Work Text:
Shen Qingqiu sighs deeply as he sets down a cup of tea, mulling over his current predicament.
Just yesterday, Luo Binghe had shyly offered to let Shen Qingqiu fuck him.
Shen Qingqiu had sputtered and declined at the sheer BSOD-inducing panic of topping the protagonist. For all the leverage he still holds over Luo Binghe for their disastrous first time in the cave and their unimaginably sloppy follow-up sessions, he would never have admitted to his disciple’s face that the very prospect, while appealing, terrifies Shen Qingqiu.
He winces in recollection, thinking of when Luo Binghe had first taken him, and all the sex they’ve had since then. An eager, natural talent, Luo Binghe has gotten significantly better at kissing and touching him in the following months—clearly the base upon which the original goods had built up his all too formidable skill tree in successfully wooing nearly three thousand women to join his harem—but this reformed blackened lotus Luo Binghe had none of the pacing and experience of the original goods.
It still shows in their mutually virginal fumblings, in the way their limbs still keep tangling in all the wrong places, but most of all, Shen Qingqiu feels it the most in his roughly plundered ass!
How could he destroy the protagonist’s ass in a similar fashion? Actually, yes, would he even be able to in the first place? Shen Qingqiu is familiar with this body by now, and he knows very well that his own cock would not hold a candle against his husband’s ridiculous sky pillar. He’s not… small, not by any means, and heaven forbid anyone in Qing Jing Peak even imply such a thing in his presence, but.
Furrowing his brows, Shen Qingqiu continues his own self-analysis, pouring himself yet another cup and wishing desperately that it were wine, but it’s too early for that and he has Appearances to Keep. Closing his eyes, he takes another sip.
What if he hurts Binghe? Even with a generous amount of unguent, he doesn’t know if his disciple with his trembling lips and white lotus tears can take it; it’s entirely different from a slash wound or a burn from demonic fire on your body. He’s so terribly fond of his husband, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself causing Luo Binghe pain. He thinks he can understand a little, now, why Luo Binghe feels insecure and worried about how he pleasures Shen Qingqiu. And he’s the protagonist!
Honestly, Shen Qingqiu thought that after the first mention, that would be the end of that. He does know how much Luo Binghe enjoys pinning him down and fucking him, sliding into Shen Qingqiu a little too rough, too soon, panting into his neck.
But would Luo Binghe actually enjoy that being done to him? For Shen Qingqiu to open him up, drizzle oil over his cock and hole, crooning to his nervous disciple before he lines himself up to slowly push inside Luo Binghe? His husband would have tears pricking at the corner of his hooded eyes, darkened with desire, clenching his legs around Shen Qingqiu’s waist, and—
Shen Qingqiu looks down.
His cock is hard, tenting mockingly against his robes.
Tutting out loud in mortification, Shen Qingqiu stands up and makes to go for a cold bath. Is he still a teenager, that such things would still incite such reactions in him?!
No matter. However tempting the idea, it’s simply not done to… top the protagonist. Maybe the world would crumble or something. This must be some kind of test. Yes. A divine test.
Shen Yuan, now Shen Qingqiu, esteemed elder of Qing Jing Peak, will not succumb to such trickery.
Shen Qingqiu does, however, touch himself in the bath, coming so hard he sees stars while imagining Luo Binghe riding his cock.
Fuck.
Shen Qingqiu thinks that after the day of the Offer, that’d be the last he hears of it.
Which is why it surprises him a few weeks later when Luo Binghe begins his… campaign.
It starts one morning, with Luo Binghe lovingly combing Shen Qingqiu’s hair. The picture of the dutiful husband, he presses a kiss to the strands gathered in his palm before casually mentioning, “Has Shizun thought about this humble disciple’s suggestion further?”
“Which suggestion?” Shen Qingqiu replies, equally casually, as though he hadn’t been thinking about it every other night since Luo Binghe first brought it up.
Luo Binghe opens his palm and tilts it to the side, letting Shen Qingqiu’s hair fall through his fingers before he leans in, his breath tickling the back of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. He’s so close that Shen Qingqiu can hear it when Luo Binghe parts his lips with a soft, wet sound.
“Shizun taking me,” Luo Binghe whispers, wrapping his arms around Shen Qingqiu. “Shizun inside of me.”
Shen Qingqiu feels a hot flush rapidly spread from his chest to the tips of his ears.
His errant disciple and husband slides a hand inside the robes he’d just put on, as though they didn’t have a whole day of training and affairs at Qing Jing Peak to see to. “This husband has thought about it,” Luo Binghe says huskily into Shen Qingqiu’s ear, and at that moment, Shen Qingqiu is reminded very strongly of how despite being an immortal cultivator, he is only human and helpless in the face of such attacks from that devastating, attractive protagonist aura, especially with this passive +15 buff to sex appeal. “Dreamt about it. Ever since this disciple slept next to Shizun’s room, all those years ago—”
An opening!
“Shameless!” Shen Qingqiu slides out of the cage of his husband’s arms and away from the bed, whipping out his fan and tapping it soundly against Luo Binghe’s forehead. “To have been fantasising about your master in your youth, when you should have been focusing on your rest and cultivation!”
Luo Binghe blinks owlishly for a moment. “Shizun—”
Shen Qingqiu quickly drags on his remaining outer robes and snatches a hairpin, nearly tripping over himself on the way out. “Reflect!” He shouts back at his bewildered husband. “Reflect on your actions!”
And then he flees.
After that little episode, Shen Qingqiu formulates a plan to distract Luo Binghe for the next time they make love. He’s not… avoiding the topic, exactly, but—he’s not ready to—argh!
An image of Luo Binghe writhing beneath him, eyes shut in pleasure, suddenly assaults Shen Qingqiu’s senses, and he has to reach out a shaking hand to drink some water. If this goes on, he may very well go into Qi deviation.
“Husband, I’ve returned.”
Luo Binghe enters their bedchamber after a bath, shrugging off his clothes to join his husband on the bed. Before he can say anything, Shen Qingqiu launches his attack—he pulls Luo Binghe down by his hair, covering his mouth with his own.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe mumbles into the kiss, his eyes going wide before he stumbles and falls onto the bed. “What—”
Shen Qingqiu knows his current expression must be all kinds of manic, which is why he’d taken the precautions of dimming the other lamps in the room to only allow for a few small candles on the table. It has the added benefit of making the room look romantic, too.
He hushes Luo Binghe with a smile, pressing a finger onto those kiss-reddened lips. “Tonight, leave it to me,” he says, before reaching down between them to palm at his husband’s monster cock. He’s hyperaware of where he’s dripping from between his legs, having oiled himself earlier in the evening for the night’s agenda. “I’m going to take good care of my Binghe.”
“Tonight, Shizun, I thought we could…” Luo Binghe starts, but his voice melts away into a groan as Shen Qingqiu hastily swallows him down, fist tightening around the base of his cock. “Oh, your mouth, Shizun, it’s—”
Good Binghe, Shen Qingqiu thinks, laving at the head and giving Luo Binghe the Look from beneath his lashes, the one that he knows drives his husband absolutely crazy with lust. It works immediately, that little Pavlovian trick; Luo Binghe lets out a shaky breath, fisting his hand in Shen Qingqiu’s hair, pushing him down onto his already hardening heavenly pillar. Good Binghe, that’s it, don’t think about your useless master’s irrational fear of topping a protagonist, just think about how good your cock feels in your Shizun’s mouth. There’s a good boy.
Luo Binghe returns the favour after a fashion, turning around and bracketing Shen Qingqiu’s body to suck his Shizun dry while Shen Qingqiu continues what he’s doing. He manages to make Luo Binghe come only once—damn that stallion protagonist stamina!—before pushing Luo Binghe down onto the bed and straddling him, letting his husband’s cock slide inside him in one smooth, stinging movement. He shuts his eyes at the burn; it still takes time, so much time, in order to take that outrageous thing inside him, but when he’s oiled up properly, the swell of that pillar inside him eases from pain to a kind of pleasure that he’s slowly getting used to.
(Shen Qingqiu steadfastly ignores that this is exactly the position he had imagined Luo Binghe in when he’d touched himself, spearing himself open on Shen Qingqiu’s cock as he called out for his Shizun to fuck him harder—down that road lay madness.)
The look on Luo Binghe’s face is worth it when he realises just how wet and open his Shizun is for him, inviting him in. He flips them over to pound deeper inside Shen Qingqiu, biting down the side of his neck while murmuring how beautiful his Shizun is, how wonderful, he’s such a lucky disciple, he isn’t worthy, and would Shizun please do this to him next time so he could know how it feels—
Wait.
Hold the fuck up, did Luo Binghe just—
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe whines softly against his ear, snapping his hips. It’s still painful, still too rough, but Luo Binghe is slowly getting used to their rhythms and is getting better and better at finding sweet spots inside Shen Qingqiu he hadn’t even known existed. “Do you know just how much this disciple desires you? I want to feel you inside me, Shizun, to feel what Shizun feels when I’m pleasuring you like this—”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit! He’s been had. Shen Qingqiu’s ears grow hot, but he can’t run away again, not like this with Luo Binghe buried deep inside him. All he can do is swallow thickly, his nails digging into Luo Binghe’s back as his incorrigible husband continues to spout filthy things into his ear. He can’t meet Luo Binghe’s eyes, so he fixes his gaze on an especially unassuming vase in the corner of the room.
“I want to feel your gentle fingers touching me,” Luo Binghe gasps, pulling out slightly before slamming back inside Shen Qingqiu, who has to grip their bed’s wooden frame for purchase. “Fingering me. Spreading my legs. Before Shizun puts his cock inside this worthless disciple, whose body is only fit to be used for Shizun’s pleasure—”
“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu’s breath stutters as Luo Binghe wraps his fingers around his dribbling cock, thumbing sloppily at the head before fisting him. “You—”
“Look at me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, cupping his cheek and turning his gaze away from the boring vase. Shen Qingqiu shakily obliges; the fire that he sees in Luo Binghe’s star-dark eyes nearly consumes him in their intensity.
His long, messy hair falling down into Shen Qingqiu’s face, Luo Binghe pins one of his arms above his head, hoisting Shen Qingqiu’s legs over his shoulders so that he’s nearly bending him in half. “Shizun could do this with me,” he murmurs thickly, rolling his hips in that position for emphasis. “I’m quite flexible. This lowly disciple, this husband is yours to ruin as you please.”
The mouth on this Luo Binghe! Where had Shen Qingqiu gone wrong with raising a snow-white lotus? Where did his once-innocent disciple learn how to say all these things? Who amongst the other disciples had corrupted Luo Binghe in his youth? Who!?
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, mouth hot on Shen Qingqiu’s ear. “I want to feel you come inside me.”
That’s what unravels Shen Qingqiu, in the end—he lets out a raw, guttural cry, clenching hard around Luo Binghe as his orgasm seizes him, trembling while the hand on his cock strips him rough and fast through it. The shock of it makes him dig and drag his nails down Luo Binghe’s back, probably hard enough to draw blood, from the sudden hiss that he elicits from his husband.
“Ah, ah, fuck, Binghe. Binghe—!”
A thumb sweeps over his lips before Luo Binghe pulls him close by his hair, kissing him deeply and swallowing his moans as he jerks and shudders in his husband’s arms.
In a daze, Shen Qingqiu rolls off his stallion protagonist husband’s body and onto his side of the bed, where there are the most cushions. Feeling thoroughly wrung out like one of Luo Binghe’s wash rags after a particularly obsessive bout of cleaning, his eyelids grow heavier by the second, his fucked out exhaustion washing over him.
“Shizun doesn’t seem opposed to the idea.” It’s not a question, so Shen Qingqiu pretends that he doesn’t have to dignify that with an answer. Luo Binghe nuzzles at him, lips chasing the sweat that trickles down the dip of his collarbones, kissing up to his oversensitised shoulders while a broad palm rests on Shen Qingqiu’s hip. “But you avoid me when I ask. Why’s that?”
“...Stop talking,” Shen Qingqiu orders without much heat, flushing when he hears a disbelieving, muffled laugh in the crook of his neck.
“Oh, I see.”
Shen QIngqiu doesn’t like the sound of that.
“Shizun is shy.”
“I most certainly am not—”
“No?” Luo Binghe pulls himself up so he’s right in front of Shen Qingqiu’s flaming face. He places the back of his hand softly against the warm curve of Shen Qingqiu’s cheek, lips curving into a knowing grin. This brat! “Then, you’d be willing to try it with this husband?”
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says incredulously, sleepily tucking some loose strands of hair behind Luo Binghe’s ear. “What’s gotten into you…”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” Fingers tighten around Shen Qingqiu’s thigh while Luo Binghe pitches his voice low, honey-sweet and seductive. “When this disciple was younger, Shizun haunted my spring dreams. Sometimes I had Shizun gasping underneath me, and other times, this disciple pleasured Shizun with his mouth before I coaxed Shizun to fuck me.”
Shen Qingqiu has to look away again, Luo Binghe’s impossibly filthy words burning his ears. His body is entirely spent, he knows this, but his cock is stirring with interest at the imagery that Luo Binghe is oh so helpfully supplying. “This master would never have taken advantage of you like that.”
He’s being honest; the little white lotus had been altogether way too young and sweetly adorable at the time for Shen Qingqiu to have had any wayward thoughts towards him. Well, that, and Shen Qingqiu had been a lot more focused on not wanting to end up a human stick.
“I didn’t even know my disciple had such improper intentions. Did this master not raise you well?”
In an instant, Luo Binghe changes gears and adopts the most forlorn expression, eyes beginning to glisten with emotion as he slowly strokes Shen Qingqiu’s back. Shen Qingqiu is very much aware of how much of an act it is by his unrepentant husband, but it never fails to land a critical hit on him anyway.
“Of course Shizun raised your Binghe well. The fault lies with this disciple who could not resist the temptations of the flesh, when my future husband captivated me so with his every word and laugh.”
Slightly mollified, Shen Qingqiu can only huff. “Incorrigible.” Then, he narrows his eyes at Luo Binghe, though his smile is teasing. “This master should’ve punished you for your impure thoughts.”
Luo Binghe beams in return, mouth curving coy. “This disciple will gladly accept any punishment that Shizun has in mind, particularly if it involves being on top of Shizun, under Shizun, or maybe even over Shizun’s lap.”
Shen Qingqiu snorts, despite himself. “See? Incorrigible.”
“Is that a yes then, Shizun?” Luo Binghe says, relentless, leaning in to kiss at the edge of Shen Qingqiu’s wet, come-stained mouth. “You'll indulge your husband by fucking him?"
Shen Qingqiu sighs. Nothing for it, then. “I’m not opposed to the idea,” he agrees tentatively. “But, Binghe, I remember how it felt like when we did it the first few times.” The searing agony, the blood—Shen Qingqiu did not regret saving Luo Binghe the way he did, but it had taken weeks before he stopped flinching every time the thought of taking Luo Binghe inside him again crossed his mind. “I don’t… know how to do it. I’ve not done it before. What if I hurt you? I don’t want you to go through that.”
The expression on his husband’s face contorts with guilt, and that only makes him feel worse.
“Shizun, I—it was this useless disciple who hurt you.” Luo Binghe rests his forehead gently against Shen Qingqiu’s. “That will never happen again, not while I breathe. I would sooner cut off my own arm than—”
“Stop, stop, stop,” Shen Qingqiu says hastily, quickly muffling Luo Binghe with his palm. “Husband. I know you won’t. It’s just…” He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt Luo Binghe anymore than he already has. His heart aching, he cups Luo Binghe’s face. “You’ve been through enough, haven’t you? Because of me.”
The bullying of Luo Binghe by other disciples that the original goods had sanctioned, the unnecessarily harsh training, and the betrayal and abandonment that had left Luo Binghe’s sanity fraying in the demonic realm for years—Shen Qingqiu is painfully aware of every single time he’d carved a bleeding notch into Luo Binghe’s heart by his own hand, and intends to make it up to him for the rest of their lives.
He will never leave Luo Binghe alone ever again.
“Shizun.” Long fingers lace between his own. “I’ve put you through a great deal, too. We’ve been through this—stop blaming only yourself. We decided to make things right together, didn’t we? I chose you…” He brings Shen Qingqiu’s knuckles up to his lips. “And you chose me.”
“Mm.” What a sweet talker his husband is. “That we did.”
“Does this husband still hurt Shizun when we sleep together?” Luo Binghe says, playing with Shen Qingqiu’s fingers.
“...No,” Shen Qingqiu admits. “It takes some time—”
No thanks to you, Airplane bro! Fuck you very much, I hope you are suffering just as I am with Mobei Jun’s equally demonic dick!
“—and some getting used to, but no. Binghe has gotten much better at learning how to please this husband.”
The glowy sheen that coats Luo Binghe’s face… if he had a tail, it would be wagging. “Then, is Shizun satisfied with how Binghe pleasures you?”
“Now you’re just fishing,” Shen Qingqiu complains, feeling heat rise to his face again. His shameless disciple sure loves getting a reaction out of him, one way or another.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe presses.
“Fine. Yes. Yes, it feels good. Binghe takes good care of me.”
“This husband tries his best.” Luo Binghe nudges Shen Qingqiu’s chin up with his fingers, before pecking him on his lips. “Because my beloved deserves only the best.”
Shen Qingqiu laughs. “My Binghe is so silly.”
“Yours,” Luo Binghe agrees, before pulling Shen Qingqiu close. “Is that what Shizun was worried about? Hurting me.”
“Mmhmm.” God, it feels good getting all that off his chest, but. Protagonist or not, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think the halo would extend its effects to protect Luo Binghe’s asshole—even if his own, ahem, pillar pales in size compared to his husband’s, he’s not exactly small. He yawns, wriggling closer to his husband, feeling sleep begin to overtake him at last as he closes his eyes. “Like I said, I haven’t done it before, so…”
“I have.”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve prepared Shizun for our nights together, after all,” Luo Binghe murmurs into Shen Qingqiu’s hair, stroking his back. “And I’ve fingered myself before, thinking of you.”
“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu mumbles drowsily, snuggling into Luo Binghe’s shoulder. Several seconds pass by before the weight of that last statement crashes into him like a car that braked too late at a junction. “Wait, what…?”
“I could show you.”
What could his scheming husband even mean by that? Is that a smirk he hears in Luo Binghe’s voice!?
“Binghe, you—”
“Sleep, my love,” comes the innocent reply. “You’ll see.”
Sure enough, when Shen Qingqiu comes to, he’s in the middle of a bamboo grove on an unfamiliar bed, vast and wide and strewn with all manner of soft blankets and cushions in varying shades of gold and jade. Just the way Shen Qingqiu likes them—his husband knows him too well.
He touches the frame, marvelling at the texture of the hardwood and the sheen of the mother of pearl. The light sound of water from a nearby brook, the winds caressing the bamboo leaves around him... Luo Binghe is truly the master of his dream realm, now. It’s nearly indistinguishable from the real world, if not for the slowly pulsing colours in the expanse of night sky stretched out above him.
Sitting up, Shen Qingqiu takes it all in, chuckling when he sees a long table set up next to the bed. There are freshly plucked blossoms in a basket, some soft rice cakes, and of course, small boxes and vials of unguent and scented oils. They’re the closest to the bed, too. Perverted disciple. Had he expected anything less?
"Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu calls, shaking his head and pulling his green sleeping robes tighter around him in the breeze. “I know you're there. Come out. You've already worn this master out earlier—do you not have it in you to show me mercy? Would you deny your poor husband rest even after such a strenuous night?"
Luo Binghe steps out from behind him, the sleeves of his loose, dark robe swishing about. “Don’t be like that, Shizun,” he soothes, sounding like he’s placating a young, offended concubine. “Our bodies are resting now as we speak, aren’t they? I thought you might feel more comfortable in a dream, to start.”
“Hmph.” Shen Qingqiu turns away, snapping out a dream-fan from inside his robes to hide his face. He’s terribly prone to blushing these days, what with Luo Binghe becoming more and more brazen with every touch and every kiss, even going so far as to caress his waist in front of others. “More comfortable for… what, exactly?” Ha, as if Shen Qingqiu didn’t know.
Luo Binghe smiles, his dark eyes twinkling, sitting on the other end of the couch bed with his hands in his lap. He would be the very picture of propriety if not for the one flimsy robe he has on, exposing a deep V where Shen Qingqiu can see the mouthwatering lines of his neck and chest. Fucking OP protagonist-level attractiveness. “I promised I’d show Shizun...”
The end of the sentence fades off suggestively. Luo Binghe says nothing further, but he doesn’t need to, really—Shen Qingqiu remembers, after all.
“And I’ve fingered myself before, thinking of you.”
The weather in the dream realm tonight might be cooling, like the first week of spring, but Shen Qingqiu suddenly finds himself feeling very warm indeed under all his robes.
“Binghe,” is all he manages to say, a lump in his throat. “Come here.”
Luo Binghe positively crawls towards him from across the bed, an incubus incarnate, clad only in that dark robe falling a little more down his shoulders with every movement. His Guanyin pendant hangs down from his neck, swinging gently.
He kneels before Shen Qingqiu, sitting back on his heels. “I’m here, my husband.”
Shen Qingqiu puts away his fan carefully, not missing how Luo Binghe’s eyes track his every move. The banked embers of his desire begin to kindle once more under that heated gaze.
“Show me,” he commands quietly.
“At once, Shizun.” Luo Binghe complies, shrugging the robe off slightly so it drops from his shoulders, exposing more of that sweet, jade-pale skin. His hair is loose and wild, untameable, just like the man himself with everyone else except Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe’s long fingers make quick work of his sash; he lets it fall on the grass beside the bed, his eyes never leaving Shen Qingqiu’s.
For whatever reason, he keeps the dark robe on. It’s somehow more erotic than if he’d had stripped entirely; the contrast of Luo Binghe’s skin against the pool of black and gold is breathtaking. Forget the countless little sisters in the original Luo Binghe’s harem, Shen Qingqiu is surprised more men haven’t come forward to court his demon lord, too, when he looks like this.
Fluffing up some pillows and piling them up like a little fort, Luo Binghe reaches out for some scented unguent before he sinks back into a cottony cloud of cushions and blankets. He parts his legs, looking uncharacteristically bashful, his face blushing as he peels back the dark robe from his thighs, exposing his cock, already a ridiculous size even when he’s only half-hard.
Shen Qingqiu feels his mouth begin to water.
As if on cue, Luo Binghe chuckles, sliding his hand down his broad chest and stomach, past the trail of dusky hair until he’s lazily stroking himself. “Does Shizun like the view?”
“You’re utterly shameless,” Shen Qingqiu mutters, but he’s already feeling the first stirrings of arousal, his cock filling under his robes.
Luo Binghe spreads his legs a little more, reaching down to slide a wet finger inside himself, easy-like and without any hesitation; it’s clear he’s done it before. “Mm,” his disciple agrees, smiling up at him, mirthful eyes clouding over with lust. “Only for you. Watch me, husband.”
“I am watching you,” Shen Qingqiu says, because he is—he watches Luo Binghe scoop out more of the unguent, teasing two fingers inside himself now and slowly opening himself up before his eyes. It’s doing something to Shen Qingqiu, seeing the long fingers that usually twist into him sweet and rough fucking into his husband instead, knowing Luo Binghe is imagining how Shen Qingqiu would feel inside him.
His breath hitches, his fingernails digging sharp crescents into his palm when his husband breaks eye contact to arch his back, his long thick hair pooling underneath him as he pulls one leg back, baring even more of him for Shen Qingqiu to drink in.
“Shizun.” When Luo Binghe looks up at him again, panting, eyes flaring red from beneath tousled hair, it takes all the self-discipline Shen Qingqiu can muster from both his lives combined to stay rooted to the spot, trembling, while his husband puts on the hottest fucking show that he has ever seen. He’s absolutely obscene like this, that monster cock jutting hard and proud between his legs, an angry red arc above where his fingers are pumping in and out of himself with increasingly wet sounds.
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says softly, his voice coming out hoarser than he’d intended.
Luo Binghe’s gaze is imploring. Vulnerable. “Touch me.”
Shen Qingqiu closes his eyes and exhales shakily. God. The way Luo Binghe’s voice sounds… How would he survive just watching and hearing his husband like this, even before he gets to fucking him? “Okay.”
He scoots over to Luo Binghe’s side, reaching out to splay a hand across his chest, only for Luo Binghe to catch his wrist. When Shen Qingqiu raises an eyebrow at him questioningly, Luo Binghe shakes his head. “I still want Shizun to watch me… do this.”
Your Shizun will probably come in his pants like a teenager if he continues watching your impossibly pornographic display, Luo Binghe!
Still, Shen Qingqiu obliges, swallowing, moving around so he’s seated right before Luo Binghe. Spreading his fingers on one of Luo Binghe’s thighs, he pushes his husband back a little more on the bed, lifting up his ass and placing some cushions underneath. Seeing his husband lust-feverish and bent over like this, almost in half—just like how he’d fucked Shen Qingqiu earlier—makes him wonder just how much of his cock Luo Binghe would be able to take in.
“You’re filthy, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, trailing his fingers down the thick pillar in front of him and towards his husband’s stones, hanging warm and heavy and full, massaging them gently. That teases a moan out of Luo Binghe, interrupting his rhythm. “How long?”
“S-shizun...”
“How long.” His fingers are wet now, with the slick from Luo Binghe’s cock and the unguent around that tight hole. “Since you started fucking yourself like this?”
“Since,” Luo Binghe gasps, sweat beading on his skin, “A few years after I moved into the room next to Shizun’s. After training, after watching Shizun, whenever this disciple couldn’t sleep, I—I would… think about massaging and taking care of Shizun, making love to Shizun.”
Shit, that actually sounds like it would’ve been pretty amazing. Wouldn’t that have been like having his own personal sex butler, like in those otome games?!
“And?” Shen Qingqiu begins to fist Luo Binghe’s cock slowly, marvelling at how it can barely fit in his grasp, his other hand reaching down and around to pinch sharply at one of his husband’s dark nipples.
“Ah!” Luo Binghe cries out. “S-sometimes, I would think of…”
“Tell me.”
“Shizun using me for his own pleasure, whether it’s fucking me rough or slow, whatever you like. I could just sit on Shizun’s lap with your pillar inside me, while you read your books or wrote calligraphy—nnh!” Shen Qingqiu slides another finger into Luo Binghe’s clench alongside the two fingers his husband has inside himself. It’s one thing to imagine it, another to hear these fantasies spilling from that shameless mouth, and another to see Luo Binghe’s greedy hole swallow three fingers before his eyes. “I’d make Shizun feel good. So good…”
“This errant disciple,” Shen Qingqiu says, his face heating, pouring some oil onto Luo Binghe’s cock so that it trickles tantalisingly slow, down to where their fingers are moving in and out of him. The fragrance of plum blossoms wafts up in the air, delicate and sweet, completely unlike the shaking, wet mess of a disciple he has under him now. “I have half a mind to teach you a lesson.”
“Punish me, Shizun.” Luo Binghe moans, filthy and loud, spreading his legs further and exposing his buttcheeks. “Please. This useless disciple isn’t worthy.”
Shen Qingqiu gapes, looking down at his other palm. Luo Binghe wants… wants him to—!? Ah, this masochistic disciple…
Clearing his throat, he smacks Luo Binghe’s ass once, experimentally. “Bad Binghe,” he scolds, watching as Luo Binghe’s cock twitches minutely and those hazy eyes widen. “State your wrongdoings.”
“Yes,” Luo Binghe chokes out, legs shaking. “This disciple has harboured improper thoughts towards Shizun— ah! ”
Shen Qingqiu spanks him again, harder this time, his own breathing coming rough and uneven now. Luo Binghe has really gotten to him, the masochist. Something pools hot and dirty in his stomach when he sees his husband helpless and wrecked like this from his own desire, his own touch; it makes him want to rough his Binghe up, tear the most delicious sounds from his throat, to make him come completely undone. “Shameless. Continue.”
“This disciple has been remiss…” Luo Binghe has to pause after a particularly loud slap on his ass, squeezing his eyes shut, his fingers trembling on his thigh. “In not servicing Shizun how he should be serviced. I should have offered myself to Shizun earlier, my mouth, my ass—everything I am, everything I have, belongs to Shizun—”
“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu whispers, his voice ragged. “Your mouth…” Fuck. Shen Qingqiu is at full mast now, he can feel it; Luo Binghe’s whimpers and cries as he’s getting spanked while having three fingers in his ass aren’t helping. “Take out your fingers.”
“I—” Luo Binghe turns clouded, dazed eyes towards Shen Qingqiu, but he obeys, sliding his fingers out with a soft, wet sound.
Shen Qingqiu flips him over and yanks Luo Binghe onto his lap. He thinks he hears a surprised yelp from Luo Binghe, who jerks against him, his cock dribbling a trail on Shen Qingqiu’s emerald-green robes. It’s as though a kind of madness has seized Shen Qingqiu; looking at those reddened ass cheeks, he can’t help but smack Luo Binghe across the back of his thighs this time, heat flaring in his chest when Luo Binghe keens at the impact.
“Shizun, please, please,” Luo Binghe pants, looking back at Shen Qingqiu, drooling a little onto the bed. “Your fingers…”
“Unbelievable,” Shen Qingqiu begins in wonder, swiping another vial of flower-scented oil that he warms between his palms. “Binghe, just look at you. You should see yourself—”
He pushes up Luo Binghe’s ass, parting the cheeks tentatively, exposing his husband’s hole, the rim shiny with unguent and slick. Uncorking and angling the vial, Shen Qingqiu watches in fascination as the oil flows slowly down the tail of Luo Binghe’s spine and between those cheeks, and eventually, onto his balls.
It’d felt… interesting, fingering Luo Binghe earlier, and it didn’t sound like Shen Qingqiu had hurt him. Shen Qingqiu rubs gently against the rim, pleased when Luo Binghe makes a strangled sound and nearly throws his head back. He reaches out a palm and presses Luo Binghe down gently by the neck, twisting his fingers into that mess of thick, dark hair. “Down, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says mildly. “Be still. You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
Luo Binghe goes gratifyingly still, oil-slick fingers twisting into the sheets, ragged breathing filling the air.
Shen Qingqiu caresses Luo Binghe’s hair. He’d always be Shen Qingqiu’s little white lotus. So good to him. So obedient for him. “That’s it,” he says soothingly, rubbing at the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, still teasing at Luo Binghe’s hole. “What does my Binghe want?”
Luo Binghe whines, high and unintelligible.
Pressing just the tip of his finger in, Shen Qingqiu leans down. “Speak up, my silly disciple. How else will this master understand you?”
“Shizun’s cock,” comes the quaking, breathless gasp. “Inside me.”
Laughing softly, Shen Qingqiu pushes two wet fingers in. Luo Binghe’s clench takes him in easily with a wet, lewd sound. “So greedy, Binghe. Not yet. Does this hurt?”
“No, Shizun…”
“Does this feel good?”
Luo Binghe’s only answer is to raise his ass higher, clenching tighter around his fingers. Shen Qingqiu thinks he might take his time to take Luo Binghe apart, layer by painstaking layer. Even if this is a dream, it’s his first time seeing Luo Binghe like this beneath him, this wild and wanton; he thinks he could get used to this.
“My great demon lord, my foolish disciple. My husband. Have you always been like this?”
“Only for, ah, Shizun—”
“This whole time?”
Luo Binghe props himself up on one trembling hand with some difficulty, all so he can turn around to look at Shen Qingqiu properly. He’s a beautiful mess like this, all that long hair bunched up and falling on one side exposing his neck, the deep flush along his jawline down to his chest.
His eyes are bright and intense when he looks at Shen Qingqiu.
“I’ve never wanted anyone else,” Luo Binghe says softly.
Shen Qingqiu has been oblivious for far too long. He’d thought Luo Binghe was the unpredictable, unstable one when they’d first reunited, but wouldn’t it have been more accurate to say that it had been him who had twisted Luo Binghe’s heart this way and that, confusing his disciple who’d fallen for him with kindness and affection before he doled out System-mandated betrayal?
And yet, the Luo Binghe who had grown to love him, hate him, and even mourn him had also learned to forgive him, still trusting him again after all that.
“I’m sorry, Binghe,” he says suddenly, tucking a lock of Luo Binghe’s hair behind an ear and thumbs gently at where Luo Binghe is worrying his bottom lip, a telltale tic of anxiety his little white lotus had picked up when he was younger. “This master is here now. I promise.”
Luo Binghe nods, closing his eyes. Shivering, he flicks out his tongue over Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, before licking at them and taking them into his mouth.
Shen Qingqiu’s breath stutters. Impossibly, he finds himself growing even harder. “Binghe!”
He feels Luo Binghe grind down on his legs, unable to stay still any longer. Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to admonish his husband’s lack of self-restraint, but something in Luo Binghe’s tortured, desperate expression stops him. So instead, he lets out a sigh, both exasperated and fond, and pulls his stained, rumpled robes to the side so that Luo Binghe’s pillar is now fucking tightly into the space between his naked thighs, scalding hot like an iron brand.
“Shizun, please, I want more, please…”
Shen Qingqiu swallows, slowing his pace. “One more?”
“Yes,” Luo Binghe begs.
Pulling out a little, Shen Qingqiu spreads his fingers inside, before putting in a third finger and twisting them all in. When Luo Binghe moans, he starts to move. “Like this?”
Luo Binghe writhes in his lap, pushing back against Shen Qingqiu’s long fingers. His back ripples with the sheen of sweat, beginning to stain his robes. He’s thrusting roughly now, his huge cock moving in and out of where it’s nestled between Shen Qingqiu’s legs, dragging over the heat of Shen Qingqiu’s hardness too.
It feels… oddly satisfying, seeing Luo Binghe like this. Knowing he’s the one reducing Luo Binghe—protagonist, demon lord, so OP he’s absolutely fucking untouchable—to this panting wreck under him with just his touch; it makes Shen Qingqiu feel hot all over.
It makes him feel powerful.
“Will you come for your Shizun, Binghe?” He says, keeping his voice even, wondering if this is playing out just like one of Luo Binghe’s sordid teenage fantasies. “With my fingers inside you?”
Curling his fingers at different angles while fucking Luo Binghe, he finally finds one that makes his husband jerk and grip harder at the sheets when he presses, just so. Shen Qingqiu tries to recreate that spike of pleasure for him, twisting —and then he feels rather than see Luo Binghe coming, hole clenching tight around his fingers, slick spilling wet and sloppy and hot between his legs.
Hunched forward with his forehead on the bed, hands tearing at the bedsheets, Luo Binghe shakes under Shen Qingqiu, his cries muffled in a pillow.
“Good boy,” Shen Qingqiu comforts him, stroking his hair with one hand, gently fucking his husband through the last spurts of his orgasm.
Ever since they started becoming intimate, he’d noticed that Luo Binghe took well to being praised; it soothed him, stilled him whenever he fell apart a little too intensely inside Shen Qingqiu.
His disciple had always been sweet and sensitive; something inside Shen Qingqiu aches whenever he gathers the pieces each time to put his Binghe back together again. Taking out his fingers, Shen Qingqiu lays Luo Binghe on his side, pulling him close. “Good Binghe. You came so much. You’ve been so good for your Shizun.”
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe’s eyes are unfocused, his lips parted. He leans forward into the damp hollow of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, body still trembling from his orgasm, and presses his lips there.
Already painfully aroused, Shen Qingqiu startles at the touch, breath coming sharply when Luo Binghe’s hands begin to roam up his sides. Surely, his absurd protagonist husband wasn’t thinking of going for another round again so soon? Does this universe actually consider Shen Qingqiu a sexbot, that he would be expected to keep up with this ungodly level of stamina and lust every other night? Immortal cultivator or not, his cock and his ass had their limits! “What are you doing?”
A finger brushes his nipple, shocking a hiss from Shen Qingqiu as he arches his back involuntarily. Still, Luo Binghe’s touches are distracted and all over the place, making him inexplicably feel a little proud that even though his husband has found his second—well, fourth —wind, he’s the reason that even Luo Binghe’s legendary post-papapa recovery has taken more of a hit than usual. Though he nearly stumbles, Luo Binghe swings one leg over Shen Qingqiu’s narrow hip, weighing him down.
“More,” Luo Binghe says, looking up at Shen Qingqiu, his face burning but determined. “I want more of Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Binghe, how have you not had enough? If we continue, it’ll be the break of dawn when we’re done…”
Luo Binghe’s eyes flash scarlet, and then the dream realm lurches, leaving him disorientated and in limbo as the forest around them bursts into fluttering leaves, plunging them into darkness.
Even before he opens his eyes, Shen Qingqiu knows they’re back in reality when the faint, throbbing ache of his plundered ass helpfully reminds him. Here, Luo Binghe has straddled him too, pushing him down with his strong arms. Sneaking a glance down, Shen Qingqiu isn’t at all surprised when he sees his husband’s softened cock already stirring again with a vengeance. Forget Xin Mo, isn’t that thing between Luo Binghe’s legs the true ultimate heavenly weapon of this universe?!
Luo Binghe leans over him, rummaging noisily around the bedside table until he finds more oil, slicking himself up just like in the dream with dirty, squelching sounds, louder in the real world when not accompanied by the soft, breathy echoes of the dream realm. He moans, parting his legs further from where they’re bracketing Shen Qingqiu’s hips; Shen Qingqiu can’t help but watch helplessly as Luo Binghe’s fingers disappear again inside himself, looking as though he wants it so bad he can’t stand feeling empty without anything inside him for even a second longer.
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu finds himself saying, clasping Luo Binghe’s neck gently and bringing him down, feeling like he’s calming a trembling wolf. “Shh. Here, let me.”
He nudges Luo Binghe gently over on his back, taking the vial of oil that had rolled over to the side of the bed. Pouring enough onto his palm that the oil begins to drip onto Luo Binghe’s stomach, Shen Qingqiu drags his fingers through the small jasmine-scented puddle before teasing into that tight clench again, just like how he remembers it from the dream.
Luo Binghe tenses, letting out a sharp exhale, fingers digging into the bed.
Shen Qingqiu leans down, kissing one of Luo Binghe’s trembling thighs. “It’s okay,” he murmurs softly, looking up, unsure if the one he’s reassuring is Luo Binghe or himself. “I’ve got you. Relax. Be a good boy, hmm? My good Binghe.”
He takes one of Luo Binghe’s cold, limp hands in his own, and feels the tight coil of Luo Binghe’s body unwind almost immediately at the touch. “That’s it.” He slips his fingers in so slowly that the pace feels glacial, but his patience is rewarded as Luo Binghe goes lax, his hole welcoming his fingers in greedily.
“Just like that,” Shen Qingqiu praises, wrapping his hand loosely around the base of Luo Binghe’s cock, laving at the underside. With every clumsy stroke of his tongue, he pushes his fingers deeper, marvelling at how much more he can feel here instead of just in the dream realm. It’s wetter in reality, tighter, slicker—everything is overwhelming, sending Shen Qingqiu into a kind of sensory overdrive: the filthy little noises falling from Luo Binghe’s kiss-swollen mouth, the sloppy sounds of his fingers moving inside Luo Binghe, the heat of Luo Binghe’s pillar under his lips.
He feels Luo Binghe curl his fingers in his hair. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe manages with some effort, between the gasps Shen Qingqiu wrings out of him which each small thrust. “Shizun, please, I need you—”
“All right,” Shen Qingqiu says, climbing back up so he can lean in to kiss Luo Binghe, letting him taste his own slick. “Are you ready?”
Luo Binghe wraps his arms around Shen Qingqiu’s neck, biting at Shen Qingqiu’s bottom lip. “I’ve been ready for ten years.”
“I’m here, now, aren’t I?” Shen Qingqiu presses a kiss to Luo Binghe’s knee. “Do you want to turn around and get on your knees for me? When you do me like that, it doesn’t hurt as much.”
Luo Binghe shakes his head, and Shen Qingqiu’s pulse rabbits alarmingly as he notices the first sheen of tears in his husband’s eyes. “I want to see Shizun’s face. Please don’t deny your disciple—”
“Yes, Binghe, yes, okay,” Shen Qingqiu agrees hastily as Luo Binghe’s lips begin to wobble almost threateningly. He cups his husband’s face, sighing as he comes down from the internal panic that jacks up whenever Luo Binghe begins to cry, those tears never failing to make him feel like his insides are being knifed. “Like this?”
“Mm.” Luo Binghe parts his legs, reaching down between them to pull lightly at Shen Qingqiu’s pillar to slick it up with oil, expression already schooled back into lustful neutrality. This manipulative disciple and his crocodile tears! Shen Qingqiu exclaims internally, conveniently ignoring the fact that he still falls for the act every single time like a cat reflexively chasing a laser pointer. “Want to see Shizun’s cock spearing me.”
Fucking hell. Who would’ve thought his pristine little white lotus disciple would grow up to become this insatiable, filthy-mouthed incubus? He sure hadn't.
“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you.” It isn’t a question. Shen Qingqiu nudges Luo Binghe’s legs apart a little more, thinking for a moment before lifting one over his shoulder. He doesn’t miss the way Luo Binghe’s body shudders nor the way his husband’s eyes widen further, pupils already dilated with desire. Turning his head, Shen Qingqiu kisses the side of Luo Binghe’s thigh, locking their gazes even as he lines himself up, the tip of his cockhead pressing in. “Tell me if it hurts, hmm?”
Shen Qingqiu watches him, conscious of every reaction—but Luo Binghe doesn’t answer, eyes squeezing shut at the intrusion as he grits his teeth, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. Luo Binghe feels impossibly tight around his cock as he pushes forward slowly, inch by agonising inch; it’s good, way too fucking good. At this rate, he’s going to come before he even gets to fuck Luo Binghe properly, and he tells him so.
Luo Binghe looks a little wounded, turning those pleading eyes towards him again. “But Shizun,” Luo Binghe says plaintively, gripping Shen Qingqiu’s sides and moving his hips up to take in more of Shen Qingqiu inside him. It’s unbelievably hot, and the sudden pressure that envelops his cock further makes Shen Qingqiu hiss at how close he’d been to coming too early inside Luo Binghe like a teenager. In his defense, he’s never had his pillar inside anyone, even if Luo Binghe had fucked him like this multiple times. “We haven’t even started yet…”
“I know,” Shen Qingqiu bites out, raising an eyebrow, his long hair falling in front of his face and sweat already dripping down his chin from the exertion. Even his cultivation level isn’t much help, not when the pleasure from having his dick buried in such tightness is so overpowering. No wonder some cultivation paths mandated abstinence, he could see why some cultivators would make absolutely no progress if they kept fucking one another like this! “Look, Binghe feels too good like this, all right? This old master is only human—”
A prickling heat begins to hum inside him, creeping from his fingertips all the way to his neck. It’s a gentle sensation he hasn’t felt for months, but he’s been tormented enough by it in this lifetime that he identifies what it is immediately. Sure enough, when he looks at Luo Binghe’s unrepentant mug, his eyes are glowing slightly while he whips up his heavenly demon blood inside Shen Qingqiu’s body into a frenzy.
“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu warns, feeling the heat roar to a flame and rushing south with a force that nearly knocks him back. “You dare—”
“This lowly disciple just wants to help Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, putting on the fakest attempt at looking innocent that Shen Qingqiu has ever seen. Shen Qingqiu is grudgingly impressed that he can still manage that while he’s already halfway inside him, splitting him open. “Does Shizun not trust me?”
“That has nothing to, nngh, do with it!” He had already been about to come, but it feels almost as though there is a vice at the base of his cock, gripping it tightly and locking his blood and energy there, keeping his orgasm at bay. “Binghe!”
“Fuck me, Shizun,” Luo Binghe interrupts with a quiet voice, drawing Shen Qingqiu’s attention to the mass of his dark hair framing his reddened face and his hungry eyes, looking like he could devour Shen Qingqiu alive like the fearsome demon lord he actually is. “Please.”
If there’s one thing that Shen Qingqiu knows, it’s that he’s utterly incapable of denying Luo Binghe anything. And so, cursing his husband, Shen Qingqiu moves—burying himself inside Luo Binghe until he bottoms out, feeling his stones sliding up against Luo Binghe’s skin. That draws a soft hiss from Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu pauses.
“Binghe?”
“Nngh—” Shaking his head, Luo Binghe raises his hips higher, taking Shen Qingqiu in deeper. “I-I’m fine, just… Shizun feels so good inside me.”
“Look at you,” Shen Qingqiu says, beginning to thrust, smiling when he sees Luo Binghe’s mouth form a small, surprised oh! of pleasure. He thinks he can get used to this, too, this delicious pressure around his cock consuming him while he gets to see Luo Binghe melt from how it feels. This would certainly be why Luo Binghe loves fucking him into oblivion like this.
Luo Binghe reaches for where Shen Qingqiu’s palm is splayed out on the bed, and laces their fingers together so that every time he fucks slowly inside Luo Binghe, he’s pressing down on their hands with the bed creaking underneath them. Pulling Shen Qingqiu flush against him, Luo Binghe whispers hotly into his ear so that goosebumps rise on his flesh, “Faster, Shizun, please. Harder. This disciple can take it.”
“It’s your first time,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs back against Luo Binghe’s neck, aghast; it is with great difficulty that he holds back from just plundering Luo Binghe’s ass the way Luo Binghe does with him. Fuck. It’s taking all of the self-restraint he didn’t know he had, even if that’s slowly trickling away every minute he’s sheathed inside Luo Binghe’s tight heat.
“Want you deeper, Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathes, and Shen Qingqiu’s hips stutter.
Suddenly, there are hot pinching-like sensations around his nipples, wrenching a surprised cry from him. If that isn’t bad enough, what feels like several warm, wet mouths are kissing down the back of his nape, dragging teeth down his spine, and there’s pressure behind him, parting his cheeks and sliding inside, like curious fingers. “Fuck!” For a wild moment, his pleasure climbs high, cresting as he cries out, feeling like he’s about to come—but then, black demonic energy envelops his cock, pushing down his orgasm.
He already knows it’s Luo Binghe; Shen Qingqiu’s body shakes, reeling from being denied. Seething, he snaps his hips sharply forward once as punishment, only to see a shit-eating grin on Luo Binghe’s face as his husband licks his lips, baring his fangs. “You!”
Fine. Fine! So be it. He thrusts back in, revelling in the savage pleasure of seeing Luo Binghe throw his head back with a gasp, hands scrabbling at the sheets. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Shizun, ah, husband, yes, fuck me—just like that—”
The phantom sensations from the heavenly demon blood continue assailing him, amplifying the intense pleasure he already feels from fucking Luo Binghe, but Shen Qingqiu will not be so easily swayed by his sadomasochistic husband.
He pulls back a little, before slamming back in, hard, punching out the breath from Luo Binghe’s lungs until his husband is gulping for air between pants, squirming on his cock. The heat from where Luo Binghe had been teasing him with his blood dissipates abruptly, and Shen Qingqiu smirks, triumphant. “This master will teach you,” he mutters darkly, “what happens when you disrespect your Shizun.”
Luo Binghe is fucking mewling, gods, like some common brothel's whore, the back of his head hitting the frame of the bed as Shen Qingqiu begins to fuck him in earnest. “Nnnh, yes, this disciple has been unfilial, ah —”
“Disobedient,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, swinging Luo Binghe’s other leg up above his shoulders, yanking him towards him and bending him over, pulling at that thick mess of hair the way he knows Luo Binghe likes until he tears out a bitten off groan from him. “Mouthy.” He punctuates every word with a sharp thrust, no longer able to hold himself back with the little fucked out cries Luo Binghe is making whenever he moves, his massive cock bouncing too with each time Shen Qingqiu fucks inside him. “Insolent, utterly unrepentant—”
“Yes, Shizun, yes,” Luo Binghe whimpers. Clearly getting off on being scolded like the kinky little shit he is, he reaches down to touch his pillar, only to have Shen Qingqiu slap his hand away.
“Did this master permit you to touch yourself?” He says a little pettily, still feeling aggrieved, feeling something delicious and electric twist in his stomach at the look of betrayal and dismay on Luo Binghe’s face. His husband reluctantly lets his hands fall to his side, before sliding them up the dip of Shen Qingqiu’s spine. When Luo Binghe drags his nails down his back, Shen Qingqiu realises with a jolt that they’ve sharpened into his demonic claws.
Undeterred, Shen Qingqiu takes Luo Binghe’s cock in hand, pumping it rougher than he’s used to, trying to stroke in time with his thrusts. Even Luo Binghe’s protagonist energy can’t overcome this; he looks wrecked already, one hand gripping tightly at the bed frame to better meet Shen Qingqiu’s thrusts, eyes hot but faraway, biting down hard on his lip. The vicelike phantom grip around the base of his cock from earlier falters as Luo Binghe’s focus slips from the twin pleasures of being fucked and having Shen Qingqiu’s fingers on him at the same time.
“Good boy,” he tells Luo Binghe again. He’ll never tire of seeing how those lust-filled eyes glaze over every time he praises his husband like this. “You’re taking my cock so well, Binghe. So deep inside you.”
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe chokes out, keening as Shen Qingqiu hits a particularly deep spot. “Ah, ah, Shizun fucks me so good, I—”
“You came so much for me earlier, Binghe. Can you do that again for me?” Shen Qingqiu pitches his words low, secretly delighted as Luo Binghe writhes in response to the sound of his voice like that, his huge cock slipping in and out of Shen Qingqiu’s fist with an uneven rhythm. He drags a nail lightly under Luo Binghe’s cockhead, stroking faster and then, finally, squeezing hard. “Come for me.”
Luo Binghe’s entire body arcs off the bed as he comes, crying out, his cock still pushing into the ring of Shen Qingqiu’s fist as white strands spurt hot and messy onto his chest. Shen Qingqiu fucks him slowly through it, mesmerised, watching as he locks his legs around Shen Qingqiu’s waist and rocks his hips greedily to take him in deeper still.
He calls repeatedly for Shen Qingqiu—“Shizun, Shizun!”—through his orgasm while Shen Qingqiu milks him with his fingers, stroking him until he can’t come anymore, his claws sinking sharply into Shen Qingqiu’s back.
The brief slice of pain cuts through the delightful thrum of Luo Binghe falling apart under and around him. The hold of Luo Binghe’s heavenly demon blood snaps, and it’s like a dam breaks for Shen Qingqiu as the pleasure comes rushing back, fevered and intense and overwhelming—he comes hard inside Luo Binghe, shaking and falling forward so that he’s moaning against Luo Binghe’s jaw, feeling the warm, wet slick of his seed around his cock.
That does something to Luo Binghe beneath him; to Shen Qingqiu’s hazy surprise, he feels Luo Binghe coming weakly again, spurting between them. He pulls Luo Binghe close, pressing his lips to his husband’s hair. “Like that, do you?” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, huffing with laughter when Luo Binghe burrows into his arms, hiding his face. “Now who’s the shy one, my Binghe?”
“Don't say that,” Luo Binghe mumbles almost inaudibly, from somewhere around his chest.
“Don’t you hide now,” Shen Qingqiu counters. He tilts Luo Binghe’s chin up, before lifting his wet, sticky fingers to Luo Binghe’s lips, come dripping off his palm. “Just look at how much you came for me. That’s all you. Filthy. ”
Luo Binghe’s ears turn red, but he resists ducking his head this time. “...Did Binghe do well?” He ventures tentatively, before moving forward to lick Shen Qingqiu’s palm clean with his tongue.
“Silly Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu’s mouth curves into a small secret smile, the one that only Luo Binghe ever gets to see.
“You always do.”
fin