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The moisture was so thick in the air that Yibo could tilt his head to the sky, stick out his tongue, and taste the rich liquid on his tongue. Not quite raining, just a thick mist that carpeted the land with its lush richness. It was October, again. Yibo couldn’t remember what year it was. Years had lost meaning.
He scraped his feet through the blanket of leaves on the ground, looking down to observe the muted colours of the reds, oranges, and yellows. He tried to remember what the colours looked like in the sunlight. It had been so long since he’d felt the sun’s gaze, these muted colours were all that he could appreciate. He longed, just once more, to indulge in the richness of colour in its full glory.
Yibo knelt down and picked up a leaf. It was red, bright red, almost the colour of blood. A maple leaf. He flipped it around, tracing the veins with his eyes, imagining how simple life would be if blood flowed through the veins of plants enough to sustain him.
He sighed and pushed back to his feet, dragging his legs along as he shuttled forward. He felt so weak, so weak. He could barely blink his eyes, much less hunt.
I should just end it here. I’m so fucking tired. Why am I even moving anymore?
Yibo sank to his knees in the humus. Then he fell onto his chest, nestling his face into the wet leaves on the ground. He inhaled the scent of autumn, that scent of renewal, of soil and earth and the promise of new green to come. He lay there on his stomach and thrust his fingers into the soil. It was moist, rich, cool. He dug his fingers in, clawing his hands into the earth.
All I have to do is lie here. Wait for the sun to come up… no one will know that I died here. In the morning, I’ll just be ash.
The thought wasn’t frightening, it was comforting. When you were young, the idea of living forever was a promise of exciting, new things to come. But after living for a thousand years, there wasn’t anything new anymore. There wasn’t any reason to keep trying, to keep getting up in the morning.
I’ll just be ash.
As Yibo lay there, his eyes closed, an image flashed before his eyes. Xiao Zhan, his lush, thick eyelashes sweeping across his cheek as he slept, eyes rosy, limbs relaxed. Xiao Zhan’s tanned skin, his dusting of freckles, his soft, dark body hair, his muscles. Yibo saw flashes, just glimpses of memories taunting him.
Yibo cracked his eyes open and swore aloud. “I can’t have him,” he whispered to the darkness.
Yibo didn’t have the strength to rise. It didn’t matter that Xiao Zhan was still in his thoughts, over two years after the last time he’d seen the man - nothing mattered anymore. Yibo was outcast from his coven. He had no place to go. Unless he had the strength to claw himself a grave in the soil, he’d die overnight. He wasn’t sure he cared anymore.
It’s time. It’s time to say goodbye.
“Sayonara,” Yibo whispered, then curled his mouth up into a half-smile.
The wind whispered in his ear in response, a soothing refrain of gentle coolness.
“Yibo.”
Yibo blinked his eyes open, his eyebrows drawing together. Did I hear a voice?
“Wang Yibo. Get up. I haven’t come all the way from China just to watch you die in some forest in the middle of backwoods America,” the voice said, annoyed.
Yibo blinked again, turning his head. He groaned, confused, but the voice sounded so real. So familiar. Yibo flopped onto his side and glanced up.
He recognized the figure standing there. He stood elegantly, his hands folded into his pockets, long hair drawn back in a half-ponytail like the ancient times. He carried an instrument strapped to his back, and wore a long, black trenchcoat. His eyes were kind, soulful, his jaw rugged and defined, his mouth curled into a slight smile like it always was.
Haikuan-ge?
Yibo blinked again, then raised a hand to weakly rub his eye. He can’t be here. He’s in China. He hates the United States.
Yibo let his eyes fall closed, then took a breath, sighing deeply. “It’s over,” he whispered. “I’m tired.”
He felt a hand sifting into the hair at the back of his neck. Long fingers scratched at his skin. “We promised each other, long ago, that we’d always be there for one another,” Haikuan’s kind voice said, deep and soothing. “I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”
“You’re not here,” Yibo mumbled. “You hate America.”
“You are my blood brother,” Haikuan murmured, sweeping his thumb across Yibo’s cheek. “Did you think you could hide your distress from me? I heard you a world away. I would not have you die like this. Not like this.” Haikuan’s thumb swept in a circle, sweeping across Yibo’s cheek, then he tugged Yibo’s neck and raised him to a sitting position.
Yibo blinked his eyes open, tilting his head in confusion. “Haikuan-ge?”
When he took another look he saw, indeed, Haikuan was there. Unchanged, no new lines around his eyes or mouth, no colour to his skin. He was pale as marble, just the same as the last time Yibo had seen him, at least a hundred years ago.
Haikuan’s eyes crinkled in a smile, his mouth tilting up at the edge. “Wang Yibo. What are you doing here in the woods?”
Yibo sighed and let his eyes fall closed. He crawled forward and folded his upper body into Haikuan’s lap. “I’m done. I’m just… I’m done.”
Haikuan’s fingers scraped through Yibo’s unruly hair, massaging his scalp. “What’s wrong?”
“I… I’m so tired, ge,” Yibo said, snuggling in. “I’ve never felt so tired.”
“Why are you tired?” Haikuan asked, his hand stroking Yibo’s head rhythmically.
“Life has no meaning without him.”
Haikuan sighed and gripped Yibo’s shoulders, pulling him into an embrace. “Let’s get you back to my shelter. We can get you something to eat, then we can talk. If you still want to walk into the sun tomorrow? I will not stop you. We’ve been through too much together for me to not respect that.”
Yibo sank into Haikuan’s embrace, trembling with exhaustion. “Okay.”
🎃
Yibo felt that sense of weightlessness that came when he lounged alone in the bath. If he tilted his back just right, and sucked in a big breath, he could float, his long hair spread out in the water beneath him. He breathed out and let himself sink beneath the water, staring up at the world above, distorted through the lens of refraction. Without having to breathe to live, he could lay there for hours, staring above, the water slowly sinking into his skin. He didn’t even prune up like he would have when he was human.
“Yibo? Come out now, there’s only a few hours before sunrise,” Haikuan called out.
Yibo pushed himself up into a sitting position, hugging his legs to his chest. He was thin, painfully thin, having not eaten in so, so long. He could barely summon enough energy to stand. He forgot again why he was even supposed to try. He ran his fingertips along the skin of the bath water, his fingers catching the suds of the soap he’d used to clean himself.
“Wang Yibo!” Haikuan’s sharp voice cut through the confusion.
Yibo tilted his head towards the sound of the voice, but his world tilted alarmingly, and he clutched his hands to his head.
“Yibo, how long since you fed?” Haikuan asked, kneeling beside the bath.
Yibo’s mind couldn’t focus on facts. He focused instead on this moment itself, observing the garments Haikuan wore, old ancient Chinese robes, fashioned of a spun white silk, embroidered with cranes in a faint blue. The robes seemed out of place in the current location in America. He looked like he had all those years ago, back in ancient China, when their master had turned them. Yibo had a flash of memory, the two of them in robes, laughing, carrying instruments in their hands as they fled their master’s tutelage. They ran through the forest, laughing, then sat and played together, flute and guqin. The music echoing through nature, a symphony for the wildlife to hear and enjoy.
That was before their life had become all blood and gore.
“Yibo are you listening to me?” Haikuan asked, putting his hand on Yibo’s arm.
Yibo turned his head, the world swaying in wake of the movement. “What?”
Haikuan stood and tugged on Yibo’s thin arms, prying him to his feet. “Come on. You need to feed.”
Yibo groaned, unable to resist Haikuan’s grip. “Don’t want to.”
“Just feed tonight, just once, then we can talk properly tomorrow and you can explain everything to me. Okay?” Haikuan coaxed him, tugging on Yibo’s wet limbs.
Yibo practically fell out of the bathtub and into Haikuan’s arms. Haikuan didn’t seem to mind, he swept Yibo up like he weighed nothing, princess-carrying him into a room. Yibo blinked his eyes to try and understand his surroundings, but all he saw was solid walls, no windows, and thick plush couches with throw blankets and pillows on them.
“I brought you someone you should like,” Haikuan said. “Just your type. Young, handsome. Just don’t drain him dry, I’ll take care of his memory for you and set him free. Okay?”
Yibo nodded his head, though he couldn’t quite focus his eyes. What? He was laid on a pile of cushions, his body still naked though he couldn’t even be embarrassed by his nakedness. Haikuan folded a soft, plush blanket over his skin, covering him up. Then Yibo watched as Haikuan left and brought someone in, leading him by the hand.
He was a young lad, probably in his early 20s. He had wide eyes, a startled look about him, eyes big and green. His hair was brown, wavy, curling just around his shoulders. He was thin, lithe, almost feminine in the way he swayed his hips, but his body was all masculine. And he was nude.
Yibo blinked, sinking back into the cushions. I don’t want him.
But he was too weak to voice the words aloud. He just blinked, watching as this doe-eyed creature was led by the hand to sink down onto the couch next to him.
“This is Yibo,” Haikuan said in a gentle voice, smiling at the boy. “He’s really nice. And handsome, don’t you think?”
The boy turned to look at Yibo, eyeing him up and down. He licked his lips and nodded, his eyelids going half-lidded. “Very.”
“Would you like to touch Yibo?” Haikuan asked, running his hand down the boy’s spine. “He might bite. A little,” he said with a chuckle.
“I don’t mind,” the boy said, slinking towards Yibo on his belly. “You can bite me allll night long,” he said with a half-smile, his eyes twinkling.
I don’t want him. I want Xiao Zhan.
Yibo lay there, prone, unable to move, too weak to protest.
“Let me help you, Yibo,” Haikuan murmured.
Yibo watched, then, as Haikuan tilted his head back, his fangs glistening in the dim light. He snapped his head forward and sank his fangs into the boy’s neck, humming lightly as he drank a bit.
He then sat back, licking his lips, and pressed his hand between the boy’s shoulder blades to propel him forward. He fell across Yibo’s lap, then crawled up his body.
All the hair stood up on Yibo’s arms as he smelled the sweet, cloying, coppery scent of blood on the air. His pupils dilated as he watched a thick, fat drop of blood leak from the wound on the boy’s neck.
“Drink, brother,” Haikuan coaxed him. “Drink.”
Yibo shook his head, shrinking back into the pillows, but then Haikuan gripped the boy around his back and lifted him up into Yibo’s arms. With the boy’s neck a breath away, his nostrils flared, and the bloodlust rose in his veins, hammering in his ears.
Blood. Blood. Blood. Hunger. Blood.
Yibo wanted to resist but he was too weak. When the boy’s neck was thrust in his face, and the first drop of blood landed on his cheek, Yibo’s tongue darted out to capture the thick essence of life. It blossomed into his consciousness like the sweetest drug. Before he knew it, Yibo’s hand clawed at the back of the boy’s neck, and he was sucking, sucking at that sweet essence, sucking for all he was worth, desperate for more, more, more.
The boy groaned, his hips thrusting into the blanket. Yibo felt the boy’s erection, thick and weeping, though it was Haikuan that reached between them to wrap his hand around it. Haikuan who stroked the boy, encouraging him with sweet whisperings in his ear. Yibo who sucked, draining, draining.
Haikuan’s hand worked the boy’s flesh, and all at once the boy fell back, rolling onto his back, his head lolling on Yibo’s shoulder, belly in the air. Haikuan licked his lips and fell down to capture the boy’s member in his mouth, sucking him with lust. Yibo’s mind was just starting to emerge from the cloud he’d been in these past months, the blood tracing life-giving pathways through his brain. He lay there, twitching, while the boy thrashed on top of him, groaning in pleasure. When the boy came, he relaxed in relief, groaning, his hands clawing up to reach for Yibo’s skin.
Haikuan sat up, delicately wiping at his mouth. He glanced down at the boy, who was laying there, dazed, upon Yibo’s chest. He looked into the boy’s eyes, gripped his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Are you lost?” Haikuan asked him.
“What?” the boy asked, confused.
“What are you doing here?” Haikuan asked him, using his talent to cloud the boy's mind.
“I… I don’t know.” The boy blinked, eyebrows drawn together.
“Can I help you home?” Haikuan asked kindly, smiling.
“Yeah…. yeah. That sounds good.”
“Okay then.”
Yibo watched as Haikuan nicked his own thumb, pressing a drop of his blood into the boy’s neck to hide his wounds. A trick their master had taught them a thousand years before.
Tired. I’m so tired.
🎃
“I’m glad you’re looking more like yourself,” Haikuan said a few days later, his eyes twinkling.
Yibo grimaced, picking a rock up and skipping the stone along the top of the water of the stream they were sitting at. “Sure.”
“You were looking quite… piqued,” Haikuan said, eyeing him sideways.
Yibo glanced at him, seeing that today Haikuan was dressed in blue robes. Ancient Chinese robes, embroidered with fish. Yibo himself was in tight leather pants and a loose-fitting white v-neck shirt, sheer and cool in the October wind.
“Why did you come, ge?” Yibo asked, his eyes trained on the water.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know you were in distress?” Haikuan said, peering over at him. “We share the same sire. We are blood brothers. I can hear your thoughts from a world away. I know you’ve been struggling… I just thought you’d make it through, as you always have. I came because I care for you. I woudn’t walk this world without you in it.”
Yibo turned to watch his blood-brother, unchanging, still kind and sensitive. “I would not walk this world without you, either,” Yibo said with a half-smile.
Haikuan walked over and folded himself down next to Yibo. “Tell me the truth. Were you trying to end it all?”
Yibo dipped his fingertips into the water. It seemed cold as ice, though his own skin was so cool it was hard to know the difference. “I just don’t see the point in living anymore. What more is there?”
Haikuan sat next to him, his presence a comfort, though he didn’t say a word. He just waited, waited for Yibo to be ready. In the meantime, he pulled a Chinese flute out of his sleeve and started to play, a slow, comforting tune. Something from the old world, a tune Yibo hadn’t heard in years. Soothing, memories clawed from the earth.
“I met someone,” Yibo said finally.
Haikuan continued to play, though he flicked his eyes sideways to make eye contact, one eyebrow raising, bidding him to continue.
“He was… He was the sun. Like someone made of light and goodness and everything that I’m not allowed to have in this cursed life.” Yibo looked down at the water, picturing Xiao Zhan’s face in his mind, the feelings he conjured up. “When I was with him, I felt so light, like I could almost feel the touch of the sun on my skin after so many years in darkness. I drank from him, but his taste was like the sweetest nectar. Once I had some, I wanted more. I tried to stop myself, to pull away, but I watched him day in and day out until I drank form him again.”
Haikuan paused in his playing, putting the flute down, folding it back into his robes. “And?”
Yibo looked up and stared at the moon high in the sky. “And I knew then that if I was given the chance I’d bleed him dry, I’d be his death. What life is there for sun and moon to live together?”
Haikuan nodded, his gaze lowering to the slow trickle of water below. “You know there’s only one way for human and vampire to have a life together.”
“I will not make him a servant,” Yibo said vehemently, turning to look at Haikuan. “I will not!”
Haikuan shrugged, spreading his hands wide. “It seems you would rather die. Why?”
Yibo pursed his lips, shrugging his shoulders. “I would give him extended life, but… He is not someone meant to live in the shadows. He is meant to be in the light. That’s what I like about him. He’s so… He’s so bright, and joyous, like bottled up sunshine.” Yibo smiled a little as he recalled the brightness Xiao Zhan conjured up in him. “He’s not meant to be tainted by me,” he said sadly, his smile fading away.
Haikuan stood, walking a few paces away. The wind picked up, making his garments flutter in the wind. “I have lived with you as my brother for a thousand years. I won’t accept you walking into the sun without you at least trying to reconcile with the man who has caught your heart,” he said, turning to look at Yibo, an eyebrow raised.
Yibo pushed to his feet, his blood pumping with the energy he’d stolen from that willing victim whose name he didn’t even know. “Aren’t you tired of it all, Kuan-ge?” Yibo asked, taking a step forward.
Haikuan closed the distance between them and folded Yibo into a hug. “It comes and goes in waves. There are moments this life is so tedious in its length. There are other moments when I’m grateful for the opportunity to keep learning and growing. I speak 20 languages, I play so many instruments I’ve lost count. I’ve read so many books, and every year new books still come out and there’s yet more to learn and grow. Feeding off the blood of the willing is a small price to pay for this gift of eternal life.”
Yibo sighed, nestling into the fabric of Haikuan’s robes, his arms lightly clasped around his brother’s waist. “I wish I was more interested in the scholarly pursuits like you are. Threre’s only so much one can do with physical interests before it all starts to feel the same.”
Haikuan stroked Yibo’s back gently. “I thought you were interested in the mechanical? Motorcycles and the such. Innovations have progressed in such a fascinating way this past hundred years.”
“Mn, I like motorcycles,” Yibo conceded. “And skateboards. Just… It’s not enough.”
“If you could wave a magic wand and take anything you wanted in this world, what would it be?” Haikuan asked, pulling back to look down into Yibo’s eyes.
Yibo blinked up, then looked down and flattened his mouth into a line. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
Yibo clenched his hands into the fabric at Haikuan’s waist. “I want him.”
When he looked up, Yibo saw Haikuan was smiling. He reached out and folded Yibo’s hair back behind his ear. “So go see him.”
“Being near me will only be his demise,” Yibo said, pulling away.
Haikuan reached out and grabbed Yibo’s wrist. “Who are you do say that?”
“I’m the one who’s lived a thousand years. Every man I’ve taken as a lover has died for the privilege,” Yibo said, turning to glare at Haikuan.
Haikuan reached forward and grabbed Yibo’s face, cupping his cheeks in his hands. “Some would choose to live a shorter life in your embrace, than a longer life without it. The choice should be up to him.”
Yibo shoved Haikuan away. “Don’t think because you dragged me from death that you get to tell me what to do.” He stalked off, his feet crunching on the humus of the forest floor.
“I only came all the way to America to save you, don’t let me perturb you with my petty little thoughts,” Haikuan called out, his laugh echoing in the air.
Yibo flipped him off.
🎃
In spite of himself, now that blood was flowing through his veins again, Yibo was drawn back to that little house in Salem. He couldn’t tell how long it had been since he’d last been there. But when he arrived outside Xiao Zhan’s little house, it seemed much unchanged.
There was still the charming little garden outside, overflowing with nature’s bounty of plants and herbs. Inside, a fire was going in the fireplace, the lights on in the house. The hour was late, but not yet midnight. Yibo could smell the scent of cooking inside - baking something, no doubt. Can’t stop working his magic no matter the time of day or night, Yibo thought fondly.
As Yibo perched there on the fence, peering in, he saw Xiao Zhan’s cat jump up in the window frame. She peered out at him, staring him down.
Yibo stuck his tongue out at her, then tilted his head to watch her.
He heard a faint music coming from inside, and then, after a while, he spotted him. Xiao Zhan in the flesh, his hair curling around his forehead charmingly, his skin glowing, dimples in his cheeks as he smiled at the cat. He came over to pat her, cooing at her, his lips glistening with moisture, gentle hands digging into the fur at the back of her neck.
Yibo’s mouth went dry when he saw him. He wanted him. He wanted him so badly his whole body went tense, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He wanted to pounce, to hold Xiao Zhan down and drink from his body. He wanted to fuck him, or be fucked by him, he didn’t care - just wanted to drown in Xiao Zhan’s essence. Wanted to rub his face in Xiao Zhan’s chest and inhale his scent and wrap his body around the other until he could curl into that warmth and steal just a little for himself.
The vehemence of Yibo’s desire caught him by surprise, and he let out a little sound. Xiao Zhan’s head snapped up and he looked straight at him. Yibo jerked back, out of sight, his feet pattering beneath him as he ran away.
Protect him, protect him, protect him. He is alive, and good, and whole. You will only destroy him. You are evil.
🎃
Yibo dressed up in his full dress robes. He was in a modern interpretation of a black hanfu, flowing pants of black silk, and loose robe that folded over his chest and was bound at his waist with a thick, silver belt. The black silk of the robe was embroidered with delicate petals in black thread, giving the clothes a rich quality that one could only fully appreciate up close. He had pulled his long hair back in a half-ponytail, and dusted his eyelids with silver eyeshadow and kohl around the lashes. He had even applied a shimmery pink lip gloss, making his lips glow alluringly. Around his neck he wore an old amulet of sapphire, a gift from Haikuan that he wore to honour him.
It had been ages since he’d worn traditional garments like this, but when Haikuan emerged in similar garments in white, the two of them made quite the pair. Ying and Yang. They were known the world over, Feng’s Children, they called them, for though they were both born of different parents, Yibo and Haikuan had been sired of Feng the same year. Blood brothers.
“I hate this,” Yibo muttered in the back of the limo they rode in.
“I know,” Haikuan murmured back, reaching out to touch the back of Yibo’s hand with two fingers. “But you know we have to pay a visit to the coven every now and again, or they will suspect duplicity. We've been summoned, so we must go.”
“I hate the coven.”
Haikuan smiled, turning his head to look out the window. “You always have.”
“Bunch of bottom-feeders,” Yibo said with a sneer. “Pathetic.”
“They just want to know we are not a threat to them.”
“They are beneath us,” Yibo said, tilting his chin up.
“Yes, they are,” Haikuan agreed.
A short ride later, the two of them arrived at their destination. They exited the limo. Yibo looked up at the sign above the old church. Salem Witch Museum. Yibo smirked, amused as always that their coven was located in the catacombs below. If only the tourists knew as they visited by day that vampires slept below, they would probably pay even more for the privilege.
Haikuan and Yibo walked close together, in lockstep, through the entrance, down the main hallway, and then down into the crypt. There were guards stationed about, vampires large in stature but young in age, making sure no humans wandered in this hour of the night. The building was old, its stones reeking with memories. Yibo looked up and around, feeling as ever that vibration he always felt in a place so old it seemed to press in on him, suffocating.
Haikuan reached out and put his hand on Yibo’s elbow.
Yibo had always been sensitive to magic. Could feel the echoes of it in places gone past, could feel traces of it in the world around him. Probably what had drawn him to Xiao Zhan that time, years before, when he’d first feasted eyes upon the most handsome man he’d ever seen.
“Focus,” Haikuan murmured, drawing Yibo’s attention.
Yibo nodded jerkily, looking forward as he descended down into the floors below.
Underneath the church, there was a warren of rooms. Yibo hated this place, so he came here seldom, only when he had to. But he knew it well. There was a suite of public rooms, a meeting room, a great common room with fireplaces and warm plush couches, and then there was a scattering of rooms where the dozens of vampires who lived here each slept during the day. This was the safe house of Salem, and most vampires who lived in the city lived here.
Most, except Yibo. Yibo, he preferred his cave out in the woods. It wasn’t secure, but then again, no one knew he lived out there. And only he knew the maze of tunnels well enough to make his way in and out safely.
But this place? It was full of the decadence of their ancient kind. Yibo turned his nose up at the stench of old blood soaked into the floors.
They were led into the main audience chamber, where the Master of the City was seated on a kind of throne made of old, engraved wood. Around him in various positions, standing and lounging, were the many vampires of Salem. The Master of the City was, herself, someone Yibo had met before. She had hair so blonde it was almost white, pulled back in a severe bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were such a light blue they were like ice. Her mouth red like blood with lipstick. She was wearing an old, blue dress, something that looked like she’d walked straight out of the 1700s.
Marguerite gestured for them to come forwards.
Yibo looked left and right at the vampires in various states of dress, all of them decadent, all of them dressed from their own eras. Like a collection of history all around them. Haikuan’s fingers at his elbow urged him forward.
“Haikuan,” Marguerite said, bowing her head. “It’s been many years since you’ve graced our shores.”
Haikuan bowed deeply, and Yibo jerked to follow. When Haikuan straightened, he said, “My dear blood-brother calls these lands home. It’s only natural I should come to visit from time to time.”
Marguerite looked to the side, and gestured with one delicate-fingered hand. A human clad in little more than a loincloth stepped forward, carrying a wine glass balanced on a tray. She took the glass, and Yibo knew from the stench it was blood. AB+. Her favourite.
Marguerite sipped the blood, looking down at Yibo and Haikuan as they stood respectfully before her. “Yibo. I’m surprised you’ve tarried here so long.”
Yibo sighed, fiddled with his sleeve. “I can go if you want me to,” he said with a bit of a pout.
Marguerite tipped her head, assessing him. “I didn’t say that. My curiosity needs to be assuaged, is all. What keeps you here? You are known, after all, as the eternal wanderer. You don’t normally stay in one place longer than a year or two. Why here? Why now?”
Yibo tried to clear his mind, but in spite of it, images of Xiao Zhan flashed before his eyes. Xiao Zhan smiling, preparing his herbs at his kitchen counter. Xiao Zhan, seated at his couch, his cat on his lap, reading a book. Xiao Zhan, naked, writhing beneath him, reaching up to clutch at Yibo’s arms—
“—Ah,” Marguerite said, smiling. “I see.”
Fuck!
Yibo exchanged a glance with Haikuan, his eyes widening in fear.
Haikuan grabbed Yibo’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “A passing fancy, nothing more,” Haikuan said, looking up at her.
“A passing fancy keeps the wanderer tethered here for years on end?” Marguerite said, her smile blossoming on her face. “I think not.”
Yibo bit his own tongue, enraged at himself for letting her peer into his thoughts. Bitch.
Marguerite stood, her face a thundercloud of rage. She took a few steps down, walking towards Yibo. “What do you plan to do with him?”
Yibo didn’t know what to say. He was still a pile of confusion where Xiao Zhan was concerned. Need to keep him safe—
Haikuan glanced over at Yibo, alarm in his eyes—
Marugerite laughed, her voice like the tinkling of bells, though her eyes were soulless depths of black. “Keep him safe? I should eat him for dinner to spite you. Pathetic.”
“He’s mine,” Yibo growled, his voice deep and thunderous.
Marguerite laughed again, approaching him. Though she was shorter than him by a foot, her presence was vast and overpowering. Yibo shrank back a step just from the intimidating blanket of her power.
“Will you take him as your servant?” she asked, peering up into his face. “If not, you offer him no protection.”
“He does not wish to be my servant,” Yibo said, though his voice was unsure.
Haikuan’s hand at Yibo’s back was no help at all.
“I expect you to pay reverence to me, Yibo, if you intend to continue inhabiting my lands. If you leave, I shall see what I choose to do with this pawn of yours. If you stay, you must make him yours. He knows of our existence, now, and nothing but the Bond can ensure his silence,” she declared, voice booming through the walls of the cavern they were standing in.
“H-h-he wouldn’t tell,” Yibo stuttered. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “He hasn’t told anyone. He won’t.”
Marguerite reached up and traced her fingernail across Yibo’s neck. “Only one way to be sure he won’t talk. Slit his throat. Shall I drink his blood first?” she said with a smile. “Surely he’s a tasty treat, if he’s given you pause to stay so long.”
Mine. He’s mine.
Yibo bared his teeth in a scowl.
Haikuan grabbed Yibo’s elbow. “Master, with all respect, let us handle this matter. Among brothers, we’ll see the right thing is done. I promise you,” he said with a smile.
Marguerite moved faster than any of them could see. One moment she was there, in front of them, the next she was behind Haikuan, bending him over her knee, her hand around his throat. “You are a pretty one, too, aren’t you? If your brother fails to take care of his… little problem… then perhaps I shall take you as a servant of my own. Hmm? Isn’t that a lovely compromise?” she said with a smile.
Yibo took a step to push her back, but she looked up and bared her teeth at him and Yibo felt an invisible wall thrown up between them. It was a wall of sheer power. He felt her shrill scream through his skull, pounding him back two steps, and Yibo put his hands up to cover his ears to no avail.
“Obey me!” she yelled.
It was not just a voice of the mouth, but a voice of the mind she called with. Many vampires could compel a human to do their bidding - even Yibo himself had the ability to reverse the memories of those whose blood he drank - but it was only a Master that could compel another vampire.
Yibo was rooted to the spot, unable to move, a cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He felt a cold fear in his veins.
All at once, Marguerite laughed, and released Haikuan from her grasp. She righted him, then leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Haikuan on the cheek. “I expect Yibo’s problem to be… taken care of by the end of the week. One way or the other,” she said, looking at them each in turn.
“Yes, Master,” the two of them said in unison.
🎃
“What will you do?” Haikuan asked Yibo the next night, as the two of them rested in Yibo’s cave.
Yibo shook his head, dressing himself woodenly. He selected a pair of skin-tight black jeans with the knees ripped out, converse, and a v-neck black shirt that showed off his collarbone. He swept a black leather jacket over his shoulders and tied his hair back in a ponytail. “I will go to him.”
Haikuan moved to stand in front of Yibo, blocking his way. He placed a hand on Yibo’s sternum, peering into his eyes. “Will you make him your servant? Or kill him?”
Yibo pursed his lips, sighing. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Do you need me?”
“…I plan to let him make the choice,” Yibo said, looking up into Haikuan’s eyes. “I didn’t want this for him. Any of it.” His eyes swam with tears and he turned his face away. “I told him once, I would taint him, bring darkness on his doorstep, but he saved my life anyway. I should have left this place long ago.”
Haikuan pulled Yibo into a hug, squeezing his back as much as Yibo would allow. “Without your intervention, he’d live another fifty years at most. Merely a puff of smoke in the years you and I have lived together. No matter what happens, it makes little difference.”
Yibo leaned on Haikuan’s shoulder, his eyes drying as he breathed heavily. “I didn’t want this for him.”
“I know, brother. I know.”
🎃
Yibo made his way to Xiao Zhan’s house. He was confused, a little, when he saw the jack-o-lanterns lit up outside. Then he realized, it must be All Hallow’s Eve - or close to it. Many houses in the area were decorated with plastic skeletons, fake cobwebs. Little did these humans know many of the creatures they pantomimed did, indeed, live in the dark. Nightmares made flesh.
Yibo walked up to the outside of Xiao Zhan’s house. The familiar cottage out in the middle of nowhere. Cozy, warm, smoke curling up out of the chimney. There was the vegetable patch outside. Yibo wandered over, peered down in the soil and saw plump pumpkins sprouting out of the soil. Xiao Zhan was, indeed, a witch - for his produce grew ripe and delicious no matter what the weather conditions.
“Is someone there?”
Yibo tensed up when he heard Xiao Zhan’s voice. He almost turned and ran, but then remembered Marguerite’s ultimatum. If I don’t make him mine, she’ll kill him, or worse…
Yibo stood there, his back to the door, staring down at those pumpkins. Staring at them like somehow they’d reveal some third option he hadn’t thought of yet.
“…Yibo?” Xiao Zhan’s voice said, incredulous.
Yibo slowly turned.
He saw Xiao Zhan standing there, his form bracketed in the open doorway. The light hit him from behind like a halo, making him look like an angel. He was wearing a comfy, hand-knit white cable sweater, blue jeans, and comfy slippers made of leather. Yibo couldn’t see his face, it was clouded in shadows.
Yibo didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, poised, unsure.
Xiao Zhan took a step towards him, then another, then he was running. He ran towards Yibo full-tilt, then impacted Yibo with a hug, pulling Yibo in and grasping at his back. “Oh God, I thought you were dead,” Xiao Zhan said, voice breaking. “I thought - I thought… God!”
Yibo tilted his head up at the night sky, his eyes tracking towards the lonely moon. I should have walked into the sun. Xiao Zhan would be safe now. “I’m here,” Yibo said lamely. “I’m sorry.”
Xiao Zhan cupped his arm around Yibo’s back, escorting him into the house. “It’s okay, everything’s okay. I can see you’ve been through a lot. You’re so thin, Yibo. Have you been eating? I haven’t seen you in so long, I hope you… I hope you ate. Are you okay?”
Xiao Zhan brought Yibo into the house. The first thing Yibo noticed was how warm it was, a warmth that filled Yibo to the bones. It wasn’t just physical heat, it was Xiao Zhan’s magic, rich and warm and comforting, and it had soaked into every fibre of this house over the years that he’d lived here. The next thing Yibo noticed was the scent, that familiar scent of drying herbs, of apples baking in the oven. Yibo looked around and saw with fondness the idle clutter around the place - stacks of books on the living room coffee table, racks of spices drying in the kitchen. Bundles of herbs wrapped in cloth, trinkets on the table, cat toys scattered on the ground.
Xiao Zhan led Yibo into the living room, where there was a fire crackling in the fireplace. Yibo followed when Xiao Zhan dragged him over to the couch then sat him down, facing him. Xiao Zhan’s face was so kind and open, his eyes bright, beautiful, wide and doe-eyed. Yibo glanced down at that mole under Xiao Zhan’s mouth, and then he wanted to kiss him, could think of nothing else. Yibo licked his lips.
“I thought I saw you the other night,” Xiao Zhan was saying, making Yibo drag his eyes back up. “Outside. On the fence. Was it you?”
Yibo nodded woodenly.
“Why did you run away?” Xiao Zhan asked, reaching out his hand to lay it on top of Yibo’s. “I would have invited you inside. I’ve missed you,” he said with a shy smile.
I’m about to ruin you, and you think you missed me? You are a fool. I wish I didn’t love you so I could kill you right here and now.
“How have you been?” Xiao Zhan asked. “Yibo? You haven’t said a word.”
Yibo cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Xiao Zhan’s beautiful face. “I missed you, too,” Yibo said thickly, voice tangled in honesty.
Xiao Zhan smiled, his dimples appearing. He reached out to lace his fingers in Yibo’s. “I knew it wasn’t just… it wasn’t just a… two-night stand,” Xiao Zhan said with a giggle. “I waited for you,” he said, looking up. He then laughed and blushed. “Not that I’ve had any… gentleman callers. I’m not the type to get on Grindr for a hookup.”
Yibo’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What?”
Xiao Zhan grinned and squeezed Yibo’s hand. “I just… I like you a lot. And I know it’s complicated and everything I just… I want you to give me a chance, okay? I know if we both want to that we can… we can find a way to be together.”
Xiao Zhan was so earnest, so sweet. It made Yibo sick inside what he had to do.
Yibo pushed to his feet and went to stand by the fire, pushing his hands out to take some warmth.
“…Yibo?”
Yibo sighed when Xiao Zhan slipped his arms around Yibo’s waist, hugging him from behind. Xiao Zhan’s taller form fit him perfectly, enfolding him in comfort and warmth and home. Yibo longed for that so dearly, longed for that human life, wanted to taste Xiao Zhan’s food, to sink into his body and steal his warmth, his blood…
“I should have walked into the sun,” Yibo whispered. “Everything would be simpler now.”
Xiao Zhan tensed against Yibo’s back. He slipped a hand up to tap over Yibo’s heart. “What do you mean?”
Yibo stared into the flickering flames, his heart roiling in turmoil. “I want to be honest with you,” Yibo said, then coughed. He cleared his throat and tried again. It was easier, somehow, not looking at his face. “The coven… Of Salem… They know about you. They know that you know about me. About all of us. So… I’ve been given a choice.”
Xiao Zhan slipped under Yibo’s arm, facing him. He cupped Yibo’s face in his hands. “What choice?” he asked, searching Yibo’s eyes.
“I have to make you my servant… or kill you,” Yibo said, raising an eyebrow.
He tried to make himself not care. He tried to shut off his feelings as Xiao Zhan pulled away, betrayal written all over his features. Xiao Zhan paced back and forth, his hand perched under his chin. He then flopped down on the couch, crossing his legs at the knee, resting his head on one hand. “If I haven’t spilled your secret in the three years I’ve known it, what makes them think I’m a risk now?” Xiao Zhan asked, not meeting Yibo’s eyes.
Three…. years? It’s been three years? I…. didn’t know.
Yibo looked back at the fire, crossing his arms over his chest. “Time means little to us. You remain a threat so long as you know about us, and I can’t erase your mind because of your magic.”
Xiao Zhan laughed weakly. Yibo turned to watch him shake his head. Xiao Zhan flopped his hand about and said, “I was so naive to think something had happened to you… That you might care for me, too…”
“If I didn’t care for you you’d be dead already,” Yibo said blandly, taking a step towards him. “That I’m even considering the alternative should, itself, be a sign of how much I care for you.”
Xiao Zhan looked up, peering at Yibo. “I don’t even know what it means. Human servant just sounds like some kind of slave?”
Yibo tilted his head this way and that, pursing his lips. He gestured with his hands, fumbling for words. “A vampire… can have only one servant. If I give you the Bond, then… I can make you mine. You will… take my essence,” Yibo said, pointing form his chest to Xiao Zhan’s. “You won’t age. But you’ll still be human. It’s a… a partnership. Because you get something from me, and I get something from you.”
“What do you get from me?” Xiao Zhan asked, pushing to his feet.
Yibo pouted a little. “I can drink from you, from time to time.”
Xiao Zhan took a step closer. “Okay.”
Yibo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “And… You can be my eyes and ears in the daytime. Do things for me that need doing in daylight. Not that I have anything like that, to be honest,” he said, spreading his hands.
Xiao Zhan took another step closer. He peered at Yibo, considering. After a long moment, he nodded. “What else?”
Yibo shrugged. “You will not be able to betray me. That’s really what they want. Your silence.”
Xiao Zhan flattened his mouth into a line. “Mind control.”
Yibo stepped forward. “I don’t know how it works.”
Xiao Zhan raised his eyes, peering down into Yibo’s face. They were only a breath apart. “Have you ever had a servant before?”
Yibo held Xiao Zhan’s eyes for a long moment. So pretty. Finally, Yibo shook his head. “No.”
Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. “I want you to tell me something, first.”
Yibo licked his lips and nodded. “Mn.”
“Yibo, how old are you?” Xiao Zhan asked.
Yibo turned back to face the fire, staring at the flames. “I was born in the Tang dynasty.”
There was a pause as Xiao Zhan worked through that. “No, that’s… that’s not possible,” Xiao Zhan said, taking a few steps back.
“I was turned in 906, right in the period when there was political uprising. My brother Haikuan and I were turned together, our master turned us to fight in a war for him. We were part of the uprisings that left China in different dynasties - the Song, Liao, Jin, Xia. It seems like so long ago,” Yibo said with a twist of his mouth. “I was so young and idealistic then. Haikuan-ge and I… We thought we could make a difference. But the longer we lived, the more we saw… Humans are like a pendulum, swinging back and forth… Always wanting change, never satisfied… I stopped caring about the world of people and their intrigues. So I wandered the Earth. I’ve lived in so many places, just… living. Live in some place for a while, then move on, over and over... Until I met you,” Yibo said, turning.
Xiao Zhan was standing behind him, his eyes shining in wonder. “Me?”
Yibo nodded. He sighed, wringing his hands together then shrugging. “I’m not good with people. I’m good at… I can do one-night stands. I can indulge in things, then move on. I’m not… I’m not good at talking. After all, talking… Just puts people in danger,” he said, looking back up. “I knew if I got close to you, I’d ruin you. I just… I don’t have a choice. They’ll kill you.”
Xiao Zhan shook his head, turning in a circle and pacing. “You’ve seen so much. Experienced so much. It’s… hard to get my head around.”
Yibo took a step closer to him. “You could experience things, too. If you want. If I make you my servant, then… you could live long enough to do anything you want,” he said, spreading his hands. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
“And what if I just want to stay here? In my cottage?” Xiao Zhan demanded, his eyes fiery.
Yibo stood his ground. “Then you will stay here.”
Xiao Zhan took a step closer, examining Yibo’s eyes. “And will you stay with me?”
Yibo looked around. “Unless you have a basement, I’m afraid… no.”
Xiao Zhan raised his eyebrows. “I do have a basement. But where do you stay now?”
Yibo looked up. “I live in a cave.”
“A cave?”
Yibo’s lips curled up in a half-smile. “I like solitude. Mostly.”
Xiao Zhan shook his head, turning in another circle. “You know it’s so weird. It’s like I’ve always had this feeling about you, from the moment I saw you… Like I was waiting for you, or something trite like that… But now that you’re here, talking to me, it occurs to me… I know nothing about you. Nothing.” He laughed a little, his hands on his hips. He shook his head, then looked up. “When do I have to make this decision?”
“About whether you want to live or die?” Yibo asked, confused. Is there really a choice here?
“About whether I want to compromise all my ideals and bind myself to a vampire to live, or go willingly to death’s arms, yes,” Xiao Zhan snapped.
Yibo looked back at the flames. “Tonight.”
“Tonight,” Xiao Zhan repeated, then laughed. “Tonight.”
Yibo turned and walked to the door. “I’ll give you some time.”
Xiao Zhan didn’t stop him when he walked out the door.
🎃
Yibo walked around in the yard outside. The fog had gathered in the night, like clouds hovering just above the ground. He danced through the fog, humming a tune as he entertained himself. He had danced for so long, dancing was second-nature to him. He whirled and spun, kicking up fog in his wake. His body rippled as he danced, thrusting his hips, waving his arms in the air. He did the folk dances of his home country, and then twisted his body into more modern movements. It fascinated him how over the ages people kept coming up with new ways to dance, new movements. Like a language all of its own, evolving through the years.
At some point he whirled and saw Xiao Zhan standing there on the threshold, watching him. Just silently observing.
Yibo froze, the fog still whirling around his body. He tucked his hands into his pockets, shrugged his shoulders. Waited.
“Why did you have to be so fucking beautiful?” Xiao Zhan said, voice cracking.
Yibo looked up, unsure whether he should hope or despair.
Xiao Zhan took a step towards him. “I want something from you before I agree to this.”
Yibo tilted his head, curious. “What?”
“Let me make love to you,” Xiao Zhan said, raising his chin. “If things are… good between us, then… I’ll consider it.”
Yibo’s heart kicked up a notch, nervousness wrestling with desire. “You will?” Yibo said doubtfully.
Xiao Zhan walked right up to Yibo, looking down into his eyes. He stared down at Yibo’s lips, then raised a hand to trace Yibo’s lips with his finger. “If I agree to this, then you have to agree to be mine,” Xiao Zhan murmured. “I won’t share.”
Yibo’s heart kicked up another beat, intrigued by the idea of being owned by Xiao Zhan just as much as Xiao Zhan would be owned by him. “I… could agree to that,” Yibo said with a nod, licking his lips.
“Fuck,” Xiao Zhan whispered.
Then Xiao Zhan surged forward. He grabbed Yibo around the waist, pulling him close, and the next thing their mouths were crashing together in a heated kiss.
Yibo’s mind shattered. Like it did every time Xiao Zhan touched him, he lost control. He wanted him so badly he thrummed with the energy of holding himself back.
Xiao Zhan’s hand cupped the back of Yibo’s neck, turning the tables and controlling the situation. Last time Yibo had been the one in the driver’s seat. This time, Xiao Zhan needed that, and like Yibo could sense it he easily submitted.
Xiao Zhan’s hands slipped under Yibo’s jacket, wrapping around Yibo’s waist and pulling them flush together. Their chests crashed together, mouths clashing as they tasted each other for the first time in so long.
“Most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” Xiao Zhan whispered between kisses. “Fuck.”
Yibo whined a little, tilting his head into Xiao Zhan’s cheek. “Want you,” Yibo said in his low voice. He thrust his hips into Xiao Zhan’s.
Xiao Zhan roughly grabbed Yibo’s ass, pulling him up into his kiss. “You’re mine tonight,” Xiao Zhan said just as roughly as he brought their mouths together again.
Yibo wrapped his arms around Xiao Zhan’s neck, laughing a little as he let Xiao Zhan take control. He was manhandled back into the house. Somewhere along the way, he lost his leather jacket. Then Xiao Zhan’s sweater disappeared. Yibo’s shirt went next. Then Xiao Zhan’s. Then they were wrestling, topless, on the rug in front of the fireplace. The feeling of Xiao Zhan’s skin against his own made Yibo feel like he was on fire. He groaned, pinning Xiao Zhan beneath him, nuzzling his face in Xiao Zhan’s neck and inhaling his scent.
“Not yet,” Xiao Zhan said roughly, grappling with Yibo until he was on top and Yibo was lying prone beneath him. Xiao Zhan sat on Yibo’s hips, then poked Yibo in the sternum. He then gazed down at Yibo’s chest, drawing his fingertip down to the line that delineated his abs. He traced that finger back up, circled a nipple. Then looked back up at Yibo’s face.
“I want to fuck you,” Xiao Zhan said, mouth set in a stubborn line.
Yibo smirked. “Okay,” he said easily.
Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”
“If it’s you it’s okay,” Yibo said, his eyes half-lidded. “It’s been a while but… you can’t hurt me.” He shrugged.
Xiao Zhan stood up in one fluid motion, then peered down at him. Yibo looked up at Xiao Zhan’s lean but toned body, just imagining what they’d do together…
We fit so well. We were meant for each other. I know it.
Xiao Zhan shook his head a little, muttering, “Too fucking unreal. Yibo. Dang.” He wandered over to the kitchen, then returned with the vial of ylang ylang oil the two had used the last time. Xiao Zhan shucked off his pants, then stroked himself. He coated himself in oil, then got to his knees and stroked Yibo’s stomach. “You sure about this?”
In response, Yibo unbuttoned his pants. He wiggled them off his hips, shimmied out of them. Like it always was before he drank, his cock was flaccid between his legs. But he pulled his legs up and covered himself, baring himself to Xiao Zhan. “Yeah,” Yibo said thickly.
Xiao Zhan knelt down between Yibo’s legs. He took only moments to prep him, knowing Yibo could handle it, then Yibo let his head fall to the side and breathed out when Xiao Zhan pushed inside. It had been a while since he’d felt that exquisite pain of being breached, knowing soon that discomfort would yield a greater pleasure. For vampires, more so than humans even, pain and pleasure were a tangled mess.
“Don’t hold back,” Yibo grunted, grabbing at Xiao Zhan’s arms. “Come on.”
Yibo cracked his eyes open to look up at Xiao Zhan, and saw the most unexpected look on Xiao Zhan’s face. Xiao Zhan’s lips were parted, his eyes glazed, like he felt the most exquisite bliss but his eyebrows were raised in surprise. Like he hadn’t anticipated whatever he was feeling right now.
Yibo reached his foot around Xiao Zhan’s bum and pulled him in with a jerky movement.
Xiao Zhan cried out, his head falling down on Yibo’s chest. “Fuck!”
“That’s the plan,” Yibo said dryly.
“Wait… Wait!” Xiao Zhan said, gripping Yibo’s hips in his hands.
Yibo impatiently rolled them over, so Xiao Zhan was lying on the carpet, Yibo riding his hips. He planted his hands on Xiao Zhan’s hips and rolled his hips experimentally.
“Oh… my… god,” Xiao Zhan said, his whole chest going red. His nipples puckered up, making Yibo smirk and reach up to tweak them with his fingers. He snapped his hips rhythmically, like he was dancing on Xiao Zhan’s lap. He twisted his hips, throwing his head back, searching for that angle…
It had been so long since Yibo had been on the receiving end, he forgot just how good it felt. Even without fresh blood flowing through his veins, the impact on his prostate was maddeningly glorious. Yibo moaned as he writhed there, taking his pleasure. Xiao Zhan, meanwhile, lay there blissed out, his hands gripping Yibo’s hips, helping him along.
“Yibo, Yibo…” Xiao Zhan moaned, fingers scraping into Yibo’s flesh, dragging marks across his pale skin.
Yibo bent in two, stealing a kiss from his lover as they moved together on that carpet. The heat of the fire made sweat break out on Xiao Zhan’s skin. His cheeks were flushed so red, his eyes glistening and his cock so hard inside him Yibo thought it would drive him mad.
“Xiao Zhan,” Yibo said huskily.
Xiao Zhan’s eyes lifted to look up at Yibo’s, his eyebrows drawing together. “Yeah?”
Yibo licked his lips. “Let me bite you?”
Xiao Zhan stuck out his bottom lip. “If you bite me I’ll come. So you better come first, then bite me.”
Yibo looked up at the ceiling, then back down, and grinned. “Good point. But I can’t come in the way you mean. But I can come the other way.”
Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Huh?”
Yibo lifted himself up off Xiao Zhan, then got on his hands and knees on the carpet. “Come on.”
Xiao Zhan sat up, dazed. “Okay.” He snugged his knees outside of Yibo’s, getting in position. Then he roughly entered Yibo again, thrusting in him from behind. “Like this?” Xiao Zhan asked.
Yibo nodded, head hanging down. “Rough. Hard.”
Xiao Zhan’s hand clutched at Yibo’s hip. “Sure?”
“Can’t hurt me.”
Xiao Zhan took Yibo at his word, starting slow but working up to a feverish pace. The two of them fucked there on the carpet, animalistic, bodies scrambling to be as close as two people could get and still it wasn’t enough. Yibo felt like he was floating, giving himself into the hands of someone else for the first time in so long. And Xiao Zhan gave him exactly what he needed. Though it was rough and hard, it was also incredibly tender and comforting at the same time. Xiao Zhan fucked as only Xiao Zhan could.
It was the way Xiao Zhan’s hand pressed up Yibo’s back. The way Xiao Zhan’s knees hugged the outside of Yibo’s. The way his stomach folded onto Yibo’s back, smothering him in warmth, and Xiao Zhan’s scent of herbs and cooking.
Yibo reached a precipice, and then he started to climax, his inner walls clenching in on Xiao Zhan’s cock as he fucked him. Xiao Zhan cried out, stroked Yibo’s belly, and cooed, “That’s it, baby. That’s it.”
When Yibo finished writhing, Xiao Zhan flipped them again, pushing Yibo on his back on the carpet. He fell down stomach-to-stomach on Yibo, presenting his neck. “Do it,” Xiao Zhan said harshly.
Yibo licked his lips, his hand carding up into the exquisite waves of Xiao Zhan’s hair. He inhaled Xiao Zhan’s scent one last time then sank his teeth into Xiao Zhan’s neck, groaning low in his throat.
Xiao Zhan’s blood spilled over his tongue. Like every time he’d tasted him, it was pure ecstasy. Yibo had never reacted to anyone’s blood like he had Xiao Zhan’s. He wanted to smother himself in it, that sweet, supple, velvety texture that he eagerly guzzled down his throat. Xiao Zhan flopped on top of him, boneless, twitching, climaxing on Yibo’s belly as Yibo drank from him.
And yet once Yibo drank, his cock stood up proud and eager, wanting more. Yibo withdrew his fangs from Xiao Zhan’s neck, then grabbed the oil to prep himself briefly before he probed at Xiao Zhan’s entrance.
“Can I?” Yibo asked roughly, his cock nudging where it wanted to go.
Xiao Zhan nodded weakly. “Mmm hmm.”
Yibo sank his cock deep into Xiao Zhan, sighing. He languished in Xiao Zhan’s body, the two of them just lying there, connected, satiated. After a while, Yibo moved. He was so satiated already that he was slow, languorous, piercing up into Xiao Zhan one thrust at a time. Xiao Zhan was pliant, humming, his hand pulling the hair tie from Yibo’s hair so he could play with the long strands in his fingers.
Yibo slowly worked his way to a second, different type of climax, his body trembling with exhaustion when he finally filled Xiao Zhan’s body with his seed. This accomplished, his cock finally wilted, and Yibo flopped there, all energy spent, veins buzzing with Xiao Zhan’s blood.
He felt reawakened, alive.
Xiao Zhan’s skin against his own was an exquisite agony, a promise of everything they could be together if only Xiao Zhan said yes.
Then Yibo’s mind flooded with the possibilities of Xiao Zhan saying no. The idea of killing him was… unthinkable. If he asks that of me, I’ll walk into the sun in the morning. There’s no other way out. I can’t survive that.
He didn’t voice that aloud, but he didn’t have to. Like many times between them, Xiao Zhan seemed to know Yibo’s heart.
“We fit so well together, don’t we?” Xiao Zhan said, snuggling up against Yibo’s body.
“Mn,” Yibo hummed in agreement. He raised his hands to clutch at Xiao Zhan’s back, hugging him tight. “Mn.”
“Would you really kill me, if I told you that was my choice?” Xiao Zhan asked.
Yibo tensed, but didn’t let go. “Mn.”
Xiao Zhan paused, then pushed up enough to look down into his face. He gazed down into Yibo’s eyes, then smoothed his eyebrows down with his fingertips. “Would you walk into the sun if you did that?”
Yibo’s eyes glistened when he nodded. “Mn.”
Xiao Zhan glanced down at Yibo’s mouth, then back up to his eyes. “So I have to save two lives tonight. Only thing it will cost me is my soul.”
Yibo cocked his head, then ran his hand down Xiao Zhan’s spine. “After all you’ve seen, do you really still think humans have a soul? You really think there’s a god in this world?”
Xiao Zhan searched Yibo’s eyes, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it.”
Yibo didn’t want to believe it, at first. He didn’t want to hope. “You will?” Yibo said, eyeing him askance.
Xiao Zhan fingered Yibo’s collarbone, shifting his hips so he wasn’t quite lying on Yibo, though he nudged his knee between Yibo’s legs playfully. “Way I see it, this human servant thing… It’s kind of like a marriage, isn’t it?”
Yibo’s eyes shot up in surprise. “Huh?”
Xiao Zhan smirked. “You can’t have another servant while you have me. And you agreed you won’t let anyone else have you while I’m your servant. So we belong to each other. It’s a partnership. I figure you vampires only call it a ‘servant’ because you don’t want to admit that you depend on humans to survive.” Xiao Zhan cracked a smile.
Yibo laughed, then covered his face with a hand. “Yeah, okay.”
“You could have just said it this way,” Xiao Zhan said, smiling down into Yibo’s face.
Yibo looked up, admiring the way the firelight danced across Xiao Zhan’s features, his perfect bone structure, his golden skin, his muscles. He was utterly entranced by him. “Huh?” Yibo said, having forgotten what they were talking about entirely as he admired the man pressed against him.
“You could have just said… Will you marry me?” Xiao Zhan said, leaning in to nuzzle their noses together.
Yibo tilted up into a brief kiss, and then said, “But as you said, you barely know me.”
“Yeah well, now’s as good a time as any to get to know you. Besides, I believe in my intuition. I am a witch, after all,” Xiao Zhan said with a wink. “So…. say it.”
“What?” Yibo said, eyebrows drawn together.
Xiao Zhan giggled and smoothed out Yibo’s brows with his fingers. “Will you marry me? Say it. It’s much more romantic than, ‘Will you be my human servant?’”
“Will you marry me?” Yibo parroted.
Xiao Zhan sank down to kiss Yibo thoroughly, his hand exploring down the length of Yibo’s body. “Yes, I will.”
Yibo’s heart pattered light and happy in his chest. “You will?” Yibo said, pushing to sit up.
Xiao Zhan wrapped his arms around Yibo’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “Yeah. I will.”
Yibo raised his hands to hug him back. “You won’t regret this,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Xiao Zhan smiled as he looked into Yibo’s eyes. “Somehow, Yibo… I trust you. I kind of always did. And I always knew one day you’d come back for me. So…. let’s do this. What do I need to do?”
Yibo glanced down, then back up again. “You need to drink. Just a bit.”
“Drink?”
Yibo closed his eyes, then used the edge of his fangs to cut open his own wrist. He then held it up in front of Xiao Zhan’s face. “Just a little. I’ll tell you when.”
Xiao Zhan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He then caressed Yibo’s wrist, lifted it up…
…and drank.