Chapter Text
"San…La–hhhm?" Xie Lian's throat produces an odd spasm, and he has to feign a cough to reset the damn thing.
"Ahem…San Lang?" He tries once more, only for his voice to come out just a bit squeakier than he intended. His eye twitches.
"Gege!"
The youth turns around and gives the stupefied god a wide, dare he say self-satisfied grin.
Xie Lian's gut makes a funny fluttery flip.
"I figured gege could use something sturdier than a piece of worn fabric to attach all those evil-warding talismans to, so…" San Lang continues, but Xie Lian is having a hard time focusing on whatever the youth is saying. The god's gaze is glued to the playful curve of the young man's mouth as it goes through motions indicating speech, to the pointy canine that catches the lower lip every so often, to the teasing peek of a playful tongue, to the—
"What?" Xie Lian blurts out, realizing the lips have stopped moving and instead are settled in a mischievous smirk.
"Uhh…"
Oh, this is going so well.
"I'm sorry San Lang, I must've spaced out for a moment," he lets out an awkward chuckle. What is wrong with me? he mentally chastises himself. "Could you, uhm, repeat that last part again?" His ears and cheeks feel like they are on fire for some reason, and he frantically tries to find neutral ground for his eyes to land on. Anything would do as long as it doesn't further feed his desire to be swallowed whole by the earth underneath his feet.
Alas, salvation is not written in the stars in this particular moment: his searching gaze just so happens to pass over San Lang's bare, well-defined, firm-looking, glistening with sweat abdominal muscles and stops. Why? To offer the fine piece of art presented in all its raw glory the respect and attention it deserves, of course.
He is, after all, from Xianle. And even though long centuries have passed since his days as the Crown Prince of said once-glorious kingdom, it is practically ingrained in his very bone marrow, to this day, to not only notice but also appreciate a particularly exquisite example of artistic mastery if he ever encounters one.
Heavens above.
Xie Lian is trying to swallow whatever sensation that is coiling up inside him, but his throat is as dry as a forgotten well in the middle of a vast desert, and the shiny droplets of perspiration on San Lang's abdomen are starting to look a lot like the promise of a refreshing oasis.
He feels a little lightheaded. A bit thirsty, perhaps. It must be the heat of the midday sun glaring down on them.
The youth chuckles, his eyes turning into delightful crescents.
"A door, gege."
"Door…" Xie Lian mutters. Oh, his tongue is really sticking to the roof oh his mouth now.
"For your shrine," San Lang's smirk grows somehow further amused, and he tilts his head lightly, almost innocently, to the side. His crooked ponytail, slightly frazzled now, falls along with the motion, a few errant strands getting caught on the glistening surface of his pale neck and prominent collarbones.
Oh dear, the temperature really must be getting to him now.
Xie Lian realizes he forgot his hat inside the dilapidated hut in his rush to see what the commotion outside had been about.
He blinks, and suddenly, something cool and soothing is pressed against his forehead, only to be immediately drowned out by scorching heat when San Lang's breath gently brushes against his face.
"Gege, are you okay?" the mellow voice murmurs, so damn close he feels the vibrations on his skin.
When did he get so close???
A tiny, pathetic little whimper makes it past Xie Lian's lips before he manages to suck it back in and freeze, absolutely mortified.
Oh, he is being SO normal about this.
Xie Lian stares, unblinking and holding his breath, right into two large dark brown orbs examining his, so close he could count the long and luscious lashes framing them (If he could remember what numbers are).
San Lang's brows furrow, a slight frown tugging at his lips and the change shakes the god out of whatever stupor he has was captured in. He steps, no, nearly jumps backwards, startling the younger man, but he is in a dire need to put some distance between them so he can finally let out the held breath. An awkward giggle accompanies the ragged exhale.
"Ah, hahahaha, San Lang…I'm fine, I'm fine. Truly, I just…" His hands try to wave away the other's concern but they flop around rather…unnaturally so he scrambles to hide them into his sleeves and attempts a reassuring smile instead.
San Lang cocks a brow and takes a moment to examine the god from top to bottom.
"Mm, if gege is sure…" he finally drawls out, yet the lingering frown on his face betrays his true feelings about the matter.
Xie Lian can feel the corner of his mouth twitch under the strain of keeping up his faux smile.
He is SO not fine.
"…"
"Oh!" he bounces, clapping his hands together, and manages to startle the red-clad-youth once more.
"Oh, the door, yes!"
Yes. The door. The door that apparently this run-away-from-home noble just casually whipped up in a single morning like it was nothing. The door, the construction of which made the young man shamelessly shed his robe in broad daylight! The door, the making of which must've been quite straining as the bare torso is rather flushed and covered with a thin layer of sweat. The door—
"Wow, San Lang truly is amazing!" Xie Lian steps forward (towards the door!) to trace his fingers along the smooth and even surface of the clearly very expertly crafted piece of carpentry. "Such skill for someone so young! Truly incredible! What other talents is San Lang hiding, I wonder?" his mouth blabbers and he suddenly finds himself genuinely lost in awe as he admires each and every detail of San Lang's hard work.
"Gege…" the nickname sounds suspiciously close to a whine but the youth quickly clears his throat to continue, rather meekly, "It's just a door, you give this one too much credit."
Xie Lian's gaze snaps to the other man, his eyebrows shooting up, "San Lang! You are selling yourself short! This is truly remarkable craftsmanship. Your skills would be much sought after by royalty, even the gods up in heavens!"
A tiny twitch of the eye isn't enough to distract Xie Lian from how red the young man's cheeks suddenly get. The unexpected reaction does something to the god's insides, urging him to praise San Lang some more.
"Surely it is among the finest examples I have ever come across! And despite this display of excellence in skill, you are here, standing among ruin and neglect, gracing a poor scrap collector's pathetic excuse of an abode with a door fit for a king's castle. I truly do not know if to laugh or cry! How could I ever begin to repay you for something like this? San Lang—"
But Xie Lian's next words get stuck in his throat when his treacherous gaze dares to wander away from San Lang's flushed cheeks and follow the deep blush that had spread outwards to the tips of San Lang's ears and down his neck. Down towards his exposed collarbones. He blatantly ogles how a heavy drop of sweat trails down the slight curve of a taut pectoral until it reaches its destination—a pebbled nipple—and proceeds to dangle there for dear life.
The god's tongue moves on it's own volition, darting out of the corner of his mouth as if under a strange spell and a mournful whimper escapes him when the weight of the droplet becomes too much for it and it detaches from the nipple only to plummet toward the ground, forever out of his reach.
Oh.
Xie Lian's eyes dart back up to find San Lang already looking at him in what he surmises to be shock to rival his own, and for a short, terrifying moment, they just stare at each other. The heat that had thrown Xie Lian's senses into a mild disarray earlier, returns with vengeance. He feels dizzy. The growing thirst is making his throat ache, and the god can feel how sweat is trickling down his spine in lazy streams. His skin prickles all over with a feeling that almost seems to scream 'danger', yet there is something else trying to overpower it. A shudder runs through him, and he uses its momentum to give his mind a good shake as well.
He can do danger. He used to be one of the strongest martial gods, for heaven's sake! He used to battle fierce demons without breaking a sweat—
Uhh.
"Let me help you!" he sputters, wincing from how unnecessarily loud it came out.
"…ah…Huh?" it is San Lang's turn to fumble with his words, apparently, but before Xie Lian can get into analyzing how he feels about that, he presses on.
"The door! I can at least help San Lang with putting it into place, no?"
"Oh, ah…gege, it's…quite okay," the youth murmurs and then schools his oddly bashful demeanor back into the confident one Xie Lian is used to. "This San Lang can handle it. I wouldn't want gege to strain himself. The door is quite heavy, and gege seemed to not be feeling too well just now."
Xie Lian opens his mouth to protest but is cut off before he can get out a single word.
"However, there is something else gege can help me out with—"
The god's eyes light up before the hope of actually being somehow helpful can even settle in, it dissipates into nothing at the teasing grin that graces San Lang's lips. "Gege could grab himself a cup of water and relax in the shade while this San Lang finishes what he started, hm?" To rub salt even deeper into the open wound, the menace tops it all off with a playful wink, making the flustered mess he was identifying as but a moment ago seem like a wild imagination of Xie Lian's overheated brain.
Absolutely, completely, utterly defeated, Xie Lian rolls his eyes and with an exasperated groan resembling 'San Laaaaaahng', he turns around and sulks towards his shabby shrine. If he yanks the worn cloth off the doorframe on his way in a little more forcefully than needed, it's his business and his business alone.
…
Xie Lian, in fact, does not relax while San Lang works. Nor does he think there is a way San Lang is able to finish what he started as he so boldly declared.
It's not that the god doubts the undoubtedly multi-talented young man's skills. Not at all, verily, the door fits ridiculously well into the creaky frame of the shrine. Not to mention how easily San Lang maneuvered the alleged 'quite heavy' piece of fine carpentry to its designated spot, and proceeded to swiftly and securely fix all the bits and bobs (Xie Lian will not dwell on the specifics of why or how exactly said trinkets were so readily available) in their rightful places.
The door is absolutely wonderful, although a rather jarring contrast considering the poor state of the rest of the…hut. Really, he is actively fighting the urge to jump up, run to the exquisite door and just open and close it over and over again until his muscles tire from repeating the motions (that could take a while). Why? Just because it is something he now can do. It's amazing. San Lang is amazing, his mind happily supplies, beyond lost watching the man fuss with the door.
And despite the weirdly confusing, slightly syrupy head space he has gotten himself somehow stuck in, there is nothing even remotely relaxing about it. His leg won't stop bouncing, for one, his knuckles in his lap are as white as his robes, for sure. He lost feeling in the tightly curled fingers around the time when San Lang's back muscles flexed—the angle just right for Xie Lian's viewing pleasure, taking the god's breath away—as the young man put the damn piece of carved wood on the dusty floor with a dull thunk.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He feels his heart throbbing, fast and hard, all the way in his parched throat, which is beyond any number of cups of water's help. And the shade that the roof was supposed to provide has done nothing to help with the continuously rising temperature in Xie Lian's current location. The god's white cultivator robes are damp and sticking uncomfortably to his back, making him squirm where he is seated to observe his bare-chested carpenter for relaxation purposes. The small shrine, despite the fact he can see a butterfly flitting by through a fist sized hole near his ankle, feels like an airtight, perfectly enclosed box: hot and suffocating. Dread grows inside the god as he mentally tries to prepare himself for the inevitable moment the dwindling oxygen will simply vanish as soon as San Lang closes the beautifully-made door.
CLICK
Xie Lian chokes on a yelp, and San Lang turns from appraising his handy-work to where the undignified sound just came from. The grin the proud craftsman sends the god's way is near blinding. San Lang's bare torso is flushed from the diligent physical work he has done over the past several hours, rivulets of glimmering sweat now trail down his slim yet well-toned frame. His hair is completely undone now, black strands sticking to the almost steaming hot skin like intricate tattoos. Xie Lian feels another dizzy spell rapidly approaching.
Inhale.
He freezes before he can even think about the exhale that should follow.
Ah.
Soothing oxygen is not what reaches Xie Lian's air-starved lungs. And what had he expected? Really? San Lang closed the door. The door so well made that of course there would be no room for anything to slip through (maybe, MAYBE if the walls and roof were of the same quality. Maybe). Not even air (this is ridiculous). They are sealed in (not really, no). The discomposed god feels faint and a little funny, definitely overwhelmed, as the potent musk, fresh off San Lang's post work-out body, mixed with the crisp fragrance of his brand-new door hits him, dissolving the remainder of his sanity.
Before he realizes what he is doing, Xie Lian is on his feet and has already crossed the (meager) distance between where he was sitting and the door (and its mouth-watering maker) on surprisingly steady legs. The god, seemingly drunk off of just the first accidental taste of the tempting scent coming from the other man, backs San Lang against the sturdy door and places his hands on either side of the younger's head, caging him in. Xie Lian's eyes are half lidded, his gaze out of focus, his breathing unsteady.
Something raw and unfamiliar awakens and overtakes everything that he is. He doesn't question it, doesn't fight it. It doesn't matter. Instead, his eyes flutter shut, heavy under the roiling heat. He leans in and inhales, surrendering to the lure of the intoxicating aroma the source of which is an equally breathtaking man.
His entire body shudders at the indulgence, the feeling indescribable.
A soft gasp, followed by the shuffle of fabric and a dull thump, prompt Xie Lian to reopen his eyes. He frowns when not San Lang's pretty face but the smooth surface of his brand new door greets him. Perplexed, he pushes himself off the door and looks around the shrine, searching. Just as he is about to turn around, his foot nudges against something soft, inducing another, more audible gasp from below.
Xie Lian looks down.
"Oh."
San Lang's pretty brown eyes, pupils as big as saucers, are looking back at him, full of something between wonder and disbelief, his mouth slightly parted. The blush from earlier is not only back on his cheeks, but on his ears and his sweat-covered chest as well. The chest that keeps rising and falling in a tantalizing way to keep up with the youth's erratic breathing. He looks disheveled beyond what a good exercise regimen can usually do to a man (he would know), and the sight itself is doing things to Xie Lian's mind and body beyond what such a display should do to a man. Of his position. Something about cultivation? Pure of body and mind? Yeah, that.
Xie Lian, notoriously immovable in the face of any kind of worldly temptation for now about 800 years (give or take), suddenly comes to a realization.
"Oh dear, Guoshi might have failed to warn me about a thing or two…"
…
Thanks to the god's inexperience (and, frankly, blissful and willful ignorance) in carnal matters, the unanticipated attraction towards San Lang and the subsequent arousal born from said attraction are so potent that they leave little room to logical or sensible thoughts in Xie Lian's head. There is something distantly familiar about the state his mind has arrived at but he finds himself not really caring enough at the moment to explore the implications.
Thus, he also promptly dismisses the technicalities on how exactly he ended up hovering suggestively over San Lang's half-reclined body. But here Xie Lian is, for better or worse. Straddling the young man's thighs, ogling the shimmery sheen of sweat on those toned abdominal muscles that are trembling slightly under his longing gaze. The god leans in, as if possessed: he is but a parched man against the promise of sweet relief to end his thirst right in front of his face. He shudders when he gets close enough to feel the moisture and heat radiating off the bare torso that is to be his salvation.
He swallows thickly, and that is all the time the dazed god takes to hesitate before his tongue is firmly pressed against hot, damp skin, running languidly upwards along the sculpted planes of San Lang's abdomen.
It is divine. Everything and beyond what he hadn't even known he could feel anymore. How could it be that there was still something he had missed out on despite living for so long? Could he even still consider the motions he has been going through so far 'living'? Now, that he has gotten a taste of this? Xie Lian is familiar with just about every sensation a mortal body can ever experience, so much so that he has frankly grown numb to most of them, both out of desperate need and simple overexposure, leaving him more often than not in a state of dissociation from his physical self.
But this.
San Lang's skin is hot against his tongue and so impossibly smooth, trembling deliciously under the god's indulgent touch. Gooseflesh breaks out where the shimmery sweat is devoured, only to be replaced with a trail of Xie Lian's saliva.The god cannot help but run his fingers over the tiny bumps that appear, in desperate need to memorize each and every reaction he is coaxing out of San Lang with his unhinged actions.
The gasp that follows as soon as Xie Lian's mouth finds and conquers the peak of one of San Lang's firm and oh so shapely pectorals, sends a powerful wave of arousal through the god. He shudders and moans at the saltiness on his tongue and greedily sucks the hardened nipple into his mouth. He doesn't need to consciously direct his fingers to find the other proudly standing bud and give it a testing squeeze.
San Lang's back arches with an abrupt intake of air, and his chest presses into Xie Lian's face, bringing the delicious musk and heat that much closer, and oh, he wants to do that again. The god's lips let go of the nipple, but gives it a slow, hungry lick before pushing himself back up. He is a little reluctant to part with the bud, but he wants to see San Lang come apart the next time it happens again.
Not wanting to leave the saliva-slick nipple completely unattended, he takes it between his fingers, giving it a gentle rub. San Lang's reaction does not disappoint, a breathy whine falling from his lips. His eyes are glazed over, fluttering shut whenever the god's fingers add a little bit of pressure, his long and lush eyelashes brushing against his flushed cheeks.
Xie Lian lets the horny aggression fully take over. He rolls the perky buds between his fingers, completely enamored with the novel sensation, then pinches, not with the intention to hurt San Lang, never, but to feel even more. The disheveled youth whimpers and moans under the god's indulgent teasing, and Xie Lian finds he simply cannot get enough. He squeezes and tugs, coaxing more and more fascinating reactions out of San Lang's writhing form.
At an exceptionally wanton pull by the lust-driven god, San Lang groans loudly and arches his back in a way his hips lift off the floor, and suddenly, his groin is pushed firmly against Xie Lian's own. It takes a brief moment for Xie Lian to even register the shift, the pressure, the added friction between two worked up bodies.
He freezes as the sensations arrive, loud and clear and scorching hot, promptly overloading his mind anew and sending it into a violent spin. He absolutely does not want to analyze and make sense of it right now. He does not want to debate ethics and morals and whatever cultivation bullshit the voice of reason tries to screech out at him from the hole his newfound desire has banished the wretched thing into.
No. He needs to distract the pesky little thing, shut it up for just a little while longer. He is not desperate. This just…feels nice. Yeah, it's really nice, and—
He dives forward, seeking out the growing familiarity of San Lang's intoxicating scent and body heat, once more wrapping his mouth around one of those precious nipples. He closes his eyes, and a satisfied hum vibrates in his throat as he sucks, the brief moment of panic dissipating back into pleasurable haze.
He lets his hands roam across San Lang's body, relishing the contraction of muscles and tiny shudders awakened by his touch.
Ah, he truly is exquisite.
Time and space lose meaning, it's just him and San Lang. San Lang under his fingertips. San Lang on his tongue. San Lang against his lips. San Lang, San Lang, San Lang, San Lang—
A muffled, slightly strained sounding 'gege' reaches Xie Lian's ears when San Lang's body tenses and trembles under him, more intense than before, and the god slowly pushes himself up to look at the man, licking his lips as if to savor the taste of a rare delicacy.
Xie Lian drinks in the sight of San Lang—so deliciously undone under him. I did that, his mind revels in satisfied pride.
"San Lang…" he sighs, "…you are not human, are you?"
Because how can he be? San Lang is a vision. An experience so decadent, so sinfully divine he has to be out of this world. There simply cannot be another explanation. Xie Lian, for a fact, cannot come up with one. And he knows humans in ways possibly no other does.
Xie Lian has spent centuries wandering among mortals, living next to them, witnessing their ups and downs. He has met too many faces to count, seen it all—the beautiful, the ugly, the plain—yet the memory of each and every one equally fades with time. He has seen people's dreams and potential, their lies and greed. But never ever has he had an encounter with an impact powerful enough to reduce him into a state such as this. Not once in his 800 long years worth of travels has anything come even close to what he is experiencing right now. Worse yet, he doesn't think he minds this mysterious youth who calls himself San Lang unraveling his ancient shell with such terrifying ease. He doesn't think he wants to go back to not knowing the sensations that have been awakened in him by the teasing smirks and playful remarks of this terribly beautiful creature. If anything, he wants more, impossibly so. San Lang has gifted him a door to the unknowns of temptation and sin, and Xie Lian is more than ready to tear it wide open. He will gladly accept whatever spell or curse shall be inflicted on him when he does and willingly stay under the effects for the rest of eternity if that is the only way he can continue to feel like this. If he can continue to keep San Lang with him like this.
As he traces his fingers feather-light across the surface of those delectable abs, he notices a different kind of tension in the other that wasn't there before. His questioning gaze finds wide eyes already looking back at him, tears forming in the corners, reminding Xie Lian of a trapped and frightened animal.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Oh no.
What am I doing?
Xie Lian slaps a hand to his mouth and realizes he is trembling.
"I…I….I'm so…sorry…" he mutters and screws his eyes shut. Distressed and suddenly holding back tears, an avalanche of muffled and incoherent apologies spill from his lips. He starts to shuffle his body backwards in an effort to put distance between himself and the boundary he has so rudely and clearly overstepped. Violated. He barely manages to move, however, as his wrist is grabbed, rooting him in place.
"Gege, no." San Lang's voice is quiet and a little rough but there is a hint of urgency in his tone. Xie Lian chokes back a sob, cursing himself mentally.
"Gege."
"Gege, look at me."
Oh, but he can't. How? San Lang worked so hard to bless his pathetic shrine with a door fit for a king (which he absolutely doesn't deserve). And instead of a worthy payment, Xie Lian nearly forced himself on San Lang like a, like a—
"Gege, San Lang is the one who is sorry."
"I am SO—wait, huh?"
"It was never my intention to deceive you. Believe me!"
Xie Lian abruptly turns to look at the young man, and promptly feels dizzy all over again.
And rather confused?
San Lang is apologizing. San Lang is looking at Xie Lian like that. Wrecked. San Lang is pleading forgiveness with his pretty big eyes like a sad little puppy. San Lang's warm hand is still wrapped around his wrist, the grip sure yet carefully gentle.
Xie Lian's heart throbs in his throat.
"I was just," San Lang turns his gaze away, so uncharacteristically bashful, takes a shuddering breath and adds quietly as he closes his eyes, "afraid…" His shoulders sag in a strange display of surrender after the cryptic confession, leaving Xie Lian completely and utterly lost. And warm. And kind of tingly.
"Huh?" the god eloquently repeats, just in case his confusion wasn't well enough expressed, pushing the other stuff, with considerable effort, to the side for now.
"But gege is correct. I am no mortal."
Several very quiet and awkward moments pass before San Lang opens an eye and tentatively looks up to meet Xie Lian's stupefied expression.
"…gege?"
"I…what? You, what?"
"Gege, you—"
"Wait, so…you are not mad? Scared? Offended? Uncomfortable? Disgusted? I…I didn't overstep? Can I…I mean, San—"
"What?" San Lang croaks, stopping Xie Lian's frantic ramble.
Another silent moment of intense staring is abruptly broken by an angry and very loud 'CAW' just outside the shrine's threadbare walls and Xie Lian nearly jumps out of his skin.
San Lang is the first to recover, clearing his throat and tugging lightly at the wrist he is still holding to get the god's attention.
"Gege, no…why would I be…any of those things when there is nothing in existence you could ever overstep? There is absolutely nothing Dianxia could do to this lowly one that would be considered offensive. It is this one's transgressions that should be swiftly judged by Dianxia instead."
Xie Lian cannot but stare, jaw slack, at that soft, a little hesitant start, the ridiculously sincere middle and the outrageously confusing end of the sentence that came out of San Lang's mouth. Dianxia? Transgression? Judgement? DIANXIA?
He must've gone stupid. His awakened desires for San Lang must've robbed him of every bit of intelligence he could ever have boasted. Because he hears the words yet cannot comprehend their meaning. It doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense. Where is the voice of reason now? his inner voice, bereft of logical guidance, sounds near hysterical. (He knows exactly where it is. He buried it in a hole to shut it up. It's okay, it is a very tenacious thing. It will return. Eventually. Probably way sooner than he can even imagine actually.)
"Gege."
Without his trusty voice of reason, alongside his centuries-honed skill to deflect and dodge apparently not just blades, San Lang's low murmur easily draws Xie Lian back toward a different mental direction. One filled with the sweet temptation that is San Lang. It makes him shameless in a way he might possibly regret later (or not), but frankly, he does not want to hold himself back. Not when hope has spread himself out for him like a fine meal ready to be consumed. Xie Lian licks his lips. Whatever happens after is for future Xie Lian to deal with.
"San Lang didn't…mind?"
And San Lang, the menace, blushes and bites his lip, his eyes darting away for a breath, lush eyelashes fluttering against the flush cheeks.
Xie Lian feels the powerful throb of his pulse now not only in his throat but lower down his body as well as heat rushes to gather in his abdomen with renewed vigor. His breathing is picking up speed, his thighs tremble. The anticipation fuels his hunger.
San Lang looks back at him, eyes going wide as he takes in Xie Lian's appearance.
"Gege isn't…put off…by this one's…physical…particularities?"
Xie Lian promptly chokes on a snort then breaks out into full-blown laughter, clutching at his stomach. Ah, this sweet, irresistible, absolutely ridiculous man. Tears streak his cheeks as he just lets the fit run its course. San Lang stares at him, bewildered, but does nothing to interfere.
Once he regains himself, shaking off the remnants of that bout of hysterics and wiping the tears from his eyes, Xie Lian slumps over to once more hover over San Lang's disheveled and baffled form prompting a sharp gasp from the man. Their faces now barely a breath apart, Xie Lian whispers words he never thought he would.
"Put off? San Lang, you must have misunderstood. Never have I ever been this turned on."