🔹️Liquid Gold🔹️

⚁

🃏🎰🃏

It’s love, Zhengting thinks as he observes the man with raven hair curling up against the rusty pipes, unbothered by the lizard carcass rotting just a few inches away. And it’s love, Zhengting knows as his hand gravitates towards the silver bars, when he pushes the cell door open and steps into the tiny space, suddenly overwhelmed by a mess of feelings he can’t even begin to comprehend and oh god, he’s staring at him now.

“Patient, Cai… Xukun?”

Its the intensity of an unfamiliar gaze and the paleness of his skin, its the way his red lips curl up in angles Zhengting had never known possible and fuck, its the way he just eyes Zhengting like he’s the most expensive toy on the shelf that makes his legs go weak. And Zhengting knows he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn’t enjoy the tingling sensations that make him all lightheaded when he imagines those fingernails raking up and down his body leaving trails of red that marks him as his property.

“…That’s me.”

“Well, how are you doing today?”

“Mmm, fine.”

Zhengting should've run off then, jumped into the welcoming arms of yet another bewitched professor who no doubt would have breathed in his scent and whispered calming words in his ears and god does Zhengting hate the feeling of having men wrap their dirty arms around his waist. But its far too late to even consider leaving this place because Zhengting swears there is some sorcery taking place and he can’t take his eyes off his ward. He’s not even sure he’s trying anymore, but it hardly matters because the man is pushing himself off the ground and he just looks at Zhengting with eyes all round and bright and innocent and— fuck, what is he doing now?

Suddenly he’s much too close for comfort, and he's standing a metre away. Zhengting doesn’t even notice the outstretched hand, because even the faded scars running down his fingers pale in comparison to the curve of his jaw and that tongue piercing that has Zhengting thinking all sorts of things and fuck, has he always been this kinky?

“Well then, shall we take a seat?”

It’s certainly not his intention, but Zhengting can’t say he minds as he feels Xukun pull him into his lap. It’s uncomfortable to say the least, the two of them pressed against each other fully clothed, precariously balancing on the sorry excuse for a bed that makes Zhengting cringe. He’s fairly certain Xukun’s legs don't even fit on the bloodied mattress, but what’s thinking when Xukun just lifts his chin and just kisses him so aggressively Zhengting can't even find time to breathe before his back hits the floor, Xukun’s entire weight upon his body and he thinks he may have broken something.

But the pain barely registers because Xukun sees his finger bending in the wrong direction, and so he frowns and already Zhengting is distracted but he feels cold metal and warm liquid touching his neck and oh lord, its all he's ever wished for.

“W-we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“If that’s what you wanted, then you shouldn’t have entered in the first place.”

And he absolutely detests how Xukun is always right, because that’s always been Zhengting’s skill, for heaven’s sake. It’s how he's made it to the top, flirting with all the right people and leaving gentle touches in all the right places until one by one they press him against plush leather seats, his tinkling laughter resonating around the room as they unbutton his clothes. Even now he gets butterflies in his stomach when Xukun so much as glances at him, and its pathetic how low Zhengting has descended because of this deranged man. But most importantly, Zhengting hates himself for relishing every moment he has with the madman named Cai Xukun, because Zhengting adores him so fucking much it hurts.

But Xukun always disappoints, and Zhengting can’t forget the countless times he's been left writhing on carpets, rugs, and wooden floors moaning for more and missing the warmth but Xukun’s already gone. And he never comes back, always flashing Zhengting a lopsided grin that makes Zhengting wish he could just climb into his lap and tug at his lip so hard it bleeds. As if it'd ever be enough. ‘Not right now, baby,’ Xukun would coo, making Zhengting’s breath hitch because God, his husky voice makes him so much more gorgeous and Zhengting could never resist.

“But here I am…”

“But here you are…”

Zhengting loves the sound of Xukun’s laughter, thinks the manic quality adds a layer of depth that no ordinary being can imitate. And he supposes that’s what keeps him coming back for more, even when Xukun repeatedly beats him within an inch of his life and threatens him with everything from lighted cigarettes to rusting penknives. But its just Xukun’s way of caring, and Zhengting knows this because he's never bothered wasting energy carving off a piece of flesh from his victims’ corpses nor shown enough mercy to shove them against a wall. And Zhengting thinks its hot how riled up Xukun gets every time he crawls over to him begging for more as he bleeds out of ten different puncture wounds and holds back his screams when Xukun digs his fingers into his skull and rams it against glass windows.

And that was all it took.

From that moment on Zhengting always obeyed, strangely content with being a rag doll to be abused and used because its Xukun, goddamnit, and he's the only thing that keeps Zhengting afloat. Its about the way the his lips capture the light even in the absence of gloss within the dark, isolated cell that drives Zhengting wild, and its like Zhengting’s become a magpie because Xukun is his gold, silver, and treasure. He’s everything he's ever wanted, everything he has to work for because Xukun isn’t his.

“…And now, you’re mine to keep.”

🃏🎰🃏