it’s hard for him to hold back - a covetous drag of gentle fingertips along glass like horns, the sweet coast of fangs over silken scales… pieces of dan heng he covets with soft reverence when they’d already been lost beneath the preceptors greed. a soft stilted breath, the roam of callouses over a half bared abdomen, yet for all his fervor, jing yuan kisses him with a smile. i missed you, the brushes seem to say, i missed you so much. and when gold meets jade, that looks speak even more: i will never let them hurt you again. / from @sunsubdued.
there were many who believed that dan heng’s affliction for his human disguise manifested out of a sense of self – loathing hatred, out of a shame for existing that had been drilled into him from the moment he’d been born. maybe it had been like this once, but those who knew and understood the archivist better than most would see the proud stride in his draconic form, the way his movements seemed guided with an ethereal grace only hinted at as the express’ train guard. no, to hide his vidyadhara form was not done so out of cowardice, for dan heng had never feared the vitriol of his own people ( so used to the contemptuous whispers outside of his prison cell ) but convenience. so many looked upon that crown of horns, the ghostly swish of the high elder’s tail and spoke only to dan feng. he would not be a conduit between the living, and a dead man.
out of everyone that had known dan feng in a previous life, it was only jing yuan who had come to fully embrace dan heng as his own person. only he was privy to the long scion’s crown, the shedding of his human disguise.
dan heng had once been forced into a position where he could not deny any assistance. made helpless, deprived of knowledge, relying only on preceptors and guards to shape his understanding of the world. it had been humiliating, fury – inducing, and so he had come to believe that help, no matter how small, would come at a price. scales for food, for more water, for even a modicum of light to keep him sane. he had given away pieces of his body for things he eventually learned should not have cost so much. he was harvested. when jing yuan offered kindness, before dan heng even knew who he was, he had been weary from this painful transaction. books, for free ? the sinner’s shadow could not believe it. the diamond like scales he’d offered had been used in his next transaction with the preceptors, but he had never offered them again after jing yuan’s first refusal. still, the general continued to offer books, he offered short – lived company, comfort in the sound of his voice, despite how reluctant dan heng had been to believe that one day he would not ask for something self serving in the end.
any attempt to dissuade an initial friendship out of fear he would be a stand in, a replacement, had flittered away the moment jing yuan had set him free. no expectation, only the hope that dan heng would live a long and happy life.
his was devotion unconditional, and dan heng wished to protect it in turn.
the vidyadhara’s hand rose to cup his cheek, thumb rising to glide over skin beneath gilded gaze, passionate with ardour. he wondered if jing yuan could see his own in kind, green afflicted with a fervour most profound. firm, plush, the press of dan heng’s lips to his, whispered cloudhymn between their bated breath. the reverence in lionine touch was palpable, made his chest ache to be regarded as something precious, something coveted, instead of a tool to be used over and over again. his own hands learning the general’s body in turn, over century old scars and toned muscle, bathed in the bedroom’s warm morning light he found there was little he wouldn’t do to keep that golden gaze on him. his ‘ i miss you too ’ comes in the loving way dan heng spills mist against his lips. his ‘ i miss you so much ’ the coil of his tail around the general’s leg. most adoring unveil in the quiet way the vidyadhara bloomed before him, like flowers in sunlight, falling a little more in love with every kiss.
thank you, for being my sanctuary.
