Work Text:
Hua Cheng allowed his mind to go quiet as he worked. After a long, stressful day, this was exactly what he needed: Dianxia sitting in front of him, holding a pose while he traced the familiar shapes out. The room was completely quiet except for the gentle swishing of his brush across the paper, and–
“That eye shape is all wrong.”
“Shut up,” Hua Cheng snapped. He glanced up. “And fix your jawline while you’re at it, it should be a much gentler curve.”
His clone scowled, an expression that absolutely didn’t belong on the face he was wearing. “My jawline is fine!”
“No it’s–!” Hua Cheng took a deep breath. This was supposed to be relaxing, and getting upset only made it more likely he’d mess the painting up. “Just do it. And quit making that expression with Dianxia’s face.”
“If you insist,” the clone sighed, making the requested change and settling back into his pose.
Satisfied, Hua Cheng looked back down at his paper and discovered that, annoyingly, the clone had been correct about the eye shape. He erased the line with a bit of spiritual energy and tried again. Better, but still not quite right. He was getting ready to try for the third time when the clone spoke up again.
“You know, if you’re forgetting what he looks like…”
“I didn’t forget!” Hua Cheng slammed his brush down on the table, splattering ink all over himself and his workspace.
“Oh really? Then, do tell me, why am I here?” The clone raised a delicate eyebrow.
“As reference for the pose,” Hua Cheng dismissed, crossing his arms. “So if you could get back to it–”
“Ah ah,” the clone shook his head, “you can’t lie to me, Hua Cheng. After all, I might look like him, but I’m still you.”
Hua Cheng’s nails dug into his skin. “Stop it.”
“And if we disagreed about what he looks like…”
“Stop it!”
“That means you don’t know.”
“SHUT UP!” Hua Cheng leapt to his feet, knocking his stool back where it clattered to the ground. “You piece of shit, you don’t know anything so just shut up already!”
“Oh, Hua Cheng…” The clone’s lips twisted into a smile, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! Dianxia shouldn’t smile like that, should never smile in a way that was so… unkind. “I know exactly what’s in that filthy mind of yours. And how bold you’ve become! Just a century ago you never would have dared sully him by taking his form, but now here I am.” Hua Cheng shook his head, trying to deny it, but his clone was right about them being the same person. He couldn’t hide his thoughts from himself, as much as he wanted to. He started to pace frantically as the clone continued to speak, growing louder with every word.
“Were you really just looking for a model?” he accused. “Or were you secretly hoping for something else? Have you grown so lonely and depraved that you would–”
Hua Cheng couldn’t take it anymore. He had those thoughts himself, sure, but to hear them pouring out of Dianxia’s lips was too much! Overwhelmed, he did the only thing he could think of in response: he covered his ears to block out that voice and fled from the room. Was it the most mature response? No, but it got him away, and that was the only thing that mattered to him at the moment.
He stumbled through the hallways of Paradise Manor for several long moments before he remembered his dice. He rolled them in front of the nearest doorway and opened it to the quiet serenity of Qiandeng Temple. Once inside, he collapsed in front of the altar, his mind a jumbled mess, only able to repeat one thing over and over. A desperate prayer.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
He had convinced himself it was innocent when he created the clone, but it wasn’t. He’d had a shitty day, and he was so starving for the presence of his beloved that he had been willing to defile his form. He wanted to paint Dianxia, yes, but then he wanted to show off his work and be praised by its subject. He wanted to drape Dianxia in silks and jewelry. He wanted to strip him bare and worship him directly. He wanted Dianxia to want the same of him. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted–
“There you are.” A soft voice cut through Hua Cheng’s spiral, and then a pair of strong but gentle arms wrapped around him. He inhaled shakily and was met with a scent he would always recognize but couldn’t quite describe. He only knew it meant safety.
“Dianxia?” He hated how much his voice wavered when he spoke, but it didn’t seem to phase the one holding him.
“Shh, San Lang. Don’t cry, I’ve got you. It’s alright.” A hand traced soothing patterns across his back.
“Dianxia!” Hua Cheng gasped. His hands flew up to cling to white robes, his face pressed into a warm, solid chest.
“Shh,” Dianxia’s voice soothed again. “Come here, San Lang. You know I don’t want my followers to kneel.”
Those arms helped Hua Cheng stand and maneuvered them towards the altar until he was standing in front of it. His god sat before him, legs parted enough that Hua Cheng could stand between them and keep his face buried in his chest.
“I’m sorry, Dianxia!” Hua Cheng sobbed. “I didn’t mean– I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, San Lang. I forgive you.”
For the first time, Hua Cheng dared to look up at that face. It was blurry through his tears, but it was him. “You do?” he asked hopefully.
“Of course. How could I stay mad at my most devoted believer?”
Overwhelmed, Hua Cheng dropped his face back down to rest on his god’s shoulder. “This one is not worthy,” he mumbled into the silk robe he dared to stain with his tears.
A hand traced down his cheek, coming to rest under his chin and lifting his head back up to meet Dianxia’s gaze. “How can it be wrong for a believer to worship his god?” Dianxia asked. His thumb swiped over Hua Cheng’s cheek, and he leaned into the contact. “Won’t you worship me, San Lang?”
How could Hua Cheng ever disobey? He leaned in and pressed their lips together.
Dianxia tasted divine. Greedy for more, Hua Cheng let out a desperate noise and deepened the kiss, determined to taste every inch of his god’s mouth. He would have been satisfied to do this forever, but after a while, gentle hands cupped his face and pulled him back.
“D–Dianxia?” Hua Cheng asked, his mind fuzzy with devotion.
“San Lang, I asked you to worship me, so get on with it! Worship.” He guided Hua Cheng’s head back down, this time to the smooth skin of his neck, making it very clear what his intentions were.
With a soft moan, Hua Cheng got to work. He dragged his lips over every inch of exposed skin, relishing in the soft gasps Dianxia let out when he found a sensitive spot. Then, when he ran out of skin, he reverently undid the ties of Dianxia’s robes and slid them off his shoulders.
His hands joined his mouth in mapping out the toned chest revealed to him, tracing the lines of his collarbone before traveling down his chest to the rosy buds that stood out against his pale skin. His lips closed around one, while his fingers toyed with the other.
“Hah, San Lang…”
Hua Cheng nearly lost his mind hearing Dianxia call out for him in that tone of voice. His tongue flicked across the nipple in his mouth over and over while his fingers teased and rolled the other.
“Ngh, yes! So good,” Dianxia gasped.
Hua Cheng trailed his free hand down his side, drawing patterns on his skin just to feel the shivers beneath his fingertips.
“San Lang– fuck! More!”
So, with one last kiss to the nipple he had been playing with, Hua Cheng pulled back and lifted Dianxia up to remove his pants. Instead of setting him back down on the cold stone altar, however, he flipped them around and sat down himself, pulling Dianxia onto his lap.
“San Lang wants to be my seat, hm? How considerate! In that case, take your clothes off and lie back.”
Hua Cheng obeyed, vanishing his clothes with a thought. He barely noticed the chill as he draped himself across the altar, an offering for his god, just as it should be.
“Good boy,” Dianxia praised. Hua Cheng keened, a needy, desperate sound. Dianxia crawled onto the altar with him, continuing up until he was towering in Hua Cheng’s vision, a true picture of divinity.
“I think it’s time San Lang worships me here,” he said, and then a weight descended on Hua Cheng’s face. All at once, all of his senses were consumed with his god. He moaned, and immediately got to work, his tongue teasing at the rim of the hole presented to him before slipping inside.
Dianxia let out a sigh at the sensation and ground his hips down into it. The taste of him, his weight, his scent, it left Hua Cheng lightheaded as he took to his task passionately. He would be content to do this forever, to lie here, consumed by the presence of his god, used by him. He had no need to breathe, no need to do anything other than work his tongue deeper into that hole, to draw those sounds of pleasure from the man above him. His only regret was that with Dianxia’s thighs clamped around his head, his ears were blocked from hearing them as clearly as he would like.
Eventually, though, Dianxia grew impatient. He climbed off of Hua Cheng’s face, ignoring the whine of displeasure as he pulled away, and instead moved to position himself over the ghost’s hips. A hand reached down and wrapped around Hua Cheng’s length, causing him to jolt at the sudden burst of pleasure.
“Relax,” Dianxia soothed, even as his hand traveled up and down that length a few times. “We wouldn’t want you to lose it too soon.”
And with that, he guided the head of Hua Cheng’s cock to his rim and began to sink down.
If he hadn’t been warned, Hua Cheng probably would have come immediately. He was already worked up from servicing his god, and to suddenly be met with the sensation of that tight heat sinking down around him was nearly enough to send him over the edge. But his need to please Dianxia was stronger. Dianxia didn’t want him to cum yet, so he wouldn’t.
When he finally felt the full weight of Dianxia settle down against him, Hua Cheng was near tears, both from the effort of holding back and the sensation of being so deep within his god. Dianxia reached out and brushed a hand across his cheek before taking a hold of his hands and bringing them to his hips.
“Go on, San Lang,” he encouraged. “Take what you want.”
Hua Cheng groaned and bucked his hips up into that warmth.
“Ah, yes!” Dianxia moaned, throwing his head back. The sound encouraged Hua Cheng, and he repeated the motion. Again and again, faster and faster, spurred on by the cries of the one on top of him.
“There! Oh– right there, San Lang!”
Every movement sent sparks across Hua Cheng’s vision to the point where he could barely see as Dianxia reached down and began to stroke himself in time with the thrusts. But he heard as his cries grew louder, and he certainly felt when he clenched down around his length like a vice as his release splattered across both of their stomachs.
“D-dian–” Hua Cheng sobbed, dangling on the edge since he still hadn’t been given permission to cum.
“It’s okay, San Lang,” Dianxia soothed. “You can let go.”
With a scream, Hua Cheng came. He shook with the force of it, overcome with wave after wave that seemed never ending. The entire time, soft hands combed through his hair, and a gentle voice rang in his ears, helping work him through it.
Then, finally, it ended. Hua Cheng relaxed his muscles, lay back on that stone altar. His vision cleared to reveal the kind face of his beloved looking down at him…
It was a small detail. The shape of his jaw, the change he himself had requested his clone make to his form, and it was all wrong.
A roar of fury filled the room as he dispersed the clone with a wild sweep of his hand. The sound echoed throughout the temple, Xie Lian’s temple, where he had dared–
Still on his god’s altar, still naked, still covered in the evidence of his transgression, Hua Cheng curled into a ball and wept.