Work Text:
His Highness Crown Prince of Xianle has never been known for his carelessness or, even more so, for his stupidity. Even slightest detail cannot escape from his sight and his mind, perfect and precise, easily connects all the broken pieces into wholesome picture.
It was extremely…presumptuous of Mu Qing to think that the prince would not figure it out.
His Highness knows.
And not only knows, but also sees. And observes.
He perceives the way Mu Qing looks at him. Surreptitiously, as if spying, as if sheepish, but still continuing to look. Lingering the gaze on the cheeks, on the lips and sometimes — if being lucky enough — on the bare collarbones and the neck. Well, the last one occurs only in the moments of dressing up. Oh, yes…
About dressing up.
Xie Lian would be lying, if he said he isn’t amused. Mu Qing, as always, performs all duties perfectly and, in general, it’s all that could be said. But even in the dim chamber lighting, his blush stands out all too brightly, and his gaze, wandering and blushing, is directed anywhere but not at Xie Lian. Mu Qing is afraid to open up, afraid that he will be noticed, that his every step will be under watchful attention.
To be honest, him being afraid is not in vain; with His Highness, there is nothing so secret but it comes to light.
They are sitting in the prince's quarters — completely alone. Feng Xin left somewhere in advance and will not return because the time is late and soon everyone will get to their rooms after a long weekday. There, behind the closed door, not a sound is heard, the atmosphere is relaxed, calm and the air is cool and humid, conducive to the purity of thought.
Xie Lian stands in the center of the room, with arms raised for better access. The workout, which ended just a couple of minutes ago, was exhausting and required striking power but at the same time — great concentration. All three of them — Mu Qing and Feng Xin included — are terribly tired, their breathing has just recovered, but only if Xie Lian can afford to rest now, Mu Qing cannot do so.
Carefully, with quick movements, he unties the belt, takes off prince’s outer garments and puts them in a basket nearby. Xie Lian instantly feels free and light but Mu Qing ... behaves unusually: even in the dim artificial lighting of the room – lit with candles - a light blush appears on his cheeks and Mu Qing swallows loudly, nervously. Xie Lian decides not to pay it attention for a time being and breaks the silence with his voice.
“Mu Qing, you fought splendid today.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course! I am very pleased that you drew your attention to the saber ...” – and, once again carried away, not embarrassed to show admiration once anew, prince embarks on explanations.
Xie Lian can't contain himself, when it comes to fighting, and not the slightest detail could escape his attentive gaze. Describing in colors how graceful Mu Qing is in battle, how skillfully he handles the weapons, how subtly and carefully he moves not allowing even the slightest mistake, the prince in his soul is incredibly happy with the weak smile that appeared on Mu Qing’s usually cold, distant face. He hardly believes into what has been said, and it is quite palpable, one has only look at him. No longer bound by outer garments, Xie Lian jumps across the room only in his inner ones, imitating swordsmanship and showing what exactly he liked most about the battle. The hair – earlier gathered in a neat bun – now are disheveled and knocked out, strands fall on the face after such active movements, and Xie Lian catches Mu Qing in the way he looks at him. Xie Lian himself, of course, knows that he is handsome, that one cannot take his eyes off him, and so he uses this shamelessly, even arrogantly. Not hiding the gleam in his eyes, prince finish the enthusiastic tirade with the words:
“Mu Qing, you move spectacularly in battle. I couldn't take my eyes off you all day!”
Xie Lian dances on the tip of the knife, balancing on the edge, but still, in no case does he say too much out loud. Mu Qing listens to him in surprise, not fully understanding what was said, but already blushing in advance. Compliments, admiring speeches are always music to the ears – especially when the crown prince himself is fascinated by him; how unusual it is for Mu Qing is felt in everything: he looks amazed, unbelieving, his eyes are wide open as he tries to hold back a smile – it’s impolite, after all – but he can’t help it, and Xie Lian makes a note in his thoughts that he needs to praise him more often.
“Your Highness… thank you. I'm glad to hear that you liked it.”
Everything still according to etiquette, without going beyond the bounds of decency even for a second. Xie Lian senses that things are heating up a little, but that's not enough. Mu Qing keeps himself in check, he is excellent at self-control when it comes to words, and absolutely terrible at reading reactions.
Xie Lian wants to challenge him and he allows himself this pleasure. He trails his look over Mu Qing’s face, lingers it slightly, makes him worry, feel the heat in his whole body, – and immediately smiles, running his hand through the hair, tucking the loose strands in place. They stand far away, within a zhang* from each other, but even so, Xie Lian can hear other's breathing.
*[Note: ~3.33 meters]
“I don’t want to go to the baths so much...” he draws pitifully, knowing how Mu Qing feels about this; he tries to appease in advance, looking sunny-sunny and affectionately: “Mu Qing, can you help heat the water?”
Of course, he agrees.
In the prince's chambers, in addition to quite usual furnishing: a bed, a table with a mirror and other small things, – there is always a large wooden barrel, which was brought in here from the very beginning, along with sheets of gold leaf and servants. And if Xie Lian ordered everything else to be sent back, he completely forgot about the barrel intended for water procedures.
The novices of the monastery always used the baths, but the prince, due to his lineage, was allowed to keep the barrel. Xie Lian still prefers the baths, but now… the situation requires a different solution.
Mu Qing agrees even too quickly, he nods and immediately goes out of the room, leaving Xie Lian alone with his thoughts. He obviously needs a break, at least a minute without stress, outside of the extremely stuffy chambers, and Xie Lian agrees to be patient, sitting down at a table and waiting for all the preparations to be completed.
Prince allows himself to be childish and therefore leans with both of his hands on the back of the chair, puts his chin upon them – and watches Mu Qing: his position quite allows to follow his every action without breaking the etiquette, and under a light, unobtrusive look, Mu Qing tenses even more and keeps his posture even, brows furrowed, deliberately not looking back in Xie Lian's direction while carrying water and filling the barrel.
Mu Qing is graceful even like this, he is amazingly handsome and Xie Lian smiles at such thoughts.
Mu Qing blushes even more for some reason, and it seems… interesting.
Xie Lian, seeing that the barrel is filled almost to the brim, turns around to face the mirror. He sits upright and waits to be approached. Unravel hairstyle is also allowed exclusively for servants, and Xie Lian does not want to break the rules in any way, especially since this is even fortunate in their situation.
Mu Qing's steps are loud and awkward, which does not fit in with his usual image at all. He approaches the table as if he is going to be executed, but at the same time he is trying to hide his excitement with all his might. Xie Lian even wonders if he went too far, if he should not have pressed so hard, even if without malicious intent, and therefore prince decides to alleviate the pressure, close his eyes and relax, as soon as Mu Qing touches his hair.
He unravels the bundle slowly, carefully; first, he unties the ribbon, puts it on the table next to Xie Lian – prince understands this from the rustling of the fabric – and continues. He pulls out a hairpin after a hairpin, but does not always manage to do it right away – apparently, his hands are trembling. Xie Lian feels relieved as the hairstyle stops tightening his head; the pain, forgotten, but reappearing every time when the hairpin was taken out, is gone. Mu Qing sways like this for a couple more minutes, taking out hairpins in a circle, and the sound of metal against the table gives off a ringing in the ears. Xie Lian understands that while his eyes are closed, the rest of the sensations only intensifies.
And soon... prince regrets this decision.
Mu Qing, finally gets rid of all the hairpins and burrows his fingers into prince’s hair with a habitual movement, unconsciously massaging the scalp to get rid of the creases on the curls. Xie Lian hears his breathing, feels how pleasantly, gently, but politely Mu Qing treats him, not allowing any unnecessary movements. Everything feels so ... sensual, even piquant, that the blood rushes to the head; it knocks in the ears, and they are burning as well as the whole face.
Xie Lian opens his eyes and looks at himself in the mirror. He is completely red.
Mu Qing, meanwhile, sharply looks away, turning his head, trying to remain unnoticed, and he is allowed to do this: Xie Lian is now busy with something else.
He urgently needs to calm down. Mu Qing is attentive to details, a little more, and he will definitely notice the stray breath, the blush, his even so red ears ...
Xie Lian recollects breathing practices, mentally reading the Tao Te Ching by heart, and seems to be getting back to normal. Mu Qing, meanwhile, picks up a comb and runs it from roots to ends — Xie Lian only feels it, not daring to look up just yet, but still gathering his courage. He looks in the mirror at reflection of Mu Qing behind him.
He comes across a deep dark unreadable gaze.
The comb is run again once more, and then Mu Qing finally puts it aside. Xie Lian's hair is heavy, long and thick, it is very difficult to wear it in a bun, but the feeling of freedom at the end of the day, the weightlessness, compensates all the inconveniences.
Xie Lian pushes his chair back and stands up, he turns towards Mu Qing and looks at him warmly, affectionately, smiling to completely get rid of the tension between them. He takes a step of his own, coming closer, and Xie Lian catches the hint — raising his hands for the second time that night to make it easier to take off his shirt.
Mu Qing, apparently, is already acting habitually, without thinking. He touches him politely, not allowing himself too much, and takes his top off his first, then the bottom.
Xie Lian gracefully steps over the side of the barrel and plunges himself into the water in one single movement in order to completely come to his senses. He waits for a couple of seconds and only then pops up. His hair immediately feels heavy, falling over his shoulders, his back tickles and Xie Lian combs it back with his fingers so as not to interfere with his vision. Mu Qing looks at him expectantly - he has already prepared a herbal decoction - and watches almost imperceptibly, only throwing quick glances so as not to embarrass, not to give rise to suspicion. Xie Lian turns in his direction and looks mischievously, slyly, starting to talk again:
“Mu Qing, how are you feeling lately?”
Xie Lian has no intend of hinting or expressing that he senses, sees, something wrong, but the words come out by themselves. A whole gamut of emotions appear on Mu Qing's face, subtly changing one another, but he copes surprisingly well with them; he pauses, obviously regulating his breathing so that it doesn’t go astray, and then he answers:
“Good, Your Highness. Everything is the same as usual.”
His tone is even, sustained. Xie Lian supposes that in reality everything is not “good” and not even “normal”, but since Mu Qing said so, he should be believed.
Xie Lian sits down on a wooden ledge inside the barrel, looking unobtrusively, out of the corner of his eye. Waiting.
Mu Qing approaches him from the back, holding a bowl with a warm, freshly prepared decoction of herbs. He puts it on the table, and Xie Lian, hearing a knock, freezes in anticipation, only slightly leaning his head back to make things more comfortable.
The broth is warm, it smells delicious and fresh, and Mu Qing holds Xie Lian's head, rinsing the hair roots and touching the skin gently, with little restraint.
The silence between them is long, complicated — understatement filling the air — but Xie Lian does not know how to get rid of it, and therefore he doesn’t say a word.
Mu Qing's hands, his fingers, palms glide through his hair, touching the scalp for the second time in the evening; his movements are gently and polite, but Xie Lian has enough of that.
And it becomes hot in an instant; the water seems overheated to the point of wanting to get out of it as soon as possible, but the air treacherously burns the lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Xie Lian understands: he blushes beyond measure, becoming more sensitive at times, and this, of course, does not go unnoticed. Ad then he hears an even, testing, voice from above:
“Your Highness, are you all right? Are you okay?”
“Yes…ahem,” saying at least something in response requires Xie Lian incredible effort, “Mu Qing, don’t pay attention to me. Continue.”
And Mu Qing continues; prince decides that it is better to be distracted by something other than his own feelings.
Mu Qing touches him again, washing away the remnants of the broth, and breathing heavily, as if being nervous and lost, but he tries his best to calm down.
And Xie Lian is embarrassed, but flattered at the same time. It feels nice.
He instantly, abruptly crawls out of the barrel as soon as Mu Qing finishes washing him; he does not even ask for help in getting dressed, rather, on the contrary, he avoids asking, so as not to be more embarrassed than before and not to put himself in an uncomfortable position.
Xie Lian sits on the bed and bends legs under himself, looking at Mu Qing attentively, but as if unfocused, as if he wants to see something, to learn, but is too immersed in his own thoughts.
Mu Qing approaches him with a towel in his hands and gathers his hair with it, squeezing water out. Then he ties it properly, fastening it so that the fabric does not sleep off.
They talk quite a bit, rather trying to break the silence, but their attempts come out weakly as they wait until Xie Lian's hair is dry and ready to be styled. Mu Qing, at the same time, habitually cleans the room, putting things in their places, folding clean clothes in neat piles and this view looks so familiar and reserved, that it’s impossible not to admire him.
***
Time passes quickly, fleetingly, and hair dries out sooner than Xie Lian expected. He once again places himself down at the table again, waiting for his hair to be combed, but this time there are no incidents, unexpected reactions and touches that excite and disturb his consciousness.
“Don’t pick up my hair, please,” he asks affectionately, with a hint of smile; looking into the reflection of the mirror as he admires the confuse on Mu Qing’s face – “let them stay like that. You did a great job, thank you.”
They exchange glances. Xie Lian's eyes are filled up with warmth as he expresses his gratitude with a slight bow; Mu Qing doesn’t like him doing this, but he does not dare to stop the prince. He mumbles out a quiet, imperceptible "you shouldn’t do this" but Xie Lian reads the words from his lips. Mu Qing is charming in his desire to observe subordination and not go beyond it for even a moment — but even more so he is beautiful in obvious desire to act right the opposite.
They continue to maintain eye contact for far too long, so Mu Qing averts the gaze as he is about to leave. Xie Lian almost nods to it, realizing that he, as a servant, really has nothing else to do in prince’s chambers, but a thought — a fleeting, albeit important, stubborn thought — flicks in his head, passing from the unconscious into a conscious, and Xie Lian succumbs to it unconditionally, almost mindlessly and almost—quite a bit — presumptuously.
“Mu Qing.”
The servant stops without taking a step. He turns to Xie Lian again, looking down at his feet, at the bed in the background, but not in prince’s eyes. He shamefully crumples, but still keeps himself in hand.
“Your Highness?”
“I see what's happening to you.”
The air immediately comes still within the chambers. Xie Lian looks at him directly, without any hesitation and therefore making it more embarrassing; Mu Qing shudders at his words, as if from a slap in the face, and Xie Lian feels fright and nervousness radiating from him, as if this is all happening to himself too. In Mu Qing's thoughts — there is hope that prince did not guess right, that everything was not so bad; on the face — there is poorly concealed worry in the form of his pursed lips and shifting look; and in his hands — there is tension as he clutches the hem of hanfu, already crumpled by the force grip of his whitened fingers.
“I don't understand what you mean.”
“You do, Mu Qing. I see it. Look at you.”
Xie Lian takes him in slowly, from head to toe. Mu Qing follows his gaze, noticing how he unconsciously pulls at the hem, and releases it sharply, awkwardly. He hides his hands behind the back, straitening up - he does not want to lose face, and Xie Lian understands him in this desire.
Once you start, you should go to the end.
“How should I phrase that…” murmurs Xie Lian, watching his reaction; he makes the trembling in the chest rising, the excitement — boiling in the head, the pulse — quickening: “you behave differently.”
Then prince pauses again. Mu Qing is silent, probably wondering where he made a fatal mistake, and Xie Lian continues:
“For example, if I did this earlier,” he steps forward a little, crossing all the boundaries of decency, and stops only at a distance of a chi*, raising his head, staring from bottom to top — but it feels like it’s right the opposite; Mu Qing freezes in a daze, in disbelief in what is happening: “you would not be embarrassed.”
*[Note: ~0.33 meters]
Mu Qing can't stand it anymore and retreats, covering his face with the hands. His fingers are trembling, his breathing is ragged, despite his best efforts to calm down, and Xie Lian even now seems to be able to hear his arrhythmic, insanely fast heartbeat. Mu Qing speaks quietly, hoarsely, but his words seem to be reflected from the walls, sounding legible and at the same time completely indistinct:
“Your Highness, I…sorry! I shouldn't have!”
Mu Qing almost runs out of the chambers, ripped open, brought into daylight, but freezes. An authoritative voice spreads around the room, echoing, it envelops the whole body, do not allowing to take a step:
“Stop,” and Xie Lian immediately pauses: he shouldn’t scare him with an orderly tone; so prince corrects himself, evens out his voice, sounding loud and even, - “what makes you think that I am dissatisfied?”
Mu Qing does not move; he stands straight as an arrow, looking at the door and once again, seemingly, trying to comprehend what was said. The silence that has reigned in the chambers is heavy and the tension is complex — even Xie Lian can hardly stand it.
Mu Qing turns to him again and the floorboards creak treacherously under his foot. His gaze is an abyss, his fear — the most beautiful expression, and his nervousness transmits to Xie Lian too; and to cope with it, to survive and save them both from misunderstanding, from the fear of non-reciprocity — is not an easy task at all.
But Xie Lian takes the charge and takes the first step both metaphorically and in figuratively. From fire into flames.
“Mu Qing, I like you.”
So unceremoniously; loud enough to make the intentions unquestionable, but not loud enough for anyone outside to know about them.
Mu Qing blushes and is lost. He looks unfocused, almost frozen, trying to calm the incessant trembling.
Xie Lian comes very close, taking his hands in his, stroking the skin, rough from constant work; he doesn’t look him in the eye, so as not to embarrass, and asks with a half of a smile, hoping, secretly hoping for the cherished answer:
“Will you let me?”
Mu Qing nods slowly, but without hesitation, and Xie Lian, happily and inspired, rises on his tiptoes. Young man, being embarrassed by what he sees, bends down himself and the long present tension between them finally exhausts itself.
Xie Lian still clasps his hands in his own, not wanting to give a chance to unnecessary nervousness. Touching Mu Qing — is his deep desire, an impossible dream that Xie Lian allows himself to approach for the first time in a long, incomparably long time.
His lips cover other's, and a barely perceptible spark passes through prince’s body. Mu Qing also shudders weightlessly, squinting, and for Xie Lian — this already means incredibly much.
They don't stay like this for very long. Taking a step back from one another, settling at an acceptable, familiar distance, they stare at each other and Xie Lian realizes that the tension does not go. He wants more, he wants to loose himself, allow himself more, to relax, but the desire alone is not enough. Mu Qing stands in front of prince completely confused, anxious, his itself posture is not as even as usual: his shoulders are slightly upturned, trembling. He is worrying.
“Mu Qing,” prince begins cautiously; he feels how his own fingers shaking and cheeks burning: “it’s very important for me to know what you are ready for now. I don't want to force you into anything.”
Mu Qing stands still, thinking a lot, but listening carefully, and Xie Lian continues:
“I want more, I… didn’t have enough. Do you know what I mean?” Mu Qing nods in response. “If something goes wrong or you’ll feel embarrassed or uncomfortable, just tell me, okay?”
Mu Qing looks silently, nodding again barely noticeable, and waits. Xie Lian approaches him, being purposely slow, as if teasing, and the smile does not leave from his face; prince again rises on his tiptoes — after all, there is a difference in their heights and standing close is a bit uncomfortable, as well as the kissing.
Mu Qing closes his eyes again, trusting, and Xie Lian incredibly wants to give him all the tenderness, all the warmth that he is only capable of.
They are awkward to the point of impossibility, to the point of obvious embarrassment, and Xie Lian waits a bit — to get used to, so as not to strain too much — and burrows his fingers into Mu Qing's hair, touching the back of his head to make things pleasant, reassuring. Mu Qing himself doesn’t know where to put his hands, and therefore Xie Lian directs him, placing them on the waist and feels the fingers clench. From this feeling he feels hot, but pleasantly so, the fire breaks out inside of him, and so prince continues the kiss more insistently, but still leaving a place for the choice.
Mu Qing is so handsome the way he is now: pampered, melted, a little lost, and Xie Lian cannot help but lean to his ear, whispering compliments. Mu Qing loves them tenderly: he blushes barely so and smiles, curving the lips just a bit, with surprise in the eyes, but with no sign of concern. They both make a couple of steps, moving away from the door, and are ready to continue kissing, but one thought does not give prince rest at all.
It always seemed to Xie Lian — as ashamed as he is to admit that he thought of such a thing at all — that Mu Qing is not tactile. Prince always considered him to be one of those, who would immediately try to escape, withdrawing into himself from any contact, but Mu Qing ... he doesn’t lean away even a bit. He clearly does not like being touched so much, and from other people, it is worth remembering at least Feng Xin, he shudders in disgust. But now it is nothing like that at all.
Turns out that he is influenced by Xie Lian. This immediately rises many options of why this is so, and due to the nature and the situation, the most unpleasant of them seems to be true. That’s why prince freezes and Mu Qing tenses again, getting frightened in response, as he sits on a high bed, looking up hypnotizes, while Xie Lian retreats a little, breaking the closeness, and speaks seriously, demanding attention:
“Mu Qing, I understand the position you are in now and I want you to know that I am not forcing you. Even though we occupy completely different places in the hierarchy, you can always say “no” to me, and I will accept it.”
The words sound very polite, attentive. Mu Qing looks at prince with awareness, with a bunch of thoughts in his head, but stays silent, as if frozen. Xie Lian waits for a while, and then his voice echoes through the chambers as he speaks again:
“I like you, but it’s important for me to the desire coming from both of us. Do you want to continue?”
Mu Qing’s face — is gamut of emotions. His clean, velvety skin turns red, then pale, although it would seem, how much redder it could get. Xie Lian is so lost in his thoughts, distracted, so the kiss on the lips, quick, harsh and inexperienced — Mu Qing needed to lift up from the bed, which is why was uncomfortable — occurs to him quite unexpectedly.
Mu Qing, lost to impossibility, sits down again in front of him, looking bewitchingly, and fiddles with the hem of hanfu. There is darkness in his eyes, deep and all-consuming, exciting, and Xie Lian leans forward to it.
How good it is when everything is clear without words.
He touches his lips, softer. Holds him by the chin, directing himself, tenderly, affectionately, enveloping with all the charms that he only has. Mu Qing clings to his shoulders with both hands, squeezes them, but does not pulling away. He closes his eyes, and Xie Lian feels how violently and desperately he is trembling. Is it from excitement?
Mu Qing is in front of him, trusting, supple, and time around seems to stop. Xie Lian knows that no one will interrupt them, that the time is already late, that there is no need to hurry, and this, of course, allows you to calm down.
Mu Qing hugs him, rustling the sheets as one of the lean forward a little, and this is embarrassing, the sensations are exacerbated extremely strongly. All the boundaries seem to be vanished, disappeared, and Mu Qing does not resist even a little, does not close in himself, only drowns in trust, in sensations and breathes heavily, closing the eyes. Xie Lian sinks a little lower, moving to the neck and kisses there gently, checking whether Mu Qing will allow this or will be against it.
It' scary to touch Mu Qing — Xie Lian is afraid to harm, of doing something wrong; but when Mu Qing involuntarily squeezes the fingers in his hair, not trying to push away, to pull back, —right on the contrary, barely pressing Xie Lian closer, — a trembling rises in prince’s chest.
Xie Lian feels himself special, important; he is happy from the depths of his soul that Mu Qing trusts him, that it’s prince who he clings to — even if weakly, as if checking whether he is allowed to do so.
Mu Qing is unusually warm, it feels even through the layers of clothing; and Xie Lian wants to be closer to him, touch him more, allow him more.
“You are so… hot,” the prince remarks, and only then does he realize the ambiguity of his words; Xie Lian smiles, not wanting to explain himself, and sees how Mu Qing blushes even brighter, stronger, but even as he is embarrassed, he does not want to move away.
Xie Lian stops for a moment to consider and then says softly in a charming, distinct voice:
“Mu Qing… let’s sit differently please, this way it would be uncomfortable for us.”
Mu Qing looks bleary, his eyes are endlessly dark, but he fulfills the request, listening to what is being told.
Xie Lian places himself on the bed, legs hanging over the edge, and Mu Qing takes the hint; at first he hesitates but then he pacifies the nervousness, and decides to act. Prince holds him by the waist, helping to sit more comfortably, while Mu Qing braces his legs on either side of Xie Lian's hips.
He is not going to sit down completely yet, still relying on himself, his own restraint, and Xie Lian is in no way against it. He kisses him, plunging back into the atmosphere, and the air around them is hot, stuffy and pressing, not allowing to think clearly.
The skin on Mu Qing's neck is thin, pale, sensitive, and Xie Lian shamelessly makes use of this knowledge: he touches it again and again, covers it with kisses quickly, feverishly, and the warm, endlessly warm desire grows inside him, becoming brighter, more tangible.
Mu Qing is taller than prince and they probably make… an interesting picture, but Xie Lian looks at him: so unconditionally subordinate, subdued; gasping for breath; arching in the waist; aroused to the brink, till eyes closed — and all thoughts fly out of Xie Lian’s head, as he reaches for a kiss, muffling unrestrained sounds and feeling his throat vibrate. He hears Mu Qing whine, how he asks to be touched, and feels Mu Qing’s trembling, how his legs buckle and he finally sits on prince’s knees completely, no longer relying on his own strength.
Hands reach for his hanfu on their own, and Xie Lian unties the belt cautiously, maintaining eye contact, as if silently asking for Mu Qing’s approval. He nods vaguely, waiting, and soon the outer robes are open, allowing to see the shirt underneath. Xie Lian touches him gently, at first only placing the hands on his waist, while he hears the rustle of the fabric; and the sensations they are sharpened to the limit, leaving no space to stay unhidden — and, a while later, prince penetrates under the clothes, outlining the sides with the fingers, caressing Mu Qing’s skin.
He sighs heavily, trying to bring his legs together, and Xie Lian looks up at him again, making sure everything is fine. The unusualness, the exclusivity of this evening unsettles and he wants to clarify the same thing for thousand times in the hope of hearing “yes”, so that the words warm, soften the corners, allowing not to worry so much. With Mu Qing, prince wants everything to be done carefully, slowly till the painful expectation, in order to always know Mu Qing’s answer, so that there is not a bit of understatement — but all this coming from a fleeting impulse, a moment of openness and emotionality, leaves no place for other options.
Mu Qing is worried — it’s obvious to see — but he nods again, leaning forward himself and their closeness becomes much more tangible; the contact ‘comes franker and Xie Lian cannot help but succumb to the heat, to temptation, and kisses him back, raisin hands a little higher, touching gently, doing everything to please Mu Qing, to see his every reaction and taking it into account: his every breath, every fleeting tension.
Mu Qing is inflamed, defenseless, excited; drowning in feelings and sensations, and it seems to Xie Lian that making him wait any further would be mockery, an excessive cruelty. He moves his hand a little lower, prying on the very edge of the pants and asks this time verbally, looking for Mu Qing’s answer, for his agreement:
“Shall I continue?”
“Yes, Your Highness, please…” and it seems to Xie Lian that Mu Qing wanted to say more, but stopped himself in time.
He is usually quiet, silent, and won’t say a word too much, but today… Mu Qing feels completely different; he seems to become more open, allowing himself and Xie Lian more.
It’s marvelous. And plesant for sure.
Xie Lian calms down, inwardly preparing himself for what is about to be done. He waits just a bit more, tormenting, teasing...
and — touches Mu Qing for the first time.
Mu Qing gasps, tensing up in an instant, and squeezes his fingers on Xie Lian’s shoulders unconsciously, but does not lean away. He does not move for a couple of seconds, getting used to the sensations, and after a while he leans closer, inflaming, adding excitement, probing, making everything feel brighter, stronger.
Xie Lian stares at Mu Qing — so supple, lively, sensual — and cannot take his eyes off him without catching a breath. He wants to recognize him, to unfold him like the most terrible mystery, slowly, in every detail, putting all the pieces together. He wants to see Mu Qing in all of different ways and today's side — is luck, the coincidence of chances and trust, of course.
Mu Qing’s eyes — deep, lost, begging and it’s hard to stay even a moment like that, without moving. Xie Lian smiles at his thoughts, closing the eyes and kisses softly, lightly, right on the corner of the lips, and Mu Qing himself leans forward a little, asking for more. Xie Lian thinks how lucky he is, and squeezes hand lightly, moving gently, slowly. None of them can’t wait any longer.
They kiss even more spontaneously than before. Feelings overwhelm them; the heat disperses through their bodies. but the tension does not let go of them completely and only the desire to get closer, to touch further, inflame the heat stronger remains in their thoughts. Mu Qing raises the hips, pressing himself unconsciously, thoughtlessly, pleasantly until his fingers tremble, and for Xie Lian, such every movement is torment, reeking of languor, which inflames him only more so, that it becomes almost impossible to breathe.
Mu Qing in his hands — is power and even if small it fascinates, drives Xie Lian crazy; his every touch — is a challenge, an attempt to make it more pleasant, better than it was; any movement — and Mu Qing is unable to stay on his feet again, he breathes shallowly, squinting and Xie Lian kisses him deeply, until he comes dizzy and the sensations become their shared, the heartbeats come quickly, so quickly and Mu Qing tenses with his whole body, whimpering quietly and then — softens, relaxing.
Xie Lian shudders the same time with him; the heat fades gradually, breathing becomes easier, and the warmth, soft, enveloping, relaxing, finally spreads through his body.
Xie Lian wipes the hands with the damp towel beside him.
Mu Qing by his side — is handsome, languid, utterly vulnerable, and Xie Lian is lost in this view, admiring. He wants to sit like this a bit longer, to drown in this closeness; wants to touch Mu Qing gently, tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, to stroke his cheek. He wants to kiss him again, more softly, calmly and he does so, smiling weakly.
“Thank you for trusting me,” says Xie Lian softly, whispering gently into Mu Qing’s neck, wrapping him in warmth: “I really appreciate it.”
And then prince carefully presses Mu Qing closer, leaving a place to choose.
He doesn't withdraw.
They sit like this for a long time, embracing lightly, calming their breaths and losing themselves in thoughts, each in their own. Mu Qing weightlessly squeezes or unclenches his hands on Xie Lian's shoulders, probably worried and Xie Lian wants to calm him down, he wants to get him out of the background anxiety, to save him, but prince knows that he can’t do so. The fact that Mu Qing trusts him is already the biggest luck and invading his thoughts, his feelings — is too much.
A minute or two passes ghostly, imperceptibly, and Xie Lian loses himself in thoughts, squeezing out emotion after emotion, pondering how to feel about to everything. They got together so... chaotically, with only one word, just one unrestrained impulse and all happened so quickly, feverishly... but there’re no regrets. Not a single one.
Mu Qing in front of him —unusual, a little more pliable, but still tense. Xie Lian raises his head, catches his look — they stare at each other unfamiliarly, thoughtfully — and pulls himself away. And once again, an impulse, that he doesn’t want to resist, arises:
“It's ... dark now, and they can notice you,” prince says it just like that, without hesitation, without hoping for anything.
Mu Qing turns to him silently, no more tying his belt of hanfu; he looks expressively, eyes sparkling in the dim lighting of the chambers. He does not know what to say and he locks in himself as the nervousness finally takes its toll. Xie Lian continues as calmly as possible, in order to both: show his favor and not strain him with the intensity of his own words:
“Would you like to stay the night? I still get up quite early, I’ll wake you up,” prince notices his confusion and doubts, so explains: “Mu Qing, the bed is large enough, and I will stay on its edge, and you ... you can lay as far from me as you would be comfortable with. So, would you mind to stay?”
Mu Qing considers a bit more — apparently, has not fully recollected himself — and then nods:
“I do not, Your Highness.”
He unties the belt again, taking off the upper garments, and remains in inner ones. Even so, he looks neat, collected; Mu Qing hesitates, thinking twice before doing anything at all, and finally lies down on the bed, albeit on its very edge. Xie Lian blows out the candles.
And once again they are consumed by thoughts, each by their own. There is still much wanted to be clarified, to be said and discussed, but for some reason it seems to Xie Lian that it’s not the right time yet: that Mu Qing needs some time alone to think about everything — and this idea, even if it has just arose in his mind for no reason, seems right to follow.
They both can’t fall asleep for a long, long time; silently lying in bed, afraid to make an extra move; and still Xie Lian turns out to be luckier one, as sleep engulfs him earlier. He closes his eyes, evens out his breathing and immerses himself in calmness, in necessary rest.
For a quite some time Xie Lian can still feel other's eyes on his back. Mu Qing needs time to get used to someone else into his personal space and he has his own, special ways to do so.
So let be it.
Him and Mu Qing are on opposite sides of the bed and even if outwardly close — only a few cùn* separate them — deep in their thoughts they are completely separated, no longer sharing one feeling, one desire. There is innuendo in the air, but nothing can be done about it for now.
*[Note: 1 cùn=3.37 sm]
Xie Lian is willing to wait as long as it takes to see Mu Qing like this one more time. To feel that he does not mind, that he wants more himself, that he asks himself for it. Maybe they rushed it a bit, maybe they gave in to a shameless impulse and will later regret it. But this evening there are no sorrows or disappointments and Xie Lian falls asleep, hoping deeply that this time was not the last one.
And next morning, Xie Lian wakes up in a strong embrace.