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The general studied the blond man's profile, his face showing vague emotion, his knuckles whitening in a minute clench around the metal handle of the cup.
Dinner was not what he expected.
Dinner in the fancy inner area of the Goethe Hotel. And he definitely did not expected to be sitting down with the merchant who had pulled him out of a rushing tram's way. The merchant whom he had followed all the way here to Jarilo-IV
Jing Yuan was bothered. He felt bothered. Rarely did this man let feelings mark his expressions but before this particular older man, something irked him. His brows twisted as he watched Luocha slice up the steak on the table with the finesse of a surgeon, the blade of the knife flexing against bloody flesh in quick motions, slim wrists twisting with the slightest movements to part the meat into equal slices.
Blood pooled onto the plate as the blond man ate. The steak was rare, barely seared. And he only wanted meat. Nothing else. Not even a soup, or a salad, or bread. The blood stained Luocha's lower lip, a runlet of red slipping from the edge of his mouth. The blond man continued to eat in silence. No small talk, no continuation of the earlier rudimentary checks a doctor would give a patient.
Luocha's voice. He would want to hear it again. There was a strange plausibility to it. It was oddly soothing unlike water hydrating a dry throat but almost like the chill air of a mountain caressing his cheeks. Neither did it sound like he was apathetic.
The merchant (who was very much capable of interesting medical techniques) spoke, but in all, five sentences.
"What time was sunrise today in Belobog?"
"How many fingers?"
"What is your name?"
"Move your left leg."
"All things bear unanswered questions, so is there an answer to everything?"
He did what he was instructed, and he answered. Of course, the last question irritated Jing Yuan slightly. It was inconsequential. But if he'd had answered wrongly, the merchant would had packed him off to the nearest clinic.
In other circumstances, the general would mind less of what others thought of him. In this circumstance, he felt a little of that old impulsivity rile up, like a spark of stale lightning crawling inside his spine; like a long-gone madness that he'd had once facing a whole field of abominations.
Perhaps he should had answered wrongly.
Jing Yuan finished what was left of the beverage in his cup. He tasted nothing even if it was likely a strong mix. He was not hungry either though the sight of Luocha's meal did whet his appetite some, the passive manner in which the merchant ate, made it look as if it was the most flavorless configuration of cells and tendons.
"This is the first time I've seen you eat everything in front of you."
Jing Yuan remarked, sitting straight.
Luocha glanced up, his eyes following the angle of the general's shoulders, eyes passively marking a trail which the other could sense but not see.
"You should rest. There should be a room here for you. Or any of us should we need." Luocha continued, pulling up the napkin to tap at his lips. "He had made the arrangements for us as long as we are here in Belobog."
"I was not hurt."
"I was not speaking about the tram." Came the reply, mildly insistent. Luocha had finished with cleaning his lips.
"I do not need to rest."
There was no more reply from the blond man, except a single, insipid stare and a oddly affectionate curl of his lip.
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A bad decision.
It was such a bad decision.
The legs twined underneath his twitched, sliding cold toes against his naked skin. The lips that kissed against his collarbones trembled slightly. Fitful breaths slipped from those lips at each thrust he made.
How many times had they gone at it? Jing Yuan felt as if he was grasping at some strange shared fate. He burrowed his sweaty face into the hollow of Luocha's pale neck, distinctively smelling a profusion of scents. Salty, sharply floral, maybe an astringent.
He pushed again, his hips grinding down slow on the blond man's body, hearing the other swallow a cry. And he felt hands move over his own back, slow soothing paths, making him arch upwards like a cat. Luocha's voice was not soothing but his touch awakened some sensations within that the general forgot about for a long, long time.
"This was not the rest I had prescribed." The blond man murmured, his voice hoarse, though barely unshaken. Luocha's gaze travelled to where they were connected, the stains of his previous orgasm still coating the bunched muscles of his belly.
He would had said another statement if not for a hot, urgent press of lips on his mouth, and Luocha's words were extinguished into a groan of unneeded pleasure and want.
Bad decisions always seem to follow in natural order. Luocha thought, his mind methodically still fighting against the desire to fall further. Make a poor decision, a worse one would follow.
It was not the first time they'd had sex, neither would Luocha make this the last time. Not that the rest ever not guessed that the two of them have been sleeping together. Relief like this was probably good for Jing Yuan if Luocha were to continue with this unorthodox treatment. The merchant did not mind either way. And there were conclusions he still had to make, and this particular affliction Jing Yuan seemed to be suffering from was determined to remain as elusive as possible.
Luocha broke the kiss first, staring up into Jing Yuan's dazed golden eyes.
Ah, Luocha thought, there was indeed something wrong with the general. Distraction, and the growing insensitivity to his environment. It all seemed to fall into place. His mind tracked a line of probabilities before his attention was taken by a series of hot, shallow laps of a tongue into his mouth.
A shiver panned down the blond man's spine as his mouth was ravaged again by an aggressive kiss. He reached around, gripping the stretch of Jing Yuan's back, his fingers touching the expanse of hard muscles that went on, and on. Parting his legs, he allowed the man above to impel himself between his thighs once more.
"General." Luocha said, staring up, his lips curled with that same, mildly flat, softly courteous smile.
Those golden eyes looked down on him helplessly, and Jing Yuan's lips twitched shakingly. Their bodies scrapped against each other, the heated friction causing Luocha to nearly to lose his own control.
"Something is happening to me." Jing Yuan whispered, eyes widening, locks disheveled, drenched and clinging to his temples, like a wild, white mane.
"I know."
Luocha breathed deep, lifting his hips against the demanding hardness inside him, each thrust pumping wicked sensations, spreading an unwanted heat within. He knew he did not sound assuring even, either to himself or to Jing Yuan.
"We can do it again." He told the general quietly, plaiting his fingers into those damp, white locks.
Those golden eyes turned bloodthirsty, a hunger flashing across Jing Yuan's sights, a growl that filled the air with almost an indecent pleasure. There was no ripple of delight as the hard, heavy body above him pressed down.
Luocha's throat cinched around a short-lived groan. His legs arched, curling around Jing Yuan's heaving back. Moans littered his ears, growls and purrs as his ears were licked by a rough tongue.
The thrusts between his legs grew frantic, and he could feel his walls pushed and stretched. Teeth scrapped his neck, biting down and marking his skin, some to the point of drawing a bare drip of blood.
"Gege," Jing Yuan's voice was low, passion-thickened. There was an muted insanity skewered in the way he repeated that pet name he would call Luocha. The blond man raised his hand, pressing his palm over the bare, flushed skin, covering Jing Yuan's wild heartbeat.
Gege - Jing Yuan called again, burying his mouth against Luocha's neck.
Luocha felt his toes curl, and his own heart flailing to the same wild beat pulsing through his palm from Jing Yuan's body. He could only blame his own nature for falling into this conundrum with a man he should naturally consider an enemy. He was told a long, long time ago, the gifts of his medical abilities would be his bane, and he would do all in his powers, even if he did not have them, to rescue anyone in times of danger.
Even if this particular anyone would be potentially a foe.
Luocha still very much enjoyed the mutual surrender for that moment they were joined, being fucked to abandon in a luxury hotel on this blasted ever-cold planet. His toes curled again into the bedsheets, feeling the familiar tension growing taut, coiling low in his belly.
He let out a moan convincingly, maybe even convincing himself. And he slid his hands down, fingertips gliding to stroke Jing Yuan's hips, encouraging him to push even deeper in.
Yet, every stroke caused a sharp burn, and the general's motions were not forgiving, neither was his size. Then, Luocha pulled Jing Yuan's face close, tilting the general's face to one side, gasping into the man's ear.
"I want you deeper..."
The feeling of having him inside was far beyond pain or pleasure. It was needed, necessary. Luocha thought. They were enemies. Were - perhaps still are. And that was the reason (and that Luocha thought so) why Jing Yuan kept such a tight lock on his movements.
Jing Yuan reeled up at the blond man's words, his face flushed, his eyes brilliant, dripping gold, the harsh flow of his breath plowing from his lungs. He thrust again, burying his cock further in, sighing as softness and tightness clenched around his entire length.
"Gege," He groaned, thrusting upwards in finality, his eyes closing tightly, his skin electrified by the strokes of his back, surprisingly tender and he wondered if Luocha had a change of heart, his movements quickened to a single push, and Jing Yuan trembled, emptying himself once more.
The touches Jing Yuan felt later was gently emphatic, urging him to roll over and rest himself on his back instead. He heard rustling, and through his failing sight, saw Luocha's slim silhouette lift away from the bed, pathing to the attached bathroom. His ears barely registered the rush of water, of a splattering shower.
Jing Yuan realized he must had dozed off for a minute, and he woke, semi-paralyzed, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, the scent of sex and salt still clinging to his nose. The sharply floral astringency had returned, and still-damp skin slid and pressed next to him.
In the darkness, he could not see but he felt Luocha's body nestle close, naked flanks pressed against his hip; his pulse tightened with confusion, and a smote of despair. Luocha's sleeping face was unfathomable.
Jing Yuan let out a breath, that sounded a hoarse whimper.
"Gege, if it is true, then you must forgive me." He muttered, his thoughts sinking darkly, harshly into his mind as sleep too fought with his unwanted nightmares.
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Jing Yuan slept a fitful sleep. They woke the next day as morning shuttled into the room, and they dressed in silence, only to have clothes pulled off again because the general insisted he wished for more warmth.
Luocha left thirty minutes before Jing Yuan did yet the general caught up with the merchant later in the street.
He wanted to give the merchant a flower. Though, a flower was a rare luxury on Belobog. Since he had no wine on him. On Jing Yuan's persuasive insistence, Luocha followed him to the florist.
Surely a general can afford a flower. Surely his flower would be desired. But not all precious things were treasured in the same way. Unlike his memories of the past, these flowers were fragile and fleeting, and perhaps it was a wrong decision to buy a flower. Again the same soft smile, unassuming, gentle on the blond man's lips when he was handed a bunch of white fluffy blooms. Flowers were expensive. The resources they had could be better used to rare commodities or medicine.
"I merely pulled you out from the path of a tram." Luocha said, repeated even, gaze shifting, trying to ascertain if the florist had a refund policy. Obviously, there was none but he made a big show of looking everywhere else instead of the white-maned tall fellow before him.
These small pale flowers cannot be dried, nor could they be made into medicine. After a few days they will dry to dust and float away like an afterthought. To a trader, this was perfect profit - impermanent goods, short-life, high price. To Luocha, it was a bind, a chain.
"Would the leader of the Cloud Knights have more on his mind than what happened last night?" The blond man said, slipping into dissonance, as he turned to leave the florist. His fingers gripped the stems tight, and he paused in his steps.
A change of heart again?
Jing Yuan wondered as he chose words to reply. He wanted to thank the merchant for last night - for not letting him sleep alone. For that affordance of warmth even if it was merely the charity of a travelling companion.
His gratitude would likely be met with that flat disdain once more. But he would say it because his heart wanted to, and it did not concern him if Luocha thought otherwise.
"I want to thank you for last night."
"The general is stubborn." Came the answer. Expected. Standard. Soft, Luocha's voice drifting off into the mist, like an airy cloud.
Jing Yuan smiled to himself, despite the disinterested, yet polite reply, his grin hanging lopsided on his lips. There will be more things he wanted to do.
More.
He felt it last night. A tear in his own psyche, a hounding need to break those glass green eyes that stared at him.
But now he was content watching the sway of Luocha's hair, and the alluring glint of winter brightness on those flax-gold locks as he obediently followed the merchant out of the building into the fake blue of the Overworld.