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“I owe you an apology too,” Changyu’s voice is quiet, but not hesitant.
The fire pops and crackles in the stillness that follows, spitting tiny sparks that fade into the night air. Xie Zheng waits, patient as he can be only with her.
“I can’t say I regret trying to keep you safe, but I should have talked to you instead of just drugging you.”
Her lips curl in a self-deprecating smile, “For all I talked about keeping you safe, it didn’t occur to me that you would feel the exact same way about me. What I did to you – I would be furious if you’d done the same to me.”
Do you know what a battlefield is? It’s where lives are treated like dirt! I can die, but you can’t! The memory from that afternoon, a lifetime ago, is accompanied by the smell of smoke and iron. She can still feel the phantom grip of his hands on her waist, taste the tang of blood on her tongue.
“You apologized to me for lying; now, it’s my turn to apologize to you for taking away your agency.”
Xie Zheng’s forgiveness is easy, immediate, effortlessly given before it was even requested. His hand reaches for hers, bandage sliding against bandage, wound pressed to wound. “It’s ironic, that we both find it easier to protect than be protected. The truth is, true strength is living on.”
I’m not sure I would be strong enough to live on without you.
The implicit words fall between them, loud in their unspokenness, and they are momentarily lost in their own thoughts on war and loss and sacrifice and love.
Her hand twitches in his, “Aren’t you afraid your wound will split open again?”
Xie Zheng glances at her, a teasing light in his eyes, “I’m more afraid of you hitting me again.”
“Well, maybe if you didn’t keep kissing me out of nowhere…!”
“Alright, alright, no kissing,” he agrees amiably, happy to just bask in the ease of her presence.
Changyu glances at him in faint suspicion, but he only settles himself more comfortably on the log, leaning companiably against her shoulder as he closes his eyes. Firelight limns his profile, and she is struck by the way his eyelashes cast sooty shadows on his cheeks, the ridge of his brow as it softens in relaxation, the way the lush curve of his lips purses as he softly breathes.
She’s vaguely aware of her head dipping closer as she studies the symmetry of her husband’s face, her mind blank as her lips brush unthinkingly against his.
Xie Zheng startles, having started to doze off. Before Changyu can pull away in embarrassment, his hand tightens its hold on hers, his other arm snagging around her waist. His mouth moves against hers, and she lets herself sink into it.
Time suspends, the night falls silent, the world stills.
There is only the slick slide of his lips against hers, the cupping of a rough palm against her cheek, the warm exchange of breath.
Xie Zheng pulls away reluctantly, out of necessity for air. “You kissed me,” he rasps, voice gone low and ragged, his eyes wide with wonder.
Changyu is no better off, lips red and pupils blown wide. “I did,” she murmurs, not knowing where this will lead but willing to let this tension between them thrum. For once, there are no secrets between them.
“Kiss me again,” he whispers, desperately needing for this to be real, for Changyu to want Xie Zheng and not just Yan Zheng.
Something within her snaps, the hint of insecurity in his voice striking a chord. She surges against him, pressing messy, haphazard kisses against his mouth. As if of its own volition, her tongue traces the seam of his lips, dragging a feverish groan from Xie Zheng as his mouth falls open to let her in.
Their tongues dance together clumsily, neither having had any experience in this aspect. Then, Changyu sucks on Xie Zheng’s tongue, and his entire body shudders, a bow pulled taut. It’s suddenly far too hot, but she cannot bring herself to move away; the fire in her blood insists that she pull him closer instead.
“Changyu,” he pants, forcing his grip on her waist to slacken, “if we don’t stop now… I’m not sure I can stop.”
She peers at him through heavy-lidded eyes, hand sliding against his cheek as she brushes a thumb across his lower lip. “Stop? Aren’t you already my husband… Xie Zheng?”
It’s like touching dry brush to flame.
She finds herself half-draped across his lap as Xie Zheng noses against the arch of her throat, “Want you so much,” his confession breathes hot and humid against her skin, sending a tremor of heat right to her center that stays and pulses.
Changyu’s fingers thread through his hair, and she pushes her mouth against the patch of skin where his jawline meets his ear. She captures an earlobe between her lips, gently scraping her teeth against it, and is rewarded with a jolt and moan that quakes through his whole body. She sets all her attention to that earlobe, hoping to hear that sound again. “Changyu…!” Xie Zheng is gasping now, his blood ablaze. His hands clutch at her futilely, trying to touch everywhere at once.
Changyu presses against his broad shoulders, swinging a bold leg across his lap. There is no thought, much less shame. She is running on the instinct that drums through her veins, in time with her thundering heartbeat.
Xie Zheng’s hips twitch beneath her thighs, not quite bucking but a quiet plea. Changyu shifts her weight and – oh! – a perfect pressure pressing against right where she didn’t know she wanted him most. She rocks against it, and the stiffness that pushes back steals the breath from her lungs. Her hips start moving of their own accord, primal instinct understanding the mechanics of seeking pleasure, “Ngh… Yan Zheng… Xie Zheng…”
Her husband’s eyes are glassy, face flushed, the red running down his throat to the exposed skin at his collarbone. She leans down to kiss him, a messy sucking clash of lips and teeth, even as she continues riding him, grinding and bouncing on his lap.
Xie Zheng’s fingers scrabble at her back, her waist, suddenly frantic, fractured words falling from his lips, “Changyu, Changyu…! Need you… I can’t-” His voice breaks on a cry as his hips thrust up in their own rhythm, trying to meet her beat for beat, stroke for stroke.
Lightning seizes her all at once, pleasure shooting up her spine as her thighs tighten around him, “husband…!” That sends him over the edge, and he pulls her down hard, making a mess of his own robes with a moan.