Chapter Text
Chapter Text
The Twin Jades were thrown onto the obsidian tiles. Xichen barely managed to catch himself: his chin scraped over the stone, adding another gash from which to bleed. He was bloodied all over, battered and bruised; and Wangji no less. Someone grabbed his bound arms and pulled him back, making his spine arch and causing him to nearly yell: he only just managed to keep it caged behind his teeth. In front of them stood an elaborate throne – also made of obsidian – and in it sat a man with a young, gentle appearance. Xichen knew better: the man was older than his uncle, older than the oldest on the Lan council of Elders; cruel and ruthless.
Wen Ruohan smirked at them and said, in a melodic, soothing voice: 'Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji: the jewels of Mount Gusu. Welcome back to my court.'
Xichen wanted to say something in return: to think of some smart, insulting retort to wipe the smile of the man's face, but he had too much on his mind already. Their men, a contingent of surviving Lan and cultivators from the other opposing sects: were they all dead? Had the Qishan Wen left anyone alive? And why had they bothered taking him and Wangji, instead of running them through and taking only their heads or their swords as proof of their demise?
He cast a look aside at his younger brother, who he had promised to keep safe. Was he going to break that promise? Was he going to have to watch his di-di die today?
'You're out of words. How charming.' Wen Ruohan rose, stepped off the small dias towards the two of them. He extended a hand towards Xichen and stroked his chin with a single finger. 'Take them to the cells,' he said. ‘Keep them separate.’
‘No!’ Xichen shouted. He was yanked to his feet: he could see his ruby blood smeared onto Wen Ruohan’s fingertip. Next to him, Wangji too was pulled upright and dragged out of the hall.
They brought them to the palace dungeons. As Wangji was taken into one direction and he to the other, he yelled: ‘Di-di! Stay strong! Don’t give up!’
‘Xiong-zhang!’ The panic in Wangji’s voice, the fear in his eyes were like needles in his soul, and Xichen feared in that moment that he would never see his little brother again.
They slashed the ropes holding his hands tied together only to put his wrists in cuffs and haul him up by a couple of chains. A man pulled out a knife and used it to cut his robes from his back. Xichen yelled in anger and tried to kick at the man. It earned him a fist to the face: he could feel the cartilage in his nose shift. Two men held him after that while the third sawed through the precious silk, ripping it off of him until he was naked. One of the guards grabbed his testicles and tugged at them, making him shout.
'You won't be needing these ever again,' the man said. 'I wonder if Wen Ruohan will let me rip them off of you…!'
'He will not,' a cold voice replied. 'Let him go.'
The voice belonged to a young woman in Wen robes. The guard reluctantly released Xichen's balls and stepped back on her order. The woman – Wen Qing – walked around him, examining him. Xichen had never been nude in front of a woman before and blushed, but she seemed utterly disinterested in him.
'Clean his wounds,' she told the young man who accompanied her. 'I'll go and gather the medicine I need.' Wen Qionglin merely nodded and under the watchful eyes of the guards, he began washing the blood off of Xichen's many cuts and abrasions. Xichen wondered why they bothered: was Wen Ruohan not going to execute him? Would they be looking after Wangji as well? He asked the guards, but they didn’t answer him: they only ridiculed him.
Wen Qing returned. She applied medicinal salves, stitched parts of him up, dressed his wounds. She was stitching up a large gash on his thigh when Wen Ruohan himself entered the cell. His eyes wandered shamelessly over Xichen's dangling body, but his eyes remained unreadable. A weird shudder ran across Xichen's spine.
'You severely wounded my general,' Wen Ruohan said. 'He says you are a better fighter than Nie Mingjue. Less powerful, but much more refined in technique.'
Xichen gritted his teeth. He hadn't succeeded in killing him then? A pity.
'Wen Zhuliu is not easily impressed.'
'I'm surprised to hear he's capable of having emotions.'
For a second, Wen Ruohan stared at him. Then he laughed. 'So you are still capable of forming words.'
'What do you want with me? What is happening to my brother?'
For a moment, Wen Ruohan seemed to think. He shook his head minutely. 'Later.' He gestured at one of the guards, who followed him outside. The cell door fell to a close.
After Wen Qing was done with him, the guards removed the chains, but not the cuffs, and took Xichen naked through the corridors of the palace. Xichen felt radiant with shame by the time they reached their destination: a room in a wing deep inside the palace, where they left him by himself. Xichen was surprised: it looked a lot like a guest suite and it reminded him of the room he and Wangji had stayed in during the Cultivation Conference hosted by the Qishan Wen several years ago, except that there was a large double bed in this room instead of twin beds. He looked around, but there was nothing in the cupboards, the night stand, or the little cabinet behind the privacy screen where a tub and a chamber pot stood. It was all empty. The bed wasn't even made.
He waited, wrapping his arms around himself. The first person to cross the threshold was a servant carrying simple, clean clothes: robes in red and white. Despite how much he disliked the colour scheme, Xichen would rather wear Wen colours than stay nude, and he donned the clothes. A second servant brought him a meal.
Xichen didn't understand. Why the hospitality? Wasn't he a prisoner? He considered the option that there was poison in the food, but that seemed silly: why would Wen Ruohan opt to poison him when he'd had ample occasion to have him murdered?
He wasn't hungry though, so he stuck to drinking a cup of tea. A servant came to pick up the tray later, another made the bed. Xichen asked them questions but no one responded. By nightfall no one besides the servants came for him, so Xichen settled in bed and slept, exhausted and overcome with fear and worry.
He woke at the sound of a door closing and sat up in bed. His eyes went wide with surprise when he saw Wen Ruohan had entered the chamber. He looked relaxed: he'd removed his guan and some of his more formal robes, having dressed down to only a plain red one with little decorations in gold at the hems and neckline. He smiled benevolently at Xichen.
'I am pleased to see you're resting.'
Xichen quickly rose from the bed, not wanting to be in a disadvantageous position. The sash at his waist had come undone, and he fastened it back into place.
'Chief Cultivator,' he said, curtly.
The other man took a deep breath. 'I wish to speak with you, Lan Xichen, as one man to another. Let us leave behind formalities for a moment, shall we?' Xichen said nothing. 'I apologise for what happened at Cloud Recesses,' Wen Ruohan continued. 'The destruction of your sect was a tragedy. One that I do, truly, regret.'
'An apology will not do,' Xichen replied. 'You know this full well, rendering your apology null and void.'
'Of course,' Wen Ruohan said soothingly. 'You and I are enemies and must remain so until proper retaliation has been met. As the leader of the Qishan Wen, I couldn't possibly admit to regretting my actions or express remorse at the death of your clansmen. But I need you to know where I stand, as a person. As a man, a fellow cultivator, a lover of beautiful architecture and a pursuer of knowledge: the ruin of your home is a heartfelt loss.'
His words sounded sincere, and Xichen was almost inclined to believe them. Almost. But he didn't acknowledge them.
'I am also sorry for the demise of your father, Qingheng-Jun, who was in previous times a great cultivator. And your uncle, Lan Qiren: a renowned teacher and a man of great wisdom.'
That stung. Xichen had never felt familial affection for his father, but the loss of his uncle was much more difficult to bear. He missed him, terribly, and knew the same was true for Wangji.
'Xichen,' Wen Ruohan said, and Xichen looked up at him, surprised by the informal mention of his name. The other man seemed to be waiting for something; Xichen straightened his back and said: 'What you feel as a private man does not change what you have done. You've murdered my family, decimated my clan, destroyed my sect and burned my home to the ground.'
'Yes. And from a political standpoint, I believe it was the right thing to do.' Xichen felt anger rise in his throat, but before he could speak, Wen Ruohan continued. 'I was, of course, aware of the brewing rebellion among the other four sects. It is understandable: you and Nie Mingjue are young, you disagreed with the many laws your fathers brokered to maintain a peaceful understanding with the Qishan Wen and you decided you would gladly see some of those regulations turned back. You were unhappy with my hegemony: I have been Chief Cultivator for a long time and you believed it is time for new leadership. You heard the groaning of the smaller sects and you felt like you should stand up for them, defend them against the large, ever-growing sect which grows evermore demanding: my own. I am a tyrant, in your view, am I not?'
'Yes.'
'And if I were removed, a redistribution of power, wealth, goods could be established; you'd set up a fairer system where the five sects would share responsibility, perhaps by creating a council or whatnot instead of the position of Chief Cultivator – which invites hegemony, doesn't it? – and you'd no doubt see yourself backed by the smaller sects whose annual contributions in terms of money and service would shrink significantly. It is all very noble and completely understandable. But I am sure you also understand why I, as the head of the largest sect and the exact person you wish to dethrone, cannot allow for it to happen.' He paused, as if waiting for Xichen to respond. He still didn't. 'You then also understand why I had to set an example. And between the four other major sects – the Nie, Jin, Jiang and Lan – I had no choice but to pick yours. Jiang Fengmian thinks himself a righteous man and was no doubt swayed by your arguments; but he is also a coward and would easily fall back in line after he was faced with the consequences of rebellion. Plus: he has done a tremendous job regulating the water ways in the Jiangnan delta. Removing him would mean having to renegotiate delicate treaties and hard-fought agreements which have taken decades to constitute. I’d rather not.
Jin Guangshan is an opportunist who would do anything if it could turn out profitable for him. He’d be easily swayed as well – in fact, I doubt he’s entirely on your side. More likely, he’s playing a double game and is waiting to see who will have the upper hand. And although I distrust him, Jin-Zongzhu does have a way of making money with the same ease as he creates bastards, and he always pays his taxes on time.
I don’t like Nie Mingjue. I’ve never liked those saber-wielding butchers of his clan. But as much as I dislike him, he is not merely a sect leader: he is also the duke of Hebei. His troops are responsible for keeping the northern border against the Xianbei tribes. As such, he has a seat at the imperial table, and going against him might attract the Emperor’s attention.*
Therefore, the only remaining option was the Lan. Your sect’s capital is mostly immaterial: it’s renowned for its excellent cultivation, wisdom and music, but your worldly contribution has amounted to little more than maintaining the status quo. You’ve been adequate governors, no doubt, but your contribution in the past decades has been little more than diplomatic.
Unlike my sons, I never harboured any hatred against your sect. You merely drew the shortest straw, therefore you had to go.’ Xichen still remained quiet. Wen Ruohan’s voice softened somewhat as he asked: ‘You do understand my reasoning, don’t you?’
‘I do,’ Xichen replied. ‘Of course I do. But it changes nothing. You’ve murdered my father. As his son, I must avenge him. You’ve destroyed my sect, and I will fight to the death to see you destroyed in turn.’
Wen Ruohan scoffed. ‘You’ve already lost. You are at my mercy: I could strike you down right here and now.’
‘Then why don’t you? Why did you take me and Wangji prisoner?’
Now Wen Ruohan smiled. ‘Because I want you.’
Notes:
*I’ve always been a bit iffy about how MXTX declared that while the events from MDZS were taking place, there was always a Chinese Emperor somewhere doing his business, so I tried to mix in some historic lore. In my fic’s reality – here and in some other fics too – the sect leaders operate as small feudal lords who govern their area and who have a semi-free reign: as long as they remain loyal to the emperor, don’t contest his rule and pay their taxes, they’re free to do whatever the hell they want. It’s not until shit really hits the fan that the imperial government would go and interfere; small feuds between minor lords happen and often sort themselves out. China’s big. The emperor has other things to worry about.
The ‘Jiangnan delta’ refers loosely to the area south of the Yangtze River. From Wikipedia: ‘The name Jiangnan is the pinyin romanization of the Standard Mandarin pronunciation of 江南, meaning "[Lands] South of the [Yangtze] River".Although jiang (江) is now the common Chinese word for any large river, it was historically used in Ancient Chinese to refer specifically to the Yangtze River, which defines the Jiangnan region.’ It would make sense, considering where Yunmeng is located and how the sect is associated with all things water, that they would concern themselves with policies surrounding who gets to govern the water.
The (presently and also in the book so-called) province of Hebei became part of unified China after 266 A.D., so this fic places the events of MDZS after that. More specifically, I chose the Jin dynasty at around 300 AD, because after the Jin dynasty ended in about 420 AD China became separated into the Northern and Southern Kingdoms which would put parts of the Jianghu (cultivation world) at war with one another. The Xianbei ‘state’, which included modern day Mongolia and Inner-Mongolia and bits of northern China, existed as a loose confederation of nomadic tribes and was, as such, not really a threat, but the previously existing Xiongnu Empire (roughly 3rd century BC to the late 1st century AD) which had more or less united all of these tribes, sure was! So it makes sense for the leader of Hebei – in this case, Nie Mingjue – to be of vital importance to the Imperial court. And it gives a good motivation for my version of Wen Ruohan to choose to burn the Lan instead of the Nie.
Chapter Text
Xichen had tried to keep a straight face and not betray his thoughts throughout Wen Ruohan’s monologue, but now he couldn’t help but blink in surprise. ‘You… want me?’ he repeated.
'You are well-known to be the most powerful cultivator of your generation,' Wen Ruohan said, 'as well as the most handsome, rivalled only by your brother. But you are the more charming, by far. You are intelligent, sociable, shrewd. Of course, I would be more than interested to have you join my ranks.'
The man stepped closer. Xichen wasn't sure what to do. It didn't seem like the man was flattering him: again, he seemed sincere in his words. But he couldn't possibly think Xichen would be interested in joining him, after what he'd done?
Either way, he wasn't going to back away from him. He remained still as the other man came close enough to lower his voice to a whisper.
'I watched you, during the convention here in Qishan,' Wen Ruohan said. 'You were a boy on the cusp of manhood, but unlike many of that age you had no difficulty adjusting to your new height, your new voice, the dexterity of your new limbs. You were no less gracious than you are now. I remember seeing you first wearing my colours during the archery competition: that round collar looked almost scandalous on you, despite the white robes you were wearing underneath...' His hand touched Xichen's lower back and Xichen jumped as if stung by an insect. He stared at the other man and a flash of heat crept towards his face. Was he...? Was Wen Ruohan coming on to him?
'If you swear fealty to me, I'll spare you and your brother,' Wen Ruohan said, and Xichen's heart stopped. 'You could be a general, or even more. You could be Wen Xichen...'
'No.' Xichen found his voice back. 'Stop. I would never...'
'You do not want to finish that sentence,' Wen Ruohan said. 'Not before you think. You are my enemy – you've sworn to kill me. I could kill both you and your little brother and no-one would bat an eye. Your sect would truly be lost: your clan out of heirs, centuries of knowledge of Lan cultivation gone. I'm offering you a way to save that and your brother and your friends.' He loomed over Xichen, who finally stepped back. Wen Ruohan followed and within two paces Xichen felt a barrier at his calves: the wooden bed frame. Wen Ruohan brushed up close and lifted a hand to touch his hair. 'You know they cannot win without you,' he continued, speaking fast now, impassioned. 'Nie Mingjue may be a natural leader, but he lacks the capability to prevent infighting between the sects that are now out for blood. He needs someone like you: someone who people trust will listen to them, who can unite them. Your alliance is going to fall apart and when it does, I will crush them. You can prevent this.' His hand grabbed Xichen's arm and in a reflex, Xichen tried to free himself. Wen Ruohan might look like a slender youth, but his strength was significant, and Xichen failed. Wen Ruohan read the realisation on his face and grinned.
'You know,' he said, voice low. 'Like I said: you are intelligent. You know I am correct. There is no feasible alternative for you other than to give in, not if you wish to preserve anything you hold dear.'
'Let go,' Xichen hissed.
'I rather like what I have here. I intend to hold onto it.' The grin widened. Then he let go. 'But let me give you some time to think. You may consider yourself a guest here: someone will see to your every need. If you wish to speak to me, ring the bell by the door. But.' He paused. 'Your brother will not eat until you have made your decision.'
Xichen didn’t know what to say. He watched as Wen Ruohan left the room, then sagged down on the bed. For a moment, he doubted his own mind. Did any of that truly happen?
‘He desires me,’ he whispered to himself. It send a shudder down his spine.
He took some time to think it over. Wen Ruohan was right in almost everything: it was the wise thing to do; it was not at all likely the rebellion would have succeeded in the first place and even less likely now; he’d be able to save many lives if he gave in and helped Wen Ruohan to nip the Sunshot Campaign in the bud. By the end of the day, he rang the cord and waited.
To his surprise, it was Wen Ruohan himself who appeared, not a servant as he had expected. The man must truly have been waiting on his response.
‘Lan Xichen,’ he said. ‘Zewu-Jun. Tell me what I want to hear.’
Xichen swallowed hard. 'I have listened to your arguments. Your reasoning is sound. I understand why you did what you did.' He paused to take a deep breath, as he was about to seal his fate. 'But I could never swear fealty to you. My soul, my heart and my life belong to my sect. I could never betray my family, alive or dead. My name could never be anything other than a Lan, and I know my brother would feel the same.' He knelt down. 'So I request you execute me and my brother.’
Wen Ruohan stared at him. A few moments, all was silent. Then his face tore with anger. 'Kill you?' he spat. 'I don't think so. What you have failed to see, boy, is that I am determined to have what I want, one way or another. You never really had a choice to begin with: the outcome was fixed. All that was yours to decide, was if you would go down willingly or unwillingly.’
Xichen raised his face at him, allowing his anger to show, but refused to take back his words.
‘Bring me Wen Zhuliu!’ Wen Ruohan roared.
Xichen rose. Behind the door, he could hear the sound of footsteps: the chambers were being guarded, then, as he had suspected. Not that it had mattered: he wasn’t going to run anywhere without his brother.
‘What will happen to Wangji?’ he asked.
‘Oh, he will say right where he is. In time, I will make him a similar offer – though I suspect he will refuse. He’s rigid and narrow-minded, hell-bent on revenge. I doubt he will be able to see reason if even you could not see the wisdom in my offer.’
Xichen almost dared to breathe in relief: his di-di would live. There was some solace to be found in that.
It did not take long for Wen Zhuliu to appear. He looked grim and infirm and scowled at Xichen. Xichen glared back. Despite being his foe, he respected Wen Zhuliu as a man and an opponent: he was a formidable warrior and a man of honour, and his humble upbringing and the many adversities he’d faced in his youth hadn’t kept him from becoming one of the foremost cultivators of the Jianghu.
‘Do with him as previously instructed,’ Wen Ruohan said.
Wen Zhuliu eyed Xichen and replied: ‘Would you mind restraining him, Chief Cultivator?’
Wen Ruohan laughed. Xichen expected him to call for his men, but to his surprise, the man pounced on him himself.
Xichen fought back. Wen Ruohan had told him he wasn't interested in killing him, and the fact that he'd called for Wen Zhuliu could only mean one thing: he was going to destroy his core. That meant that this was the last chance he'd ever have to try and free himself and his brother.
He didn't have Shuoyue or Liebing, so all he could fight Wen Ruohan with were his own body and talismans. He managed to conjure a slowing talisman and cast it; Wen Ruohan broke through it with ease and before Xichen could complete a more difficult spell, the man was on him. He grabbed Xichen's right wrist, twisted it and attempted to wring it onto his back; Xichen launched himself backwards, using his spiritual energy in the hopes of crushing Wen Ruohan between himself and a wall. Wen Ruohan used his power to bring them both to a stop before they'd moved as much as three paces and kicked Xichen in the back of the knee. He cried out in pain, buckled but remained standing, threw his head back in the hopes of smashing Wen Ruohan's nose, again using his spiritual power to increase the impact. Swift as lightning, Wen Ruohan side-stepped, brought his fist down and rammed it into Xichen's chest, sending him flying to the floor. The force with which he hit the ground made the wooden floor splinter underneath him, and for a second everything went dark before his eyes. That was enough for Wen Ruohan. By the time Xichen had blinked the blindness away, Wen Ruohan was pushing him upright and holding his arm twisted on his back, and the fingers of the other hand wrapped around his throat.
'So much raw strength in you,' the man mused, close to Xichen's ear. 'You're going to make it worth my while, I know you will.'
Xichen was too rapt to reply, as he could feel something long and hard press against the curve of ass and he realised with abject horror what it was.
Wen Zhuliu, who had stood aside during the struggle, stepped forward. He cast a look over Xichen's shoulder, no doubt asking permission from Wen Ruohan, then reached out and grabbed the front of the red-and-white robe, pulling hard. The fabric tore, exposing Xichen's chest. He bucked back against Wen Ruohan, who increases the grip on his throat.
'Go on,' the man taunted him. 'I like it when you squirm.'
'You degenerate!' Xichen tried to move away, but couldn't prevent Wen Zhuliu from pressing a hand to his upper dantian. The man known as Core Melting Hand closed his eyes and a moment later, Xichen felt as though he was being set aflame.
When he came back to his senses, he was laying on the floor, sprawled out. He felt weak in a way he'd never felt before: as if he were a wisp existing in a large, heavy, clunky flesh prison. Breathing hurt: his throat felt raw; and as he coughed it send a shudder like a whiplash through his body.
A hand grabbed his neck and he whimpered. He heard Wen Ruohan's voice, dripping with satisfaction: 'Let me see you put up a fight now, pretty Jade.'
Chapter Text
Wen Ruohan lifted him with ease, as if he didn’t weigh more than an infant, and dumped him onto the bed. The air was knocked out of his lungs and Xichen mewled miserably, tried to push himself up on his arms. Just as he managed to lift his head, Wen Ruohan pushed it back down in the pillows.
‘Don’t get up,’ he said. The hand slithered to the torn collar of the robes and pulled at them, Xichen felt the fabric fall away from his shoulder and roared.
‘Stop! Wen Ruohan, this is beneath you!’
‘You are beneath me.’ The man grinned at his own joke and didn’t stop tearing at the fabric, exposing Xichen’s back. Xichen clenched his teeth and summoned what strength he had to try and fight him off. He wasn’t a fool: he knew what Wen Ruohan intended to do him, and he didn’t want any of it.
A hand landed on his shoulder blade, fingernails scratched at his skin and dragged their way down his spine, towards the waist band of the innocuous white trousers. Xichen grabbed the waist band with one hand in a futile attempt to keep himself from being exposed; Wen Ruohan yanked the fabric out of his grip. Both hands grabbed the globes of Xichen’s ass and spread them obscenely apart, making Xichen cry out indignantly.
‘Do you know how this works?’ Wen Ruohan asked, voice heavy with lust. ‘Or is the First Jade too pure to even defile his mind with the mechanisms of male intercourse?’
‘Release me!’ Xichen shouted. ‘Degenerate! Villain!’
Nails dug into his flesh. ‘I asked you a question!’
Xichen kept a reply caged between his teeth. Wen Ruohan muttered: ‘Stubborn fool!’ and spat between Xichen’s ass-cheeks. Xichen’s eyes went wide when he felt the man’s sex press against his sphincter and started struggling underneath him. Before he could tell the other man he’d tear him, Wen Ruohan thrust into him, and his vision whited out. A cry of anguish burst from his lips, followed by a second as Wen Ruohan forced more of himself inside.
‘Fuck, you’re tight,’ the man groaned. ‘You’re a virgin, then?’
Even if Xichen were planning to grace that answer with a reply, he couldn’t have: he gasped for breath, scrambled for purchase. He’d barely recovered from the pain of having his core melted and now his nerves were being set aflame again.
A third sound was punched out of him by Wen Ruohan’s front slamming against his back and driving his shaft into Xichen’s unyielding flesh. It took several more for him to be fully seated, and once he was pressed balls-deep into Xichen’s hole Wen Ruohan sighed out and lowered himself on Xichen’s back.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked a virgin,’ he mused. ‘Not since my dear spouse…’ He pulled out part-way and slammed back in hard, jostling Xichen underneath, who let out a pitiful mewl. ‘You feel good around me, pretty Jade. Tight and hot. I’ll enjoy shaping you to my cock, training your body to open up for me.’
Xichen wanted to shout. He wanted to ask: ‘What have I done to you?’, ‘Why are you doing this to me?’, but he couldn’t find the energy. All he could do was rest his face against the bedding and force himself to keep breathing as the man on top of him used his body. He couldn’t prevent the tears of pain and anger falling from his eyes and wetting the mattress underneath him. At some point, Wen Ruohan dug a hand in his hair and made him lift his face, turned it to the side.
‘Have you lost your tongue, Jewel? All that defiance, only for you to lay whining underneath me like a wretched whore?’
‘If you wanted me to fight, you should have let me keep my core,’ Xichen rasped. Wen Ruohan laughed.
‘So you are not entirely overwhelmed, then. Tell me: do you enjoy having my cock in your ass? You seem made for it: you look so beautiful underneath me. Miles of sumptuous white jade skin… I don’t know why you bother putting on clothes since you are so perfect without them.’
Xichen tried to head-butt the other man, but Wen Ruohan seemed to have anticipated it, because his grip on Xichen’s hair tightened and as he lunched backwards, Wen Ruohan pulled, making him arch his back. Xichen shouted: the change in position made the other man’s cock sink even further inside of him, and as Wen Ruohan dug into him his sex hit Xichen squarely on the pleasure spot. The impetus was too harsh to bring him any pleasure, though: all it did was bruise him, as it bruised the rest of his insides. He whined like a beaten dog, and even though the idea of being defiled by a man he despised so much horrified him to his core, he prayed that Wen Ruohan would come soon and it would be over.
Wen Ruohan didn’t grant him even that. He kept slamming his hips, pistoning inside of Xichen. The spit with which he’d smoothed his way had long since dried and the pushing and shoving in his guts left Xichen feeling raw and aching. Surely, Wen Ruohan was not deriving actual pleasure from this anymore? His grunting and groaning seemed to indicate otherwise, and he wasn’t slowing down one bit. The only thing he released was Xichen’s hair: he didn’t have the energy to keep himself upright and let his head fall bounce back onto the bed, bruising his nose. Wen Ruohan’s hands grabbed his hips, clawed at his flesh, and pulled his body back against himself as he shoved forward.
‘Clench around me, Jade,’ the man panted. ‘And I might grace you with my seed.’
Xichen shook his head: he wasn’t going to do that. He was not going to assist in his own rape. His fingers dug into the bedding underneath. His body shook with every merciless slam of the other man in him. He pressed his face against the mattress to silence his own sobs.
‘Suit yourself,’Wen Ruohan groaned, in between thrusts. ‘You’re making this worse for yourself, and better for me.’
At some point, the man had to stop, right? Xichen had lost all sense of time and he was beginning to question his own sanity. How long could this man keep going?
He felt like a corpse more than a man. There was no strength left in him, not even enough to stifle the cut-off grunts being punched out of him. He had no tears left, no sweat. His mouth was ashen. His hole felt like a wound, and when Wen Ruohan finally released him he’d surely bleed out.
Worst of all: Wen Ruohan still didn’t seem to tire. Every now and then he’d shift his position, sometimes making Xichen shift with him, only to assault his body with renewed vigour. Right now, he had Xichen laying underneath him with one leg pulled up: a hand hooked underneath his knee kept the leg bent and the other rested on his lower back, pushing it down so he could enjoy a lengthy, uninterrupted shove into Xichen’s innards. Every now and then, he’d say something demeaning: comment on how amazing Xichen felt and how he could keep fucking him for hours; on what a beautiful whore he made; on how he was going to keep Xichen as his personal play-thing for the rest of his existence. Xichen had stopped listening. He wanted to die.
Wen Ruohan fisted a hand in his hair, pulling his head up, and heaved in his ear: ‘You can make this stop,’ he groaned, his words punctuated by the stab of his sex in Xichen’s hole. ‘All you have to do is clench your ass: make it feel good for me. Urge me to come inside of you and I will, and you can rest.’
Xichen felt bile rise in his throat. No. No, no, no.
‘I can keep going for hours,’ Wen Ruohan taunted. ‘My cultivation can keep me hard all night. I’ll keep using your gaping, sloppy hole until you lose consciousness, only to string you up and wake you by bouncing your listless body on my lap like a rag doll…’
Xichen mewled. He tried to ban all thoughts from his mind as he tried to direct the last bits of stamina left in him to his lower body and find control of his sphincter. It hurt as he tried to contract it around Wen Ruohan’s pumping flesh, the muscle torn and ragged.
‘That’s it, Jade. Make me come inside your whore-body. Surrender yourself to me. Give in and become my slut. Let me mark my property with my seed…’
Xichen cried furiously. He could feel Wen Ruohan’s go rigid on top of him, shudder, then ram into him as he shot his hot come into Xichen’s spent body. Xichen gulped for air, then sobbed when the other man finally disconnected and he could feel the spill of fluids drip down his taint and smear the inside of his thighs. Without Wen Ruohan’s weight on him, he couldn’t keep himself bent over and he fell to the ground, motionless except for the heaving of his chest.
Wen Ruohan loomed over him, grinning with satisfaction. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Thus begins your initiation.’
Chapter Text
Someone cleaned him up. The bed was made and strong arms laid him down on top of it, covered him with a blanket. Xichen was barely conscious throughout it. He slept, woke up when he tried to turn and pain lashed through him, slept some more. At some point, he woke when lips were pressed against his own and a cool fluid was transferred into his mouth. He swallowed it down and coughed. A hand pressed a piece of cloth against his mouth, then the other person’s lips reappeared. Before the haze dragged him back into sleep, he saw Wen Ruohan wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
It must have been a few days when Wen Qing and her brother entered the room. Xichen was sitting up, pressing a sheet against himself. He wasn’t given any new clothes and the old ones had been taken away.
‘Wangji,’ he rasped at them. ‘My brother. How is he?’
‘He lives,’ Wen Qing replied. ‘Wen Zhuliu’s blasted his core as well.’
Xichen’s heart froze. If that were true, then that was the end of it for his clan. He and Wangji couldn’t possibly escape the Fire Palace without their powers, and even if they could, they could no longer lead a sect of cultivators without being able to cultivate themselves. It was over. Wen Ruohan had exterminated the Lan.
While he fought back the tears, Wen Qing unpacked some tools with her usual stoicism. Her brother did have the decency to look troubled on his and Wangji’s behalf as he checked Xichen’s pulse.
‘Where…’ Xichen’s voice cracked and he had to clear his throat. ‘Where is he being kept?’
‘The dungeons,’ Wen Qing replied.
‘Can I see him?’
She turned to him, made a face. ‘You don’t think I’m the one who gets to decide, do you?’
Probably not. ‘I… I know we’re not friends,’ he said, ‘but could you put in a word for me with Wen Ruohan? Perhaps there is some way I can appease him…’
Wen Qing sighed out. She took a few notes in scribbely handwriting and turned to him fully. ‘Wen Ruohan has informed me that you are to become his pleasure slave,’ she said. She paused a moment to allow the words to sink in. ‘You know what that means, don’t you?’
Xichen was dumbfounded. Technically, the practise of taking slaves had never been abolished, not to his knowledge, but it was considered an ancient and barbaric custom. When at war, lords were allowed to enslave their defeated peers, rather than kill them. But the taking of pleasure slaves was generally only done by emperors or high warlords, who would take a member of the previously ruling family as their bedmate or concubine in order to produce offspring of both blood lines, thus forging an heir that could be seen as legitimate by supporters of the old rulers and the new. Of course, there had been cases where an opposing lord or their family had been enslaved for no other reason than to humiliate, but Xichen could hardly imagine Wen Ruohan would be so petty.
‘I know what it means,’ he said, finally. ‘But I don’t understand. I cannot bear him children. What use could he have for me as…’ He didn’t finish his sentence. Wen Qing sighed out again. Not in a way that conveyed irritation, but rather as a way of showing aversion against the message she had to dispatch. And perhaps even a sliver of sympathy for him.
‘He wants you to become his lover,’ she said. ‘To bow to his every whim. I think the best way for you to appease him, would be to accept that role and do whatever he wants.’ She paused again. ‘That said, I’ve been told to inspect your err… backside. Would you mind turning around?’
Xichen felt a heat rise to his cheeks and involuntarily clenched up, which send a painful jab through his lower body.
‘I’m a professional healer,’ Wen Qing said, as if he needed reminding. ‘You need not be embarrassed with me, sect leader Lan.’
The fact that she used his title – one she too had to realise was now meaningless – as a courtesy, made him want to sob. Only a few days ago, he would have considered it nothing but normal to be addressed like that. Now it seemed merely a mockery. His clan had been destroyed, he was no longer a cultivator or a sect leader. Even worse: he was supposed to accept the position of a sexual plaything; less than a whore, who had some autonomy left in that a whore could refuse a client. He would not. He would be at Wen Ruohan’s mercy, and what Wen Ruohan wanted of him was…
He felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat motionless until Wen Qionglin touched his arm, and he shook out of it.
‘Sect leader Lan,’ the young man said softly. ‘It would be best if you laid down on the bed for this examination. Do you need me to help you?’
As he allowed the man to guide him unto his front of the bed, he released a sob, and he drowned a second one against the mattress as cold hands parted his ass-cheeks to inspect him.
A pleasure slave.
He could never.
Wen Ruohan came to visit him that evening. Xichen was sitting on the bed, back against the wall, with the blanket wrapped around himself. He had still not received any new garments. On the kneeling table, halfway between the bed and the door, stood a tray of food.
‘You haven’t eaten,’ Wen Ruohan remarked.
Xichen opened his eyes. ‘I’m not hungry,’ he said.
Wen Ruohan made a huffing noise. ‘Come here.’
Xichen stayed, not moving a muscle.
‘I know Wen Qing has informed you of your new position,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘You are my slave, A-Huan. It would be best for you to accept it, or there will be consequences.’
‘My name is Lan Xichen,’ Xichen said. ‘You are not to use my birth name.’
‘The Lan clan no longer exist,’ the other man rebuked. ‘And the name Xichen is a courtesy name, which is reserved for the gentry. You are no longer a lord, so you no longer have use for a courtesy name. Furthermore, I am your master now, and I can call you whatever I choose. I am calling you A-Huan, and you will listen to it.’
Xichen clenched his jaw in anger.
‘A-Huan, here.’
He didn’t move. A sly smile appeared on Wen Ruohan’s face.
‘I’ll be honest: I did not expect you to give in easily. You’ve already proven to be stubborn. But you will learn that there are consequences to disobedience.’ Like before, he wasn’t dressed in full: he’d already removed his guan and outermost robes. Now Wen Ruohan untied his sash and took off the long sleeved overcoat, letting it slip from his shoulders and fall to the floor in a puddle of red and gold silk. The red foundation garment followed. Xichen averted his eyes and pulled up his legs. He knew he didn’t stand a chance against the other man: Wen Ruohan was the most powerful cultivator alive and he was nothing. But he wasn’t going to give in, not just like that. Not while he still had a thread of honour left.
Wen Ruohan approached the bed like a predator and crawled onto it. Xichen turned his eyes back on him, trying to find some way of escaping the other man, but his gaze caught onto the massive erection bobbing between the man’s legs and he forgot how to breathe: the memory of having been assaulted by that thing made him go rigid with fear. When Wen Ruohan pounced on him, he reacted instinctively and fought back. Wen Ruohan laughed as he grabbed Xichen’s wrists and dragged him out of his corner, pushed him backwards onto the mattress and wrestled his hands on either side of his head, all of it effortlessly. He forced a knee between Xichen’s legs and shoved it hard against his crotch, crushing his testicles. Xichen groaned in pain.
‘You don’t actually think you’re making this difficult for me, do you?’ the man taunted him. ‘I can do anything I want to you now.’
‘I know that!’ Xichen bit at him. ‘And I also know that what you want is my cooperation, and at least that is still mine to deny you!’
‘It’s sweet that you think so, A-Huan. Sweet, and terribly naive.’ He grabbed both of Xichen’s wrists with one hand, managed to hold them down while the other pried his thighs open far enough that he could position himself between them. ‘All this defiance will get you, is pain. I will get what I want, we both know it, and your stubbornness will do nothing to prevent the inevitable. Just be mindful, my precious A-Huan, that it is your pride that is causing you pain, and not me. I could make this…’ he jabbed his fingers into Xichen’s ass, making him jolt and yelp, ‘a lot more pleasant for you. I could make you enjoy it when I fuck you: I’m a gifted lover, I know how to make you feel good. But if you choose pain, pain is what you shall receive.’ He pulled his fingers out, after moving them around for mere seconds, and lined his instrument up with Xichen’s entrance. ‘Last chance.’
‘Go to hell,’ Xichen growled. Then cried out when Wen Ruohan impaled him on his sex.
Chapter Text
Wen Ruohan spend the full night in Xichen’s chamber, clinging to him even in his sleep. Xichen didn't sleep: he lay awake all night, ruminating, thinking of ways he might escape this horrible fate.
In the morning, Wen Ruohan pushed him over on his front and wrestled his arms on his back. He held them with one hand and rudely squeezed Xichen's backside with the other.
'I was right,' the man muttered, 'you have a delicious ass. Round yet muscular.' He slapped Xichen's flesh. 'Such a delight that I will be both the first and the last to enjoy that magnificent hole of yours.'
Xichen gritted: 'You're not.' He could practically hear the glee disappear from Wen Ruohan's face.
'What did you say?' he demanded.
'You're not my first!' Xichen snarled. A second later, he was flipped over on his back. Wen Ruohan dug a hand in his lower jaw, fingers gripping painfully, and brought his face close to Xichen's.
'Are you saying,' he hissed, 'that someone else has used your body before me?'
'Yes!' Xichen taunted.
'Then the virtuous sect leader of Lan is secretly a little slut who's offered his ass to other men?'
Xichen caged his teeth. Wen Ruohan shook him.
'Who? And when?'
Xichen didn't answer. Wen Ruohan smacked his fist into his cheek, making his head swing to the side.
'Tell me!'
Xichen tasted blood in his mouth. He turned back to Wen Ruohan and with delight, he answered: 'Nie Mingjue. The man you despise.' He paused, watching the anger take possession of Wen Ruohan's features, and added: 'And I liked it.'
Something unexpected happened. The anger on Wen Ruohan's face dissipated and made room for a malicious grin. He grabbed Xichen by the throat and pushed him back against the bedding, crawled over him and sat down on his lower body.
'You liked it, huh? You liked having Nie Mingjue's cock in you, didn't you? Well...' He laughed. 'That means I can make you like mine too.'
Xichen tried to swallow, but Wen Ruohan's grip on his throat was too constricting. He grabbed the man's wrist, trying to pull his hand away, and Wen Ruohan responded by squeezing harder, making him choke.
'I'm going to make you love it,' he mused, as he brought his free hand to his sex and rubbed it over himself, bringing the organ to full hardness. 'I'm going to make you beg for my cock like a bitch in heat. I'm going to make you crave it. I'll make you my personal cock-slut, my willing fuck-toy.'
That wasn't the response Xichen had hoped for. Some part of him had hoped that Wen Ruohan would be disgusted with him, so much so that he would discard him. He struggled underneath the other man, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to escape but unable to face the reality of it. Wen Ruohan wrestled him into the desired position with nauseating ease, pushed his legs up and out and positioned himself between them.
'Please,' Xichen heard himself beg, 'please, no!'
'Begging me already, him? But those are not the words I wish to hear...' Wen Ruohan lined himself up and eyed Xichen, inviting him to try again. Xichen swallowed with difficulty.
'Please... Be gentle,' he whispered. Wen Ruohan's lips curved into a victorious grin.
'That's a good place to start, my precious jewel.'
For several days, he was kept in that same room, with no-one else to keep him company but his tormentor himself. The servants didn't speak to him – no doubt they'd been instructed not to – and Wen Qing didn't come to see him again. Xichen was quickly getting bored out of his wits. All he could do were exercises and meditation: there was nothing in the room for him to read, write with, even to throw around. He didn't want to ask Wen Ruohan for any favours, knowing the man would want only one thing in exchange. So he just slept or sat around, wasting his time.
On the fourth day, after Wen Ruohan had risen – he'd spent the night in Xichen's bed again – he used his sash to tie Xichen's wrists together and dragged him outside. Ashamed, Xichen tried to hide his sex behind his hands, but of course Wen Ruohan made sure he couldn't. He brought Xichen to a bath house, large enough to host the population of a small village. The walls and floor were covered in shiny blue tiles and the light came in via three masterfully constructed cupolas in the ceiling. Steam rose from the pools, each different in size and whimsically shaped. Even though it was clearly meant to be used by a multitude of people, the place was empty, save for the two of them.
Wen Ruohan led him to one of the pools and untied his hands. 'Undress me,' he ordered.
Xichen clenched his jaws. Part of him wanted to tell the other man to go to hell, but wasn't it wiser to choose his battles? Reluctantly, he did as he was told. Wen Ruohan stepped in one of the pools and sat down in the hot water. Then he clapped his hands twice and the door opened. A servant girl entered. Xichen turned away, embarrassed for her sake.
Wen Ruohan laughed. 'You're going to have to get used to being nude, A-Huan. I like you without your clothes on too much to have you cover yourself up.' Xichen shot him an indignant look and waited for the girl to leave. She'd left behind a large and a small jar, a wooden, crescent-moon shaped object and some towels.
'In the green jar, you'll find an ointment,' Wen Ruohan said, referring to the large jar. 'Apply it to your skin, all over your body, and leave it on for an incense stick time. Then you use the tool to scrape it off. Don't forget to rub it under your arms, on your chin, and between your legs.'
'Why?' Xichen asked, although he had an inkling.
'It's to remove body hair. It stings a bit, but don't worry about that: the cream from the other jar will help soothe your skin afterwards.' Wen Ruohan gestured. 'Well?'
Xichen didn't really know what to do. Protest? It's not like he was so attached to his body hair, even if being made to remove it was weird. After a moment, he just sat down on the floor, opened the green jar and rubbed some of the thick, yellow stuff onto his left leg. It smelled sulphurous. After a few moments, it did begin to sting somewhat, but it was doable. He proceeded to apply it everywhere, as Wen Ruohan had instructed. After a moment's hesitation, he rubbed some between his buttocks as well. Choose your battles, he reminded himself.
By the time he was done, he felt like he was pulsing all over – an unpleasant sensation – and he was relieved when Wen Ruohan told him it was time to get rid of the stuff. Starting with his left leg again, he used the scraper to remove the most of the ointment, which had turned waxy and dry and was indeed full of hair, then washed the remainder of it off in one of the other pools. The water felt uncomfortably hot, like he was being scalded, and he quickly got out again.
The cream from the smaller jar was like a balm: light and soothing. Xichen sighed as he massaged it into his skin, almost feeling it behind absorbed.
Wen Ruohan came out of the water and lowered himself on the floor next to him. Xichen suppressed the need to move away from him and stayed, even as Wen Ruohan dipped his fingers into the cream, brushed Xichen's hair over his shoulder, and started massaging it into his upper back.
'You're so tense,' the older man muttered. 'You must learn to unwind when you're around me.'
Xichen held a comment caged behind his teeth and let Wen Ruohan apply the cream to his back, but he jolted when he felt the man's hands fall onto his hip juts.
'I’d like it if you would cooperate,' he said softly, the tone of his voice making Xichen shudder involuntary. 'I wonder what it would take to make you yield to me. I could be kind to you, you know, and treat you as my lover rather than my slave.'
‘You murdered my kin,’ Xichen bit at him. ‘I will never be your willing lover.’
Wen Ruohan chuckled ominously. ‘We’ll see about that.’
Xichen gasped and jolted when he felt a finger prod at his backside, and he tried to move away. Of course, Wen Ruohan had anticipated as much, and he wound his free arm around Xichen’s chest, pressing him against himself.
‘Sit still,’ he said, ‘and I’ll be gentle.’
‘Don’t you ever get enough?’ Xichen huffed.
Now, Wen Ruohan laughed. ‘I haven’t had someone in my bed for over a decade, and you’re the first man I’ve fucked in over two. You might say I have some catching up to do…’
Xichen struggled against Wen Ruohan’s grip as the finger pressed into him, then curved against something inside of him that send tremors up and down his spine. Wen Ruohan brought his lips to Xichen’s ear and whispered: ‘I knew you’d like that.’
‘Stop it!’ Xichen hissed. In response, Wen Ruohan did the exact opposite: he dragged his finger out, then pushed it back fast, hitting the same spot. Xichen repressed a groan, again and again, until it became too much and he jerked in Wen Ruohan’s grip. The man laughed. He kept assaulting that spot in Xichen’s insides, sending his senses into overdrive. He didn’t like what Wen Ruohan was doing, not one bit, but his body didn’t seem to care at all: to it, pleasure was pleasure, no matter the way, shape or form; and without his core, Xichen wasn’t capable of suppressing the sparks making him shudder in Wen Ruohan’s grip. He clenched his jaws together, but couldn’t keep the noises at the back of his throat from escaping.
‘Admit it,’ Wen Ruohan jeered. ‘You enjoy having my fingers inside of you. If you’re not going to admit it to me, at least admit it to yourself.’
Xichen didn’t reply. The spot at the lining of his stomach was starting to feel bruised, the pleasure bordering on pain. He couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore: he thrashed in Wen Ruohan’s grip, using both hands to try and pull his arm away from his chest and not succeeding one bit. He felt utterly helpless.
‘Fine,’ Wen Ruohan muttered, and he send a jolt of energy to the spot, via the fingertip buried in Xichen’s behind. Xichen screamed: his head whipped back and his whole body went taut for a number of seconds, then he crashed into the most violent orgasm he’d ever experienced. Every inch of him shook as wave after wave set his system aflame, until it faded and he was caught in the aftershocks. He blinked: it took a moment for the contours of the bath room to become visible to him again. In his ecstasy, he’d pulled more than a few muscles, and he mewled softly.
Wen Ruohan pulled his finger free and released him: Xichen allowed himself to fall onto his front.
‘That was marvellous,’ Wen Ruohan said, and he sounded like he meant it. Xichen wanted to curse at him, but couldn’t think of any words. He yelped when Wen Ruohan’s weight landed on him, and the other man forced something other than his finger into him.
Notes:
For those who also read 'Love of my life, don't hurt me': ElderQueen mentioned how dissimilar these two version of Xichen are. In that fic, I focussed mostly on portraying a more innocent Xichen: the boy who wept when his shufu told him to take the sect's founding documents and flee; who did not yet know war and destruction. This Xichen, despite being only a few months or at most a year older, is a lot more mature: he hás known war and pain, but also experienced love as it should be between two equals with Nie Mingjue. He was a general, however briefly, and I think those experiences would have made him mature swiftly, as you can tell from the version of him I wrote into this story.
Chapter 7
Notes:
Sorry to have left you hanging! A couple of writing events got in the way, but now I'm back to focus on Xichen's transformation into Wen Ruohan's beloved pet!
Chapter Text
‘Good morning, my precious one.’
Xichen was somewhat surprised he had slept, considering how Wen Ruohan was in bed with him. He must have been truly exhausted, and it didn’t come as a surprise: he was constantly sick with worry over Wangji – who, Wen Ruohan kept reminding him – was withering away in a clammy cell, coreless and with even less to keep him sane than Xichen. And then there was the Sunshot Campaign. Was Nie Mingjue capable of keeping the troops together? Xichen had every confidence that Nie Mingjue was capable of leading them into battle, but to motivate the men and women and to navigate his way through the lengthy strategic discussions, that was a whole other thing. And then there was the fact that they had only just found each other as lovers. With all that had been happening, Xichen had barely had the time to realise how much he missed Nie Mingjue, but he did. Especially while being caught in someone else’s embrace, he did.
Nie Mingjue seemed a crude man to most people. Unsophisticated, Lan Qiren had said. Boring, Wangji called him. Even Nie Huaisang didn’t see many interesting sides to his own da-ge, who he worshipped for his strength but disdained for his lack of sophistication. And it was, admittedly, hard to see through the bolster Nie Mingjue had built around himself. All he seemed to enjoy was fighting. He didn’t indulge in food or drinking; he had no eye for the graces of men or women; had no interest in the arts or music; and he wasn’t funny or approachable. It had taken Xichen quite some time to see Nie Mingjue for what he was, and the truth was that behind his tough exterior, he was a man of deep sentiments. A man with a strong sense of justice, of thoroughly wrought ideas about what an ideal world should look like. A man with a soft spot for women, who he believed were being severely limited in their capacities by current standards and who he advocated for relentlessly, without ever drawing attention to the fact. A man who fiercely loved his younger brother, his one remaining family member, despite their enormous differences, and who was infinitely protective. This was the man Xichen had gotten to know, and subsequently fell for.
It almost seemed like a cosmic joke that he was now in bed with a man so diametrically opposite to the one he loved.
Wen Ruohan’s hands crept over his chest and between his legs, grabbing him between his thighs. Xichen could feel his hard rod press against the curve of his ass and shuddered. Wen Ruohan’s interest in him seemed endless.
‘You deletable thing,’ the man crooned, pressing a kiss against his ear. ‘I’ve been getting up later and later, keeping my family waiting at breakfast. They must think I’ve lost my mind.’
‘I’m not keeping you here,’ Xichen said softly. Wen Ruohan laughed.
‘Yes, you are. You’re seducing me.’
‘I’m not doing anything!’
Wen Ruohan dug his fingers into Xichen’s shoulder and hip as he pressed him onto his front. ‘You are. Your damned beauty is. How can I resist such pristine skin, your luscious hair, your eyes like moonstones?’ He bucked against Xichen’s ass, pushing his length against him. ‘Your virginally tight, hot hole...’
Xichen tried to move away. ‘Stop that!’ he hissed.
Of course, it only resulted in Wen Ruohan wrestling him down. He pushed Xichen flat on his front, twisted his arm onto his back until he moaned in pain. ‘Stop what? Stop praising you? Don’t tell me I’m the first one in the world to tell the most eligible bachelor in the cultivation world he’s pretty?’ Xichen remained silent, Wen Ruohan grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it. ‘Answer your master when he asks you something.’
‘You are not my master! Ngh!’ Wen Ruohan forced his twisted arm up.
‘You are my slave, that makes me your master. You should start calling me that, A-Huan.’ When Xichen didn’t, he twisted his arm just a little further, making Xichen feel like the bone was about to snap. ‘I will break your arm. I can have Wen Qing heal it, but it won’t spare you the pain...’
‘Ah stop! Stop, please…!’ Xichen gritted: ‘Master!’
The pressure on his arm waned.
‘Was that so hard?’ Angrily, Xichen struggled underneath, causing Wen Ruohan to up twist his arm back. ‘Answer me.’
‘I… No. Yes! Master!’
Wen Ruohan chuckled and released him. ‘Good boy.’ He got off of him. ‘Sit up. Let me look at you.’ Xichen quickly moved away from him, turned around and cradled his painful elbow with the other hand. Wen Ruohan studied him, smiling wickedly. ‘I just realised I haven’t had the chance to see your face when you come yet. I bet your fuck-face is as lovely as the rest of you.’
‘Why must you say such horrible things?’ Xichen spat.
‘They are compliments, A-Huan. Learn the difference.’ Wen Ruohan lowered a hand between his own legs and ran it over his member. ‘Now, there are two ways in which your face could serve me. I leave the choice to you. Either you can make yourself come on your fingers, so I can see what you look like when in rapture; or you can take my cock between your lips and let me use your mouth until I come.’
For a second, Xichen thought everything had to be acceptable compared to putting himself so on display for another man’s pleasure, but the other option set his hair on end. He’d knelt for Nie Mingjue, cradled his sex on his tongue for him and enjoyed it, because Nie Mingjue was careful, gentle, and they were in love with one another. The mere idea of having to take Wen Ruohan into his mouth made him want to vomit.
‘I’m waiting, A-Huan.’
Xichen swallowed hard. Shook his head.
‘You don’t think I’ll actually let you refuse, do you? Because I will not. Either you will shove your fingers in your hole or suck my cock for me, or I will make you. And I will make it hurt.’
Xichen clenched his jaws. There wasn’t much of a choice. He slowly unfolded his legs, parted his knees and planted his feet firmly onto the mattress, then brought two fingers to his own mouth to coat them in saliva.
‘You have long fingers,’ Wen Ruohan remarked. ‘I’m sure you can reach deep inside yourself.’
It seemed the man just couldn’t stop saying horrid things. Xichen took his fingers out of his mouth, and, disgusted by the string of saliva connecting his middle finger to his lips, brought them to his lower body. He’d kept his eyes averted, and of course Wen Ruohan extended a hand to grab his chin and made him look at him as he pushed his fingers into himself.
He couldn’t keep his face from scrunching. It wasn’t that he thought himself to high and mighty for something so debased as this. Perhaps if he’d been sitting opposite Nie Mingjue, he wouldn’t have mind being seen like this. He might have enjoyed exploring himself. But he wasn’t now. He didn’t enjoy the feeling of his own fingers, pointlessly moving inside of himself. Even when he deliberately rubbed the walnut sized organ on the lining of his stomach, it hardly sparked any pleasure.
When Wen Ruohan opened his mouth – no doubt to make another scathing remark – Xichen interjected: ‘I’m trying. Master.’ The corners of Wen Ruohan’s lips curled upwards.
‘I can see that you are.’ He lowered his gaze towards where Xichen’s fingers pushed into himself, and as Xichen followed his gaze he could see how much Wen Ruohan liked what he was seeing in the twitching of his sex. A shudder snaked down Xichen’s spine and he momentarily stilled as he gasped for air.
‘Don’t stop,’ Wen Ruohan ordered. His fingernails dug into Xichen’s chin, making him look up again, which was why he wasn’t prepared for Wen Ruohan’s fingers rudely pressing into him, next to his own. A shocked sound burst from his lips before he caged any more sounds behind clenched jaws.
‘Keep moving your fingers,’ Wen Ruohan ordered. ‘Keep fucking yourself with them, A-Huan.’ He wasn’t doing anything to hide his arousal, and he wasn’t at all gentle: his fingers pumped and prodded into him without finesse, without gentleness. And yet, somehow, they managed to do what Xichen himself couldn’t: light the fire in his loins. It both surprised and abhorred him. He had to be using qi to manipulate his body, there was no other conceivable way.
‘You’re blushing,’ Wen Ruohan spoke softly. ‘How lovely.’
He was? Xichen was feeling hot, alright, but not in a pleasant way. More than anything, he wanted it to be over, but there was no way he could make himself enjoy what was happening to him. He couldn’t allow himself to think of Mingjue with Wen Ruohan’s eyes boring into his own, and he couldn’t make himself relax. He was as taut as a bowstring, and the push of fingers in his orifice was nothing but unpleasant...
Wen Ruohan released his chin, shuffled closer. Xichen wanted to move away, but the other man shot him a warning look and curled the fingers inside of him, prompting Xichen to freeze in place. He slotted his legs between Xichen’s, pushed his lower body against Xichen’s with just enough room for their hands to reach between them, then wrapped his hand around both their members and slowly moved his hand up and down, keeping his gaze fixed on Xichen’s face.
Xichen found it hard to breathe. He'd been barely erect the moment Wen Ruohan's hand wound around his sex, but it was swiftly hardening under the man's ministrations. He couldn't deny that the warm palm moving over him was sending pleasurable sparks to his brother's, and that it was even making the digits moving into him feel...
Wen Ruohan saw it. He grinned and Xichen felt a wave of heat and shame rise to his cheeks.
'I knew I could make you like it,' Wen Ruohan whispered. 'I knew it. I'll make you love my touch, A-Huan. I'll make you long for it...'
Xichen shook his head. He didn’t want any of this. But the closeness of the other man, the heat radiating from him, the stimulation of his penis by his hand: it was confusing him. The slight smoulder set his senses ablaze and almost grudgingly, he rolled his hips. A small burst of air and sound fell from his lips.
‘That’s it, my lovely. Give into it.’
‘Stop,’ Xichen breathed. ‘Stop, please!’ He pulled his own fingers free and pushed against Wen Ruohan’s chest, but the other man hardly seemed bothered. His hand moved faster, kindling the fire in Xichen’s loins all the more, and without Xichen’s fingers holding his back, Wen Ruohan rubbed his fingertips over Xichen’s pleasure spot, sending sparks to all of his extremities.
‘I can play you like a guqin,’ the man heaved. ‘All you have to do is accept it, A-Huan. Allow yourself the delight of coming on my fingers…’
Xichen shook his head. He wished with all his might that he were able to suppress the tremors shouting up and down his spine, the mounting pleasure in his abdomen, but he couldn’t. He closed his eyes and sobbed.
‘That’s it, beautiful. Come for me.’
Xichen’s mouth opened in a silent scream as he started shaking, coming undone in Wen Ruohan’s grip. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell Wen Ruohan was smiling victoriously, before his face too tore and he aimed his discharge at Xichen’s belly, to cover his spent with his own.
Wen Ruohan released Xichen’s spent member, pulled his fingers free from his body and obscenely licked them. Xichen eyed him with unveiled disgust, and if his cheeks hadn’t been aflame already, they would have been now.
‘Come,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘You can wash me and yourself. You’re going to join me today.’
Chapter Text
After they had cleaned up behind the privacy screen, Wen Ruohan stepped into the room and rang the servant’s bell. He ordered fresh clothes be brought for him, then turned to one of the cabinets in the room. It was a beautiful piece: a black lacquered cabinet with four drawers, painted with red and gold phoenix birds. A piece fit for an emperor. What it was doing in Wen Ruohan’s palace, Xichen could only guess.
The man opened the second drawer and took out a couple of red silks, placing them on the bed.
‘Wear these.’
Xichen eyed the little bundle on the bed. He picked it up, unfolded it… and had no idea what he was looking at. It was a single panel of diaphanous red fabric, attached to a band of golden embroidery.
Wen Ruohan grinned. ‘Allow me.’ He snatched it from Xichen’s hand and wound it around his hips, then tied it in place. This way it was a skirt, short enough to show most of his calves.
Xichen looked up at the other man, eyes flickering. Wen Ruohan’s lips curved into a wicked smile. And he wasn’t done. On the bed was another length of gold embroidered silk. Wen Ruohan picked it up and wound it around Xichen’s neck, then held onto the end of it as if he was keeping a dog on a leash.
‘Lovely,’ he commented. ‘I knew you’d look good in my colours.’
‘Is this a joke?’ Xichen whispered, barely capable of containing his anger. ‘You cannot possible mean for this to be all.’
‘Of course I do.’
‘I might as well walk out naked!’
‘If that is something you prefer, I won’t be stopping you.’ Wen Ruohan quipped, and he laughed at the indignant face Xichen made. ‘Has it still not landed in that pretty little head of yours that I want to show you off in all your magnificent glory?’
Xichen shook his head again.
‘Do you think you have a choice?’ Wen Ruohan pulled the leash, reining Xichen in, and placed a hand against his cheek. ‘Oh, but that’s it. You don’t actually believe me.’
‘What do you mean?’
Wen Ruohan slapped his cheek – not hard enough to hurt him, but sudden enough to shock him. ‘Address me correctly, slave!’
Xichen swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean, Master?’
‘What I mean, is that you’ve been told you are beautiful. You’ve been praised for it, haven’t you, from the moment you reached adulthood? Perhaps even before that.’ As he spoke, Wen Ruohan wound the silk band around his wrist, until there was barely a hand’s width left between his fist and the piece around Xichen’s neck. ‘But your sect has taught you modesty. So how did the First Jade of Lan take these remarks on his beauty? He did not show himself off, he did not adorn himself. If anything, it taught you to be even more reserved. To hide your natural grace, to answer such compliments with dignity but never to let them go to your head.’ Wen Ruohan buried his other hand in Xichen’s hair and pulled his head back, pressed his lips against his Adam’s apple. He pressed another kiss just above the gold band, the next underneath it. Xichen shivered when he felt the tip of Wen Ruohan’s tongue dip into the hollow of his throat, between his collarbones. ‘You know you are beautiful, but you’ve never felt desired. You’ve never felt sensual. A-Huan...’ He breathed in deeply, as if to take in Xichen’s scent. ‘Do you even know how many men lust after you? Do you realise how many would fuck you, if they were given the chance?’
‘Not everyone is like you,’ Xichen growled. ‘Master.’
Wen Ruohan laughed. ‘Oh, I’ll show you how right I am.’
He dragged Xichen along by the neck, by the silk band. The embroidery chafed his neck and whenever it was pulled taut, it constricted Xichen’s breathing, so he tried not to lag behind. He felt horribly exposed in the revealing – for lack of a better word – garment and he knew he was flushed to the chest. He wondered what the servants and guards with their cast down eyes had to be thinking. Did they know who he was, without his forehead ribbon, guan and blue robes? And if they did not, who did they think he was: some loose man, a tramp who willingly offered himself for sex with a rich, powerful man? Perhaps that was worse.
Wen Ruohan took him to a large banqueting room, and Xichen froze the moment he saw who else was present: the members of the Wen clan, Wen Xu and Wen Chao and their wives; Wen Qing and her brother; Wen Zhuliu and several other high ranking generals, a few older cultivators… He was yanked forward by Wen Ruohan and followed him, feeling infinitely ashamed and small. As the man wordlessly sat down at the head of the table, Xichen knelt down behind him, attempting to hide from the looks being thrown his way.
‘Good morning,’ Wen Ruohan said, and gestured. ‘Please, commence.’ At his indication, servants stepped forward to serve the meal. But many didn’t touch the food, including Wen Ruohan’s sons. The second son leaned over to the first to whisper something to him, and Wen Xu’s gaze remained on Xichen, his stone-faced expression unchanging.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Wen Ruohan asked. ‘Is the food not to your liking, Chao-er?’
‘It is not the food,’ Wen Chao said. ‘Fathers devotion to demeaning his opponents is admirable, but must he bring the Lan dog to the table with him?’
‘Does my son disapprove of my choice of pet?’
‘No Father,’Wen Chao said, even though everything about him indicated the opposite.
‘Good. Because I intend to keep him by my side and teach him to accept his new position.’
‘Position?’ Wen Xu echoed. ‘What position?’
‘He is my pleasure slave.’
There was a stunned silence. Xichen was somewhat surprised that Wen Ruohan hadn’t announced his intention yet. What did they think he was doing to him, then?
Did he even want to think about that? No.
Wen Xu cleared his throat and took a sip of tea from the cup in front of him. ‘I was under the impression that that custom was long abolished.’
‘I’m bringing it back.’
‘Does this mean we’d be allowed to do the same? Or does Father claim this privilege for himself?’
‘Are you the Chief Cultivator?’ Wen Ruohan snapped. ‘Are the other sects quivering before you? Or will you be content taking the easy pickings off my hands?’
Wen Xu’s face tore. ‘Apologies, Father.’
‘Bring me Nie Mingjue in chains, and I’ll have you share in my spoils. Until then, you deserve nothing for yourself.’
The silence turned from stunned to painful. Somehow, it did please Xichen to see Wen Xu cast down his eyes and eat without appetite.
His own stomach growled. Wen Ruohan seemed to sometimes forget his ‘pet’ required sustenance. Xichen had gotten somewhat used to going without food: skipping meals often during the last few months and eating when it was convenient, not when the Lan gong indicated. But without his core, practising inedia had become increasingly more difficult.
If Wen Ruohan heard his stomach growling, he ignored it, and Xichen didn’t have the courage to say anything, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He closed his eyes, tried to meditate and block out the many eyes staring openly or covertly at him.
After he had finished his meal, Wen Ruohan rose. All those attending the meal did the same and neighed their heads as Wen Ruohan walked past, dragging Xichen along a second time. Again, he felt their gazes on him, and he was too embarrassed to answer any of their looks.
Once Wen Ruohan had steered him into a near empty corridor, he licked his lips and said: ‘Well?’
Xichen looked up. ‘Well?’ he repeated – and was barely quick enough to add: ‘Master?’
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t see their faces.’
Xichen swallowed hard, recalling the way they'd gawked at him. The way they'd let their gaze fall onto the way he was bound, his hunched shoulders and sunken chest. They'd seen a man who had lost everything and had nothing left, not even dignity. Not even decency. He'd seen their disgust and their pity and felt its sting, venomous like that of a scorpion.
'I have,' he confessed, with difficulty. 'I saw nothing but disgust and derision.'
For a moment, Wen Ruohan looked at him as if he'd jested. Then, he seemed caught between laughing at him and wanting to scold him. Eventually, he sounded sympathetic when he said: 'My dear boy. You've been so whipped with humility you don't even recognise admiration when it's right in front of you.'
Xichen felt like huffing, and only just managed to keep himself from doing so. 'What do you mean?' He was unable to keep the sound of disbelief from his voice. 'They all hated me. They would have gutted me if they'd had the chance.'
Wen Ruohan took a step towards him, and Xichen could feel himself shrink. 'There wasn't a man in that room who wouldn't have bent you over and fucked you if I had given them the order to, and some would have dared even if I hadn't – if only they'd been given the chance.' He lifted a hand to grab Xichen's face, fingertips digging into his jaw. 'If I had left you there, you'd have been spread out underneath one or more of them by now.'
Xichen turned his face away. 'That's disgusting!'
Wen Ruohan shook his head and brushed the side of Xichen’s face with his knuckles. 'I see I'll have to make myself more clear with you. Very well. If you need a demonstration, my precious one, a demonstration you shall have.'
He grabbed Xichen's leash, wound it around his other fist a few times and dragged Xichen behind him, leaving him no choice but to follow again as he was taken back to the same room. Any and all conversation died the moment Wen Ruohan stepped across the threshold, reined Xichen in, then threw him into the chamber, in front of his own table. Xichen only just managed to stay on his feet.
'The ladies may go,' Wen Ruohan said. As if it was an order, the women in the room rose and left in the hurry. Wen Qing remained at first, until Wen Ruohan eyed her brother specifically and said: 'You may leave too,' and they both got up as well. Wen Qing looked back at Xichen for a second, over her shoulder, and the look she gave him – one of intense sorry – made Xichen shudder with anticipation.
Wen Ruohan stepped towards Xichen, put a finger on his collarbone and drew a line towards the back of his neck while circling around him. He let it descend to the embroidered waistband of his wraparound skirt, then used both hands to untie the knot. Xichen reached for the fabric to hold it up, but Wen Ruohan yanked the slippery silk from between his fingers. Xichen's cheeks instantly reddened as he stood naked in front of his enemies.
'My pleasure slave does not yet understand his position,' Wen Ruohan said coldly. 'I'm going to instruct him, and I want you all to watch. Perhaps to participate, depending on how well he behaves.'
Another shudder shook Xichen's spine. Wen Ruohan's hand grabbed his neck and pushed him over. 'On your hands and knees,' he barked.
'Wen Ruo...' Xichen managed, before Wen Ruohan – who no doubt expected him to protest – kicked him in the back of his left leg.
'Do it, or I'll let them all have their way with you, whore.'
Chapter Text
Xichen didn't know what to do, and Wen Ruohan made the choice for him by hooking his ankle around Xichen's and making him fall to the floor. He caught himself on his hands and knees – just as Wen Ruohan had intended. A second later, Wen Ruohan's hand landed flat on his ass cheek. The sound of the slap reverberated around the room. Next, he squeezed the same cheek hard enough to make Xichen clench his jaw.
'The Lan clan bred some great bitches, that much is undeniable,' Wen Ruohan said. 'Bodies made to be fucked, faces meant to be torn with pleasure... Had your uncle lived, I'd have shaved off his beard and bend him over my table just to find out what he sounds like when he keens.'
'He would never...!' Xichen couldn't finish his sentence: Wen Ruohan grabbed his hair and pulled it hard, making him choke.
'Just like you wouldn't, hm? And yet here you are: face down, ass up, like a good little slut. And I'm not just going to make you keen...' He heard the man spit, and Xichen scrambled.
'Don't move, unless you want me to pass you around.' Xichen didn't listen, but it didn't matter: Wen Ruohan's iron grip on his hair prevented him from getting up. He felt the man's cock press between his buttocks and a desperate sob rattled in his throat. He couldn't suppress a small cry when Wen Ruohan shoved into him, splitting him open. Tears of hurt and shame filled his eyes behind closed eyelids.
Wen Ruohan's other hand grabbed his hip, fingertips digging into his flesh, and he slammed into Xichen fully, groaning with satisfaction. The hand in Xichen's hair gave a sharp tug.
'Open your eyes. I want you to see what a lovely whore you make. I want you to read what desire looks like on the faces of your superiors.'
In a small act of defiance, Xichen kept his eyes screwed shut. He received a smack on his ass, the impact so sudden he gasped loudly.
'This is your final warning, slave! Refuse me one more time and I'll have you bent over my table, hands tied to your feet, and not let you off until every last man in this room has left his mark on you!'
He’d always had the feeling Wen Ruohan intended to keep him for himself, but Xichen wasn’t brave enough to test him: the fear of being raped by the men in that room – many of whom he knew from cultivation conferences or confrontations on the battlefield – was stronger than the abhorrence of having to watch them look at him like this. So he opened his eyes, looked at the men he could easily have beaten in either a debate or a fight mere weeks ago, and read what they thought of him in their gazes. It was enough to stop his heart from beating.
He was prepared for their disgust and their loathing: seeing him stooped so low, having gone from a respected leader of his sect to a sexual play thing, forced to please his master in front of others and being powerless to do anything about it. And it was there, certainly. But there were other, much worse things he saw: too many to process while his body was being assaulted. Wen Ruohan knocked the breath out of him with an especially cruel stab with his flesh rod, hitting Xichen’s prostate head-on and making him cry out – and jump-starting his heart again.
Wen Ruohan laughed at his pitiful whine. The hand dug into his hair released him, and he allowed Xichen to hang his head; Xichen immediately shut his eyes in a failed attempt to shut the presence of the other men out. Wen Ruohan’s hand joined the other on his hip, and he pulled Xichen’s body towards himself with every mean stab in his innards. It wasn’t until he’d pushed several small sounds from between Xichen’s lips that Xichen realised that he was, indeed, keening. As the realisation washed over him, he opened his eyes again, and he stared at the floor tiles, unable to do anything; not even keep himself from mewling like a pitiful dog.
Wen Ruohan must have realised the change in him, because he groaned, in between the assaults on Xichen’s body: ‘See? I told you they’d like seeing you bitched, Lan slut. You make such a lovely display on your knees: I should keep you like this by my side all the time: nude and kneeling…’ He grinned. ‘What a sight you’d make.’
Xichen couldn’t have replied if he’d had the breath for it. His head was still reeling. Perhaps that was why he didn’t notice Wen Ruohan’s moving to his front until the man’s fingers grabbed his sex. The Chief Cultivator’s movements turned a bit more shallow as he mused:
‘But where’s the fun in you looking like a miserable wretch, hm? You’re a prize, after all: you were Lan Zongzhu, one of the finest cultivators of his generation. Now you can be its finest whore.’ He send a burst of spiritual energy through Xichen, making him shout out and buck against him. ‘That’s right: you can be vocal. Let them hear how much you enjoy your new position.’
Of course Xichen didn’t want to, but there was nothing he could do: Wen Ruohan kept sending surges of pleasure through his system, making him thrash underneath. Simultaneously, he aimed his thrusts directly at Xichen’s pleasure spot. He struggled: knowing what Wen Ruohan was trying to do, but he couldn’t find any way of stopping him, of keeping the rising tightness in his belly at bay. Wen Ruohan’s breathing turned more and more laboured, his nails dug into Xichen’s flesh so hard he could feel the welts forming, and his cock swelled inside of him.
‘Fuck,’ the man groaned. ‘Ha…!’
As Wen Ruohan shuddered through his climax, he send a lightning of energy through Xichen – or maybe he sent the volley of energy through him first and Xichen’s body jerking underneath triggered his orgasm; it didn’t matter. Xichen’s brain whited out as he was thrown into an aching, painful climax,and he didn’t know he’d screamed until the sound of his own voice died down, leaving a ringing in his ears. He blinked, and as the floor tiles came back into view, he felt Wen Ruohan’s sex turn soft inside of him, then pull out slowly with a disgustingly wet sound. Xichen was a shuddering, sweating mess, and as Wen Ruohan disconnected from him and let him go, he sank through his arms, lowering himself on the floor and burying his head in his arms, so that no-one could see his semen-splattered belly or his tears. He shivered violently.
Above him, Wen Ruohan heaved: ‘Whoever gets me Nie Mingjue – or his useless little brother – alive and within the week, I’ll grant a free round with my private property.’ He remained silent for a few seconds. ‘Now get the fuck out of my dining room.’
The men all left, their footsteps moving hurriedly around Xichen, without uttering a word.
He wasn’t sure how he got back to his room. Xichen found himself on the bed, naked, and staring at the ceiling. His whole body hurt: Wen Ruohan had been especially harsh on him, no doubt wanting to make the most of the demonstration, showing off how well he controlled his new prize.
He was still dumbfounded. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing the faces of the men in that room, looking at him while he was being abused by Wen Ruohan. Out of all of them, only three had had the decency to seem sickened by it: Wen Chao, Wen Zhuliu and a man whose name Xichen didn’t recall, but who he knew was a Wen Elder. Wen Chao had looked at him like he was something filthy he couldn’t wait to throw out; Wen Zhuliu and the Elder both seemed offended, as if they found the display – rightfully – in bad taste. But the others…
They’d liked it. Their slightly opened mouths, wide-eyed stares, clenched fists and bated breaths, which had all contributed to the clammy tension in the room, had told him exactly how they felt about seeing a grown man bent over and fucked in front of them: it had excited them. It had aroused them. Had Wen Ruohan given them the opportunity, then they would have taken turns on him: taken what their leader had taken. Not just for the fun of it, but because they’d desired it. They’d seen him thoroughly debased and wanted to join in the act, to have a piece of him. To enjoy him. Like Wen Ruohan had said.
Except he’d called it admiration. Xichen huffed at that, and he finally managed to tear his gaze away from the ceiling, turning on his side. There’d been no such thing. To admire someone was to hold them in high regard, and nobody in that room had had a sliver of respect left for him. Their interest had been nothing but carnal: to take and to own, to use and mark and…
He swallowed hard. Despite his threats, Wen Ruohan hadn’t let them. Xichen was grateful for that, if he were still capable of gentle feelings – if Wen Ruohan hadn’t raped every bit of the original Xichen out of him to replace it with this hollow body; an idol, a false effigy of who he used to be.
Lan Xichen had been beautiful, he knew. He’d been admired, was considered powerful and strong, charming and apparently also physically alluring, although he’d truly never had a comprehension of that. He’d never thought of beauty and ugliness as physical traits: wasn’t any man or woman with unpleasant features still capable of shining with kindness? No man who decked himself out in gold silks could be considered beautiful if he were crushing an innocent underneath his feet. Of course Xichen knew what traits were considered desirable, in both men and women, and he wasn’t beyond being affected by them. But in his mind the picture was never complete until he knew what a person was like on the inside, and only then was he able to judge if someone was worthy of admiration or derision; in other words, if they could be considered beautiful or ugly.
How was it that those men had looked at something as foul as a rape and found it captivating? How could they have enjoyed the sight of him struggling underneath Wen Ruohan and felt carnal desire for him?
It was beyond his comprehension. He truly couldn’t fathom it.
And yet, he’d been the odd one out, apparently. Was he too simple to understand? Was it like Wen Ruohan had said, that he had been raised too secluded to breed an understanding for something as abject as this?
‘Do you even know how many men lust after you? Do you realise how many would fuck you, if they were given the chance?’
X ichen was beginning to get an inkling of what Wen Ruohan had meant. It send a wave of nausea through him. Xichen pulled his legs up – the movement caused a stinging sensation at his torn asshole – and folded his arms around them to cradl e himself.
Chapter Text
The next morning, Wen Ruohan dropped the red skirt in his lap and wordlessly waited for Xichen to put it on, then handed him the silk embroidered band. Xichen’s hands shook a little as he wrapped it around his neck.
‘Good boy,’ Wen Ruohan said. He reached out to grab Xichen’s chin, moved him closer towards his own face and kissed him. ‘You’ve learned to accept the inevitable, then?’
Knowing Wen Ruohan expected him to answer, Xichen lowered his eyes and whispered: ‘Yes, Master.’
‘You’re doing well, my precious one. Now follow.’ Wen Ruohan held the end of the silk band, but Xichen followed him closely enough that the leash never pulled taut.
Wen Ruohan took him to the dungeons. In one of the cells, a tall, muscular man in a leather apron was poking up the fire in a forge. Next to it stood a table on four high legs, bolted to the floor.
‘My lord,’ the man in the apron greeted Wen Ruohan, then eyed Xichen. ‘It would be best for your slave to be undressed. We wouldn’t want his garment to catch fire.’ Wen Ruohan smiled and turned to Xichen, who swallowed hard.
‘May… may this one ask what is going to happen, Master?’
‘What use would that be, my sweet fool? It’s not like it would change the outcome, would it?’
Xichen clenched his jaw and slowly began to undo the garment, letting it fall down and picking it up to fold it as best as possible and placing it on the table. Wen Ruohan huffed and picked it up, laying it aside.
‘Get on,’ he said, nodding at the table. ‘Face up.’
Xichen did as he was told, frightened. Was Wen Ruohan going to brand him, put a mark on him? Disfigure him, perhaps? He knew of people who’d had bits of metal infused with their body – jabbed through the cartilage of noses or earlobes or through the sensitive skin of nipples or even… Either to decorate or to increase pleasure.
A moment later, the man in the apron leaned over him. ‘I’m going to forge a set of silver cuffs around your wrists, ankles and neck,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘It can be done without burning you, but I’ll need you to cooperate and stay as still as possible.’ Xichen – almost relieved – merely nodded. ‘Alright. Try and relax.’
Xichen expected Wen Ruohan to leave, but he stayed, watching the process from a corner of the room. Xichen tried to ignore him and closed his eyes, focussed on his breathing. It became impossible to relax once the smith started hammering what would be his shackles into shape, and all he could do was stare at the ceiling.
Was Wangji close? Would he be in one of these cells, hearing the sounds of the hammer on the anvil? Had he been subjected to something like this as well? Suddenly a terrifying thought formed in his mind: what if Wangji had been taken from his cell and was being subjected to the same torment as he had been, by Wen Ruohan himself or one of his sons?
‘Wen…’ He swallowed the whisper down. Wen Ruohan demanded he call him ‘master’, and even thought the word tasted like poison on his tongue, he wasn’t willing to invoke the other man’s anger over such a small humiliation. ‘Master?’
‘Yes, my slave?’
‘May I see my brother?’
‘No. You may not.’
Worry made his stomach churn. Knowing it might set the man off, he asked: ‘Why not?’
‘He is to stay in his cell until he has come of age. Then I will allow him the choice: either to become my slave, like you, or to die by execution.’
Xichen’s heart began beating wildly. He parted his lips to ask another question, but just then the smith turned to him, holding a thick piece of leather. He grabbed Xichen’s arm and positioned it so that his wrist dangled off the edge of the table, then shoved the broad bracelet around his wrist.
‘Hold it like that,’ the man said. ‘And don’t move.’ A few heartbeats later, he turned back holding a red hot piece of nearly round metal between a pair of tongs. Xichen tried to keep perfectly still while the smith expertly bent the metal around his wrist, making sure it only touched the leather barrier and didn’t get the chance to singe Xichen’s skin. The heat wafted off the metal and Xichen almost didn’t dare to breathe until the smith poured a bucket of water over his arm, making the silver sizzle as it cooled.
‘Keep still. Even if it isn’t red hot anymore, you don’t want it touching you,’ the smith warned him. Xichen didn’t speak, didn’t even nod. He eyed the perfectly round circle around his wrist and thought to himself: will I ever see it come off?
He hadn’t forgotten Wen Ruohan was in the room – of course not – but he started nonetheless when the man suddenly spoke again.
‘You want to know why I would allow your brother the choice of death, which you never had, don’t you? It’s because I don’t care half as much about him. I know many claim you and your sibling are equally beautiful, but I disagree: I don’t find him nearly as charming as you. Moreover, he was never the sect leader of Gusu Lan, nor was he a general in your little rebellion. Since I have you, I do not need him, so I just might kill him.’
Xichen didn’t move. He didn’t even frown, and still Wen Ruohan continued: ‘It upsets you, doesn’t it? The mere idea of your brother dying. It makes one wonder what you would be willing to do to keep him…’
No.
‘Please.’ Xichen hated to beg, but he wasn’t above it when it concerned his one remaining family member, and the one person he’d loved unconditionally from infancy. ‘Please, Wen Ruohan, don’t.’
He could hear the smile in the man’s voice: ‘Don’t fret, my jewel: I plan on keeping him where he is until his coming-of-age. Then we will see how he best serves my intentions.’
Xichen didn’t dare to comment any further. He kept silent as the man in the apron forged the rings around his limbs, using both his skills as a smith and a cultivator. Then he was directed to sit up and the blacksmith gave him two wooden hair sticks and a black ribbon.
‘Tie up your hair,’ he said. ‘Keep it away from your neck.’ Xichen did as he was ordered, tying his hair up in a messy bun. It felt almost strange after having worn his hair loose and down for several weeks now. He watched the smith prepare the silver in the forge and no matter how he tried to suppress it: he felt the stress mount under his skin. Ever fibre of his being wanted to make a mad dash for it, to run away before he would be forced to wear a shackle around his neck forever. A convenient anchor point to tie a rope to, or to hold him down by…
To his surprise, Wen Ruohan stepped forward the moment the blacksmith turned towards him, holding one half of a red hot ring between a pair of tongs. He handed it to Wen Ruohan, then grabbed the other half himself.
‘Ready?’
Xichen closed his eyes when the two men brought the halves together around his neck, locking him in permanently.
The silver felt heavy around his limbs: a constant reminder of his new status. Xichen hated them, especially the one around his neck. He’d run his fingers over it and found it was as seamless as the other rings: perfectly round, without a single imperfection. He could only move it up a little before it got stuck against his Adam’s apple.
He was sitting next to Wen Ruohan’s obsidian throne, dressed only in the single panel silk skirt, which he was pretty sure wasn’t opaque enough to hide the fact that he was nude underneath; so he’d folded his legs to one side to prevent anyone from taking offence. Wen Ruohan had tied the silk band to the ring around his neck and was playing with the other end while he listened to petitioners.
Xichen had to give him that: he was a hands-on governor. No matter seemed too small to him, not even in this time of war. A dispute between neighbours? Cattle broke away and ate someone else’s crops? A courtship broken or a husband filing for divorce? Wen Ruohan heard every complaint.
The Gusu Lan had always left such matters to a town magistrate. They bothered only with sect matters unless they were explicitly asked to intervene – for instance in the matter of the flooding of the river into the Moling valley three years ago, or a land slide which had cut a number of farms off from the rest of the town. And in case of hauntings, yao attacks and other such matters. Other than that, there were the annual tax conventions and that was about it.
As one audience was concluded, Wen Ruohan suddenly pulled at the silk band, yanking Xichen forward. He looked up, annoyed, and didn’t correct his expression fast enough. Wen Ruohan smacked his face, making his head whip to the side.
‘Don’t you dare look at me like that,’ Wen Ruohan growled.
Xichen swallowed hard. ‘I apologize, Master.’
‘Sit up. I want you on your knees, back straight, chin up.’
Xichen knew what that meant and felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
‘Jewel. Do not make me repeat myself.’
Clenching his jaws, Xichen did as he was told, sitting up on his knees. He could tell from the hushed whispers and looks being thrown his way that he’d been right to think he was making a bawdy show of himself, and the veil of shame reddened his cheeks further. Wen Ruohan looked at him, seeming infinitely pleased with the way he was humiliating his toy, then barked: ‘Spread your legs.’
Xichen blinked and turned his head to him.
‘Have you gone deaf, slave?’
Xichen opened his mouth, but what was he going to say? Yes? No, master? I didn’t hear you? No doubt he’d consider all of them a biting-back. So he did the only thing he could do and parted his knees underneath the diaphanous robe.
‘Wider. Put yourself on display, whore.’
Xichen prayed his ancestors would forgive him as he shamefully complied.
For a few moments, the hall was deafeningly quiet; then Wen Ruohan muttered: ‘Good. Let them gawk at you. All should know how splendid a man I’m taking in my bed.’
Xichen wished he could die of shame.
After several hours, Wen Ruohan told him to get up and follow. Xichen’s knees quivered and he barely managed to do as he was told without being dragged forward by his master. Just as the blood was no longer making his numb lower legs throb, Wen Ruohan halted, in the middle of a hallway.
‘Look at me, A-Huan,’ he demanded.
Xichen did as he was told.
‘Lift your chin. Straighten your back.’
It was only now that Xichen realised he was hunching. Elegance was a trait cultivated in the youth of the Gusu Lan clan: he’d been told from a young age to stand up straight, to mind his movements and practise his motions with grace. Soon, the dignified way in which he moved had come as easily to him as breathing.
Now he was tense all the time, and the strain on his muscles pulled his shoulders inward, his chin down, making him look smaller. His movements became stocky, halted. Unwittingly, he didn’t want to take an inch more space than needed, so as not to draw attention to himself.
He tried to make himself relax, to find his shape back. It was difficult.
‘You will mind your poise,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘You are my whore, and you will make yourself look beautiful, for my sake.’
He knew why. He was beginning to understand that very well.
He bowed his head. ‘Yes, Master.’
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Wen Ruohan had Xichen bathe after hand-feeding him dinner in his room. Xichen stepped behind the privacy screen to remove his skirt and filled the luxuriously large bath. The water coming from the bamboo pipes was hot: Wen Ruohan had explained to him that it was thanks to the thermal heat from the volcano underneath the Nightless City.
As soon as Xichen stepped into the bath, Wen Ruohan joined him behind the privacy screen. He too undressed and for a moment, Xichen was afraid the man would harm him, but to his surprise Wen Ruohan picked up the three-legged stool, sat down behind Xichen and started untangling his hair.
‘Move forward,’ he said. ‘I want to wash it for you.’
Wordlessly, Xichen moved forward, allowing Wen Ruohan to pour water over his hair and prevent it from spilling over himself. After he had washed it, Wen Ruohan collected one of the jars Xichen now knew contained some very expensive magnolia oil and massaged it into Xichen’s hair, then started combing it.
‘You have beautiful hair,’ the man commented.
Xichen shivered, despite the hot water. ‘Thank you, master,’ he said quietly.
‘I still abhor you, hm? No worry. You’ll get used to my touch.’ He sounded matter-of-factly. ‘I've been cruel to you, but I would like you to know that I can, in fact, be kind, as long as you behave. And you were obedient today.'
Another shiver ran across Xichen's spine, caused by the feeling of having his hair combed. He'd always enjoyed that when Wangji did it for him. They’d had less and less time for such indulgences, as they got older.
'I would spoil my pet,' Wen Ruohan continued. 'If my pet deserved to be spoiled.'
'I am not your pet,' Xichen said, despite himself. He expected Wen Ruohan to pull his hair or reach out and choke him, but the man only said:
'No. Not yet.'
It made him shiver again.
After Wen Ruohan had finished combing his hair and had braided it, he told Xichen to get out of the bath and dry off, then take the bronze mirror into the bed room.
'Place it in front of the bed,' he said. 'Then sit down in front of it.' Xichen did as he was told. Wen Ruohan walked over to a cupboard that had been empty before, took out a bundle of thin rope and returned to the bed. His lengthy member was already rising to half-mast, and Xichen knew what he was in for.
'Please,' he begged, closing his eyes as if to wish it all away. 'Please, Master, don't.'
Wen Ruohan didn't respond this pleas. He placed the bundle on the bed and say down behind Xichen, legs slotting around his. He reached around him with one hand and placed his hand on his thighs, which he had clenched together.
'Open,' Wen Ruohan demanded. 'Remember what I said, A-Huan: I can be gentle to those who deserve it.'
Xichen knew he couldn't escape it, and the consequences of working against the other man still ached the skin of his cheek, so he parted his legs just far enough for Wen Ruohan to dip his fingers between them and rub his length.
'Look at yourself,' Wen Ruohan said. 'In the mirror.'
Xichen didn't want to. Very slowly, he dragged his gaze up to see himself, seated between Wen Ruohan's legs. He noticed the gauntness of his cheeks and his hollow eyes; the silver band laying against his throat and circling his wrists; the many bruises on his arms, legs, neck and torso; the clear imprint of fingers on his hips. The foreign hand groping between his legs.
'You are beautiful,' Wen Ruohan whispered. 'Perfect. Young. Splendid.' His other hand wound around his chest and pressed against Xichen's sternum. 'And all mine.'
No, Xichen thought defiantly, and Wen Ruohan laughed, as if he'd heard it.
'I want to hear you say it. Say it, A-Huan. Look at yourself and tell me how beautiful you are.'
Xichen blinked. 'What?'
'You're beautiful like this. Say it.'
'I... I'm beautiful like this...?'
'You look lovely, naked.'
'I... Look lovely, naked.'
'Mn. Good.' The hand on his sternum descended. 'You deserve to be my jewel.'
'I... Deserve to be your jewel.'
'You're my slave.'
Xichen swallowed hard.
'A-Huan.'
'I am your slave,' he conceded.
'You're my whore.'
Xichen remained silent again.
'Do not make me repeat myself, pretty one.'
The hand on his dick squeezed, and Xichen groaned: 'I am your whore.'
'Again.'
'I am your whore.'
'Look at yourself when you say it.'
'I am your whore.' Xichen eyed himself as he said it, and he felt tears rise to his eyes.
'You're my slut. My willing plaything.'
Xichen swallowed the tears down. 'I am your slut. I am your willing plaything.'
'Very good.' Wen Ruohan's hand grabbed his chin, made Xichen turn his face a little so he could press a kiss on his cheek. 'Now move up, then lower yourself on my lap.'
Xichen shuddered. He planted his hands on the mattress and lifted himself, Wen Ruohan drew him on top of him. Xichen heard him spit his palm, then the head of his cock pressed against Xichen's opening.
'Look at yourself,' Wen Ruohan groaned. 'Look in the mirror as I enter you, A-Huan.'
Xichen's eyes squeezed shut as the other man's organ shot past his sphincter and into him. A moment later, Wen Ruohan's hand grabbed his chin again, fingers digging painfully into his jaw, and shook him.
'Look!' he barked. 'Watch yourself as you're being fucked.' He thrust upward, making Xichen jolt on his lap. 'Watch as I fuck my bitch, as I make you bounce on my lap. Look and remind yourself how good you look, being used by me!'
Xichen couldn't. He could barely keep his eyes open to look at the mirror as Wen Ruohan's flesh carved into him, and the tears in his eyes made it impossible for him to see himself. He clenched his jaw, keeping any words and sounds in, then yelped when Wen Ruohan dug a hand in his braid and yanked his head back. His arm wrapped around his waist as Wen Ruohan snarled: 'Fine, I'll tell you, you worthless slave. You look like you belong on a man's cock. You look like an expensive whore, the kind everyone wants their hands on but only few can afford. You look like an emperor's lewd concubine, made to seduce with your innocent doe eyes and exquisite body. You look like you were made to be fucked.' With every lewd comment, Wen Ruohan snapped his hips up, hitting Xichen deep, making him moan with the now well-known combination of pleasure and pain. 'And you sound like one too.'
Enraged, Xichen tried to break free. Wen Ruohan merely laughed, holding him down with ease. 'You fight me now, precious one, but it won't be long until I have you repeating every word of what I've said. I'll make you my pet, I'll mould you into becoming my obedient lover. You're going to learn to welcome me in your body and love it.'
Xichen sobbed. He kept resisting until the fight bled out of him: his stamina was weak compared to what it had been, when he still had his core, whereas Wen Ruohan could use all of his power to keep him exactly where he wanted him. Once Xichen gave up, Wen Ruohan hooked his hands under Xichen’s knees, making him spread his legs.
‘Look in the mirror,’ the man growled again. ‘Look at how I enter you, how I take possession of you, whore. Look how I own you…’
Xichen turned his face towards the mirror, looking but not seeing. The tears falling from his eyes turned everything hazy, and all he could see where the faint forms of two people – or one grotesque being – rocking. But it seemed enough for Wen Ruohan, whose laboured groans turned louder as he slammed his hips harder and faster. His fingers dug into the flesh of Xichen’s thighs, pressing him down every time he fucked up into him.
‘You’ll learn to like it,’ he huffed. ‘I’ll make sure of it. You won’t be able to discern pleasure from pain, desire from distaste…’
Just as he was about to come, Wen Ruohan sent a burst of qi through Xichen’s body, straight to his pleasure spot. Xichen howled and his muscles spasmed as he was thrown into a sudden climax, further corrupting his senses.
Notes:
Another chapter? So soon?
Yes, dear reader; you may also have noticed I've updated the number of chapters. Meaning that this part of the series is nearly FINISHED! On paper, that is, I still have a bunch of chapters to post, which is why you're getting a celebratory extra this week.
On to Arc Two, woop-woop!
Chapter Text
Two men came by to take his measurements: one a tailor, the other a jeweller. Xichen hoped this would mean he would get to wear actual clothes again, but he wasn’t too optimistic. He followed their directions, and when the tailor commented on his beauty, then groped his ass clandestinely, he merely flinched. That was how far he’d fallen.
Once the two men had left, Wen Ruohan dropped himself on the bed and beckoned Xichen.
'Come,' he said. 'Kneel in front of me.'
Wary, Xichen approached the bed. Wen Ruohan put a hand in his hair and lazily stroked him for a bit. Just when Xichen began to wonder if this was all the man wanted of him right now, he sat up and parted his robes. The man wasn't fully dressed yet – only as much as common decency required – and he brought out his half-hard length, stroking it with one hand.
'Take me in your mouth,' he said.
The thought of it made Xichen shudder, but he had expected it wouldn’t be long for Wen Ruohan to demand this of him. For a moment he considered fighting, but he couldn’t bring himself to. All it was going to get him were more bruises, and it would anger Wen Ruohan who would be all the more cruel with him. He shuffled a bit closer and hesitantly parted his jaws, reached up and reluctantly took the head of Wen Ruohan’s cock in his mouth.
The man’s hand came to a halt in his hair. ‘Very good, my precious one,’ he cooed.
Xichen wanted to vomit. He cradled the man’s sex on his tongue for a few moments, then swallowed around him. There wasn’t much of a taste, thank the Heavens: no more than a faint muskiness. He crawled a little bit closer still and tried to think of what to do.
He and Nie Mingjue had only fumbled around a bit, they’d had no experience nor much finesse in the bedroom. Which had been one of the things he’d liked so much about their blossoming relationship: the fact that they got to figure it out together. Now he had to stumble through it all by himself, not helped but hindered by the man he was supposed to consider his partner.
He swallowed again. Tentatively pressed his tongue against the underside of the man’s flesh, where he could feel the thick vein on the underside of him. He curled his tongue around it, then let it slip from his mouth and coughed a little. He eyed Wen Ruohan inquiringly.
‘Keep going,’ he admonished him.
Nie Mingjue had been thick, large and stubby, Xichen’s was lengthy and curved. Wen Ruohan’s instrument was long and remarkably straight, and grew thicker towards the base. Unsure of what to do, Xichen took it back in his mouth and repeated the previous movements: swallowing, using his tongue, letting it slip out. The third time he took it inside, Wen Ruohan leaned over to him and the hand in his hair became a fist.
‘Take me deeper,’ the man said. ‘Draw back until only the head is still inside, then take me deep again. Simulate your hole with your mouth.’
Xichen nearly choked. What an off-putting thing to say! He tried not to show his repulsion on his face as he learned forward and took Wen Ruohan’s sex deeper, to the back of his mouth, and, as the man had directed, started rocking to and fro.
‘Suck around me. Hollow your cheeks. Hng!’ Wen Ruohan’s grip on his hair tightened. ‘Very good, my jewel. It seems you were made for cock-sucking as well.’
Xichen’s face tore – and Wen Ruohan let out a yelp. Xichen released Wen Ruohan’s sex, and a heartbeat later he received a strike in the face that nearly had him fall to the side.
‘Watch your teeth!’
Xichen hadn’t even realised his teeth had scraped Wen Ruohan’s sensitive flesh. The man grabbed his hair and dragged him half-up, shook him hard. ‘Don’t you dare even think of biting me again,’ the man spat.
‘I didn’t mean to!’ Xichen sputtered. Wen Ruohan threw him off, Xichen caught himself with hands outstretched.
‘You’d better not!’ Wen Ruohan growled. ‘Get back here. Mouth open.’
Miserably, Xichen crawled back towards the bed. Again, a hand grabbed his hair, dragging him closer, and Wen Ruohan all but stuffed his cock between Xichen’s lips. He tried not to squirm – for his own sake, not Wen Ruohan’s – and focus on moving back and forth while keeping his teeth out of the way. For a moment, he dared to believe he’d placated Wen Ruohan enough to appease him, then the man tilted his hips and shoved his cock-head into the small of Xichen’s throat, choking him on his dick. Xichen gagged, tried to move his head back so he could get the organ out of his throat, but Wen Ruohan held his hair and jerked him back, constricting him again. Tears jumped into Xichen’s eyes as he tried his utmost to keep still and not vomit.
‘You’re doing well, jewel,’ Wen Ruohan grunted. ‘You’ll get used to this. I have a feeling you’re going to make a fine cock slut.’ He pulled out, fast and sudden. Xichen coughed hard and swallowed back the bile rising in his oesophagus. He shuddered from head to toe and pressed a hand against his mouth.
Wen Ruohan gave him a satisfied smile as he leisurely ran his hand over his sex. ‘Take a moment,’ he said. ‘Take some deep breaths.’
Xichen coughed again and swallowed, trying to get the lingering feeling of something being stuck in his throat out and failing. Before he felt anywhere close to ready, Wen Ruohan beckoned him.
‘Come. Sit between my legs, my pretty.’
Xichen shook his head. ‘Please.’ He sounded hoarse.
‘How else will you learn?’ He reached out and dragged Xichen closer by his hair, took his organ in hand and held it out to him. ‘Go on.’ Xichen mewled softly and shut his eyes, but opened his mouth nonetheless. Wen Ruohan shoved in deep, but not so deep that Xichen choked or couldn’t breathe.
‘Please me,’ the man said. ‘If you try hard enough, I’ll go easy on you.’
Xichen gave himself a few seconds, steadying himself, before opening his eyes and shifting his position somewhat. Keeping his eyes trained on Wen Ruohan’s face, he swallowed around him, earning him praise and a soothing hand stroking his neck. Then he closed his eyes again and tried to just move back and forth, like a drone, and prayed that that would be enough.
Wen Ruohan made Xichen perfect his technique over the following days, and took him in several ways in front of the mirror, making him say degrading things about himself or praising him in the most vulgar ways.
The tailor and jeweller returned, bringing priceless items with them. Precious silks in red and gold and rows of silver chains to be wrapped around his body, set with rubies, fire opals, garnets and red jade. When they put the first outfit on him, Xichen found it hard to breathe. His blue robes had always been made of the finest silks, and his silver guan had been a precious heirloom, but this one ensemble had to be worth more than his complete wardrobe to date!
Wen Ruohan seemed to read the confusion on his face, because he rose from his lazy position on the bed to grab Xichen’s face and stroke his cheek.
‘Only the finest for my prize jewel,’ he said, smiling wickedly.
Xichen had never cared much for jewels, great or small, expensive or not. The ones belonging to the Gusu Lan Clan were part of his inheritance, and they bore significant historical meaning, which was why he’d liked them, and had enjoyed wearing them. The flower guan had been worn by three sect leaders before him, the latest being Lan Huangyi, his great-grandfather, whom he admired and whose leadership he hoped to emulate. The white jade ring on his waist ornament had belonged to him as well.
But he couldn’t ignore the feeling creeping up on him as a string of glittering fire opals, like a complete sunset captured in a handful of stones, was draped over his shoulders, and a gold embroidered skirt wrapped low around his hips. He saw it reflected in the gazes of the tailor and the jeweller, and of Wen Ruohan. They thought he looked beautiful. Priceless.
He tried to push the feeling away through the rest of the fitting session. Eventually, the garments were stored in the black cabinet with the phoenixes and Xichen was left wearing an elaborate set of silver and garnet chains, that criss-crossed his chest to form a pattern of triangles that framed his pectorals and belly button, and a pleated red silk skirt. Half of his hair was tied up in a top knot, fastened with a large silver and ruby hairpin, and the rest was allowed to fall freely over his shoulders.
Wen Ruohan lifted himself from the bed and walked around him. When he’d almost completed the circle, he reached out and slapped Xichen’s behind, making him jolt.
‘Straighten up.’
He did. Wen Ruohan smiled, grabbed Xichen’s chin and kissed him.
‘Now you truly look the part, my precious one.’ He studied Xichen’s face a moment. ‘You understand, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Master,’ Xichen said softly.
‘Tell me.’ He raised a hand and let it run over Xichen’s exposed chest.
‘You’re using me to show off your power. You said: what is the use in me looking like a miserable wretch?’ He paused: Wen Ruohan was playing with his left nipple, sending a shiver across his spine. ‘The answer is: it does nothing for you. Everyone knows the Lan have been defeated, so having another one crawl at your feet does little to reinforce the message.’
‘Correct,’ Wen Ruohan said, pinching him. ‘However…?’
Xichen swallowed hard. ‘However, by making me look strong and alluring, you’re sending several messages at once. First: that you have the means to deck out even the lowliest slave in gold and jewels.’
‘Hm-hm.’ Having hardened the one on the left to a little bud, Wen Ruohan moved to the other nipple.
‘Second: the more impressive you make me look, the more impressive your victory over me.’
‘Mn.’ Wen Ruohan twisted the tender flesh, making Xichen flinch. ‘And thirdly?’
‘Thirdly…’ Xichen had to think, and he found it hard to think. ‘By making me look more desirable, you’re making yourself look more desirable?’
Wen Ruohan laughed softly. ‘Almost.’ He scratched his nails over Xichen’s abdomen, moving down. ‘By showing you off, I’m making them jealous. My sons, my subordinates. They want you, but they can’t have you, and they know that in order to have what I have, they’ll either have to please and impress me or defeat me. No-one is even remotely close to taking my throne from me, but I don’t mind motivating some of them to work hard and try to achieve it.’ He paused, reaching underneath the red silk to grab Xichen between his legs. ‘As for the rest of them: I want them to either get me what I want, or die trying.’ He stroked Xichen’s member. ‘Now, how is my darling slave going to thank me for his new attire?’
Xichen took a deep breath and asked: ‘How, Master?’
Wen Ruohan laughed.
Chapter Text
For several days, the routine didn’t change. Wen Ruohan would dress him up, take him downstairs for breakfast with his family and several high-ranking Wen, then put him on display in the Fire Palace Main Hall. The afternoons differed: sometimes Xichen would spend them alone in his room, sometimes Wen Ruohan would take him to the bath house. One time now he’d taken him to a large, luscious garden inside the palace walls for a picnic, which was nice until Wen Ruohan made him lie down and used him, while anyone could walk past, and Xichen wept tears of embarrassment.
Then one afternoon, he took Xichen back to the dungeons, and into the same chamber where he received his cuffs and silver collar over a week prior. The smith wasn’t there, but the fire was burning. Wen Ruohan told him to sit down on the table. Xichen did. Wen Ruohan walked around him and Xichen turned, alarmed, when the man threaded a rope through the left wrist cuff, then tied it to one of the table legs. His heartbeat sped up instantly.
Wen Ruohan calmly did the same to Xichen’s other wrist, making him lean back on his hands, arms spread behind him. Then he moved to Xichen’s front and tied his ankles to the table legs as well. Xichen knew better than to ask questions, and only swallowed hard.
Wen Ruohan turned away from him and walked towards the furnace. He grabbed a small crucible, turned and held it out to Xichen. ‘Recognise these?’ he asked.
Inside the crucible were over a dozen Cloud Recesses emblems, taken from the forehead ribbons of inner clan members. He also saw bits of his and Wangji’s guan, broken in pieces. He looked up at Wen Ruohan, tears jumping in his eyes, and didn’t attempt to hide his fury.
‘How dare you!’ he barked at the other man. ‘Those are priceless artifacts! They’ve been in my family for generations…’
He anticipated the smack to his jaw, whipping his face tot the side, but he didn’t let it temper his anger now. He struggled against the ropes, holding him down. ‘Wen Ruohan!’ he snarled, as the man took the crucible back to the furnace. ‘They belong to me! Give them back!’
‘I intend to,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘Just not in their present form.’ He lowered the crucible into the flames, then turned back to Xichen. ‘I know they’re not just pieces of silver. I perceive their power, both symbolically and realistically. I’m going to have them made into something special for you.’
‘Please, don’t.’ Xichen’s voice broke. ‘Wen Ruohan, what…’
‘Call me master, bitch.’
He swallowed hard. ‘Master. Whatever you plan on doing, I beseech you: don’t!’ He fought against tears welling up as he continued: ‘They may be all that is left of my clansmen!’
‘Most likely, they are, since these were taken at the burning of your home, and we left no-one but you and your brother alive.’
Xichen let out a cry of anguish, but to no avail: Wen Ruohan ignored him; and no matter how much he struggled, the rope nor his cuffs gave way. He was merely exhausting himself.
After a short while, the door opened and the smith stepped in. He shot a look at Xichen, then bowed politely to Wen Ruohan. ‘My lord.’
‘Yuying provided you with the design?’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Yuying was the name of the jeweller who’d made Xichen’s outrageously expensive wardrobe, and he doubted it was a coincidence. Wen Ruohan stepped away from the furnace and around Xichen, stood behind him while the smith got to work. He placed a hand on Xichen’s lower back and stroked him absent-mindedly. Xichen couldn’t tell if it was meant to soothe him: if it was, it didn’t work. He stared at the crucible and felt the loss of his clansmen like a stab in the heart. Men and women he was supposed to protect, who trusted him. They looked at him for guidance and safe-keeping, and now they were all dead.
It didn’t take long for the metal to melt. The smith picked the crucible up with a pair of tongs and poured the liquid silver into a mould, which he then submerged in a bucket of water to cool the metal down and let it set.
‘What do you want me to do with the remainder?’ the smith asked Wen Ruohan, referring to the Lan sect’s silver.
‘Store it somewhere separate,’ Wen Ruohan replied. ‘I may find some future use for it.’ The idea that his clans silver would be stored somewhere in a Wen workshop, it’s importance lost to everyone, made Xichen’s stomach turn, and he shuddered under Wen Ruohan’s touch.
After a while, the smith removed the moulds from the water and opened them, took out a pair of thongs and removed the excess silver, dropping the pieces back into the crucible, then took a file to the objects. There were two, that was all Xichen had managed to decipher so far. Finally, the smith showed both him and Wen Ruohan the end result.
They were tiny phalluses, curved into a half circle, and they looked identical. Before Xichen could come up with the question, the smith demonstrated how the two halves could be put together, each phallus sliding into an opening in the other side of the other half circle with a soft click, to form a single ring.
‘A cultivation method is required to lock and unlock them, as you requested,’ the smith said, turning the ring over in his palm. Xichen made a soft noise in shock as Wen Ruohan pulled his silk garment away from his lower body, revealing him to the other man. His hand snaked towards Xichen’s soft member, taking it in hand and slowly moving up and down.
‘Let’s see if it fits.’
Xichen started struggling at the ropes anew, to no effect. Wen Ruohan brought his sex to full hardness, then snapped the two halves of the ring together at the base of him before withdrawing his hand. It was a snug fit.
‘What is the… the purpose of this?’ Xichen sputtered. Both men ignored him.
‘Thank you,’ Wen Ruohan said to the smith. ‘Your work is excellent, as always.’
The man bowed. ‘I am at Wen-zongzhu’s service.’
‘You may take your leave.’
The man shot a final look at Xichen, who had a feeling the man couldn’t wait to leave. Wen Ruohan untied Xichen’s ankles, then his hands, and before Xichen could jump off the table, the man grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him to the floor.
‘Down.’ He demanded, and grabbed Xichen’s collar with the other hand as soon as he was kneeling. His open palm smacked against Xichen’s face and the sound of skin hitting skin reverberated through the small chamber.
‘You were obstinate,’ Wen Ruohan said glacially. ‘Apologize.’
‘No.’ Xichen looked up at him. ‘You took the sacred symbols of my sect to turn them into some kind of sexual ornament. How do you expect me to take such an insult?’ He received a second strike and could feel a bruise bloom on his right cheek.
‘I expect you to take it exactly the way you have: laying down, ass up.’
Xichen growled furiously from between clenched jaws, Wen Ruohan jerked at his collar, choking the sound out of him.
‘To answer your previous question: this ‘ornament’ is meant to stay on you, at all times, to keep you erect, unless I remove it.’
‘Why?’ Xichen spat.
‘It is not up to you to question your master’s decisions. I’m going to give you one last opportunity to apologize to me, A-Huan.’
‘I won’t do it.’ Xichen hissed. ‘And you can’t make me.’
Wen Ruohan looked disappointed, but he smiled nonetheless. ‘You truly are little more than a child,’ he said, ‘if you think me so inept.’
Chapter Text
Wen Ruohan dragged him to the main hall by a rope, connected to his silver collar, not stopping even when Xichen fell. He was unable to get up fast enough – not with his hands bound behind his back – and followed crawling on his knees. They were already bleeding by the time Wen Ruohan relinquished the leash and left Xichen gasping for breath in front of his obsidian throne.
‘Get me a whip,’ Wen Ruohan told one of the guards. ‘Make sure it’s a new one.’ Xichen shuddered. Wen Ruohan turned back to him and said, slowly: ‘You’ll stay here. You know it is useless to try and run, but if you try, I will be truly merciless.’
Xichen didn’t dare to answer, not even with a nod or by looking up at the other man. Wen Ruohan stayed a moment, staring at him, then took off, leaving Xichen behind. He pulled his wounded legs up, but realised the position left him exposed and folded them to the side. His erection hadn’t gone down since the silver ring had been put on him, and the organ throbbed uncomfortably. The symbols of his sect’s mythical restraint, turned into a means to keep him hard…
It made him shake with disdain. He was not going to apologize: it was Wen Ruohan who should apologize to his dead clansmen!
The blood dried on his legs and the injuries swelled. Swallowing hurt: even though he couldn’t see it himself, he knew he had bruises on his throat, underneath the collar. His arms were beginning to hurt too and he was experiencing numbness in his hands from having been bound for so long, and finally, his mouth was ash-dry. More and more people entered the hall, and Xichen crawled towards the left of the throne, where he could hide in its shadow. He didn’t recognise any of the faces: most of the people wore the Wen colours, indicating that they were members of the sect or of Wen Ruohan’s army. Some of them eyed him with curiosity, others smiled knowingly. Most ignored him completely.
It wasn’t until Wen Ruohan reentered that the quiet buzz died down, and all eyes turned to the back of the hall where the obsidian throne was located. From his position, Xichen couldn’t see Wen Ruohan, but he could feel the other man’s presence. He was like a ripple – no, a gash – in the ether.
‘I welcome all,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘Before we can commence our business, there is something I must see to.’ He paused, and Xichen’s heart froze when a number of guards came to collect him. They pulled him to his feet and made him stumble towards Wen Ruohan. The Chief Cultivator was holding a black leather whip.
‘I assume you recognise this man, even without his forehead ribbon, but in case you do not: this is my former opponent, the young sect leader of the defeated Gusu Lan.’ As he spoke, one of the guards removed the rope tied to Xichen’s collar, then slashed the rope binding his wrists. Immediately, two new pieces of rope were attached to his wrist cuffs, and his arms were pulled sideways, away from his body. He was turned to stand facing the throne, with his back towards the crowd, and the same guards removed the jewelled chains and the already revealing embroidered skirt, leaving Xichen stark naked. The red veil of shame shut towards his cheeks, and he trembled with fear.
He nearly gasped when a hand stroked his hair almost tenderly, pulling it aside and brushing it over his shoulder. Then Wen Ruohan’s voice thundered: ‘I’ve destroyed his core and made him my slave, but this lowly bitch has yet to accept his new place. But I will make him comply; just as I will make all of those savage dogs who dare oppose me comply.’
The first lash came as a surprise. The air blew from Xichen’s lungs and a heartbeat later, the pain set his nerves on fire. He didn’t have the time to recover from it: before he’d even had the chance to suck air back into his lungs, a second blow followed. If the two guards on either side hadn’t been holding the ropes bound to his wrists taut, he would surely have collapsed.
He gulped, then yelped as he was hit a third time. The pain of the previous blows was still blooming, spreading the anguish from his back to his extremities, when the next one hit; and during the first half a dozen strikes, Xichen was too overwhelmed to even understand what was happening to him. By the time his mind caught up, the torment was so extreme he could no longer control his body. He’d never experienced pain like this – only later, he would come to realise that his cultivation must have always dampened the sensation of pain for him, keeping his senses from being affected so that his responses could remain sharp and exact. Now, he possessed no such shield, no filter to preserve his sanity.
He could feel the flesh parting on his back, and the blood running down his legs to pool underneath his feet. He could hear himself shout and couldn’t even think to try and keep his mouth shut, to pretend it wasn’t as dreadfully painful as it obviously was; to preserve his dignity. What, even, was dignity when faced with such torture?
He fell to his knees at some point – the hurt shooting up his legs was barely picked up by his fraying nerves – and it took him a few moments to realise a number of things. First: he was heaving. Second: he was sweating. Third: his throat felt raw. Fourth: the whipping had stopped.
Slowly, the haze lifted from his eyes and he could see the obsidian tiles underneath him, stained with what had to be his blood. The ground was moving, swaying from left to right. Suddenly, it came closer and a sigh expelled from him as his face hit the floor. He heard Wen Ruohan’s voice, somewhere very distant, but couldn’t hear what he said, and he didn’t care about it either when a soothing blanket of darkness covered him and finally doused the burning of his body.
A flood of pain told him he was waking up, and Xichen groaned. He was laying on his front and instinctively meant to push himself up, but quickly gave up on it as soon as he felt the heavy numbness in his arms and legs. It was as if he’d had his core blasted and his meridians fried all over again.
‘Lan Xichen? Are you awake?’
The voice sounded familiar. It took him a moment or two to recognise Wen Qing. He didn’t reply, all he felt capable of was opening his eyes. After a few more moments, she came into focus.
‘You’ve suffered some horrendous injuries,’ she said. ‘Do you remember? The whipping?’
‘Ngh,’ was all that dripped from his lips. He tried to move an arm, didn’t manage it. Again, it took his mind some time to process that it wasn’t because it had become immobile; he’d been immobilised. His arms and legs were bound in place to the four posters of the large bed in the chamber Wen Ruohan had kept him in so far. He was nude and uncovered and his entire back felt like a gigantic open wound.
‘I’ve cleaned the lacerations,’ Wen Qing said, speaking slow and enunciating clearly, like she was speaking to a child, ‘and dressed the wounds. You should try and move as little as possible.’ She paused, and said, almost apologetically: ‘I’ve been told to withhold anything from you that might ease your pain.’
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but the words hit him like a smack in the face nonetheless. Not only had Wen Ruohan stolen his natural shield, the capacity of enduring pain he’d grown accustomed to, and torn the flesh of his back; now he was denying him relief as well. A crueller man could scarcely exist.
‘I’ll come back as often as I’m allowed,’ Wen Qing continued, ‘to check on you. Try to stay still.’
If he could have spoken, he didn’t try. He closed his eyes and listened to her soft footsteps as she left the room. Fortunately, he soon drifted off again.
The second time he woke, it was because someone was undoing the ropes around his wrists and ankles. Xichen made an unintelligible noise as the pain cruising through his nerves woke him.
‘Just because you’re wounded, doesn’t mean you’re getting off the hook, my precious one,’ Wen Ruohan whispered to his ear. He grabbed Xichen by the hips and hauled his body towards the foot end of the bed until his legs dangled onto the floor, as if he’d been bent over the mattress; then pressed his naked front against Xichen’s ass. His hand dug in Xichen’s hair and he pulled it hard enough to make him bent backwards, causing him to scream; and at the same time Wen Ruohan thrust his rock-hard erection into him, splitting him open.
Chapter Text
It took well over a week for the whipping marks to heal, even with Wen Qing regularly using her healing powers to speed up the process. The first few days, Xichen was unconscious more than conscious; only waking up when he was being treated, made to eat or being assaulted by Wen Ruohan. Then he started having dreams.
Xichen had had sex dreams before in his life. He’d been a teenager, too; and once he and Nie Mingjue had started figuring out the intricacies of intimacy together… Anyway: he wasn’t a eunuch. But it was beyond awkward to find himself waking up with a pulsing erection, staining the sheets, from a dream in which he was being caressed, kissed, adored and ultimately fucked by an often faceless partner, while in between those dreams much the same was being done to him by Wen Ruohan. And he was beginning to get an inkling of why Wen Ruohan had ordered the ring-restraint.
On the fifth day, at evening time, he was woken by the servant bringing him a meal. Xichen was dozing in the bed – there was nothing else for him to do, and the healing sessions left him feeling exhausted – and he although he was hungry, he didn’t want to get up and confront the servant with his nudity. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep, and waited for them to leave.
‘A-Huan.’
He couldn’t hide the tremor running through him, head to toe, and sat up. He turned to find Wen Ruohan standing next to the bed, looming over him, and involuntarily, he pulled the sheets up to his chest.
‘No need to hide yourself from me,’ Wen Ruohan said. ‘Seeing as I already know all your most intimate parts…’ He smiled cruelly. ‘You’ve spend enough time slacking off. It’s time I got back to instructing my slave.’
Knowing full well it’d invoke Wen Ruohan’s anger, Xichen still whispered: ‘No.’
‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that. Get up. Now.’
Xichen tried to make himself breathe slowly and stayed where he was.
‘A-Huan. Don’t make me repeat myself.’
‘Or what?’ Xichen hated the tremble sneaking into his voice, betraying how frightened he was; how much he feared another beating.
‘You know what the consequence will be. I’ll have you dragged to the bath-house and use the same whip to re-open the chasms on your back. And don’t think I’ll leave you the luxury of dying: I haven’t tired of you yet. I’ll keep you breathing just for the pleasure of having your body feel warm around my cock when I use it.’ Xichen felt like gagging at those words. ‘A-Huan. This will be less painful for you if you obey me. You know this, you are no fool.’
Xichen shook his head. ‘You want me to cooperate. I will do no such thing. Not until you’ve apologized to my dead clan members.’
Wen Ruohan clicked his tongue in disapproval. ‘Do you truly think you are unbreakable? Then you are a fool.’ He sat down on the bed – Xichen immediately moved backwards, away from him. ‘You think you have nothing left to lose, do you? Your sect destroyed, your body desecrated and your honour stolen. What is there left for me to take?’ The corners of his lips curled up. ‘You know what is left. He currently sits three floors beneath you, wearing the same dirty clothes he came here in.’
Xichen clenched his jaws. ‘Wangji is a child!’ he snapped.
‘He is also a powerful cultivator, and the last heir to your Lan clan. I can think of myriad reasons to bring him up to my halls and torture the life out of him. Would you prefer that? To see me tie your little brother up and drag him…’
Face torn with anger, Xichen grabbed the sheet and pulled it away, baring himself to the other man. Wen Ruohan shamelessly let his gaze wander to his lower body and grinned.
‘There’s a start.’ He got up, turned his back to Xichen and began undressing himself. ‘Fold my clothes for me, A-Huan.’
Xichen closed his eyes briefly, steeling himself, knowing that was only going to be the first of Wen Ruohan’s wishes he’d again be fulfilling. But for Wangji’s sake, he moved to the foot end of the bed and rose. As he stretched his back, the skin around his wounds pulled taut, causing him great discomfort. He ignored it as best he could and walked over to Wen Ruohan, picked up the man’s sumptuous garments and began folding them.
‘Where do you want me to put these?’ he asked.
Wen Ruohan’s hand hit him square in the face, making his head swing to the side.
‘You will only address me as ‘master’, whore,’ Wen Ruohan warned him.
Xichen had stumbled, and he was quite certain at least one of the lacerations on his back was bleeding again. His heart was beating in his throat, but he managed to keep himself from responding in anger. Instead, he recollected himself and managed to spit out: ‘Where do you want me to put these, master?’
Wen Ruohan pointed at a cupboard. Xichen walked over to it, opened the top drawer and nearly stumbled backwards when he saw the contents of it.
On top of it lay the black leather whip; his own blood had dried into the twisted leather. Underneath it, ropes in several colours and of varying thickness; thin bamboo rods and thick ones; several phallus-shaped objects… He wanted to turn around, but bumped into Wen Ruohan who, quiet as a stalking tiger, had come up behind him. He grabbed Xichen’s arm, turned him around and made him fall backwards against the cabinet, making him cry out in pain as the wood pressed into his back. His hand grabbed Xichen’s face, fingertips pressing into his bruised cheek.
‘Let this be a reminder of what happens if you disobey me ever again,’ he said, his breath washing over Xichen’s face. ‘Let it be an indication that I can be far crueller, far more inventive than your limited imagination might make you think.’ He grabbed Xichen between his legs, and when he tried to fight back, pressed him harder against the unforgiving wood of the cabinet, making him mewl in pain. ‘Do not underestimate me ever again, my pretty one.’
His hand jacked over Xichen’s erection, turning the already rigid organ rock-hard, then he turned and threw Xichen on the ground. He landed on his hands and unhealed knees, and a moment later Wen Ruohan landed on top of him. He dug a hand in his hair, pulling his head back, making him scream. The man’s sex prodded against his backside, poking him a few times before slipping between his buttocks and finding the entrance. Xichen cried out softly.
‘You are such a sweet fool,’ Wen Ruohan continued, pressing forward and sinking into him. ‘To think that this is the worst I can do to you.’ He punctuated the word by slamming into him fully. Xichen could feel the blood sticking between their bodies, tasted its heavy odour on his tongue. ‘I can think of infinitely worse things to make you do…’ He shifted, making sure that every stab in Xichen’s insides hit him right in the pleasure spot, and clasped a hand over his mouth to smother his pitiful wails. ‘Miserable wretch...’
Xichen was getting used to being abused. Terrible as it was, it was becoming a part of his daily reality, and although the discomfort and humiliation were no less now compared to how it had been at the start, his body was beginning to yield and relinquish to Wen Ruohan, whether Xichen wanted it or not. It was beginning to understand that Wen Ruohan wanted it to reach a certain point, and that getting there meant both release and liberation: because Wen Ruohan seemed to like nothing better than a joined climax. So while Xichen closed his eyes in abhorrence, he allowed Wen Ruohan to take his body there, stimulating it inside and out until the mounting tension had to come to a discharge. He could feel Wen Ruohan’s trusts become faster, more brutal, erratic; stretching the moment for him until finally…
He shouted behind Wen Ruohan’s hand as a surge of pleasure raced through him, contorting his body; but at the same time the ring around his sex tightened, making it impossible for him to spill even though his whole body desperately wanted to. He bucked wildly against Wen Ruohan, felt and heard the other man come inside of him, without finding release himself.
When Wen Ruohan let him go, pulling out with a sickeningly wet sound and spilling over Xichen’s thigh, he was still shaking on the floor. The tightness in his belly hadn’t waned, neither had the hardness of his erection. He felt strangely woozy, as if he were still balancing precariously on that edge and the slightest touch could send him over it, except that the moment didn’t come. He looked up at Wen Ruohan in disbelief.
‘Only when I allow it,’ the man said. ‘And you will have to earn it.’
Chapter Text
Xichen couldn’t think about anything other than sex. He wasn’t sure how many days had past since Wen Ruohan put the ring-restraint around him, because the last few had been a haze. He couldn’t think coherently, he barely slept, couldn’t eat. Every single touch send sparks through him. He felt feverish. He felt sick.
And Wen Ruohan seemed to take extreme pleasure in his predicament. He took away Xichen’s already skimpy clothes, leaving him to wear nothing but the body jewellery and showing off his perpetual hardness to everyone and anyone. At first, he’d been mortified, but now Xichen was beyond shame: there was no room left in him to feel it. When Wen Ruohan ordered him to sit up and spread his legs, he did so without question. He picked up on the glances being thrown his way, heard the whispers regarding the shameless display he made, about what he had done to deserve the whip marks on his back, but didn’t have the capacity to fully realize what was being said. He stared at an empty spot in front of him and wished to the heavenly gods he’d be allowed some reprieve soon.
He’d tried to put his hands on himself, that night, for the first time. He hadn’t dared to before, not in Wen Ruohan’s presence. But when he was certain the other man slept, he desperately tried to get the restraint off, but it did not respond to him. It was like it was fused to his flesh. He might as well have tried to remove his sex – which was a thought that hadn’t occurred to him for the first time. If he didn’t have his genitals anymore, would he still feel the agony of perpetual arousal? Not likely. Wen Ruohan would probably beat him to within an inch of his life, though.
Then he’d wrapped his hand around himself and tried to masturbate, only succeeding in working himself up more. He was close to tears by the time he gave up, his sex pulsing in his hand. By now, he felt that if Wen Ruohan gave him permission to finish himself off in front of all these people, he might actually take it. He took a deep breath, straightened his back anew before Wen Ruohan could comment on it. If he were good, then perhaps he’d be allowed to come?
The men in the room droned on. Xichen had stopped paying attention a long time ago. At first, when he was placed beside Wen Ruohan’s throne, he’d tried to listen in, to learn something about the Chief Cultivator, his mode of governing and perhaps even his personality. And begrudgingly, he’d had to admit – again and again – that Wen Ruohan wasn’t a bad ruler per say. He was invested, he truly seemed to care about his subjects and he always gave a full explanation of why he’d come to a certain decision. Most often, he judged in favour of the greater good – a farmer being evicted so a village could expand; building a freshwater reservoir for a town but cutting off the water supply for a small number of individuals – and he always made sure those on the lower end were compensated, in some way or form. Xichen was too young to have been around at the time Wen Ruohan was elected Chief Cultivator, but he could understand why and how the choice was made.
The man was, however, also utterly ruthless and an absolute tyrant. Anyone who went against his express ruling could expect no mercy; and there was no faster way to receive a death penalty than insubordination. Personal grievances were never taken into account: feelings granted you no clemency in Wen Ruohan’s narrow view of right and wrong. Except, of course, if you were Wen Ruohan himself.
But Xichen could no longer bring himself to listen to the men petitioning Wen Ruohan. Could no longer make himself care about the matters that all seemed petty and inconsequential to him now, compared to his suffering. He was feeling frustrated, irritated and annoyed, and it was not something he was all too familiar with.
‘A-Huan.’
He didn’t realise he was sitting with his eyes closed until Wen Ruohan called his name and he opened them.
‘Master?’
‘Are you tired?’
‘No. This one apologises.’
‘Did I forbid you to sit with your eyes closed?’
Xichen’s jaw moved before he could formulate an answer, and he snapped it shut, then stammered: ‘I… I don’t think you did, Master.’
‘Then why do you apologise?’
‘I don’t know. I mean… I’m not sure. I don’t wish to offend Master unknowingly.’ He paused. ‘Perhaps I am tired,’ he added, softer.
‘Do you need a break?’
Xichen wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Was Wen Ruohan showing him kindness? It seemed uncharacteristic.
‘If… if Master wishes it.’
‘I do not.’ Wen Ruohan leaned back. ‘Straighten up then. You are slacking.’
Xichen sighed out softly and adjusted his pose, already wishing he’d taken the offer. Surely anything would be better than this?
At least he knew now that he was permitted to close his eyes, and he did. Tried to meditate. More than ever, he missed the comforting buzz of his core. All that seemed to be left was a hollow just behind his navel, close to the pool of heat that was his groin...
He wasn't sure how much longer he managed, only that it wasn't long enough. He opened his eyes and cleared his throat, then softly asked: 'Master?'
Wen Ruohan waited for a lull in his next petitioner's monologue to respond: 'Yes, my pet?'
'Might... Might I have that break now, please?'
'Why?' Wen Ruohan asked, tauntingly. 'Do you need to relieve yourself?'
Normally, Xichen would have bitten his tongue and refrained from responding to such a low jab, but he couldn't care less right now. 'Yes,' he said, bowing his head. 'If Master would permit...?'
'You do ask awfully nicely.' Wen Ruohan waved a guard over. 'Take him to a reception room,' he instructed, and to Xichen he said: ‘I will join you shortly.'
Xichen nodded and bowed swiftly, as the servant was already coming through collect him.
Only by drawing on the very last of his strengths did Xichen manage to keep himself from falling until he crossed the threshold, but then there was no stopping the tremors from taking over and he began shaking all over, so much so that he let himself fall to his knees to prevent himself from collapsing. He cursed Wen Ruohan and the damn thing around his sex, which he knew had to be enchanted. How the hell else was he controlling every inch of Xichen's body, keeping him taut like a bowstring, ready to snap? The last time he'd felt this helpless, weak and frustrated had been when he and Wangji were captured, separated, and he consequently lost his core.
Xichen sat down on the floor, wrapped his arms around himself and bowed his head, shuddering and shaking. When Wen Ruohan entered the room, Xichen stopped hugging himself and prostrated himself on the floor. 'Please,' he whimpered, 'Master. What can I do to make you remove this demonic device?'
Wen Ruohan walked over to him and was surprisingly gentle in picking him up, making him crawl back unto his knees first, then his feet, and holding onto him. He stroked Xichen's hair out of his face and muttered: 'Hmm. I do love to hear you beg.'
Xichen made himself take the devouring kiss the other man pressed onto him, and parted his lips to let Wen Ruohan invade his mouth with his tongue. The Chief Cultivator's hands grabbed him between his legs and Xichen cried into his mouth.
'You were good, A-Huan,' Wen Ruohan whispered to his lips. 'I didn't expect you to last this long...' He rubbed his hand over Xichen's length, and he shuddered violently.
'Please,' he begged, 'no more! I can't...!'
'I know. Come.' He stroked Xichen's balls, then held his hand out under his genitals. The ring-restraint fell into his palm and Xichen nearly fainted when his sex filled out immediately. He moaned, more in pain than pleasure, the scales tipping towards the other side the moment Wen Ruohan laid both hands on him and started stroking him.
'Please,' Xichen whined, 'please Master... don't be cruel, not again...!'
Wen Ruohan hushed him, pressed his mouth back onto Xichen as he let his hand slide over his length, while the other cradled his testicles. Xichen was already so close even this gentle touch was torture, and he just whispered: 'Please, please, Master, please...' over and over.
'Yes,' Wen Ruohan replied, breaking the kiss. 'Yes, A-Huan, you may come. You have permission.'
He'd barely spoken the words before Xichen bent double, crying out like a beaten dog. Tears cascaded over his cheeks as his own ejaculate drew white stripes all over his belly, his chest, even landing some on his chin. Xichen came for what felt like minutes, his hips mindlessly gyrating, chasing the feeling until it turned painful, while his back arched and his jaw dropped; until the floor disappeared from under him and he fell, only to be caught just before he could hit the ground like a sack of rice.
While the world regained its colours, he burst into tears. Wen Ruohan pressed his head against his form and brushed his hair, hushing him while Xichen wept loudly and uncontrollably, like a child. The other man didn’t rush him at all, letting him cry and cling to him until Xichen was hiccuping and he finally came back to himself.
And so did everything else. The embarrassment, the shame.
‘I need fresh clothes,’ said Wen Ruohan. He again helped Xichen to get up, took his hand and pulled him along. Xichen followed, still dazed. He knew what a picture he had to make: his body stained with seed, his face wet with tears and blotchy. Debauched, filthy, wanton… Which he was, all of it. There was no denying it anymore. He’d become the whore Wen Ruohan wanted him to be.
The man took him back to the bedchamber, where he started undressing without asking for Xichen’s help. Once Xichen realised, he began picking the discarded garments off the floor and placed them into the cleaning basket for the servants. Had he just begged Wen Ruohan to make him come? How many had seen him, siting next to Wen Ruohan’s throne all naked and erect like some obscene statue? Oh gods, how many of them had heard...?
He was still standing frozen behind the privacy screen when Wen Ruohan came up behind him and pressed himself against Xichen’s back, his sex pushing hard against Xichen’s backside.
‘I can see you think,’ the man said, hands grabbing around him and landing on his chest. ‘I can see what’s happening in that pretty head of yours. And I have a feeling you prefer it empty, my nymph. Do you want me to, hm? Fuck you empty of all thoughts?’
Xichen’s lower lip trembled. He closed his eyes and whispered: ‘Yes…’
‘Ask me correctly, sweet one.’ Wen Ruohan kissed one of the marks on his back, making Xichen shudder.
He swallowed hard. ‘Yes please, Master.’ And when the man didn’t respond and remained silent, he added: ‘Fuck my head empty, please.’
Wen Ruohan grinned. ‘It’ll be my pleasure.’
Chapter 17
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Xichen had been Wen Ruohan’s pleasure slave for some months when finally, something occurred in front of him that could change the fate of the Sunshot Campaign. He was reclined next to Wen Ruohan’s throne: his master had had a comfortable cushion made for him on which he could rest during the days spend in the Main Hall, after realising Xichen’s knees were suffering a bit too much from sitting on the obsidian tiles for hours on end, becoming permanently bruised. Wen Zhuliu himself approached the throne while Wen Ruohan was in conversation, and the Chief Cultivator raised a hand at the petitioner, who went instantly silent, and gestured at his general. The man rose, stepped towards the throne and showed something to Wen Ruohan, hidden in the palm of his hand. Xichen rose a little, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening.
Wen Ruohan got up and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: ‘Today’s audiences are ended. Anyone who is not a guard or a general must leave immediately.’
There was some moaning from a few petitioners, but the guards were well-practised and swiftly moved everyone out of the Main Hall. A few moments later, Wen Xu and Wen Chao were herded into the vast chamber.
‘Father.’ They bowed in front of him. Xichen felt goosebumps rise on his arms: he hadn’t witnessed anything like this before.
‘Both of you, at my right. Do not speak until I permit you to.’ He turned to Xichen. ‘That goes twice for you. Not a word, my precious one.’
‘Understood, Master,’ Xichen said, although he already doubting he’d keep his word. Without being prompted, he wanted to get onto his knees, but Wen Ruohan made a curt movement with his head and Xichen lowered himself again.
‘You look quite enticing the way you are now,’ the man said, grinning. Xichen knew what he meant to say: just like he wanted Xichen to kneel with his legs spread, he wanted Xichen to keep his sex on display whichever way he sat down on the cushion. Keep yourself looking like my pet, he was saying.
There was no way this was going to be pleasant for him, was it?
He waited in anticipation to see who was going to walk through those large doors at the other side of the hall, and when the ominous visitor was led in by Wen Zhuliu himself, he didn’t recognize him at first. He was clad in an inconspicuous outfit: clothes that could be found in any town on any common man. It wasn’t until the stranger knelt at Wen Ruohan’s throne and opened his mouth, that Xichen’s heart missed a beat.
‘Chief Cultivator,’ the man said, ‘I humbly thank you for receiving me.’
Wen Ruohan huffed. ‘You and ‘humble’ are two words not often mentioned in the same sentence, Jin-Zongzhu.’
‘And yet, I am kneeling before you, Chief Cultivator.’
‘Yes. How uncharacteristic.’ Wen Ruohan didn’t tell him to get up, and Jin Guanshan didn’t move. Xichen, however, did. He closed his legs and sat up, his face torn with anger. If Wen Ruohan noticed it, he ignored it – for now. ‘Why have you come?’
‘You know why I have, my lord.’
‘I do. But I am sure my sons are dying to know.’
Jin Guanshan raised his head and nodded at the two men at Wen Ruohan’s right. ‘Wen-gongzi, Wen-ergongzi: I am here to prove my loyalty to you, your father and the Wen sect. I wish to…’ At that moment, he caught Xichen’s eye, and his voice faltered a moment while a sly smile crept over his false mouth. ‘…inform you of Nie Mingjue’s plans, so that you may prevent them from succeeding.’
‘You filthy rat!’ Xichen exclaimed. ‘You distasteful piece of vermin…!’
Jin Guangshan neighed his head. ‘Lan-zongzhu. I’d heard of your new position. And may I say you’ve never looked better.’
Xichen felt himself turn red, not so much with embarrassment as with the hotness of anger. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Wen Ruohan grabbed him by his collar and jerked him towards himself.
‘And yet, he needs to be reminded of his place,’ Wen Ruohan hissed. ‘Down, A-Huan, now! If you know what’s good for you…!’
Xichen gasped for breath: while Wen Ruohan’s fingers remained curled around the silver collar, it didn’t leave much room for his air pipe. Knowing he would be receiving much worse if he refused, he lowered himself onto his front, until he lay at Wen Ruohan’s feet, flat on the obsidian tiles. Wen Ruohan slowly released the silver ring around his neck and put his foot on him instead, placing it high on his back, between his shoulder blades.
‘Excuse the interruption,’ he said, while Xichen clenched his jaw in anger. ‘My slave has a tendency to forget he is no longer a person but a tool.’
‘Yet you’ve done an impressive job, my lord. Jade is such a difficult material: it does not yield easily.’
Xichen could hear the smugness in Wen Ruohan’s voice: ‘Yes, that is so.’ He paused a moment to change his position, adding more weight to Xichen’s back. ‘So tell me: what is it that you have information on?’
‘Red Cliff Pass.’
The words send a shudder through Xichen’s body, and he sucked in his breath audibly.
‘Tell me everything,’ Wen Ruohan demanded.
---
Several months later, in the carriage, Xichen looked at his brother, who sat opposite him - arms locked in a pair of wooden stocks besides his head, just like his own – and he felt infinitely tired and utterly spent. He hadn’t spoken for hours on end in a long time, and reliving everything cost him far more energy than he had anticipated. He slumped against the unrelenting wooden side of the bumpy carriage and closed his eyes, and he could practically hear Wangji think.
‘Red Cliff Pass,’ his brother echoed eventually. ‘So it was Jin Guanshan who gave us away! He must have been the one to tell Wen Ruohan of our whereabouts too!’
‘Yes.’ Xichen opened his eyes, and he and his brother had another one of their silent conversations. His brother understood, then, that Jin Guangshan had accomplished by undertaking the journey to the Nightless City was to expose himself as a spy, as Xichen and Nie Mingjue had expected. They’d fed him wrong information about their strategy for retaking Red Cliff Pass – which was a fool’s errant they were never truly going to pursue. And Nie Mingjue was aware of Jin Guangshan’s double facedness now too: Xichen hadn’t even had to relay that to him.
‘And the second time?’ Wangji asked. ‘You said he visited the Unclean Realm twice?’
‘The second time, he came to inform Wen Ruohan of Nie Huaisang’s whereabouts. He knew we were sending him away with Uncle.’ Here Xichen’s voice turned thick, and he could see the horror reflected in Wangji’s eyes.
‘No!’
Xichen nodded. He and Nie Mingjue had fed that information to Jin Guangshan too, hoping to set up an ambush, led by Lan Qiren. But the plan had failed. Jin Guangshan took the bait to Wen Ruohan and Wen Ruohan send Wen Xu and Wen Zhuliu to capture Nie Huaisang. The decoy – the younger Nie was never even close – managed to get away, but Uncle…
Lan Qiren, to their knowledge, had never made it back to the Sunshot Camp.
Notes:
And that's Xichen's story! I've written a few chapters of the next arc, but I want to write a few more before I start posting just to make sure I have the plot working nicely before I have to go back and make edits. Until then: thank you so much for reading and following and you will hear from me again soon <3
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 6 Sun 26 May 2024 04:07PM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 6 Sat 20 Apr 2024 07:15PM UTC
Last Edited Sat 20 Apr 2024 07:41PM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 6 Sun 26 May 2024 04:15PM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 6 Mon 27 May 2024 08:27PM UTC
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Jeanne_Gabrielle on Chapter 6 Fri 10 May 2024 02:14PM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 6 Sun 26 May 2024 08:21PM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 7 Tue 21 May 2024 08:04PM UTC
Last Edited Sun 26 May 2024 11:10AM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 7 Sun 26 May 2024 03:39PM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 7 Mon 27 May 2024 08:26PM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 7 Mon 27 May 2024 10:04PM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 7 Tue 28 May 2024 07:04AM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 7 Wed 19 Jun 2024 09:38AM UTC
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ElderQueen on Chapter 7 Wed 19 Jun 2024 09:57AM UTC
Last Edited Wed 19 Jun 2024 09:59AM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 7 Wed 19 Jun 2024 12:25PM UTC
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ElDiablito_SF on Chapter 7 Thu 23 May 2024 04:36PM UTC
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Foregone_Shadow on Chapter 7 Sun 26 May 2024 03:37PM UTC
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