Chapter Text
"You really need to work on your swordplay, Nan Yang Jiangjun."
Feng Xin stops mid-strike, lowering his dull-edged sword from its hover near the practice dummy. Muscles tense with a pleasant burn, skin glistening with sweat, he's been training for less than a shí in his private courtyard, focused on improving his admittedly bad swordsmanship. So focused that he didn’t hear when his space was invaded unceremoniously.
He sighs, a deep and long-suffering breath, then looks at the intruder.
Pei Ming is leaning against a marble pillar by the entrance, arms crossed and the line of his lips set in a lopsided smile "I've been looking for you, but you've clearly been busy." he quips, gaze tracing the naked contours of his upper body. The god looks unfairly handsome, tall, elegant, clad impeccably in his armour, a soft light illuminating his face.
"Don't you have anything better to do, general?" Feng Xin asks, wiping away the sweat at his temple with his forearm. His chest heaves with the dregs of effort. Their eyes meet head-on. It's fleeting, but he sees the way Pei Ming's eyes darken to a rich magenta.
"Even if I had, how could I miss the show? Watching you train shirtless is already my favourite pastime." there is no trace of shame in the man's smooth timbre as he winks "Your blade skills are atrocious, though."
Feng Xin bites his tongue before a snarky reply can leave his mouth. There's nothing he can say to that because it's true. He knows it. Pei Ming knows it. Everyone in the Heavenly Capital knows it.
"Have you ever used a sword at all?" Pei Ming asks, sauntering towards him, until they stand face to face in the center of the courtyard. Sharp eyes glance at the well-used dummy, quickly assessing the damage.
He decides to be truthful "Briefly. I learnt the basics – stance, balance, footwork – and the combat styles when I became Dianxia's bodyguard, but I didn't really excel. Not compared to the bow, at least."
Pei Ming raises an eyebrow in question.
What is this, an interrogation? Still, he elaborates "I hated the instructor with a passion, so I avoided going there whenever I had the chance."
The explanation earns him a chuckle and a shake of the head "Well, then."
He parries Pei Ming's attack in the nick of time, metal clanging stridently.
"What the hell are you doing?" Feng Xin shouts, bones vibrating from the force of the blow.
Pei Ming doesn’t answer "Very good." but praises him, instead, pulling back the practice sword – one from Feng Xin's armoury, by the looks of it. He ignores the way it makes something in his stomach flutter, and his heart skip a beat.
"But it's far from perfect." Pei Ming gauges, stare fixed on his hand.
The older martial god reaches out to correct his hold, doesn't hesitate to touch him as he directs Feng Xin's fingers into a better grip. Warmth radiates where their skin rubs, and it's enough to make his cheeks heat up.
He's impermissibly aroused.
Once his hand is where Pei Ming wants it, the general moves up to adjust his wrist and elbow into a straighter, yet more relaxed stance. The change is only by a fraction, but the new position already feels much easier on his arm, rendering the sword as an extension of himself.
Pei Ming steps back to inspect his handiwork "Much better." the northern general concludes, then looks him over once again.
Feng Xin almost flinches back, but stops himself, when the god steps even closer, hands resting on the bare dip between his hips and waist. He stiffens, an incredibly inappropriate thrill humming in his blood.
"Here, let me." Pei Ming whispers as he circles behind him, breath hot against the nape of Feng Xin's neck. The general shifts, chest flush to his back, and reaches out to adjust his other arm. Pei Ming is taller and broader than him, not by much, but enough to make him feel small. Feng Xin's pulse spikes. There’s no way Pei Ming doesn’t notice, but by some miracle, he decides not to comment on it.
He follows where Pei Ming's fingers and words guide him, until his stance is proper.
The martial god studies him for a moment until, finally, he nods "All right, go on. Give me a lunge."
And he does.
"Good." Pei Ming encourages "Again."
◇◇◇
Feng Xin didn't anticipate this, but Pei Ming is taking his training very seriously, and despite the occasional innuendos, he keeps his hands to himself.
Seamlessly, they fall into a routine, and they meet up once every two days. Feng Xin learns. And he learns quickly. Under Pei Ming's flirtatious, but stern tutelage, he finally understands why he never liked swordmanship before. The instructors were slow and incompetent. But he won't Pei Ming, else his ego will get even more inflated that it already is.
Soon, they begin to spar. It's obvious that Pei Ming goes easy on him each time they fight, but even he can be caught unawares by a swift sequence of strikes.
"Got you." Feng Xin grins, looking down triumphantly.
He's got Pei Ming flat on his back, straddling his thighs, with a blunt practice sword pressed to his neck. He's improved a lot since he began working , but he's nowhere near good enough to break through his defences, and tackle him to the floor.
It was easy, too easy, and Feng Xin tries not to think about why that is.
"Not so fast." fingers grip his thighs, sure to leave bruises, and Pei Ming bucks up, the sharp motion jolting him forward.
The contact feels obscenely good.
Between this and his next breath, the northern general flips their positions, knocking the sword out of his hand in the process. On top of him, Pei Ming's weight – the flex of his strong thighs framing his hips, their crotches pressed together, hands bunching the lapels of his robes – it all sends his mind reeling. His breath comes out winded, less from the shock, more from the images rushing through his head.
Pei Ming smirks down at him "Never rest on your laurels too soon..." he pauses, and the look in pink irises softens "A-Xin."
Feng Xin gapes, eyes wide, voice gone. Pei Ming said his name with so much honest affection that his brain nearly combusts on the spot. He flounders like a dying fish, but still commends himself.
Keeping his clothes on is the best decision he has ever made.