chud

Normally when Shang Tsung went to Liu Kang, they would do it on his desk, against the wall, or even on the floor (all part of Shang Tsung's plan, nothing more, of course.) However, tonight, as their mouths feverishly found one another, Liu Kang slowly guided the sorcerer to his bed. Shang Tsung couldn't help but secretly feel triumphant, knowing Liu Kang was slowly but surely becoming more attached. Just as he wanted.

But, when they finished and Shang Tsung prepared to leave, a warm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He was asked to stay the night. Initially, Shang Tsung wanted to laugh at the God. He looked so pleading, so... human. Instead, however, Shang Tsung smiled.

"Of course," he said, "I didn't take you for being clingy, My Lord." And with that, he blew out the candle illuminating the room.

Shang Tsung did not fall asleep. He laid next to the Fire God, body slightly sticky from sweat from before, The God had fallen asleep hours ago. The sorcerer turned to watch the back of Liu Kang's head, observing the way his shoulders rose and fell softly. Like this, the God looked like a mere mortal, just like Shang Tsung. So human, so peaceful. As if the weight of the realms wasn't on his shoulders.

Now was the perfect time to strike.

Shang Tsung propped up on his elbow, leaning over Liu Kang's sleeping form. A wicked smirk grew on his lips, raising his fist and protracting his green blades.

No monks, no champions, no Geras to stop him. Just Shang Tsung, Liu Kang, and misplaced trust. Finally, after months of hustling around the Wu Shi, clawing his way through to Liu Kang's heart, Shang Tsung could finally do what he came to do. No more sneaking into Liu Kang's chambers in the dead of night, bending over tables, letting his hair be pulled by a man who was notorious for being gentle. It was disgusting the things he had to do.

Just aim for the neck. One quick, hard jab. Shang Tsung could just imagine the way Liu Kang's blood would splatter, coating the bed sheets, and how the God would wake up, frantically bringing his hands up to his neck. He would helplessly try to defend himself, but it would be too late. Liu Kang would glance up at Shang Tsung, his glowing eyes flickering, and whilst choking on his own blood he would mutter:

"How could I have been so foolish?"

The simple thought of that sent Shang Tsung reeling...

...so why did he pause?

His enemy was right there, completely vulnerable, so why was he hesitating? This is annoying, Shang Tsung thought, biting the inside of his cheek. Could it be that a part of him didn't want to kill Liu Kang? No, that was absurd... heinous, even. This meddling little thorn in his side was the very reason he grew up in a world of poverty. It was Liu Kang who crafted Shang Tsung to never amount to anything, to never harvest the power he deserved. Shang Tsung was thrown into a world that was cold and wet, all thanks to the Fire God's design. Once Shang Tsung was finished with him, he could put the realms at his feet.

Liu Kang must die.

Shang Tsung clenched his fist tighter, angling the blades directly for his carotid arteries... and once again, he froze.

Shang Tsung would never admit it, not even to himself, but Liu Kang was warm. Literally, because he was the God of Fire, but there was also something warm about him that drew the sorcerer closer. Perhaps, he liked sharing knowing glances at the Wu Shi, where anyone could pick up on their affair. The slight brush of their hands as they walked by one another sent him a thrill, knowing that at night they were doing much more sinful things.

And he would never forget how Liu Kang panted, "I shouldn't be doing this..." as he grabbed Shang Tsung by the hair and—

Liu Kang stirred, and before Shang Tsung could lay back down and pretend to be asleep, his eyes fluttered open, meeting Shang Tsung.

Shang Tsung didn't move. He stayed propped up on his elbow, green blades aimed where it would hurt the most. He resembled a deer in headlights.

Just do it! Do it now you twit!

"Well? Go ahead." Liu Kang dared, the corners of his lips turning into that smile he always wore. Shang Tsung could not explain why, but he felt his heartrate quicken, his stomach doing backflips. Did he know? Had he had known this whole time? And yet, they still did it... multiple... times...

The tips of Shang Tsung's ears heated up in an instant, and he retracted his blades. With a sneer and frustrated growl, he threw himself back onto the pillow, turning his back on the Fire God. He heard Liu Kang let out a soft chuckle. By the Elder Gods, he was insufferable.

Shang Tsung could have easily just gotten up and left, or even better, killed Liu Kang already.

But he didn't, no.

Instead, he slowly scooched himself backward. He begrudgingly did so until his bare back met with Liu Kang's. He could stay warm this way. Nothing more.

Shang Tsung had never been known for being a paternal figure. Hell, the sorcerer made it clear that he hated children. So loud, so messy, so demanding. He was a busy man! A child would interfere with his experiments and ruin them. He did not have the time for a baby, and he simply did not have the patience to put up with one. So when the two of you had a little 'accident', he was... not the happiest.

Yet, he let you keep it, with conditions, of course. Shang Tsung stated that he wanted very little part in your daughter's upbringing, at least, until she was older. She would not be allowed to wander into his lab as it would disrupt everything. And no way in hell would she be allowed in his and your chambers. "Shang Tsung, that is no way a child should be raised!" You would try to reason with him, one hand on his upper arm, the other on your stomach. The sorcerer would simply cross his arms, a defiant gesture, and tell you that those were his rules that must be followed.

Shang Tsung should have known that even that wouldn't stop the baby from messing with his life.

His eyes shot open for the third time that night, dry and bloodshot. The baby was crying again. The sorcerer's jaw clenched tight, groaning as he brought his hands up, cupping them over his ears. Ever since that damn thing was born, Shang Tsung could not get a blink of sleep. Thankfully, he was never the one who had to get out of bed to see what was wrong, but the sound of her wails could be heard from all the way down the corridor. And he had enough.

Shang Tsung felt the weight of you from the other side of the bed lighten as you sat up, and he quickly stopped you from swinging your legs over the bedside by placing a hand on your upper thigh. You paused, rubbing your eye as you glanced down at him. He had an exhausted almost-pout on his face, his eyebrows knitted together. Shang Tsung was not the cuddly type, so you knew he didn't stop you because he would miss your presence. You assumed he stopped you to tell you to just ignore the baby, for reasons you could only describe as selfish.

"I can't just ignore her—"

"Allow me." He cut you off, his voice low and husky from lack of sleep. You blinked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you sure?" You tilted your head, staring into his brown eyes for some kind of catch, but your vision was so fuzzy from exhaustion that you could not find anything. Shang Tsung simply squeezed your leg and got out of bed. His hand slipped from your leg as he stood up, adjusting his robes, and padded his way to the door to your chambers.

"Rest up, darling." He said, followed by a gentle shut of the door. You smiled to yourself, the nickname causing your heart to flutter. Letting out a gentle sigh, you nuzzled yourself back against the pillow, your eyes fluttering shut by themselves. Even though Shang Tsung was not the warmest soul, there truly was something about him that had you from the beginning. The small moments of tenderness you shared, revealed a needy part of him that only you were allowed to see. It was moments like those that had your heart captured by the, otherwise, evil sorcerer.

And then you sat up again, quick and disoriented. Yes, he was your consort, but he was still Shang Tsung. Your eyebrows furrowed in paranoia, and you immediately stood from your comfortable position on the bed, hustling your way to the nursery down the corridor. What if he planned to knock her out with some elixir he created? Tested or not, a newborn's body would not be able to handle that! You anxiously sped up, almost tripping over your own feet.

But then you slowed down again as you approached the nursery, noting the lack of crying. And, if you listened close enough, you could hear faint... shushes?

Cautiously, you pushed open the ajar door to the nursery.

Shang Tsung turned to you from the side of the cot, your daughter cradled gently in his arms. The sight was unexpected, to say the least. But in a good way. The best way.

"What is it?" He questioned your staring. You hummed as your lips curled into a smile, approaching him. You placed a hand and leaned your head on his shoulder, to which he impulsively stiffened slightly, and stared down at the now sleeping infant. Upon closer look, you noticed the baby's tiny hand holding Shang Tsung's index finger.

"Nothing," you breathed, "I just didn't expect you to have such a change of heart. You made it quite clear that..." you trailed off.

Shang Tsung's shoulders relaxed, before letting out a huff, "she wouldn't stop screaming if I didn't hold her. I am just doing you a favor."

"Hm."

The both of your looked down at the peaceful expression on her face, the way she clung onto Shang Tsung's finger with her plush fist. The silence was comfortable, warm. For once, Shang Tsung's gaze was not one like a scalpel, but instead melted like chocolate. He would never admit it, but he felt a sense of pride looking at her.

You finally broke the silence, speaking gently to not wake up the baby, "she has your nose."

Shang Tsung stared at her nose in awe. "She does," he crooned.

You lifted your head from his shoulder, looking at his side-profile. "Perhaps your intellect too."

Shang Tsung met your gaze. "She might."

"You could teach her sorcery."

"I could."

You chuckled quietly, "I didn't think you'd calm her down this way."

"Would you like me to be honest?" Shang Tsung smirked, you raised an eyebrow, "I was considering taking her soul."

"Shang—!"

"—but then I saw the look on her face." He cut-off your harsh whisper, gently placing her back into the cot. You softened, watching him.

"That's a relief then." You both glimpsed at your daughter sleeping soundly before meeting each other's gaze once more. "So you do like her... you love her."

"Don't skip to conclusions, my poison." He spoke, his voice smooth and velvety as he held has hands behind his back.

"You may be known for your lies, snake, but I see through them." You replied, "you love our daughter."

Shang Tsung did not say anything to that, a coquettish smirk pulling on his lips, before he leaned in and kissed you tenderly. You returned the kiss, bringing your hands up to his cheeks as his found themselves at your waist. Though, what started out as soft and innocent, quickly became hungry and feverish. You quickly pulled away.

"Bedtime." You asserted.

"But, darling..." he tried to swoon you, staring deep into your eyes.

"No, I'm tired." You said, amused. Shang Tsung huffed, reluctantly letting go of you.

"Alright."

The two of you padded through the hallway back to your chambers, your hands occasionally brushing along the way.