Chapter Text
They return to the palace not long after Mobei-Jun is cleared for discharge. Mu Qingfang has them swear to take it easy for a few more days, and Luo Binghe informs them that in the interim, he had sent Sha Hualing and Madam Meiyin to keep the palace running in Mobei-Jun’s place. They’d wanted him to go down to the Demon World the regular way, but Mobei-Jun had no patience for that; as soon as he was cleared to go, he opened up a portal and pulled Shang Qinghua right through.
As expected, Madam Meiyin and her troupe of succubi were in the audience room, negotiating with the estate manager over winter rationing for the servants. No doubt, Sha Hualing would be in the armory or the war room, looking over defense protocols. Mobei-Jun was feeling well, but not quite well enough to handle her brand of enthusiasm, so after greeting them and thanking them for their service, he promptly returned to his quarters and slept.
--
When he wakes up a full day later, one of Madam Meiyin’s succubi rushes to attend to him. Madam Meiyin has trained her girls well - she’s nothing but professional as she takes care of his every need. Regardless, Mobei-Jun can’t help but wish Shang Qinghua were there, though on most days, the man generally woke at the crack of dawn and had better things to do than bring Mobei-Jun breakfast and help him pick his robes. Regardless, he couldn’t help but ask after him.
The girl smiles kindly at him as she clears his plates and says, “Master Shang should be overseeing the inventory with Warehouse Manager Jiao. Does my lord have a message he would like to pass on?”
Mobei-Jun shakes his head, no. Instead - “I’d like to speak with Madam Meiyin at the soonest opportunity.”
The girl bows deeply and promises to deliver his summons as soon as she can.
With Shang Qinghua bustling about and smoothing negotiations, Madam Meiyin has her schedule cleared up sooner than later and is in Mobei-Jun’s study before the sun is at its zenith. Graceful as always, she pulls into a deep bow at Mobei-Jun’s arrival and greets him, saying, “My lord.”
Mobei-Jun waves her off with a curt, “Cut the formalities,” and takes a seat opposite hers. He purposefully claims the one Shang Qinghua regularly sits in, so she is forced to take his seat.
That makes Madam Meiyin chuckle low in her chest, her eyes demurely cast away. “How might I assist you, my lord?” she asks, flicking her perfumed fan in front of her face.
“Has… Shang Qinghua told you anything?” he asks, balling his fists in his lap.
Madam Meiyin blinks. “Aside from what’s happened, no. Why do you ask?”
Mobei-Jun’s lips form a flat line, as he says, “I’ve… been courting Shang Qinghua.”
“I know. Sha Hualing has told me,” Madam Meiyin says, and her eyes curl into crescents. Mobei-Jun feels, irrationally, as if she’s laughing at him, but he knows better than to let his temper get the better of him. “So how have things progressed since then?”
Mobei-Jun hates how this woman makes him feel wary. “They’ve been. Good,” he grits out, unable to meet her stare.
“But…?” she goads, the lilting tone of her voice putting Mobei-Jun on edge.
Bitterly, he says, “I’ve been trying to do things properly for weeks, but only recently have things been going the way I want them to. Why?”
“What’s changed?” Madam Meiyin asks.
“Nothing. When we were in the human world, Shang Qinghua’s student got injured and we went to rescue her. I tried to protect him and humiliated myself , and he brought me back.”
“It was a good opportunity to show him that you relied on him, no? Isn’t that what you were trying to accomplish?” It stings, knowing that even Madam Meiyin knows how he wants the relationship to go. He definitely needed to talk to Sha Hualing at some point about airing out other people’s laundry.
“I suppose,” he says begrudgingly. He wants to say There’s a clear line between being a subordinate partner and being incompetent , but that’s not where this conversation needs to go “After that, things… progressed well. I’m not sure what I was doing wrong before.”
“Well, what did you do differently this time?”
“I… I was affected by medicine. And I was able to… Hm. I couldn’t stop expressing my thoughts to him.” He thinks back on what he had said, and it still burns in his cheeks, how boldly he foisted everything onto Shang Qinghua.
“Ah, I see.” Neutral statement - an attempt to get him to say more. God, he hated talking to her. She made him say all kinds of things he didn’t know how to admit.
After a long moment, she says, “Perhaps, there’s something here that you can learn from. Maybe he responds well when you use your words, rather than actions.”
Mobei-Jun can’t help the way his face scrunches up in distaste. Madam Meiyin titters at him, and her laugh is grating in a way that Shang Qinghua’s isn’t. “You should be direct with him, my lord. After all, he’s got a… very convoluted mind. A good advisor always thinks several steps ahead after all, and he can only understand so much with actions alone,” she says in a neutral, pacifying manner.
She makes a graceful gesture with her fan as she elaborates further, her once-demure eyes now sharply trained on him. He feels a little like he’s being scolded when she says, “You always push ahead without stopping to consider if the message has come across properly. You’re young; your impulsiveness often leads to misunderstanding. You need to listen to him. You can’t just assume what he wants - doubly so, since he is a human and doesn’t understand our customs.”
Seeing his scowl, she snaps her perfumed fan shut and lifts his chin up with the end of it. “Keep trying, my lord. He loves you very much. He just doesn’t understand you yet.”
With that, she gets up and sashays to the doorway. Before she crosses the threshold, she pauses and looks at him from the corner of her eye. After considering her words, she says, “I wasn’t going to say this, since it isn’t my business to do so, but he’s been waiting for you to make a move. He reeks of it - the kind of energy that builds up because of untapped desires. If he wasn’t so firmly attached to you, I would’ve already snatched him up for my girls to practice on.”
Mobei-Jun stares at her, stricken, as she walks out the door.
--
A week later, Madam Meiyin and Sha Hualing leave the palace. It feels emptier without them, but something eases in Mobei-Jun’s chest as they go. Everything quickly goes back to normal with Mobei-Jun at the helm and Shang Qinghua at his side. With each passing day, he thinks about what Madam Meiyin had said to him, lets it ripple against the waters of his mind until the waves grow too big to be ignored. Rather than put it off, as he has been doing for so long, he resolutely decides to pick a day.
--
Mobei-Jun’s heart is in his throat as he crowds Shang Qinghua against the hallway wall. He’s already cleared out this wing of the manor, warned all of his other servants to avoid it upon threat of evisceration and also probably death, but Shang Qinghua doesn’t know that. For someone whose strategic capabilities could decimate whole clans, his day-to-day common sense was a little lacking. Mobei-Jun has no idea why he loves this man so much. Mobei-Jun knows exactly why he loves this man so much.
“M-My king…?” Shang Qinghua asks, the scrolls overflowing in his arms quivering with his anxious trembling. They hadn’t had the time to talk much these past few days, let alone spend time alone together.
Mobei-Jun leans in over Shang Qinghua, trying desperately to get his ideas together. It had seemed so simple in his head, but now that he’s here, his words have gummed up in his throat. Shang Qinghua smells good - not like perfume or anything so frivolous like that. He smells sharp and bitter like ink; he smells like the coarse soap from the servant’s quarters; he smells like loyalty and service, like something that should be kept by Mobei-Jun’s side forever.
God, he’s getting as sentimental as Luo Binghe; he really needs to get his act together.
With a firm but gentle hand, he lifts Shang Qinghua’s chin up with his free hand and leans in. Shang Qinghua stops breathing as he stares up at him with those wide, wide eyes, waiting for what happens next. He’s been waiting for you , Madam Meiyin had said; it echoes loudly in his skull.
Honestly, Mobei-Jun doesn’t have to do much more than brush his lips against Shang Qinghua’s, and the man is dropping his scrolls and melting against the wall. Emboldened, Mobei-Jun presses in closer, so that their legs slot against each other. Shang Qinghua’s the one that sighs against him, somehow, stupidly, babbling against his lips as he kisses him, murmuring, “My king, my king, ah, my king.”
Shang Qinghua keeps his hands politely against the wall - no doubt in fear that someone might come and see - but it’s clear he wants to touch. Mobei-Jun wishes he would, wishes he knew how much power he had over him, wishes he knew how easily Mobei-Jun would go down to his knees for him, audience or not. It’s both a mercy and a curse that Shang Qinghua doesn’t realize just how valuable he is, so mired in his habits as the head of Cang Qiong’s weakest, most worthless sect. No matter; Mobei-Jun knows quite intimately Shang Qinghua’s worth.
It’s frighteningly easy to pick him up and press him bodily against the wall, holding him up so that he doesn’t have to crane his neck down anymore. Finally, Shang Qinghua lets himself touch, but he keeps his hands light, touching down on Mobei-Jun’s biceps only to let go and hover uselessly elsewhere. They’re pressed together from thigh to chest, and Shang Qinghua is embarrassingly aroused, his erection pressing hot and eager against Mobei-Jun’s stomach. It makes Mobei-Jun’s breath go shaky, makes him want to wrap around Shang Qinghua and rut against him like an animal.
But, no, that’s not the point. He couldn’t rush things. Madam Meiyin said to be direct with him. That’s the best way to get Shang Qinghua to realize his intentions, though knowing the man’s… frighteningly convoluted mind, success wasn’t guaranteed. Mobei-Jun knows he doesn’t have the patience or the forethought to say things more than once. He just. Has to make this time count.
Mobei-Jun gathers his words as he nips down the line of Shang Qinghua’s throat. Shang Qinghua positively writhes in Mobei-Jun’s grasp. Under the constant murmur of Shang Qinghua’s mindless blather, Mobei-Jun whispers, “I want to bring you pleasure.”
Shang Qinghua makes no motion to show he’d even heard him, and that emboldens Mobei-Jun, unties the knots of his tongue into something he can actually use. “You’re so tiny, so deceptively weak, I could snap you in half with my hands alone,” Mobei-Jun groans against Shang Qinghua. “But I won’t. You are the core of my kingdom, the foundation upon which the entirety of my life rests. You hold my power in your hands. My life is yours. And you’re mine.”
Shang Qinghua makes a noise like pain, but the way he grinds down against Mobei-Jun’s leg speaks otherwise. When Mobei-Jun tugs aside Shang Qinghua’s robes to lave his tongue against his nipples, he whimpers and curls over Mobei-Jun’s head, fists clutching tight against Mobei-Jun’s robes. “Oh, my king, please, oh, god, please,” he whimpers.
“I know to treat my things well,” Mobei-Jun murmurs against his chest. Slowly, he lets Shang Qinghua down from where he’s pinned him to the wall and gets down onto his knees. Gently, languidly, he kisses down, down, down, until his path is blocked by the fabric of his belt. “Tell me, Shang Qinghua, what will this king do for you?”
Shang Qinghua whines, thin and reedy, his shaking hands scrabbling to untangle the belt around his waist. Mobei-Jun huffs, a quiet near-laugh that startles Shang Qinghua into stillness. His hands are so much bigger than Shang Qinghua’s as he gently pries them away and undoes the belt for him. Is this clear enough? Does Shang Qinghua witness his service? Does he understand Mobei-Jun’s devotion? Mobei-Jun would never denigrate himself like this for anyone else.
“Shang Qinghua,” Mobei-Jun prompts, kissing the newly-revealed flesh of his stomach. “Tell me.”
When he looks up, Shang Qinghua’s face is red, the way it reddens in the cold. His eyes are big and his mouth is round and his hair is a mess and he looks so appealing. Mobei-Jun wants to destroy him. But patience . He needs patience. Madam Meiyin said that it’s his impulsiveness that leads to misunderstanding. He needs to stop. He needs to listen.
He breathes in a slow breath, and lingers on the comforting smell of his most devoted servant. His man.
Tentatively, Shang Qinghua touches a hand to Mobei-Jun’s hair, flinching back the moment it makes contact as if he were expecting to be punished. Mobei-Jun takes his hand - slowly, slowly , don’t frighten him off - and guides it back. Lets it rest on the curve of one branching horn. God, how humiliating. His heart thrills at such submission. Do you see, Shang Qinghua? Do you see?
Shang Qinghua’s eyes go dark, and even through the unfeeling bone of his horn, Mobei-Jun can feel the way his hands shake. He swallows, nervously licking his lips, and asks, “My King, would you - “
Mobei-Jun tilts his head up. Blinks slowly. Tries not to let his excitement show.
Shang Qinghua brings one of his hands down to cup Mobei-Jun’s face. It’s so achingly slow, like Shang Qinghua is trying to tame a small animal, like he’s trying to tame him the way he’s trying to tame Shang Qinghua. Two animals circling one another. Two people offering their submission. It’s infuriatingly tender. Mobei-Jun doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to handle the rush of want in his chest.
He doesn’t even need to ask, for Mobei-Jun to open his mouth and let that thumb explore. The pads of his fingers are bitter and earthy - the ink he’d just been using on the scrolls now littering the ground, no doubt. For someone with such meticulous writing, he gets ink everywhere. Although they’re already stained beyond washing, Mobei-Jun does his best to lick them clean. Shang Qinghua breathes in shaky breaths through his nose.
“Tell me,” Mobei-Jun says, around the intrusions in his mouth. The words come out garbled, embarrassing, and Shang Qinghua chokes back a moan.
“My king, may I, can this, this humble servant - can I please. Your mouth, my king, I,” he stammers, hardly coherent. Shang Qinghua is so fucking intelligent , and Mobei-Jun throbs with the knowledge that he is one of the few that can make him stupid. He rewards Shang Qinghua by pulling off of his hand, kissing each wet fingertip goodbye, and pressing his face against the tent in his pants. Shang Qinghua whines, his hips twitching against Mobei-Jun’s face, dragging the length of it against his cheek. Before he can spook himself and pull back, Mobei-Jun’s hands come up and hold his hips there, allowing himself to breathe in deep. Shang Qinghua smells good. Warm, in some intangible way, underneath the smell of arousal. Mobei-Jun wants to smell like him, wants to be Shang Qinghua’s in this inexplicable, animal way.
It briefly occurs to him that it would be an even greater show of submission for Mobei-Jun to untie the laces of Shang Qinghua’s trousers with something other than his hands. How pathetic would that be? No doubt, Shang Qinghua would see his efforts so deliberately piteous that he would recognize Mobei-Jun’s acknowledgement of his strength, his competence. And so, with his sharp fangs, Mobei-Jun pulls apart that silly little bow at the front of Shang Qinghua’s pants and tugs them down to his thighs together with his undergarments. His cock enthusiastically springs out, nearly hitting Mobei-Jun in the face, and Mobei-Jun huffs a quiet laugh against it. Shang Qinghua watches him with big eyes, petting his hand reverently against Mobei-Jun’s horn.
When he finally puts his mouth around Shang Qinghua, that gentle touch becomes a desperate vice. It becomes difficult for Mobei-Jun to move his head with Shang Qinghua holding him in place, and when he glares up at him, Shang Qinghua looks rightly embarrassed. He makes no move to let Mobei-Jun go, however, so Mobei-Jun does the next best thing - he opens his mouth and lets his tongue lave at the head.
Shang Qinghua squeaks, his hips snapping forward just enough for Mobei-Jun to get another taste, before it’s gone again. “I’m, I’m sorry my king, I -” Shang Qinghua stammers, looking for all intents and purposes like he would want to do that again but won’t let himself. “I’m going to - can I just -”
“Again,” Mobei-Jun rasps, eyes glaring up at Shang Qinghua.
“I’m, I’m sorry?” Shang Qinghua stammers, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Again,” he repeats, opening his mouth wide. Letting his forked tongue hang out, if only for emphasis. Shang Qinghua looks down as his mouth, then up at his eyes, and then back down again. Swallows. Looks away in shame and hesitation. But the grasp on his horns betrays his want, and Mobei-Jun knows all he needs is some prodding. “ Again ,” he says, low enough that Shang Qinghua shivers and stands at attention.
“Y-yes, my king,” he says, his voice creaking. Gingerly, Shang Qinghua eases himself into Mobei-Jun’s mouth, unable to stop the quiet moan from escaping his lips. Mobei-Jun allows him to ease all the way in before gently sucking, letting his tongue flick this way and that. Shang Qinghua’s voice comes out in a gasp, content to stay there until Mobei-Jun urges him forward with his hands.
Shang Qinghua gets the message quick.
Slowly, gently, he starts easing his hips back and forth, the motions simple, shallow. Above him, Shang Qinghua trembles, his hands weak and shaking on Mobei-Jun’s horns. Mobei-Jun could easily break out, but he obediently stays still, lets Shang Qinghua move him about, keeps his hands gentle on Shang Qinghua’s thighs. It doesn’t take long for Shang Qinghua to pick up speed, his hips stuttering with every thrust, his stomach touching to Mobei-Jun’s nose.
Mobei-Jun feels tight and heavy with pleasure, with the humiliation of abject servitude. Shang Qinghua must know, by now, how much Mobei-Jun values him. How much power Mobei-Jun allows him to wield over him. How could he not know, what with the fervor Shang Qinghua is grinding into Mobei-Jun’s mouth?
Unable to help himself, Mobei-Jun eases his legs apart a fraction further, just enough to angle his hips a little closer to the ground. Just enough for a little pressure, and before he realizes it, Shang Qinghua’s hips still, pressed in so close that his hands push Mobei-Jun’s horns back an inch, tilting his head back and letting the salty bitterness pour down Mobei-Jun’s throat. Mobei-Jun’s own hips spasm as he swallows Shang Qinghua’s seed. He holds him there long enough for Mobei-Jun’s breath to come out in little puffs through his nose.
Seconds tick by before Shang Qinghua comes back to his senses, before he realizes just what he’s done. Mobei-Jun knows when it happens, because Shang Qinghua promptly freaks out, throwing his hands back and pulling out of Mobei-Jun’s mouth. Mobei-Jun almost misses the heat of it, the weight of it. “My king, oh god, I’m so sorry, my king please,” Shang Qinghua babbles, his tone getting more and more distraught with every passing second.
Mobei-Jun allows himself a moment to collect himself, to pull himself back from the brink. He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack, but as poignantly pathetic as that would be, Shang Qinghua must know by now. He doesn’t need to debase himself further, no matter what that lust-addled voice in his head says. He wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand and pulls himself to his feet. Then, with his clean hand, he hauls Shang Qinghua to his own unsteady legs. Between the two of them, Shang Qinghua looks like an absolute mess, what with papers all around, robes in disarray, hair a tangled mess, cock still out and wet -
Mobei-Jun ignores that last part. It wouldn’t do for him to take his pleasure in Shang Qinghua’s presence. It’s part of the demonstration of servitude, of submission. It would muddy the message for him to prioritize Shang Qinghua’s pleasure and then turn around and take his own. But he’s close. He’s so fucking close, and he wants to just be done with it, but he can’t and -
Brusquely, he straightens Shang Qinghua’s clothes, reties his belt, and pets his hair. “The warehouse manager needs those scrolls. Hurry along,” he manages, before turning to leave Shang Qinghua to his duties.
However, as he takes a step forward, he finds Shang Qinghua’s hand fisted tightly around the sleeve of his robes. “My king… you, uh, you haven’t -” Shang Qinghua says, his voice small and getting smaller as Mobei-Jun stares down at him. He swallows hard, and looks up at Mobei-Jun with determined eyes - and oh, that is a good look - and says, “I want to bring you pleasure, too.”
Having his words redirected at him in that specific voice with that specific look on his face makes Mobei-Jun want to curl up somewhere and maybe jerk off for a week, but he manages to reign himself in long enough to stop and think about it. He wanted - he wanted to give a clear message, to let Shang Qinghua know once and for all that this was their relationship, that Shang Qinghua has the right to take what he wants because Mobei-Jun will willingly give it. But, also, he thinks about Luo Binghe telling him to go after what he wants - what they both want, without any preconceived notions of what’s “right” or “proper”. And Shang Qinghua says he wants this - wants. Wants Mobei-Jun’s pleasure, too.
He opens up a portal to his bedroom and tugs Shang Qinghua in with him.
Mobei-Jun stops at the edge of the bed, but Shang Qinghua stumbles into him, accidentally pushing him onto his hands there. Mobei-Jun nearly moves to right himself, but stops when he feels Shang Qinghua holding him steady with a hand between the shoulder blades, keeping him still a moment longer. He can feel the long line of Shang Qinghua’s body warm against his back, trembling ever so slightly as he says, “I’ve, I’ve been thinking about you. So much. All the time, really; it’s embarrassing how much I do.”
He picks up confidence when he realizes Mobei-Jun won’t move, won’t even turn around to judge him. It’s like a dam breaks, and Shang Qinghua curls his fingers in Mobei-Jun’s robes as he says, “Ever since, god, maybe that first time we were doing paperwork and ate together? Do you remember that? That was like a couple months ago. Maybe more. I’d been having, like, the worst day, and then you brought me food and I totally embarrassed myself in front of you. And then you took me here. You know, I thought you were, I was hoping you would - I thought you were going to take me and f-fuck me, on your bed.”
Mobei-Jun breathes out a harsh breath, fighting the overwhelming urge to turn around and look at Shang Qinghua’s face. “I jerked off to that for weeks,” Shang Qinghua admits quietly. Shang Qinghua’s other hand starts drifting lower, lower, until it rests on Mobei-Jun’s hip, and he can’t help the way he twitches. “There was,” Shang Qinghua draws in a deep breath, “There was this other time, god, I don’t remember why, but you were eating - you were eating fruit? And I don’t know what was wrong with me, but you were… really sexy.” His hand kneads against his hip, but it doesn’t get any closer to Mobei-Jun’s dick, and Mobei-Jun wants to groan in frustration. But he stays, he waits patiently until Shang Qinghua lets him go, gives him permission to move. God he’s so hard, he’s shaking.
“And then you were - I spilled my tea on you, and you took off your outer robes, and your inner robes were so loose and thin, and I kept, I kept looking at your chest. Did you notice? I hoped you didn’t notice. I was hard, like, the entire time.” The last bit comes out a little breathless, and Mobei-Jun struggles to keep his breathing even, to keep the whine from seeping out with every breath.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m making this about myself, but you can’t - you can’t just suck me off in a hallway and expect me to shut up about anything. Y-you should know this. All of it. How much you affect me.
You know, that time, when you visited me while I was writing? I was writing shameless porn and thinking about you. And then, and then you went and read my manuscript and you told me you’d tell me the kind of stuff you liked and I panicked? I spent like twenty minutes that morning wishing I had the guts to say yes.” Shang Qinghua laughs a little under his breath, and says, “Then I spent like five minutes after that jerking off. I kept thinking about you and imagining what you’d like and I shot off so fast.”
“Please,” is all that Mobei-Jun is able to manage, his hips moving of their own accord as he tries, and fails, to keep his shit together. “Please.”
“Please? Oh! Right, yes,” Shang Qinghua says, breaking out of his nonstop stream-of-consciousness blabbering, and finally reaching a little further to squeeze his cock. Mobei-Jun lets go of a long, shaking breath, letting his head drop to the sheets, his arms giving way to the elbows. Behind him, he can hear Shang Qinghua go, “ Oh! ” but he can barely hear anything beyond the rush of pleasure thrumming in his veins.
“You’re… you’re almost there, aren’t you? Just from sucking me off?” Shang Qinghua asks, his voice still quiet, but imbued with a sense of awe that Mobei-Jun thrills at.
“Y-yes,” Mobei-Jun manages, spreading his legs a bit so that Shang Qinghua has a better angle. Behind him, Shang Qinghua breathes out a long sigh, his other hand playing with the drawstring on Mobei-Jun’s trousers.
“Oh, my king,” Shang Qinghua says, as he pulls it loose and gently pushes his hands inside.
“Oh, wow,” he whispers, as his fingers make a tight ring around him. “You’re really - you’re really wet. Wow.”
Mobei-Jun’s hips stutter against his hand once, twice, before he’s able to reign himself in. Shang Qinghua teases him, pumping slowly as he works up the courage to ask, “What do you want me to do?”
It brings Mobei-Jun to a full body shiver, and he thinks about what he wants. He thinks about Shang Qinghua standing over him, still mostly clothed, holding him in place as he takes what he wants. He thinks of Shang Qinghua with his hands in his hair going tight, and tighter still with every step closer to completion.
He thinks of Shang Qinghua lying in bed, thinking of him, and wonders what he thinks about when he cries out.
“Can you go again?” Mobei-Jun asks, knees shaking just the slightest bit as Shang Qinghua’s work-rough hands slide up against something sensitive.
Shang Qinghua’s hand stills as he breathes, “Wh -”
“Can you go again?” Mobei-Jun demands, compensating for it with a roll of his hips. Shang Qinghua startles into action again as he stammers out, “Um. Yeah. I - yeah.”
“Put it in me.”
Shang Qinghua goes still again, his hand loosening and threatening to pull away. Mobei-Jun makes a growl of impatience as his love pets his hip and asks, “O-oh. Are you - Are you sure?”
Mobei-Jun loves him, very, very much, but right now he just wishes Shang Qinghua would get on with it . “Do you have any complaints?” He can’t help it if it comes out just a little biting.
Shang Qinghua flinches, quickly stammering, “N-No! Definitely not, my king! I uh, definitely. Have no complaints.” He gives Mobei-Jun’s cock one last little squeeze as he pulls his hand out of his pants and asks, “Um. Lubricant. Where do you - do you have any -”
“In the drawer. Hurry.”
As Shang Qinghua rifles through Mobei-Jun’s personal things, he relaxes onto his bed, trying to calm down as he lets his legs give. Absently, he’s aware of Shang Qinghua muttering a constant stream of “oh shit, oh fuck, oh god, oh shit” under his breath, which he chokes back as he approaches, cradling a small jar of oil that Mobei-Jun keeps for. Purposes.
“Um, my king, how should we - do you want to -” he glances down at Mobei-Jun’s clawed hands, and promptly says, “Actually, I’ll do it. Um. T-turn on your back?”
Mobei-Jun looks up at him and obediently turns over. Stomach exposed, like a dog.
Shang Qinghua gets down on his knees, looking every part the perfect servant as he tugs off Mobei-Jun’s boots. Then, he reaches for Mobei-Jun’s belt, but flinches back at his glare. “You’re shy now?” Mobei-Jun asks, watching as Shang Qinghua watches him back.
“I - um,” he’s turning red alarmingly quickly. “I, I can’t help it. My king. Is. Very good looking. This servant fears he’ll displease.”
“Don’t - Just take what you want. I want that,” Mobei-Jun says easily, and Shang Qinghua draws in a sharp breath. With trembling hands, he unties Mobei-Jun’s belt and pushes his robes aside, leaving nothing to disguise the tent in his trousers.
Shang Qinghua reaches out to press heavily against it with the palm of his hand, and Mobei-Jun can’t help but rise up to meet him, a trembling exhale leaving his lungs. He gropes at him a little while longer, watching, glassy-eyed, as Mobei-Jun squirms, before finally taking mercy and tugging the trousers off.
“Um. Maybe. While I -” Shang Qinghua makes a motion with his fingers - “You should. Touch yourself a little bit?”
“Mm,” Mobei-Jun hums, obediently playing with himself as Shang Qinghua dabs the oil onto his fingers. He doesn’t go fast - he can’t; he wants to wait until Shang Qinghua is. Is inside, before he -
Gently - too gently, he smears oil at his entrance, and pushes in. It’s the anticipation, more than the sensation, that makes Mobei-Jun let go of a soft, “ Ah .” Shang Qinghua laughs a little - soft, directionless, meant to comfort rather than confront. He pointedly doesn’t look up at Mobei-Jun’s face, instead petting his hip as he wiggles his finger experimentally.
“Like that,” Mobei-Jun grits out, just barely loud enough to hear. “In and out. Give me another.”
“Ah,” Shang Qinghua says, mechanically, obediently, complying. There’s a little more of a stretch, now, but Mobei-Jun’s body accepts it easily. It’s strange, this feeling of alien vulnerability - he can understand why people like it.
“My king - my king is… incredible,” Shang Qinghua says absentmindedly, staring down at the hole that sucks his fingers in so easily. Mobei-Jun’s hand stutters as Shang Qinghua scissors his fingers, pulling out to add more oil and plunging back in soon after. He thinks he might’ve made a sound, but he’s not quite sure, under the rush of arousal, the rush of anticipation in his ears. He’s never felt this raw in his life. He wants to feel it more.
Shang Qinghua’s other hand kneads gently at the muscle of Mobei-Jun’s thigh, pushing it open a little wider as he does as ordered. In and out. In and out.
Mobei-Jun’s hips twitch up, as Shang Qinghua brushes up against something inside of him, his hand falling to grasp at the blankets below him. “Ah, you’re beautiful. I didn’t think you’d ever want this, but,” Shang Qinghua breaths out, makes a soft, bitten-off curse as he attempts three fingers, now. It’s good, it’s good, it’s so good. “Oh, my king, oh . Look at you - you hardly even need to adjust. You take it so easily, my king. You’re so good to me, my king,” he coos, eyes glued to the minute movements of Mobei-Jun’s hips, watching hungrily as his cock bobs with the motion.
In and out. In and out.
He brushes against that spot more and more often, and Mobei-Jun can feel it coming back again. His knee goes up, his toes curl, and Shang Qinghua holds him open easily with a hand at the back of his knee, twisting his wrist in a way that makes him feel stuffed full, makes him feel helpless and limp. He likes this. He likes this so much, and he knows he’s probably making these odd, ugly, unintentional noises, but he can hardly think to stop himself. He just hears Shang Qinghua’s quiet mumbling - “Ah, my king, so pretty, my king -” feels his fingers going harder, faster, and -
“Enough,” Mobei-Jun gasps out, his voice creaking and breathless. Shang Qinghua goes still with his fingers halfway out, his eyes finally flicking up to look Mobei-Jun in the eyes. His face goes red almost instantly. “Enough. I want you.”
Shang Qinghua rests his forehead against Mobei-Jun’s raised knee and takes a steadying breath. His fingers slip out of him, and Mobei-Jun is only vaguely aware of the sigh he makes. It takes a second - and Mobei-Jun is grateful for it - for him to calm down enough to untie his trousers again and shove them to his knees. He doesn’t bother much with his robes, just moves them to the side as he spills oil in his hand and slicks himself up.
“Are you ready, my king?” Shang Qinghua asks, his voice only barely trembling as he musters up the nerve to look Mobei-Jun in the eye - and instantly dropping his gaze again. His ears are red.
“Do it,” Mobei-Jun says, moving his hips insistently. Shang Qinghua takes a steadying breath and lines himself up.
The first time he pushes, he slips, the head of his dick nudging up against Mobei-Jun’s balls. Shang Qinghua laughs nervously and tries again and -
Ah . It’s good. Mobei-Jun likes the slow insistent push of that blunt head inward. He likes the soft little whimper Shang Qinghua makes even better. From his vantage point, he can just barely see the way Shang Qinghua’s eyebrows knit up, can see the way his chest heaves with the effort to go slow, can see the red creeping down his neck. Ah, he loves this man.
“Go on. Move,” Mobei-Jun says, and Shang Qinghua obeys. His hips are not nearly as clever as his fingers, but he moves with a force that pushes deep sighs from Mobei-Jun’s lungs. His hands are slippery - from oil, from sweat - and after a few more thrusts, he lets go of Mobei-Jun’s leg, tugs Mobei-Jun’s hips closer, and bears down on him as relentlessly as he can.
The new angle is good . It brushes against that spot inside him, makes him twitch and tighten and curse, makes Shang Qinghua moan. Shang Qinghua tries to get a hand around him, but it’s sloppy and loose and out of rhythm - though frankly, Mobei-Jun doesn’t mind. He doesn’t last long like that - neither of them do. Mobei-Jun comes first, and Shang Qinghua nearly stops, nearly pulls out, until he hisses a tight, “Keep going,” at him.
Shang Qinghua’s hips jackrabbit mindlessly into him without any real consistency. The sensation sends electricity zapping down his spine so intense that’s almost unpleasant. Mobei-Jun fights not to squirm in Shang Qinghua’s grasp as his raw nerves protest against the rough treatment; it’s quickly becoming too much, even for a demon lord like Mobei-Jun. But he wants Shang Qinghua use him, wants to make him feel good, and it’s that thought that has him gasping when his love finally pulls out and spills on his chest.
Shang Qinghua’s breaths come in tight little moans as he shivers through his orgasm, and it’s only when Mobei-Jun tugs him down to rest at his side that he lets his trembling arms rest.
For a long time, they lay there loosely, breathing hard. Shang Qinghua glances up at him and grins wide. “You had this planned out,” he says, more than asks.
“Mm. Yes,” Mobei-Jun says in return.
“For how long?”
“Years, maybe. But not like this. This is new.” Mobei-Jun pointedly ignores the sharp intake of breath that Shang Qinghua takes.
“Oh?” Shang Qinghua asks, trying for casual and failing spectacularly.
“Mm. It’s. Good. I’ll be thinking about it, when you’re not here,” Mobei-Jun says, and Shang Qinghua laughs in delight. They settle in after that. Shang Qinghua asks, once, if he should get up and clean, but Mobei-Jun only dips a finger into the cooling mess and freezes it solid. He lazily peels it off of his abs and tosses it to the ground to deal with at a later time. Shang Qinghua practically howls with laughter.
Minutes later, when Mobei-Jun’s dozing and Shang Qinghua’s laughter has died off, Shang Qinghua sits up in a cold sweat and gasps, “The scrolls.”
Eyes closed, Mobei-Jun tugs him down and pulls him close. “The scrolls can wait,” he grumbles, and drifts off. “I want this now.”
--
Luo Binghe and Cucumber-bro are coming to visit! It’s officially some kind of diplomacy thing - they’ve actually been working really hard to make this weird tentative alliance between the demon lords and Cang Qiong work - but honestly, it’s more of a vacation than anything. Shang Qinghua doesn’t have a fucking clue why anyone would want to come up to this frigid wasteland, but apparently, Mobei-Jun’s got hotsprings to die for hidden somewhere up here. Shang Qinghua almost wants to complain - he’s the boyfriend, after all! (holy shit they’re boyfriends holy fuck they fucked holy shit Shang Qinghua’s not a virgin after, like, 2 lives and 50 odd years of existence and it’s really fucking great) - but then he remembers, boyfriend. Ice demon. Hard no on the romantic hot springs getaway for two. Still, he kind of wishes he’d taken the time to write in a little more recreational activity up here. There’s only so much hot tea and ice skating a person can do.
Because it’s technically a diplomacy thing, Luo Binghe’s already sent Sha Hualing ahead, and Mobei-Jun’s sent word for a few of the more prominent clans up north to come visit. That’s not for a few days, though. However, Sha Hualing being Sha Hualing of course has already come up and made herself at home. Shang Qinghua isn’t avoiding her, per se. But he definitely isn’t lining up to go see her. It’s only been two days, and his Pavlovian avoidance of jingling jewelry has reared its ugly head once more.
He’d just managed to finish up playing messenger between Forman Gau and Warehouse Manager Jiao (because god forbid the two demons actually have a civil fucking conversation together) when one of the imps stopped him to relay a message - if Shang Qinghua was free in 15 minutes, Mobei-Jun would be in the study with lunch, should he care to join him. God, is that supposed to be romantic? Because it is, it totally is. Shang Qinghua’s always kind of dreamed about having one of those relationships where his partner sometimes stops by his workplace with lunch just for him, and the thought of his (literally) frigid boyfriend doing it is. Oh, man, his chest is all fluttery.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s really, really fine. He needs to deliver some reports to Mobei-Jun’s study, anyways.
He’s heading down the long hall that leads to the hall that the study opens up to, when he hears it - that dreadful jingling. Honestly, when he wrote it in, he hadn’t expected it to be that annoying, but after years of knowing Sha Hualing, he’s really, really, fucking glad he wrote it in (even if it gives him heart palpitations). He’s about to turn tail, when -
“Someone’s been in a good mood lately,” she says, and oh, is she talking to someone? “Your weird tweaky human finally fuck your brains out?”
“Mm,” and holy shit, is that Mobei-Jun ?? Oh god. Oh god, he’s the weird tweaky human!
“What, really ? I didn’t think he had the guts!” Sha Hualing says, and god, she’s so loud - Shang Qinghua can’t believe they’re literally having this conversation in public oh god - “I told you the sex appeal approach would work!”
The sex appeal approach? Wait. What sex appeal approach (how could there be a sex appeal approach if Mobei-Jun was literally sex incarnate)? The thought of Mobei-Jun actually attempting to be sexy is going to give him a heart attack right in this hallway and he’ll die - RIP Shang Qinghua, died with a super embarrassing boner minutes before he was supposed to meet his boner-maker for lunch but at least he got some before he keeled over like a lecherous old man -
Mobei-Jun snorts. “No.”
There’s a pause, before Sha Hualing says, disbelievingly, “You’re kidding me - you did it?!” He did. Shang Qinghua still can’t get over this fact. It still makes him giddy. “You shameless bastard! Good on you!” There’s a loud thump, and Shang Qinghua can swear he hears Mobei-Jun make a soft wheezing sound. “How did it go?”
“It was good,” Mobei-Jun says, and his voice is so low and so dreamy (and god, he thought it was good ).
“Yeah?” Sha Hualing asks, and Shang Qinghua can hear the fondness in his voice when Mobei-Jun says, “Yeah.”
God, Shang Qinghua really will die happy. “He grabbed me by the horns and used my mouth. And then I asked him to use me,” Mobei-Jun says, and okay, scratch that, Shang Qinghua will die horny and embarrassed. It’s been like a week and his ears still burn like crazy just thinking about it! He’d even jerked off to the thought of it this morning! Wow. Mobei-Jun still thinks about it too? God . Wow .
“ Nice! I didn’t think you had it in you!” After a pause, Sha Hualing’s grating voice softens, and she asks, “You’re really taking this thing to heart, aren’t you?” (Wait, what thing??)
“Mm.” ( What thing??)
“You get him those new rooms yet?”
“I tried,” Wait, is that why Mobei-Jun asked him to pack up his things? “He did not want it. He’s been staying in my rooms more often, though.”
“ Ha! ” And wait, the jingling is starting to get pretty close, isn’t it? “I’m honestly glad for - Oh!” Shang Qinghua barely has enough time to tighten his grasp on his scrolls when Sha Hualing nearly crashes into him. She blinks at him for a second, and pulls her mouth into a razor-sharp grin. She knows . Shang Qinghua’s face heats with mortification when she says, “Shang Qinghua. We were just talking about you.”
“A-ah. Yes. Thank you, mistress, this servant is below your notice, mistress,” Shang Qinghua manages, bowing low in order to keep from meeting her eye. God, she knows, she knows, she knows . Not just that he’s been doing sex things with Mobei-Jun, but that he’d been listening to their every! single! Word!!! His face is so red.
Sha Hualing turns to Mobei-Jun, and she says, “I guess I’ll leave you to your lunch, then, my lord. Have fun!” Shang Qinghua straightens up in time to catch her winking lasciviously at his boyfriend, before she turns and prances away. When she’s finally out of sight, (and out of hearing distance; god, she sounds like a herd of reindeer), he turns to look at Mobei-Jun. He’s got a basket in his hand, and man, this sure is the epitome of domestic bliss, isn’t it?
The Ice King stares down at him and blinks slowly. “Shang Qinghua,” he says, by way of greeting.
“My king,” he manages, hoping his face isn’t the humiliating shade of vermilion he knows it probably is. At least he knows Mobei-Jun’s hearing (probably) isn’t so good that he can hear how quickly his heart’s pounding.
Mobei-Jun doesn’t move from in front of him, and after an awkwardly long amount of time, Shang Qinghua finally musters up the nerve to look at him. Mobei-Jun’s eyes are soft, and his hand reaches up to stroke at Shang Qinghua’s cheek. “Are you hungry?” he asks, and his voice is so soft. God, Shang Qinghua is in love.
“Yeah. Let’s eat,” he says, and together, they walk to the study.