TIAN GUAN CI FU Fan fic stories

SWEET OFFERING, OPEN UP YOUR ARMS...

Hua Cheng sat in front of his altar with his eyes closed, his legs crossed, his hands loosely cupped together in his lap. An uncharacteristic aura of peace draped over him, easing his brow, relaxing his shoulders. In front of him, poked delicately into the sand of a burner, three sticks of sandalwood incense smoked gently.

A faint, muffled whimper came from the altar.

Hua Cheng didn't respond to it, though his easy smile might have widened slightly. It was hard to tell. It wasn't until another plaintive sound reached his ears that he finally sighed.

"Your Highness, please be a little quieter. I'm trying to meditate."

"Mmmn," the voice whimpered out.

"I know, I know. Won't you bear it a little longer, dianxia?"

Finally, Hua Cheng opened his eyes, gazed on the object of his worship, and smiled.

"After all, we've only just begun."

Because there was no stone statue on the altar. Instead...

Xie Lian, trembling, red-faced, was bound tightly in butterfly silk on the plush platform of the altar. He was on his knees, but not by his own strength; if it weren't for the silk, which stretched all the way up to ceiling, he likely would've collapsed long ago—at least, if the quivering of his legs was anything to go by. The silk had crawled over every part of his body, lashing his arms behind his back, smothering his mouth; and the heaving of his breath was strained against the makeshift gag.

"Mmnmn," Xie Lian insisted, leaning forward. His shoulders strained against the silk. "Mnnm?"

With a sigh, Hua Cheng lifted a hand, prompting a few butterflies to unwind the silk gag from Xie Lian's mouth. "Yes, Your Highness?"

For a few seconds Xie Lian gasped, gulping in the cool air, as a few butterflies fluttered about his head. Then, he looked up with some effort. "San Lang," he fumbled out, seeming embarrassed. "If...if you really just want to meditate, then, there's no need to do it like this? You could take a statue from your collection..."

"Oh?" Hua Cheng said, propping his head on his palm. "Why would I use a statue, when I have the real thing?"

"..." Xie Lian looked down, his cheeks flushed. "...you're not...with a statue, you wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" Hua Cheng said, his smile widening. "Won't gege tell me?"

"..." Xie Lian bit his lip. "Wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't this?" Hua Cheng said, and snapped his fingers—

The nets of butterfly silk that had snaked under his robes reached the buds of his chest, tightening and squeezing.

"Ah!" Xie Lian gasped, squirming desperately. "San Lang, that's not fair! San Lang, San La—mnngh—!"

He'd twisted his head, but the butterfly silk still overwhelmed his mouth and sealed it shut, leaving him to whimper helplessly against it.

Just how had he gotten into this?

🪔

It had started in the morning, when he woke up in their bed in paradise manor.

Xie Lian knew that Hua Cheng meant to ask him something when he brought him breakfast in bed. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate—after all, Hua Cheng did this sort thing fairly often, at least as often as Xie Lian would let him.

What he didn't do often was spoon-feed him the congee.

At first, Xie Lian was confused. "San Lang, I know how to eat by myself..."