Work Text:
Xie Lian returned to his house at the edge of the fields just as the sun dipped behind a veil of gathering clouds.
It was tiny but carefully kept. Pots of herbs lined the windowsills, their leaves catching the light. Flowers hung in simple bunches along the curtain, and the table by the window was always cleared, always waiting. The house looked lived in, loved in, the way Xie Lian allowed himself to be.
The moment the door shut behind him, the strength left his limbs.
Xie Lian sat down on the edge of the bed and then, with a quiet sigh, let himself fall back onto the thin mattress.
The walk home had been long, nearly a kilometre beneath an unforgiving sun, and even that small distance had taken more from him than he cared to admit. He was grateful the clouds had finally begun to roll in.
After all, he had not drunk human blood in a long time.
The hunger no longer burned the way it once had, but it weighed on him all the same. It made his steps slower, the sun’s light harsher, the world more suffocating.
Walking so much under the sun had grown troublesome. Still, he would rather endure that than cross a line he had sworn never to touch.
Xie Lian’s gaze shifted to the flowers resting carefully on the table.
White, pink, and red. Fresh from the flower shop in town, their petals still cool and dewy. He had chosen them without thinking too much.
Xie Lian wondered if Hua Cheng would like them.
The thought softened something tight in his chest. He glanced towards the door again, then away, listening to the quiet house.
Hua Cheng had promised to come soon, but promises were fragile things when weighed against work. The VHO did not allow contact—especially with electronic devices—while on active duty.
Xie Lian knew better than to worry. And yet, all he could do was wait.
Patiently.
The vampire side had been trying to reach him again.
Relentlessly.
Among vampires, his name was not spoken lightly. He was infamous. Not for cruelty, nor for power, but for absence.
Well, vampires did not live among humans.
They had their own domain, far removed from the human world, governed by ancient customs.
Royals and nobles still existed there, bloodlines mattered, and traditions were law. Sure, they had access to modern technology, but their customs were dearer to them.
And Xie Lian was the only one who had walked away. The only vampire who lived among humans. The only one who refused to drink human blood.
Humans, of course, knew nothing of this.
All except Hua Cheng.
But Hua Cheng hardly counted. He had broken more rules than Xie Lian, quietly undoing damage behind the scenes, redirecting hunts, falsifying deaths of vampires, saving lives that never could’ve been spared.
Xie Lian was still thinking of him when the air in front of the door to the room—the only one in his house—twisted.
He jolted upright.
Space folded in on itself, shadows curling inward as a portal tore open soundlessly in the middle of the room.
Dark light spilled across the floor, and from it stepped a figure unmistakably inhuman.
An elf, dressed in black.
He was only tall enough to reach to Xie Lian’s waist, and his ears were long and sharp.
“Hello, Your Highness,” he said brightly. “Your monthly blood supply is here!”
...
“…Ah,” Xie Lian squeezed out after a moment. “Thank you, Xiao You.”
“You’re welcome, Your Highness!”
With an enthusiastic smile, Xiao You swished back his cloak, revealing a large box cradled in his arms. He set it down beside the table, with the flowers, with a solid thump.
Inside were packets of blood, neatly packed like the juice packets humans drank, sealed and labelled with care.
Xie Lian winced faintly.
“Your Highness,” Xiao You said, peering up at him, eyes shining. “Will you come back?”
Xie Lian’s expression softened, even as his answer remained unchanged. “No, Xiao You.”
“Everyone still talks about you, Your Highness.”
“I know.”
Xiao You hesitated, then brightened again. “Would you like some new clothes, Your Highness?” Xiao You pouted and continued, “I feel sad that you have to wear human clothes so much, Your Highness.”
“No, I’m good.”
“But don’t you want to wear clothes from where you really, really belong, Your Highness?”
Xie Lian exhaled. “I really, really think that Xiao You should go back now.”
Xiao You sniffed from his pointy nose. “Did I disturb you, Your Highness?”
“…No,” Xie Lian said after a pause. “I’m just worried. If someone comes… they might see you.”
Xiao You gasped. He stumbled backward, already stepping into the portal. He didn’t know much about human customs. He genuinely believed humans entered homes freely, without knocking or permission.
“Until next time, Your Highness!”
Before Xie Lian could say anything, Xiao You flicked his cloak, and the portal snapped shut as if it had never existed.
...
Xie Lian sighed.
He stood, lifted the box carefully, and slid it beneath the bed, out of sight.
He would keep it in the fridge later.
The last thing he wanted was for Hua Cheng to arrive and find a large crate of animal blood packed like Capri-Sun.
Another sigh escaped him as he crossed the room—well, practically hall—and opened the window.
Outside, the sky was thick with clouds, pale and heavy, mercifully dimming what sunlight remained. The afternoon had turned gentle. At least to him, it was gentle.
A cold breeze slipped through the window, brushing against his hair, lifting the dark strands from his shoulders.
It smelled faintly of earth and rain.
Xie Lian closed his eyes and let the wind linger, letting it cool the ache in his body, the hunger that sat too deep. For a moment, the world felt light enough to breathe in.
Then he turned back and slumped onto the bed once more.
And waited.
Then the bell rang.
Xie Lian jerked upright at once, heart leaping into his throat.
He didn’t need to open the door to know who it was. The scent reached him first—temple incense, warm and familiar, entwined with the faint sweetness of night queen.
It was the same fragrance that lingered in prayer halls, the same flower Xie Lian kept in front of the window near his headboard.
“It’s open!” Xie Lian called, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice.
He sat on the edge of the bed and watched as the door creaked open.
Hua Cheng stepped inside.
The sharp scent of the outside world still lingered around him. He wore his usual day clothes—a deep red T-shirt paired with black slacks, that stood out too vividly against the countryside. His appearance felt almost defiant here, as though he hadn’t bothered to blend in at all.
The door shut quietly behind him.
Xie Lian got up from the bed quickly, tired of waiting.
They moved towards each other at the same time, drawn forward without thinking.
Xie Lian’s fingers brushed the edge of the table as he passed, his eyes flicking briefly to the flowers—white, pink, red—before lifting again to Hua Cheng.
“How—”
The words never made it out.
Hua Cheng had closed the distance between them and kissed him. It was sudden, almost desperate, as if the desire had been held back for too long.
Xie Lian inhaled sharply in surprise, and then melted into it, his hands coming up instinctively, wrapping around Hua Cheng’s neck, as he returned the kiss.
He stumbled back a step, but the alpha’s arms were already there, firm and steady, holding him close as though letting go had never been an option.
For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist. Just the warmth of Hua Cheng’s presence anchoring Xie Lian in place.
Then it hit him.
Xie Lian felt it before he understood it.
Something in Hua Cheng’s scent was sharper than usual, pressed tight beneath restraint, coiled and restless. The kiss slowed, then stilled, and Hua Cheng pulled back first, his forehead resting briefly against Xie Lian’s.
His breath was uneven. “Sorry, I... May I?” Hua Cheng said quietly. His voice had dropped, darker than usual, laced with something he was trying very hard to keep contained.
They had talked about this before. About how duty interfered with instinct, how the VHO demanded suppression, how Hua Cheng’s ruts were often endured alone, managed through injections and willpower rather than comfort.
If Hua Cheng needed something, he was allowed to ask for it without feeling guilty.
And Xie Lian didn’t hesitate.
He lifted his hands and cupped Hua Cheng’s face, thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones, feeling the warm skin. His touch was firm and affectionate. Hua Cheng melted into it, like always.
“Of course, San Lang,” he said softly.
That name loosened something in Hua Cheng’s chest, his pheromones shifting to something soft briefly for a second.
But Xie Lian still noticed.
*****
“W-wait!”
Xie Lian’s voice broke into a helpless groan as he pressed his palms against Hua Cheng’s chest.
Hua Cheng did not stop immediately. Instead, he caught Xie Lian’s wrists with ease and pinned them next to his head. He then continued with slower thrusts, scenting the omega’s neck.
‘No...’ Xie Lian thought.
This was bad.
Xie Lian realized it all at once, the way one realizes a misstep only after the ground has already shifted beneath them.
Hua Cheng’s presence pressed in from every side, impossible to ignore. His scent was suddenly everywhere, no longer distant or comforting, but sharp in its clarity.
Xie Lian started to breathe through his mouth instead.
His instincts—fucking traitorous—stirred.
Hunger.
Not the dull ache he lived with every day, but something sharper, more unbearable. Xie Lian’s head leaned forward before his mind could stop it.
He wished he had eaten earlier—wished he had been more careful.”
He hadn’t known it would be like this!
Xie Lian drew in a slow breath, grounding himself even as his own instincts betrayed him. His lips parted despite his effort to stop them, and he felt the faint, unmistakable presence of his own fangs, something that he refused to become.
He leaned closer to the bare neck beside him.
So close that he could feel the warmth of Hua Cheng’s skin, hear the unsteady rhythm of his breathing. His mouth hovered near Hua Cheng’s neck, near enough to sense the pulse there.
But he didn’t touch.
Xie Lian held himself perfectly still, every muscle of his jaw tight with restraint, choosing control over instinct, again and again.
The space between them was fragile—a line Xie Lian would not cross, no matter how loudly his body urged him otherwise.
Especially now.
A guttural moan escaped Xie Lian. He threw his head back against the pillow, away from Hua Cheng’s neck, no longer intoxicated by the meal in front of him—thanks to the way the alpha’s cock was rearranging his insides.
Hua Cheng freed Xie Lian’s wrists, instead grabbing his hips in a painful grip.
Xie Lian’s hands reached up and took support from Hua Cheng’s shoulder. He dug his nails deep into the alpha’s skin, careful not to draw any blood, as even a single drop of blood could make him lose his mind right now.
“Don’t stop... f-fuck—”
He pressed himself further back against the pillow as Hua Cheng’s dick pushed deeper into him.
“Ugh...”
Xie Lian tried to control the tears that threatened to escape his eyes.
Too deep!
Xie Lian’s breath broke, shallow and uneven, and before he could stop himself, the tears spilled over. He turned his head away from Hua Cheng’s, ashamed of the weakness, of the instinct that clawed so desperately in his head.
Xie Lian sucked in a breath. Then another.
“San Lang,” he said hoarsely. “Listen to me.”
Hua Cheng blinked, as if waking from a dream.
Xie Lian forced himself to meet his gaze, tears clinging to his lashes, his expression tight with effort rather than fear.
Xie Lian was under Hua Cheng, open and vulnerable. But from a single bite, the tables could turn. It would instead be Hua Cheng under Xie Lian, with his throat open, and vulnerable—maybe cold too—
“Please,” Xie Lian said softly. “Just listen.”
Hua Cheng stopped and raised himself, sitting back, looking down at the tearful omega under him.
The alpha’s visible eye was drowsy, looking at Xie Lian in a daze.
And the older man could only sigh in relief.
Hua Cheng’s hands gently cupped Xie Lian’s face and caressed his cheeks, softly rubbing away his tears. His own face had a complicated expression. Almost as if he was about to hit himself on the head for wronging his own beloved.
Ah...
Hua Cheng was not in his senses. His rut was often intense, and this was just his pre-rut. He must be thinking that Xie Lian was crying because of him. Even though Xie Lian could handle rough—
Xie Lian was not crying because of Hua Cheng’s dick, but because of the terrifying thought that he might become his food!
“San Lang, it’s—”
“I know, gege.”
That voice. It was different. Even though it was just a simple sentence, that voice was enough to push Xie Lian towards submission. It was the voice of an alpha.
“Hm...?”
“Drink.”
“...”
“Drink my blood.”
“…What?” Xie Lian’s voice came out thin, disbelieving.
“I said—”
“...Stop using that voice.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Xie Lian’s breath hitched.
No.
The word rang through his head like a warning bell. His thoughts scrambled, racing for sense.
Was this because of Hua Cheng’s pre-rut? Was he actively going into rut? Probably not. But still...
If Hua Cheng had forced it, if he had pressed down with the full weight of a command, Xie Lian couldn’t have fought it, or resisted, or pushed against it.
But this—
Xie Lian had control over this.
“San Lang,” he said, forcing calm into his voice even as his hands trembled. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
Hua Cheng’s gaze sharpened at that, flickering briefly with something dangerous. “I do.”
‘Does he?’
Xie Lian swallowed hard. The hunger inside him surged at the words alone, traitorous and alive, responding to the alpha’s voice far too eagerly.
His senses screamed at him—
Oh, this was bad.
Xie Lian was already fighting himself, already stretched thin by restraint, and now Hua Cheng was shoving temptation directly in his face.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Xie Lian whispered. His voice cracked despite his effort. “At least not when we’re...”
Xie Lian broke off, fingers curling into Hua Cheng’s forearms as his cheeks got warmer. The urge pulsed beneath his skin, sharp and humiliating, and he hated how easily it answered to Hua Cheng’s presence.
“Ngh...”
Then a thought crossed Xie Lian’s mind—
If he buried his fangs into Hua Cheng’s throat, what would his pulse feel like under his tongue?
“This isn’t helping,” he said softly. “You’re making it harder.”
He could almost imagine the pulsating—
“Please,” Xie Lian prayed. “Don’t do this to me.”
And for the first time, Xie Lian actually felt the danger of loving someone who would offer himself without hesitation.
Almost as if his prayer was heard, Hua Cheng shifted his attention to something else.
He slowly pulled his cock out of Xie Lian, earning a pitiful groan, and then slammed it back in immediately.
“Ah!”
At least this time Hua Cheng didn’t bury his face on Xie Lian’s neck. Instead, he was looking right at the place where their bodies were connecting, his hands keeping the omega’s thighs in place.
The bed creaked from the alpha’s frantic—animalistic—thrusts, the sound mixing with Xie Lian’s pathetic whimpers.
His hands desperately clawed at Hua Cheng’s arms for support, as if the bed would swallow him whole.
Xie Lian’s breath hitched. “San Lang—ah—don’t break the bed! It’s expensive—”
“I’ll buy you more, gege.”
“Oh, that’s not...”
Hua Cheng took Xie Lian’s hand, threading their fingers together in an unhurried motion, savoring the moment. His other hand slipped around the omega’s waist, drawing him close. He groaned as his thrusts started to lose their rhythm.
He was close.
“San Lang—”
Hua Cheng slowed down, and then started to push his throbbing dick deeper inside Xie Lian.
...
“Wait—ah!”
Xie Lian shrieked, feeling every single inch of Hua Cheng’s pulsating cock entering his hole. At this point, its shape was permanently imprinted in Xie Lian’s head. The more he thought about it, the more slick pooled under him.
Xie Lian squirmed under Hua Cheng. He could feel the cock slowly swell inside of him.
“C-can you hear me??”
“It’s warm there... Gege, I’m—” Hua Cheng groaned, leaning closer to Xie Lian’s face. “I’m close...”
‘I know!’
“Mnn... Yeah, hurry up...”
Hua Cheng looked at Xie Lian drowsily, as if he were drunk—technically he was in a drunken state. Then, he obediently grabbed Xie Lian’s dick, stroking it up and down quickly.
‘Not what I meant...’
Xie Lian jerked his hips up, trying to gain more friction. His breaths got shallow, mouth open, letting out whimpers and silent moans.
“You can do it, gege.” Hua Cheng groaned as he leaned down, his cock still buried deep inside Xie Lian.
“Don’t cry.”
“Mgh...”
Xie Lian whined as Hua Cheng started to move again. The hand on his dick was now being licked clean by the alpha, savouring every single drop of pre-cum. Xie Lian winced at the sight but didn’t break the eye contact.
“Gege, will you come like this?”
“...”
“Just from my dick?”
Xie Lian sighed. “San Lang...”
His hands slowly moved down, from the alpha’s chest to his abs, from his abs to his lower abdomen, and then reached his cock.
Xie Lian lifted his hips, pushing himself on Hua Cheng’s dick. He threw his head back onto the pillow as it went in deeper.
“Oh lord...”
Xie Lian only did this when Hua Cheng was either in rut or pre-rut. On normal occasions, he wouldn’t put an effort to fuck himself on the alpha’s cock. Not like he didn’t want to—he would if asked—it was just that Hua Cheng really liked to do most of the work in bed.
Hua Cheng spread Xie Lian’s thighs apart with his hands, again, holding them in a firm grip, and got back to work.
With each thrust, Xie Lian’s entire body jerked. His moans, overlapping with the wet slap of skin, echoed through the small house. It was very similar to a cheap porno.
Xie Lian wrapped his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck while he nibbled on the omega’s chest.
“San Lang—”
Xie Lian shrieked as Hua Cheng quickened his pace. His thighs trembled from the stimulation—if not for Hua Cheng’s hold, he would’ve already been swallowed by the bed.
“Mgh... yes—”
Hua Cheng placed wet kisses on Xie Lian’s neck, grunting right next to the omega’s ear. His thrusts grew frantic—he was close.
Xie Lian could feel the alpha’s dick twitching and slowly swelling inside of him.
“D-don’t knot—ah.”
Hua Cheng was probably under... maybe. He had stopped paying attention to any of Xie Lian’s words.
Gege. Gege. Gege.
He kept chanting like... a prayer?
“San Lang, next time... I-I might not be able to refuse you.”
*****
Xie Lian woke slowly.
The first thing he noticed was the quiet.
No breath beside him. No steady presence grounding the space. Just the muted hush of the room, the faint rustle of wind slipping through the window.
For a brief moment, he simply lay there, staring at nothing in particular, letting the stillness settle over him.
Then, distantly—
‘They wouldn’t let him rest, would they?’
The thought came without bitterness, only a quiet sort of understanding. It was not new. It had never been new. Whatever time Hua Cheng had spent here had been taken, not given.
And even that had been more than he should have asked for.
He shifted, expecting discomfort, something out of place, but found none. Only a dull, even heaviness in his limbs, the kind that came after exhaustion. At least there wasn’t semen leaking out his—
Xie Lian shifted under the blanket.
It had been drawn neatly over him, tucked in at the sides, adjusted just enough to keep warmth without constraining movement.
He let his fingers brush over the fabric, feeling the quiet evidence of hands that had taken the time.
“…San Lang,” he murmured under his breath.
Xie Lian’s gaze drifted towards the open window.
Clouds still hung low across the sky, thick and unmoving, casting the room in a soft, diffused grey. The light had shifted—no longer afternoon at its height, but something even gentler, quieter.
...Late.
He had slept longer than he thought.
The breeze that slipped in carried the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet—night queen, stirring the edges of his hair where it fanned across the pillow.
For a moment, Xie Lian simply watched the sky.
Then, gradually, his thoughts returned.
His fingers tightened slightly against the blanket.
Hua Cheng had not been fully himself. Not entirely aware.
And yet—
He had still asked.
Xie Lian exhaled quietly.
‘Would he remember?’
If he did... well—
If he didn’t… then, it would be fine.
Xie Lian’s gaze lowered.
He sat up slowly, the blanket slipping just slightly before he caught it and drew it back into place out of habit.
He had been too close.
Closer than he should have allowed.
The hunger stirred faintly at the edges of memory. It wasn’t overwhelming, nor uncontrollable, but present in a way that could not be ignored.
Xie Lian had managed, this time.
Precautions had been set in place long ago—distance, restraint, careful limits—but yesterday… those lines had blurred.
Not because they had been broken.
But because they had been tested.
And testing them, again and again—
Xie Lian lowered his gaze to his hands.
—was not without consequence.
After a moment, he pushed the blanket aside and stood.
His steps were slow, but steady, carrying him towards the table.
The flowers were still fresh, arranged just as he had left them.
Xie Lian paused beside them, his eyes softening slightly.
From the white cluster—
one was gone.