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The courtyard around the building that rises above Zhou Zishu drowns in darkness, one lone flood light illuminating the pathway from the gate to the main entrance. Fear licks up Zhou Zishu’s spine, cold and insidious, but he forces himself to walk forward even as he grips the sword at his waist a little tighter. For the first time in years he’s using a front door, having been given a key. He refuses to believe that Wen Kexing invited him here as some sort of trap. But the other people that call this their home, this supposed Ghost Valley? He’s not sure what to believe. Nothing about his search so far has made sense.
Zhou Zishu hears the whip before he sees it, electricity crackling as it flicks towards his head. He spins to the side to avoid it; the blue glow snaps by his head then returns to its master, a young woman stepping out of the shelter of the courtyard and into the misting rain. He barely has time to pull his sword from around his waist before she’s on him again, a blur of purple beneath the glow of her weapon. She’s good with it, he’ll give her that, though he’s able to parry most of her blows with relative ease. Skilled but still young, then.
They dance across the courtyard; she’s still unable to land a blow, and that frustration is starting to show in her face. A misplaced strike skates across a bench, scorching the metal and making Zhou Zishu’s feet move a little faster. He’ll go down hard if that thing does hit him, which isn’t a risk he wants to take.
“This isn’t exactly the warm reception I was hoping for,” he calls out, only half-taunting.
She scowls but pauses. “ You . You wait weeks and then try to stroll through the front gate? I thought he said you were so smart.”
Zhou Zishu just laughs. “Is that what he said? I didn’t think your wise leader was focused on my mind last time we met.”
“Watch your mouth,” she growls out. “He may be distracted by your face, but the rest of us aren’t idiots.” But it’s increasingly difficult for Zhou Zishu to take her seriously. The rain has plastered her hair to her face in wet chunks, making her look more like a drowned rat than anything.
He shrugs and starts to turn. “I’m going to find an adult to talk to,” he calls out behind him. He hears the shriek of fury that explodes from the young girl and prepares to dodge another blow. Sure enough, the crack of the whip echoes across the courtyard again; he spins to dodge it -
And ends up face first against the Ghost Valley chief’s chest.
His voice reverberates through Zhou Zishu’s own body as he laughs and says, “You came.” Zhou Zishu shoves himself back before his body can get any inconvenient ideas. But then he looks up at Wen Kexing and has to bite back a groan.
He looks - oh he looks even better than Zhou Zishu remembers. He’s bare-faced, his long hair swept into a loose low ponytail behind his shoulder. A knit teal sweater drapes over his lean torso. Zhou Zishu has to wrench his gaze away from the way it falls over his hips; he remembers all too well exactly what they feel like against his own, sharp and insistent. Wen Kexing doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that he’s standing in the rain, holding the still very-much electrified whip in one hand seemingly without issue; he just smiles down at Zhou Zishu.
Without moving his gaze, he sighs and calls out, “A-Xiang, didn’t I tell you to treat our guest with respect?” He gives a sharp tug, and the tension in the whip disappears as she trudges over.
“He started it-” she protests. But Wen Kexing finally turns his sharp eyes on her, and she immediately shuts up.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he dismisses her with a nod then tosses her now-inert whip back to her. She takes it and, after one last scowl towards Zhou Zishu, dashes towards the door. “I apologize for her. She’s - Gu Xiang’s a handful,” he says, like that explains why she just tried to take his face off. And maybe it does, around here. Then he's crowding back into Zhou Zishu's space, looking down. "You certainly took your time with my invitation though. Was soon not emphatic enough? I thought I'd waste away waiting for you."
Irritation pickles at the back of Zhou Zishu's neck. He thumps a finger against the broad chest in front of him and pushes; the other man doesn't budge. "Something tells me you're not one for pining." Then his treacherous mouth continues, "Besides, you look good to me."
Wen Kexing's face does that complicated thing, eyebrows raising in shock even as he smirks. But he frowns as his eyes roam a little too freely over Zhou Zishu's face. "You don't though. What have you been doing?" Zhou Zishu doesn't have the energy to stop him when he reaches up and rubs a thumb along his cheekbone. "You look exhausted. Have you been pushing yourself too hard while you’ve been away from me?"
That pushes every button he forgot he has. "And why do you think that is?" Zhou Zishu snaps, suddenly angry. He doesn't know how to handle the way this infuriating man makes him run hot and cold, but it's so easy to funnel his complicated feelings into indignation. "I spend months tracking you down, only to have you blow up a loading dock just to what, make off with some experimental gene therapy drugs? And then I'm dragged up in front of the Board who want answers as to what you were doing and why I didn't stop it. And I can't exactly tell them that I - that we…"
Somehow he's ended up almost face to face with Wen Kexing again as he's ranted; the bastard's extra couple inches of height force him to crane his neck up just to glare at him. But Wen Kexing just shrugs. "You could've just come and asked me."
The nerve. "I couldn't . They've been watching me, they're actually suspicious of me." He tries to take a breath, to get himself back under control. "Wen Kexing, I have no idea what the fuck you want. But I need answers."
Wen Kexing just watches him. As the seconds drag on, Zhou Zishu becomes increasingly aware that he's wearing days old clothes, splattered in mud and rain from the courtyard, and that Wen Kexing is somehow immaculate even in the drizzle. He sighs, tension deflating all at once.
"Zishu…" the other man starts, reaching out towards him again.
But he just shakes his head. “You gonna make me stand around in the rain all night?” he asks to try and lighten the mood.
If Wen Kexing is thrown by his sudden attitude shift, he doesn't show it. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you completely drenched, but-” Whatever crude remark he was going to make gets cut off by the sound of a metal door slamming open. A woman comes sprinting across the courtyard. Wen Kexing immediately drops his easy posture, turning to meet her halfway.
“Wen-gongzi, Aunt Luo - she needs you now,” she calls out in a tight voice.
Wen Kexing’s face falls. He turns to Zhou Zishu. “I have to- just stick close,” he says, then breaks into a run, trusting that he'll follow.
And he does. He trails Wen Kexing into the building and through twisting hallways, automatically trying to map out the place as they hurry through. But it's far larger than he would've suspected, and soon he's just trying to take in what he sees. The rumors about the Ghost Valley range from a typical gang hideout to the truly macabre. But instead of weapons rooms or dirty torture cells, he catches glimpses of a bright kitchen, various bedrooms - he's sure he even hears a child laughing somewhere.
Then Wen Kexing wrenches open a door, and Zhou Zishu's stomach drops.
Makeshift hospital beds cover the room. Only one cot is occupied - a woman with white hair sits near it, holding the hand of a whimpering teenage boy. The smell of smoke hangs heavy on the air, though there's no sign of a fire. As soon as they hurry in, the woman looks up, her face dropping in relief.
"I don't think - there's not much time," she says as they approach. Zhou Zishu keeps back a small distance - she ignores his presence anyway. "The new drugs - they’re not working. I think it was just too late and-" She pauses here with a meaningful stare. "He needs your help. Now."
Wen Kexing nods and walks to the cot, his eyes strangely blank. He then crouches down and takes the boy's hand. Zhou Zishu can't hear what the teenager whispers through parched lips, but Wen Kexing just shakes his head with a fond smile.
"You can stop trying to hold it back. I'm here."
Flames immediately erupt along the teenager's arms. Wen Kexing doesn't flinch. He tightens his grip on his hand - the fire dies down for a moment before springing back. Zhou Zishu can't look away as steam begins to pour the fingertips of Wen Kexing’s other hand. He holds it away from the cot, but bright red scald marks quickly crawl up his arm. Zhou Zishu moves towards him without thinking, but the white haired woman blocks him with her hands on his shoulders.
" Don't ," she warns, voice low. "He knows what he's doing. You’ll only be in the way."
Zhou Zishu doesn't fight her. "I don't understand, what-"
She sighs, something like pity lacing her voice. "Don't you? I thought you government types knew all about these things."
His mind reels as he watches the fire dance across the boy. There's always been rumors of unorthodox experiments, attempts to rewrite genes in ways that break every international treaty. Horrific ideas - like creating a soldier that not only could withstand a fire-bombing, but could become the explosion without burning up. But it had been rumors , theoretical work out of corporate labs that were long supposed to be shut down- he doesn't understand, but he could. Zhou Zishu knows he's at the edge of something huge, but he's tired of trying to feel his way around in the dark. He wants answers; and he tries to tell himself that this insistent need has nothing to do with the way Wen Kexing's injuries sting like they're his own, or how his wide eyes fill with tears as he holds onto the burning boy.
"Aunt Luo!" Wen Kexing suddenly calls out, fear creeping into his voice for the first time. She hurries over, Zhou Zishu trailing behind. Up close he can see the sweat pouring down his face, the way Wen Kexing's entire body trembles. "It's not working, I can’t bleed off enough of the energy…" he trails off helplessly.
Aunt Luo just smooths his hair back, her expression gentle - gentle and resigned. "A-xing…"
He jerks back. " No . Don’t suggest it. I won't -"
But their argument is prevented by a soft gasp as the flames suddenly disappear. Zhou Zishu would be relieved but something tells him this isn’t a good sign.
"... ge?" The teen's voice comes out raspy, fading quickly.
Wen Kexing leans down. "I'm here," he reassures.
The boy smiles a little. "I think… I think it's gone. The fire. Can you stay?"
"Yeah. Of course. Your gege will stay." He keeps holding onto the fragile hand in his. Zhou Zishu doesn’t make a single sound. Slowly, the boy's breathing evens out, then over the course of minutes stops entirely. Aunt Luo pulls back Wen Kexing's hand so that she can tuck a blanket around the boy.
"He's gone," she murmurs as she steps back. "I need to get the girls to help, and…" She shoots a pointed look at Zhou Zishu. "It's probably best if he's somewhere else."
Wen Kexing simply nods. "Right... right. We’ll go."
Zhou Zishu numbly follows him as he walks mechanically back to the hallway. They make a few turns and end up in the kitchen they passed earlier. Wen Kexing reaches for a mug, then pulls down a large bottle of dark liquor. After he pours himself a generous amount, he waves it at Zhou Zishu.
"You partaking?"
The casual question gives him whiplash. "Wen Kexing-"
"You really should. You look like you're about to fall over." His voice is vacant, disconnected. "It's good whiskey too," he continues. "Actually distilled, not just some synthesized swill."
Zhou Zishu pulls the bottle out of his hand and sets it aside. "You're hurt," he insists, staring down at the angry red patches of skin. "Where do you keep your first aid supplies?"
Wen Kexing blinks at his arm like he's just noticed that it's attached to him. "... oh, that. Nevermind." He furrows his eyebrows. As Zhou Zishu watches, the air around him ripples slightly - then the red patches fade away, shiny unmarked skin replacing it. "There, all better."
Zhou Zishu highly doubts that. The surface may be perfect, but the empty hollow of his eyes betrays his loss. Dark circles spread below them where they weren't before - Zhou Zishu could fit his thumb against those shadows, blot them away. He wants to but- the woman from the courtyard comes in, interrupting the moment. Up close in the light, he can see that she’s stunning even with the angry red scar that covers one side of her face like a lightning strike. A girl, still a toddler really, clings to her legs. She's cherubic, giant dark eyes peeking out from under a wild tangle of black curls. But it's the faint glow of cyberoptic filaments embedded just under her skin that he can't look away from.
"Is he settled then?" Wen Kexing asks her. She nods. "Okay. We'll - we'll gather in the morning. Meaning little gremlins need to get to bed," he adds with a wink. The girl giggles and presses her face against the older woman's thigh. He then grabs the two mugs and the whiskey bottle and gestures at Zhou Zishu to come with him.
They end up in what must be Wen Kexing's quarters. It's very lived-in, clothing strewn haphazardly across a chest and the bed. There's a desk buried in books and paper maps. Wen Kexing fishes a towel out of a drawer and tosses it to Zhou Zishu, who’s grateful for it even though he’d almost forgotten he was soaked. He pulls off his jacket, dropping it with a wet thud on the floor, then wipes off his face and hair. Wen Kexing stays uncharacteristically silent; while the other man broods, he takes in the room again, eyes landing back on the maps. It’s unusual to even be able to find physical ones outside of an archival library these days. Zhou Zishu nods his head at them.
"Staying off the grid?"
Wen Kexing shrugs. "It's easier with what we do. Safer for everyone here." He fills the second mug and pushes it into his hands before gulping down his own. The smooth line of his throat as he swallows catches Zhou Zishu's attention as he struggles to focus; he sets down his drink so that he won't accidentally break the cup.
"So- how does it work?" he asks. "Your…?" He waves his own hand in the air.
"I… I can absorb energy and release it in different forms. Usually dangerous ones," he answers plainly. "Sometimes I can store it and make myself stronger for a while." He sets down his whiskey and reaches towards a lamp. He concentrates for a second, then an arc of lightning shoots from his other hand. A faint smile spreads across his lips, but there's no joy in it. "There you have it. Your fearsome ghost master. A miracle of modern science, don’t you think? It’s a pity I’m mostly useless."
Zhou Zishu has questions. “... were you born like this, or?” He doesn’t want to voice what he suspects, the sour thought curdling in his stomach right now.
Wen Kexing looks blank. “Like what? A monster? I don’t know, depends on your worldview probably, Zishu.”
The word - monster - rankles Zhou Zishu. "Wen Kexing. These people - your people. They're not-"
"Hardened criminals? Demons made flesh? Blood-drinking abominations?" There's no humor in his voice for once. He just sounds tired. "You've seen us now, so what are you planning on doing? Will you do what your masters want? Turn us over so they can dissect us?"
I couldn't screams through Zhou Zishu's brain. What he actually says is, "I don't think you would ever let me get that far."
Wen Kexing pins him with those expressive eyes. "I think you'll find that I'd allow you significant liberties, Zhou Zishu." His tone lacks any innuendo or flirtation. It's a simple statement of fact.
But those words bury themselves in his chest, finding a home where his heart should be.
Zhou Zishu sips at his own whiskey as he leans back against the desk. The burn in his throat is welcome as he attempts to process everything. There’s a question that he has to ask, but he’s not sure if he wants the answer.
“I- do you- I mean to say...” he stumbles over his words, unsure how to start. “I take it everyone here has something different about them?”
Wen Kexing snorts. “Different. That’s a pretty word for it.” He takes another drink before asking, “How much do you know about the Five Lakes Alliance?”
“They’re a corporate conglomerate of various labs, ranging from medical research to commercially available body mods. I’m certain that they have their fingers in some government contracts as well but even the Board has discouraged Heaven’s Window from looking too closely into that.” He pauses and tilts his head. “It was one of their warehouses you destroyed the other day.”
He waits for Wen Kexing to respond. The other man shifts from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the cup in his hand. A range of emotions flits over his face, anger and exhaustion and something like apprehension. “Would it shock you terribly to know that most of the people here, myself included, are technically their intellectual property? Unwilling products of research?”
Truthfully, no. The kernel of this idea had been forming in Zhou Zishu’s mind since he’d stepped foot in here, but to hear it blatantly said- “You’re talking about very-much unauthorized human experimentation, going back over-”
“Decades?” Wen Kexing cuts him off. “That would be unthinkable, wouldn’t it?”
“Wen Kexing, if that’s true, how did they hide it from the capital this entire-” The look of pity on his face stops Zhou Zishu in his tracks. He feels like he missed a stair step in the dark. “You can’t be serious,” he protests even as some part of him knows it’s true.
The Ghost Valley master just shakes his head. “Who else would want fireproof soldiers, Zishu? You can’t be that naive.”
His mind quickly pieces together what he’s seen here today with everything else he’s found out over the last few weeks - the last six months, really. The sudden orders to deal with the Ghost Valley but bring them in alive. The Board’s suspicion of him. The way that Heaven’s Window has always been steered away from any Alliance properties. There’s only one thing he can’t understand.
“Why are you trusting me with all this?” he asks bluntly. That’s the crux of it. He’s done nothing to earn this level of confidence - in fact, he’s done quite the opposite.
It’s as if Wen Kexing can read his mind. “You want to know why I’m basically handing you a knife and baring my neck?” He shrugs. “I’ve protected this place, these people for years but-” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t lose anyone else. And I can’t seem to stop them from dying despite my best efforts. And you had so many chances to hurt me but you didn’t. Do - do you know what a miracle you are? You just walked in the front gate like you didn’t have a care in the world and just followed me inside when I could’ve led you into any kind of trap- fuck. ” He rubs his hands over his face. “My own people are scared of me sometimes, but not you. Why aren’t you scared of me?”
The question hangs between them like an executioner’s blade. Zhou Zishu doesn’t have an answer. He should be. He’s in the nest of a man who’s proved on multiple occasions that he can and will kill. But Wen Kexing’s inhumane strength makes him tremble for reasons completely unrelated to fear. Heat blooms under his skin as thinks of those hands on him again, pressing into his skin, wrapping around his throat-
Right. He’s supposed to answer a question.
“You- you haven’t given me a reason to be,” he finally whispers. He should be thinking about the way that he can apparently shoot electricity from his hands, but the only image playing in his mind is the despair in Wen Kexing’s face as he tried to save a life. Zhou Zishu feels himself sway slightly towards Wen Kexing, drawn like a magnet. Wen Kexing’s eyes look dazed as he stares down at him through long eyelashes.
He licks his lips. “Maybe I’ll have to work a little harder at it.” Then those hands are on his jaw, dragging their mouths together in a hungry crash.
And fuck he’s missed this. He shouldn’t have, he’s had Wen Kexing under his hands once, weeks ago. But these fingers digging into his hair, the teeth pulling at his lower lip - they’ve haunted his dreams, popping into his mind every time he’d taken himself in hand since then. Memories have nothing on the genuine article though. Sharp hips dig into his own as Wen Kexing presses him against the desk and moves those lovely teeth to his throat. Zhou Zishu is sorely tempted to just let it happen like this, to thrust back against him right here until they’re both gasping messes again. But, perhaps-
He wraps Wen Kexing’s soft hair around his hand and pulls his head back with a sharp tongue. Fire sparks in his eyes. “Last time you promised me a bed,” he says, and Wen Kexing grins at how rough his voice is.
“I believe you’re right, A-Xu.” And Zhou Zishu should ask about that, the nickname that inexplicably tumbles from his mouth like a familiar refrain yet again, but then Wen Kexing slides his hands underneath his thighs lifts him in the air, turning towards the bed. He instinctively wraps his legs around his waist, prompting laughter. “You’re rather clingy, aren’t you?” he teases before tossing Zhou Zishu down onto the soft mattress with just enough force that he bounces a little. It thrills him in a way that it shouldn’t. Everything about Wen Kexing thrills him in ways that threaten the solid foundations of his life. Then he crawls over his body, and any thoughts of how appropriate this entire arrangement is fly out of his mind.
Zhou Zishu tries to lean up to meet his mouth, but he immediately finds himself shoved onto his back by a solid hand on his chest. He tries to sit up again but can’t budge. He’s never found himself in this situation before meeting this man. Every fighting instinct he has tells him he has to get out now or he’ll have his throat torn out - but the heat spreading through his veins just doesn’t give a damn. He wants to see just how far this can go, how much he can throw back at Wen Kexing. So Zhou Zishu props one foot against the bed, ready to push himself up.
But Wen Kexing wraps his other hand around his ankle like an iron shackle. Zhou Zishu immediately stills with a smirk. Those fingers squeeze once then begin sliding up, skimming over calf and thigh and chest until they come to rest at his neck. No pressure, just a threat. Or a promise.
Zhou Zishu burns when he leans close to whisper, “Behave.”
Before his shiver at that voice even stops, Wen Kexing pulls away. Zhou Zishu doesn’t have it in himself to be embarrassed at the whine that slips out from his lips; Wen Kexing only chuckles. Then he sits back on his heels, watching the man spread out below him. Zhou Zishu desperately wants him to come back down here, to do something ; but the bastard just looks. The silence stretches unbearably. His own ragged breathing fills his ears. The cold air of the room makes his skin break out in goosebumps now that he can’t feel Wen Kexing’s endless heat. Wen Kexing reaches back towards him, but his hands stop just short of actually making contact. Zhou Zishu imagines he can feel electricity trying to jump between them.
But he can’t stand the tension anymore. "Hey," he says and puts his own hand on one of the solid thighs bracketing him in. Wen Kexing shakes his head slowly.
"I'm usually only allowed to touch something this beautiful if I'm destroying it," he muses. Zhou Zishu swallows. The thought flashes through his mind, You could destroy me. I wouldn't mind. But he doesn't have time to question that impulse before Wen Kexing's clever fingers move to his waistband. He pauses, the question shining out of his eyes, and Zhou Zishu nods frantically.
"Yes, yes, hurry up-"
After struggling with Zhou Zishu’s leather pants for a moment - “Have I mentioned how inconvenient your clothing choices are” - Wen Kexing finally has him mostly bare beneath him. He reaches for the hem of his thick black shirt but stops when Zhou Zishu tenses. That’s okay. He crawls up the bed until he’s on his hands and knees, looking eye-to-eye with the man below him. He smooths his hair back with one hand, then captures Zhou Zishu’s already swollen lips with his own. He goes slack beneath Wen Kexing, all the tension draining back out of his body.
And oh Wen Kexing could devour him whole and still want more, more of Zhou Zishu’s every little sound. It’s so easy to pull him closer, to make their bodies fit together like they’d been molded that way. He moves one hand to the small of his back to press them even closer. Wen Kexing kisses him and doesn’t stop until he’s boneless and moaning. Only then does he pull back with a smug grin.
“You’re a sweet thing - does anyone else even know that?” he asks. But before Zhou Zishu can even argue, he slides back down his body.
Zhou Zishu almost jerks completely off the mattress when he swallows him down with no preamble. It’s been so very long, and Wen Kexing’s mouth is so warm and wet, and the fingers digging into the soft flesh of his thighs are burning. He loses track of time; all of his senses are blind to anything that isn’t the way his tongue wraps around his cock and drinks him down like a dying man. Wen Kexing licks up his shaft, moaning out his pleasure and sending shock waves through Zhou Zishu, who all at once he feels unmoored; his hands scramble for something to grab, something more solid than the sheets that twist in his grasp. And then Wen Kexing is there, guiding one hand to his head and pushing Zhou Zishu’s fingers into his own hair even as he threads the fingers of their other hands together. Zhou Zishu resists the impulse to push - instead he trains his focus onto the way Wen Kexing’s head bobs up and down along his length. He’s so close now, the heat in his gut threatening to erupt any second-
Wen Kexing pulls off with a wet pop. Zhou Zishu’s eyes fly open. He props himself up on his elbows to send a murderous glare at him. If this breath catches in his throat at the sight of Wen Kexing between his thighs, mouth drenched and panting, that’s no one’s business. Wen Kexing just chuckles, turning his face to nuzzle at his inner thigh. Irritation and lust war inside his chest.
“You absolute bastard-” he starts to snap out.
Teeth at the soft skin of his hip stop him. “I really am,” he agrees, almost casually, before raising Zhou Zishu’s hips off the bed with a look of determination. Zhou Zishu is about to protest this clear mistreatment when he feels a hand on him and the shock of a warm tongue against his hole, and his vision whites out.
When his soul returns to his body, he opens his eyes and almost loses it again immediately. Wen Kexing continues cleaning him, running his tongue along sensitive skin to catch the last of his spend. He locks eyes with Zhou Zishu and very deliberately swallows. If he wasn’t already so wrung out, he’s sure he’d already be rallying for round two.
Once he’s satisfied, Wen Kexing crawls back up to the head of the bed and lays down on his side. Zhou Zishu pulls him in for an open-mouthed kiss; he’s delighted by the taste of himself on the other man’s tongue. The heat builds quickly between them again, their moans full of promise. But when Zhou Zishu reaches for his belt, his wrist is caught in a firm grip as Wen Kexing’s expression shutters instantly. Zhou Zishu doesn’t try to pull his hand back; he just goes soft and still. He feels the tremor run up Wen Kexing’s body, watches as he shakes his head and relaxes his hold, bringing Zhou Zishu’s wrist to his mouth to press a kiss against the skin there.
After a moment Wen Kexing just nods. “I’m okay.”
Zhou Zishu raises a single eyebrow at him but understands. They both have their limits still. “As long as you’re sure.” When Wen Kexing still says nothing, he begins to fidget. “I can go if you-”
“Stay,” Wen Kexing cuts him off, looking up at him like a kicked puppy. He flinches at his own over-eagerness but pushes onward. “I… I think we can help each other. I have some ideas. But it’s late, and…” And it’s cold outside, and they’re both aching and tired, and staying in a warm bed is so much better than leaving alone. Zhou Zishu thinks he might actually be able to sleep for once in these arms.
What he says is, “Do you have something I can change into?”
An hour or so later, they’re laying in bed on fresh sheets, a careful distance between them. Zhou Zishu still hasn’t figured out Wen Kexing’s ever-shifting boundaries; the man will blow him enthusiastically, but had practically run from the room when he’d excused himself for a shower. Now there’s an invisible buffer between them, even though he’s currently wearing Wen Kexing’s own leggings and tank top, made butter-soft from years of use. Even though he can feel the burn of his stare on the back of his neck. He should roll over. Say anything.
That’s when the pain starts.
No no no no no. It’s not fair, he thinks rather nonsensically. He hasn’t had the backlash hit him like this in weeks - why tonight of all nights? He mentally counts back to his last treatment - it isn’t even close to him for his next shot. But none of that stops the ragged gasp that tears out of his chest as it feels like every cell in his body tries to rearrange its position. He curls in on himself, fists clenched.
But then the pain abruptly recedes, still eating at him around the edges but no longer the only thing he can feel. Wen Kexing has him pulled into his arms, back to chest, one hand spread against the skin over his heart. He can feel the way the backlash energy is being siphoned off into that palm.
“What…” he mumbles.
Wen Kexing just pulls him closer. “Ssshhh. Just let me, A-Xu.” So he does.
At some point the smell of burnt wood reaches him. He looks up; scorch marks spread out from where Wen Kexing’s other hand grips against the headboard. He closes his eyes again and presses deeper into the comfort of his arms. In the morning, they’ll talk. Wen Kexing will tell him about his undoubtedly insane plan. They’ll map out a new path. He’ll give him a talk about burning yourself out for the benefit of others.
But for tonight, they’ll both take this scant comfort.