Work Text:
0 to 100
“Bite me.”
Mu Qing already has his neck bared to Feng Xin, ready.
Feng Xin just wants to kill the ghost all over again, that snarky Savage that has led the two into this dire situation.
After striking down a small army of demons and navigating a labyrinth filled with mold and blood, Feng Xin thought that they were done, that they at last could crash through the exit of this cursed temple and go back to Heaven.
But no. Instead, he and Mu Qing are trapped in a luxurious bedroom that holds an enormous bed, draped in sheets embroidered with silver and gold fit for the Heavenly Emperor himself. Yet the chamber, with an oppressive aura emanating from its four bleakly gray walls, is far from inviting. It’s a place that doesn’t let anyone forget what has transpired there, what has given birth to the vengeful ghost that took so much trouble for the two gods to vanquish.
“It makes sense,” Mu Qing continues, as lightly as he can given their tense quandary. “The Onyx Pearl couldn’t move on after their grisly rape and death by a merciless alpha whom they thought was a trusted friend… a horror that I imagine happened in this very room. Why else won’t this place let an unmated alpha go free?”
“Cover yourself,” Feng Xin barks, glaring at the other god’s neck. “There has to be another way. In any case,” he narrows his eyes, “you’re free. You don’t have to stay here for me.”
Mu Qing turns to him. To any other person, the god of the southwest looks unfazed. Yet Feng Xin knows better, knows that his colleague – no, his friend… no, something much more, a disquieting voice adds – is taken aback by his harsh statement.
“I can’t have my followers think that I’m a coward,” Mu Qing replies, curt.
Still, his tone is much less harsh or bitter than it would have been decades ago. Ever since the fall of Jun Wu, Mu Qing has been… less abrasive. They’ve been able to get along better. Even their deputies have released many sighs of relief given how sturdy their palaces have held recently.
“I know that you might not know much about it, but biting a bonding gland… mating… it’s not something you should just take lightly,” Feng Xin grits out; he’s unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.
“I’m not,” Mu Qing answers tersely. “But we’ve already spent too much time using our brute force and our spiritual powers to try to get you out of here. We’re on a timeline. The entire place is going to implode in a shichen. With all the evil energy trapped here, you won’t survive. You know how to read, right?”
Feng Xin glances at the gilded mirror that covers half the wall in front of them. On its surface, in stark and graceful calligraphy, is the following warning that only materialized itself when Feng Xin followed Mu Qing into the room:
Once I fall, you fall with me.
In two shichens, the time it took to tear me in half and drench the sheets in blood.
Unless you’re saved already, by a bond strong and pure.
“And…” the archer can’t look at the other with his next question, “… you actually think I would have a bond ‘strong and pure’ when you’re just forced into it by this fucking situation?”
“It will be, because you won’t get a stronger or purer omega than me. Asshole.” Mu Qing snarks, for good effect.
But there’s so much more in his dark eyes, an intensity that hints at what has been brewing between the two for almost a century already. It glimmered when Mu Qing bestowed on him one of his small but warm smiles that he doesn’t give anyone else. When Feng Xin once reached out a hand to tuck a strand of black hair behind the other god’s ear, to caress his cheek, only to withdraw at the last minute because…
“No. I’m not going to let you compromise your cultivation for me.”
Mu Qing scowls. For any other omega, Feng Xin would have no trouble smelling their displeasure even before they grimace. Yet Mu Qing’s scent has always been so light, almost non-existent. And to think that he doesn’t take any suppressants, that his scent has been so efficiently pushed down by his cultivation alone for so long. It only speaks to how solid his cultivation base is and how unthinkable it is for Feng Xin to shake that foundation.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Well, I fucking do when I’m the one who has to bite you.”
The two glare at each other. After a moment, Mu Qing takes a step forward, making Feng Xin put at hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip. He has mostly relinquished this distrustful instinct. Still, sometimes it flares up again, especially when there's so much at stake.
“Feng Xin,” his friend says softly. “I can rebuild spiritual powers. But if you die, you won’t come back.”
It’s more than just Mu Qing’s gentle voice that makes Feng Xin pause. He can smell the other god, his subtle but sweet scent swirling around him, tinged with worry and something else, something that grounds him. Yes, Mu Qing’s scent has always been faint, but is it just him or has it gotten more… distinct… in the last few years?
“Are you sure?” he whispers.
“You have the nerve to ask?” There’s that signature smirk that Feng Xin adores.
So with trembling hands, he holds Mu Qing’s shoulders. With a small sigh, the raven-haired god tilts his shoulder to give Feng Xin more space for the bite. This method is unorthodox, to the say the least. No sexual act, no foreplay, not even a kiss. Yet isn’t this how it’s always been between them? And today, Mu Qing is already giving up so much for him. It would be unfathomable to ask for more.
Still, Feng Xin can’t help nuzzling the slender, pale neck and placing the lightest of kisses on the omega’s mating gland. Mu Qing hisses slightly. It’s obvious he’s using a Herculean effort to keep his scent under control. And then Feng Xin opens his mouth and bites.
Or at least he tries to. But two things get in his way.
One: Mu Qing tenses. The other god is too proud to push him away, but he becomes rigid like stone.
Two: The mating gland is also as hard and impenetrable as stone. Feng Xin manages to break skin but he gets nowhere near to sinking his canines into the gland. He tries harder, but Mu Qing just tenses more. He makes no sound, yet it’s obvious that his friend – no, how can Feng Xin continue deluding himself when his lips are on Mu Qing’s perfect skin… this is the object of his affections, if not more… Mu Qing is in an incredible amount of pain.
“This isn’t working,” the archer declares at last, stepping back.
“Stop being weak and bite harder,” Mu Qing snaps.
“No. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You think I can’t take it?”
“Shut up!” Feng Xin can’t bear to look at that pale neck, already swelling, already turning an angry red and blue. “I just can’t fucking do it! And anyway,” he puts a hand to his head, “it says that we need a bond ‘strong and pure,’ and I don’t think mauling you like that is going to cut it.”
“Tch.” There’s that signature eye roll.
“Just go.” Feng Xin plops down onto the decadent bed, his head down. “Leave before you die here too.”
“No!”
The archer snaps his head up. Even more so than the uncharacteristically anxious tone, it’s Mu Qing’s scent, with its abrupt spike in distress, that grabs Feng Xin’s attention.
“I know…” Mu Qing crosses his arms and refuses to look at him, “that usually for this kind of… situation… there needs to be… actions done before the bite. Wecantrythat. A little!” he hastily adds.
The swordsman has the faintest blush on his cheeks, and Feng Xin falls in love all over again.
“… Are you sure?”
“Stop repeating yourself like an imbecile.”
Mu Qing sits down next to him and slowly takes his chin in his hand. However, he doesn’t go further, instead looking at his lap and biting his lip. He looks so incredibly precious that Feng Xin can’t help but take up on his offer and swoop in for a kiss.
It’s meant to be quick and chaste, the smallest of trials before another valiant attempt of nipping Mu Qing’s mating gland. But when Mu Qing gasps and melts into Feng Xin’s chest, the archer can’t help but wrap his arms around the other god and deepen the kiss.
-----------------------------
“You look absolutely terrible, General.”
Despite Mu Qing’s savage glare and Xie Lian immediately shushing him, Hua Cheng just smirked.
“San Lang’s right, though,” the Crown Prince commented after a few moments of silence. Mu Qing swiftly redirected his glare to him, although it contained only a fraction of the fury he threw at Crimson Rain. “It’s been more than a year since Jun Wu shackled you… and you’re getting better, you are!” Xie Lian added hastily when his friend’s expression further soured. “But you still… look so pale and tired.”
From the scrap god’s sleeve, Ruo Ye slipped out and slowly wrapped itself around Mu Qing’s wrist, making the swordman roll his eyes. Still, he couldn’t help but put a gentle hand on the spiritual device before turning to Xie Lian.
“People are still annoying me with Heavenly Court affairs while we’re trying to figure out how to make a new system work,” he gritted out. “We can’t all have the luxury of hiding out here in the mortal realm.”
“And I’m – we’re so thankful for all you did,” Xie Lian said with a beatific smile. Next to him, Hua Cheng just rolled his eyes. “But I don’t want you to overdo it. And I think…” Here, His Highness hesitated. “I think you’re using too much of your spiritual powers to hide yourself instead of healing yourself.”
Mu Qing stiffened. It was a while before he finally answered with a dangerous glint in his eye:
“We can’t all ascend and be showered with admiration by being so brazenly omega.”
Xie Lian just gave him a sheepish smile, while Ruo Ye started fidgeting on Mu Qing’s wrist, almost like it was rubbing his arm to calm him.
“When I was fighting the Ghost of Yi Nian Bridge,” the Crown Prince quietly began, “he thought he could weaken me by threatening to reveal that part of myself to our kingdom. That’s when I realized that I didn’t want that to ever hold me back, so I revealed it to everyone after I defeated him. That might or might not have helped me ascend that first time.
“When I was banished and I didn’t have any spiritual powers anymore, it was hard living day to day as an omega. People already looked down on me for so many reasons, and my secondary gender didn’t help. But ever since I stopped hiding, whether or not I had any power, I felt… free.”
Next to him, Hua Cheng wrapped his arm around Xie Lian’s shoulder and squeezed. Mu Qing, however, had limited patience.
“People know about my secondary gender already,” he snapped. “Maybe not my worshippers, but the other gods and my disciples do. So I don’t think it has anything to do with it.”
“But you’re still putting effort into masking your scent and suppressing your heats with your cultivation. And I’m not saying you should just start going into heats!” Xie Lian quickly added when Mu Qing looked murderous.
“But maybe… let go a little? Didn’t you notice that you were able to fight off the energy drain from the cursed shackle more at Tonglu when you were more honest with me and Feng Xin? When you didn’t have to divert your spiritual power to putting up a front?”
Mu Qing didn’t care to remember when he had so pathetically pleaded for his life, when he had succumbed to his baser instincts of asking for help, of wanting to be cared for… of gripping Feng Xin’s hand tight when – against all odds – the archer had saved him. Yet he had to admit that Xie Lian wasn’t wrong.
“And what about Feng Xin?” the scrap god then asked, smiling encouragingly.
“What about him?” the general asked with a frown.
Xie Lian had his characteristic awkward grin and was about to launch into an equally awkward answer when Hua Cheng squeezed his shoulder. The two exchanged a look and the ghost subtly shook his head.
“Nan Yang obviously doesn’t use any spiritual power to hide who he is,” Crimson Rain then started, his tone infuriatingly smooth.
“Obviously.”
“And the two of you are evenly matched. Imagine how much stronger you would be against him if you didn’t waste so much spiritual energy on hiding yourself,” Hua Cheng continued, “especially as people already know that you’re an omega, as you said so yourself.”
For once, Mu Qing returned the ghost king’s smirk. And Xie Lian just sighed.
It turned out that letting go of his control of his secondary gender, albeit only very slightly, did not help him beat up Feng Xin more often. It did, however, help him get rid of the bags under his eyes a little more quickly, as Feng Xin remarked himself.
More than that, and against Mu Qing’s intentions, it made him… softer towards his rival. He never wanted to be like that, especially when his feelings were so evidently not returned. (Or were they? a sly voice asked whenever they were able to fight together in sync without a word spoken or whenever Feng Xin burst out laughing at his wry comments.)
In any case, whenever Mu Qing was tempted to reconstruct his barriers, he couldn’t help but remember how warm Feng Xin’s hand had been when he had held Mu Qing… and the more frequent smiles that the other god gave him recently… and he continued to show himself more, bit by bit.
… But never much. Because while Mu Qing would consider giving up his cultivation for Feng Xin, he knew he had nothing really to offer. He was by no means ugly, but he was far from remarkable, especially next to the gorgeous Xie Lian or even the crass but aristocratic Pei Ming. And he was an inexperienced virgin. How could he ever satisfy a god who receives countless requests from mortals for sexual prowess?
And finally, he wasn’t a fool: he knew he didn’t have a pleasant personality. Your mind is twisted, Feng Xin spat at him. Yes, this was long ago, before the overturning of the Heavenly Court. But he isn’t wrong, Mu Qing still can’t help but think.
So his intent has always been to only reveal the most marginal bits of himself, just to help conserve spiritual power.
Yet with his first kiss now stolen by his love, Mu Qing can’t help himself from moaning and gripping Feng Xin’s robes. He can’t stop his omega from purring in satisfaction and releasing a sweet, pleased scent.
It only makes Feng Xin groan and hold him more tightly. Mu Qing hasn’t felt this warm in centuries. He can’t remember the last time he was held, and all he can do is kiss back, entranced. It’s Feng Xin who snaps out of it after who knows how long. He slowly pushes Mu Qing away and resolutely tells himself not to fixate on how gorgeous the pale general is with his eyes dazed and his black tresses messily framing his face.
“I’m going to try again,” he declares.
The swordsman barely mumbles an “m’kay” before Feng Xin kisses his neck and tries to sink into his bonding gland again. Yes, the gland is softer than the first time, but it still doesn’t budge. In no time Mu Qing stiffens and sinks his nails in Feng Xin’s forearms.
“Just do it,” Mu Qing orders harshly.
When Feng Xin pulls away to look at him, the swordman’s eyes are sharp again. He rather preferred Mu Qing disoriented and pliant. So he dives in for another kiss, this time coaxing his love’s luscious lips open to slip in his tongue.
The tension leaves Mu Qing’s body as he obediently opens his mouth and sucks his tongue. His scent is getting stronger, more delicious, pushing Feng Xin to press himself closer to him. With a helpless sound, and it takes Feng Xin’s incredulous brain a few moments to process, Mu Qing starts unclasping the archer’s armor and pulling off his robes. With a snarl, Feng Xin wastes no time in getting rid of his fellow general’s armor and clothes, until his exquisite chest and peach pink nipples are revealed to his hungry eyes. His hands automatically leap forward to pinch and fondle the eager, pert buds, followed by worshipful lips and a greedy tongue.
Mu Qing tosses his head and keens, overwhelmed by the strange, heady pleasure suffusing his chest and rushing south. With a gasp, he realizes that he’s warm and wet down there. There’s an outpour of slick streaming between his legs. Even with his thighs clamped closed, there’s no use hiding it.
He can’t remember the last time that’s happened. Somewhere in his fogged mind, he knows that his omega is awakening, seeing its first opportunity in centuries to take over. Somewhere, distantly, he knows that his scent is becoming more powerful. He sees it in Feng Xin’s pupils blown wide, he smells it in the alpha’s own musk as it fills the room and starts drowning him in submission.
With a growl, Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing’s head to the side, licks his way up to his mating gland, and tries biting again. It’s definitely getting easier as the gland becomes more pliable and as more tension leaves the swordman’s body. But it’s not the right time yet, his alpha commands him. He needs to overwhelm the omega with love and pleasure, and only then can he claim him.
“I’m going to go further,” he whispers into Mu Qing’s ear before sucking and nibbling his earlobe. “How far can I go?”
“More,” Mu Qing pants, pulling him closer.
“How much more?”
“Feng Xin.”
“You have to tell me when to stop. If you don’t, I just might knot you.” At that, the pale god shivers. Feng Xin can’t tell if it’s from fear or anticipation. “Mu Qing, you have to tell me if you want me to stop.”
When Mu Qing doesn’t answer, instead writhing maddeningly against him, Feng Xin bites his nipple. Hard. The cry that Mu Qing lets out, half in anger and half in arousal, only makes Feng Xin want to claim him more. Instead, he forces himself to ask:
“Will you tell me if you need me to stop? Mu Qing.”
“Yes, yes,” his love finally looks at him with annoyed and fond eyes. “Can you just shut up and get on with it?”
With the desperately sought permission granted, Feng Xin growls and throws Mu Qing down onto the bed. He rips off the other god’s trousers while his tongue traces the sculpted pale abs and then dips lower. Lower to trace the outline of Mu Qing’s shaft and balls in reverence. When the omega moans and lets out another burst of slick, its potent, mouth-watering fragrance draws Feng Xin farther down until he noses and then dives into its very source.
“Gods! Feng Xin!”
Mu Qing’s entrance is closed and hot. Feng Xin can barely swirl the tip of his tongue in. He tastes so sweet, with notes of chrysanthemum, pu’er tea, and steel freshly molten from the forge.
Most of all, he tastes and smells like sex. And Feng Xin licks every single drop from the stream of slick wetting his face.
He smells like burnt sugar and polished wood. It’s one of the few stray thoughts that Mu Qing can string together as he squirms and futilely tries to get away from Feng Xin’s criminal tongue. Yet his fellow general’s steel grip on his hips, as well as his scent, so intoxicating and commanding and alpha, pins him down. Feng Xin’s groans of satisfaction as he laps against Mu Qing’s taint, as he chases after every hint of his slick, just further pushes him down.
Submit. Just submit. Mu Qing doesn’t know if Feng Xin is actually saying those words (the filthy sounds of his love bites and his fingers sinking into him down there drowns whatever he might be saying). Or is it the alpha in the musk trying to dominate his omega who’s already high on what has been denied to him for too long?
It feels like a sweet, agonizing eternity (and how did they not get destroyed already with this ticking bomb of a room?) before Feng Xin draws up and takes Mu Qing’s chin.
“Love, I’m going to take you,” Feng Xin murmurs against his lips.
Maybe it’s the term of endearment and veiled confession. Maybe it’s Feng Xin’s cock stroking his entrance. (Mu Qing wants to see it, he wants to appreciate for himself what mortals have salivated after for centuries… it feels solid and massive and so good.) In any case, refusing doesn’t even cross Mu Qing’s mind as he tilts his head and claims Feng Xin’s lips in a kiss.
He opens his mouth and it’s his omega that lets out the lewdest whine that he has ever heard. A low rumble emanates from deep within Feng Xin’s chest that makes Mu Qing’s legs tremble and open even wider, that makes more desperate slick cascade down onto the sumptuous bed sheets.
The sheets are going to be ruined. That’s the last coherent thought that Mu Qing has before Feng Xin plunges in.
Feng Xin tries to advance slowly, he really does, yet Mu Qing’s already so deliciously stretched open and wet from the slick and his own ministrations. He bottoms out, and his love cries out wantonly in relief and pleasure. That delectable flush has traveled down to Mu Qing's snow white chest. His nipples stand up so hard and so begging to be fondled.
Feng Xin wants to touch and lick and kiss every square centimeter of the irresistible offering in front of him. However, he can smell what his omega needs most at the moment.
Again, he tries – he really does – to go gently. He tries to remember that this is Mu Qing’s first time, that he has no experience whatsoever. Yet just the thought that he’s the first one – and he’ll be the only one, his alpha snarls inside – to do this to the omega, to feel his arms and legs wrapped so tightly around him, to hear his sighs of unabashed bliss, just makes Feng Xin plunder more deeply into that tight, delicious heat.
It takes no time at all for Mu Qing to come, untouched. He didn’t even know that this was possible, although it’s only noted in the farthest corner of his mind that’s otherwise drenched in pleasure.
“Feng Xin, Feng Xin,” he moans. The alpha hasn’t come, hasn’t even slowed down. It seems he’s only thrusting faster, harder, maddeningly spurred on by Mu Qing’s orgasm. “Slow down, it’s so much, I – Ah!”
“I’m going to make you come again and again,” the alpha growls. That hard, heavy cock is unrelenting, and the slithering of his wet tongue in his ear makes Mu Qing harden in just a few well-aimed thrusts. “ ‘m going to knot you, again and again and again, until you feel empty and desperate all the time when I’m not in you.”
“Yes, yes… Harder, faster, please.” It’s his omega begging. Mu Qing can no longer resurface, he’s drowned in Feng Xin’s kisses, his hot bronzed skin, the thrusts that make him pant and keen. But isn’t it silly to think that there’s such a division in himself… isn’t this what he’s wanted all along?
He wants more, he wants so much more. He claws at the alpha’s back to bring him closer. He clenches on that delectable dick to better feel the waves of euphoria with every thrust. It’s swelling, the knot is coming, and he feels so filled, so full… but he wants…
“More, more!” Feng Xin can’t hold out much longer with the omega’s heated, fucked out voice in his ears. “Come for me, please, please, ah! Come for me, come inside me, please, please, come inside me – ”
With an earth-shattering shout, the archer slams into his love and spills everything inside. His seed is so hot, it’s searing Mu Qing’s insides, and the knot is stuffing him so full, it’s so big and good...
Feng Xin surges forward and bites his bonding gland. The spike of pain morphs into an onslaught of pleasure, pushing the omega’s consciousness over the brink into white-hot bliss.
Mu Qing won’t remember how he screams his throat raw as he comes. How there’s a deluge of slick that irrevocably soils the sheets, just as he predicted. How for the longest time, neither of the two can stop spilling out their pleasure, so aroused in the feel of each other’s warm, ambrosial fluids gushing forward.
He won’t remember turning limp when they both finish, nuzzling Feng Xin’s neck and sleepily whispering, “Mmm… alpha…” before falling heavily into the best sleep he’s ever had.
Feng Xin will remember for the two of them.
-----------------------------
Mu Qing wakes up covered in sweat, spit, and come.
His mind tells him to be disgusted. But his omega, who is awake and flaunting his presence, just preens as Mu Qing surveys the wreckage of his body. His automatic reflex is to push down his omega and his scent. For the first time, however, it doesn’t work.
He can feel the depletion of his spiritual powers. That’s not the only reason his omega is still prancing happily around, though. There’s a strong tan arm wrapped around his waist, and there’s the alluring scent of a satisfied, mated alpha in the room keeping his omega alert and ready to be of service.
They’re both wrapped in soft, silk sheets in the ghost’s huge bed. Perusing the room, Mu Qing realizes that there is no longer the foreboding atmosphere weighing him down. In fact, there’s gentle, warm sunlight cascading from an enormous window. Was that there before? In any case, neither he nor Feng Xin is dead. So it’s time to go.
His mating gland is throbbing. Without thinking, Mu Qing raises a hand to touch it, but he stops just in time. His omega is already salivating from just the scent of the annoying alpha so close to him. Mu Qing won’t touch his gland or look at the other god, scared of how his now defiled body would react. No, he’ll put on his clothes and then kick Feng Xin awake so that they can finally escape.
He shifts his body to get out of the bed. The strong arms around him tightens. Before, or what Mu Qing will later refer to as the ‘pre-disaster era’ and what Feng Xin will refer to as the ‘virgin dark ages,’ his body would automatically know to push the intruder away and to adopt a fighting stance.
Now, his body just turns to jelly. Before he knows it, he’s on his back, glaring with heated cheeks at the smirking sex god looming over him. The sun highlights his perfect skin and his copper hair. Mu Qing just wants to kneel to worship his god’s flawless body and to have the alpha’s cock fuck his throat. Feng Xin looks stunning.
“You look stupid,” he mumbles.
“Good morning to you too, baobei.”
Feng Xin swoops down for a kiss. And it takes all of Mu Qing’s (now depleted – thanks, asshole) power to shove his hand against the other god’s face to stop him.
“Did your dumbass brain forget that we’re stuck in a cursed temple? Let’s get out of here first.”
“But the bed is big and comfortable,” Feng Xin protests, like an idiot. “And we both know that this is just a regular bedroom and temple now. There’s no curse left to kill us.”
“So you’d rather fuck in a ghost’s bed? How stupid can you – Ah!”
All his love did was nuzzle his mating gland. It’s so sensitive, though, and their mating is so recent. All of a sudden, slick spurts out, soaking the sheets. Mu Qing feels like he’s burning. He’s falling again, his omega rising, eager to service his alpha… but they didn’t do anything, all that bastard did was touch his neck…
“What’s happening?” his voice is already slurred, his thoughts blurring into nothing but –
“You’re having your first heat, sweetheart,” Feng Xin purrs.
He looks so pleased with himself, like such a dumbass, like such a jerk, so handsome and hot and… no! He has to resist, even if he doesn’t know why… And then the archer nips his swollen gland and Mu Qing is lost.
“That’s a good omega,” Feng Xin laughs and slips his tongue in the eager, receptive mouth.
In a moment or two, he’ll have his beloved bite him too, to complete their coupling. But for now, he can’t get enough of Mu Qing’s plush lips, of the swordman’s thirsty body pressing so desperately against him.
“You’re mine now,” Feng Xin hums. “Now let’s put that mirror to good use.”
“Alpha!”