He tugged the monk's hand, pulling him closer again. The first time had been to shelter from the cold; now, he pressed near to share his own warmth, so neither would suffer the storm alone beneath that fragile umbrella.
They returned home in silence, faces shadowed. Ji Chun lit the candles, pushing back the darkness to reveal their bedraggled states. Su Ran peeled off his soaked outer robe—his inner garments still dry—then grabbed a towel to dab at his damp hair. Ji Chun, drenched to the skin, shed only his coat before stalking out, his expression icy.
In the kitchen, he set water to boil. When he returned, Su Ran was already curled under the quilt, likely chilled. Ji Chun snatched dry clothes and changed in the corner, careful to stay out of sight.
Su Ran waited, then rose and padded outside. Ji Chun noted his thin attire—he shouldn't go far—and stayed seated, wrestling with his thoughts. But when Su Ran didn't return, unease prickled him. He ventured into the yard and spotted a faint light from the east room.
Inside, Su Ran stood before the three rough-hewn logs, arms crossed. The flickering candlelight hid his face but not his fury—a gathering storm. Ji Chun lingered at the threshold. Neither spoke. The air thickened.
Finally, Su Ran's icy voice cut the silence, "What are these for?"
"To make a bed." Ji Chun's reply was flat, toneless.
"Fine." Su Ran whirled, closing the distance. His eyes, sharp as blades, that drove deep into Ji Chun's chest. "Then we'll sleep apart." The words were casual, dismissive, as if spoken to a stranger. He strode past, leaving Ji Chun rooted, pulse hammering.
By the time Ji Chun remembered the boiling water, the kettle hissed angrily. He carried it inside to find Su Ran turned away in bed, feigning sleep. Ji Chun poured a cup and approached. "Drink this," he murmured.
"Spare the courtesy, Dashi" Su Ran's voice was arctic, his back at the wall.
Helplessness clawed at Ji Chun. He tried again, steel seeping into his tone: "Sit up and drink."
Su Ran didn't move.
Setting the cup down, Ji Chun sat on the bed's edge. He had to end this. "From now on," he said, echoing his earlier demand, "you will tell me where you go."
Su Ran erupted. In a flash, his hand locked around Ji Chun's throat, nails biting flesh. His eyes gleamed—cold, feral. "What wretched fool dares command me?" he hissed. "Must I teach you your place?"
Ji Chun's vision hazed red. He wrenched Su Ran's grip away, slamming him into the mattress. One hand blinded him; the other pinned his wrists overhead. No thought—only fury, hunger, the need to claim and dominate.
Their mouths crashed together. Ji Chun bit at those lips that spat venom, drank the gasps as if starved. Su Ran's struggles weakened. Ji Chun gentled, mapping his face with kisses—his brow, his jaw—possessed, in delirium. His. This man who carried his child, whose pride was a flame he'd burn to touch.
When they broke apart, Su Ran lay panting. "Dashi," he mocked, voice wrecked, "what exactly are you doing?"
Ji Chun hovered above him, pupils blown, every ragged breath a confession. "I—" His throat closed. "I want you. Only you."
At that moment, Su Ran understood—he had finally broken through the monk's last line of defense. This monk was now completely and utterly his. He didn't care about the monk's past struggles or confusion; all that mattered to him was the outcome before him.
Ji Chun finally spoke the words buried in the deepest part of his heart. In that moment, it was as if he had been completely freed, unwilling to think rationally any longer. His gaze, filled with desire, locked onto the beautiful man beneath him. Su Ran stared straight at him, making his heart race uncontrollably. Panting heavily, Ji Chun murmured in a low voice, "Don't look…" His arm once again covered Su Ran's eyes—he didn't dare meet the man's gaze, afraid of seeing the madness within himself. Lowering his head, he sealed the man's lips with a kiss.
Su Ran didn't stop the monk, even with his vision obscured. He understood—if he kept staring, the man would lose his nerve. So he complied, closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms around the monk's neck and returned the kiss, his own hands beginning to wander.
Ji Chun was beyond reason now, consumed by the need to be near him. He pulled away just long enough to wave a hand toward the candle, plunging the room into darkness. The absence of light heightened every sensation—every touch, every breath—as if they were the only two people in the world.
Afterward, Su Ran lay spent, skin glistening with sweat, too exhausted to move. He pushed weakly at the monk still draped over his chest. "You're... heavy," he panted.
Reluctantly, Ji Chun rolled aside. Outside, the rain continued its hushed patter against the night. He propped himself up on one elbow, fingers brushing Su Ran's damp cheek—whether from sweat or tears, he couldn't tell. His chest tightened with tenderness as he pressed a kiss to that furrowed brow.
Su Ran's hair was soaked. Worry prickled at him; sleeping like this would invite chills. "I'll fetch hot water," he murmured. "Rest now."
A drowsy hum was his only answer. Su Ran had already turned on his side, slipping into sleep.
Ji Chun eased from the bed, careful not to jostle him, and drew the quilt over his bare shoulders. He dressed quickly, lit a lamp at the far end of the room to avoid disturbing Su Ran's rest, and slipped out to heat water.
When he returned with a steaming basin and towel, the faint candlelight revealed Su Ran's face in quiet repose. Ji Chun sat beside him, wiping away the lingering dampness with reverent strokes. Beautiful, even now—features sharp yet softened in sleep, skin improbably smooth for a man who'd lived hard.
He lifted the quilt next, his breath catching at the sight beneath. Jaw clenched, he dipped the cloth again and began to clean the sweat from Su Ran's body.
A whimper escaped Su Ran's lips—weak, plaintive, so unlike his usual defiance.
Ji Chun finished quickly, disposed of the water, and rinsed himself before returning. He doused the candle and slid back into bed, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, he turned toward Su Ran, drawn like a compass needle. Unable to resist, he pulled that warm body against his own, one hand settling protectively over the curve of Su Ran's belly.
Still, his mind raced. After a long while, he opened his eyes again, studying the peaceful face beside him. One last impulse took hold: he leaned in, brushing his lips against Su Ran's, before finally settling back with a sigh. This time, when he closed his eyes, he willed himself toward sleep.