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It’s been a week into his shiny new position as Medic Sergeant, and Jiyan is deeply missing his former position on the frontlines.
The luster of his new position had worn off quickly, all things considered, even though he’d quickly taken to the intricacies of leading and commanding. As a medic, he’s used to looking at things dispassionately when needed, and he’s been well-trained in collecting battlefield reports and formulating strategy. On paper, he’s every inch the promising young soldier.
In practice, though? It doesn’t seem that the message has made its way to the general himself, he thinks, unable to suppress a twinge of resentment.
The current source of his ire- General Geshu Lin himself- is currently seated at the head of the war table, the very picture of boredom as the various divisions of the army discuss their operations. The mood at the table is tense- scouts have picked up odd Resonance readings, and the Academy is suggesting that this could be the precursor to a new wave of Tacet Discord activity. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a matter of much concern, but the Outriders are bringing in reports of unnaturally strong TDs, too- ones that could potentially overwhelm the garrisons’ defences and incur heavy casualties to the soldiers on the ground.
Looking at the grim faces around the room, Jiyan can parse what everyone’s thinking- this is a sign that something big is about to happen.
Whether the army is prepared to handle it, however, is up to the man in front of him. The General stares dispassionately at the array of maps littering the war table, face impassive as usual.
But Jiyan has sharp eyes, and some experience with reading his tells. Geshu Lin’s eyes look tired, the lids heavy as though he hasn’t slept in days. And although he’s sprawled almost casually in his seat, chin resting on his hand, there’s a tension in his broad shoulders that makes Jiyan uneasy- that same coiled, pre-fight fierceness that he carries with him to the battlefield.
Before he can scrutinise him any further, though, Geshu Lin’s yellow eyes flick upwards to meet his own, and Jiyan hastily looks away. His status as the newest officer at the table makes him stand out as it is, and it wouldn’t do for the others to have a front seat to whatever the strange, unquantifiable thing going on between the two of them is.
He pushes that thought out of his mind as the General holds up a hand and says, “Chenli, what’s the status of your frontline soldiers stationed at Outpost Nine right now?”
Captain Chenli, commanding officer of the platoons at the front, frowns. “Holding the line for now, but the recent skirmishes along the roads have been a problem. TDs regenerate within days, but our men aren’t so lucky. Our medics have been doing their best to patch them up, but they still need time to heal, sir.”
“Jiyan?” Geshu Lin asks, not looking up. Jiyan startles, realising that he’s expected to chime in.
“-Yes. From what I recall, the medics stationed there are in Team Six, correct?” Chenli offers a single grunt in response.
“Right. I’ve been stationed in similar outposts, and considering the size of the outpost and the number of men there, it’s unlikely that the facilities there can allow for a high turnover of recovery. Not if the men are getting injured faster than they can heal.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that, Sergeant,” Chenli bites out, eyes narrowed.
“-But there’s talk of a new experimental facility in Jinzhou that could speed healing. I’ve seen it in action firsthand,” Jiyan says earnestly, directing his next words to Chenli. “It would make it easier for Medic Team Six to treat your men. And I’ve heard that it makes healing- easier, on the men too.”
Chenli’s shoulders sag almost imperceptibly, but the frown remains on his face. “Sure. But you are aware that Outpost Nine is a long way from Jinzhou, yes? You can’t seriously be suggesting that we spend manpower- which we don’t have, mind you- to cart injured men to the city?”
The slight against Jiyan’s abilities stings, but he grits his teeth and forges on.
“I wasn’t,” Jiyan says, pulling out his console and accessing the Academy’s equipment database. “The treatment happens in the facility, yes, but it doesn’t have to. The equipment needed has gone through multiple rounds of refining by the Academy, and it’s become relatively portable. If we can get a convoy to transport it, we can establish temporary medical facilities at the Misty Coast in the Desorock Highlands here.” He points to a spot on the map, an area he’s had an eye on for a while.
“This location is fairly accessible by road from Outposts Nine, Eight, and Ten, and we can establish a power line there. It’ll take several months of work, but in the long run it’ll be worth it. The more soldiers we can treat, and the better we can treat them, the faster they can return to the frontline.” And the fewer men we have to bury, Jiyan silently adds.
“You mentioned the Academy,” a warrant officer seated across from him interjects, though not unkindly. “You might not know this, but the army doesn’t often deal with them. Our last contact there stepped down a few months ago, so if it’s Academy equipment you want, it’ll take at least half a year to establish contact and make a deal. Your plan isn’t a bad one, Sergeant, but it’s not a wholly new one, either. We just haven’t had much time to spend on backline support. It hasn’t really been a priority.”
Jiyan can feel Geshu Lin’s eyes on him, now, intent. But his judgement isn’t the only thing he’ll have to face, Jiyan realizes.
Here, in a room of experienced soldiers and commanders, trust is currency, and as the newest, and youngest, person at the table, there isn’t much stock in his abilities. Not yet. Suddenly, he can feel the weight of the eyes upon him. The mantle of his position suddenly feels stifling. He pauses to gather his thoughts- if he falters now, nothing he says in the future will carry any weight.
Jiyan squares his shoulders and addresses everyone in the room. “I understand. But we can’t neglect the backline, either. I know everyone here has lost people in this war.” Memories flash, unbidden, through his head. Classmates he went to school with, fallen in TD attacks. Medics far more talented than himself, crumbling under the pressure of patching men up and sending them to their deaths in the field. He remembers the first time he’d returned from the battlefield with blood on his hands, and suppresses a shiver.
“We can’t prevent losses in war. But we should at least try, if we are to have any hope of holding out in the long run. Trust me on this. Please.”
He looks around the room. The weight of judgement seems to have lessened, somewhat. Chenli gives him a slight nod. Emboldened, Jiyan takes the opportunity to continue.
“I have a contact in the Academy who would be willing to engage with us. His name is Mortefi, and we’ve been privately discussing the new medical facility for a while. As the one responsible for developing the equipment, he’ll give us a good deal. And I’ve looked at the funding- there’s room in the budget for it,” he presses.
Chenli speaks up. “I’d support this plan, General,” he says, folding his arms. “I’m willing to dispatch some of my men to facilitate the facility’s construction.”
Jiyan shoots him a thankful smile before turning to Geshu Lin. “There you have it, sir. We can get it done once you give the go-ahead.”
He tries to suppress the excitement he feels, but the spark of hope, hope that his new position might actually lead to some positive impact in this endless war, is hard to contain.
The General’s expression remains impassive. At some point during the conversation, he’s returned his gaze to the maps on the table. Jiyan may know Geshu Lin slightly better than most, but when he’s in one of his moods, it’s near impossible to guess what he’s thinking.
Still, Jiyan fixes him with an imploring stare. The tension in the war room builds- they all look intently on, waiting for the General’s verdict.
“No,” Geshu Lin says, without even looking up from his maps.
What?
Jiyan is distantly aware of the other commanders and officers casting sympathetic glances at him, but it all seems very far away. “Why?”
“What’s next on the agenda?” Geshu Lin says, drawing another map towards him, and Jiyan sees red. Blood roars in his ears.
“Why?” he demands, standing up so abruptly his chair screeches on the tiles. “You send our men to war so easily- do you not care at all about them returning home from it?”
The war room falls silent. As the General slowly raises his head to fix him with his piercing stare, Jiyan is acutely aware that he’s crossed a line.
“I wasn’t aware,” Geshu Lin says, voice deadly soft, “that I needed to explain myself to you, Medic Sergeant.”
Jiyan’s spine prickles. Every instinct tells him that he’s overstepped. He thinks this is what a Tacet Discord might feel, right before a greatsword cleaves them in two and they’re burnt to ash by black flames.
He grits his teeth anyway. “You don’t, sir. But for the sake of the men we’ll be dooming, I would have an explanation nonetheless.”
If the room was silent before, you could practically hear a pin drop, now. Geshu Lin straightens his posture, looking every inch the feared general. Jiyan distantly wonders if he’ll be the shortest- serving officer in the history of the Midnight Rangers.
“I said, stand down.” Geshu Lin hisses.
Against all sense, Jiyan takes a breath to say something- he isn’t sure what- but a sharp pain stabs into his side. Chenli, sitting next to him, stares into the middle distance, face impassive, but under the table he withdraws the elbow he’d jabbed unceremoniously into Jiyan’s side. The message- shut up, you idiot- is clear.
Jiyan holds Geshu Lin’s burning gaze for a moment longer, then swallows and looks down. An unpleasant heat crawls up from his collar, and he feels his eyes sting.
As always, Geshu Lin gets the final say. As always, Jiyan is powerless to do otherwise.
The rest of the meeting passes. Jiyan, sitting numbly, isn’t called to speak again.
—————————————————————————————————————
“Meeting adjourned,” the General says, finally, and everyone gets up to leave in a hurry. Jiyan rises, about to do the same, but stops in his tracks as the General says, “Medic Sergeant, I would have a word with you.”
As they wait for the rest of the war room to file out, Chenli casting him a concerned look, Jiyan can’t find it in himself to look Geshu Lin in the eyes. Unconsciously, he lapses into parade rest, his arms locked into place behind him, head bowed as he waits for the proverbial blade to fall.
Unfortunately, doom is slow to arrive. Geshu Lin strides out of the room, and as usual, he doesn’t even bother to issue a command, secure in his expectation that Jiyan will follow.
As usual, Jiyan follows him anyway.
They make their way to the General’s office, Jiyan gnawing with self-loathing with every step. Geshu Lin’s office, much like the man himself, is sparse, unsparing, and dedicated to nothing other than the pursuit of war. Geshu Lin strides to his desk, a huge metal thing likely pulled from some midcentury storehouse somewhere, retrieves a stack of paperwork, and begins filling forms, the scratch of his pen vicious as he jabs it into the paper.
He doesn’t offer Jiyan a chair- and besides- there isn’t another one in the room- and so Jiyan stands, fists clenched at his sides, anger bubbling in his chest. He’s never had much patience for the General’s antics, even as a medic attending to his wounds back in the early days. But after the whole fiasco back in the war room? Making him wait for his own punishment is pointlessly cruel, and Jiyan doesn’t know why he ever expected anything else from the man.
“If you’re planning to send me back to Jinzhou, just do it already,” he snaps when he can’t take it anymore.
Geshu Lin, infuriatingly, takes a moment to stop attacking his paperwork before looking at him. “You went against my orders.”
“What orders?” Jiyan snarls. “I don’t remember you ordering me to be your mindless crony when you appointed me to this position.”
“I didn’t think it needed to be said,” Geshu Lin says acerbically.
Jiyan sputters with rage. The unpleasant burn of humiliation is back, crawling up his neck. His eyes sting, and if he wasn’t so angry, he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from letting the tears fall.
“What, screwing me for the past year wasn’t enough, you had to screw with my life too? Was that why you raised me to Sergeant? Yes sir, no sir, let me just bend over for you, sir-“
“Enough,” says Geshu Lin, standing and reaching out a hand to grip him by the jaw, thumb digging painfully into the hinge. As always, his grasp is punishing, but despite himself some horrible part of Jiyan finds it comforting. He bristles once more but falls silent, still fighting angry tears.
“You,” Geshu Lin says, eyes narrowed, “Are being a brat.”
It’s hard for Jiyan to speak in this position, but he tries anyway. “I was trying to save lives,” he hisses through his teeth. “I’m sorry if you don’t see your men as a priority. And I’m sorry that I tried to do my job.”
Geshu Lin’s eyes flash dangerously. He isn’t that much taller than Jiyan, but he manages to loom threateningly nonetheless. The pressure on his jaw intensifies, and Jiyan shamefully registers the hot flush of arousal that washes over him and leaves him dizzy. “Right now, your job is to kneel.”
So this is why he brought me from the frontlines, Jiyan thinks. His mind is a mess right now- humiliation, arousal, and the hurt from his injured pride whirl around in his thoughts. What did you expect would happen when you started sleeping with him?
Perhaps all the praise from others- how gifted you are, what a talented doctor you are, surely you can make a difference on the frontlines- had gone to his head.
He stares into Geshu Lin’s eyes- so similar yet so different from his own- and swallows down the tattered remains of his pride. If this is what I’m here for, I might as well give him hell for it.
The kiss he yanks the General into feels like bitter ashes in his mouth, and the taste remains as he sinks to his knees.
—————————————————————————————————————
“You are,” Jiyan says fervently, “the most sadistic, cruel, black-hearted son of a bitch I’ve ever known.”
It comes out a bit garbled, on account of having several inches of cock down his throat, but Geshu Lin seems to understand nevertheless, because he chuckles above him and pulls his hair just the way he likes it, and Jiyan has to stifle a whimper.
The sound of his pen scratching resumes shortly after, and as Jiyan kneels underneath his ugly desk and mouths wetly at his cock, Geshu Lin murmurs, “I could get you court-martialed for that.”
He pulls off his cock with a wet pop and mutters back, “There are names we call people who sleep their way up the ladder. But there are names we call the people who promote them, too.”
Geshu Lin flicks a glance his way, derisive. “Do you really think that bothers me?”
“Not everyone is like you, General,” Jiyan says viciously, and tongues at the sensitive head of his cock. The muffled curse above him as Geshu Lin jolts in his seat feels like vindication. It’s a small thing, but Jiyan always has to take what he can get when it comes to him.
The next tug at his hair is sharp. “Behave,” Geshu Lin warns.
Make me, Jiyan thinks, but settles in place. He hates to admit it, but on some level, this bizarre game they play soothes him.
The list of problems he has with Geshu Lin is a mile long, but there’s a reason why he stays and why he keeps coming back. Strictly speaking, there is no concrete reason why Jiyan has to stay at the General’s side. As much of a bastard the other man is, even he wouldn’t reject a request for Jiyan to be transferred elsewhere, if Jiyan himself wanted.
Maybe it’s because this is the only time Jiyan gets to bite back against all the crap he gets put through on a daily basis. Maybe it’s because he still wants to measure up to the famed General’s expectations, no matter how infuriating and mercurial the real person behind the title is. Maybe it’s because, as Jiyan himself said, a man like Geshu Lin is hard to find, for better and for worse.
Time passes- how long, Jiyan cannot say. Geshu Lin scratches away above him at his paperwork, and the sound lulls him into a strange sense of peace.
The burn of resentment still simmers in his gut, but as he kneels in quiescence, the velvety weight of his General’s cock warm against his tongue, the problems crowding his mind somehow seem far away. Jiyan feels shivery and inexplicably calm, somehow both content to stay in place, even though his knees are sore, and also like he’ll shake apart with the slightest touch.
Though the tiles of the office floor are cold, being nestled in the fork of Geshu Lin’s thighs is warm. He leans bonelessly against the sturdy weight of his left leg and nuzzles into his General’s pelvis, smearing precum across his jaw and feeling the scratch of the neatly trimmed thatch of hair above his cock.
The hand in his hair gentles, petting at it absently, working out a few knots, and the gravelly baritone of Geshu Lin’s voice mutters words that might be praise, if Jiyan can bring himself to pretend for long enough.
The calm is shattered by the sound of the office door opening. Jiyan jolts back to lucidity, and the hand petting his hair twitches and withdraws.
With the return of his faculties, panic sets in. There is someone else in the room. There is someone else in the room, who presumably has no idea that the newest appointed Medic Sergeant is crammed under the table, with the General’s cock down his throat.
He freezes in place, barely breathing. His mind races, assessing the danger. Fortunately, the desk he’s under has a solid panel shielding Geshu Lin’s lower half- and Jiyan by extension- from view. As long as he doesn’t make a sound, the visitor should be none the wiser.
“Sir,” the visitor says, snapping a salute from the sound of things. “The latest batch of reports from the field.”
“Good,” Geshu Lin says. “Leave them here.”
The visitor steps closer and thunks a folder of reports onto the table above Jiyan, who feels his spine stiffen more with each step closer.
Suddenly, the hand in his hair is back, pulling at it in warning. Jiyan barely has time to wonder what the warning might be for, because the thrice-damned man whose cock is currently occupying Jiyan’s mouth rolls his hips and pushes it slowly into his throat.
You absolute bastard, Jiyan thinks furiously up at him, concentrating all his energy into not moving a muscle or making a sound. Don’t you fucking dare.
“Actually,” Geshu Lin says, and Jiyan hates how he can practically see the self-satisfied smirk on his face, “As you can see, I’m busy with paperwork now. Read the report out to me.”
Jiyan digs his nails into Geshu Lin’s thigh, but to no avail. He vaguely contemplates just standing up and making a run for it right then and there. Surely Jue, and all the Sentinels in existence, cannot blame him for that. If Geshu Lin somehow gets court-martialed and expelled from the army for inappropriate behaviour, and the Tacet Discords overrun Jinzhou and wipe the city from the map, no god in Heaven could say that it had been Jiyan’s fault.
He also belatedly realizes that he’s somehow, horrifyingly, hard as a rock inside his pants.
“Yes, sir,” the visitor says, sounding a bit confused. “So, report number one, from Outpost Five-“
Jiyan wants to scream.
The hand in his hair tugs at it, and tears bead in his eyes as Geshu Lin sheathes his cock all the way into Jiyan’s pliant throat, leaving it for a few seconds before drawing it out again. Jiyan gasps silently for breath through his nose, praying to all the Sentinels in the known world that it doesn’t make a sound as his General slowly fucks his face.
In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Every minute that passes feels like an eternity.
He must look like a mess, he thinks weakly- face flushed, eyes watery, lips rubbed raw and his jaw protesting with every slow thrust. To his dismay, none of it seems to have an effect on Geshu Lin- the man continues writing, making the occasional noise of assent as the visitor drones his way through the series of reports.
He can’t take it any longer- Jiyan stifles a whimper as he fumbles in the dark, taking himself in hand and delivering a series of short, brutal jerks. It’s not nearly enough. The frustration builds, and his breathing turns erratic as his shoulders shake. Through the film of tears, he distantly registers Geshu Lin shifting in his seat- then his boot nudges against his erection where it strains against the confines of his pants. Jiyan wars with the remains of his pride for a moment.
Damn it all to hell, he thinks, letting his hips rut erratically against the insistent pressure of Geshu Lin’s boot.
Above, he can hear a soft sound that might be a laugh. He closes his eyes, shivering, praying for the visitor to leave. Please, he thinks desperately. Please, just finish your damn report and leave already.
Judging from the way Geshu Lin’s hips are starting to stutter, he’s had enough, too. “That’ll be all,” he says, voice just a hint uneven. “Dismissed.”
The visitor- who, miraculously, seems to have missed everything going on under the table- sketches a bow and makes his way out of the office. Once the heavy slam of the door closing echoes through the room, Jiyan barely has a moment to sob in relief when Geshu Lin pushes his chair back, the metal legs screeching across the tile. He registers a calloused thumb smoothing across his cheek, swiping the tears running down his face away.
Above him, Geshu Lin exhales a shaky breath. “Nod twice if you’re okay to continue,” he orders, voice rough.
Jiyan glares up at him, eyes wet, catching his breath. He’s so close. Shakily, he nods, once, then twice.
“Good,” Geshu Lin says, and then he grabs Jiyan and proceeds to fuck his face in earnest.
It’s all he can do to keep his teeth out of the way, but Geshu Lin doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He uses Jiyan in a way that barely allows him room to breathe, that sends shameful shivers of delight up his spine as his General slams his hips into his mouth, and Jiyan whines and drools open-mouthed all over his cock.
“Good boy,” Geshu Lin pants, and spills right into Jiyan’s mouth. The bitter taste of cum floods into Jiyan’s throat, and he coughs weakly, the muscles of his throat working to swallow it down.
Jiyan, eyes fluttering, barely registers the praise before Geshu Lin pulls him into his lap as though he weighs no more than a feather.
He nips at Jiyan’s ear as he reaches down and grasps his own neglected cock. A few brutal jerks, and Jiyan sobs brokenly as he comes harder than he’s ever done in his life.
He collapses against Geshu Lin bonelessly, too tired to even think.
They stay like that for a while and catch their breath. Eventually, Jiyan swallows a few times, testing his voice. He’s not entirely certain he’ll be able to speak tomorrow, but he directs all the venom he can muster at Geshu Lin.
“If a Tacet Discord doesn’t kill you,” Jiyan rasps, fist clenching into his collar, “I will.”
Geshu Lin, the infuriating man that he is, only huffs out a laugh and noses into his hair.
——————————————————————————————————
Later, after they disentangle themselves, Jiyan attempts to make himself presentable enough to leave the office.
Geshu Lin lounges in his chair, watching him. His expression is shuttering yet again, becoming inscrutable, and Jiyan swallows down his pride once more.
“I guess I’m removed from my position then,” he says. There’s no point in beating around the bush with him- there never is.
Geshu Lin stares at him for a long moment, then sighs. “No.”
“No?”
“Jiyan.”
Jiyan watches apprehensively, rooted in place. Geshu Lin rarely uses his name in private.
“I should not have to tell you that I do not tolerate insubordination,” Geshu Lin says. His tone brooks no discussion. “Especially not in front of other officers. If you ever want to take my place in the future, you should understand this.”
The breath catches in Jiyan’s throat. “Who said anything about taking your place?”
Geshu Lin snorts. Jiyan watches him wide-eyed. “If you really thought you got promoted onto the war council simply because you can take a cock, I must have fucked the brains out of you a long time ago.”
Jiyan only stares at him, speechless. Geshu Lin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continues. “I’ll only say this once. You have good ideas, but you care too much. You don’t have what it takes to get the army past this current situation.”
That snaps his mind back into focus. “What situation? The reports said the Tacet Discords were getting more active, but from what you’re saying-”
“An unprecedented disaster,” Geshu Lin says, voice clipped. “Even the Academy is unsure of its scale. If we don’t muster our forces towards offense, none of us will make it past the next few months. Do you understand?”
For a moment, the enormity of the situation threatens to eclipse him. For all his many faults, Jiyan has never known the General to falter in the face of the Lament. To hear the situation spelled out like this, in such stark terms, makes most of the righteous anger evaporate right out of his chest, replaced by dull acceptance.
It’s not fair, he thinks. It’s bad enough that he’s tasked with patching men up and sending them out to die. Is he not even allowed any say in his own feelings?
But deep down, he knows the answer. Despite their differences, he and Geshu Lin have always seen eye-to-eye on a single issue- Jinzhou comes first. Underneath it all, their duty to the country will allow for nothing less.
He presses his lips together and swallows. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes. Fine. Do whatever it is you need to do. Send every man I’ve met in the past five years to their deaths if it pleases you.” His voice sounds flat, foreign to his own ears. “I’ll fall in line. Is that all?”
Geshu Lin watches him, expression unreadable. Jiyan stares back, helplessly. Up close, he can see every scar he’s stitched up over time, both in the other man’s body and his soul.
If Geshu Lin is right about the incoming calamity, and if he really is preparing Jiyan to be next in line, that means that he’ll accrue those scars too, eventually.
“Do you trust me?” Geshu Lin asks finally.
It’s a question uncharacteristic of him. Since when has he ever cared about trust, when he can just order somebody to fall in line regardless?
Perhaps the two of them are more alike than they seem, Jiyan realizes.
“You already know the answer,” he says.
“Good.” Geshu Lin says, taking a deep breath. “Good.”
Then he waves Jiyan off, now solidly back in his role as General. “Now go.”
And Jiyan, heart in his throat, goes.