Extra Chapter 7: Battlefield Tenderness
The journey to quell rebellions isn't always filled with battles and battleships; it often involves the weary encampment after a long march. Tonight, the army camps in a desolate valley, its fires flickering as the night wind howls, its flags rustling.
Inside the commander's tent, the lights were bright. A large military map lay in the center, with several battle reports scattered around. Ashura had just finished a meeting with several generals, and a stern look of murderous intent still lingered between his brows. He waved his hand, signaling everyone to withdraw.
The curtain fell, blocking out the sound of the wind outside and the footsteps of patrolling soldiers. Suddenly, there was only a relatively quiet space inside the tent, smelling of leather and dust.
Indrakirti hadn't left. He sat quietly on a cushion in the corner, flicking through a volume of local history by the light of a small lamp. The soft light framed his focused profile, his long golden lashes drooping, casting a faint shadow across his eyelids. He seemed completely absorbed in his thoughts, completely at odds with the tense atmosphere of the meeting.
Asura didn't speak immediately. He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on Indra. The aura of killing intent gradually faded from him, and another, more hidden, simmering emotion quietly grew.
He walked over, his heavy military boots making almost no sound on the felt. He squatted in front of Emperor Shitian, his tall figure completely covering him.
Indra seemed to sense something and raised his eyes. His golden pupils shone with a gentle light under the light: "Are you done with the discussion?" His voice was soft, with a hint of barely perceptible fatigue.
"Yeah." Ashura responded, but his gaze didn't meet his. Instead, it slowly moved down to the collar, which had loosened due to his slight lean. There, a small piece of white skin was exposed, with a faint, winding golden line faintly visible on it.
Indra seemed about to say something, but Ashura suddenly extended his hand. His rough, calloused fingertips didn't touch his skin, but instead hovered in the air, extremely slowly tracing the path of the golden lines.
The movements were performed with an almost reverent concentration and an undisguised, burning desire.
Indra's body tensed imperceptibly for a moment, his breathing stagnating slightly. He knew exactly what Asura was watching. He remained silent, neither trying to stop nor to please, simply lowering his gaze to the other's powerful yet now unusually restrained hand.
Ashura's fingertips moved slowly, from his collar, to his arm, and then to his wrist. His gaze burned, as if it could penetrate the moon-white fabric, revealing the more hidden golden eye-like patterns beneath, which only fully opened when emotion or power surged.
He knew the location of every "eye." He knew how thrilling, how... maddening it was when they trembled, opened and closed, or even revealed subtle emotions at his touch.
Outside the tent came the distant and indistinct sound of soldiers changing guards, which only made the silence inside the tent even more pronounced. A certain undercurrent of tension silently spread between the two men.
Asura's breathing gradually grew heavier. He suddenly leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly on Indra's collarbone, his scorching breath spraying down on that sensitive skin.
"...Tired." His voice was low and hoarse, as if he was explaining his sudden behavior, but also as if he was suppressing something.
Indra sighed softly, raised his free hand, and inserted his fingertips into Ashura's thick red hair, combing it gently from time to time. This was a kind of tacit consent, a silent comfort.
Asura pressed forward, nuzzling the delicate skin, as if confirming its presence, or perhaps simply infatuated. His lips brushed the golden lines.
Indra's fingers combing his hair paused slightly.
"Ashura..." He called softly, the ending tone carrying a hint of warning, but so soft and powerless.
"Hmm," Ashura replied vaguely. Instead of stopping, he opened his mouth and gently grasped the edge of the small piece of fabric with his teeth, pulling it downwards, trying to see more of the obscured scenery. Those silver-gray eyes lifted, looking up at Indra from bottom to top, swirling with naked aggression and desire, like an agitated beast, seeking comfort in a clumsy yet forceful manner.
Indra's heart trembled at his gaze, and ripples spread across his golden pupils. He clearly felt the heat emanating from Asura, and the desire that threatened to burst forth. In this battle tent, in the outside world separated only by a layer of tent cloth, this furtive intimacy carried a perverse thrill.
He exerted a little force, pulled Ashura's hair, and forced him to raise his head.
The two men's eyes met, one with undercurrents, the other with forbearance and restraint.
"...Be more restrained." Indra said in a low voice, but his fingertips ambiguously stroked Asura's red earlobe.
Asura stared at his soft, open lips, his Adam's apple rolling violently. He leaned in close, almost kissing him, but stopped at the last moment, only to rub his tall nose against the tip of Indra's nose, their breaths mingling, a hot breath.
"Those eyes..." Asura's voice was very hoarse, "seems to be looking at me." His fingertips finally fell, pressing accurately on a spot on Indra's chest through the clothes - there, under the clothes, a golden eye-shaped pattern was slightly hot, silently responding to his gaze and touch.
Emperor Shitian took a deep breath, a flicker of confusion in his golden pupils. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, revealing a deep, compromising tenderness.
"They... have been watching you." He answered softly, like a secret confession.
The wind was still blowing outside the tent, but inside the tent, a silent fire was quietly spreading across the land.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
