Chapter Text
I can do this, thought Shen Qingqiu.
And Shen Qingqiu had been doing a lot of thinking while staggering back to the Bamboo House after his successful solo mission. Mostly successful. Successful in that he’d done what he’d set out to do; the monster was defeated, the day was saved thanks to his quick wits and washboard abs.
Less successful in that Shen Qingqiu had been cursed during the mission. A complete (but not entirely unexpected) broadside upside the head, and now he had to face the aftermath. The potentially very embarrassing aftermath that he couldn’t manage in any non-embarrassing ways.
In other words, Shen Qingqiu was fucked.
I can do this, and Shen Qingqiu repeated that like a silent mantra while slamming the door to the Bamboo House closed. I just… can’t let go of Binghe. That’s all. Falling back against the door, Shen Qingqiu tried to catch his breath, feeling naked beneath his clothes.
The curse is a touch-inflicted wife plot, one of the dumbest ones. Basically once I touch my true love, I will become a lust-ravening beast once we break skin contact. If I don’t touch him, I will die. There’s no cure or cheat. So that means I just need to grab hold of Binghe and not let go for twenty-four hours.
That’s not even hard, right?
The only problem was the ravening lust beast part, as in literal beast. Ferocious, cat-like sex where he’d throw his ass out, but claw his poor husband half to death at the same time — biting, clawing, the whole bit.
This wife plot had been a throwaway joke in the web novel PIDW, appearing at the end of a long series of chapters. Luo Binghe had returned after an epic battle campaign only to discover his entire harem was cursed by his defeated opponent with this “cat’s-eye ravening” as a last act of defiance before utter defeat. The chapter ended with Binghe racing from wife to dying wife, kissing them and then fleeing from hundreds of suddenly horny screaming women — everyone buck ass naked with tatas bouncing everywhere (the novel was very clear it was every last wife and spent a solid thirty pages describing said tatas) which at that point was hundreds of tatas— with the next chapter noting Binghe had nearly lost his life saving every last one of his wives with an epic mass papapa orgy involving Luo Binghe drowning in cursed tatas.
Shen Qingqiu remembered this vividly, because while the readers had collectively lost their shit when Airplane committed the cardinal sin of writing a fade-to-black in a porn novel, he was pissed because the manner of the entire harem’s poisoning hadn’t made any logical sense.
Unlike his poisoning.
His poisoning had happened the normal way, involving a cup of tea that he really should have known better than to accept (could he really be blamed for being polite to a fault?!) and he’d only realized his mistake after discovering his mystery guest was an agent of a demonic clan that Luo Binghe had been currently dealing with for the last few years. A clan that had just recently corralled to satisfaction, ousting their tyrannical leader and helping the transition back to sanity. Hence the poisoning by the loyalists for revenge.
Anyway.
The worrisome thing about this curse was that Shen Qingqiu, as the cursed party, was going to be really mean about their relations and then not even remember much afterwards. That didn’t sit well with him. His husband had suffered enough, thank you very much!
As long as Binghe doesn’t realize the ravishing of a lifetime is being held off by mere skin-to-skin contact, he should tolerate my randomness well enough.
What excuse, though?
I… should try and make it as romantic as possible so he doesn’t suspect anything, decided Shen Qingqiu —the most unromantic man ever— after deliberating a really long time over a cup of cooling tea.
Be as truthful as possible, but leave out the worst bits for safety. How hard could it be to just act like a sticky bun for one single day? Binghe does it every day of our lives—! Most of it will simply be indulging him, right? This should be a breeze!
But it has to start the moment he returns.
“Shizun?”
Which would be now.
-o-o-o-
Just do it.
That was Shen Qingqiu’s mantra for the next twenty-four hours.
“Binghe,” murmured Shen Qingqiu, heading towards his gray lotus. “Welcome home.” Then he latched hold of Luo Binghe’s arm, fingers encircling his husband’s wrist with a murmured “I missed you,” and that was the beginning of the end.
You are mine now, thought Shen Qingqiu with a small smile on his face.
Luo Binghe cocked his head slightly, noting the hand wrapped tightly around his wrist with a death-grip, but otherwise didn’t question it. Actually, he couldn’t have looked happier. Less happy when Shen Qingqiu insisted on pouring his tea, instead of the other way around. But still mostly happy.
“I read something interesting the other day,” said Shen Qingqiu, careful to sound natural and not like he was intentionally dashing Binghe’s dreams of being mauled to death by his Shziun in a sexual rampage, “Did you know that in a far distant land, they practice a completely different marriage ritual?”
Luo Binghe perked up and smiled down at their joined wrists. “This disciple is unaware, but happy to learn,” and he took a sip of his tea with a curious expression on his face. He’d already clued in that something was going on, of course. “What sort of ritual, Shizun?”
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes half-lidded in an ‘I was hoping you’d ask that’ sort of way and he reached behind his head with his free hand. Slowly, with his long fingers curling, he pulled his hair ribbon free. Then he bound their right hands together, wrist to wrist, securely with the silk.
“They bind their hands together like this. Then stay that way for a full day and night,” he announced, then leaned forward with what he hoped was a playful smile. “If they haven’t killed each other by the end of the binding period, they are husband and wife.”
“Shizun wishes to renew our marriage with a new ritual?” asked Luo Binghe, seeming enchanted with the notion. Tenderly he entwined their fingers and his eyes grew dreamy. Unsurprisingly, he had no issues with the thought of being physically attached to his Shizun for that long, and then his gaze sharpened a moment later, surely imagining a re-enactment of their wedding night.
Then Shen Qingqiu tugged on their bound wrists to pull Binghe out of his daydreams, and Shizun’s expression became a little more serious. “Each knot in the rope is a marital blessing,” and Shen Qingqiu began tying knot after knot in his poor ribbon, absolutely ensuring that come hell or high water, they weren’t separating until this damned curse was burned out, the safe way.
Luo Binghe eyed the long line of knots, his lips curling in deeper amusement as Shen Qingqiu continued his work until the ribbon was nothing but knots.
“When Shizun says ‘blessings’ does he mean each knot represents a child of ours?” asked Luo Binghe with a playful smile. “If you want so many, we should get started immediately.”
Strong, dexterous fingers squeezed his knee in lurid suggestion.
This boy!
Shen Qingqiu reflexively lifted his right hand to defend his virtue by means of ornate fan-smacks upon the fluffy head of his misbehaving husband. Honestly! It was the middle of the day and this room counted as a public space which anyone might enter at any time!
Public Displays of Affection were naughty and so this was a smiting that Binghe not only expected, but richly deserved. Especially as he was still squeezing said knee with a look of undisguised bliss, but Shizun only succeeded in lifting both their hands and then dropping them back on the table. Apparently, he’d already forgotten his fan-smacking hand was bound and helpless. And now there was a wry look on Shizun’s face amidst a distinct lack of fan-smacks with his virtue firmly besmirched and damn the man, but Binghe was openly beaming.
How cheeky!
Regardless, Shen Qingqiu was very pleased to have his husband firmly on board for the ‘ritual’ which was going to make things so much easier — bloodless, polite, dignified—
“Shen-Shixiong,” called a stern voice at the door. “We are coming in.”
Luo Binghe threw himself to his feet, instantly irked, but hesitated to feel the wrap around his wrist confining him. Gentle tugs had him settling back down as Shen Qingqiu cocked his head at the door.
We?
Shen Qingqiu was surprised to see Zhangmen-shixiong and Liu-shidi step through the door, both of them frowning. More accurately, they were frowning and side-eyeing each other. Finally, they taciturnly seemed to pivot their frowns towards Luo Binghe instead; their common enemy and foremost opponent when it came to caring for their precious Shen Qingqiu, whom they each had a claim upon, having lost their hearts to the same —unfortunately married to the wrong man— man, who also really had the worst possible luck.
“Are you alright?” asked Yue Qingyuan, speaking first.
“We heard about the curse,” announced Liu Qingge, single-handedly ruining any chance that Shen Qingqiu had to keep a handle on everything with any sort of dignity. “We’ve come to help you weather the storm.”
“Curse?” asked Luo Binghe, cocking his head. He sounded distinctly unimpressed. His fingers tightened around his husband’s still-bound hand as his gaze slowly turned to regard how his husband was now hiding behind the ornate fan held in his left hand, his shoulders trembling slightly.
Luo Binghe leaned forward and peeked over the top of the shivering fan. “Shizun? Is something wrong?”
Fuck!
-o-o-o-
“In other words,” said Luo Binghe with some finality, “Shizun has been cursed by an artifact that turns him sexually violent against his true love, beginning the moment he breaks physical contact with me as his true love—” whereupon Binghe fixed his most dangerous glare upon his martial brothers, “—in an attack that could last for twenty-four hours, but in actuality would only last long enough for me to break the curse?”
With dual cultivation, Luo Binghe didn’t say because his smirk was doing the heavy lifting for him.
This summary came at the end of a long, stilted conversation in which the other Peak Lords had announced their intentions to help keep Shen Qingqiu from ravaging his own husband by means of either volunteering themselves for said ravaging instead (to protect the sanctity of the happy couple’s marriage of course) as Yue Qingyuan suggested — or as Liu-Shidi insisted, to simply to sit on his Shen-Shixiong until sanity returned.
Meanwhile, Luo Binghe had come to the exact correct conclusions about their intentions and thus cut them off at the knees, otherwise stymieing their every effort at involving themselves in what was clearly a private matter between husbands.
“I don’t need your help,” announced Luo Binghe.
Yue Qingyuan made a choking noise.
But Liu Qingge kept his head and his aim and continued; “It’s too dangerous to simply let things progress naturally. Normally cursed individuals would be bound to their beds with immortal binding cords and held down to keep them from hurting themselves.”
“You can’t manage this yourselves,” insisted Yue Qingyuan.
“Watch me,” snapped Luo Binghe, and then frowned as that was actually the last thing he wanted. He looked away from them, his frown deepening. “This lord can handle the matter — you two may leave.”
But Shen Qingqiu shook his head behind his trembling fan. “This Shizun refuses to hurt my husband like that. I refuse, Binghe! Let’s just do the ritual and have a nice night together. Hand binding would work just fine to wait out the curse—”
“That’s not good enough,” warned Liu Qingge, crossing his arms. “You need to trigger the curse and work through it. That was Mu Qingfang’s recommendation, to burn it out. There would be consequences for what you are trying to do.”
“Consequences?” asked Luo Binghe, cocking a wary brow.
Shen Qingqiu lowered his fan with a frown. “Hardly any concern,” he corrected. “Just the potential for some residual dizziness and general weakness for the following week. I would happily suffer such mild symptoms to avoid making a scene, or especially,” and he looked pointedly at Luo Binghe, “hurting my most important person in some altered mind state where I cannot control my actions.”
There is no flex here, Luo Binghe!
Shizun refuses!
Luo Binghe brightened like the sun on a cloudless day at “most important person” even as the other two men in the room seemed to cloud over, but otherwise still seemed determined to “cure” him at any cost.
Shen Qingqiu frowned as Luo Binghe met his stern expression with a look of boyish charm and a playful smile that boded no good, especially for Shizun’s backside. It was a look that tended to charm more than alarm, except for this one particular situation.
“I’m serious, Binghe,” muttered Shen Qingqiu.
Apparently, so was everyone else.
Liu Qingge scowled. “I’m not leaving this peak. I will be nearby if you need me.” Then he drained his tea cup and set it down. Standing up, he turned and walked out of the bamboo house.
Reluctant, Yue Qingyuan tried to argue further, but ended up leaving as well.
-o-o-o-
“Shizun.”
Oh, there it was. Shen Qingqiu winced for the wibble in that beloved voice and hid behind his fan, his shoulders trembling. He was in the doghouse and knew he deserved every moment of discomfort. He’d hidden his condition from Binghe and now he was going to pay for it.
Luo Binghe carefully reached out to touch Shen Qingqiu’s forehead with his free hand, lingering for a moment. Then he withdrew his fingers with a frown. “Shizun has a fever,” he announced. Then he reached out and pulled the trembling fan down once more. “This husband isn’t angry,” Binghe began carefully, making firm eye contact to better communicate his disappointment. “But why didn’t Shizun trust me with his condition?”
Shen Qingqiu took a deep breath and then folded his fan closed. His husband deserved an honest answer, regardless of his Shizun’s embarrassment at being caught out. His right hand, still bound and with fingers still entwined —now a little sweaty and guilty— squeezed Binghe’s fingers tightly.
“This husband was worried that Luo Binghe would insist on allowing himself to be hurt for my benefit. I didn’t want that, especially when the curse could be so easily cheated.”
Luo Binghe frowned down at the table, his wibble still firmly in place. “Shizun doesn’t trust me to respect his wishes in this matter.”
I know you too well, Shen Qingqiu didn’t say, but it was the truth. It was no secret that Luo Binghe was an absolute masochist when it came to sex, because Binghe had already made it abundantly clear that he would dearly love to experience anything Shizun would be willing to dole out.
Shen Qingqiu sighed, quietly. “We’ve had this discussion before. You know I am unwilling to see Binghe come to any further harm.”
“Shizun,” cried Luo Binghe, clearly intending to argue that medical needs should supersede any prior concerns; “Don’t you think it would be better to follow the medical practice that would give the greatest chance of immediate recovery, especially if this disciple is willing to—”
“No,” insisted Shen Qingqiu, cutting him off. He leaned forward to pull his bound arm and press Luo Binghe’s captured hand against his breast. “You know I couldn’t bear to see you harmed. I will accept whatever mild symptoms that might linger, so that Binghe will not suffer on my behalf.”
“But Shizun,” insisted Luo Binghe, with the persistence of someone who really, really wanted to suffer on Shizun’s behalf; “You know with my healing abilities that I would be sure to recover before you even realized what happened—”
“Binghe.”
“If Shizun won’t even remember the previous night,” said Luo Binghe in a rush of excited words, “then what’s the harm in indulging this one’s most fervent desire to experience Shizun in this way—”
“Binghe!”
“This husband swears he would never hold whatever aggressive actions might happen against—”
“BINGHE!”
Luo Binghe sagged down, clearly heartbroken at the prospect of not having his back potentially ripped to shreds, his face possibly gnawed on and slapped silly, his hair maybe pulled or even ripped out, or perhaps even getting slammed down on the bed and ravaged like an animal… it was too much disappointment for any poor repressed masochist to endure.
Luo Binghe head’s drooped as Shizun stood up, marched around the table and dragged his precious Binghe into his arms. “You are too important to me to take such risks.”
“But Shizun,” said Luo Binghe, with tears in his eyes, “What happens if you are too important to me to allow any suffering, no matter how mild, when I could fully cure you without any lasting harm?”
“That’s the thing,” said Shen Qingqiu, squaring his shoulders and biting his lip against Luo Binghe’s weaponized but ultimately worthless tears. “You don’t know if there would be lasting harm for yourself. We don’t know what this curse will actually compel me to do to you.”
Luo Binghe, being the taller spouse, put his greater height and weight to good use and carefully enveloped Shen Qingqiu into a counter hug, one that allowed him to engulf Shizun completely. “Does Shizun truly believe this demon lord couldn’t handle anything his Shizun might throw at him?”
“Binghe,” warned Shen Qingqiu, once again.
No flex on this one, husband of mine!
Luo Binghe sighed and admitted defeat. That is, he acknowledged that Shizun was not going to willingly allow him to explore this rare opportunity to indulge his deepest, dankest appetites with wanton abandon.
“This disciple understands,” said Luo Binghe, finally.
Then Luo Binghe squeezed Shen Qingqiu closer, and finished “But perhaps this husband could be forgiven for making a different decision,” and then didn’t allow Shen Qingqiu to part them, even when he gently motioned to be released.
Luo Binghe’s wry and rueful expression suggested he was pondering the old proverb ‘behead first, then report to the emperor later’ even as Shen Qingqiu discovered Binghe had extended one of his talons and weakened the binding that bound them together.
“Binghe.”
Luo Binghe smiled weakly, “Shizun?” because he was a weak man when it came to things like this. Especially when Binghe knew that Shizun knew that he knew he was a weak man when it came to all things Shizun.
“Don’t you dare—”
But Luo Binghe did. He did dare; he dared to crook his little finger with the razor-sharp claw extended.
Shizun’s eyes went wide and he lunged for the ribbon with his free hand, but not fast enough. The last little section of binding slipped free and Binghe yanked his hand back…
…and the beast was unleashed.
-o-o-o-
It sounded like they were killing each other.
Or rather, Shen Qingqiu was killing Luo Binghe, who kept crying “Shizun!” while running around the bamboo house, barely keeping ahead of the raging Shen Qingqiu. One could mark their passage throughout the rooms by the sounds of crashing and cursing.
Liu Qingge stood just outside the door long enough to start questioning his life choices.
It was when Shen Qingqiu finally cornered Luo Binghe who started crying loudly —but not as if from pain— that the War God finally took the hint and left the peak altogether, truly thwarted.
-o-o-o-
Morning sunshine brightened the windows before Shen Qingqiu awoke in a trashed bed, blinking owlishly.
Luo Binghe was blessed to watch Shizun’s slow transition from sleep to wakefulness, remaining completely silent and motionless where he was sprawled across the bed, even now suffering the hope of drawing out this moment just a little longer.
Alas, every feast comes to an end.
Binghe twitched his lips sheepishly as his Shizun’s eyes widened, peering around himself to behold the carnage: how completely torn their blankets were, how the sheets were destroyed beyond saving in more ways than one. Wait, was that blood?! Even worse, his half-blood demon lord hubby was…
…well, an angry demon-pit-hound couldn’t have mauled this man any worse then what Shizun had managed in the night.
“Binghe!”
Oh, there it was.
Luo Binghe winced for the horrified wibble in that beloved voice, then smiled from beneath a very naked Shen Qingqiu, his Shizun’s jade-white thighs still wrapped around his head.
Binghe peeked up past the soft velvety skin that dominated his face, but couldn’t quite suppress the desire to nuzzle his lips against the naughty bits that he’d been keeping warm in his mouth.
Reluctantly he released said naughty bits and peeked around velvety-soft stones to meet his Shizun’s gaze. “Good morning, Shizun.”
A very naked and very upset-looking Shen Qingqiu stared back, then suddenly scrambled to allow Binghe some sliver of dignity. “I’ve hurt you, haven’t I? Just like I told you I would… and didn’t want to!”
Yes.
The answer to that question was very much yes.
And yet, Luo Binghe couldn’t find a single ounce of regret in his body, except that Shizun had just officially ended their physical contact by releasing him. He watched with growing dismay as Shizun scooched back and frowned over the mess they’d left… and now Shizun was looking rather vexed.
Oh, that was weapons-grade vexation, right there—
—still no regrets!
Last night had scratched an illicit itch that Binghe’s precious Shizun would never, ever be willing to scratch for him. There was too much past history between them. Too much pain on both sides for Shen Qingqiu to be comfortable indulging in the sort of violent play that Luo Binghe craved from him… but last night…
Oh, last night.
Luo Binghe’s shoulders trembled from the strain of the immortal bindings that were still holding him captive. He’d been bound far too tightly, to his endless delight. The curse had been even better than he could have hoped; halfway through the night Shizun had transitioned from a ravening sex-crazed beast to a ravening sex-crazed man that was susceptible to suggestion.
“Wait — why is Binghe bound?” demanded Shen Qingqiu, suddenly suspicious. “The curse left this one a raving beast last night, so how did this happen?”
“Oh,” said Luo Binghe, with a playful smile, “this husband bound myself of course. I was worried Shizun would feel threatened.”
Shen Qingqiu cocked a brow, because that was sus. “Binghe?”
“Shizun?” and Luo Binghe just offered up his most winsome little boy smile.
Very susceptible.
Absolutely everything that had happened to Luo Binghe from midnight until now was at his own suggestion, but he knew better than to attempt to ease Shizun’s dismay by telling him that Binghe was the architect of his own destruction.
Dig up, stupid!
Luo Binghe relaxed, satisfied in ways he could barely comprehend. The cords around his arms had cut off circulation in the night. He suppressed his amused grin as a flustered Shen Qingqiu began to unbind him, rubbing the feeling back into his arms and shoulders while speaking sharply.
Oh yes, Luo Binghe was in the doghouse. He knew he deserved every moment of discomfort. He’d gone against his Shizun’s wishes and now he was going to pay for it.
There was only one thing to do. Luo Binghe’s eyes teared up and then overflowed on command as he threw himself on the ground and begged for mercy. He kowtowed repeatedly, the room filling with tears, pouring out the windows, washing away the ducklings outside as Binghe stalwartly began the process of convincing Shizun that he knew he was wrong, he was sorry, he would never do it again (unless he was ever given the slightest chance) and should be forgiven in time to make breakfast.
Would making Shizun a nice big breakfast help with the convincing?
—no?
Alright — back to kowtowing and crying. It was harder this morning than usual, because Luo Binghe couldn’t stop thinking about last night. He couldn't stop remembering how much he’d enjoyed having Shen Qingqiu bully him mercilessly. Those delicious memories would have to last him the rest of his life, surely.
So sorry, Shizun!
It was so true that it was better to beg for forgiveness then ask permission.