Chapter Text
Hua Cheng admires. Considers. Lowers his brush, nearly decided—lifts it, shifting off to the side.
Not fast enough. (Entirely on purpose, of course.) A drop of ink drips from the tip onto his canvas.
His canvas muffles a whimper.
Hua Cheng smiles. It might be more than a little manic, but Xie Lian can't see him right now, so that's alright.
He allows himself a further trespass: He drags a finger through the ink on his god's back, smearing it along the divot of Xie Lian's spine.
"San Lang," Xie Lian—his canvas, his lover, his husband—whines. "That tickles."
"My apologies, gege," Hua Cheng says, entirely unapologetic. Xie Lian hmphs, readjusting.
His Highness plays at haughty remove, but Hua Cheng notices the extra grind of his hips into the fabric covering the altar. Hua Cheng's smile may, perhaps, be a smirk. Oh, he loves his god, loves his divinity, but more than that he loves his humanity. His perfect imperfections. He loves marring—not marring, no, apotheosizing His Highness by bringing him down from the Heavens onto this altar and marking his body with words just for the two of them.
That the Heavens would hate it makes it all the sweeter.