Work Text:
This is as good a place to fall as any
We'll build our altar here
Make me your Maria
I'm already on my knees
(Florence + The Machine, "Bedroom Hymns")
“Your Highness!”
The young soldier’s voice rang out like a prayer.
Xie Lian had never been too slow; never missed his mark in battle; and now, as the young soldier’s frantic footsteps echoed in the cave, he was still confident he’d make it in time.
He didn’t.
The sword fell from his grip, yanked far, far away. The strength of that grip was enormous, far exceeding his godly own. He’d heard of this before: mothers lifting carts to save their children, lovers unlocking raw force to protect their dearest—but he’d never seen it. Certainly wasn’t expecting to see it here, where none of that applied. For a second, he was stunned.
Then he started yelling.
“No!” he cried out, pushing the young soldier away. He began to feel around blindly for the soldier’s sword, but it was useless: he’d chucked it all the way back to the entrance, between the two barriers. “Why did you do that?!”
The soldier was startled. “Your Highness, you were going to—”
“I know what I was going to do!” Xie Lian roared, collapsing back against the cave wall. “Please, just—get it back.”
A moment’s silence. “I’m sorry,” the young soldier said sincerely. There was a sound of whooshing air in front of him: the soldier must’ve bowed at the waist, begging for his forgiveness.
Xie Lian sighed. “It’s fine. Just bring it back, please.”
Another moment went by in silence, this one longer. “I’m sorry,” the young soldier repeated more forcefully, still bowed.
Xie Lian frowned. “I said it’s okay. Why—?”
As the pieces fell into place, panic gripped Xie Lian’s heart again. But he’d already expended his burst of strength, already drained his well of fury—and so, he simply didn’t have any more.
And the soldier still didn’t move.
“…Why?” Xie Lian asked again, this time softer.
No answer came. He could hear the subtle shaking of the soldier’s frame; could tell it was taking him everything to refuse an order, nearly as much as it was taking Xie Lian to keep himself plastered against the cool rock wall.
“I wouldn’t die,” Xie Lian exhaled, hoping it would be enough. He could already feel the poison rearing its ugly head again, the cuts on his arms and legs too shallow to hold it off for long.
“You’ll get hurt,” the soldier whispered, unmoving.
“Going to war means getting hurt,” Xie Lian replied, quickly losing whatever patience he’d scrounged back together. “What’s the difference?”
For the longest time, the soldier didn’t reply.
Xie Lian thought back to the battlefield. To this youth whose name he didn’t know, charging ahead of him at every turn. If the rumors were true, he’d kept him safe for longer than today.
Not that a god would need anyone’s protection.
“I’m here.”
The soldier’s answer came in a murmur. It sounded like it was taking every bit of willpower to push the words out; every bit of devotion.
“I’m here,” he repeated. “So I can’t let it happen. I can’t let His Highness get hurt.”
In that moment, the poison roared back to life.
Xie Lian threw his head back, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. Draw blood, he bid himself. Any way you can, just draw blood.
But it wasn’t enough anymore.
“I hope His Highness will forgive me,” the youth croaked, head still bowed low, oblivious to his god’s newfound turmoil.
Then, as if smelling blood in the air, he reached out with one hand to check…
Xie Lian tackled him to the ground.
“Your Highness—?!”
Blood roared in his ears. “You…!” It took every ounce of his strength to keep his hands glued to the cave floor, his nails digging into the packed earth. “Enough of this. We don’t have time—!”
Something brushed against his arm. Something warm, thrumming, alive.
Xie Lian moaned.
The youth went stiff under him; still motionless but for the beating of his heart, now thunderous. Xie Lian could barely hear it over his own, but they were too close to miss it.
He’s scared.
“Go,” Xie Lian panted, forcing himself to keep still. To not give chase once this stubborn soldier finally heeded his advice. “Otherwise, I’ll hurt you.”
But the soldier didn’t move. “Your Highness, let me help you.”
“I’ll really hurt you,” Xie Lian stressed. “This curse—it’s not just what you’re seeing. It’s not…”
He didn’t know how to say it. His face burned at the thought alone. This soldier looked so young—how could Xie Lian tell him?
How could he tell him that the terrible thing his god wanted to do to him wasn’t even the worst that could happen?
“I’ll kill you,” he said finally.
He listened to the soldier’s silence. Everyone was much louder in silence than they realized: their breaths caught, their hearts stuttered, their bones sang. From silence alone, they could tell everything.
Right now, Xie Lian could tell the soldier wasn’t breathing. Instead, his hands were twisting the fabric of his uniform so hard his knuckles popped; his throat worked, swallowing around a dry mouth.
And his blood ran warm, warm, warm.
Xie Lian threw himself back against the cave wall, breathing hard.
“Leave,” he gasped, feeling that inescapable heat rising through him. “Now.”
Wordlessly, the soldier stood.
Xie Lian heard only a few steps. Good enough. He couldn’t wait anymore.
He hoisted himself upright with all his remaining strength. Dazed, he turned to face the cave wall and walked five, six paces back.
Then he sprinted.
“Your Highness, no!”
Something caught him around the middle. Something strong and fierce and warm.
Xie Lian screamed.
They fell together, just shy of his goal. The wall barely grazed his forehead. Xie Lian tried to scramble back up, but that something wouldn’t let him, keeping him firmly anchored to the ground.
Worse, to himself.
“Your Highness,” a small, quiet voice murmured. “Let me help you.”
It was torture. His ear felt like it was going to catch on fire from the youth’s breath alone. “You can’t help me.”
“I can,” the soldier hurried to reply. “I… I can try.”
Xie Lian rolled on his back. It took tremendous effort, more than he thought he’d had left in him. But if he’d stayed in that embrace a moment longer, he wouldn’t have lasted the night. “You wouldn’t let me hurt myself, but I’m supposed to let you hurt for me?”
The soldier was close now. Closer than Xie Lian could take. It was travesty—disobeying one’s god like that. When had anyone defied him so?
“No one needs to hurt tonight,” the soldier whispered in the end.
Xie Lian’s eyes snapped open.
It was dark; darker than the night itself. He couldn’t see anything like that, not even the soldier’s hand rising towards his face. That, he felt from the shift in the air alone: it was shaking, trembling. A leaf in a storm.
He tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere left to go.
The soldier’s fingers made contact. They were still trembling when they settled on his cheek, fluttering like so many butterflies. The heat was unbearable. “Please,” Xie Lian murmured, desperately trying to fight the pull. “Don’t do that. My cultivation—”
He babbled incoherently for a while. He had no idea what he was saying; all he knew was that he had to try to make the soldier listen. He was doing this all for his god; if he knew what was at stake, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d let him go. Give the sword back, let him finish what he started.
Deep down, Xie Lian knew this young man was a good soldier. That he was disobeying out of devotion.
But what devotion would be left after this?
Wordlessly, the soldier listened. Wordlessly, he withdrew his hand. Xie Lian forced himself not to chase after it, but it took everything.
“Okay,” Xie Lian rasped. “Okay. If you understand now—”
“No one has to know.”
The moon shifted. For a second, only a second, Xie Lian could see the soldier’s eyes gleaming in the dark. Burning, like embers.
“You said people would stop believing if they knew,” the soldier said, face serious under the bandages. “They won’t.”
Xie Lian blinked. “What are you saying…?”
“He’s saying he won’t tell!”
“Oh, but we will!”
“We’ll hear everything.”
“Quiet!” the youth snarled, head snapping towards the cave entrance. “You’re all seeking death. If His Highness doesn’t burn you to cinders, I will.”
“Ooh, scary!”
“Kitten’s got claws.”
The soldier clenched his hand where it rested, a hair’s breadth from his own, as if trying to summon those alleged claws. Xie Lian had no doubt that, if he could, he’d tear those flower yao to pieces. Raze Beizi Hill to the ground and stomp on the ashes himself.
For some reason, the image made it worse.
“Your Highness,” the soldier called, his attention now fully back on him. “They’re just demons. No one will believe them over you.”
“Wow, rude—”
“And if they do,” he snarled again, cutting the flower yao’s quips short with a tone as sharp as a blade, “I’ll say they’re all lies.”
Xie Lian inhaled sharply. This boy—how old could he be? Fourteen? Fifteen? Xie Lian couldn’t wrap his head around what he was saying. What he was offering.
He dug his nails into his palm. Deeper, deeper. Until he felt the blood beneath. “What’s your name, soldier?”
The youth hesitated. “Hong’er,” he answered finally.
“Hong’er,” Xie Lian repeated, rolling it over his tongue. It felt familiar in a way he couldn’t place. But he couldn’t place anything like this—feverish and mad, hanging on to his last scrap of clarity. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do.”
The soldier’s hand was fast. Nothing could be faster than Xie Lian, not in normal circumstances, but there was nothing normal about their situation. And so, Hong’er snatched up Xie Lian’s hand before he could yank it away.
Trembling, he placed it on his chest, right over his hammering heart.
Xie Lian keened. The shameful sound flew past his lips and into the dark, reverberating against the cave walls. Hong’er’s pulse quickened, but he still didn’t let go.
This poor soldier. He must be terrified out of his mind, and yet—
“If you need to kill me,” the soldier breathed, “kill me. If you need to use me, use me.” On the word use, his voice caught, but he didn’t let that stop him. If half of Xianle’s army held a tenth of this determination, the war would’ve been over in a day. “If you don’t trust me to keep quiet…” Hong’er muttered finally, thumb skirting around the self-inflicted wounds on Xie Lian’s palm, “use me, and then kill me.”
“Hong’er!”
“My life is yours!” the soldier howled. It sounded like a battle cry; like a wounded wolf yearning for the moon. Under Xie Lian’s fingertips, that very life sang, a drum of war.
“My life is yours,” Hong’er repeated quietly, grip finally, finally faltering. “So, please…”
Only then did Xie Lian understand.
This wasn’t disobedience. This wasn’t a one-person riot at the worst possible moment. This wasn’t defiance.
This was a prayer.
And Xie Lian was a god.
He’d sworn a vow of purity, but he’d sworn other vows too. A vow to protect. A vow to listen.
And a vow to answer prayers.
He returned the youth’s grip unthinkingly. His blood-stained fingers found the strands of hair he’d tied around him for protection, dyeing it red. No matter how powerful the magic, it would not protect this young soldier from him.
But maybe it didn’t need to.
No one needs to hurt tonight.
“…Alright.”
Hong’er’s head snapped up. Xie Lian could feel it in the air, the subtle shift of the youth’s breath from his knuckles to his chin. Even like this, Hong’er kept his head bowed in front of his god. Battered and bruised as he was, this young soldier still filled him with worship.
In this makeshift temple, Hong’er was his one believer.
“You’ll let me?” Hong’er breathed, a sound so bright it could light up the entire cave. “You’ll let me… help?”
“Mm,” Xie Lian hummed, grasping his devotee’s hand just a little tighter. “But I won’t let you sacrifice. That’s off the table.”
He was starting to feel more and more dazed, like his body was going to take over any second now. He needed to make this clear before that happened.
Because it was going to happen. At this point, there was no other option.
But if he couldn’t hurt himself, he’d make sure Hong’er wouldn’t hurt, either.
He hoped he could keep that promise. He had no idea how any of this was going to work. He’d never—he didn’t—
“Thank you,” Hong’er said in a rush of breath, kissing his knuckles in gratitude.
Xie Lian reeled.
“Your Highness?” Hong’er asked with concern as Xie Lian’s head snapped back, a wild moan torn from his lips.
It felt like his body was on fire—like lightning was crackling outwards from the spot Hong’er’s mouth had grazed so gently. A simple gesture of devotion, and the god was already on his knees.
“Go slow,” Xie Lian panted. He didn’t even know what that meant, only that he desperately needed it. “Otherwise…”
Otherwise what?! Xie Lian cursed himself mentally. Heavens, he hated this. He was at the mercy of sensations he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, and it was driving him to the brink. It was mortifying.
Hong’er gave a serious nod. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Then he got to work.
Xie Lian’s hand went cold again. Despite the absence of touch, he kept clinging to the front of the soldier’s tunic, drained of all strength to move away—and wasn’t that the worst joke of all for a martial god?—unsure if he even wanted to. If what he was feeling now that Hong’er’s warmth had faded from his skin was relief or agony.
Then it came back.
Xie Lian’s breath caught. He bit hard down on his lip, trying to stifle the embarrassing noises climbing up his throat as Hong’er’s hands traveled down the expanse of his chest. The soldier’s touch was quivering, uncertain, like he didn’t know how to do this any better than Xie Lian did. In a sense, it was a relief.
It still set him alight.
Hong’er hooked his palms on either side of Xie Lian’s neck, as if attempting to him out. Then he trailed downwards. It was agonizingly slow; a death by a thousand cuts.
“Is this okay?” the soldier murmured.
He sounded so worried. Like he couldn’t bear the thought of causing his god even a moment’s more pain.
Xie Lian wondered how he felt about the opposite. If it was less terrifying, or more. “Mm,” he hummed back, strained. “Keep going.”
Encouraged, the soldier obeyed. Xie Lian’s ears burned red with embarrassment at his own words—but what else could he have done? Hong’er was already doing so much. It was the least Xie Lian could do to offer reassurance.
He felt another spark, this time stronger. Xie Lian curled on himself, his back pressed flat against the rock wall, knees pulling up of their own accord. Hong’er’s hand had brushed against something sensitive, the same spots he’d accidentally touched before, when he was looking for a lock of hair to cut.
Xie Lian’s hand went tight in the soldier’s tunic, and Hong’er startled. “Your Highness, am I… hurting you?”
Xie Lian hurriedly shook his head. Then he remembered the youth couldn’t see him and gasped: “No. No, you’re not.”
Hong’er repeated the motion. He dragged his fingertips gently up and down, sparking sensation in their wake. Xie Lian bit his lip harder, forcing down gasp after gasp, but it was impossible to keep them all in. It was torture. “Hong’er—”
Then, without warning, a hand rose to his lips.
Xie Lian’s eyes went wide. It was pointless—he couldn’t see anything—but he could feel a single thumb brushing featherlight against his bottom lip. When it was found bruised and bitten, something in Hong’er’s aura darkened.
“Your Highness,” the young soldier said, wiping the blood away with the utmost care. “You’re hurting yourself.”
For the first time, the soldier’s voice took on an edge. If Xie Lian hadn’t known any better, he would’ve called it dangerous. For a moment, the incomprehensible urge to apologize bubbled up to his lips.
Then Hong’er shifted, brushing against something unfortunate with his knee, and Xie Lian was gone.
His hand curled, then yanked. The soldier fell forward between his knees, trapped by them as unspeakable pleasure surged through him.
He was breaking his vow. He was breaking his vow and there was nothing he could do but take it, take it—
“It’s okay,” the soldier murmured against his parted lips, sounding as stunned as Xie Lian felt. “It’s okay, Your Highness. I’ve got you.”
Arms came up around his shoulders, circling, holding him close through it, and Xie Lian let them. He buried his head in the crook of his soldier’s neck and shook, drowning in pleasure, ashamed of every drop. Because it wasn’t enough for nobody else to know; because Xie Lian knew, he would always know what he did, how he failed—
“Your Highness.” Hong’er’s voice broke through the fog, infinite in its kindness. “Thank you.”
Xie Lian snapped back to the present.
He craned his neck, trying to meet the soldier’s eyes. But the moon was hiding again and the bandages were still there, shielding most of the soldier’s face anyway. There was no way for this god to see his worshipper.
“Allow me,” Hong’er said.
Then he sank.
Reflexively, Xie Lian made space. He let his knees fall open and stared, wide-eyed, at the shifting darkness. He was vaguely aware of the mess he’d made of himself, and when gentle, firm fingers tugged at what was left of his robes, the god didn’t resist.
Then Hong’er’s mouth was on him.
Xie Lian’s hips bucked. He let out a strangled cry and grasped blindly, finding purchase on something soft: hair and bandages.
“Hong’er—?!”
The soldier’s tongue worked diligently around him. For a long moment, Xie Lian couldn’t feel anything else. The flower yao’s poison had turned his entire body into an exposed nerve, to the point a single touch would bring him to madness.
So how was he supposed to handle this?
No one has to know. It made sense: if it was supposed to stay a secret, then there couldn’t be any evidence. Xie Lian didn’t think Hong’er realized just how erotic his display was—he was simply licking his god clean, swallowing up the shards of his broken vow.
But Heavens, he was going to break it again.
Hong’er suckled lightly. Pleasure burst behind Xie Lian’s eyelids, washing over him in waves. He scrunched them tight and whined, high-pitched and keening, dragging the back of his head against the cave wall.
“Dào kě dào, fēi cháng dào. Míng kě míng, fēi cháng míng…”
“Highness?”
Xie Lian abruptly realized what he was doing. “Sorry,” he exhaled, carding his hands lightly through his believer’s hair. “Habit.”
If the soldier thought it odd that his god would start reciting Dao De Jing in the middle of his services, he didn’t say anything. “Should I…?”
“Yes,” Xie Lian gasped out. “Please.”
With a slight push of his divine palm, Hong’er was back where he belonged, lips wrapped reverently around his god. Xie Lian had no idea where this domineering side of him had come from. He should have been burning with shame; should have been begging for forgiveness at heaven’s gates. Instead, here he was—on the other side of begging.
He could hear quiet moans coming out of Hong’er’s throat, vibrating against Xie Lian’s feverish skin as he worked. For a brief second, Xie Lian wondered if the soldier had gotten hit with the flower yao’s poison after all. If he needed this as much as his god did.
To make sure, Xie Lian slid his hand down the side of his believer’s head. He found the tip of his ear, one of the few parts of his face that wasn’t covered in bandages, and brushed along the shell with his thumb. Hot—but not feverishly so.
“Mmphh,” Hong’er whined, something Xie Lian felt fairly certain was supposed to be Your Highness. Gods, it was intoxicating—being prayed to like that. Like this. A show of devotion for his ears alone.
It had become increasingly difficult, Xie Lian mused, to remember why he wasn’t supposed to be doing this.
“Hong’er,” Xie Lian called urgently, tugging on his soldier’s hair again. He could feel the pleasure coiling tight, could feel his desperate release on the horizon. “Hong’er, I’m—”
Hong’er’s tongue worked him faster. He didn’t seem intent on moving, not unless it was further down, and Xie Lian didn’t have the strength to stop him. When Hong’er whimpered around him, struggling to fit him all inside, Xie Lian angled his head from the back and pushed.
His resistance broke, and Xie Lian came.
Hong’er didn’t try to rise once, so Xie Lian kept him there: hand tight in his hair, thumb stroking idle circles into the gaps between his bandages. Finally, his god stopped fighting, surrendering to the onslaught of pleasure.
Only when he’d swallowed it all again did Hong’er finally pull off. “Your Highness…?”
The sound of his voice nearly sent Xie Lian back into the throes. It was so hoarse now, throat raw and abused. Xie Lian didn’t think he’d ever forget the way it felt—ruining his believer’s voice.
“Come here,” Xie Lian called, and Hong’er obeyed.
He was straddling his god’s lap now, awaiting orders. Xie Lian reached for his face, blindly brushing a stray lock away, tucking it behind his ear. His soldier’s hair was long and messy, but so, so soft. The god stroked idly for a moment, letting himself breathe between tidal waves.
For his part, Hong’er was incredibly docile. If Xie Lian didn’t know, he’d struggle to believe this was the same young man who spit threats at the flower yao with every other word.
He ran his fingers carefully down over the bandages, but Hong’er didn’t make a single sound of pain. Xie Lian couldn’t feel any wounds beneath either: there was no scarring, no telltale ridge of healing tissue, no scabs.
“Your Highness?” Hong’er piped up timidly, feeling both of Xie Lian’s hands cup his face.
“Won’t you take these off?” Xie Lian asked.
Hong’er tensed under his touch. Xie Lian kept a firm, gentle hold on the soldier, whose facial muscles were struggling around half-formed words. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he did it again.
Finally, he muttered: “…Ugly.”
Of all the reasons the god could think of, he’d never have guessed this one. It was… endearing. “I can’t imagine that’s the case,” Xie Lian smiled, his index finger following the line of the soldier’s nose. His thumb stroked his cheekbone; his pinky traced the line of his jaw. Give him a year or two, and those contours would harden into a man’s.
“Your Highness is too kind.”
“I’m really not,” he answered. “And I can’t see you anyway. Won’t you indulge me?”
It was so spoiled of him—to be asking for more. After all, Hong’er had already given him everything: his body, his soul, his prayers.
But with the flower yao’s poison in his veins, Xie Lian found himself getting greedier.
“…”
A beat went by, then two, before the young soldier wordlessly began peeling his bandages off.
Xie Lian’s hands retreated, letting him work. It wasn’t long before he felt a coil of fabric sliding along the bare skin of his arm, falling gently to the ground. Unthinkingly, he ran his fingers along the edges.
“Thank you,” he said then, returning his hands to the soldier’s face.
Hong’er’s frame jumped. It was a slight movement, but close like this, it was impossible to miss. Xie Lian could feel warmth seep into his digits from his cheeks, soft and smooth like silk. There were scrapes here and there, scratches too shallow to be felt over the bandages—but all in all, his soldier was healthy. Whole.
Then he got to his lips and found them open.
Xie Lian’s finger trailed down the youth’s top lip, falling to the bottom. They felt swollen and heated. Xie Lian remembered just what those lips were busy doing not minutes before, and the flower’s poison sang: more.
“Kiss me,” he commanded.
The soldier’s pulse jumped. Xie Lian could feel it under his pinkies, gently pressed on either side of his neck. As his worshipper drew nearer, he sunk them deeper.
Then Hong’er’s lips were on his.
As they made contact, they fluttered. Again, Xie Lian was reminded of butterflies, of wings and cocoons to rise from.
Hong’er’s breath was unsteady too, coming in short and quick, and that just wouldn’t do. His qi would suffer terribly.
Xie Lian angled his head to the side, and their breaths mingled.
He’d never kissed anyone before. The precepts were very strict: all forms of desire must be banished. Xie Lian never had much desire to begin with, none but to excel in his cultivation; it was easy, then, to douse the sparks as they arose.
But now, those sparks had caught.
And with Hong’er in his arms, the kindling was endless.
He felt Hong’er startle against him. Those bruised lips brushed against Xie Lian’s bitten ones. If his tongue darted out, he’d taste his god’s blood.
But his tongue didn’t dart out. In a sudden leap, Hong’er angled himself away at the last minute and pressed chaste lips to the corner of Xie Lian’s mouth.
Xie Lian huffed out a laugh. So shy.
However, Hong’er didn’t disobey. He kept peppering kisses along Xie Lian’s face: his cheek, his jaw, his chin. A hundred tiny ghost fires, just waiting to ignite.
It was adorable.
It was also more than he could bear.
“Hong’er…” Xie Lian gasped, finding purchase on the soldier’s hair again. Without the bandages in the way, he could sink his hands fully in, silky black strands spilling like ink in the gaps between his fingers.
Hong’er slid downwards. Now that he knew how good his mouth could feel to his god, it was like he couldn’t stop using it: he nipped at his collarbone, kissed his pulse, licked at the hollow of his throat. It was worship, pure and simple.
That devotion filled Xie Lian’s veins, mingling with the poison. Would it burn it out? He didn’t know. This god had never been worshipped like this: so thoroughly, so humanly.
Hong’er’s lips closed around a nipple, and Xie Lian moaned.
This time, the soldier didn’t pause. It seemed like he’d gotten attuned to the noises his god was making; like he could finally tell pleasure from pain. It was an intoxicating thought.
Xie Lian rocked against him. Just once, seeking friction the only way his body knew how. Hong’er jolted at the sensation, but he didn’t move away, giving a quiet whine deep in his throat.
His god wanted to hear it again.
He slid his hands from his soldier’s hair and ran them down his sides, finding the crude sash of his robes. With a tug, he asked for permission. He was a god, but he wasn’t a tyrant; he wouldn’t take more than his worshipper was willing to give, wouldn’t answer prayers that had yet to be spoken.
Hong’er covered his hand with his own, then pulled the sash free.
The god’s hands skated over heated skin. Heated, but not feverish—good. He was still himself, then; still coherent.
Xie Lian didn’t know that he could say the same.
Finally, Hong’er rose back to him. Xie Lian wasted no time dragging him forward, pressing their hips flush like his entire being was begging him to do. The soldier gasped—Xie Lian could feel the outline of something hard through his clothes.
“Move,” he urged.
Hong’er did as he was told. He swallowed a broken sound that could have been anything: pleasure, pain, both. Xie Lian tilted his hips up to meet him.
“Your Highness,” Hong’er begged, thighs quivering on either side of him. “Your—Hah—Highness…!”
Finally, Xie Lian couldn’t wait any longer.
He grabbed Hong’er—one hand on his waist, the other cradling his head—and flipped him on his back on the cave floor.
“I’m sorry,” Xie Lian murmured against the soldier’s lips, parted around a yelp. “I can’t hold back anymore.”
He felt terrible for this. He knew Hong’er had given him blanket permission to do anything—use him—but Xie Lian had sincerely hoped the flower yao’s spell would have been broken before things got this far.
What a nice thought.
“You can still…” Xie Lian gritted out, putting tremendous effort into keeping still. “Get the sword… if you don’t want—”
“Your Highness.”
Xie Lian blinked. In the darkness, he couldn’t see anything, but he still felt the burning stare of the soldier beneath him. Burning, and brighter than a thousand lanterns.
“My life is yours,” he echoed, hands on either side of his god’s face. “I am your servant. And it would be an honor to…” he trailed off, as if turning his gaze away. “Do… this… for you.”
For a moment, Xie Lian was stunned.
Then he ducked down and pressed a kiss against the boy’s cheek.
His soldier startled. “Your… ?!”
“You’re blushing,” Xie Lian hummed, feeling that telltale heat on his lips. “Cute.”
Hong’er stammered. “I—Your Highness, I’m not…!”
“Hush,” Xie Lian murmured. “Your god has spoken. It’s impolite to disagree.”
That seemed to silence his soldier for a while.
“My… apologi—ah!”
Long enough for his god to strip him bare, at least.
Xie Lian descended. He traced his lips down Hong’er’s chest, littered with scars. This time, the bandages were there for a good reason, but he still managed to find what he was looking for.
A bare spot, just above his navel.
Hong’er squirmed. “Your High—?!”
“Shh,” Xie Lian hushed. “Keep still.”
He spoke a few quiet words into Hong’er’s belly. The incantation was simple, and definitely not supposed to be used for this, but Xie Lian didn’t know any other ones.
And he would not allow his worshipper to be hurt.
“A-ah… ?”
“How does it feel?” Xie Lian asked, clarity slipping fast. He wasn’t supposed to know what to do here—he didn’t—but the magic in his veins seemed to guide him. For once, he let himself trust it.
After all, the flower yao didn’t feed on pain.
“It’s…” Hong’er gasped. “Strange… ah!”
“How about this?” his god murmured, scissoring his fingers inside without warning.
Hong’er shook his head. “T-This isn’t about me…!”
“Hong’er,” Xie Lian said firmly. “If it hurts, you have to tell me now. In a minute, I won’t be—nghh…!”
The poison was throbbing, bursting. If he didn’t give it what it wanted right this second, Xie Lian was afraid it’d just take it.
And then he wouldn’t be able to keep his vow to Hong’er, either.
His fingers curled. The soldier jumped, muscles tightening around him, slick with his god’s magic. “Your Highness,” he breathed, wrapping his arms helplessly around him. “Please…”
The god answered the prayer.
He slid inside without effort, without resistance. Hong’er writhed around him, turning his every attempt at restraint into a losing battle. And how could he exercise restraint? His worshipper’s body was warm, tight, beautiful.
“High… ness…!”
It must’ve slipped out of him. That last word. “Are you ready?”
In his arms, Hong’er nodded.
Xie Lian began to move. Slow at first—as slow as he could manage—but the magic was too great. Soon, he was thrusting, keeping Hong’er’s hips still in a bruising grip as he sunk, and sunk, and sunk.
“Your… Highness…!” Hong’er called in broken bits of prayer. Xie Lian had never had a drink, but he could get drunk on this: his soldier’s devotion, filling every crevice of this cave. He couldn’t have asked for a better altar—a better offering.
“You’re doing so well,” he coaxed, murmuring praises against his soldier’s parted lips. “So good. Thank you, Hong’er.”
With every word, Hong’er seemed to shudder harder. “I didn’t… I… Hah…!”
It wasn’t quite a kiss, but it wasn’t not a kiss either. Xie Lian drank in every sound Hong’er’s lips poured directly into his, followed the movements, moaned right back. It was messy, open-mouthed—and absolutely sacred.
Xie Lian’s hand followed the curve of his soldier’s stomach. He was so skinny, the god could feel himself sinking in over and over again, stretching muscles in his wake. He let out a strangled sound, wishing desperately that he could see.
But even gods weren’t all-powerful.
He kept trailing downwards and found what he was looking for. Hong’er jolted, ankles slipping where they were locked tight at the small of his god’s back. “Highness, you don’t need…!”
“Shh,” Xie Lian cooed right against his lips. “This is for you. You’ve been so good, Hong’er. Don’t you want your reward?”
Hong’er whined. “I d-don’t… deserve…!”
“You do,” Xie Lian said firmly. “Now come.”
It was like a rope had been snapped. One second, Hong’er was writhing helplessly in his arms; the next—
“Highness!” he cried out, spilling all over Xie Lian’s hand.
Xie Lian kept stroking him through it. He could feel his own hips stuttering; could tell what was coming.
“Ahh…!” Hong’er whimpered, trapping him inside. “Highness, Your Highness, please, please…!”
With a broken moan of his own, Xie Lian came, following his worshipper over the edge.
He couldn’t say how much time had passed. Under a blanket of darkness, the only sense of time was given by their labored breaths. His, and Hong’er’s—still mingling across parted lips.
Xie Lian was spent. He could feel the yao magic draining from him—could feel the curse lifting. At the same time, there was nothing else holding him together.
So he pressed a chaste kiss to his soldier’s lips, slumped, and passed out.
***
The next morning, he woke up to Mu Qing screaming bloody murder.