louder than god's revolver

Jinshi sat on his couch, gazing out the window, quietly observing his namesake in the cool breeze. Another sleepless night was upon him, and despite the long day he’d just finished, and the even longer day he had set for tomorrow. He could not get his mind to calm.

He was considering that he may actually need to ask the Apothecary tomorrow for something to add to his tea to help him sleep when he heard the softest tapping at his door. His head snapped to the entrance, body going taut as he glared. No one should be disturbing him this late, which means that whoever it was should not be in his compound.

Another, slightly louder tapping had him reaching up to the sword dangling from the hook on his wall above the couch, a measure added to his furniture years ago after a serving girl conspired with a guard to get the door locked once she was in his chamber, and he’d ended up having to jump out the window.

As he stood, wrapping his hand around the hilt, he heard a surprising voice, “Sir, I know you are awake. I can see your shadow in the light from the window. Can you please open the door?” Maomao’s voice was just loud enough to carry to him and his wariness morphed into amused curiosity.

He padded over to the door, just loud enough that she would be able to hear his footsteps, with a smile on his face. He opened the door a crack to see his Apothecary standing in the low light of the veranda, dressed in her usual attire, bag over her shoulder. She looked up at him without expression, her sapphire eyes seeming to sparkle with their own light.

“What brings you here at this hour, Apothecary?” he whispered quietly. “Everything alright?”

“I would prefer to speak in private, Master Jinshi, if that’s alright.”

He couldn’t help but cast his eyes over her head to look behind her at the clearly empty courtyard in a teasingly exaggerated gesture, before looking back down at her with amusement, “Yes, with everyone milling about, who knows who might overhear us?”

She returned his sarcasm with a blank stare, which brightened his smile, before he stepped aside to let her into his chambers. As she stepped past him, he noticed her eyes flick down to the sheathed sword in his hand.

“Was that what you were reaching for, sir?” Her voice was curious, but there seemed to be an undertone he couldn’t quite decipher laced within it. Once she was well into the room, she turned back to face him.

For some reason, the question made him uncomfortable, so to hide his face, he turned to close the door as he answered her, “Yes.” He was well aware that her question had been seeking more information, the unspoken why lingering. But he knew that explaining I am so beautiful that people risk death for the chance to touch me and making it a complaint was beyond most people’s understanding. Even though he knew Maomao would understand, for some reason he didn’t want to say it and sound like a spoiled child.

Or say it and have her pity him instead.

That probably would be worse.

He should have known better though, because his Apothecary just hummed quietly in response, before muttering, “I’ll have to recommend that to Granny. Much more practical than sharpened hair pins.”

And just like that, his discomfort at her question vanished, and his amusement at her presence returned, and that small aching warmth that Maomao always seemed to ignite in his chest flooded through him. Gratitude that this tiny wisp of a woman, who somehow understood his trials better than any other person could, had seen fit to tolerate his presence warmed every fiber of his being.

“Within the confines of the Verdigris House rooms, hairpins may be the better option,” he countered, bringing the pommel up to tap his chin. “A weapon is only useful if a person knows how to use it. Otherwise, it’s just something else for an attacker to use against them.” It was a lesson that had been hammered into him by Master Kounen many times over the course of his training in childhood. He considered, “Given your sisters are in tight quarters, ….” He mentally began running through weapons and martial forms – tight quarters, up against stronger, angry, probably irrational opponents, immediate incapacitation desired, but not too much physical damage.

“Master Jinshi,” Maomao’s exasperated voice pulled him from his musings and refocused on the woman in front of him. She stood in the beam of moonlight from the open window, and even dressed in her usual working robes, she looked ethereal. “As much I am sure my sisters would appreciate your martial insight, that is not the reason I came here tonight.”

He gave a quiet laugh at himself, “Of course. Apologies Apothecary. What brings you to me at this hour?”

Now that the surprise of her presence had settled, he looked her over. She seemed to be in decent health, no skinnier than usual. It had been over a week since he’d last seen her, her duties to Lady Gyokoyou and his to both the inner and outer palaces keeping them both occupied.

As his gaze wandered over her, he fully registered the bag on her shoulder and the odd restlessness that seemed to possess her. She was shifting from foot to foot, fidgeting with the strap of the bag. She seemed supremely uncomfortable, now unable to meet his eye.

His pleasure at her presence dissipated, concern taking its place. Was she in some kind of trouble?

“Apothecary?”

He watched as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, seeming to brace herself. When she opened her eyes, there was resolve and the glimmer of something that had him swallow hard, around a sudden onset of nerves. It was the start of the manic gleam she got when poisons were involved.

“Master Jinshi, you previously mentioned that you would be happy to assist me, should I require it?”

He blinked, tilting his head in confusion. He was fairly certain he’d made that offer to her a number of times over the course of their relationship, but it was clear that she was referencing something in particular and expected him to know exactly what she was referring to.

He quickly thumbed through his recent memories, not quite sure which - . Ah. That one. He couldn’t help the way his eyelids drooped and the sultry smile that settled on his lips at the memory. True to his resolution in the midst of it all, he had never made so much as an oblique remark referencing that night. He deliberately limited his reminiscing of that night for both her sake and his sanity. But he remembered that night vividly.

“Yes,” he purred, “I recall making such an offer.”

She exhaled, seemingly relieved that she didn’t have to provide further context. “Given that you interfered with my experiment, I would very much like to redo it.”

Even though he had been expecting it, her straightforward demand still caught him off guard. He was very abruptly reminded that he had not taken the potato flour mixture in a number of days.

Now he was the one who was slightly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, “Ahem, yes, well. How can I be of assistance? As I recall, you were not pleased with my … interference during your previous one.”

His discomfort seemed to assist in alleviating hers. She nodded, agreeing with his observation, “Yes. That is why I thought that it would be better for you to provide the baseline.”

“What?” he squeaked out. That was not where he was expecting her to go.

“Since I have above-average tolerances, and you interfered with the experiment, and since I now know you are … able-bodied,” she petered out for a moment, and he could feel the memory of her discovery on the hunt lingering in the air between them. She rallied, “Given that, I hypothesize that having you consume the aphrodisiac would provide better data for it assessing its effectiveness.”

He swallowed before letting out a shaky breath, suddenly unsure. Three-quarters of him wanted to immediately leap at her offer. But even here, sword in hand, his companion half his weight and a head shorter than him, and the one of the people he trusted most, he still felt uneasy.

“And, uh, what would that entail, exactly?” he hedged.

She blinked again, and once more, seemed to dive into the heart of his discomfort.

“I imagined the set up similar to my previous one. I provide you the aphrodisiac, anchoring you to prevent interference,- ” that sent a cold shiver down his spine “-and then having you describe what you are feeling while I record your sensory observations, along with my own visual ones.” Maomao tilted her head slightly, “However, if that is beyond the scope of your comfort, I can just monitor your behavior to prevent you interfering unintentionally.”

He swallowed, and for some reason, the question slipped out of mouth before he could really consider what he wanted her answer to be. “And if I stipulated my participation on the condition that you be tied to your seat during the course of this?”

She dropped her eyes, hand coming to her chin, and something clenched in his gut. But before the feeling could become something identifiable, she looked back up, eyes clear and expression open.

“I suppose so long as I was restrained in such a way as to still allow me to write, I don’t see why that would be a problem. We will have to be more thorough in reviewing safety measures, to ensure that in the event something happens, you are mentally capable of administering the emetic and activated charcoal yourself. Perhaps I could make …” she continued to mumble.

But the discomfort vanished and the tightness around his heart eased into another wash of pure affection. He inhaled deeply, a satisfying breath that settled into the deepest depths of his chest.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Apothecary,” he said softly.

She looked back up at him, fingers still braced like she was resting them against her chin, “Are you sure, Master Jinshi? I don’t mind.”

He just gave her a little smile, “I’m sure.”

She nodded, and he could tell she had already moved on. That was almost as reassuring as her clinical answer. “Then if you are willing, I would like you to disrobe for this.”

He felt his face flush, “And why would that be necessary?”

She turned away, walking over to his bedside, setting her bag onto the mattress, “I would like to be able to completely observe your physiological responses. While I anticipate you will be able to articulate the sensations fairly well, being able to monitor you will be most helpful, for both the experiment and for your safety.” She started digging through the bag.

He swallowed, tailing after her without really registering his feet were moving, peering over her shoulder to watch as she sorted the contents of her bag. She pulled out a small gourd, liquid sloshing around inside, followed by a paper sachet of something she placed next to it. Then she pulled out a few rolls of paper, a brush, and a decently sized pot of ink. As she was reaching into the bottom of the bag, he saw her gaze flick up to look at him over her shoulder. He was about to ask, when he watched as she pulled out what looked like several long lengths of silk strips.

He felt a shiver of apprehension again, more muted than the first, but still present. Again, she seemed to understand his unspoken apprehension, because, while she did not turn around, she offered the silk strands over her shoulder. He reached out, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. The smooth fabric ran between his fingertips like quicksilver, fine enough that he knew he wouldn’t be able to snap it with brute force.

“Rather than anchoring your hands with a knot, I will tie both ends of each ribbon to the headboard to make a loop. You can just slip your hand in.” She demonstrated, creating a small loop, slipping her hand in so the loop rested against the back of her hand, then wrapped her slim fingers around the two sides of the loop, effectively trapping herself, without actually being restrained.

A binding without being bound.

The apprehension faded. She really was remarkable.

She tossed the ribbons on the bed, reaching for the gourd and paper sachet, popping the vessel open with a flick, quickly pouring the contents inside. Then she pushed the stopper back in, shook the gourd harshly a few times, then shoved the container into his hand with a scowl.

“Sir, again, please disrobe. And drink that.”

She sent one more glare, snatching the sword still dangling from his fingers and giving his hip a small shove. He let himself be pushed a couple steps away, watching her prop the sword up against the edge of the bed before clambering up onto the mattress to begin setting up the ribbons.

Her diverted focus helped him overcome his reluctance. It’s Maomao. This is what you wanted. And this is your own fault. If you had kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s likely she’s seen much worse.

She’s probably seen much better.

He scowled at his own self-consciousness, bringing the gourd to his lips to take a long pull of the draught inside. A slightly sour, bitter flavor hit his tongue, and he scrunched his face up against the taste. He finished the bottle dutifully, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, muttering, “It may be effective, but you’ll have to do something about the taste, Apothecary.”

“Noted,” came her dry response, still busy on the bed.

He managed to get himself to shrug out of his outermost layers, leaving his chest bare to the cool air of the bedchamber. But his hands hesitated over the tie to his ku trousers, still slightly apprehensive.

Trying to find a way to delay the inevitable, he realized she still needed a place to write. He made his way into the main living area, grabbing a serving tray off the food board, setting it on the seat of chair, before lifting both to set them down next to the bed.

Maomao was still moving around his bed, seemingly still tying ribbons, and the image of her in his bed, preparing it for his pleasure, suddenly kindled his blood and be felt heat beginning to pool.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, “Um, Apothecary, exactly how quickly is this aphrodisiac supposed to affect the body? And uh, I should have probably asked this before, but … how long will it last?”

She continued to work, facing away from him, “As for how long it will last, it’s hard to say. That is another reason this test is required. Due to my tolerance, I was unable to tell exactly how long it would affect the average body. Why? Are you feeling arousal?”

He could feel his ears going pink but answered her truthfully. “Yes. Nothing too extreme.”

“And did you drink all the water?”

He felt a small jolt of concern, “Should I not have?”

She slowly shuffled back off the bed, “It’s fine, I was just confirming.”

She turned and looked him over, and he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious at her assessing gaze. At the same time, he left the tickle of arousal growing, her proximity enough to stir his blood. “If you prefer, you may proceed as you are.”

He swallowed again, eyes flicking to the bed, the green ribbon laying against the purples of his sheets, and his mind conjured up the image of Maomao lashed there instead of him, the way she’d been trussed up back in her room. He shivered as he felt the arousal grow.

“Master Jinshi?”

Her question brought him back from the memory, and he cleared his throat, feeling the flush across his entire face and down his neck. “Eh, yes, I’d prefer to keep the trousers on?” He’d meant to make it a statement, but somehow still managed to come out like a request for permission.

“You may,” she agreed. And that did something weird to him as well.

“And, uh… I am feeling, um, hot. All over. And, uh, I’m having a hard time focusing?” Again, it came out as a question as he looked down into her sharp eyes. He felt her gaze over him like a physical touch, and suddenly the air felt frigid against his exposed torso. He shivered again and she narrowed her eyes slightly. He suddenly felt like he’d been caught doing something naughty and he resisted the urge to squirm. It was an unpleasantly pleasant sensation.

It seemed like she was about to speak, so his mind jumped to anything to keep her from commenting on his devolving state. “I’ll just… get settled then.” He weakly motioned to the bed, and again it felt less like a statement and more like a request.

“Yes, get on the bed, and bind your hands, sir. I will get myself set up as well.” She moved out of his way as she ordered him, moving the propped up sword as well, so he didn’t kick it. He again felt… something at her tone and words, but he was getting nervous and was having a hard time parsing his thoughts. He tried to recall if Maomao had mentioned that her mix interfered with her mental acuity at all, but it was too difficult to focus.

He could feel the slide of the fabric of his trousers against his whole lower half and recalled that she’d said the mixture lowered sensory tolerance. He had no idea if the heightened sensitivity of his skin was a result of the aphrodisiac or just an effect of no longer taking the potato flour concoction.

He flopped onto his back, not really even caring for the inelegance of the gesture, just trying to stop the fabric of his pants rubbing against him. It got him into place, but he very acutely felt himself bounce inside his pant leg, the heaviness and warmth rubbing against his thigh on one side and the fabric on the other. He could feel small tremors in his limbs and he wasn’t sure if it was nerves, excitement, or another product of the drug in his system.

Then he turned his head to take in the ribbons, laid so innocuously on either side of his pillow. He hesitated, but it wasn’t apprehension causing the falter in his muscles. It was because he knew, once he slid his wrists in, the experiment would start in earnest. And he wasn’t entirely sure how he was expecting the whole experience to go. He’d had more than one aphrodisiac over the course of his life, always unwillingly, and he experienced the loss of composure and reason that accompanied the excruciating arousal.

He was starting to get lost in his own thoughts, when Maomao snapped, in a tone that brooked no refusal, “Put your hands in the ribbons, now.”

His eyes snapped over to her, sprawled casually on the chair, one knee crossed to support the tray, and he could see she was already making a note. But her voice brought him back from his swimming thoughts and again set a strange tingling low in his belly. Her eyes squinted in displeasure as he stared at her.

“Now.”

He immediately found the loop for each hand and slid his wrists into place, the tingling in his belly turning into a tickle, and combined with the sensation of the smooth silk rubbing at his wrists, his hips shifted and arched up from the bed slightly. He realized he was starting to breathe hard and his mouth was dry.

His gaze fixed on the woodwork of the ceiling of his bed, trying to temper himself, but he could feel the aphrodisiac flooding through his veins in earnest. It wasn’t nearly as sharp as previous ones he’d experienced, but for some reason, it felt… deeper.

“From this point forward, I am not going to speak anymore,” Maomao pronounced. His gaze snapped to hers, in a slight panic. He was about to object when she continued. “Tell me your observations. If I speak, I may prompt sensations in you that are not genuine. You may imagine descriptions I provide of what you should be feeling and therefore taint your observations.”

He sucked in a breath as she spoke. It made sense. His eyes ran over her as she sat there, looking for all the world like she was observing grass grow, with all the enthusiasm in her expression. When he continued to just look at her, heart racing in his chest, her expression morphed into one of disdain, and the tickle returned as he felt heat continue to pool in him.

“Talk,” she commanded. It sent a jolt through him.

He licked his lips, opened his mouth and tried to start speaking. Nothing but a cracked squeak came out and he felt mortification flush through him even as he felt himself twitch against his leg. What? Is there something wrong with me? Why did-?

“Master Jinshi, I said, talk.”

He snapped back to the present, cleared his throat, and tried again. “It’s … hard to keep track,” he tried to explain. He knew she wanted descriptions of the sensations, so he was trying to focus. “I can feel the wrinkle of the sheets under my back moving as I breath.” He took a breath in, shifting his back as he did so, feeling the threads, just as he described. He shivered. “The air is… My skin is hot. I…” he sucked in a stuttering breath, “I am hot all over.” He watched her make notes as he spoke, eyes flicking up to regard him every couple brush strokes.

Is this how she monitored her symptoms when she was testing poisons on herself? Was he finally worthy of that level of attention from her, now that he was at her mercy to pick apart his every symptom?

That got a full pulse of arousal through him, and he felt his member jump at the thought.

“And your arousal?” Her sapphire eyes regarded him cooly.

He kicked his legs slightly, restless. But the shifting caused the fabric of his pants to pull taut against his thigh, rubbing his arousal against his skin as the fabric shifted over it harshly. He sucked in a gasp. He watched her eyes sharpen in interest.

“Yes,” he managed to huff out, remembering that she had asked a question. He grit his teeth, trying to compose himself. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but applaud Maomao on her concoction, it really was a marvelously nasty thing. She was still appraising him. He shook his head lightly. “It’s… more. I, its… hard to focus. My skin… feels too small.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying. Somehow, trying to describe the sensations he was feeling was totally different than the lewd image he’d so readily painted her that night. He’d found nothing but enjoyment flourishing that description. But now, as he tried to explain, he could feel the perpetual blush across his cheeks and the embarrassment seemed to mingle and tangle with the arousal that continued to build.

Is there something wrong with me? Why am I feeling arousal? Is it the aphrodisiac? Am I like-

His thoughts abruptly took a sharp turn at his self-reflection, and disgust that didn’t mingle with his growing heat began to burn at the back of his throat.

“I’ve been wondering,” her voice cut through his spiraling yet again, and he forced his eyes to fix on her. “How did you know to say those things to me? You didn’t strike me as … having personal experience to draw on.” He could see a coy smile sitting curled like a satisfied cat right at the corner of her lips. He felt his flush deepen again, but before it could turn into proper embarrassment, the curl cat stretched into a sultry grin. “I must say, even having grown up at the Verdigris, I was impressed.”

He felt pride bubble up in him, as the memory of her satisfaction came roaring back to the surface. Her flushed face, her low moans, the way she writhed.

He didn’t notice that his own breath sped up in sympathy with his memory, his shoulders and legs shifting in a restless quest for some sort of additional stimulation. But his eyes were fixed on her.

Her sultry smile faded, sliding off and leaving only disdain behind. That caused that tickle in his belly to flutter again. “Answer me.”

The words fell out of his mouth before he could really register that he’d decided to say them, “Those books you brought in.” He paused and tried to breathe, and for the first time, pulled hard against his restraints, wanting to cross his arms or fidget or rub himself. But the sharp bite of the fabric and the abrupt burning pull on his muscles sent a rush down his spine and his hips twitched again. “I just…couldn’t help….” He sucked in another breath.

“Was there any particular one that caught your eye?” she looked back down at her notes and shifted. The sword tipped onto the ground with a clatter, the noise so discordant it helped clear his thoughts a little bit. He was able to finally pull in some air that didn’t feel like it was setting his lungs on fire.

But the clarity was lost as he watched her bend over, giving him a glance down the front of her robes, and his mind filled in details, very abruptly recalling their give under his hands as he’d palpated her chest behind the waterfall. And how they’d pressed against him when she’d fallen on top of him.

Then she straightened and the rest of his sanity was lost as she braced the tip of the sword on the ground in front of her and ran her hand up the hilt, in a very exact facsimile of the image from the book he had in mind. His eyes were fixed on her lightly curled fist, his memories conjuring up how her hand had felt on him when she’d discovered he wasn’t a eunuch.

Hazily, he recalled she’d asked him a question, and, with a sensation like his voice was completely dissociated from the rest of him, he answered her.

“It was a page that had a woman with her hand wrapped…” his voice stuttered as he viscerally recalled the description in the book, only to watch with wild eyes as her hand moved up and down the hilt loosely. As his voice faded, her hand slowed until it stilled on the hilt. His desperate eyes flicked up to her face, her cool expression marred only by a raised eyebrow. His eyes flicked back to her hand as he licked his lips.

“She had her hand wrapped around his member.” Again he felt his flush return, but the jump in his heart rate as her hand resumed its movement forced all else from his mind. “And it stated completion could be dragged from a man.” His mind conjured up the hard, firm grip of her tiny hand when she’d been trying to reconcile what she was feeling. His breath was coming short again as his entire focus narrowed. “It said that a slow pace is good to start, with a twist added in every few…” his voice gave out as a gasp stole his air as he watched her twist her wrist just so.

He tugged on his restraints again, not really even registering the rest of his body. The heat within him was focusing, and in his state, he began to feel her caress of his sword.

“And then, she’d slowly speed up, squeezing a little more tightly.” He watched her hand tighten and speed up, and he was practically panting. The visual of her hand and the memories of her hand on him and her moans as she came undone were enough to induce a phantom sensation that he was certain he was actually feeling, despite still having his trousers on.

He was having a hard time recalling the description, but he managed to get out, “And then, she’d rub over the tip and pull to get to the sensitive skin.” Her hand lingered at the pommel, caressing the inlay. The small slide of her thumb was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen in his entire life.

He felt a small rivulet of drool drip from his panting lips, but that just sent a small flare of mortification into his already blazing arousal.

“Then… then…” he was trying to remember. He needed to remember, to keep talking so she would keep her hand moving. “Faster.” It came out as a whining plea. And when her hand sped up, he moaned, hips starting to rock in time with her hand.

He had to keep talking, had to keep her hand moving. He moaned again. “It … faster… more….”

She was rubbing and rubbing, thumbing over the tip every few strokes. It was too much. But it just wasn’t enough. “I… faster… I can’t….” He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore.

Then he heard her tap the brush against the ink bottle, drawing his eye away for just a moment, only to see her carefully bring the back of the brush to her lips, and suck.

He moaned again, and it almost hurt. His eyes rolled up in his head as he strained against the ribbons, the wood creaking against the strain. He was so close.

Then her breath was warming his ear, and before he could react, her low, clinical voice demanded in his ear.

“Come for me Jinshi.”

His heels slammed into the bed as he shoved his hips as far up as he could, his release locking his muscles in place - thighs, butt, core, all pulled taut as he pulled hard enough on the ribbons that he knew he was going to have deep bruises, the wood of his headboard cracking. His cock felt like it was on fire as throb after throb pulsed through him, teeth clenched against the wailing scream he could feel in his throat.

It hurt so good.

After what felt like several hours, the crest began to recede. Suddenly, his skin felt all wrong, his heart clenching as a tumult of emotions suddenly forced tears to his eyes, stinging as the satisfaction of his completion was suddenly tinged with a bitter hollowness. It was like a second crest, this one emotional and not nearly as pleasant.

But before he could get lost to the tide, he felt a gentle hand softly brushing his hair. His hearing slowly recognized Maomao’s soothing voice, acting as an anchor. “Breathe Master Jinshi. It’s alright, you did a great job. The confusion comes from the hormones trying to settle. You are alright.”

He sucked in a deep shaky breath, the soothing touch staving off the overwhelming tide he hadn’t expected.

He felt her tiny hands gently pry his fingers free of the ribbon, soothing his palm open, before helping him slide it out. She shifted, standing up from her chair, setting the tray on the seat, before mumbling a quiet “Excuse me” and awkwardly clambering over him to reach his other hand, giving it similar treatment.

He let his eyes flutter shut, still having a hard time regulating his breath and emotions. A bitter shame was starting to worm into his belly when he again felt her hand in his hair, and he startled slightly when a moment later, she placed her other hand on his chest, over his heart.

“Deep breaths, sir. The same thing happened to me, remember?”

Her nudge at his memory did make him recall her tears after, how she’d said it was more intense than she’d expected. And it was enough to stave off the tide of sour self-judgement that had been threatening to overwhelm him.

“That’s it, sir.” Her thumb rubbed across his pectoral softly. A few minutes ago, it would have set his skin on fire, but now all it did was rekindle that soft warm gratitude he felt for her. “Deep breaths like that. You did an excellent job. Thank you for your help.”

Her soothing hand in his hair and her mellow voice softly comforting him seemed to pull a slow, all-consuming tide of exhaustion over him. He wanted to thank her too, but his body wasn’t responding to him at all.

After a few more moments, he felt her clamber back over him and begin to quietly bustle about, packing things back up. He hovered on the edge of sleep, but now that he had clamed down, his clammy skin was freezing in the night air and he was very suddenly aware of the large wet spot soaking through his pant leg.

He was trying to formulate a goo argument to convince himself to get up and get cleaned up when he felt Maomao’s hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

“Sir, I’m sorry but you need to at least get under the covers.”

He opened his eyes, taking in her face, eyes looking over him with exasperation, tinged with concern. She pushed at his shoulder not really providing lift so much as the encouragement to do so.

He sat up with a groan, wincing as the wet spot dragged against his leg.

“How are you feeling now, sir?” she asked quietly, eyes checking his face and form.

He mentally took stock, before grumbling out, “I’m sore and tired, a little thrown from… after. But I feel alright. Calm even.”

He looked back up at her, watching as she nodded along to his report. She gave another tug at him, persuading him to stand. As he did, feeling his tightened muscles slowly loosen, she grabbed his wrist, examining the marks what were already starting to bloom.

“That’s a hell of a concoction you have, Apothecary.”

She didn’t look up at him, “You did not take anything sir.”

His back locked up as he snapped straight, staring down at her. “What? I did! You gave it to me at the beginning. It was sour and –”

“That was a mix to assist with muscle cramping and fatigue.”

He wanted to say that she was lying, but he knew that she would never lie about this. “But then what-”

“I needed a baseline sensitivity for you, before actually giving you the aphrodisiac. It would be hard to tell the drug’s effects if I didn’t know how responsive you were before.” Very abruptly, horror began to well up in him as he started to recall his various reactions over the course of the ‘experiment.’ So there was no excuse. I did actually…I am actually just as twisted as -

 Her voice again cut through his screaming thoughts, “And it’s good I didn’t. It’s clear your body is still adjusting to not taking your suppressant. I can only imagine the bizarre things your body reacts to.” His breath caught, begging her to offer a sound explanation that did not make him feel dirty. “Sir, you’ve been on the suppressant for all the time most men would be going through the hormonal changes and impulses of puberty. It’s playing catch up.”

Those words, offered without an attempt to soothe or persuade, just a clinical assessment of what she saw, eased his heart.

She let his hand go as she raised her eyes to meet his again, “I will return in the morning with a slave for your wrists. I should have thought to bring it with me tonight.” She shook her head slightly at herself. The that sly little smirk curled up in the corner of her lip again.

“If you are still willing, once you’ve spent enough time that you are more stable, may I request your help running the full trial?”

He couldn’t help the tired, exasperated smile he gave her, “Of course.”

She nodded, “Alright then. Good night, Master Jinshi.” Then she gathered her bag and made her way out of the room.

He watched her leave, before shaking his head. What a woman. His gaze flicked over to the sword, once again propped against the sword. He recalled another lesson Master Kounen had taught him – your sword should be an extension of your body.