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The first time it happens, it's an accident. He's not entirely sure what Peony had been attempting to do, other than shifting his weight to be in a more agreeable position. What he does remember, sharply, clearly, even a week after it's happened, is the feeling of his air supply being temporarily closed off. Of Peony's hand pressing against his throat and the burning feeling in his lungs when he hadn't been able to take a breath.
But even moreso, he thinks of the lightheaded weightlessness of his mind running through him like a drug. Absently, he brushes his fingers to his pulse, noting the tick up and not knowing what to make of it.
Peony glances at him from the corner of his eye and Jade drops his hand loosely, slides both into his pockets and smiles with ease.
--
The next time it occurs, it's not really an accident, but it's not entirely purposeful. At this point, he has several theories as to what his fascination with this is, but he doesn't have enough solid evidence to back his claim.
(Strange how he needs something to cite when it's his own body).
This time, he'd pushed his face into the soft pillow to keep from being too loud. It isn't usually a concern of his, nor Peony's, but the Emperor had been particularly driven then. It'd been in those moments that he'd realized the angle was making it more difficult to breathe. Always willing to test a theory at least once, he'd stayed like that until his vision started to blur. The resulting rush of air into his lungs when he'd finally conceded felt like a contact high.
(He hadn't lasted much longer after that, Peony jibed him about it for several days, calling him soft).
All in all, his theory seemed quite sound. Jade hadn't sorted out how he felt about the results, but he was now more concerned over how to broach the subject with his blonde friend. Peony wasn't a sadistic sort in any sense of the word, nor was he the type to shrug things off lightly. These qualities are what made him an excellent ruler, but could potentially have him worrying incessantly about Jade's behavior.
A worried Emperor is an irritating one, no matter if it comes from a good place. Jade can't think of a more nightmarish scenario than if Peony decided he really had lost his mind and needed some kind of watching over. So he doesn't bring it up for a while, opting to just think about it when the other man is over him. (He tries to recreate the feeling on his own, in the privacy of his bedroom, but it's not the same).
But, he's never been one to remain silent for too long. Nor is he fond of inaction. The longer he waits, the harder the conversation will go. Peony's better at reading him than he's truly comfortable with. He's bound to notice something is a bit off, sooner or later. Jade wouldn't put it past him if he's already had some suspicions. So true to his nature, he cuts to the chase with actions, not words.
Which is why he's bare in more ways than one under Peony's hands now. Jade has never been particularly compliant, but at the moment, he's precisely that. It hadn't taken long for the Emperor to figure out that the Colonel wanted something, the knowledge of it lighting up his blue eyes. The blonde tip toes around him, touch a bit cautious— he's a monster on a leash, intelligence and limits only held back by his desire not to hurt the man bowed over him. For years, he's been leaning on Peony, needing the grounding, the anchor back to reality (and morality). That collar around his neck gets tighter and tighter at his own behest.
But sometimes, the mentality of it isn't enough. Jade has always been the type to need cold, hard, facts. To deal with the real and unimagined. A reminder of how things stand couldn't hurt; briefly, he believes this is his fascination with this. He smooths his hands down Peony's arms, curling his fingers around one of the man's hands. A curious look is being directed at him, he doesn't need to glance up to know. Gently, he sets the blonde's hand against his throat, his own fingers pushing lightly on the top of it for context. Reflexively, Peony tries to pull his hand away, but Jade pins it there, expression serious. There's a long pause and he murmurs a quiet assurance. Finally, the Emperor acquiesces, palm pushing down and stopping Jade's breath short.
After the first few seconds, he feels the edge, his lungs already in the beginning stages of panic. A few more go by and Peony lets up just enough as he tilts his hips. Steady pressure closes down on his windpipe again, again, again. He gives up and gives in, overwhelmed by the physical sensation and the mentality behind it. His breath comes in gasps as he regains it, and the blonde's face comes into view more clearly.
Peony pulls his hand back, uses it to brush the hair away from Jade's face, and he knows no one else will ever have this much control over him.