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Of Revelry and Rituals

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Shang Qinghua’s eyes scan over the list of court expenses for the past few days. There’s been a few more expenses than usual in preparation for the yearly “fertility festival” that was going to be held, and he’s noticed that the order that Mobei Jun requested for a specially designed Mating Pillow (a large wedge) for the two of them has arrived, and so the expense could be ticked off. 


It was ordered from the human realm, as demons are generally terrible at embroidery after all, and has a robust core covered in soft stuffing. The outside has a layer of silky sapphire blue fabric, decorated with symbols of his lord’s realm as well as common fertility emblems, in shiny silver thread. It’s pricey for even the average human in this world to afford, and demons are happy to pay several times that amount just to own such a detailed item. 


It seems that Mobei Jun is intent on… ahem, amping it up in the bedroom for the two of them (not that he minded of course), seeing as his request also includes a special chiffon-and-gold-chain costume, oils and his novel’s version of a beautician who specialises in waxing down there. Shang Qinghua frowns at that. Because the audience of Proud Immortal Demon’s Way were divided into men who liked pubic body hair on women and men who preferred nothing, Shang Qinghua had very cleverly decided (or so he had thought, at the time) to create a special form of wax in the realm that once used, would not hurt the waxee, and was infused with special herbs that would reduce regrowth rates and ingrowth and that kind of stuff. It added a sense of realism, especially for the pubic hair enthusiasts who really liked to read about female grooming habits.


While he internally thanks himself for ensuring it won’t be painful, he thinks to himself, does Mobei Jun really intend to have him waxed? Is his king into that kind of play…? He had never seemed to mind his hair previously. And besides, seeing as it’s just going to be the two of them, it’s not like that kind of detail is really necessary in the first place, right? Maybe Mobei Jun likes having details in his roleplay. 


Well, as long as he didn’t intend to do that thing, which is what normally happens in the novel, he’d be fine! And there is absolutely no way that Mobei Jun would, because while the original Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing had been that shameless, his king is far too possessive to let it happen. 



Famous last words, it seems, because several days later, after Shang Qinghua is served some herbal tasting wine (which he didn’t question because who has time to do that?), cleaned with rose-scented water and groomed, and changed into the costume, he’s led to none other than the Hall of the Royal Court.


Dread fills his gut when he realises where he’s going, and he has half a mind to run away, but he knows that if he does, Mobei Jun would be far from happy. He thinks morosely that he only has himself to blame for the horny bullshit he had written those decades ago. Cucumber Bro, who had criticised this scene precisely for being “shamelessly horny bullshit that doesn’t make sense [427 words redacted]” would probably say “serves you right,” upon hearing that he became a victim to his own machinations. 


Strips of see-through dark blue chiffon crisscross over his chest and crotch, not hiding his dusky nipples and cock. Excess fabric hangs off his shoulders and thighs, useless in purpose, aimed only to titillate and soften his silhouette. Thin silver chains run around his head like a crown, the base of his neck, wrists, and ankles, tiny sapphires twinkling under the light. They bunch together, tinkling slightly as he steps towards what would surely be his public humiliation. The air is cool, and goosebumps cover his skin when he finally shuffles through the doors, mortified to see a sea of familiar demonic faces in the crowd. 


“M-my king?” he asks tentatively. He sees Mobei Jun on the other end of the dias at the front of the room, seated on his throne with his legs spread, chin propped up on a hand, and eyes trained on him as he approaches. Mobei Jun looks incredibly intimidating like this, but also very handsome, his muscled chest bare from the low cut top, fur-trimmed cloak hanging off his shoulders. 


There’s a long table in the middle of the front of the room, and on it is that accursed mating wedge pillow thing, and he regrets having ever written the damn thing.


See, in the original, Sha Hualing had suggested this to Luo Binghe, first so that he could exert his virility over the Demonic Realm, secondly so she could prove to all that she was a suitable strong mate and not to be touched, thirdly for the immunity she would gain regarding the special rule arising (“those who endure this trial cannot be attacked, and if they do so, may be executed without a trial,”) and finally, so that she could smugly show off her place in the harem once the edict was passed, intimidating the weaker-hearted harem members. For the readers, especially the Sha Hualing fans, this had been absolutely catnip. The aggressive, sexy wife who had shamelessly marked her place in the harem in front of everyone? The exhibitionism! The perversion! How titillating!


Ahhh, stupid me, bemoans Shang Qinghua, amazed that he had thought he could escape such a ritual. See, it was bad enough that they would have to have sex in front of an audience, but not one demon in the entire Demon Realm would escape this knowledge. Right after successful copulation, the edict would be passed to every nook and cranny of the Demon Realm. This was to encourage the subjects to breed for “the good of the kingdom.” It was seen as having given the ruler’s blessing, and any children born from this were considered “good omens.”


In this case, perhaps it wouldn’t be everybody as Mobei Jun didn’t have the ranking that Luo Binghe did… right?


Ahhh who is he kidding. They’d definitely pass it on anyway since Luo Binghe isn’t around to organise these fertility festivals, who is he to even be involved anymore?


And if word of this got out to those writers… oh it wouldn’t just be Resentment of Chunshan and Song of Bingqiu anymore, no, he could see the titles already… maybe he could write it before them so he could at least profit off of this whole scenario, if he could get back at least 10 taels of gold he would probably feel better about all of this though...


Part of him takes spiteful enjoyment from the thought of letting Luo Binghe know about this ritual, so then maybe Cucumber Bro can join him in getting fucked in front of a crowd. Or if not a crowd, he’d still have to go through nine rounds in one go. Take that!!


“My King,” says Shang Qinghua, smiling slightly as he greets his husband in a bow. “Now that we have proven the ritual will go ahead, perhaps we should take this back to your chambers.”


Mobei Jun’s brows furrow slightly, and Shang Qinghua can hear disgruntled murmurs amongst the crowd. 


One demon, a relatively high-ranking one, stands up. 


“This humble servant apologises for his insolence but requests to speak.”


When Mobei Jun does not raise a hand to stop, the demon continues.


“In the Demon Realm, the population is already on a sharp decline, and the Ice Realm has particularly many difficulties with fertility. We have delayed this request for years out of respect to Your Majesty, who had not been partnered. However, we cannot delay this any longer and humbly request that this fertility ritual is fulfilled completely to ensure the fate of the demon race!! And if Your Majesty’s human consort is unwilling, we humbly request you accept a demon spouse to do so!!”


Mobei Jun raises a palm, signalling the demon to stop, who does so. 


Shang Qinghua’s mouth is ajar.


Huh?? When had the demons gotten so brave!! Aren’t you guys just perverts who wanna see a human getting fucked… this is all his fault anyway! Why did every fantasy he write end up biting him in the butt??


From memory, he had written in a demon official who was “a bit smarter and trusted by other members of the court,” and had been paid off by Sha Hualing to stand up and push for it in Luo Binghe’s court. So how did it come to this?!


Mobei Jun looks at Shang Qinghua with an eyebrow raised. Oh, that defined eyebrow arched like that certainly does things to Shang Qinghua’s heart, alright. He looks at the crowd who all seem quite... insistent. So it’s either… do this, or Mobei Jun would have no choice but to take on a second spouse?


Something acidic twists in his gut at the thought of it, and before he realises, he nods and agrees, “I’ll do it.”


Some members of the court start whispering, but everyone seems pleased that this human has agreed to the ritual.


Mobei Jun stands up and approaches Shang Qinghua, and he can’t help but feel like he’s prey being hunted in front of a crowd, from the look in those icy blue eyes, before he’s pulled up into those familiar, muscled arms, and kissed breathless. A cool tongue slides against his warm one, and he sighs softly as hands come down to rest on his waist, kneading slightly. He could forget the audience like this, just pretend that it was the two of them in their chambers…


Shang Qinghua is turned to face the court, his wrists caught in one of Mobei Jun’s enormous hands and his arms are lifted above his head. 


“His Majesty’s consort, Shang Qinghua,” announces an imp from the side, donning what looks like fertility rite clothing. Oh, god, this was going to happen too? “Race, human. Height. 175 centimetres tall. Weight…” 


Shang Qinghua is spun around and bent over, fingers prodding at his slick entrance as two slip in. He tries to stifle a moan as they slide into the knuckle, opening him up for what would come.


“Humans generally have either one entrance and a penetrating organ, or two entrances. The former cannot bear offspring. In general, humans are rather delicate. His Majesty reminds you that should you venture into the human realm to search for a mate, to find someone willing and to have exceeding amounts of patience.”


The fingers are removed and he sighs as he’s left filling empty, and then he’s lifted upwards. Mobei Jun sets him gently on the specially designed ramp, his back moulding against the contours of it. The lower half of his torso is raised quite high into the air, thighs spread, and his bent legs fold over his chest, bare feet resting above his head. His cock strains against the soft chiffon fabric, flopping towards his stomach. His head is propped against a soft cushion, and he’s thankful that he doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all, just a little disoriented. The silver chains tinkle as they’re jostled, and the one around his head slides down a little, but the large sapphire in the middle of his forehead magically remains in place. 


Large hands press against his thighs, before parting the chiffon between his legs, pulling it so that only his oiled hole is revealed.


With this, he realises, while he can only see Mobei Jun towering over him, the entire court can see where he is cleanly waxed and oiled, and where the two of them will be intimately connected during this ritual. A necessary part of the ritual, one might add.


“Long live the Demon Race!” An official calls out, and the demons begin to chant it, bowing deeply as they did so. 


Oh, so much for pretending they weren’t there…


Mobei Jun shrugs off his cloak and clothes, passing them off to a servant who bows its head as it shuffles away. The hard, sculpted planes of his chest have Shang Qinghua’s eyelashes fluttering. His king really is unbelievably handsome… 


Mobei Jun picks up the pitcher beside them, pours some oil on his palm and rubs it over his cock, bringing it to hardness with every stroke. It’s as thick as Shang Qinghua’s forearm and long, with a large head, and veins running all over its shaft. The skin is a faint purple blue colour, and Shang Qinghua bites down on his lower lip as he sees it. He could never get over how huge Mobei Jun was, and how that would go inside him… and the whole court would know that he could take something so big. When he looks up, he sees Mobei Jun’s eyes intently staring at his lips. 


“My king?” asks Shang Qinghua. 


By tradition, the court must have a perfect line of sight of their consummation the entire time, so Mobei Jun tears his gaze away from Shang Qinghua’s soft lips, and opts to press the blunt head of his cock between his thighs. The chants in the background die out as the demons hold their breaths in anticipation. Mobei Jun rubs the sensitive skin with his cock, pressing into Shang Qinghua’s entrance slightly before pulling back, stretching out the rim slowly. 


Shang Qinghua strains his thighs wider, spots of wetness appearing in the blue chiffon. The sensation of the slick, velvety skin spreading him open slightly before pulling back, has Shang Qinghua’s thigh muscles twitching, his nerves feeling on edge. He wants to throw away his pride and beg, but he feels he mustn’t, that he must endure this just a little bit longer.


The hard cock presses into him, and Shang Qinghua tilts his head backwards onto the pillow, moaning loudly as it fills him.


It’s always a stretch, his king’s girth is quite wide after all, and the trail it leaves inside him, bizarrely cold inside his warm walls, has Shang Qinghua squirming on the ramp. He can see where they’re connected as well, see how his rim is red and slick and stretches around Mobei Jun’s cock, swallowing it eagerly as it presses towards his stomach. He can feel how hard and cool it is inside his pliant walls as it fills him, causing him to feel almost breathless from how much is in him, and his thighs strain wider. The way the tip rubs against and passes the bend inside him that’s now thankfully straightened out by this angle, as Mobei Jun finally bottoms out deep inside him, has him whining. He doesn’t even realise he’s whining for a few moments, strangled little noises that cause Mobei Jun’s pupils to dilate.


The angle of the ramp causes Shang Qinghua to feel the cock deeper inside him than usual, and he can feel his king’s cock twitching inside him as he tries to hold back, even when he rolls his hips in little circles. He knows that Mobei Jun needs to cum inside him at least nine times, regardless of whether or not the mark takes. If it doesn’t, they have to go until it does. And he knows his body is not nearly as resilient as Sha Hualing’s, as he’s only human. 


At first, he wonders if it’ll even take because… he doesn’t have a womb, so how’s a womb tattoo supposed to appear? But then he remembers that he had accounted for that as he had originally intended to write a “wife” like Ast*lfo from F*te Gr*nd Ord*r, you understand?! For those types he had planned something regarding yin and yang but never gotten round to it completing the details for it… somehow, it still counted as a rule in this world...


And then Shang Qinghua remembers that the ramp is only needed until the symbol takes. So if he got it on the third go… then traditionally… he would be spread before the audience and taken that way the remaining times…


Please, please get it on the ninth try only!


Mobei Jun pulls back out, surprisingly slowly, and Shang Qinghua’s cry is strangled as it drags out of him, the ridge of the head scraping against his walls as it does so. And then it fills him again, long strokes that push inside him until he’s squirming from the fullness of it, tears trickling down the corners of his eyes, the skin on his face hot. Every stroke is like this, tantalising, and Shang Qinghua’s nerves feel frayed from the way he holds his body taut, trying to cling onto every jolt of pleasure that shoots through his lower torso. He whimpers, hands clutching the soft sides of the ramp, as Mobei Jun swirls the tip inside him when he’s just about to pull out completely, and then when he grinds his hips against him when he bottoms out. 


Shang Qinghua can feel heat rising in him and he hates that the strokes aren’t as fast as he’d like. The way his king teases him right now is so unfair, and he can feel his facial muscles slacken from how good he feels as he stares up, half-lidded, into icy blue eyes. A thin line of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth as he’s pinned under that gaze.


He begs his king with tearful eyes from under his lashes, his stare sultry as he squirms his thighs wider. 


Something flickers in those eyes, and then Mobei Jun snaps his hips in deeper, causing Shang Qinghua to cry out with a strangled moan. He bites down on his lower lip as he tries to hold it back, his cheeks burning, but Mobei Jun sees him, snaps back into him again and he sobs out a loud moan that echoes in the hall. He can feel his nipples and cock rub against the chiffon, oversensitive, pre seeping into it and creating a bigger dark stain in the transparent fabric. Now that the thrusts are harder and faster, Shang Qinghua’s legs swing back and forth over him with every thrust, the thin chains jangling on his ankles. The metal against his feverish skin is still cold, made of a special demonic metal, and he can feel it on his ankles and wrists and neck and forehead as reminders, that he’s bound to Mobei Jun.


It makes him more giddy than anything. 


“My king,” he says. He feels so full every time that cock the size of his forearm enters him. He wants to cum, but he knows if he does it now, he’s going to be oversensitive later. He needs to pace himself, but Mobei Jun makes it hard for him. 


 Mobei Jun’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Stop talking.”


But he had barely said anything! In any case, Shang Qinghua tries to brace his forearms on the flat surface underneath the wedge, tries to leverage himself to thrust his own hips up with each stroke. It causes the blunt head of the cock to press deeper and he manages to do it a few times before his pace falters. He can hear himself gasping and breathing heavily as he watches his slick hole take Mobei Jun’s cock, see where they are joined.


Not just him, but everyone else can see that place too. 


“Oh, my king, please!”


Release overtakes him, flooding his body as he arches off the ramp, feeling like he would probably tumble backwards if he wasn’t impaled in place. His walls tighten down around Mobei Jun’s cock, and his body shakes as he cums. His toes curl as his cock splashes release, some of it staining the fabric further and some passing through it, dripping onto his tummy and chest. Mobei Jun grunts before sheathing himself in fully, cumming deep inside Shang Qinghua who sobs softly as he feels the cold liquid flood him. 


Shang Qinghua slumps back down against the ramp, but it’s not over yet. 


Mobei Jun’s cock is still hard as he resumes his pace as before, the sound of it thrusting inside him now slick and obscene with the semen to assist it. He can see bits of the cum get dislodged by the ridge of Mobei Jun’s cock, causing it to slide down both his front and back, coolly sticking to him.


“No, no, I can’t take it again so soon,” sobs Shang Qinghua. “My king, please, mercy on this subject of yours, ahh…”


His walls and body feel over sensitive as he wriggles on the ramp, and Mobei Jun grasps his thighs, pinning him in place. 


“Don’t move,” says Mobei Jun, thrusting in harder. 


Shang Qinghua sobs and begs with every release that overtakes him. His own cum splashes over his torso and sometimes on his face, until it can only twitch uselessly against his stomach. He prays that he doesn’t get the emblem on his tummy too soon. 


That hope is short lived, as after Mobei Jun’s fifth shot inside him, he sees a patch of skin between his belly button and his cock start glowing.


“No... already?” asks Shang Qinghua, already exhausted. He had been hoping to just lie there longer and take it until it was over. The patch of skin now mirrors the symbol on Mobei Jun’s forehead and will stay there for several months. 


He can hear clamour behind them, as the court is relieved that this part of the ritual has been completed. 


Mobei Jun lifts Shang Qinghua up as he blearily sees two demon servants approach, one with the Fertility Goblet, and the other with a heavy tray. On the tray is something that looks like a mini garden, shallow dish of soil and a small plaque upright in it that says “Fertility Rites.”


Shang Qinghua is lifted over the goblet, Mobei Jun’s muscled arms tucked under his knees as he’s spread open before the audience. Thick fingers spread his now swollen and sloppy hole, and he can feel some of the semen spill out. It’s caught by the goblet, and more pours in until it’s half full, before Mobei Jun moves back and is spearing him with his cock again. He knows that the servant will pour it into the soil as part of the ritual. 


But he doesn’t see that, because he’s more focussed on the alarming aspect of Mobei Jun’s entire court watching him as his back is pressed to a muscled chest, his legs are spread completely wide, his cock bobbing as he’s bounced up and down in his king’s arms. The cock penetrates deep into him with every bounce, but he finds it hard to enjoy himself with an audience of several hundred demons, many of whom he would have to greet with a straight face every day thereafter. 


This part of the ritual is to assert a claim. Firstly, by Mobei Jun over Shang Qinghua in front of the court. At this moment, he sincerely wishes he had written anything but this. If any official in the court were to raise a hand against him, they would be put to death without a trial unless someone could prove that they had been framed by another court member. While in all honesty, this was pretty much effective already, the original text had slightly different circumstances which required this.


But even if Shang Qinghua wants to escape this part, there is still another reason binding him.


He needs to prove that he is a worthy mate for Mobei Jun, strong enough to serve a demon lord in bed and uphold the fertility rites of the demon realm every year. The demons who are unconvinced by him may still try to attack him if they believe he wasn’t good enough, and some are brave enough to risk death to do it. 


Shang Qinghua covers his face with his hands as he rests his head against one broad shoulder. He can feel the thick cock thrust inside him wetly, the sound of it absolutely obscene in the relative quiet of the room. For this part of the ritual, the audience must see the emblem on full display, otherwise he would have demanded being face to face with Mobei Jun.


It really is utterly humiliating, he thinks. And yet he still tiredly shakes his hips with off-tempo jerks, pliant inner walls eager to swallow Mobei Jun’s cock. His hair sticks to his face from sweat, and he can feel the stickiness of his own cum on his chin. He knows he looks utterly debauched with his messy hair, flushed skin, parted lips. Strangled moans spill out as he turns to Mobei Jun’s neck, presses his face into his king’s cool skin.


The chiffon sticks to his skin uncomfortably, wet with his sweat and semen and his king’s semen that had been dislodged. The contrast between his warmth and his king’s cold body temperature only makes him ache more, though it also means that he doesn’t overheat, and that’s something he takes comfort in. 


He passes out in his king’s arms, his head lolling back, but they’re still a while away from completely nine orgasms, and he can feel the steady rocking and bouncing as he slips in and out of consciousness, absolutely fucked out of his mind. He doesn’t know how long passes before he awakes or falls back to sleep. He mutters nonsensically in between his cries when he’s awake, toes curling as he endures orgasm after orgasm. He remembers the biting of teeth on his neck and shoulders as he is marked over and over by his king, claiming possession that will leave bruises for days to come. He’s certain that his waist and hips will have hand shaped bruises on them, too.


And then finally, mercifully, they reach nine orgasms. Shang Qinghua is pretty sure he’s orgasmed more than that, but he hasn’t been able to count. 


He is also vaguely aware of the court bowing deeply as a servant announces an edict to be passed down.


“His majesty… consort… have consummated… fertility ritual. Celebrations… next 90 days…”


Relief pools in his gut as he sags against Mobei Jun’s chest and broad shoulder.


He remembers the sensation of thick semen sticking to his inner thighs as he’s bridal carried to the washroom, undressed then scrubbed down and cleaned. His jewellery is removed, but he suspects that Mobei Jun will enjoy it if he wears it again next time they tussle together in bed. He’s been changed into something more comfortable, and tucked into the familiar soft bed, as sleep claims him. 


The next day, Shang Qinghua wakes to the loud clashing of cymbals and he groans, remembering the events of the day before and what is likely to come. When people (aka Cucumber bro) had complained regarding why demons would want to do a freaking lion dance after the first day of the celebrations, he had dismissed him. It was just cool so he had written it in. Now, he agrees that it most decidedly is not cool, and he would like to sleep longer, thank you very much. 


He’s about to stick his head under the blankets when he smells the delicious scent of noodles and he jerks up in surprise to see Mobei Jun with a tray and a bowl on it. 


“My kingggg,” wails Shang Qinghua, sitting up. “You thought of me!” 


Mobei Jun gives him a look, something like what do you think, before he sets the tray on the side of the bed, handing the bowl to Shang Qinghua, whose hands start to drop. Thankfully, Mobei Jun prevents it from tipping over, before sighing.


“I’m sorry,” says Shang Qinghua woefully. “I didn’t even use my arm muscles?? But I can barely move them.”


Mobei Jun sits right next to Shang Qinghua before swirling some noodles on a chopstick and lifting it up, blowing gently so it’s a comfortable temperature, and bringing it to the man’s lips. 


“Wah, my king is feeding me?” asks Shang Qinghua, eyes wide. 


“Would you prefer I did not?” he asks, frowning and pulling away.


“No, no! Feed me,” says Shang Qinghua, opening his mouth wide and pointing at it. Mobei Jun brings it back, and Shang Qinghua slurps the noodles off the chopsticks happily. 


Ah… being hand fed handmade noodles by a handsome demon lord really is the best!!!!


He knows he has a silly grin on his face but he can’t help it. 


Maybe the fertility festival isn’t so bad after all! 



For the next three months, Mobei Jun certainly seems more enthusiastic in bed than usual. Whether it’s the general excitement of the fertility festival in the spring season, or that Shang Qinghua has his lord’s symbol basically tattooed on his lower belly, or if it’s because Shang Qinghua agrees to wear that ridiculous chiffon-and-silver-chain outfit, he’s not sure. 


What he does know is that they’re supposed to consummate every day, and the tray of soil at the ritual had now grown a small plant that has to be watered by a teaspoon (or more) of Mobei Jun’s cum that had been inside Shang Qinghua, every day for those three months. 


Thighs spread over Mobei Jun’s lap as he keeps his head pressed to the demon lord’s neck, Shang Qinghua clenches his teeth as he tries to grind his hips down. He’s held in place by those enormous hands, thumbs rubbing circles into his hip bones. That day, Mobei Jun had been edging Shang Qinghua to the point that he had taken matters into his own hands, tried to slam himself up and down on that thick cock, much to Mobei Jun’s amusement. He had let Shang Qinghua go at it for a few minutes, watched his pupils dilate and him throwing his head back and sobbing as he rode his lord’s cock, but then he had been stopped in place by Mobei Jun a few moments before he thought he would orgasm.


“Please,” sobs Shang Qinghua. “Please, my king.” 


“Beg properly,” says Mobei Jun. 


It’s humiliating, so utterly humiliating, but at least it’s just the two of them in this chamber, so Shang Qinghua will be as shameless as necessary, as his lord desires, to get the pleasure he needs.


“Please, my king,” says Shang Qinghua, leaning back on his haunches to give Mobei Jun a good look at his demon mark on his lower belly. He gasps softly as the cock’s angle changes inside him because of his own movement. His hands come up beside the mark to frame it, and he looks up at Mobei Jun from under his lashes. “Isn’t this symbol proof of your ownership over me? So won’t you take mercy on this one and breed me with your cock?” 


He knows he’s putting it on thick, that he only needed to say, “please, fuck me,” but if his king is going to tease him, then he’ll tease right back. Take that!! 


Mobei Jun’s pupils dilate and he grabs Shang Qinghua’s hips, pushing him back onto the bed and looming over him. Shang Qinghua’s legs come up to wrap around Mobei Jun’s hips as the demon lord sets a punishing pace, rutting deep inside him. He can feel his sternum and throat contract from the force of the thrusts, and he sobs in delight.


“Yes, yes, my king!” he cries as his lower hips jerk in pleasure. “Fuck me, fuck me harder, feels so good, ahh, I love you my king, fuck, fuck!” 


Mobei Jun leans forward to press his cool lips to Shang Qinghua’s, shutting him up as a tongue slides into his mouth. Shang Qinghua wraps his arms around Mobei Jun’s neck, kissing him harder as he presses his chest upwards against Mobei Jun’s, eager to have more skin contact. His moans are muffled against Mobei Jun’s lips, and his eyes are ecstatic as the thick cock angles in deeper and the weight of it presses against his prostate. He can feel cool saliva in his mouth and he swallows down on it before sucking on Mobei Jun’s tongue. 


The heavy thrusts into him that ram against his prostate too are too much for him, and he screams against Mobei Jun’s mouth as he teeters into pleasure, his vision going white as a climax claims him. His inner walls clamp down around Mobei Jun tightly like a vise and the demon lord grunts before shoving it to the hilt, cumming with a guttural cry that causes Shang Qinghua to dig his fingers into the muscled back. Thick ropes of liquid splash inside him, and then Shang Qinghua sags against the bed blissfully as Mobei Jun’s weight pins him down. He squirms as he can feel his own cock pressed against hard abs, coated in his cum. 


It feels good, and he knows his king isn’t satisfied yet. Yet halfway through these three months, it was as if Shang Qinghua had become trained in pleasure, and he found that his stamina had gradually increased, helped along by Mobei Jun’s powerful semen with its magical demonic properties. He snuggles into Mobei Jun’s neck, and they lie there for a few moments, breathing in sync, before the demon lord rolls them both over. Shang Qinghua knows he’s still hard, can feel that impossible girth inside him still straining inside him, and though he feels his own walls are oversensitive, he doesn’t mind as much these days. He starts rolling his hips happily. 


“My king,” he cries out. “Feels good. Feels so good!” 


All around their realm, plenty of demons are engaged in sex and orgies on the daily. Even their servants are encouraged to, and allowed to take time off to involve themselves in this festival, as long as they let the head servants know when, so that the court could maintain a roster and some degree of order. 


In any case, if the king and his consort couldn’t set a good example for the fertility ritual by copulating at least several times a day, then how could order be maintained? 


Smiling, Shang Qinghua leans down to kiss Mobei Jun, who reaches a hand up to keep him pinned there by the nape.