Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Li Wang Cheng lay on his back, staring up at the ornate draping of colourful fabric that lined the yurt he’d been sleeping in for weeks now. He imagined the other tents were a little less vibrant, colourful and a lot less comfortable, but in the end, despite the luxuries, it still felt like a prison. Because, well, it was one.

The soldiers might treat him well. He was fed, cared for, he was allowed to train with the others - or more he was expected to do so - all in all his well-being was looked after. That did not change the fact, but sometimes, it made him forget he was a prisoner. On similar nights like this one, when the air was warm, his stomach was full, and the alcohol left his head pleasantly fuzzy…. when you could hear the last drunkards laughing around the campfire and you recognized their voices. Chimeg who is the one who helps you onto your horse and Oyuun the one who sharpens your blade, when you know their names, recognize the way they talk, and you start to feel a little too comfortable. But Li Wang Cheng was no man of delusion and was always aware of two things: one, that could change in an instant; and two, he was only lucky because he had proven himself useful.

He is reminded of that every time they talk about him like he’s not there, assuming he doesn’t understand their language. (Which, honestly, has turned out to be quite useful for overhearing things he’s not meant to hear.) He remembers it when someone gives him a strange look because he still can’t ride a horse properly. (He could outswim every single one of them if they ever let him near water.)

He is reminded of it the most when he’s flirting with them by the bonfire and the mood shifts, when voices turn into whispers, small arguments start, and worried glances are exchanged. Because of course you can’t touch the warlord’s plaything.

Yes, yes - he’s heard the rumours. And wasn’t surprised by them. He sleeps in Arslan’s goddamn tent every night. Which would probably already be enough for people to talk. But on top of that, well let’s just say, these men are not exactly hard to look at, great physique and all. Li Wang Cheng can’t deny he enjoys watching their friendly wrestling matches by the fire. But he carries himself with a different kind of air. He was never one for false modesty: He is beautiful, and if there’s one thing he learned from his mother it is how to wield that beauty like a weapon. They see it.
His looks, the way he carries himself, the fact that he slept in their warlord’s tent, and maybe most of all, the sheer confusion over why they kept him around when he couldn’t fight (at least not like them) or sit on a horse for more than three hours without complaining, fuel the rumours further.

Sometimes, Li Wang Cheng is starting to wish they were true.

Because he is fucking bored.

Bored out of his mind.

They’d been riding across the tundra for weeks now, which means endless beige nothingness, winds that stab like needles, and always, always horses. And men. Men who smell like horses. Men who talk about horses, and well… war strategies and stuff (Rarely to him, though). Men who would never touch him, not even by accident, because they are loyal to their warlord.

He shifts on his cot, the thick layers of fur beneath him. The fire outside is still crackling. He can hear them, laughing, half-drunk, arguing over something that probably involves dreaming of their lives back home. He can hear words that sound like they’re talking about lying their head down in a soft woman’s lap… well, at least it’s not a conversation about horses.

The restlessness makes Li Wang Cheng turn over, eyes drifting toward Arslan’s bed across the tent, even though from his lowered position he cannot see the Tiefling entirely.

The rumours weren’t true.

Arslan had never touched him. He looked at him sometimes, but his glances are hard to read. Those pearly white eyes had followed him from the beginning -calculating at first, maybe questioning - but Li Wang Cheng isn’t sure if that’s still the case. From time to time, he feels Arslan’s gaze on him, and for a moment, it seems intentional. But whenever he turns, Arslan never looks particularly interested. He never makes any suggestive remarks. Not to him, not to his advisors, not even when the warlord is deep into his third drink and loose with his tongue. At least not in Infernal or Common.

And those were the only two languages Li Wang Cheng had ever heard him use. The first, Arslan spoke constantly, fluid and confident. Ordered commands in it, made threats in it. The second, only occasionally, mostly with him. A little broken. He’d usually switch back to Infernal within a few sentences and simply expect Li Wang Cheng to understand. Arslan expects a lot of things, he has the aura of a person who usually gets what he wants. And when Li Wang Cheng overheard the things, his men talked about (when they think he isn’t listening) they always suggest Arslan usually gets what he wants. He conquered a lot of land. Li Wang Cheng had seen this firsthand; it’s the reason he was in this position in the first place.

Which made all of this even more weird. If the rumours really were true, Li Wang Cheng couldn’t figure out what Arslan was waiting for.
If he truly was the warlord’s plaything, as everyone seemed so sure he was, then Arslan was doing a terrible job of playing with him.

Li Wang Cheng kept finding his gaze drifting to the bed across the tent. The furs were always a little disarranged, thick, dark, still carrying the faint scent of leather, smoke, and the man himself. Ever since Arslan had ordered him to share a tent, Li Wang Cheng had been watching him closely. He told himself it was curiosity. Strategy. Survival. You keep your eyes on the man who holds your leash.

But he knew it wasn’t just that.
Li Wang Cheng had simply never met anyone quite like him, and it was kind of fascinating. Arslan was the kind of man he normally kept a healthy distance from. The art of collecting gossip and secrets was simple: you never aimed for the leader, you circled them, picked at the seams of their power. You gathered the useful scraps from the people around them who were bad at guarding their tongues. That was how you stayed informed, but also alive.

And besides, Li Wang Cheng had learned not to bite off more than he could chew. (His mother dated the higher-ups, and he learned from it). A warlord who had taken cities, wide stretches of land, was not a casual mouthful. That was a man you observed from a safe, strategic distance and you never let them close. Especially not a-few-meters-in-one-tent close.
So maybe that’s why watching Arslan fascinated him.

Also, there was a lack of secrets around him. Seldom did one of his soldiers ever say anything about him, never something scandalous (Except the war they fought was scandalous but not very secretive). Not near Li Wang Cheng at least. Not even by accident. His soldiers didn’t slip. No personal stories, no careless jokes, no drunken gossip. Arslan's name would drop into conversations, but never in the way Li Wang Cheng was used to. They respected him, sure, but he suspected some of them also feared him, in the way men reserve for gods and kings. Just, Arslan wasn’t God nor king.
It caught Li Wang Cheng's interest. Sometimes he even thought they might like him, which was an unsettling thought.
The less he knew his secrets, the more he wanted to.

It didn’t help that he kept Li Wang Cheng in his tent.
There were nights, almost peaceful ones like this, when the cold pressed in close, and the alcohol made you sad instead of sleepy and drowsy, when his thoughts wandered places, they shouldn’t. He would remember the way Arslan's hands moved when he was giving orders, the sharp tone of his voice when he spoke Infernal, the way his armour came off in pieces, like a ritual. And he wondered.

What would it be like, to be touched by him?
Would he be rough? Considerate? Experienced? Would he speak then, in Common, just for him to understand?
Li Wang Cheng knew Arslan had a wife, although he had never talked a lot about her to him. Would he think of her? He was pretty sure they were on their way back to her, or at least back to the place Arslan called home.
Would he treat him differently there?
Would he be more prisoner than guest there?

He lay back again, dragging the furs over his chest, suddenly too aware of how alone he felt here between people who endured him because their leader said so.  The soldiers were still laughing outside. He could still smell the smoke; he could still hear their voices. But inside the tent, the air was heavy and the silence present. Heavy.
 He felt skittish. He knew he couldn’t sleep.

Li Wang Cheng never considered himself an impatient man.
He knew, better than most, that to uncover the real secrets, the ones buried under performance and pride, you had to wait. You had to be pleasant, disarming. You had to charm people long-term, let them grow comfortable enough to lower their guard. He was good at that. He enjoyed it… normally.

But Arslan gave him nothing.

It wasn’t that he wanted anything particular from Arslan. But there were moments. Late at night. After a day of riding through frozen emptiness, smelling nothing but leather and horse and men’s sweat, and feeling like a decorative knot tied to the back of someone’s saddle. Moments when Arslan would brush past him or would ask for his advice, would watch him training or riding a horse, and Li Wang Cheng would find himself wondering what Arslan really thought of him.

He… just felt thirsty. In lack of a better word.

Thirsty for something other than the smell of horseshit and war talk. For something other than the endless stretch of the tundra, the wind that stung but never changed. He craved the sea. The smell of jasmine and cinnamon. The taste of wine that wasn’t served out of dented metal. He missed the soft manipulations, the whispered gossip, the way people leaned in close when telling secrets, they shouldn’t. The way he stripped them down until they told him what he wanted to know. And yes, sex was a part of that. The lazy, luxurious kind. The kind that came with laughter and wine and a hand on your thigh under the table. He knew he couldn’t have the sea or his jasmine perfume right now, so there was only one thing to dream about and even that was denied for whatever reason.

He closed his eyes.

He hated not really knowing what Arslan wanted.

He hated even more how much of himself was starting to want anything from him at all. Or anyone, really - but as the soldiers refused to…

Suddenly, the fur seemed too much, even for a chilly night in the tundra. He tossed his tunic to the side, feeling too hot. Maybe he’d been patient long enough.
And maybe, if the soldiers were going to keep falling silent whenever he approached the bonfire, lowering their voices and darting glances his way… then fine. Let them whisper. Let them have something real to talk about.

Maybe it was time to do something reckless.

Li Wang Cheng rose from his cot, crossed the room, and stood over Arslan’s bed. He could see his black hair spread over the pillows, the mountain of furs rising slightly when he breathed calmly. War was exhausting, and clearly Arslan did not feel that Li Wang Cheng would pose any kind of threat - which felt mildly offensive. The fact that he was sleeping safe and sound only made Li Wang Cheng angrier. Maybe the deep sleep was from the Alcohol; at least that would hurt his feelings less. Li Wang Cheng simply looked down at the man who had made him wait and wonder.

He moved slowly, deliberately, slipping beneath the thick furs. He was terrible at the training they made him take part in, fighting with a sword when he preferred his daggers; he was always more the stealthy kind than the reckless attacker. Which was useful now, when he made almost no noise slipping under the covers. The space was still warm from Arslan’s body, and the scent hit him: grass, fire, and a faint smell of chamomile that made him stop for a second.

He barely had time to draw a second breath.

A hand snapped around his wrist, another struck his shoulder, slamming him flat into the covers. The world tilted so fast he had no time to react. His vision went dark for a second as Arslan moved like a striking hawk, like the warlord he was: all weight and muscle and trained violence. The furs tangled around them as Li Wang Cheng’s instincts tried to kick in.

He twisted, fast, trying to free his arm, but only growled in pain when he couldn’t. His one free hand reached for the knife he hadn’t brought to this … he clearly had not thought this through. He made a weak attempt to roll them both over to get the upper hand. Useless. Arslan moved too fast and was way too strong, he had the clear advantage in any hand-to-hand combat. Within seconds, Li Wang Cheng was pinned under him, gasping, the rough edge of a calloused hand pressed tight enough against his throat to send his blood rushing in one way or another.

“Fuck, stop it, it’s me,” he pushed out, not yet being choked but dangerously close, bucking once more, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

Arslan froze. The grip on his neck didn’t tighten, but it didn’t loosen either. His eyes locked onto Li Wang Cheng’s face, recognition dawning slowly, the confusion of sleep still lingering in his eyes.

“You.” Arslan’s hoarse voice only breaking through slowly, as Li Wang Cheng was still struggling in his grasp.

“Who else were you expecting? An assassin? How would he get past your still awake guards?” Li Wang Cheng said, his breath shallow from the hand still pushing on his throat.
Arslan didn’t move. His weight still pressed Li Wan Cheng into the furs, but now there was a shift in it, not aggression, exactly. His eyes scanned Li’s face, then drifted lower, before snapping up again.

“You fight like cornered cat. Not trained right,” he muttered in his broken common, the accent thick, then finally loosened his grip.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a soldier, and I never fucking asked to be trained,” Li Wang Cheng shot back, gasping for air. Normally not that straightforward but his thoughts felt clouded from the lack of air, and he was kind of angry that his plan backfired so violently.

Arslan’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer, and then finally he released his throat, but only just. His hand stayed near Li Wang Cheng’s face, fingers now splayed across skin, a pulse away from threat.

“Not crawl into men’s bed like that,” he said, low, still trying his best in Common, “unless sure he wants you there. Men could kill you.”

Li Wang Cheng’s lips curved, sharp and dangerous. He didn’t know why he started smiling, because if he was certain of one thing, it was that he was lucky Arslan hadn’t snapped his neck.
“But you did not kill me,” he said, his sharp teethed grin unaltered “The choking was unexpected…though, I won’t lie, it could work for me.”

Arslan’s brow furrowed. He stared down at Li Wang Cheng, a crease of confusion between his brows. Maybe because he did not understand what Li Wang Cheng was saying. He rolled his eyes, had enough of dancing around it.

“Nearly every soldier here seems convinced we’re fucking,” he said straightforwardly, his voice steady now, sharp in the guttural sounds of Infernal. “So, let’s get it over with, shall we? I really don’t know what you’re waiting for.”

 Maybe Arslan would think it a dream by morning. Or maybe he’d believe Li Wang Cheng had simply picked up the language in silence during the last months while he was a “guest” in their army. Not that silence was ever his strength, half the camp still called him “Yarata”, the Chatty One because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Arslan blinked. The confusion didn’t lift. Li Wang Cheng couldn’t tell if it was the sudden language switch or the fact he’d just suggested they sleep together like it was a strategy meeting on a regular evening before battle.

After a few seconds, that felt way to long, Arslan finally let go of his throat. The grip on his arms followed. Released. Freed. It felt… strangely disappointing.

“That is an unexpected rumour,” Arslan said at last, voice a lot steadier in Infernal. “They all know we don’t do that with prisoners.”
There was real surprise in it. Maybe a hint of disgust. A statement of a fact that he disapproved of. Li Wang Cheng sat up, rubbing his wrist where the pressure lingered. He had heard about that as well, even though he did not really believe it. He saw these men burn cities; he saw them kill other men without hesitation. He thought it was a made-up codex they told themselves so they could sleep at night. Maybe he was wrong. He had to think about this later though. There were more pressing matters right now.

“I’m not really a prisoner anymore, you all call me a guest, don’t you?” he said dryly, they both knew he was in fact a prisoner. “You stopped tying me up months ago.”, he added. Actually, he had never really been tied up, he was shoved into a hut with other prisoners for a while. Arslan’s men discovered quickly that he knew a lot about their common enemies, which gave him a lot of freedom early on.

“Do you want to be tied up?”, Arslan said his brows furrowed in anger. That gave Li Wang Cheng a pause. It was a threat, no doubt. But he was in the mood for more recklessness now that he was fucked anyway.

 His mouth curled into something between a half-smile and a threat: “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He sat up slowly, letting the furs slide from his bare shoulders, revealing the pale stretch of his chest in the moonlight, the white patches of his skin glowing. Arslan hadn’t moved, but the line of his jaw had gone tight. That calculating stillness had returned, but it was accompanied by Arslan’s eyes finally looking at him without question.

“Go back to your bed,” Arslan said finally, averting his eyes, not reacting to any of his teasing.

Li Wang Cheng leaned in, ignoring the words entirely. He was too far in to pull back now. “I hate sleeping alone,” he said, soft and shameless, his fingers brushing along Arslan’s neck. The skin there was warm, thicker than his own, with a subtle tension beneath it, probably coiled strength waiting to snap, which should have made him nervous. He was too far gone; the only way now was forward. In the low light, their skin tones nearly blurred, his faintly blue-tinged fingertips in the low light echoing Arslan’s blue skin.

Arslan didn’t stop him. Not at first. Maybe Li Wang Chengs straightforwardness caught him by surprise. So, he let his fingers trail lower, over Arslan’s collarbone, down his chest. He let them drift beneath the edge of the furs, teasing at the line of his abdomen. There, Arslan finally caught his wrist, firm and sudden.
Li Wang Cheng sighed, frustrated, but didn’t pull away. His hand lingered dangerously low on Arslan’s belly, even as it was held in a tight grip.

“I don’t lay with men,” Arslan said into the darkness, low and final.

There was a stretch of silence before Li Wang Cheng laughed a single, humourless laugh: “Really? Out of all the explanations, you choose the one I really can’t believe.”
He could feel the heat radiating from Arslan’s body, the anticipation. He’d slept with enough people to recognize this man was lying to himself or to him. Whatever it was, it was the lamest excuse he could give. Maybe if he had a convincing enough reason: his wife, loyalty, even the stupid codex, anything would be better than this.

Arslan’s grip tightened slightly. “You’re doing something you don’t understand.”

Li Wang Cheng cocked his head, eyes wandering over Arslan’s body, like a challenge: “Try me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Just breathed. Just moonlight catching on bare skin and slow-building heat. Then Li Wang Cheng leaned forward again, the hand still in Arslan’s grip but free enough to slip deeper under the covers where he felt he was right that this man was lying to them both. His face was coming dangerously close to Arslan’s, who took a breath in, then violently tried to yank Li Wang Chengs hand back from where it was now cupping him through his pants. They struggled, body against body. Arslan caught his other wrist too, trying to restrain him again, but not before Li Wang Cheng managed to twist beneath him and grab his face, catching mouth with his own.

It wasn’t a clean kiss. It was messy - Li Wang Cheng’s sharp teeth against Arslan’s. Heat and frustration pent up over too many nights and too much silence. Arslan pressed his lips together for a second, not letting Li Wang Cheng in, then answered with a growl, his mouth pressing back hard, then finally opening up, welcoming him.
One of his hands let go of Li Wang Cheng’s wrists, sliding to his jaw, tilting his head, deepening the kiss. Li Wang Cheng let out a small moan, still struggling to free his other hand. It felt good, it felt like a victory.

And then—
Arslan pulled away. Breathing hard.

“No,” he muttered, as if trying to remind himself. “This isn’t right.”

“You can tell yourself it’s wrong tomorrow,” Li Wang Cheng pushed the furs aside, dragging Arslan down into them with one smooth, decisive pull. Their bodies collided, chest to chest. Li Wang Cheng’s weight pressed him into the bedding, his hands already on Arslan’s hips, pinning him in place. Arslan grabbed his neck, pulling him close, teeth bared.

“I said go back to your bed,” he murmured into Li’s ear, voice a dangerous whisper. It did not feel like the first times he said it. It felt like he needed to know if Li Wang Cheng really wanted this.

“What if I don’t?” he shot back, breath catching as Arslan’s lips grazed his neck.

And this time, Arslan didn’t hold back.

The kiss was brutal, hot and rough and desperate, like Arslan was fighting instead of kissing. His hands mapped Li Wang Chengs body, sliding under fabric, tugging it away, gripping like he meant to leave bruises behind. No hesitation this time, no calculation. Arslan crushed his mouth to Li Wang Chengs, hand tangling in his long hair, the other gripping his waist as if trying to memorize the shape of him.

Li Wang Cheng bit at Arslan’s lower lip, and Arslan groaned into him, then rolled them, pinning him again with the kind of strength that made Li Wang Cheng’s breath catch earlier. Now though it did for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.

Li Wang Cheng laughed, breathless, tipping his head back. It felt so good. He pulled Arslan closer with his legs, reckless, triumphant.
Arslan’s weight bore down on him, solid and hot and wanting. All that held-back tension turned to hunger in his hands, his mouth, the way he kissed like a man starving after weeks of denial. Even though Li Wang Cheng felt like the starved one.
His mouth moved down, over Li Wang Chengs throat, collarbone, as if he was trying to claim something that had already, in some unspoken way, been his for a while.
The furs tangled beneath them.
The fire outside had burned down to a low crackling glow, but inside the tent, heat rose.

Li Wang Cheng didn’t go back to his bed that night.
And whatever Arslan might tell himself come morning, about duty, about wives and prisoners and what men like him were supposed to want, tonight, he wanted this.
And Li Wang Cheng, well… he wanted to be wanted.

Chapter Text

Li Wang Cheng sent one of his girls to bring Arslan in from the door. First of all, he didn’t want to seem too eager; second of all, he knew that sitting in the middle of his favourite room, the shining jewel of his club, would show him at his best.

The bar area was his pride: the polished counter that gleamed almost like a mirror, the great fishtanks above it where merfolk sometimes performed, even though he gave nearly everyone a day off today. Empty now, they still shed a blue light across the room and illuminated the private little lounges scattered around the room. Comfortable seating areas, in dark blue velvet, with small desks, discreet enough to gather secrets yet open enough to keep an eye on your surroundings. Everything was tastefully arranged by Li Wang Cheng himself and without blowing his own horn: He had taste. Even though his club was relatively new, word spread in Waterdeep soon that the performances were extraordinary, that the drinks where passable and that the club attracted all kind of different people, who were ready to gossip and talk and drink and make one or two shady deals an evening. Everything was exactly the way Li Wang Cheng liked it.

He might have been just a prisoner in Arslan’s Camp, but he was a successful business owner in Waterdeep (some would say a promising criminal but who listens to them). So yes he wanted to show off his status and his slowly but steady growing wealth. Now that Arslan came into his territories, was swimming in Li Wang Cheng waters, he saw no point in making a secret of it.  He had put on his most beautiful purple and blue robes for this occasion, and carefully draped them around his body, which was stretched out on a dark blue velvet couch. The silky fabric complementing the blue-and-white patches of his skin. Even though he showed less of it than Arslan may be used to, it glimmered under the dim lights of the club. On a normal night the place would have been alive with gossip, laughter, and flirtation, especially directed at him, when he looked like this. But tonight, the club was closed. Only a few members of his staff lingered, under strict orders to appear only when summoned. Otherwise, it was just him… and soon, the man being escorted inside.

He still wasn’t sure what to feel. On one hand, it pleased him to welcome Arslan here, in a place he had built with hard work… ok bribing and a lot of blackmail. It was still a far cry from cot he had inside of a tent that didn’t belong to him, where he wore the same clothes for weeks and smelled like dirt and road, not really having anything to himself, nothing that really belonged to him. Arslan seeing him here, in this place, underlined the fact that he had become someone. That he was no longer a prisoner.

Of course, the simple truth that Arslan had set him free should have been enough to prove that. He had been more than surprised, when Arslan brought him back to his old Home, or at least the place he lived in for several years and said he can go. He is a free man. And he did go. He even left the town; he had no ties to it anymore. He did not look back... at first.
Arslan had send him away as a free man,but something lingered. And that lingering doubt was what unsettled him.

Months later he heard talk that Arslan was travelling near the city for some time, so he sent an invitation. It was an opportunity to show Arslan, that he made something of his freedom. At least thats what he liked to tell himself. But maybe - just maybe - the truth was, Li Wang Cheng had been thinking of him, far more often than he cared to admit. When he first heard word that Arslan was patrolling a trade route near Waterdeep (because some of his clients where merchants), his heart skipped a beat. It was not that he expected to never see him again, but also, he somehow wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen. It was complicated. So yeah maybe this meeting was more for his own sake, for clarity.

Because when you’ve been a prisoner for a long time, intimacy doesn’t erase that fact right? Sharing a bed doesn’t make the warlord less terrifying, even though technically Li Wang Cheng started all of it. And then when he noticed the small mercies, being brought to a river or a late, to water because Arslan knew it calmed him, the extra blanket on a cold night, the way he shielded him in a fight… do you start to see a person differently? Is the need for survival influencing your thoughts? Or did he really fall for Arslan and Arslan for him? In the end he couldn’t really tell anymore, it was terrifying, it was thrilling, it was confusing. Especially after Arslan had let him go.  On some nights, he lies awake and reaches for a familiar warmth that is no longer there, only to find a stranger, or nothing at all. He finds himself wondering what Arslan is doing, where he is and if he is well, if he tinks of him. He starts missing him. And when he heard Arslan was riding near Waterdeep something stirred in him. That was why he needed this meeting: to understand what those feelings, truly meant. To see Arslan again after all this time, to see Arslan again as a free man, and test what it would do to him.

Because maybe it was affection. Maybe it was gratitude. Or maybe it was nothing more than chains he still carried inside him, long after the real ones were broken. Whatever it was, he needed to know.

His thoughts were interrupted by one of his employees, leading Arslan inside. Li Wang Cheng’s eyes lingered on the man for a moment. He looked no different than in his memories: long dark and carefully braided hair (it made his chest hurt a little knowing he wasn’t the one who had braided it), the gold jewellery adorning the ram horns (sometimes Li Wang Cheng had held onto them), the earthy tones of his robes ( that Li Wang Cheng had peeled away piece by piece back when Arslan let him) , the pearl-white eyes scanning the room for him (like they did back then). And when those eyes found him now, there it was, the faintest trace of affection. No one else would notice it, but Li Wang Cheng, who had studied those eyes nearly every day a year ago, recognized it.

Their gazes locked, and suddenly it didn’t feel like so much time had passed since they’d last met. The hot sun of the tundra seemed to burn against Li Wang Cheng’s skin again; he could almost smell grassland and chamomile in the air. It was almost too easy reverting back to old ways and habits: he reminded himself to be careful.

“It’s good to see you,” Arslan said with a hint of a smile creeping into his features, striding quickly toward Li Wang Cheng’s table, there was nothing of the Genasi’s own uneasiness in Arslan's features.
For a moment, Li Wang Cheng thought about rising to greet him. But then he dismissed the idea. What should he do, run into his arms like some damsel awaiting their knight? Offer a handshake like they were strangers in a marketplace? Every option felt wrong.

So instead, he straightened on his chaiselongue, flashed his typical sharp-toothed grin, and gestured to the seating area around him. “Please, take a seat.”

Arslan sat down on the couch next to him, movements quick and authoritative as always. Even here, in Li Wang Cheng’s own territory, he carried the kind of presence that made a room bend around him. Still a warlord, still the kind of man who never seemed uncertain, seldom looked out of place by the way he carried himself, like the world belonged to him all the time.
The only thing that reassured Li Wang Cheng that he had a little bit of control was that Arslan’s eyes never left him. At least something - whether his robes or himself - was enough to hold that gaze and somewhat impress him. Li Wang Cheng cleared his throat and gestured to the girl still patiently waiting at the entrance.

“Saeya, please bring my guest and me some wine, the good one,” he ordered, watching the young girl scurry away before returning his attention to Arslan. “I’m sure you’re thirsty? I hear you’re camping outside town. I hope the journey was pleasant.”, Arslan looked absently at the girl leaving the room, than his eyes wandered to Li Wang Cheng again.

“It was mostly. The trading route is busier than the Beastlands in many ways,” Arslan answered his question with his typical seriousness, nothing in his features showing any kind of hint, that this meeting felt strange to him in any way. 
“Not as many wars to fight.", he continued "...but...”, his lip curled in disdain, “other kind of conflicts between the merchants. It is … a lot of talking.”

The distaste that caused him was plain, and it pulled an unexpected laugh from Li Wang Cheng: “I live in a district full of markets, I can imagine. Diplomacy hm? “
He couldn’t suppress another cackle. “As far as I remember, not your strong suit. Too bad I wasn’t with you.” The words hung in the air for a moment. They felt right and at the same time Li Wang Cheng wanted to scold himself for saying them, but they did not seem to bother Arslan at least not visibly, moreso he seemed to enjoy hearing them. He shook his head grinning.

“You’d have enjoyed all the talking.”

“I’d have enjoyed watching you suffer through it,” Li Wang Cheng replied smoothly as Saeya returned with the wine. Arslan chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rare.

 Li Wang Cheng felt oddly relieved that the way they spoke to each hadn’t changed.

“Come on, I was always the most pleasant company you ever had,” Li Wang Cheng continued, pouring for them both. He slid a cup across the table, their fingers brushing briefly as Arslan took it. Li Wang Cheng hurried to keep talking, to push that fleeting warmth of Arslan’s touch aside before it lingered too long and to keep the conversation flowing, that almost started to feel normal.

“How are Chimeg and Oyuun? I’m sure they also miss my lovely voice every day.” He lifted the glass to his lips, meeting Arslan’s eyes over the rim as the other man raised his as well.

“They miss scolding you for your poor footwork,” Arslan said dryly after emptying his glass.
“And your inability to hold a sword correctly.”, when he saw Li Wang Chengs brows furrow in anger, his voice softened a little. “But yes, they also missed your singing around the campfire.”

Li Wang Cheng blinked, caught a little bit off guard, by the praise. They’d always groaned, demanded ridiculous songs he didn’t know, and complained when he sang in his mother tongue. Yet the way Arslan said it, quiet, and with this warm look on his face made him believe it. Arslan had never been one to lie, anyways. Was this the way people would talk about a prisoner? Or a person they are fond of? Arslan still had a glass in hand, not looking directly at Li Wang Cheng but into the room, like he thought of a distant memory, but then he shook his head and continued talking.

“And now you’re running a place where people sing, drink, and dance every night, so I heard?” there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Do you sing here as well? Give the crowd your dance performances?”

Li Wang Cheng had only done that once or twice, back at camp, when everyone was drunk enough and then also a few times… in Arslan’s private chambers. Although he tried his best to not think about that time and hastily filled his glass with wine again. His fingers tapped lightly against the cup before he took another deep sip and then answered.

“I don’t dance much anymore. Not unless the wine is very, very good, or the people pay enough. But my girls… they put on a good show. Beautiful voices, light steps, lots of them can dance with a sword in hand and they know exactly how to keep the crowd coming back.”

He leaned back, pride flickering in his eyes. “I take care of them, and in return they keep this place alive. Many of them will soon be the stars of Waterdeep’s nights or at least they will know how to dance with a sword, which will also prove useful in the future.”

Arslan studied him in silence, then said quietly with a hint of a smile around his lips “I see, you’ve built a campfire of your own.”

Li Wang Cheng’s grin faltered for the briefest moment before returning sharper this time. “Campfires burn out too quickly. This place is built to last.”

Arslan only hummed in reply. For a second Li Wang Cheng thought he might have taken it as an offense, and he stared into his wine, unsure. But no, the warlord didn’t look insulted. And when Arslan finally spoke again, his tone was impossible to read.

“So… you will stay here?”

Li Wang Cheng frowned, trying to decipher what exactly he meant. His confusion must have been written plainly across his face, because Arslan soon added:

“I mean, you abandoned the Teahouse you had in your old hometown. So, I was wondering if you really plan on staying here.”

Of course, Li Wang Cheng wasn’t the only one with eyes and ears everywhere. The feeling of uneasyness that was surpressed by their playful banter came back, creeping into the corners of his mind.

“You’ve been there?” he asked, fixing him with a sharp gaze unsure what this information meant to him.

Arslan didn’t flinch. He looked him in the eyes, as sincerely as he ever had. “I was there yes. I came by to see if you and the townsfolk were okay, you never know if old enemies will try another uprise again, even though it would be hard with the information you gave us. But yes... I was there, but you were gone.”

Li Wang Cheng still held his gaze and Arslan didn't flinch. He was telling the truth, but there was something in Arslan’s words that almost sounded like hurt. But that was farfetched… wasn’t it? Or did he have similar feelings about the situation as Li Wang Cheng had? The thought killed every snarky reply on his tongue. 

“I…left because I needed time. Somewhere else. To think about everything.”

It was the truth and normally Li Wang Cheng liked to at least bend the truth. Or hide it behind a petty comment, or a beautiful lie. This was too honest. Too raw. The silence that followed stretched heavy between them. He needed to drag the conversation back into shallower waters. So he forced a smile, leaning back in his chair.

“Also, the truth is… the last city bored me to death. Same streets, same faces, same rumours every night. I would’ve gone mad if I’d stayed.” He gestured loosely toward the hall around them. “And Waterdeep… well, this city will never bore me. There’s always someone new, something unexpected. A thousand stories waiting at every corner.”

“Yeah, I noticed that much,” Arslan mumbled into his wine, which made Li Wang Cheng laugh in earnest again. He looked at Li Wang Cheng like he wanted to say more, but eventually decided against it. “Care to tell me some?” Arslan added averting his gaze, but sounding at least somewhat genuinely interested.

It made Li Wang Cheng’s heart flutter for a moment. Stupid thing. But he cleared his throat and continued, talking about his dancers, about how much coin Waterdeep could wring out of a thirsty crowd, while Arslan chimed in, complained about the city’s chaos and lack of leadership and then attempted to update Li Wang Cheng on the latest gossip from the camp, though he did a poor job, as always, and never had enough answers to Li Wang Cheng countless questions.

The evening passed with plenty of wine, and hours flew by. What had started with a hint of awkwardness slowly gave way to genuine laughter and playful arguing. It almost felt like old times, and Li Wang Cheng caught himself glancing at Arslan, noting the subtle ways he still observed him, always sharp, always with something in his eyes that made Li Wang Cheng feel like he was the only one Arslan watched like this. There was still something unsaid between them, a tension that neither of them would fully acknowledge, but for the moment, at least, it could hide behind jokes, stories, and the easy rhythm of old patterns.

As midnight approached, Li Wang Cheng realized he should probably stop drinking if he wanted to walk Arslan to the door without tripping over his elaborate robes, the ones he took so much pride in. They should make him look successful but could easily turn into a trap revealing he couldn’t hold his own liquor, and he really wouldn’t want that. He had sent his girls home an hour ago, so he had to walk Arslan to the door himself.

Taking the last sip from his cup, he let his eyes roam over Arslan one final time. The Tiefling was now stretched out on one of the couches, his clothes slightly dishevelled, his face flushed from the wine, his tail draped over the armrest swaying lazily from left to right. He looked so relaxed, like Li Wang Cheng had only ever seen a few times before in camp, it made his heart ache for something he couldn't name, or maybe he could but was afraid to do so.

It would have been so easy to follow old habits: lie down next to him, touch him, kiss him let his fingers rake through Arslan’s hair. But Li Wang Cheng was sober enough to catch himself just in time. He straightened abruptly, and the room seemed to shift slightly with the motion.

Arslan’s posture changed, changing from relaxed to upright in seconds, stretching out a hand to keep Li Wang Cheng steady.

“Are you okay?” The question came low, genuine, threaded with concern.

Li Wang Cheng forced a small, playful smile, trying to reclaim his composure. “Just… a little too much wine. The good stuff hits harder than I remembered.”

Arslan let go of him, which felt… strangely wrong. He wanted, he needed more then that. He had always been the one initiating even back then, always the one wanting. And even though this evening showed him that he clearly… still wanted. Something still held him back. 

Li Wang Cheng hastily drained his cup, stood carefully, and looked at Arslan “Shall I get you to the door before I test my balance any further?”

Arslan nodded, although it seemed a bit hesitant, then slowly stood up and followed Li Wang Cheng to the exit of his club, the weight of unspoken words hung between them like a quiet rhythm. Even as they moved toward the door, Li Wang Cheng couldn’t help but think that, despite the restraint, the night had reminded him just how much space Arslan still occupied in his thoughts. The air in the entrance and exit area was cooler, brushing against his face and grounding him after the warmth and haze of wine. He felt the familiar weight of Arslan’s presence behind him, steady and unspoken, and it reminded him how little had truly changed between them. The easy banter of the evening lingered between them, softening the edges of the tension, but Li couldn’t shake the awareness of how close they still were, how magnetic the pull remained, at least from his side.

Finally, they reached the door. Li Wang Cheng stopped, his hand brushing against the handle. The cold metal pressed against his fingertips, sharp and real. He hesitated, heart thrumming, while his brain screamed at him to just turn it, open the door, and bid Arslan farewell. Clean, simple, final. They had caught up. They had told each other everything they needed to know about the past year. It was good seeing him again, seeing him alive and well and that should give him closure, shouldn’t it? They could part as friends, as people who shared a complicated, heated, and interesting past like many did here in this big city. Clearly, they both felt relived to see each other healthy and thriving but was there really more that Arslan had wanted? If so he hadn't really shown it. 

And somehow Li Wang Cheng couldn’t open the door. He just stood there like an idiot. After a few seconds passed, he heard Arslan clear his throat softly.

“Is something wro-”

“No!” The word shot out too fast, too sharp. Li Wang Cheng winced inwardly, hating himself for it. A new level of embarrassment. The truth hit him in all his finality, standing here slightly drunk, feeling Arslan’s presence looming behind him not sure what to do: Li Wang Cheng didn’t want to open the door. He didn’t want to see Arslan walk away, not knowing when - or if - they would meet again. And admitting that aloud felt impossible.

He could feel Arslan shifting closer, the heat radiating off him, he liked that heat in the cold nights of the Beast lands. He later discovered it was kind of a Tiefling trait. Probably. He had been with plenty of Tieflings since coming to Waterdeep. Maybe yes, some of them looked a bit like Arslan (or most of them).  Some touched him more expertly than Arslan ever had. And yet, all of them had left him missing something. He told himself it was the thrill of survival, the way everything had once depended on something bigger than just who could get who off first.  But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that. Often when he laid with Arslan he had forgotten about their roles entirely. He liked his honesty, he liked the way he touched him with his rough calloused hands that told stories of labour, he liked tracing his scars when he felt asleep. He liked how everyone thought him stoic and unable to read, but Li Wang Cheng started recognizing the small gestures he did, how he glanced over him after a fight, how he watched him when his eyes lit up in a fresh stream or a glistening lake.  He wasn’t a prisoner anymore but could he ever been more to Arslan, more then someone to protect, more than someone to have some fun with … he wanted to feel wanted. And wanted, and wanted, and wanted. 

“Why did you come tonight?” Li Wang Cheng asked, almost too quietly. He felt Arslan step closer, his body brushing against his back to catch the words.

Arslan’s answer came quickly and with a hint of surprise: “Because you invited me.”

Li Wang Cheng exhaled, frustrated. It was the truth, of course, it was the answer he should have expected. But not the one he wanted to hear. His hand tightened around the handle, knuckles white.

Suddenly Arslan spoke again.

“And also, because I wanted to see you.”

This made Li Wang Cheng froze. The words landed like a strike. His grip on the handle went slack while his chest tightened.

“I know I maybe don’t have the right to say this,” Arslan continued, voice low, careful, while his fingertips ghosted over Li Wang Cheng’s neck. “But I took the trading route because I heard you’d gone to Waterdeep. I was hoping to find you.”

The heat of him pressed closer now, grazing against Li Wang Cheng’s back. His resolve cracked, and his hand slipped from entirely from the handle.
He suspected it a little bit. He suspected it as soon as Arslan told him he’d searched for him in the old town he left behind, the teahouse he abandoned. He suspected it when he heard Arslan had taken over the trade route to Waterdeep, when his informants told him he was camping outside the city. Or maybe he had hoped for it. But he dared not think further. Not about the time they had shared. Not about Arslan letting him go. Not about the looks, the small talks, the wanting, the longing – the whole fucking mess of what bound them together.

“You’re an idiot, what took you so long?” Li Wang Cheng finally whispered in common, but he was sure even Arslan knew what it meant. His suspicions were confirmed by Arslan’s low chuckle, the breath so near his ear that it made him shudder. Maybe he should have opened the door. Should have pushed him away. Maybe that was the right thing to do. But instead, his head tilted back, just slightly, his body pressing against Arslan’s chest.

Still, Arslan held back. He always did. Still this damn code, this ridiculous consideration, that made Li Wang Cheng question if they would ever truly be eye to eye, if he would ever feel the same burning want as he did. He would never move without Li Wang Cheng’s word. Never act unless he could see him as an equal. He knew there was no going back now, he had to know, otherwise this whole meeting was pointless.

“Arslan… do you want me?” Li Wang Cheng asked, his voice shaking a little bit.

A long pause. He felt Arslan’s breath quicken against his skin.

“I do,” came the answer at last.

“Why do you still need my permission?”, Li Wang Cheng could feel himself holding his breath.

“Because it matters to me and … I would want to do it right, this time … if possible.”

“So, this is not about your codex?”

“No.”

Li Wang Cheng exhaled, a sound of relief. He could tell himself so many reasons why this was still a bad idea. But he loved bad ideas. And it was over a year, and his body still responded like this. It was over a year and Arslan had looked for him, been considerate and patient still, let him sort out his feelings. And his feelings told him he did not want to see Arslan go through this door. And well they also told him many very inappropriate other things he wanted to do with him, so maybe it was time to admit that his shallow excuses and concerns where nothing more than made up things because yeah, he was a little bit afraid.

“Please,” he finally whispered, so quiet he barely heard himself, which made Arslan come closer again and the need even stronger. “Please, I want you to touch me.”

He did not have to say it again and Arslan didn’t hesitate, like he waited to hear these words all night long. His lips found Li’s neck, tentative for a heartbeat before hunger broke through. Teeth grazed skin, and Li Wang Cheng gasped, his body betraying him as he pressed back against the heat, he swore he didn’t need for a damn long year.

He muttered curses under his breath, words Li Wang Cheng couldn’t quite catch, something about “You never wear so many damn layers”. Which, admittedly, was true. But finally, finally, skin met skin. He felt Arslan’s hands roaming his chest, making him dizzy, fingers splaying along his stomach, carefully ghosting along the gills under his rips and he bit back a moan.

When his hands reached Li Wang Cheng’s lower belly, they stopped for a second. If he dared to ask again, Li Wang Cheng would rip his considerate dumb head off his shoulders.
He would not give him the chance.
The repeated “Please” that left his mouth sounded a lot more desperate than he anticipated. He had no time to feel embarrassed about it when he felt Arslan finally touching him where he wanted to be touched and stroking him at a leisure pace. He moaned shamelessly, relieved that he sent everyone home, knowing full well the incoherent words tumbling from his lips would probably be heard in the vastness of the club, he choose as a meeting place because he wanted to impress Arslan so badly. Pathetic, as pathetic as the sounds coming from him that would probably even be heard outside, if some poor soul was standing in front of the door. But he just couldn’t hold back. It wasn’t that Arslan’s touch was the best he ever had. But the one he wanted the most. And he was too turned on to lie to himself any longer.

While he unraveled, he could hear Aslan’s breath quickening too, it came in ragged, little huffs, and when he pressed closer, Li Wang Cheng could feel his arousal. Heat built up so much faster after he realized that he probably wanted it as much as he did. And the thought in combination with Arslan’s steadily quickening place made Li Wang Cheng suddenly come dangerously close to the edge.

“I … you need to slow down” Li Wang Cheng pressed grabbing Arslan by the wrist, who immediately listened, stopping his relentless pace, and slowing down again.

“Doesn’t it feel good this way?” Arslan asked and for the first time this evening it all sounded a bit unsure. Like Li Wang Cheng wasn’t the only one nervous about this meeting. Somehow it made him feel more at ease that he wasn’t the only one panicking a little.

“It feels… very good” he paused trying to get his breath under control “…but I need more of you. I… I really need to feel wanted Arslan.”, there was a short pause, where Arslan let go of him, only pressing his face in the gape of his neck, tracing small kisses there that made him shudder, and his fists curl stronger against the wall he was leaning on.

„Will you look at me then?” Arslan then asked not demanding, but hopeful.

 Li Wang Cheng hesitated for a moment and then slowly turned around. When their gazes locked it did exactly what he hoped and feared at the same time. It made his heart beat faster. It made everything feel real. He grabbed Arslan by the neck pulling him closer kissing him with a feverish intensity that made his head spin, but he didn't dare to stop. Arslan responded instantly, pulling him closer, pushing their hips together, while they tumbled against the door, making Li Wang Cheng cry out in Arslan’s mouth.

Suddenly nothing was fast enough. His hands tugged at Arslan’s clothing with restless urgency, driven by the ache of a year’s worth of distance. His movements were clumsy, impatient, tangled with curses and half-laughed protests, Arslan steadying him, slowing him just enough to keep him from unravelling too soon, talking Li Wang Cheng down at least, to work him open a little bit more careful than their first desperate encounter, make it more pleasant for him.

And when the frantic energy gave way to something deeper, each kiss, each touch drawing them closer, it was clear to Li Wang Cheng that this was different. Different from every fleeting distraction he had chased in the past year. Different, because it was him.  When Arslan finally pushed his legs up and pushed inside, Li Wang Cheng knew it was different to all the people he liked to distract himself with over the course of the year. Every movement of their bodies made it clearer that what had drawn them together all those years ago had never truly faded it had only been waiting for a moment like this to ignite again. That he had never been only a prisoner to Arslan. He wanted Arslan, and Arslan wanted him. Whatever that meant for the future.