The Ghost Of You

Chapter 16

Morning came slowly. Mu Qing woke, with Feng Xin still pressed against his chest. He had settled through the night, or maybe he had just been too exhausted to stay awake.

There was no longer a gap between them. Feng Xin held him in strong arms, and buried his face in the curve of his neck. Mu Qing could barely focus on anything but the press of skin on skin, of heat shared between entangled bodies. He could not move, without brushing against him. He could not escape feeling the softness of his skin, or the hard definition of muscle.

It was more than he had ever experienced before. His cultivation had not encouraged this sort of closeness. It still felt forbidden, even if, at the very least, no one could say that what they had done had broken any vows. It was the first time he understood the danger of it, how easily he could fall to temptation, once he had a taste of it.

He pushed back fantasies of kissing Feng Xin, of being kissed. He dared wonder what it would feel like to push him down against a bed, all blushed skin, and spread legs. How lovely it would be if Feng Xin asked him to.

Heat pooled within him. He shifted uncomfortably, not yet used to the unfamiliar, and sudden feeling of rising pressure. He tensed. Then, he sat up very quickly, unceremoniously shoving Feng Xin off of him. He was lucky enough that he only stirred a little, before turning over and going back to sleep. If Feng Xin had woken to see him in this state, Mu Qing would truly never be able to recover.

At least, his bout of hypothermia had subsided. He felt much too hot now, for it to have stayed.

Mu Qing leapt to his feet, and bolted from the tent. Staying in Feng Xin's arms any longer would have destroyed him, or simply embarrassed him to the point where he would have no choice but to throw himself off a cliff.

Instead, he stood, mostly stripped down in the snow, waiting for the cold to solve his problems. He lacked the conviction to deal with it himself.

Mu Qing stayed languishing in the snow, much longer than he needed to. Returning to face Feng Xin made him feel like he might die of embarrassment.

In the end, he was startled by the rustle of the tent door, as Feng Xin stepped outside, disturbing his peace.

"What the fuck are you doing out here? It's like you're trying to freeze to death!"

It seemed overly hypocritical, when he stood out in the morning cold, just as undressed as Mu Qing was. He might have complained more, if he wasn't gifted with the sight of Feng Xin wearing nothing but his trousers. He snuck a cautious glance at his bare chest, admiring the way his waist ever so slightly tapered in, and lingered too long on the wound that parted him open.

"Why do you care?" he snapped, a little unfairly. "Maybe I just wanted to get some fresh air. Since when is that a crime?"

Feng Xin blinked at him, wearing an expression that made him feel a small bit guilty.

"Who said anything about it being a crime? Just put your goddamn clothes on first!"

He stalked back inside for a minute, and returned with Mu Qing's bundled up robes. Then he tossed them at him. Mu Qing caught them with ease, not willing to let himself be hit in the face by any number of concealed weaponry. He was lucky enough that Feng Xin had not found the dagger. Their closeness the night prior had already forced him to explain too much.

Feng Xin saw him come to a pause, and said: "you're not still so weak that you need me to help dress you, right?"

"I'm fine," Mu Qing said, shooting him a glare so fierce, he prayed it would distract from the blush on his cheeks. "Besides, you looked like such a mess last night. Maybe I should be the one offering to dress you."