Chapter Text
Nie Mingjue frowns at the light flickering in the study.
Only two people have access to it; himself and his advisor, Meng Yao.
After the Sunshot Campaign ended with Meng Yao’s assassination of Wen Ruohan, the younger man had taken to his new duties in Qinghe like a duck to water.
Mingjue is grateful. He knows how to run a Sect, had been taught by his father, but it doesn’t mean he is good at the administrative part. He is a warrior to the core. Better at leading armies than accounting.
Meng Yao, on the other hand, thrives at administrative work and it showed in the way Qinghe Nie Sect had improved since Mingjue had delegated the day-to-day running of the sect to his capable hands.
He had feared losing his advisor to the Jin Sect, he had even offered to write him a letter of recommendation, knowing Meng Yao’s desire to be recognized by his father. But the untimely demise of Jin Guangshan at the hands of one of his scorned mistresses in the middle of the war had rendered that hope null. Meng Yao had elected to stay in Qinghe despite his half-brother, new Jin Sect Leader Jin Zixuan, publicly acknowledging him as family.
Mingjue was perversely pleased at the decision, not just because he had obtained an invaluable advisor, but because of his deeper personal feelings towards the younger man.
He walks towards the flickering light, silently chastising his advisor for working so late. He nudges open the door and opens his mouth to tell the fool to go to sleep but the words die in his throat.
Meng Yao is slumped over the desk, brush in hand. His hair is splayed around his shoulders. Mingjue leans against the doorway and studies the sleeping man.
Peacefully asleep, he is not. Meng Yao has a crease between his brows that indicates his dreams are not pleasant ones. Mingjue approaches him and reaches out to brush his fingers through the soft hair.
Meng Yao jolts awake, panic crossing his face.
“I apologize Sect Leader Wen,” he says, haphazardly bowing, “I did not mean to fall asleep”
Mingjue feels a flicker of irritation.
Meng Yao’s hazy gaze clears and horror flashes across his chagrined expression.
“S-Sect Leader Nie, I-“
“You should be asleep,” Mingjue says gruffly, trying not to bristle at being confused for Sect Leader Wen. What had Meng Yao been dreaming about?
Meng Yao has recovered his normal composure. He bows his head slightly.
“I will once I finish the guard rotation schedule”
“That can wait until morning,” Mingjue frowns. Meng Yao has dark circles beneath his eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
Meng Yao glances down at his work.
“Last night,” he says, carefully setting his brush aside and not meeting Mingjue’s eyes. The sect leader knows his advisor is lying.
Mingjue takes to scroll from him, ignoring his protests, and puts it to the side. He reaches over and picks Meng Yao up by his armpits. The younger man gives him an exasperated glance as he’s set on his feet away from the desk.
“Really sect leader,” he complains as Mingjue nudges him towards the door. “I’m capable of leaving on my own”
“Yes. You are. But you won’t”
Meng Yao blinks. Mingjue nudges him a little harder.
With a defeated sigh, Meng Yao leaves the study.
Mingjue watches as he disappears down the hall. He sighs and heads to his own quarters, thinking.
The Meng Yao who had gone into the Nightless City was not the one to come out.
This Meng Yao keeps a bland yet pleasant expression on his face, not giving way to what he is thinking or feeling. He gave his report with a lack of emotion that made a chill go down Mingjue’s spine.
The way he spoke calmly, clinically about what he had done as Wen Ruohan’s lieutenant and torturer had made Mingjue’s fingers itch.
The Meng Yao before Nightless City had still been a boy; soft and round features giving him a guileless, innocent air. Coupled with his quicksilver tongue and ability to think on his feet it was no wonder Wen Ruohan was quick to trust him.
The Meng Yao that had left Nightless City was no longer a boy. His features, while still soft and almost femininely pretty, have become something sharper and more angular. The boyish innocence giving way to a young man who could only be called elegant.
His behavior before, while still demure and polite, was always tinged with a desire to please and a youthful eagerness that couldn’t be disguised. His behavior now is carefully controlled. Pleasant and charming in a way that only Mingjue seems to be able to recognize as being manufactured. Passive in a way that he hadn’t been before.
Mingjue notices other things too.
When someone makes an off-handed comment about his mother or his upbringing, Meng Yao doesn’t react. In the past, he would flinch or look away.
When arguments begin to break out amongst the more hotheaded Nie Sect members, Meng Yao is quick to diffuse it with honeyed words and placating gestures before sending the parties in opposite directions. Before, he would have hesitated to get involved.
Meng Yao reveals nothing beyond a pleasant facade. He blends into the background seamlessly.
These are the thoughts in his head when Mingjue settles into bed so it’s no wonder his dreams are filled with golden eyes and the faint, soothing scent of parchment and something floral.
He wakes feeling rested, despite the clearly early hour.
Cursing his inability to go back to sleep, Mingjue decides to train.
As he’s crossing the hallway, a sound catches his attention. Mingjue frowns at the noise coming from the study.
It’s far too early for anyone to be awake, much less Meng Yao who didn’t go to bed until well into the night. If he’s right, the younger man got maybe three hours of sleep.
He pokes his head into the study. Meng Yao is poring over a scroll. He’s wearing the same set of robes as the day before. Mingjue knows because of the ink stain on the collar.
His frown deepens and he enters the room. Meng Yao glances up and blinks.
“Sect Leader,” he greets politely.
“Did you even sleep?” Mingjue asks without preamble.
“Of course”
Mingjue steps closer and scrutinizes him. Meng Yao calmly meets his gaze, expression betraying nothing.
He doesn’t look any more tired than usual, so Mingjue lets it slide.
“What are you doing?”
“The guard rotation schedule”
“Hm”
“If I may be so bold to inquire, why is Sect Leader Nie awake so early?”
“Training”
Meng Yao nods and doesn’t question any more.
“When did you wake up?” Mingjue presses.
“A few minutes ago,” Meng Yao is focusing on what he’s writing a little too hard.
Clearly he’s not going to get anything further. Frustration builds up in Mingjue’s chest and he whirls around to leave towards the training grounds where he proceeds to destroy several training dummies and not think about Meng Yao.
He trains until the sun is high in the sky. He guesses it’s a little before lunchtime when he sheaths his saber and goes to clean up, ordering a servant to prepare a bath.
Halfway back to his rooms, he detours to the study.
Laughter reaches his ears and piques his curiosity.
The door is open just enough that he can look inside.
Huaisang is sitting next to Meng Yao, peering at whatever he is working on.
“And when we calculate out the budget, we do it like this...” Meng Yao writes something.
“Why do we budget so much for miscellaneous expenses?”
“Miscellaneous expenses is a catch all. Do we need new pots or pans? Miscellaneous. Banquets will sometimes also fall under miscellaneous, but usually if I know we’re hosting something I make sure it has its own budget. And the miscellaneous budget is something of an overdraft budget. If we go over-budget in, say, training supplies - which has actually happened - then we can pull from miscellaneous”
“This is so complicated,” Huaisang whines.
Meng Yao laughs softly. It lights up his face and Mingjue is left breathless.
“It makes sense once you do it a couple times,” Meng Yao pushes a tendril of hair out of Huaisang’s face with a gentle expression.
Mingjue is reminded of that day in Hejian where Meng Yao soothed the baby. The soft, gentle voice he had used and the way the baby settled in his arms.
It was that day that Mingjue realized his feelings for his deputy might run deeper than simple respect.
“You’re so smart Yao-ge,” Huaisang sighs and slumps in his chair. “Da ge is lucky to have you”
Meng Yao simply laughs.
“Come on, pay attention, you might need to know these things one day”
“I won’t,” Huaisang protests. “Da ge will always lead the sect”
Meng Yao’s expression turns complicated. Mingjue knows he’s thinking about all the times he’s seen him injured or close to qi deviation. Mingjue has also told Meng Yao he fears, even expects, dying young.
“I hope this is true,” Meng Yao finally smiles. “But he’s going to need help”
“He has you”
“But what if something happens to me? Sect Leader Nie will need your support”
Huaisang looks upset. Mingjue feels a coil of worry in his stomach at the thought of something happening to his advisor.
“Nothing is going to happen to you!”
Meng Yao laughs and ruffles Huaisang’s hair.
“I hope this is true as well, but what if I get sick? Or I take another position?”
“I’m not good at this,” Huaisang pouts. Meng Yao smiles indulgently. The man has the patience of a saint. Mingjue would have resorted to shouting at his brother by now.
“The only way you get good at something is practice,” Meng Yao says, voice gentling. “A-Sang, you’re smart and capable. Sometimes I need help and you’re the only one I trust to do this right. Please?”
Huaisang widens his eyes at the look Meng Yao is giving him.
“Okay,” he sighs, “anything for you, Yao-ge”
The smile that lights up Meng Yao’s face is bright and Mingjue feels himself weaken at the knees.
“Let me get you a practice budget,” Meng Yao gets up and turns to the shelf behind the desk. He stands on his toes to try and reach it, causing his robes to shift.
Meng Yao gives a small jump before sighing and clambering up on the table. His robes shift again and stretch tight over his backside.
Mingjue can’t help it, his gaze trails down Meng Yao’s back to his perky butt. He idly wonders if Meng Yao’s cheeks would fit perfectly in his hands. If he could wrap his hands completely around Meng Yao’s thighs.
He slams the brakes on his train of thought at a twitch in his groin.
Meng Yao turns back to Huaisang and Mingjue flees to keep his traitorous brain from going anywhere else.
In the safety of his rooms he groans as he realizes the state he’s in.
The bath is full, covered to keep it warm.
With a heavy sigh he strips down and grasps himself in one hand. He closes his eyes and pictures Meng Yao.
“Sect Leader,” Meng Yao tilts his head in that way he does that makes him look like an inquisitive cat. “Look at the state you’re in,” he moves forward. “Let me help you...”
His hand would be soft and small, the Meng Yao in his mind can’t completely encircle his slender fingers around him. He knows Meng Yao’s hands are always cool, a contrast to the heavy heat of his length.
Meng Yao smiles up at him and the urge to kiss him grows.
Mingjue bites his own lip as he imagines what kissing Meng Yao would be like. What would he taste like? Would he be shy? Letting Mingjue guide him, overpower him? Or would he be confident? Fighting Mingjue for control of the kiss as his hand teases him? His intelligent eyes flickering playfully.
The idea of a confident, playful Meng Yao causes Mingjue to gasp. His hips stutter and he bites off a groan of Meng Yao’s name as he comes embarrassingly quickly.
He leans against the door, trying to catch his breath. Once the hazy fog of pleasure lifts from his mind, he glances at his hand and the mess on his robes.
Guilt, shame and regret flicker through him in overwhelming succession.
He rarely, if ever, gives into fantasies. He has always approached self-pleasure with the same mindset he approaches everything. It is a necessary and inescapable bodily need. Most of the time, he just does what he needs to do and that’s that.
The fact that he fantasized about his advisor is not a surprise. That he had allowed himself to is what eats at him.
Not just because he needs to face the other man, but because Meng Yao is not only his subordinate but so much younger than him.
(He knows it’s only five years, but Meng Yao always seems so much younger to him, despite his maturity. It doesn’t help that him and Huaisang are the same height)
Either way. It’s not appropriate. He wipes off his hand, hiding evidence of his shame, and gets into the bath.
Are his feelings towards his advisor becoming too much to control?
If so, what should he do? He can’t justify assigning Meng Yao to another position and he doesn’t want to.
He supposes he could limit his time around him. He does intentionally spend more time with Meng Yao than necessary.
He doesn’t like that idea either.
He scrubs his face with his hands and sighs. This is why Meng Yao is an advisor. He’s terrible at coming up with strategies, preferring to approach things head on.
But he refuses to touch the idea of pinning Meng Yao to the desk and kissing him senseless, making his feelings known.
His cock gives an interested twitch at the idea and Mingjue sinks deeper into the water with a scowl.
This is getting out of hand.