Work Text:
“I thought I told you to rest,” Morax says from his throne. His voice is as warm and gentle as he can manage, matching the eternal evening breeze of this domain, but the adeptus standing before him still flinches at his words.
“I have failed you, my lord.” Xiao’s gaze lowers, his eyelashes sweeping across the pale jade of his cheeks. So cold amidst all the gold and cor lapis of Morax’s throne room. “I swear I will try harder in the coming days. It’s just—” He flinches at his own words this time, one hand curling tight as if around the shaft of a spear. Trying has never been good enough for Xiao. His joints relax with visible effort before he corrects himself. “I will obey, my lord.”
Morax covets Xiao’s obedience more and more with every passing year. But he fears that this time, he has set his little bird too difficult a task. A fair contract is dependent on the abilities of both parties.
He knows Xiao tried to rest; he slew only half as many demons as usual in the preceding month. But exhaustion still clings like karma to his narrow bones. His muscles still tense in constant readiness, constant pain. He will work himself to death like this, his god’s name on his lips.
Morax covets Xiao’s reverence as well as his obedience. But he would rather keep his pretty adeptus a few eons more, to continue cherishing him. He values Xiao far too much to permit him to work himself to death.
“Remain by my side tonight,” Morax says, and Xiao’s golden eyes flicker up, uncertain. “I will help you obey.”
Only divine eyes would catch the faint pink flush across Xiao’s face. His expression is as solemn as ever when he answers, “Yes, my lord.”
Morax savors that delicate flush, wondering once again whether cold, controlled Xiao harbors desire in his heart as well. Whether Morax could take that too from him. Morax rises from his throne and descends from the dais, bare feet meeting cold marble. With each step of his approach, Xiao’s head lowers, but he doesn’t kneel. Morax trained him not to, centuries ago. He regrets that sometimes.
Maybe tonight, they should unravel that lesson a bit.
He touches Xiao’s jaw and lifts his head with the faintest pressure. Xiao is perfectly still, but Morax is close enough to feel the trembling in his spirit and see the delicate shadows under his eyes.
Adepti do not sleep, but they still need rest. Xiao has deprived himself for far too long, and Morax considers it his own negligence. Xiao has been his responsibility since the moment he named and claimed him. He walks a circle around Xiao, his fingertips trailing around the slim neck, brushing through silken hair, until they stand side by side. Morax’s hand falls to the small of Xiao’s back.
“Follow me.” He pushes gently, and Xiao moves with his touch. They walk together through halls of gold until they reach a pair of filigreed doors.
The doors swing open at Morax’s approach, revealing a cliffside garden. Golden trees frame the enclave, and snow-white qingxin blossoms blanket the ground. A path of soft green grass leads to a small pavilion, before which spreads the eternal amber sunset.
Morax’s hand falls from Xiao’s back, and Xiao looks up at him. “Do you want me to rest here, my lord?”
Morax pulls the hood back from his face. Watches the way Xiao watches his movements. As if he remembers how to covet too. “I want to watch the sunset for a while. Even though it lingers forever here, it always changes.”
Mounting the pavilion steps, he touches the tea table. It vanishes, leaving only the carved marble bench. With a thought, a soft white pillow appears on the floor in front of the bench. Morax turns to Xiao and considers taking care of this next step himself as well—but some things are more extraordinary when done the ordinary way.
He sits on the bench and says, “Remove your gloves and shirt.”
It is the first order in a very long time to make Xiao hesitate. The barest fraction of a frozen second, before Xiao bites back any questions and moves. He strips his gloves off first, then his necklace and shirt, until he’s bare from the hips up. The green tattoos along his arm look particularly bright, and the eternal sunset highlights the lines of his ribs, the taut plane of his stomach. Xiao is a weapon carved by the harsh winds of suffering, and perhaps Morax should not find him so beautiful like this.
“You please me,” Morax says, because he is selfish and wants Xiao to flush again—yes, like that. “For every decade you have been mine, you have delighted me.”
“My lord,” Xiao whispers. “Serving you is an honor.”
A length of golden silk rope appears in Morax’s hand. “I cherish more than your service. If you were to simply sit by my side forever, I would still be content. Come here.”
Xiao takes a step forward, his gaze lowered to the rope in Morax’s hand. He stops when Morax wants him to, without Morax having to say it—close enough that his knee brushes the sweep of Morax’s robe. Xiao is as attuned to him as he is to Xiao.
“If I could best serve you that way, I would,” Xiao says softly.
Morax’s heart thuds. An earthquake behind his ribs. He breathes a laugh. “As tempting as it is, I will not waste you by locking you away forever. Only one evening, now. Turn around.”
Xiao turns, his head bowed, baring his nape. The sharp line of his spine. Morax leans forward, and his breath brushes against his little bird’s bare skin. Xiao remains still as a jade statue, only moving when Morax pulls his arms.
He’s flexible; he could manage a far more difficult pose than Morax asks of him now. But Morax doesn’t want this to be difficult—physically, at least. He bends Xiao’s arms at right angles, so his forearms press together and each hand clasps near the other arm’s elbow. When he lets go, Xiao doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
But his breath quickens.
Morax loops the rope carefully around Xiao’s arms, binding them together with firm but gentle knots. Loops around his forearms, and passing from one upper arm to the next, in a simple network. Every movement brings their skin together. The cool jade of Xiao’s skin warms with every touch. The golden rope brings out new luster in the little bird’s bound wings, and Morax’s blood heats as he imagines the marks it will leave.
Xiao is already his, body and soul, but Morax wants to claim him again and again.
He adjust the last knot and smoothes his hand down Xiao’s flank. Xiao shivers at the touch. The reaction surprises Morax. Xiao rarely reveals that much vulnerability.
Pushes gently, he turns Xiao around. The delicate flush is far clearer than Morax has ever seen it.
“How do you feel?” Morax asks.
Xiao’s breath ripples through his body. “I don’t understand the purpose of this,” he says quietly, dodging the question.
“I feel very pleased.” Morax allows him the evasion. “Sit with me and rest, while we watch the sunset.”
Xiao’s head snaps up. “Only that?”
Morax’s mouth runs dry at the disappointment in Xiao’s wide golden eyes. He reaches up and rests gentle fingertips against Xiao’s face. “I would gladly give you more,” he murmurs. “If I thought you were willing.”
Another shiver passes through Xiao and into Morax’s heart. The slight parting of Xiao’s lips is all the answer Morax can ask of him; he shifts his grip to the back of Xiao’s neck, and pulls him in.
Xiao bends like a willow, his arms bound behind him, and meets Morax in a fragile kiss. The sharp edge of a spear, parting the air. The white petal of a qingxin blossom, falling to stone.
After, Morax releases Xiao’s neck and murmurs, “Sit with me, my little bird.”
He’s never called Xiao that out loud, but Xiao doesn’t seem to find it strange. He kneels on the white pillow at Morax’s feet. His spine is as rigid as ever, until Morax slides a hand into his silken hair and pulls him closer. Then he melts, with his head resting on Morax’s knee.
Morax strokes his hair. Together they sit in silence, watching the sun that never sets.