Work Text:
The bandages were Blade’s armor.
They held him together—not just his body, but the fractured parts of himself he refused to name. Tight, methodical layers, a ritual as familiar as the weight of his sword. He never lingered on the reflection in the mirror, never let his hands trace the scars or the remnants of what once was. It was easier to forget when he was bound.
But Jing Yuan had always been a man who unraveled him
"Let me," Jing Yuan murmured, fingers brushing the edge of the linen where it curled against Blade’s ribs. The room was dim, bathed in the gold of a single lantern, and Blade could feel the warmth of him at his back—steady, unhurried.
A pause. Blade’s breath hitched.
Jing Yuan didn’t rush. His hands were calloused from the hilt of a sword, yet his touch was featherlight as he unwound the first layer. "You’re beautiful," he said, voice low, not as a plea or persuasion, but a fact.
Bandages pooled at their feet. Blade shuddered when cool air met his skin, but Jing Yuan’s palms followed, mapping him like sacred ground. Over the ridges of old scars, the dip of his waist, the planes of his chest—each touch a quiet reverence.
"So strong," Jing Yuan murmured, lips grazing the juncture of Blade’s shoulder. "Every part of you.”
Blade closed his eyes. No one had ever—
Jing Yuan turned him gently, hands framing his face. "Look at me."
Blade did. Those golden eyes held him, unwavering.
"You don’t have to hide from me," Jing Yuan said, thumbs tracing the sharp line of Blade’s jaw. "Not ever."
A knot in Blade’s chest loosened. He exhaled, letting his forehead rest against Jing Yuan’s.
Then—lips on his collarbone. A kiss, slow and deliberate, over the scars where his body had been remade.
"Perfect," Jing Yuan whispered.
Blade’s breath stuttered. He wanted to protest, but the words died when Jing Yuan’s mouth moved lower, tracing the lines of his torso with devotion.
"You carry so much," Jing Yuan murmured between kisses. "Your strength, your will—this body is yours, and it is magnificent."
A sound escaped Blade—something raw, unguarded. Jing Yuan’s hands slid around his waist, pulling him close, skin to skin.
"Let me love you like this," he breathed. "All of you.”
Blade had spent lifetimes in battle, but this… this undid him.
Jing Yuan laid him down with infinite care, worshiping every inch of him. Not as something broken, but as something revered. His mouth was fire and patience, his hands steady as they relearned Blade’s body, not as it was, but as it was now.
And when Blade finally arched beneath him, gasping, Jing Yuan held his gaze.
"See yourself through my eyes," he whispered. "You are everything."
Blade’s vision blurred. For
the first time in centuries, he felt—
Whole.