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Standing over the rubble, the burnt and crumbling walls of the Qiu estate around him, Yue Qi is numb from the force of his grief.
He doesn’t cry.
The death of his brother, his dearest friend, his bright, clever, independent Xiao Jiu—it’s beyond tears, it’s a wound Yue Qi can feel in his soul. Good, he thinks. He deserves that and more for abandoning Xiao Jiu. Yue Qi leans into the ever-present pain, eagerly accepting the fresh reminder of his sins.
How can he do otherwise?
Xiao Jiu is lost.
And then, suddenly, he is found. He is older, all jagged edges and harsh lines. The world has not been kind to him.
There is another man as well, Xiao Jiu’s Master—Yue Qi hates him on sight for the claim he lays to Xiao Jiu—but he does not live long.
Because Xiao Jiu kills him to save Yue Qi.
It’s in that moment, when he sees the realization in Xiao Jiu’s eyes, the recognition that he only has Qi-ge now, and the crimson liquid dripping from his beloved brother’s hands, that Yue Qi feels the divide within him shifting, changing into something else.
Yue Qi grabs Xiao Jiu by the hand and resists the inexplicable urge to pull Xiao Jiu’s blood-stained fingers to his lips. He then pleads and argues and does everything he can to ensure the other boy returns with him to the Cang Qiong Sect.
Eventually, Xiao Jiu does.
But it doesn’t get better.
Xiao Jiu is understandably angry and bitter. His hostility doesn’t fade over the passing years. It only continues to burn.
Yue Qingyuan, like Yue Qi, takes it—hatred is better than indifference-and makes no excuses. At least not for himself. He works tirelessly to smooth Xiao Jiu and later Shen Qingqiu’s path, to lessen any potential burdens and to ward off unscrupulous people.
But, the other teenager, the other man never accepts anything he offers. Not if he knows it comes from Yue Qi(ngyuan) anyway.
It’s frustrating. It’s what he deserves but what he wants...
What does he want?
No, he can’t bear to think on it. Their unexpected reunion had given birth to some new monster in his skin, some gaping maw aching to be fed. He never explores what it desires—the depth of this hunger frightens Yue Qingyuan. He doesn’t want to do anything that could hurt Xiao Jiu, not when his brother has been through so much already.
So, Yue Qingyuan gladly keeps Xiao Jiu at a distance, never seeking to explain himself. He knows he doesn’t deserve absolution, not when he harbors such...yearnings...inside him.
Only he isn’t as successful, as he thought he had been, in hiding them.
Yue Qingyuan sits in his chair, bemused and almost horrified at the materials Mu Qingfang left behind. Dual-cultivation manuals...scrolls on the human anatomy...a cut-sleeve illustration book...
He’s never held such intentions!
...right? Come to think of it, Yue Qingyuan didn’t actually know...he kept the monster within so tightly muzzled...
He wavers, the urges suddenly very present, taking on new, more carnal forms, before he dismisses the thoughts from his mind. Yue Qingyuan would never force himself on Xiao Jiu like that! Better to incinerate the lot of them. His hand hovers over them, spiritual energy gathering at his fingertips when he remembers Mu Qingfang's words—
“If Shen-shixiong ever should....if you are willing....they will prove handy.”
Yes, Yue Qingyuan admits to himself almost helplessly. It all depended on the other man. If Xiao Jiu wanted something, ‘Qi-ge’ would gladly give it to him. Maybe he should read them. Just in case.
And so, when Yue Qingyuan is tired of his responsibilities, of keeping the monster at bay, of remembering the past failure, he finds himself flipping through the books.
It’s only idle curiosity, he tells himself. It doesn’t mean anything.
But then it does.
Discovering Xiao Jiu in the midst of a terrible, unexpected Qi deviation—it makes everything clear. How could he be so foolish?! How could he waste his time on such indecent things?! Yue Qingyuan should have put more of his attention on Shen Qingqiu’s health not those scrolls! If he had only done so, he could have averted the crisis entirely! Yue Qingyuan frets at the man’s bedside, continually wiping him down with medicinal alcohol in hopes of decreasing his fever. It doesn’t work. Neither do the brews he administers. In the last few hours of that third wretched day, he cannot help but take the other man’s hand between his.
Yue Qingyuan offers prayers to no gods. Life has taught him not to depend on such abstract beings. But he trusts in his friend, his brother and the bond they share. Yue Qingyuan believes that he will, as he did before, return to him against all odds.
“Please, Xiao Jiu. Come back to me.”
And he does but he doesn’t.
Xiao Jiu is different now. He’s undeniably himself but wary more than anything else and oddly skittish. Yue Qingyuan knows his brother; he recognizes the look from their early days on the streets...he just doesn’t understand the cause. And it’s not as if he can ask Xiao Jiu, not when it could drive him to run from the Cang Qiong Sect altogether—his brother had always been one to jump over the wall when cornered.
So the thought lingers, the weight hanging over his head, and Yue Qingyuan remains vigilant, always ready for whatever lurking threat lies in the shadows. He keeps a close eye on Xiao Jiu, visiting him often and monitoring his interactions with others.
Then, one day, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t open the door. It reminds Yue Qingyuan of that terrible day, of Xiao Jiu shaking on the floor, burning with a terrible fever. He slams his fist on the entryway, terrified while Mu Qingfang stands by, gaping uselessly at him.
But Xiao Jiu is fine. He even invites Yue Qingyuan to tea at his own Qiong Ding Peak.
Only Yue Qingyuan is embarrassingly silent for most of it—the usual arguments in his mind gaining new ferocity. The hunger in him is rising, clamoring to be satiated and there are images of Xiao Jiu running through his mind, each more indecent than the last. It leaves Yue Qingyuan distracted, unable to think of what he should say. The internal fight only stops when Shen Qingqiu says he’s going to leave.
His head is suddenly, blessedly, quiet. Yue Qingyuan is afraid. Surely the other man doesn’t mean it that way, does he?
He does not. Xiao Jiu is not thinking of withdrawing from the Cang Qiong Sect. But he is leaving, by himself, to go down the mountain for ‘personal enjoyment.’
There is a rage building deep in his soul. But Yue Qingyuan forces it back and attempts to maintain his calm. He is earnest. He is reasonable.
It doesn’t work.
And something within Yue Qingyuan breaks.
Moments later, he is on his knees, clinging to Xiao Jiu’s legs to beg for forgiveness, to show the depth of his devotion. The other man is above him, incandescent with rage. It’s beautiful. But he is struggling and shouting. He still wants to leave.
It’s infuriating, the anger from before now roiling, seeping into his veins, seething across his skin.
A sudden thought comes to mind. How dare his beloved Xiao Jiu risk his life out there for such things when Qi-ge could give him everything right here?
He should show him.
So he does. Yue Qingyuan reaches inside the other man’s robes, exposing him and touches his lips to the head.
“Zhangmen—!”
The words stop as Yue Qingyuan takes him in his mouth. It is bittersweet, much like the man himself. Yue Qingyuan hums at the thought and Shen Qingqiu screams.
“You—!” He pulls at Yue Qingyuan’s hair, nails scraping at his scalp. The resulting groan startles them both. Xiao Jiu bucks forward, a gasp escaping from his lips.
Yue Qingyuan allows him to fall from his mouth. He understands what he needs to do. He moves quickly, taking advantage of Xiao Jiu’s surprise.
He first strips him of his pants. He’s rougher than intended; the fabric rips—but Yue Qingyuan is thankful for it, for the unexpected provision of a long thin cloth. It’s exactly what he needs. The fabric is tied ever so nicely at the base of the other man’s shaft but he cannot admire it for too long; Xiao Jiu is already attempting to escape. Yue Qingyuan places his hands and elbows on Xiao Jiu’s hips to keep him pinned against the door.
Then, before Xiao Jiu can protest, he swallows him down.
And he does it again.
And again.
And again.
Yue Qingyuan takes his time in between to lightly run his teeth against the side of the shaft, to tease and nip at the slit, to suck—
The results are gratifying.
After the third time, Xiao Jiu folds over, his legs unable to support him. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t mind. He likes the weight on his back though not as much as he enjoys being the only thing keeping Xiao Jiu upright. Yue Qingyuan withdraws for a moment, coolly blowing at the juncture between his thighs. There, Xiao Jiu is full and standing, still bound by the ribbon and almost purple. He’s responded so well to Yue Qingyuan’s attentions; he deserves an award. Yue Qingyuan showers his arousal with kisses.
Xiao Jiu trembles. There is a fist beating at Yue Qingyuan’s back and the sensation of tears, hot and wet. But there are no words. Any sounds that come are muffled, just as they have been after that first round. From the sound, the other man most likely has his fist in his mouth, Yue Qingyuan thinks. He shivers. There is something delectable about that image.
Yue Qingyuan, though, is sure that he can get Xiao Jiu to ask for what he wants.
He mouths at Xiao Jiu’s hip bones, at his thighs, anywhere and everywhere other than the place the man wants most. He has more work now in fending off Xiao Jiu’s questing hands but he doesn’t mind. He knows it’ll come.
His patience is rewarded.
Xiao Jiu’s voice is rough and wet. He sounds like he’s dying. It’s exquisite.
“...ah...Z-zhangmen-shixiong!”
Yue Qingyuan stops his work at the hips, to move his head closer to the center of Xiao Jiu’s legs. He is so close now that he could lick the white beads forming at the tip. As he inhales to speak, Xiao Jiu lets out another muffled groan.
“Yes, Qingqiu-shidi?”
“Y-you...l-let me go!”
“Let. You. Go?”
“Yes! R-release me!”
Yue Qingyuan smiles. “You only had to ask.” He uses his teeth to pull the ribbon free.
He closes his eyes just before feeling a rush of warmth over his face. He opens them to the lovely sight of it dripping down Xiao Jiu’s legs. The sound the white fluid makes as it hits the floor almost makes up for every sound Xiao Jiu selfishly kept from him. Almost.
He is entirely limp. Yue Qingyuan squares his shoulders to better support Xiao Jiu as he licks him clean.
“...no,” comes a small complaint from behind. It irritates him. He redoubles his efforts and better enjoys the gasps and moans that follow.
But he hears it again.
“—it’s dirty, ah, don’t-“
“It’s not.” He rebuts. “No part of you ever could be.”
“...n-no...y-your hair, it’s...”
Oh. How sweet. Xiao Jiu is thinking of him.
Yue Qingyuan still doesn’t agree with his statement but he does think the two of them could use a wash.
When he finishes, he moves to the side to allow Xiao Jiu to fall in his arms and stands. His beloved brother is pliant, dazed and teary-eyed. He’s perfect. Yue Qingyuan walks slowly and carefully, moving to the room with the large copper tub. He holds Xiao Jiu close as the water heats and checks his pulse. The quick review indicates what Yue Qingyuan feared; his spiritual energies are rather diminished... Perhaps he should have denied Xiao Jiu his release entirely but no, he couldn’t have done that when the other man asked so nicely. Still, it’s an intriguing idea. Maybe next time.
The man starts to struggle again when Yue Qingyuan attempts to remove what’s left of his clothes. He is utterly silent, a stark contrast to his frenzied motions. His teeth are bared and active, biting down with force. He even claws at Yue Qingyuan ineffectually as he kicks and squirms. There is fear in his eyes.
With the last observation, Yue Qingyuan realizes that Xiao Jiu is somewhere else, seeing someone else. He doesn’t like the thought of it, of this intrusion at such a private moment, of another person having dared to touch his precious Brother Nine. He stops disrobing the man and instead runs a soothing hand down his back.
“It’s alright, Xiao Jiu. It’s only Qi-ge. I’m here now. Qi-ge won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re safe here with me.”
Yue Qingyuan rocks back and forth with Xiao Jiu held tight, repeating the words and actions until he calms. He is more than willing to do so, as many times as he needs to.
“Qi-ge...”
“Yes.” He smiles and kisses the other man on the forehead. It’s not easy to take both his and Xiao Jiu’s clothes off in this position but he manages. After, he carefully lowers them both into the tub.
The man now sits between his legs, chest against the wall and eyes unfocused. Yue Qingyuan is on his knees, keeping Xiao Jiu from sinking entirely into the water. His own bath is quick, a simple bucket over the head. He takes much more time when cleaning Xiao Jiu. Yue Qingyuan takes care when washing the other man’s hair, tilting his head so that the soap avoids his eyes. Then he runs his hands through the long black hair, carefully undoing every tangle. Xiao Jiu’s skin gets similar treatment but Yue Qingyuan silently tuts at what he finds. The fine white scars on his back, the old wounds made obvious by the heat of the water, are a testament to his past failure. He traces the lines of each scar with his lips, a silent apology. Having failed him so badly once, how can Yue Qingyuan allow even the slightest possibility of a recurrence? Xiao Jiu must stay with him, safe and cared for. Yue Qingyuan is capable of that now. He won’t allow any other harm to befall his most cherished friend.
It is obvious when Xiao Jiu starts coming back to himself and again assumes the demeanor of Shen Qingqiu. His eyes flutter. He shifts more and his body, so relaxed, begins to tense. Yue Qingyuan acts quickly, moving him so that he straddles Yue Qingyuan’s thighs and has his back against the wall.
He attempts to bolt. But Yue Qingyuan has a good grip and arranged him thus for a reason. Shen Qingqiu has no leverage nor room to maneuver.
“Let go of me, Zhangmen-shixiong!” A pink blush spreads from his cheeks to his neck and his shoulders. It’s adorable.
“But, I’ve already ‘released’ you, Qingqiu-shidi.” He raises an eyebrow. “Unless, this is a request for another?”
Shen Qingqiu sputters denials, protests and even insults but Yue Qingyuan pays no heed. Honesty does not come naturally to his prickly friend. Yue Qingyuan considers the situation thoughtfully. Was earlier not enough ‘personal enjoyment’? With Xiao Jiu’s levels of Qi as low as they are, Yue Qingyuan can only turn to other methods if the man wants more.
He stretches forward, as if to reach for the bath oils, and waits. As expected, Shen Qingqiu tries to escape. Snarling, he kicks out, slips and then overbalances, giving Yue Qingyuan the perfect chance to pulls his legs higher. Quickly, Yue Qingyuan moves in closer so that the legs sit atop his shoulders. He turns his head to kiss one knee and the blush travels downward. The further widening of his legs is almost obscene. But Shen Qingqiu doesn’t realize, only trying to move them away from Yue Qingyuan. His fingers scrabble for purchase against the tub as he struggles to get free. It doesn’t work.
Yue Qingyuan has the bath oil in hand and slowly takes in the new view, amazed. Little wonder that chrysanthemums are symbolic of the ninth month, of autumn...he is suddenly very aware of his growing arousal. Yue Qingyuan pushes the thought away. He is doing this for Xiao Jiu. His own pleasure doesn’t enter into it. Absently, he presses a kiss to the hand attempting to punch him. It retreats.
Xiao Jiu is now entirely red, spewing what Yue Qingyuan expects to be scathing remarks and threats. He doesn’t know; he isn’t paying attention. There is only the cool slickness of the bath oil and his friend’s heated body. Yue Qingyuan begins at the outside of the other man’s thigh, his finger tips tracing a path inward and down. All the while, he watches his face.
The narrowed eyes, the angry tilt to the jaw, the severe lines of his mouth, these indications of Xiao Jiu’s displeasure vanish as Yue Qingyuan presses one finger in. He likes the new expressions on his younger martial brother’s face, the softening and rounding of his mouth, his newly slack jaw and large eyes. After a moment, Xiao Jiu recovers himself—he is nothing but resilient. More profanities spill from his mouth, his body tense and unhappy. That’s alright. Yue Qingyuan has time.
His forefinger slowly advancing and rotating in search of a particular spot inside the other man, Yue Qingyuan relishes the sensation. It’s a tight heat. Too tight. He forces himself to still. He doesn’t want Xiao Jiu hurt. He patiently massages the opening with his other fingers, waiting. The forceful clench of the muscles slowly lessens, the walls giving way. When Yue Qingyuan can fit the second joint inside, he judges that Xiao Jiu is ready. He inserts another finger but moves it opposite from the first.
Shen Qingqiu startles, back arching. The insults come slower now and are more fragmented. Yue Qingyuan continues his movements, only stopping when he brushes against something that makes Xiao Jiu gasp. There.
He curls his fingers inward, rubbing that same spot. Xiao Jiu has his hand to his mouth again, depriving Yue Qingyuan of any sound except his ragged breathing. This newest denial makes him angry; he applies more pressure and quickens his pace.
But his efforts only show him how stubborn Xiao Jiu can be; his arousal is already thick, bobbing joyfully. Frowning, Yue Qingyuan pinches the head with his free hand.
Xiao Jiu howls. There is a new wetness to his eyes that stirs a vague sense of guilt. But Yue Qingyuan persists until it softens. He knows this is for Xiao Jiu’s own good—the man’s Qi deficiency is bad enough as it is. Yue Qingyuan then inserts yet another finger and increases the force of his attack.
He is soon victorious. A thin, almost clear, liquid, slowly drips with each ministration. Yue Qingyuan keeps on though, wanting to ‘milk’ the other man thoroughly. He is thankful for his knowledge of the subject; it is a more than suitable compromise between Xiao Jiu’s wants and his poor health.
After some time, his friend seems to agree. He no longer curses or fights. He only pants while sprawled at the edge of the tub, his legs splayed atop Yue Qingyuan’s shoulders.
Yue Qingyuan only stops when he notices the unconscious shiver down Xiao Jiu’s spine. It is unrelated to his movements. He realizes, much to his shame, that the water has grown cold. He immediately lifts Xiao Jiu out of the tub. It wouldn’t do for him to get sick, not again and especially not so soon after his last illness. He gently dries the younger man off before bundling him into the bed and under the blankets.
Seated at the side of the bed atop the covers because he’d never want to presume, Yue Qingyuan gently pets the other man’s hair. He looks so peaceful like this, his face smooth of anger, disgust and fear. This is how Xiao Jiu always should be, safe and cared for, Yue Qingyuan thinks, lips curved upwards. He reaches for the other man’s wrist to check his spiritual energy levels.
Yue Qingyuan raises a brow at the result. It really isn’t safe for Xiao Jiu to be like this... Hmm...he supposes he could have Xiao Jiu rest in bed a few days....but Xiao Jiu had never been the kind to wait patiently...better to resolve it soon, than for him to get into trouble and be unable to defend himself.
But how could Yue Qingyuan help him recover his Qi faster?
Oh...he nods to himself, firm and resolute. That would work...should he release on his own and then give the fluids? No, he decides. Better to provide them directly, in a way that ensured maximum absorption.
Xiao Jiu deserves nothing less.
Yue Qingyuan slips into the bed, underneath the blankets to lie atop Xiao Jiu. He then ventures down, to inspect his opening. It’s slightly puffy, warm and tender to the touch, Xiao Jiu moaning softly as Yue Qingyuan pokes at it. It’s in good condition though; there’s no blood, he notes. Still, it wouldn’t do to enter Xiao Jiu unprepared. This is for him, after all, a necessary procedure to keep him safe. Naturally Yue Qingyuan will gladly alleviate any discomfort he can.
Speaking of which...he peers out from under the covers, looking for something to ease the way. But there’s no oil within reach. Neither is there any ointment. Yue Qingyuan stills, lost in thought.
What else could—?
Oh, of course.
He moves to kiss Xiao Jiu’s forehead, smoothing his hair before returning to his earlier position and spreading the round globes apart, running his tongue against the opening. Then Yue Qingyuan sucks at the chrysanthemum. It blooms before his eyes, turning a bright red. Above him, Xiao Jiu groans throatily, his lower half twitching but still limp. Yue Qingyuan notes its appearance, pleased that Xiao Jiu had taken the earlier lesson so well. Encouraged, Yue Qingyuan slips his tongue deep inside, making good use of his teeth, his lips and his hard-earned knowledge of Xiao Jiu’s sensitive areas.
It pays off. Soon, Yue Qingyuan can easily fit his fingers alongside his tongue, one, two, three—he forces himself to stop there, a sudden vision of his fist inside Xiao Jiu in his mind. He shakes it off, shivering but with what he doesn’t know. Maybe next time, he thinks. But only if Xiao Jiu requests it. There wasn’t a need for such a thing, presently. Doing so without permission would be unfair. And Qi-ge would never take advantage of his brother that way...
On that thought, Yue Qingyuan finally withdraws his fingers and mouth, leaving Xiao Jiu a sloppy sodden mess. It’s a wonderful sight, soon to be even better, he’s sure. He can’t help but give it one last caress before pulling himself up, so that his body aligns with Xiao Jiu’s.
“...what—?” Xiao Jiu asks, muzzy and half-awake but Yue Qingyuan doesn’t allow him time to regain his composure. He knows Xiao Jiu to be a prideful man; he wouldn’t accept Yue Qingyuan’s help in this matter, even though he clearly needs it.
He slips his tongue inside Xiao Jiu’s open mouth, preventing him from voicing the rest of his question. Then he places one hand on the other man’s chest and the second between his legs, spreading them farther and upward to insert himself.
Xiao Jiu widens his eyes in surprise and he struggles but Yue Qingyuan has him caught, his entry is unhindered, smooth and slow.
“Ah!”
Almost, anyway. There’s a slight hiccup when Yue Qingyuan first feels Xiao Jiu around him, the sensation prompting an unconscious deeper and faster thrust. The groan he feels against his tongue is almost too much—directly after he has to leave Xiao Jiu’s mouth, the desire in him rising to bite the other man’s lip, hard enough to taste blood.
The new perspective, though, is worth it. Xiao Jiu is panting now, eyes wild and mouth snarling, a stark difference from the welcoming velvet opening below.
“It’s alright, Qingqiu-shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says comfortingly as his length fills Xiao Jiu, as he sinks himself in to the hilt. If he could, he’d much rather call him differently but Xiao Jiu had made his stance on that very clear years ago. And Yue Qingyuan would never do anything against Xiao Jiu’s wishes...
His hips directly against the other’s, he pauses, watching Xiao Jiu, looking for the cues that indicate his agreement. It comes, the hands at his chest reassuring Yue Qingyuan, validating his actions. Xiao Jiu must be tired of waiting, he thinks. He’s ready for Yue Qingyuan to start moving.
And so Yue Qingyuan does.
In and out.
Out and in.
And back again.
He tries to keep a slow and steady pace but the muffled sounds of the man below him, the tight heat eagerly accepting him, the good he’s doing for Xiao Jiu to make up for his depleted spiritual energy—it drives him to excess.
Soon, Yue Qingyuan can’t help but thrust deeper and faster, again and again until he’s suddenly aware of the loud sounds of their joining, the smack as he comes forward, as he fully inserts himself within his friend.
It’s a glorious thing to hear.
But Yue Qingyuan doesn’t want Xiao Jiu hurt, not even unintentionally. He clears the haze from his mind and pulls back, only the tip of his heavy arousal in the other man.
The opening flutters around him, inviting him to advance. But he doesn’t, only maintaining his grip on the other man. It’s difficult but Yue Qingyuan persists until the hands at his chest, they become claws, sharp nails digging into his skin. This newest unspoken request from Xiao Jiu, a desire to be closer to Yue Qingyuan—it makes him smile. He does as Xiao Jiu asks, thrusting back in and continuing.
This new acceptance, the other man’s hands now scratching marks across his back and shoulders as their hips meet—it seems to go for an eternity. But Yue Qingyuan finds himself unable to spill.
He has to release, he knows. That’s the point of this, of kneeling between Xiao Jiu’s legs and giving—but he can’t. Yue Qingyuan needs...he needs to tell him...
He pushes the thought from his mind. This is for Xiao Jiu. What Yue Qingyuan needs shouldn't matter. Time passes, each moment stretching somehow to be infinite as he remains on the edge, thrusting but unable to spill. It's exhausting. Yue Qingyuan doesn't think he can continue. He almost wants to stop. But he can't, not when Xiao Jiu needs his life-essence, Yue Qingyuan reasons. So, anything that facilitates that...
He stills, allowing Xiao Jiu the chance to regain his composure. His friend predictably begins to snarl and hurl insults. But Yue Qingyuan only holds him steady, bending down to gently press his lips against the other man’s open and cursing mouth.
“I love you,” Yue Qingyuan confesses.
Xiao Jiu stares at him, the last expletive he uttered still ringing in the air.
“You...”
“I don’t expect you to return my feelings. Just know, everything I do is for you, Xiao Jiu.” He rolls his hips forward, punctuating each word with a thrust. “I only want what’s best for you, what’s necessary to keep you safe.”
Xiao Jiu’s answering sneer melts into a moan as Yue Qingyuan directs himself to the area he milked before. After a few short movements, he can feel Xiao Jiu’s lower half filling. The head bobs against his stomach, leaving pearly white smears.
He shouldn’t allow this, Yue Qingyuan tells himself. It’ll undo his past efforts and put Xiao Jiu in even more danger. But, Yue Qingyuan is right here...he’d be more than able to make up for it...and if it made Xiao Jiu happy like before...
He lowers his head to nip at the other man’s chest, considering his options. Maybe he shouldn’t release at all. But he had already come so far, even admitting his deepest secret...and Xiao Jiu had such a low amount of Qi... The other man yanks at his hair as Yue Qingyuan experimentally licks the rosy peaks he finds. They perk up, bolstering his resolve. So, he does it again.
And again.
And again.
Soon Xiao Jiu is quivering beneath him, his length heavy and wet, ready to spill. But Yue Qingyuan takes him in hand, his fingers curling around the base, keeping him from tumbling over the edge.
He can spare a hand for this now, Yue Qingyuan notes almost idly. It’s a beautiful sight to see, Xiao Jiu pliant and trembling, his legs spread unimaginably wide. It’s unfortunate that the man’s returned to keeping his hand at his mouth but...one step at a time.
“Let’s come together,” Yue Qingyuan says after some time, after he’s resumed his movements and is out of breath, his voice ragged and almost unrecognizable, even to himself.
And they do.
Once he spills, Yue Qingyuan stops moving, eager to keep every last drop inside Xiao Jiu. The gush, though, of hot fluid against his stomach, the proof of Xiao Jiu’s pleasure—it provides more than enough satisfaction, so much that he doesn’t need to move. He’s overjoyed to be with his friend like this, to hold him through the aftershocks of his enjoyment. He needs nothing more.
But Xiao Jiu does, Yue Qingyuan remembers, thinking sourly of the man’s depleted Qi. His spiritual energy levels would be in even worse condition after Yue Qingyuan’s rash decision. He changes their position, lowering Xiao Jiu to fully rest on the bed, and then, ever so slowly and carefully turning them so that they lay on their side.
Not even the tiniest amount of liquid escapes. Yue Qingyuan is rather proud of himself for this accomplishment, placing his chin on Xiao Jiu’s shoulder while rubbing the other man’s abdomen, eager for the spiritual energy to be absorbed. Xiao Jiu says nothing, only giving low moans. It does delicious things to his throat, the skin rumbling. Yue Qingyuan can’t help but give it a kiss, pleased.
He then reaches below, concerned that he’ll soften, that his efforts will have been for nothing and his seed will be lost—only he doesn’t. Even after releasing, Yue Qingyuan remains hot, heavy and full.
Odd.
He won’t question it though, not when it fits so nicely with his goals. After he’s deemed that sufficient time has passed, that Xiao Jiu’s taken as much Qi as he can bear, Yue Qingyuan begins again.
But he maintains their new position and whispers all the while into Xiao Jiu’s ears, murmuring loving reassurances and declarations while delivering short, sharp thrusts. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t want any doubt on Xiao Jiu’s part regarding the person caring for him.
A few times, Xiao Jiu weakly fights to get free but it’s a half-hearted effort. Yue Qingyuan knows it’s an attempt made for the sake of Xiao Jiu’s pride, not out of any dislike the man has for himself.
And how could it be otherwise? Had Xiao Jiu not taken him so well earlier? Had Xiao Jiu not eagerly embraced him, his nails clinging, as Yue Qingyuan thrust into him?
The man could learn to be more honest, Yue Qingyuan thinks, sighing. But he loves him anyway. He always will.
He reaches around for Xiao Jiu’s lower half to check for any signs of his friend’s usual obstinacy. Nothing. It’s only limp and slightly messy from earlier, twitching in a pattern that mimics his opening’s hold on Yue Qingyuan.
Good. He smiles into Xiao Jiu’s hair, slowly drawing his hand up the other man’s body, suddenly struck by the desire to have Xiao Jiu taste his own release. He pushes the fingers between the other man’s lips, pleased that the books had been right. Directly after reaching the brink, his friend would be too sensitive to spill again. Now would be the perfect time to give him more spiritual energy.
So he does.
Xiao Jiu is only half-conscious by the end of it, mouth open and drooling around his fingers. After, Yue Qingyuan begins to feel a little ashamed. What if Xiao Jiu became sick from the imbalance of his fluids?! What had he been thinking, keeping his fingers in there so long?!
So, Yue Qingyuan takes him into his arms and walks to the other room. There, he sits him down in his lap, at the table they sat at before. He sips the tea, now cold and unappetizing, before bringing his lips to Xiao Jiu’s, to feed him the liquid. He repeats this a few times, then drinks more of the tea himself, feeling oddly warm. It doesn’t slake his thirst. After a few more cups, Yue Qingyuan finally decides to bring the pot back with them as he takes Xiao Jiu to the bed. There, he gives him more Qi.
This happens again and again, the two alternating between their earlier positions. Yue Qingyuan does have to discipline Xiao Jiu more than once, pinching the man’s stubborn arousal back into flaccidity, but his work pays off; the man’s spiritual energy levels slowly rises.
After the third...or maybe fifth such time, Yue Qingyuan isn’t sure, he forgoes those setups for something entirely different. Poor thing’s exhausted, he thinks. Best to rearrange themselves so as to make it easier. So, remembering the materials he had browsed, Yue Qingyuan moves Xiao Jiu onto his hands and knees. The man collapses. Yue Qingyuan tuts at the sight, readjusting Xiao Jiu’s position and placing pillows beneath his hips and chest. Then he presses a kiss to the man’s spine before venturing downwards. Once there, he places his hands onto the two pink mounds using his palms to pull them outward to better inspect the opening between.
The chrysanthemum is in full bloom now, the deep red and puffy walls unfurling, the white streaks obscenely painted at the entrance just as lovely as the momentary glimpses of the soft heat within as the muscles contract and quiver with anticipation.
Experimentally, Yue Qingyuan prods at it, as he did before, only this time, his thumb sinks right in.
It’s amazing. The sensation, the sight—he had been right earlier, Xiao Jiu looks absolutely lovely now. He really could put his entire fist inside...
Yue Qingyuan abruptly clears his throat, his hand retreating. This is for Xiao Jiu, to remedy his Qi deficiency, he chides himself. This is not about him.
He pushes in, holding Xiao Jiu’s hips up to meet his. The movements are so familiar now, the to and fro, the short jabs at the other man’s erogenous spots, the long, slow and deep thrusts...
Then he reaches completion and stops, like he normally does, to keep the fluid inside. Only this time, something changes. Yue Qingyuan becomes shocked when he hears Xiao Jiu whimpering of all things.
“What’s wrong?” Yue Qingyuan asks, nervous. There had been no blood earlier...what had he missed? Could Xiao Jiu be in pain?
Maybe he should stop. Last he checked, Xiao Jiu only had regained half of his Qi, but if his friend had a problem...
Yue Qingyuan pulls back entirely, mourning for the life-essence leaking from Xiao Jiu but aware of his priorities. He turns the man onto his back. Xiao Jiu’s face is flushed, awash in tears. The other man opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. He swallows, a strange emotion in his eyes.
It’s almost like...
But that can’t be it.
Yue Qingyuan moves to comforts him, hands cupping the other’s face, his thumb wiping away the tears.
“It’s okay, Xiao Jiu. Just tell Qi-ge what you need. Qi-ge loves you.”
“...Qi-ge...”
“That’s right,” Yue Qingyuan replies encouragingly, the sound of that old pet name as sweet to his ears as the first time Xiao Jiu had said it that night. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
Xiao Jiu pushes him away, collapsing back into the bed and flinging his arm over his face. Yue Qingyuan leans in closer, not taking offense. He knows Xiao Jiu hates displaying vulnerability.
“...please...”
“Xiao Jiu?”
“This...you...don’t, ah...stop...I can’t—“
Oh.
Well, if that’s what Xiao Jiu wanted...
He pulls the other man’s legs apart, then plunges his length back in, to the hilt, and, true to Xiao Jiu’s request, doesn’t stop. Even after spilling, he keeps going, his hips snapping forward, the white liquid spurting between them.
What follows is a lewd symphony—the grunts, the moans, the smack of their hips, the squelch of their past release—Yue Qingyuan loses himself to it.
He only resurfaces, regaining his reason, when Xiao Jiu begins wailing.
It’s a broken sound that catches him off-guard. He immediately stops moving.
“Xiao Jiu?” Yue Qingyuan questions. “Is your back hurting? Do you want us to change positions?”
“Uh...that, no—t...” Xiao Jiu gasps, his eyes dazed. “...enough...”
Not enough?
Yue Qingyuan pauses, thinking. He’s not sure what more he could do. Unless...? Xiao Jiu had liked Yue Qingyuan’s fingers in his mouth earlier, hadn’t he?
That would be a good way to raise Xiao Jiu’s spiritual energy levels, too... since Yue Qingyuan had been so foolish as to let Xiao Jiu release earlier...
Yue Qingyuan pulls out, the cool air of the early morning, a stark contrast from the wet heat of Xiao Jiu’s body. Then he moves up the bed to straddle Xiao Jiu’s face and feed the other man his erection.
The sight of his length between the other man’s lips...it’s beautiful.
Then Xiao Jiu tries to bite him.
But Yue Qingyuan anticipates it, quickly disabling his precious friend’s jaw with a quick jab to his acupoint.
If only, he laments silently, Xiao Jiu’s face could not be so thin! He knows his brother, the man didn’t suffer embarrassment well. No matter, ‘Qi-ge’ will always give Xiao Jiu everything he asks. Yue Qingyuan pushes in and out, rubbing the fluid at his tip on the other man’s lips.
How pretty he looks this way, Yue Qingyuan can’t help but think, with lips red and plump, eyes blazing. He sighs, content, gently stroking Xiao Jiu’s hair, as he spills into the other’s mouth.
Then he gently holds the man’s jaw shut, prompting him to swallow. Only Xiao Jiu doesn’t. There’s a familiar stubborn glint to his eyes, a clear challenge.
Yue Qingyuan sits back, his weight on the other man’s upper chest while the tip of his length remains buried within the other’s mouth. He then scolds him, enumerating the dangers of Qi deficiency and the risk such things could pose to the other man’s cultivation.
Nothing.
Fine, then. Yue Qingyuan didn’t want to resort to this, but if Xiao Jiu left him with no other choice...
With one quick motion, he rolls onto his back, pulling the other man over. Soon, Yue Qingyuan is seated upright on the bed, trapping Xiao Jiu’s arms underneath his legs. Then, Yue Qingyuan forces Xiao Jiu’s head down, onto his growing length, thrust inside the other’s throat relentlessly.
The bed shakes from the force of Xiao Jiu’s kicks but Yue Qingyuan pays it no mind, too focused. He has to push in far enough that his seed would slide deep inside but not so far that Xiao Jiu would choke...it isn’t easy—the sensation of the other man’s passage almost leaves Yue Qingyuan undone—but he manages.
His hands cradling the other’s head, Yue Qingyuan even makes sure to pull almost completely out every so often, so Xiao Jiu could breathe.
...this happens less though, as time goes on. It’s not out of malice, it’s just the expression on Xiao Jiu’s face when Yue Qingyuan lingers for a moment too long...it’s exquisite—eyelids fluttering and face flushed.
The last time he pauses, his erection sunk deep in the other’s throat and releasing, Xiao Jiu suddenly trembles before becoming entirely limp. Yue Qingyuan frowns, removing himself and pulling the other man upright, in his lap, as best he can. Xiao Jiu lolls forward but Yue Qingyuan catches him, reaching lower, for the proof of the other’s disobedience.
Only there’s no white tell-tale smears to find. Yue Qingyuan glances at Xiao Jiu, surprised. His friend’s pupils are blown, his mouth panting and face slack, his body fully relaxed and pliant—everything about the man’s state indicated that he had came...but why hadn’t Yue Qingyuan found anything?
Xiao Jiu shivers as Yue Qingyuan tightens his grip on the other man’s limp but somehow twitching length. Xiao Jiu eagerly accepts it, even rutting against his hand. Yue Qingyuan raises a brow, thinking. Hmm...he’s read about something like this...what did the books call it? A ‘dry orgasm?’ He can accept that; Xiao Jiu shouldn’t lose any spiritual energy that way. He reaches for the other man’s wrist and finds, finally, that Xiao Jiu’s sufficiently recovered an amount of Qi similar to his usual state.
His work is done.
But the thought doesn’t cheer him as much as he thought it would.
He ponders why, as he carefully jabs at the acupoint again and pours some tea into Xiao Jiu’s mouth to wash out the taste of his essence, regretting how rough he had been with the other man earlier. But Yue Qingyuan still can’t think of an answer, even minutes later, as he wipes Xiao Jiu down with a clean spare robe, using the pitcher of water near his bed. He did this for Xiao Jiu, after all, so that the man would be safe...
After running a wet comb through the man’s hair, Yue Qingyuan rises from the bed to find some ointment for Xiao Jiu. He’s sure his friend will need it, remembering their activities over the course of the night. He gathers some but returns to find the man shifting his hips against the bed, moaning.
The container cracks in Yue Qingyuan’s hands.
Had he not given Xiao Jiu ample pleasure? Is this an indication of things to come, that his friend would insist on going to the brothels for ‘personal enjoyment’ ?!
Xiao Jiu makes each movement slowly, little gasps and pants escaping from his mouth. But his eyes remain dazed and unfocused, his body loose.
Not a conscious decision then, Yue Qingyuan thinks. Still...he can’t simply let Xiao Jiu do as he wants, not when he could undo Yue Qingyuan’s efforts and get himself into danger. He leaves the ointment on the bedside table before going to find a particular gift.
As head of the continent’s leading cultivation sect, Yue Qingyuan has received many spiritual treasures over the years. Most, he’s given to Xiao Jiu. With this treasure, though, he had refrained from doing so, knowing it had been keyed to his spiritual energy, specifically...
He brings it back to the room with him, and kneels upon the bed. He channels his Qi through it, the engraved characters on it flashing once before doing his bidding.
The shining silver material soon encases Xiao Jiu’s twitching length, the cool metal winding around his shaft and pouch, cinched snug, but not too tight, at the base.
It’s a wondrous sight but there’s something missing... Yue Qingyuan could have used the immortal binding cables he keeps on hand for emergencies but...those can be cut by any spiritual treasure. Better not to have Xiao Jiu accidentally castrate himself with Xiu Ya, Yue Qingyuan knows how stubborn his friend can be.
That‘s why he went to look for this, the metal whip offered by some minor sect after Yue Qingyuan had accidentally saved the future heir. He remembers that they had claimed it to be some prototype of what would be their clan’s most famed weapon and had then bound it to him, their leader scowling at him—that man had eerily reminded him of Xiao Jiu; it had left Yue Qingyuan unable to refuse.
Good, then, that it had turned out that way. He takes the ointment from the bedside, parting Xiao Jiu’s legs to massage the medicine in his opening and rub the remaining essence deeper inside. His friend moans but Yue Qingyuan continues, assured by the knowledge he won’t be able to release, not with the improvised cage Yue Qingyuan’s arranged. He marvels at how easily Xiao Jiu’s opening accepts his fingers and inserts more...what follows is an accident, really, his fist suddenly buried inside the other man, his arm moving.
Xiao Jiu gives a deep groan. It's a punched-out sound.
The unintended pun startles a laugh out of Yue Qingyuan but the implications of what he’s just done... He forces himself to stop, his mouth suddenly dry. He’s rubbed enough ointment. He pulls back but Xiao Jiu’s chrysanthemum clings to him the entire way, and even remains slightly open after, gaping and wrecked. White fluid drips onto the bed.
But it wouldn’t if—
Yue Qingyuan dismisses the urge, ashamed, but then Xiao Jiu squirms on the bed, legs wide. Yue Qingyuan swallows, directing the remainder of the whip to Xiao Jiu’s taint and then farther back, to form...something thick, Yue Qingyuan decides. Something thick and long, but hollow, and with a flared base to keep Xiao Jiu satisfied.
But, it should only brush the merest edges of that spot which brought Xiao Jiu so much pleasure, Yue Qingyuan thinks, frowning as he wills the metal to bend and change direction. He still hasn’t forgotten how his friend selfishly muffled himself most of the night.
Yes. This...how could he describe it? Yue Qingyuan glances down, noting how full Xiao Jiu looked, how well this new addition kept the fluid inside him from leaking...this plug would be his punishment...if Xiao Jiu wanted ‘personal enjoyment’ now, he’d have to ask Yue Qingyuan for permission.
He pulls at the plug, testing if the base is secure. Xiao Jiu mewls in response.
It’s music to his ears and Yue Qingyuan doesn’t stop, tugging it as far as it can go before suddenly pushing back in. He continues this for a few minutes, watching Xiao Jiu’s length. The cage works—it quivers but stays limp.
Yue Qingyuan smiles and locks the plug into place, directing his Qi accordingly. Then he dresses the other man before donning clean robes himself and pulls Xiao Jiu into his lap to watch the sun rise.
There’s a splendid future ahead.
Yue Qingyuan just knows it.