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You know this boy.
Perhaps… not as well as you used to, but you know him.
You knew him as the best friend of Imbibitor Lunae, and friend of Baiheng, despite Jingliu being the one to assemble you all. Sure, you didn’t always get along with him, occasionally butting heads with him, but it was always in good fun.
Things were always more fun back then, no matter how hard it was at times. How times have changed, both from what you remember and what you don’t. Like the expectant feeling you get when you see Mimi alone on your bed you can’t explain, or the sadness you feel when you see Dan Heng instead of your dear friend, but seeing what’s become of your teacher and Yingxing saddens you the most.
Although you considered yourself close with all of the High-Cloud Quintent, you were never as close as Ren was with Imbibitor Lunae and Jingliu was with Baiheng. As much as you enjoyed being the glue between those four, sometimes you envied that closeness.
So when your old friend began showing up in your room, a few centuries after everything that had happened, you were at a loss. Dan Heng was already sent into the stars for his banishment- he hadn’t been gone long, but enough time for Blade to have found him- yet, Blade didn’t speak a word of what was nor of Dan Feng's reincarnate.
Instead, he asked you to spar, right there in your lodgings. You could smell the blood on him and see his disheveled appearance, so naturally, you agreed, so long as he let you tend to his wounds.
Begrudgingly, he agreed, and corrected you calling him by his names of old. “Yingxing" and “Ren" didn’t fit his vessel anymore- now he was Blade, another sign the past was what it was, and you remained the same. You think- hope, rather- he found comfort in that, and that is why you did not end up sparring that night.
Instead, when you started to pull away- having finished tending to his various wounds- he pulled you into him so he would be splayed out onto your bedding, his long, darkened hair spilling out behind him. Blade leaned up just enough just to crash his lips into yours, silencing the half formed questions on your tongue with his own. Sparring was nothing more than a distant idea, forgotten in the growing need in you to touch him- hold him, kiss him, feel his arms around you- whatever he let you have, you would take.
For if not for the dim warmth of his body under yours as he pulls you closer and closer, it was the fact you missed him that kept drawing you in. It’s a peculiar thing, missing someone you’ve known but has changed so much, yet finding comfort in them anyway.
Blade only spoke one thing:
“Make me forget for the night.”
It was a soft request, not a command, so uncharacteristically soft- like he was afraid to utter the sounds that would form those words.
“I’ll do my best,” is what you told him, and true to your word, you indeed tried your best to make him forget everything.
Without a word, Blade wrapped his legs around your waist, grinding against you, and you laced your fingers between his.
You guided him away from the harshness of the kiss your old friend initiated with, slowly replacing his unrelenting firm press of his mouth to yours and uncomfortable clinks of teeth to slow, french kisses, inviting something other than the taste of blood in your mouth.
Blade seemed to accept this change in kiss, offering nothing but the grip on your hands as he starts to redirect his fervor to the shift his hips against yours.
Patience was never a virtue of his.
He was already half undressed from your medical care, so stripping him bare was no issue; it was you who bore too much fabric- too many layers between your skin and his- and Blade had no issue informing you of this with his carelessness, practically tearing your clothes off. You fear your assistance is the only thing that kept him from doing so more literally.
How his passion had turned to ferocity over the centuries. It saddens you deeply, but you were determined to show him gentleness in the moments that would follow.
Blade only released you so you could retrieve a bottle of lube and your strap from your nightstand, the tight clasp of his legs around you immediately returning once you had them. He nipped at your neck while you slicked up your fingers, getting ready to prep him, as he sucked bruising marks into your pale skin. Your thumb rubbed small circles on his inner thigh as you adjusted him to make sure he was at a comfortable angle before pressing your fingers to his cunt. It took the first finger with ease, Blade having no reaction to it except for the slightest change in breathing. After a few moments, he began to roll his hips onto your finger, so you inserted a second one. This caused him to slow, wincing at the stretch as you rubbed small circles in him. You felt Blade clench and unclench around your fingers, panting and trying to pull you closer. Chuckling softly, you lean into another soft kiss, your partner in this moment, noticeably more distracted as your fingers pump in and out smoother and smoother. The third finger pushes in with little resistance, but the sound he makes under you stills your hand as you wait for him to adjust. His fingers dig into your shoulders as he moans softly, your head on his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” you whisper to him, pressing a kiss to his jaw.
He moans again, a soft growl at the edge of his huffs like he wants- no, needs- more, and he tells you just that.
“Jing Yuan,” Blade says, somewhere between a gruff whine and a growl, “don’t be such a tease.”
You weigh the words in your mind, massaging his g-spot and ghosting your thumb over his tdick, earning yourself a sharp gasp. You chuckle, the sound endearing as you add pressure, rubbing small circles over it. Blade's breath grows sporadic, his face scrunching. His expression wasn’t particularly arousing, but instead endearing.
“More,” he growls, glowing red eyes scrunched shut and panting. “I want more, Jing Yuan.”
Another chuckle escapes your lips, moving your hand away from his clit to cup his face. Despite his stern expression, he leans into your clean(er) hand, his face flushed. “You needn’t beg, dear. You’re safe here.”
Blade doesn’t say anything, instead peering at you with slitted eyes as you remove your fingers from his now-slick hole.
He watched you with a hazy curiosity as you put on the six inch strap, his hands ghosting your sides as he contemplated something, as if he were scared to touch you. Like the Mara would spread to you with a single touch.
“What is it, Blade?” you ask, carding your fingers through his wild bangs.
“Stop hesitating,” he scowls, grinding against the front of your cock. “We’re already on borrowed time; I don’t want to waste it ruminating when my mind is already too full of filthy memories.”
“I understand,” you tell him, wiping the excess slick from your fingers to the silicone, before adding a bit of lube. You don’t think it’s needed with how wet he is, but better safe than sorry. “Will you get on your knees for me?”
He scoffs, but complies anyway, pulling himself off his back onto his chest, practically presenting himself to you. You pity the loss of seeing his face, but a necessary sacrifice for his pleasure. You align yourself with him, pushing in slowly and kissing up his spine to his shoulders to the side of his head until your fully hilted. There’s no resistance, thanks to your prep, but he seems tense. To respect his wishes to keep moving, you cup one of his tits in one hand, and massage his pretty little dick with your other. He keens, bucking his hips yet wincing instantly; it’s too much right now to move, but he can’t stay still to save his life.
You kiss his neck and shoulders, rolling your pointer and middle over his nipple, soft groans falling from his mouth. When Blade’s attempts to move grow more frequent, grunting into your sheets, you straighten up, holding his hips steady, and finally begin to move.
A coarse, gravely whine breaks from his throat, his back arching into the bed as you slowly build momentum. Eventually, you fall into a loving pace- nothing harsh but not slow either- a happy medium both gentle and intense.
“You’re doing well,” you coo at him, squeezing his hips.
He growls between breathy groans. “I’d like y9u to break me.”
You laugh lightly, stating, “I prefer you intact. But,” without changing your pace, you bend over him, your voice soft and low in his ear, “there is more than one way to break you, dear friend.”
Blade buries his face in the sheets in a poor attempt to hide the load moan that followed. Your hand made its way back to his clit, relentless this time in your movements, earning yourself a broken sound from his throat. You don’t let up, fucking into him at a steady pace while playing with his dick.
“How pretty you sound,” you tease, your chest warm at being the reason he’s falling apart. “How close are you?”
“Shut up,” Blade chokes out, pushing back and trying to meet your hips. He whines and growls and moans like an animal, desperately searching for pleasure, until his orgasm hits him like a rogue starskiff. He croaks out, his voice and body shaking, “Jing Yuan!”
You don’t stop, fucking him through it until the very end. When he gives you the okay, you pull away, your strap covered in his cum. He slumps onto his side, panting for a few minutes; as it seems to cease, he moves to his back and you push it back into him and he moans heartily, his legs shaking.
“What are you doing?” he groans as you start to fuck into him again.
“Breaking you, as you had asked,” you purr, easily falling back into the pace you had previously, if not a bit harder. “Is that alright?”
“About fucking time,” he grunts softly, already in a thoughtless haze between the afterglow and overstimulation, rolling his hips to meet your thrusts.
His noises were softer this time, more defined by gruff sighs and moans than grunts and growls, occasionally dotted with small whines. His crimson eyes are half lidded, a warm flush all over his scarred body- the slightest tremor could be seen as you kept your rhythm. The sweat on his brow and chest glistened in the moonlight, like a soft glow.
Blade looked beautiful like this, and you can’t help but tell him so.
“You’re beautiful,” you whisper like a confession. It’s a selfish statement to say about a shell of a person, but in this moment, he doesn’t seem to mind.
Blade doesn’t reply, turning his head to the side; the blush on his face deepened. Through panting breaths, he groans, “Faster. Please.”
Who are you to deny him?
You lean down, catching his lips between yours with a small hum and quicken your pace for him, and that’s what does it a second time for him. You feel it drip down your leg, but you’re too preoccupied in kissing the man underneath you, whispering sweet nothings, meaningless outside of this context. He claws at your back, his nails leaving long red lines on your back, whimpering from all the attention.
“Sweet thing, you’ve been so good,” you murmur between kisses against his neck. “You’re doing so well.”
He doesn’t look at you, refuses to actually, but you can feel his thighs- no, his whole body- shake against you. “Jing Yuan,” he whimpers, uncertain and vulnerable, a tone of voice entirely new to you. Not even Yingxing had ever sounded this way with him.
“I’m here, sweet lily, I’m here,” your voice soft, warm with all the reassurance you could possibly hope to give him. “I’ll always be here.”
He squeezes his eyes shut, tears leaking out of his eyes, but his firm grip between his legs and arms wrapped around you in a death grip tells you to stay. “Keep… going,” he sobs. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” you reassure him before doubling down. His grip tightens, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re doing so good.”
He whines before cumming one last time, his whole body convulsing and clinging to you, as if afraid to let go. You hold him, muttering praise and reassurance as you fuck him through it. When he finishes, he goes still, holding you tight. You pull out, taking off the strap with one hand, refusing to let him go. You move the two of you so you’re sitting on the bed, with Blade clinging to you in your lap.
For a long while, the only thing that could be heard was your respective breaths, out of sync and labored. At some point, you realize Blade is playing with your long white hair, likely disheveled and messy.
“Yingxing had a praise kink,” he tells you flatly.
“I hadn’t known that,” you respond earnestly. “Does Blade?”
He goes quiet, in the broodful way that he does. “Does it matter what a weapon likes? A weapon with feeling cuts the same as one without.”
You don’t reply. His somber answer leaves you sorrowful, but you can’t deny it. A selfish part of you wishes he had been given the same second chance at life Dan Heng had been given, but you know better than to say it out loud.
“But I did enjoy it,” he says quietly, holding you tightly. “I felt human for a moment.”
You squeeze him back. “I’m glad I could give you that.”
He says nothing, seemingly basking in the warmth of another person. He must be tired, you think to yourself as you suppress the urge to yawn. You still have to get you both cleaned up.
Or at least, it’s what you plan on, until Blade’s hand slips down below your waist, thumb rubbing small circles on your dick, earning himself a quiet gasp.
“You didn’t get off, did you?” he asks, his fingers drifting south, undoubtedly finding you dripping with slick.
You shake your head sheepishly; you had been- no, are- very close, but you couldn’t have gotten off without being touched. Blade nods in understanding, applying a bit more pressure to your t-dick as he toyed with you. It was your turn to whimper at the touch, for you were already so close from fucking Blade as he is now for the first time. It doesn’t take long to get you to the edge.
“You’ve always done right by this vessel when you could help it,” he murmurs at you, uncharacteristically calm and gentle. “I’ll never forget that, even when I forget your name.”
That does you in, cumming against his hand, shuddering and pulling him in closer to you. He lets you recuperate like that, him laying awkwardly against your chest and locked in place with your muscular arms. You don’t know why that did it, but it did, and now you dread his departure.
After a few moments, you sigh. “Let us get cleaned up,” is all you say, and he nods wordlessly.
On shaky legs, you scoop up your old friend and carry him to your bathroom, setting him in the large, luxurious tub before climbing in yourself.
You make the water warm and watch it fill up, slowly creeping up Blade’s red tinged ends, steam caressing your faces. In silence, the two soak for a while, until their skin began to prune. Only then, did they wash each other’s hair and scrub themselves proper. You brush his hair and help him dry it as your wring some of the water out of your in a towel twisted on your head.
As Blade let you redress his wounds, you find yourself asking, “Humor me, and stay just for the night?” Hope makes your voice shake just smallest bit. His expression remains neutral, offering no reply, instead crawling into bed with you when you finish.
Delighted, you pull him close to you, exhaustion creeping its way into your bones. As your eyelids grow heavy, you hear a low, gravely voice mutter:
“Thank you for letting this blade feel human again for a little while longer.”
You smile despite yourself, a soft response finding its way out of your heart and out of your mouth. “Any time… You needn’t ask, only come visit this old man.” You aren’t awake enough to hear your selfish heart speak. “Any time you please, so long as I’m here to greet you.”
And with that, you drift off into dreams of a hazy warmth, familiar yet foreign.
When you awaken, you are alone.
A red spider lily sits on your desk, along with an old lily hairpin, rusted with age. You have no place for such an object as the hairpin, so you put it in back of your closet with what remains of Dan Feng's memory. But the spider lily you plant in your garden, in hopes it will grow again.