Sacrifice

On the way to the rental room, Bai Ling’s emotions were extremely complicated.

Reason told him he shouldn’t bring Yu Chen to such a place again. That damp, moldy little room held so many messy memories from his past. He would inevitably reveal signs of tension and anxiety, so subtle that an ordinary person might not notice, but it would certainly not escape the old man’s perceptive eyes.

Yet a filthy voice deep inside Bai Ling’s heart urged him—

Strip yourself bare for him.

Let his fingers, with their thin layer of calluses, trace your wounds.

This thought left Bai Ling gasping for breath. He turned his head to inhale the cold, sharp air, hoping it would clear his mind.

But he forgot that he was steadily held by Yu Chen. Even when he turned away, he was still facing him. Surrounded by the older man’s firm presence, immersed in his undisguised tenderness, Bai Ling felt filled to the brim, with his very breathing growing fragile.

The grimy, dark exterior wall of the rental building loomed close. The sky was overcast, obscuring the bloodstained handprint on the steps.

But Bai Ling knew Old George was there. Once he crossed that threshold, the most shameful parts of his past would be laid bare, layer by layer, without concealment.

The phantom pain in his missing right leg throbbed, and he stopped.

Yu Chen didn’t ask why. He simply lifted his gaze, glancing at the building, this relic left behind by the welfare policies of a bygone era.

It had once been a free dormitory, now repurposed. From its narrow windows, various shades of dim light emerged, each with its own kind of gloom. The people who lived here were poor and downtrodden, scraping by with all sorts of inglorious work.

Yu Chen had a vague sense that he had been here before.

In that dream.

But his memory was unclear; dreams were dreams, always missing details, always skipping information. He only remembered entering that room, so small it could barely be called a room.

Once, he had been blind, touching the scalding heat of the Stump Bird’s body. Another time, with his sight restored, he had taken away the Stump Bird’s remaining belongings.

Now, the young man had brought him back here again.

Like a stray dog tugging at his pant leg, tentative and watchful, wanting to show him the pile of garbage where a little toy ball was hidden.

“Which floor do you live on?” Yu Chen asked.

“There…” Bai Ling pointed, not daring to meet his eyes.

Yu Chen followed the direction of his finger. It was a window buried into the foundation, so narrow it was only twenty centimeters tall.

Its smallness stood in stark contrast to the towering building above, like a sliver of a soul crushed into the earth just as the building was about to collapse. Silently and suffocatingly struggling.

Now he understood why this bird, ever so often, when he thought Yu Chen wasn’t looking, would press himself against the floor-to-ceiling window in the master bedroom and gaze outside.

For a bird, living in such a cramped basement was no different from having its wings broken and its bare nature stifled.

Bai Ling heard the merman lower his voice, as if he were coaxing a child, and asked him:

“May I go in?”

A polite request.

Bai Ling’s head snapped up. Looking at that handsome, refined face, his fingertips trembled with nervousness.

He felt a surge of regret. A man like Yu Chen wouldn’t even eat a rotten apple; how could he be brought into a place where sewage flowed? Shame filled his heart till his teeth ached with it, yet he forced himself to lift his leg and step forward, stiffly speaking:

“Welcome.”

In his past life, this was exactly how he had lured Mr. D here.

Taking advantage of the other’s kindness and reluctance, dragging him into the mire.

Yu Chen followed him through the dimly lit lobby, turned into an inconspicuous corner, and opened a door. A dark, rickety staircase descended, as if leading straight to hell.

The bird said softly, “Mind your head.”

The stairs here were low. Bai Ling was afraid he might hit his head.

The stairwell walls were covered in graffiti: obscenities and ads for unfertilized eggs. The air was damp; as they walked, they could hear the ceiling’s plaster crackling and flaking.

When they reached the bottom step, they unexpectedly stepped into a puddle of water.

Yu Chen glanced down. Water from somewhere had seeped over his shoes. He lifted his ankle, shook the tip of his shoe, but could still feel the cold, damp creeping in through the small decorative holes in the leather.

The bird murmured: “I’ll wipe them for you.”

As he spoke, he started to crouch, as if this building, this entire wretched environment, was his fault. His face flushed with an unhealthy pink, his beautiful features looking as though they might shatter. Yu Chen sighed, caught him by the waist, and lifted him up.

Like he was holding a precious jewel.

Bai Ling’s body, cold a moment before, immediately grew feverishly hot. Abandoning all pretense, he recklessly wound his arms around the other’s neck.

He began whispering Yu Chen’s name in his heart again, over and over.

As if it was a miracle drug that could suppress all pain.

When they reached the door, it was difficult to unlock it. The keyhole seemed blocked, probably the work of some mischievous child in the building.

Bai Ling was adept at handling such nuisances. He worked the key in bit by bit, pulled out a wad of paper, tossed it aside without looking, and dragged Yu Chen inside.

Click. Yu Chen locked the door behind them.

Bai Ling inexplicably shivered and whispered: “Make yourself at home.”

But the entire room was barely three steps wide, empty, with not a single chair. Yu Chen ran his hand over the rusted bed frame and sat down without hesitation. The mattress gave a creaky groan, like the scattered opening notes of a piece about to be played.

It was so cramped that the merman’s long legs nearly reached the door.

Bai Ling took off his down jacket, reached into his pocket, and touched the small foil packet. The serrated edge prickled his fingers.

Yu Chen turned his head, watching him.

The bird straightened up, but his hands were empty. His lips trembled slightly as he said:

“If you can’t wear it, then don’t.”

With that, he lowered his head and removed his damp outer pants. His slender calf emerged from the denim leg, the taut curve of his calf marked with faint pressure lines and a vertical streak of red.

Then, he bent down, unclipped the prosthetic from his leg, and checked its power level.

[12%]

If things got too intense… it might die mid-way.

“I’ll charge it.”

The basement had never been intended for living. This room was clearly a partitioned space, with few places for wiring. In this room, at least, the only outlet was in the corner by the door.

Yu Chen watched him approach, one foot half into a shoe, his ankle bare, looking as if he’d kick it off any second.

He wore a warm sweater on top, but below, there was only a pair of black athletic shorts with white trim, their fabric washed to a faded gray. His straight, slender legs extended from the loose shorts, swaying before Yu Chen’s eyes.

Below the delicate skin of his thighs, the cold steel prosthetic appeared.

The room’s lighting was bluish and it slant down. His mismatched leg was deeply bent as he crouched on the floor, a cord plugged into a narrow port on the prosthetic, the other end connected to a black charger, which he was pushing with some force into the socket.

This absurd, surreal scene easily stirred a strange, destructive impulse.

With a beep, charging began. Bai Ling said, “There.”

He glanced at Yu Chen, then gripped the hem of his sweater, lifted it over his head, and neatly folded it aside. Hair tousled, he said:

“I’m charging. You can come.”

This bird had tethered himself to the door with the charging cord.

Yu Chen could see it clearly: the other was extremely nervous. Not the wariness of resistance, nor the rejection of an alpha, but the raw, unpolished awkwardness of facing the unknown.

It was strange.

Yu Chen recalled their past conversations. This falcon, in word and tone, had always hinted, always implied, that he was experienced, that he had handled plenty of alphas, seen all types, and didn’t even take alphas seriously. Besides that, he had all sorts of eccentric preferences, cold, perpetual low moods, with inexplicable desires, yet would curl up like a mimosa at Yu Chen’s touch.

He couldn’t accept being dominated during intimate moments.

Or rather, the painful experiences of the past wouldn’t allow him to give alphas too much leeway.

Yu Chen’s mind flashed to that examination report, marked with red circles: false heat cycles, damaged reproductive cavity… For an omega, these two afflictions meant being completely cut off from the joy of their secondary gender.

In the days before, this bird had likely only engaged in such activities as a way to relieve pain, or perhaps to fulfill a task.

Not for pleasure.

He would associate it with suffering, fear of being controlled, or submission. So even when he stood before Yu Chen of his own accord, with the freshness of youth and a carefree attitude that befitted his age, there was always a lingering aura of self-sacrifice about him.

When others sought a mate, they sought love.

When he sought Yu Chen, he offered himself as a sacrifice.

That was why Yu Chen had never truly taken him.

Yu Chen was not a young man in a hurry. At his age, no matter what he did, he considered all kinds of related factors.

When he deemed the time right, he would strike without hesitation. Conversely, if he felt the timing was not yet ripe, he would be more inclined to indulge himself with a taste, rather than killing the goose that laid the golden eggs and ruining the long-term pleasure to come.

Yu Chen would not let him fall apart in his hands.

So, he slowly said: “Turn around. Place your hands on the door. Stand with your feet ten centimeters apart.”

Bai Ling’s lower abdomen tightened. He parted his lips as if to speak, then hesitated. Ultimately, he obeyed this command that didn’t quite sound like a command and turned his back as instructed.

There was a small hole in the door, through which one could see people passing in the hallway outside.

A drunkard returning late at night laughed and chatted loudly with a friend as they walked by, the noise causing Bai Ling’s ears to ring for a moment. He was so distracted, he didn’t notice a hand reaching around to his front.

That hand first gently stroked his lower abdomen twice, then gripped him roughly. Ignoring his fluster, Yu Chen leaned down close to his ear and said:

“Don’t look back. Imagine what I look like.”

“Yes…”

“You’re not used to being dominated?”

Bai Ling was dazed for a moment, then tried his best to steady his voice. “It’s okay… if it’s you.”

Yu Chen, with a calming intent, gave him advance notice: “You need some training.”

With that, he pressed down on Bai Ling’s hip without a word. The smooth, high-quality fabric of the older man’s dress trousers pressed against his skin. Bai Ling lurched forward against the filthy door, trembling uncontrollably.

His head bowed down, and his fingers twisted together with force. The bird spoke with a hoarse, almost pleading tone:

“Teach me a lesson.”

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Author’s note:

Here it comes, here it comes.