Chapter Text
"No wonder Jing Yuan is always so sleepy." Stelle shook her cup and took a sip. They didn't call it Immortal's Delight for nothing. It was lethally rich and sweet, as always. "If I finish this, there's no way I'm doing anything for the rest of the day." She popped one of the pearls between her teeth.
"You were already not doing anything today," Dan Heng pointed out. He didn't look away from the terminal before him as he sipped his own drink.
"I know. It's just extra insurance in case anyone asks me to do anything. Always gotta plan ahead." She brushed her cup against his in a mock toast.
"If you spill that, I'm really never letting you sit there anymore." He glanced up at her, where she sat on his desk, swinging her legs. "And why are you complaining? You told me you liked these."
"I do!" She feigned offense. "Don't you? You're immortal, aren't you delighted?" She asked, biting her straw. He snorted.
"Delighted is a bit of an overstatement, but it's not bad." He picked up his cup again and examined the label.
"I knew you'd say that," she chuckled. "How are you so indifferent? What flavor did you get?"
"The same as you."
Stelle smiled to herself. He didn't notice as he put his drink down and resumed typing.
"Maybe yours is better than mine," he considered after a moment, putting the terminal to sleep. He stood and stretched.
"You just said we got the same one."
"I know."
He leaned over and kissed her, tasting her lips.
Shock froze her.
"Hm. I thought so," he murmured.
He'd already pulled away and was searching the bookshelves by the time her brain was back online.
Several days had passed between their excursion back to Scalegorge Waterscape with Bailu (and everything that came after), and Stelle was still unaccustomed to Dan Heng's affection towards her. He'd opened up significantly since the showdown with Phantylia, but that had been more in the general sense—with the way he interacted with everyone on the Express.
Things were different now. He was still reserved, quiet, and sometimes dry— but his guard was lower around her now, particularly when they were alone. He was still the same person, except there was a comforting warmth in his presence. The archives had become more of a reading nook in a sunny window and less of the dark and lonely corner of the Express that it used to be.
It made Stelle happy, both for his sake and hers. It wasn't elation or anything she'd shout from the rooftops. It was the softness in how he talked about his latest research or the satisfaction she felt when she made him laugh.
Even so, those little sparks— the ones that made her short circuit like just now — were still sparse. She'd spent so much of their friendship needling him, even as far back as Belobog, and only now was she having to deal with the consequences. He always caught her unprepared. Teasing him was always only for her private amusement; she never imagined he would enjoy dishing it back and calling her bluffs. But there was no denying it when she saw the corners of his mouth turn smugly upward as he walked away.
All of that was to say she didn't mind that it wasn't more frequent, but she would not complain if it were.
Returning to her senses, Stelle saw a small, ornately wrapped package on the end of the desk opposite her. She hadn't noticed it as he worked since he'd been blocking her view.
"What's in the box, by the way?"
Dan Heng stopped perusing the shelf and rubbed the back of his neck as he turned around.
"It's…a gift. From Bailu."
Stelle made an exaggerated point of looking at him, then at the box, then back at him before loudly sipping her drink again.
"When I was out earlier, I got a message from the general. He said he had something for me at the Seat of Divine Foresight. When I arrived, he told me that she'd given him something to give to me," he looked at the box, confused.
"Ha! She knew if she tried to give you anything in person, you wouldn't accept it. Smart girl. Wish I could get the general to do my dirty work for me."
He ignored the jab at his pristine character.
"So…are you gonna open it?"
He hesitated. "I guess I should."
Stelle watched him cross the room and pick up the box. He unwrapped the delicate paper, trying to keep the tearing to a minimum, before opening the lid. From where Stelle stood, she couldn't see the contents besides a little folded card, which Dan Heng opened and began to read to himself. A hint of pink rose to his cheeks.
"Well?"
Dan Heng handed her the card; she took it from him while he examined the box's contents again.
Dear Mr. Dan Heng,
Thank you for taking the time to meet with me recently. Even though it was a little scary at times, I found our time together very beneficial, and I hope you feel the same! If you are agreeable to it, I am happy to continue our correspondence in an effort to share our knowledge with each other! :3
But I know you are very busy, so if you don't want to, that's okay, I understand!
I wanted to get you a little something as thanks. I found this cool hair cuff at the antique shop in Aurum Alley and thought of you! I hope you like it!
Talk soon?
Bailu
P.S. - Please don't give Jing Yuan any trouble about this; I knew you wouldn't take it if I tried to give it to you myself!
At the bottom, she'd scribbled two little horned smiley faces. Very cute.
Stelle looked up to see Dan Heng examining the metal cylinder curiously.
She hopped off the desk and approached him for a closer look. The cuff appeared to be bronze and of similar size to the ones worn by Bailu herself. An intricate scene was engraved into it, showing a dragon curled in slumber around a full moon, inlaid in mother-of-pearl. Or was it abalone? Stelle had never seen enough of either to tell the difference.
"Whoa," she whispered. Dan Heng nodded. His face was unreadable as he inspected it, but Stelle decided he looked lost between nostalgia and curiosity.
"Think you'd ever wear it?"
"I'm not sure… I'd be afraid I'd lose it."
"You should at least try it out." Stelle encouraged. She really wanted to see what it would look like on him—for science. Considering the idea, she added, "I could braid your hair and put it in for you…if you want, if you don't know how to braid, I mean."
"I know how to braid," he said quietly. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? He knew how to do just about everything else.
"Oh, neverm—"
"Why? Did you want to?"
"Maybe."
"So, yes?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"Yes."
He shook his head. "I don't understand the fascination with my hair when it's long. It's just hair. Even Himeko said something about it recently."
"It's nicer than ours, and we are all actively trying to sabotage you."
"I see. Well, in that case…"
"Except me, obviously."
"You said 'we'."
"Did not."
Dan Heng rolled his eyes. "You're incorrigible."
He examined the cuff again before placing it back in the box. "I'll think about it."
On her way back to her room, Stelle fired off a text to Bailu.
Just saw the hair cuff. I think you flustered Dan Heng. 10/10, great job!
hehehe >:) if he wears it, take a pic!
If he'll let me!
Later, Stelle was trying to tackle her long-neglected laundry when March barged in unannounced (as usual).
"Did you remember we were on dinner duty tonight? Because I didn't," she groaned, collapsing onto Stelle's bed.
"Ugh, no." Stelle tossed one of March's shirts that had gotten mixed up with hers over her friend's face. "I just had an Immortal's Delight, like an hour ago. I'm definitely not hungry."
"Oh?" March sat up, snatching the shirt off her face. "Who brought you that, hm? You didn't leave today."
"Our favorite immortal, who else? He wanted to try one."
March giggled mischievously. "Of course he did. Was he delighted?" She laughed to herself. "Anyway, some of us didn't get one and will need dinner. Any ideas?"
"He knocked on your door to see if you wanted anything before he left, but he said you didn't answer. You snooze, you lose, baby!"
"Beauty sleep is important, okay? Dairy breaks me out anyway. It's the thought that counts, though, so I can let it slide this time," she decided. "Anyway, dinner?"
"I dunno." Stelle shrugged. "Wanna try something different? We could look something up."
Several hours, a shattered baking dish, and one smoke alarm later, the girls stood next to the pick-up counter of Spices Supreme.
"How was I supposed to know you couldn't put cold glass on a hot stove? It's not like it was still on. Ugh." March huffed, indignant. "Anyway, I can't believe Dan Heng is really going to let you braid his hair," she said, double-checking their order number.
"He said he'd think about it."
"He didn't say 'no,' so that means yes. Dan Heng doesn't tell you 'no' much—or haven't you noticed?"
Stelle looked at March, puzzled. "He tells me 'no' constantly. He says 'no' sometimes before I've even opened my mouth."
"Okay, yeah," She rolled her eyes. "But he doesn't mean it with you, though. Oh, that's us!" Yancui called their order number, and they each took a bag before walking back to the Express.
Stelle was a little abashed that March was so frank about it. When had that become a thing?
"What?" March asked, seeing Stelle's face. "Like you're the last to know? Come on." She laughed. "Do you think he'd have let us slap all that skincare on him and watch those dumb movies with us last week if it hadn't been for you? Get real." March spared another glance at Stelle, who was chewing her lip. "Did something happen between you guys or something? Why aren't you saying anything?"
"Uhh, well...he may or may not have kissed me," Stelle admitted, speeding up.
"Wait, he what?! Before or after we hung out in my room?" March almost dropped the bag of food she was carrying.
"Before." Stelle spent the rest of their walk explaining what happened the week prior.
"Ugh, finally ." March exhaled. "He's been acting weird since Phantylia. I think he's had a soft spot for you for a while."
"What are you talking about?"
March only tapped her temple. "Sharp eyes," she said as if that was helpful in any way. "I'm still mad you didn't tell me, though. Now, one of you definitely owes me a snack."
After a tasty and uneventful dinner, Dan Heng returned to the archives, and Stelle and March retired to their rooms to wind down for the night. Himeko and Welt remained in the parlor car, drinking coffee and working on the daily crossword, respectively. Stelle always found it endearing that Welt preferred to solve them with pencil and paper. He wasn't a big fan of doing them on his phone.
Eventually, a set of light footsteps sounded down the corridor, followed a short while later by another with a much longer stride. Finally, the train's ambient lighting dimmed. Stelle was changing into her pajamas when her phone dinged three times.
Are you still up?
Hair?
The third text was March texting the family group chat to confirm if anyone else had heartburn from their takeout dinner. Stelle didn't bother responding to that one.
Sure, if you want! :)
She didn't expect "I'll think about it" to mean "Yes" and "tonight," but she was more than a little pleased.
A half-hour later, she sat cross-legged on Dan Heng's futon. "You should let me send a picture to Bailu," she said, looking up at him.
He rolled his eyes, grabbing the box off the desk. Stelle hadn't seen him in his Vidyadhara form on the Express since fighting Phantylia, not to mention when they were alone. There was a certain charm to the contrast in his ethereal presence and the nondescript black lounge pants and shirt he was wearing now.
"I'm going to regret this." He sighed, sitting down on the futon with his back to her.
She grabbed the brush she’d brought with her and picked up a small section of hair.
"Oh nooo , she pretended to sob. "My life is so hard . I'm the prettiest boy on the Astral Express, and everyone loves me! What am I gonna do?" She giggled, brushing out the ends. Without turning, he reached back and flicked her knee.
"When are you going to let me do the same to you, then?"
Stelle paused her brushing and noted how pink the tips of his ears had become. "Uh, literally whenever you want? I'm normal; having my hair played with isn't exactly a punishment."
"I never said it was. When you're done, we'll switch, then."
"Ooh, deal!" Stelle agreed.
Several minutes passed between them in easy silence as she ran the brush through his hair. She took her time, but he didn't seem to mind. He'd started to lean forward with his elbows on his knees, and his head rested on his fist. His breathing had slowed. With a pang of sadness, she wondered when the last time he'd had any personal attention like this was or if he ever had. Despite his detached demeanor, he always kept an eye out for everyone else and was the first to come up with solutions to their problems. She figured a little pampering was the least she could do for him.
Stelle moved from sitting to kneeling so that she could begin braiding. She took the opportunity to be cheeky.
"Getting sleepy?" She whispered in his ear.
"Not at all."
She huffed. She'd wanted to startle him. "That must mean I'm doing a terrible job, then."
He sat up but didn't turn around. "Why do you say that?" There was a twinge of genuine curiosity in his voice.
Stelle began separating his hair into sections. "Having your hair played with is supposed to be relaxing!"
"I'm very relaxed," he countered. "I just… don't want to go to sleep yet. Did you want me to fall asleep before your turn?"
"No, definitely not."
"I didn't think so. Actually," he sat up straighter, more tense than before, with his hands braced on his knees. "I'm surprised you wanted to do this."
Stelle made a face, grabbing another section. "Why?"
Dan Heng cleared his throat. "I was beginning to get the impression that you found me off-putting… like this." He gestured behind himself to his hair.
"Why would you think that?" She bit her lip, bracing for his answer.
"Because you never…said anything. And then, you continued to not say anything. It was kind of hard to miss. I thought you might have been upset with me for not being forthcoming about it." She winced and nodded to herself.
"I know. I'm sorry." She sighed. "But it wasn't that I was put off."
"Why, then?" Stelle detected a rawness in the question that seized her. Guilt clawed at her recollection of the past two weeks. Had he really been that worried this whole time?
"I was…a little scared. Sort of confused. Kinda intimidated." He began to turn around. She nudged his shoulder. "Don't. I'm almost done." The truth was she didn't want him to look at her.
"Stelle, it's just me. It's always been me."
She swallowed. "I know. I wasn't scared of you . I was scared you were going to leave. I was still processing everything Kafka'd said up until then, and I was watching it all come true at once. I was worried you'd finally caught up with us just to stay behind when it was all over. You'd be free to… go home. It wasn't the time to bring it up, but when you stood next to me and we looked out over the water, I knew I couldn't trust my mouth."
Stelle finished the braid and picked up the hair cuff to examine how it went on. "I was really…really happy to see you," she added quietly. "And then you never left, so I tried not to think about it. But I was intimidated ," she continued, attaching the cuff to the end of the braid," because you were even hotter than usual. And again, I couldn't trust what I'd say if I opened my mouth. Like just now, for example." She sighed, flicking the finished braid over his shoulder.
"I see." He picked up the end of the braid and inspected it. She heard the smile in his voice. "More than usual, hm? Your turn."
He turned around to face her and uncrossed his legs. Stelle adjusted and sat between them before he could look at her too closely.
He began to comb his fingers through her hair before picking up the brush. Not everyone could have immaculate tangle-free hair like he did. A less attentive person might not have bothered.
"Everything I did was to make sure we all made it back together. Back home together." Stelle nodded. He brushed all of her hair to one side and leaned in. "That's here. Obviously." He planted a whisper-soft kiss below her ear. Stelle felt electricity surge through her at the contact. He resumed brushing. If he noticed her shudder, he didn't let on.
"Well…good," Stelle breathed. She had the same feeling when he'd kissed her earlier that afternoon. She felt like he could always see through her bravado. As the brush moved through her hair, Stelle couldn't help but feel vulnerable. He chuckled.
"Glad you approve."
He ran the brush through her hair for a few more minutes before putting it aside. His arms slid around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.
"It's getting late," he murmured into her neck. She closed her eyes. She wanted to savor the last bit of this before returning to her room for the night.
"I thought you weren't sleepy."
"I'm not." As if to prove this, he gently bit her neck, but this time, there was no mistaking the sharp pinch of fangs. It felt nothing like the time back in her room. Her response died in her throat, replaced by a gasp. Well, if this was how things were going to be… She leaned back and turned her head towards him. His hand eagerly slid up from her waist to bring her face closer, and she basked in the warmth it left behind as it swept up her body. His mouth moved from her neck to her lips, and she sighed in satisfaction. She reached up and back to lightly rake her nails over the nape of his neck, and he went rigid against her mouth for a moment before kissing her again with renewed urgency.
"Stop that," he warned, breaking the kiss. He didn't pull away.
"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking up at him through her lashes. His face was flushed. She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling and teasing him further.
"I like it just fine."
She made an amused sound, cut short by a rough kiss. Stelle liked that just fine and wanted more of it.
She withdrew from him just enough to turn around. Already a step ahead of her, he pulled her into his lap, and she got a better look at his face. As bold as he was being, she expected to see pure blue fire—bright and clear. Instead, his eyes met hers with an admiration that made her ache. Warmth spread through her chest. He kissed her again— soft and deliberate — and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His thumb swept over her cheek as his lips parted against hers. She smiled against his mouth before pulling away. He followed her as she pulled back, and she gave him a dusting of kisses too brief for him to return. He held her chin to make her look at him. It was his turn to look up.
"Don't. Tease." Though there was an edge to his voice that thrilled her, it was a plea more than a threat. She nodded slowly, face hot under his scrutiny. She kissed him back sincerely, and he drank her in, still holding her in place. If that was what he wanted…well, she'd do her best, but she wasn't making promises.
He deepened the kiss, only to pull away, breathless. "Stay." The word hung in the air between them, desire radiating from his heavy-lidded gaze. All Stelle could do was nod at him again.
But just in case that wasn't clear enough to him, she rolled her hips against his right as her teeth met his neck. Two could play that game. It was no more forceful than he'd done to her, but how his hands slipped to caress her thighs told her she was on the right track. She moved her hips again, and he bit back a moan to Stelle's disappointment. She wanted to hear him. She wanted to grab that thread of desire in his voice and unravel him to see what was at the center.
His hands traced to the backs of her thighs and hooked behind her knees, pulling her roughly against him. She whimpered, feeling the length of him press against her.
"Is that for me?" She asked against his skin.
"You know the answer to that," he groaned. Stelle kissed the bob of his throat with a smile.
His hands slid higher up her thighs to breach the hem of her shorts. He gave her ass a gentle squeeze as he moved against her. He was holding back, but that wouldn't do. Stelle didn't do things in half measures, and she knew he didn't either. He was thorough in all things, and she wasn't willing to be an exception. So, when his hands moved from her ass back up to the soft skin of her waist— under her shirt this time— she knew what she had to do. Her hands brushed against his as she grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head.
Before he could assail her chest with kisses and bites, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a finger under his chin. He looked up at her, and his expression had gone as dark as the ancient sea he'd rent asunder.
She tilted her head, considering him playfully. "No. You next."
He made a noise low in his throat that gave her goosebumps. He grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it off.
Stelle had just enough time to appreciate the view before her world went sideways, and her head hit his pillow. The suddenness knocked a breathy laugh from her, but Dan Heng was not laughing. He wedged a knee between her thighs and planted himself above her. If she could just move down a bit—
"You never listen, do you?" He panted. He didn't give her a chance to answer before his head dipped down, his tongue swiping over the hollow of her collarbone. It should not have felt as good as it did. "Always getting into trouble."
"Oh, I listen. I just like"—she choked on a gasp — "like hearing you tell me twice." He uttered a sound of acknowledgment just as his mouth closed over her nipple. Stelle sighed as his tongue flicked over it. She stroked his hair, minding the horns, but it was short-lived. As he moved his attention to her other nipple, his fingers linked with hers and pinned her hand by her head. His mouth trailed to the skin between her breasts, and he looked up at her as he nipped the sensitive flesh there. He shook his head in a slow, silent no, and liquid heat settled low in her belly. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back.
Oh, running out of patience was a very good look on him .
It felt like the glance from Nanook— like she shouldn't see him like this, but that seed of destruction within her took root in each crack in his composure and bloomed there. The overwhelming urge in her to destroy — to ruin and be ruined by him in return— was undeniable. Or, then again, maybe this was what being seen by Long would've been like. Permanence wasn't so abstract a concept when it looked this good, and the weight of it was above her. The marks he left behind may not be permanent, but she could pretend for a night.
Time slowed to a crawl as he kissed, bit, and licked his way down her body, stopping at her shorts.
His fingers wandered over the fabric as he looked up at her again. She nodded hazily as she stared back at him, too drunk on arousal to offer much else. He kissed the smooth skin of her hip, and a shiver ran through her. He peeled her shorts and underwear down, and she lifted her hips for him to remove them altogether. Stelle didn't care where they ended up as long as they were off. She knew how wet she must've been, but she was too turned on by how he looked at her to care about that.
"Is this for me?" He asked. She imagined him using her own words against her was supposed to make her regret teasing him, but it had the opposite effect. She bit her lip as his fingertips brushed up her inner thigh and down the other, intentionally avoiding where she wanted him to touch her most. She felt herself clench around nothing.
"Shut up," she sighed, breathless with anticipation.
Dan Heng chuckled and sat back on his knees, dragging his hands along her thighs, keeping them open.
"You're really in no position," he said, bending one of her knees to plant her foot flat, "to make demands." He did the same to her other leg.
She knew he was right, and she fucking loved it.
She whimpered and tried to close her thighs reflexively, but he held one of her knees in place as he shifted down onto his elbows. "No," he admonished against her inner thigh.
To his credit, he didn't waste any more time. The flat of his tongue against her entrance set every nerve ending on fire. He explored and tasted her without an ounce of haste; it was torture divine enough to drive her mad. She tried to sit up a little and saw the lean musculature of his back caught in the dim archive lights, his hips moving lazily against nothing in time with his tongue. Watching him get off on getting her off was an added layer of pleasure. Stelle tossed her head back and covered her mouth as a low moan escaped her.
He made a frustrated sound between her legs and pulled her by her hips onto his tongue. He picked up the pace and set a warm, wet rhythm that sent her reeling. She needed to grab something to stay tethered to reality, so she ran her nails over his scalp and grabbed a fistful of hair. He moaned loudly against her at the gentle pressure. She was just lucid enough not to jump straight to the horns. She'd never touched them before and didn't know how he'd react. Besides, making a mess of his hair made him look even more debauched than he already did.
She was close. Her whole body began to tense as she drew nearer and nearer to the edge of that cliff. Both hands were in his hair, and her hips jerked as she held him against her. He continued to maintain that perfect rhythm as she went stiff. A silent scream settled in her throat as she fell over the edge, and she had to stifle a sob with the back of her hand.
He didn't slow down. He squeezed her thighs roughly and sped up, seemingly determined to draw a second climax out of her—whether for her pleasure or his, it wasn't clear. As tempting as that idea was, though, Stelle had other plans. She wanted the rest of him.
She tried to shift away, but he had her pinned down, his tongue still lapping and sucking at her increasingly sensitive heat. She could feel the pressure building and knew it would be too much if she came again. Since it seemed to be the only thing he'd react to, she propped herself on an elbow and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling him away.
"Stop," she urged between labored breaths. "You have to stop."
He looked at her like she was prey in a snare. Maybe she was.
"Why?" He asked, viperous and quiet. He covered her inner thighs with wet, languid kisses, waiting for an answer. He didn't take his eyes off her face as she tried to think, speak, and catch her breath all at once. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she did, too. She fell back against the pillow with an exasperated laugh.
"Because I want you to fuck me, what kind of question is that?"
He bit down hard on her inner thigh at her words. She yelped in both pain and surprise. She hoped it blossomed into a bouquet of garishly colored bruises only they knew about. The white-hot flash of masochism startled her. To ruin and be ruined in return .
He froze. "Sorry! Sorry, that was too hard." He kissed the spot and gingerly stroked his thumb over it before returning to his knees. She got a good look at him then: skin dewy with sweat, face and chest flushed her new favorite shade of pink. His need for her strained against his pants that now sat far lower on his hips than where they started. His hair was an absolute disaster, braid notwithstanding. Of course, his eyes were still blue, but something in them reminded her of their usual soft and discerning gray —a cozy sweater on a foggy morning. That's Dan Heng, she thought as though it was some grand epiphany. She trusted him with her life and knew he trusted her with his. This was her best friend. He was the same person who sent her weird and interesting data bank entries and who she caught fixing Pom-Pom's favorite broken coffee cup when he thought no one was around.
Some inexplicable cocktail of emotions rose within her, choking out her unchecked lust.
"Are you okay?" He asked her, just as he had done dozens of times before.
The smoke faded, the mirrors shattered, and she was left bare and wanting him just as badly as she did before, if not more.
"Kiss me," she answered. She saw tension leave him as he moved over her, and she tasted herself on his tongue. She moaned into him, running her hands up the plane of his chest before wrapping her arms around his neck. He broke the kiss to push her hair out of her face and touched his forehead to hers.
"Do you sti—"
"Yes," she whispered, not giving him the chance to doubt it. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I got a little…ahead of myself."
She reached up and traced a tentative finger up the length of one of his horns. Pretty, like sea glass , she thought. Pretty, like the long dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as her finger traced down the bridge of his nose and settled on his lips. His eyes opened.
"But that's the best part." She giggled as her hand returned to the back of his neck. "Just trust me to trust you, alright?"
He kissed her cheek, and his hair tickled her face. "I trust you," he declared.
"See how easy that was?"
"Mhm. Stop talking," he whispered. He ensured that she would with a long, slow kiss. He pulled away, and she shamelessly watched him take off his pants. He kicked them off to the side before climbing over her once again. She could feel his warm, hard length against her stomach as he kissed her neck. She trailed a hand between them and gave his cock a comfortable squeeze just to hear him moan next to her ear. She hummed in approval, and he sat up to line himself up with her entrance. He kept his eyes on where he slid into her until his hips were flush with hers, and she watched him let out a deep, shaky breath before closing his eyes. He didn't move for a beat, and she loved how full she felt this way. He shifted himself over her again and kissed her before starting to move.
Long and slow movements gradually gave way to deeper and faster strokes that made her head swim, and her mind go blank. Her nails raked down his back, and he buried his face in her neck. Every thrust pushed her higher and higher, hitting a spot inside her that she'd never quite reached on her own, even when she thought about him. She wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into the small of his back. He lifted his head to kiss her, and she lightly caught his bottom lip with her teeth. He tangled a hand in her hair as the loose strands of his swept over her skin. He whimpered deliciously against her mouth as his movements became more frantic and broken.
"Close," he mouthed against her jaw. She didn't know if it was a question or a statement, but she wanted to pull him over that horizon with her more than anything.
The first time, she'd fallen over the cliff. The second time, she took a running leap. She bit his shoulder hard as she came, whining and spasming around him. He fucked her through it and caught her mouth with his, taking in every sound she made. As she came down, she touched his face and whispered encouragements that no one else would ever hear. He squeezed his eyes closed, and his head dropped to her neck, burying the sounds of his approaching climax in the softness of her hair. With a final whispered "please" against his ear to shred the last of his resolve, he followed her in a free-fall of his own. She wrapped her arms around him as he collapsed on top of her. The room fell silent save for their mismatched breathing and the din of electronic equipment. She stroked his head lazily. She wanted to look at him but wasn't keen on getting her eyes poked by his horns.
"How do you feel?" She murmured.
Her chest muffled his groan.
"I see. Fascinating."
He lifted his head and scowled at her. It was as close to a pout as she could imagine he was capable of, and she bit back a laugh.
"What about you?" He rolled over onto his back, and she turned to face him.
"Like I should braid your hair more often. The cuff looks nice, by the way."
He heaved a long-suffering sigh toward the ceiling and turned to her. He studied her face briefly before cradling her head and pulling her in for a kiss.
"I'm open to negotiation. But we should get cleaned up."
Her body protested, but he was correct, as always. They snuck out of the archives for a shower, and Stelle knew as soon as the water hit her skin that it was worth it. She almost fell asleep on her feet as he was scrubbing her back. His hands moved over her under the running water, taking extra care over each mark and bite. He found the worst one— the last one— between her thighs, brushing soapy fingertips across it. He sighed in disappointment. She opened one eye to look at his face.
"If you apologize again, I'll wake everyone on this train."
"I just—"
Stelle opened her mouth and took a deep breath. Dan Heng's eyes flashed in alarm, and he clamped a hand over her mouth, which shocked a muffled laugh out of her. She kissed his palm before he pulled his hand away.
"Trust me, remember?"
"I remember," he conceded before kissing her forehead.
They rinsed and turned off the water. He got out first and wrapped her in a towel. She could've done it herself (like she did every day) but didn't try to stop him. She wanted it all: the fangs, the horns, the soft gray eyes, and every thoughtful little thing he did for her. If that meant drying her off after fucking her senseless, so be it. He wrapped another around his waist.
They said little as they returned to the archives. Towels were discarded (away from their dry clothes— he made sure of that), and they settled in under his blankets. The soft and undulating light of the floor beneath them made Stelle drowsy. She was vaguely aware of him sitting up to take his hair loose and putting Bailu's gift back in the box before getting comfortable again behind her. His arm draped over her, keeping her close, and she smiled. At least, she thought she did. She was too exhausted to tell.
As she drifted off, her last thought was that she hadn't gotten that photo for Bailu.
Oh well. There's always next time.