Chapter Text
To be honest, Xie Lian should have seen it coming. Biology was biology, after all. It stopped for no one.
Not even the dead, apparently.
It was especially obvious in hindsight. Over the last couple of days, Wuming had grown abnormally physical- reluctant to let Xie Lian leave the nest and quick to touch whenever he could find an excuse. Not that they hadn’t already been rather physical, considering they were sharing a nest. Which... they probably shouldn’t have been. It was rather presumptuous, and anyone who saw it would surely assume things. But Xie Lian had grown very comfortable nesting with Wuming, in the months the ghost had been comatose, and when Wuming had admitted he’d never had a nest before, well. If Wuming liked it, Xie Lian couldn’t bear to deprive him. Besides, since when had Xie Lian ever cared about what he was ‘supposed’ to do?
As a natural consequence of their nesting together, there was some scenting involved too, of course. It was unavoidable. When you spent hours in contact with someone else, it was only natural to separate carrying some of their scent. And Wuming’s was a nice one- while Xie Lian’s was on the more delicate side for an alpha, sharp with a touch of floral sweetness, Wuming’s scent was bold, full-bodied and grassy. It had been absent while Wuming was comatose, body too ruined to even produce pheromones, and so Xie Lian had celebrated its return once he’d awoken.
Still, he should have realized. If Wuming's body was putting itself back together, then after regaining its pheromones, of course a... stress test would naturally follow.
Anyway, the facts were this: one day, a few weeks after Wuming had woken from his prolonged slumber, Xie Lian awoke to a heavy, musky scent in his lungs, a pair of iron arms wrapped around his middle, and something long and hard nestled between his legs.
“!”
Well!
Xie Lian froze. It was early morning, and the dawn was just lightening the world, giving him the barest ability to see the crumpled walls of their nest. Behind him, Wuming felt like a lurking behemoth. He had always been larger than Xie Lian, but suddenly he felt even more so, pressed along Xie Lian's back in a burning line.
So hot... But ghosts weren't supposed to have body heat. So this could only mean-
Xie Lian swallowed dryly and cleared his throat. “Wuming?”
Silence.
Xie Lian placed one hand upon Wuming's wrist and squeezed lightly. “Wuming?”
A beat, and then a shudder ran through the body behind him. “Mmh?”
Was it the sleep-roughened tone that made Xie Lian shiver, or was it how the arms around his torso tightened and crushed him even closer to the firm body behind him? Either way, Xie Lian could practically feel the blush on his face.
“Wuming!” Xie Lian said for the third time, plaintively wishing for the ghost to just wake up already.
The ghost sighed, but moved. Xie Lian was cheered for just a moment, before he realized Wuming was merely propping himself up to press his forehead to Xie Lian's temple. Sleepily, he sighed. “What is it, Your Highness?”
Heat exploded across Xie Lian’s face... and other parts of him. It took all his willpower not to squeak at the feeling of Wuming’s words puffing lightly against his ear. As it was, for a long moment he was struck dumb, unable to recall just what was so important.
Then, he took a breath.
Right.
“Wuming, you're in rut.”
Wuming stilled. A moment passed, and then Xie Lian was alone in the nest, stomach and back suddenly quite cool.
He turned over. Their nest was built into a shallow, elliptical depression in the floor, lined with whatever fabric they could spare. Wuming had shoved himself against the lip of it, feet digging into the wall while the rest of him sat upon its edge. He’d crossed his legs in front of himself, and he looked horrified, eyes wide with dismay.
“Your Highness, I’m sorry!”
“Sorry for what?” Xie Lian asked, because he hadn’t wanted Wuming upset. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I just wanted you to wake up.” And realize you were in rut. And poking me with your...
Ahem!
But Wuming didn’t seem very soothed by Xie Lian’s placations. “No, I am sorry,” he insisted, pulling away further. “I should have known. I should have already removed myself-”
And to Xie Lian’s alarm, he backed out of the nest entirely, clearly intending to leave.
“No, don’t go!” He sat up and reached out after the ghost. “It’s just biology! We all have to deal with it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of! This is your nest, Wuming, don’t leave!” Where would you even go? Would you just disappear into the wilderness??
A rutting alpha ghost roaming the woods. He could hear the legends already.
Wuming studied Xie Lian carefully, clearly torn, before reluctantly sitting back down at the edge of their nest. His frame was filled with tension, and were he not already bloodlessly pale, his fingers would have surely blanched white from how tightly he gripped the lip of the nest.
Very encouraging.
Xie Lian took a breath, then gave Wuming a reassuring smile. “Right. So, you can take the nest, and I’ll give you some space during your rut-”
He broke off when a flash of dismay crossed the ghost’s face. It was gone so fast Xie Lian might have thought he’d mistaken it, but far harder to hide was how Wuming’s scent had turned a touch bitter with distress.
For a moment, Xie Lian was speechless. Wuming shut his eyes tight and braced his frame like he was expecting a blow, but the god was too busy reassessing the facts to notice. Wuming was acting skittish and standoffish, which Xie Lian had assumed meant he was uncomfortable with his presence. But before his rut had started, he’d been very sticky instead, clinging to Xie Lian whenever he had an excuse. So, was it actually that...
“Wuming... do you want me to stay?”
He flinched, which was answer enough. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine, Your Highness.”
“But you want me to stay,” Xie Lian pressed, leaning forward. “Yes?”
Wuming hesitated for a long moment before giving the tiniest of nods.
Xie Lian straightened back up. “Okay then. I’ll stay.”
Wuming’s eyes flew open, and he jolted upright. “You don’t have to-!”
“I was going to leave because I thought having another alpha in your space might bother you,” Xie Lian explained. Everyone’s tolerance was different. Some alphas could be quite territorial. “But if that’s not the case, then I’m happy to stay and keep you company. Actually, if staying helps, then that’s even better. I don’t like the idea of leaving you to endure this alone.”
Ruts were difficult. To go through one without proper support could be... isolating.
In his days as a mortal prince, Xie Lian’s ruts had been annoying but manageable, popping up once a season like clockwork. He would become so energetic he had to be cajoled into resting, infinitely preferring intense exercise to burn away the restless fever in his body. But in the early days of his first banishment, the stress of their circumstances had turned his ruts irregular, and turned him into a tense, anxious wreck. He’d spend the whole time on edge, waiting for an attack, thinking about how unsafe his friends and family were, how little they had, how much he’d lost... In the end, he’d left every one of those ruts physically and emotionally gutted.
Of course, that was only the early days. Later on, they’d stopped entirely, after... after...
Xie Lian quietly boxed up those memories and shoved them back down. There was no need to think about such things. The point was, he hadn’t rutted in nearly a year, but he knew quite well how stress and insecurity could turn what should have just been an annoyance into something hellish. If Wuming had never had a nest before Xie Lian, he doubted the ghost had ever felt safe rutting, either.
People dressed heats and ruts up as breeding cycles, but the truth was that they were about not being alone. Everyone craved companionship. If Wuming sought it in him, then he would stay.
Wuming stared at him with disbelief written across his face. “Are you sure?”
Xie Lian nodded reassuringly.
“It's all a bit embarrassing, right? But if you want me to stay and keep you company, I don't mind. You can't help how you're feeling right now. It makes me happy to know I can help.”
Wuming stared for a moment longer, still looking like he couldn’t believe what was happening. And really, how could Xie Lian leave when he looked like that?
Instead, he settled back down inside their nest and reclined against its wall, patting the space next to him with a pointed look.
Very slowly, like he expected Xie Lian to announce he’d changed his mind at any moment, Wuming shuffled over and settled at his side. When Xie Lian smiled approvingly, he hesitantly smiled back.
Perfect.
Alright, so maybe Xie Lian hadn't thought this through.
He'd figured that they could ride out a couple days of awkward rut just fine. He’d never been bothered by another’s pheromones before, after all. But he’d underestimated something here. Was it the actual act of sitting with an alpha in rut? Was it something about Wuming himself? Was it how, despite them just sitting there, dozing to pass time, Wuming’s scent never lost its aroused overtone? It could have been all three, who knew. Xie Lian sure didn’t.
The ghost was a perfect gentleman, of course, who was doing his absolute best to pretend like everything was normal and his body wasn’t screaming at him to fulfill its biological urges. If not for his scent, Xie Lian wouldn’t have been able to tell he was in rut! It was very impressive. With such willpower, Wuming would have been an excellent disciple at Mount Taicang!
But the longer Xie Lian sat there, breathing in the thick smell of Wuming aroused and in rut, the more an antsy feeling began to squirm in his gut. He wanted to move. He wanted to act. He wanted... He...
He wanted to help.
Not for any perverse reasons! He’d just never been the kind of person to sit back when people were struggling. It was difficult to sit here and do nothing while Wuming rode out his rut.
Besides, there was more than one way to assist someone in rut. Really, despite all stereotypes, it was just a time of heightened emotions and a need to move. Not, not...
Ahem!
Finally, Xie Lian could take no more. He gathered his courage and, with a glance, asked, “Wuming, how are you feeling?”
He resisted the urge to fidget. Though he had his resolve, he still felt shy as a maiden speaking to her betrothed for the first time- which seemed very stupid, considering the circumstances.
Wuming opened his eyes and met Xie Lian’s gaze evenly. “I’m fine, Your Highness. Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re alright?”
“I’m alright.”
“Oh. Great!” Xie Lian said with mostly-real cheer. He had to admit, he’d been hoping Wuming would say something that he could seize as the perfect segway. Bereft, he looked down at his hands and fiddled his thumbs. What to do...
“And you?”
Xie Lian jolted and looked up again. “M-me?”
Wuming nodded. His expression was impressively calm, but there was a furrow to his brows that belied some concern. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh, I’m fine!” he said with a smile.
“Is my scent not bothering you?” the ghost questioned. His gaze left Xie Lian to settle on his own knees, the lines of his face growing deeper with displeasure. “I know Your Highness volunteered, but you don’t have to stay if you don't want to. Please ignore my earlier behavior. My lack of control is shameful.”
“No, it doesn’t bother me!” Xie Lian exclaimed. “Actually- well, actually, I... T-there is something bothering me, it’s true.”
Wuming nodded seriously, craning his head in the prince’s direction. Xie Lian stared at him for a moment, biting his lip nervously.
“...Is there not more I can do to help?”
Wuming froze. His scent did not.
I’m guessing it’s not wrestling he’s thinking of right now, Xie Lian thought. At least... not the clothed kind.
He swallowed. His mouth was oddly dry.
“No,” Wuming said hoarsely.
“Really?” Xie Lian said with surprise. “Because your scent just...” kind of exploded.
If Wuming’s scent had been strong before, now it was positively pungent. Xie Lian felt a little light-headed just breathing it in. Actually, looking at Wuming, he realized the ghost’s neck was actually shiny from the amount of pheromones his scent glands were producing. This was a ghost well and truly in the thick of rut!
And yet, still he said no.
“Think nothing of it, Your Highness. I’m fine,” Wuming insisted with gritted teeth.
“...You don’t look fine,” Xie Lian mumbled, eyeing the ghost with concern. His face was tight with tension; a microcosm of his whole body, which had steadily grown stiffer throughout their conversation.
He smiled grimly. “I’ll manage.”
Xie Lian stared at that grim smile with dismay. Is that supposed to reassure me?
“Really, Your Highness, just ignore me,” he continued, clearly noticing the prince’s unease.
“...What if I don’t want to?” Xie Lian quietly asked. Wuming grew even stiffer, if such a thing was possible. “I want to help you. I- I know I don’t have to, but I hate just sitting here, doing nothing, while you endure this. If I can help, I want to. If- if you want me to, that is.”
Wuming stared at Xie Lian with wide eyes. His scent was positively suffocating; while there had always been at least a tinge of arousal to it, his arousal had now eclipsed any other aspect of his scent, distilling it down to the simple urge for sexual satisfaction. Xie Lian could practically taste it.
Not that it was a bad smell! He smelled great! Ah, wait, that was kind of weird-
“Wouldn’t this break your cultivation?” Wuming rasped. “You’ve worked so hard, sacrificed so much. I don’t want you to give it up just to please me.”
The implicit acceptance made Xie Lian want to shiver. The rest of it... he frowned thoughtfully. At this point in his life, his cultivation was nothing more than a matter of pride. It wasn’t like he could use it, after all. But, it was also a comforting familiarity- the last thing he had left from more prosperous days. Was he willing to give that up?
For Wuming...
Hm.
Xie Lian thought on the matter for a few moments before an idea occurred to him- or rather, a memory.
“Ah.”
“Your Highness?”
“We could be like this morning,” he suggested. Wuming blinked.
“What?”
“Ah, you know,” he flushed, glancing shyly away. “With my thighs?”
Wuming stared at him, unblinking. His lips were just barely parted, and he swallowed like he would be drooling otherwise.
Xie Lian took that as a ‘yes’.
He didn’t allow himself the time to second-guess.
With surprisingly steady hands, he untied his belt and pulled his outer robes from his body. Wuming watched with wide eyes, which grew wider still when Xie Lian handed his balled-up robes to the ghost. Wuming held the robes close to his chest, and absolutely didn’t sniff them.
His mouth dropped open when Xie Lian’s next move was to ruck up his inner robe and pull his pants off. It took everything Xie Lian had to not try and hide himself- he was disrobing for a very specific reason, after all. Modesty served no purpose here.
His robes, he'd handed off. His pants, however, were practically snatched when he offered them up. He didn't know what kind of expression the ghost was making; he'd gotten the briefest of glimpses, and then his belly had burned so hot he had to look away. For his own sanity, if nothing else.
So with a rapidly growing flush, Xie Lian settled on his side, facing away from Wuming. Gathering up the last of his resolve, he grabbed the hem of his inner robe and pulled it up until his lower half was exposed.
Oh, gods, what am I doing...
There was absolute silence behind him. He resisted the urge to fidget.
The silence continued to stretch. Xie Lian was finally gathering up the strength to turn over when a scorching line of heat pressed all along the back of his body. He bit back a gasp. His stomach flipped queerly as a strong arm settled over his side, curling over that long expanse and what scant fabric still covered it.
Most noteworthy of all, of course, was the steel rod poking insistently at his behind, pressing between his cheeks with just the slightest of pressures. No, not there...
Xie Lian stared sightlessly at the wall of their nest and tried not to squeak, or squirm, or do anything that would embarrass him. There was hot breath brushing over his ear, summoning goosebumps down his chest.
“Are you sure?” Wuming rumbled. His voice was a full octave lower than just moments ago, and it sent a shiver down Xie Lian’s spine. Why did this ghost always have to speak directly into his ear like this??
Xie Lian had to take a couple breaths before he could find the strength to speak.
“I-if I just lay here,” he said, “without any penetration, or participation on my part... It’s fine. You can use me like this. My cultivation will be fine.”
Probably.
Wuming groaned quietly. A tiny, reciprocating sound slipped out of Xie Lian’s throat before he could bite it back.
This is... I... I need...
...The Ethics Sutra. Right. The Ethics Sutra... It starts with... with...
Any thought of the Ethics Sutra was lost when Wuming grunted and suddenly pulled away, moving about behind Xie Lian. He was confused for a moment, but then a large hand came into his line of sight and placed something dark along the walls of their nest. Xie Lian blinked, and the object came into precipitous focus.
Robes.
Those were Wuming’s robes.
He was...
A bolt of heat seared through Xie Lian’s guts, and he inhaled sharply. That may not have been the wisest choice- it wasn’t like Wuming had shoved his robes into Xie Lian’s face or anything, but they were still close enough that he could smell all the pheromones those robes had been soaking up for hours.
More overwhelming than that was Wuming’s return. He plastered himself against Xie Lian’s body like he belonged there.
That breath Xie Lian had taken was lost as he felt what was surely miles of naked skin slide against his. Had Wuming disrobed completely? Ah, it was so much... He’d never... He’d never felt anything like this before. He couldn’t look, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. But he could feel everything, and it spoke to him on an instinctual level.
Wuming nudged one knee between Xie Lian’s legs, propping them open. Then, a burning hot, surprisingly wet, thick rod was guided down the crack of his cheeks and fed between his parted thighs. As it settled into place, the knee was withdrawn, letting Xie Lian’s legs fall back together with this new protrusion held between them. Xie Lian’s heartbeat roared in his chest, and he didn’t know whether to hold still or squirm.
Holy fucking shit, Wuming’s penis was between his thighs.
This is fine.
“Like this?”
Xie Lian had to take a moment to find the strength to speak.
“Mhmm,” he croaked. “P-perfect. G-g-great- great job!”
Wuming sighed, a hot gust of air against the back of Xie Lian’s head. “Good. Good... Then... I will...”
With that, he thrust his hips forward until they were flush to Xie Lian’s. The chaste prince had only a moment to think with hysterical alarm, oh heavens, what have I done, before the ghost began to move.
At first, it was just short thrusts, more Wuming rocking their bodies together than anything else. Did that feel good, or was Wuming feeling shy? Xie Lian didn’t know, and he hadn’t much brainpower to dedicate to the question anyway. His mind was torn between picking up the pieces of the Ethics Sutra and processing the sheer physicality of the situation he’d solidly landed himself in.
Soon enough, the room was filled with the steady slap of skin hitting skin and muffled grunts. Wuming’s hips slapped against the back of Xie Lian’s thighs as he thrust harder and harder, faster and faster. He’d slung one leg over Xie Lian’s, keeping his thighs nice and tight, while his hand rested on top of the prince’s hip, holding him in the perfect position to take his thrusts.
All the while, he panted against the back of Xie Lian’s neck, forehead pressed to the base of his skull. It must have been for better leverage, or something, but it also meant that his every exhale tickled over Xie Lian’s scent glands. For the prince, it was a painful tease, to have his scent glands stimulated so persistently without a single actual touch. He could practically feel them swelling up in response, pumping out his own pheromones like a broken dam.
Was this what being fucked felt like? The thrust of hips against his ass, a body curled over him? How easy would it be for Wuming to turn him onto his stomach and just take? To mount him and carve a space inside just for him? That would be-
Xie Lian grit his teeth around a whimper. Ethics Sutra. The Ethics Sutra!
Was the Ethics Sutra even meant for a situation like this?? Because it felt useless right now! It was impossible not to think of how fucking huge Wuming’s dick felt between his thighs. The head kept coming out the other side! That couldn’t be normal!
...How deep could it reach in me?
No. No, that’s not... I’m helping. I’m just helping. I’m just...
A particularly hard thrust knocked Xie Lian from his thoughts and a short noise from his throat. Face burning, he slapped one hand over his mouth. The last thing he needed was Wuming picking up on these conflicting feelings of his!
Hurry up... he quietly begged. Hurry up, Wuming. If you don’t...
Tragically, Wuming didn’t seem to be a quickshot. So Xie Lian lay there in resigned silence, swallowing every gasp and cry that wanted to escape him- or at least trying to.
Gradually, the sounds emanating from the nest changed. The dry plap of Wuming’s hips meeting Xie Lian’s thighs became accompanied by wetter sounds as his deep and steady thrusts repeatedly dragged his weeping cockhead between the plush vise Xie Lian had given him. His panting turned to grunting, cut-off vocalizations and short words groaned in the addictive haze of pleasure. Each one was a hammer right to Xie Lian’s brain, tenderizing it until it became jelly oozing out his ears.
But eventually, Wuming’s thrusts achieved a new tempo: fast and short, stuttering at odd moments. Xie Lian’s thoughts had long been reduced to white noise, but he instinctively knew Wuming was reaching his limit, and he welcomed it. He wanted Wuming to come- H-he wanted this trial to be over! His breath hitched when Wuming moved his hand away from his hip, toward his chest. He nearly keened at the feeling of that iron grasp holding him close, like some sort of lover’s embrace. Though he kept one hand at his mouth, the other flew to grip the ghost’s wrist, as if that mere touch could somehow ground him.
“Your Highness,” Wuming rasped. He’d called out Xie Lian’s title multiple times throughout this deed, and each one was a red-hot poker to the prince’s guts. “Your Highness... I’m close. May I-?”
“Yes,” Xie Lian gasped, though he hadn’t a clue what for. Wuming swore against his neck, his breaths growing even more ragged. His thrusts grew even wilder, if such a thing was possible.
“Your Highness, you’re- incredible,” he choked out. “A-amazing. Truly gifted- gracious- I- I really-!!”
With a shout, Wuming’s tempo stuttered to an explosive stop. He pressed in as far as he could go, groin to thighs, with nearly bruising force. The thrust was so powerful it rocked Xie Lian’s whole body forward, pushing his face right into Wuming’s discarded robes. He instinctively clenched his legs tight in response, then squeaked, unprepared for how the organ between his legs was suddenly pulsing and twitching and- growing?
“Highness...” Wuming whispered blissfully, and his hips gave a tiny, abortive thrust. With that little movement, Xie Lian realized what that hard protrusion now present between his thighs was.
That was Wuming’s knot.
He was knotting his thighs.
“...Hah...”
Like birds drawn south for the winter, or perhaps an alcoholic caving to a drink, Xie Lian’s eyes finally traveled downwards. Like a tanghulu stick buried in the snow, a red and glossy cockhead poked out between two pale thighs. Even as he watched, it continued to leak dribbles of seed onto the fabric beneath it, where a not-insignificant pool already resided.
Wuming groaned quietly as Xie Lian’s thighs tightened around him just a tad more. He watched as another drop of seed percolated and fell. He’d once heard that a successful knotting would extend an alpha’s orgasm, the pressure placed on the knot slowing ejaculation into something that could take minutes to finish. So, if his thighs alone could do this...
Xie Lian stared, and very carefully didn’t think about where else he could be feeling that knot.
But...
But, he wanted...
In that moment, Xie Lian felt as though he stood at some vast precipice, balancing upon a knife’s edge. On one side was his cultivation, nurtured for years, carried with pride, celebrated with accolades. On the other, a great mystery, alluring and terrifying in equal measure, wearing a kind smile and mismatched eyes.
Behind him, Wuming pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Xie Lian’s neck. His heart swooped.
Fuck it.
Xie Lian licked his lips and took a soft breath in. “Wuming?”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
What a satisfied-sounding man!
Xie Lian’s hand was still on Wuming’s wrist. Slowly, he let go, and caught his hand instead. Hearteningly, Wuming immediately laced their fingers together, palm to back. He followed obediently when Xie Lian dragged their hands down his body. Down, past his chest, past his stomach, to the still-weeping erection that lay beneath.
No, not Wuming’s.
Wuming’s breath hitched as his hand settled along the length of Xie Lian’s erection. The formerly chaste prince couldn’t help the sigh of pleasure that escaped him. He’d been hard for so long that the mere brush of his ghost’s hand made him want to come.
“Oh...”
“Your Highness...?” Wuming asked, in disbelief and wonder alike. “You...? Are you sure? Your cultivation-”
“I don’t care about my cultivation,” he interrupted. His cheeks were aflame, but they felt like mere cinders compared to his heart. Internally, he noticed how the scent glands on his neck had begun to throb; how with every breath he took, his scent was growing stronger, bolder: the advent of rut. He twisted in place to meet Wuming’s wide-eyed stare head-on.
“I want you more.”