between this is always a pleasant song

[melocoton]

Grooming is an important part of many species' rituals. It keeps them clean, healthy, and content. And a good bath? It can change the whole tone of a day from terrible to relaxed and blissful.

But nudity is sometimes viewed as a weakness - and it is almost always sexualized - so bathing is often kept a private matter. If you do share these moments with someone, they're almost always a significant other or a sexual partner.

Like you're doing now.

Whether it be after a battle or after sex, after a bad day, or just to get some peace and quiet, the two of you are going to get clean. Be sure to help each other out with that, won't you? After all, there are places on the back that just can't be reached...

it's the intimate bathing meme. you know how this works! feel free to post top levels as you'd like!

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[impassion]

( for all the effort that went into rebuilding lotus pier, jiang cheng spends a surprisingly small amount of time there.

it feels childish. it's not like it's his childhood home. the entirety of it had been burned down, and then reestablished into an entirely new entity, but it's that stark difference that makes it so desperately impossible to forget — he arranged the buildings back down to the inch, replaced the boats all with a craftsmen's eye for detail. but there are things they can't replicate, things they can't work in or out of the very bones of the lotus pier. a knick in the wood where wei wuxian fired a lone, wandering arrow just above jiang cheng's head — or a stain, bore into the floorboards and hidden under a mat, where the three of them stayed up late giggling, knocking over their shijie's famous soup.

sour memories with time, in any case. jiang cheng's very mentality is to keep moving so the past can't catch up to him, and when his feet feel restless, they wander. far enough, sometimes, to the unclean realm.

ironically, he finds himself in the springs, hot rock pressed against his back while nie huaisang hovers close, sat on his thigh with lazy arms encompassing him, wrapped loosely around his middle. their fingers are interlaced somewhere beneath the water, kept out of view with the foggy, hot air dosing the entire spectacle in clouds.

there's a moment of prolonged silence, warm water seeping into his muscles. it's been a long journey, but it's one that's always worthy to make — he and his men, traveling under the guise of business, when in reality —

mouth on his shoulder, jiang cheng blows out a halfhearted raspberry, tightening his grip. )

[headshaking]

[ if there’s one thing alone that nie huaisang has in common with jiang cheng, it’s the way ghosts follow at his very feet.

qinghe nie as ever is a fortress, tucked into the shadows of the former wen clan’s mountain, a safe place where huaisang learned to paint and to avoid saber lessons, to stand in a massive shadow of a mountain of his own. even now, he’s been sect leader (if you could call it that) for years, but the complex still carries the echoes of his small feet on wood floors, the phantom feeling of his fingers winding braids into his big brother’s hair to keep it out of his face as he fought. it still carries ashes, the scent of a burning room, the bitter taste of jin guanyao’s betrayal never buried even years after the fact.

what’s left in the aftermath of revenge well finished? was he a phoenix from that same burnt room, or a monster born out of the innocence of his youth instead, the kind of person dage would have been disgusted with instead of proud, as he eschewed every moral nie mingjue put in his head.

what’s left is this—the position of chief cultivator dropped into his lap, a false reputation of a headshaker finally shaken for good, and a closed coffin with burial rites done properly.

over the years, nie huaisang was always good at hosting guests. he needed the help, after all, and under his social graces, qinghe nie bloomed floral and fragrant in the springs. and when a small envoy from yunmeng sends their notice of arrival ahead, huaisang has things prepared. guest rooms for disciples. liquor for the chill of the unclean realm, a dazzling dinner upon their arrival.

for the sect leader himself, the preparations seem meager. a simple guest room, a thick towel on the desk. in reality, the room won’t be used much—it’s only for jiang cheng’s privacy and courtesies and pride.

as promised, when the disciples are off to bed, huaisang waits in his private bath, and he isn’t disappointed. he could waste away hours in here with his childhood friend, jars of liquor on the edge of the pool, and his slim legs spread across jiang cheng’s thighs, tucked against him. it’s perfectly peaceful.

the raspberry is decidedly less peaceful, though. half hearted or not, huaisang is soft and ticklish as he was as a child, and he squeals his displeasure at the contact, though the squirming is perhaps a little theatrical. ] Jiang-xiong! [ but if anything, the arms around his shoulder squeeze tighter: if he’s going down because jiang cheng is feeling feisty, he’s taking the other sect leader with him, alliances be damned! ]

[impassion]

( he forms it there, against his shoulder — a rare smile, notable only by the way he presses it down into huaisang's soft, sensitive skin, thin fingers gliding up the feminine arch of his back to lay flat against a shoulder blade. jiang cheng turns his head, and his nose brushes the column of huaisang's throat. )

Forgive me.

( he doesn't sound especially apologetic. neither does he look it, mischief alight in grayed out eyes.

still, he kisses the offended area lightly, not fearing the threat of being tossed down into the water from his childhood years growing up on lotus pier, but having at least enough faith in his ability to dissuade huaisang from any sudden movements to get away. soothing, his fingertips slide down the pathway painted by huaisang's spine, tracing him out like the curve of a vase before his hands hook under his thighs, hiking him up so jiang cheng can sink further into the water, offering him a pretty gorgeous image of huaisang, back lit by the dimly lit lanterns of the hot spring.

that degree of separation now between them, jiang cheng's hands crawl back around his thighs, worn thumbs laying flat on the pockets of his hips. he strokes that cut of skin up and down, reaching further on every strike ... though there is something almost tentative in his movements, a hesitation like he's waiting for a treaty to be signed. )

Are you ... tired?

( or in jiang cheng language — you want some fuck? )

[headshaking]

[ oh, jiang-xiong. some things never change. the fierce sect leader of yunmeng, the architect of lotus pier, sandu shengshou. powerful, confident, fierce-- jiang cheng is as impressive as he's ever been, but underneath that, he's still the kid from gusu-lan, that got embarrassed when huaisang would pull out his books and he and wei wuxian would titter over them together for hours.

the fierce part of him shows in these situations in spades. this is not the first or even the tenth time they've done this, secret rendevouzs here in the bathhouse or in nie huaisang's room or even at discussion conferences, trying to muffle themselves, and it's still ever as pleasant when jiang cheng runs his fingers down his spine like that. he shifts with it, graceful as ever, back arching slowly, head tipping up. that fierce part is what hikes him upwards: the motion surprises him, but huiasang goes with it gleefully, his mouth falling open in a pretty little oh! shape before he closes it again and smiles down at jiang cheng from this new position. it's soft and warm and a little mischievous, like someone plotting something. (he is, in some ways, even now, always plotting something. it's never for power. it's often for his own benefit or laziness or both.)

but the hesitant, embarrassed part comes out too. nie huaisang feels a fondness tug at his heartstrings, and he moves to press his fingers delicately to the broad expanse of jiang cheng's chest, dainty and more powerful than anytime he's ever tried to swing a saber. ] Tired?

[ hm. the fondness overflows into his gaze, too, warm, as he walks his fingers up jiang cheng's chest, one by one. ] I'm quite tired of listening to other sect leaders at the discussion conference next week, and it hasn't even started. I'm tired of paperwork. I'm really tired of my advisors sending matchmaking agencies to my door.

[ as he speaks, he leans in closer, mouth curling up, and his tone drops to near a whisper, sticky sweet and slow like honey, barely a breath away from his mouth. ] But, Jiang-xiong, I couldn't imagine a day where I was too tired to fall into bed with you.

[ as he finishes his sentence, nie huaisang rolls his hips down against jiang cheng's under the water, right into the stroke of his thumbs. his thighs part a little further when he drifts inwards, invitingly. asking. daring, really. nie huaisang will sign it for him, and deliver it while he's at it. ]

[impassion]

( there's plenty to be said about two halves making one whole, or one picking up where the other lacks — but he doesn't honestly believe huaisang lacks in anything. drive, maybe, but he's made it aptly clear that when he sets his mind to something, he'll see it done to the very end. it's the truth even now, unabashedly reaching forward to exactly what he wants — once or twice or ten times past, and jiang cheng still doesn't know how to express what he desires, how to make wanting words sound as effortless as huaisang's breaths on his mouth.

he swallows, one breath and then two. he's not a child anymore, but even back then he wasn't so inept that he could turn down a silver platter with huaisang on top. surging up again, his hand grows firm on huaisang's hip, sharply holding him in place as jiang cheng crosses that small divide and kisses him hungrily.

matchmaking. he pushes his own irritation at the mention of it into the kiss, freeing up one hand to push through the hair at huaisang's neck, gaining a tight hold and biting his mouth, free with a new wave of demanding energy — the forth right point of proving himself there at the front of his mind. huaisang himself said he's tired of it, and yet jiang cheng still insists he could use a reminder, feeling more confident in himself with every shared breath.

he's quick to stand, huaisang an effortless weight in his arms, turning them and bracing huaisang against the rocks. his kisses get wilder, explorative — across the red raw corner of his mouth, down the feminine outline of his neck. at his chest, jiang cheng draws his teeth across his flesh, licking warm droplets of water off the elegant dip of stomach. his eyes lift up, fiery, threatening. )

You don't need anyone else.

( the benefit of growing up in lotus pier — an almost unearthly ability to hold his breath underwater for extended periods of time, beneficial for, say, underwater blowjobs. he shucks himself down after a big gulp of air, easily finding the length of huaisang a drawing his tongue up him, base to tip, with a fervor befitting only jiang cheng's overly emotional self. )

[headshaking]

[ alright, maybe nie huaisang brought up the matchmaking on purpose. of course he did--he rarely if ever says things he doesn't mean, and when he does, he doesn't mean them on purpose. each word he uses has always been carefully chosen. in the past it was to enact a great plot of revenge, artfully carried out with the finesse of an orchestra conductor, but nowadays, as revenge is completed, nie huaisang uses that power of words to get himself the little things in life. that silver tongue of his could take over the entire cultivation world, but by nature, nie huaisang is not power hungry. no, he's lazy, and a little spoiled, and now the master of manipulation himself would so much rather manipulate his way into getting his -- ally? partner? -- into getting a little frisky, or maybe into getting him a drink from the kitchens so he doesn't have to get up.

so, he expected that reaction, and nie huaisang isn't disappointed. jiang cheng gets aggressive in the kiss and nie huaisang makes a helpless, hungry noise at the bites, the way he trails his way down his neck once he's lifted him right off of his lap and put him where he wanted. perfect, perfect--it's so good, jiang cheng is so good, and he hums his praises, only taking his hands off of him long enough to brace himself against the rocks. his legs spread further into the hand on his thighs, and nie huaisang's back arches off of the hot rocks, only tilting his head down to look at jiang cheng when he speaks.

that look in his eyes is an instant turn on. fiery, fierce, the sandu shengshou himself. how exceedingly attractive. anyone who thought otherwise didn't have eyes. (all the more for nie huaisang: jiang cheng's destruction of his own prospects have left him greedy, too.) he can't help himself, his mouth curling into a smile of it's own, eyes a little dark in match.

and then jiang cheng does actually surprise the hell out of him when he ducks underwater. nie huaisang yelps, his hands shooting down to curl into jiang cheng's hair and fucking up any semblance of braid beyond all recognition. half surprised at his boldness and half thrilled at the fact he surprised him (like this!), nie huaisang's squeal of - ] A-cheng! [ is one hundred percent real.

the squeal dissolves into a moan a second later, his shoulders rolling backwards, and nie huaisang squeezes his hands in his hair, dropping his head back and trying not to push his hips up to his mouth to beg for more. yunmeng jiang... who would've thought.... never in his wildest dreams..... ]