By this point, Shen Qingqiu had grown used to being dragged into Luo Binghe’s dreams. Even so, he couldn’t stop the jolt of adrenaline when he opened his eyes to find himself in a dark, enclosed space, a heavy, feverish weight lying atop of him. Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t see him properly, but he would recognize the shape of that face pressing against his neck anywhere.
Wasn’t there something familiar about this position?
The pieces clicked into place. The coffin within the Holy Mausoleum. Luo Binghe, feverish in his arms. And that slow, scraping sound in the room outside—the Blind Corpses, their dried-up fingers dragging against the stone as they searched for them.
This was a dream of the past.
Shen Qingqiu gripped Luo Binghe closer, though there already wasn’t much space left between them. This wasn’t one of his more pleasant memories. Laying there in the coffin, not knowing if Luo Binghe would ever wake again, the Dream Demon’s words ringing in his ears like a taunt… He didn’t know if this was the real Luo Binghe in his arms or if he was merely part of the dream, but either way, he felt the same urge he did back then—the urge to keep him safe.
The seconds ticked by.
Luo Binghe sighed against Shen Qingqiu’s collarbone. Shifting in his grasp, he followed it up with a slow, sleepy kiss caressing Shen Qingqiu’s throat. Inadvertently, Shen Qingqiu swallowed.
“Shizun…” Luo Binghe murmured—the real Luo Binghe, not just a figment of his dream. “Did you really hold me so tightly back then?”
Shen Qingqiu felt himself flush. He knew exactly where this was going. After all, since the day he’d admitted his feelings, the dreams they shared together usually only ever had one ending.
Luo Binghe’s hand slid up Shen Qingqiu’s torso, until it was resting directly over Shen Qingqiu’s suddenly pounding heart.
Unexpectedly, he didn’t try to push things further. He didn’t even attempt to kiss him again, which Shen Qingqiu thought strange. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of opening that Luo Binghe never failed to pounce on?
Especially since… well. It wasn’t like Shen Qingqiu hadn’t noticed the erection pressing against him. Missing that was pretty much impossible, even if he’d somehow managed to wipe his memory of the System’s obnoxious congratulations the first time around. An aroused Luo Binghe plus a trapped Shen Qingqiu beneath him should only equal one thing!
He didn’t even get a chance to protest against having sex in a coffin! Honestly, Shen Qingqiu felt robbed.
“Even then… even when Shizun’s first instinct was to hide from me, even then he looked after me with such care?”
Shaky and quiet, Luo Binghe’s voice cut through the shadows.
His annoyance melted away, replaced by guilt.
Back then, Luo Binghe had only seen Shen Qingqiu turning his back on him, over and over again. Even Shen Qingqiu’s attempt at rescuing him from his father had ended with him accidentally running away with another man instead. Much of it hadn’t been intentional, but the fact remained—it hadn’t been until Luo Binghe had been unconscious and beyond knowing anything that Shen Qingqiu had given him the care he deserved.
It took him a few tries to find Luo Binghe’s face. Shen Qingqiu cupped his hand against the back of his scalp and pulled him down so that their foreheads pressed together. His other arm was still wrapped around Luo Binghe’s waist, a holdover from the memory which formed this dream. As he stroked the back of Luo Binghe’s head, Shen Qingqiu tried to think. What to say, what to say…
“Don’t linger on such things,” was what he finally came up with, though even to him it sounded inadequate. “Shizun’s here now; isn’t that what matters?”
As the last word left his mouth, Shen Qingqiu leaned up and brushed his lips over Luo Binghe’s: once, twice, three times, in gentle, feather-light touches. Luo Binghe made a small, needy sound.
That sound was all the warning Shen Qingqiu got before Luo Binghe’s mouth came crashing down against his. Instantly, the tenor of the mood around them changed. Luo Binghe kissed him hard, like he wanted to devour him whole. When Shen Qingqiu gasped in surprise, he took advantage of the opening to sweep his tongue inside his mouth, delving into the kiss with a passion that overwhelmed.
Wasn’t he on the verge of crying just two seconds ago? What was with these mood swings?! True, Shen Qingqiu had gotten used to the fact that, for Luo Binghe, crying was a precursor to sex at least ninety percent of the time, but still! There had to be some kind of limit, right??? Or at least a little more warning, please!
Trapped as he was between Luo Binghe and the narrow walls of the coffin, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t really move; all he could do was tighten the arm he had around Luo Binghe’s waist and return his kiss as best as he could. Luo Binghe couldn’t hold still; as they kissed, he writhed against Shen Qingqiu’s body like he wanted to get even closer than they already were, which. Was probably impossible at this point unless they somehow suddenly fused into the same person (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought), but the friction was definitely doing something for him, so Shen Qingqiu wasn’t going to complain.
Luo Binghe stroked a hand down Shen Qingqiu’s side and dug his fingers into his upper thigh, aligning their hips together. Even through the layers of cloth between them, the brush of Binghe’s cock against his was enough to send another rush of heat straight to his groin.
Shen Qingqiu shifted, wanting, suddenly, to touch Binghe. But while the movement made Luo Binghe let out a soft groan, Shen Qingqiu couldn’t get his hand where he wanted it. The space inside of the coffin was too narrow, and Luo Binghe himself was in the way.
Shen Qingqiu made a frustrated sound. “Lift your hips.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he flushed. How could he have said that so bluntly??? Binghe really was rubbing off on him! (...In more ways than one. No, he shouldn’t be saying that either!)
Oblivious to Shen Qingqiu’s inner turmoil, Luo Binghe eagerly obeyed. It took some wriggling about, but finally Shen Qingqiu managed to get his hand into the space between their bodies. His hand had scarcely grazed the cloth separating their bodies when suddenly, their clothing vanished. Shen Qingqiu had a brief moment of utter bafflement before he realized what must have caused it—Luo Binghe, adjusting the dream.
...Wait, then what was all that squirming around earlier for? He could have made this so much easier! Annoyed, Shen Qingqiu pinched the tender skin of Luo Binghe’s inner thigh in rebuke.
He regretted it instantly when Binghe made a sound that was definitely not a protest. He really should have known better! His husband was an incurable M, after all!
It was physically impossible to wrap his hand around both of their cocks, but Shen Qingqiu did his best. Really, why did Luo Binghe have to be so ridiculously oversized?? No one would think less of him if he just had an unusually large cock instead of this behemoth, this master swears!
Of course, it wasn’t like that was Luo Binghe’s fault, but Shen Qingqiu didn’t particularly want to think about Airplane-bro at the moment. Especially not once he managed to at least somewhat get his hand around them both. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes actually fluttered at the feel of Luo Binghe’s cock pressed skin-to-skin against his own, hot and silky and hard.
Luo Binghe’s breathing grew heavier. Shen Qingqiu had only stroked the two of them few times before Luo Binghe shifted, dipping the hand he’d had pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s heart down between their legs. He, too, wrapped his hand around their cocks, entwining the tips of his fingers with Shen Qingqiu’s. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but flush at the intimacy of it.
Together, they began to move. The position was a little awkward, but Shen Qingqiu couldn’t complain, because it also felt good. It wasn’t just Luo Binghe who was panting; Shen Qingqiu was breathing rather hard too, and when Luo Binghe flicked out his thumb over the top of Shen Qingqiu’s slit, Shen Qingqiu actually moaned. Luo Binghe shushed him with another kiss, before bringing to his lips to Shen Qingqiu’s ear.
“Shhh,” he whispered, heedless of the way that low, mischievous sound sent goosebumps prickling down Shen Qingqiu’s skin. “We have to be quiet. Otherwise, the Blind Corpses might find us.”
What quiet! You control this dream—the Blind Corpses won’t find us if you don’t want them to!
As though he’d sensed the direction of Shen Qingqiu’s thoughts, Luo Binghe chuckled, right against his ear. Shen Qingqiu turned his head, chasing the sound and covering it with his mouth.
Luo Binghe took advantage of the moment to slip his tongue into his mouth, and before Shen Qingqiu knew it they were completely entwined with one another. He started to forget that they were in a dusty coffin, or that this was all just a dream; he couldn’t even hear the sounds of the Blind Corpses’ search or say if they were even still there at all. All he knew was the heat of Luo Binghe’s mouth, the thrust of their joined hands, and the feel of Binghe’s thudding heart echoing in time with his own.
Forgetting himself, Luo Binghe bit at Shen Qingqiu’s lower lip. Shen Qingqiu let out a low hiss, dragged out of the moment by the sudden bloom of pain in his lip. “Binghe!”
Even in a dream, that hurt!
Luo Binghe kissed him again, swallowing the last syllable of his name with his mouth. His kiss this time was much gentler as he muttered an apology against Shen Qingqiu’s lips. Another brush of his lips, and the pain faded as though it had never been.
Perhaps there was some benefit to doing this in their dreams.
Luo Binghe’s kisses didn’t stay restrained for long, but at least he now remembered himself enough to no longer bite. He began thrusting into their hands, and the slide of his cock against Shen Qingqiu’s was enough to make the interruption a distant memory.
With each passing moment, Luo Binghe grew more eager. He had never been quiet in bed, and this was no exception, for all that their “bed” was actually a coffin. Soon enough, all sorts of half-garbled noises were spilling out of his mouth.
“Shizun, Shizun,” Luo Binghe groaned against his mouth. “Shizun feels so good, Shizun—”
What was with this man and calling him “Shizun” in bed???
“I thought—you said—that we had to be quiet,” Shen Qingqiu got out between gasps, half-teasing, half-rebuke. He tightened his grip, thrusting upwards.
Unexpectedly, Luo Binghe responded with a sharp moan. His whole body shuddered and something wet gushed down onto Shen Qingqiu’s thighs, smearing over his fingers. Panting, Luo Binghe slumped against Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder.
Shen Qingqiu froze.
……………………Had Binghe actually come first????
Was that even possible???
Shen Qingqiu knew that this was a dream, but still! There were so many protagonist-based laws in this world; surely, this had to break at least five of them! No, six!
Binghe’s hand was still moving. He slipped himself out of their shared grasp, entwining his fingers more closely with Shen Qingqiu’s as he focused on Shen Qingqiu alone. His lips pressed against Shen Qingqiu’s throat.
“Shizun,” he murmured in a low, sated voice, and until his dying day, Shen Qingqiu would deny that being what tipped him over the edge and finally made him come.
Once he regained his breath, he swatted the nearest part of Luo Binghe that he could reach, which ended up being his stomach. He ended up regretting it two seconds later when his fingers started stinging—why was Binghe’s stomach so hard??—but that didn’t deter him from his main point.
“What did I tell you about calling me ‘Shizun’ in bed?” he demanded.
As always, Luo Binghe was unrepentant. “But Shizun seemed to like it this time?”
Nope! Nope! Nope! Not acknowledging that! Not even on his dying day!
Luo Binghe let out a soft huff of laughter before dropping back down and snuggling against his chest. Grumbling to himself, Shen Qingqiu nonetheless pulled him closer, running the fingers of his clean hand through Binghe’s hair.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d been lying there like that when the edges of the dream began to blur. The walls of the coffin around him, the faint awareness of the walking corpses, even Luo Binghe himself began to fade around him.
Shen Qingqiu blinked. When his eyes opened again, he was awake and in the real world.
It took him a moment to orient himself. Though it was still late at night, it was lighter inside of the bamboo house than it had been within the dream. Through the shadows, he could make out the familiar shapes of the furniture in his room. Luo Binghe was behind him on their bed, not on top of him, though one of his arms draped carelessly over his waist.
Behind him, he felt Luo Binghe shift as he, too, woke. “Husband?”
Now he called him “Husband”. Shen Qingqiu rolled his eyes, but made a soft sound of acknowledgement to show that he’d heard.
Instead of continuing to speak, Luo Binghe pressed a kiss against the nape of his neck. He followed it with another one at the corner of his jaw. His hand started drifting down Shen Qingqiu’s chest, heading south. As Binghe shifted closer to him, Shen Qingqiu felt a familiar large thing pressing against his backside.
Shen Qingqiu: “...”
He probably should have expected this. For all that Luo Binghe had found his “release” in their dream, that rarely translated over into the waking world. On the contrary, it usually only served to make him friskier than ever. Maybe he should start incorporating dream sex in their schedule…?
He sighed, not quite able to repress the exasperated fondness brimming inside his chest. In his dreams, when he woke—no matter what, this person was always there besides him. Always waiting for him—and always wanting him.
Unconsciously, his mind drifted back to the setting of their shared dream. At that time, he’d had so many fears and regrets… Never would he have imagined that things would end up like this.
He laid his hand over Luo Binghe’s own, entwining their fingers, and Luo Binghe stilled, clearly trying to puzzle out his mood. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t help but smile.
This sort of ending… it really wasn’t too bad.
A warm contentment filled him, and he turned his head, leaning in for another kiss.
The night was far from over, after all.