Goodness, if he'd left his hand there, would it have eventually burned? Sizhui's tempted to reach back out and test that theory, but Zhuque reopens his eyes, causing his throat to tighten again instead. Somehow, he manages still looking like the ever-composed Lan disciple, except for maybe the flicker of lingering curiosity in his eyes.
“A little,” he admits quietly, sheepishly, unable to help the faint smile that curves his mouth as he interlocks both hands across his lap. “But that's okay since... I should probably get used to it, yes?”
"I've only had one other master that I served as guardian in recent memory.
Some masters...never get used to seeing my form. Not like this. But
whatever other form I have." He thinks of Qingming. "That other master had
been surprised of how I am as well. His dear friend gave his flesh and
blood so that I may be summoned and stop the great serpent."
Sizhui shifts sideways a bit, gesturing beside himself for Zhuque to sit. No reason for him to continue standing, after all, considering he'll be staying for a while.
He sits silently, listening to what he's being told, carefully considering Zhuque's words, his expression creasing with concern at the revelation. ‘Gave his flesh and blood,’ that can only mean one thing, right? “Did it work? Were you able to defeat the serpent?” And if he wasn't, does that mean Jingyi has dragged him away from his duties in the Imperial City to instead keep him company here? Gods, he hopes not.
He nods once. At a price, they were able to defeat the serpent. He looks
down at his hands before he takes the invited seat next to his new master.
"I...I protected Qingming." His brow furrows. "And the serpent had started
to disintegrate. I took the brunt of the damage. I felt myself burn up." He
could have sworn that he would return the flesh and blood to Bo Ya. Yet
instead of returning to his stone form, he found himself summoned to this
place to the bewilderment of his new master.
A relieved sigh passes his lips, the slope of his shoulders relaxes and he nods understandingly in return. Once Zhuque sits, Sizhui turns toward him, unable to keep himself from looking even more concerned now. If his new guardian is worried, obviously there's still something and perhaps he isn't much help in this situation, but... it doesn't mean he won't try.
Question is: what's he troubled by? Feeling himself disappear or not knowing if the other master's friend was okay? “And yet here you are.” His attention downturns, the hand nearest Zhuque reaching out, fingertips gently settling on his forearm. “If you saw the snake die, then surely everything ought to be alright, yes?”
“Surely,” he agrees. “Bo Ya gave his flesh and blood so I could be
summoned. With the destruction of the serpent, the flesh and blood should
have returned to him.” He looks at his new master. “Your need must be great
if I was to keep this form.”
His hand on Zhuque's arm pulls away, settles back into his lap, the other joining it so he can anxiously twiddle his fingers together. Yes, he knows, ‘gave his flesh and blood—’ Sizhui feels continuously worse the more they linger on it, agh...!
“Perhaps, and Jingyi's gift was sweet but,” a moment's hesitation then he inhales and proceeds with, “I'm sure there are more important people that need you, Zhuque.”
Such plainness has Sizhui feeling somewhat taken aback, his mouth momentarily hanging open, although no words come to him. Zhuque takes his hand and he watches intently as it's placed on his arm again, moved up then back, which is where he realizes he's not just being led, his hand has started moving on its own.
Somehow, even though his words are slow-coming, Sizhui's voice doesn't break while his fingertips drift across where the tattoo begins right below his guardian's nape. “The... wings, you mean?” And those fingers curiously dip, tracing the intricate design down Zhuque's shoulderblade, the opposite hand reaching toward one of the other tattoos stretching across his torso.
The touch is cool, Zhuque notices, and he wants to lean into it. No. He
cannot have attachment. Love is what drove Shouyue to madness. Yet Killing
Stone...had he not loved as well? Instead, he concentrates on moving
closer, easing Sizhui into tracing more of his tattoos along his skin. He
keeps his dark eyes on the cultivator then nods slowly.
"The wings, if you wish." Or he could continue touching, which is certainly
something Zhuque is interested in as well. He moves even closer and notices
how he easily looms over the other. "You may do what you want."
Even though the other male doesn't lean into his shy affection (yet), Sizhui isn't deterred, it seems. He keeps right on letting his fingers drag over the markings, expression brightening, his eyebrows lifting with interest once Zhuque moves even closer. Being watched while he's pretty much feeling someone else up is something he didn't know he'd be doing with his day but honestly, he can't complain, and even shifts so he can peer over the man's shoulder at the body art.
“Show them to me,” he murmurs against Zhuque's cheek, withdrawing slightly to meet his gaze after he shifts again, one hand resting just below the tattoo on his back while the other drifts up and clutches his shoulder on the same side. Don't worry, he plans to, so long as whatever he does is also comfortable with Zhuque.
A sizzle and a hiss and the dark marks along his back rise, unfolding into
great black wings that nearly fill up the entire room without knocking
anything over. They loom for a moment before covering them, lowering so
that Sizhui could reach out and touch as much as he likes.
The noises are a little concerning, but as soon as the wings appear, Sizhui can't contain his excitement and he certainly doesn't resist giggling whenever Zhuque's feathers almost span the length of his room. Then they drape around them, a dark, protective curtain from the outside world. He exhales, slow and deliberate, adjusts to where he's halfway straddling the man's thighs while both hands stretch out toward those offered wings.
And ever-so-gently, he ghosts his fingers over them, unable to help the wide grin coming across his face as he moves along the muscle where the appendage connects to Zhuque's shoulder. “Beautiful,” the younger whispers breathlessly, doe-eyed gaze on Zhuque's face, entirely focused on the task at hand. (Pun intended.)
He holds onto Sizhui’s waist, balancing him as he crawls over and
practically straddles him. He keeps his eyes on Sizhui the entire time,
only widening slightly when he feels the cool wandering fingers touch
between his wings and his back.
Having someone hold him like this is completely new to Sizhui and although he's a bit distracted at first, once he realizes there are hands on his waist, keeping him steady throughout his little touch-fest, the tips of his ears immediately flare with embarrassment. Suddenly more self-conscious than before, his hand moves along the wing again then lowers to Zhuque's shoulder, the other one joining on the opposite side afterward.
“You're welcome,” a moment's hesitation so he can swallow and, “Is... is this okay?” which is coupled with the briefest nudge of Sizhui's nose against the guardian's forehead. Because if he'd let himself linger any longer, he might've done something untoward.
The soft and intimate brush of his nose against his forehead has him close his eyes. It's intimate, it's...nice. He wonders if this is the intimacy Shouye had lost himself to for the Princess. He keeps his hands on Sizhui's waist, holding him steady as he continues his exploration.
He nods slowly, nose and lips ghosting over the spot between Zhuque's eyebrows, his own lashes fluttering as he considers his next move. While Sizhui does this, he strokes his fingertips along the guardian's shoulders, over the sides of his neck, across his throat then down to his collarbones. A slow, measured breath and he moves lower, drifts his hands down Zhuque's chest to his abdomen.
Propriety disregarded and shyness momentarily tamped down, he traces his fingers over the hip tattoos, follows them all the way down to the lines of his groin, pausing just above his waistband. “You can touch me, too.” A moment's hesitation then more sheepishly, “I-If you want?”
He holds him steady, allowing for the young master to caress along his
form, the form that Bo Ya had granted him with his sacrifice, and patiently
waits for him to have his fill along his shoulders, his neck, and along his
body. His stomach flex a little when he feels the cool fingers drift over
the dark markings along his hips, following them until they disappear
behind the waistband of his pants.
"I want," he replies, surprised at the want, "and I will."
The straightforwardness of that answer makes Sizhui's cheeks flare, though he can't fight how it makes him grin either, the way it emboldens him to slide one hand into the side of Zhuque's pants and rake his fingernails along the skin he finds there. “Then do so,” he murmurs, more a statement than a demand, but there is a hint of playfulness in his tone when he adds, “Or should I undress for you?”
Funny, how being wanted can make one feel so courageous.
He reaches for the belt and undoes it, pulling it gently off of him,
watching him as his fingers undo the ties that keep the white robes
together.
"Whichever you would wish, young master," he breathes. He's starting to
understand it...understand what drove He Shouye...that drove Killing Stone.
He reaches up and runs his fingers along the edge of the lapels that have
fallen loose.
Sizhui leans, pecks Zhuque's mouth, the corner of it, drifting up to his cheek and across to the tip of his nose while he gets the belt undone and off. Once he moves on to the robes, his head relifts, attention downcasting as he lets the outermost robe slide from his shoulders. “We can do it together,” a soft sigh then, “and please, just call me ‘Sizhui,’ okay? You don't have to... to call me that.”
The other robe Zhuque touches gets shifted slightly too, though not quite off like the first in case his companion wants to help.
Zhu Que helps him shrug off the outermost robe. His gaze falls to see that
there are far more layers for him to get through.
"Yes, we can do this together."
His friend certainly had done what he had done for a reason, after all. And
Zhu Que could easily fulfill such a wish even though it isn't in his normal
list of duties.
Oh. Sizhui's heartbeat jackhammers at the way Zhuque says his name, his mouth goes momentarily dry and it's difficult to breathe all of a sudden—
But while Zhuque's freeing him from the uppermost layer, he removes the second one along with it, tugs his arms loose until he's only left in one last robe with his underclothes beneath that. Finally, he inhales a sharp gasp, lifts both hands and cups Zhuque's cheeks, drawing him in so their mouths brush.
He spreads his legs a little further, lifts up onto his knees, lowers his hands to his own waistband as he withdraws and asks, “Do you want to help with mine or remove your own?” Now that they're kinda on a more level playing field.
He closes his eyes when their lips brush against each other. The sensation
is new and certainly something that he...he finds himself liking quite a
lot. His hands move to his waist and along his back as each layer is peeled
away from Sizhui. He looks into his eyes and kisses him, pressing a bit
firmer against his lips as his hands work on the drawstring of his pants to
loosen and lower them.
Zhu Que moves so that he could lay Sizhui out along the bed, then looms
over him.
Another kiss is both unexpected and not, somewhat surprising because of intensity, but Sizhui doesn't hesitate with reciprocation. Understandably, Zhuque's going to want more of this new feeling and he's loath to deny him anything at this point, especially as those hands wander along his back and waist then move on to his pants. That's an answer in and of itself which he's heard loud and clear without a doubt.
He tips back effortlessly when Zhuque guides him across the mattress, lifting his hips so he can shuck his pants off entirely, reaching for the guardian's now, undeterred despite his heart skipping with how he's looming; not in a bad way, though. Actually, Sizhui's realized he likes it a lot more than anticipated, his growing hard-on taken into consideration.
“This is nice, but whatever's easiest for you. I'm flexible.” Wait, oh no, why'd he say that of all things? One arm circles Zhuque's waist, fingernails catching near the small of his back, the other hand tugging his waistband down while he tilts so their lips meet again and he hums against his mouth.
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houseofsushi2020-05-22 10:34 pm
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“A little,” he admits quietly, sheepishly, unable to help the faint smile that curves his mouth as he interlocks both hands across his lap. “But that's okay since... I should probably get used to it, yes?”
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He tilts his had as he stands.
"I've only had one other master that I served as guardian in recent memory. Some masters...never get used to seeing my form. Not like this. But whatever other form I have." He thinks of Qingming. "That other master had been surprised of how I am as well. His dear friend gave his flesh and blood so that I may be summoned and stop the great serpent."
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He sits silently, listening to what he's being told, carefully considering Zhuque's words, his expression creasing with concern at the revelation. ‘Gave his flesh and blood,’ that can only mean one thing, right? “Did it work? Were you able to defeat the serpent?” And if he wasn't, does that mean Jingyi has dragged him away from his duties in the Imperial City to instead keep him company here? Gods, he hopes not.
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He nods once. At a price, they were able to defeat the serpent. He looks down at his hands before he takes the invited seat next to his new master.
"I...I protected Qingming." His brow furrows. "And the serpent had started to disintegrate. I took the brunt of the damage. I felt myself burn up." He could have sworn that he would return the flesh and blood to Bo Ya. Yet instead of returning to his stone form, he found himself summoned to this place to the bewilderment of his new master.
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Question is: what's he troubled by? Feeling himself disappear or not knowing if the other master's friend was okay? “And yet here you are.” His attention downturns, the hand nearest Zhuque reaching out, fingertips gently settling on his forearm. “If you saw the snake die, then surely everything ought to be alright, yes?”
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“Surely,” he agrees. “Bo Ya gave his flesh and blood so I could be summoned. With the destruction of the serpent, the flesh and blood should have returned to him.” He looks at his new master. “Your need must be great if I was to keep this form.”
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“Perhaps, and Jingyi's gift was sweet but,” a moment's hesitation then he inhales and proceeds with, “I'm sure there are more important people that need you, Zhuque.”
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“You’re important,” he says plainly.
He picks up Sizhui’s hand that had been on his arm and placed it back there, moving it up and toward his back, watching him carefully.
“...would you like to see them again?”
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Somehow, even though his words are slow-coming, Sizhui's voice doesn't break while his fingertips drift across where the tattoo begins right below his guardian's nape. “The... wings, you mean?” And those fingers curiously dip, tracing the intricate design down Zhuque's shoulderblade, the opposite hand reaching toward one of the other tattoos stretching across his torso.
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The touch is cool, Zhuque notices, and he wants to lean into it. No. He cannot have attachment. Love is what drove Shouyue to madness. Yet Killing Stone...had he not loved as well? Instead, he concentrates on moving closer, easing Sizhui into tracing more of his tattoos along his skin. He keeps his dark eyes on the cultivator then nods slowly.
"The wings, if you wish." Or he could continue touching, which is certainly something Zhuque is interested in as well. He moves even closer and notices how he easily looms over the other. "You may do what you want."
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“Show them to me,” he murmurs against Zhuque's cheek, withdrawing slightly to meet his gaze after he shifts again, one hand resting just below the tattoo on his back while the other drifts up and clutches his shoulder on the same side. Don't worry, he plans to, so long as whatever he does is also comfortable with Zhuque.
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A sizzle and a hiss and the dark marks along his back rise, unfolding into great black wings that nearly fill up the entire room without knocking anything over. They loom for a moment before covering them, lowering so that Sizhui could reach out and touch as much as he likes.
no subject
And ever-so-gently, he ghosts his fingers over them, unable to help the wide grin coming across his face as he moves along the muscle where the appendage connects to Zhuque's shoulder. “Beautiful,” the younger whispers breathlessly, doe-eyed gaze on Zhuque's face, entirely focused on the task at hand. (Pun intended.)
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He holds onto Sizhui’s waist, balancing him as he crawls over and practically straddles him. He keeps his eyes on Sizhui the entire time, only widening slightly when he feels the cool wandering fingers touch between his wings and his back.
“Thank you,” he replies quietly.
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“You're welcome,” a moment's hesitation so he can swallow and, “Is... is this okay?” which is coupled with the briefest nudge of Sizhui's nose against the guardian's forehead. Because if he'd let himself linger any longer, he might've done something untoward.
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The soft and intimate brush of his nose against his forehead has him close his eyes. It's intimate, it's...nice. He wonders if this is the intimacy Shouye had lost himself to for the Princess. He keeps his hands on Sizhui's waist, holding him steady as he continues his exploration.
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Propriety disregarded and shyness momentarily tamped down, he traces his fingers over the hip tattoos, follows them all the way down to the lines of his groin, pausing just above his waistband. “You can touch me, too.” A moment's hesitation then more sheepishly, “I-If you want?”
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He holds him steady, allowing for the young master to caress along his form, the form that Bo Ya had granted him with his sacrifice, and patiently waits for him to have his fill along his shoulders, his neck, and along his body. His stomach flex a little when he feels the cool fingers drift over the dark markings along his hips, following them until they disappear behind the waistband of his pants.
"I want," he replies, surprised at the want, "and I will."
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Funny, how being wanted can make one feel so courageous.
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He reaches for the belt and undoes it, pulling it gently off of him, watching him as his fingers undo the ties that keep the white robes together.
"Whichever you would wish, young master," he breathes. He's starting to understand it...understand what drove He Shouye...that drove Killing Stone. He reaches up and runs his fingers along the edge of the lapels that have fallen loose.
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The other robe Zhuque touches gets shifted slightly too, though not quite off like the first in case his companion wants to help.
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"Sizhui," he breathes.
Zhu Que helps him shrug off the outermost robe. His gaze falls to see that there are far more layers for him to get through.
"Yes, we can do this together."
His friend certainly had done what he had done for a reason, after all. And Zhu Que could easily fulfill such a wish even though it isn't in his normal list of duties.
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But while Zhuque's freeing him from the uppermost layer, he removes the second one along with it, tugs his arms loose until he's only left in one last robe with his underclothes beneath that. Finally, he inhales a sharp gasp, lifts both hands and cups Zhuque's cheeks, drawing him in so their mouths brush.
He spreads his legs a little further, lifts up onto his knees, lowers his hands to his own waistband as he withdraws and asks, “Do you want to help with mine or remove your own?” Now that they're kinda on a more level playing field.
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He closes his eyes when their lips brush against each other. The sensation is new and certainly something that he...he finds himself liking quite a lot. His hands move to his waist and along his back as each layer is peeled away from Sizhui. He looks into his eyes and kisses him, pressing a bit firmer against his lips as his hands work on the drawstring of his pants to loosen and lower them.
Zhu Que moves so that he could lay Sizhui out along the bed, then looms over him.
"Would you be more comfortable like this?"
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He tips back effortlessly when Zhuque guides him across the mattress, lifting his hips so he can shuck his pants off entirely, reaching for the guardian's now, undeterred despite his heart skipping with how he's looming; not in a bad way, though. Actually, Sizhui's realized he likes it a lot more than anticipated, his growing hard-on taken into consideration.
“This is nice, but whatever's easiest for you. I'm flexible.” Wait, oh no, why'd he say that of all things? One arm circles Zhuque's waist, fingernails catching near the small of his back, the other hand tugging his waistband down while he tilts so their lips meet again and he hums against his mouth.
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