Chapter Text
Big Mouth has a pretty good deal going on, all things considered. He thought he was done for after he was captured by a troupe of wandering cultivators and shoved in a lantern, but thankfully the ones that caught him weren’t so scrupulous—saw a money making opportunity to be had.
So even though he’s bound to his lamp, they release him every few days when they reach a town, let him out to eat a few livestock and leave conspicuous claw marks about then swoop in to capture him, make a big show of it then collect the rewards. Big Mouth has no use for human money, and it’s the most well fed he’s been in months, so other than the restricted movements he’s pretty content.
They are at a new settlement and the cultivators let him out ahead to ravage a flock when he hears something beyond the treeline. He freezes, dropping the limp sheep in his mouth to the ground and tries to peer into the brush.
A man steps into the clearing, all in white and silver, hand already at his hip by his sword. He’s a human cultivator by the looks of it—a pretty one too—though one would hardly notice that with the deep set scowl he sports as he studies the scene: a demon happily gorging on sheep.
Before he can move, Big Mouth leaps at him, claws extended. The cultivator rolls out of the way, robes billowing in the breeze and catching the afternoon light, reflecting over a faint glimmering pattern on his robes.
Big Mouth recognises that demon mark and subsequently the cultivator wearing it.
Instead of leaping out to try and strike him down again, he drops into a grovel.
A random cultivator is easy enough to pick off, but the War God and Junshang’s wife? Absolutely not. In the best case scenario that he wins by injuring or even killing the Consort that means he’d attract Junshang’s fury, more than his lowly self could stand. Surrender at least ensured he’d be mostly intact despite how humiliating it was.
“What are you-” The Consort starts, face twisted up in confused distaste, sword still brandished.
“Consort Liu, forgive this lowly one, he was tricked by deceitful cultivators.” Throwing his new cultivator colleagues to the wolves was just as dishonourable as surrendering, but honour doesn’t keep you alive.
“…other cultivators?” He doesn’t sheathe his sword but lowers it, shifts to a less defensive stance. “Explain.”
Big Mouth spills like an overflowing water skin.
–
Liu Qingge is completely miffed. He’d been on the trail of a beast eating local livestock and leaving unique massive twisting claw marks where it went—one that seemed to teleport great distances, leaving no evidence of its travels as it goes—only for him to surrender after one attack.
It completely robbed him of what seemed like a good fight; the low level cultivators the rogue demon guided him to weren’t even worth the trip.
Worse, he didn’t even surrender purely out of fear of Liu Qingge, but out of fear of Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe apparently had his mark sown onto his new robes, so subtly Liu Qingge didn’t notice until his quarry pointed it out, which was also rather embarrassing.
He speeds back to Cang Qiong, lamp containing the captured demon in hand. The cultivators had been left bound with immortal binding cables at the village they attempted to scam, swords confiscated. They’re technically in another Sect’s territory, so he sent word for them to sort out the mess themselves. Luo Binghe or Shen Qingqiu will know what to do with the demon he caught.
The whole way back he’s fuming, annoyed at Luo Binghe for marking his clothes like that, as if the sword tassel and gifts and the bites and the bruises and excessive PDA weren’t evidence enough they were together.
Such obvious evidence that a random demon eking out a life in the human realm still called him Consort; not that Luo Binghe did much to dissuade demons when they did that, possessive as he was.
Liu Qingge isn’t bothered by it exactly, but still it’s presumptuous, makes his blood boil in a way that isn’t exactly anger. He’s probably going to pounce on Luo Binghe the moment he sees him.
It’s fine, the demon owes him a fight anyway.
He lands on Bai Zhan first. He’s been away from his Peak for a week so he wants to check on them even though he’s itching to get home. Yang Yixuan is at the training fields, running some junior disciples through drills. He gives Liu Qingge a rundown of what happened on his Peak while he was gone—not as much property damage as last time.
He also stops at his house on Bai Zhan—just to pick up any letters that were misdirected there since it’s not as if he sent an announcement that he’d moved—not bothering to even light up night pearls.
In particular, he was expecting a letter from his family, inviting him to the annual spring festival in their home town a month or so away. He shows up once in a while, every few years, and he promised Mingyan he’d come with her this time. That was long before he became entangled with Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe.
Ugh, does that mean he has to tell his family about his new relationship?
It’s not like he’d consider hiding it, but they’re the last people he wants to discuss his courtship with. It might be worth it to tell the older family, just to see their faces sour.
Letters stuffed into his sleeves to be forgotten, he turns to leave. He should probably have a disciple clean up in here, the place was gathering dust. Maybe he’ll assign it as punishment to the next misbehaving discip-
Liu Qingge freezes, keenly aware that he’s being watched, no longer alone in his house—though the presence is very familiar.
Liu Qingge swivels around, unsurprised to find Luo Binghe stepping out from the shadow behind him. He’s dressed in ornate black and red Emperor robes, clawed hand gripping Zheng Yang’s hilt, eyes glowing. His house is fairly secluded from the rest of his Peak, but it’s still unusual for him to put his demonic traits on display outside the bamboo hut, even though they’re indoors.
“War God!” Luo Binghe unsheathes Zheng Yang, pointing the gleaming blade at Liu Qingge with a toothy feral grin. “This Lord has come to challenge you.”
Despite craving a good fight, Liu Qingge doesn’t leap at him immediately though he does unsheathe Cheng Luan. The demon’s behaving strangely—stranger than unusual, holding himself differently—enough that he doubts for a moment if that’s really him. There are shape-shifting demons after all and Luo Binghe had warned him of his less savoury doppelganger, but then Luo Binghe breaks out into a big dopey smile, intimidating demon Lord aura temporarily shattered and mock-whispers, “It’s me Shishu, I’m just pretending.”
Pretending? Why would he-
Shizun calls it ‘role-playing’
Liu Qingge scowls. “What are you doing?”
“Challenging you.” He repeats, slipping back into his act.
“Ridiculous.” Liu Qingge sighs, brandishes Cheng Luan. “What do you want?”
Luo Binghe grins wolfishly and looks him up and down, gaze heavy as a caress. “You.”
Liu Qingge turns away, face burning. “Shameless.”
“Shi-You’ll just have to shut this lord up yourself.”
Liu Qingge growls, leaps at him without much of a plan.
As fights go it’s more charged than usual.
Liu Qingge had long since accepted that their fights had become a form of foreplay, an excuse to get close to Luo Binghe in a way that didn’t tear through his thin face, but today it just feels… different, more.
Maybe it’s the context, their fights typically don’t happen in the context of ‘role-play’, usually there’s some plausible deniability; not all of their fights end in sex, just about half and he usually isn’t certain ahead of time. Maybe it’s just something about Luo Binghe today, his gaze is always avid, hungry, but today it feels like a physical caress.
Luo Binghe moves deftly, weaving around Liu Qingge’s strikes and sword glares with practised ease. He seems content to let Liu Qingge tire himself out, his own strikes intentionally avoiding doing damage and serving to just slice through his robes, his gaze lingering on any newly exposed skin.
Liu Qingge is, admittedly, not fighting his best, mind a little to focused on what’s coming next, but he holds his own long enough, doesn’t buckle when Luo Binghe changes tactics, striking out with more fervour, apparently tired of teasing glances.
He lashes out in a flurry of strikes and qi blasts, putting Liu Qingge on the back foot and herding him backwards, until he’s pinned to a wall. He strikes out one last time, flat of his sword slamming against Liu Qingge’s wrist. Caught off guard, he drops Cheng Luan.
Before he can call it back, Luo Binghe pounces on him, dropping his own sword in favour of grabbing Liu Qingge by the forearms and slamming him into the wall. Liu Qingge still struggles (if he makes it too easy for him Liu Qingge will never hear the end of it), slams his head into the demon’s stupid smirking mouth. He splits his lip, but Luo Binghe hardly flinches as he kicks Liu Qingge’s sword aside and grabs his wrists, pinning them to the wall. He grins, lips still bloody, and leans in until he’s only a hair’s breath from Liu Qingge’s face.
“Got you.” His breath is warm, fans out across Liu Qingge’s face. “The War God put on an excellent showing but now it’s my turn.” He shoves a knee between Liu Qingge’s thighs, pushing them apart. “This one promised Shi- the Empress to have you back by sunset, but we have time don’t we?” He leans down, past his face, until he’s a few cùn from his neck. “You’re far too tempting of a catch.”
Liu Qingge is paralysed for a moment, frozen and shivering like a rabbit caught in a wolf’s jaw, before snapping back to reality and continuing to struggle in his grip.
The demon laughs, grip tightening as he transfers his hold to one hand and drags him away from the wall and onto the floor. Liu Qingge struggles the whole way down.
“Release me,” He snarls, trying to play along. It sounds so fake since they both know that, despite the struggling, that’s the last thing Liu Qingge wants.
“Why should I?” Luo Binghe asks once he wrestles Liu Qingge onto his stomach, stretched out on top of him so his chest is pressed to Liu Qingge’s back and he can keep Liu Qingge’s hands pinned above his head. He whispers directly into Liu Qingge’s ear, voice deep and smooth. “Not when I have you right where I want you.” The next words, sound drastically different, quieter and a little lighter. “Shishu remembers he can tap out right?”
Liu Qingge nods, face burning. He knows that if he doesn’t respond Luo Binghe won’t budge, even though he’s never actually needed that out. He tries not to squirm from impatience, so it’s not obvious how desperate he is.
“Good.” The demon’s voice returns to that, deep seductive resonance, a silky purr that has him shivering. He grabs the waist of Liu Qingge’s pants and tugs them sharply down. “It seems the War God’s forgotten he’s supposed to struggle.”
Liu Qingge blanches, mortified; he really had just melted into the floor after a few words. He strains uselessly against Luo Binghe’s grip, tries and fails to slip his hands out of the demon’s grip.
Luo Binghe laughs darkly. “Better.” His hand lifts from Liu Qingge’s waist and he can’t see what he’s doing, but he hears it. Hears not the familiar pop of a vial being uncorked but the sound of Luo Binghe spitting into his hand.
Liu Qingge’s stomach swoops with a mix of anticipation and a little fear.
They’ve discussed this; Liu Qingge mentioned his love of the burn that often accompanies Luo Binghe penetrating him, the pleasure and pain from the too tight, too full feeling he gets when they get a little hasty and start before Liu Qingge is totally prepared. Luo Binghe had been hesitant, so Liu Qingge considered the matter set aside for later.
As saliva-soaked fingers probe at his opening, he realises later is now. Large fingers work him open and he melts into the floor, only able to put up token useless protests.
“Isn’t this lord so lucky, to have the Bai Zhan War God under him?” Liu Qingge can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Already sucking so eager on my fingers, practically begging to be taken, can’t wait to get you wrapped around me.”
“Sh-Shut up,” Liu Qingge mumbles into the floor, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to hide from the sensation. The demon doesn’t bother slowly working him up to more fingers. He feels completely stuffed full.
It does burn, the stretch bordering on too painful, tempered by Luo Binghe’s precision attacks on his sweet spot, not particularly gentle there either. Both sensations, the sharp, jagged pain and the unrelenting pleasure only heighten each other until he’s whimpering against the floor.
“You’ll look so good on my cock,” The demon continues, bullying in a fourth finger. “Are you going to cum? Let this lord see how pretty you are when you let yourself go.”
He is very close, can feel his climax approaching like a storm in the distance, waves of pleasure crest over and pool in his lower dantian. When it finally hits it feels like a lightning strike and Liu Qingge sobs through it.
He’s floating for a little longer, too out of it to notice Luo Binghe move him onto his side, too slack-limbed to do anything if he had noticed.
Luo Binghe grabs his hip, strokes down his flank with his other hand, still whispering a mix of a filth and praise into his ear.
“Who knew this was all it took to tame the War God?” The demon briefly takes his hand away from petting Liu Qingge’s side. Liu Qingge hears the sound of fabric parting, Binghe shifts, spits again and then something larger than fingers is pressed to the cleft of his ass. “So lucky to have you.”
That’s a bit too sentimental for a conquering demon lord, but soon Liu Qingge doesn’t have the presence of mind to be critical or do much thinking at all as Luo Binghe presses the head of his pillar to his entrance and pushes in.
Taking the demon’s fingers with nothing but spit had burned, his body nearly unwilling to take the intrusion, but being split open on the demon’s cock with nothing to aid the way hurts, leaves Liu Qingge lying utterly limp and helpless as the demon carves into his body, too overwhelmed to do much but whine pathetically into the floor.
“That’s it. No fight left in you, huh?” Luo Binghe sounds equally smug and winded, as if he was the one being speared open. “So talented, you’re taking me so easy.”
It doesn’t feel easy, it feels utterly impossible. He’s only halfway in and it feels like Liu Qingge’s about to burst at the seems. Raw nerve sensation arcs through him, too intermingled to distinguished between pain and pleasure.
When Luo Binghe finally hilts in him, he can’t do much but breath, taking in heavy shaking gulps of air.
Luo Binghe’s hands are heavy on his hips, gripping him tightly. He leans down, presses a kiss to Liu Qingge’s racing pulse. Luo Binghe’s next words are whispered against his feverish skin. “Are you still with me?”
Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, he rubs them away on the demon’s robes as punishment. “…y-yeah.”
“Hmm… good.” Luo Binghe pulls back an inch, pushing back in, rocking gently back and forth inside him, testing. He moans, face buried against Liu Qingge’s neck, breathing heavily against his overheated skin. “So tight, pretty little hole sucking me in.”
Liu Qingge can’t do more than whimper, squeezes his eyes shut as his body gets used to the stretch and the pain dulls to something more distant, taken over by a sharp, biting pleasure that almost feels more overwhelming, sends bolts of piercing static pleasure coursing through his body. The demon’s filthy muttering a constant backdrop. His stupidly massive cock drags through his insides, rubbing his passage raw.
Once he feels able, he rocks back into the demon’s next thrust, and Luo Binghe groans. “I’m trying to be gentle but you make it so difficult.”
“Don’t be.”
The demon grins against his neck, grip on his waist tightens even further and that’s the only warning Liu Qingge gets before he pulls back, nearly pulling all the way out and shoves back in all at once.
Liu Qingge curses, choking on his next breath as the demon sets a brutal pace, hand on his hip deliberately digging into the bruises from the fight as he fucks Liu Qingge into a twitching gasping mess, unable to more but lie there and take it. If it’s possible to bruise a prostate, his certainly is.
His face is wet, flooded with tears as he hangs on for dear life, wracked with full-bodied sobs. It feels like Luo Binghe is everywhere, like Liu Qingge can feel him up to his throat, repeatedly bullying himself into his guts over and over again, until it feels like they’re grafted together and it would be impossible to ever separate them again, like Liu Qingge is just one massive raw nerve capable of only receiving pain or pleasure.
When his climax does come it feels less an approaching storm and more like a sudden strike, the gathering prickling pleasure growing under his skin until it explodes in a single, violent burst, every muscle in his body contracting all at once. The demon follows soon after him, biting messily into his neck and shoulders as he gushes into him.
When the demon pulls out, it floods out of him. If Liu Qingge felt in anyway present in his body he’d be mortified by the sight or sound.
Dimly, he’s aware of the fingers probing at his opening, not trying to pleasure him, closer to inspecting. Liu Qingge whines, squirming away from the touch. He’s too tender to to be ready for anything at all. The demon laughs, mutters down at him, “It’s okay Shishu I’m just making sure you’re alright.” He takes his fingers away and returns with them covered in a cool herbal scented gel. Luo Binghe presses inside, spreads the unguent around, until the sharp pain emanating from inside him fades to the deep body ache of the aftermath of a good fight.
After, the demon tosses his own outer robe over Liu Qingge, covering his ripped apart robes, then scoops Liu Qingge into his arms, careful not to jostle him to much. “Don’t go to sleep yet Shishu, we still need to meet Shizun.” The demon insists as he rips apart a summoning talisman and an icy portal is torn open nearby soon after.
Luo Binghe steps through, with Liu Qingge’s face nestled in chest, and immediately Liu Qingge feels the difference in atmosphere and Qi.
He’s no longer in the human realm.
–
It’s highly unusually for Shen Qingqiu to attend court without his husband. While technically as Empress he has the authority to do so, he’s simply never wanted to. Why would he ever want to deal with the whole tedious thing without his husband? Today is an exception, Binghe had stepped out briefly to go fetch his Shishu.
Shen Qingqiu is not totally alone, Shang Qinghua and Mobei-jun are in attendance—a necessity since Mobei-jun’s powers make their ‘spontaneous surprise trip’ a little easier—though Shang Qinghua is too busy managing the logistics of the latest task Binghe threw his way and they’re both sat in the balcony, so he can’t talk Shen Qingqiu’s ear off as distraction.
It gives Shen Qingqiu time alone to think as he listens to demon nobles prattle on about this or that request or grievance, which Shen Qingqiu grants or denies mostly at random. He’s a roiling ball of nerves, but outwardly he remains calm and collected, using every ounce of his experience as a poser to not let his nervousness leak through. Demons can sniff out weakness and will use any opportunity to pounce and he can’t let today, or the next few days be ruined. It’s of vital importance.
He nearly collapses into a puddle of relief when, a shichen later, he sees Mobei-jun’s beacon talisman light up before he silently tears a portal open and steps through. A minute later, a new portal rips open a few feet from the throne and Binghe steps through. His husband returns grinning triumphantly with Liu Qingge clutched to his chest, robes torn and draped in Binghe’s outer robe. The moment Liu Qingge realises where he is, he immediately attempts to squirm out of Binghe’s grip.
And so it begins.
–
The throne room is full, nearly a hundred demons before the imperial seat or sitting in the wings, watching their Lord wrestle with the squirming bundle in his arms.
“Put me down!” Liu Qingge growls, thumping at his chest. He tries to kick his way out, but his legs are still too weak to do much damage.
“Are you in any state to walk?” Binghe teases.
“You- Why did you bring me here? Especially like this?” Referring of course to his underdressed state. Binghe’s back is to his court, so his Shishu is mostly hidden from his subject’s view, sparing him the embarrassment.
“The underground palace. Where else would a demon whisk away the human they captured?” Typically, Binghe would also prefer his subjects to be far away from his Shishu in this state, but it’s crucial that he’s seen returning in Binghe’s arms.
He carries his struggling Shishu towards the throne, where Shizun watches with amusement behind his fan.
“Look what this Lord brought home!”
“You certainly managed to bring back quite the catch.” Shizun lowers his fan, expression serene and impassive, though his cheeks have a faint rosy glow—a tell tale sign that he’s not unaffected by their dishevelled states.
“Only the best for my Empress,” Binghe purrs, ignoring his Shishu’s grumbling that they were being ridiculous. “Would you like to sample him?”
That question leaves Liu Qingge going suddenly limp in his arms, lulled into docility by the promise of getting to touch Shizun, of being sampled, at Shizun’s mercy.
So good for us.
Shizun snaps his fan shut, props it under his chin as if pretending to think it through. “Hmm, after my Lord has cleared out any witnesses.”
Witnesses! He needs to get rid of them. Luo Binghe turns around, smile disappearing from his face at he turns to his waiting subjects. He barks out one order, “Leave.”
The room clears of demons blisteringly quick, as if they were never even there, all ready to flood the demon realm with rumours about what they’ve just witnessed. Junshang had finally made a decision.
He’s brought the War god home.
–
As the last demon slinks out of the throne room, Binghe finally sets him down. Not on the ground on his feet like Liu Qingge wanted; instead Luo Binghe plops him down, gently, on Shen Qingqiu’s lap. Binghe holds on to his shoulder and his wrists, keeps him in place when he tries to get up.
“What are you-” Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms around his midsection, pulls him close.
“Junshang picked a spirited one,” Shen Qingqiu comments idly, like he was just discussing the weather.
Binghe shivers, grip on his wrists tightening briefly. Liu Qingge has never heard him use the demon’s title before. “This Lord found him while performing reconnaissance on Cang Qiong.” That’s the story they’re going with? Why would a demon lord do that dirty work himself? Don’t they have underlings? “I’ve heard rumours of the War god and had to see and test him for myself. Once this lord saw the War god in person how could I resist stealing him away?”
It’s overwrought, it’s over dramatic but Liu Qingge can’t seem to beat the growing blush back. Despite the ridiculous premise, he can’t help but be excited for what comes next, especially knowing they don’t seem to be done quite yet.
Shen Qingqiu hums “Undress him, so I can appreciate him better.”
“Yes Sh-Empress.”
Shen Qingqiu laughs at the demon’s little slip as he grabs Liu Qingge’s robes. He gasps as claws shed through his burrowed outer robes and ruined under layers, until he’s completely bare. Any hope of mending those robes are dashed. He glares indignantly up at Luo Binghe’s smirking face.
He’s about to snap at him, but Shen Qingqiu kisses his bared shoulder, dashing away those complaints for now. His hands join his mouth, roaming over his over heated skin, up from his stomach to his pectorals.
“My Empress certainly has a way of making even the most fierce beast docile for him.”
“It just requires a gentle touch,” Shen Qingqiu says, breath fanning out over his neck as a slender finger circles Liu Qingge’s nipple, not quite touching. Liu Qingge tries to lean into his touch, get him to touch where he’s desperate for it, but Luo Binghe’s hands keep him firmly in place. Liu Qingge whines. “Junshang may release him, I don’t think this one is running anywhere.”
Liu Qingge’s face burns. He’s not that easy. He’s just… overwhelmed.
Luo Binghe complies, lets Liu Qingge go. “We’ll have to get something to bind his hands next time.” His hands aren’t idle. He doesn’t have Shen Qingqiu’s patience and goes straight for his other nipple, pinching the peaking bud between clawed fingers. Liu Qingge jolts, lips parting around the loud groan that forces out, Luo Binghe takes advantage, stuffs two fingers into his mouth. Liu Qingge moans around those thick digits, laves over his knuckles. “I haven’t used his mouth yet perhaps Sh-my Empress should try that first.”
Shameless as usual, Liu Qingge bites his fingers in retaliation. Luo Binghe doesn’t flinch, pushes his fingers deeper, until Liu Qingge’s choking around them, eyes watering.
“No biting.” Shen Qingqiu tuts, sounding dignified and elegant even as he continues groping at his chest and finally, finally, pinches his nipple, twisting the hardened nub between his fingers as punishment. Liu Qingge moans, pushes his chest into Shen Qingqiu’s hand. He huffs out a laugh, nips at Liu Qingge’s bare shoulder again. “Remove your fingers, I want to hear his voice properly.”
Luo Binghe sighs, but does comply, extracts his fingers. Liu Qingge pants, attempting to catch his breath. He squeezes his thighs together, embarrassed how quickly he’s hardening under their combined touches. At least Shen Qingqiu is affected as well—Liu Qingge can feel his arousal pressing into his backside through his robes, desperately wants to get his mouth around it.
“Junshang, get him on his knees for me.”
Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate, he grabs Liu Qingge by the forearms and wrestles him onto his knees; not that Liu Qingge is bothering to fight his manhandling, he’s both too eager and too sore from their last bout to put up much of a struggle. The wooden floors are cold, a nice contrast with how heated he is.
Luo Binghe gathers up his hair, down and partially in his face, into a loose bun, fisted between his fingers. Liu Qingge tries to wretch out of his grip, but that just results in pain lancing across his scalp. He shivers. “Like this? Does this please my Empress?”
Shen Qingqiu reaches down, cups a flushed cheek and tilts Liu Qingge’s head up, until he’s forced to make eye contact. “Very much so.” Shen Qingqiu releases his face, but retains eye contact as he slowly undoes the ties of his robes and sits back, parting the silk to expose his pillar. Liu Qingge watches, mesmerised as he grasps himself in hand.
Luo Binghe tightens his grip in his hair, forces his head forward. Is he supposed to pretend to fight this? That’s the point of the ‘role-playing’ isn’t it? Does he even want to? He braces himself against the seat, a token protest that would be embarrassing in it’s ineffectiveness if he was actually trying, until Liu Qingge’s lips are pressed against his cock, head running along the seam.
"Won’t you open up for me?” Shen Qingqiu coos, reaches down to stroke his cheek and gently press at the joint between his upper and lower jaw, until he coaxes his mouth open. The demon pushes his head forward, until he’s most of the past Liu Qingge’s lips. Shen Qingqiu sighs luxuriantly, leans back on the throne. “There, isn’t that much better.”
–
Liu-Shidi really is too cute.
The moment Shen Qingqiu gets his cock in his mouth, any pretence of unwillingness melts away as Liu Qingge swallows him down to the base, moaning around his pillar, lids fluttering closed. He’s so eager, Binghe hardly has to guide him, though that doesn’t stop his husband from pulling him back and forth by the hair so Shen Qingqiu can fuck his throat.
“Does he feel good Sh-Empress?” Binghe murmurs, he’s stooped over both of them, close enough for their breath to mingle as he forces Liu Qingge’s head up and down, using him like a tool to get Shen Qingqiu off. He’s a little worried it might be a bit… demeaning? But Liu Qingge isn’t tapping out, keeps moaning around his cock like, well, a whore.
“So good,” Shen Qingqiu groans as he slides deeper into his Shidi’s throat, feels the tight clench as he chokes around his pillar. He presses the back of his hand up to his mouth, bites a knuckle to muffle the strangled high-pitched sound that nearly rips out of him. “Junshang certainly picked a good one for me. Doing so well, so beautiful.”
Liu Qingge whimpers, turning redder, somehow having the presence of mind to be embarrassed as he sucks with single minded focus, eyes scrunched closed. He’s a mesmerising sight, flushed a deep scarlet down to his chest, long dark lashes swiping the top of cheeks, lips stretched around his pillar. Shen Qingqiu strokes his cheek, feels himself through his Shidi’s distended cheek, the slide of his eager tongue pressed on the underside of his cock. Shen Qingqiu gasps and Binghe is right there to drink up the sound off pleasure, lips coming down on his with blistering force.
Binghe isn’t very composed, so the kiss has nearly as much teeth as lips and tongue. One clawed hand gently cups the back of his nape, angling his head up for a better kiss, the other forces Liu Qingge’s head all the way down, until his throat’s spasming around his pillar as he struggles to breathe through his nose. Shen Qingqiu pulls away, cursing under his breath at the sudden tight clench and bats Binghe’s hands away, letting Liu Qingge back up for air and replacing his husband’s hand in Liu Qingge’s hairs with his.
“Binghe don’t be so rough,” Shen Qingqiu chides, swatting his husband one more time for good measure, but from the little moan he lets out and the way his eyes dilate, Shen Qingqiu knows it’s not much of a punishment. He gently wipes away the tears forming at the corners of his Shidi’s eyes, smiling softly down at him. “Junshang shouldn't treat something so precious so roughly.” Liu Qingge shivers, blinks slowly up at him. He looks a little lost, out of it. Shen Qingqiu has never seen drunk before but he guesses this might be close.
“Yes wife.” Binghe pouts, while sliding into place next to him. “I’ll be so careful,” He grabs for Shen Qingqiu, gently encircling his waist and lowering his head to mouth under his jaw, right over his racing pulse. Luo Binghe whispers the next words against his skin as he tugs the sleeve of Shen Qingqiu’s robes down, until half his chest is bared, “show my Empress how gentle I can be.” He kisses a line down his neck and to his chest, occasionally nipping, though not hard enough to bruise, gentle, until he reaches Shen Qingqiu’s nipple. He takes the pink bud in his mouth, laving his tongue over it and gently catching the nub between his teeth before he sucks.
Where his mouth goes his hands follow, palming at his chest and pinching his other nipple between his fingers, rolling the bud between his fingers. Shen Qingqiu curses under his breath, bucks up into his Shidi’s mouth, who takes it like a champ. Between their two mouths, Shen Qingqiu can’t last much longer. He gasps, climax racing through him as he’s reduced to a simmering puddle of pleasure, coming down Liu Qingge’s throat with a cry and full-bodied shudder. He falls bonelessly back onto the chaise, held upright only by Binghe’s hands, has to push Liu Qingge away from his deflating cock as he continues to stubbornly suckle on it.
Please Liu-Shidi, have mercy.
He pulls Liu Qingge of, and he rests his head on Shen Qingqiu’s thigh, peering up at him with glistening tear filled eyes. He’s swallowed most of it, but a few stray drops of cum stain his mouth and cheeks. He shifts uncomfortably where he’s kneeling, still hard.
Right, someone should probably take care of that.
“Binghe,” His husband perks up from where he’s still mouthing at his shoulder. “Take care of your Shishu.”
Binghe disentangles from him, leaving Shen Qingqiu feeling suddenly cold. His husband really is a giant furnace. Luo Binghe gently scoops his trembling Shishu up into his arms, hands skimming lightly over his still flushed skin. Liu Qingge isn’t a small man, but like this his husband seems to completely envelop him as he wraps a hand around Liu-Shidi’s cock.
“Shishu did so good, took care of Shizun so well,” Binghe mutters as he strokes him slowly, other hand rubbing soothing circles into his Shishu’s back as he trembles in his lap. “You’re perfect.”
Liu Qingge whimpers, grabs Binghe’s hand but doesn’t stop or slow him down. He bites his bottom lip, hides his face in the crook of Binghe’s neck. “Won’t Shishu let me see his face when he lets go? I want to see it, you’re always so pretty when you do. Makes such beautiful sounds.”
Liu Qingge just shakes his head, stays mulishly put.
So shy. Liu-Shidi really is unbearably adorable.
Shen Qingqiu wants to pinch his cheeks. Instead, he sighs, reaches out to take one of his Shidi’s hand in his, squeezes reassuringly. “Let us see your face Shidi, no need to hide from us.”
Liu Qingge whines but pulls back, lets them see his face again. Shen Qingqiu, smiles, squeezes his hand again as he watches his husband bring their lover to completion, eyes squeezed shut and lashed quivering, lips parted open around a high pitched keen. Binghe swallows that noise up, catches his mouth in a bruising kiss, strokes him through his climax. The sight makes up for muffling the sound—if Shen Qingqiu wasn’t so exhausted he might even find it inspiring.
Eventually, Liu Qingge weakly pushes Binghe’s hand away and he lets go, parting from his Shishu with one last peck on the mouth. Binghe looks at Shen Qingqiu, retains eye contact as he lifts his hand and sucks his sticky cum-coated fingers into his mouth.
Shen Qingqiu’s breath hitches as Binghe moans around his fingers. When he sees Shen Qingqiu’s reaction he breaks out into a self satisfied grin, purring his next words, “Perfect.”
–
After, Luo Binghe lays Liu Qingge down across their laps while Shen Qingqiu wipes at his face, cleaning his saliva covered mouth—the demon had slobbered all over his face. He’s dimly aware that they’re on a long ornate chaise—a fancier, more elaborate version of the temporary chair that replaced their ruined thrones (Shouldn’t Luo Binghe have replaced that by now?). Luo Binghe rubs his back, murmurs compliments down at his half asleep form. He’s completely out of it for a bit, floating somewhere far above the Underground Palace.
Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe have a conversation that quite literally goes over his head, discussing something involving deadlines and sunsets. Liu Qingge discards it as demon realm business, continues to flicker in an out of that hazy head space they brought him too.
Eventually, when Liu Qingge comes back to himself, it’s in a throne room so empty he can feel his own breathing echoing throughout.
The first thing he does is ask why he’s here, why any of them are here. As far as he knew the next stay at the demon realm was meant to be months off.
Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu exchange a look for a split second before Shen Qingqiu responds. “Matters in the demon realm have called for Binghe’s closer attention and we’re not sure how long it’ll last.”
Luo Binghe hums in agreement. “Shishu was scheduled to return to Cang Qiong and we didn’t want to be parted from you even longer.”
As far as excuses go that makes sense—though he doesn’t know why they didn’t just ask instead of essentially just snatching him. Does Cang Qiong even know he’s here? It’s not that big of a deal, he absconds off the Peak with little warning all the time. Really, it was just the theatricality that was so unnecessary.
“But what about that performance; what would a random demon Lord be doing on Cang Qiong?”
“He’s heard rumours of a beautiful and fierce cultivator on Bai Zhan and had to see for himself,” Binghe explains, smirking and oh so smugly proud of himself. “Once I saw the you in person how could I resist snatching you away?”
“Ridiculous.” Liu Qingge scoffs, face flushing.
“And yet Shishu seemed to enjoy himself.” The demon laughs as “I hope Shishu wont mind indulging us in more of our ridiculous requests while we have him.”
Liu Qingge looks away in a poor attempt to hide his burning face. “…fine.”