According to Nie Huaisang’s teachers, there was a small voice in people’s heads that told them what was good and what was bad, and that voice was called the conscience.
Nie Huaisang concluded, after some observation, that this was true – for other people, that was.
Nie Huaisang himself did not appear to suffer from this particular affliction.
Which was not to say he didn’t have a small voice in his head, of course he did, only he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually telling him the difference between good and evil. When he was very young, he thought the voice might be his mother, who had died (or possibly disappeared) when he was born – it sounded a bit like the way people described her, witty and enchanting, with a fox’s face and a fox’s mind.
A poisonous beauty, they called her, and they sounded almost afraid.
His mother’s voice might not have much to say on the subject of morality, but it had plenty to say on the subject of people: how to study them and learn the weaknesses even they didn’t know of, how to flatter them and lower their guard, how to deceive their eyes and minds until they did everything you wanted. Men or women, it didn’t matter much – they were all there for the taking, ripe for the plucking, prey waiting for him to hunt them down. All he needed to do was want it and he’d be able to feast upon them at his leisure, harvest their desires for his own, eat their hearts out of their chests and pick his teeth clean with their bones.
Possibly literally.
His mother’s voice wasn’t very clear on that.
(How did a no-name no-family girl from nowhere marry a prestigious sect leader to become the second Madame Nie, a new disciple asked, laughing, not noticing how the others glared at him, what was she, a man-eating nine-tailed fox in human guise?
He didn’t last long.)
Still, no matter how much Nie Huaisang’s mother’s voice – or possibly his own – entreated and enticed him, Nie Huaisang didn’t go around convincing people to jump off cliffs or murder their spouses out of love for him, not even if he did secretly think it would be a bit funny. He might not have a little voice that told him right from wrong the way other people did, but he still had something to show him the way – something better.
He had his da-ge.
Nie Huaisang loved his da-ge.
Other people said that Nie Mingjue, the great and fearsome Chifeng-zun, was not easy to love, but what did they know? Nie Huaisang had never found it difficult. Sure, his brother was often angry, intemperate, volatile – prone to lashing out and then making it up later – cold and standoffish with those he did not trust – stern and unyielding in his righteousness, convinced of his position and unwilling to compromise – but that was all for other people.
For Nie Huaisang, his precious didi, Nie Mingjue bent his unbending spine, relaxed his rigid standards, denied his obdurate instincts, strained himself almost to the breaking point. He spoiled him and scolded him and believed in him when no one else would – he gave Nie Huaisang his heart, full and entire, laid it bleeding in his palm, before Nie Huaisang even knew that that was something he might want.
The sky could fall down, but his da-ge would still hold it up for him if he could.
And so Nie Huaisang did not, in fact, go around eating the hearts of unwary cultivators, neither metaphorically nor literally – except for a few times when he wasn’t paying close enough attention and let a little bit of that fox-face he’d inherited from his mother slip out, a handful of people falling madly in love with him and pursuing him until his da-ge beat them black and blue and kicked them out of the Unclean Realm, but no one could be held accountable for a few tiny slip-ups, surely. Nie Huaisang did not become everything that he could be, neither great nor glorious nor terrible, but rather stayed lazy and indulgent and indulged, luxuriating in his brother’s attention, whether positive or negative.
And then there was a war.
His brother was gone for months and months and months. He sent letters when he could, asked his friends to check up on him, worried endlessly about his precious little brother – but he was far away and could neither return nor allow Nie Huaisang to come to him.
It wasn’t fair.
Nie Huaisang got bored.
Maybe he also fucked his way through the Cloud Recesses, but he didn’t eat anyone’s heart in the process, so it was still mostly fine, he thought. According to the adorable stuttering version of the talk his da-ge had stumbled through for him at one point, long after Nie Huaisang already knew all about it, sex was something natural and wonderful that two people (or more) shared to express their affections for each other, nothing to be ashamed of, but also please don’t overdo it or do anything that would result in children outside of marriage, as that was more trouble than it was worth – just look at the Jin sect.
Nie Huaisang had a lot of affection to share, and avoiding by-blows was easy, with a bit of creativity; besides, there was a war on, and all those people didn’t really need their virginities, anyway.
It wasn’t enough, though. It didn’t make up for not having his da-ge.
It didn’t make up for not knowing how his da-ge was doing, because obviously he wouldn’t include details in the letters he sent and the people at the Cloud Recesses were inclined to think that Nie Huaisang didn’t need to know about the brutal realities of war, when all he wanted to know was if his da-ge was eating properly and sleeping properly and not working himself up into a stress migraine from unvented rage.
It didn’t make up for hearing that his da-ge was missing.
(He’d fucked that one out of Lan Xichen, who wasn’t supposed to say, on one of his frequent visits, licking bits of knowledge out of his mouth through grunts and thrusts and starry wide-eyed stares that seemed to be mostly puzzled at how he had been so thoroughly charmed by him.)
It didn’t make up for the sudden and horrible feeling of fright, of concern, of fear – the abrupt realization that his brother had been in danger during all this time, not merely called away by duty – the notion that he might not return – that Nie Huaisang might have to do without him forever.
And then his da-ge came back.
That was when Nie Huaisang abruptly realized that he was just too greedy to give up either his da-ge’s affection or sex, and in fact would ideally like them both at the same time.
(His da-ge had come back from the war injured. His robust spiritual energy had been drained from overuse, his strong body broken and beaten down by a force greater than him, broad shoulders bowed; his lips were pale, his limbs weak, and he clung onto Nie Huaisang as if to a savior, refusing to let him go even when urged.
Nie Huaisang liked that.
He liked that a lot.)
There was really only one problem with this little realization, beyond the obvious disappointment awaiting all of his previous lovers: unlike Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue really was possessed of that little voice that said do or don’t do, and he heard the sound of it loud and clear, even clearer than most. He was a righteous man, an upright man; even if he were to develop a sudden passion for his younger brother, who he had raised, he would die rather than act upon it.
Right, there was that bit, too – they were half-brothers, sharing the blood of the same father, but Nie Huaisang didn’t see that as a real issue. His mother’s voice laughed like a jackal when he mentioned it, and all the history books were full of salacious tales of noblemen who took twins as brides into the same bed or married someone who fell a bit too close on the family tree; the erotic works he collected as a hobby were stuffed full of such tales, and they were often among the most hotly requested for borrowing. The number of times he’d been asked to play the little didi, asking for his dearest darling gege or jiejie to give it to him hot and hard… if he had a coin for each instance, he’d be a rich man.
He already was a rich man. Maybe he ought to use some other metric.
No, the main problem was the righteousness that Nie Huaisang so admired when it was aimed at everyone but him. His brother had been making exceptions for him since the very first – why not this, too?
Still, sex was such a tricky subject for some people, and thinking back to the way his brother hadn’t looked him in the eyes for nearly a week after that initial talk, that was probably applicable here. Nie Huaisang loved his brother far too much to wish him any real harm – his brother had only the single heart, fragile and precious, and if it broke there would be no recovering it so he had to be careful – and some initial explorations, done under the guise of drunkenness, confirmed that Nie Mingjue had never considered the possibility of the two of them together in that way and almost certainly would be horrified and upset by the suggestion that Nie Huaisang had.
Forcing the issue might win him some small and temporary pleasure, since his brother didn’t know how to deny him anything, but it would shatter his brother into a million pieces to give up something so fundamental to his sense of self as his sense of righteousness.
Perhaps for someone else, that would be enough to convince them to stop.
Not so Nie Huaisang.
He was too greedy, too spoiled. He wanted what he wanted – his da-ge, in his bed, wanting him – and he’d never been denied anything he really wanted before, least of all involving his brother.
He went to his brother’s room at night.
“Da-ge,” he said with a smile. “Let me brush your hair.”
His brother grumbled something about being tired but acquiesced at once, accustomed to Nie Huaisang’s petty dictatorship of their household. He sat in front of a mirror and Nie Huaisang settled behind him, slipping his fingers into his brother’s hair and rubbing against his scalp until he could feel the tension in his brother’s body start to dissipate. He chattered as he worked, speaking of nothing and everything, and his brother at first responded with grunts and hums and occasional comments but soon enough succumbed to the feeling of safety and security and home, slipping as he relaxed into a state not unlike meditation.
He’d trained his brother well.
Normally, Nie Huaisang would only take a little advantage of his touch-starved brother’s torpor, which rendered him so very agreeable, asking for favors or presents or excuses – he’d won his first visit to the Cloud Recesses in just this way, not to mention authorization to start his aviary. In normal times, he couldn’t push too far, since what Nie Mingjue might agree to in a daze might not survive his temper when he’d returned to full sobriety, but Nie Huaisang had recently been watching his brother’s new sworn brothers using musical cultivation to soothe his brother’s ever-present temper, and it had given him all sorts of ideas.
It was easy enough to adjust his voice – Nie Mingjue wasn’t really listening to him anymore anyway – and to modulate his tone into something very near to a melody, the cadence quickening and slowing, rising and falling, infusing it with his own very special cultivation, and it wasn’t long before his brother began to instinctively incorporate the music into his own cultivation just the way he did when it was his sworn brothers who were playing for him. The situations were largely similar, after all, what with there being meditation, music, and a younger brother he trusted.
The fact that the melody was different from what Lan Xichen played, the instrument a voice rather than a guqin, was unimportant; as Nie Huaisang had hoped, his poor nearly tone-deaf da-ge either couldn’t tell the difference or didn’t care to. Nie Mingjue’s own talent took care of the rest, spreading the effect of the music through his entire body at double-quick pace, sinking him deeper and deeper into his pleasant, comfortable rest.
Nie Huaisang smiled down at his beloved brother, his fingers still deep in his hair even though the braids had long ago been fully taken out.
He leaned down and whispered in his brother’s ear, “Wake up.”
His brother’s eyes opened – but they were glassy and blank, unseeing and empty.
Nie Huaisang’s smile widened, and in the mirror he saw a grinning fox’s face where his own ought to be.
“It’s me, da-ge, it’s Huaisang,” he said, voice coaxing, his tone still half-singing. “You love me, don’t you?”
Slowly, as if his head were terribly heavy, his brother nodded.
“And if you love me, you must trust me.”
Another long, slow nod.
His smile widened still more, and the fox’s face gave way to the fox’s voice, which, it was said, could stir up the hearts of men and lead them to their doom.
“Because you trust me, you will listen to me, believe in me,” he crooned in his brother’s ear, watching in delight as the words were carried by the unconscious habit of cultivation straight into his brother’s core. “Whatever I say is how things are. Whenever you hear me hum this tune, you will remember that, won’t you?”
His brother’s brow wrinkled, just a little, instinctively fighting the spell for a moment, but Nie Huaisang pressed harder, with his cultivation and with his fingers digging into his brother’s temples, and after a moment habit kicked in, the tension released, the words accepted, the trance state complete.
His brother was as docile as a doll, as impressionable as wet clay.
His beautiful, wonderful da-ge.
For this first outing, he would not push too hard. His mother’s voice urged caution, care – the prize could not be won in haste, and if there was one quality Nie Huaisang did not lack, it was patience. He would move slowly, gently, and in the end he would get everything his black little heart desired.
Just like his mother had.
“Your didi, Huaisang, is special,” Nie Huaisang murmured in his brother’s ear. “He needs special care and love from you. You know that already, don’t you? That’s why you’re always so permissive with him, so indulgent. That’s why you let him touch you, even when you don’t let anyone else. Even where you don’t let anyone else.”
He let his fingers slip down his brother’s chest to settle into his lap, tracing lightly over the outline of his cock, even though he couldn’t really feel it through all the layers.
“You let him touch you here, sometimes,” he whispered, and the words flowed in with everything else. “And sometimes, as a treat, when he’s been good, you touch him back, make him feel good. It’s not wrong. Not when it’s Huaisang. It’s normal, natural, as easy and unremarkable as breathing – you don’t say anything about it to anyone else, but why would you? You don’t tell people about ruffling his hair, either.”
His da-ge’s eyes stared blankly into the mirror. He did not object.
“You’ll forget about this conversation when it’s done,” Nie Huaisang told him. “Every time I hum this song for you, you’ll return to how you are now, nice and relaxed and quiet and listening, and when you wake up you forget it, every time. That’s normal, too, and nothing to worry about.”
That should be enough for today, he thought. A small adjustment, yet well within the realm of what he could play off as a laugh if the spell didn’t take – and if it did, it would edge his da-ge’s mentality a little closer to what he wanted, to a world where his righteous brother didn’t perceive that there was anything wrong with bedding his own half-brother, his little spoiled fox that he loved so much.
Each future time he took his da-ge down into the quiet, he would reinforce the command, move him just a little closer to there – it would be like replacing a single item in a room at a time, moving so slowly and delicately that the person in the room didn’t ever realize that the room had completely changed.
“Time to wake up, da-ge,” he said, and snapped the connection between them.
A moment later, his brother’s eyes cleared up.
“Are you still not finished?” Nie Mingjue complained, as Nie Huaisang had all but expected. “Some of us wake up early, you know.”
“I was being thorough!” Nie Huaisang protested, rolling his eyes at the mirror and watching his brother smile at him. “You’re always telling me to be! It’s all ‘work on your follow-through, Huaisang’, ‘don’t give up halfway through, Huaisang’, ‘finish what you set out to do, Huaisang’ –”
“All right, all right. Off with you. And go to bed this time, I don’t want to see you at breakfast with circles under your eyes because you stayed up until dawn again, you hear me?”
Nie Huaisang raised his hands in surrender. “Da-ge’s so mean,” he pouted. “I do all that hard work for da-ge, working until my hands hurt, and da-ge just sends me away to bed?”
He got an eye roll in return. “You’re the one who barged in here and insisted on it!”
“I still did it! That means I deserve a reward,” he insisted, leaning back on the bed, spreading his legs.
A hint, although it could be laughed away as innocent if needed.
“You’re so spoiled,” his da-ge complained, but he stretched out his arms high above his head, twisting and cracking the air out of his back and neck, and seemed pleased enough by his improved flexibility. “All right, all right. You big baby. You can’t do anything yourself, can you?”
“Nope,” Nie Huaisang said with a grin, watching as his da-ge climbed onto the bed next to him, his expression open and free and relaxed, and started to open Nie Huaisang’s clothing as if it was the most normal thing in the world to do, his hand sliding down to wrap around Nie Huaisang’s cock as if he’d done this a hundred times before – although the clumsiness of the action suggested otherwise. “I depend on my da-ge for everything.”
“You really do,” Nie Mingjue grumbled, starting to pump Nie Huaisang’s cock firmly. Nie Huaisang made a happy sound, bucking his hips up encouragingly – he’d been hard since he first walked into the room, and honestly the feeling of a plan working out just as he’d intended was very nearly as good as the actual physical pleasure of having his da-ge’s hand on him for the very first time. “What am I going to do with you, Huaisang?”
“Many things,” Nie Huaisang giggled. “Many, many things.”
Tysm to Seamus Gorman for reviewing the tinker bell films, reminding me of their existence, and reminding me of how I’m pretty sure I had a crush on every single fairy in them
{I feel like listing the boys Nemo/Marlin would be cheating, and also I would have to list just one other. So lets just assume the boys are like family. Also these are not the MOST important to her. They are just important people in her life that she would at least be able to remember…sometimes.}
