Ling caught Rhea's wrist mid-taunt and turned, grip firm, not bruising, but unarguable. The camp noise blurred behind them as he pulled Rhea straight toward his tent.
"Let go," Rhea scoffed, trying to twist free. "What is this, Kwong? Kidnapping now?"
Ling didn't slow.
Didn't answer.
He pushed the tent flap aside and guided, no, forced, Rhea in, then released her only long enough to shove her down onto the folded bedding.
"Sit."
Rhea laughed, sharp and dismissive, crossing her arms. "Or what? You'll glare me to death?"
She started to stand.
Ling's hand came down on the pole beside Rhea's shoulder with a hard thud.
The tent shuddered.
Rhea froze.
Ling leaned in, eyes dark, jaw tight, anger controlled but barely contained, like a blade kept just short of skin.
"Don't," Ling said quietly. "Push me."
Rhea opened her mouth with another retort ready.
Ling cut her off, voice low, dangerous. "Sit. Quiet. Now."
It wasn't loud.
That was worse.
Rhea stared up at him, defiance flickering, then something else slipping in beneath it. She sat back down slowly, lips pressing into a thin line.
Silence filled the tent, thick and charged.
Ling exhaled through his nose, then turned away just enough to grab the first-aid kit. When he turned back, his eyes went straight to Rhea's waist.
The blood stain had spread.
Ling's throat tightened.
"You're bleeding again," he said, clipped. "If you're trying to prove something, congratulations. You're proving you're reckless."
Rhea's chin lifted. "I didn't ask for your concern."
Ling knelt anyway.
He didn't touch yet.
"Good," Ling replied. "Because this isn't concern."
His gaze lifted, steady, unflinching. "This is damage control."
Rhea laughed softly, bitter. "You hate me. Remember?"
Ling met her eyes.
"If I hated you," he said, calm and terrifying, "I would've let you keep bleeding."
He reached for Rhea's waist then, careful, precise, waiting just a heartbeat.
"Don't move," Ling said.
Not a request.
An order.
And for once,
Rhea didn't.
Ling worked slowly.
Too slowly for someone who ruled rooms with a glance, but this wasn't a room, and Rhea wasn't anyone else.
He unbuttoned the fabric carefully, fingers controlled, precise. When the cloth fell away enough to expose the piercing, Ling's breath stalled for a fraction of a second.
The jewelry had twisted wrong.
The skin around it was swollen, angry red, blood crusted where it had dried and then torn again. The metal was caught, embedded just enough to be a problem.
Ling's jaw tightened.
"Tell me if it hurts," he said flatly.
Rhea scoffed, though her voice came out thinner than intended. "You think I won't?"
Ling ignored that.
He cleaned the area first, gentle despite the tension in his shoulders. The moment his fingers brushed the skin, Rhea sucked in a sharp breath, body tensing.
"Don't flinch," Ling warned quietly.
"Then don't touch," Rhea shot back, but she didn't pull away.
Ling tried to rotate the piercing slowly, easing it back the way it should go.
It didn't move.
Rhea winced hard this time, fingers gripping the edge of the bedding. "Ling..."
"I know," Ling said, already adjusting, trying another angle. Slower. More careful.
Still nothing.
He paused, recalculated, then tried again, different pressure, different direction.
The piercing stayed stubbornly stuck.
Blood welled again, thin and bright.
Ling swore under his breath, a rare, ugly sound. "Damn it."
Rhea laughed once, sharp and pained. "Told you. It hates you as much as I do."
Ling didn't smile.
He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing, not frustrated at Rhea, but at the situation. At himself.
He tried compressing the skin gently, then easing the metal free.
Nothing.
Tried warming it with a cloth.
Nothing.
Each failed attempt made Rhea's breath hitch, her face tightening despite her effort to stay composed.
Ling stopped suddenly.
Pulled his hands away.
Rhea blinked, startled. "What... giving up?"
Ling looked at her then, really looked. At the tension in her shoulders. The way her jaw was set to endure rather than admit pain.
Ling straightened, grabbing fresh gauze. "It's embedded. Needs proper removal. Doctor. Today."
Rhea's chin lifted immediately. "No."
Ling's eyes hardened. "That's not a discussion."
"I said no," Rhea snapped. "I'm not letting the whole camp..."
Ling cut her off, voice low, absolute. "You're not bleeding out because of pride."
Silence slammed between them.
Ling secured the gauze carefully, firm but gentle, binding it so the piercing wouldn't move further.
When he finished, he didn't pull away right away.
His hands hovered, then clenched into fists at his sides.
For a long second, he said nothing, then, quietly, like a decision he hated making:
"I have to do this."
Rhea frowned. "Do what..."
Ling didn't answer.
He leaned forward instead.
Slow. Controlled. Intentional.
Rhea felt it before she understood it, warm breath against her skin, right above the piercing. Then Ling's lips pressed there, gentle, purposeful, nothing rushed or indulgent. Heat spread instantly, shocking after the cold, after pain.
Rhea's eyes went wide.
Her breath stuttered, then turned shallow, uneven. Her body went rigid, every nerve suddenly awake, screaming awareness.
"Ling..." her voice came out hoarse.
Ling didn't look up. His focus was absolute, jaw tight, lips warm against skin only long enough to do what he intended, to warm, to soften, to reduce resistance.
His hands stayed steady, professional almost, even as his pulse betrayed him.
Rhea's fingers reacted before her mind could stop them.
They slid into Ling's hair.
Not pulling.
Just holding.
Anchoring herself.
Her grip tightened slightly, not to draw Ling closer, but to keep herself from moving, from flinching, from letting the sensation spiral into something she refused to name.
Her heart hammered painfully in her chest.
This isn't desire, she told herself.
This is survival.
This is necessity.
But her body didn't care about excuses.
Every place Ling touched felt louder than it should have. Every second stretched too long. Heat pooled low, unwelcome and undeniable, and Rhea bit the inside of her cheek hard, forcing herself to stay still.
Ling finally pulled back, immediately, decisively, like he'd crossed a line and snapped himself back.
He adjusted the piercing again, carefully this time.
It moved.
Just a little.
Rhea gasped, head tipping back despite herself.
Ling froze instantly. "I said don't move."
Rhea let out a shaky laugh, eyes burning. "You're the one breaking all the rules."
Ling didn't reply.
His face was rigid, controlled to the point of pain, ears faintly red, not from embarrassment, but from the effort of restraint.
The piercing slid halfway, then caught again.
Rhea sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flying up to Ling's face. She read it instantly. The calculation. The decision forming again.
"No," Rhea said immediately, shaking her head once, jaw tight. "Don't you dare."
Ling hesitated.
Just a fraction.
Then he leaned in again.
"Fuck you," Rhea muttered, breath ragged, not anger anymore, something rawer.
Before Ling could even close the distance,
The tent flap flew open.
"LING..."