TOKYO VICE | part 1
You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his masterâs untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate.
Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions.
(Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)
8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft â no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!
sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip
part 2 here
Youâre not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.
Itâs certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By âinterestâ, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.
You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelingsâinsecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girlsâ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.
The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and itâs generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and itâs an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, heâs your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go southâboth severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.
Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.
Now, strictly speakingâyou're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. Itâs definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, youâve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.
When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, youâd grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approachedâyou had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going toâand you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.
Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.
Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.
Then Suoâs master died, and he lost his fucking mind.
The two of you buried Suoâs master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suoâs master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.
Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.
You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.
Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.
âMaster supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,â he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. âSo it'll be fine. Weâll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.â
At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didnât think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. Heâd still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behavioursânot so different from the martial art that he practised.
He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girlsâ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your ownâbut it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.
This was Suoâs brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering themâa behaviour heâd mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suoâs values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his masterâwho represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.
Thus, the death of Suoâs master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.
He especially became a worse person with you.
As it turned out, Suoâs idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasnât that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it becameâput as nicely as possibleâheavy-handed.
After your masterâs death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.
Suoâs response was to simply become the owner of your club.
This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you werenât going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibateânot only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).
His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.
The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.
His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Orânevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. Andâah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourselfâyou were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.
These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his masterâs untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in pointâhe was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.
âI'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,â Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.
So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.
While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.
You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.
But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.
Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.
Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.
Itâs a perfect plan. Suoâs oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Streetâlargely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suoâs men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relationsâit would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.
A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.
Suoâs expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacupâcustom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapotâdown on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.
âCome again?â
âI'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,â you repeat. âI already gave the mamasan my resignation.â
âAnd she accepted it?â Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. âHow interesting,â he muses. âWhat brought this on?â
âI've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.â
âI'll give you a raise,â he says easily.
âA raise?â You cock a brow. âThe pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.â
âThen it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, andââhis smile grows sharpââvery polite.â
Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.
âIt's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that weâre married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anywayââyou frown, trying to look as pathetic as possibleââI'm lonely.â
Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other peopleâunless he needs to text you.
So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, youâve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.
âLonely?â he repeats. âAre you, now?â
âYes. You work so much,â you complain, which is not a lie, âand I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.â
âYou have friends from work.â
âNo, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.â
âYou like Shuuhei and Hanzo,â he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.
âYeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.â Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: âThey're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the bossâ wife?â
âHmâŠâ Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to sayâmaybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.
The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. âAnd how would working on Keisei Street help?â he asks.
âBecause all our old friends are there!â you exclaim. âSakuraâs in Roppo-Ichiza now so heâll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite oftenâand even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.â You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. âPlease, Suo?â
âHm.â He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. âI donât think so. Itâs not very safe there.â
He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.
But undeterred, you point out, âShuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?â
This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. âWell, if it's himâŠâ
âI even texted him about it. Lookâhere!â You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. âHe says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe itâSakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.â
âHuh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.â Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but itâs made you realise that you really do miss your friendsâand Suo probably does too.
âIf I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,â you point out, feeling somewhat tender.
âI guess that's true,â Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to hisâplatonicallyâthen you definitely would.
Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suoâs syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suoâs greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, heâll kill them too.
Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.
In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little riskyâespecially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza arenât yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.
But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.
I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled itâI know you like fragrant thingsâso I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.
He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.
Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suoâs just a regular guy who isnât homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.
Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, âPardon?â He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.
âShe's always going to love hotels after her shifts.â Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. âI thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suoâare you really okay with this?â
On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Streetâbut you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.
âUm,â you say. âIt's just business.â
âBusiness,â Suo repeats.
âYou don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,â Sakura grouses, unaware of Suoâs carefully suppressed rage. âYou're real popular already.â
âAre you?â Suo asks, looking right at you.
âI meanâI told you the pay would be better, right?â you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.
âOh,â Sakura says, looking between the two of you. âSuo, you didn't know?â
âI didn't,â he says. âActually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.â He turns to you, still smiling. âThat's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?â
A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! Iâll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said heâd make sure Iâll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!
âUm,â you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.
âWait,â Sakura demands, âwhat do you mean by âallowed herâ? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?â
Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, âGenerally no. But weâre dating now, which complicates what sheâs allowed to do with other men at her job.â
Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.
âI⊠um?!â Sakuraâs staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. âI thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?â
âAh, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.â Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. âWe were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.â
â...â
Youâre going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!
âOh⊠holy shit.â Sakuraâs expression is complicatedâsomehow, more complicated than yours, even though youâre the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe itâs just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, âCongrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.â
Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. âWe were thinking you could be our best man,â he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.
âO-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?â
âRather than having a maid of honour,â you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, âweâd like him to be our best man as well.â
âOh. That makes sense.â Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. âWhen were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.â
âIâm not sure.â Suo turns to you. âWhat were we thinking again, dear?â
You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, heâll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. Youâll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.
Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, âI think we were talking about a summer wedding.â
The drive home is awkward.
Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, whoâs drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirmâwhich you do.
You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, âSo you're sleeping with your customers.â
You swallow. âYes.â
âFor business?â
âYes.â
âHow much do you make?â
You blink. âHuh?â
âHow much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?â
You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.
âSo you make less than you did at Red Dragon,â Suo concludes, âand you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.â He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.
âSo,â he says, âwhatâs the real reason you changed jobs?â
Already knowing that heâll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, âI just wanted to start having sex again.â
Suo blinks. âYou⊠what?â
âI wanted to have sex with people,â you repeat. âI hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.â You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. âI'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.â
He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. Heâd designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, itâs definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.
âDo you like it?â Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.
âWhat?â
âDo you enjoy having sex with your customers?â he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. âDoes it make you happy?â
You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and thenâfinally, inevitablyâyour long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.
To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.
You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by himâembraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with himâand you realised that you didnât actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experienceâin that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.
This was a feeling so disgusting that youâve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.
âYeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.â You pretend to study your nails. âSometimes I cum, which is all I really want.â
Suo keeps staring at you. âThatâs it?â he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.
âWhat do you mean?â
âThat's all you want? Just to get off?â
You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.
âYes, that's all.â
No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.
If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.
So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.
Suo doesnât come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwiseâbut I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, Iâm sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.
You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sightâpresumably so you donât fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like thatâso you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.
You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak offâand for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.
It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driverâs licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think youâd need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)
So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigarsâboth evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its ownerâs authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.
And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.
âCan I help you?â he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.
âYeah, actually,â you say. âI'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?â
The bouncerâor chinpira, you guessâbristles.
âYou're looking for who?â
âYanzhao?â you say impatiently. âEyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?â
The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.
You take a step back. âUm. I think there's been a misunderstanding.â You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. Youâll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.
It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brotherâs knife.
âAnesan!â he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpiraâs knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleagueâwhose face has turned very white in a very short amount of timeâinto an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.
âOh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?â
âYes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brotherâs idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.â There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. âIf you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy toââ
âNo, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.â If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documentsâSuo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. âBy the way,â you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, âhave you seen my husband?â
Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, âYou can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.â
You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long timeâyou canât think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. âWhat, is he cheating on me?â you guess.
âWhat? No! Aniki would never!â Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. âHe's crazy about you!â
âThen I'm sure heâll be happy to see me,â you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and youâre taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suoâs been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.
Then the door opens, and youâre given your answer in the form of several body bagsâall cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.
âOh,â you say faintly. You try not to throw up. âSo this is why he hasn't been home.â
âExactly!â Yamashita replies, beaming. âSee, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!â
Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days heâs stressed, though he never admits it when he is.
The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.
Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonaldâs after going to a club.
You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girlsâ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. âNo thanks,â he says predictably, âI'm on a diet.â Then he turns and looks right at youâstartling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quietâand gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. âWould my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?â
âNo thanks,â you reply, âbut your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.â
The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. Youâre left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (Youâd rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.
A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suoâs handsâdelicately adjusting your bodyâare still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.
You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.
âYou didn't call or come home,â you start.
âI thought it would be too dangerous.â
You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. âWas this a rival organisation?â
âNo. They were ours.â He sighs. âA succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.â
You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his masterâs influence, and something that appeals to his current âfatherâ. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. Heâs almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose itâs natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.
âYouâve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,â you say. âI was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.â
Suoâs hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.
âThey knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.â Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. âItâs fine. They won't bother you ever again.â The cheerful smile returns. âAnd if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.â
Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much lonelinessâwhether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sureâyou can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, âI know.â
Suoâs expression dims a little then. âI thought you'd like the space anyway.â
âWhat?â You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. âWhy would you think that?â
âI thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.â You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, âYou didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.â
â...â
You try not to look disturbed. Suoâs apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worseâyou immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is⊠well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.
Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: âWho would you have been, um, okay with touching me?â
âSakura or Nirei,â he says immediately. âThough only Sakura would be interested.â
âWhat.â You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. âBullshit. He would never.â
âYes, he would.â Suo tilts his head. âHaven't you noticed?â
âI don't think there's anything to notice? And alsoâheâs so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!â You give him a bewildered look. âHe couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!â
âEmbarrassed?â Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. âIs that what you thought was going on?â
âWas there anything else?â
He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. âWellâitâs fine,â he says. âIt doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.â
You make a face. âI still can't believe that's the cover you went for.â
âAre you upset with it?â he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.
Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. âSo, given that you are now my fiancĂ©, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?â
You donât expect it when Suo says, âNo, you can.â
You stare. âWhat?â
âYou can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?â Suoâs brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. âDo you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?â
Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. âNo,â you tell him. âI just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.â It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sadâyouâre still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master diedâand also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.
Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, âYouâre really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.â
âNo, itâs fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.â
Suoâs mouth curlsânot in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.
âI'm sure weâll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.â
END PART 1
thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!
also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!
tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3
451 notes
·
View notes
cicatrix
|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, cathartic smut || wc: 21.5k  || ao3 ||
Both you and Jing Yuan are known to put well-being aside for the sake of others. You reckon with it.
minors, antis and ageless blogs dni
notes: i've been COOKING!!!! please enjoy this very cathartic, gooey oneshot đ©đ!!!!! jing yuan is so beloved and getting to chew on him and his character makes me wanna roll around and scream (positive). thank you so much to bee (@suguwu) for talking this piece out w me each step of the way and andy (@andypantsx3) for a so helpful final read through đ„șđ©· read and enjoy loves!!!
CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, author-created lore & worldbuilding, reader visibly loses weight due to bodily stress, general talk of weight and bodies, reference to pain during intimacy, a single pregnancy joke made entirely in jest
âYou should go see him.â
This is not the first time Diviner Fu has told you this. Itâs actually the third time. Itâs her third time attempting to have this particular conversation with you, one which you are becoming increasingly adept at parrying around.Â
âWho?â You lie. You already know who.
âThe General?â Fu Xuan sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. âHeâs awake, you know. Barely. But he has asked for you. Both while he was mostly unconscious and since heâs regained his lucidity. Go see him.â
âIâll pass.â You shift on your knees with a heavy thump. Bone on metal. âBesides, canât you, of all people, see I am hard at work here? I donât exactly have the time for personal visits at the moment.â
That is not a lie. That is a steadfast truth. One both you and Fu Xuan, as the Master Calibrator and the Master Diviner respectively, fully understand.
Fu Xuan has sought you out deep within the Luofuâs inner structure. Far below the sprawl of metal-plated cities and neighborhoods, are the catacomb intestines youâve been toiling in for... sometime now. Since whenever the Lord Ravager harnessed the Arbor, and the roots of a dead tree powered by an Aeon mutilated the Luofuâs most delicate innards. Innards you need to fix, rather than having frustrating conversations with Lady Fu.
You tap around on the interface on your wrist-bound jade abacus and curse. Your fingers are newly calloused, irritated at the tips from all of the poking and prodding youâve had to do. You dip your hands into one of the opened buckets fastened to your belt, pulling forth when youâre sticky with iridescent sludge that slowly drips down your wrist like thick syrup.Â
Returning to the utility panel you were previously working on before being interrupted, you tinker with a few of its delicate dials. All thrown off by the overabundance of... Abundance and the physical impact of the roots growth, deeper in the Luofuâs structure. You concentrate and thread quantum with the sap on your hands, trying to coax the machines into a more stable stasis.Â
âAt least consider it.â Fu Xuan says. Technically, she could order you, as she is on some administrative level, your superior and (from what you last heard) the acting General of the Luofu while the Divine Foresight has been indisposed. And yet, she does not force you.Â
âFine. Iâll consider itâ if and when the Luofu is running diagnostic assessments with an average above fourty.â
âThatâsâ somewhat agreeable. But, I do think youâre being entirelyââ
âFoolish?â You interrupt her with a laugh.
âChildish.â Fu Xuan taps her foot. The sound bounces around the narrow passageway, rattling into your skull. âCan the two of you not talk like adults and settle things?â
âIâm not sure what there is to âsettleâ with him, Lady Fu.â You twitch your index and pinky finger at the same time. The internals sing, a hymn you know, the chord is a step or two too lowâ fucker. âHe did something supremely stupid, and I am working.â
âThatâs an obtuse way to look at things, and you know it.â
âIn what way?â You crack open your eyes. You hadnât realized youâd shut them. Youâre sure theyâre bloodshot. âWhat do you think about the Generalâs actions in subduing the Lord Ravager, Lady Fu?â
âI do believe he was recklessâ as reckless as that man allows himself to be.â Fu Xuan has clearly thought about this before. Frustration pinches in her voice. âBut it was not without the results.â
âSo calculated recklessness is fine if, in the worst case, you end up as the Luofuâs next Arbiter General?â
âYouâre putting words in my mouth.â
âI am.â You say, sighing. Anger prickles under your skin. This is all easier to deal with (read: ignore) if you focus on the ship and its internals. Its stupid, destroyed, obliterated internals. âI apologize.â
âWhen was the last time you slept?â Fu Xuan asks.
â... Yesterday? Probably?â Thereâs no daylight. You conserve battery life on your various devices by keeping screens dim, so you donât know the hour. Time has felt liquid for some time now.
âI could take over.â Fu Xuan suggests.
âYou still have a ship to run, I assume. Unless the Divine Foresight was so eager to get back to work already.â
â... Tasks can be delegated accordingly.â
âItâs not necessary.â You shake your head. âI mean this as no slight, but the rate at which you would be able to complete repairs and calibrations would be at the same rate at which the shipâs fail-safes and functions are degrading. It isnât worth it.â
Perhaps, under different circumstances, Fu Xuan would squawk at you for discounting her skills as a calibrator so quickly. She is trained, not to your degree or expertise, but in a pinch, she can complete repairs, hear the chords, see the quantum maps required to keep the Luofu and its many delicate parts and pieces functioning accordingly.Â
However, the Luofuâs current circumstances do not constitute a âpinchâ and rather a âonce-in-an-era disaster that nearly killed the long-lived, beloved General, destroyed the longstanding Creation Furnace, revealed the previous disgraced High Elder of the Vidhaydara, nearly reawoke the Ambrosial Arborâ. And, as Jing Yuan had told you in confidenceâ âItâs a Stellaron.â
And hence, you and your expertise are best-suited for the task of repairing the insides of the Luofu.Â
â... Even still.â She says somewhat gravely. âThis is unsustainable.â
âI recognize that.â And you do, childish avoidance of the General aside. âOnce the shipâs up to forty percent attuned, the diagnostic algorithms attached to the internal citrine abaci should stabilize and begin to re-establish a self-healing cycle. At which point, my manual diagnostics and repairs will no longer be necessary at the level at which Iâm completing them now.â
âWhat percentage attuned is the Luofu at, as of now?â
â... Twenty-seven.â This is, technically, the truth.Â
(However, you have little confidence in that number, as it fluctuates heavily based on time of day and your own location within the tunnels and mechanical catacombs. You imagine this may be due to any number of thingsâ there may be a gamma leak down deeper, where the radiation sponges are not as effective. There could still be creatures and roots of Abundance, alive in the passageways, wreaking havoc on the systems in real time. The diagnostic systems themselves could be failing, or at the very least damaged, which means that prescribing a number at all to the Luofuâs condition is a stupid idea to begin withâ)
Fu Xuan says your name sharply.
âYes?âÂ
â... Iâm worried.â
âThatâs probably for the best.â You wish there was more sympathy in your voice, but it sounds cold and outside of your body.Â
(Youâre so tired.)
Fu Xuan sighs, and drops to her knees next to you, peering in one the copper box youâve been wrist deep in for the better part of ten minutes. Distractions slow down the process so immensely.Â
âYour reasoning is sound, and I understand that this isnât entirely some ploy to skirt around the Generalâs requests to see you.â Fu Xuan hands you a small pendant, cut of purple stone and lit from the inside out. âPlease, wear this. It will transmit your vital signs and location to a monitor on the surface.â
You blanch, âIs this for you, or the General?â
âFor the Divination Commission on paper.â Fu Xuan loops it around your neck. âYouâre the only Master Calibrator on the Luofu. To lose track of you, or lose you, would be dire. It will also assuage some of the Generalâs anxieties and keep him from pestering me about you.
âThe general, anxious?â You throw back your head with a laugh and withdraw your hands from the paneling. The sludge has liquified further, more mucus-y now as it drips down your forearms. You wipe away what remains with a well-used rag from your belt. âIâve never known Jing Yuan to be anxious.â
âHe is now.â Fu Xuan says simply. âOr, as much as he allows himself to be. I am not interested in delving into the Generalâs psychology, but I am interested in keeping you in decent condition. That pendant has an emergency function. If you tap it three times, itâll send a distress signal with your location.â
You want to say that thatâs âunnecessaryâ, but you know thatâs your bad mood. Thereâs a reason why Fu Xuan made this journey, alone, and is speaking to you so frankly. There are bags under her eyes too.
âThank you, Fu Xuan.â You say, softly, kinder than you have been.Â
Despite your grime, perhaps mutual, you wrap your arms around her shoulders and squeeze. She hugs you back and deflates, if only for a moment.
...
The Luofuâs utility organs are built downwards, filling what would be considered the âhullâ of the ship, until you hit the Hall of Karma. Thereâs insulation between the shipâs most vital part and the weary souls of the departed, which provides you some comfort as you must descend deeper and deeper.Â
The Luofu is as much a ship as it is a planetâ a live ecosystem, adapted to fit the various immortals who call it home. The bowels of the Luofu are truthfully a combination of metal and plant matterâ dirt and mechanical roots meant to hold the ground in one piece around you. Much of the organic matter of the ship is covered behind metal plating, lest risking a collapse.
Most of the damage you must tinker to fix occurs in the small, delicate panels that are placed in the walls every ten meters or so. Theyâre nondescript, mostly. Surrounded by a few various dialsâ a few circular meters are faded and out of use (relics from when the Luofu left its parent civilization, millenia ago), and a port to sync up a jade abacus to for more detailed readings.
Most of the data is slop to someone without training.
Even with training, your exhaustion is making the various numbers, symbols, and graphs feel like slop.Â
The panel can be disconnected with a small, quill-looking tool (thereâs only a small amount left on the Luofu, maybe twenty in total. The head of the tool is carved from an old, red stone, burnt in an old fire by a forgemaster long dead. You keep track of your handful diligently, lest you lose them without another smith to make them.) Once the utility panel is pried off, it reveals a suspended layer of liquid, far deeper than it looks. If you really tried, you probably could fit your entire arm in and still have depth.
Suspended in the liquid are the mechanisms that truly run the Luofu. Itâs hard to describe how they fit together. It takes an affinity for quantum, a century (or three) of training, to make sense of how to parse together the ship's parts. The parts are various small machines, crystals, living ecosystems bound into balls and sustained by astrosynthesis beyond this world.
Youâre used to the awe of it.
Along your waist, you carry several pots of stellar lubricant. The grease provides... some amount of slip when poking around in it yourself. It resonates with the quantum and allows you to see the stretches of energy that allow the ship to run as it does. Tender leylines, woven threads, songs and hymns that are of many familiar beats and melodies.Â
Everything slips together as you pull yet another panel from a wall. The mechanisms sing out of tune, in dissonant chords, off-beat in the wrong time signature.
You dunk your hands into the lubricant, ignoring the slowly erupting burns on your forearms from over-exposure.
You shove your hands into the wall. You work. You fix.Â
...
Not so long ago, you and Fu Xuan were not the only two Calibrator on the Xianzhou Allianceâs Luofu. There had been an apprentice in the Divination Commission who was studying, seeking mastery, just as you yourself had. They were more skilled than Lady Fu in the arts of calibration. You think they hailed from the Yaoqing. They were soft, gentle-hearted and young by the standards of Xianzhou natives.
So perhaps, this is why they became Marastruck in the mouth of one of the utility tunnels after seeing footage of the Divine Foresight being dragged unconscious and limp into the apothecary. Gingko leaves tearing their skin, an unholy sob turning to a shriek to cut the air. You were lucky the transformation occurred while you were above ground, and a patrol of Cloud Knights was nearby.
Youâre probably lucky that you hadnât (havenât) succumbed to Mara. If you were a few centuries younger and less trained in the arts of meditation, you might have been swallowed up like the apprentice had been.
Jing Yuan, for all of his many games and schemes and tricks, radiates the air of someone almost infallible. He is not perfect; he has never been one for edges that are too manicured. Heâs far more content dozing the afternoon away or taking a stroll through one of his gardens than hosting war-meetings. He prefers to wear plain clothes to the market in hopes he will not be recognized (though, he always is).Â
But, he is strong and remarkably difficult to phase or bother in any setting. On more than one occasion, youâve spent the evening trying to rile him up and get him to pounce, but the General is always content to watch your attempts with a lazy smile on his face. Content to sweetly watch you struggle in getting under his skin. He may be affected, but he is hard to break. If he does, it is with such grace that you wouldnât have any idea he did break, and it feels as if youâve somehow slipped, rather than him. He is cunning and sure-footed in a way that you canât help but admire.Â
Youâre not the only one to feel that way.
(Though, youâre the only one who shares a bed with him. So.)
The Xianzhou has little place for legends, yet Jing Yuan is old enough and well-thought of enough to have become one. So, you cannot blame the apprentice for falling to Mara. Not when they, and the rest of the Luofu, saw a legend buckle at the knees.Â
...
You were right about diagnostics being inaccurate. However, the reason was a mix of your two initial hypotheses.Â
Parts of the diagnostic system, deep and low within the Luofuâs internal organs, had been damaged. Radiation leaks from the core of the ship, usually held back by sponges and filters, was drifting upward to damage any number of sensors and organic processes keeping the Luofu operational.
(All useless details really, none of it makes sense anymore. The ship is fucked. You must fix it.)
And you have been fixing it.Â
You reek of stellar lubricant, skin stained pearly and glittery under the fluorescent lights that dot the tunnels. Your eyes ache; itâs gotten quite difficult to focus them. Youâre lucky that thereâs occasional spigots tapped into the walls, with some type of freshwater flowing from them, even if it does take awhile for any liquid to run. They probably havenât been used in decadesâ maybe centuries. Most of the internals of the Luofu heal and repair on their own.Â
A calibrator would only need to step-in in the case of a calamity.
Time has gotten slippery. Though you send up status reports (of varying quality) through your wrist-bound jade abacus, you canât say itâs on a schedule. You do them when you have the mental fortitude to craft something acceptable for the Divination Commission to scoff at.Â
Youâre tired, maybe.
There are some mediary chambers between levels. Old, dust-covered rooms with a cot and some rations. Though you raid the ones you come across for emergency food stores, you donât stay to sleep. You usually keel over on the metal flooring with your outermost robe thrown over you like a blanket. Your pillow is your own folded hands.Â
Itâs viciously uncomfortable, but you find sleeping difficult regardless. The offensively bright grow lights are sensitive to flesh life, and will not turn off in your presence. The floor is sometimes searingly warm, sometimes ice cold. If you stop working, your own thoughts threaten to swallow you whole. You only achieve sleep in brief moments, perhaps a few hours at a time, when youâre entirely spent.Â
It is unpleasant sleep. A mix of recent horrors and faraway comforts.
(You initially heard from Fu Xuan what Jing Yuan had done.)
(Shortly after, footage was posted of the Divine Foresight, unconscious and being dragged across the Luofu for medical attention. Jing Yuan was entirely unresponsive and cradled in the arms of the Vidharaydaâs... reawoken? Returned? (You stay out of Lizard Politics.) (Regardless, it still burns.))
(Thereâs chaos in the sounds captured on the video, the shocked, disbelieving voices.)
(You had turned off your phone (you have still yet to turn it back on) and dragged the apprentice to the tunnels. You ignored their crumbled expression and all of their disbelief. It would not serve either of youâ anyoneâ in that moment. This was foolish of you.)
(You remember your apprentice and how their panic grew to Mara so quickly. How they looked sick to their stomach, braced against one of the entrances to the tunnels of the catacombs, clutching their skull. You urged them forward, begged them to hurryâ that the diagnostics were grave. You could see the gnarled roots of the arbor already having penetrated some of the ancillary walls.)
(They looked so scared as they were swallowed by Mara. Eyes flashing scarlet, gingko leaves spilling from their mouth as they screamed. Flesh tearing to be healed wrong seconds later. Beautiful silk robes torn to shreds, body mutilated from the inside out.)
(Theyâd lunged at you, howling, and youâd barely side-stepped them. You ran to a patrol of Cloud Knights, overworked and clearly battleworn themselves and exhausted. Regardless, they took down your apprentice. Cut them at the back of the knees, called a Judge, dragged them off to the Hall of Karma.)
You dream of Jing Yuan often.
Sometimes, these dreams are awful.
Lady Fu had told you to visit him, prior to your initial descent into the catacombs. She said he was unconscious and battered. He would certainly recover; the General is particularly hearty. She urged you to see him in the Alchemy Commission. She said this as if Jing Yuan hadnât just thrown himself in front of a being that rivaled some Aeons. She said this as if the Luofu wasnât a few mechanical failures away from ceasing function and you were the only one aboard the Luofu able to stop it with any efficiency.
You dream of Jing Yuan being lanced through with his own guandao. You dream of him falling to the stone of Scalegorge Waterscape, eyes blooming red, and ginkgo leaves erupting from his shoulders. You dream of him mutilated beyond belief by beings so much more powerful than either of you. You dream of having to watch a patrol of Cloud Knights pin him to the ground as Mara consumes him.
Sometimes, the dreams are pleasant.
The worst are those where you think you have woken up in bed with him. Mimi purrs at the foot of his stupid, indulgently large bed. Your cheek is pressed to his chest, warm and alive and okay, and he rumbles some laugh when you seem confused. He asks if youâd like breakfast. A bath. You should go to the markets together, shouldnât you?
You dream of his body next to yours. Well and whole and intertwined.
You prefer to be awake; it allows you to feel like you have some semblance of control over your own mind.Â
Horrors crop up into the forefront of your mind without warning often. Staying focused on your repairs helps you. Grounding yourself in the sting of the lubricant over your skin keeps your thoughts closer to the material, rather than the intangible fears that threaten to swallow you whole.Â
Leaving only you to your work. Fixing.Â
You wipe sweat from your brow, uncaring of the grease that smears across your skin and clumps in your hair. The panel in front of you is being particularly fuzzy. The parts are old. The impact from the Arbors sudden growth had damaged the delicate nature of the mechanisms.Â
So, you tinker away.
Quantum threading, weaving, unraveling, trying again. And again, and again.
Your head pounds.
...
At some point, when checking your jade abacus, the diagnostic percentages have stopped going down. Theyâre actually going up, steadily and on their own.
You donât believe it at first, but after... a while of keeping an eye on it, it doesnât appear to be a fluke. Functionality is hovering around thirty-three percent, unfailingly, and rising a percentage every day or so. The panels you check appear to be healing themselves as well, albeit slowly. Thin, vermillion tendrils snake around in the oil to poke and prod as you have. Albeit, itâs not enough, but it provides a kernel of respite nonetheless.
Coincidentally, you run out of stellar lubricant around this same time as well.
The only option (as youâve already pilfered the stores youâve come across) is to ascend back to the surface of the Luofu and fetch more from the Artisanship Commission.Â
You feel delirious when you rise fully and stretch your arms above your head. Your hands knock into the metal ceiling as your back cracks in at least four different places. Your knees ache. Your legs have long since cramped up. You feel stiff down to your bones, but you separate from the feeling. You must, thereâs more important things to worry about.Â
Ascending the catacombs is difficult. You hadnât... realized quite how deep youâd gone for repairs. It takes quite some time to climb the thin utility ladders and weave the correct path upwards. Youâre slowed by gravity and your own lethargy. The exertion takes its toll quickly, but you ignore it. You have a task to complete.Â
(Your body's slick with sweat. Your vision threatens to tunnel.)
Perhaps youâll pick up some proper rations as well. The nutritional power you had pilfered from the tunnelâs stores probably isnât meant to be consumed in the long term.Â
You come to surface through a shrouded doorway in a residential neighborhood. Itâs warm, temperate as the Luofu usually is. Thereâs a pleasant breeze and the smell of grass and water in the air. Itâs a sharp contrast to the metallic tang of oil and lubricant that youâre slicked with.
You try to think little of it. Artisanship Commission.Â
On your way, you get the occasional odd stare. A child points at you. You, perhaps, are covered in grime and attribute any gawking to that. Maybe? Youâre due for a bath. Though with all the errands it appears you need to run, do you really have time for one?Â
Thereâs a shop on the edge of the Artisanship Commission you duck into. The shopkeeper is speaking to another customer at the counter, but goes silent when you give him a friendly wave. Youâre a regular here, after all.Â
You grab as much of the lubricant as you can carry in your arms and place it on the counter, poking around in your pocket for your... phone. Itâs probably out of battery.
âCould you put this on the Divination Commissionâs tab?â You ask him. âItâs being used for official business.â
The shopkeeper is still looking at you, wide-eyed. Mouth hanging open. He stiffly nods and rings you up.Â
Odd.
You think little of it. He slowly loads your jars into an old crate and hands it to you.Â
âBe well.â You say on the way out. The shopkeeper does not reply.Â
The interaction leaves you with a vague sense of unease.Â
That feeling mounts the more you realize that people are looking at you, as you make your way to Aurum Alley for rations. One woman even tries to stop you, but you wave her off. You need toâ
Get rations. Maybe take a shower. Descend again because thereâs no way the systems can be sustained and heal fast enough on their own. You must work, you must toil.
And you mustnât visit Jing Yuan.
Not yet. Not until you can forget how he looked, slack and half-dead in the arms of his men. Perhaps you should forget the face of the returned High Elder as well. Youâveâ youâve put together that he and Jing Yuan have some type of history. You know from the whisperings that the man saved Jing Yuan.Â
(You canât ever save him. You are not a fighter. Youâre a well-paid mechanic.)
Rations.
Youâre stopped before you ever are three steps into Aurum Alley by a group of Cloud Knights.
âHalt.â One of them says, raising her weapon.Â
â... Pardon?â You ask, raising an eyebrow. The crate in your arms is too heavy for this. âCan I help you?â
âPlease wait,â the tip of her guandao shines, âyou are the Divination Commissionâs Master Calibrator, correct?â
â... Yes?â You sigh. âI apologize, but I must get past you. Iâm on official business. Supply run.âÂ
The Knight rotates her blade to the butt of it against your chest, applying light pressure. Holding you there, tucked between several buildings and fairly out of sight. Your stomach drops.Â
âI canât allow that.âÂ
â... Excuse me?â
Youâre about ready to snap at the nervous-looking knight once more, but youâre interrupted. The sound of quick feet over stone stops behind you and frigid air begins to spill down your neck. You turn your head painfully over your shoulder.Â
Yanqing, the fierce little thing, is poised behind you, spitting steam and frost. His gold eyes are angry, teeth bared. He looks exhausted.Â
âYou are being detained,â he says, angry and sharp.
âWhat?â You snap, turning to face him. He looks ready to raise his blade against you, hand twitching at his waist. Thatâs not your concern at this moment. âYanqingâ what are youââ
Yanqingâs eyes are shiny and wet.
Oh.
âYouâre being detained by order of the Divine Foresight.â He says, voice unwavering despite the tears beading against his lower lashes.Â
...
Yanqing seems like heâs seething as he leads you to one of Jing Yuanâs personal gardens. Itâs on a terrace, high above most of the Luofu, far-away from any of the Commission's that may bother him when he is attempting to relax.
You know this garden well; itâs your favorite spot to relax in with Jing Yuan.
He leads you directly to Jing Yuan who is standing on an overlook, hand behind his back as he stares out over a roiling sea. The waves crash far below, the sound a mere echo. His shoulders are slack. He hardly looks angry. Itâs rare that he ever does.
âGeneral.â Yanqing saysâ he is angry. âIâve brought them.â
âOh?â Jing Yuan turns, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. âYou found them?â
âYes, in Aurum Alley.â Yanqing salutes and steps to the side.
You cross your arms and try not to cry.
Jing Yuan looks fine. Heâs clearly in one piece. Whole. Whole. No visible injury, no new limp as he steps closer to you, examining you just as intently as you examine him.Â
Itâs a horrible relief to see him fineâ even if you should scold him. If you had the energy, you would. You would rake him over the damn coals for endangering himself as he did. You will, later. Maybe. But for nowâ
âAm I done being detained?â You ask, malice in your voice. âI have work to do.â
âNo hello?â
âFine. Hello.â
âHi,â Jing Yuan says more gently, beckoning you to a lovely looking pile of silk pillows and a thick mat. The perfect spot for a midday catnap. âIâm afraid I do intend to keep you for a bit longer. Sit, please.â
You donât budge.
âJing Yuan,â You say his name. Your voice doesnât wobble, and youâre grateful for it. âI do not have time for this.â
He hums, âYou do.â
âYou must know the Luofuâs internals are shot.â He must, right? You need to get back. You need to keep fixing. âI do not have time for tea and a chat. Be forward with me, please.â
Jing Yuan, who has already sat down on the silks, looks up at you. Heâs perfectly poised, relaxed like a big cat, but with sharp, watchful eyes. Heâs choosing his words carefully, albeit quickly.Â
âDid you know the Matrix of Prescience resumed function earlier today?â He tells you. âEarly this morning, it awoke. Diviner Fu says the function is still minimal, but improving by the hour.â
Thereâs a wave of relief hearing thatâ at least the Divination Commission can resume somewhat normal activity. Fu Xuan is probably overjoyed. Maybe. You should checkâ you need to check. There may be calibrations to reconfigure on the surface. Aeons, there probably is and youâre foolish for not addressing those yet. You should.Â
Jing Yuan says your name, gentle but unyielding, âStay with me.â
âIâmâ Iâm glad the Matrix is working. But, thereâs still much that needs to be addressed Jing Yuan. The Luofuâs fail safesâ the vitality transmittersâ the gamma diffusersââ
You feel overwhelmed and nauseous. You want to lay down and cry. You want to run away to the nearest hidden entrance to the tunnels and work. So badly do you want to flee, hide, and toil and fix this stupid ship.
(Because, you canât look Jing Yuan in the eye for too long. Heâs safe, but the memory of him half-dead is still living in your mind. Itâs murky, but there. You need it to die. You need it to stop. You needâ)
Jing Yuan takes your hands in his own. It shocks you out of your spiral as his thumbs graze your knuckles. It hurts. You wince without thinking to muffle it. Chemical abrasions and hives litter the skin of your hands. It tracks up your arms to your elbows, you see now.Â
You flinch and try to pull away, but Jing Yuan keeps you there. Suspended.
âI had a meeting with the other Arbiter-Generals, just the other day.â Jing Yuan sounds wistful. âI was surprised to find out that every other ship in the Xianzhou Allianceâs fleet has at least four Master Calibrators. They were shocked to find the Luofu only having one.â
âThat sounds embarrassing.â
âIt was, perhaps,â Jing Yuan laughs in a good-natured way. âThe other Generals were quite kind, and have sent a handful of Master Calibrators to the Luofu to assist with repairs. Theyâll be here in the next day or so.â
â... Really?â
âYes.â Jing Yuan sighs. âIâll owe a favor or two, but itâs more than worth it.â
You donât know what to think.
âI have toââ
âYouâre actually being placed on a somewhat indefinite leave.â Jing Yuan then yanks you down into the pillows, to the thick mat, and into his arms. âIâm afraid Iâve missed you terribly. Youâve been incredibly difficult to track down.â
âI was just in the tunnels.â You try to push away from him. âFu Xuan gave me this little tracker.âÂ
You tap the pendant on your chest.
âYou went deep enough into the Luofu that this pendant only pinged your location every few days.â Jing Yuan raises you up, so youâre perched in his lap. You steady yourself on his chest. His living, breathing chest. âAt one point, it didnât register your vitals for a week.â
Jing Yuan says this quietly. Itâs admission, given the tone of his voice. He sounds a bit stricken, almost pained. His brow is scrunched as he rubs up and down your shoulders.
â... A week?âÂ
âIndeed. You scared me quite badly, you know.â
Something in you aches. Guilt rises up your throat, but you donât give yourself much time to examine it. Not yet.Â
âYouâre one to talk.â You murmur, hitting a fist against his chest angrily. âYou threw yourself in front of a Lord Ravager?â
âA necessary blow that ensured victory.â Jing Yuan says simply. As if he is speaking about a feint during a sparring match, or a risky move in a star chess game. âA worthwhile opportunity, reallyââ
âYou could have died.â You snap at him, finally looking at him down your nose, baring your teeth. You are tired and angry. It feels like you could swallow the sun and you would be fine with exploding.Â
âI could have.â He hums. Thereâs more that he wants to say, you can tell. You can imagine what he could wax on aboutâ
(âIt would have been worth it if it guaranteed the Luofuâs safety.â
(âAm I not going to die already? I would think it be better to give my life for the safety of the people, rather than be decimated by Mara.â)
(âThere are worse ways to die.â)
âYouâre so foolish.â You want to cry. Maybe you are. Your head is pounding and your eyes hurt. âYou canât do that.â
âIdeally, I wouldnâtââ
âNo, stop, justââ You grab his cheeks in your hands and bring your nose to press against his. You meet his eyes, gold and molten. âYou cannot sacrifice yourself in such a way. I beg you to be selfish. If for no other reason than to give me a proper goodbye.â
(Jing Yuan had been distant in the days leading up to the Arborâs reawakening. Heâd been dodging your calls, ignoring pre-scheduled outings, and skimping on sleeping in your bed. When youâd seen the videos of his limp body and heard from Lady Fu that he was still unconscious, there was, perhaps, a moment where you believed that that was it. You wouldnât get a goodbye. Youâd only see a ragdolled corpse to mourn.)
What youâre asking of Jing Yuan is a siren song of Mara. You know this. To yearn is to suffer. To be attached is to suffer. To cling is to suffer. And suffering is to mara. You both know this. You dance with the stars and their weavings often enough to be suspended somewhat above other immortalsâ such things seem small in avenues of Aeons and destiny.Â
Jing Yuan, however, is a master of separation. Meditation. He is quiet about the skills heâs cultivated. You notice them thoughâ the way he measures his breathing, the conscious effort he makes to keep himself loose and slack. The way his memory is diced up, not from incensed Mara sprouts, but from missing pieces. Tragedies that have either been removed or blotted out from his own practice.
To save him from being swallowed by Mara.
And yet, you beg him to remember you.Â
You almost retract, recoil, and run. This is too real. You have been in the Generalâs bed for who knows how long. It doesnât matter that you have been his partner for the last several decades. Youâve never asked him to keep you in his thoughtsâ keep you like this. It has always felt too unfair of a thing to ask.Â
âYou,â You spit through tears, âCannot leave me so cruelly. Not like that. Let me be precious to you, Jing Yuan, if only for a short time.â
There is no such thing as being endless without consequence, but perhaps the General can spare you his affections, truly, for a brief moment. Maybe itâs a pipedream. Maybe youâre delirious from lack of sleep and hunger and the high of feeling Jing Yuan solid and whole beneath you is simply too much.
Jing Yuan coaxes you to keep your head up when you try to duck into his neck. He buries a hand in your hand that quickly slides down to your nape. He holds a wide, warm palm there to steady you.
âDear,â Jing Yuan strokes down your cheeks, rubbing away tears you canât stop from falling. His smile is melancholy, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a broken smile. âIâm quite remissed. Have I not made it clear that I already think of you in such a way?â
You swallow.
âProbably not.â
âI apologize.â
âDonât apologizeâ justâ say it.â Not on his deathbed, or Mara-struck in chains and gnarled with Ginkgo leaves.Â
Jing Yuan pauses, rubbing away tears from under your eyes and squeezing his hand that lingers on the back of your neck. He opens his mouth, flounders, then closes it. Then speaks.
âBeloved,â He begins and youâre already breaking. âI am sorry that I havenât made it clear to you that you are dear to me. There are certain things that I cannot promise you as they are outside of my control as well as yours. But what I can assure you is that you are so incredibly dear to me. If I must continue to live as I do now, I would like to do so by your side. I apologize for not being forthright.â
â... So, no throwing yourself in front of Lord Ravagers?â
â... Sacrifices must be made.â Jing Yuan says, though his voice is, perhaps, more mournful.Â
âYou are not a sacrifice.â You swallow, the words burning you as well. âYou are much more than just foder. You areâ youâre dear to people. Dear to me. You are not to throw yourself in the line of fire as part of a convenient plan.âÂ
âI will not make you a promise that I cannot keep.â He is too duty-bound; itâs a practiced thing. Youâve heard he was once laze-about oaf who could barely handle a sword. You try to appeal to any remnants of that man.
âThen at least tell me.â You urge, beg. âMaybe there are other options you havenât thought of. You get stuck in your head, you know.â
âDo I?â His smile turns mischievous and teasing.
âYouâ!â You headbutt him lightly and he rolls you into the silken blankets.Â
The moment your back touches the softness below you, skull cushioned in the palm of Jing Yuanâs hand, you can feel exhaustion catching up with you.
âYou must heed your own rules, love,â Jing Yuan tells you, covering your body with his. Silver hair falls in a veil around you. Itâs like starlight. The memories of oil and machine parts feel far away. âNo more running yourself ragged. Or hiding in the utility tunnels for a month.â
â... A month?â Your words slur. Thereâs no way you were down there for a month.
âActually, a month and a week.â Jing Yuan says. His hand smooths over your front with a front. âYouâve lost weight. And as effortlessly radiant as you are, you do look quite poorly. Iâm sure itâs nothing an indefinite, relaxing, extended, paid-leave canât fix, hm?â
âThasâ so long,â You say, your eyes rolling back into your head. Youâre slipping.
âI know.â Jing Yuan kisses your forehead and remains there. âI missed you terribly.â
You want to say more. How desperately do you want to tell him, âI missed you too. I couldnât stop thinking of you dying. I dreamed of your bed and warmth and wanted nothing more.â But your body is simply too tired. The... month of exhaustion catches up with you within the silks and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.
Jing Yuan hushes you when you whine, grabbing at him to drag him closer.
âRest now.â He tells you. âYou need it. Iâll be here when you wake up.â
Jing Yuan holds you in the soft blankets, flush against downy pillows and the plush of his chest. One of his hands finds home around your waist, the other over the crown of your head.Â
You are tugged downâ not in the bowels of Xianzhouâs Luofu, but into the arms of a lover and the hold of a deep and inexorable sleep.
The next time youâre awake, youâre swathed in buttery linens and pleasantly warm. Your world is fuzzy and unfocused, and at first you think you are dreaming.
Itâs simply too pleasant.
Your cheek is pressed against Jing Yuanâs bare chest. You can tell from the softness of your cheek squished against the softness of his pectoral, along with the bit of silver fuzz that tickles your nose. He smells like you rememberâ notes of cedar oils and herbs, mixing with the scent of his own stale sweat from whatever training he completes with Yanqing.Â
Itâs comforting and familiar. This is why it must be a dream.
So you cling to Jing Yuan. The arm thrown over his chest constricts. The leg you have loosely thrown over his own tangles and hooks him closer. You shimmy higher to press your nose to the underside of his jaw and inhale.Â
Jing Yuan chuckles, a rumbling thing thatâs hoarse with sleep, âGood morning to you too.â
You do not open your eyes. Rather, you squeeze them shut, and cling to the dream.
His hand glides up your back, finding home on your waist once more before giving you a squeeze, âYou can sleep more, you have quite the deficit to make up for.â
You grumble. Youâre practically on top of him, like it would prolong the pleasant illusion your mind is creating.Â
Your own palm rests over his chest, and you pause. Thereâs a texture thatâs new. Scar tissue beneath your finger tips that runs little rivers over his flesh. Jing Yuanâs breath hitches as you trace them. You pull away from the safety of his throat to peer down at his chest. New scars litter his chest, all connected webs of damage. The skin is puckered and freshly healed.
This is not a dream.
âOh,â you say, softly.Â
âI apologize. Your favorite canvas has been a bit marked up.â Jing Yuan sighs.Â
âJing Yuan.â You squeak and bat at his chest. âDonât speak of your body and condition in such a way.â
âWhy not? I so have missed your marks on me, you know. Itâs been a lonely recovery periodââ
âJing. Yuan.â You tug at his hair playfully. âIt is too early for you to be teasing me.â
âI donât think itâs ever âtoo earlyâ for such things.â Jing Yuan laughs. âBesides, I think you quite like it.â
âCruel man.â
âYou wound me.â Thereâs no bite to either of your voices. Just something warm and underused.Â
You press a kiss to his cheek and nudge your nose into the pudge of it, âTruly?â
âNo.â Jing Yuan pulls you up by your waist, holding you flush to him as he turns to face you. You are chest to chest, nose to nose. âThereâs no need to worry about the nips of a kitten, wouldnât you agree?â
âYou awful, awful manââ You say with a burgeoning smile that you canât help but wear.Â
Jing Yuan cups a large, warm palm against your jaw and presses his lips to yours.Â
Itâs indulgent, just like the ridiculously-sized bed youâre entangled in and the silken sleep pants you can feel him wearing. Your smile into itâ you missed this.Â
Why did you miss itâ?
Oh.Â
You pull away, eyes widening, âJing Yuan, the ship. I haveâ repairs. I have toââ
He silences you with a quick kiss, racking his nails down your back and you gasp.
âThe repairs are being taken care of by a few honored guests from the Xuling and Yuque. Diviner Fu is their point of contact and guide for the duration of their stay. They will be completing the remaining restoration while you enjoy your leave.â
âI meanââ You flounder, panic is bursting in your chest. âThey can contact meâ I know what needs to be fixed, I can at least make a listâ?â
Jing Yuan hums, grip getting tighter around your hips. Itâs a shadow of something youâve seen in him beforeâ itâs a bit possessive.Â
âOnce again, dear, you are on indefinite leave by order of the Seat of Divine Foresight by the Arbiter General himself.â He reminds you with a glint in his eye. âYou neednât make any lists or instructions for our guests. Diviner Fu is more than capable of directing them as necessary. Actually, I believe sheâll quite like it.â
âYouâre pulling rank on me?âÂ
âAs I have every right to do.â Jing Yuan doesnât relent. More sweetly, he continues. âAs your lover, I would also be much happier to see you recovering in bed than anywhere else.â
â⊠Are the gardens off limits?â
âNo, though Iâd recommend giving yourself a few days of minimal activity.â Jing Yuan frowns then. âI donât believe you realize it, but you are quite weak at the moment.â
â... Really?â
âLady Bailuâs cloudhymns are quite advanced these days.â He rubs a thumb below your eyes, over what must be a dark circle. âBut, her skills mostly lie in healing flesh wounds and disease. You are malnourished, dehydrated, and... overall rundown.â
â... The Dragon Lady is going to give me an earful, isnât she?â
âIn time.â Jing Yuan laughs. He brings one of your hands up to his face to press his lips to your knuckles. No longer covered in burns and irritated hives, but still bearing light scarring.Â
Neither you nor Jing Yuan escaped unscathed.
âDo I need to prepare?â
âPerhaps not as much as you think.â Jing Yuan hums, pulling the sheets over your heads. âShe examined you while you were asleep a few times. She has already scolded you plenty, even if you donât remember it.â
âDid I wake up at all?â
âBarely. It was almost concerning.â Jing Yuan tugs you closer and tucks your head under his chin. âI did manage to have you sip some water and give you a wipe down though. Admittedly, you do need a proper bath.â
You nearly moan.Â
The idea of a bath is downright erotic. Though you donât feel as greasy and as sticky as you could, given Jing Yuan had kindly gotten the worst of it off of you, the idea of being truly clean sounded pornographic.
Especially, given you were at Jing Yuanâs residence, and in addition to his indulgently large and comfortable bed, he also had an indulgently large and opulent self-heating bath. The idea of having a long soak and scrub has you burying your face into Jing Yuan chest and squeezing around his middle.
âI want it.âÂ
âA bath?âÂ
âYes. And you. And a meal. Lots of things, actually.â Enough to make your head spin. It feels like your slowly waking mind is all out of sorts.Â
âLetâs start with a meal and a bath, then.â Jing Yuan offers. âPerhaps after a nap?â
You donât need to be persuaded.Â
Itâs a kinder sleep you sink into. Less bottomless and far warmer. Jing Yuan kisses you breathless and a bit stupid as you drift off, chuckling against your lips as you grumble and grouse at him, before being tugged down into sleep once more.
...
âHow are you feeling?â
You ask Jing Yuan this as you give yourself a pre-bath rinse behind an ornate screen. The wet cloth clutched in your hands drips fat droplets of water onto the polished, glass tile beneath your feet. Soap clings to your body, falling into little rivulets, taking the worst of your grime down the nearby drain. Watching the iridescent bubbles distracts you from the weight of your own words.
Youâve been wanting to ask Jing Yuan this forâ
(Weeks, probably, actually, in the time of the Xianzhou Allianceâs calendar. At least you since you saw him nearly lifeless in the grainy cell phone footage.)
Since you have woken and were sleepily led to Jing Yuanâs opulent, resplendent private baths, at least.
From the other side of the screen, Jing Yuan answers, âI feel fine, dear.â
âPhysically?â
âIâve had more than enough time to recover.âÂ
â... Mentally? All over, Jing Yuan.â
You hate asking this, but you know itâs necessary. Youâre sure Jing Yuan is being monitored for Mara-onset symptoms; thereâs no way he couldnât be. You donât see any obvious ones. But, Mara is the most extreme of afflictions.Â
He laughs again, and you can feel him shaking his head like it can shake off your concern, âI assure you, Iâm more than fine. Having to be responsible for so much paperwork again is painful, but doable.â
Heâs dodging your question, albeit with less finesse than he normally would.Â
âWould you blame me if I doubted that answer?â
âNo, not at all.â
You sigh and rinse the last of the suds from your body. Itâs tedious, this roundabout game with Jing Yuan, but he is rarely forthcoming with personal information. Whether thatâs memories of his life before you entered it, political stratagem, or his own mental stateâ itâsall veiled. Youâve gotten more adept at playing his games, but you truthfully donât know if you have the energy to try.
You rub your hand over your face. One thing at a time.
You pluck the robe Jing Yuan had supplied from the top of the screen and wrap yourself in the (thin, wispy, objectively indecent) garment. Itâs not doing much to cover you at all, as the light, silken fabric clings to the wet curves of your body. You appreciate the attempt at modesty in the same way you appreciate Jing Yuan idling on the other side of the screen.Â
You feel like a doe on uneven ground still. Jing Yuan probably expects this.
He guides you to the bath, steering into more light-hearted chatter. He tells you what Yanqing has been up to since he has resumed his office, once again asking for swords and seemingly training with a new vigor and intensity. He has been begging the General to spar with him all hours of the day. Or, call back his newfound friends from the Astral Express for a round or two. Qingzu will be taking a much-needed vacation in the coming weeks. Jing Yuanâs carmelias and bluebell astrums have begun to bloom.Â
You nod along, only half-there.Â
Jing Yuan eases your robe off your shoulder as he speaks. His voice is low and a bit rough from his own nap. The broad planes of his palms and fingers smooth over your shoulders and peel the fabric down. His thumb worries the marred skin of your forearms.
âWeâll make sure your next meals are particularly hearty. These should heal up quickly, wouldnât you say?â He coaxes.Â
You nod, staring at the burns. Theyâll be nothing but worn-looking scars in a matter of weeks.Â
Your robe is slung over a cart, filled with a collection of luxurious bath oils and soaps. Jing Yuan only has a few indulgencesâ his sprawling, soft bed, his many gardens, and his opulent, resplendent private bath laid with emerald green glass tiles and a sunken tub that couldâve been counted as a pool given its size. Youâre grateful for itâ though youâve only used it a handful of times. The General has a habit of taking quick showers, unless he has the better part of the day to lounge in the perfectly-warmed water.
You try not to linger on your own nakedness, though you can feel Jing Yuan surveying you. There must be bruises on your waist from the heavy belt you were wearing. Visible weight loss too. You busy yourself by untying the sash of Jing Yuanâs robe and pulling it from his shoulders. It had already been somewhat open, revealing the marred expanse of his chest. Thin, spidery scars that clearly stretched over most of his body.
Typically, Xianzhou Native bodies heal with little scarring. But, these wounds were carved by a Lord Ravager. Youâre unsure if they will follow the same logic.Â
You will love Jing Yuan, obviously, regardless of any lasting marks. But the thought still makes you sadâ something in you aches. You trace the scars leading down from his chest to his softened tummy to the v of his hips. His cock is soft between his legs. Itâs too dark in the bath to tell if the scars extend there as well.Â
âYou look troubled.â He says, pausing his stories.
âI worry for you, so much.â You tell him.Â
Meeting his eyes is difficult. The honey-stone color of them looks darker in the dimly-lit chamber, but you can easily see the crease between his brow. Thereâs clear concern, perhaps a bit overwritten by his need to conceal his hand.
Perhaps he is too tired himself to be as careful as he usually is.
(Good. If thereâs anyone who he can let his guard down around, Aeons, let it be you.)
Jing Yuan helps you into the tub. First, he enters, sliding into the steaming water with a shudder. He extends his hand to you as you take unsure steps onto the slick tiling. The water is the perfect temperatureâ not too hot, but pleasantly warm in a way that wonât lead to overheating. You hide your body under the water and sink up to your chin and sigh.
It feels heavenly.
Jing Yuan chuckles as you do and smoothes a hand over the top of your head. Heâs already reaching for a few bottles on the nearby cart, pouring a few under the steady gurgle of water that flows from a wide tap. Itâs entrancing to watchâ equally as entrancing is the breadth of Jing Yuanâs shoulder, marred by the scarring. Heâs beautiful in a way that makes your stomach knot.
You end up settled with your back pressed to his front, laid in his lap, almost dozing as he massages shampoo into your hair.
âIâm filthy, arenât I?â You ask.
Jing Yuan hums, âIâve never seen you this unkempt, no.â
âIâm sorry.â
âThereâs nothing to be sorry for.â He kisses the back of your soapy skull. âYou neednât apologize for anything. Iâm not upset with you.â
â... Okay.â You concede. He goes back to dutifully washing your hair, then follows it with conditioner and securing your hair up and out of the water as necessary. His idle talk has stopped, the space filled by the running water and your own breath.
âMay I wash yours?â You ask.Â
âYou still have your body, love.â
âI know,â You reply sheepishly. âAt least let me get your conditioner in?â
Jing Yuan laughs, and coaxes you to turn with his big hands wrapped around your waist under the waist. You spin his lap, straddling him. Itâs a precarious position, but you... missed it. Nudging yourself closer, you lean into him, chest to chest, and deflate.
He laughs, something rich and warm that radiates from his body into your own, âIt really is hard work, bathing, isnât it?â
âNo,â You muffle your words into his collarbones. âJust give me a minute.â
âOf course,â His arms wrap firmly around your waist, locking you together. Heâs hotâ he runs like a furnace even when not in a toasty bath. Thereâs a bit of sweat dripping down his neck and youâre tempted to lick it away.
Maybe later, for now you bask.
You bask in the fact that Jing Yuan is here, warm and alive. You want to commit him to memoryâ better than you have. If it forsakes you to Mara in a few decades, you do not care. You had forgotten the softness of his chest, the curve of his waist and the point of his nose. The details of Jing Yuan had become so fuzzy in such a short time. Youâre sure Lady Bailu would assert it had something to do with your âchronic sleep deprivationâ, but youâre not sure if you agree with that potential diagnosis.
Spending too much time attuned to immaterial quantum fields erodes your psyche, probably.Â
âSo deep in thought.â Jing Yuan runs a head down your back. âTake a break to rinse, hm?â
âI havenât gotten yours in yet, though?â
âWe can take our time. Besides, I bathed this morning. This is all for pleasure.â
â... Pleasure, huh?â
Jing Yuan flashes you a grin burgeoning on mischievous, âYes, pleasure, in whatever form that may come. Is that whatâs plaguing you, dear?â
âNo, not at all.â You sigh and lean back from him, cupping his cheeks. âI missed you.â
âI missed you too,â Jing Yuan says. His cards are showingâ his voice is straining, pitched in a way that indicates heâs sad in his chest. The thing between your ribs aches.
âI was worried.â
âSo you have said.â Jing Yuan cajoles you down, slipping your head half in the water to rinse away your conditioner. He suspends you with a single arm. His musculature is obscene.Â
âHow could I not be?â You clench your jaw. âI saw videos of you being taken to the Alchemy Commissionâ youâ you lookedââ
Half-dead.Â
Corpse-like.Â
Steps from deathâs door.
On your way to the grave.
Dead.
Jing Yuan calls your name, rubbing soothing little circles over the small of your waist, âIâm well now, dear.â
âBut you almost werenât.â Your voice breaks. You donât mean for it to. You tuck yourself into his neck and hide.
You donât want to cry, but you can feel something welling up from within your guts. Itâs the thing you pushed down relentlessly in the bowels of the Luofu. As you tinkered and toiled in the depths of the ship, you never let this ache spill over, lest you drown. Whether thatâs in Mara or a less permanent type of suffering, you do not know.
âBut I am.â Jing Yuan assures you. âI am here now, arenât I? Whole and in one piece.â
You know this. You know this. Butâ You drag your fingernails over his shoulder blades. Jing Yuan shudders as you do.
âItâs hard.â
âI know.âÂ
The hands around you squeeze hard enough to bruise.
âI thought you were going to keel over in the gardens when Yanqing first brought you to me.â Jing Yuan confesses. âIâd been pestering Lady Fu on the hour for any updates about your whereabouts and communications.â
â... I wasnât communicating with anyone, though.â
âI know.â Jing Yuan has a thread of... contempt to it. âI wish you would have.â
âWhat could I have said?â
âIâm not sure,â Jing Yuan tangles a hand in your washed hair and tilts your face to meet his. âBut, Iâm sure you wouldâve found the right words.â
He kisses you. Or you kiss him. Whoâs to say.
You donât have the right wordsâ you may never. Certainly not in your mind or on your tongue now. The thing that rises in your throat is carnal and old and writhingâ want. Verging on need. You struggle to keep the kiss chaste, closed lips pressed together after so long apart
Perhaps Jing Yuan has a similar depth thatâs clawing at his insides.Â
He tilts his head, dragging you closer. Close as can be. He kisses you in a silently desperate way. You accept his advances and tangle your hands in his hair. Tug him closer and closer and closer.
(Donât go. Please donât go. Not yet.)
(Not until weâre both split apart by gingko roots and dappled in noontime sunlight.)
You gasp his name as you break apart for breath, smoothing your thumbs down his cheekbones and jaw. His pupils are blown and desperate.
âCan I touch you?â He asks, always so polite.
âPleaseââÂ
Jing Yuan kisses you again, deeper and pulling you into the depths of the bath. His hands trail down to your thighs, squeezing along the way. Calloused and wide, familiar. The feel of them is coming home, you hadnât realized how much you missed this.
You keen against his lips and Jing Yuan laughsâ the gall of that man.
His flips you easily, caging you against the edge of the pool. This way, he has height over you. He looms, casting a flickering shadow in the amber light of the beeswax candles scattered about. You swallow as you watch droplets of water slide down his throat, chest, tummy. His forearms make you feel dizzy.
âMay I have you?â He asks, once again. âNot yetâ but I donât want to progress if youâre not feeling fit for it.â
âN-No,â You feel desperate, you sound desperate. Sensitive and clawing, the beast that you buried in the depths of the Luofu crawls out of your throat and wraps itself around you. Tears spring to your eyes. âPlease? Justâ be slowââ
Jing Yuan must see your eyes water. He softens.
He thumbs over the fragile skin beneath your eyes, as if wiping the stray tear could wipe away the dark circles punched there as well.Â
âOf course.â He assures you and presses his lips to your forehead.
...
Jing Yuan takes âslowâ both seriously and literally. You are both grateful and horribly frustrated by this. You almost regret not telling Jing Yuan to simply bend you over the lip of the bath and fuck you senseless, though Jing Yuan probably would not have granted you that even if you had asked. He loves to savor when he can. Bedding you is no exceptionâ even under more typical circumstances.
And these arenât typical circumstances.
Perhaps you shouldâve known Jing Yuan intended to break you apart and stitch you back together.
He doesnât escalate things much further in the bath, despite petting down your sides and seeming to always have his lips on you. You wash his hair as youâd ask to, scratching at his scalp and relishing the almost-purr he lets out as he wraps himself around you. When you start to just barely grind in his lap (squirm, more than anything), he is quick to still you with an iron-like hold on your hips, pinning you down and over his thighs.Â
âNot yet,â He tells you, nipping at your jaw. âBe patient.â
You huff.Â
Jing Yuan takes charge of finishing washing you, using gentle touch and a soft cloth from your ankles to the crown of your head. His touch lingers, starting some low burning flame low in your gut that you have a feeling wonât be quenched for quite some time.Â
Itâs tortuous. Itâs wonderful.
After you towel each other off, he leads you back to his rooms, only in the damp robes and undergarments heâd dutifully remembered to bring along. The silk clings to Jing Yuanâs bulk as he walks beside you. His hand is on your lower back. Little bugs chirp in the courtyard gardens you pass. Thereâs the gurgle of a fountain. The soft breeze that Luofu always keeps, even on the most temperate days of summer. Itâs all so different from the acrid smell of lubricant and the ambient machine hum you had become so used to.
âIâm only on leave, not house arrest, correct?â You ask as you enter his wing, to his bedroom.Â
He locks the door behind you as you step inside.Â
âNo, no house arrest.â Jing Yuan hums as he strips off his robe. You want to bite him. âYouâre free to roam within reason.â
âDoes âwithin reasonâ include the nursery that outlander keeps in the Exalting Sanctum?âÂ
âOf course. Though I may assign you a chaperone.â
âReally? Would you send Yanqing with me for a quick run to grab a new shrub or two.â
Jing Yuan laughs, something rich and full that rolls over you like a fleeced quilt, âI figured that I would be your chaperone, dear. If youâd allow.â
â... Youâre making this sound like a date, General.â
âAm I?â Jing Yuan smiles so honeyed, it makes something in your chest begin to crack. You lay your hands on his bare chest and hold your ear to his chest. He laughs when you do. âIâd like it if it was. If youâd have me.â
âOf course I would.â
You say it so simply.
You want to crawl into his body and live there, and break any spindly seedlings of Mara away with your own two hands.
Jing Yuan kisses you, walking you back into the door. His lips are soft, a bit chapped in a way thatâs familiar and comforting. You run a hand up and down his chest, stopping to squish one of his ample pecs. You muffle a laugh into Jing Yuanâs lips as he stutters out a groan. Sweet, sweet man.Â
âI missed you,â You tell him once more, hoping your words seep past the seam of his lips, down his throat and sink into his guts.Â
Jing Yuan responds by pressing you into the door, using the warm line of his body to flatten you to the wood. His kiss verges on desperate, tongue insistent at the seam of your lips, hands tugging you close, close, closer. You yield to him, whining as his tongue licks into your mouth, the taste of him so familiar it makes you ache.
You tug at his hair and urge him closer, if that is possible.
His touch is searing as he breaks away, panting, eyes hot. Scalding. His hair is down, drying to a fluffy, untamed mane around his cheeks and shoulders. Itâs charming. You thumb over his cheeks with a smile. He leans into your touch while giving you a soft smile.
âThe reign you have over me.â He sighs. You donât get a chance to question himâ his thigh slots between your own and your breath catches with the contact.
You havenât been touched in so long.
You cling to his shoulders and just barely grind on his thighâ as much as his hold on your waist will allow. Jing Yuanâs kisses trail from your lips to over your cheeks and down your throat. He stops at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, nosing into the spot.
âSuch a lovely scent,â He hums.
âI-I bet I smelled horrible before, h-huh?â You laugh as he begins to worry a patch of skin. Tender and fragile, perfect for bruising.
âHm, I wouldnât say that.â His teeth graze your throat and your head falls back into the door with thud. Jing Yuan shields your skull with his hands a beat later. âYouâd be surprised how many times weâve shared a bed and youâve reeked of your favorite brand of astral lubricant.â
âJing Yuan!â You shriek with a laugh and bat at his shoulders. âYouâre so cruel.â
âWhat, do you not like when I tease you?â
âScoundrel.â
âI think you do like it.â
You missed bantering with him.
âI love you.â You tell him. He knowsâ you know this. Declarations of love are rare for the long-lived. At least so directlyâ to care so deeply is to damn yourself to a faster descent into Mara. Though, to live and deprive yourself of companionship and love is to be dead while living. Thereâs a tender balance between connection and detachment. Both you and Jing Yuan are intimately familiar with it and indulge together.
Jing Yuan bites down on your neck.
It hurts, enough that you jolt and squirm against his body. Jing Yuan holds you into place, sucking on the skin heâd sunk his teeth into. Itâs higher on his neck than heâd usually mark you.Â
(Heâs leaving it to be seen. You are Jing Yuanâs, loved and held.)
(What a wretched man.)
By the time he pulls away, youâre panting. Tears have welled up on your lash line. It hurts and it hurts even more when Jing Yuan runs a high thumb over the quickly rising skin. You gasp and Jing Yuan catches your chin in the wide palm of his hand.
You meet his gaze, intense and lighting-vibrant. Youâre panting with an open mouth.Â
âHow lovely.â And he presses a kiss to a corner of your mouth.Â
Jing Yuan guides you to his ridiculously large bed (that could surely fit up to five bodies and a fully grown, white lion.) The sheets have been changed, though you have a feeling theyâll be dirtied again by the morning.Â
Itâs gentle, the way he hastens you higher up the mattress before giving you a light shove into a mound of pillows. You hook your legs around his waist, drawing him as close as heâll allow.Â
He massages the meat of your thighs. His gaze goes long, and a bit unfocused, though it's trained on you.Â
(You wonder what heâs thinking. Jing Yuan is so careful, always so ginger and measured in his steps. Still, thereâs a fire in him that you often overlook. Itâs the part of him that keeps a lion as a housemate, raised a young boy into a champion, and... you suppose urged him to become the Luofuâs sacrificial lamb in the face of the Destruction.)
You gulp, throat bobbing. Perhaps, you know your General to be a docile, indolent man who prefers naps and board games too much else. Perhaps you have overlooked, or rather forgotten, that you once saw the Divine Foresight as a warlord, given what youâd read about him in the data banks during your studies on the Yuque.Â
Jing Yuanâs hand drifts down your front. Youâre still wearing your robe. Gentle touch peels it away, leaving you in just a pair of thin panties. Theyâre a soft, breathable fabricâ the kind that will surely show your interest in the General. (You have a feeling Jing Yuan picked them out for that reason expressly.)Â
Jing Yuan presses the pad of his thumb over your clit through the fabric.Â
You arenât expecting it, and arch your back with a squeak. His hand lays hot at the innermost part of your thigh, at the fragile skin where it meets your more sensitive parts.Â
âI-I thought you said youâd go slow.â You squirm.Â
âOf course.â Jing Yuan remains unmoving, applying just enough pressure to be maddening. âI intend to.âÂ
With how sensitive you are, you need him to be slow. Your body feels tender out of the bathâ cooked and raw all at once. Your muscles still ache from your time in the tunnels and you feel... atrophied, if anything.Â
Jing Yuan must know this, and you trust him to keep his word.Â
He makes his way home between your thighs, laying over your front to kiss you once more. This is slow, every lick and nip thoughtful, every barely-there roll of his hips is intentional. Youâre not sure where he finds the restraint.Â
You pet through his hair, softening incrementally with each soft touch he gives you.
He pulls away, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed. Itâs cute to see the General so disheveled. Heâd never look this out of it and starry-eyed outside of this shared bedroom. It makes you giddy. You smother his cheeks with kisses and let him muffle laughter into your skin.Â
Itâs all soul-splitting.
Itâs good. The proximity is warm and inviting. You missed the richness of his bed, the scent of incense and the candles you stock the room with. You missed the roll of his muscles underneath your fingertips and the mirthful glint that flashes in his eyes whenever he thinks he has you on the ropes.
You were so scared of losing this.
It hits you in the chest, caving you in, breaking rib and bone. You were so scaredâ terrified that this dance youâve become so adept at sharing with Jing Yuan would end before you were ready for it too. You know that youâll both fall to Mara, itâs inevitableâ but you donât want it to happen yet. Youâre not ready for the final flourish. You werenât ready for Jing Yuanâs cradled, near lifeless body to be the dying gasp of the partnership you had.
You know it's foolish to think this way. Thingsâ all things, are bigger than mortal minds. Paths cut by the stars, brushstrokes by Gods and Aeons that dictate the lives and destiny of all. You are one mind, one body, one tender spirit. You cannot fight against such forces. You will be crushed.
But, for now, you savor. Take each moment and be grateful even as it slips, honey-warm and molten, between your fingers to be replaced by another in the next instant, equally as lovely. Piled on each other. It is enough.Â
You crush Jing Yuan to you, hard and fast enough that the wind is knocked out of him, âPlease be more careful with yourself.â
I canât lose you just yet.
âI will try.â His voice is a comforting curl over you. He strokes over your temples and forehead.
âN-No, you must.âÂ
You donât know the words yet for what you want to tell him. The feelings are too large, too unmanageable. Maybe attuning to the Luofuâs quantum fields has rotted your brain. Youâve lost your words.Â
With some cajoling, you flip Jing Yuan onto his back.Â
Sitting up over his hips, you set upon his neck. First with soft kisses, just as he gave you, then with nips and stronger bites. Then a chomp below his jaw. His hips crest upwards, his hands spasming around your waist as he holds you steady. The sounds that leak from him make you want to crawl down his throat.Â
You suck and bite at the mark until youâre satisfied, pulling away to see his pale skin bruising darker by the moment. You admire the popped blood vessels with what must be a dreamy expression on your face.
âLeaving your mark on me?â Jing Yuan asks, breathless and light.Â
âItâs only fair.â You kiss his smile, sharing it, âJust as you did to me.â
Running your hands down his chest, you frown at the scars.Â
âWhat if I joined the Cloud Knights?â You ask him.Â
Jing Yuan looks a bit... surprised, âWhy would you do that? Though, perhaps, giving up your position as Master Calibrator would be reasonable, given recent events.â
âNo, no, itâs not that.â You watch the rise and fall of Jing Yuanâs chest with an ache in your own. âIf I was stronger, I could protect you, couldnât I?â
Tears well up in your eyes.
Jing Yuan opens his mouth to speak, you hear his inhale, but you cut him off, âI-If I was a fighter, or just a Diviner, couldnât I help more? Could Iâ could I have stopped this? Or stop something horrible from happening in the future? I donât want to see you hurt like this.â
It should be a bit funny, maybe, that youâre sitting on the waist of the half-hard Divine Foresight, in tears, asking him if you could protect him. A man treated as nearly infallible, a legend amongst people who so rarely have them. He has an eternal spirit gifted by an Aeon tied to his very being.Â
And yet you, something of a mechanic and professional tinkerer, beg to protect him.
âOh, [Name].â He says, mournful.Â
You swallow down a sob and tears drip from your eyes to splatter on his chest. Your vision blurs and you rake your nails down his chest. More raised marksâ yours struck on him this time. Jing Yuan winds a hand in your hair, strokes down your neck, tries to calm you but it's hard. You canât catch yourself.Â
âIâm s-sorryââ You tell him between gulps of air. Youâre supposed to be being bed right now, fucked stupid and more brainless than you already are, but youâre crying and the panic welling up in your chest feels bottomless and vast.Â
âNo apologies,â Jing Yuan hushes you, rubbing away tears. âYouâre alright. I understand.â
âYou do?â You snort. Itâs blotted out by a proper sob that you hide in Jing Yuanâs chest.Â
âHow could I not?â He rubs over your dark circles under your eyes, then the bruising around your hips. The softness around your waist thatâs not as plump as it was a month ago. âDo you think I didnât contend with traversing the tunnels myself and pulling you out by your scruff?â
â... You did?âÂ
He pauses.Â
âEveryday.â Jing Yuan admits after a moment. Any admission from him is hard earned.Â
âOh.â
You blink, and cry all over again because you feel silly and foolish all over. He hushes you, petting over your cheeks, back, hipsâ anywhere he can reach. Heâs good at soothing, knowing what strokes to provide and where.Â
âDid you think I didnât worry?â
âIâI donât know,â You shake your head. âYou had more important things to worry about, right? Andâ and you were recovering.â
âI asked to see you, you know.â
â... I was told.â
âWhat did you think that meant?â
â... I donât know.â You donât. âI justâ I was being a coward. I was scared to see the extent of your injuries before the ship was repaired fully. I wantedâ I wanted things to be okay. I didnât want to go to the surface and see that Vidyadhara who saved you.âÂ
â... Dan Heng?â
âSure.â Lizard. Fucker.Â
â... Youâre jealous?â
âNo.â Oh, yes. Entirely. âI justâ he got to carry you. I have to join the Cloud Knights and get strong enough to do so myself. Itâs only fair. Youâre mine, not some lizardâs.â
Jing Yuan looks startled, then his expression softens.Â
You besmirch the not-quite outlander easily. You do not know himâ youâve heard whispers. Nothing from Jing Yuan, and you do not pry at his past (and he doesnât pry at yours.) You know they have a connection from before your time on the Luofu. You donât fully know its nature, but judging by the passing... grief that Jing Yuan wears, if only for a moment, you can guess. Infer.
(Something of lovers. Almost lovers. If nothing else, Jing Yuan cared for him very much.)
âYou neednât worry about Dan Heng, dear,â he gently. says. âSuch things are in the past now. He has moved onto a different shore, and is quite happy on the Astral Express.â
â... Heâs not coming to steal you?â
âNo,â he laughs, looking mournful again. âIâm certain he has no interest in such things.â
He speaks so sadly. Not heartbroken, itâs not that fresh. He speaks through a wound with a type of melancholy that resonates in your chest like a minor chord. You resist the urge to say, âIâm sorry for your loss.âÂ
âDo you wish he would?â
Jing Yuan pauses.
âNo.â He shakes his head, âNot anymore. We have both grown.â
And he pets over your cheek before kissing you. You know heâs telling you the truth.Â
...
Jing Yuan does not allow haste, and neither do you. Perhaps, you both are feeling fragile. You keep breaking each other open, only to help the other reassemble their pieces a moment later.Â
Jing Yuan enjoys savoring physical contact, regardless of circumstance or propriety. He steals touches in public in a way thatâs indulgent, but never overt. He licks into your mouth with the pace like cooling honey. Each does is meant to brand. Youâre meant to feel it, feel him, for as long as the moment will allow. He savors you with hitches of his own breath, a desperation of his own bubbling under his surface.Â
You can be a bit shy when he truly gluts himself this way. Itâs so overt. It tears something in you, and reveals a squishy, softer center that youâre anxious to show anyone. Even a lover like Jing Yuan who has shown you time and time again there is nothing to fear, other than his own foolhardy decisions.Â
Jing Yuan probably likes it when he gets to be this slow. Peeling back layer after layer of you, forcing you to luxuriate in the unfamiliar warmth, and be reminded that he is there and sturdy.Â
Jing Yuan is laid between your thighs, your legs over his shoulder. His thick forearm is braced across your navel, your hand held in his. Your fingers are intertwined. His other hand pets at the back of your thighs as you shudder.Â
Youâre sensitive.
Jing Yuan eats your cunt with the pace of a man who has nothing to lose, no phases of the moon to observe, and something to prove. He laps at your center, squeezing your hand with each jolt of your hips against his mouth.
The stroke of his tongue is slow and unhurried. Heâs enjoying himself, savoring your taste, humming and groaning when you inadvertently grind against his mouth. During a more routine fuck, Jing Yuan enjoys when you anchor yourself with a grip in his hair and fuck his face. Any impulse you could have to indulge in such a way tonight is quelled. His grip is unyielding on your hand. Your free hand is tangled in the sheets, occasionally shakily pushing Jing Yuanâs mane away from his forehead so you can watch him tongue fuck you with the pace of the lazy, sunbathing cat.
You drop your head to the nest of pillows behind you with a groan and throw your arm over your eyes.
Jing Yuan chuckles against your cunt and flicks his tongue over your clit. He sucks and you want to sob. He hasnât let you built up to any releaseâ itâs long form teasing, itâs torture. You can feel how wet you are between your thighs, sticky from your own slick and his saliva. Youâre messy.
(This is how Jing Yuan prefers it anyways.)
Jing Yuan had made a point to tease you in your thin panties before putting his mouth on you at all. Stroking over the fabric, barely dipping his fingers under the thin, lace waistband. He kissed your covered pussy until you were almost tearing the sheets in your balled up fists.Â
Jing Yuan still hasnât put anything inside of you. You know it will beâ tight. Jing Yuan has large hands and a proportionally large cock (that most Xianzhou Alliance gossip forums still undersize). Part of his slowness is necessary.Â
The tip of a finger teases your hole and you kick at his back in surprise.
âF-Finally giving in?â
âIâm not giving in at all,â Jing Yuan pulls away from your cunt to speak, wet and sloppy around his mouth. Eyes half-lidded and so, so content. âIâve never had anything other than the intention to open you on my tongue and my fingers. What gave you any other impression?â
âBastard.â
He nips the apex of your thigh and you yip.
âYours.â
You smile, stupid and a little love drunk, and stroke his hair, âMine.â
Jing Yuanâs gaze darkens for a momentâ something passes there. A thought you canât read from him or glean anything from. The headiness of the moment temporarily breaks, and for an instant you think that something is wrong. You almost push yourself off the bed in a fit of concernâ
But Jing Yuan begins the slow press of his finger into your cunt.Â
You gasp and squirm, flinching almost. Jing Yuan bears his weight on your waist and keeps you in place as you do, intently watching your expression and parted, wet lips. Youâre flayed. Itâs just a finger, but it feels big. His fingers are bigâ a bit calloused, but softer than youâd think.
As he sinks the digit into you, you pant. He kisses your clit, encouraging you to open up for him, murmuring little words of praise that sit in your brain pleasantly but are hard to make distinct. You go slack into the mound of pillows as his mouth returns to your cunt, the single finger fully inside you, resting as you tremble.Â
With a suck to your clit, he crooks the finger up.
It feels good. The spot is tender. Jing Yuan knows just where to apply pressure, the pace and angle are so, so good. Heâs memorized this part of you. A month apart isnât going to remove that knowledge.Â
He teases you like thisâ never letting you rise too close to release. The roiling tendrils of arousal in your gut stay there, like stoked embers without tinder to light anew. You take itâ you take what he gives you. You relish each touch, lick, and kiss.
âJing Yuanââ You gasp his name as he removes the single finger to begin to stretch you with two.
Two isâ itâs a lot. Normally, it wouldnât be. Maybe, youâd beg for more, and beg for more faster. But now, two stings and aches on your insides. You claw at his hair and whine in the back of your throat. Jing Yuan hushes you and spits on his fingers, the extra bit of lubrication helping somewhat, but youâre tight and wound.
âAre you alright?â Jing Yuan asks as he massages the most sensitive spot in your cunt. He asks genuinely, not as a tease.
ââS tight,â You squeeze out, wiggling your hips.Â
âAm I being gentle enough?â
âUh-huh,â You pet over his forehead. âThank you?â
âOf course.â Jing Yuan chuckles. âDoes it feel good?â
âY-Yeah,â You whine as Jing Yuan curls his fingers, thumb pressed against your clit and rolling the pearl of itl. âI-Itâs unfair.â
âWhatâs unfair?âÂ
âThat you make me feel s-so good,â You donât know how else to articulate it. The feral thing in your chest crawls over your body once more, and jerks your hips for more of his touch. You urge his fingers deep, wordlessly beg for more pressure against your cunt.
âYouâre so sweet,â Jing Yuan coos, rising to his knees and taking one of your legs with him. Your middle falls open. It feels... vulnerable. You feel exposed and sliced. Your stomach churns for a moment. You nearly ask Jing Yuan to stop.
(Except, Jing Yuan has fucked you enough times to know that you donât enjoy the physical vulnerability of your sensitive core. It sets you off. He knows that you prefer to cuddle with his massive hand against your belly. He knows you even wear clothes that provide some protection, billowing fabrics and belts. Youâre a sensitive thing.)
He slides his broad hand over your belly, and presses down as he leisurely pumps his fingers in and out of your core. The pressure of it burnsâ scalds you and your arousal feels white hot. Heâs prodding you from the inside and the outside, and you feel something bubbling up.
âYouâre close,â Jing Yuan says with a catlike smile. âWould you like to come?â
âP-Pleaseââ
Jing Yuan hums, slowing, almost ruining the impending crest, but clicks his tongue and continues. Itâs a farce, a little game heâs playing, and much to your (enjoyed) frustration, youâre his other player.
âI would love to hear you beg,â Jing Yuan croons, leaning over your form, bending your leg at an angle that is unfair in all regards. âBut, Iâd also like to be kind tonight. I think you deserve itâ you need it, donât you?â
âIââ You do. His hand quickens and with his other, he braces behind one of your knees. He ducks down to retake his place between your thighs, eating your cunt with a persistence and vigor that has your eyes roll back in your head. He drills your insides with a deep, steady rhythm that. Maybe could get you pregnant.
Who's to say.Â
âIâmââ You gasp, ready to beg regardless of what Jing Yuan wants or expects from you. You want to give him everything.Â
âThatâs it. Let go.â He beckons you and you break.Â
Your orgasm slams into you. The teasing and playful edging made you sensitive and like a livewire. When you finally cum, you choke on your own breath, eyes rolling back into your head, and you shove your face into a pillow to muffle the half-sobbed moans that spill from your lips out of your control.
Jing Yuan continues his ministrations through it. Dutifully. Unyielding, even as you twitch with oversensitivity and wisps of exhaustion.
He gently lowers your trembling leg with a sweet smile. He pets you like a cat.
âYouâre beautiful.â He says, softened in a way you only get to see.Â
âThank you.â Your words slur as he settles beside you, tucking next to you.Â
Heâs hardâ so hard that thereâs a wet patch on his bottoms from pooling pre. You can feel the length of him against your thigh, and you reach for him. You should really grab some oilâ
Jing Yuan stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist.Â
âSlow, remember?â He reminds you with a grin that is mischievous. âLetâs take a break, just for a moment.â
âAre you sure?â You look down.Â
The bulge of him makes your mouth water.Â
âEntirely.â He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to your wrist. âHow about a quick snack, hm? I can fetch some fruit to cut.âÂ
â... That would be nice.â
âWould you like peaches?â
âP-Please.â Your voice is watery and small. Jing Yuan looks smitten to hear the tone. â... Meldberries too? And apples?â
âOf course,â Jing Yuan looks happy. Relieved. Deflated in a way that makes you realize that he had been so tense before. Since you met him in the gardens, haggard and exhausted.
(Youâre in his bed, sated and watery and being taken care of.)
âCan I come to the kitchen with you?âÂ
âAre you sure you can walk?â Jing Yuan teases, thumbing at your trembling inner thigh, littered with fresh bruises.
âI can nowââ you huff, playfully indignant. âWe should bring some back. For... later. When I canât walk. Hopefully.â
âHopefully?â Jing Yuan tilts his head, eyes half-lidded and amused.Â
âOh, donât act so innocent!â You laugh and headbutt him lightly. If you had more energy, youâd play fight with him and ruffle the sheets up more than they already are. âIâm sure youâd like me immobile by the time you and your ridiculous cock are through with me.â
â... Ridiculous cock?â Jing Yuan canât hide the laughter in his voice, or the flush on his cheeks. âSo cruel.â
âIâ I forgot how big it is.â
âIâm still covered, dearest.â
You gesture, panicked, below the covers to the bulge and still growing wet spot, âYour dick is close to the size of my forearm, Jing Yuan. I can see it without... seeing it.â
âYouâre so complimentary.â He practically giggles. âSo sweet. I had forgotten how sweet orgasm makes you. Or, is this your fatigue talking?â
â... Both? I missed you.â You say, using your un-held hand to pat Jing Yuanâs covered cock with a smile. âMissed this too.â
Jing Yuan almost squeaks at the unexpected contact. He apparently is just as sensitive as you. He hides his light blush in your neck, and you canât help but laugh, and think about how sweet the peaches will be when cut by your loverâs hands and shared from the same plate.
...
Jing Yuan keeps his word. The early evening stretches into late evening, every touch and sensation coaxed and unhurried. Slow-stretched sugar, lest it shatters.Â
In the kitchen, Jing Yuan cuts you a plate of peaches while you rest on his lap, watching the hypnotic carving of his knife with half-lidded eyes. He feeds you slices on a small fruit fork while sending off a message or two from his jade abacus. He carries half a dozen other fruits back to his bedroom and prods you for a more substantial meal order at some point.Â
You finish off the last few slices while draped in his robe, dazed from your previous high. You feelâ out of it. Raw and scraped out. Not much different from how you felt during your time in the utility tunnels, but instead of feverishly working, youâre in the warmly light room of your lover. His warm hand is splayed on the small of your back, rubbing little circles.Â
You want to ask him:
âHow do you do this?â
And Jing Yuan, mirthful, would say:
âDo what?â
And you would say:
âThis.â
This:Â
The way your mind resists fullness, empty by familiar nature. Youâve been cored, like the apple Jing Yuan dutifully cut and fed to you. Your thighs continue to shake. Youâre bruised, marked, all his, in a way that cows and strokes the feral part of your mind still half-convinced this is all an elaborate illusion.
How could any of this be a fabrication? When Jing Yuan is so warm behind you, happy to bask in your presence while you bask in his. Jing Yuanâs contentment is infectious, it always isâ but so quickly, he has stripped you of your ability to parry it. You canât hold concern. You can barely hold your body upright. You want to fall into him, ask to take more, and hold him until you simply canât anymore.
You do not ask Jing Yuan how he undoes you. Predicting the conversation seemsâ easy. Too easy. (Probably because calibrating a machine meant to sustain a civilization for weeks on end does damage thatâs yet to be fully healed. Prediction is a symptom of overuse, divination a side effect. A cumbersome one.) You can imagine the way Jing Yuan would dance with his words, effortlessly sparring in a way that you simply couldnât keep up with. You are already disarmed. You need his candor, and nothing is more honest than the Generalâs body.
âCome here.â Jing Yuan beckons you into the sheets to lay with him properly.
(Itâs uncanny how he can predict your needs like a diviner himself.)
You follow his direction and let him tug you into his side. Your cheek rests over his chest, soft and a little rounder than it was when you first met him. Heâs gained weight since thenâ which is good. Heâs always been bulky under his uniform and regalia, toned muscle from centuries of training and sparring. But there wasnât much else to himâ he used to skip meals if it was too inconvenient to eat. If you were sharing a plate, heâd offer you a larger portion.
It was something so slightly self-deprecating. At first, you hadnât noticed it. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, he is keen and clever in all regardsâ but his ego has stayed in check for as long as heâs been Arbiter-General. He commits this quiet act of self-harm, so miniscule that most wouldnât bat an eye. His lack of appetite was a manifestation of some burdenâ as he will continue to live and slowly waste away, why should his body not as well?
Youâd like to think youâd broken him of his destructive eating habits. Or, at least contributed. Warm meals, arm-in-arm snacking on street foods at night. Vendors are always happy to give the Divine Foresight a free treat, even if he offers them strales every time. He eats well around you, and you know it extends farther. He takes lunches with Yanqing at least once a week. Thereâs a stash of homemade honey oats and dried apricots stowed in his desk.Â
You are glad he eats. That he is full.Â
You appreciate the feel of him under your fingertips, how he has softened and grown a bit less worn during his own leave. He deserves a vacation. Maybe, youâll sit on his cock and beg him to fucking retire with the promise youâll be happy to stay that way for as long as he pleases if he does. Anything to keep him this lax and soft. You want to commit it to memory, but you still feel fuzzy.
âEnjoying yourself?â He laughs as he speaks, busying himself with the tacky skin on the nape of your neck. He pets you there.
âYes.â You grab his chest, thumbing dangerously close to his nipple. âYou feel nice.â
âIâm glad.â Jing Yuan says, tone curling and smitten. You feel drunk with it. He hums. âYou seem a bit lost. May I guide you back here?â
âI donât think I am.â You pout. âIâm here.â
âAre you sure?âÂ
â... Fairly sure.â
âMay I try anyway?â Jing Yuan asks. âIt would make me very happy too.â
Thereâs no harm to it, really.
âIâll be good.â He adds and holds your wrist so tenderly in his palm. âIâll be gentle with you.â
Jing Yuan drags the thin skin of your wrist over his lips, kissing the flesh as he does. Itâs reverent, slow as he promised. He peeks up at you as he does, a curtain of his silver hair almost obscuring the warm gold of his eyes. Thereâs want there, so caramelized that it makes you ache.Â
Jing Yuan rolls you, so that heâs above you, sitting over your hips. Itâsâ not too heavy. The weight of him is comforting if nothing else. The heat of him is grounding as he hovers over you, nosing at your jaw, nipping bruised skin. He licks the brutal bite he left earlier and you yip. You donât have it in you to chastise him for itâ youâ you maybe like it too much to do so.Â
Like this, itâs easier to notice how Jing Yuan wants. How his hand is sliding between over your sternum, between your breasts, down the soft line of your belly and navel, and back up again. Itâs slow, radiating a yearning that sinks down into your organs heat from a hearth. He thumbs over the line of your throat and kisses you.
Heâs more insistent now, licking into your mouth immediately, keeping his rhythm slow and actions drawn out.Â
Jing Yuan pulls back just enough to speak, warm breath over your lips, âYouâre doing so well.â
You feel warm in your cheeks and tug him closer. If only you burrow in his flesh bones, flush the marrow out to replace it with yourself. Youâd do it if it meant keeping him upright for longer.Â
âIâm right here.â Jing Yuan hushes you, gathering your wrists in one hand. You hadnât realized desperate little keens were leaking from your throat, soaking the room. Jing Yuan doesnât seem to mind. âNo need to fuss. Youâre alright.â
âYouâre sure?â You ask, you feel out of your body.Â
Jing Yuan knows this and he tethers you to him with a kiss and firm touch, âIâm sure. You trust me, donât you?â
âSo much,â you admit.Â
Jing Yuan looks down at your softly, expression beginning to shatter. He is a difficult man to work withâ he wears many faces, several hats, and speaks in riddles more often than not. To receive his honesty isâ a fucking gift. You want to hold it in your hands and swallow it. His hair falls over his face as he peers down at you, thumbing over the lines of your throat.
âYouâre so good.â He says gently, quiet. Like itâs a secret for the two of you. âYouâd do anything Iâd ask you to right now, wouldnât you?â
You nod, then think about what he asked. You still would. Probably. Maybe give him some grief along the way, âAs long as youâre not too mean about it.â
âOh?â He teases. He teases, even now. Even when your core is exposed and youâre bare and heâs stalling despite being hard against your thigh. âYouâre still so sweet when Iâm a bit mean. I think you enjoy it.âÂ
A broken, nearly-pathetic noise drips from your lips. You clutch at his arms and try to bury your face in the sheets. Your face feels so warm, it's making you dizzy.
âNo need to be shy,â he sounds smitten, a smile bleeding into his tone. He kisses you with it, again and again until youâre breathless and stupid once more. He pulls back until youâre nose to nose, hand drifting to the apex of your thighs.Â
You squirm, bucking your hips, urging him closer.Â
âPatience, love, Iâll give you what you need.â He tells you and kisses the corner of your mouth. You believe him.
Jing Yuan settles himself between your thighs, holding them open with his own. He is not a small man, and it leaves you very exposed. More exposed than you would like, and it makes something in you writhe. Jing Yuan hushes you, soothes you as heâs so good at doing as he drenches his fingers in oil.
(The first time you fucked, you did not do this step. Oil and any type of lubricant was skipped, and you paid the price the next morning with a bit of light bleeding and an ache that would send Jing Yuan to the Alchemy Commission to fetch some specialty painkillers. He was very apologetic the morning after, guilt-ridden even. At some point, he started carrying little vials on his person and insisting lubricant be used regardless of how impromptu of a lay it was.)
(That is all to say that Jing Yuanâs cock is huge and has the capability to break you.)
He presses a finger into youâ it goes in easily, slides with the aid of lubricant and your own slick.
âOh,â Jing Yuan breathes, gaze drifting from your parted lips to the finger he sinks into you. âYouâre so wet.â
You want to be snarky. Of course you are, heâs already had you on his tongue earlier in the dayâ now, heâs been teasing you, playing with you, and being sweet with you. How could you not be? Itâs the only natural response to your lover treating you in such a way.
However, you do not get a chance to show him any sass as he crooks his finger upwards and rubs the pad of his thumb in a familiar pattern, little circles over your clit. A gasping moan spills from your lips and Jing Yuan holds you down with his free hand on your hips. He pets you when you shake and yearn for more too quickly.Â
ââS okay?â You ask.
âVery.â Jing Yuan smiles, beaming, almost purring. âIâll tell you if it isnât.â
âOkay.â You nod, feeling wrung out already. Beads of sweat rise between your breasts and drip down your skin.Â
Jing Yuan must notice too, as he ducks forward to lick a firm strip over your tacky skin, groaning as he does before moving to one of your nipples. He kisses around the bud, nips just enough to make you fuss, before wrapping his lips around it. He bites, sucks, and groans into you as he does.Â
You pet through his hair, scrapping your nails down his neck and back. Marking him however you can.
Jing Yuan pulls away from you, panting, and kisses you hard on the mouth. Itâs a clash, really. Harsher and more desperate than he usually would give you. Heâs usually not this messy, but your teeth clack together awkwardly and you swallow around the discomfort. Jing Yuan is quick to correct himself, deepening the kiss more sweetly as if to apologize.Â
He slips a second finger inside your cunt, next to the first, drenching your hole in slick and lube. Itâsâ messy. It is wet. The sound is obscene, even if Jing Yuan is being slow and gentle with your most delicate parts. Arousal pools in your gut, and want makes you feel like a sinking puddle, spreading out over the sheets like youâre going to absorb into Jing Yuanâs lavish mattress.Â
You open up for him, relax with the contact and let him take care of you as he wishes.
He presses another finger into youâ this one stings, despite the preparation and slick drenching you down your thighs and the sheets below you. He moves slowly, kissing your cheeks and hushing you when you whine.Â
âIâve got you,â He smiles, and drags his lips over your cheeks. Itâs reassuring, and something blooms from the base of your spine up to your throat. He gives you playfully chomp over the apple of one and you let out a little laugh. It bubbles up out of you and Jing Yuan shares it with his own deeper one.
He fans out his fingers inside you, slowly, with each thrust. Itâs measured, practiced. Despite the time apart.Â
Jing Yuan is hard against your leg. You can feel him, though Jing Yuan is still wearing his own robe and silks which simply will not do. Tugging, you drag it off him, and push yourself half up. You attempt to reach for his cock, you want itâ him. But Jing Yuan stills his fingers inside you, clicks his tongue, and knocks you back into the mattress with a gentle (albeit firm) shove.
âNot yet.â He scolds, though thereâs no bark behind it.Â
You frown. âBut I want you.â
âAnd what if I want you too?â Jing Yuan asks.
Itâs something heâs never raised directly before.
Heâs made such a fact known, however. You know he wants you. Jing Yuan was happy to complete a number of courting gestures, prior to becoming something of an official couple. He keeps you close, he is kind to you, he even tells you a secret or two. He fucks you like he loves you and wants you close. He leaves marks all of you, from your neck, all the way down to even your ankles and calves on occasion. He shares drinks with you in his gardens, offers you a place in his bed and somewhere in his heart, even if youâre still (after decades) understanding where that is.
But, so rarely does he state that he wants you so plainly.Â
Want is dangerous. Yearning and all. Yearning must be a passing emotion if one is to resist Mara. If anything, Mara is accumulated and rotting yearning.Â
Jing Yuan has lived a long life due to how he copes with yearning.Â
To admit to itâ it is an act of vulnerability. To admit a weakness, a thing that could tear him full of undying roots and strike him down. It is the danger of the Divine Foresight finding a partner and becoming coupled. It invites such feelings.Â
You had assumed Jing Yuan hadnât entertained such notions directly. To give them time in his mind could bring rumination. Whichâ could easily go sour.
â... You want me?âÂ
Jing Yuan tilts his head cutely, âYes, of course. Was that not obvious?â
âI inferred,â You feel sticky and sloppy as Jing Yuan withdraws his fingers.Â
He climbs off the bed, only for a moment. He shucks off the last of his clothing, leaving him bare. Candle light casts shadows over the contours of him. His cock looksâ painfully hard. As he climbs back into bed, it bobs, swollen and dark red at the head. Almost purpling. Itâs slick with pre that is still beading from his slit.
â... Can I suck you off?â You ask, a bit entranced. âPlease?â
âNot now,â He tells you with a laugh. âLater, if you ask me nicely again.â
âOkay.â You can do that.Â
Jing Yuan huffs out another laugh with a shake of his head, âInsatiable thing.â
âI missed you.â You tell him. Your voice is watery. Your own admission.
Jing Yuan flips you by your midsection, coaxing you to raise your hips enough to sandwich a few silk pillows between your hips and the bed. His hands linger over the bruises on your hips, then slide down the swell of your ass to the backs of your thighs. He pets you until youâre relaxed, boneless.
He parts from you over for a moment, rummaging through a nearby cupboard for oil. You hear him slick his cock. The sound makes you squeeze your thighs together and bury your face in the sheets.Â
Jing Yuan surprises you by pressing a finger into you from behind. A sound rips from your throat as he finds your sweet spots, adding another finger quickly, then a third. Youâre drenched between your thighs, so slick you feel drunk. Jing Yuan positions your legs a little wider and settles between them.Â
âD-Donât aggravate your injury,â You remember, beginning to push yourself up. A moment of lucidity as you can sense Jing Yuan lining him up. âNot on my account.â
âI wonât.â He promises, running a hand down your back from tailbone to nape to coax you back against the mattress. He presses a kiss to the base of your spine. âAlways so caring and diligent.â
âIââ You cut yourself off as the head of his cock teases your folds. Rubbing. âJing Yuanââ
âI want you.â Jing Yuan tells you, doubling back, bumping against your clit as you moan.Â
âY-You can have me,â You want to see his face, rub his cheeks. âYou do have me. Youâre mine and Iâm yours.â
Damning yourselves.
Canât the General be selfish in lieu of his looming retirement? Canât the Master Calibrator enjoy the company of others, and not the mechanical hum of a God Ship?
âI have you?â Jing Yuan asks, beginning to push into you.
You canât replyâ you canât. Despite the prep, and oil, and arousal all together, itâs still tight. Jing Yuan is thick enough that itâs outlandish, and youâre feeling every inch of that girth as he enters you. You clutch your balled-up hands in the soft sheets near your head. You try to keep your breathing even but itâs hard. Jing Yuan pets down your sides, leaning over your back, whispering little words of praise and encouragement as you take him.Â
âYouâre so lovely. Look how well youâre doing.â
âYouâre going to take all of me.â
âIâll be gentle. Iâll be good to you.â
He is, and you donât mean to cry, you donât, but you do when he bottoms out, and you can feel him so, so deep, itâs in your throat. The heat of him inside you is searing. Youâre changed. Youâre being carved out by him anew, and he wants you.Â
âYou h-have me,â You tell him. You scrambled a hand behind you, shaking as you brace yourself against the bed. You manage to get a handful of his head and drag him down over your back. âJing Yuan, please have me.â
Youâll beg for it; shame has been lost.
You want to stay here. In his bed. By his side. You want him to want the same with you. Not with old flames. You donât want Jing Yuan to deny himself pleasure in the face of duty, as if the two cannot exist. As if rules cannot be bent or changed by the hand that rules them or the Calibrator who tweaks the vessel that you both live on. Things change. It is the nature of life and starshine.
Even with the Xianzhou Natives' lifetime, they are bound to grow, endlessly.Â
Jing Yuan pauses above you, stills so deep in you. Youâre worried for a moment youâve crossed a line. That your desperation has spurred him away, rather than closer. It terrifies you. It grips you so hard that it feels like your heart could shatter to pieces.
(Your worry is misplaced.)
Jing Yuan lets out a shuddering sigh, pulling out almost completely. You panic (âno, no, no, donât, âM sorryâ) and nearly flip over to try and recover the situation. Howeverâ youâre mistaken.
He groans as he slams back into you, curling over your back, gathering you up in his arms, and rolling his hips. Heâs scraping the insides of you. Youâre raw.Â
âN-No apologies,â His voice breaks. âYouâve done nothing wrong. YâYou offer me yourself so sweetly. I only feel guilty thatââÂ
He cuts himself off with another deep thrust that punches a broken sound out of you. Tears begin to drip down your cheeks.
âNo guiltââ
âI feel guilty,â Jing Yuan punctuates his words with a cant of his hips that has you going slack in his arms, ragdolled by pleasure, âthat you think you must beg to be had. I feel immensely guilty that you could have any doubt toward me as a lover.â
He guides you back down to the bed, steadying himself with a searing palm on the back of your neck and a hand leveraged on your lower back.
You really wonât be able to walk tomorrow.Â
âI donât doubt y-you like that.â
(Itâs less about some nebulous insecurity you keep as his lover, and more about the solid knowledge that Jing Yuan is so careful with his connections. You cannot believe yourself to be the exception.)
(Sometimes, you doubt that he has any tether to anyone. Like heâs waiting to die. No matter how fond he is of you, that this will supersede it. It damns his well being. It damns the future. But, how steadfast does it make the present? Youâd like to think its enough for him to keep you as company due to legitimate desire and care, rather than balming of some wound as your insecurities tell you it could be.)
In retrospect, youâll feel foolish for thinking so little of Jing Yuanâs feelings toward you.Â
He grabs you by your cheeks in one hand, craning your neck back to face him the best you can on your tummy. He levels his face with yours, nose to nose. Eyes alight. He looks... almost angry. Jaw tight, seated and still inside you to the hilt. Youâre fullâ bursting at the seams, but you have enough lucidity to focus your vision and see how pained he looks. Pained and enraptured, loving and loved. Heâs bound up with it, the same way that you are.Â
âIf I could, I would keep you in this bed. If not this bed, then the gardens I would follow you into your tunnels and learn the harmonies and chords you know, even if I couldnât keep a tune. I would keep you full like this. I would cut you stone fruit whenever youâd like something sweet.â
Itâs a declaration. It might as well be a proposal.
You donât get a chance to reply. Your breath is knocked out of you, like every thought and fear and insecurity that youâve been shouldering. Jing Yuan fucks you with the full force of his hips, thighs bracketed with your own. It hurtsâ barely. Enough that youâll feel it for days and carry a limp for just as long.Â
His pace is quick and deep. Heâs not chasingâ heâs creating. Marking a spot inside you thatâs just for him. Only him. It makes you feel giddy and stupid and you laugh through the tears streaming down your cheeks. Itâsâ all a lot. Jing Yuan keeps you tucked so close, pressing you into the silks sheets. He breathes through his mouth, panting against the back of your neck , sucking more marks into the skin, darkening the preexisting ones. Claiming, in a way that feels different from the hickeys he had given you in the past.Â
You sob as he tilts your hips up. He drills downward, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. Youâreâ youâre going to explode. The friction of the pillows below your hips isnât enough to come,but Jing Yuan drilling your insides is getting you close to something. It feels like a peak youâre not meant to climb, and you sob at the sensation. Like youâre free falling.
Jing Yuan holds you closer, wrapping an arm around your midsection, and the feeling disappears.
He sneaks a hand to your cunt. First he feels where youâre joined. The sticky, sloppy mess of pre, slick and lube that youâve made. Youâll need another bath. Maybe two. He runs gentle fingers along the seam of your cunt, where heâs slowed his thrusts so he can feel where youâre practically tethered together.Â
âTaking me so well,â Jing Yuan is breathless. He rubs your clit, bracing himself over your front, and fucks you so wonderfully that your vision begins to darken at the edges.
Itâs unfair how quickly he gets you to your peak, touching you like this. He knows your body, and you squeeze down around him with a cry as you crest. Your cunt clamps down as the knots in your gut unfurl. You jolt back with the sensation, overwhelming and all consuming. Jing Yuan moans behind you, a beautiful sound you want to have so committed to memory so that even when youâre riddled with mara, youâll remember the sound.Â
Jing Yuan doesnât chase his relief, he lays over your back like a blanket as you shake through the aftershocks of your orgasm and fucks you slow and deep. He only hastens when you let out a warbling little sound, something hurt from your bruised insides making themselves known.
He quiets you with a soft, dragged out whisper of praise. He thrusts harderâ fasterâ and moments later thereâs a gush of warmth in your guts that makes your eyes roll back into your head. You want to come again, and you canât help the temptation to reach down and get off, just onceâ more.
Jing Yuan nearly growls as you do. He bats your hand away, flips you so youâre belly up. Your hips are raised on the mound of pillows and it hits you what he intends to do.
To have both of you.
He throws your legs over his shoulders. Your thighs shake around his cheeks as he gives them a quick kiss, before diving into his meal. He moans and groans into your cunt, out of breath from fucking you still, but no-less diligent. He fucks his cum back into your with a thick finger for a few thrust, just barelyâ youâll be too sore and he knows it.Â
He eats his release from your cunt. Itâsâ debauched. Itâs so, so much and you canât do anything other than writhe and tug at his hair. Your hips hurt, but you still find it in you to grind against his mouth. Itâsâ one of his favorite things. He likes to be used sometimes. This is one of his favorite flavors, when his tongue is inside of you and you drag him closer by his hair and let the friction bring you to orgasm, however long it takes.
You, truthfully, do not have much left in your body to chase this.Â
Jing Yuan must know this, or he is feeling similarlyâ or both. Probably both. Youâre too floaty and gone to tell. Youâre still crying as he moves to your clit, licks and sucks until you fall apart on his tongue once more, full and sated with him.Â
Both had by each other.Â
You fall into the bed sheets as you finish, dragging a sweaty Jing Yuan closer. So close. He keeps you closer still, over his chest, cheek pillows on the swell of his pec (breast) and a dusting of silver hair. Youâre shaking from the highâ so is he. You feel like youâre going to fall into a million pieces.
(It reminds you, briefly, of how it felt when you first dropped into the utility tunnels, after the calibration apprentice went Mara-Struck. How you felt soâ aloneâ gone. How fragile you felt sprinting through the tunnels with the knowledge that your world was being torn apart by forces beyond your control.)
(You felt small and helpless.)
The feeling is quickly extinguishedâ or maybe made to feel pleasurable. Jing Yuan practically purrs underneath you, petting you, stroking over your new bruises and marks. You keep a hand buried in his hair, petting over his cheeks. Staying lucidâ is hard. The last thing you clearly remember was hopelessly fond, adoring, gold eyes, gazing back at you so lovingly, that they could remake you.
Perhaps, they already have.
Itâs sometime later, in one of Jing Yuanâs gardens. This one is nestled, lush, in the large courtyard in the center of his home. A pond gurgles with the bubble of fat fish that swim near the surface of the water. You fed them earlier and theyâre still looping, searching for an extra snack.
You lay some distance away from the pond on a blanket that Jing Yuan has designated as your âoutside blanketâ as it is particularly large (tall enough for him to sprawl out on and more than wide enough to fit the both of you) and thick. Your head is pillowed on Jing Yuanâs arm as he is curled toward you, legs tangled with your own. Itâs late afternoon, and the General is taking one of his beloved naps. Youâve taken to combing a hand through his hair, scratching along his scalp and behind his ear and contenting yourself with the little sighs and almost-purrs he lets you.Â
It is good to rest.
Your leave has, overall, been quite restful. Mostly. Aside from the times that Jing Yuan cannot keep his hands of you and you end up fucking whereever is convenient before retiring to your (now shared) bedroom. The bouts leave you tired and worn, but in a satisfying way. Jing Yuan has been particularly dutiful and attentive post-fuck, always handing you chilled water to sip and offering a treat. Sometimes a fruit or a candy he has apparently been stashing away. He gives you as many kisses as you can bear, and you return the gesture as much as youâre able.
Jing Yuan has become... handiser. Needier. Youâd say clingier, but as much as he tends to cling when heâs around his estate with you, it never feels overbearing. He indulges in closeness with you in a way that feels shameless in the best way.Â
Itâs the same in public. Youâve gone to the night markets, once or twice to indulge in street foods, and Jing Yuan is equally as touchy, albeit itâs more subtle. A hand on your lower back, standing behind you while he orders with an arm wrapped around your waist. You hold hands when you walk, or you loop an arm through his elbow if it's particularly crowded. He did these things before, but they seem more... necessary. Like he has to keep you close. The contact he shares with you is firmer. Richer, even. Heâs always been intentional with you, it's his nature, but now his actions have taken on a different shape. Intentionally showing want, rather than showing closeness.
It creates both a softness and an edge to him that you are thoroughly enjoying.
Thereâs softness in how lax he is next to you, dozing the afternoon away after completing the bare minimum of work for the day. His cheeks are rounder, and a bit rosy. Itâs warm today. Itâs the softness of skinship, how youâre both seeking out each otherâs barest parts, even if it's only for a moment or two of skin-to-skin contact. Itâs how his care is so explicit these days.Â
The edge of it is how the General is anxious, perhaps. Itâs a possessive flavor that Jing Yuan has, perhaps, always has, but is simply more apparent now. His touches in public flaunt the fact that youâre clearly a couple, nevermind what gossip magazines and street whisperers will say. Itâs the consistent marks he leaves on youâ those visible hickeys on your neck, down to the dark, sore ones he leaves on your inner thighs and the softness of your stomach. Itâs the way he commissioned a set of earrings, one for each of you to wear.Â
(He had looked a bit melancholy, just for a moment, when he first presented you with them. Like a memory had surfaced but then was quickly let go and set adrift in favor of the present.)
The set is crafted with gold connected with a flat, rectangle of stone that dangles down from it. The stone is red, inlaid with gold veins. Some alloy that was probably mined on an asteroidâ a rarity. Theyâre beautiful. You hardly know what to say when you receive yours; Jing Yuan had presented you the gift while already wearing his.Â
Marking each other as each otherâs.Â
Itâs brazenâ and you like it. The beast of feeling that tore you to shreds in the utility tunnels feels far away, lately. Your extended leave has been good and youâre... grateful Jing Yuan has been quite official (and strict) about keeping you away from work.
You run the pad of your thumb under his eye. The skin is delicate, wrinkled just the slightest. Itâs a tragedy, for many reasons, that you both are long-lived and cursed with Abundance. Youâd like to see the crowâs feet Jing Yuan would have, if his skin did not keep itself so elastic and young.
Apparently awake, Jing Yuan grabs your wrist and brings it to his lip. He sets upon you with a lazy smile. His eyes open, just halfway, and he looks at you, so adoring.
âAre your thoughts entertaining?â Jing Yuan asks, gentle as he holds you closer. âYou seem quite lost in them.â
You hum, kissing his jaw with a drag of your lips, âNot lost. Just reflecting.â
Jing Yuan hums himself, nosing into your temple. Then your hairline, where he leaves a line of kisses in his wake. You shudder with the feather-light feeling.
âWould you like to share?â Jing Yuan asks. âOr, perhaps take a rest with me? Though I am very appreciative of the head massage, I do believe you could use a rest. Unless you wish to take a stroll, and turn in early?â
âA stroll sounds lovely in a bit. I donât mind sharing, though,â you answer.Â
Jing Yuan smiles against your skin. You wish it could brand you, âIâm listening, whenever youâd like.â
You gather your words for a moment. It takesâ a second. A long one. The Dragon Lady says that youâre experiencing some lasting effects from being attuned to the Quantum fields for too long in the wake of the Stellaron Crisis. She seemed confident your impairments would heal but your mind is that of a mortal. It will take time.
Jing Yuan is ever patient with you.
âI suppose Iâm grateful,â You tell him. âI am glad I have a space in your life, and I am grateful that you show it to me in the ways that you do. I would beâ very sad, if I was not by your side, I think.â
It is a simple way to put something much larger.
Jing Yuan seems to understand regardless.
He takes a deep breath, then squeezes you to his chest. It forces the air from your lungs in a way that makes you light-headed.
âHow kind are you.â Jing Yuan sighs, nuzzling into your hair. âTo think of me so sweetly, without prompting. Iâm very fortunate to have you as a lover. I hope you know that.â
âI try to remind myself.â
âDo I need to remind you more myself?â Jing Yuan asks, his smile turning a bit mischievous. He rolls himself over you, caging you. âIâm happy to.â
âYouâll spoil me!â You laugh and bat at his chest, slipping your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands behind his neck.
âI quite like having you spoiled.â Jing Yuan contends with a cute tilt of his head. âI should resolve to spoil you more, actually. Do you have any ideas on how to do so? Iâm happy to listen.â
âJing Yuanââ You huff with an uncontainable grin. Your heart is going to burst from your chest. You would let it. Youâd let Jing Yuan take its place. You practically already have.Â
âI think,â Jing Yuan whispers in your ear, breath warm and sweet. âI ought to keep you in bed for the afternoon, perhaps pause the plan for a stroll until later in the evening. Starfire flies have been gathering in one of the gardens near the Exalting Sanctumâ what do you say to a post-coital jaunt?â
âI meanââ You flush and bump your nose into his cheek, like a cat giving ample affection. âI donât think Iâll be properly spoiled if I can still walk after youâre through with me.â
âSo, Iâll carry you? Thatâs doable.â
âNoâ I meanâ You canââÂ
âIâm teasing you,â Jing Yuan murmurs with a tone so sweet and warm, you could melt into the soft blanket and soil below you. âWhatever youâd like. We can decide along the way.â
You smile.
âYeah,â Your chest feels tight and warm and lovely all at once. Jing Yuan pulls away, and the earring that twins your own dangles, catching the falling sun in its veins of gold. âIâd like to decide along the way with you.â
It means more than this instance, itâs encompassing. To be long-lived and coupled is to tread the shallows of what could be Mara. To wear the mark of another is to dare to swim closer to the roiling beast of Abundance that none of the Xianzhou Natives can truly outrun.
But you think that, perhaps, you and Jing Yuan will be alright until that day, whenever it may be. You will spoil each other, hold each other, and take your steps while extending a patient hand to the other if theyâd like to take it. Youâll listen to echoes together and learn to forget them. Youâll harmonize with stardust and Jing Yuan will play his games of many dimensional chess until he (hopefully soon) retires.
The smile that grows on your face is warm like a hearth, honeyed like a spiced tea, and kind. It splits the both of you open, and Jing Yuan kisses you like he canât help but to do anything else. You donât lose your grin, and you give it to him against his lips, laughing together as you share breath.
Itâs sweet and lovely, you think, as Jing Yuan touches your foreheads together. You have this, and youâll be happy to have this for as long as Fate and Aeons allow. You think that Jing Yuan will be happy tooâ with a coveted smile so kind given to you and a bed, shared.Â
You bask in itâ this. The gardens and the heat of him and the warmth in your chest, for however long youâre given.Â
1K notes
·
View notes