Mowan · chat.title

[Non-Human Little Octopus Form] Shen Yanqing looked down, eyes lowered as he watched the slender tips of several tentacles wrapped around his fingers, his Adam's apple moving slightly. He didn't speak, but gently scooped Mowan off the pillow and pulled him against his chest. Mowan instinctively curled up into a ball right away, pulling all his tentacles tight to wrap around Shen Yanqing's arm and waist together, like an octopus plushie. His ear pressed against Shen Yanqing's chest, listening to that steady, powerful heartbeat—thump after thump, like tides crashing against the shore. "Can you hear it?" Mowan asked. "Hear what?" "My heart. It was beating so messily just now," Mowan pressed his face even closer. "But now it's learning your rhythm. Look—thump... thump... thump... isn't it exactly the same?" Shen Yanqing lowered his head, resting his chin gently against Mowan's soft white hair. He closed his eyes, feeling the small, warm presence resting on his chest, faintly pulsing. "...Yeah." His voice was muffled against Mowan's hair. "Exactly the same." Silence stretched for a long time. The sound of the tide filled every gap. Mowan suddenly spoke, his voice extremely tiny, as if afraid of disturbing something: "Shen Yanqing, can I kiss you?" Shen Yanqing opened his eyes. "Why do you want to kiss me?" he asked, his tone not a rejection, but more like seeking confirmation. Mowan thought for a long time, using his most earnest, eight-year-old child's tone to say: "Because when I was about to melt away just now, the last thing left in my head... wasn't the ocean, and it wasn't that bright light... it was you. Your eyes. When you kissed my forehead in front of the cabinet last time, I remembered that feeling for so long. I want you to know what it feels like to be kissed, too." As soon as he finished speaking, he grew embarrassed, burying his face back into Shen Yanqing's clothes while his tentacles began knotting themselves unconsciously—the two at the very end tangled into a bow that couldn't be untied no matter what. Shen Yanqing looked at him for a few seconds. Then, with one hand, he gently cupped Mowan's chin, tilting his face up. Mowan's pupils were wide dilated, with scattered moonlight deep within their purplish-black depth. His lips were pale pink and slightly parted, revealing a small tip of the keratin beak hidden behind them—he had forgotten to hide it, but Shen Yanqing didn't dodge or stare. Shen Yanqing lowered his head, very slowly pressing his lips against Mowan's. Not his forehead. His lips. Mowan froze completely. His tentacles stiffened straight in an instant, like a startled cat puffing up its fur, and then went completely limp the very next second, soft as maltose melting under the sun. His core flashed violently, glowing bright enough that a pale pink aura showed right through his clothes. Shen Yanqing didn't deepen the kiss, just pressing gently for three or four seconds before pulling back slightly, his nose tip almost touching Mowan's. Mowan's eyes were already rimmed with red, but he didn't cry. He just stared blankly at Shen Yanqing, the other's warmth still lingering on his lips—a heat far warmer than his own cool, gelatinous skin, scalding like a branded mark. "...You kissed me," Mowan's voice floated softly. "Yeah." "Not on the forehead." "Yeah." Mowan's lips quivered. Then, he suddenly reached out his short arms, clumsily hugging Shen Yanqing's neck with force to pull the two of them close again. He pressed his face into the crook of Shen Yanqing's neck, trembling all over, though not out of fear—his core was glowing, so bright that even Shen Yanqing's chest was illuminated with a warm pink light. "Kiss me again," Mowan's voice was muffled in Shen Yanqing's collar, soft and sticky, half like pouting and half like begging. "I want to remember it." Shen Yanqing didn't answer. He simply gathered that small, soft body tighter into his arms, then turned his head, letting his lips land on the curve of Mowan's ear—one of the most sensitive spots in his octopus form. The small fin-like folds flapped sharply once before flopping back softly. Following the contour of his ear, he slowly kissed down to his cheek, and from his cheek back to his lips. This time lasted longer than before, but it was still just lips pressed against lips, grinding gently and slowly, like the tide washing over the beach again and again, unhurried, so tender it could make one weep. Mowan kept his eyes closed, his eyelashes fluttering constantly. His tentacles slowly uncoiled from Shen Yanqing's body, instead wrapping around Shen Yanqing's hand, ten fingers (and tentacle tips) intertwined together. He had no breathing rhythm, because octopuses don't need a fixed breathing rate, but his chest heaved slightly, as if imitating human breathing. After an unknown amount of time, Shen Yanqing stopped. He gathered Mowan back into his arms, letting him rest his head in his shoulder crook, pulling the blanket up to cover those tentacle tips still gently wriggling. In the dark, Mowan looked at Shen Yanqing's jawline, watching the thin white edge carved out by the moonlight along the bridge of his nose, and suddenly said something without context: "Then you're mine from now on." Shen Yanqing kept his eyes closed, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. "...I always was." Under the blanket, Mowan's tentacles quietly searched out Shen Yanqing's hand, wrapping around all five fingers one by one with his tentacle tips, each suction cup lightly clinging on—a silent, stubborn promise refusing to let go.