#xiaoci fluff

Your tongue explores his mouth, tasting the sweet and rich essence of him. It's what you would guess a prince's lips would taste like if you had to guess back when you were still oblivious. It's been months since you've stopped having to guess, yet you still can never get enough of it. Kissing Xiaoci is an addiction you can't rid yourself of.

Xiaoci can't recall when the soft kiss he gave you turned heated. It was hesitant and gentle at first, merely something to push past the jittery nerves he always gets when you appear at his window. The news of an assassin from the enemy kingdom in the prince's bedchamber would cause chaos if anyone were to find out, and it always makes him nervous. He worries for your safety. He worries that the guards will arrest you if they ever find you near him. You only worry about how quickly you can get Xiaoci to take off his robes.

At some point, you took control of the kiss and him, pushing him back against the bed and tangling your hands in his hair. You've turned his brain into mush in the last few minutes, and he can't think about anything besides your lips right now. They're so plush and soft, yet you devour him like this is your only chance—like you need it more than oxygen.

He needs it too.

Xiaoci didn't realize until now how much he likes when you take control and let him relax completely. He doesn't have to do anything. No more princely duties to worry about. No more kingdom that needs his direction and guidance. No more enemies he has to constantly be vigilant for. The only enemy he's ever let get close to him is you, and if he truly felt you would harm it, it's far too late for any protection. You do as you please with him, and he is at your mercy.

All you need is for him to keep kissing you back, keep letting your tongue dance with his and your lips worship his skin. You need nothing else from the prince; the one you would probably get a fortune for if you brought him back as a hostage. But that was never your plan. Having him this way is better than treasure. Seeing him desperate for you is a bigger reward.

And he is so very desperate. He whines when your lips aren't on him for more than two seconds. His hands clutch your waist desperately, hoping to get you closer and for the moment to keep going. He needs this. He doesn't want it to stop. He can't let it stop.

You laugh against his lips, teasing him with the sound. He tries to kiss you again, but you stop him with a finger.

"Please," he whispers. Your chest swirls with satisfaction at the sound of him. So ruined by you. A prince of the highest royalty now completely within your control. You ponder for a moment, considering whether you should give in to him or enjoy his desperate pleas a moment longer.

Xiaoci would say you're cruel for doing this—for teasing him. But he has always gotten anything he ever wanted without question. You enjoy seeing him have to work for you.

He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers and giving you a longing squeeze. You look at him, staring for a moment and drinking in every part of his appearance. His dishevelled hair. His swollen lips. His ragged breathing. And those eyes. You think if you delay another moment, he might cry. Every movement and expression of him sends the same message. Please. I just want you. Please.

You give in. Perhaps you're too weak for him as well. His doey eyes pleading at you for another kiss breaks your resolve. You've fought in countless battles and slain the most fearsome enemies without hesitation. Many have been at your mercy and begged—for their life, for the safety of their family, for a bargain. You aren't easily swayed by a desperate man's plea. Only Xiaoci has ever been able to beg for something from you and have you grant it willingly.

He knows he's the only one capable of getting you like this. When you kiss him again, he knows. With your lips and bodies tangled together, he knows its forbidden, dangerous, uncertain, yet it's all he has ever wanted.

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You lift away the leaves that cover its bloodied fur and gently brush the coarse hairs into place on its forehead, your touch causing the snow that had fallen over it to melt into its coat. Your tears mix with the fox's blood, and your magic flowing through them stitches its wounds closed. Its fur is soft and its breathing fairly steady despite the injuries on its body.

You can tell the mark of a demon's attack from a quick glance. Someone was trying to steal the fox's core, but it was hidden well enough that they couldn't reach it. Thankfully, there's still some life in the creature. You scoop it up into your arms and take it with you. There is no wound you can't heal, nor any scar you can't stitch. You will nurse the fox as you've done many times before.

As long as you're here, it—he—will not die.

The fox is pale and shaking. Its fur is dim and losing its colour, and you can feel the energy leaking out from its core. You seal it quickly, unperturbed by how much of your own energy you're using to get its condition stable.

While you are renowned as a healer and protector in the cultivation world, you aren't always so hospitable to the wounded. Beings of this world can call to you in the moments before they meet death—a final plea for help. You have the power to save them from their fate, and to give them more time. If you decide to heal them, you'll bring them back to your mountain and tend to their wounds carefully, spending only the smallest necessary portion of your cultivation.

You're always careful to not expend too much of your energy on a single being. Given the greed of humans and demons, it would be extremely dangerous if you were left weak after healing a being back to full health. It is one of the many rules you never bend on, perhaps the most important one.

You can never give more than is necessary.

Yet…

You have been nursing the fox for five hours now with no intention of stopping. You've poured out much of your energy into its sleeping body, restoring almost half of the cultivation it lost in the attack, but you still have more to give. You must heal it completely.

It is only after you have cleaned the fox's fur and nursed it for a night and a day that you notice its colour start to return. A deep scarlet red paints its fur, becoming more saturated as strength returns to the animal. There is no question as to why demons were trying to hunt it and harvest its core. Consuming it would grant at least 500 years of cultivation, but even more valuable are the traces of your soul intertwined its core. Any ambitious cultivator would covet such power.

The fox sleeps on a pile of blankets next to the fireplace. Its been curled up there for four days now, and for that entire time, you have not left its side. Its wounds have been bandaged, its core of energy is recovering fast, and its fur is back to the rich amber you know so well. For now, all you can do is wait. It will wake up soon.

"You meant no harm to those demons, even when they were trying to kill you," you note sadly. The thought of the fox not fighting back makes your heart ache. You frown as you stroke its fur. So soft and gentle. It is a beautiful being. You sigh, "they will keep hunting you. Is it worth it?"

You lay next to the fox, a hand placed on its back as guilt and rage swirl together in the pit of your stomach. It would be safer if the fox had no connection to you. If there were no traces of your soul essence in its core, there would not be so many enemies vying for a chance to take it. All you want is for it to be safe. You can never decide whether it is more dangerous for it to be furthest away from you, or right by your side.

The fire crackles quietly, and the peace of the moment allows for the exhaustion to finally catch up to you. You fall into a slumber for the first time in four days.

When you wake, the fox is gone from your side, but the fire burns brighter than when you fell asleep. You sit up, turning your head around the room until you spot him and relief floods you.

"You're awake," you sigh happily.

The fox, now in human form, sits at the table sipping a cup of tea. You note the fresh pile of firewood next to the fireplace.

"You slept in," Xiaoci notes. "That never happens." There's a teasing smile that graces his face. You roll your eyes.

"Someone decided to almost die on me. I spent four straight days healing you. I need to recover my cultivation."

"Four days? That's breaking at least ten rules of yours." He rests his chin on his hand and looks at you fondly, like nothing else matters besides soaking in your presence, as if he wasn't on death's door five days ago. Perhaps he enjoys knowing he's special to you a bit more than he should.

"You know you've always been the exception," you stand up and walk over to him, crossing your arms. "Next time I should just let you die since you're too stupid to even fight back while demons are trying to steal your core."

Xiaoci looks slightly offended at your comment, eyes widening. "I did fight back. Just… defensively."

"You fought back, yet you still lost to a few demons whose cultivation is barely a fraction of your own! They walked away unscathed. My soul essence is wasted on you."

You had planned to end the discussion with the reprimand, but Xiaoci grabs your arm before you can walk away. With a gentle tug, you let him pull you onto his lap, arms encircling your waist.

"I should have been more careful. I'm sorry for worrying you," he says softly, one of his palms cupping your cheek. You hate how impossible it is to stay mad at Xiaoci when he looks at you like this—with those eyes; dark and shiny and doey. He's beautiful. "You spent a lot of energy healing me. Aren't you tired?"

You shake your head, not because you aren't tired—you are—but because it's the last thing on your mind right now. There are much more pressing matters your brain is trying to scramble with right now. Like how it's possible for Xiaoci to look so alluring while still bandaged up, with half his power, and wavering stamina. You want to tell him you'd spend all your power on him in a heartbeat. You don't care that his wounds took four days to heal. They could take four years, and you still wouldn't give up. Because it's him, and he's yours.

Your cultivation partner, your betrothed, your sworn soulmate for the rest of time. He may have been a scared, cornered fox in that forest five days ago, enemies surrounding him all coveting one thing, but when he's by your side, no one can touch him.

You rest your forehead gently against his, the simple touch causing him to squeeze your waist.

"Don't run off without telling me, and don't you ever let me find you through a death's plea again," you tell him, your voice quiet but deadly serious.

He nods, eyes closed, breath mingling with yours. He knows that he misjudged, and he'll make sure the mistake doesn't get repeated. He never wanted to make you live through your worst fear of losing him again, but it seems to be a reoccurring incident. This wasn't the first time he's been attacked, but it was the closest anyone's ever gotten to succeeding.

"Never again. I promise," he agrees.

"I need you to be safe. Always. I can't lose you," you whisper out the things he already knows are more important to you than anything. You're trembling in his arms, shaken by the thought. He leans in to kiss you softly as a small reminder that he's with you. You stop shaking and hold him close, tightly wrapped in your arms, shielding everything else from him.

If only you could hold him so close all the time. To know that if anyone tried to hurt him, they would have to cut you down first. You wish for nothing more than to protect Xiaoci—to ensure his safety over everything else. Yet, you know the contradiction well.

It is because of his closeness to you that the danger comes in the first place.

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