子夜四時歌 : 春

Song of Four Seasons Midnight: Spring

By Seishuku Skuld (skuldchan [a] gmail d0t com)

Series: Jade Empire

Pairing: Sky/Furious Ming (open palm)

Warnings: explicit male/male sex, ending spoilers

Date: April 2007

Author’s Note: This all started when I beat the PC version for the first time and was subsequently craving some ‘Jade Empire yaoi,’ so I did a search for exactly that on Google.  Irony of ironies, my own blog turned up as the first hit.  I took that as a sign that there was a void that needed to be filled, so here I am filling it.

Disclaimer: Characters herein belong to BioWare and their kickass game.  Let’s all congratulate BioWare for making canon gay possible.

*~*~*

For a moment, Sky looked bewildered. The door hadn't seemed so high up just seconds ago. He took a look around. His cup was overturned, on the floor, in one piece but sitting in a pool of wine. A chair—probably his chair—was also on the floor, legs facing up. And he was—oh. Sky breathed a little word of realization as he got his bearings.

"All right, get up." Furious Ming stared down at his lover, shaking his head. "It's about time we called it a night." He bent down and offered Sky a hand. "I think you've had too much to drink," said Ming as he swing Sky's arm over his shoulder and helped him stagger to his feet.

"Goodnight, boys," Ming said on his way out, waving at the four Guild lieutenants that Sky had affectionately dubbed his 'Minions of Chaos.' For Chaos, they were surprisingly honorable, intelligent, and well-meaning men, sipping their wine discreetly as they bid their leaders (who they had affectionately dubbed the ‘Princes of Disorder’) a good night as they beat an unsteady retreat back to their chambers. In the back of his mind, Ming tried very hard not to think about exactly how inebriated he was. He hadn't even noticed Sky's sudden descent to the floor until he heard the loud ground-shaking thud and the clatter of the chair, but since he'd at least noticed before Sky did, that meant that he was the more sober of the pair and therefore it was his job to get them back to their rooms before they ended up sprawled on top of each other someplace rather embarrassing—someplace rather public.

"You're drunk," Ming said, as they made their way about the corridors of the Guild Hall near Tien’s Landing that had once belonged to Gao the Greater.

Sky snorted. "Nonsense. You're drunk too."

"My being drunk," Ming said slowly, pausing between phrases to make sure he was constructing them right, "doesn't make you...any less drunk."

Sky stopped, one arm still slung around Ming's shoulder. He leaned back, narrowed his eyes, and gave Ming a discerning look. "Of course it does," Sky said, so matter-of-factly that Ming couldn’t come up with a proper response, and with a sigh just let the matter drop.

"But least I can walk," Ming finally remarked after a long silence, as if walking made all the difference.

"I'm walking too."

"That's because I'm helping you," Ming replied, "if you haven't noticed yet."

"Oh, trust me," Sky said, a grin spreading across his face, "I've noticed." Then he lurched forward and Ming had to do his best to steady the both of them as they continued stumbling about the halls.

“I'll have you know," Sky continued after it seemed that they were heading in the right direction, "that if I put my mind to it, I think I can outdrink Black Whirlwind." His words slurred a bit as they spoke, and it took Ming’s brain a few extra seconds to figure out exactly what it was Sky was trying to say.

"…And you'd be dead by morning,” concluded Ming, after some thought. He figured the only man he knew who could possibly outdrink Black Whirlwind was Henpecked Hou, who had unfortunately given that up some years ago.

"Ah, but not if I played my cards right," Sky said. "You want to make a bet?”

"I would," Ming replied, "if it weren't for the fact that you already fix most of the betting around here."

Sky shrugged. "Only most. I like to leave some things to chance."

"I think chance would leave me with two dead drunkards on my hands."

Sky groggily regarded Ming for a moment. "Are you implying I’m going to die of drink?"

"Yes," Ming said, "yes, I am. That man's consumed enough wine to flood the Imperial City. You, at most, would only flood a district."

“But my Minions of Chaos bring me such great wine," Sky protested. He was starting to look a little steadier now, though not by much. “Besides,” he said, sobering a little, “it’s not often I find myself in company I trust enough to get drunk with.”

Ming was relieved that their rooms were just a corridor away, it was rather embarrassing to be helping a reeling, drunken Sky back to their rooms, and even worse that Sky insisted on speaking to him by breathing directly on his neck and ear. Ming knew he was red, and he thanked the fact that wine looked roughly the same on him as blushing did.

"I think I come up with some of my best plans after a few bowls."

"I hope you think differently when you're sober," Ming replied. He steadied Sky, opened the door to their chambers, and helped him through. "There." Ming dumped Sky unceremoniously on the bed with a giant flop, but the wine had gotten to him too and he didn’t react fast enough to dodge the arms that wrapped around his neck and pulled him down after.

"You're not going anywhere," Sky whispered, his eyes glittering with amusement. He pulled Ming close for a kiss, and Ming didn't resist.

"Your head's going to be throbbing like a drum in the morning," Ming said with a smile when the kiss finally broke.

"Hmm," was Sky's only reply. He rolled over, pinning Ming beneath him and buried his face in his lover's neck, nibbling gently at the skin of Ming’s jawline.

"Your ass too," Ming smirked, his hands coming to Sky's waist and untying the knot of his belt.

Sky paused. “Now what was that?” he asked softly. “If you want me, you’ll have to fight for me.”

Ming’s eyes flashed. “Done.” Before he even finished speaking, Ming grabbed a handful of blue cloth around Sky’s waist and pulled.

When Sky had had their bed assembled and installed in his room—on the highest floor of the Hall—for solid two days the lower ranked Guild members had talked only of one thing: what in the heavens did Sky need with a bed large enough to fit six? And when Ming had asked him, in private, why he seemed to tolerate such rumors, Sky had simply laughed and shrugged.

“That’s answer even a child could figure out,” he had replied. “…An older child, I hope,” he’d added after a moment’s pause.

Sky rolled away, quickly before Ming had gotten a good enough grip to divest him of his clothing. Ming had rolled the other way, and they crouched facing each other, just a few feet away, ready to spring, waiting for the other to make the first move.

There were only three cardinal, unbreakable rules on the giant bed that Sky referred to lovingly as, “The Ring.” Touching, rolling, or falling out of the bed was considered out of bounds, and therefore an instant forfeit. The second rule was that only the knees or higher body parts were allowed to bear weight in the Ring (standing was forbidden, the canopy hung too low to allow it), and last was that three taps or ten seconds, whichever came first, signaled surrender. Anything and everything else was legal.

“Nice,” Sky said, searching for Ming’s next move, “going for the pants.”

“Could’ve locked your knees up,” Ming replied. Sky’s pants hadn’t escaped the initial attack completely unscathed, the sash he wore around his waist was lying between them, and they were beginning to slip down one hip, which meant he had to act soon or suffer a blow to his mobility.

Sky lunged, Ming rolled, and they met again moments later—grappling, pinning, wrestling—as pillows and sheets flew off the bed amidst the scuffle. Ming saw an arm swipe at him and he ducked to the side, swinging a leg around Sky’s waist and trying to lock him down. Sky rolled into him and kept going, pressing him to the bed with his greater bulk, but in the process Ming had somehow managed to twist most of himself free, and was making progress in dragging Sky back down to the bed.

Clothes were somehow lost in the row, blankets shoved onto the floor in a mass exodus away from the two writhing bodies at the bed’s center. Minutes later, Ming ended up with an arm pinned against his side by the inside of Sky’s thigh, and something pressed into his lower back that most certainly was not Sky’s knee.

Ming tapped the bed three times and the weight sitting on him got up and rolled off. Ming freed his arm and turned to the side, Sky immediately spooning up behind him, wrapping possessive arms around his waist. “You win,” Ming conceded.

“I do,” Sky said, his voice sounding both amused and satisfied. He graced Ming with a consolatory kiss. “And what was that you said earlier?”

Ming began grumbling a response but then he paused mid-sentence as a particular thought occurred to him.

Ming turned to regard his lover. “…You’re not drunk at all are you, Sky?”

Sky laughed. He nuzzled Ming’s neck. “Ah, my last, inebriated Spirit Monk, you are correct.”

Ming was speechless. “H-How?”

“The key,” Sky explained smugly, “lies in not making a face when drinking that restorative potion.”

“You cheated,” Ming accused with a scowl, nevertheless returning the little kiss that Sky placed on his lips.

“Technically, no. If I was really as drunk as I led you to believe, you would have won for the same reasons I just did.” Ming muttered something under his breath, but Sky continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I merely led you to believe I was drunk and I think the fact that this charade went on for so long is a good indication of exactly how much wine you’ve consumed.”

“You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Sky chuckled, cuddling Ming closer and letting his hands wander a little below the waistline. “I’ll let you make good on that in the morning. But for tonight, love, you’re all mine.”

It was tempting to give in, to give Sky what he wanted. Guild business was keeping him busy, and they hadn’t had the time or energy recently to do much when they finally found themselves together. There was no good reason not to, and hadn’t Sky earned his reward after all, for being such a fine actor?

So Ming surrendered. He closed his eyes, let his mind settle and focus on the touches that ran the length of his body. He let Sky hold him, stroke him, let Sky press wet kisses on his neck and his shoulders, biting and growling playfully. It was rare for Sky to be at a loss for words, they were the main tools of his charm, but in bed Sky was all moans and murmurs, punctuated only by the occasional short instruction. Ming turned in Sky’s embrace, facing his lover and wrapping tattooed arms around his shoulders, pulling them together for a lazy, languid kiss.

They shed the rest of their clothing—whatever had been spared in the preceding tussle—and abandoned them in a far corner of the bed where they would serve no more distraction. Naked now they twined together, skin pressed flush against skin. One of Sky’s legs locked around Ming’s waist, pinning him down firmly as Sky captured his lips again.

The kiss didn’t last long, more insistent desires had risen to the forefront of their minds. Sky’s hand reached between them and wrapped strong fingers around Ming’s sex, stroking slowly. Ming arched into that caress, his hips rising to meet Sky at the apex of every stroke, encouraging further and more detailed attentions. Patiently Sky waited, focusing only on his lover and his needs. He brought Ming to the brink of climax and slowly let him sink back down, still unsatisfied.

“Wha—“ Ming began to protest, but a finger on his lips cut him short.

“Shh,” Sky soothed. “Just not yet.” He gave Ming a roguish wink, but the spirit monk remained unplacated. Ming said nothing, but from the frustrated looks he was shooting his lover, Sky knew he would be getting his due, and more, come morning. If that was the case, might as well make the best of it.

“Turn around,” Sky ordered. Ming obeyed, turning onto his stomach and waiting for Sky.

Sky paused for a moment, openly admiring the intricate dragon that graced Ming’s back. It almost seemed to move of its own will in the dim, flickering candlelight, rising and falling with each of Ming’s breaths. The dragon moved with Ming when he fought, with each strike, each ripple of the muscle and taut sinew of his back, the reason why Sky loved so much to watch him fight. It was why when Ming was training the Guild men in combat, Sky would always find a reason to stand on the sidelines and follow Ming’s agile, elegant movement.

Ming squirmed with impatience, shaking Sky briefly from his reflection. Sky acquiesced, bending down to Ming’s shoulder and placing a kiss there. He trailed kisses down Ming’s spine until he came to the hip. Ghosting his lips over the skin there, he gripped Ming’s waist firmly and pulled him to his knees. Ming let out a muffled whimper as Sky’s mouth traveled even lower, spread him, and tongued his entrance lightly—just enough to tease.

There was a moment’s pause and Ming looked over his shoulder, wondering what why Sky was taking his time.

“Relax,” Sky said in response to Ming’s questioning look, and without more preamble Ming felt a gentle finger probe and enter him.

Sky worked him delicately, taking great pains to prepare him properly. Half of it was that he cared for Ming’s wellbeing; there was a time reserved for wild, unbridled sex, but in the confines of their own bed with the whole night ahead of them, they could afford a few moments of tenderness. The other half of Sky’s patient attention was that he loved to see Ming writhe beneath him in frustration. It wasn’t often that he held the spirit monk completely under his thumb, moaning into the pillows and jerking his hips in pleasure, and Sky was going to enjoy every moment of it.

Finally when Sky deemed Ming ready, he pulled out his fingers and guided his own shaft to Ming’s entrance. He placed one hand on Ming’s hip to steady himself, and then closed his eyes and pushed in.

Ming grunted, holding his breath as he tensed, pushing back against Sky’s intrusion. He forced himself, little by little to relax, breathing forcefully when it hitched somewhere deep inside his chest. He whimpered a little when Sky stopped, fully buried. And then together, slowly, they began to rock.

Ming’s fists curled in the sheets, gripping for purchase as he thrust back against Sky, trying to meet the older man’s rising rhythm. Their movements now were governed by nature, by a force as old as heaven and more ancient than the Empire, as primal as the first mortal beings that walked the land. To Sky, it seemed perfectly natural to slip a hand around Ming’s hips and stroke him as well, for Ming’s pleasure was just as important to Sky as his own. Likewise for Ming, it did not seem strange for him to moan, to push against the chest that crouched at his back, to seek contact—skin to skin—with Sky, to slide against him and move with him, the man he loved.

They spoke silently as they coupled, with looks and touches. Ming bent low, turned his head as Sky’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled them close for a kiss. Ming came with a strangled whimper, Sky nuzzling his neck and trailing a kiss to his throat. They stayed like that for a few moments, and then Sky hauled him up and held him in his arms, burying his nose in Ming’s hair. The night was still young, Ming’s drink was wearing off, but they started again, Ming wrapping his arms around Sky’s neck and settling, lowering himself on his lover’s erection which had hardly waned at all so far during the night.

When they were done they cleaned each other off, hands and mouths wandering all over until the candles sputtered low and the only light in the room came from the light of the moon. They lay in each other’s arms and talked quietly—Guild business, memories, plans, promises. They laughed, satisfied, Ming especially content as he settled himself on Sky’s shoulders in wonder that the hardships they had suffered three years ago already seemed to far away, melted into the past.

Three years ago. Three years ago since he’d died at the hands of the man he had called ‘Master’ for all his life. Three years ago since Sky’s heart had been crushed a second time. Three years ago in the summer, the blizzard winds whipping the broken stones of Dirge when they first swore oaths to each other in hushed tones, speaking only of ‘the end’ because it was too much to hope for a beginning.

“And here we are,” Ming murmured, a little amused as he thought back on his life as a student of Master Li at the Two Rivers school. “I don’t think I ever would have thought that I’d end up sleeping in a man’s bed as one of the two leaders of the Guild.”

“Hmmm,” Sky said sleepily, roused out of a doze by Ming’s voice. “I find that life is a little more interesting when it tosses you some surprises.”

“Never thought you’d ever have a man in your bed either, Sky?”

”Can’t say it crossed my mind as often as my other options,” Sky admitted. He heaved a quiet sigh and shifted a bit, finding a more comfortable position but maintaining the possessive arm he had slung around Ming’s waist. “But now, I wouldn’t give you up for the world.”

“The entire world?”

“Well…” Sky paused in thought. “No,” he finally concluded, “I would much rather have the last spirit monk in my bed than the entire world. This bed couldn’t fit it all anyway.”

Ming snorted. He could see Sky’s sleepy grin, even if he wasn’t the right position to turn and see it.

Ming’s eyelids were beginning to droop heavily, and he felt sleep creeping up on him unawares. Sated and weary, he decided to succumb to sleep. “Goodnight, Sky,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, love,” Sky replied, emphatically nibbling on Ming’s ear. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your revenge in the morning.”

“Count on it.”

Sky chuckled. “I always do.”

And they drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep as cool spring winds wafted through their chambers, carrying with them the smells of a coming rain and the promise of many, many years together.

(end)