Chapter Text
Shen Yuan sighs, sinking into the warmth enveloping him as gentle fingers trace slow strokes along his back. He’s stretched out on his side atop a daybed, the soft afternoon sun filtering through the window behind him, coaxing his eyelids to droop. Before him lies a meadow, a lush green carpet dotted with wildflowers, butterflies weaving in and out.
A picture-perfect scenery straight out of a movie—or in this case, Proud Immortal Demon Way.
The fingers stroking his back momentarily pause. Shen Yuan lets out a small, plaintive sound. Please don’t stop. After a beat, the rhythmic motion resumes, sending soothing waves down his spine. Sleep beckons Shen Yuan once again.
The green of the grass before him intensifies, so bright it’s almost neon.
Each caress lulls him further, soothing away all nagging worries—the summoning spell’s plummeting accuracy, the Protagonist’s distress, and Shen Yuan’s jumbled feelings after making out with Luo Binghe of all people—until they all melt in the warmth of the sunbeam on his back and the gentle strokes along his skin.
He snuggles deeper into that comforting heat, only to bump into someone behind him. It dawns on him that the legs of the person spooning him are tangled with his, like creeping ivy. Gentle fingers slide through his hair, tickling the nape of his neck.
Shen Yuan’s breathing slows, time stretching like warm taffy. Who is this person? He should move, turn around, but his eyelids are too heavy, his body boneless. Besides, why mess with this perfect moment?
The person behind him reaches down to cover Shen Yuan’s hand resting on his stomach, threading their fingers together. The gesture sends a shiver of prickling heat through him, startling him awake. Curiosity ignited, he tilts his head back and reaches out a hand, finally ready to see who’s holding him.
“Which title does Shen Yuan need?” A familiar voice murmurs in his ear. Shen Yuan is no longer on the daybed, but standing in front of a library bookshelf, hand outstretched towards the spines of old tomes. He could’ve sworn he was having the most chill day ever just a second ago. When he tries to remember, the vision of a sunlit meadow fades away like mist.
His fingertip brushes along rows of book bindings, titles flickering into existence before vanishing again.
What book was he searching for?
“I think I know,” the voice says again, a puff of warm breath against his neck. Even without turning, Shen Yuan knows it’s Zhao Jiahao, standing so close he can feel the other man’s body heat radiating through his robes.
Zhao Jiahao shifts, reaching past Shen Yuan’s shoulder to a shelf higher than Shen Yuan can reach, pressing their bodies closer. A spark of warmth stirs in Shen Yuan’s belly as Zhao Jiahao’s presence lingers against his back, the tingling at his nape intensifying.
Shen Yuan holds his breath in anticipation. Zhao Jiahao, his closest friend in the palace, knows him better than anyone. What book will he choose for Shen Yuan?
Zhao Jiahao plucks a dark red tome from the shelf. “It’s this one, right?” he asks, holding the book level with Shen Yuan’s chest, still leaning over his shoulder.
Shen Yuan reads the title embossed on the cover. The Empress’ Boudoir.
His pulse jumps, heat rushing to his face at the thought of being seen through. Vehemently shaking his head, he stammers, “No. Th-that’s not—”
Shen Yuan turns around, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet. He stands in a forest, tall trees looming in all directions, dappled light filtering through the canopy above. The scene looks familiar, although he can’t quite place it. His feet move of their own accord, following a path as if he has walked it countless times before.
Rows of tomato plants appear on either side of the path, their vines heavy with green and yellow fruits, drooping like fat clusters of grapes. Half an incense stick passes. Or is it half a shichen?
The shadows stretch and the air cools. Shen Yuan pulls his arms close around his shoulders to ward off the creeping cold. By the fourth time he passes a thicket of tomato vines, he realizes with a sinking feeling that he’s been circling the same path.
He pauses to look around, trying to get his bearings. A soft rustling sound interrupts the silence, like a whisper of velvet brushing against the forest floor. His head snaps toward the noise.
Emerging from the thick underbrush is the head of a gigantic feline with striped white fur and an iridescent tusk on its forehead. The creature’s taloned front legs resemble those of an eagle, its predatory gaze fixed on Shen Yuan. Air stalls in Shen Yuan’s lungs, the fine hairs on his arms standing on end as he recognizes the beast—a Sinister Striped Tiger Drake. He instinctively reaches into his sleeve for a talisman but comes up empty. Shit. He’s completely defenseless.
But before he can think to run, the rest of the creature’s enormous body breaks through the foliage. Shen Yuan spots a familiar figure perched on its back, riding on top of the Abyssal beast like a horse. His gaze roves over the newcomer’s broad and athletic form, lingering as it slides down to the sharp V-line of the man’s hip. There, strapped in white leather, rests the jewel-encrusted hilt of the God-killing Dagger of Sorrow.
Shen Yuan breathes out a sigh of relief. “Zhao Jiahao!”
Zhao Jiahao halts the beast in front of him, exuding a princely air atop the majestic creature. “I’ve been looking for you,” he says, extending a hand. Shen Yuan grasps it, and with a firm pull, Zhao Jiahao lifts him onto the beast’s back, settling him sidesaddle in front while Zhao Jiahao sits astride him from behind. Zhao Jiahao grasps the reins and the Sinister Striped Tiger Drake slinks through the forest, its steps barely making a sound.
“Relax,” Zhao Jiahao whispers, his breath tickling Shen Yuan’s ear. Shen Yuan allows his shoulders to sag. Their bodies sway in time with each subtle shift of the creature beneath them, the movement pressing Shen Yuan’s side closer to Zhao Jiahao. For some reason, his heart does a curious little backflip, each little bump on the path making him hyper-aware of his best friend beside him.
He nestles against Zhao Jiahao’s chest—comforting in its warmth, breadth, and solidity. Something cold brushes against his cheek. Shen Yuan looks closer to inspect. A metal pin of the Zhao family insignia—a dragon swallowing a tiger—gleams on Zhao Jiahao’s lapel.
Something even stranger catches Shen Yuan’s eye. Zhao Jiahao’s attire had changed from his usual scholarly robes. At some point between his arrival and now, he had swapped them for an 18th-century French cavalry uniform—a high-collared dark blue jacket, tall black riding boots, and even a tricorne hat. Shen Yuan’s jaw drops.
Shen Yuan’s sister had always yapped at him about how men in uniform looked hot. How something about pressed suits and the structured lines of formal uniforms give a sharp, polished appearance, increasing any guy’s attractiveness tenfold. Shen Yuan had rolled his eyes, thinking it was just another of her BL-fueled fantasies. She had badgered him multiple times to dress up in suits, but Shen Yuan was perfectly happy with his jeans and t-shirts—no thank you!
Now, as he draws back to take in his friend from head to toe, Shen Yuan has to admit—his sister might have been onto something. The cavalry uniform’s tailored fit highlights Zhao Jiahao’s broad shoulders and lean figure, lending him timeless elegance and an undeniable allure. Frankly, he had always thought Zhao Jiahao, with his auburn hair, clear gray eyes, and dark alchemist robes was a good-looking guy. But now?
Zhao Jiahao honest-to-goodness looks like a dashing hero from a fairytale.
“How can you be so hot?” Shen Yuan blurts out, then quickly averts his gaze, hoping to hide his rapidly heating face.
“Hm?” Zhao Jiahao responds, tone indulgent, a smile likely tugging a corner of his lips. “The weather is perfectly cool. A comfortable temperature for a forest jaunt.” After a brief pause, Shen Yuan feels cool knuckles brush against his cheek. “Shen Yuan feels warm?”
The contact makes Shen Yuan’s face flush even more. He’s relieved Zhao Jiahao had misinterpreted his slip of the tongue, but for some reason, his pulse starts pounding in his ears. “Never mind me,” he mutters, desperately wishing for something to hide his reddened cheeks. A folding fan appears in his hand which he snaps open and holds up to his face, revealing only his eyes and the tips of his ears. “I-I just don’t understand…”
“Hm?” Zhao Jiahao prompts, encouraging Shen Yuan to continue.
“You should be able to get any girl you want,” Shen Yuan says, fanning himself. Well, any girl that’s not earmarked for the Protagonist, that is. “But you’re still single.”
Shen Yuan feels Zhao Jiahao’s shoulders tense, his grip on the reins tightening. Ah, it must be a sensitive topic for the boy. Zhao Jiahao’s work at the Royal Alchemical Labs and his worry about his imprisoned father are probably consuming him, leaving little room for romance. Besides, how could Zhao Jiahao get a girlfriend if he hangs out with Shen Yuan all the time?
The Sinister Striped Tiger Drake leaps over an overhanging rock. The movement jostles Shen Yuan, sending him colliding against Zhao Jiahao’s plush and muscled chest. He catches a whiff of herbs mixed with a bittersweet aroma of burnt wood and metal. The spicy scent overwhelms him, scrambling his thoughts like birds in a net. His heart races, tiny embers igniting and spreading under his skin.
They come to a stop. Zhao Jiahao drops the reins, and a warm hand slides up Shen Yuan’s thigh.
“I know what I want.” Zhao Jiahao’s voice is low and husky against Shen Yuan’s ear, tinged with a strange edge to it. “How about you, Shen Yuan? What do you want?”
Another row of tomato plants appear beside them, this time with fruits red and ripe for picking. They shimmer like pearls in the low forest light. What does Shen Yuan want? He can’t name it, but the heat simmering low in his stomach bubbles in response.
Maybe he needs to eat?
“I’m hungry,” Shen Yuan says, eyeing a luscious red fruit hanging nearby.
Without hesitation, Zhao Jiahao reaches up and plucks the opalescent crimson fruit from the vine. He brings it to Shen Yuan’s lips, and as Shen Yuan bites into it, bittersweet juice bursting on his tongue, he belatedly realizes that the fruit is in fact, not a tomato—
“Welcome to the banquet,” Liu Mingyan announces in a cool, ringing tone, eyes glittering over her veil as she gestures to a sumptuous spread in the mess hall. The dining area has been decked out in a festive display, deep crimson banners hanging from the ceiling and floral arrangements of damask roses decorating the tables. A decadent feast awaits: a whole roasted suckling pig drenched in a blood-red sauce, vermilion-colored stews, ruby-red soups, and trays piled with dumplings in varying shades of red. Burgundy wine glistens in crystal goblets.
Scattered across the table are bowls and trays filled with the very fruit Shen Yuan had just tasted. The pearlescent red fruits gleam like blood rubies under the lamplight.
“Our special ingredient for tonight,” Liu Mingyan announces, plucking one of the fruits between delicate fingers, "is the Berry of Desire ."
Applause ripples through the hall. Shen Yuan turns and bumps straight into Zhao Jiahao. “Sorry!” He steps back, hands pressing against Zhao Jiahao’s firm chest to steady himself. A warm and tingly wave rushes through him at the contact.
Cheeks hot, he tries to regain his composure by beckoning Zhao Jiahao to sit with him at the table. He picks up his chopsticks. “Time to dig in!” He bites into a dumpling, smacking his lips as the savory filling melds with the bittersweet berry in his mouth. A strange but delicious combination.
Zhao Jiahao watches from his seat, one elbow propped on the table, his cheek resting against his palm. A small, almost mischievous smile tugs at his lips, though his plate remains empty.
“Eat up!” Shen Yuan teases, raising his chopsticks. “Come on, you can’t just watch me.”
Zhao Jiahao’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “I will... If you feed me.”
Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. Is this a dare? Does Zhao Jiahao think Shen Yuan is going to back down from a simple request?
“Alright, what do you want?”
“The berry.”
Shen Yuan grabs a handful of fruits and places them on Zhao Jiahao’s plate. He plucks a single scarlet berry and brings it to his friend’s lips. Zhao Jiahao parts them, and as Shen Yuan slips the fruit between his teeth, his fingers brush against soft, warm lips. The brief contact sends an electrifying spark skittering along Shen Yuan’s skin.
“Mmmm,” Zhao Jiahao hums in satisfaction, eyes theatrically fluttering shut as if the berry was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is half-lidded, a faint flush dusting his cheeks. Shen Yuan pops another berry into Zhao Jiahao’s mouth.
Shen Yuan watches, transfixed, as his friend devours the Berries of Desire with slow, deliberate relish. The rich red juices stain Zhao Jiahao’s lips, making them look inviting.
“It really is a mystery,” Shen Yuan breathes out, his gaze drifting over Zhao Jiahao’s face—the dusky eyelashes, the elegant curve of his brows, the way his auburn hair frames his sharp features. “If Proud Immortal Demon Way were that kind of story, you’d definitely be the second male lead. You’re literally perfect.”
Zhao Jiahao meets his gaze, dark eyes smoldering beneath half-lowered lids. He darts his tongue out to catch the next berry, the wet tip brushing Shen Yuan’s fingers in the process. Heat flares in Shen Yuan’s ribcage, and lower, something stirs between his thighs.
“Second?” Zhao Jiahao’s voice is a soft purr. “Why can’t I be first?”
Shen Yuan’s mouth goes dry. He licks his lips, his hand trembling as he presses another berry against Zhao Jiahao’s lips. Zhao Jiahao bites into it, the fruit bursting, crimson juice spilling down his chin.
“Aiyah, so wasteful,” Shen Yuan scolds, barely managing to mask the tremor in his voice. He catches the juice on his fingertips before it drips further, and, with a surge of boldness, presses them against Zhao Jiahao’s lips. “Now, lick.”
Without missing a beat, Zhao Jiahao flicks out a moist and soft tongue, slowly licking the juice from Shen Yuan’s fingers. He doesn’t stop even after the berry’s sweetness is gone, and only the salt of Shen Yuan’s skin remains. Each pass of his tongue sends shivers rippling down Shen Yuan’s spine, the ache between his thighs growing unbearable.
Zhao Jiahao grasps Shen Yuan’s wrist, halting the hand against his lips. He speaks, whisper-soft kisses fluttering on Shen Yuan’s skin.
“Why bind ourselves to the narrative?” Zhao Jiahao says, voice low and husky. “When we could write our own story instead?”
In one fluid motion, Zhao Jiahao pops Shen Yuan’s fingers into his mouth and sucks.
A surge of heat flares in Shen Yuan groin, like sizzling oil poured onto fire. He gasps, his entire being irresistibly drawn to Zhao Jiahao. He reaches out—
Only to find himself once again lying on his side, back on the daybed overlooking the sun-dappled meadow. The late afternoon sun bathes his skin in warmth. He blinks, disoriented, and tilts his head back to see the person spooning him from behind.
Sunlight blinds him momentarily, but he doesn’t need to see to know.
“Jiahao?” He calls out, voice soft as he threads his fingers through silky auburn hair.
“Shen Yuan,” Zhao Jiahao replies with a shuddering breath. He shifts, moving on top of Shen Yuan, caging him in with his body. He presses their foreheads together, warm breath fanning against Shen Yuan’s cheek. “I-I want to be your first. Will you allow me?”
First? Does he mean like, main lead? Or, that kind of first?
Shen Yuan decides that it doesn’t matter. Wrapping his arms around Zhao Jiahao’s neck, Zhao Jiahao’s warm smoke and berry scent fanning the pyre in his belly, he whispers, “Take what you want.”
Zhao Jiahao doesn’t need any further encouragement. He makes a beeline for Shen Yuan’s mouth, crushing their lips together. Shen Yuan sucks in a breath. Zhao Jiahao teases the seam of Shen Yuan’s lips open and pushes a hot tongue inside. Shen Yuan tenses, a shiver traveling through his body before he melts completely under the onslaught of the kiss.
Something hard presses into Shen Yuan’s stomach. He slides one of his hands down from Zhao Jiahao’s neck to his belly, tracing the rigid rod tenting his pants. Heart pounding in his ears, he gives it a firm squeeze.
Zhao Jiahao groans into their kiss, his body shuddering.
The fabric beneath Shen Yuan’s fingers evaporates like ether, and suddenly his hand is encircling Zhao Jiahao’s hot and naked erection. Shen Yuan’s own dick is now bare to the open air. The cock in his fingers is bigger and longer than Shen Yuan’s, but not to an exaggerated degree. Zhao Jiahao unlatches his mouth and shifts, guiding their hands to wrap around both of their cocks, establishing a steady rhythm of friction.
Slick sounds fill the air from their joined hands, aided by the copious precome dripping from their cocks. Hot and cold jolts of pleasure slide up and down Shen Yuan’s spine, making his mouth part in a gasp. Zhao Jiahao seizes the opportunity to reclaim Shen Yuan’s lips in a deep and searing kiss.
Some distant part of Shen Yuan asks if he should be concerned at what he’s doing to his male best friend, but he tamps down the intrusive thought.
It’s okay. It’s just a dream within a dream, anyway. There’s probably some Freudian or Jungian explanation for dreaming about dreaming of having sex with your close friends. Sexception, if you will. A normal developmental milestone for a healthy young man like him!
Zhao Jiahao snakes a hand beneath Shen Yuan’s waist, pulling their bodies closer, never breaking their kiss.
Besides, being held like this helps Shen Yuan forget about that… that incident with Luo Binghe against the inn door.
“You’re thinking about him again,” Zhao Jiahao growls, his brow furrowing and lips turning down. “I’ll make you forget about that man, Shen Yuan.”
Zhao Jiahao trails heated kisses down the sensitive skin of Shen Yuan’s neck, sucking fiercely and leaving angry red marks all the way to Shen Yuan’s shoulder and collarbone. Shen Yuan gasps at the pinpricks of pleasure-pain. Hot and cold shivers travel up and down his spine, his hand grabbing a fistful of Zhao Jiahao’s hair. More slick covers their joined cocks as the speed of their pumping increases, heightening Shen Yuan’s pleasure. It causes him to cry out, his back arching as mini fireworks of sensation burst at his nerve endings.
“Yes, just like that, Shen Yuan,” Zhao Jiahao rasps in his ear. “Does it feel good, baobei?”
Shen Yuan makes an embarrassing noise that he immediately tries to pretend didn’t happen. His hips move instinctively, grinding against Zhao Jiahao’s stomach. The flame in his belly ignites into a blazing inferno. He wraps his legs around Zhao Jiahao’s waist, needing more of that delicious friction. Heat boils him from the inside, sweat forming like dew on his skin. It’s unbearable. He needs it to stop. He doesn’t want to stop.
Zhao Jiahao quickens his pace, rocking his hips against Shen Yuan in the same frenetic rhythm. “Think only of me,” he gasps, eyes closing as sweat trickles from his brow. He hunches over, closing the gap until only a breath separates them. Shen Yuan’s world narrows to Zhao Jiahao’s woodsy, bittersweet scent, his handsome face framed by tawny locks, and their steamy breaths fusing in the air.
The inferno in Shen Yuan’s belly reaches a fever pitch, the flame leaping so high it scorches him with its intensity. He writhes on the daybed, his grip on the back of Zhao Jiahao’s neck tightening, his toes curling with each searing wave of pleasure.
“Me… Only me. Only… me...” Zhao Jiahao gasps, his rhythm relentless.
“A— Aaaaahh!” Shen Yuan keens as a gazillion sparks of pleasure simultaneously combust through his body. The raging inferno consumes him whole, scorching everything in its wake. His dick spurts out a wide arc of cum, some of it splashing onto his chin and cheek. Zhao Jiahao licks it off Shen Yuan’s face as he continues rubbing through Shen Yuan’s orgasm. Shen Yuan convulses, strangled noises escaping his throat as he veers towards oversensitivity.
“I love you, Shen Yuan,” Zhao Jiahao pants as he squeezes their cocks together, pupils blown wide, mouth parted in a “O”. His muscles tense beneath Shen Yuan’s fingers, and in the next moment, hot seed gushes over Shen Yuan’s stomach in pulsing waves. Zhao Jiahao’s breathy cries and strings of “I love you”s drown out Shen Yuan’s senses.
Zhoa Jiahao releases wave after wave of cum like a never-ending fountain. It gushes and spurts until Shen Yuan’s entire body is covered in milky white. So much of it streams out, that it floods and engulfs Shen Yuan like a warm ocean, lazy waves frothing and lapping against the shore.
Zhao Jiahao hovers over him, a blissful expression on his face. Shen Yuan’s heart throbs at the sight. He slides the hand holding Zhao Jiahao's nape to cup the side of his face. Zhao Jiahao leans into the touch, his eyelashes fluttering shut.
“I—” Shen Yuan starts, an unnameable emotion surging in his chest.
But before he can finish, Zhao Jiahao vanishes like a puff of smoke.
The verdant meadow, the sunlit daybed, the warm and milky ocean—all gone.
In their place, a man stands before him, eyes blazing like burning coals.
“Luo Binghe!?”