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It started with the requests for sexual positions. Not just requests, but detailed instructions with remarkably poorly drawn diagrams, and Shang Qinghua’s rhapsodies about Mobei Jun’s strength and stature and, for some reason, the dimensions of his hands.
Mobei Jun had initially questioned why they would need diagrams to have sex, but then Shang Qinghua had bent over the writing table, spreading himself obscenely, and sweetly informed him there were many other positions he’d like to try. He had numbered them. They had names.
Testing them out was very enjoyable.
Shang Qinghua had made himself a number of writing pads, bound with thread and glue, with space for a stick of charcoal. When Mobei Jun finally let him go, he gestured weakly for the reference one he had used to show Mobei Jun what each position should be, expecting his king to fetch and carry for him like a servant, correcting his drawings as he looked through them.
He said, “My king, scale of 1 to 5, 1 being we should fuck like this all the time and 5 being never again, can we go through the positions...?”
Mobei Jun looked at him. “Now?” he said.
“If you… like…” Shang Qinghua blushed.
Mobei Jun picked Shang Qinghua up and held him against the wall by his hips. Had this been the first one? He kissed Shang Qinghua and fed him a tiny, whisper-thin thread of Mobei Jun’s energy. It kept the human from freezing to death in the palace and against Mobei Jun’s skin. And for some reason, it cut down significantly on post-coital complaints.
“My king?” said Shang Qinghua, looking dazed.
“We do it again,” said Mobei Jun inexorably. "To compare.”
“Yes,” said Shang Qinghua, looking even more dazed, a sort of wild, riotous light dawning in his eyes. “Yes. That is exactly. What I meant.”
.0.
“This is the fifth time,” said Mobei Jun, swatting Shang Qinghua’s hands away. “We are in an armoury.”
Shang Qinghua, kneeling between his legs, had the nerve to look wronged. “This is only the third time since this morning!”
“This is the fifth time today,” said Mobei Jun. “You kept going.”
“You keep going with me all the time,” said Shang Qinghua indignantly, which was true. “I just want to count something.”
“Count what?” said Mobei Jun. How many rooms in the palace Mobei Jun had refused to grow up in they could fuck in? How many servants they could drive away with their blatant sexual displays? How much liquid could fit in Shang Qinghua’s stomach?
“If you can’t anymore, that’s fine too,” said Shang Qinghua. “But we won’t know if you can’t unless…” he pointed at his mouth. Mobei Jun couldn’t help noticing that it was still red, and that Shang Qinghua kept stretching his neck and jaw.
“Can’t?” snapped Mobei Jun.
“Maybe this is just my perception, but your taste is getting rather thin,” said Shang Qinghua without turning a hair.
Sometimes Mobei Jun wondered why he put up with this. “You’ve had me in your mouth every two hours today,” he pointed out coldly.
“Is two hours not enough?” said Shang Qinghua, face showing genuine concern. “I thought I wrote- uh, see, my king, that’s why we have to count. I’m an Anding Peak disciple. I like numbers.” He leaned in and hooded his eyes upwards and rubbed his cheek on Mobei Jun’s thighs, which he clearly thought made him look provocative. “And I like having you in my mouth.” Unfortunately, he was right.
His fingers were once again on his king’s waistband, and Mobei Jun cursed his weak, all-too-willing flesh.
“Twelve times,” said Shang Qinghua, when they retired for the night. He tapped the charcoal stick against his cheek, leaving a mark. “My king, I am truly- ah- waaaaaa-”
“You tease me all day,” said Mobei Jun, relentlessly ripping off clothing. “You debauch me under tables and against walls. You refuse to be pulled off until you’ve, as you put it, ‘drunk your fill’.”
“My mouth hurts,” whined Shang Qinghua. “My king, please think of me, all day I have taken your gigantic-” Mobei Jun stopped him by pinching those sore cheeks together in one hand, warning him to be silent.
“I don’t intend to use your mouth.”
When Shang Qinghua woke up, his king had written 二十on his thigh with that stick of charcoal and 五 on his stomach. “Hmm,” said Shang Qinghua, with the faint yet smug regret of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted. “Writing that down.” If he could think about moving any time in the next week.
.0.
Mobei Jun walked in on Shang Qinghua with a pillow stuffed under his robes, craning and twisting his head and his back to see his full figure in the reflective black ice that made up one wall of the bedroom.
The king closed the door and marched past him. He refused to ask.
Shang Qinghua turned to him with a bright grin and a mad light in his eye. “What do you think???” he said, slapping the bulge and forcing it higher. He had arranged his hair differently. If Shang Qinghua ever actually bothered to do any cultivation, Mobei Jun would have suspected him of a qi deviation. Unfortunately, this was just daily life with Shang Qinghua.
“Burrowing belly scorpion,” said Mobei Jun.
“I was thinking… less gross,” said Shang Qinghua, with no explanation for how he recognized a monster that had been beaten back to the Endless Abyss a thousand years ago and no longer appeared in the human realm. He sucked his lip. Mobei Jun recognized the expression, and resigned himself to Shang Qinghua saying, “My king, in theory, if I was your pregnant lover, what would be more arousing? Just showing, or really heavy, practically about to give birth?”
“Human males can bear children?” said Mobei Jun, lip curling. He had fielded dozens of questions like this in the last month, and he did not want to think about the pure-blooded demon noblewoman who would some day have to produce his heir- though at least the unpleasant possibility that it would be Sha Hualing had vanished out the ether once she had overthrown her father.
“There are ways,” said Shang Qinghua absently. “If I can remember them…”
“There are ways,” said Mobei Jun slowly, “to get a child on a human male with the bloodline of the Kings of the North?”
“Yes,” said Shang Qinghua, who was still not paying attention. “Anyone who can’t usually bear children. The main thing is getting enough blood and finding the scorpions.”
“No demoness required?”
“Not unless you have one in mind,” said Shang Qinghua, finally seeming to realise where the conversation had headed. “... do you?”
Mobei Jun remained silent.
“You do have- you do have to pass down your bloodline directly for it to be eligible to- oh, and you have those alliances with the- and Sha Hualing isn’t married to anyone yet, so- oh .”
Why was he crying?
“Why are you crying?” said Mobei Jun. He crossed the room to put his arms around Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua pulled the pillow out from under his robes, looking devastated. He hit Mobei Jun with it.
“You brought it up,” said Mobei Jun.
Shang Qinghua hit him with the pillow again. His sheer weakness was intoxicating. Mobei Jun was besotted. What demoness? What bloodline? He took the pillow away from Shang Qinghua before he hurt himself, and kissed the look of desolation off his face.
Later, digging the writing pad out from under his pillow, Shang Qinghua crossed out a line and said, apparently to the empty air, “No NTR. Off the list. Don’t know why it’s so popular. Never again.”
.0.
Mobei Jun was beginning to be wary of returning to his rooms after a long absence by Shang Qinghua. Visiting him in Anding Peak, at least, was never as fraught with sexual escapades, and whenever the peak lord still had work to do, there was always showing up at Bai Zhan Peak for an afternoon to beat human cultivators into sacks of pain.
Shang Qinghua yelped as Mobei Jun stepped into existence. He scrambled for his blankets and ended up flinging them off the bed entirely, left with only his robes and his thin black pants. Mobei Jun caught the blanket and promptly dropped it on the floor.
Shang Qinghua wrapped the hem of his robes around himself, but these had been cut short somehow. They barely covered his- No. Not pants. Black was an unusual colour for Shang Qinghua to wear.
Mobei Jun stared. The stockings had been made of some thin, clinging material, soft as a wisp of air. They stretched up Shang Qinghua’s legs, past the calf, past the knee, to end in the middle of jade thighs, pale from.. well, pale. The disciples of Anding Peak might work like horses, but their lord rarely exposed his legs to the sun. And threaded into their hem, a bright, blazingly blue ribbon, crossed and wrapped many times around the leg. They were currently pulled tight and tied so their frivolously long ends dangled down the outside of Shang Qinghua’s thighs.
That blue, so bright against the black, was the colour of Mobei Jun’s eyes.
Mobei Jun couldn’t breathe.
Had this been what Shang Qinghua tried to hide?
He started to babble, which to Mobei Jun was like white noise. “-I can’t get them to stay up at all, so I thought I’d try these, they look a little funny on me but it’s not like there’s anyone I can ask to model them for me.” Shang Qinghua looked at Mobei Jun’s frozen expression and stifled an embarrassed laugh, his whole body mid-cringe. “I’ll take them-”
Shang Qinghua was abruptly pushed down, his king’s hands stroking down his thighs- almost completely covered, plain black stockings, absolutely dissolute and wanton-
When Mobei Jun looked up, aware that he had been reduced to pawing Shang Qinghua’s thighs like a dirty old man on his sixth concubine, Shang Qinghua had his head tipped back to watch through his eyelashes, breath coming faster. Mobei Jun was deeply suspicious of that look in his human's eyes.
He put one of the edges of the ribbon in Mobei Jun’s hand. “Pull, my king.”
Utterly helpless, Mobei Jun did as he said. The material, released from tension, slipped free, and the black hem drooped off white, spread, welcoming thighs.
“I wonder if they have rubber in the south,” said Shang Qinghua, a master of perversion and sourcing. His hands moved to the other one, ready to pull it loose as well.
“Keep it on,” Mobei Jun growled.
Shang Qinghua smirked. “Yes, my king.”
.0.
Being King in the North required presiding over bureaucracy and negotiations for Mobei Jun, particularly with Luo Binghe out of sight and mind on his eternal pleasure trip, and having Shang Qinghua at his side to handle the logistics - even just to take notes or remind him of tribute minutiae made sitting down with demons Mobei Jun mutually hated just a bit less bloody and unbearable.
Mobei Jun had handed this duty over to Shang Qinghua after realising that being a spy and the lord of Anding Peak were precisely the two skill sets required to handle the work, and also after learning that if you let him sit around with nothing to do, Shang Qinghua was perfectly capable of staying in bed for five straight days in the same sleeping robes, sleeping and forgetting to eat, seeing no one, speaking to no one, and occasionally reading a trashy human book and crying.
Mobei Jun’s Fifth Uncle on his mother’s side pounded his fist on the table, demanding to know what the ruler meant by keeping them waiting so long while those vermin from the South were still refusing to give up raiding on the border of his territory, and they were off.
Shang Qinghua hid himself under the table and came out after Mobei Jun had won. He checked for blood before he laid out his abacus and writing pads, keeping from making eye contact with the demons.
He did seem to have gotten over his unhappiness that making an ice replica of Mobei Jun’s dick to wear inside him as he went about his daily business had been vetoed both by Mobei Jun and by Shang Qinghua’s inability to channel his spiritual energy enough to keep from badly hurting himself.
(“You could commission one,” Mobei Jun had said, once the full concept had been explained to him, including, in graphic detail, why his generous and celestially blessed endowment required custom work. “I will not be posing,” he added in clarification. “You will not seek out someone else. You will not pleasure yourself in public.”
“It’s not part of the play unless it’s yours,” said Shang Qinghua, face falling, and Mobei Jun proceeded to fail to adequately punish Shang Qinghua for daring to suggest that the denizens of his court be allowed to watch Shang Qinghua red-faced and struggling to contain his pleasure and ardent humiliation. (HA!)
Which was why they’d been late to the meeting.)
Attendees droned on, one after the other. Mobei Jun strangled yawns before they emerged into his throat, watching the lords and ladies who had supposedly sworn fealty to him and his bloodline. Why else would he have called them here, personally, when their servants could have handled this and he cordially disliked the sight of them? Who was sweating in fear, nervous that a new lord meant a change in their cozy circumstances? Who was pasting a smile on their gritted teeth, hoping that Mobei Jun had never found out who sent those assassins?
Who stared just a bit too long at Shang Qinghua sitting in a position of trust at his side, living representation of the truce with the human world?
Focused on his work, Shang Qinghua noticed none of this. His left hand flicked through calculations at speed, and his right wrote down figures and notes in a sloppy, nearly illegible hand.
They were now on the self-aggrandizing part of the meeting - when demons stood up to purr to each other about how they hoped none of their words could possibly be misconstrued, it was a pleasure to engage in spirited debate with equals of such… [zzz]...
Shang Qinghua put the final touches on his notes, also in an attempt to keep from passing out. The important stuff was done, but Shang Qinghua couldn’t leave until his king did. His free left hand drifted off the abacus and found Mobei Jun’s outstretched right hand, lying on the table doing nothing. Absently, he dragged his fingers up his king’s middle finger, then back down.
There was not a chorus of gasps.
There was not a chorus of gasps, because when Mobei Jun looked up, a room full of demons was staring with their mouths open, barely daring to breathe.
Shang Qinghua had come in smelling of Mobei Jun, hair sloppily put back up and lips bitten red, and no one had (openly) batted an eye, though some had suppressed their sneers. But Shang Qinghua’s fingertips lightly danced on Mobei Jun’s palm again, and suddenly battle-hardened demons with a century of life on Mobei Jun didn’t know where to put their faces.
Shang Qinghua was gently scratching his nails against the divots between where Mobei Jun’s fingers met his palm, and furiously writing on the other side, his attention wholly focused on- it was that damn writing pad of his again, Mobei Jun was going to burn it.
Mobei Jun started to close his hand to catch those fingers, but suddenly he was chasing the ghost of his touch, Shang Qinghua taking back his hand to switch pages and reposition the paperweight. Mobei Jun’s hand closed on empty air.
The entire table watched him to see how he would respond. Fifth Uncle was fanning himself with one of his cracked pauldrons. Linguang Jun, prudently and unavoidably seated as far away as possible without mortal insult, deepened his glare.
Mobei Jun opened his right hand with the pride of a royal. Without looking, without apparent conscious thought, Shang Qinghua’s hand settled back into his, and began playing with his thumb, tracing the nail bed and knuckle.
The demons were riveted.
Mobei Jun closed his hand on Shang Qinghua’s again, startling the human into alertness. He pressed his thumb into the center of Shang Qinghua’s hand, letting their fingers slide through each other, pressing hard enough to feel his bones, and the cultivator groaned.
The demons made answering, interested, fascinated noises.
“Your attendance has been appreciated,” said Mobei Jun with a hint of a growl. “Leave.”
No one even argued or tried to wish him well. Faces scarlet- those of them with faces- the demon lords of the north fled.
Shang Qinghua stammered.
Mobei Jun took that clever, fidgeting hand, and raised it to his mouth, looking at the ink stain, the movement of the bones under pale and delicate skin.
“My king, please don’t bite off my fingers,” said Shang Qinghua. “I didn’t know! Please forgive me.”
“No,” said Mobei Jun. With a sweep of his hand the papers scattered across the table and onto the floor. He put Shang Qinghua on the table.
His human started a wail of protest at seeing his work disorganised, which Mobei Jun cut off by inserting their connected hands into Shang Qinghua’s mouth.
Shang Qinghua was just insatiable, endlessly sexually demanding. It was ruining Mobei Jun’s reputation with his court and kin.
He liked it.
.0.
“Oh,” said Shang Qinghua unconvincingly. “No! The Northern Demon King has captured me. What do you intend to do with me, foul beast?”
Mobei Jun said, “Gut your disrespectful body and throw it to the wargs.”
“I am a righteous cultivator,” said Shang Qinghua, injured. “You are the demon lord who has captured me and intends to ravish me and take your dark pleasures with my body.”
Mobei Jun laughed in his face, making Shang Qinghua pout like a child denied a toy.
“I thought humans disliked pain.” Shang Qinghua was taking his 'theories' to an entirely different level- asking his king to play out fantasies, as though... Mobei Jun had no frame of reference for this, really. But Shang Qinghua had made another list.
“It doesn’t need to be painful…please... you could be- a little rougher than usual? As though you didn’t care for my pleasure, and I was helplessly carried along by your rampant domination, fucked senseless by forces beyond my control, only able to struggle and cry out weakly from… my king, you’re getting into it!” He wiggled his hips, trapped under Mobei Jun's bulk.
Again and again, Mobei Jun was astonished at the depth of Shang Qinghua’s shamelessness and depravity. But he did think he understood, now.
“Is that what you wanted?” said Mobei Jun.
“My King, I told you, this is a make-believe, it’s only partially what I-”
“No,” said Mobei Jun, speaking right into Shang Qinghua’s ear, so that there was no way he could be mistaken. “Is this what you wanted, every time I was in your bed? How you thought to seduce me? Did you dream of spreading your legs for me, Lord of Anding Peak? Did you think I might have let you? What would your fellow disciples have thought, you emerging from your empty room, well-fucked, sated?”
“I never-” said Shang Qinghua, the protest of a shocked innocent. The roll of his hips upward was anything but innocent. “H-how can you say such things-”
“The first thing you did was climb into bed with me,” said Mobei Jun. “If I’d been in a better state-” he ground Shang Qinghua back down, his hardness a threat and a promise. “-I might have indulged you.”
“Oh,” said Shang Qinghua, arching his back towards Mobei Jun. He bit his lip, still playing coy, and if Mobei Jun hadn’t been holding down his hands (as per instructions), he would have buried his face in them. It was both infuriating and arousing.
“Do I need to force you, Shang Qinghua?” said Mobei Jun.
Face scarlet, Shang Qinghua shook his head, no.
“Show me where you want me,” said Mobei Jun. “If you’re very good, I may reward you… just the way you described.”
.0.
The intimacy and intensity of the afterglow was spoiled somewhat when Shang Qinghua flailed himself off the bed to grab at the writing pad on the nightstand, jotting down notes and muttering to himself while Mobei Jun cleaned them both up with, of course, Shang Qinghua’s robes.
“See, that’s good, that's how it’s supposed to be, my king! We can play anything else you want too,” said Shang Qinghua, still eager even after Mobei Jun grabbed the pad and threw it to the other side of the room. “Uhh, virtuous cultivator learning double cultivation for the first time. Demon king and suspiciously attractive assassin disguised as a slave. Cultivator and demon trapped into a ravine with succubi poison coursing through their veins, forced to put aside their differences and-”
“A demon noble living a simple life, concentrating on his demonic cultivation and eventual conquest of the human world,” said Mobei Jun, “being despoiled by his depraved lech of a retainer, whose mind is filled with nothing but lust and dirty thoughts.”
He pointedly closed his eyes, only to open them in suspicion when Shang Qinghua’s hands landed on his thighs.
“My ass can’t take any more today,” said Shang Qinghua frankly. “I mean- uh-” he coughed, and made what he clearly imagined to be an enticing face at Mobei Jun. “We’ll save that lesson for another time, my king.”
Mobei Jun stared flatly at him. How Shang Qinghua had cried, when they’d first come together! How he’d wept and cursed and complained and thrashed his limbs! He’d even squirmed away from Mobei Jun’s touch on his cock, complaining it was too cold. Mobei Jun had kissed him just to shut him up, and only then discovered the trick of feeding him Mobei’s demonic energy.
But, this was fine. Mobei Jun would accept his mouth in apology. At least with it full, he wouldn’t be able to spout his nonsensical, ridiculous lines.
Shang Qinghua touched Mobei Jun until he was hard again and speculatively eyed him and his cock impartially. “大王 - ah, no -” his voice dropped an octave. “小 王.”
Mobei Jun’s hips bucked.
Shang Qinghua caught them, gaze and lips going narrow with satisfaction. “My prince,” he said again, and this time Mobei Jun managed to stop himself from whining like- like Shang Qinghua, an animal noise stifled deep in his throat, “Please forgive this servant… has anyone ever touched you here? With... their mouth?” He huffed out his hot breath in illustration.
Mobei Jun made a rude noise of disbelief.
“This is just another way to serve you,” continued Shang Qinghua, undaunted. “Please forgive me. This should be a beautiful woman kneeling before you, but you have to settle for this unworthy servant.”
The words rose to Mobei Jun’s mouth before he could stop them. “I trust you,” he said, and then prayed that Shang Qinghua hadn’t heard the quiver in his voice. What woman would Mobei Jun let share his bed, now, after this? Who could follow this? She would have to be an all-time succubi goddess. Mobei Jun would need to spend every waking moment serving as her sexual plaything for the sake of world peace. Shang Qinghua could have led a blameless life as a moderately useless Anding Peak disciple, perhaps brushing the hand of a fellow female disciple once or twice a year, and sleeping every night in his wretched little hut with only his hand for company. A saint-class talent for perversion and wickedness would have gone undiscovered.
Closing his eyes against that gleam in Shang Qinghua’s eyes, Mobei Jun decided, would be admitting to weakness. The cultivator rewarded him by kissing and sucking Mobei Jun, but gently, not at all like he was a ravenous fox who loved sucking all of Mobei Jun down in one go.
“You taste good, my prince,” said Shang Qinghua, still in that coaxing voice, as though Mobei Jun really was a spoiled, sheltered princeling, having his first encounter with a retainer who had taken shameless advantage of his closeness to slip into his charge’s bed. Mobei Jun was not so hard that he was leaking, that was just saliva. “How does this servant’s mouth feel?”
“Strange,” retorted Mobei Jun. “Why do you want to touch me like that? Use your hand, as usual.”
“I touch you because you’re beautiful,” said Shang Qinghua calmly, not even sparing a second to challenge the assertion that he regularly satisfied his prince’s erections with his hands. “There are other parts of my body which can give you pleasure, my prince. It is this servant’s duty to educate you on all of them.”
Mobei Jun was dying to ask why was Shang Qinghua only capable of maintaining his calm in the filthiest possible scenarios, but he only said, “Oh? Then get on with it.”
“Yes, my prince,” said Shang Qinghua meekly, and then he swallowed Mobei Jun all down in one go.
They had just fucked, Mobei Jun thought desperately. He was still sensitive. That was the only reason why, when Shang Qinghua pulled off for air, he chased that mouth with his hips, making a wanton noise into the still night air.
“My prince must not be impatient,” said Shang Qinghua smugly.
“Put your mouth back on me,” demanded Mobei Jun, instead of reaching over, grabbing his insolent lover, and making him regret his life. “Where did you learn this?” he let a tinge of jealousy seep into his tone, trying to remember his bad-tempered adolescence.
“I’ve done this to you a dozen times in my dreams,” said Shang Qinghua, lying through his teeth. They had done this far, far more than a dozen times. Far more than a hundred. “I’ve never touched anyone but you, my prince.”
Mobei Jun wasn’t so far gone that he couldn’t hear Shang Qinghua’s pronoun change, and appreciate the effrontery of it, after what they’d just done. It pooled deep at the bottom of his spine, making him light-headed. How dare a servant speak so casually to their master? As though doing this gave him a claim to a part of Mobei Jun only he would own, pressed together in the dark: the trust and innocence of a youth still naive and unafraid of anything.
For no good reason, Mobei Jun amended. He was also not afraid of very many things, for very good reason. For instance, he was beginning to be sincerely afraid that Cang Xiong Mountain Sect’s master plan for toppling the demon race was to fuck their nobles to death.
“Continue.”
“Yes, my prince,” murmured Shang Qinghua, mouth fastening back, urgent, hungry, teasing Mobei Jun here, nibbling there, going deep and drawing back.
Mobei Jun felt the urge to moan like a virgin being serviced by his first mouth, and then remembered that he was supposed to be a virgin being serviced by his first mouth. “-good,” he said, the word coming out breathier than he had meant it to. “So good, Qinghua, Sh-shang- Shang-ge.”
The second he said it, Mobei Jun knew he had put something into the world irrevocably. His whole body felt as brittle as new ice, frost spirals forming in the night. Shang Qinghua didn’t hesitate. He sucked on Mobei Jun’s head, deep and long, fierce and demanding- and Mobei Jun came into his mouth with a cry, so hard that the world went white.
He came back to the demon realm with Shang Qinghua pressed against him, sort of disconsolately touching his limp self as if to mourn that he was really, truly, not capable of continuing to fuck Mobei Jun into chewed up brain mush. Insatiable!
“Leave something for next time,” Mobei Jun commanded him.
“Anytime, my prince,” said Shang Qinghua. “This servant’s only purpose is to serve you however you wish. My life and body are yours.” he paused, and then brightened. “Those were some good lines,” he said, regrettably in his normal voice. “Gotta write them dow- my king!”
“No,” said Mobei Jun. He held Shang Qinghua to his body. “Enough.”
“Fine,” said Shang Qinghua, sounding supremely satisfied. Of course, it didn’t last. “You really liked it, my king! I told you it was just a matter of finding your taste… kind of a niche market, though, I wonder if it’ll hit.”
Mobei Jun closed his eyes. Shang Qinghua kept talking, alternating between trying out new ‘lines’ and his usual pre-sleep chatter.
“-never liked my lines, they're cheesy but they work you know! My king, actually, am I older than you? I was seventeen when we met.”
“...fifteen.” Mobei Jun admitted. He was never repeating- what he had said- again, and he tightened his grip on Shang Qinghua to keep him from getting any ideas. His human made a noise of whuffly disgruntlement, like a dog. He patted Mobei Jun’s chest and stomach, as though to console himself, and curled on Mobei Jun’s chest to fall asleep. “Follow you… forever…” he murmured.
Mobei Jun stayed awake a little while longer, arranging the sheets around his human, stroking his hair.
He wondered if Shang Qinghua’s weak human ears could hear Mobei Jun’s blood moving in his body, heart pounding like a lovestruck boy’s.
.0.
It was not as though Shang Qinghua was subtle about his writing pad, but every time Mobei Jun picked one up, he found the scribbles incomprehensible even though he had gotten quite good at reading Shang Qinghua’s drunk spider scrawl over the years. There were many strange characters and symbols he had never seen before.
It was very like him, to write his dirty fantasies in code.
Positions
Standing: ★
Straddle: ★★★
(an extremely long, numbered list followed. Mobei Jun recalled giving these ratings. Some would have to be revisited and revived)
.
.
Plays
Bondage: ✘
Pregnancy: ✘
NTR: ✘✘✘✘
ZR: ★★
Cross-dressing: ★
Temperature play (me): ★
Temperature play (him): ★★★
Toys: Further investigation
Hands (scrawled into the space between two other list items): ★★★★
Outside (Anding Peak): ★★
Roleplay
Cultivator Demon: ★★
Prince Servant: ♥♥♥♥♥
Succubi Poison: get real succubi poison (me)
and so on.
On the pages behind it, in markedly better handwriting, Shang Qinghua had written pages and pages and pages of stuff Mobei Jun could actually read. He noted that they were nowhere near the end of the strangely-annotated list.
He settled into the chair. He had nothing better to do for the next half day until his human came back from Anding Peak. It was best to be prepared.
EXTRA
The pros of Binghe’s pornography habit had outweighed the cons, the pros being that Shen Qingqiu was now sleeping with a rapidly levelling sex god and the cons being that he was now sleeping with a rapidly levelling sex god. However, Binghe was an adult and the ruler of the demon realm and, though Shen Qingiu had once been proud of instilling this virtue in him, a voracious reader. Even if Shen Qingqiu forbid having them in the bamboo house, Binghe could acquire, read and digest a book any time he was out of sight. It was safer to know what he was up to.
“What is it this time,” said Shen Qingqiu, bracing himself.
“Guardians of the Peach Blossoms,” said Binghe. “Actually, Shizun, this one’s not all sex! It’s about a pair of law-enforcing lovers in a fantastical future where humans have massively outbred demons and settled into cities with buildings tens of floors high and magical carriages. The few remaining demons are tasked with safeguarding humanity from all kinds of threats in recognition of the ancient pact with cultivators.”
Shen Qingqiu blinked once, very slowly.
“Binghe,” said Shen Qingqiu. “Let me read that book.”
“I’ve marked my favourite passages,” said Binghe, passing it over. “This is the one where Fei Sheji is pulling out all the stops to seduce Xue Lingyun, who despite his cold and uncaring demeanour, has been struggling with his lust for Sheji and their new relationship changing how they relate to each other despite being close for several hundred years.”
“And in a sexual relationship for several hundred years,” said Shen Qingqiu, voice flat.
Binghe sighed sentimentally. “They were both in love,” he said. “But they thought it was only physical. They constructed intricate rituals to have excuses to touch each other’s skin. That’s a direct quote. Isn’t it beautiful?”
Fucking Airplane! If he rewrites 镇魂, Shen Qingqiu will kill him. If he rips off 三生三世十里桃花, Shen Qingqiu will throw him into the Abyss!
Binghe continued happily, “The best part is how much it updates. There’s so much to read every time, and it always publishes first in Bei Jing.”
“Don’t we have enough homegrown smut for you to read?” complained Shen Qingqiu. “I saw another volume of Resentment appear, why haven’t we managed to put a stop to that?”
“Do you want to tell Liu Qingge that his sister is writing lewd contraband?” said Luo Binghe. He sounded eager, as though he would like very much to personally disillusion and traumatize Liu Qingge for the rest of his life, Shizun only had to say the word.
“Liu Shishu,” Shen Qingqiu automatically corrected him. He waved his hands and fan. “I see your point. Fine, tell me what section you’re planning and I’ll catch up on the rest of the book later.” It looked like a motley assortment. One of the piles, Shen Qingqiu might just mistake for laundry. Were they armwarmers? They’re decorated with ribbons and embroidery, clearly Binghe’s painstaking work. One is a very expensive-looking box. He hoped it wasn’t jewelry again.
“Maybe it’s better to just show you,” Binghe says, smiling brightly and innocently, and slowly, lifts the hem of his robes towards his thighs.