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It starts with a flower called ‘Thousand Veiled Pleasures Bud’, tacky as that is, that resembles a rare medicinal plant, only able to be discerned by the thin red band around the edges of its petals.
Shen Qingqiu only vaguely remembers it from one chapter of ‘Proud Immortal Demon Way’ wherein a soon-to-be member of the harem had been rather reluctant to be bedded. Naturally, this could not stand, as there was no woman in the entire world who could not be laid down and spread open by the protagonist’s magnificent heavenly pillar!
So in one chapter she’d wandered through a forest with Luo Binghe before smelling said flower and been overcome with a need to have sex, specifically with the first person she’d laid her eyes on. Not just any need, but a physical urge compelling her, feeling as though if she did not spread her legs for someone that very instant, she may just die.
Of course, the protagonist had easily obliged and she had become harem member 228. Shen Qingqiu thought the flower to be rather stupid and pointless – it’s the protagonist. He didn’t require such silly methods in order to acquire a woman.
Still, this meta knowledge means that when Luo Binghe comes back from a nighthunt with exactly said flower, bringing it out and presenting it to him proudly, he has all but three seconds to open his mouth and start to order Binghe to put it down before the petals unfurl and blast out pollen. Of course Shen Qingqiu, already aware of the danger, had stayed very far back. Luo Binghe, not as lucky, got an entire faceful.
He can’t help it; he panics. Rushing to Luo Binghe’s side and already beginning to wonder if he should fetch Ning Yingying, he grabs the wretched flower and throws it out the window, snapping his fingers and burning it as it goes. Then he grabs his disciple by the shoulders, half-hoping that his demonic blood would simply get rid of the aphrodisiac effects before he realizes his error.
Luo Binghe dizzily turns to look at him, his eyes hooded and face red. He meets Shen Qingqiu’s eyes and moans.
Oh.
Oh, he – he hadn’t thought this through. He should have turned and ran the instant he saw that flower bloom and fetched Ning Yingying right away, but he hadn’t. And now Luo Binghe’s just imprinted onto him with the urge to have sex that will slowly grow and grow until it becomes a crippling pain.
Staggering slightly, leaning heavily into his hands with a dazed look on his face, Binghe whines, “Shizun, f-forgive this disciple’s mistake. I believed that flower may be able to cure Without a Cure, but I – oh, I… Oh, Shizun – what… what’s happening to me? It feels so good. Feels amazing… I want – I need – Shizun, I’m…”
“I know, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu soothes, holding his little lotus upright without complaint. “That flower has an aphrodisiac effect. It requires the affected person to cultivate with the first person that enters their vision. Do you understand what this means?”
Luo Binghe whimpers, cheeks flooding with colour. His voice is thick and heated as he clarifies, “This disciple must cultivate with Shizun?”
“That is the only cure I know of. I’m very sorry, Binghe.”
“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, sounding dazed. “Oh. This disciple is quite alright, Shizun. Please, please allow me to – to touch myself. I feel as though I can’t stand it anymore, please.”
Really, this is his fault, isn’t it? He should have warned Luo Binghe, taught him better, pushed him out of the way of this wretched sex-flower. But he hadn’t. “Of course, Binghe, whatever you need.”
Forgetting the fact he has no other choices, as Shizun, isn’t it his responsibility? Luo Binghe certainly seems to think so, eyes glazed, pushing his pants down and hand already rubbing between his legs at - at –
Shen Qingqiu stares dumbly.
Where he’d been expecting to see the massive pillar that could make women wet themselves with pleasure he instead sees some pretty, plump lips of a cunt between Luo Binghe’s legs. As the boy pets over himself, seemingly by pure instinct, the lips part and he can see the small bud of a clit and the pinkish inner labia.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe moans, two fingers rubbing hard against his clit, legs trembling ever so slightly.
Okay. Okay. Shen Qingqiu tries very hard to think past the way his blood has suddenly shot down to fill his very interested cock. He hadn’t realized the Thousand Veiled Pleasures Bud included this effect, but he supposes it shouldn’t shock him. This is… This is alright. He just has to. Do something.
Luo Binghe rests his weight even more heavily against him as his legs nearly give out, Shen Qingqiu staring at the way his disciple catches his delicate pink lower lip in his teeth, biting back a lewd sound as he masturbates right in front of him.
His cock throbs, his hands flexing and tightening around Binghe’s shoulders. Luo Binghe, the protagonist, masturbating. Right in front of him, looking up at him with blown pupils and rose-pink cheeks, plump bottom lip caught in his teeth, fingers beginning to make small slick sounds as he rubs insistently at his cunt.
Shen Qingqiu shakily exhales. “Binghe, listen to me.”
Binghe’s hand doesn’t stop moving, but he nods slightly, looking up at Shen Qingqiu as though he’ll die if he looks away or even blinks.
“We–.... We have to cure you, Binghe, alright? But rest assured, this master would never take advantage of you,” Shen Qingqiu starts, feeling ashamed at how eager his body is, cock smearing wetly against the insides of his robes as he watches his disciple rub his clit. He clears his throat and tightly clings onto his respectable teacher persona. “Let’s lay down.”
Binghe nods, barely able to pull his hand away from himself with a whine, moving sloppily like a drunkard would, heading towards the bed. Along the way, he roughly sheds his clothes, dropping his robes along the ground.
He’s never seen Luo Binghe like this, needy and warm, accepting that he’ll need to spread his legs and be defiled by his scum master as easily as one would breathe. This flower is surely a powerful thing, to cause such acceptance. The soft mattress dips a bit as he settles himself onto it, resting in the middle and trying not to ogle Binghe as he finishes undressing, his legs parting enticingly to show his pussy as he climbs onto the bed.
“We may not have to… go all the way,” he manages through the haze of arousal that strikes him. It’s pathetic and shameless; one would think it was him affected by the flower’s pollen.
Laying on his back propped up slightly against some pillows, he allows Luo Binghe to eagerly climb on top of him. It’s better like this, feels less like he’s taking advantage of his most favoured disciple in the privacy of their shared home, less like he’s an old lecher plucking a precious virginal flower before its prime. With Binghe on top, taking the pleasure he needs, Shen Qingqiu can maintain a shred of innocence.
“Just… rub against me. Maybe that will be enough. I would never force you into anything, understand? Only take what you need.”
Luo Binghe nods, staring down at the obvious bulge caused by his erection, and Shen Qingqiu flushes with shame. But without mentioning it, Luo Binghe obediently spreads his legs over one of Shen Qingqiu’s thighs, breath shuddering in his chest as he ruts down against it. Even through the layers of robes, Shen Qingqiu can feel the melting heat of Binghe’s pussy pressing against him.
In small, rolling motions, Binghe rubs against his thigh. His body is already porn worthy as befitting the stallion protagonist, all smooth and flawless skin with his muscles flexing prettily as he rolls his hips. It’s a little rough and jerky, Binghe sighing and pouting as he chases the orgasm he needs to be cured.
His fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, the urge to touch. Maybe he could help Binghe reach that peak and cure him faster, an insidious little voice in his head whispers. It would be quicker and easier that way, wouldn’t it?
But he shouldn’t. He’s the adult here. How can he take advantage of his sweet, pure lotus like that? He fists his hands in his robe sleeves and keeps them firmly there even as Binghe starts to whine louder and louder, looking frustrated.
“Shizun, I can’t,” Binghe says, bottom lip quivering, hips still rutting insistently down onto his thigh and leaving dark wet marks. “I need more, need to feel you. Shizun, please?”
Before Shen Qingqiu can figure out how to answer that without moaning the instant he opens his mouth, Binghe’s hands drift down to the ties holding his robes shut, untying them quickly and parting them with small murmurs of apology for his forwardness. “I’m sorry, please forgive this disciple, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I need you…”
Shen Qingqiu wants to gather him up in his arms and pet his head. What a sweet, gentle boy, all sweet and gentle just for him. “Take what you need, Binghe.”
The look he gets in response is laden with heated, thick sexual desire that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that his cock is fully interested by the time his most inner robe is pushed open by those deft hands, laid tightly up against his belly.
Luo Binghe shivers at the sight of it, entire body quivering a bit. “Please excuse me, Shizun.”
And then he carefully repositions himself further up the bed and over Shen Qingqiu’s hips, legs spread wide open, cunt readily on display for him to look at. It’s dusted with soft brown curls, the inner lips dusky pink and shining with clear arousal, the labia prettily shaped and his entrance soft and tight looking. If this were anyone else, Shen Qingqiu would be stumbling over himself to shove his mouth against it and lick it dry, shove his tongue deep into that hole and drink their juices down.
But this is the protagonist, a young boy who is his disciple that trusts him to take care of him, and of course his one-day executioner. He must behave himself.
Still, Shen Qingqiu is helpless, sucking in a sharp breath as Luo Binghe lowers himself softly down, his pussy already so wet. Moist and hot from how long he’s been rubbing at and teasing himself, making Shen Qingqiu’s cock slick when he rubs down on it.
Binghe whimpers, brows drawing together, eyes drifting shut and pink cupid lips curving into a moue. He can see the twitch of the muscles in Binghe’s thighs as he slowly rubs his pussy against him in gentle motions, sweet moans falling from his mouth as he does. “Mm, mn, hmm… Ohhh, Shizun –”
Shen Qingqiu never really doubted it before, but like this – Binghe seated above him, cheeks rosy and pink, brow dotted with sweat, lips pouted and looking so easy to kiss – he can see how easily so many women fell into bed with him.
He’s the very image of lewd seduction, dark curls tumbling perfectly down his shoulders, some strands swirling across his chest as if to emphasize the blush spreading across his pale skin. His thighs are spread open wide across Shen Qingqiu’s chest, entire body a perfect jade canvas, muscles gently defined, his ass pleasantly soft as it rests against him. And his plump pussy, the lips spread open as it’s pressed down and rubbed against Shen Qingqiu’s thick erection, looking unbearably perfect, just begging to be eaten up.
Shen Qingqiu shivers, entire body going hot.
A weaker man wouldn’t be able to resist pushing this seductive vision down and shove his cock into that promising, enticing virginal heat, split Luo Binghe open and break him in until that pretty cunt has taken on the shape of his cock. A weaker man would pin this sweet young thing down and fuck him until he’s a sopping wet mess and then breed him up until he’s dripping with seed.
Shen Qingqiu grits his teeth and digs his nails into his palm until he’s carving crescent shaped marks into his own skin, desperately repeating human stick in his head to remind himself of exactly why he should not be a weak man.
With a filthy grind of his hips, Luo Binghe bears down on him, stomach going taut and his face screwing up in pleasure, gasping audibly. He rubs harder, his clit pulsing hotly against the head of Shen Qingqiu’s cock with every pass. And he’s so, so wet, getting wetter every minute, all but dripping.
“Binghe, how does it feel?” he asks a bit stupidly, tongue feeling fat and numb in his mouth, just to say something and get his mind off of the sexy way his disciple is slipping wetly against him.
“So good, Shizun,” Binghe moans openly, head tilting back and showing off the long pale column of his neck. “Shizun, I feel so good… I need more, please. Shizun, I need to feel you more.”
His throat clicks dryly as he swallows, and he nods. “Whatever you need, Binghe.”
Approval granted, Luo Binghe reaches down, his fingers gently grasping the head of Shen Qingqiu’s cock, thumb rubbing in small circular motions over the glans. Just that small touch is enough to make him throb, thighs tensing with the urge to rut up against it, slide his cock against the wet heat harder and into the loose hold of those fingers.
Only holding him tight enough to keep his cock steady, Binghe grinds against him with a bit more fervour. Before, the weight of Binghe bearing down on him kept his cock pinned against his stomach but now, Binghe can hold his cock up and change the angle, ensuring his cockhead rubs even harder against the swollen clit at the crown of his pussy.
“Mmn! Sh-Shizun – oh, nnh, something, something’s –” Binghe mewls and then he sobs loudly, body shivering and jerking slightly.
Shen Qingqiu thinks he might come just from the sight of his precious little lotus orgasming from rutting against his cock. It’s a very near thing, his balls tightening and his hips rising up against his will, pure reflex driving him to hump against the wet heat of Binghe’s cunt, seeking more friction. As he does, Binghe cries out again, body convulsing and hips twisting, both up and away from him before back down, in small helpless motions.
As the boy keeps making desperate little gasps, staccato moans broken up by mewling whimpers of ‘Shizun’, body twitching unsure whether to get closer or away, Shen Qingqiu bites harshly into his mouth to keep control. It’s just… He’s making Luo Binghe come again, just from that, just from rubbing against his slick pussy. It’s unbearably sexy, his blood simmering with arousal, one spark away from exploding.
But this isn’t about him. This isn’t for him. He’s not a weak man. He isn’t.
So he forces his hips back down onto the bed, teeth chewed tightly into his cheek and fingers nearly ripping apart the sheets next to his body as he restrains himself from touching.
Binghe slumps back down, gasping in breaths, but his pillar doesn’t return and the feverish glow to his skin doesn’t dim. Perhaps he needs a few more times…? Right. Yes. That must be it. Shen Qingqiu needs to simply lay back and let Luo Binghe work it out of his system.
And that’s what he does, watching as Luo Binghe rapidly regains his stamina, harshly rutting down as he presses Shen Qingqiu’s cock down until he’s trapped between his belly and the sloppy wet heat of Binghe’s cunt. It’s rough and needy, Binghe’s legs shaking and stomach flexing in a sharp rhythm.
Binghe gently takes him in hand again, holding him up at an angle and raising his hips up to drag his cockhead right down his inner labia.
“Binghe!” He tries to say it with a firm reprimand, but it comes out as a groan of desire instead, head spinning. This is dangerous, very dangerous.
Binghe rubs him up and down his inner lips a few more times, whimpering, eyes fluttering and nearly rolling back into his head with pleasure. Fuck – fuck, he should stop this now before they go too far. Binghe is not in his right mind, too young and under the effects of a magical aphrodisiac to consent to anything; Shen Qingqiu needs to stop this!
“Luo Binghe,” he tries again, a bit more stern.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe whines, hips bearing down onto the tip of his cock until he can feel the hot rim of him beginning to press tightly open. “Just - just the tip, Shizun, wouldn’t that be alright? I need you, Shizun, need you to cure me. That’s all this is, you curing me, Shizun. Just let me – just the head would be alright, wouldn’t it? It’s not all the way. It’s safe.”
He swallows thickly. Unable to make a single sound, the sheets in his hands rip apart noisily as he tenses up. He feels stuck in place, like a butterfly stuck with a pin, blood boiling and innards shivering with the arousal unfurling in every last vein. All he can do is watch as Luo Binghe slowly lowers himself, bearing down until that virginal tightness is forced open to accept his cock inside.
It’s so tight. Excruciatingly slowly, Binghe lowers himself until the head is fully inside, strangled by that heat.
Legs shaking, Luo Binghe rises back up, his slick opening sliding back up his cockhead until it slips back out, Binghe mewling as it does. Gasping harshly as if unable to gather enough breath, Binghe sits back down and splits himself open again, just until his entrance pops over the flare of his cockhead, then kneeling back up with shaking legs.
It’s taking everything he has to stop from pushing up to meet Luo Binghe’s shallow motions. He claws his nails into the mattress and bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes iron, brain melting down his spine with how unbearably hot it is watching the peerless beauty that is the protagonist willingly fucking himself onto Shen Qingqiu. He’s so lithe, so pretty, the flush on his cheeks spreading down his throat and chest until he’s a pleasant pink all over. He looks delectable, a veritable feast above him.
The motion of sliding down just until after the flared tip of the head, and then back up, just the barest inch. It doesn’t count. Even Binghe agreed. He’s not defiling his disciple, not taking something as precious as his virginity from him, it’s just the tip. He just has to hold himself back from coming inside of him, keep himself in control, until Binghe is cured.
The hungrily aroused part of him wants to slip his hand between their bodies, jerk himself off with the length still outside of Binghe’s body. His hand would probably slide up and hit the puffy lips of him, get his skin wet with his juices, fist slapping wetly against his pussy with every jack upwards. He sucks a steadying breath in, trying to cool the burning need the surges violently inside of him at the mental image.
Then, Luo Binghe slides further down than before, pussy hungrily eating his cock up.
“Binghe, too – too far,” he hisses, toes curling and thighs tensing so hard they nearly hurt to stop himself from thrusting into the teasing heat.
Binghe whines, hands resting on Shen Qingqiu’s stomach and curling until his blunt nails gently scratch at him. “Please forgive this disciple for being so sloppy, Shizun. It’s… It’s alright,” he moans, sliding a bit further down. “It’s just curing my illness. Shizun is taking such good care of his disciple. That’s all this is; curing me.”
He works his jaw, hands rising up to rest on Luo Binghe’s thighs, drawn magnetically to him. His skin is hot and slightly slick with sweat, Shen Qingqiu’s palms sliding over the flexed muscles.
He should stop this.
But when he does nothing but pet Binghe’s thighs, helpless to fight through the arousal stuck like hooks inside of him keeping him still, his little lotus takes it as approval and slides all the way down, wet heat wrapped tightly around his cock right up to the very root of him. Shen Qingqiu almost loses his composure right then and there, cock pulsing inside of Luo Binghe’s tight insides.
Bracing himself on Shen Qingqiu’s abdomen, Luo Binghe pushes himself up. Every velvety inch of him, the gently bumpy walls of him writhing and contracting with every motion, urges him closer and closer to that forbidden edge.
Binghe’s expression keeps twisting in blatant pleasure, lashes fluttering, mouth pursed into an ‘o’ shape as he continues to moan and mewl every time he takes Shen Qingqiu all the way in. His brows twitch up, some of his hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks with sweat, chest flushed and nipples pebbled up. If he could, if he had an excuse, if he could control himself – Shen Qingqiu would have his hands and mouth all over him, devour him, taste all over that slim, perfect body and leave his marks on it.
He’d never thought of it before, but the want takes him by the throat, everything else going dim in the face of it. But this isn’t about what he wants, no. This is about Luo Binghe.
And Luo Binghe seems very eager to take exactly what he needs, pushing himself up into a crouching position so he can ride Shen Qingqiu easier, rising up to the tip of Shen Qingqiu’s leaking, drooling erection, before slamming back down to the root until he can feel himself grind into the hard, rigid cervix at the very depth of it.
It’s not just him that’s leaking. They’re both wet now, Binghe’s pussy soaking and making lewd, sucking noises every time he moves. It’s filthy and dirty, Shen Qingqiu’s stomach going hot with arousal.
“Shizun, I’m getting so close, I’m – I’m – oh, hah, ah! Shizun!” Binghe nearly wails, a few tears escaping his eyes as his face screws up tightly, pussy writhing around him as he orgasms, all but milking him as he does. He’d already been snug before but now it’s unbearably tight, inner walls contracting and flexing around his hard cock.
He harshly bites his cheek again, nostrils flaring as he breathes heavily, stopping himself from tipping over the edge with him.
As his orgasm slowly abates, Luo Binghe slumps back, barely catching himself on trembling arms, eyes glazed over and mouth dropped open, some drool escaping his lips and trailing down his chin as he moans wordlessly. He looks lewd, debauched, fucked into incoherence.
Shen Qingqiu throbs.
The last thread of his reasonable mind snaps, his body wound tight and everything inside of him begging to be let go. He grabs onto Binghe’s hips and physically pulls him up before slamming him back down onto his cock. Binghe chokes, body convulsing, hips jerking up and legs spasming as the overstimulation rocks through him. Shen Qingqiu can’t stop, easily manipulating Binghe’s body up and down, again and again, using him as a cocksleeve.
Binghe collapses back entirely as his arms give out, spine bending and body still jerking sharply with every rough motion of his cock driving into his sensitive cunt. His voice is thin and whiny as he says, “Shizun, nn, Shizun – ah, oh, feels so good – Shizun is doing so good for his disciple, mmm, ah, ah ah, curing his disciple of his ailment!”
Yes. Yes, that’s right. That’s what this is, curing Binghe. That’s all.
That thought soothes his guilt as he continues fucking his disciple, using his twitching, overworked cunt to stroke his cock. Every thrust in works another helpless moan out of Binghe’s mouth, little ah ah ahs dripping from his lips in quick, sharp bursts.
He braces his feet on the bed and fucks harder up, grinding in as deep as he can go each time so his cockhead massages against Binghe’s cervix, only withdrawing halfway, unable to bear parting entirely with Binghe’s tight hole. He slams in with shallow, hard thrusts, filthy wet noises loud in the room.
His strength as a cultivator has never been something he’d paid particular attention to, his ability to pick up and throw a hammer twice his size and three times his weight simply taken for granted. But now, moving Binghe’s body as easily as he would a feather, disciple turned into nothing more than a hole, a sex toy to be used… Shen Qingqiu truly, honestly thanks the original goods for his training and efforts.
It’s almost too easy to fuck his disciple into stupid, wordless moaning, until those pretty sounds blur together into a long, open-mouthed wail, tears running down Binghe’s cheeks.
He looks so good like this, helplessly laid out over Shen Qingqiu’s lap with his legs spread, his naked body pink and sweaty and trembling in small, reflexive jerks and his cunt is stuffed full over and over and over. He fits perfectly inside, Binghe’s pussy all snug and warm and wet.
“Binghe, I’m going to… have to pull out,” Shen Qingqiu manages through gritted teeth, their skin slapping loudly together, slick and wet with Binghe’s juices.
Binghe’s pussy tightens, unwilling to let him go. Quivering and sobbing, Binghe shakes his head. “Shizun needs to come inside, to cure me. This disciple needs Shizun inside, please, Shizun! Please, oh, oh, please, inside!”
And, well, in the novel, Luo Binghe had come inside of the woman, so surely it can’t be wrong, can it? Shouldn’t Shen Qingqiu take care to cure his disciple completely? Isn’t that his responsibility? This is all for Luo Binghe’s benefit. It’s what he needs. That’s all this is.
So he does, with a few more rough thrusts in his head rolls back onto the pillows, balls tight against his body as he fucks his seed as deep into his disciple’s body as it can go. He feels emptied out, insides liquifying as he comes into Binghe’s new, virginal womb, hot and warm as he paints it all white. He pants raggedly, body jerking in time with the rolling pulses, hands bruisingly tight on Binghe’s hips.
When his body slowly relaxes, his cock beginning to soften inside of Binghe’s pussy, he pulls out, letting Binghe gently down onto the bed, settling himself next to the boy and soothingly petting his hair away from his face.
Binghe is boneless and limp, slumped back and panting. Shen Qingqiu waits and watches a bit as he struggles to regain his breath, but Luo Binghe’s body doesn’t return to normal.
With a shy quirk of his lips, Binghe looks up at him. His eyes are hooded and pupils blown with desire, cheeks still perfectly rosy and pink, hair artfully disheveled and body slick with sweat, legs spreading a bit. From his swollen, puffy pussy, Shen Qingqiu watches some thick white seed drool lazily out, erotically dripping down his skin. “Shizun… Perhaps this disciple needs more curing…?”
A hot shiver crests over him, brain muddy and sloshy, thoughts vanishing as easily as dew in the morning sun. He feels drunk, his muscles quivering and warm, cock already stiffening back up and tingling with arousal. Luo Binghe reaches down and parts his lower lips with one hand, spreading them open to display his slightly gaping entrance.
Shen Qingqiu needs no other incentive. He readily climbs back over his disciple, pinning him down with his weight and sliding his cock right back in deep, down to the very root.