Work Text:
He could distinctly feel those wounds sting, because they were still fresh and open. They hurt him, of course they did, but not more than others. He received so many punishments throughout his life by his uncle, that he became used to the sensation of pain. Of intense, constant pain. Pain washed over him.
There was only pain into him, until he felt another hand, a gentle touch, right onto himself.
Feilong's palm was placed on top of Mikhail's shoulders. One of the few clear pieces of skin, with no wounds at all, was being caressed.
He could sense his heart about to burst out from his chest, because that gesture really meant everything to him. He blushed heavily, trying to shift away awkwardly. He sat down with his legs crossed, but lowered down his head onto the ground.
But Feilong's fingers caressed one side of Mikhail's face too.
"I'm with you," whispered Feilong soothingly.
He looked up at the elegant, beautiful man right before him. He couldn't even believe what had just happened between them, just how gently Feilong had touched him and how sweetly Feilong had talked to him.
The redness was still visible on his cheeks, so he diverted his gaze somewhere else.