Archive of Our Own ^beta

The blood moon will soon rise, but Zhuo Yichen cannot bring himself to leave yet. They've done everything they could to make sure this blood moon will not be like the last ones, but leaving Zhao Yuanzhou to suffer through the night alone feels like a punishment worse than even the great demon deserves.

"You should leave," Zhao Yuanzhou sounds scared, and so, so small. It is everything the demon never is– or never acts like, in any case. It's all wrong and the moon isn't even out yet. The shackles at his wrists and ankles are hair-thin and stronger than diamant, woven from wishes so their strength will never run out. The demon is seated now, his elegant fur cloak engulfing him. The prison that once failed to hold him has been renovated: blood sigils and new chains and everything they could think of that might stop Zhu Yan. Underneath that big cloak the shackles bind him until he can barely move. His earlier bravado at the situation seems to have left him with the setting of the sun.

Zhuo Yichen stands there for a long moment, staring at the demon, feeling time slip away as the horizon outside tinges red with the impending moonrise. Then he makes up his mind, and steps close: they've planned this all out, he will leave, but first:

He crashes his lips into Zhao Yuanzhou's: hungry and biting, he can taste the wine they had over their early dinner on his tongue. He misses Zhao Yuanzhou's hands, the way the demon usually pulls him close. He grabs the demon's chin with a rough hand, tilting his head for a better angle, and Zhao Yuanzhou lets him. He could move, of not very far– he could move enough to twist his head out of Zhuo Yichen's grip if he wanted to. Instead he suffers this abuse of a kiss with needy little sighs that drive Zhuo Yichen wild.

Then he tastes blood, and draws back in shock to see his own handiwork: Zhao Yuanzhou's lips are red, wet and abused and his bottom lip is bleeding from Zhuo Yichen's bite. He's out of breath, panting as he looks up at Zhuo Yichen with a mix of feelings Yichen fears might be hope.

"Come back to us," Zhuo Yichen rasps, his voice catching on the mess of it all. Come back to me he doesn't say. Zhao Yuanzhou nods, and Yichen thinks he heard the second command (plea) anyway.

He leans close once more, planning to leave one final kiss– but too-tempting lips draw him in, alluring and soft and sweet as honey wine. They trap him, even without the demon holding him, and Zhuo Yichen loses yet more time. He could get lost in this feeling- has done so on more than one occasion. Feverish kisses turn into languid movements of a dance between the pair of them, a give and take too delicious to break up. His hand trails to the demon's hair, tilting his head just right, and earns him a pleased hum in return. For all his limited movement the demon presses forward as much as possible, his tongue enticing Zhuo Yichen closer, into that warm heat.

He doesn't know when he closed his eyes, but when he blinks them open he is too close to the demon marks on Zhu Yan's cheeks. Red energy weaves through the air like a heat signature, and suddenly the demon's aura– the real, demonic aura of Zhu Yan's malicious qi is painfully obvious.

"Will you stay the night, xiao Zhuo-daren?" The demon lilts against his lips. The words send a chill down his spine, and Zhuo Yichen practically leaps several steps away, far from Zhu yan's reach (from his temptation). The thing that chills him is not the demon– it is how familiar those words sounded, how tempting the offer would be, if only this were Zhao Yuanzhou…

Sitting in place of their friend is the familiar-unfamiliar face, surrounded by an aura of energy larger than any other Zhuo Yichen has ever seen. He thinks the fell energy alone might be enough to send lesser men to their knees, then quickly shakes that thought off. Zhu Yan smiles knowingly at him as he makes a hasty retreat out of the prison, his lips still stained with the evidence of their kiss.