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Jing Yuan feels old.
He knows — objectively, of course — that he’s not actually old. Thirty-seven is by all accounts still fairly young.
Regardless, after fifteen years of active duty in the military, Jing Yuan’s joints ache terribly. His body is scarred from too many injuries to count, strands of stress-induced grey only hidden by the fact that Jing Yuan’s always had silver hair. And ever since a stray bullet had lodged itself in Jing Yuan’s hip during a shoot-out, not even surgery could restore him to his former mobility, resulting in an honourable early discharge. Meaning that despite being called in as an occasional military consultant, he is, essentially, retired. A veteran, so to speak.
It’s been strange, getting reacquainted with civilian life when he’s spent so long operating under a strict structure and constant duress.
There are many nights where he wakes up to the phantom noise of roaring alarm sirens, up on his feet before he can even register where he is. It’s only when his eyes adjust to the dark that he realises he’s at home, that his uniform has long since been tucked away within his closet to collect dust. His pulse still thunders in his ears when he sags back down into bed, the wound on his hip aching something fierce as he fights to calm down. On most of those nights, he gives up on sleeping entirely and decides to get an early start instead, channelling his adrenaline into a light workout.
The strangest thing about returning to this life, however, are the desires it’s awakened within him.
Mainly, the desire for children of his own.
It’s not something Jing Yuan had ever seriously thought of when he was younger. It might have crossed his mind fleetingly, but his younger self was far more focused on completing his studies. And when he’d joined the military shortly after his graduation, any musings of starting a family were pushed firmly to the back of his mind.
Now that he’s back, and his life has slowed to a leisurely place that allows for far too much time to spend on introspection, it’s like he can’t stop thinking about it. And with it, all his insecurities seem to have resurfaced as well.
It’s not wrong to say that Jing Yuan isn’t exactly what one would picture when thinking of a typical Omega.
Despite how far society’s come in terms of accepting Omegas as more than just the meek, submissive stereotype the second gender is plagued by, it remains true that there are certain things inherently associated with them. Omegas are meant to have soft curves where Jing Yuan has rigid muscles, their skin smooth where Jing Yuan’s has been mangled and scarred over.
He thinks of the Omegas he sees on TV with their gentle features and pleasing smiles, watches how their dainty hands glide featherlight over their Alpha’s muscled back during a heated scene. Then he looks at his own hands, calloused and rough, knuckles gnarled by how many times they’ve been split open over the years.
Jing Yuan’s physical strength, his imposing height and firm build, all of it had been praised in the military. A lot of his colleagues, those under his command as well as those above him, often expressed their admiration of Jing Yuan’s ability to rise in the ranks. Though Omegas are no longer uncommon in the army, they rarely make it past the soldier rank, much less get sent into active war zones as a squadron leader like Jing Yuan had.
And Jing Yuan takes pride in his achievements, in the medals and titles he’s earned, the many lives he’d saved in his fifteen years of service. Of course, he does.
But there’s a nagging voice in his head now. That all of it had been a waste somehow. Because maybe there had been a time where Jing Yuan was desirable as an Omega, back when his skin was still devoid of the echoes of war immortalised on his flesh like a brand. A time where he’d been smaller, his curves more supple, golden eyes less muddied by the nightmares he’s witnessed, the ones that plague him in his sleep.
Now, Jing Yuan looks in the mirror and can’t help but think of himself as damaged goods.
Ruined.
He places a hand — work-worn, fingers crooked from broken bones not properly reset — on his stomach and tries to imagine cradling a bump instead of the solid lines of his abdomen. His inner Omega brightens at the thought, brimming with warmth. But to Jing Yuan it feels wrong, off, like his body’s just not right.
He tries to imagine another pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, a chin propped on his shoulder, the uptick of a gentle smile directed toward Jing Yuan’s reflection, and finds that he can’t.
It’s 5:30 a.m.
Jing Yuan’s already down in the kitchen, a small towel tossed over his shoulder to wipe at his sweat as he waits for his coffee to brew. The machine he has is old, sputtering something fierce as it struggles through pouring out a cup.
Leant against the counter, Jing Yuan glances at the weary thing with a hint of pity, the meagre daylight seeping in through the balcony door falling in such a way that he sees himself reflected on the machine’s dark surface. Oddly distorted, rattling along with its movements.
He quickly looks away, lest he can dissolve into a downwards spiral over comparing himself to a damn coffee machine. Christ, maybe the lack of sleep really is getting to him. Heaving a sigh, Jing Yuan rubs at his eyes.
As the last of the noise finally fizzles out, he reaches for the mug, holding it between his hands for a moment to savour the placid heat. The warmth bleeds through his palms, loosening the stiffness he always feels in his joints whenever the weather’s a little cold.
His gaze trickles toward the view from his balcony, overcast skies painted a light grey with the promise of early autumn showers. This early, the world seems so quiet, as if time had somehow slowed for a moment to allow for a lull in the chaos of life. Jing Yuan finds he appreciates the serenity of it, despite the restless night that had ripped him from sleep in the first place.
He watches as the nearby trees sway in the wind, leaves rusting as if caressed by a gentle touch. The breeze that drifts in cools the light sheen of sweat on his bare skin, goosebumps left in its wake. Still, Jing Yuan does not shift from his place even as a shiver runs down his spine, sipping his coffee to ward off the chill instead.
He jumps at the sound of his phone buzzing, the sound of it amplified in the silence previously broken only by the melody of songbirds and the faraway rumble of thunder. Some of his coffee spills over onto his hand, and Jing Yuan hisses out of habit more than pain, his skin too hardened over the years to feel much of a sting.
Setting the mug down, Jing Yuan briefly wipes off his fingers on the towel draped over his shoulder to reach for his phone. His screen lights up to display a small string of messages.
Jingliu:
Cancel whatever plans you might have today and come over for tea.
Jingliu:
The wife wants to see you.
Jing Yuan feels himself soften, breathing out a quiet chuckle into the early morning air. It’s always a strange comfort to know that despite the fact she’s no longer Jing Yuan’s commanding officer, Jingliu is as clean-cut and straightforward as ever. Unlike Jing Yuan, she’s still active in the military, though she’s stepped down considerably in her role in the past two years considering her and Baiheng are now parents.
He knows good and well that any attempt to object to Jingliu’s invitation (read: order) is futile, so Jing Yuan quickly types out a reply.
You:
Haha, it’s nice to hear from you, Jingliu. I’m presuming I have no choice in the matter?
Jingliu:
Of course not. And don’t concern yourself with bringing anything either. We’ve got it covered.
You:
Alright, alright. Roger that. Tell Baiheng I’ll be there :)
Jingliu:
See you at 16:00.
Jing Yuan places his phone down, attention pulled to the open balcony doors as a swallow perches on the railing. The dark blue feathers on its back glisten iridescent under the slow rising sun, fluffing itself up with a greeting chirp.
A soft huff of laughter parts Jing Yuan´s lips, strolling over to the little animal.
“Good morning to you too,” he mutters, daring to rest his arms on the space next to it. To his delight, the bird doesn't move, simply tilting its head curiously.
No longer within the shelter of his kitchen, the morning chill is more palpable, thin hairs on his skin rising to attention with the caress of the cold wind. The joints in his hands ache weakly in protest once more, but Jing Yuan ignores the pinprick of pain to extend his fingers toward the small creature.
He half-expects it to flutter away, nearly startling on reflex when thin talons curl around his skin as the bird takes its place on his hand. Jing Yuan is careful to move slow as he brings it closer to his face, eyes taking in the splash of reddish orange beneath its
“Keeping me company, are you?” he asks, chuckling when he gets another quiet chirp in reply. “How nice of you. It gets quite lonely for me here. . .”
Jing Yuan trails off, biting the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Has he really taken to conversing with birds now? Perhaps Yingxing is right after all when he insists on Jing Yuan taking up a hobby that will force him to socialise, that spending all his time locked away in his house will end with him becoming a crazy old cat lady (Or perhaps bird lady then? Though Jing Yuan can´t say he'd mind having a feline companion either).
He lets out a sigh, watching as the small animal ruffles its feathers once more.
“Are you here alone, little friend?”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, there's a call from the nearby tree, another swallow bursting forth from amongst the foliage. The bird resting on the crook of his gnarled finger responds in a matching melody, and takes flight to join its companion, the two swirling around each other in a familiar dance before disappearing into the distance.
Jing Yuan is left alone to gaze after them, that same unsettling emptiness taking shape in his chest once more, aching like a scar never properly healed.
“Right,” he breathes out, heat curling into a faint wisp of white in the crisp morning air. “Of course not. . .”
He leans his elbow onto the metal railing, chin propped on his palm as he watches the two love birds disappear into the distant clouds. As the warmth of the sunrise settles on his face, Jing Yuan closes his eyes, the space behind his eyelids painted gold under the light.
If only I had someone to fly away with too.
His friends’ house is livelier now than it had once been.
Jing Yuan sits on the floor next to their coffee table and ignores the slight twinge in his hips in favour of enjoying the chaos. Little Bailu and Diting, the puppy Baiheng had insisted on getting for their daughter, are currently running around him like a small whirlwind.
The off-beat melody of childish giggles blends with high-pitched barks in a symphony with no rhyme or rhythm, bouncing off the living room walls. She’s barely two years old, but Bailu is already the spitting image of Baiheng, her thick twin braids the same shade of lilac as that of her mother. There are hints of Jingliu’s features on her face, in the narrow stretch of her nose, the shape of her brow bones, but it’s clear to see who she takes after.
When Bailu laughs, the sound is loud, her body shaking with the force of it. Bright and beautiful.
Jing Yuan loves her.
True to his nature, Jing Yuan is very indulgent with her too. He just can’t help it. When Bailu abandons her little game of chase to stumble onto Jing Yuan’s lap, inadvertently kicking against the injury hidden under his clothes, he suppresses a grunt. Even as she settles and starts toying with his hair, tugging at the strands, all he does is laugh.
“Bailu,” comes Jingliu’s call, a warning in her tone. She’s sat on the couch, posture somewhat rigid even in her most relaxed state, her wife curled up against her side and silently observing the scene with a smile. With his playmate otherwise occupied, Diting slumps at the foot of the couch, breathing out a huff before he dozes off, exhausted.
“It’s fine,” Jing Yuan reassures.
He adjusts Bailu on his lap, balancing her on his thigh so he can loosen the knot in his red ribbon until his hair cascades in long waves down his shoulders. Bailu’s lips part in fascination, a gasp drawn from her as she reaches for the silvery strands.
“Do you like my hair, Lulu?”
“Yeah! Yuan-gege’s hair is so pretty,” Bailu nods enthusiastically, resembling a little bobblehead doll.
Jing Yuan’s smile widens, gently pinching those cute rice-cake cheeks between his fingers. Really, it would be more proper for her to address him as uncle rather than older brother given his age. But when Bailu first learned the meaning of the word she’d instantly pointed a finger at Jing Yuan and exclaimed Gege!
Jing Yuan never had the heart to correct her after that.
“Lulu is so kind,” Jing Yuan coos at her, “Thank you, sweetheart.”
She giggles again, giving him a toothy grin that shows the gaps in her gums where her teeth have yet to grow in. “Yuan-gege, can I braid your hair?”
“Bailu wants to learn how to do her own hair because she’s a big girl now,” Baiheng cuts in, leaning forward in her seat to pick up her cup of tea. She throws Jing Yuan a look which tells him this must be a very prominent topic in their household as of late. “So she’s been practising braids on anyone she can get her hands on. She’s very dedicated to mastering her craft.”
Jing Yuan laughs, tilting his head toward the young child in his lap once more. “Does little Lulu want to use me as practice then?”
“Yes! Please, Yuan-gege.” Her sea-green eyes peer up at him, cheeks puffed up and lips pouted. The puppy dog eyes are wholly unnecessary considering how much Jing Yuan spoils her, but his heart squeezes with fondness regardless.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Clapping her hands together in glee, Bailu procures a hair tie from the breast pocket of her overalls and sets to work. Jingliu lets out a quiet scoff, one leg kicking out to rest over the other.
“I swear she learned how to make that face from you,” she mutters, though whether she’s referring to Baiheng or Jing Yuan is a little unclear. Maybe both. Baiheng’s face is amused as she meets Jing Yuan’s gaze, and they share a soft chuckle.
Yeah, most likely both.
A few minutes later, Jing Yuan finds himself with half of his hair weaved into a braid that sits loosely at his scalp, strands escaping the sides. Bailu’s hands were a bit clumsy in her movements, sometimes tugging too tight or carelessly yanking the plait apart to start anew. Jing Yuan bore it all with a smile, a part of him silently dreading having to comb out all the tangles and knots later.
Suddenly, Bailu’s arms drop to her sides, an exhausted huff blown out through her nose. Her face scrunches up with the tell-tale signs of a grumpy mood that proceeds the need for a nap.
“Yuan-gege has too much hair. . .” she mumbles, looking awfully put-out. “It’s too hard. . .”
“You’re right,” Jing Yuan nods, quickly drawing her into a hug and nuzzling his nose to her temple. “I do have too much hair. It’s why I’m really lazy and only ever pull it up with a ribbon. . .”
He whispers the last part in her ear, conspiratorial as if it’s a secret shared between the two of them. When Bailu giggles in reply, Jing Yuan beams in victory, though the sound is quickly followed by a yawn as the little girl rubs at her eyes.
“Okay, nap time for you, Lulu,” Baiheng announces, about to stand when Jingliu lifts a hand to stop her. A quick glance passes between them that Jing Yuan has no time to decipher.
“Stay here. I’ll get her settled.”
Rounding the table, Jingliu bends down to lift her daughter from Jing Yuan’s lap, shifting the little girl onto her hip with practised ease. If anyone had told Jing Yuan in his younger years that his military commander would one day be a dedicated mother, well. . . let’s just say, Jing Yuan would’ve been hard pressed to believe them.
Jingliu isn’t exactly the most nurturing type. Jing Yuan shudders just to think of the amount of drills she had him do, waking up each morning to perform at least a hundred push-ups before breakfast.
Only when he rose to general was he able to escape her clutches, still a rank below but finally feeling more her equal. He can still picture the subtle hint of pride on her face during his award ceremony, the nod of approval she’d sent his way. Jing Yuan thinks perhaps that had been the moment he’d understood clearly how much Jingliu really did care, even if sometimes it was hard to see.
Now, pale red eyes sweep over Jing Yuan as if assessing him once more. The man tilts his head, a question on the tip of his tongue.
“Say goodbye to Jing Yuan, Bailu,” Jingliu prompts her daughter, giving her a quick squeeze. Bailu’s head has dropped to rest on her mother’s shoulder, eyes bleary as they look down at Jing Yuan.
“Bye bye, gege. . .”
His heart warms at the girl’s tired tone, words already slurring together. Smiling, he raises a hand to send her a small wave. “Bye bye, Lulu. Thank you for the braid, sweetheart.”
He gets a hum in response as Bailu is carried off, unable to tuck away the longing look as he watches them go. That familiar ache from this morning, the one that’s settled deep in his bones from the moment he’d returned to a normal life, rears his head once more.
“Hey. . .”
“Hm?”
Jing Yuan turns his head toward Baiheng, hoping whatever forlorn expression he’d been wearing is quickly covered up by an impassive mask. From the way Baiheng’s eyes soften, he doubts the attempt is successful. It seems that however much he tries to appear otherwise, Jing Yuan’s emotions are painfully easy to read.
Baiheng pats the now empty space beside her on the couch. “Come here.”
Letting out a heavy exhale, Jing Yuan resigns himself to his fate. He regrets sitting on the ground as soon as he starts to stand up, legs half-way numb and his wound flaring up with a vengeance as if to punish him. Jing Yuan grits his teeth as he makes his way over to the couch to sit down. Diting seems to have scampered off again in the meanwhile, likely following Jingliu to Bailu’s room. He’s already received a slew of photos featuring the two sleeping side by side in the girl’s bed, making for an adorable sight.
He goes easily when Baiheng tugs him a little closer, offering no protest as her nimble fingers get to work on loosening the messy braid. In fact, he leans in, seeking out the touch he’s too ashamed to admit he’s starved for.
“Jing Yuan. . .” Baiheng’s voice is amiable, probing. “Are you still thinking of having kids of your own?”
Jing Yuan tenses against his will before forcing himself to relax. They’ve talked about the topic before, most of it spilling out during a celebratory night after his retirement in which he’d downed one too many glasses of baijiu. A twinge of embarrassment lingers when he remembers how him cooing at new pictures of little Bailu had dissolved into his tearful confession for wanting his own kid, sniffling pathetically into Baiheng’s shoulder.
He’s honestly glad he can’t recall the look on Jingliu’s face, but the knowledge that they had to manhandle him into their guest bed that night is bad enough.
Clearing his throat, Jing Yuan glances to the side. “Ah, yeah I. . . I guess I am.”
Baiheng hums. She’s careful not to tug too hard on Jing Yuan’s scalp as she separates the tangled strands, hands moving with the practised ease of a mother well-versed in taming her daughter’s hair.
It stirs at a memory hidden in the depths of Jing Yuan’s mind. The motion similar enough to that of his own mother braiding the hair from his face on hot summer days. He can almost feel the faint scratch of her manicured nails, the soft lull of her voice as she talks, the smell of sunscreen and the remnants of an orange flavoured ice lolly still sticky on his lips. His breath trembles on the next exhale, the knowledge of his now strained relationship with his parents sitting like lead in his stomach.
“And have you found anyone yet…? You know, gone on any dates since we last spoke?”
The question drags Jing Yuan from his thoughts. He shakes his head, letting out a pitiful chuckle.
“No. . . I don’t know, I don’t really get all these new dating apps. And either way, I feel like everyone’s too young for me. . . Who would want to date a tired old Omega looking to settle down with a kid? Especially one who’s a war veteran with a busted hip. . . ”
A pinprick of pain shoots through his scalp as Baiheng yanks the next strand out of the braid with a lot less care. He yelps, caught off-guard, turning to Baiheng with a look of betrayal. His friend narrows her eyes, giving him a firm smack on the shoulder as well.
“Ow! What’s with the sudden abuse?”
“I hate it when you talk like that,” Baiheng huffs, “Like you aren’t an absolute catch. And how dare you call yourself old? I’m a year older than you, you brat!”
Jing Yuan lets out a snort, shoulders feeling lighter for a moment at Baiheng’s playful indignation. It’s true that she’s never been fond of Jing Yuan’s self-deprecating comments, which is why he prefers to keep them to himself most of the time. But recently, with all his thoughts inevitably ending in the desire to start a family, he can’t help it.
He can’t help but feel like he’s already too late. That he’s missed out, life passing him by in the time it had taken him to notice, too caught up in the weight of his self-imposed responsibility.
There is no childhood sweetheart awaiting his return like Baiheng had been for Jingliu, nor is he able to happily live out his retirement in a foreign country with nothing but his creations for company as Yingxing is. What his heart aches for is a fairytale ending; falling head over heels in love and letting that love blossom into a child, or two, or three.
The reality, however, is that he’s pushing forty, has little relationship experience to speak of, and is basically the exact opposite of what people want in an Omega.
His expression must have turned sombre, because Baiheng’s tone has softened considerably as she nudges him “Yuan-er. . .”
“I. . .” Jing Yuan sighs, mumbling his words, “I just feel like I’m running out of time.”
Baiheng settles a hand on his shoulder, having finished loosening the braid so Jing Yuan’s hair now falls in somewhat tighter waves down the side of his face. She kneads at his muscles, the lavender notes of her scent seeping into the air in an attempt to soothe.
“Well, you know. . . if you really do want a child of your own, there’s other options. Like those clinics for unmated Omegas who still want to have their own pups.” Before Jing Yuan can utter his first protest, she continues. “They assign you a heat partner based on your tastes, and they make them pass all sorts of evaluations first. And you can always back out at any time. . . It’s all very professional.”
Jing Yuan shifts on the couch, uncomfortable at the thought of sharing his heat with a stranger, much less having their pup. Baiheng places another hand on his arm, the passifying nature of her scent doing its job to keep him calm.
“And they can be as involved as you want in a pregnancy. Whether you choose to go it completely alone or want them to check in every few months, it’s all up to you. You’d have total control. . .”
“I— I don’t know, jiejie. . . It just feels like—”
It feels like I’m reduced to forcing someone into it, is what Jing Yuan wants to say but doesn’t, knowing that to Baiheng’s ears it’ll sound like he’s devaluing himself once again. He glances at her, golden eyes holding a hint of apology at rejecting the idea.
“It’s okay.” Baiheng nods, mouth ticking up in a warm smile. “But you know I can’t help but worry. Especially now that you’re off your suppressants and experiencing your first real heat in years. . .”
Head lowered, Jing Yuan fiddles with a loose thread on the couch. His last heat had been in his early twenties, but he still remembers the painful cramps and mounting desperation, the way the smell of citrus and honey had turned cloyingly sweet, overwhelming. Even then, it likely won’t come close to the intensity of this heat.
The thought is daunting, to say the least.
“At least consider taking on a heat partner, hm? Even without the chance of pregnancy. . . they offer those services too.”
He knows the suggestion is born out of nothing but his friend’s genuine concern, but Jing Yuan doubts he’ll be able to stomach being so vulnerable with a person he’s not sure he can trust. No matter the tests and paperwork, the reality is that Jing Yuan will constantly be on the lookout for that subtle hint of disgust in the Alpha’s eyes at his unsightly scars and hardened features.
Jing Yuan would rather face the agony of his own heat alone than risk humiliation like that. He doesn’t think his fragile heart could take it.
Still, he nods and gives Baiheng a half-smile, if only to assuage her worries. “Mn. I’ll think about it. . . And— and the other stuff too.”
“Good.” Baiheng grins, leaning in to press an affectionate kiss between his brows, the resulting chuckle breaking the remaining tension in the air.
“Now, Yuan-er, my dearest.” She takes his hands, her own looking almost comically small as they attempt to cover his crooked fingers. Her eyes take on a pleading quality eerily similar to the one he’d witnessed on Bailu earlier, which can only spell trouble. “Will you please try some of the steamed buns I baked for today? I made so many but Jingliu refuses to eat any because she says my cooking is ‘hazardous’, which— okay, rude, can you believe my own wife talks to me like that? Anyway, I tried this new recipe and—”
Jing Yuan listens patiently as Baiheng dissolves into a rant, recognizing the topic shift for what it is and feeling impossibly fond at his friend’s thoughtfulness. In truth, he doesn’t particularly disagree with Jingliu’s assessment, having experienced Baiheng’s not-so-stellar cooking for himself a few times already.
But, well, he’s always had a hard time saying no.
“Sure,” he says once Baiheng finishes her little jabber, hoping his iron stomach will rise to the occasion once more. “I’ll try some.”
Baiheng practically beams at him, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “And that’s why you’re my favourite!”
Jing Yuan laughs. For the first time in days, his heart feels a little less heavy.
Jing Yuan’s been standing in the supermarket aisle for at least five minutes now.
To anyone else, it might seem like he’s deep in debate with himself on whether or not to buy the low fat greek yoghurt in front of him. The reality, however, is that Jing Yuan’s thoughts have long since strayed from anything to do with the contents of the crumpled grocery list held between his fingers. Instead, Jing Yuan is once again thinking of the fertility clinic.
He knows he’d brushed it off when Baiheng brought it up, quick to do away with the idea. It all just seemed so terribly impersonal, not to mention the fact that he’d practically be forcing an Alpha to mate with him. Okay, it wouldn’t really be forcing them considering it’s their job. And Jing Yuan knows there’s many people who use these clinics, like Omegas who’d rather raise their pups without an Alpha, or non-traditional couples looking for an easy way to get pregnant without using more expensive procedures. But still.
It just doesn’t feel like something he could do.
He knows he’s always been a bit of a hopeless romantic, and both Yingxing and Jingliu have always given him massive shit for it, but he can’t help it. Jing Yuan likes the idea of being taken on dates, of playful flirting and lingering touches and standing outside his door at the end of the night waiting for a kiss. He adores the thought of getting to know someone inside and out, slowly peeling away their layers until you can make yourself at home in their skin, of learning to love someone so intimately it becomes as easy as breathing.
Jing Yuan wants the kind of love that people write stories about, the love that’s inspired just about a billion songs, and books and movies. And yes, maybe that’s cheesy or corny or whatever, but it’s what he wants. Sue him.
The problem is that he’s never even come close to anything remotely like that. Sure, he’s had crushes and short-term flings in the past. But the military doesn’t exactly allow for much of a love life, and before that Jing Yuan had cared more for his studies than anything else. He can’t help but regret it somewhat that he hadn’t cared enough to pursue anything more serious while he’d still been younger.
Now, Jing Yuan is steadily coasting toward forty with no prospects of a partner, much less someone willing to start a family with him. Which is fine, obviously, if that’s not something you want. But Jing Yuan does want. He wants very badly, actually.
Jing Yuan heaves a sigh, still staring aimlessly at the yoghurt selection. Christ, he can’t even remember the last time he’d gone out with someone. He really is hopeless.
Once again, his mind wanders back to the fertility clinic. Considering Jing Yuan really wants kids of his own, and knowing it’ll only get harder for him to have a healthy pregnancy the older he gets, it’s a sensible choice. He knows this.
And. . . Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad? After all, having a kid doesn’t automatically exclude him from the dating market. Then again, adding the single parent label as well as the stretchmarks that’ll undoubtedly join his collection of gnarly scars and his overall non-typical Omegan features definitely won’t do him any favours.
Maybe he should just—
“Jing Yuan?”
Jing Yuan is pulled from his quickly spiralling thoughts by a voice he doesn’t recognize. With a brief shake of his head, Jing Yuan turns to face the stranger who for some reason knows his name, only to freeze when he realises it’s no stranger at all.
Pale skin as smooth as jade, thick black hair and those sharp, piercing teal eyes. There’s really no mistaking him, but Jing Yuan still feels stunned. He looks so different from how Jing Yuan remembers him.
“. . . Heng-er? Is that really you?”
A small smile curves up the boy’s— Er, well, man, Jing Yuan should say — lips.
“Yes, Yuan-ge. It’s me.”
Dan Heng. The little kid next door, the one Jing Yuan had babysat many a time back in his teen years for some extra pocket money.
Despite how long it’s been since Jing Yuan had moved out for university and subsequently enlisted, essentially leaving his family home behind, he still holds a lot of memories of Dan Heng.
How could he not? Dan Heng really was a very cute kid, always following Jing Yuan around like a little duckling. Their parents would sometimes teasingly poke fun at Dan Heng for his “crush” on Jing Yuan, since the boy only ever seemed to be on his best behaviour whenever Jing Yuan was around. Obviously, Jing Yuan waved all that off with a laugh, especially when it seemed to make Dan Heng embarrassed, his small pointy ears so red they were almost steaming.
With eleven years between them, they shouldn’t have had much in common. But even at his youngest Dan Heng would always sit and listen to Jing Yuan talk about his interests, hanging onto every word just as he would when Jing Yuan read him bedtime stories. It was admittedly very adorable, and it wouldn’t be remiss to say that little Heng-er was part of why Jing Yuan’s desire for kids of his own had reignited all these years later.
When Jing Yuan left for university at nineteen, Dan Heng had been distraught. Wailing as he’d clung to Jing Yuan’s jeans, his face scrunched up, covered in tears and little snot bubbles as he’d sobbed into the fabric. No matter how much his parents tried to cajole him with gentle words and the promise of treats, Dan Heng would not budge until Jing Yuan hoisted him up into his arms.
He’d pinched Dan Heng’s pudgy cheek, laughing softly as he pleaded with him not to cry, that he’d be back to visit.
You won’t forget me? little Heng-er asked tremulously, big blue-green eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
Of course not. I’ll come back to visit all the time, Jing Yuan promised as he ruffled those fluffy black curls, the sight of Dan Heng so sad tugging terribly at his heartstrings.
And he’d kept that promise. Or rather, he’d tried to, at first. Jing Yuan visited home whenever his schedule allowed, often staying there for a large portion of his summer holidays. He’d always make sure to spend some time with Dan Heng as well, surprised whenever Dan Heng sprung up another few centimetres in his absence.
But then graduation rolled around, followed by Jing Yuan’s decision to enlist in the military right after. Bit by bit, the time in between Jing Yuan’s visits went from a few weeks to a few months to a few years. And that was that.
The last time Jing Yuan remembers seeing Dan Heng, he’d been just about to turn eighteen, still brace-faced with baby fat clinging stubbornly to his cheeks.
Now, he looks nothing like the Dan Heng in Jing Yuan’s memory. The man standing before him has grown into his build, soft curves giving way to elegant slopes and straight lines. He’s got a sharp jawline and even sharper eyes, framed by long, dark lashes and a dash of red eyeliner that contrasts mesmerising turquoise irises.
He’s grown tall as well, though he still doesn’t reach Jing Yuan’s impressive height. Then again, very few people ever do. Despite being the one currently looking down at him, however, Jing Yuan feels strangely small under the intensity of his gaze. A butterfly pinned to a corkboard, pierced straight through.
Because there’s one more — very important — detail that’s different about Dan Heng now.
He’s an Alpha.
Jing Yuan can smell it on him. The strong, clean scent of mint, green tea and sea salt, at once carrying a hint of bite and acting as a soothing balm. So befitting of his cool jade-like skin, those eyes reflective of the ocean’s surface.
He hadn’t presented yet the last time they crossed paths, but Jing Yuan fervently wishes he’d found out before running into him out of the blue like this. He feels wholly unprepared for the way Dan Heng’s scent seems to invade him, like a fog settling over his mind, making it hard to think.
It’s just his luck that this encounter would happen right when Jing Yuan’s hormones are acting up, his inner Omega’s desire for a mate and child slowly preparing his body for the first real heat he’s experienced in years. He still gets a little nauseous whenever he remembers he’s no longer on his suppressants now, fearing what will happen if he still hasn’t made a decision on whether he’ll take a heat partner when the time comes.
When Dan Heng’s nostrils flare ever so slightly, Jing Yuan realises his scent has subconsciously gotten sweeter, enticing. God, he thinks, how mortifying. Shame washes over him like a bucket of ice-cold water, and Jing Yuan reigns in both his thoughts and his scent.
Dan Heng is a beautiful, young alpha in his prime; he must have suitors throwing themselves at his feet left and right. For Jing Yuan’s thoughts to even slightly wander into lecherous territory when there’s over a decade between them. . . What a horrible, shameful old man he is.
He forces a gentle — if somewhat shaky — smile, “Heng-er. . . It really has been too long. What a coincidence, us running into each other like this. Have you been well?”
Dan Heng’s lips curve up into more of a smile. The expression looks nice on him. “Yes, too long indeed. I’ve been good these past few years. What about you? Are you currently off-duty?”
“Ah,” Jing Yuan shakes his head, the scar on his hip throbbing with a dull ache that serves as a reminder. “No, I was discharged at the beginning of the year. Wounded in combat. I’m. . . retired now.”
There’s a spike in Dan Heng’s scent. Worry. His smile morphs into a thin line, taking a step closer, somewhat crowding the older against the shelves. Jing Yuan feels the urge to draw away, if only to better conceal the way his own scent thickens at the Alpha’s concern.
“I see. . .” Sea-glass eyes flit over Jing Yuan’s figure before returning to his face. “Are you alright? If— If the injury was bad enough to force you into retirement, it can’t have been anything small.”
The way Dan Heng stares at him now is reminiscent of his younger years; intense, gaze unwavering. Back then, Jing Yuan had thought it quite cute how the boy would always look so serious when listening to him talk. Now that he’s grown up, the effect has shifted so Jing Yuan squirms under its ardour.
He clears his throat before breathing out a light chuckle, “A bullet to the hip. It took some extensive surgery to get all the pieces out. I did a few months of physical therapy after, but in the end it wasn’t enough to restore full mobility.”
At the growing distress evident in Dan Heng’s expression, Jing Yuan hurries to continue, “Ah, it doesn’t hold me back much in everyday life though, I promise. I got lucky, really.”
Had the bullet hit his kidney, only a scarce few inches away from the actual entry wound, it’s likely Jing Yuan would’ve died, so he really had been lucky. Jing Yuan elects to keep this little sliver of information to himself, however, not wanting to risk seeing any more concern colour Dan Heng’s face.
Dan Heng nods slowly, the sharpness of mint in his scent fading somewhat. Except now, his lips tug into a frown, glancing down at the assortment of yoghurts beside them instead.
“I wish I’d known. . . I would’ve come visit you—”
The younger cuts himself off, as if realising halfway through his sentence that perhaps he has no right to voice such a sentiment, not after the two of them have drifted into near-strangers. Jing Yuan’s heart squeezes with affection, something deeper within him preening at the thought of having Dan Heng care for him, fuss over him. He makes sure to beat back those thoughts.
“There’s no way you could have known. Not many people did. I—,” Jing Yuan stalls. Logically, he knows it makes sense that he didn’t send word to Dan Heng of all people, but he still feels a jab of guilt. “Anyway. . . I’m doing fine now. Honest.”
There’s a small lull in the conversation as Dan Heng seems to war with himself, lips parted on words that don’t quite make it out. Jing Yuan decides to relieve him from battle.
“It really is nice to have run into you like this. Are you living in the city now?”
The question coaxes Dan Heng out of his own head, the hard lines of his face softened as he looks up at Jing Yuan once more. “I am, yes. I was offered a research position at the Luofu’s science institute after my graduation, so I moved into the city.”
Jing Yuan’s eyebrows lift, lips parting in a grin. “Working on a phD now, are you?”
He notes the subtle way Dan Heng’s chest puffs up even as his expression turns bashful, hand rubbing at his neck. It has the unfortunate side-effect of intensifying his scent, but Jing Yuan dutifully ignores the sudden waft of green tea that hits his nose in favour of focusing on Dan Heng’s words.
“Yeah, I’m planning on writing my dissertation in analytical mass spectrometry.”
“Wow. . .” The pride that coats Jing Yuan’s next exhale is genuine. “That’s incredible. . . Not that I expected anything less, really. You were always such a smart kid.”
“Not a kid anymore,” Dan Heng counters. His tone is not unkind, but there’s something fierce in his gaze as it finds Jing Yuan’s own once more. It forces the older to suppress the urge to swallow, painting on a pleasant smile.
“No. . . not anymore.”
Jing Yuan shifts his weight on his feet, his hip slowly starting to ache at standing in place for so long. He knows he should find a way to cut the conversation short and leave, especially considering the errands he has yet to run. And yet, the words stall in his throat; he doesn’t want to leave, even if the air between them is slightly stifled by the weight of nearly eight years living as strangers.
“Ah, Dan Heng, I—”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
They speak at the same time, sentences overlapping. Jing Yuan’s mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to find an appropriate response. He thinks he must not have heard right.
“. . . Sorry?”
Dan Heng’s throat bobs as he swallows. His ears, still slightly pointed at the tip just like when he was young, are glowing faintly red despite the determined look on his face.
“I said, would you like to have dinner with me?” He pauses, seemingly considering his next words for a moment before adding, “Preferably soon, if possible. . . I don’t want to have to wait too long before seeing you again.”
Jing Yuan blinks.
The world seems to spin a little in his peripheral, as if the Earth had been knocked off its axis by a few degrees. Is this. . . Is Dan Heng asking him out? As in, on a date?
No. There’s no way. Jing Yuan doesn’t let himself entertain the idea any further. Of course it’s not a date, it can’t be. Why would Dan Heng choose to court an Omega like him, his beauty long since jaded and hardened over in a body trained for a battle it can no longer fight? Dan Heng is an Alpha in his prime, and a stunning one at that.
Jing Yuan silently reprimands himself for even having the thought. Dan Heng simply wants them to reconnect, to rebuild the foundation of the friendship they once shared. He’s sweet like that. Always has been.
Ignoring the pang of disappointment in his chest, Jing Yuan softens his expression into a smile once more. “Yes, of course, I’d love to catch up with you properly.”
There’s a notable surge of joy in Dan Heng’s scent, eyes brightening with a glimmer of excitement.
It’s endearing how openly Dan Heng shows his emotions, a stark contrast to his overall cold, somewhat unapproachable exterior. Not that Jing Yuan hasn’t always seen past that stoic facade, but it’s clear to see that Dan Heng has grown more comfortable with himself in the time since he last saw him.
“Great.” Dan Heng reaches inside his jacket, pulling out his phone. He taps at the screen a few times before turning it towards Jing Yuan. “Here. Save your number so I can text you all the details.”
Chuckling softly at Dan Heng’s enthusiasm, Jing Yuan takes the device into his hand. He promptly does not think about the spark of electricity that had shot up his arm when Dan Heng’s fingers brushed his own.
“Taking charge, hm? Not gonna let me do any of the work?”
“Of course.” Dan Heng nods. Then falters a second later, adding, “I mean, as long as it’s alright with you, I’d like to be the one to treat you this time.”
Ah, really, what a gentleman. Whoever ends up as the object of Dan Heng’s courtship one day will be lucky indeed.
Jing Yuan’s heart twinges in his chest at the thought. He enters his contact info into the phone, gnarled fingers clumsy as they slide over the screen. Jing Yuan suddenly finds the sight of badly healed fractures and calluses unsightly, quickly pushing the device back into Dan Heng’s hold before hiding his hands behind his back in a casual gesture.
“That’s fine by me. I’ll be in your care then.”
Jing Yuan immediately regrets his own choice of words, teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheek. He hadn’t meant it like that, of course not, but his hidden desires find a way to slip through the cracks regardless.
Thankfully, Dan Heng doesn’t seem to think anything amiss with the comment. He simply smiles, all innocent sincerity, nodding.
“I’ll do my best.”
They bid their goodbyes soon after, and Jing Yuan spends the rest of his day running his errands with a subtle buzz beneath his skin. When he arrives home just as the colours of dusk paint the sky a hazy violet, he checks his phone to find a message from a new number.
Unknown:
Hey. It’s Dan Heng. Just wanted to text you so you have my number and to tell you again how happy I am to have run into you today. I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon. Goodnight and sleep well ❤
Jing Yuan reads the message over a few times, finger hovering above the little heart at the end. He’s sure Dan Heng simply meant it as a simple affectionate gesture, or perhaps to soften the somewhat dry nature of his texting, but it still makes Jing Yuan’s stomach flip.
He quickly saves the contact, but decides not to answer until the morning, not trusting himself to reply appropriately now that the sun is no longer there to serve as judge and jury for his behaviour. Jing Yuan knows his inhibitions are always loosened after nightfall.
Instead, he shuts off his phone and crawls into bed for an early night.
When he closes his eyes, all he can think of are blue-green eyes and black hair, soft pink lips tugged up in a smile, the ghost of sea salt and green tea chasing him unbidden into his dreams.
God, Jing Yuan laments to himself, This is going to be harder than he thought.
Sweating.
Jing Yuan is sweating. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d ever been so anxious outside of a literal active war zone. Somehow, this feels worse.
Really, he shouldn't be this nervous. Even though they haven’t talked in years, it’s not like Jing Yuan doesn’t know Dan Heng. Except the Dan Heng he’d known was a sweet, awkward, nerdy, harmless little kid. Not the unfairly handsome, coolly collected and self-assured young Alpha he is now.
But tonight is not a date, Jing Yuan reasons with himself. There are no expectations, no need for him to impress or seduce. Despite that Jing Yuan can’t help but want to appear like less of the failure he’s been feeling like as of late. Maybe it’s the nostalgia talking, but Jing Yuan would like for Dan Heng to continue to look up to him in some way, just as he had when he was a kid.
He wants to appear strong, confident; like he’s got his shit together. How embarrassing would it be for Dan Heng to discover that the Yuan-ge he’d once so admired is now little more than a washed up war hero desperate enough to consider resorting to a fertility clinic for a baby because no Alpha will want his mangled body?
The thought alone is mortifying enough.
Jing Yuan will have to be mindful not to accidentally let any of that slip when talking about what’s been going on in their respectives as of late.
With a sigh, Jing Yuan takes one final look in the mirror. He’s managed to style his hair into somewhat of a decent hair-do, pale strands coiled around the floral pin Yingxing had crafted for him long ago. The waistcoat he wears makes the dip above his hips a little more obvious, the deep red a nice contrast to the crisp white shirt underneath. It’s probably the most dressed up he’s been in years apart from the ceremonial uniform he’d worn for special military events.
It may not be a date, but that doesn’t mean Jing Yuan shouldn’t at least try to make an effort.
He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the droplets collecting above his brow. God, he hopes he doesn’t end up chasing Dan Heng off by drowning in his own anxious sweat.
Well, no use dragging it out any longer. He doesn’t want to be late, after all. Grabbing his keys, wallet and a simple cardigan, Jing Yuan makes his way to the address Dan Heng had sent him a few days prior.
The cab he orders drops him off by a rather unassuming building half-hidden by an artful array of shrubbery, situated at a corner near the city’s edge.
As he nears the entrance, Jing Yuan catches sight of Dan Heng waiting outside. His head is lowered to glance at the watch on his wrist, warm orange light spilling out through the shoji doors to paint his profile in a golden hue. It gentles his features even further, a soft haze to the sharp lines, his long, dark lashes more apparent as they rest on the curve of his cheek.
Jing Yuan stops in his tracks at the sight, heart stumbling over the next few mismatched beats.
Seeing him in the supermarket had been one thing, but here, with his hair styled out of his face to reveal his forehead and a fitted black suit that clings to his lithe form, he looks every part the handsome young love interest you’d expect to find in a romance drama. It’s enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, and Jing Yuan is no exception.
For a brief moment, Jing Yuan can nearly delude himself into thinking he really is on his way to a date with a man who seems as if carved out of his own fantasies.
Willing himself to move, Jing Yuan takes another step further. Just then, his injury decides to flare up, sending that same familiar pulsing ache through his body. It serves as a cold dose of reality; that Jing Yuan is not some picture perfect Omega starring as the drama’s lead role, but instead a veteran long past his prime, left clinging to the broken parts of a dream that’s just out of his reach.
“Jing Yuan. . !”
His leg hadn’t given out under the sudden pain, used to it by now, but he must have let slip a sharp hiss of discomfort because now there’s a hand on his arm, Dan Heng’s head ducked to catch his gaze. “Are you okay?”
Jing Yuan waves him off with a lighthearted chuckle. “Fine, fine. Just a misstep.”
By the way Dan Heng’s brows draw together, it’s clear he isn’t fully convinced. Regardless, he doesn’t press the issue, settling into a smile as he regards him.
“Alright. . . I’m glad to see you. You look lovely.”
He’s still got his hand on Jing Yuan’s arm, the touch seeming arduous despite the fact Dan Heng does not run warm. It’s just a simple friendly compliment, but Jing Yuan feels his face flush anyway. He coughs into his fist, hopes the orange glow hides the colour on his cheeks.
“Thank you. . .”
Jing Yuan knows he should offer some sort of compliment in return, but one quick sweep over Dan Heng’s ethereal visage has his mouth running dry. Whatever words he could muster would likely be a jumble of syllables, none of which would do his beauty any justice.
Besides, he doesn’t want to risk overstepping any boundaries. This man was once the little kid he used to babysit, after all. Jing Yuan’s own shameful affections toward him now should remain under lock and key, tucked safely away.
Dan Heng apparently takes no note of Jing Yuan’s inner turmoil, hand shifting to rest at the older’s elbow to steer him into the restaurant.
“Come, let’s head inside.”
The restaurant is a lot fancier on the inside than its plain outer appearance would suggest.
Divided into two main sections, the space allows both for tatami floors with low tables and a regular dining space. Artworks depicting mountainside scenery in thick black ink line the walls, the interior awash in soft lighting that’s easy on the eyes. On the far end of the room, the shoji doors converge into a wooden arch revealing a fountain of pale stone, two carps caught in a merry dance carved into its upper half.
Even a cursory glance reveals the high end nature of the place, evident in the fine details and quality materials no doubt reflective of lofty prices.
When Dan Heng had asked whether Jing Yuan was fond of Japanese cuisine, he hadn’t expected to be taken to somewhere quite so luxurious. If this is where Dan Heng’s inviting him for a mere reunion dinner, he can only imagine where the younger man takes his prospective lovers.
He suppresses the wistful sigh bubbling in his throat. Lucky, indeed.
At first when they settle down on a table of regular height (thankfully, for Jing Yuan’s hip no longer allows for long sessions spent sitting on the floor), he can’t help but feel the air between them is somewhat tense. Not with any malice, of course, but rather with the inevitability of a rift formed after years of paths diverged.
So Jing Yuan jumps at Dan Heng’s suggestion to order them a bottle of sake to share, desperate for some liquid courage. He just has to be careful not to overdo it lest his lips loosen beyond his control.
Inevitably, Jing Yuan miscalculates.
He can feel the seeping deeper into his veins the more the night progresses. It helps do away with that initial awkwardness, allowing the conversation to flow unhindered, but it also leaves him more susceptible to letting spill secrets he meant to keep under wraps.
Jing Yuan realises his mistake only in hindsight, when the words have already tumbled out of his mouth. On the table, his hand twitches with the urge to reach out and stuff them back in, but the unfortunate quality of words is that once spoken they cannot be unsaid.
Across from him, Dan Heng perks up. His eyes remain clear, face unblemished by any hint of flush in spite of the fact they’d downed the same amount of glasses.
“You want kids. . ?”
Oh, God. Jing Yuan stares down at his empty glass, almost debates pouring himself another one. But that would inevitably cause Dan Heng to reach forward and insist he do it for him, and Jing Yuan can’t risk the chance of their fingers brushing in his current state. He clears his throat, masks his nerves with a small chuckle.
“I, well— Yes. It’s probably surprising, I know, but after the surgery I had a lot of time to think about it. . . Anyway, my dating pool right now is rather. . . small.” Nonexistent, more like. Jing Yuan hesitates; he should stop speaking now, cut himself off. He’d sworn up and down he wouldn’t reveal this tonight, but for some reason he can’t seem to hold back now that the dam has broken.“So, I’ve been thinking about going to a fertility clinic. Try and go it on my own, you know?”
Jing Yuan tries to make it sound as casual as possible. Well, as casual as one can sound when talking about becoming a willingly single parent as an Omega.
“What?”
It’s the most curt tone he’s ever heard Dan Heng use, probably ever, catching him completely off-guard. He feels utterly blindsided by it, head snapping up to look at the younger. Dan Heng seems to have gritted his teeth, his jaw sharper under the dim light, the strong notes of mint in his scent spiking.
Jing Yuan falters, a little heady at the sudden shift. He’d already been struggling to refrain from inhaling too much of that alluring scent, but now his head positively spins with it. A moment passes where he has to blink away his blurred vision.
“I mean, I know it’s unconventional but there are a lot of Omegas who—”
“No, I—” Dan Heng lifts a hand to halt him, then turns that same hand to briefly pinch the bridge of his nose. He softens his voice somewhat, overwhelming scent retreating along with it. Jing Yuan almost misses it. “I just. . . I don’t think you should do it. You deserve to have a child with someone who actually treasures you, not some. . . random Alpha from a clinic.”
Jing Yuan crumbles a little. Of course that’s what Dan Heng would say. Sweet, considerate Dan Heng who has always cared so deeply despite his stoic facade. He’s hopelessly endeared by the man’s sincerity, but it’s outweighed by the familiar ache in his chest.
“Maybe. . . but I just don’t think it’s realistic finding an Alpha willing to have children with someone—” Like me. Jing Yuan sighs, swallowing the words. “Someone. . . my age.”
“I’d like to,” Dan Heng says, leaving Jing Yuan perplexed at the non-sequitur.
“Huh?”
“Have kids.”
Stumped at the sudden declaration, Jing Yuan scrambles for the appropriate reply. “Oh, well, I’m sure you’ll find—”
“With you. I’d like to have kids. . . with you.”
Huh?
All the blood rushes from Jing Yuan’s face as he freezes in shock. Surely, he’d misheard? Maybe the alcohol is affecting him even more than he’d thought. Had he perhaps passed out at some point and is dreaming up this part of the conversation?
On the other side of the table, Dan Heng doesn’t seem to be faring any better. Finally, he’s also become the victim of a blush, tinting the pointy tips of his ears a dark rouge just as it had when he’d been a child. He’s quick to rush out an explanation as he misinterprets Jing Yuan’s sudden silence as discomfort.
“Okay, that’s— I mean I’d continue to court you properly first and we’ll go things at your pace, of course. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable. . . but if kids are something you want, I’m more than willing.” His lips part silently for a moment, hesitating, then adds, “Enthusiastic, even.”
“. . . What?”
It’s all Jing Yuan can manage, the word leaving him a breath that sounds like it’s been punched out of him. Silence blankets them, lingering for the illusion of eternity as Dan Heng’s eyes slowly widen in realisation.
“You. . . you do know I’m trying to court you. . . right?”
Unable to speak, Jing Yuan shakes his head. He watches as Dan Heng swallows thickly, chest rising in a deep inhale, before pressing on.
“Yuan-ge. . . Jing Yuan, I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. There’s a reason I would cling to you so much when I was young, why I’d follow you everywhere. A reason as to why I’d get embarrassed when my parents teased me about liking you, why I was so upset when you first left, and even more upset when you eventually stopped returning . . .”
His gaze is so intense Jing Yuan wouldn’t turn away for anything. The world could be shattering to pieces around him — already has, in a sense, his vision narrowed so he sees only the man in front of him — and Jing Yuan still wouldn’t move from his seat.
“It’s because— Because for so long, I’ve been chasing after you. Even in all these years, I’ve never had my heart set on anyone else and, now that I actually have the chance to. . .” He trails off, face settling into fierce determination. “Well, forgive me Jing Yuan, but I won’t be missing my shot.”
“Oh.”
Oh.
Jing Yuan feels dizzy all over again, blood surging up once more to rush past his ears. He has to grip the edge of the table to keep himself steady. Dan Heng likes him? Has always. . . liked him? Harbouring a crush on him since their shared days of youth and carrying that same flame even now, years later?
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this strong of a wave of emotion, his very foundations rocked by the deluge Dan Heng has rained upon him. His heart thuds so hard it hurts, lungs constricting around his breaths but—
God, he feels so happy.
So much so that he can’t rein in the laugh that bursts out of him. The mounting pressure within him seems to burst along with it, leaving him weightless. Seeing Dan Heng’s brows furrow at the sound, caught between confusion and hurt, Jing Yuan hurries to appease him.
“I’m not— I’m not laughing at you, I promise, I’m just. . .” He exhales, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes as they curve into crescent moons, crow’s feet scrunching up. “I’m just realising how much of an idiot I am for repressing my own feelings ever since I saw you again for the first time. . .”
The words gentle Dan Heng’s expression, hand reaching across the table to curl around Jing Yuan’s own. His first instinct is to draw back, the sight of Dan Heng’s slender, delicate fingers a stark contrast to his mangled ones, but Jing Yuan pushes past the feeling. Instead, he shifts so they can slot into the empty spaces, a faint thrill sparking up his arm when Dan Heng’s thumb rubs over scarred knuckles.
“Good. I’m—,” A grin settles on Dan Heng’s face, brightening like the sun gracing the quiet hills at dawn. “I’m happy to hear that. I was worried maybe you wouldn’t take me seriously. . . that I was still nothing but that little kid in your memory. . .”
Jing Yuan lets out another breathy chuckle, heat unfurling on the softness of his cheeks. “Mn. It would be kind of. . . hard to see you as just that with how you’ve grown up. . .”
“Oh?” A few strands of silky black fall onto Dan Heng’s forehead as his head tilts, eyes flashing with a playfulness that does not bode well for Jing Yuan’s sanity. “What do you mean by that, gege?”
When Jing Yuan falters, mouth running dry as he averts his gaze, Dan Heng laughs, a soft melody in spite of its teasing nature. The sound stirs at the hope Jing Yuan had long tried to bury deep within his heart. It coaxes the small seed discarded beneath layers of dirt to unfurl, leaves sprouting, touched by the first downpour after a drought.
Jing Yuan’s eyes shift back to the younger, taking in the sharp features muted by the warmth of laughter, and smiles.
That impossible fairytale ending no longer feels quite as far out of his reach.
His heat is close. Jing Yuan can sense it.
He’s more restless than usual, unable to sit still for longer than a few minutes at a time. His temperature keeps fluctuating, too cold one minute and too hot the next. He can’t even enjoy his usual afternoon naps anymore, torn between tugging his blanket up to his chin when he shivers and kicking it off when it gets too warm and he starts to sweat.
As a result, Jing Yuan is crankier than usual. He scowls when the birds wake him up in the morning, glares at his busted old coffee machine when it rattles out another americano, gets even more upset when the resulting americano tastes bitter and watery.
Of course, all of this coincides with a sudden drop in the weather. A hurricane drags its way across the east coast, and Luofu City is hit with constant showers, which both means that greenery has begun to flourish everywhere and that the humidity is at an all-time high.
It also means that Jing Yuan’s hair is constantly frizzy and his clothes always feel just a tiny bit damp even after he puts them through the dryer. The worst thing, however, is that the constant rain has his bones aching something fierce, his hip as well as the joints in his fingers flaring up far more often than usual.
All of it paired with his overall increased sensitivity and the anxiety of his upcoming heat has Jing Yuan incredibly on edge. So much so that he completely forgets his scheduled call with Yingxing, annoyance flaring up when his phone rings on a late night where he’s trying to distract himself from his own bad mood by curling up on the couch to watch an old movie.
Eager to rid himself of the incessant ringtone, he answers with a hissed, “What?”
“. . .Wow. I don’t think I’ve heard you sound this pissed since our trainee days. The hell happened?”
Jing Yuan lets out a long-winded sigh as Yingxing’s familiar timbre crackles through the speaker, leaning his head back on the couch. He runs a hand over his face. Of course, they were meant to call today, not having been able to talk much ever since the older moved countries.
Unlike Jing Yuan, Yingxing had left the military of his own accord a few years prior, pursuing a new career in craftsmanship. Now, he lives in Penacony, fulfilling commissions in masonry and glass work for interior designs.
“Yingxing. . . Sorry, I totally forgot about our call.”
“No worries, kid,” Yingxing huffs. It’s a little ridiculous that Yingxing insists on calling him ‘kid’ when they’re only a scarce few years apart in age, but Jing Yuan has learnt any argument is useless in the face of Yingxing’s stubbornness. “What’s going on with you, though?”
Jing Yuan shifts on the couch, drawing the blanket over his legs. His hair is pulled up into a lazy ponytail, half of the thick strands falling loose, but he still fans at his nape. “It’s my pre-heat. . . has me feeling kind of crazy. Plus, the weather’s been horrible here lately, and it’s just making everything worse.”
There’s a hum on the other line. Jing Yuan can hear faint sounds of a knife hitting a wooden surface, oil sizzling. It’s around lunchtime for Yingxing now, and Jing Yuan imagines his friend has the phone propped up somewhere on the counter as he cooks.
“Right. Well, I’d say it’s gonna get better and not to worry. . . but since this is your first real heat in years, I doubt it’ll be pretty. Have you made a decision yet? You know, regarding. . .”
“. . . Dan Heng?”
“Ah, yes. Him.”
Jing Yuan lightly rolls his eyes. He’s talked about Dan Heng quite a bit with Yingxing these past few weeks, and yet his friend still can’t remember his name. Not that Yingxing does it out of malice, he just doesn’t really bother with things like that.
If he ends up being the father of your children, then I’ll make sure to remember his name, Yingxing texted him once, promptly causing Jing Yuan to choke on his own spit as the ‘prospective father’ was sitting right across from him. Having to wave off the genuine concern in Dan Heng’s eyes as he gently clapped Jing Yuan’s back with his face red as a tomato was not one of his finest moments.
“No,” Jing Yuan sighs. “I don’t know. . . Things are good between us right now, but it’s still so early. And I know Dan Heng has never been anything but sincere in his offers. . . I just don’t want him to regret anything.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re gonna be unprotected. You’re still on birth control, right?”
Jing Yuan sits up abruptly at the question, suppressing a wince as the sudden movement causes his hip to tense painfully. He frowns, disgruntled, “Of course I am. I know he said he wants to have kids with me but. . . it’s not like I’m gonna try and baby-trap him.”
“I never said you were,” Yingxing says easily. “I’m just saying that there’s no chance of pregnancy this time around, so you can use this as a sort of trial run, to see how compatible you two really are.”
“I guess. . .”
Fiddling with a loose thread on his blanket, Jing Yuan worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He still has the same concern; what if Dan Heng ends up regretting his decision to court Jing Yuan once they’ve slept together? Not to mention the fact they haven’t done anything more than kiss a few times so far. Diving headfirst into what is no doubt going to be a very intense heat seems like quite the big leap.
“A-Yuan. I can practically hear your thoughts. Stop doubting yourself so much for once. . . If Dan. . . whatever, if he’s been honest in his pursuit of you so far, then I’m sure things will be fine.” He pauses to let out a light scoff. “Hell, the guy’s been in love with you since he was a kid. I bet you could get away with being a real dick to him and he’d still do whatever you told him to.”
Jing Yuan seriously doubts that last part, but he concedes that Yingxing might have an actual point about the rest.
“Yeah. . .” Jing Yuan mumbles, drawing one of the throw pillows onto his lap to hug it close. “You’re probably right. . .”
He thinks of Dan Heng’s gentle smile, the way he insists on kissing Jing Yuan’s knuckles no matter how gnarled they may be, the earnest look on his face as he’d asked to scent Jing Yuan to deter any other Alphas from bothering him. Sweet. Earnest. Far more than Jing Yuan deserves, quite frankly.
But he wants.God, he wants.
“I’m always right,” Yingxing’s voice cuts through Jing Yuan’s drifting thoughts, his wandering attention beckoned back to the call. “Now, am I allowed to bitch about my new client or do you still need more convincing on why you should just let yourself be happy?”
Chest rumbling with a soft laugh, Jing Yuan shakes his head. He glances out the balcony doors, where the rain continues to patter against the glass. He finds he doesn’t mind the weather so much when he has a comforting voice in his ear.
“No, that’s okay. . . Please go ahead and bitch to your heart’s content.”
“Thank you, I will,” Yingxing replies, the amused smile evident in his tone, and launches into a rant about the ridiculous demands of the woman he’s currently designing stained glass windows for.
That night, Jing Yuan goes to bed later than usual.
He’s dragging his feet by the time he reaches his room, dressed in just his pyjama pants instead of the complete set thanks to the constant way his temperature flares. It’s only once he stands at the foot of his bed that he has a sudden realisation.
The pillows on the spacious mattress seem to have multiplied, the extra blankets usually hidden away in the top drawer of his closet strewn about. Some of the shirts and hoodies he’d sworn he’d put in the laundry basket have ended up here instead, and he even spots a few stuffed animals Jing Yuan kept over from his younger years tucked into the mess.
A nest. Jing Yuan’s been nesting.
At first, he’s a little affronted by the fact he hadn’t even noticed. Then he suddenly feels a new wave of anxiety wash over him at the confirmation that his heat is even closer than he’d thought. He swallows, glances at his phone that’s currently plugged in and charging as it lays on his nightstand. Jing Yuan thinks of sending Dan Heng a text.
It’s late, well past midnight by now, but Dan Heng has said he rarely falls asleep before the witching hour anyway. He’d also said Jing Yuan should feel free to message him whenever. . . especially if something is wrong.
Still, Jing Yuan hesitates. He knows his decision to take Dan Heng on as a heat partner is pretty much set in stone by now, but there remains a voice in his mind which stubbornly opposes the idea, determined to keep up his defences.
Letting out a somewhat defeated sigh, Jing Yuan turns off his phone instead. He regards his bed for a moment, arranging and rearranging the plethora of items, idly rubbing the scent glands on his wrist against them to refresh the smell of honey and citrus. Unfortunately, even after several minutes of adjusting, Jing Yuan’s inner Omega remains unsatisfied, his skin thrumming with an undercurrent of frustration.
Something’s just not quite right.
Jing Yuan takes a deep breath, trying to work out what’s missing, only for his senses to catch on a familiar scent. He looks around the room, trying to pinpoint the source. Finally, his eyes catch on the dark green scarf draped over the back of his desk chair.
Dan Heng’s scarf. The one the younger had draped around Jing Yuan’s neck at the end of one of their dates, securing it gently so it wouldn’t tangle with the strands of Jing Yuan’s hair.
It’s cold, Dan Heng had muttered, hands lingering at the curve of Jing Yuan’s jaw. The look in his eyes was dimmed by the evening sky, vibrant teal replaced by the dark blue of the ocean’s surface at rest. When his gaze flickered down to Jing Yuan’s lips, the older felt his face heat up.
But what about you. . ? came Jing Yuan’s reply, whispered into the race space between them, not daring to talk any louder lest his voice betray him with a tremor.
Hands sliding down to smooth over the scarf’s knitted fabric, Dan Heng shook his head. As long as you’re warm, that’s all that matters. Besides. . . you look good in green.
Jing Yuan can still picture the subtle way Dan Heng’s mouth had curved up into a smile, teeming with the sort of teasing, boyish charm that suits him perfectly. He remembers huffing a breathy laugh, his stomach tensing at the arousal he’d felt in response to Dan Heng’s lower timbre, the barely hidden hunger flashing in his eyes.
Now, Jing Yuan picks up the scarf and holds it up to his face. As soon as the blend of mint, green tea and sea salt floods his senses, Jing Yuan shamelessly buries his nose in the soft texture, rubbing it against his cheek.
A shiver runs down his spine as Jing Yuan tilts his head to press the scarf against the now sensitive scent glands on his neck, allowing their scents to bleed together somewhat. He feels a little dazed all of a sudden, his earlier exhaustion settling in once more along with how the tension melts from his shoulders at the comforting smell.
Sated, his inner Omega brims with delight as Jing Yuan settles in his nest. He keeps the scarf pressed to his chest, gently curling around it, and drifts off as purrs rumble steadily in the back of his throat.
It’s a loud crash of thunder that crudely rips Jing Yuan from sleep.
The lingering rumble that travels through the clouds is still shaking the large windows in his bedroom when Jing Yuan sits up in bed, heart pounding in his chest. His head swims, the deafening sound overlapping with that of the explosions haunting his memories. Jing Yuan swears he hears the blaring of alarms, the faraway shouts of the soldiers under his command.
Their screams echo in his mind, distress clear in the muddled words that don’t quite reach Jing Yuan’s ears. Jing Yuan wants to move, but he finds that he can’t. He’s frozen in place, hands white-kuckling the sheets as black spots invade his vision, dancing mockingly before his eyes.
Sweat drips down the curve of his brow, down his nape, down every ridge and curve of his chest. His hair clings to his skin, wild and loose, the sensation near torturous to his oversensitive body. It’s too much. Every breath feels like a thousand needles that pierce his lungs, spasming at the sensation. He can’t move, can’t breathe.
A flash of lightning fills the room with a blinding white, and finally Jing Yuan flinches, instincts taking over as he curls up and tries to shield himself from the impending danger of a bomb. The thunder that follows echoes off the walls once more, the sound still interspersed with familiar screams, his squad calling his name, distorted through the blood that races past his ears.
Jing Yuan knows they’re calling for him, they need him, he has to do something—
He can’t fucking move.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shoots up from his hip, coursing through each knob in his spine before it spreads to the tips of his fingers. It forces a pained groan from him, muscles tensing at the sensation, drawing out the agony that pulses through him. Eyes squeezed shut, Jing Yuan buries his face in the soft fabric beneath him, trying to drown out the noise.
The faint scent of green tea reaches his nose, but it’s almost faded, overshadowed by the acrid smell of his own scent tainted by stress and despair. Every intake of air Jing Yuan manages to gulp in feels like poison in his lungs, the persimmon notes now sickly sweet, overripe and foul, decaying.
Jing Yuan wishes it would just stop, stop, stop—
He screams when he feels hands on him, thrashing around as they tug at his arms as if trying to unwind his coiled up form. The press of cold, slightly wet palms against his heated skin makes him gasp, instincts driving him to fight back and kick out with all his strength.
His foot doesn’t quite meet its target, only grazing past what seems like a solid surface, but a quiet grunt still reaches his ears, followed by someone grabbing his ankle to try and stop him from moving.
“Yuan-ge— Jing Yuan!”
He’s about to break free and deliver another kick when the voice registers in his mind. This time, it doesn’t sound faraway, not a figment conjured by twisted memories. Instead, it sounds close to his ear, as if someone were right above him, someone real.
Head still spinning, Jing Yuan slowly peels his eyes open. It takes a moment for the dark spots to clear, the tears that had been clinging to his lashes loosening to spill down his cheeks. When they do, the image before him begins to take the shape of a familiar silhouette.
Dan Heng.
Dan Heng is standing there, in Jing Yuan’s room, right in front of him. He’s half leaned on the bed, one knee dipping onto the mattress, hands hovering on either side of Jing Yuan’s arms. He’s also completely and utterly drenched from head to toe.
Jing Yuan’s gaze flickers between Dan Heng’s face and the window that looks like it’s been hastily slammed shut, rain splattering through a small crack left open. Dan Heng’s eyes are blown wide, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, clearly winded; water droplets run down his face, hair flattened to his forehead, clothes sticking to his skin. There’s a sharp taste of mint that lingers in the air, brimming with something fierce, protective.
“I. . . You—” The younger starts, briefly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth before he continues, stumbling over his words, “I’m sorry, sorry. . . It’s just— You weren’t answering your phone all. . . all day so I decided to check on you, but you weren’t. . . I rang your doorbell and you didn’t— So I—”
Jing Yuan doesn’t let him finish.
He throws his arms around Dan Heng’s neck, pulling him down onto the bed, into his nest. Dan Heng lets out a startled noise, one arm circling Jing Yuan’s waist as the other cradles the back of his head, fingers sliding into a mess of silvery waves. His body is cold and wet as it presses against him, but Jing Yuan can’t bring himself to care, welcomes it like a soothing balm to his heated skin.
“Gege, I’m— This is your nest, isn’t it? I’m getting it all dirty.”
Despite his words, Dan Heng makes no move to pull away, gently kneading at Jing Yuan’s nape. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat when Jing Yuan buries his nose in the glands on his neck, whining quietly as the Alpha purposely lets more of the calming green tea seep into his scent.
Jing Yuan’s still shivering, his mind muddled, half-way pulled back to a warzone.
“Shh, It’s okay. I’m here,” Dan Heng whispers, carefully moving them so he can properly cradle Jing Yuan against his chest. “You’re alright, you’re safe. . . I promise.”
It takes a while for Jing Yuan to retreat from his panicked state, aided along by Dan Heng’s quiet words, his soft touch and the enveloping comfort of his scent.
Once all of it ebbs away, however, Jing Yuan is left to face the reality of things. The injury at his hip may have stopped pulsing in agony, his muscles less tense, but his body still shakes. Only now is he able to notice that he really has grown feverish, a tell-tale ache in the pit of his stomach, his limbs heavy as if sickness had nestled itself into his flesh.
But Jing Yuan isn’t sick, he knows; he’s in heat.
It’s early enough that Jing Yuan hasn’t been pulled into its frenzy yet, but it won’t be long now before he’ll be completely out of commission, succumbing to his most base instincts. He’s not prepared, dread curdling in his gut at impending pain and desperation until Jing Yuan feels nauseous with it, letting out a pathetic little whimper.
Dan Heng quickly catches onto the noise, ducking his head down to bump their noses together.
“Hey, darling. . . You with me?”
Breathing out a heavy sigh, Jing Yuan nods, pushing himself impossibly further into Dan Heng’s hold. At least he’s not alone, he tells himself, though he really wishes he could’ve had the chance to get himself ready like he’d wanted to. He’d known his heat was close, of course, but not this close. Jing Yuan had thought for sure he’d have another few days at least.
His cheek nuzzles Dan Heng’s chest, rubbing at the damp fabric of his shirt. Wait. . . Damp. . ?
Eyes widening, Jing Yuan’s mind finally catches up enough for it to settle in that Dan Heng must have climbed up onto his balcony in the middle of a thunderstorm just to get to him.
“Dan Heng. . .” Jing Yuan croaks, voice scratchy.
A droplet of rain falls from one of the strands of Dan Heng’s hair onto his face as he looks up at him. Dan Heng brushes it away, the water dissipating as it sinks into flushed skin.
“Yes?”
There’s a tenderness in those seaglass eyes as he stares down at Jing Yuan that makes the older swallow, whatever words were sitting on the tip of his tongue swallowed along with it. It’s overwhelming, the force with which Dan Heng shows his affection, bold and unafraid, like a tidal wave that sweeps over barren land. Jing Yuan doesn’t know what to say.
He watches as Dan Heng’s nostrils flare, eyes glazing over for a brief moment as Jing Yuan’s scent sweetens with the sentiment he fails to express, finally flushing out the sour aftertaste of his distress. His inner Omega thrills at the reaction, preening further when Dan Heng’s arms tighten around him almost imperceptibly.
“You—,” Dan Heng starts, voice choked. His jaw clicks before forcibly relaxing. “Let me run you a bath, alright? You must be uncomfortable. . .”
Jing Yuan knows it would be kinder of him to try and rein in his scent from spilling out further, especially since they have yet to hold a proper conversation about him accepting Dan Heng as his heat partner. He doubts they will at this point. But. . . Jing Yuan hardly has the strength left, body flushed and aching, and so, so tired.
“Yes. . .” He nods, selfishly inhaling another lungful of the Alpha’s scent as he slumps against him. “Please. . .”
Hooking one arm around Jing Yuan’s waist and the other under his knees, Dan Heng hoists him up off the bed. Besides a quiet grunt, Dan Heng shows no signs of strain even as he takes on the entirety of Jing Yuan’s weight. Jing Yuan quietly marvels at the fact, surprised that the younger is able to carry him so effortlessly. It makes him feel a little lighter, a little less like his secondary gender is all wrong.
Dan Heng carries him to the bathroom, nudging the door open with his shoulder, careful as he makes sure Jing Yuan doesn’t bump his head on the doorway.
He sets Jing Yuan down on the closed toilet lid, untangling Jing Yuan’s limbs from around his neck so he can manoeuvre around. Jing Yuan tries to hold it back, but a small, wounded noise still leaves him at the loss of contact. What a pitiful display, Jing Yuan thinks to himself, hugging his arms around his waist as his womb contracts and tenses, the ceramic beneath him too cold and uncomfortable.
“Sorry, baby. . . Bear with me for a moment,” Dan Heng mutters, pressing a brief kiss to Jing Yuan’s forehead before kneeling down beside the tub.
Caught between the pain in his abdomen, the nausea and the fever, Jing Yuan leans his head back and closes his eyes. He tries to empty his mind, to not think of anything at all, honed in on parsing out Dan Heng’s soothing scent from his own to keep himself steady. Time seems to bleed together, distorted enough that Jing Yuan has lost any concept of it.
He can’t tell if it’s been a mere few more minutes or an hour when a hand gently squeezes his shoulder, coaxing his eyes open, only that he feels more awful now than when he first closed them.
Dan Heng’s face blurs before him, like a video out of focus, but he can tell from the vague shapes and lines that he looks worried. His voice sounds muffled as it reaches Jing Yuan’s ears, only somewhat cutting through the ringing in his ears.
“. . . Yuan? I’m. . . get you in. . . bath now, . . . ?”
Despite the words barely registering, Jing Yuan nods, doing his best to get his body to cooperate as Dan Heng lifts him the toilet seat towards the bathtub. The first contact with the water makes him hiss quietly, though as he sinks in further the warmth is pleasant on his skin, relieving some of the ache in his joints, the cramps in his stomach.
A rolled up towel is placed on the edge of the tub to cushion his head, and Jing Yuan takes the invitation to slump back, eyes falling shut once more. As he drifts in and out of consciousness, he registers the faint sensation of hands holding up his arms; of warm, wet fabric dragging over his skin, the floral notes of his favourite body wash reaching his nose.
Aided along by the gentle ministrations, the discomfort finally eases enough that some of the haze clears from his mind. He takes a deep breath as his eyes flutter open, gaze instantly settling on Dan Heng.
“Hey. . .” Dan Heng greets him quietly, cradling Jing Yuan’s hand to his face. “Feeling any better?”
“Mn,” Jing Yuan nods.
His heart floods with affection at seeing the other so devoted to his care, not at all used to the treatment. He keeps waiting for Dan Heng to leave, to decide this is too much work, that Jing Yuan isn’t worth the trouble. But Dan Heng doesn’t even budge, brushing kisses to the scent glands on Jing Yuan’s wrist that have him purring low in his throat.
He thinks of earlier, of how Dan Heng had risked his own safety for the sake of making sure Jing Yuan was alright. How he’d broken through Jing Yuan’s panic to get him to calm down, even when the older had screamed and thrashed, lashing out in fear. There’s a twinge in his chest as guilt settles over him, eyes trailing lower to Dan Heng’s stomach.
Jing Yuan has to clear his throat a few times before he can get himself to speak. “I’m sorry. . . for earlier.”
The younger shakes his head, hand reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind Jing Yuan’s ear. His touch lingers at the curve of Jing Yuan’s jaw, causing heat to bloom in his core, and the Omega finds himself grateful that the water washes away the arousal he feels at the simplest of affection.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Nuzzling into Dan Heng’s palm, Jing Yuan mumbles,“I kicked you.”
“Only barely,” Dan Heng assures, lips giving way to a fond grin as his thumb brushes Jing Yuan’s cheek. “And I can take it. I’m stronger than I look, you know?”
Jing Yuan remembers the ease with which Dan Heng had lifted him into his arms, a shudder wracking through him at the thought. He can only nod in response, knows his scent reveals his desire from the way Dan Heng inhales sharply once more.
“Jing Yuan—”
His eyelids flutter closed for a moment, long, thick black lashes quivering. His pupils have steadily grown wider in the past few minutes, until they threaten to drown out the teal altogether. Jing Yuan can tell how much it’s costing the Alpha to hold back his instincts.
Selfishly — perhaps desperately — a part of him wishes Dan Heng would break and give in, his own discomfort be damned. He knows it’s just his most primal self talking, aware that he’d come to regret it in the end considering he’s still dealing with the fallout of a panic attack, barely clinging onto his conscious state. But, well, he can’t help it.
His hand trembles slightly as he captures Dan Heng’s wrist within the curl of his fingers, coaxing the taste of sea salt onto his tongue as he laps at the scent glands there. The effect is immediate, his mind reeling, legs squeezing together for a hint of friction as his cunt pulses around nothing.
“Yuan-ge— Ah, darling—,” Dan Heng’s voice sounds strained, cupping Jing Yuan’s face to rest their foreheads together. He’s so close that Jing Yuan shudders with need, half-lidded gaze locked on Dan Heng’s lips. “I need you to be patient for a while longer, okay? Can you do that for me?”
He whines at the thought of waiting any longer, control slipping further even as he fights not to sink into a daze. Dan Heng takes a deep breath, only to regret it when a wave of Jing Yuan’s pheromones hit him and he grits his teeth.
“Please, gege. . . Just relax and wait a little longer while I take care of a few things. . .”
When Jing Yuan lets out another whimper in response, wanting to do as he’s told but not sure if he can, Dan Heng tilts his head down to nuzzle into the older’s neck. Jing Yuan startles at first, tensing up at the sudden contact to the swollen, sensitive glands. Once he realises Dan Heng is smearing their scents together, flooding Jing Yuan with the soothing notes of green tea, his body begins to uncoil.
Slowly, he melts back against the edge of the tub once more, limbs heavy and useless at his side. Darkness creeps into the edges of his vision, line of sight slowly crumbling in on itself.
“Wha. . .”
“Shh,” Dan Heng shushes him gently, lips brushing the Omega’s jaw.
“You’re alright. Just let yourself fall.”
And so Jing Yuan does.
This time, what rouses Jing Yuan from slumber isn’t the deafening roar of thunder, but a gentle touch.
There are fingers in his hair, carding through the strands with care not to tug too harshly at the few knots they find. It’s a nice feeling, calming. He finds his skin no longer burns with the intensity of a roaring flame, nor does his gut twist itself into anxious disarray. The dull ache between his legs is ever-present, but it no longer spikes with pain.
Jing Yuan lets his lungs inflate with a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent that lingers in the air around him along with it. He’s almost reluctant to wake, lingering in the echoes of a pleasant dream in which he stands on an endless field of spring flowers, his palm pressed to another, staring into a pair of eyes that rival the ocean’s beauty.
“Yuan-ge. . .” comes a whisper from above.
He can’t help but stirr at the soft utterance of his name, head lifting to follow the sound. It takes a moment or two for him to pry his heavy lids open, halcyon peeking out from under pale, fluttering lashes.
“You’re awake,” Dan Heng says, the sight of him slowly taking shape in Jing Yuan’s sleep-addled mind. “How are you feeling?”
When Jing Yuan puts his weight onto his arms to start pushing himself up, Dan Heng helps steady him without a word. The palm of his hand is warm as it settles on Jing Yuan’s lower back, rubbing small circles on hardened muscles. The sensation is enough to have Jing Yuan fighting the urge to close his eyes once more, letting out a noise in the back of his throat akin to a cat loath to part with its favourite spot for a nap.
He hears the younger let out a small huff of amusement, though the ministrations on his back never cease.
Jing Yuan casts his gaze around the room. The sky beyond the windows remains dreary and grey, rain pelting the glass in a steady stream, showing no signs of letting up. At least the storm seems to have passed, likely carried away by the strong winds that rattle the frames. The echoes of thunder still remain, rumbling in the far distance, but the sound is faint, muffled.
When Jing Yuan's eyes wander to the bed, he's hit with a sudden realisation.
His nest. . . it's different. Most of the pillows and blankets are the same as Jing Yuan had spent the last few days placing them, but there are subtle changes. Jing Yuan's Omega instincts can't help but notice that they're a little off, somehow. And though both his and Dan Heng's scents undoubtedly permeate the space, the smell of Jing Yuan's preferred laundry detergent also tickles his nose.
He recalls the scene from hours prior — Dan Heng, drenched head to toe in rain, dripping onto the floor, surely dragging in mud given he'd had to wade through the garden. Jing Yuan had pulled him into his nest regardless, desperate to feel the Alpha's body flush against his own in his moment of panic.
Dan Heng’s expression turns sheepish as Jing Yuan looks to him, though the older hardly has time to dwell on it, attention quickly drawn to the fact that Dan Heng has stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, the white fabric still somewhat clinging to his skin.
It's the first time Jing Yuan has seen him with so little clothes on, and whatever question had been on the tip of his tongue dissipates the moment his eyes lock onto bare thighs.
“Dan Heng. . .” he mumbles, mind stuck on the smooth expanse of porcelain skin and lean muscle, belying the strength it had taken to carry Jing Yuan's dead weight.
“I'm sorry, I tried to arrange your nest the same way as best I could after washing all the stuff I got wet, but— Anyway, I shouldn't have touched it without your permission, I know—”
“What?” Jing Yuan blinks, gaze shifting to Dan Heng’s face and catching the dusting of pink that’s settled on the bridge of his nose. Cute. . ., the older thinks to himself, before Dan Heng’s words finally register properly. “. . . You washed my things? And you rearranged. . . my nest. . . ?”
Baffled, Jing Yuan watches as the younger’s face scrunches up in a small grimace, his head lowering as if he’s somehow committed some grave offence.
“Yes, I’m very sorry—”
“No,” Jing Yuan cuts him off, his tone harsher than he intends as it tumbles out of him. He softens his voice as soon as Dan Heng meets his eyes, hopelessly endeared to the Alpha’s docile nature despite the fact that even Jing Yuan can tell his pheromones are once again beginning to thicken in the air around them. “I mean, there’s no need to apologise. This is. . . very sweet. You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
Dan Heng’s brows furrow, bottom lip pushed forward ever-so-slightly in a pout. God, Jing Yuan really wants to kiss him. He wants to be all over him. Wants Dan Heng all over him. Control yourself, Jing Yuan chides himself, though the warmth and slight discomfort stirring in his gut are making it harder to think straight.
“It was no trouble. . . I’ve told you before, Jing Yuan,” Dan Heng’s tone is serious, sea-glass eyes clear as tranquil waters. Jing Yuan does his best to listen past the increasingly desperate way his instincts are screaming at him to throw himself into the Alpha’s arms. “I want to do this for you. I want to be here for you. . . though I will admit, I was hoping things would be a bit different.”
He pauses, the contours of his face smoothing into something softer, caring. “I really didn’t think you’d already be in heat when I came over. I can leave, if that’s what you’d prefer. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomf—”
“Don’t.”
The force with which Jing Yuan grips Dan Heng’s forearm borders on painful, he knows, but he needs the younger to understand. Jing Yuan really, really needs Dan Heng to stay. Dan Heng can’t leave. His Alpha can’t leave.
“Don’t go,” Jing Yuan pleads, voice cracking over the syllables. The sudden wave of desperation that crashes over him is intense, distressing almost. It’s been so long since Jing Yuan has had a natural heat that the emotions that come with it feel overwhelming, his sensitivity cranked up past a hundred.
The thought of Dan Heng leaving, of Jing Yuan somehow not being enough for him to stay, — even though it’s irrational considering all of Dan Heng’s actions up until now — it hurts. Jing Yuan can’t stop the pathetic little whimper he lets out.
Dan Heng’s lips part on a small gasp upon seeing the tears gathered in the corner of Jing Yuan’s eyes, immediately reaching up to cup the Omega’s face. “Woah, hey, hey, darling— Don’t cry, please don’t cry. . . Of course I’ll stay.”
Sinking deeper into his heat-addled state at Dan Heng’s reassurance, Jing Yuan scrambles forward onto his lap. He can’t help but feel a little out of place, fumbling awkwardly as he worries that his size and bulk will displease his Alpha. But all Dan Heng does is encourage Jing Yuan’s thighs to spread wider with a hand to his lower back, wrapping his arms around the older’s waist to pull him close. Some more soothing notes of green tea seep into his scent as he looks up at Jing Yuan, helping clear a little bit of the haze from his mind.
“Jing Yuan. . . you’re really, truly sure about this, right?”
Jing Yuan doesn’t even have to think about it before he nods. Heat or not, Jing Yuan knows that this is what he wants with absolute certainty. The only thing holding him back was his consideration for Dan Heng’s feelings on the matter, but seeing him here, witnessing just how much he cares. . .
Alpha, Jing Yuan’s brain growls, his most primal self beginning to take over. Mine.
His core pulses and aches, hands settling on either side of Dan Heng’s neck as he whispers, “Please. . .”
“I’ve got you, darling,” Dan Heng mutters, and any further noises Jing Yuan lets out are swallowed up by plush lips that press against his own.
The older whines, melting into the kiss, his nails scratching at the short hairs on Dan Heng’s nape. It draws a low groan from the Alpha, his touch wandering Jing Yuan’s body as if he were a pure white canvas waiting to be stained by palm prints.
When Dan Heng’s hands find his ass and squeeze, Jing Yuan keens in the back of his throat, the sound high-pitched and a little broken. The pain in his abdomen flares, causing Jing Yuan to bite down on Dan Heng’s lower lip. His fangs as an Omega may not be all that big, but they’re still sharp all the same, the taste of iron mingling with the spit traded in their messy kiss.
There’s a part of him that wants to pull back and apologise, soothe the small cut with a gentle swipe of his tongue, but it’s buried under the weight of his need, his desperation. Dan Heng doesn’t seem to mind, content to keep licking into Jing Yuan’s mouth as his hands grab hold of thick, muscular thighs.
“Please.” Jing Yuan smears the word against Dan Heng’s lips when he feels the younger’s thumb brush the skin dangerously close to where he wants him most. “Hurts, it hurts— Dan Heng, A-Heng, please—”
“Shh,” Dan Heng shushes him sweetly, one hand trailing up to fist into long silver strands, holding Jing Yuan in place as his other hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, the fabric already soaked through.
“Ah—!”
A loud, downright pornographic moan is ripped from the depths of his throat as Dan Heng’s fingers circle his clit. He’s forced to break the kiss, panting heavily as his hips grind against the pressure. God, he can’t remember the last time he felt so good.
His head lolls back at the gentle tug at his hair, allowing Dan Heng to nuzzle against his neck.
“Fuck, gege, you’re so wet already,” Dan Heng mumbles against heated skin, nipping and sucking at Jing Yuan’s scent glands like a man starved. “Such a perfect Omega. . .”
The praise alone makes Jing Yuan’s toes curl, his cunt pulsing out a new wave of slick as Dan Heng easily slips two fingers into his entrance. It should hurt considering how long he’s gone without any penetration, but his body welcomes the intrusion like he was made for it. Face hot, eyelids fluttering, Jing Yuan whines as Dan Heng’s digits curl within him.
He’s so close already he’d be embarrassed about it if he were more lucid. As it stands, all Jing Yuan can do is cling to Dan Heng’s shoulders, blunt nails digging into muscle through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
“Dan Heng— A-Heng, I’m—”
Jing Yuan doesn’t get to finish his sentence, his orgasm crashing over him with all the force of a semi-truck as Dan Heng’s thumb rubs firm circles on his clit, fangs teasing his throat with the promise of a bite.
His entire body locks up for a moment, almost dizzy from the onslaught of pleasure. The relief in his abdomen is palpable as he shudders through his release, squeezing down on Dan Heng’s fingers as he keeps steadily pumping them in and out. Jing Yuan slumps forward, mindlessly rolling his hips to chase the remnants of ecstasy.
He doesn’t even realise his eyes have fallen shut until he opens them again to a different perspective entirely. Laid back on the bed, Jing Yuan’s head rests on one of the many pillows that make up his nest. He tries to catch his breath, chest rising and falling in quick succession, watching as Dan Heng looms above him.
Strands of black hair cling to Dan Heng’s forehead with sweat, damp enough that the tips curl up tighter than usual.
Jing Yuan longs to reach out and touch, but his limbs feel heavy, tingling in the aftermath of pleasure. He’s left to trail his eyes down to Dan Heng’s collarbones, and lower still to a lean, defined abdomen when he realises the younger has finally rid himself of his clothes, left in only his briefs.
The tight fabric leaves little to the imagination, and Jing Yuan feels spit pool under his tongue at the sheer size of him. He’s aware the other isn’t even at full mast yet, and that once he pops his knot the size will surely stretch him to his limits, regardless of how his heat has loosened him.
Anticipation and a small hint of nerves war in his stomach at the thought.
“Hey. . .” The sound of Dan Heng’s voice draws Jing Yuan’s gaze back up, some of the tension easing out of him at the gentle touch of a palm rubbing up and down his sides. “You’re going to take me so well, won’t you, my Omega?”
Jing Yuan’s pupils dilate even further at the words. My Omega rings in his mind, and he feels himself sink into the haze once more.
“Yes. . . Alpha,” Jing Yuan nods, hesitantly reaching out to settle his hands on Dan Heng’s forearms. He isn’t used to being this shy, not really, but something about the younger always has him flustered ever since that fateful reunion in the supermarket all those weeks ago.
Dan Heng looks at him like he wants to devour him whole, gaze locked on his own as he begins pressing open-mouthed kisses to the valley between his pecs. It drives Jing Yuan wild; makes him feel cared for, protected, delicate in a way he doesn’t get to be in his day-to-day life.
Strangely, he feels more powerful now than he ever has on the battlefield.
He arches into the soft, wet sensation of Dan Heng’s lips, moans cascading out of him as those same lips wrap around one of his nipples. His voice pitches higher, hips rocking up of their own accord. Dan Hengs hums, using the action to pull down the remainder of his clothes, leaving Jing Yuan’s lower half bare.
Sensitive, Jing Yuan shivers as his core is exposed, his slick cooling on his skin. He’s quickly soothed by the warmth of Dan Heng’s hands roaming over his thighs, breath hitching when the younger abandons one nipple for the other, tongue swirling around the rosy bud.
“Ah! Ngh— Oh.”
Jing Yuan’s lashes flutter as Dan Heng bites down, leaving imprints of his teeth on his chest, finally finding the strength to raise his arms so his fingers can tangle in dark waves.
“Good boy. . .” Dan Heng breathes, slowly moves lower, lips dragging over the jagged pale markings on Jing Yuan’s body.
When he reaches the area just below the jut of Jing Yuan’s hip, where a surgery scar stretches taut over tan skin, once the home of the bullet lodged in bone, Dan Heng places a gentle kiss there. Careful, almost reverent. It breaks past the heat-addled fog in Jing Yuan’s brain long enough for his heart to stutter.
“Beautiful. . .” he murmurs against him, letting the word linger on raised flesh for a moment before suddenly Jing Yuan’s thighs are pushed apart.
Even through the haze, Jing Yuan feels himself flush darker, rosy pink bleeding down his neck to his chest as Dan Heng regards his puffy folds, slick dribbling out to stain the sheets below.
“A-Heng—”
“May I?”
Dan Heng peers up at him through his long, dark lashes. His pupils are blown, eyes crazed, tongue swiping over his bottom lip like he can hardly hold himself back. Jing Yuan squirms under the intensity of his stare, his arousal on full display, unable to hide as Dan Heng keeps his legs spread.
“Mn— You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Dan Heng cuts in. With his lips parted, his fangs are visible, spit dripping down their sharp edge. His tone carries an undercurrent of desperation. “Please, Yuan-ge. . . Let me?”
Jing Yuan knows he should be used to the younger’s hunger by now, the eagerness with which Dan Heng rises to every one of Jing Yuan’s needs, his wants. That glint of determination in sharp eyes, the willingness to launch himself at whatever feeble wall of defence Jing Yuan sets up.
It still overwhelms all the same; a feeling akin to being swept up in raging waters, yet the waves that lap at his skin are gentle, carrying him along the current without the threat of drowning.
Finally, Jing Yuan decides to let himself be taken. He meets Dan Heng’s gaze, faces the emotions there head-on like the soldier he is. Except he knows this time what follows isn’t a battle, but a capitulation, albeit a welcome one. His gain far outweighs his loss, after all.
“Yes,” he breathes out, and gives in.
The look in Dan Heng’s eyes shifts, settling into place, as if he too knows that Jing Yuan’s concession is for more than just the following act. Lowering himself further, Dan Heng’s lips brush featherlight over the mole that decorates his inner thigh, fingers kneading at pliant flesh.
With one last upwards flicker of his gaze, Dan Heng dives into the pulsing warmth splayed before him, and Jing Yuan sees stars.
In the throws of his heat, time is a foreign concept to Jing Yuan. The meaning of it is lost between the sheets, among sweat-slick, feverish skin and the aches soothed over by touch, teeth and tongue.
Jing Yuan’s consciousness is a fickle thing, his most base instincts taking over for most of it. He’s aware the blinds have been drawn at some point, the room’s lights dimmed to accommodate for the height of Jing Yuan’s sensitivity. He recalls in brief flashes of memory that Dan Heng has helped part his lips for sips of water and small pieces of fruit, quietly commanding him to swallow when Jing Yuan’s mind struggles.
He also knows that Dan Heng has worked him up slowly despite his earlier reassurance that Jing Yuan would take his girth well, only allowing the head of his cock to slip in the first few times no matter how much Jing Yuan wailed and begged for more.
Now, however, Jing Yuan’s heat has crested to its highest point.
The pain is enough to have him more lucid than he’s been in a while; restless and writhing on the bed, his nest in disarray around him. Dan Heng braces himself on his elbows, arms caging the older in, his scent strong enough now that it invades Jing Yuan´s senses.
“Please. . .” Jing Yuan whimpers, voice sounding foreign to his own ears, uncaring for the way his nails draw blood as he scratches at the Alpha´s sides. “Need it. . .”
Warm lips seal themselves over his own, stealing the feeble, punched out breath Jing Yuan lets out as Dan Heng bottoms out in one swift move. Even with how loose Jing Yuan feels, Dan Heng´s length stretches him further, brushing all the most sensitive spots within his walls and easing away his discomfort.
And when a lithe pam settles on the meat of his thigh, shifting his leg to hook around Dan Heng´s waist so the younger can start to thrust in earnest, pleasure explodes like fireworks in Jing Yuan´s core. He throws his head back, breaking from their kiss to mewl like a goddamn animal, a casualty to the onslaught of his own ecstasy.
It takes a while for his mind to even catch up to the fact that he'd just climaxed, the orgasm lasting long enough that it felt endless. He's panting hard by the time his vision clears, twin tear tracks leading down onto the pillow as he blinks up at Dan Heng.
If possible, the Alpha looks even more crazed, silken black locks pushed away from his face as he stares down at him. He stares at Jing Yuan as if he´s. . . fascinated, almost.
“Incredible,” Dan Heng rasps, breathless.
His hand trails a path from where he’d pinned Jing Yuan's wrists at some point down his chest. Halcyon eyes follow the movement, widening a fraction as he watches smooth fingers swipe through the clear liquid coating his abdomen. Jing Yuan knows right away it's more than just his slick, but he still feels stunned. That´s. . . never happened before.
Jing Yuan wants to say as much, but he hardly trusts his own voice right now, especially when Dan Heng shifts to grab his hips instead and resumes his breakneck pace once more. All that leaves the Omega´s throat then is a garbled mess vaguely resembling Dan Heng´s name.
“Fuck. . .”
Dan Heng’s grip on him is tight, fingers digging into the soft flesh there with enough force that Jing Yuan knows it’ll bruise. He can hardly bring himself to do much of anything besides lie there and take it; helpless against the flood of pleasure overwhelming his senses.
He keens high in his throat when Dan Heng sits up further, pushing in even deeper as he pounds against him. His hands scramble for purchase, grabbing desperately for the sheets as his insides clamp down on Dan Heng’s cock in approval.
“Just like that,” Dan Heng says, words slurring almost. “Ah, yeah—”
Jing Yuan’s never heard his voice sound so deep, mind stuttering over repeated cries of Alpha! Alpha! Alpha! He hasn’t felt this way in so long, the memories of getting fucked by other Alpha’s in his younger years seeming like a faraway light only barely visible through the fog. Truthfully, Jing Yuan isn’t sure he’s ever been fucked quite like this, Dan Heng’s mounting desperation clear in the thick scent that coats the entire room.
“So. Perfect.” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust that verges on painful, Dan Heng’s hold on Jing Yuan growing impossibly tighter as he lifts up his lower body to hook strong thighs over his own.
“I’m gonna pump this pretty pussy so full,” Dan Heng babbles as if borderline delirious, hips slowing for a moment to glide in and out of Jing Yuan’s soaked folds. “Gonna stuff you full of my pups, give you as many as you want.”
Jing Yuan pants, eyes screwing shut as a wave of heat crashes through him. His earlier conversation with Yingxing seems distant to him now, the knowledge that he’s inadvertently missed taking his birth control a concern far removed from his mind right now.
He downright preens at the words, cunt pulsing as more slick pours out of him, covering Dan Heng’s dick in even more fluids. If he weren’t already flushed all over, Jing Yuan would blush. He hadn’t even known his body still could produce this much slick, had figured that surely he’d begun to dry up as his age climbed higher.
Evidently, he’d been wrong.
“Fuck,” Dan Heng hisses, and the death grip on Jing Yuan’s flesh lets up so that his hands can roam over Jing Yuan’s sides as he leans down. Eager lips press open-mouthed kisses to his skin, trailing up along his collarbone and towards his neck, where a tongue swipes languidly over his scent glands.
Jing Yuan moans — drawn-out and loud enough that it seems to bounce off the walls — as his eyelids flutter. His scent just oozes out, honeyed sweetness mingling with the sharp mint of Dan Heng´s own in a heedy blend that will no doubt linger in the room for days to come, almost suffocating in its intensity.
He hears Dan Heng inhale sharply, a pleased growl rumbling through his chest and against Jing Yuan’s own.
“God. . . So amazing, so perfect,” Dan Heng presses the praise straight to Jing Yuan’s skin, branding him with it. “My beautiful Omega. All mine. . .”
His arms wrap around Dan Heng’s shoulders, desperate to keep the younger as close as possible as his knot begins to grow, rubbing at Jing Yuan’s overly sensitive walls with each snap of Dan Heng’s hips. He feels like a pot boiled over, bubbling past the edges, caught in the liminal space between pleasure and pain.
“Yours,” he manages, clinging to his Alpha with all his might. Eyes fluttering closed, Jing Yuan shivers at the wet swipe of Dan Heng’s tongue, fangs grazing his neck with the barest hint of restraint.
The sudden fervour with which Jing Yuan longs for a mating bite takes him by storm, locking his ankles on Dan Heng´s lower back. “Alpha, please. . . mark me. . .”
“Fuck,” the younger’s reply leaves him in a strangled groan, and his teeth sink deep into Jing Yuan´s flesh just as he spills within him.
Jing Yuan's lips part on a silent scream at the dual sensation, and his vision whites out.
It takes a few days for Jing Yuan’s heat to pass.
When it finally does, Jing Yuan is sore all over, body feeling akin to a thoroughly wrung out washcloth. He’s already resolved himself to not leave the house for another day or two, resembling a rather violent painting with all the love bites he bears, Dan Heng’s palms imprinted many times over on his hips.
He doubts the Alpha would permit him to leave yet anyway, arms clasped firmly around Jing Yuan’s frames as he cradles him to his chest.
They’re pressed together as close as can be, the nest around them clean of their combined passion, once again put through the laundry and freshly scented by Dan Heng. Jing Yuan is content to lie boneless in his lover’s embrace, letting the notes of mint, sea salt and green tea he’s grown so fond of envelop his senses. They mingle with his own, the scent of citrus and honey still heightened even now that his heat has faded.
His hip aches something fierce, but the pain is tempered by the afterglow of his release, mind replaying the scene in the shower just moments ago. He shivers in muted delight at the memory of Dan Heng peering up at him through thick lashes, slinging one of Jing Yuan’s thighs over his shoulder as he’d resolved to properly clean up his own mess.
Dan Heng notices the minute tremor, his voice more baritone than usual as he speaks. “Are you cold?”
Though Jing Yuan shakes his head, Dan Heng pulls the covers up a little higher so they cover most of his back. The small action causes Jing Yuan’s heart to flutter, hand reaching up to trace the mating bite on Dan Heng’s neck that matches his own.
Crooning softly in the back of his throat, Dan Heng’s head tilts so he can meet twin pools of liquid gold. Jing Yuan’s eyes are half-lidded as he meets his gaze, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “You know there’s no taking these back right?”
There is, technically. Mating marks can be reversed, but the process is a painful one, agony akin to being torn apart from the inside out as the emotional tether binding two souls is stripped away. Jing Yuan shudders just to think about it.
Seemingly amused, Dan Heng quirks up a brow.
“And who says I’d ever take this back?” His tone smoothes into something gentle, achingly sincere, hand squeezing where it keeps a possessive hold on Jing Yuan’s waist. “You’re finally mine now. . . as if I'd ever willingly give you up. . .”
Jing Yuan searches for any hint of doubt in the younger’s expression. He comes up empty, Dan Heng’s eyes the reflection of the sea’s calming depths. Still, Jing Yuan asks, just the tiniest hint of vulnerability buried within a teasing lilt. “So you’ll never leave me?”
“Never.”
“You’ll stay forever?”
“Forever.”
He can’t help but chuckle at Dan Heng’s serious, straightforward replies, even as his heart stumbles in its rhythm. “You know, that’s quite a commitment you’re making.”
Dan Heng snorts, voice huskier than before. “Gege, was me knotting you over and over these past few days with the intent of getting you pregnant not enough proof of my commitment?”
Unfair, Jing Yuan thinks. Dan Heng’s newfound confidence is in equal parts arousing as it is infuriating. Jing Yuan knows his words are the truth, can still feel the remnants of the younger’s passion moulded into his hips, chest, between his thighs. . .
Hearing it said aloud nevertheless makes him blush, cursing how Dan Heng can be so shamelessly forward at times. Long gone is the awkward mumbling youth too shy to speak his mind, who had to be coaxed out of his shell more often than not.
“I was still taking birth control before you came over. . .” he mumbles. “It probably won’t take.”
“Guess I’ll just have to keep trying then, won’t I?”
Huffing, Jing Yuan lightly rolls his eyes, Dan Heng chasing after him when he turns away to press kisses to his burning cheek. After a moment, Jing Yuan shifts again to rest their foreheads together, strands of onyx and silver bleeding into one another.
He inhales deeply, lets his exhale fan across Dan Heng’s mouth as he speaks.
“Thank you for being my forever.”
Dan Heng’s breath hitches at the declaration, hand cupping Jing Yuan’s nape to draw him into an unhurried, claiming kiss. His lips linger on Jing Yuan’s own, words seeping like honey onto Jing Yuan’s tongue, sweet and true.
“And thank you for being mine.”
The day is warm, summer plucking back the last vestiges of spring to take its place.
Sunlight spills past the stained glass that separates the small terrace from the rest of the garden, falling iridescent on Jing Yuan’s hair as he sits on the bench there. His wrist flicks his fan in small movements, fighting off the sweat collecting on his brow. He’s more sensitive to heat now, feet already sore from a scant thirty minutes of standing.
The faint trickle of laughter and conversation reaches his ears, familiar voices blending together as his and Dan Heng’s combined group of friends talk over tea and treats. Jing Yuan smiles at the sound, eyes languidly tracking Bailu as she stomps around the garden, little Yanqing trailing after her.
In two years, he’s already grown so much, looking more and more like Dan Heng every day. Even though the man in question insists their son is the spitting image of Jing Yuan, hair pale and eyes the same shade of gold.
The bench gives a quiet squeak with the weight of a newcomer. Jing Yuan turns, only for his field of vision to be obscured by a glass of lemonade.
“Drink,” Dan Heng says, a hint of demand in his tone. “You need to stay hydrated.”
Jing Yuan accepts with a chuckle, forever endeared by his husband’s fretfulness, cranked up to eleven now that the second baby’s set to arrive soon. He swallows a few gulps, mouth drier than he’d realised, and balances the bottom of the glass on the curve of his belly bump to use as a make-shift table.
He pouts when Dan Heng takes it away, setting the glass filled with the remaining liquid onto a less precarious surface, but the expression is quickly wiped away when Dan Heng rests his head there instead. Jing Yuan pets his hair, curling silky strands around his fingers, admiring how they’ve grown to reach past his shoulders.
“So what do you think this time, hm? Boy or girl?”
Dan Heng’s lashes flutter as he closes his eyes, one hand rubbing Jing Yuan’s belly in a steady rhythm. He lets out a low hum, the sound verberating against his skin, prompting the baby to deliver a few meagre kicks.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles, lips brushing the soft muscle beneath him. “All I do know is I can’t wait to meet them. . .”
Jing Yuan smiles, content to let their conversation fizzle as he plays with Dan Heng’s hair, simply basking in the serenity of the moment.
Off to the side, an orchid sits on the windowsill. A gift of Dan Heng’s at the start of Jing Yuan’s first pregnancy, it stands proud, delicate pale pink petals unfurling under the gentle rays of the afternoon sun.
In bloom.