubing sighed, a fond, familiar sound. ”i’ll pack my own bikinis, thank you. and you are not allowed to ’handle’ my wardrobe. the last time you did that, it consisted entirely of three pieces of string and a bottle of body oil.”

”i fail to see the problem,” yuxin said, already tapping away on her phone, her fingers flying as she arranged the complex logistics of their escape with terrifying efficiency.

two days later, they were there. the island was exactly as advertised: a paradise designed for two. a single, sprawling villa of white stone and dark wood opened directly onto a private beach. an infinity pool bled into the horizon. the staff were ghosts, present only when needed, vanishing the moment they weren’t.

yuxin was in her element. she shed her ceo skin like a snake, leaving it somewhere over the bay of bengal. here, she was just a sun-kissed heathen whose sole purpose was to annoy and adore her wife.

the morning after the bbc incident, yuxin woke up on the floor, tangled in a sheet, with a spectacular view of the underside of the study desk. she felt… victorious. punished, yes, but in the way a marathon runner feels punished after setting a personal best. every muscle ached with a pleasant, well-used soreness.

yubing was already up, sitting on the veranda sipping tea, looking as serene as a bodhisattva. she was wearing a simple, flowy sundress. yuxin, naked and unashamed, padded out to join her, immediately wrapping her arms around her from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. her hands, as if guided by instinct, slid up the front of the dress.

”good morning, my little menace,” yubing said, not opening her eyes. she leaned her head back against yuxin’s.

”morning, my glorious punisher,” yuxin murmured, her hands cupping their destination through the soft cotton. ”i have notes on your technique. very thorough. a few points for improvement, but overall, a stellar performance. 9/10.”

yubing snorted. ”you’re lucky i don’t throw you back to the sharks.”

”the sharks don’t have these,” yuxin said, giving a gentle squeeze. ”their loss.”

the day was idyllic. they swam, they napped, they ate fresh fruit delivered by the spectral staff. yuxin spent a solid hour trying to teach yubing how to skim stones, a task made more difficult by the fact that her non-throwing hand was permanently attached to yubing’s ass.

but paradise is a fickle bitch. by late afternoon, the sky began to curdle. the brilliant blue bruised to a slate grey, and the wind picked up, carrying a metallic tang. one of the staff appeared, a silent local man with a face weathered by a thousand such storms.

”big rain coming,” he said, his voice a low rumble. ”maybe stay inside tonight.” he pointed to the horizon, where a dark wall of cloud was advancing with ominous speed.

yuxin’s eyes lit up with a feral excitement. ”oh, this is gonna be fun.”

yubing looked less convinced. ”fun?”

”drama! atmosphere! the raw power of nature!” yuxin proclaimed, throwing her arms wide. ”it’s romantic as hell.”

as dusk fell, the storm hit. it wasn’t just rain; it was a biblical deluge. sheets of water slammed against the villa’s panoramic windows, and the wind howled like a spurned god. the lights flickered once, twice, and then died, plunging them into a thick, velvety darkness. a few emergency battery lights kicked on, casting long, dancing shadows.

”see?” yuxin’s voice came from the darkness, filled with glee. ”romantic.”

”i can’t see my hand in front of my face,” yubing replied, her voice calm but with an edge of tension.

”i can help with that,” yuxin said, and yubing felt a hand close over hers. then another hand closed over her breast.

”of course,” yubing sighed. ”even in a potential natural disaster, the girls get a check-in.”

”especially in a natural disaster. they might be scared,” yuxin whispered, her voice close to yubing’s ear.

yubing found a drawer with candles and a lighter. soon, the living area was filled with the warm, flickering glow. it was cozy, intimate. the roar of the storm outside made the villa feel like a secret bunker at the end of the world.

”we need to pass the time,” yuxin announced, producing a deck of cards from a drawer. ”i propose a game. a battle of wits. a contest of champions.”

yubing looked at the cards, then at yuxin’s face, which was practically vibrating with devious intent. ”let me guess. strip poker.”

”the game of kings!”

”fine,” yubing said, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. yuxin, caught up in her own brilliant idea, missed the warning signs. ”i’ll play. but we play for real. no take-backs.”

”bet,” yuxin said, rubbing her hands together. she was a decent poker player. she’d bluffed her way through enough high-stakes business deals to feel confident. she already had a mental image of yubing, naked by candlelight, and it was fueling her competitive spirit.

they sat on the floor, a low table between them, the candlelight making their faces into masks of shadow and light.

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To be continued.