Work Text:
The first time Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun papapa it’s really more like a pa, because the whole thing lasts less than five minutes from start to finish and not for fun reasons. Shang Qinghua gets to enjoy the glorious sensation of sticking his dick into Mobei-Jun’s chrysanthemum for one stretched out beautiful moment, and then Mobei-Jun - his dear, beloved, handsome, jawline-you-could-cut-yourself-on king who had so very earnestly struggled to ask to be on the bottom - tilts that lovely jaw of his back and gives a sexy groan as he rakes his claws down Shang Qinghua’s back.
“Gnghk,” Shang Qinghua chokes out, eyes bugging out of his head, and he collapses like a limp doll onto Mobei-Jun’s impressive, hairy chest.
“Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun asks confusedly. And then again, more sharply and more concerned as he presumably notices the copious amount of blood pouring down from the eight gouges on his back. “Qinghua.”
“M’knnnng,” Shang Qinghua keens through a locked jaw, his teeth glued together by sheer agony. “Whuh, whyyyy?”
He’s crying. It’s so bad that it’s not even big wailing dramatic sobs, because that would hurt too much. Instead the tears just slip down his face all on their own, like his eyeballs are a couple of broken faucets that someone snapped the handle off on.
Mobei-Jun gives him a look of absolute panic - discernible by the way that his eyes have widened by one and a half millimeters - and then snaps into action. Shang Qinghua’s rapidly softening pillar is efficiently removed from Mobei-Jun’s asshole, before he’s thrown over his shoulder (he screams), a portal is torn open and Mobei-Jun strides through it as naked as the day he was born with lube trickling down his inner thighs. Shang Qinghua, also naked and actively bleeding, just lets himself be limply carted around like a dying animal.
“He is wounded,” Mobei-Jun says flatly to someone, as Shang Qinghua distantly recognizes that he’s been taken to Qian Cao Peak’s infirmary. He knows that floor; he negotiated for the pricing of those tiles himself. “Fix him.”
And that’s how Shang Qinghua and Mobei-Jun’s extremely romantic and passionate first time ends. To think that he would go from the very heights of pleasure to the lowest depths of pain so quickly! Life is truly a cruel, capricious bitch.
So, it takes a while before they try again after that. Shang Qinghua wants to! He really wants to! Mobei-Jun is his ideal man, the most handsome and gorgeous beefcake of all beefcakes, seriously! Who wouldn’t want to tap that? Only a complete idiot!
But tell that to his fight or flight response! It was a misunderstanding, or a mistake, he gets that, he totally does. Mobei-Jun apologized! He looked very ashamed of himself! He pampered Shang Qinghua mercilessly until his back healed. He’s not even going to scar, thanks to his golden core. It’s not going to happen again, Mobei-Jun promised. Demons just like it a little (or a fucking lot) rough and he’d forgotten to adjust for Shang Qinghua’s frail human body in the heat of the moment. Who hasn’t had a few sex accidents that brought them to the ER, really? At least Shang Qinghua hadn’t literally died and needed the System to bring him back to life, unlike some other people he could mention.
Still, every time they makeout after that and things start getting a little hot and heavy, Shang Qinghua ends up getting all twitchy and tense, and not in a sexy way. Mobei-Jun slid his hand up to the nape of his neck and gave it a gentle squeeze, just the very tips of his claws harmlessly digging into his skin a little, and he flinched so hard he fell out of his lap and onto the floor! Even after Shang Qinghua nervously babbled out his excuses, apologies, and reassurances, Mobei-Jun had seemed glum afterwards. It can still be hard to tell with him sometimes, but he hadn’t even wanted to keep going.
“Get it the fuck together,” Shang Qinghua hisses at his reflection in the mirror in his room once Mobei-Jun has retreated. Rather than bronze, it is a pane of eternally frozen ice which has somehow been made reflective, which is just neat. “Seriously! This has gone too far. Not only are you hurting your king’s feelings, but you’re cockblocking yourself! Unacceptable! Get over it! It was a little scratch, so what!!”
Sadly, shouting at himself doesn’t magically fix the problem. If only it did, then he might have been able to force himself to get a normal degree, get a normal job, and be a normal son who didn’t end up writing a web novel so endless and insane that it literally sucked him into itself. So inconvenient!
It really is annoying. Shang Qinghua once suffered being beaten sometimes as much as three times a day by Mobei-Jun, and he managed to get over that, didn’t he? Mobei-Jun completely stopped the beatings after Shang Qinghua’s brief ‘sabbatical’ was interrupted by Linguan-Jun, and things got nice and then nicer and then so fucking nice. So nice that Mobei-Jun can now pat Shang Qinghua on the head without warning, and he won’t flinch or tense up at all! That’s trust. That’s just… it’s so good, genuinely. He loves it.
It had also taken, like, almost two years of consistent not-hitting for them to reach that point. Shang Qinghua does not want to wait two more years before he can try to fuck his king again! He’s already waited so many. Three fucking decades, by this point! What kind of wait time is that!? No way, absolutely no way! Shang Qinghua wants to hit it now. He needs to find a way to get over this ASAP, or else he truly might die of blueballs!
When in need, turn to an expert.
“Please, oh wise master,” Shang Qinghua says, clapping his hands together and bowing his head deferentially, “how does this lowly one build up the courage to stick his dick into the bear trap after it has already snapped shut on him once before?”
“He bit it?” Shen Qingqiu asks in fascinated horror, eyes immediately sinking down to Shang Qinghua’s crotch.
“Metaphorically!” Shang Qinghua corrects. “Figuratively! It went wrong in a different way, we didn’t do oral!”
Although, he won’t be able to stop thinking about that one too now, so thanks a lot! Ahh, demons do a lot of biting during the act, don’t they? They probably do!
“Nevermind that,” Shang Qinghua goes on, frantically waving the scenario away. “Please, Cucumber bro! Impart your hard won wisdom unto this humble novice! How did you get back up on the horse after it bucked you off? And by horse I mean horse sized dick, and by bucked off I mean killed you dead by--”
“Shut up,” Shen Qingqiu says, snapping his fan open to hide behind it as his face begins to flood an angry, flustered red. “Shut the fuck up! When you said you had a massive problem only I could help with, I fucking hoped it would be some transmigrator bullshit. I’m not giving you sex advice! What do I look like, a woman’s magazine advice column!?”
“Come on, man,” Shang Qinghua wheedles, doing his best to look too pitiful to reject. “I’m in need. I’ve got a beefcake absolutely desperate to sleep with me, fucking somehow, and I can’t do it without freaking out about getting used like a scratching post! How’d you get over it? Was it wine? Should I just be blackout drunk? Be honest.”
For some reason Shen Qingqiu flushes even redder at the mention of wine, but he snaps, “Of course not, don’t be stupid! What kind of example would I be setting for Binghe? Someone here has to teach him how to have a healthy sex life.”
And it certainly won’t be you! goes unsaid. Many a hate comment had been written in a furious rage about Luo Binghe once again being pressured by various fuck-or-die plot devices to papapa women he’d only just met. Can’t this stallion protagonist get to lie down with someone who wants him without a metaphorical sword to her neck making her go through with it!? ‘Great Master Airplane’, at this rate Bingge is going to develop a complex about not being truly desired! Which is stupid bullshit because he’s LUO FUCKING BINGHE!
Etcetera, etcetera. Airplane could have responded with it’s a classic trope, bro or everyone else seems to be eating it up with a spoon so maybe you should chill out a little, or even you know you could just commission me to write self insert porn for you if you really want. However, that felt a little too much like opening Pandora’s box, and so he kept his comebacks to himself.
“What, so you just willpowered your way through it?” Shang Qinghua asks. “Totally just shrugged off the whole dying thing and crossed your fingers that it’d go better the second time?”
“Well, that first time, there were extenuating circumstances, you know…” Shen Qingqiu immediately starts hedging defensively. “It’s not like Luo Binghe’s heavenly pillar single handedly killed me off! At worst it would have just chafed me so badly I couldn’t sit down for a week. He was qi deviating! It was all Xin Mo’s fault, actually! Sex barely had anything to do with it!”
“But you were actively fucking while it was happening?” Shang Qinghua asks.
“Yes, fine,” Shen Qingqiu grudgingly concedes. “Don’t you dare bring that up around Binghe; he still gets upset whenever he thinks about it.”
“So he’s traumatized, but not you?”
“Binghe’s a sensitive soul,” Shen Qingqiu says primly. “He has a very delicate, maidenly heart.”
Shang Qinghua once watched said ‘sensitive soul’ strangle a man to death with his own intestines! That ‘delicate, maidenly heart’ punched someone so hard in the chest that his fist literally went through them! This was admittedly during the Cucumber Coma Years, as Shang Qinghua mentally termed them, during which Luo Binghe had a lot of unhinged yandere feelings simmering within him to vent out on anyone foolish enough to cross him. Shang Qinghua had spent that entire time in pretty much a perpetual state of terror, doing his level best to burrow his way into his king’s cape to shiver and cower there whenever they were summoned to court. All he can say is thank god his homicidal son is finally getting laid on the regular…
“Sure,” is all Shang Qinghua says, knowing better than to throw himself against the brickwall of a fanboy’s unconditional devotion to his fave. “So if Binghe was so shaken up by the whole thing, how did you convince him to give it a second go?”
“I didn’t convince him!” Shen Qingqiu protests at once, blushing. “Binghe was the one who pestered me over it - he has the constitution of a stallion protagonist, after all! How could I possibly neglect him? Depriving someone with a drive like that would be akin to torture!”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Shang Qinghua agrees, too set on his goal to bother with shoving Shen Qingqiu’s obvious bullshit into his face. “You’re totally just indulging him, I get it! But you said the whole ‘nearly killing you with his heavenly pillar’ thing upset him. How did you help him get over it?”
“Well,” Shen Qingqiu says, and then seems to actually stop and think for a moment, his brow furrowing as he gazes into the middle distance. Very promising! “Really… I just had to reassure him that there was no reason that things would go the same as the first time. Which is easy, since as long as he isn’t close to qi deviating then things are obviously safe. We even sometimes seal Xin Mo first, if Binghe’s feeling a little extra anxious about it.”
That… makes perfect sense, and is totally unhelpful. It’s not like Mobei-Jun mauled his back because he was qi deviating, or an evil badass sword was driving him insane. It was literally just a stupid accident! Those can happen fucking anytime. Hell, the chances of them happening while they fuck are pretty damned high, considering demonic instincts. Can Shang Qinghua really expect Mobei-Jun to remain calm and composed during something like that? Even if he could pull it off, that’d suck too! Mobei-Jun should get to relax and enjoy himself as well…
“Stupid fucking rough demon sex,” Shang Qinghua grumbles, frustrated. “What kind of way is that for a whole species to operate? No wonder their birth rate is so low!”
“Stupid? Stupid? How dare you?” Shen Qingqiu demands, incredulous rage seeping into his voice. “You’re the one who made them that way! You just had to make every single papapa scene with a demonic wife a BDSM fest. Of course they’re like this, after something like that! It’s probably your fault that Binghe’s an incurable masochist!”
“You’re the one who raised him, bro,” Shang Qinghua points out. “And anyway, all of that stuff was just supposed to be some extra spice to make the sex scenes less repetitive. Demons liking it rough was never meant to have cultural implications!”
“Well, unfortunately for you it does. You reap what you sow, Great Master Airplane. Have fun braving the bear trap for the rest of your days.”
“What, I’m not going to get even a crumb of sympathy? Heartless!”
“I don’t remember much sympathy from you when I found out Binghe’s feelings for me!”
“I was being encouraging! Aren’t you two happily married now? Wasn’t it all for the best in the end?”
“In that case, let me give you a nice heaping dose of encouragement,” Shen Qingqiu says icily. “You’re worried about your sex life? Here’s my prescription: just get over yourself and power through it! Exposure therapy is a classic, isn’t it?”
Shang Qinghua throws his snack bowl at him.
As extremely unhelpful as his fellow transmigrator’s advice may have been, Shang Qinghua can see no way forward but through. They’re not going to solve this problem by fiddling their fingers and waiting for it to fix itself! Action is required.
“My king,” Shang Qinghua says as breathily as he can manage, doing his best to sexily lounge against Mobei-Jun’s desk. He accidentally shoves a small stack of scrolls tumbling off the edge with his ass. Oops. “This humble servant was wondering if some time could be spared for him…?”
Mobei-Jun looks at where Shang Qinghua is (very uncomfortably actually, ouch) half perched on his desk, then up at his face. “It can.”
His voice is as flat as his expression, but Shang Qinghua doesn’t let that discourage him! He knows that’s just Mobei-Jun’s default. You don’t get to be the stoic badass character by making facial expressions all over the place.
“Let’s fuck,” Shang Qinghua says, very abruptly deciding that being coy is a loser’s strategy. “Now. Preferably on a bed but I’m willing to compromise. I’m not too picky! A couch is acceptable! Or a desk. Or a wall. Or the floor. Or--”
Mobei-Jun stands up, scoops him up into his big, strong arms so that he makes a ridiculous yipping sort of noise of surprise, before quickly opening and stepping through a portal. Just like that, they’re in Mobei-Jun’s palatial bedroom, all ice crushed silken sheets and big furry throws.
“O--oh,” Shang Qinghua says. “That’s-- yes, nice! I appreciate the enthusiasm, my king! Great stuff!”
Instead of tossing him onto the bed, Mobei-Jun very deliberately puts him down like he might bounce off the mattress and crack his skull if he’s not careful. It’s very sweet, but a bit of an overcorrection. But hey, it’s better than him not being careful enough.
“Qinghua is sure,” Mobei-Jun says cautiously, and Shang Qinghua takes it for the question that it is.
“Absolutely,” Shang Qinghua reassures him firmly, and he opens up his arms welcomingly. “This humble servant is sorry for being all twitchy and stuff, that’s over now. I’m definitely ready for it!”
He’ll make himself be ready for it. He won’t accept anything else! No way out but through!
Mobei-Jun looks at him for a moment, some big, ponderous cogs churning away unseen inside of that opaque skull of his, and then he gets on top of Shang Qinghua. He does it easily, like a wolf caging in a mouse, his huge body settling over him without actually putting any weight on him. He leans in and Shang Qinghua mindlessly makes space for him until his back is against the bed and Mobei-Jun looms above him like a nice, sheltering cave, his hair hanging down around his face.
“Very well,” he says, and he leans down and takes Shang Qinghua’s mouth.
A thrill runs up Shang Qinghua’s spine, and he eagerly presses up into the kiss. Ah, that’s just like his ideal man! So effortlessly sexy, good job! Top marks! And kissing is familiar territory, something they’ve been doing for months now. That’s safe; Mobei-Jun already knows not to bite, after Shang Qinghua made an idle comment about how gnawed-on Shen Qingqiu’s lips look sometimes.
Things go well up to a certain point, just like all the other times. They trade kisses that get sloppier and more heated with every moment, and Shang Qinghua curls his arms happily around Mobei-Jun’s broad, muscular shoulders, marveling at how he gets to touch and stroke instead of just stare and drool from afar. It’s like getting to touch the art in a museum! Specifically one of those Greek statues, all chiseled and half naked and perfect.
Mobei-Jun begins to touch him back, too. With one hand holding himself up above Shang Qinghua, he uses the remaining one to press against his chest, right over his heart. Shang Qinghua hums and presses up against it encouragingly, wiggling needily a bit until he takes the hint and drags his hand towards the seam of his robes…
This is it! This is where it goes from ‘makeouts’ to ‘foreplay’ and Shang Qinghua is going to be so fine and chill and cool about it. No flinching or yelping from him! This is fine! It’s going to be fine! He just has to focus on how hot his king is and how much he likes him and how much he knows his king must like him back and it’s going to be fine, it’ll be fine, so so so fine.
Mobei-Jun’s hand slips underneath the seam of his robes, parting it as much as he can without having loosened the belt first, two more layers of clothes underneath still in the way, but it’s a start. And Shang Qinghua--
Underneath his hands, he feels the muscles in Mobei-Jun’s back go stiff and rigid.
“Mm?” Shang Qinghua hums, trying to talk and kind of struggling with a tongue in his mouth and nowhere to go to get away from it. But Mobei-Jun freezes at once, before quickly tearing his hand out from Shang Qinghua’s slightly parted robes, pushing himself further away. The slowly building warmth between them vanishes instantly, like opening up a door during winter and letting all the heat out.
“Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun asks, his cold, blue eyes darting across his face, down to his chest, back up again. Shang Qinghua feels like he’s being given a visual pat down! “What is wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong!” Shang Qinghua hurriedly assures him. “Just--” you froze up like someone pulled a gun on you, “--you seem… tense?”
The taut, alert way Mobei-Jun is holding himself softens slightly, as if in relief. “I am fine.”
And he leans back down and kisses him again, a little more gently and chastely, which is nice and sweet and all but! That’s not what he’s here for! Shang Qinghua does his best to make it filthy again, tugging at Mobei-Jun’s clothes urgingly. Demonic clothing is the best; it’s way less complicated to get Mobei-Jun’s clothes loosened and slipping off his handsome, perfect shoulders, fully revealing his buff, hairy chest. Truly, a more flawless hunk of a man doesn’t exist in any of the three realms…
It happens again, though. Shang Qinghua helpfully fumbles his belt open and wriggles out of his outer robes, impatiently pulling the last two layers open, grabbing Mobei-Jun’s hand and pulling it towards his bare chest. See, it’s fine, he tells himself firmly. He didn’t immediately start mauling you like a tiger, it’s fine, you were overreacting--
Mobei-Jun stiffly lets himself be moved, but makes no movements himself. His hand stays on Shang Qinghua’s chest, unmoving and almost impersonal, like it’s the hand of a mannequin. It’s extremely not-sexy and actually kind of concerning, to the point that Shang Qinghua breaks the kiss and tries to get a look at Mobei-Jun’s face.
His face, it turns out, looks tense and focused, with furrowed brows and pressed thin lips. It does not look like a ‘I’m having a great time fooling around with my boyfriend’ expression.
“My king?” Shang Qinghua blurts out, blinking. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun says, clipped.
Experimentally, Shang Qinghua shoves a leg between Mobei-Jun’s. Tellingly, the hard length of his cock pressing against his thigh isn’t there; he’s still soft. Which, like, no judgement, Shang Qinghua’s motor can run a bit slow sometimes too, depending, but with everything else--
“Are you not enjoying this?” Shang Qinghua asks. And then, in the tones of dawning realization, “Oh, shit, you’re not enjoying this.”
“No, it is good,” Mobei-Jun denies at once but he’s lying, he’s a lying piece of shit! Shang Qinghua is pawing at and slobbering all over him and Mobei-Jun is just longsufferingly taking it.
He lets go of Mobei-Jun’s shoulders, very abruptly and intensely feeling like some sort of pathetic, disgusting worm. The tentatively stoked embers of heat in the pit of his belly go from a pleasant simmering warmth to painfully burning humiliation in the blink of an eye.
“It’s fine,” he hears himself say. “Really, we don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it, haha! I kind of interrupted you in the middle of stuff, didn’t I? Sorry! That was stupid of me, guess I should’ve just taken care of things myself, I just thought I’d ask, you know, since-- nevermind! You know I can handle a little rejection, right? Just tell me you’re not in the mood, I can take it! I’ve been turned down way harder than--”
As he babbles, he gets started on squirming his way out from underneath Mobei-Jun, out of the bed, out of the room, and perhaps out of his own skin as well. Wow, good job, asshole! Creep! Pervert! Loser! Turns out the problem wasn’t his own hangups, Mobei-Jun’s just not that into him! That seriously didn’t even occur to him? How embarrassing! That really should’ve been top of the list! He’s not exactly Mister Sex Appeal, is he? Never fucking has been! Fuck!
Mobei-Jun grabs him, drags him back into place, and easily pins him down like an avalanche settling over his helpless body.
“No,” he growls, leaning in with an intense, narrow glare. “It is good. I like it.”
“Okay,” Shang Qinghua chokes out on terrified reflex. “Whatever you say!”
Mobei-Jun gives him a frustrated, helpless look. “It is good. Do you understand?”
Like hell it is!
“Crystal!”
“Liar!” Mobei-Jun snaps, and Shang Qinghua very bravely does not cower or start begging for mercy.
“Aren’t you the liar here?” he points out, and doesn’t like how petulant his voice comes out. “You obviously didn’t like it. You went as stiff as a board whenever you touched me.”
“That is not--” Mobei-Jun starts, and then stops with an angry little huff of air through his nose. He starts again, looking a little pained to be saying so many words in a single stretch. “It was… it was too good. I liked it too much. I mustn’t… It is bad. For me to like it too much. I must watch myself, in order to avoid…”
He trails off into a frustrated silence, like his tongue has traitorously refused to cooperate even though he hasn’t made himself clear yet. Just once, he tightens his hands slightly where he’s gripping Shang Qinghua by the shoulders, squeezing so that the tips of his claws dig in just ever so lightly.
“This,” he says.
Shang Qinghua softens against his will, feeling the defensive hurt leaking out of him like someone poked a hole in him. Ah, that’s really too…
“Ahh, my king,” Shang Qinghua says fondly, “this servant apologizes for jumping to stupid conclusions. How pathetic of me!”
“No,” Mobei-Jun refutes. “This king is-- I am. Sorry. For doing this poorly. I only wish to… This should be good. It must be.”
“I want it to be good too!” Shang Qinghua agrees. “But really, you getting all in your head every time you start enjoying yourself doesn’t sound like a good time at all? There’s got to be a better way.”
“I refuse to wound you again,” Mobei-Jun says, his face hardening resolutely. So manly! So romantic?? Seriously, how is he supposed to respond!? That’s way too, too-- something. Mobei-Jun hardly speaks at all, to think that he’d have the face to straightforwardly say something like that without combusting! “If… If this king can’t do this without losing control and harming Qinghua, then he shouldn’t do it at all. But-- Qinghua can still be-- this king can, for you…”
He looks down between their bodies… down to a very particular part of Shang Qinghua that is still mercifully covered for this conversation that’s rapidly getting more intense than he’d bargained for.
“This king can still please Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says, meeting Shang Qinghua’s eyes meaningfully. “Without any risk.”
… Is Mobei-Jun seriously offering to give Shang Qinghua unlimited free blowjobs with no expectation of returns!? Is he hearing this right??
“No way!” Shang Qinghua blurts out, smacking the ultra generous dream offer away like it’s something offensive. “My king, do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to get my hands on you!? And my mouth? And my-- everything else, basically!? I’m not going to settle for you-- for, for a one sided situation like that! Isn’t it way too unfair on you too?”
And it sounds too awkward besides! Shang Qinghua would be squirming with guilt, taking whatever he wants and leaving Mobei-Jun neglected like that. He appreciates Mobei-Jun trying to make their relationship more equal, or at least properly thankful, but that’s taking it way too far in the other direction! Is that even healthy? For all he knows, death via blueballs is a real danger in this bullshit porn world he’s created.
Mobei-Jun’s face falls, like he’s been rejected. He lets go of Shang Qinghua’s shoulders, moving back.
“Fine,” he says curtly, looking away. He gets up--
“Don’t you dare storm out!” Shang Qinghua cries, and throws himself at his king's back, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Mobei-Jun is strong enough that he could stand up and walk away with Shang Qinghua clinging onto him like a sea anemone anyway, but he sits back down on the bed instead. “Don’t go off and sulk and pout! This is-- this is solvable, my king! It’s not like we’re impossibly incompatible or anything! I swear to you, we can successfully fuck. Just let me think a little!”
He believes this! He has to believe this! After all the shit he’s been through, doesn’t he deserve this much? Hot sex with his ideal man?? It’s a completely reasonable ask! If his first set of parents, a pair of people who were seemingly born to despise each other, could manage enough sexual chemistry to have one whole dysfunctional child together then surely he and Mobei-Jun can manage to fuck without grievous injury once. How many sex scenes did Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky write? How many wife characters did he manage to brute force his stallion protagonist into wedding and bedding? No matter how forced, how contrived, how ridiculous, he always managed it in the end. Anything is possible so long as you’re completely desperate!
Really, he completely refuses to accept the possibility that he and Mobei-Jun are so completely not meant for each other that they can’t manage even this much. So what if they’re a weird match? So what?? That’s no one’s business but their own! If Mobei-Jun, the king of the Northern Desert and all around OP badass ice demon, has decided that he’s actually attracted to the rat traitor bastard who can’t shut the fuck up then Shang Qinghua will enthusiastically respect and honor that absolutely insane decision. After so many years of performing thankless laundry, cooking, sewing, first aid, espionage and general service all while suffering regular beatings, he’s more than earned it! He’s actually not going to be humble and modest about it at all. He’s shamelessly grabbing at the opportunity with both hands!
He just needs to find a way to make the opportunity work. Throughout PIDW, there had been many times that Luo Binghe had needed to seduce a particularly violent or hostile wife - usually demonic ones! Everyone liked to see the golden protagonist overcome a challenge. Usually the way he’d handle something like this was by being so overwhelmingly cool and tough that it didn’t even matter if the wife scratched, clawed, bit, or even outright mauled him in bed. He’d just take it like a man and keep pounding! Hell, he might even enjoy it. There were never enough kinks for Bingge!
Obviously this is not even remotely an option for Shang Qinghua. The other times, Luo Binghe would seduce and charm his target so thoroughly that even the sharpest of wives would turn soft and docile for him. But Mobei-Jun isn’t making this an issue on purpose, he just gets too overwhelmed and then can’t help it…
Huh. Hang on.
We even sometimes seal Xin Mo first, Shen Qingqiu had said. If Binghe’s feeling a little extra anxious about it.
Something clicks inside of Shang Qinghua’s brain so distinctly that he gives a triumphant, “AHA!”
“Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun asks, Shang Qinghua still wrapped around him from behind.
“I fucking got it!” Shang Qinghua crows, and then releases Mobei-Jun to start rifling through his qiankun pouches. He has several of them because he thought it would be so smart and efficient to have an organizational system, which mostly just means that sometimes he discovers that he’s grabbed the completely wrong bag and he’s stuck in a regular peak lord meeting with a ‘survive the tundra on your own for a week’ go bag, instead of the paperwork and snacks he actually needs.
There was a third method Airplane would use to help his protagonist overcome particularly feisty wives when charm or toughness wouldn’t do the trick: bullshit sexy plot devices! Papapa plants that turn aggressive femdoms into meek and pliant subs! Dastardly poisons that flip the deadliest of femme fatales into harmless pillow princesses! The options are literally countless, because Shang Qinghua’s forgotten the particulars of most of them by now, but they’re still out there somewhere. This world is chock full of tricks and macguffins meant to turn the mighty into the meek.
Not, of course, that Shang Qinghua is going to dose his beloved favorite character with a papapa plot device - especially not after how many times he’s worked to help him avoid plots just like that from scheming courtiers! - but it’s thinking in the right direction. What do they need, really need, in order to do this? A little bit of assistance. That’s all.
In his excitement at finally cracking the case he almost pulls out his little solution with no warning, but thankfully the correct synapses fire to make him think to hesitate for a moment.
“My king, ah,” Shang Qinghua says, trying to figure out how to phrase this in a way that won’t just get him a knee-jerk refusal. “Do you trust this servant to--?”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun says.
“You didn’t let me finish!”
“I trust you,” Mobei-Jun insists, which! Ah!! Shang Qinghua normally considers himself the most thick-faced man alive, but the way Mobei-Jun just says it, like it’s an unchangeable law of physics, makes him want to cover his face. In the original novel, Mobei-Jun’s complete distrust of everyone and anyone around him was a core character trait, immutable and permanent…
“Thank you, my king,” Shang Qinghua makes himself say, trying to ignore how hot his face is getting. And then, because it feels like he should say something back, “This-- I trust you too.”
He’s a little bit surprised to hear himself say it, even though it’s true. Like he’d caught himself by surprise with how much he means it, or like he’s never really stopped to consider it before. But he does. He does trust Mobei-Jun. Fuck, he’s got to move on. This is supposed to be about getting his dick wet, not any other kind of sappy bullshit!
Mobei-Jun smiles, the corners of his mouth turning upwards just ever so slightly, small and soft and sincere. Shang Qinghua nearly dies.
“Can I tie you up and fuck you?” Shang Qinghua blurts out, yanking out the blood red coils of Immortal Binding Cable he always carries with him.
Truly, it’s such a simple solution that he’s amazed he didn’t think of it earlier! Both of them are afraid of Mobei-Jun mauling him with those sharp claws of his? Just do some bondage about it, duh!
Mobei-Jun stares. And stares. And continues to stare, without saying anything. He actually doesn’t even seem to be moving much at all. He should have blinked by now, right?
“Uh,” Shang Qinghua says, rapidly understanding why this maybe hadn’t occurred to him earlier. “Not that-- you know, not for nefarious purposes. Just practical ones! I promise I don’t have any dastardly motives for making you helpless before we have sex, really! I respect your consent and boundaries, my king! I may be a perv, but I’m not a creep. There’s a distinction! I would never--”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun says forcefully, and then he’s moving to take the rest of his own clothes off, yanking his boots off and tossing them aside, peeling off his pants and nearly snapping his belt in half rather than untying it. “Yes,” he says, naked and muscular and perfect and coming closer, moving across the bed and grabbing Shang Qinghua’s shoulders. “Yes,” he says, before claiming Shang Qinghua’s mouth in an eager, hungry kiss as he presses their bodies together in a tight crush, chest flush against chest.
“So, that-- that’s a yes?” Shang Qinghua gasps out after the really passionate kiss calms down enough for him to escape it, wow.
“I surrender to you,” Mobei-Jun says along with some very intense eye contact, which. Hey, hot, but also makes him think that he’s perhaps suddenly dealing with unseen undercurrents of Cultural Implications yet again.
“Cool,” he says, having absolutely no idea of how to deal with that. It’s fine, right? It should be fine! He’ll just tie up his king and fuck him, no biggie. “Then, um-- hands behind your back, my king?”
Intoxicatingly, Mobei-Jun promptly obeys him. Shang Qinghua tries not to let the power immediately go to his head.
He’d written more than a few bondage scenes as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, pandering to the bounty of pervs in his readership. These bondage scenes had even sometimes involved some half assed research, trawling through porn sites looking for some inspiration, searching for new and intricate ways for Bingge’s wives to be tied up by handsy plants, tentacled monsters, doomed gravedigging bad guys, or even sometimes Bingge himself. However, half assed research from a lifetime ago is very different from actual lived experience! Shang Qinghua has barely managed to bag himself more than a mediocre handjob in the past, forget about getting permission to try out his laundry list of speculative kinks on someone!
So, he does his best to keep it simple. Having worked on An Ding at least gives him some knotting experience, and he manages to trap Mobei-Jun’s folded arms together, each hand nearly touching the other elbow.
… Then he gets a little bit wild with it and can’t resist adding an entirely useless and ornamentary lattice of crisscrossing rope to frame Mobei-Jun’s gorgeous, ample pecs. Mobei-Jun just obediently lets this happen, so it’s probably fine! Shang Qinghua looks down upon his work with an absolutely ridiculous amount of pride and sense of accomplishment once he’s done, and then a sharp spike of arousal as the image truly hits.
“Ah,” Shang Qinghua says, suddenly dry-mouthed. He swallows. “That’s-- how does that feel, my king? Comfy? Too tight?”
Mobei-Jun-- flexes, sort of, and it takes Shang Qinghua a moment to realize that he’s testingly straining against the ropes. It does very good things to his muscles, visually speaking. Then he stops, looking Shang Qinghua directly in the eyes as he says, “I am at your mercy.”
A shiver goes up Shang Qinghua’s spine, heat pulsing in the pit of his stomach.
“O--okay!” Shang Qinghua says, a completely involuntary, compulsive laugh tripping out of his mouth. “Noted! Don’t worry, my king, for this servant is very, very--” Thick red cords of rope against pale muscles, blue-black silky hair incidentally brushing against them, “--merciful. I-- I’ve got heaps of mercy, absolutely overflowing with it!”
Mobei-Jun just looks at him and waits, so. What can Shang Qinghua do but reach out and touch? He strokes his chest, reveling in the firm muscle underneath a layer of softer padding. There’s no shrink wrapped, dehydrated four percent muscle fat to be found here; his king was made to survive the winter.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Shang Qinghua says dumbly, voicing the most stupidly obvious fact in the world like it’s some sort of godgiven revelation. “The prettiest, most handsome, perfect man in existence.”
And I’m going to stick my dick in you, he manages not to blurt out like a complete moron. But he is, and the thought feels stupidly taboo and sexy, like he’s getting away with something. It half feels like someone should kick the door down and shout stop, you’re not hot or impressive enough to fuck that demon! Well, the demon actually wants him to, so there.
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says, looking at him with dark, unreadable eyes.
Shang Qinghua, who had actually been planning on being totally nice and respectful, impulsively pushes Mobei-Jun down onto his back and crawls on top of him. He goes down easily, and doesn’t even snarl or snap at him for his impertinence. Just keeps looking at him like he’s waiting for - something. Good or bad? Shang Qinghua has no idea.
“I am going to fuck you so good,” Shang Qinghua pledges, and then grabs Mobei-Jun’s tits and squeezes. “In just a minute.”
He’s excited for the fucking! He really is! But holy shit Mobei-Jun’s glorious rope-bound chest is right there, as if he could just ignore it! He leans in and down, laving his tongue across one nipple, enthusiastically groping at his other pec - the muscle is softer than he’d thought it would be, yielding to his fingers, his tongue. Shang Qinghua makes a muffled groan like he just bit into a tasty snack, and then does set his teeth to Mobei-Jun’s flesh, digging in.
Above him, there is just the slightest stuttered inhale, the noise so small that Shang Qinghua might even have just imagined it. It drives him so wild that his hips hitch instinctively, grinding his dick against Mobei-Jun’s hip. Fuck, that was so cute!
“Wanna eat you like a peach,” Shang Qinghua says, unwilling to part from Mobei-Jun’s chest any further than he has to in order to speak, his cheek rubbing affectionately against his spit-slick pec for a moment before he eagerly dives back in.
He sucks, kisses, nips, and gnaws at Mobei-Jun’s chest for a hazy, syrupy amount of time, firmly imprinting the taste of his king’s skin into his mind until it permeates his entire mouth. This close, he can actually hear his heartbeat drumming away inside of that glorious chest of his, betraying that Shang Qinghua and his hungry mouth and hands are actually doing something for him. That, and those small, quiet, adorable noises he keeps making, breathless and bitten back like they’re having a clandestine fuck somewhere semi-public instead of in the royal bedchamber.
Shang Qinghua can’t count how many fantasies he’s had about his king, both in this life and the last. They had in fact only skyrocketed after they’d finally actually met, his imagination set alight by getting to see him. The fantasies ranged from ‘my merciless king punishes me (sexily) for being an incompetent servant’ to ‘I punish my spoiled king (sexily but meanly) for taking his highly useful servant for granted!!’ depending on his mood, and also how much of an ass Mobei-Jun was being at the time. But ah, this fantasy… the fantasy of unrestrained access to this perfect, chiseled body he’d imagined for his own pleasure was perhaps the least likely one he’d ever indulged in. And now it’s all his.
When Shang Qinghua comes up for air to survey his masterpiece, he’s actually surprised to see far fewer bruises blooming on his king’s spit-slick, gnawed on chest than he thought he would. Ah, that's the demonic constitution for you! If Shang Qinghua really wants to mark him up, he’s clearly going to have to bite down until his jaw aches!
“Ahh, my king, there’s so much of you,” Shang Qinghua half-laments and half-marvels, stroking a hand across that broad chest, thumb caressing a nipple. “How could this servant possibly lavish every piece of you with the attention you deserve?”
Mobei-Jun looks up at him, and his expression might almost look regular if it weren’t for his blown-out dark eyes, as well as a feverish flush to his face, his lips just slightly parted. If Shang Qinghua didn’t know any better, he’d think that his king has been drugged! The sight makes a sudden protective shiver go up his back, and before he knows it he’s scrambling inside of his loosened robes for - there. He draws his spiritual sword out of his qiankun pouch and sets it to the side of the bed, within easy reach.
“Just in case we, ah, we get interrupted, my king,” Shang Qinghua rushes to reassure, belatedly realizing how that must’ve looked. “With you tied up and all!”
Obviously, he’ll only use that neglected sword of his to cut Mobei-Jun’s bindings if any nasty surprise assassins pop up - as if he’s any kind of protector! But Mobei-Jun inhales, and his legs drift just a little further apart in invitation, his pillar standing at eager attention between those muscular thighs.
“Come,” Mobei-Jun orders, which Shang Qinghua really wants to do, there is nowhere in the world he’d rather be than between those glorious thighs--
--but against all logic, what he does is instinctively blurt out, “Make me.”
Mobei-Jun stares at him for a moment, as if he can’t comprehend that he’s being disobeyed. Then he sits up, just using those gorgeous core muscles of his to do it--
Shang Qinghua pushes him back down. Hell, he does it easily. He has a golden core too, after all! With Mobei-Jun tied up in Immortal Binding Cable, literally pushing him around has become simple. That feels…
Oh, Shang Qinghua is so fucking hard now.
“What’s the matter?” Shang Qinghua asks a little breathlessly, a shiteating grin blooming uncontrollably on his face. Really, what is he doing? Isn’t this supposed to be about him and his king finally doing the deed? Why is he acting like this? But, ah, it feels so good. “Can’t just take what you want from me, huh? Can’t force me to do what you like?”
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun breathes, all of his inky hair spilling across the pillows, staring up at him with something like shock, or confusion. “You… What do you think you’re doing?”
“My king,” Shang Qinghua croons, and he rubs a teasing hand along Mobei-Jun’s inner thigh, avoiding slipping anywhere actually satisfying. “You said you’re completely at my mercy, right? Right? Then, if you really want to be fucked by this humble servant so badly… why don’t you beg for it?”
Outrageous! Shameless! Begging for a beating! He’s got his ideal man spreading his legs for him, and he’s demanding him to beg for it too? How greedy! He should be weeping tears of gratitude!
But instead of flying into an indignant rage, Mobei-Jun - swallows. Opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again, and makes such a small, quiet noise, like the aborted first syllable of a word that then gets stuck in his throat.
Shang Qinghua crowds closer to him, shuffling his way deeper between his legs, resting his weight on hands braced on hips, fingers fanning out over his pelvis. He’s got a lovely happy trail, leading from his navel to his crotch.
“Come on,” he wheedles, his voice falling quieter, like coaxing a wary animal out of hiding. “Can’t my king muster a single little please?”
Shang Qinghua was the one who made Mobei-Jun as prideful as a mountain, stubborn and icy and more willing to crumble than ever bend. It made his subjugation by the protagonist more impressive, that he was the only man who could make this indomitable, stoic demon bend the knee. Shang Qinghua is asking him to do a lot more than just bend a knee. Unreasonable, greedy, ridiculous.
He wants it, though. He wants it with a depth and a hunger that startles him, that doesn’t feel right for something that’s clearly just a whim, clearly just something he came up with right here and now. He’s being so stupid.
He still waits for it, though.
“... please,” Mobei-Jun says - or no, whispers almost, it’s so quiet, so small. Like it’s taking him real effort to get just that out.
Again, Shang Qinghua should say, or louder. But what he actually says is--
“Okay sure,” he rasps, and immediately dives for the oil. Maybe that’s not very slick of him, maybe he should pry more out of him first, like jiggling a knife’s edge into a stubbornly shut clam hiding a shiny pearl from him, but fuck, he’s not slick! He’s only human! How could he possibly reject that kind of sheer gap moe? He’s not heartless!
He nearly fumbles the oil and spills it all over the sheets in his haste, but manages to just barely course correct. The oil coats his fingers, faintly yellow tinted and viscous, and then like he’s holding a spoon of food out for him, he says, “Open up for your servant, my king.”
Mobei-Jun obediently spreads his legs a little wider, leaving himself open and available to Shang Qinghua. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately working one finger inside of him. The only sign that Mobei-Jun feels him at all is how his next inhalation is just a little deeper and sharper than the rest, his stomach sucking in slightly. Ahh, Shang Qinghua doesn’t get why, but somehow the slightest reaction from Mobei-Jun gets to him more than the loudest wailing and moaning from any porn star he’s jerked off to in his past life! Everything feels magnified with him, every twitch and breath big and obvious.
That might admittedly have a little bit to do with how closely Shang Qinghua is looking at him, listening to him. How carefully he has to pay attention.
“Ahh, my king feels good? My king likes that?” Is this dirty talk? He’s written thousands of words of it, but somehow what’s leaving his mouth now sounds more like he’s giving a dog a belly rub! “Ask nicely, and this servant will add more fingers…”
Mobei-Jun’s arms flex, like he’s pulling against the ropes again. Shang Qinghua appreciates the view even as he rubs at his king from the inside, trying to loosen him up. He’s so firm and tight, even down there - fuck. Shang Qinghua shifts restlessly on his knees, wishing he’d taken the time to fully undress earlier.
He doesn’t say anything, of course, nicely or otherwise. As if it would be that easy!
“If my king doesn’t desire anything more than this single finger then he won’t impose, of course. This servant supposes he’ll have to settle for fucking his king’s thighs instead--”
“No!” Mobei-Jun bursts out, a bark of a refusal that would’ve sent Shang Qinghua flinching and ducking to cover his head in the past. “You will-- it was agreed that you would…”
“Was it?” Shang Qinghua jumps in, pumping that single finger in and out of Mobei-Jun. Really, it’s not nearly enough to work him open, all he’s accomplishing is spreading the oil around. And teasing him. Very important, that. “This servant doesn’t remember that being said. If my king wishes to be fucked then he must say so!”
All filthy lies, of course. So what? Shang Qinghua’s a liar! Old news, honestly.
Mobei-Jun glares at him, but it has less of a traitorous human I shall beat you to death for this edge to it, and more of a helpless, embarrassed air of frustration. Ahh, he shouldn’t look so bullied when Shang Qinghua has him like this, it’s like throwing chum into shark-infested waters!
“This king,” Mobei-Jun grounds out with great effort, his face gaining color. “He is. He desires more.”
“More what?” Shang Qinghua asks innocently. “Oil? This servant can pour more, please only give him a moment.”
“No,” Mobei-Jun says, and breathes. Then he says, “This king wants to be fucked. Please.”
Heat jolts low down in his stomach like a kick to the solar plexus, hard and sudden.
“Well then!” Shang Qinghua says. “Well! How could this servant possibly deny his king?”
Very easily, of course. With him tied up like this - and really, Mobei-Jun would at most storm off to sulk if Shang Qinghua decided out of nowhere to stop things. But ah, Mobei-Jun is being so nice and well behaved right now, not at all like a spoiled, demanding brat… shouldn’t he reward this sort of behavior? Just a little?
Mobei-Jun’s inner thighs glisten with spillover oil, his hole eagerly and easily swallowing Shang Qinghua’s finger up to the third knuckle. He licks his lips.
Yes, yes he should reward him. It’s the only sensible thing to do.
He slips a second finger inside, and Mobei-Jun gives a slightly shuddery exhale of relief at being just a little more filled up, his eyes falling shut for just a moment.
“My lovely king,” Shang Qinghua says reverently, and can’t resist for a moment longer using his free hand to stroke Mobei-Jun’s nice, meaty cock. It makes his king inhale sharply, his brow furrowing before the twist quickly melts away. “Does that feel good?”
A small, wordless noise of assent. Shang Qinghua squeezes at Mobei-Jun’s cock in reward, happy to have gotten that much of a response.
That greedy, merciless part of him rears it head though, because the next words out of his mouth are, “Ah, then why doesn’t my king thank me?”
Mobei-Jun’s eyes, which had drifted shut in pleasure, open again to look at him.
“Isn’t it only appropriate to show gratitude for good service?” Shang Qinghua says, and he slowly pumps his two fingers in and out of Mobei-Jun, spreading them when he’s got them deep inside. “Can my king do that for me? Say thank you, my king.”
“Qinghua, you…” Mobei-Jun says, trailing off. His mouth is a little open as he breathes, revealing a tantalizing little glimpse of pink tongue, his icy blue eyes dominated by blown out pupils, a feverish flush high on his face. Bound in red ropes and with his inky black hair fanning out around him, he looks like a wet dream come to life.
“Come on,” Shang Qinghua coaxes, feeling hot and reckless with want. He keeps having to swallow, saliva pooling in his mouth like he’s an eager mutt panting for a piece of meat. “It would make this servant so happy to be thanked, ah, I’d treasure it for the rest of my days--” more like he’d jerk off to it for the rest of his days! ,”--and it’s only fair, right? I’m doing all of the work here, aren’t I? As usual! Come on, my king, it’s not so hard, is it?”
Of course it’s hard. Mobei-Jun has never had to thank anyone in his life, Shang Qinghua is certain of it. And now he’s got to thank someone for this? Truly, who would have the face for it? But amazingly, Mobei-Jun actually speaks.
“Thank…” He squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away slightly as if he can’t bear to look at Shang Qinghua for this. “Thank you.”
That’s it. Shang Qinghua’s patience, or possibly his sanity, reaches the end of some sort of fuse and detonates inside of his skull like fireworks. He has discovered his ultimate sexual fantasy: making Mobei-Jun say his pleases and thank yous.
“Good boy,” Shang Qinghua says inanely, and oh he’s not touching Mobei-Jun any longer, not his cock or his hole, because he’s too busy yanking the rest of his clothes off. “Ahh, what a good boy, daddy won’t make you wait any longer! Keep being sweet like that and I’ll have no choice but to fuck you all night long!”
Mobei-Jun makes a choked sort of noise to the pure insanity pouring out of Shang Qinghua’s mouth, although if there’s one specific thing he’s most outraged or shocked by then he doesn’t say. Shang Qinghua, for his part, grabs his own cock the second he’s got it out, his loose robes hanging off him, no time to properly undress. He lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock nudging against Mobei-Jun’s slick hole.
“Pardon for the intrusion,” Shang Qinghua says, far too cheerful and raw and eager at the same time; he feels slightly hysterical.
Second time’s the charm!
Shang Qinghua drives his cock into Mobei-Jun’s barely prepared hole, sinking into him in one greedy swoop. Mobei-Jun actually makes an audible groan over it, not just a breathy gasp of air, the deep timber of his voice lacing it.
“Fuck!” Shang Qinghua cries, from just how fucking good it feels. All that tight flesh wrapped around his cock like a clingy lover, enveloping him from root to tip - god. “Oh my god, fuck, ah, my king, my king--”
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says, and there’s an undercurrent of urgency to his voice that doesn’t fit the moment. “Is this king harming you?”
Shang Qinghua opens eyes he hadn’t even noticed squeezing shut, and looks dazedly down at Mobei-Jun. He’s looking up at Shang Qinghua with an intense focus that he’d never be able to see as concern if it weren’t for how he suddenly knows what Mobei-Jun must be thinking about now - what he’s remembering. The last time they did this.
He brings one hand up to Mobei-Jun’s face and holds the side of his jaw fondly, thumb grazing the corner of his lips.
“You think you could hurt me like this? Tied up and helpless?” Shang Qinghua asks, letting a wide, evil grin split his face. He feels hot and happy, pleasure and anticipation mixing in equal measure in his belly. “My king, you’re the one who should be worried about getting hurt. This humble servant is about to fuck you within an inch of your life!”
“Nnh,” Mobei-Jun grunts, the noise seeming to slip out of him. Really, what can Shang Qinghua do but fuck him? He drags his cock out halfway through before bullying it back into him again, not at all an effortless glide yet, he’s still so tight. He watches the way his cock sinks inside of Mobei-Jun’s hole, feeling coherent thought drain away with each inch.
“Ahh, finally,” Shang Qinghua groans, thrusting into him. “My king, my king, do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this? Fucking you?”
Mobei-Jun hisses at the next thrust, but it doesn’t sound pissed or pained, so Shang Qinghua does it again, and again, and again.
“Hundreds. Thousands. Fucking-- so many times. It’s pretty-- pretty much my favorite fantasy? Just, you. You fucking me or me fucking you, I don’t care, so long as I get to touch you. Every time you’d say something-- something bitchy I’d fantasize about putting you in your place, shoving my cock into your mouth- ah, my king, you feel so good. Did you know that you feel this good to fuck? Did you? You should have told me!”
Mobei-Jun’s lovely chest is visibly rising and falling with each breath now - her heaving bosom inserts itself into his mind, a phrase that he must have copy pasted into PIDW at least three hundred times.
“Every time you acted like an ungrateful bastard,” Shang Qinghua says, a heady feeling of am I really saying this? tingling through him, “I’d think what a brat, I should spank him.”
Mobei-Jun’s eyes widen, one of his legs twitching.
“You would dare--?” he asks, although he weirdly doesn’t sound angry. Just breathy.
“In my head? Yeah, fucking-- fucking constantly, hah! Whenever I saw you, whenever you hit me, whenever you were being-- being you, I’d think about it. Getting my-- my revenge on you, turning the tables. How good it’d feel.”
Good comes out as half a groan; Mobei-Jun’s starting to loosen up for him, making each thrust come smoother, letting him go deeper.
“... What else?” Mobei-Jun asks.
“Huhn?” Shang Qinghua grunts, biting his lower lip as he fucks into Mobei-Jun, savoring the tight, hot build-up in the pit of his stomach that sends little zaps of pleasure to the rest of him like reaching tendrils.
“What else would you - imagine,” Mobei-Jun gets out, and Shang Qinghua squints his eyes open, a little bit of sweat and hair in the way. “Doing to me.”
Mobei-Jun is looking up at him, his gaze hungry and rapt like a starving animal. It could have been intimidating, if he weren’t tied up and bound, weren’t getting fucked - an animal already caught in the snare.
“Oh,” Shang Qinghua says, his mind briefly going blank as what Mobei-Jun’s asking for registers. But then, then, thank god, his brain does what it’s good for and starts churning out every possible idea he can think of.
He grins.
“You really wanna know?” he asks, and his voice sounds different - a little hoarser, from how much panting he’s doing. “My king, the shit I wanted to do to you… I’d think about blackmailing you--” to who, with what, it doesn’t matter - there were more options than he could possibly list, “--forcing you to go along with it. I’d make you get on your knees for a lowly human, a pathetic righteous cultivator, make you hug my thighs and beg. Make you beg for it through-- through grit teeth and spread your legs for me yourself!”
As a dirty fantasy; as a filthy little daydream, nothing more. He’d never be suicidal enough to try it out in real life, let alone all the other issues. But, ah, yeah that one… He’d get real vindictive about the things he’d force poor, imaginary Mobei-jun to do, depending on how vengeful he was feeling at the moment. The way he’d glare up at Shang Qinghua with furious, wounded pride! The way Shang Qinghua would splatter hot cum right onto that fearsome glare and pat his head and laugh at him!
“You would-- subjugate me,” Mobei-Jun says, his voice a rasp.
He doesn’t look angry, Shang Qinghua thinks headily. No snarling lip or bared teeth, no disgust or outrage - no, he looks turned on.
“I’d make you my bitch,” Shang Qinghua corrects him, along with a particularly enthusiastic snap of his hips. “I’d put you on your hands and knees and make you pay for every - single - time--”
Another groan gets torn out from Mobei-Jun’s chest, low and sweet. Shang Qinghua’s pulse ticks up another notch, and he grabs Mobei-Jun by the underside of the knees, pushing them upwards so he gets a better angle, better leverage, better thrust. And Mobei-Jun lets Shang Qinghua manhandle him, has no choice but to let Shang Qinghua manhandle him, move him around him like a fucktoy for his own pleasure. The power of that flows through him like a real, physical thing, tingling down his spine and shivering through his skin. At his mercy, at his mercy, at his mercy…
Oh, no. He’s about to come. He is absolutely about to come and, ah, Mobei-Jun isn’t-- that damned demon constitution, he’s probably ready to get railed like this for hours more - as if Shang Qinghua has the stamina for that! He’d die.
“My king,” Shang Qinghua whines, and forces his hips to slow down - takes the time to wrap a hand around Mobei-Jun’s cock again, to stroke it hard and fast. That’s probably how demons like it, right? Just on the right side of pain. “My king, ah, are you gonna be a good boy for me? Such a good boy?”
Mobei-Jun pants for air and looks up at him silently, as if words are beyond him. That’s fine; Shang Qinghua hadn’t expected a response, really. There’s a fine sheen of fresh sweat on him now - he watches, entranced, as a sweat droplet glides down his throat, along the lines of his pec. Impulsively, he leans in close enough that he can chase that droplet with his tongue, dragging it all the way up to the underside of Mobei-Jun’s jaw. It means that they’re nestled as close together as possible, barely any room at all for him to pull his cock out to thrust back in again. It’s more like he’s humping a tight, wet hole now.
“My king,” Shang Qinghua says reverently - almost drunkenly, lust-stupid. “Can I, I’m gonna-- from now on, can I, can I fuck you whenever I wanna? I don’t think I can go back to, to using my hand and just thinking about you, you feel so fucking good, you’re so good to fuck. Can I?”
Mobei-Jun makes a raw, almost pained noise, and then nods once. Shang Qinghua swears, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lower lip harshly until he feels like he can move again without popping off like a tube of fireworks at the slightest twitch.
“Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun asks.
“Good,” Shang Qinghua mumbles, and then gets back to work, bracing himself so he can start fucking Mobei-Jun again while he continues to pump his cock. “‘M good, so good, the goodest. Ah, my king, my favorite, you’re so perfect, how’re you so perfect? Can I fuck your mouth next time? Ah, but you’ve gotta behave, you’ve gotta be good if you want daddy to stick his cock in there. Maybe, maybe a ring gag?”
He imagines it, Mobei-Jun’s jaw forced open by a ring of metal - some rare, powerful metal, to hold up to his jaw strength - straps at the sides of his face, lips unable to close as Shang Qinghua feeds his cock into that open, wet hole, rendered useless for anything but to be fucked into. Do ring gags exist here? Shang Qinghua will invent ring gags.
Another moan from Mobei-Jun, so precious and hardwon that Shang Qinghua feels his dick twitch inside of him in response. Ahaha, holy fuck, how is this so much better than what he’d imagined? What he’d imagined had already been pretty damned good! He’s gonna, ah, at this rate he’s really gonna--
“Come on,” Shang Qinghua rasps, squeezing Mobei-Jun’s cock. “Be good for me, let go. Aren’t you gonna finish for me? Don’t you wanna come on my cock just like this, get fucked into orgasm? Like a slut, ah, so fucking hot, so fucking--”
Mobei-Jun snarls, throwing his head back, and then - he flexes and moves, starts working himself down on Shang Qinghua’s cock with his rippling core muscles alone. It’s so sizzlingly hot that Shang Qinghua’s brains boil inside of his skull, all coherent thoughts evaporating like so much steam out of his ears. His king is determinedly fucking himself onto Shang Qinghua’s cock, nothing but glazed over heat and desperate determination in his eyes. His irises are thin rings of blue around the pooling black of his pupils, his mouth open and panting for air, hair messy and face flushed and--
“My king,” Shang Qinghua says, and he starts sloppily jackrabbiting into Mobei-Jun’s slick, open hole, all discipline and technique abandoning him as he fucks and fucks and fucks, his hand a loose fist around his cock, probably holding on too tightly, probably chafing him, probably-- “My king, ah, this servant should’ve done this ages ago, I should’ve tied you up and fucked you when you were a bratty seventeen year old! That, hah, that would’ve put you in your place, huh!? If I’d known, if, if only I’d known! How just getting some cock would make you behave like a--”
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun gasps out raggedly, and just like that he’s finally, finally coming.
Shang Qinghua doesn’t register it at first, just feels the way Mobei-Jun clenches up around him so lovely and perfect, and then the gorgeous, ideal cock in his hand starts twitching in his fist, spurting ropes of white cum onto Mobei-Jun’s chiseled abs, even reaching his chest. His face-- so often unreadable and stoic, his expression has been left cracked open by orgasm, dazed pleasure clear to see on his face. He looks shattered, in a very, very good way.
It is the single most beautiful thing Shang Qinghua has ever seen in his life. A kind, considerate boyfriend would probably take a moment to let their lover catch his breath, to stop being overwhelmed and sensitive. Unfortunately, he is so horny that it has swallowed up the entire rest of his brain, and so what he does instead is fuck Mobei-Jun frantically.
He babbles the entire time, of course. His tattered brain-to-mouth filter has pretty much entirely shut off, words pouring out of him like an unblocked dam, barely knowing what he’s fucking saying.
“--love you, you’re so perfect, so good, ah, feels so good, so good to fuck you, wanna fuck you forever baby, my king, my king, is it good does it feel good, it feels so good right? Right? My king tell me it feels good--”
“It feels - good,” Mobei-Jun says obediently, sounding almost concussed. He’s gone lax and limp in his web of ropes, his hole a soft and wet opening for Shang Qinghua to fuck without resistance, his body lolling a little with every thrust - like a fuckdoll, Shang Qinghua’s porn writer brain supplies.
“I’m making you feel good,” Shang Qinghua says breathily, fishing for another thank you, a please - he’s not picky, either one is so, so good. “What do you say?”
Mobei-Jun blinks, his fuck-dazed eyes focusing more as he looks up at Shang Qinghua. He furrows his brow uncertainly, licks his lips once and then - hesitantly, as if guessing or trying out a new word for the first time - says, “Daddy…?”
Shang Qinghua’s brain short circuits the moment he fully processes what he’s heard. Just totally shut off, like a city-wide blackout hitting all at once. He has a single last coherent thought of oh, he really said that, and then he’s coming so hard that he’s seeing spots.
He comes to face planted in Mobei-Jun’s lovely tits, his cock buried deep inside of him and still twitching as orgasm shivers and tingles down his spine. He’s making noises, wordless little sounds of overwhelmed pleasure muffled against Mobei-Jun’s chest. He thinks he might be crying a bit, it feels so good.
“Hahhh, ahhhh, fugh, oh my god…” he mumbles nonsensically, slurring his words. He’s drooling a little too, ah. Sorry for making such a mess, Mobei-Jun’s chest! “Fuck, that was so good, holy shit. My king are you…?”
Shang Qinghua manages to peel himself off from where he’s plastered against Mobei-Jun’s front, pushing himself up with his hands until he can see his face.
Mobei-Jun looks up at him, still naked and bound and with Shang Qinghua’s cock buried inside of him, looking utterly content right where he is. Calm and lax with his eyes half lidded, almost like a pleased, fat tiger that has eaten its fill and is ready to bask in the sunlight now.
Fuck, Shang Qinghua thinks with stupid awe. How come Mobei-Jun gets to look even hotter after he’s been fucked stupid? Shang Qinghua bets he just looks stupid!
“Uh… what was I saying?” Shang Qinghua says. “Nevermind. I, I’ve gotta, I should…”
Shang Qinghua very belatedly remembers that he’s still got his dick stuck inside of Mobei-Jun, and maybe he shouldn’t be lingering there like it’s a cock-hotel he’s paid a full night for. Biting his lip, he slowly draws his softening cock out - cum starts seeping out of Mobei-Jun’s hole the moment he does, trickling down to stain the sheets and make a mess. Creampie, he thinks dumbly.
“One moment!” he chirps mindlessly, and then he’s throwing himself out of the bed and stumbling away. He comes back moments later with water and a cloth and immediately sinks into the task of cleaning up his king the way he has countless times before, like it’s just any other day and Mobei-Jun has stumbled into his home in the middle of the night with bleeding wounds that need cleaning, torn clothes that need stitching and laundering, dirty and exhausted and wordlessly demanding for Shang Qinghua to scurry around and fuss over him while he lies there like a tired bear.
It’s a bit different, of course. While Shang Qinghua has been permitted to assist his king in weirdly intimate ways before, like dressing him or towelling him dry, getting to clean him up down there is… a new experience. He’s halfway through the task before his brain boots up a little more online and he thinks hey, maybe this isn’t cool, maybe you should’ve asked first. Freezing guiltily, he sneaks a glance upwards… only to see that Mobei-Jun has closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he’s getting a deep tissue massage instead of his asshole washed!
Ah, this man… At the end of the day, he really still is a pampered young master. Rather than bitter or aggrieved, Shang Qinghua feels only fondness over this. It’s a little cute, isn’t it?
“My king,” Shang Qinghua says once he’s finished washing any trace of sticky cum from both of them, using the clean side of the cloth to wipe off his fingers as well. “Please allow this servant to untie you…?”
Mobei-Jun opens his eyes slightly, like he’s being poked awake when he’d much rather just pass out where he lies. But he cooperates with a grunt, letting Shang Qinghua tilt him onto his side so he can start attacking the knots there. Shang Qinghua makes a triumphant little cheer when he finally manages to loosen them, and then admires the rope imprints once he draws the Immortal Binding Cables away. Even Mobei-Jun makes a small noise of relief as he gets to move his arms away from his back, stretching so his body makes some very satisfied sounding pops and clicks. Shang Qinghua blatantly enjoys the sight of his king stretching and twisting, not hiding his appreciative staring in the least.
“Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun says expectantly, and Shang Qinghua somehow manages to divine exactly what his king is demanding of him for once. Obediently, he crawls up against Mobei-Jun’s side and collapses against him; Mobei-Jun curls one arm around him and gives a satisfied hum.
Shang Qinghua never thought of himself as much of a cuddler before, but turns out it’s kinda nice actually. Especially in the chilly North! While he’s acclimated by now, he’ll never turn down a warmish body to huddle up against.
“We did it,” Shang Qinghua says, feeling a broad, lopsided grin pulling at his face as he nuzzles his face into the side of Mobei-Jun’s chest. “We fucked, my king! Without devastating injury, even!”
Mobei-Jun doesn’t say anything, but squeezes the arm around Shang Qinghua once, which he takes as being joined in his celebration.
“Ahh, it was so fucking good, my king,” Shang Qinghua tells him. “Ten out of ten, no notes, perfect lay. Was it, uh, I mean--”
“I liked it,” Mobei-Jun says placidly.
“Oh, good,” Shang Qinghua says happily. “I, hah, I liked it a lot, obviously. Sorry if I got kind of, um, intense about it? I started saying a lot of pervy shit… Sorry about that, I can put a gag on next time if you weren’t into it, it just started kinda flooding out… Of course I wouldn’t have actually raped you - I mean, that’s why I didn’t, it was just, you know--”
“It was good,” Mobei-Jun says. “I liked that too.”
“Oh,” Shang Qinghua says again. “Yeah?”
Mobei-Jun hums. Shang Qinghua thinks that’s all the answer he’ll get, but then Mobei-Jun keeps going.
“I used to think you would kill me, if you ever fully had me at your mercy,” he says casually, like they’re not currently naked cuddling. “The idea that if, given the opportunity to end my life, you would instead only use it to take me is… it’s good. That would’ve been fine.”
Shang Qinghua takes a moment to take that in, and then says, “You freak.”
“Yes,” Mobei-Jun agrees. He sounds the way he does when he’s not-smiling, his voice flat but a little softer and warmer at the edges, an almost imperceptible shift.
He reaches over and gropes one of Mobei-jun’s pecs, hiding a painfully wide grin into his chest. “Good thing I’m a huge freak too, then!”
Mobei-Jun hums agreement again, pressing a kiss to the top of Shang Qinghua’s head, and that’s that.