Archive of Our Own

The mountain opening up again - this time to release him - was something he used to think was outside the realm of possibility.

There is only one way to leave this place of torment - so he crawls, and crawls, and doesn't stop, even when his hands - that would be bloody and blistered if they could be, and he so wishes they were, so he could have a physical proof of having finally achieved this, this improbable, terrifying feat of becoming what he was never meant to be but had to be turned into - reach solid, even ground. He feels weak, his vision swimming from the amount of light he is no longer accustomed to. This weakness is mental, he knows; his veins are thrumming, threatening to burst, with power that should be unattainable, monstrous in its capabilities. His long fingers, with their nails resembling claws more than he'd like to admit, grasp the dirt and stones and turn them into dust in their deathly grip. It is the only way they've been accustomed to grab; there was no other need for them other than to hold viciously, claw at flesh that wasn't human, maul to pieces, grind whatever was left into nonexistence.

There is someone here.

It is not a conscious thought; there is no explanation for this knowing or reason why this presence would flood his senses like it does. How can it be someone and not a something, when he feels his own humanity ebbing away? He, a thing of violence, of resentment, of hunger, and not of personhood.

He lifts his gaze from the ground, just a little, a small, calculated movement, so he sees what is in front of him but doesn't give his awareness of the presence away. He might need to attack and needs to be prepared.

The tall figure, clad in maple red and silver, is unmoving at first, as if waiting. He cannot see its face, hesitant to look as always, scared of seeing the remnants of humanity of a being he has to devour. The person (is it a person?) takes a step forward - there is a clinking, the silver - the bells? - make a sound. Why would anyone make their presence known in such a way? What powerful being would not be afraid in the face of the monster that has just crawled out of the most godforsaken place in existence?

He has to fight again; it fills him with anger, the only emotion he knows, with this feral fury that enabled him to go on and never stop. He thought it was over, that he had won whatever there was to win, and showed himself to be the most vicious, the most deserving of the revenge he has yet to exact on his enemies. He finally looks up and snarls, ready to pounce. What stops him in his tracks is the snort the person in front of him lets out as a reaction to his animalistic grunt. A melodic, yet sharp, laugh follows, and he feels a pang of shame somewhere deep within him stirring and squeezing his insides. He thought himself no longer capable of feeling any human emotion besides this rage, shame in particular no longer accessible to him. And yet. It is there, and it hurts. And yet. Its presence feels remotely hopeful, like not all is lost, like some things can be regained. He looks for something within himself and tries to reclaim some lost thing that was no longer needed until now. His throat is dry, the insides of his mouth filled with the taste of blood and bones. He parts his lips, feeling, tasting the air for the first time, and tries to speak. His voice is raspy, barely audible, laughable, pathetic and...human. Maybe it could be human.

"Who are you?" he manages to get out.

***

The constant pull to the presence of the other ghost king doesn't become less unnerving even as He Xuan settles into the creature he has become. 

He was used to being alone. The loneliness of his being, first unbearable, had become the only state he could bear; all other options had long been spent. Whatever ties he once held died with his family and fiancée, buried alongside them.

And yet, they are connected. Against their will, against sense. Anytime he reaches out to the void, he can feel Hua Cheng, the self-assured amassment of sheer power that he is. It enrages He Xuan; how can this red demon possess a part of his subconsciousness, pulling on him, calling on him to act and crash their energies, select a winner, or yield, whichever, as long as they take action. He can admit it must be even more grating for Hua Cheng - after all, he was the only one for centuries. If he even feels it, that is.

"We are equals, whether you like it or not," He Xuan barks at Hua Cheng during one of their initial spars.

They do not fight over territory or dominance. He does not know why Hua Cheng fights him; is it boredom? The novelty of He Xuan's existence? Does he want to gauge how easy it would be for him to return to the previous state of affairs, when it was only he ruling over the ghost realm?

As for He Xuan, he fights the other supreme because he needs to - ever since his death, two things took dominion over his mind: the need to devour and the face of the man making sure he was dead; as Demon Xuan, he would hunt for other water spirits, tear the limbs of their almost-corporeal bodies, inhale their power and then obsess, obsess, obsess over the man, the god, the monster who took everything from him.

"You are yet to prove anything of the sort," Hua Cheng replies, tone relaxed, even as he is pressing He Xuan to the ground, crushing his wrists, a light smirk dancing on his lips, his one eye completely devoid of any emotion and care.

He Xuan needs to fight him, because he is the third thing added to the mix, the only thing that managed to get through the hunger and the obsession. Or join it, he doesn't know. When he leaves the other man behind, defeated more often than not, yet satisfied, his mind feels clear, and he can think. He can detach himself from Black Water and be the man he used to be, resilient and intelligent, and most importantly, capable of what he needs to accomplish.

It must be some kind of release for Hua Cheng, too. Still holding He Xuan's wrists in a death grip above his head, he falls silent, his head tilted slightly, eye searching He Xuan's face with interest.

"Do you yield?" Crimson Rain asks, his long hair falling over his eye patch, ruffled just a little bit from their fight, shoulders a bit less tense than when they first laid eyes on each other that day.

"I yield."

Hua Cheng releases his wrists and, in a momentary lapse of sanity, He Xuan wants to groan and tell him no, don't, slash me to pieces and then lick at my wounds - but he doesn't and he won't. It's the feral, untamed part of his brain that chases its hunger towards any type of release, whether it be sweet or bloody. He Xuan has enough agency to choose bloody.

***

Talking  - even speaking -  was a lost art for He Xuan for a long time. The prison gave him his first taste of a tongue completely tied, a throat unable to swallow, and a mind to which each thought was not only incomprehensible but unwelcome. After he was consumed madly by grief and his death did not bring him peace,  Tonglu gave him a chance to return to the state of unspeaking; he took it gladly, sinking his teeth in his victims quietly, the only sound filling the mountain the one of their pain at being thrust into nonexistence without a chance to exact their revenge.

Talking with Hua Cheng, at first, was a necessity. Ghost City being a business empire ruled with an iron hand by one man was at times hard to accept - leave it to He Xuan's rotten, cursed luck for him to end up swimming in debt even after his death - but there was no winning against it, whether metaphorically or literally in the Gambler's Den.

Their interactions often left him exasperated, on the verge of an angry outburst, fascinated against his own will. Most of all, though, they put him on edge; they've not fought in a while, and the hunger for release forever present in He Xuan's body and mind was threatening to overflow.

"You could at least feed me if you expect such detailed reports," he says one time while describing all the comings and goings of heavenly officials.

He got bored with most of them quickly, but having access to all the information still seemed entertaining to Hua Cheng. Crimson Rain is sitting on his throne (there's no better word for it), He Xuan some distance away to the side so he doesn't look like he's on the receiving end of a fucking audience.

"Feed you? I did not realize our agreement included courting you into giving information away."

"I don't want to be courted, asshole. You could at least try to maintain a sliver of civility and be a good host."

Hua Cheng inhales sharply while slamming his hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

"Are my hosting standards not up to Lord Black Water's standards? Pray, forgive me."

As much as He Xuan wants to roll his eyes, he doesn't.

"We are done here. Next time, try to have actual questions for me so it doesn't feel like I'm risking having my cover blown just so you can satiate your weird obsession with the southern martial gods."

***

The sight of Hua Cheng lifting one of the creatures high up in the air and splitting it apart in his hands, its blood coloring his robes an even darker red, its cries silenced ruthlessly, sends a cold shiver down He Xuan's spine. The air is filled with the metallic taste of blood, the stones under their feet slippery with it; He Xuan parts his lips a little, his tongue tasting the air, his head dizzy with lust for violence and for its perpetrator.

"You do not look like you need my help," he says quietly, as calmly as he can manage.

Hua Cheng turns to him, his eye tinted red, lips parted, face covered in specks of blood, the ends of his hair caked with it. He drops the mauled, dead body from his hands and raises one eyebrow at He Xuan.

"You wanted to be fed. Isn't this how you feed?"

The other ghost king points to the creatures remaining in this lair; their mother, long slain, is no longer there to protect them. They are ugly, crooked, undead, and unthinking, a meal to have and soon forget. They are terrified, with nowhere to run, and twisted excitement fills He Xuan's insides. He looks at Hua Cheng again; they maintain eye contact for a few seconds.

We are the same.

The thought is exhilarating. They are siblings, in a way; their mother spat them out after long years of torment and released them upon this world. There should not be more than one being like them; even one is a sneer towards the heavens, a plague to be rid of. And yet, here they are, and they are the same; he thought Hua Cheng would be slashing with his blade, that he would be controlled, civilized almost, like a god - only fallen - not the monster that He Xuan feels that he is. Still, his hands are as bloody as He Xuan's are going to be, his teeth pointier than he usually lets them, fingernails sharp and deadly.

"They're all yours, if you'd like," adds Hua Cheng.

"We can share."

***

He Xuan lays his head on the elm wood table in the Paradise Manor's large kitchens. He slowly lets his own form replace the one of Ming Yi's; the physical hunger in him subsides, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion that he cannot get rid of even after his death. It wasn't smart for him to change only now, but in moments like these, he always, illogically, wishes he were uncovered, so someone would disperse him and he could rest in the darkness, in the void, in nonexistence.

If he had it in him, he would be angry at Hua Cheng - why does he think he can make him wait? And yet, he waits, unable to move. The jingling of his shoes announces Crimson Rain's presence long before he opens the door. He Xuan doesn't react. He listens to his steps, his robes moving languidly around him, E'ming clanking at his hip. He wishes he could hear a heartbeat, blood coursing through veins, breathing; he wishes he could see Hua Cheng alive. Instead, he feels a ghost touch of fingers brushing his hair for a split second, a touch he must have imagined.

Hua Cheng places something in front of him and gracefully drops onto the chair on his right. He Xuan doesn't imagine a hand lifting a strand of his hair to uncover his face.

"You have a flair for dramatics, don't you?"

Hua Cheng's tone implies annoyance, but there's no bite to it; He Xuan swats his hand away and raises his head.

"All I do is pretend I'm level-headed."

He grabs a sweet sesame ball from the bowl Hua Cheng placed in front of him and bites into it. Hua Cheng takes one as well, tossing it up in the air and catching it with his mouth.

They sit in silence for a while. He Xuan looks into the distance, lost in the whirlwind that is his mind, Hua Cheng watching him intently like he always does, like he's a caged animal that he's trying to tame, a curious sight, something almost funny -

His rage finally boils over, and he looks at the ghost in front of him with eyes full of storm.

"Do you laugh at me?"

Hua Cheng drops the easy smile that was playing on his lips; he looks confused for a second, and then his expression turns neutral, yet wary.

"Don't tell me you're suddenly insecure," he responds, reaching for another sesame ball, seemingly nonchalant. Impressive performance, altogether, if it wasn't for He Xuan noticing a small movement on his hip, most likely E'ming coming to life.

"Answer me. Do you judge me for what I'm doing?"

Hua Cheng rolls his eyes and pops the sesame ball into his mouth. His fingers look sticky. For a moment, He Xuan imagines grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand to his lips, his tongue skirting over the sweetness, licking each finger clean.

"Why the fuck would I judge you? Am I not helping you? Are you getting cold feet, so you decided to put on this pathetic display so I wouldn't collect what I'm due? There's no getting rid of your debt, even if you don't go through with this revenge of yours."

He Xuan's first instinct is to apologize. He swallows it down. He has nothing more to say, shame of his weakness burning his throat. He clears it; he needs to say something, appease the man in front of him.

"I desire this...revenge of mine...violently. All my desires are this way. Inside Tonglu, I could not remember a single face; I only saw red. And yet you...Well, you certainly did remember. You must think me a rabid dog."

It is the first time He Xuan implies he knows why Hua Cheng still lingers in this world. Talking about it feels like crossing a boundary, but he already crossed one with this outburst of his. He feels trapped, wishing he were floating on the waves of the South Sea instead of being here, with the only person capable of both understanding and destroying him completely. If Hua Cheng is surprised by his words, he doesn't show it. He reaches out his hand and grabs He Xuan's wrist, his fingers still coated in melted sugar. He Xuan doesn't move, allowing the touch to happen, somehow expecting it to burn.

"We are the same," says Hua Cheng, and he must feel the shiver that runs through He Xuan's veins at the words, "The only difference is my beloved is alive. If he were dead, I, too, would be here for revenge. And I would burn the heavens down while exacting it."

***

"This is a dump. Is this what you're doing with my money?"

"If Hua Chengzu is not satisfied with the interior, he can renovate as he sees fit, as this poor debtor of his is rarely home."

Hua Cheng laughs.

"And I assume you wouldn't like to be charged for these...renovations?"

"Obviously. I'm satisfied with what I have here."

He Xuan has to admit that the rooms in his manor seem just a touch gloomy compared to the brilliant, lively red of Hua Cheng's robes. The candlelight flickers on the silver of his jewellery and vambraces, and in a way, he is the most alive thing that has ever appeared in He Xuan's territory.

Incidentally, he has no idea what the other supreme is doing in it, and how he got through his fish. His inquiry is dismissed with a wave of a hand.

"They're completely useless. And if you're expecting a lengthy report on how negligible your system of defenses is, you should at least try to be a good host first."

His eye twinkles in mischief, and He Xuan sighs. Hua Cheng is older than him, and yet sometimes, so so young. The realization continues to be a painful one; how young exactly was he when he died?

He motions him to the seats he positioned in front of a fireplace, its vicinity the only place in the manor that can be described as not bone-chilling cold.

"Instead of throwing my own words back at me, Hua Chengzu could notice that there is wine already on the table for him to enjoy and a fire burning to keep him warm."

Hua Cheng sits down, gaze not leaving He Xuan's face.

"Won't didi pour me a cup?"

He Xuan stares at him for a second too long - he receives a smug grin in response. He doesn't acknowledge the familiar (and wrong) address, but crosses the room in one swift step. He pours Hua Cheng the sweet cherry wine and hands him the cup. Hua Cheng's fingers brush against his. His eye remains fixed on He Xuan as he brings the cup to his lips and sips.

He Xuan cannot be misunderstanding this.

Or can he?

It was he who started approaching Hua Cheng without sound justification, but he always had an excuse prepared. So when Hua Cheng suddenly started reaching out to him, no explanation given, He Xuan was sure the Ghost City's ruler had become bored with its border and was looking to expand his domain. He Xuan could objectively ascertain that the thoughts were paranoid; Hua Cheng wouldn't move against him unprovoked. The man would find it funny to try and get rid of He Xuan the same way He Xuan was trying to get rid of his enemies, by gaining their trust first and then striking when they least expected him, but would he be bothered with such an elaborate approach?

He Xuan found that, whatever the reason, he did not care. If Hua Cheng decided to dispose of him, he would fight. And he would enjoy it, too. He imagined being torn to pieces by Crimson Rain's hands, and he found the vision ecstatic. They would break each other's bones, drink each other's blood, and one of them would devour the other, eating, drinking, heaving with power. If he was there for less nefarious reasons, He Xuan was going to enjoy that, too.

The cherry wine stains Hua Cheng's lips a deep, dark red. And even if He Xuan is misunderstanding what is happening, he is willing to risk his immortality to make sure he isn't.

He takes hold of Hua Cheng's cup again, applying pressure to the other man's fingers. He receives a puzzled look in response.

"Let go," he says, his voice just a bit unsteady.

Hua Cheng does, suddenly silent. He Xuan puts the cup forcefully on the table, and then he slowly drops to his knees in front of the other man, keeping his gaze set firmly on the boyish face, on the eye that has suddenly become darker, the reflection of flames dancing in it. He Xuan puts both hands on Hua Cheng's knees and spreads them apart so he can move in between them. He hears a small huff in response.

They're still looking at each other. He can swear he sees Hua Cheng's lips tremble a little; if he didn't know better, he would say the other ghost king looks nervous.

He's a boy, he thinks. Can it be?

But he can think no more than that, because Hua Cheng extends one of his hands and touches a strand of He Xuan's long hair that has fallen on his face, and this - almost shy - brush of fingertips is what makes him tempt his fate. He grabs Hua Cheng's chin with his long, slender fingers and joins their lips together. Immediately, he's on the verge of losing control. He wants to dig his fingernails in and draw blood, bite tender flesh, leave bruises, make the other man plead and beg. He restrains himself; he wants this to be tender. It's the first chance at tenderness he's had in death, and shouldn't death be tender?

Hua Cheng puts both hands on He Xuan's face and kisses back. His moves feel uncertain, yet eager.

"Gege," He Xuan whispers, just to release some of the tension, and is rewarded with the softest of laughs before Hua Cheng's lips are back on his, more forceful this time.

He deepens the kiss, tongue sliding into Hua Cheng's mouth where it's met with eagerness. The long fingers curl around He Xuan's hair, and it's entirely too much and yet not enough.

It's been a while since He Xuan undressed anybody - his fingers stumble through all the layers of fabric on the other man's body. He growls with impatience into their kiss, finally finding the buttons of Hua Cheng's pants. He Xuan pulls away from the kiss and lowers his head, his mouth closing on the hardness visible through the fabric. Hua Cheng tenses visibly at the touch and a moan escapes his mouth, his cock twitching under the light-feather brush of He Xuan's lips.

"Oh, you tease -" he breathes out, his cheeks flushing light pink, the hue a bit too muted to look fully human but enough to send shivers down He Xuan's spine.

After that, he does a fast job of unbuttoning the trousers. He takes a second to admire the view in front of him - Hua Cheng's lips are swollen and red from kissing, his gaze dark from lust, robes and hair dishevelled and his cock, already leaking precum, twitches again, waiting to be touched. He Xuan won't deny the other ghost king, so, in a flash, he's placing kisses along his hardness. He licks slowly from the base to the tip, his tongue relishing the sharp saltiness of the other man. Hua Cheng pushes his hips up and He Xuan grabs his thigh in response, pinning him in place, and then he puts the head of the cock he's holding in his mouth. Hua Cheng writhes and moans, the fingers still entangled in He Xuan's hair, pulling on the strands. The sharp pain of the pull forces a moan of his own out of his mouth and he starts sucking on the cock in his mouth gingerly, his hand on Hua Cheng's thigh probably leaving bruises as he forcefully doesn't let the man under him roll his hips up. His lover is coming apart fast; guttural moans leaving his throat are only broken by hitched breaths and cries. He Xuan takes the length even deeper into his mouth and looks up at Hua Cheng, who comes as soon as their eyes meet. He Xuan swallows, the saltiness not too unfamiliar to a sea creature that he is. He doesn't let his eyes leave Hua Cheng's face as he releases his cock from his mouth.

"How was that, gege?"

The cock he just released from his mouth throbs at his words and a laugh leaves his mouth at the sight; he wants to stand up, scoop the man in front of him into his arms and take him to bed properly, but he doesn't get a chance, because the next thing he knows long fingers are out of his hair and on his neck, squeezing, and with his other hand, Hua Cheng is lifting him onto his lap. Their mouths crash together for a moment before his neck and ears are subjected to an onslaught of violent, open-mouthed, teethy kisses that will certainly leave their mark. As much as he would like to yield to this assault, the messiness of their hasty contact making him dizzy, He Xuan wants to do this properly. He puts his hand on Hua Cheng's chest and pushes him away while standing up. Hua Cheng's eye flashes red in response, a hiss leaving his mouth, but He Xuan ignores all of it. Instead, he wraps his hand around his fellow ghost king's waist and lifts him, flinging him over his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing? Don't carry me, I'm not some -"

"Shut up, Crimson Rain. I'm taking you to bed. I'm gonna fuck you like you need to be fucked."

To his surprise, he's met with silence—further proof that this isn't something Hua Cheng does often. Or at all. There's a thrill to the thought of taking his virginity, of him letting him be the one to lose it to, but it is tinged with sadness. No one cherished his body like it should have been cherished when he was alive; was this rutting of two corpses going to be even close to what he could have felt then?

The candles alight in the bedroom as they move through its threshold. There's not a lot of furniture there - a bed and a privacy screen with miscellaneous things such as robes, books, and a hair comb stuffed in the corners, left there without care and much thought. His palace in heavens was meticulously planned; the spareness of his living conditions here allowed him to maintain some level of separation.

He lays Hua Cheng on the bed and starts undressing. This isn’t a performance; his fingers make quick work of stripping away the layers of black fabric he usually wears, just to get his hands back on his lover’s body. Besides, he doesn't want to be watched too closely.

Crimson Rain Sought Flower is the most beautiful creature he has ever laid his eyes on, and he had centuries to perfect the form he currently was residing in, so comfortable in his skin. Even now, propped on his elbows, looking at He Xuan, his robes in disarray, eye patch just a tiny bit crooked, he was undeniably breathtaking. How could he, the definition of ghost royalty, look at He Xuan's malnourished body - perturbing ribs, visible collarbones, thin shins - and not be disgusted?

And yet, for some reason, the look on Hua Cheng's face doesn't change when the final piece of fabric drops to the floor. He Xuan takes a step forward, wanting to lay his hands on the other man again.

"Wait," says Hua Cheng, voice dripping with honey and lust, "Let me look at you."

He crawls across the bed on all fours to where He Xuan stands, then reaches out a hand. He Xuan's skin alights at the touch, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to grab Hua Cheng's wrists, pin him to the bed, and take him right then and there. Instead, he lets the other man's hands roam, only interrupting his movements to shed the clothing from him as well. When they are finally both naked, Hua Cheng puts his mouth where it belongs, at last.

On me, on me, on me, He Xuan's mind chants, no longer capable of complex thought.

Hua Cheng's tongue skirts over his nipple while his hands cup his bottom. Each swirl of the tongue over his chest elicits a breathy moan out of He Xuan, and in return, Hua Cheng squeezes his flesh more and more desperately.

"I need you in me right now," He Xuan finally says, just as desperate.

Hua Cheng's hands wrap around his waist and drag him down to the bed. His mind starts reeling the moment his back touches the pliant softness of the bedding, as suddenly his lover's body is touching every single part of his body that it can touch, pressed so closely they could become one. He feels fingers wrapping around his cock - so neglected until now- and somehow he both closes his eyes and sees stars all at once. Hua Cheng's wet mouth is all over him, biting, sucking, licking him. An eager mouth replaces the hand on his length, and the fingers that were just avidly palming his cock are now slowly circling his entrance.

Hua Cheng's other hand reaches blindly for his discarded robes, shaking the layers impatiently until a small, corked bottle falls out.

"You-!" He Xuan groans. Hua Cheng lifts his eyes at him, his mouth still swallowing He Xuan's cock down, and gives him a look full of innocence, "I can't believe you came prepared,"

He groans once more, this time at the sudden loss of the maddening heat no longer encircling his hardness.

"If I left everything to you, I would be waiting for this to happen for an eternity," Hua Cheng replies calmly, the master manipulator that he is, and coats his fingers in the oil he brought.

All smart responses vanish from He Xuan's mind at the feel of the fingers against his most sensitive spot, one of them finally breaching the opening and sliding in. A moan escapes He Xuan's mouth as he arches his back and presses against Hua Cheng's hand.

"More," he whines.

A second finger joins the first immediately, stretching He Xuan is the most torturous way. Hua Cheng is heaving, small moans escaping his mouth as the man underneath him fucks himself on his fingers, rocking front and back, long, black hair splayed around his body, eyes welling up with tears. These dark, almost black eyes focus on him now, and another soft whine, unbidden, leaves Hua Cheng's throat. He grabs one of He Xuan's ankles and pushes forward, putting his leg on his shoulders, his cock replacing the fingers of his other hand. He pushes in, and He Xuan yelps; it hurts, but in the most delicious, agonizing way he craved for too long. He can feel Hua Cheng shaking - his lover is looking at his face, lips quivering, gaze lustful, even as he is yet to move. He puts a hand on Hua Cheng's chest and strokes it soothingly.

"Shhh...it's okay, take it slow," he says.

"I...I've never.."

"I know."

Hua Cheng groans and shifts his body forward, pressing against He Xuan, trapping him in the newly-found heat of their bodies. He wraps his other leg around Hua Cheng's hips and his arms around his shoulders, bringing them even closer, his lover's hair cascading down. He kisses the hair and the side of Hua Cheng's face, which is now buried in his neck, biting and licking at it.

"Move," he says after a few seconds, no longer able to take the stillness, and Hua Cheng does, and oh. Oh.

How could he have doubted if this was going to live up to what it was when he was alive; it is better, it is absurd how good it is. Hua Cheng could crush him, could bleed him dry and feast on his bones, and yet here he is, embracing him, kissing his body, joining them together. It is so far from two corpses rutting He Xuan could cry. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets himself be fucked with abandon, shamelessly, clenching his muscles at every push, moaning loudly.  When he feels Hua Cheng's moves grow faster and more erratic, he puts his hand on his own cock and starts stroking it, wanting them to find closure together. It doesn't take long, with Hua Cheng on the edge from the very beginning and He Xuan absolutely drunk on his touch.

Hua Cheng bites down his whine on He Xuan's- by this point- mauled neck as he comes and the sharp pain of the teeth breaking the skin mingled with the pleasure of the cock inside him pushing against the sweetest of spots is what makes He Xuan come undone; he orgasms in his hand, splaying both their stomachs with the white liquid, his final moan basically a scream.

Hua Cheng raises his head and looks at him, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips red with blood and what else is there to be done than to kiss him desperately? So He Xuan does, refusing to let his cock to slip out of him, holding him as close as he can, his moves frenzied, almost afraid of losing any point of touch. The other man laughs deeply and with one swift move, he pins He Xuan to the bed, interrupting their kiss and ending their conjoining.

They look at each other, the only sound audible in the room their heavy, unnecessary breathing.

"You insatiable beast," Hua Cheng murmurs when He Xuan lifts his head to be kissed again, only to meet him halfway.

***

As much as he promised himself not to return to Fu Gu on the eve of Hanlu, his very soul yearned to be there each year. He felt the need to linger; he might have gained power inaccessible to other ghosts except one, but the place of his death still had an unbreakable hold on him. Each year, he wished to haunt and ended up being haunted himself.

Pray Lord Scholar He watches over us and slaughters the wicked.

He wasn't a lord, nor was he ever a scholar. Wasn't he who was wicked now? Ming Yi, imprisoned, with no release in sight and - if He Xuan was to be honest with himself - with a likely death sentence over his head, would certainly agree with this assessment.

"Figured I'd find you here."

He does not tear his gaze away from the procession, his eyes following closely the actor playing him, slashing and chopping and being wounded in response. In the first years after his death, when he was more closely tied to this place, the reaction to seeing the farce was more visceral. Now it was just some dull throbbing within himself and a certain bitter amusement. The red-robbed figure standing next to him taps on the hilt of his scimitar impatiently, waiting to be acknowledged. He undoubtedly thought he would surprise He Xuan, but he is now so attuned to the small shifts in energy that accompany the other ghost king's presence that he probably could retrace the other man's steps. He knows Hua Cheng has been here even before he himself appeared, gods know what for. His appearance in Fu Gu was imposing on a boundary He Xuan did not know he had - this meddling child was not needed here, not during this day.

"Did you? Brilliant deduction skills," he replies coldly, hoping it will make Hua Cheng lose interest.

He still doesn't look at him.

"Couldn't you find a sword, though? Can't believe there wasn't a usable sword in the entire Fu Gu and you had to chop at people with a butchering knife and...what is that? Is that a nail hammer?"

It takes less than a second to put both his hands on Hua Cheng's neck and lift him in the air. His nails turn into claws and he bares his teeth, growling. A few people turn their heads in their direction, probably considering them a part of the performance - neither of them put much effort into disguising themselves, and both look only vaguely human - and it infuriates He Xuan even further. He wants to snap Hua Cheng's neck and be done with it; doesn't he know better than to anger him on this night, in this place?

"Pipe down, beastie," says Hua Cheng and swings his feet back and forth in the air, as if this is just a game they are playing, "Don't exhaust yourself too much."

"Ugh," he lets go of the other man's neck and turns away to face the Bloody Fire Social again.

Hua Cheng stumbles a little from the suddenness of his release, but the devilish grin stays on his lips. He fixes the collar of his robes and massages his neck a little bit, as if to bring back circulation that isn't there. He Xuan observes him out of the corner of his eyes, hoping he will disappear into thin air, and that will be it. He doesn't, because he's a menace that always gets what he wants.

"Have you ever answered one of their prayers?" asks Hua Cheng conversationally, eyes focused on fixing the sleeves of his intricate, multilayered robes that He Xuan plans on ripping as soon as he gets a chance.

"Prayers?" he answers in a controlled tone, careful not to expose how much he hates those requests, "They are not prayers. They ask me to murder in their name."

Hua Cheng hums and stands right next to him.

"Who else could they pray to to grant them that?"

He Xuan finally looks at the other ghost king, who is staring at him intently, seemingly genuinely interested.

"I'm not their tool of revenge," he answers dismissively.

"No, you are yours."

The parade has moved some distance away already, but there is no escaping it. There's visible excitement among the crowd when the actor playing Scholar He falls to his knees, the only one not butchered yet. Children stare at the crazed expression of the man whom they just witnessed reenact a mass murder and they smile; it is as bizarre as it always is and He Xuan feels shame that out of everyone in this damned world, Crimson Rain Sought Flower is here to witness this. He wishes he could put an actual blade through the actor's heart so he wouldn't stand up to pick it up right at the beginning, repeating the slaughter over and over again until there was no one watching.

"There is this man," says Hua Cheng slowly, his gaze on the actor dropping heavily down on all fours, visibly heaving, about to tumble over, take Scholar He's final breath only to be reborn again in no time at all, "Here, in Fu Gu. He thinks himself a businessman, but the truth is, he's just a thug, sending his men to beat his debtors into bloody messes. A few men died because of these beatings."

Everything that Hua Cheng does and says today irks him.

"And what about him?" he answers, annoyed.

"How prideful must he be to act this way here, of all places. Some believe the vengeful ghost of this place will not let this pass."

He Xuan will not take the bait, so he stays silent. Hua Cheng puts a hand on his back, outlining the curve of his spine with one of his long fingers. It makes He Xuan shiver, like it always does.

"I've tracked them down earlier on. We could answer some of those prayers."

He Xuan nods, barely perceptibly, his fingers itching, his thoughts circling between shame, anger and desire to kill.

"We could," he responds, careful not to express any of these feelings.

While being led by Hua Cheng to the place he found the gang in (their fingers almost brushing while they walk, consistently, infuriatingly), he wonders if Crimson Rain knows about these feelings, anyway. Does he know that He Xuan hates the prayers because he wants to act on them? That he wants to be the vengeful yet benevolent god that he won't ever be because his chance of serving the heavens was lost on a frivolous and thoughtless creature? That he wants to kill in the name of his self-defined justice, be their tool of revenge, and stain his hands with blood? The story about him that still gets repeated and reenacted says that one day, he lost his mind and went on a rampage. The truth is, his mind had never been clearer than on that day. He remembers every slash and stab with clarity; he remembers how his heart soared, the call of the darkest part of his soul finally answered.

A celebration is being held at the dwelling Hua Cheng brings him to; nearly a dozen men sit around the courtyard tables, eating, drinking, and shouting over one another. The atmosphere is merry, and the presence of two ghosts, standing obscured by shadows at the edge of the courtyard, is not immediately noticed. The servants are terrified young girls who scurry away as quickly as possible after fulfilling the men's requests. Their fear mingles with the convivial mood of the thugs, and bile rises in He Xuan's throat. Killing intent must be coming off him in waves, and yet, the humans in front of him are none the wiser, drunk and disgusting and evil in the most petty way that deserves to be punished.

Hua Cheng, bored with waiting, takes a step forward. His robes shine brilliantly in the firelight, all red and silver, lively. He Xuan takes a step back, blending with the shadows even more. He reaches into his robes, taking out a black ribbon. He carefully ties his hair in a low ponytail, not wanting to get his hair too bloody.

"Hello, everyone."

Heads snap back in their direction as a response to Hua Cheng's greeting. The ghost king is bowing, albeit slightly.

"This humble one was just passing through; since it is dark already, I boldly ask to lodge here for the night."

The man at the top of one of the tables snorts. He's short, plain-faced, but well-groomed. He has an aura of power surrounding him. He waves his hand dismissively.

"Get lost. Don't you know who we are?"

"Oh, but we do," whispers He Xuan straight into the man's ear, his swift emergence from the shadows unnoticed. He grabs the man by the hair and slams his body into the ground.

Screams and the scrape of wooden chair legs against the floor fill the air. The man under him has been quiet, though - only a yelp escaping his lips as his back touched the ground, before his widened eyes set on He Xuan's face.

"Please," he moans now, "what do you want? You can have whatever you want -"

But He Xuan is not here to listen to begging, so he puts his clawed fingers in the man's neck, grabbing the slippery and hot insides of his throat, and pulls. The trachea and vocal cords glisten pink and red in his hand as he licks at them, and the thug's eyes fill with terror. His mouth gurgles, choking with blood, air not getting through anywhere. He's going to be dead in seconds, and He Xuan wishes he had taken his time getting this release. This violence of his often comes in bursts, leaving him tainted yet unsatiated. He stands up, releasing the mingled innards from his grip. He whips around to find his next victim, but his eyes fall on Hua Cheng. All that surrounds them are dead bodies, every single one drenched in its blood, vicious slashes covering their skin, entrails falling out, eyes glossed over, their faces expressing the same terror he saw on his victim's face. And in the middle of this gore is the ghost king, glorious, holding the last living man in his grip. He Xuan watches him bite into the man's neck, his sharp teeth finding the jugular and ferociously ripping it out. The spray of his victim's blood hits his handsome face as the man immediately topples over. Hua Cheng lets the body fall away from him, its neck still spraying red everywhere, and turns to face He Xuan. His robes are wet, almost black. Crimson droplets drip from his hair. His eye is dark, as dark as can be, as he raises his hand to his lips, sticks his tongue out, and licks the blood off his palm. The sight itself could make He Xuan's toes curl.

He closes the distance between them in one swift motion, his feet almost slipping in the wetness of their rampage, and he grabs the hand Hua Cheng was just running his tongue over. He brings it to his mouth and starts licking it earnestly while maintaining eye contact with his lover, his expression darkened with lust. He Xuan wants to see how much exactly he is wanted, so he starts sucking on the fingers in his mouth. Hua Cheng moans.

"I want you to lose control with me the way you just lost it with them," He Xuan breathes out.

Hua Cheng grips his robes violently, ripping them in his hands.

"Come here, then," his voice is even deeper now, overtaken with desire as he joins their mouths together.

He bites He Xuan's lower lip as his fingers find the ribbon in his hair and tear at it. He Xuan's hair fall on his back in waves. Hua Cheng tugs at his now-shredded robes, and they fall to the ground. His fingers curl around his hair, and he pulls on it, forcing He Xuan to tilt his neck back. For a moment, he imagines Hua Cheng ripping his throat the way he did the human before him; he grinds against his lover's body at the thought, his erection touching the material of Hua Cheng's pants; he needs them both naked right now, so he interrupts their kiss.

Hua Cheng keeps still, his gaze terrifying to everyone except the person in front of him.

"Let me," He Xuan says as he slowly licks the blood off the other man's face while his hands open his stained robes.

When the final piece of fabric leaves his lover's body, He Xuan starts dropping to his knees, forever needing to have the taste of Hua Cheng on his tongue; he isn't allowed, though, as fingers curl in his hair again and he is forcefully lifted. He yelps with surprise as Hua Cheng turns him around and propels him forward, pulling on his hair painfully. He is brought to the table their victims sat at. With one swift motion of his hand, Hua Cheng sweeps all the crockery and cutlery from it, cups smashing on the ground. The other hand pushes He Xuan against the table, his torso slammed flat on the wooden surface, hair splaying around him. He heaves with anticipation as one hand settles over his back, keeping him pinned in place, and the other reaches down to spread his thighs. Soon enough, there's a mouth biting and licking at the back of his neck and a finger pushing slowly into his entrance. Both sensations burn most ecstatically and He Xuan wriggles under the touch. There is a loud slapping sound as an open palm makes contact with his butt cheek.

"Be still or I'm going to hurt you," says Hua Cheng darkly and well, you don't have to tell He Xuan twice.

He tries to grind his ass against Hua Cheng's crotch and, in return, his hair is being pulled viciously, bringing tears to his eyes. There is a mouth biting into his hip, drawing blood.

"Naughty," he hears his lover whisper into his flesh as he bites down lower and licks at the blood pooling in the back of He Xuan's back. 

The hand pulling on his hair pushes his head forward now, pinning it against the table. The cheek he ends up lying on is being scraped painfully. Blissfully.

Two slick fingers enter him suddenly, making him shiver and groan in response. But this Hua Cheng, the one who was permitted to ravage carelessly, is not patient today; he usually makes He Xuan come undone and only after he allows himself his closure, but today, He Xuan needs him as vicious as he can be, as selfish as he can manage and he must know that. He takes his fingers out and starts pushing in with the head of his cock, his moves relentlessly steady. He Xuan whimpers at the sudden intrusion. Pain and pleasure flood his senses, and then, in one swift move, Hua Cheng forces himself in fully, immediately hitting the spot within He Xuan. His legs are threatening to give out, but he cannot move, his body pinned down to the table, his back folding under his lover's weight, broken sobs escaping his mouth. The pace Hua Cheng sets is relentless, his every move forceful. He Xuan's thighs are constantly slamming against the hard edge of the table - he can feel bruises forming on his skin, and he wants more, more, more. But suddenly, the hand pinning his head to the table softens its hold as the man fucking him stops moving and takes a step back.

"No, this is wrong," Hua Cheng murmurs, barely audibly, and kneels to search his discarded robes.

"What are you doing?"

He Xuan's voice is a whine. He's left there, splayed over the table, legs shaking, needing, and this complete asshole -

"I wanted to do it the way you wanted tonight, but we are not doing this," responds Hua Cheng, and in one swift move, grabs He Xuan around the waist with one hand and rolls the dice with the other.

The place they end up in is the Paradise Manor master bedroom. The interior is luxurious, decadent even, and, as always, He Xuan feels completely out of place. He wants to hide his malnourished body, its sight so mismatched with the opulence surrounding him. But the master of this house doesn't let him dwell on these feelings as he guides him gently by the hips to the soft bed in the middle of the room. He opens the red, transparent curtains and pushes He Xuan slowly. He lets himself fall like a rag doll, boneless, unsure of what is happening, what is wrong. He feels the bed bend further under the other man's weight, and the long fingers are back on his hips, turning him around so they face one another. Hua Cheng kneels between his legs, fingers slowly caressing his thighs.

"Hello," says the ghost king, and He Xuan is afraid.

He's never seen Hua Cheng so soft, so unguarded, with so many emotions visible on his face. Why, he wants to ask. Why now.

"Hello," he responds raspily while looking anywhere but at the other man's face.

He's not granted respite, though - Hua Cheng grabs his chin in his fingers and delicately moves He Xuan's face in his direction, while bending over to bring their heads closer together. Their gazes meet, their lips brushing against one another. It is the softest of touches, as if He Xuan put his mouth on a butterfly's wings, and it makes something in his heart stir.

"A'Xuan," Hua Cheng whispers, his voice tender and sweet as he places soft kisses on He Xuan's neck, torso and then stomach. It's nothing like the violent grabbing from before - this is way worse. He should stop it. He's been guarding himself against it, always responding roughly to tenderness, fastening the pace when Hua Cheng tried to slow it down, drawing blood between caresses. But he's wanted it, too - that is why he allowed himself to be snuggled, after. That's why he's allowed himself to fall asleep, unguarded, while feeling the long fingers caressing his hair, time after time. He's wanted this and he wasn't sure he was allowed to take it, but gods, wasn't he tired of this constant refusal he subjected himself to when it was clearly being offered.

So he allows it to happen now, relaxing into the touch as Hua Cheng kisses his thighs and then circles his tongue around his entrance and licks at it.

"Baobei," He Xuan sighs as he curls his fingers into Hua Cheng's hair, the pleasure rolling off him in waves, absolutely intoxicating.

Hua Cheng murmurs appreciatively but doesn't respond, his tongue slowly pressing in him and swirling around, eliciting shuddering breaths from He Xuan. These breaths soon turn into broken sobs when the skilled tongue explores him more deeply and a delicate hand wraps around his hard cock, stroking it leisurely. He's close to coming undone when Hua Cheng finally turns him around, grabs his hips, and enters him, his length finally back where it belongs. They fuck slowly, Hua Cheng's every move calculated to bring him pure pleasure and no pain. Kisses are being peppered alongside the curve of He Xuan's spine, his hair wrapped around long fingers that caress and do not pull. He's being tended to and not devoured, and tears are threatening to spill from his eyes; he comes into Hua Cheng's hand that strokes him gently through his orgasm. Then his lover quickens the pace of his thrusts to finish quickly, so there's no discomfort for him there. Xe Xuan collapses face-first into the bedding when Hua Cheng pulls out of him, breath caught in his lungs. He forces the air out and stops breathing altogether, all of a sudden feeling too overstimulated and human. There's a wet cloth being pressed to his sensitive rim, and he tenses at the feeling.

"Relax," says Hua Cheng quietly after he lies down next to him. He slithers a hand under He Xuan's head, the second arm wrapping securely around his waist, pulling him closer. He lies on his side after being thus manhandled, Hua Cheng's lips touching and breathing on his neck, one arm wrapped securely around his shoulders and the other around his belly, thighs curled and pressed into his, toes touching. It's almost overwhelming, all these points of touch, the sweetly musky scent of their bodies in his nose, the salty taste of their skin on his lips.

"Have you ever thought why you need to have all of this laced with violence?"

He Xuan is on the verge of falling asleep when Hua Cheng whispers his question, and he wonders for a second if he can simply ignore it and let the darkness overtake him. Hua Cheng bites his ear playfully when he hears no response.

"Isn't this our nature? Just who we are."

He can almost hear Hua Cheng rolling his eyes before he lets out an exasperated huff and bites He Xuan's ear again.

"Monsters? No. We are not."

He is unconvinced, but he squeezes the arm holding his shoulders gently, as in agreement.

"At least not only that," adds Hua Cheng and kisses his hair softly.

***

He Xuan knows he enables Shi Qingxuan entirely too much, for absolutely no reason, and that it has to stop. However, spending time with the brat has its obvious advantages.  But some of his answers should really start and end with a curt "no".

"Ming-xiong, come on! I've never been to Ghost City! Even my brother has visited it on numerous occasions, he told me! Everyone does it, why shouldn't we?"

Like the answer to this one, for example.

He is worried, though, that Shi Qingxuan will go by herself if he refuses, and he really doesn't need that particular headache. He switches to Ming Yi's female form, then, to match Shi Qingxuan's.

"You need an outfit change," she says grumpily, eying the exorbitant, flashy robes the Wind Waster is wearing, "Unless you want to make a spectacle out of yourself."

"Ah! Would the ghosts recognize me?"

He Xuan presses her lips into a thin line and stays silent until the robe change actually happens amidst all the grumbling and whining. Then, they are off and He Xuan sincerely hopes the master of the city is somewhere else, busy with gods know what, and that he won't even notice -

She spots almost immediately after they enter the city, leaning on one of the buildings, arms crossed, wearing his teenage disguise. All ghosts give him a wide berth and shoot him reverent looks, which, somehow, go unnoticed by Shi Qingxuan, whose long hair constantly brushes He Xuan's arm as she swishes her head from left to right, taking all the sights around her in, smiling widely. Hua Cheng's lips are also curved upwards, but in a smirk, his eyes questioning and somewhat angry. He Xuan realises he has probably overstepped -they enter each other's territories when they need to see each other, yes, and Hua Cheng takes care of his fish when he has to stay in the heavens for extended periods (all adding to his debt, obviously), but taking a stroll with a heavenly official in tow, admiring the city Crimson Raid had built by himself, its very existence an act of resistance, must be putting a strain on their trust. He Xuan sighs, pondering over the brain cells he notoriously loses when in Shi Qingxuan's presence.

"See me in Paradise Manor after you're done here," she hears in her private communication array at the same moment as the Wind Master says, delighted, "Ming-xiong, look here!"

***

"How was your date?"

Hua Cheng's tone verges on ironic as he tries to feign disinterest by looking at his nails. He's casually splayed on his throne, his robes a little disheveled - certainly on purpose as well.

"Jealous?" answers He Xuan casually and runs his hand through his hair, because, well. He will use the weapons he has.

Hua Cheng snorts loudly, and He Xuan hears the Waning Moon Officer turn on his heels and quietly leave the room that he just brought him to. Does he expect them to fight, or is he anxious about witnessing...something else entirely? He's not sure how other creatures view their relationship; the heavens seem convinced they hardly ever interact, but he's not paid much attention to the gossip of ghosts.

"Why would I be jealous of him?"

Hua Cheng stands up rapidly, E'ming rattling at his side, dark expression clouding his handsome face, and as much as He Xuan enjoys fighting with the other ghost king, he also isn't actively looking for a fight right now. He raises both his hands.

"Okay, okay. Listen. I'm sorry I came here with him, I should have asked your permission. He's been pestering me for months, and you've not replied to me in days, so I thought you were out and busy somewhere -"

He stops mid-sentence, realising that he sounds like a cheater caught mid-act trying to appease his lover and a subordinate overexplaining his trespasses to his lord; he is neither, so he falls silent.

Hua Cheng stealthily descends the few steps separating them and puts a hand on his chest.

"The act you put on...it's good," he says, gaze unfocused, his hand grabbing at his black robes.

He is lost in thought for a few moments, He Xuan perplexed at the shift in his behaviour. Hua Cheng's unpredictability is one of the things that makes him so fascinating, but the sudden shifts often throw He Xuan off balance. He feels like the core of who Hua Cheng exactly is continues to elude him - possibly because of his own ignorance, or because of the other man's making. Whichever the case, the thought is bitter, unwelcome. On some level, they know each other in a way inaccessible to creatures that have not been forged like they were. But this intimacy has been forcibly thrust upon them; they rely on it now, vulnerability sometimes still...lacking.

He doesn't respond - instead, he puts his own hand on the one still grasping his robes. It brings Hua Cheng out of his reverie. They lock eyes.

"Do you use your female form often?"

It is not the question he thought Hua Cheng would ask.

"You mean, Ming Yi's female form? I do not have one of my own."

"You looked so...free, in it," Hua Cheng's tone is pensive and careful, like they are discussing something delicate and it is one of the weirdest conversations they've ever had. "I've never seen you look like that. At first I thought that, for some reason, it was him, but now I realise...Don't you want to have a female form of your own? It will be easy for you."

He is right in that when he turns into a woman, Ming Yi's form feels less oppressive. But he never thought that the effect would be similar when in his true form. It feels like a transgression, but hasn't he breached all boundaries of what he should have been? There's excitement to this thought, and Hua Cheng must notice it, cause he laces their fingers together and tugs at He Xuan, leading him deeper into his mansion. A few silver butterflies flutter behind them; it almost feels like they are children, running somewhere to play, delighted. It's a foreign feeling to him, and Hua Cheng must be no more familiar with it; maybe even less, if he considers the pieces of knowledge about his childhood he managed to piece together.

They both end up sitting cross-legged in front of a big mirror in one of the bedrooms. Some of his rooms at the Nether Water Manor are not furnished at all, only there to replicate the Ming Yi palace in the Heavenly Capital. Paradise Manor is a polar opposite in this aspect; every room is not only furnished but filled with treasures, as expected of the richest man in the ghost realm. As for both of them huddled in front of the mirror -well, they look weird. Dangerous is an adjective that could be used to describe both of their true forms and sitting like this together, knees touching, as if they are young, living girls-

Oh, Hua Cheng already is one. Her cheeks have filled out, creating dimples in her smile. She has two eyes, their warm, deep brown something He Xuan knows from his teenage form. Her lips are plumper and so is her body, breasts filling her robes nicely, a small curve of her belly protruding while she sits. She's made herself shorter, too, and it would be so easy for him to scoop her in his arms, caress her soft body, so alluring in his fullness and lack of sharp edges. He Xuan laughs, delighted, when he sees her, and it surprises him - Hua Cheng can easily get chuckles and soft laughs out of him, but he's been a stranger to happy laughs for a while now. The girl next to him responds with a brilliant smile, all dimples.

"Your turn, A'Xuan," her voice is sweet as honey, as it always is, but its higher pitch makes He Xuan want to make her moan, scream, and elicit every single sound he can from her.

With effort, he tears his gaze away from Hua Cheng and focuses on his reflection in the mirror. He starts changing his appearance slowly, his face becoming more delicate, his cheeks less sharp. He lets his brows remain a defining detail of his appearance, but makes them a little less bushy. His eyes shine more golden than usual, and his hair becomes even longer. He lets his chest fill out a little, and his hips become bigger. Making himself fuller like Hua Cheng did does not feel true to him, but he makes his ribs disappear in his chest. He looks both frail and fierce—and that’s how he feels, most of the time, so it’s good enough.

"What do you think," she asks, breathlessly, not tearing her gaze away from her reflection. She's not malnourished anymore; this hair doesn't remember being so brittle and weak that every brushing brought her scalp pain; this body has never lain on the wet and cold ground of a prison, shivering from cold and fear. This body was made cautiously and with reverence. There was no caution in the purple, black, and blue marks that covered his body. Hers was intoxicatingly different.

Hua Cheng scoots closer, sitting right behind her and moving He Xuan's hair away from her neck with one swift sweep of her hand.

"I think," she says, kissing the exposed skin of her neck, "That you are as beautiful as ever."

He Xuan leans against the woman behind her, her shoulder blades pressing into the softness of Hua Cheng's breasts. She tilts her head upward and closes her eyes when their lips meet. They stay kissing for a while, fingers caressing each other's faces, and it is so different and yet somehow the same. She feels heat engulfing her body, the temperature rising little by little, arousal filling her veins in a tide that becomes more and more turbulent. She feels the rush in her entire body, concentrating in many places instead of the one usually begging to finally be touched; every brush of Hua Cheng's fingers (so similar, so different) feels like an electric current - the soft pinch of her nipple through the fabric of the robes, the hand squeezing and caressing her thighs. The heat goes to her head as she feels herself throb, so wet and full of want. She feels herself being lowered to the ground and opens her eyes. Hua Cheng's cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen from kissing, her hair getting in her eyes. She looks lovely, gaze focused as she disrobes He Xuan and lets He Xuan shake her robes off her shoulders. When they are naked, they both become still, only their gazes wandering for a moment. He Xuan interrupts the moment by propping herself up on her elbows and bringing her mouth to Hua Cheng's collarbone, sucking a mark there. Hua Cheng whines, and He Xuan seizes her by the waist, swapping their positions in one swift move. She straddles the girl beneath her and puts her hardened nipple between her teeth. She bites down delicately, and Hua Cheng throws her head back, half-moan half-whine escaping her lips, and all He Xuan wants to hear is this sound until the day she finally destroys her ashes and her resentment is dispersed. Hua Cheng's neck is fully exposed, that way, and He Xuan can see the barely visible pulsing of the skin where the jugular is pumping blood. They are both so full of it in these forms, it seems, their nerve endings somehow more sensitive, their veins fuller, pleasure to be found in every part of the body. He Xuan lowers her head to the bare neck of her lover and lets her teeth become a bit sharper; not fangs, exactly, but nothing human, either. She feels Hua Cheng gazing at her, and she meets her eyes while baring her teeth, breathing heavily. She feels he own wetness coating Hua Cheng's belly where she's sitting on her, even this barest touch of the other's skin is making her faint with want.

"Do it," Hua Cheng trembles under her. Her legs are moving, her thighs brushing against one another, giving her just the tiniest bit of friction.

He Xuan licks at the soft skin of her lover's neck and bites down, sharp teeth breaking the skin easily. Her mouth is full of blood, throat coated in the deep, salty, iron flavour of it. She swallows the first mouthful and then takes her teeth out, her hand bringing Hua Cheng's head forward so the blood doesn't flow into her hair and onto the robes and floor beneath them and instead trickles down her collarbone, down her breasts, only to pool in her belly button. The wound scabs over quickly after He Xuan's canines retreat, but the stream of blood trickles down Hua Cheng's body. She follows its direction with her tongue, drinking every single drop. She sucks on the left breast for a while, scooping the blood that pooled around the nipple with her tongue. Hua Cheng moans unashamedly, her fingernails embedding deeply into He Xuan's skin at almost every suck, bite and sweep of the tongue. She buckles her hips forward, the blood pooled in her belly button dribbling onto the side of her belly, and He Xuan trails behind it, catching every drop while she lowers herself to lick at her lover's underbelly. She moves to kneel between Hua Cheng's thighs, her mouth placing kisses on the black, coily hair until she finally finds her lover's clit, puts her lips over it and sucks gently. A whole body shiver moves through Hua Cheng at the sensation. He Xuan replaces her mouth with a finger, applying pressure, while her tongue skirts lower, licking up and down. There are tears in Hua Cheng's eyes when she roughly grabs He Xuan's hair and rolls her hips forward, coming with a sharp gasp followed by loud moans. He Xuan continues licking, wanting to bring her to a second peak, but Hua Cheng squirms under her while grabbing her by the shoulders, switching their positions quite roughly.  He Xuan's back hits the floor, and the robes do nothing to lessen the sharp pang of pain. She hisses at Hua Cheng, who pays her almost no mind while she sprawls on her belly in front of He Xuan's spread legs.

"Beast," Hua Cheng says with a glint in her eyes as she bites He Xuan's inner thigh, drawing blood and sucking on it.

It suddenly is too much to bear. She feels her warm arousal leaking onto the robes beneath her, her cheeks flushing at the feeling, and Hua Cheng's breath hitching at the sight.

"Watch yourself in the mirror while I fuck you," says Hua Cheng while spreading her folds to lick at her entrance.

So He Xuan does. Her long, silky black hair fans out around her like a halo, her cheeks are flushed red, and her eyes are hazy with lust. Lips parted, there are remnants of blood and spit in their corners, and her chin shines with Hua Cheng's juices. Her breasts sway every time she moves her hips to chase the mouth of her lover. The view is intoxicating. It feels like they can purge death from their bones like this, like their bodies truly are capable of more than rot. This illusion feels true, somehow. Her vision blurs for a moment when Hua Cheng puts two fingers into her, his mouth still teasing her clit. He Xuan starts moving against those fingers, arching her back, wanting them deeper. Hua Cheng adds a third finger, still sucking vigorously, and He Xuan cannot breathe, cannot think. Every nerve in her body is tense, she's chanting her lover's name, she's whining, impaling herself on those fingers, squeezing the head between her legs with her thighs, completely out of control. If she doesn't come, she will go insane -

"Hua Cheng....Hua Cheng...Ah...Oh gods, I love you, I love you, I love you," she babbles and then she comes with a scream, her body suddenly a dead weight dropping down to the floor, soft moans escaping her lips, her pussy still throbbing, every blood vessel in her body expanded and full of blood.

Hua Cheng is sitting, cross-legged, between her legs. He Xuan has no idea when he moved or changed back, and suddenly, she's mortified. Her lover brings his hand, slick with her fluids, to his mouth and starts licking one of his fingers while looking at her intently. She is not able to hold his gaze. Instead, she looks around her, wondering how quickly she can grab her robes and escape -

There's a hand crushing her wrists when she starts to move, and she whips her head around, her fight-or-flight response turning to fight. She extends her hand to push Hua Cheng away, but he's bigger, stronger, and catches her other wrist with his other hand.

"Don't even think about it," he says darkly, "And change back, now."

He does, but even as he grows into his male body, he remains smaller, skinnier, weaker, and terrified. And then Hua Cheng is pulling on his hands, making He Xuan crash against his chest, and they're kissing.

Kissing?

The thought is hysterical, and He Xuan must be experiencing some post-orgasm mania, but then Hua Cheng's still slick fingers start circling his entrance impatiently, one hand still grabbing his wrists.

"I want you to ride me," it is almost a growl, and it make's He Xuan's cock throb. He expected to be punished, and this is a punishment he will gladly accept.

But when Hua Cheng drags him by his hands to the edge of the bed, puts his back against it, and makes He Xuan sit in his lap, one of his fingers sliding into his tight hole, it doesn't feel like he's being chastised for crossing the invisible boundary they've never discussed. No, once he has him where he wants to, Hua Cheng's features turn softer, wanting. His lips part when he sees He Xuan spit in his hand and his eyes close when fingers curl around his, locked between their bodies, cock.

"A'Xuan," he whispers and his fingers slip out of He Xuan, who immediately lifts his hips forward and lowers himself onto the leaking cock he was just stroking.

Hua Cheng wraps his arms around his torso, still moaning quietly. He grabs a fistful of his hair and his face squeezes into He Xuan's chest. Their movements are unrushed. He Xuan slowly raises himself up and down while Hua Cheng is slowly caressing the length of his spine with his fingers, the other hand still curled in his hair, his mouth kissing and licking at his chest. It's excruciating; the angle is just right, hitting the spot within him every time, and all He Xuan wants to do is speed up. And yet, judging by the moans leaving Hua Cheng's mouth, this is what his lover had wanted, and how could he deny him anything?

The way Hua Cheng curls around him, every touch a gentle caress, feels almost like a confession. And if this is all He Xuan gets, it will be enough.

"Look at me," Hua Cheng sounds like he's on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed down.

They lock eyes. He Xuan brings his hand to his lover's face and slowly takes his eye patch off. It is not the first time he's ever done this, but it is the first time Hua Cheng doesn't tense at the move. He Xuan kisses the brow above the scar where an eye used to be and then returns his gaze to Hua Cheng's only seeing eye, his gaze so vulnerable, so young.

"I'm looking," he responds, and they fuck like that for a while, eyes locked on one another, lips softly brushing time and time again, their pace still agonizingly slow.

I see you, I see you, I see you.

See me.

Tears are forming in He Xuan's eyes. He feels raw, he's so overstimulated, the friction of his cock against Hua Cheng's belly is a torture, and the storm of emotions hurling within him makes everything worse. He wants them to both stop and keep going until they physically cannot anymore, which would be a long, long time.

"Look at me," Hua Cheng says again, his voice a whimper.

"I am," He Xuan responds, and touches Hua Cheng's trembling lips with his finger.

"I love you," says Hua Cheng and.

And.

Laughter bubbles in He Xuan's chest, for the second time today, and once again, it is not a reaction he expected or is familiar with. He thought his tears would spill, that he would come, that he would potentially explode, even. Instead, he laughs softly and kisses Hua Cheng's trembling lips.

"I know," he whispers against them, quickening his pace.

***

He Xuan often wondered who Hua Cheng could have been if not for the circumstances of his birth, the curse he thought was placed upon him, and the war that had torn his country into nonexistence, taking his life alongside it. He knew, intimately, how it felt to have his fate, and ultimately life, stolen; but believing in being cursed ever since one could remember...was something else entirely. His heart ached for this child, so alone in that world, wanting to die. Would he follow through with this wish if his god hadn't intervened? He Xuan couldn't imagine how hateful his existence must have been to the boy - his own life, in the end, filled his mind with insanity and rage, and yet, he never turned it on himself. He went on a murdering spree, believing in retribution, while this boy died on a battlefield, believing in something bigger than himself. However misplaced that faith had been, it is not for He Xuan to judge.

Why didn't you save him, he thinks now, standing in the entrance of a room where Hua Cheng is sitting hunched over a desk, brush in hand, ink on his fingertips and lips, which he must've touched when thinking, You told him to live for you and you let him die.

He knows it is an unfair thought and one he could not voice safely, ever. They argued once that it was actually good that the Xianle army did not let teenagers into it, regardless of how much they wanted to sacrifice themselves for the Crown Prince. He was told he should visit the Xuan Zhen palace the next time he wanted to suck someone off, then. Hua Cheng refused to answer their private communication array for over a month after the conversation. He then increased the interest on his debt.

The memory chases away the sadness he felt when his eyes fell on Hua Cheng earlier on. It shouldn't be possible for He Xuan to sneak up on the other ghost king, especially in his territory and house. It shouldn't, but it sometimes is, because if Hua Cheng had lived, if he had been given a chance, he would have been an artist. Yes, he was a good ruler; an even better businessman; but only when creating his eyes became this light, this focused. When he painted or sculpted, everything around him ceased to exist. Now, the brush was dancing on the page, and Hua Cheng was lost to the world. Only in those moments could he be studied, and He Xuan never missed an opportunity to learn, however patient he had to be, regardless of how long it took. He already knows what - or, more specifically, who - he is painting. He supposes he should be jealous, but. How could he, when the only reason his love was here, not alive, not dead, a creature of in-between like himself, was because of this god's fall from grace?

He Xuan takes a step forward, and the sound of his robes shuffling finally makes Hua Cheng notice him. He freezes briefly, clearly surprised he managed to get so close without notice, and then scrambles to hide the pages before him.

"Oh, are you painting something nasty?" jokes He Xuan and it gets him an even more bewildered look.

Well, he doesn't try being funny often. He grabs Hua Cheng's wrist to make him drop the paper he's grasping; the pages fall onto the desk and, unsurprisingly, the face he stared at for the longest twelve years of his undeath is staring back at him. He Xuan has a few of these paintings himself, having stolen them just to have something that came from under Hua Cheng's skilled hands.

"You surprised me," mumbles Hua Cheng while fumbling with the papers, a big concession on his side, and He Xuan wonders what exactly is on his mind. He touches the red pearl tangled around Hua Cheng's hair.

"You will find him someday."

His tone is as neutral as he can manage, and cautious. Hua Cheng knows everything about his resentment, his pain, his plans of revenge, but this, this is something they rarely discuss. Mainly because its presence is so obvious, so undeniable, which makes it so easy to leave it unspoken.

"I thought I did, today," Hua Cheng replies with the same caution, but leans a little into his touch, as well, "But I failed, as always."

There's this hatred that's sometimes present in Hua Cheng's voice; when He Xuan first heard it, he believed it was the same rage that filled him, forever cursing coldly through his undead veins, waiting to be roused and for his fingers to grow talons that can be washed in blood. And it is similar, but for the other ghost king, the hatred focuses on the person it curses through. He Xuan would like to spread Hua Cheng's ribs open, put his hands inside him and catch every sliver of it - pull it out with force, consume it, turn it on himself. Instead, he caresses Hua Cheng's hair as tenderly as he can, as if he's not a creature of loathing and fury that could burn with envy, if he chose to.

"You will," he repeats, and it is something he believes in, against his wants. Undeniable.

Hua Cheng lifts his head to look at him, and there's this storm in his gaze, and wasn't He Xuan a creature made for staying afloat when ships sink around him?

"And would you forgive me for that?"

Silence falls between them for a few long moments, and doesn't he know? That he would forgive him anything, if he wanted forgiveness, even if there was nothing to forgive? He wants to laugh. You make me feel human, he wants to say.

"There would be nothing to forgive. Why would I begrudge you being loved by your god?"

Suddenly, there's despair painted all over Hua Cheng's face, and He Xuan does not understand it. He squats in front of Hua Cheng, their gazes leveled, and squeezes the other man's shoulder, trying to understand.

"He could never love me," Hua Cheng spits out and.

"What?"

"I'm -"

Unlovable? A monster? What that makes me, then?

He feels his hand fall from Hua Cheng's body, the touch suddenly unbearable. Wrath is prickling at his nerves, veins, thoughts, always ready to be harnessed. What that makes me, he wants to hurl at the other man. He chooses differently, because he can, because this here is the difference between unfeeling resentment and chosen vengeance.

"He will love you. How could he not? And how could I begrudge you that?"

Hua Cheng stands up, abruptly, angrily. Takes a few steps away from He Xuan. Runs his hand through his long hair, clearly exasperated.

"Aren't we selfish, by nature? How can you bear the thought of someone else having what you wouldn't want to let go of?"

He Xuan sighs and straightens himself.

"We, humans or we, monsters?"

Hua Cheng barks a laugh; it would sound unkind to all other ears. It sounds anxious to He Xuan.

"Is there a difference for us? I, for one, feel this selfishness deep inside me. I want you to love me, I want you to keep wanting me, even if that means I will have to break you at some point. Your love is expendable to me. That's disgusting."

I know this, thinks He Xuan. And isn't that better? Isn't knowing someone so intimately more precious than love? He laughs softly.

"Well, I'm selfish, too. I want you in any way I can get you, even if you feel guilty about it. I don't care if you pray to him for forgiveness. It could torment you, and I would still want to see you writhe under me. You could want to kill me for it, and I would probably let you, if you'd only devour me slowly so I could enjoy it."

Hua Cheng snorts.

"Gods, beastie, your dramatic flair bobs its head up at really unexpected moments."

He Xuan will behead him.

***

"I have been abandoned."

Hua Cheng's voice is petulant, his lips in a pout. He's sprawled across the bed, nude, in He Xuan's bedroom in the Ming Yi palace. In the Ming Yi palace, in the Heavenly Capital, where He Xuan is impersonating a heavenly official.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he hisses and shuts the door quickly behind him, shooting a glance over the palace's corridors, looking for any other unexpected visitors. He knows the palace is full of his clones and no one else should be here - he left the Ling Wen palace in a hurry immediately after feeling a disturbance in his. And the one disturbance he felt was currently lying in his bed. But, Shi Qingxuan has no respect for personal boundaries, and the last thing He Xuan needs is him stumbling upon Crimson Rain Sought Flower wearing only his eyepatch while visiting his friend, the Earth Master. Friend?

His eyes return to Hua Cheng, whose lips are still sporting that petulant pout, his eye shining bright with mischief. He spreads his legs widely, shamelessly, the moment He Xuan's attention is back on him.

"You've been neglecting your gege, A'Xuan," he says, seductively, and licks his lips.

It is a breathtaking sight; Hua Cheng is all slender limbs, lean muscle and delicacy of a youthful death. His silky, black hair cascades down his back and He Xuan wants to grab it in a fist, pull on it, make the other man whimper. There's no self-control to be had when the hunger deep within him rears its head, telling him to play with fire, dive in, and not come back for air until it is satiated.

He undresses himself quickly, eyes not leaving Hua Cheng who licks his right hand and starts stroking his half-hard cock unhurriedly. When all the layers of fabric drop to the marble floor, He Xuan climbs onto the bed and crawls between Hua Cheng's legs, both his hands grabbing his lover's thighs, caressing them slowly.

"Let me make it up to you, gege," he says, and Hua Cheng shivers. He lets go of himself and brings the wet hand to He Xuan's lips, parting them slightly. He Xuan gives his fingers a little nibble and then moves them away from his face. He grabs Hua Cheng's length at the base of the shaft and puts his mouth around the head, teasing the slit with his tongue. A loud moan fills the chamber, echoing off marble floors and walls, and He Xuan doesn't care, cause he wants to make his lover scream.

"There's a vial in a pouch under the bed, pass it to me," he says, continuously stroking the cock with one of his hands while extending the other.

Hua Cheng's eyes narrow, and his body tenses.

"What do you need it for here?"

He Xuan rolls his eyes, fastening his pace. Hua Cheng is not easily distracted when he wants something, though, so he continues staring at He Xuan, even as his hips give him away, rolling towards the touch.

"To finger myself while thinking of you, obviously," he finally replies when Hua Cheng does not relent.

His response is met with a snicker and he feels the body under him relax and stretch as the other ghost king searches under the bed with his right hand. He uncorks the vial when he finds it and passes it to He Xuan.

Gods, he's so beautiful like this, He Xuan thinks while he straightens his back and sits back on his heels, coating his fingers in the viscous oil. He drops the bottle unceremoniously on the floor next to the bed and leans down again, palms caressing Hua Cheng's most sensitive spots.

"Show me how you looked when you died," he says, his voice strained, lustful yet tinged with a hint of fear at the boldness of his request. He thought of it too often, and while they played at Hua Cheng being older than him, he couldn't stop thinking about him as his boy. Whom he needed to see, whose body he needed to cherish. Hua Cheng shifts into his teenage form, one eyebrow lifting.

"No," He Xuan says, his lips suddenly dry, "No, I mean how you really looked. Please."

He extends one of his hands, bringing it to his lover's cheek, caressing it with his fingertips, holding a breath that he suddenly wants to draw. He feels Hua Cheng's chest expand and sees his mouth exhale, and then he becomes a bit older. Still less than twenty, and He Xuan feels a sharp pang in his chest. Hua Cheng's features become sharper, cheeks hollower, and dark circles form under his eyes. His ribs protrude from his chest. It is a look He Xuan knows intimately from looking in the mirror, and it hurts, it hurts so badly that it is hunger that they share so openly. The last thing that changes is the eye, the brown of the idealized teenage form suddenly replaced with vibrant red. He Xuan smiles. He shifts into his pre-prison form instantaneously, belatedly realizing he was still Ming Yi up to this point.

"Oh," Hua Cheng suddenly says, and smiles too.

He Xuan wears his death on him all the time; the face that is his for eternity is the face he died with. But a few years before he finally snapped, there was a moment when he was happy. Was it as fleeting as it seems now? Back then, his parents were still alive, as was his sister. And he thought he was going to get married. Oh, how he wanted to wear red, take his bows, and be someone's until the day of his death, decades later. If only he were allowed that! He would have then met his demise with gladness.

So while this sharpness, this hunger, this curse is something that Hua Cheng hides, He Xuan hides behind it. And behind it, there is him, his cheeks fuller, lips full of blood, brows relaxed. He, like he could've looked when ascending. He, a visage of the statues that were never built. Hua Cheng reaches out his hand to touch his face, fingertips ghosting over his forehead, eyebrows, nose.

"Beautiful," he whispers, reverent.

He Xuan lowers his head to kiss the side of Hua Cheng's belly, delicately pecking his belly button and then following the trail of black hair with his tongue, all while pressing a finger into him, slowly, while caressing the rim with his thumb in circular motions. Soft moans leave Hua Cheng's throat at every exploratory movement of his finger inside, and when He Xuan finally adds another, the boy writhes under him, his pupils blown wide open, his body shivering.

He's a lamb that went to slaughter, having never been touched, never been kissed, never been loved. The fury at the world, always present at the core of who He Xuan is, inflames again; wasn't it the world that was cursed, sending boys like these to die for ideals and borders, both meaningless concepts, and not this beautiful creature under him? Thirty-three temples were not enough retribution - he should have burnt he Heavenly Capital to the ground and all in it with it.

When he enters him, Hua Cheng's entire body is trembling. He Xuan shuffles in close and deep, as deep as he can. He feels Hua Cheng's legs wrapping against his back tightly and he puts his arm around his neck, their faces right in front of each other. With his remaining hand, He Xuan traces Hua Cheng's face with his fingertips, as the boy did with his. He starts moving his hips, thrusting deeply, and Hua Cheng's eyes flutter shut. He Xuan kisses his eyelids, once, twice. Places quick pecks on his temples, his cheeks, his chin.  Skirts his tongue along Hua Cheng's parted lips, and his boy pulls him in for a deep kiss, breathless, needy. He Xuan's hair fall on both sides of their faces, shrouding them like a veil. It is only them behind it, and their breaths, hot on each other's skin against all logic. They are dead, but death can be tender, as He Xuan had discovered. When he first became its servant, he only needed to grab, tear and break, win a battle against it, and then provide it with more victims.

We could have killed each other, he thinks.

We should have killed each other.

And yet, they didn't, and it was somehow worse because what he felt should be outside of the possibility for him to be feeling. He didn't need to draw blood or break bones. But he still would. Not his, never his. But he still would, and he was afraid it would make him inhuman again.

"Stop thinking," says Hua Cheng, breathless, in between his moans, "And look at me."

His voice brings He Xuan back to reality. He lifts his gaze only to be met with a fervent look in Hua Cheng's eyes, the red of one of them looking like it's about to spill on his cheeks in bloody tears. Sweat has plastered his hair across his forehead, his cheeks are flushed red, and his lips are raw from too much kissing. His cock is throbbing violently, clasped between their bellies, leaking at the tip. All his muscles are pulled taut, tense from being overstimulated and oh so close to release. He Xuan wants to see him like this every day, or bring him back from the dead and let him grow up, or find his god and make him look. He wants, needs, desperately, to do something, anything, that would make the water filling his lungs and choking him evaporate. That would make all this feeling go somewhere that it now cannot go, because they are not human, and this is going to end, and He Xuan dreams of his ashes being destroyed someday, so he can rest in peace, the sound of waves crashing on a shore during a storm lulling his very soul to eternal sleep. All he wants is for Hua Cheng to live, and himself to die, and yet they are both here, undead, yet feeling. How cruel is that?

"Come for me," he says, his throat raw, and he bites on Hua Cheng's lips, drawing blood, slowly licking its taste while thrusting deeply, barely containing his own release.

Hua Cheng grabs his face with his hand and holds it, roughly, looking into He Xuan's eyes as he comes, broken sobs escaping his bloody lips, tears clouding his eyes. The hotness of his come splaying their chests is what makes He Xuan finally lose control. He grabs Hua Cheng's ass with his hand, hoisting it higher, the other hand letting go of his lover and supporting himself against the bed. Hua Cheng whimpers under him as he starts fucking him even harder, his young, too-human form surely too sensitive and spent now for such treatment. But he still holds He Xuan's face in his hands, and looks at him, tears spilling from his eyes.

He Xuan's orgasm is like a tidal wave that is spilling out of him, the water in his lungs leaving by every pore of his body, and he is spent, completely undone, washed clean of every thought he has ever had.

Hua Cheng is gasping for air under him and sniffily rubs his teary eyes with one hand while clapping He Xuan's back with the other.

"Get off me, get off me, get the fuck off me," He Xuan hears him repeating when his ears start to work again. He reaches his hand down and pulls out, simultaneously rolling off Hua Cheng and taking a shaky breath in.

Hua Cheng hisses and slaps He Xuan's chest.

"Ouch, asshole."

He Xuan stares into the ceiling, still unable to really focus, but reaches out his hand and starts caressing Hua Cheng's thigh.

"Sorry, gege."

He hears Hua Cheng shuffle closer, and his face appears in his field of vision, strands of his hair tickling He Xuan's face.

"Should we discuss how you're into fucking teenagers?"

He rolls his eyes and smacks Hua Cheng's ass, smiling at the yelp it gets him.

"Not before we discuss you being into fucking older men."

"Well, I also like fucking bloodthirsty sea monsters."

He Xuan snickers and lifts his head to peck Hua Cheng's, still raw, lips. His boy laughs, and he can't stop smiling into their next kiss.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, nothing really. But I'm pretty sure the entire Heavenly Capital has just heard you orgasm, Earth Master. "

That is when He Xuan remembers where they are.

***

His desire for revenge had the iron taste of blood, the saltiness of the sea and the sweetness of dark, red wine drunk on an empty stomach.

But its actual taste turned out to be sour. At first, the blood was there; on his tongue, on his hands, flowing freely, spraying from the head of his enemy, boiling inside of his veins. Droplets fell on the floor, sprayed the walls, coated his robes, covered the naive face in front of him, its features contorted in terror, its lips calling out a wrong name. Then the blood turned into ashes, choking him, granting him no relief. Evil was gone; long live evil. Now, whenever he thinks about the performance of it, he recoils, as if he just licked a particularly sour citrus fruit. Has all of this granted his family even a sliver of peace?

He thinks about his sister, so delighted at the news of his engagement. Thinks how maybe, he should've taken his lover here, dressed in red as always, and bowed to her and his parents with him. He would have told her that This is the love I will not allow to be taken away from me.

Maybe he could have taken Shi Qingxuan's hand, said I'm He Xuan, and together, they could have kowtowed to his parents. If they did, he would have said, Mother, I've forgiven him. Hope you can forgive me.

Father, if only perseverance could have saved us.

Instead, he wove intricate stories, drew arrays leading to places they weren't supposed to (or were they?), and hurt, hurt, hurt. Everyone around him. Himself.

When Hua Cheng struck him, his body digging deep into the earth, for a moment, he didn't move.

So this is how it dies, he thought, more curious than anything. Laced with violence.

And maybe it was true, what the other ghost king once said. Maybe it wasn't their nature as monsters. Looks like it, after all, was the most human of reactions. He struck him out of fear, fear for someone he loved. And didn't He Xuan know how that trepidation poisons the mind, making it the only thing to focus on?

And then, Hua Cheng died.

Not really.

It felt like it - the pull of his presence, nested somewhere deep within He Xuan's very existence, at first lessened and then disappeared for the most agonizing beat of He Xuan's usually non-beating heart. He grabbed at his chest, wanting to rip his ribcage open, sure that butterflies would burst out of the gaping wounds.

His sibling.

His lover.

And then, the pull was back, just a trickle, a thread.

He remembered another thread, a red one, on both their fingers. He was happy the Crown Prince also had something he could feel. Something that could say, He will be back.

Because he will be. And in the meantime, He Xuan will grieve him anyway. Grieve them.

***

The waves are caressing his body. It is the calm before the storm on the South Sea, dark clouds rolling overhead, the wind picking up. The waves will start crashing against him soon enough. He will then let himself sink to the bottom, curl in the coldness and dark, and sleep. For how long, he doesn't know.

He closes his eyes and thinks of the terror in the eyes of the people who stumble upon him when he walks barefoot along the shore. The hems of his one black robe are battered, and his untied hair dances on the wind. The dead pallor of his skin gives him away instantly; the blackness of his gaze and the flash of his fangs are what make them shudder and run away.

He misses acting human. He will start again someday when feeling human stops being such a burden on his heart.

He feels a ghost touch of fingers brushing against his outstretched palm in the water. He would have thought it a mere phantom, a night terror of memory. But he felt every step the man took in his territory; the ground sang to He Xuan He's here. The water of the lake asked if she should entrap him and never let him go. The trees bent towards him, in deference to the wind. But He Xuan did not move.

It doesn't matter how long it took, say the waves washing over him.

But he waited, against himself, for so long. Only to be forgotten when the time came.

He feels his bone fish start to circle them, almost bobbing to the surface. They must be touching him with their mouths and fins, and he must be letting them.

Fingers grab at his hand, then, and tug. He looks to the side, and his breath catches. Long, dark hair with a red pearl entangled in it; the black eye patch; a deep brown eye, the cherry red lips. Silver earrings, crimson robes. The long fingers squeezing his hand. He Xuan closes his eyes for a second, his senses overwhelmed, and then returns the squeeze before he grabs Hua Cheng's wrist. Just to check, to make sure this is not a phantom, after all. He feels the insatiable energy thrumming in the ghost king's veins, the pull towards his presence no longer as urgent as they are touching again.

"I did forget, at first," Hua Cheng's voice is quiet.

He looks at He Xuan intently and he feels laid bare under this touch. He manages not to flinch at the words and instead gives the other man another hand squeeze, not trusting his voice to not betray him.

"And then I was just embarrassed that I forgot and spent the last few days agonizing about it. You can smack me about it all you want. Or kick me. Bite me. Maybe don't behead me, though, coming back to life after being dispersed is draining as fuck and I've already done it twice. And I'm not sure what you do with the heads."

He Xuan sighs, and drags them both underwater. They stand on the bottom and He Xuan starts walking them towards the shore, his fingers interlacing with Hua Cheng's. The bone fish circle around them, delighted. Hua Cheng extends his other hand and lets them brush against it. When they take a final step to stand onto the sand, dripping wet, hair sticking to their heads, Hua Cheng looking ridiculous in all his finery, He Xuan lets himself breathe in the salty sea air and makes his heart beat. He then takes a step forward and wraps his hands around the taller man's neck, hugging him tightly. Hua Cheng's strong arms return the embrace. He feels Hua Cheng's mouth in his hair, breathing in, and he won't let himself cry. This is good. This is how it was supposed to be.

"I missed you," he says and then lets go.

He sits down on the sand, looking towards the sea. The waves are becoming bigger, and he sees lightning split the sky somewhere over the horizon. Hua Cheng sits down next to him, their arms touching.

"We are friends, right?"

If that is what he wants them to be, yes. He doesn't respond, but nods, looking at Hua Cheng inquisitively. He notices the mischievous look in the other man's eye and prepares his own eyes to be rolled.

"As a friend, I need to inform you that you're absolutely terrorizing the heavens right now. There are stories of you walking along the shore day in, day out, and they have no idea what you're planning."

He Xuan snorts.

"Maybe I just like walks on the beach."

Hua Cheng hums.

"On the other hand, humans have been obsessed with you. They sneak in and hide behind the trees just to watch you pass by them."

"I've noticed."

"And then they purchase books about the tragic story of the sea that fell in love with land."

He Xuan frowns.

"What?"

"Oh, that's a metaphor for you and me. They're basically saying you look like your wife just died."

Hua Cheng snickers and then laughs out loud at the look He Xuan is giving him. Which can probably be described as incredulous.

"They're popular in Ghost City as well. Yin Yu says you will be a celebrity if you visit."

"Ok, that's enough. I never want to hear about this again."

Hua Cheng raises his hands in front of his chest and pouts, an image of perfect innocence.

"Fine! But it was very funny that I found you dramatically floating in the sea. Very on brand."

Maybe a dispersed Hua Cheng was a better Hua Cheng, after all.

"Ugh."

They sit in silence for a while, then. Hua Cheng's fingers once again find He Xuan's hand, and they give it a light squeeze. They tremble, barely perceptibly, and their touch is warm.

He Xuan clears his throat, almost choking on the words he cannot say. Then, he smiles, anticipating the melodic laugh that will fall out of Hua Cheng's lips.

"Since we're friends, could you lend me some money? I need to restore my manor, it's been in ruin for over a year."

Hua Cheng laughs, and it is enough.