I Didn't Mean To

religious guilt + i just cant help myself

nsfw, top hc / bottom xl, dubcon / noncon, mistaken identity, xie lian is in a statue that hua cheng carves to be fuckable without knowing hes "in" it, (unintentional) orgasm denial

(~1800 words)

based on this au :

that au where xie lian is a kneeling statue except he has a lot less awareness of where he is, whats being done to him or being taken to until hua cheng starts working on him. hua cheng carves the statue into a fuckable one (he hates himself for it too.)

for the past number of years its been like coffin pt. two but with blessedly less pain. its been easier for xl to disassociate, to wait for some kind of stimulus which often comes in the form of a kick thats violent enough he gets a jolt to the system and wakes up.

The one thing about statues no one ever talks about, Xie Lian thinks, is that being one is exceedingly boring. Not that he imagines many people have ever been a statue, or will be one! He is uniquely cursed in that if something could happen to him, like slipping off a cliff on a dry day or waking up as a statue, it would. But of all the experiences he's had in his life, painful or otherwise, being a statue has been best described as...

Dull?
Monotonous?

It's not the worst by far, but it's not high on the list.

There's a consistency to it, a persistent state of lacking something. Being a statue is almost like meditating, a deep state of distance from your physical body. There's nothing to see, nothing to hear, to taste, to smell -- Xie Lian quite certain if he wasn't so used to having one or more of those impaired at any given time (and the years he spent actually meditating) he'd have gone mad by now.

And there is, of course, the lack of touch as well. But that one, that one isn't consistent. At times there will come a sudden ache in his side, a blow to the back of the head that shocks his system with how violent it must've been for him to feel it, even as rock, even as stone. They don't really hurt though, just wake him up, leave him wondering what or why or who before the tingle fades and he falls back into the hazy state he keeps himself in.

And that's how Xie Lian has spent... weeks? Months? Years?

Time is so hard to follow when you have nothing to mark it by. Xie Lian will just call it time. This is how he has spent his time. Kneeling, waiting, meditating, waking up to the occasional jab to back area.

The first time things felt different, Xie Lian didn't take notice of it at all, actually. It was a pressure, a steady feeling somewhere near what he thought were still his legs, like something was squeezing them. It drifted in and out of his awareness, then disappeared entirely without warning.

Strange, Xie Lian remembers thinking, then promptly forgets it.

The second time was notable only for how odd it was. Many fleeting touches, barely enough to stir him on a typical day but repetitive enough to rouse Xie Lian from his meditation. If he could've wrinkled his nose he would've -- what could possibly create this sensation? Was the stone being stroked? Washed, perhaps?

It spread from the top of his head down his back, over where he suspected his "arms" were behind his back in a tied position. This was -- of course -- only a guess. He had no way to look and confirm this, but it felt right, to believe he was bent at the waist, kneeling, arms tied. Then the touch stopped, for long enough that Xie Lian almost convinced himself he'd imagined it. He startled when it began to smooth over his face, across his brow, down the bridge of his nose.

It was strange but not unpleasant, light and meticulous along the shape of the stone of his face. And it continued for hours, over and over (goodness he must've been filthy? Or the person cleaning was was simply very dedicated) enough that Xie Lian could put it to the back of his mind.

He drifted again, in and out of awareness, saying silent hello to the touch that followed the grooves of his carved robes, the shapes of hair strands; goodbye when it stopped for long enough that he had to assume the person had stepped away.

And I lost steam so! The run down instead!

Eventually the touch turns to as strange sort of pinching feeling, a somewhat more unpleasant scratchy sensation against his "skin" (its Hua Cheng sanding away at the "robes", the "rope" of the statue, shaping Xie Lian into a kneeling naked figure.)

Xie Lian begins to feel more like that. It as if he's closer to the surface of something, if he had to try and put words to it. More bared to the world, like he'd taken a layer of clothing off. But he was still stone and he knew it. There's a very, very long time after he last feels the "scratching" where there's nothing at all but it's harder now to meditate. Xie Lian can feel more.

The lightest nip of chill, the faint brush of wind. None are any stronger than the mere sensation of them but Xie Lian has spent so long without anything that they're catching his attention immediately.

Hua Cheng, for his part, is having a breakdown at what he just made and is avoiding that section of the cave so he doesn't have to face his failures. (He will be back though, originally with the intent to... to fix the statue but instead he will. Absolutely make it fuckable. In a fit of loneliness, another lost trail, another failed lead, he goes and carves the stone around Xie Lian's wrists so he can hold them, between the former gods cheeks so he has a place to put himself into.)

Xie Lian doesnt have a way to explain what how strange it feels to have something being opened in an area of his body he's never thought about but it doesn't hurt? It's like massaging a muscle deeply.

The location of it concerns him though, very very deeply, leaves him wishing for the first time he had a voice to respond to the sensations with. He hopes that, that this isn't where he thinks it is. That it's not for what he thinks it is.

The carving is, at least, quick.

Xie Lian feels like there's a tension along his spine that isn't real, can't be real because he has no muscle to tense. He still struggles to relax in the moments of silence after the touch finally retreats. He can hear his own breathing (is he really breathing or just imagining the sound to focus on?) loud in his head and wills it to slow. The touch is still gone, the tools have left. It would surely be like before, when Xie Lian would go so long without anything but the chill and the wind (and now an unfortunate 'spread open' feeling...) but there would be no touch. No tools. No hands.

Warm is not the word Xie Lian would use to describe the finger that strokes his insides, gentle, caressing, like it wants this to be pleasant for him. It's hot, like burning, like dunking your hand in a pot. It's so much after having so little for so long. If Xie Lian's stomach was real it would've lurched in half nausea and half something he can't explain.

And then the finger pulls back, out, like he has somehow scalded it (Would he be warm too? Made of stone it wasn't possible but his real body, how warm could that have been?) and then there was nothing.

There was nothing for a long time.

Hua Cheng is once again, going through it.

He hates himself. He's disgusted. He turned an already blasphemous representation of his god into-- into a perversion for his own benefit. And then he'd, he'd touched Him.

He put his fingers inside, for the briefest moment, unable to resist the knowledge of knowing what it would look like, what it possibly could be like--

Hua Cheng doesn't know why he doesn't just destroy the statue. He's ruined it, he's made a monstrous thing. He leaves it for years, unintentionally leaves Xie Lian in there for years with it.

The impending opening of Mount Tonglu was expected, but the way Hua Cheng found himself in that cave, in the offshoot passage where he'd hidden the... the Statue, was not.

In between dazed blinks and head splitting pain, Hua Cheng had made his way to the room of his greatest shame, had taken himself out of his robes and been unable to stop himself from wetting the stone with his own tongue, heedless of the dirt and grit. He deserved for it to taste bitter and vile, for what he was preparing to do. He shouldn't be making this easier for himself at all, should've let the rough rock scrape him and use his own blood.

Hua Cheng considers how he could even atone for something like this once he was done -- but he knows he can't resist.

He spits, once on the ground to rid himself of the taste, then again into his palm to stroke himself with. He rests one hand gently on the curve of the statue's hip and somehow, this, this is what he feels the most guilt over. Like he has the right to treat this statue of his god like a lover. And then he presses himself inside and fucks the hole and prays for forgiveness.

And Xie Lian can feel all of it. Every lick, every thrust, every inch of Hua Cheng and it's-- it's-- it's good.

It's good and it terrifies Xie Lian that he feels like this, that he could enjoy something like this. He shouldn't, he needs to stop, he needs the hands and touch and heat in him to stop but it doesn't. It's rhythmic, brutal, it's making his head spin. He wishes he could cry, to relieve the feeling in some way.

Xie Lian's cultivation will not be affected by this because the pleasure just builds and builds and builds -- but has nowhere to go. Hua Cheng didn't dare intricately carve the shape of his god's cock and even if he had, it would've been far from functional. There's just a hot core within Xie Lian, trapped and tearing through him and he can't even shake, he can't cry out, he can't do anything but listen to the sound of his own voice in his head begging for something Something Something but he doesn't know what.

It's only made worse when Hua Cheng finishes inside the statue once, then again, then again. It takes hours to rid himself of all the excess energy, to pour it into his god. Each time only smooths the way for the next, when he takes the statue by the hip, and fucks it. When he's empty, Hua Cheng stumbles back from the mess he's made, pulls at his hair and screams. He leaves. He doesn't come back again.

Xie Lian being able to break free from the statue prison after Hua Cheng comes because the amount of spiritual power he poured into the thing over multiple hours was immense. If Hua Cheng was in any state of mind to notice these things, he'd wonder why the stone didn't crack or break but he's pretty not okay.

So Xie Lian will wake, alone, cultivation intact, skin covered in stone flakes like mud, stomach aching at the amount of spiritual power roiling around in it and shuddering at the wet dripping sensation down the backs of his thighs.

Oh, the horror Hua Cheng has to overcome when Xie Lian eventually tells the ghost it was him! It's not as bad because Xie Lian then proceeds to explain that-- he's remembered it, thought about it so so so many times-- but in a good way! But Hua Cheng is still about to spiral.

100% he went back to destroy it when he finally found his highness, just to find nothing but dust and dried mud.

He never intends for Xie Lian to see the cave but this offshoot especially gege Cannot See.

Hua Cheng thought he'd be okay! He's NEVER had this before, he's always just, gone small or gone hidden. But knowing that the statue is there, it's available, something in Hua Cheng just can't stop. He needs to know, he needs to feel it, the idea has been banging around in his mind painfully for ages.

He's been so good about fighting it, about telling that part of himself to shut up shut up shut up and then its absolutely futile when all his self control goes out the window with the opening. :)

Mmm, the implications this has on the later ghost rut and how Scared Hua Cheng gets about it and how guilty Xie Lian feels about Liking it and the way he coaxes a pulling away, flinching Hua Cheng to kiss him, rut against him, it's okay, it's alright San Lang.

The way the power Hua Cheng is passing to him is so familiar, the way it sits heavy and hot in Xie Lian's gut? He wants it, it's a taste of what he had before. And the way Hua Cheng rocks between his legs, Xie Lian can feel that same building tension, that core tightening in him, it's hard not to chase it.

Xie Lian dreamt of that building pleasure on and off for the past few centuries, the heat, the tightness. But he never, Never tipped over the edge he felt he was standing on. He'd wake, breathless and drenched in sweat and aching aching aching but it never came.

And Xie Lian is constantly thinking about the hours after he awoke, when he found a stream and rinsed himself off in it and thought about how he liked it. He had Liked what had happened and he didn't even finish (that is still simmering in him too, he could take care of it now but he doesn't have the faintest idea of what to do exactly) and he's technically still within the rules of his cultivation path. He can feel the vows unbroken.

He feels, almost cheated and he Hates that the thought is in his head. He shouldn't have liked that, he didn't even -- doesn't even know who that was.