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The door closed with a very final click, and Shang Qinghua waited a very tactful (in his opinion) thirty seconds before slamming his head onto the desk before him with a deep and heartfelt groan.
That one had taken months, and for what, exactly? A milquetoast lot of nothing, that was what. A henpecked young man, a slightly clingy young woman, two sets of overbearing parents, an inconvenient horrorscope, and a lot of waffling, that was what. Have a little consideration for the novelist!
Err, for the matchmaker. Writing novels based on his clients would be incredibly unethical, of course. This lowly one would never! Standard disclaimers, ect, ect, blah, blah, blah.
The least they could do was be interesting, right? Going into this job from working as a webnovelist, he'd expected a lot more doctors, ceos, passionate artists, fashion models, and innocent baristas about to strike it rich with lost childhood friends. Movers and shakers, preferably shakers of a firm, tight, round little ass, with tremulous eyelashes and full lips.
The woman had been mousy at best, and the less said about the man’s jawline, the more honest he was being. There was nothing there to describe! Even a coffeeshop meetcute needed a little cute, right?
He flicked through the standard set, eyes glazing over. He had to write something if he wanted to keep his readership up, and that was where his noodle money came from. Palace Intrigue? The mother in law hadn't been that bitchy, not really. Vampires? The man had looked like he'd faint at the sight of blood. Mermaids? Who wanted to read about mousy mermaids in midwinter? Better to save that for a summer couple. A/B/O? ….Maybe, it was about the only way that either of them would be into anything more interesting than vanilla sex.. but he'd just done one. Cultivation? No, the personalities were all wrong...
Ghosts, he decided. The mans abysmally average horrorscope was a curse, but that curse had drawn the soul of his fated love to him across the boundaries of death itself. Her clinginess was desperation, without his yang energy she'd fade back away. He could probably get a couple dozen chapters out of her cool, pale hands coaxing him to full hardness, her deep, shadowed eyes begging him to stay despite the curse, to thrust deeper and bring her ever closer, her lips becoming more and more solid as he finished-
Ugh. Maybe he'd make her a young man. It would be more plausible deniability, and he really didn't want to write more straight sex. He jotted down a few notes and reached for his coffee. Maybe he had time for lunch before his next client? There was a really good noodle place just around the corner, dirt cheap and somehow greasy in a comforting way, he could totally sneak out and eat the bad taste of the last month away.
Then the door swung open, and his brain and heart stopped dead in the middle of a halfhearted doodle of a ghost with no gag reflex choking on a pillar that was, frankly, unlikely. A man could dream, though. At least, Shang Qinghua could dream, and tonight he'd be dreaming about the person who had walked in on him drawing... this.
“Ohgod!” he squeaked, and shoved the doodle into a random drawer, where he'd never think of them again.
Demon, his brain gibbered at him helpfully. Royalty. A cool, arrogant, spoiled prince – no, a king. Shang Qinghua was going to give this man a kingdom. He didn't even know who this man would marry yet, but he was going to devote an entire novel to him– he could serialize for years. There would be pictures in the guys dossier, and he could commission art, maybe some fangs and claws, cold colors, cold and dark, a lord of ice and night and shadow... was he drooling? Oh, fuck, he'd better not be drooling. The man was so damn tall! Not his fault!
“Hahaha, um, sorry about that, sir, I was just... um. Yeah. Welcome to An Ding matchmaking, where stable and settled is - “ His mouth was dry, trying to run through the usual garbage. “Well, you must know, right? I mean you're here, it's right on the door....” He was blowing this so badly, please just roll him into a ditch to die! “I'm, um, Shang Qinghua, I'm your match... matchmaker? You must be-” Oh god, oh fuck, where was his schedule?
He found it, and if his throat was dry before, it was a desert now, and a soundless, animal squeak tried to escape him and got lodged partway through his windpipe, leaving him feeling strangled. Breathless, the author-brain offered hopefully, cool and scary giant men leave you breathless. Nope! Author-brain could go die in a fire, it was going to get him into trouble. This was the goddammed Mobei heir. It would probably take less time to list the contracts and business ventures the Mobei group weren’t involved in. They had government contracts for military gear. They had research grants. Shang Qinghua was pretty sure they had a line of winter sportswear, though he'd never had the time or money to try ice climbing or ski-ballet or whatever. “Mobei-Jun.” he managed, after a too-long, definitely weird pause.
Hot and rich and definitely able to make one scrawny porn writing matchmaker vanish in the middle of the night if he put a foot wrong. Shang Qinghua was already looking forward to calling Shen Yuan to wail at him about this one. Normally his reclusive gremlin of a friend comunicated only by text or by scathing comments on his porn, but this deserved a full wail unto the heavens, and he wasn't going to deny himself the pleasure of listening to his 'oh-so-straight' friend cringe at how incredibly disastrous he was going to be about the whole thing.
Mobei-Jun was staring at him like he had brain damage, which was! Very! Fair! But he hadn't gotten a lot of dumbasses married by having any shame, had he? Face was useless, you couldn't eat it or sell it, right? So he powered on. “Haha, it's a little hard to imagine you'd need a matchmaker, are you looking for anything in particular? We can easily put together a dossier of compatible...”
He felt pinned ot his seat by the icy gaze that focused in on him. “The last four matchmakers put dossiers together. None of them worked out.” his tone wasn't.. exactly hostile, but it wasn't warm, either. Predatory, his dumbfuck author-brain offered.
“Oh, that's really too bad! But I'm very good at finding people! And finding things out about people! Very good at it! I can certainly be helpful!” he promised. “I'll definitely make sure you're happy! With whoever suits you best!”
An Ding did more than just throw two people at eachother, after all. They also did the logistics of the entire wedding, from catering to venue hunting to finding suits and gowns... it was a lot of grueling work! But it meant that he could pull up Mobei-Jun's dossier and see his clothing size, his ring size, his favorite food and drink, everything! He could definitely find someone compatible!
Mobei-Jun raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he managed to pack a lot of disdain into the single syllable. “Try, then.”
What the fuck? Normally the person would provide some kind of conversation, or interview, talk about their likes and dislikes, give you a starting point to narrow down the options! What the hell was 'try then', anyway? Where was the usual laundry list of unreasonable expectations? Where was the 'stunning, clever, rich, good breeding, a good cook, well educated, funny?' Not that anyone ever got all of that, but it at least set the tone. Somehow this lack of demands was even more demanding?
Well, there were a couple suggested matches in the files? Normally those were place holders that would get replaced once thngs got narrowed down a bit, but they'd have to do. “Ummm. So. What about this? Sha Hualing, heiress of-”
“I know her.” Mobei-Jun rolled his eyes. “She was in my dossier at the last four places, as well. We grew up in the same circles.”
The tone of his voice wasn't promising, but Shang Qinghua was starting to think maybe it just sounded like that. “Childhood friends can be good! A lot of connection to work with, right? Better than a stranger...”
“We loathe eachother.”
“....In the fun way where the sex is absolutely scorching?” He asked, before he could stop himself. Bad! Bad author-brain! Bad porn trope!
It got a snort, which was better than a glare, and definitely better than getting dragged out of the office and shot. “She prefers women. I do not.”
“Oh. Oh! Why the hell wasn't that in the bio? Holy shit. Holy shit. Ok. I can pull new files. That's – that's not a problem at all!” A nights worth of overtime since he didn't have any actual guidelines and the fillers were all women, for sure! Probably several nights! He wasn't going to get any sleep, or do any writing, but absolutely not a problem!
Oh hell, Mobei-Jun looked almost amused now, with a raised eyebrow and the slightest smirk. Shang Qinghua was going to need some time to get that out of his system. Some time and some lube. He grabbed the first hit he came up with in his System window, and hit print even as he scanned down the page. “Maybe more like this then? Luo Binghe, heir to... oh wow, he's Tianlang-Juns son? Might be a good connection to have? Not that Mobei needs more connections, hahaha, but he's hot and ….” he groaned. “Annnnnd a distant relative.”
Mobei's smirk only grew wider. “You weren't wrong when you claimed to be good at finding things out. That's not widely known.” he mused. “He's also my direct superior, now that Tianlang-Jun has retired. He's also married.”
“Peice of shit System, why is he even still in there if he's married...” Shang Qinghua grumbled. “Feel free to put me out of both of our misery at any time, really...”
“He eloped with his teacher.” Mobei-Jun maded a sound that might actually be a chuckle, which did weird things to Shang Qinghua's libido. “Not exactly official.”
“Right. Great. Ok. Umm. So... normally you'd tell me exactly what you wanted in a partner and I'd try my best to make that happen, you know? You haven't really given me a ton of detail. I could get weird and stalkery about it, but, like, if you want to get married...”
Mobei-Jun gave him a look. “Loyalty. Intelligence. Competence. Some ability to keep a household together. Practicality – if I work long hours or need to deal with something unpleasant I don't need someone wringing their hands about it.”
Damn, Shang Qinghua thought, no wonder his other attempts had gone badly! It sounded more like he wanted to hire a hitman than find a wife. Husband. He applied a few filters, and grinned. “Wait, this might be perfect. Liu Qingge. He definitely isn't a relative, or a coworker, he's from Cang Qiong University. Beautiful, physically active, bit of a survivalist, fencer, absolutely known for his loyalty?” Oh, damn, the porn he could write about a ship like that... actually, he didn't love that thought. It would be hot and it would sell, the demon lord and the stoic warrior. Definitely a cultivation setting, right?
It was just... Mobei-Jun kept staring at him. He had really great eyes, the kind of blue that burned. Maybe Liu Qingge would say no, maybe it would take a month or two to find anyone. Maybe they could make weekly appointments.
“No.” Mobei-Jun didn't elaborate.
“No? He's perfect! He's exactly what you said!”
“I don't like him.”
“Shouldn't you have dinner or something, first?” Shang Qinghua was not above whining a little. “At least try to get to know him?”
“No one from Cang Qiong University.”
“No one from- look, I don't know how you're gonna find anyone even close to qualified for you if we're ruling out the most prestigious university in the country, plus all your coworkers and work connections. That’s basically all the politicians and entrepreneurs worth anything! I'm not sticking you with some decorative little twerp who never did anything interesting or valuable! Hell, I graduated from Cang Qiong...” He'd also given up a really cushy administration role there, all for... well, he'd hoped that writing porn and running a matchmaking business would be less stressful.
“Fine.” Mobei-Jun grumbled.
Shang Qinghua brightened. “So you'll meet him?”
“No. Not him. But I won't rule out everyone.”
Shang Qinghua slumped into his seat. “Right. Ok. I might.. I might need to go over some stuff tonight to find other options.” He could pull lists from other places Mobei-Jun had gone, make sure he didn't come up with any repeats, he could put out some feelers. Maybe see if Shen Yuan knew anyone – he was rich as hell.
“Giving up?” Mobei-Jun's voice was harsh. Did he even blink? It felt like he wasn't blinking, that those eyes were more light than color, searing into him.
“I wouldn't be planning an all-nighter if I was going to give up.” he grumbled. “It's not my fault if you're being so stubborn.”
“Then, you can keep looking.”
Shang Qinghua wanted to cry! He really absolutely did, not just because the tall scary man with amazing eyes and a chest like a brick wall was bullying him. “I will! No problem! Just...”
“Just?”
“Just the last meeting ran really long, because they wouldn't settle on anything all day, and I never got lunch, because the mother refused to leave until we had a date, and then she wanted to settle on catering even though they didn't have a venue, and it's getting late, and I was hoping to maybe eat something and pick up some energy drinks so I can survive tonight and still make it in tomorrow..” he babbled. It wasn't like he could make a worse impression than he had from the start, right? So it didn't matter if he wailed a little, if anything, wouldn't it prove he wasn't going to give up?
“Fine.” Mobei-Jun's eyes narrowed, but he gestured for Shang Qinghua to stand.
“Great! Thank you! I'll definitely have a proper list for you tomorrow, and.. and you're still standing there, umm....”
“Where are we going for dinner?”
...He was pretty sure he could feel his last neurons frying in real time. What? The? Hell?
“You said that you needed to know me better. You said that dinner was a good way to do that. You haven't had dinner.” Mobei-Jun sounded like he was spelling out very clear, obvious points.
“Er. Yeah. Except. I mean. That would mean you-” he gestured at the adonis in front of him, the divine statue, the demon king of his next novel – “-want to be seen in public with me.” I.E., the man who had once fit half a bag of sunflower seeds into his cheeks on a dare.
Mobei-Jun gave him another singularly unimpressed look. “Pick, or I will.”
Yikes! His wallet wouldn't withstand that kind of attack! Absolutely it would not! “Fine.” he decided. “We're getting noodles.”
Dinner was the most surreal experience he'd ever had, and that counted for a lot when he factored in the time that he'd found out that Shen Yuan, chronically ill rich kid and mostly steadfast friend, was also Peerless Cucumber, the troll antifan who lambasted all of his porn. Mobei-Jun's suit was probably worth more than the entire contents of the bar behind them, and they were almost elbow to elbow at the tiny table that they'd been given so they wouldn't be sitting at the bar itself. The noodles arived in a thick, sticky broth that made eating them neatly impossible, and the coffee tasted like it had been on the burner since at least the prehistoric era, burnt and bitter and so concentrated that you felt like you had to chew it to get it down. It felt a little like a live wire plugged into the back of the brain, a jolt that was as painful as it was invigorating.
Mobei-Jun was almost entirely silent throughout, but a caffenated Shang Qinghua was a rejuvenated Shang Qinghua, and he was more than able and willing to chatter the night away, including such gems as 'ok, my best friend is a complete asshole' 'actually, I'm pretty sure neither parent ever loved me' 'it's ok, I'm not into women either' and the ever classic 'well, no, this isn't all I do, I'm a webnovelist. Oh god, no, don't look it up, no, it's terrible-”
He got a ride home afterwards, in a car that made him want to scream a little, (It had privacy curtains! Heated seats! A driver!) and that was that. He could pretend it was a date, except that would make the urge to masturbate furiously even harder to ignore.
Well, that assumed he was going to ignore it. He had time for a quck shower, right? A medium quick shower?
Working on the dossier killed the mood, though. Nothing quite like digging through the prettiest, most capable, best accomplished men in the country to remind him that he was there to marry his demon lord off to someone else entirely.
….Wait. That was... that was actually pretty good. What if he just...
Yeah. Yeah, he had time. Totally. The words came so easily, maybe the fastest he'd ever typed.
“My king...” the servant breathed, hunger in his gaze. “This lowly one swore to serve you all the days of his life. Please, use that oath however you see fit.”
“So eager.” The Northern King rumbled, staring down, amusement in his cold gaze. “Do you think you're permitted such dreams?”
“Of course this servant knows it's impossible, but it doesn't matter, since if my prince wishes to use me I of course could have no complaints.”
The words set off a frenzy of motion, claws tearing into the servants cloths and reducing them to shreds, setting free both his peaked nipples and his aching cock, dripping and eager, only growing harder as those fierce claws tore at his back and dragged him closer, forcing him against the princes broad form. Only when their cocks dragged together did the servant let out the gasp of pain and pleasure that was leaving him utterly breathless. But the prince was not satisfied with such a weak little noise, and caught both the servants wrists together in one broad hand, forcing them above his head and away while he leisurely explored the heated flesh between them.
“My king!” the servant cried, his hips arching forward, seeking pressure, pleasure, looking to drown in that velvet heat, to forget that all too soon his beloved would be wed. “Ah, my king, please, please!”
The Northern king smiled, or at least allowed the curve of his lips to display a sharp fang. “Demons are not gentle lovers.” he purred. “My servant may break.”
The servant wept, not out of fear, but only in frustration as his kings free hand parted from their heavy cocks, circled around behind him, pricking at the tender flesh there, thrusting into the welcoming hole they discovered.
“Then break me, my king! Let me have all of you!”
It would be better once they had names. Shang Qinghua thought. Names and a plot. He supposed he'd work the plot part out once he knew who the prince was to be wed too?
It would be a tragedy, he decided. He always wrote happy endings, couples finding eachother, having steamy sex, then dropping into a happily ever after. Breaking that up might get him out of the rut he felt like he was stuck in. Maybe the servant would die. Maybe he'd betray his king rather than see him wed to another, and would be killed for it. Maybe the king would look into his eyes and see, in those last moments, something desperate and genuine, and ache over the lost connection that they'd shared even as he turned away.
Maybe Shang Qinghua shouldn't write at three am on the strength of nothing but a few canned energy drinks that tasted like sour static. Maudlin crap. Cucumber would lambast him over it for sure. But the temptation to write something different, a little more serious, to spend time with Mobei-Jun on the page if not in real life...
It was around five am that he wondered if the servants betrayal might have something to do with the fact that he really didn't want to present someone as brusque and direct as Mobei-Jun with an option he actually liked. The wedding would be settled so quickly, for sure, and that would mean saying goodbye to his absolute ideal of a man, and having to smile at whoever was good enough to have him.
It was about eight am that he realized he needed to be in the office in five minutes, and that he was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his eyelids were burning, and his fingers still had some residual stickiness from the noodles the night before. He swore and peeled himself out of his chair, permited himself a luxuriant thirty seconds of crying as he forced himself into a clean-enough outfit and grabbed an energy drink with a bright enough label that it was probably trying to taste like fruit. Breakfast!
He stumbled into the office twenty minutes late, swearing loudly, cursing himself, his work, his ring-binder that had decided to snap and spill papers everywhere. He was now carrying papers stacked high like some overworked xianxia accountant, with his fingers just barely holding onto the half empty can of what had turned out to be a beverage somewhere between fruit punch and battery acid. He slammed the entire stack onto his desk with a final, explosive “FUCK” and dropped bonelessly into his seat.
Mobei-Jun raised an eyebrow at him. Of course he'd been on time, the bastard had probably been early.
He looked... a little more human than he had yesterday. Tired, maybe, with his hair slightly crumpled and the faintest of shadows under his eyes. He was nursing a coffee that looked and smelled like it might actually been worth the double digit price tag that particular golden logo commanded. It smelled perfect, and Shang Qinghua's stomache revolted in protest - he wanted god-level coffee! And a nap, and real food...
“Long night?” Mobei-Jun asked.
“Sorry!” he squeaked quickly. “I did pull together a bunch more files, but I ended up going later than I meant to, ahaha....”
He got a non-committal hum as a reply, which sounded promising, or at least not too discouraging.
“Shang Qinghua is working very hard.” Mobei-Jun nodded.
“Hahah, finally someone sees it...” he muttered. Actually, he'd spent maybe two hours working hard, then another couple poking around pretending to work, then the rest of the night alternately writing porn about the man in front of him and then crying about it, but that could stay unspoken forever. “Ok! What about this guy? Mu Qingfang. He's a doctor, very accomplished, top in his class, runs his own hospital? Gardens in his spare time? Very dedicated, very practical! The mustache is unfortunate, but razors exist?”
Mobei-Jun didn't look impressed, but he extended a wordless hand for the file and started reading it seriously. After several minutes, he paused. “Have you eaten?”
“Huh? No? I was already late, I'm surprised you even stayed as late as you did. I'll make do. I have some melon seeds? Going through these won't take more than a couple hours, right? Since you're pretty quick to know what you want..”
“Order something.” came the terse response.
Oh, right... he probably didn't want to be interrupted again like last night... or maybe he just didn't want Shang Qinghua eyeball fucking his coffee anymore. ‘Too bad, my king!’ He crowed, internally. ‘If not your coffee I'd just be eyeball fucking you! Actually, I'm a talented multitasker, I can do both! You'd probably be either really flattered or really mad about how big a dick I assumed you have!’
Very tentatively, he pulled up a delivery app. Mobei-Jun watched him, then took his phone and tapped in an order for him, glaring all the while. Shang Qinghua tried not to faint at the price, even as he salivated a little. Then he realized that the account that was being charged wasn't actually his, and he tried not to faint again.
True to his word, Mobei-Jun didn't reject any prospect out of hand. In fact, he spent hours carefully combing through each file in turn, his expresion completely serious as he read every single entry. Never mind a few hours, at this rate it was going to take him weeks to get through the dossier! Shang Qinghua sat in breathless silence, watching Mobei-Jun, who watched him back, staring until he started to nibble his way through breakfast. And then through lunch, which happened almost the same way.
In the entire day, they covered two dossiers, after several back and forths about Mobei's growing list of stipulations. Huan Hua, a wealthy political powerhouse, was entirely out of the cards due to some family history, even though Shang Qinghua had thought that the young Gongyi Xiao was a promising youg sprout, up and coming, dedicated, respectful. If Mobei-Jun didn't really want a wedding but needed the stability, surely proffering an offer to someone with such potential in the years to come wasn't a bad way to stall? But Mobei-Jun took one look at the golden crest and frowned deeply, discarding the boy much more quickly than he had Mu Qingfang.
Shang Qinghua had kind of hoped he'd like Mu Qingfang, to be honest, the demon lord and the talented healer would sell like hotcakes once the resentful servant was out of the picture, and the modern AU of a ceo and a doctor power couple had appeal as well! But no one ever had any consideration for the humble author.
“Do you want noodles again for dinner?” Mobei-Jun asked him, as the day drew to a close with no results.
“Huh? Probably, it's cheap and close and on the way...” he shrugged. “I guess we'll pick up again tomorrow? Or if you need to make, like, an appointment so you don't miss work? Or...?”
“Do you want something other than noodles if I pay?” Mobei-Jun clarified.
Shang Qinghua's mind went static. “Um? Maybe? I really like noodles, but stir fry can be good? Or...? God, it was like he'd never eaten food before. His mind was blanking out – what did he like? What did he write when he needed a meal scene? Congee? Jian-bing? Why were they all cheap easy simple things? What even was a nice meal?
Mobei-Jun gave him a bemused little eyeroll, and then pulled him out the door, leaving the rest of the papers behind without a second glance.
“Wait! If I'm gonna work through dinner, I need those!” Shang Qinghua protested.
“You aren't.” Mobei-Jun rolled his eyes.
Somehow, that became... a kind of pattern? Over the next several days. Shang Qinghua had no idea how a busy and influential person had the time to waste sitting in a small office daily for a week, or the patience to follow it up reliably with dinner every time.
But over the course of the week, he started talking more. Never much, he wasn't chatty. But Shang Qinghua learned despite that, riveted.
Mobei-Jun had an uncle who had neglected him as a child. Mobei-Juns mother was dead, and his father always absent. Mobei-Jun was fiercely protective, both of his work and of his free time, snarling in a fury at anyone who tried to call him while they were having dinner. Mobei-Jun really did like his boss, platonically, but thought he was too young and too obsessive to manage Tianlang-Jun's legacy on his own.
Mobei-Jun read his webnovels.
THAT bomb came near the end of the first week, when Shang Qinghua had risked making a joke about the fact that Mobei-Jun also looked like he was pulling late nights. Mobei-Jun had responded with a succinct but accurate summary of his latest update, and he'd nearly screamed. Don't! Do! That! Authors didn't want to be known! At least he didn't! He might get sued! He'd been so careful! Only Cucumber knew him online and in real life both, and even though Cucumber had accused him of being an unethical hack a few times, he'd never really asked or checked! This brat, on the other hand....
“Are they your clients?”
“Absolutely not! That would be soooo unethical, it's probably slander or libel or something like that, it’s definitely nothing like that!”
Mobei-Jun gave him an amused look. “Are you writing about me?”
He gibbered. “No! No, of course not! I wouldn't! I definitely wouldn't! You'd kill me! You aren't even matched to anyone yet, so there's no way even if I wanted to!”
“I want to read it.”
That made him crack up, only slightly hysterically. “You... want to read it. You want me to have written mediocre porn starring you so you can read it? What, so you can sue me? I'm not worth that much, even if I hypothetically may have made you a super hot demon king it's not like I posted it or that there's any proof...”
Those searing eyes made contact with his own, held them. “I want to read it.”
He crumbled almost immediately. “It's not... I don't even know if I'm gonna post it.” he muttered. “It's different than the others, it's... not really.. I mean I don't know if it has a good ending, since you haven't even met anyone yet. It's-”
“Qinghua.” Mobei-Jun's voice was a growl, impatient. Shit. That was unfortunatly hot. Like he could probably get another whole scene out of just that.
“It's on my laptop. At home. I.... Shit, look, I'll bring it tomorrow? Or if you just want to find another matchmaker, I can pack up the files you haven't seen yet instead, or...”
“Let's go.”
“Go. Back? To my place? To get my laptop? Now?”
“Unless Qinghua would prefer his office. Or a hotel room. Or in a classroom. Or in a club. Or sealed away in a private room in my home, or-”
“Stop, stop, stop! Yes, you've read them, you've read them! I'll go get the stupid laptop, you'll be disappointed for sure, stop being so pushy! And that last one was like an atticwife kind of situation, don't be so fucking weird, you didn't meet the couple in question, ok? They were actually pretty nice to eachother, she was just chronically ill and he was protective. I'm the one who made it weird, ok? We're just going to pick up the damn laptop! Because you're being pushy!”
Mobei-Jun nodded, pleased.
Shang Qinghua let them into his apartment, groaned at the mess, and then decided that actually, it wasn't his fault! He hadn't expected company! He hadn't invited anyone home! Mobei-Jun was just here now, settling onto his bed, his actual damn bed, with an expectant look. If anything, if he didn't like it here, he was the one to blame! If he could stop looking so damn smug, that would be great!!!
He handed over the laptop. “It's not great. They don't even have names yet, just a lot of 'my king' and 'this servant'” he grumbled. Mobei-Jun only nodded, opened the file, and read in silence.
His face didn't change, though his eyes took on a peculiar glint. Maybe anger? He seemed.. very focused.
There was a lot to get through, honestly. Shang Qinghua had always managed a huge wordcount even when he wasn't feeling inspired, and Mobei-Jun was a hell of a subject to think about. Most of it was.. there was no way this ended well.
“What next?” Mobei-Jun asked him, after the longest strech of time in his entire life.
“What?” he asked, intelligently.
“What happens next?”
“That's... I mean, probably just more porn, to be honest? Until the King chooses a consort, of course. Then the servant will have to get written out of the story. He'll probably do something stupid and dramatic and be executed, honestly, something to really sell the new partner. Otherwise there might be fan backlash. I've already laid in hints that he's pretty desperate and weird about it, so it should flow fine.”
“You're going to kill off the servant?” Now Mobei-Jun looked furious. “Why?”
“Why would the king spare him? If the servant is sabotaging the wedding for his own selfish sake, if he's betraying his king, why wouldn't he be killed off?”
“What if the king doesn't wish to make a choice? Or has already made one?” Mobei demanded. “Who better than the servant? Who knows him better, would serve him better? Who cares more? Who is at his side more often? Why aren't you writing them a happy ending?”
“It's just fiction! It's just fantasy, ok? I knew you'd hate it.”
“I don't hate it. It's good. Except the ending. Don't bring in any other characters.”
“You know it's your wedding I'm... look, when someone makes you happy, when you choose someone, that's the happy ending. The servant is just filler. Set dressing, a framework for the story.”
“The king already made his choice. He wouldn't have slept with the servant, otherwise. He'd never risk that kind of betrayal.”
“The servant is just a horny little fuck who saw something out of his league and wanted to get his mouth on it. Don't take him so seriously.”
“Do you want that? To get your mouth on it?” Mobei-Jun was watching him, predatory, his focus so sharp and intent that Shang Qinghua shivered.
“...Look, you're the one who wanted to come. You wanted to read my shitty porn, you're the one on my fucking bed! Whatever you're accusing me of-”
“Qinghua wrote himself into my story, because he wanted me.” Mobei-Jun enunciated the sentence very clearly. As if speaking to a child.
“....Yeah. Yeah ok, that's fair and not... not wrong, but I still say this is your fault.” he hoped he sounded as aggrieved as he felt.
“So it isn't wrong.” Mobei-Jun sounded incredibly smug.
“Why are you – what, you want me to...?”
“Qinghua should do as he likes. This king will permit it.” Mobei's voice had dropped, just a little, a little of that growl returning. It was hard to read it as anything but hunger, this time, hunger and impatience.
“And then what? I'm supposed to find you someone else to marry? Pretend nothing happened? Spoiled!” Shang Qinghua tried to keep the snap out of his tone, tried to find the polite, servile little smile that always served him so well. It wasn't quite working.
“Shang Qinghua promised to make me happy. He should take responsibilty. He will marry this Mobei-Jun.”
“Did you dig through all of my potentially illegal porn in an attempt to wedding trap me? Oh my god, you did. You really did.”
Mobei-Jun hummed, but his smug air only seemed to increase. “So Qinghua will?”
Shang Qinghua rolled his eyes. “I'd be an idiot not to. But I'm gonna be petty about it.”
He got a nod, at that, and then Mobei reached over and pulled him closer, pushing him to the floor and to his knees. He yelped, scrambling to keep himself from falling over entirely, and then froze when Mobei-Jun very casually began to unbutton his shirt.
Those... those were... not fair. He'd guessed, of course, that those tits would be sculpted like a god, but seeing them in person was different. His face would fit so nicely in there, the urge to touch was overwhelming, just to feel the smooth, cool skin. He leaned up, wondering if he was leering, if he could get away with a taste.
Signifigant parts of his brain shut down when Mobei-Jun pushed him back down, leaning over him. He stared up at the face that was now hovering directly above his, and then surged up for a kiss.
He got one, though it was more of a bite, Mobei-Jun gnawing at his lips until they parted enough for his tongue to bully its way inside. He tasted... salt and heat and sharp mint, and for several seconds he thought he was in heaven even with the raw, bitten skin of his lips aching.
But Mobei didn't seem interested in letting him stop for petty things like air, and Shang Qinghua had to pound on his arm with a fist to break free. “Air! And if you're claiming my bed I need some pillows. Porn-author brain is great, but I have knees and the floor is hard, and we need lube and maybe some-”
The first pillow was thrown at his head, which turned off the babbling and made the whole knee-floor thing a little better.
And then -
And then he was fumbling open the pants of the hottest man he'd ever met, the man who had ignored several other of the hottest people he could find specifically to drag him out for meals to get to know him and then read all his shitty porn without ripping it apart, who had decided to bully him into marriage, who wanted a happy ending for them even if he didn't know how to ask, who had-
ohfuckohgodwhatthehellwhywasitsodamnbig?
Like it was hot big, but it was also scary big. Porn-author brain was howling, it was at full attention and heavy and hard and dripping with pearly, salty musk, it made him want to touch, to taste, but also there was a very real chance that he was going to die to his own literary conventions, split in half by his own careless irreverence for what 'large' actually was. Here lies Shang Qinghua, impaled on the sword of a god. He lays to rest the souls of hundreds of fictional twinks who he'd written as enjoying third legs...
“Qinghua?” Mobei-Jun asked.
“Just admiring! Maybe panicking a little!”
Mobei-Jun rolled his eyes, but his fingers were almost gentle as he slid them over Shang Qinghua's lips, opening them slightly. “Relax.” it sounded like an order.
Shang Qinghua nodded. “Right! Yep! Relaxing!” and then licked the fingers, because they were still there and he was actually really into the size of those hands, fingers long enough to fuck all the way into his throat, to make him gag around them, to -
It was like Mobei-Jun was in his mind, the finger reached in, slid over his tongue, and started exploring, almost stroking the back of his throat and making him shudder and whine. It was hard to make any coherant sounds around the intrusion, but the soft wet sounds were doing things to him, and his wimpered as he reached down to free his own straining cock from his pants, hips wriggling at the sudden exposure to cool air.
Mobei-Jun watched him hungrily as he wrapped a hand around himself, letting his precome serve as lube so that he could jerk himself off. Slowly, Shang Qinghua pulled himself free of Mobei-Jun's fingers and lowered his mouth to Mobei's cock, licking the tip.
It wasn't, objectively, a good taste, bitter and earthy and salt, but it was heady to have the taste of it fill his mouth, to feel Mobei-Jun twitch and strain beneath him, thrusting forward.
Experimentally, he opened his mouth a little wider, laved his tongue down the shaft, searching for that pulse that always felt so good under his fingers when he did this for himself. He looked up at Mobei's face as he did, aiming for innocent and sultry, and nearly choked himself trying to laugh around the cock in his mouth instead.
Mobei-Jun wasn't the most emotive person, even now, his expression was impassive. But his eyes were almost comically wide, his pupils blown and dark, his breath quick and erratic, and he made a sound closer to a growl than a groan as he reached to bury his hand into Shang Qinghua's hair, 'guiding' his head back down onto his cock. Shang Qinghua's grip on himself tightened and he started to fuck his hand in earnest, moving his head and mouth as much as Mobei would allow.
It took him a few tries, and a few cautious nips when things went too fast, to settle into a rhythm. Breathing through his nose and relaxing his mouth, sucking the head as deeply as he could, bringing up his free hand to try and make up the difference, to cover everything, to give Mobei enough heat to enjoy. He teased with his fingernails at the base and swirled with his tongue, bobbed his head, trying to get more, and more... at some point it wasn't about giving Mobei-Jun what he wanted and became unadulterated hunger, greed for more and more, even as he gasped and his eyes began to tear.
It wasn't as easy to get lost in as he'd written it to be, there was still a very physical awareness of himself, the awkwardness of the kneeling position he was in, the pillows underneath him not being quite enough to take away the discomfort in his knees, the not-quite enough air feeling, the dawning fear that maybe Mobei-Jun would never get off, it was taking so damn long, what if it wasn't great, oh shit what if he was terrible at this?
But none of that.. mattered? As long as Mobei-Jun was clawing at his skin, pushing him down, fucking into his throat, making those sounds.. fuck, if it wasn't great that was a Mobei-Jun problem at this point. He'd had plenty of options to do better! He'd chosen a small gremlin man with anxiety and more lust than common sense! He was going to have to live with getting a lot of probably mediocre, slightly unfocused sex! Because Shang Qinghua was never, ever giving this up! God, next time he'd have lube ready, and probably some custom dildos...
Mobei-Jun made a feral, unhinged sound, low and bestial, and pushed him down again, right in time with the mental image of exactly which Bad Dragon up his ass would give him that perfect demon king ride. Something tinted blue, with ridges, and he'd ride it for his king until his king was ready to fuck him stupid, which wouldn't take long but would be a hell of a time-
He came harder than he ever had in his life, his spend painting those beautiful, glorious tits, and he moaned and gave the base of the cock a squeeze, trying to tighten his cheeks and throat, hoping to fuck Mobei would come too. He wanted to free up his mouth. He wanted to lick himself off those tits more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life.
Something in his desperation must have worked, maybe a look in his eyes, maybe the squeeze, if Mobei liked it as rough as he seemed to want to give it. Ther was a shudder, a pulse, a break in the rhythm, and then his mouth was flooded, a slightly different sour flavor that was scalding and so very, very wet, somehow, like it would soak into him in a way that water never could.
He coughed, and tried to pull off, swallowing what landed in his mouth, and blinking away the rest as it seared across his face. He groaned and sputtered, fighting for his life, for air, for dignity...
Nah, dignity was a lost cause. He was still mostly dressed, neither of them had gotten entirely naked, and now they were both soaked and sticky and panting, stupidly horny and stupidly soft. Even his self-satisfied lick across Mobei-Jun's chest was languid and somehow slow. He wanted to nestle there, maybe sleep there. But there was cum in his hair and he really needed to brush his teeth, and at least grab a wet cloth and clean himself up...
“Qinghua.” Mobei rumbled from above him, pulling him off his knees and into his lap. Clearly he didn't mind the mess, but then again, they weren't his sheets that he was ruining! Shang Qinghia didn't want to have to fuck up a good afterglow with laundry!
“Next time we're going to a hotel.” he said, trying to make 'sulky and petulant and demanding' into 'cute enough to win over a much richer man' Underneath him, Mobei-Jun laughed, which felt amazing.
“Next time, if Qinghua is good and doesn't waste time on pointless nonsense, we can read his stories together and do whatever Qinghua likes best.”
“Right now, the hottest thing I can think of is a shower. I am a porn author. I write hot shit, and all I am lusting over is hot water. You've broken me! How am I going to sell sexy showers? ...Wait, no, that's actually really easy, it's a genre staple, never mind. Back in business.”
Mobei-Jun hummed above him. “A shower, and sleep. We have to go to your office again tomorrow morning.”
“We don't! I'm ripping up the dossiers. This lowly servant is officially sabatoging your marriage prospects. I had like eight more drop dead gorgeus hunks, and you'll never see them. You're the atticwife now.” he nodded. “So you see, we can sleep in and miss the whole day and have sex about it.”
“Qinghua cannot. Not until his work is done. He has a wedding to plan. We will need to have dinner, to get to know eachother.”
“We have had dinner every single day this week! Also, I know what your cum tastes like. We know eachother. We don't have to wake up early for that.”
“We will need rings. A horoscope to pick a date. Catering. A venue. A formal announcement. This king won't let you do a slipshod job. It will be perfect, or I will not be satisfied with how you've treated my consort.”
“You're a bully! None of that has to be done at eight am! Mobei, my king, baobei... let me sleep in a little? I've been working late all week!”
“Hmm. Fine, on one condition.”
Mobei pulled him closer, rested a head on his shoulder. Which wasn't the ideal picture, with this size mismatch, it should definitely have been the other way around!
“What's that?” he demanded, trying not to soften immediately in the arms of his favorite, ideal person.
Mobei-Jun gestured towards the discarded laptop. “Qinghua will give that story the correct ending.”
“I don't know, I think I have a knack for tragedy. I feel like I could really challenge genre conventions if I tried to really go for it, you know? Like I could really break some hearts. My king, I really think I should murder a few people. Maybe the servant should be a ruthless, ambitious monster after all.”
“This king could forgive that.” Mobei sounded absolutely certain. Shang Qinghua swallowed the urge to giggle.
“You would, wouldn't you? How terrible, such a ruthless power couple, ruling the North with absolute authority..”
He was joking. Probably. He'd find out in the morning, using his hard-won day off to see where the story would take him.
But somehow, he was sure there would be a happy ending.