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“Of all days to sleep in, it had to be today, good going Shen Yuan!” Shen Yuan scolded himself, hauling a tangle of netting with haste to the Luo river. “You could have left the sword unsharpened until the morning but no, you had to stay up late and nearly miss your chance to catch dinner!”
Not that it’s was late in the morning per se, truthfully it was barely an hour past dawn, but tide and fish wait for no man and Shen Yuan doesn’t feel like getting sneered at by pitying fishermen again. So he dragged his whining, bleary-eyed self through his morning routine, miraculously refrained from braining himself stumbling through the forge, and now here he is, tossing nets and cursing when they tangle from his sleep-clumsy hands.
In another world, Shen Yuan would have slept later and cursed himself, resigned to vegetables and rice only for his dinner. Later he would hear in stunned horror of a public trial, of the Cang Qiong Mountain Sect Leader’s death by arrows, of the very end of the world and his life with it.
But that is not this world.
In this world, Shen Yuan wakes up in time. In this world, Shen Yuan sees the body floating down the river, wide and slow and silty, and is alarmed enough to go splashing in to drag it out. To see that it— he, is alive, battered and bruised, but alive.
He’s a handsome man, Shen Yuan notices when he shoves the hair out of his face. Despite the bags under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, the too pale pallor of his skin, he’s breathtakingly beautiful. Almost radiating charm, arousing within any onlooker a well of sympathy for whatever plight befell him thus far.
Perhaps he’s too handsome, Shen Yuan amends. A dangerous kind of gorgeous that Shen Yuan probably shouldn’t be hauling home and yet here he is.
Hauling this Dangerously Handsome Man home.
He hopes Dangerously Handsome Man doesn’t take every bump Shen Yuan inadvertently inflicts on him getting there personally. Shen Yuan can’t help that the guy is tall and heavy, ah! Really, he only has himself to blame for Shen Yuan’s struggling here!
Of course, Shen Yuan manages to get all the way to his little bedroom before it occurs to him he can’t just dump Dangerously Handsome Man on it and call it good. For one, he’ll stink up the mattress with river smell — no thanks! — and for another, he might catch cold and die and leave a different mess for Shen Yuan to clean up. Well, probably not get that sick, he’s clearly a cultivator, but still!
“This is not how I pictured my morning going,” Shen Yuan groaned, rubbing his face. Fine, fine, so what if he had to strip the man a little? He’d survive!
First went the belt and scabbard— huh
Huh.
“Well, you’re not a spirit sword at all,” he said matter of factly to the malevolent thing radiating the feel of a predator who hadn’t decided whether to eat you yet but was definitely certain you were trespassing. “If you’ll wait until I finish up with your—” Human? Maybe? “Person, I can tend to you too.”
The general feeling of malevolence narrowed upon him. Shen Yuan set the sword down carefully.
Okay then.
Shen Yuan finished peeling Dangerously Handsome Man out of his robes, feeling more than a bit like he was peeling a steamed taro. Except a steamed taro he couldn’t look directly at for fear of searing his eyes with… all that.
...Could he even fit all that under a measly blanket?! How did it fit in his pants, ah!?
Shen Yuan shook himself. Don’t think about it! Just— just get Dangerously Hung— Handsome! Dangerously Handsome Man dried off, on the bed, and safely under the covers where out of sight is safely out of mind!
‘Course, then he had the pile of wet clothes to deal with, so that was another half an hour trying to rinse the river smell off before giving up and just hanging them out to dry.
Finally, finally, he can attend to the very curious, possibly murderous sword.
“I have to say, I’m dying of curiosity over you,” Shen Yuan told it as he carried it out to the forge. All his sword tending equipment and whatnot was in there. And it was a safe distance from naked men and things Shen Yuan is trying valiantly not to think about. “I’ve never seen anything like you before. And I’m from Wan Jian Peak, so that’s saying something! We’ve got every kind of sword imaginable there and then some on Wan Jian! But you? I’ve never seen your like before.”
The sword spirit preened in his hands. Just a bit. Shen Yuan might have missed it were he not attuned to all things sword spirit thanks to his cultivation path. Still imminently murdery, but more of a cat way. Shen Yuan thought it a good sign.
“I’m going to unsheathe you now,” he informed it. “I need to see what I’m working with— oh, you are gorgeous.”
And it was. Maybe it was a bit embarrassing to sweet talk the spirit so shamelessly like this but it was an undeniable looker of a blade. A black and red hilt decorated with dragons, and a snow white blade that gleamed even without spiritual energy. Every inch of the blade was a masterwork that must have taken a literal immortal’s lifetime of perfected skill. A truly unparalleled master made this, Shen Yuan realized, hands trembling a little in his excitement and awe, and—
He grimaced. It reeked of blood.
“Right, let’s take care of that first,” Shen Yuan said, setting the sword down on his anvil carefully. “Bet you’ll feel so much better once you’re clean.” Sword spirits usually did.
With practiced motions, Shen Yuan pulled out a rectangular, shallow tub and filled it with lukewarm water. Carefully, he laid the reeking, murdery sword in it until it was submerged, reaching for the little bottle of elixir he kept for just this purpose—
A blade nudged under the soft part of his chin. Shen Yuan went still.
A glance up revealed it to be the very one he finished last night, clutched in the hand a very angry, very naked Dangerously Handsome Man whose modesty was only protected by a sheet.
“Good morning?” Shen Yuan hazarded, slowly, carefully, raising his hands to show he was no threat. “Are you… feeling better?”
“Who are you and what do you think you’re doing to Xin Mo?” Dangerously Handsome Man demanded. Shit, and even his voice was handsome! Dangerously!
“This one is Shen Yuan of Wan Jian Peak, of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect,” he said. “I pulled you out of the river this morning. As for your sword; I’m cleaning it.”
It’s long overdue! Shen Yuan finished internally.
“Wan Jian Peak,” Dangerously Handsome Man repeated, straight brows furrowed. “I was under the impression none of you ever left the mountain.” The look on his face said he was calling Shen Yuan a liar, and possibly other less savory names. Shen Yuan scowled.
“I’m a senior disciple expanding my horizons!” Shen Yuan said loftily. Which was technically true! ...from a certain point of view. Unofficially, Shen Yuan was temporarily exiled until tempers cooled after an unfortunate mishap involving Shen Qingqiu and a virgin detecting sword. Shen Yuan admits his wrongs, but who knew so many people would get in a fluster, ah? “Now are you going to stop being such an ungrateful guest any time soon? I’d like to get on with my day, please.”
Dangerously Handsome Man hesitated, hand relaxing on the hilt of his stolen sword. “Xin Mo doesn’t need cleaning.”
Wow, Heart Demon was an incredibly indicative name.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Shen Yuan informed him, cautiously poking the sword away from his throat. “This poor thing smells like enough old blood to put an abandoned butchery to shame. Did you find it in a mass grave or something?”
Dangerously Handsome Man twitched.
“It’s a demonic sword, it does that,” he growled. Handsomely. Also not humanly. Shen Yuan was having some suspicions.
...wait.
Wait a minute.
A… demonic sword? As in, a sword not merely forged by a demon, but also imbued with demonic power in the manner of a spirit sword? A spirit sword meant for demons only? As in, the one advantage cultivators have over demons being the versatility of their spiritual weapons rendered obsolete? That kind of demonic sword?
Shen Yuan kind of wanted to squeal at the top of his lungs in sheer delight. Demonic sword!
Also, maybe, gibber. A bit. Because; oh shit, demonic sword.
But later.
“Still no harm in letting me do my job,” Shen Yuan insisted, reaching for the elixir once more. Repress, repress, compartmentalize! “If nothing else I can cut down on the smell.”
There was nothing Dangerously Handsome Man could say in defense of that.
Xin Mo pulsed demonic qi in the tub, like a nerve-raking, hair-raising cat yowling for its promised treat.
Dangerously Handsome Man twitched harder and put the sword down. “Fine.”
Vindicated, Shen Yuan turned and poured in a single drop of Thousand Petal Purifying Lotus Oil, Wan Jian Special™ guaranteed to remove blood or you didn’t put your back into it!
Instantly, putrid blood bubbled off the blade like the most morbid of bath bombs, turning the water pink, red, black in short order. In no time at all you couldn’t even see the sword, there was so much blood.
Shen Yuan shared a meaningful, equally what-the-fuck glance with Dangerously Handsome Man.
“Ah,” Dangerously Handsome Man said.
“Ah,” Shen Yuan nodded in reply.
“Is it supposed to do that?”
“Uh,” Shen Yuan inched back as blood began to drip down the sides of the tub. The smell of metal and cooked steak permeated the forge. “Yes? Sort of? Swords that have seen battle always bleed when bathed. Especially if there’s blood rust in the crevices.” Shen Yuan’s never seen anything like this however. “Could you, um, grab that— next to you, yeah.”
Dangerously Handsome Man passed over another tub.
Shen Yuan sacrificed a pair of tongs to retrieve the Xin Mo sword and restart the process all over again while Dangerously Handsome Man went to dump out the first tub. He had to wince when the blood dumped on the ground hissed like acid on limestone.
It took several more baths and half the bottle of Thousand Petal Purifying Lotus Oil before the water only turned the slightest bit pink. By then, the ground outside stunk to high heaven and looked extremely cursed. Shen Yuan made a mental note to exorcise it later. At least the Xin Mo sword already looked much improved, smelling of clean metal and leather now, plus the qi it radiated no longer felt quite as oppressively miasmic.
“That was… a lot of blood,” Dangerously Handsome Man said with a careful wince, disturbed. But at the same time, he looked as if a weight had been taken of his shoulders, standing taller, less tense. “I mean, it knew it was— I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Speaking of,” Shen Yuan turned to him, “where did you find this thing again? And what can you tell me about it?”
Dangerously Handsome Man squinted at him suspiciously. “Why do you need to know?”
Shen Yuan wanted to hit him.
“So I can tend to it properly, now details!” Shen Yuan said impatiently. Spirit swords weren’t like regular old mortal swords where some basic oil and powder would do, you had to consider the elements and alignments at play! If a sword was strongly aligned with a certain element, Shen Yuan would select materials that complimented it to strengthen or temper it accordingly. The more unique the sword, the more thought had to go into its treatment. And the older a sword was the more opinionated it got. Believe him, you did not want to upset an old spirit sword by using the wrong oil and powder!
Shen Yuan made sure to explain all this to his skeptical guest in great detail.
“Xin Mo is ever-hungering,” Dangerously Handsome Man explained begrudgingly. “Feeding your basest desires until you succumb to its power and glut yourself, and in turn glut it. I don’t know that it’s aligned with any particular element but it does have this curious ability to rend and seal dimensional spaces.”
“How fascinating,” Shen Yuan breathed, starry eyed. So cool! So cool! Also terrifying. But so cool! “What else do you know about its origins?”
“Nothing,” Dangerously Handsome Man said bluntly.
“Ah,” Shen Yuan blinked. “Then you’re useless.”
Then he promptly ignored Dangerously Handsome Man’s inconsequential indignation in favor of gently placing his fingertips to Xin Mo’s crossguard and attempting a tentative query. Some swords were more receptive than others to communication with non-wielders.
Shen Yuan jerked his hand away with an involuntary hiss, fingertips burned, vision swimming at the edges, and his meridians throbbing as the sudden rush of power ebbed away and left him feeling overstimulated and empty.
Well then. Friendly thing.
“I think I have an idea,” he told Dangerously Handsome Man once the lightheadedness wore off.
Because he’s not an idiot, Shen Yuan kept all his oils, powders, and various alchemical ingredients on the far end of the house opposite the forge, where they weren’t in any immediate danger of mixing with any possible explosions Shen Yuan might make.
Not that he makes much!
...the process of creation was one filled with hiccups, okay? He couldn’t help it!
The opposite end of the house saw them back in the bedroom, Dangerously Handsome Man perched on the bed looking far too ambiently lascivious for the actual situation while Shen Yuan dug through his chests. Shen Yuan was also trying not to think about how naked Dangerously Handsome Man was under his appropriated blankets, but that was an entirely separate matter!
“By the way, where are my clothes?” Dangerously Handsome Man asked, as if somehow knowing the direction of Shen Yuan’s disobedient mind and trying to make it worse out of spite.
“Hung them out to dry,” Shen Yuan said, keeping his gaze on the bottles he was digging through.
Don’t think about the ethereally beautiful man sprawled on your bed, he sternly told himself. Save it for when he leaves!
At the bottom of the chest was a false bottom qiankun space where he kept his most delicate, and volatile, materials. Here, mere pottery vessels became jade, ivory, and glass. He selected an ivory vial of oil, and a jade jar of abrasive powder, both of which he handled with the utmost care, as if a single jostle might kill him.
Which, it might. If nothing else the sheer embarrassment of ending up in a situation like that would do him in.
“Alright, back to the forge,” Shen Yuan announced. No way did he want to fill his bedroom with aphrodisiac fumes; ventilation all the way!
Dangerously Handsome Man huffed, obviously annoyed.
“Actually,” Shen Yuan paused. “I never got your name?”
It was starting to get a bit embarrassing to call the man by such a nickname, even if only in his own head.
Dangerously Handsome Man tossed his head, knotted curls flipping over his bare shoulder. “This one is called Luo Binghe.” He sneered. “Of Qing Jing Peak. Still. Or so I assume.”
Shen Yuan blinked.
Luo Binghe? Wasn’t that the guy who died at the Immortal Alliance Conference a couple years back? Shen Yuan hadn’t bothered going, like most Wan Jian disciples.
This guy… he didn’t seem wholly human… there was probably more to the story.
“Oh!” Shen Yuan said, instead of asking more obvious things like, ‘how are you alive?’ “Shixiong should have mentioned we were brothers under the same sect, earlier. This shidi can fill you in on everything you’ve missed the last couple years if you’d like…?”
Luo Binghe simply looked at him for a long second, eyes dark and deep, before his whole countenance transformed into something warm and friendly.
“I would like that very much,” Luo Binghe smiled warmly.
...Yeah, Shen Yuan doesn’t trust this guy as far as he can throw him.
“It’s a little late for that, Luo-shixiong,” Shen Yuan said, rolling his eyes. He set the bottles on the anvil and went to dig out a thick pair of gloves, a heavy leather apron, and a pair of veils embroidered with purifying talismans. His line of work often involved materials where you didn’t want the fumes anywhere near your orifices, so naturally he had plenty of protective equipment to spare. “I’ve already seen you be grumpy, you don’t need to pretend a pleasant attitude now. Here, put this on.”
Luo Binghe gave the veil a dubious look.
“Why? And why am I just getting a veil while you get all that?” he demanded, gesturing to the considerably heavier protection Shen Yuan was strapping on.
“Are you the one handling things? No? Then you only need to worry about fumes, quit complaining,” Shen Yuan said. “Anyway, it’s not that deadly an aphrodisiac as long as you don’t get it on you.”
Strictly speaking flowers from the Eighteen Touches Grasping Red Vine had an aphrodisiac pollen so virulent the heat of the fever cooked your brain in a day flat, if the heart palpitations from your rushing blood didn’t send you into cardiac arrest first. But! Once you cleaned out the pollen, the seeds could be powdered and oil extracted from the petals, the yang properties of which had extremely beneficial effects on strongly yin aligned swords like Xin Mo.
“A what.” Luo Binghe said flatly. Then he shook his head, alarmed. Then furious. Swinging between the two like he couldn’t figure out which to focus on. “Do you have some kind of death wish, putting an aphrodisiac on an already insatiable sword like Xin Mo? If so, this shixiong could have properly obliged his shidi at the start of this.”
“Hey!” Shen Yuan scowled. “Who’s the Wan Jian disciple here, huh? I’ve used this on tons of swords without anything going wrong, have a little faith in your sect brother.”
Luo Binghe twitched.
Interpreting said twitch as a question, Shen Yuan easily explained as he selected rags. “It’s all about balance, right? Some yin aligned swords don’t like yang — do not ever bring fire aligned materials near a sword that channels ice — but if Xin Mo wants to be appeased through dual cultivation and blood then it quite likely likes yang. So I needed oil and powder with strong enough yang properties to satisfy it. It’s also, kind of, a little like combatting poison with poison too. Matching like properties to cancel each other out, you know?”
After a long moment, Luo Binghe, frowning, said, “But I don’t feed it yang from dual cultivation. I feed it yin. How does that make sense?”
Shen Yuan thought about it. Gingerly, he touched Xin Mo’s crossguard and swayed through the pulse of power, paying careful attention to how it moved through him and bolstered him. His qi swelled within him, ridged with an impatient edge that was all Xin Mo.
“Okay,” Shen Yuan rubbed his face vigorously to make the room stop spinning. “I think I see what’s going on. Xin Mo boosts your yang energy, right?” At Luo Binghe’s nod, he continued, easily shifting into the lecturing tone he used on his juniors. “Xin Mo does this through offering its yin energy in a similar manner to how dual cultivation with a woman does. But it has no sense of moderation, right? Or at least, I’m guessing it doesn’t care to; that’s why you need to appease it.”
“Shidi guesses correctly. This shixiong is impressed.” Some of the mocking edge faded from Luo Binghe’s tone, turning it into a genuine compliment.
Shen Yuan flushed a bit, and hurriedly waved it away. “No, no, I haven’t even finished yet. See, I think when you gather yin energy from dual cultivation you’re using it as a stop gap to correct your unbalanced yang and make Xin Mo ‘quiescent’ for a time through the method I mentioned earlier; poison against poison, like to like. If you wanted to appease Xin Mo with sex you would need, um... yang energy,” his voice trailed off, embarrassed. He hurried on, “which is why you probably get most of your yang energy from battle, right? Yang from battle to feed Xin Mo, yin from sex to sedate it. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” Luo Binghe said slowly, straight brows furrowing. “So, if I wanted less bloodshed I’d… need to have sex with men?”
Shen Yuan hurriedly turned away from that dark, introspective gaze turned on him. “It’s your private affairs, I have no say!”
Xin Mo accepted being handled easily enough. Nigh-sentient swords could tell when your only intent was to maintain them; it was like an act of worship but with the not-so-fun knowledge that the wrong stray thought could get your fingers severed hanging over your head like, well, a sword. Shen Yuan laid the sword across his lap and started wiping the blade down with a soft rag. Xin Mo settled into the grooming like a tiger who’d decided you were amusing enough, and it wasn’t hungry enough, that it was willing to play nice.
Dipping the rag into the jar of powder, the snowy blade turned opaque and dim under the scrubbing, unsettling qi rising and dipping with a sensation not unlike someone sighing in relief as suds penetrated a layer of aggravating grime. Wiping the powder off revealed a blade so bright and shining you almost couldn’t look at it straight on. Shen Yuan could use the surface like a mirror it was so clear and clean.
Not that he would recommend it, it was more like a cursed mirror that showed you awful visions and drove you mad, but still.
“There, already feeling much better, aren’t we?” Shen Yuan cooed at the sword. He couldn’t help it, it was cute! It would eat his face off, metaphorically speaking, but it was cute! “That’s some tasty yang, huh? Bet you’ll like this even more,” he said as he dampened a spot of a new rag with the smallest amount of oil he could get away with and folded it onto the blade.
Under the steady, swiping rag, Xin Mo vibrated with a low frisson of power not unlike a purr. Steadily losing the harsh edge of its qi until it felt less like teeth against your throat and more like lazy nuzzling by a large predator — potentially toothy, but in a very good mood.
“Someone took very good care of you once,” Shen Yuan softly remarked. “Look at that, you absorb oil so well. I bet blood sloughs off you like water off wax. I bet you’re just gorgeous in motion, huh?”
Xin Mo vibrated lazily through the last of the wipe down, as if saying you better believe I am, puny mortal.
Shen Yuan had to laugh, just a bit. “Oh, you’re not humble in the least, are you? I’d call that cute if you were anything else.”
Xin Mo sent another pulse of power through his meridians, except unlike the overwhelming if brief floods of that last times, this one was — dare he say — warmer, gentler, flowing and ebbing like a tide.
Shen Yuan sighed, eyes fluttering closed. Happy sword, happy handlers as they say on Wan Jian Peak.
From behind, came a thump of a body hitting the ground.
“Shixiong?!” Shen Yuan startled, twisting around.
Luo Binghe was collapsed on the ground, shuddering minutely. He was making little noises, concerning, bitten off noises that sounded like pain.
Shen Yuan made to get up, halted by the sharp nail sensation of Xin Mo grumbling at the interruption. He looked between the demon sword impatiently awaiting the rest of its pampering, and his probably also demonic shixiong groaning on the floor, brows furrowed.
“Shixiong?” Shen Yuan called again, hands hurrying to wipe off the excess oil from the blade. “Shixiong, if you’re dying, I need you to say something.”
Luo Binghe groaned louder, flopping over on his side.
“That’s probably not good,” Shen Yuan told Xin Mo. The sword merely radiated its indifference at its wielder’s distress, nudging more qi through Shen Yuan’s meridians in a clear bid for attention. “Charming as your self-centeredness is, it does not actually outweigh my desire not to have a dead body in my workshop, I’m sorry.”
Xin Mo pouted.
Shen Yuan gently set the sword on a proper stand to finish air drying, and — because he was not an idiot — wisely removes his gloves and apron. “Shixiong?” Shen Yuan called again, hurrying to his side.
Luo Binghe was flushed and sweating under the blanket, scorching hot to the touch. He shivered when touched, gasped when Shen Yuan grabbed his wrist, feeling for the state of his meridians. Luo Binghe made a tortured noise, not able to curl up like a pillbug with Shen Yuan in the way but giving it the ol’ Imperial Academy try nonetheless.
Shen Yuan ignored the knee digging into his flank. Luo Binghe’s meridians were flushed through with unbalanced qi, spiritual and demonic energy clashing together from head to toe.
“Were you playing tough or something, Shixiong? You should have said something!” Shen Yuan scolded under his breath, trying to roll the heavy definitely-some-kind-of-demonic man onto his back so he could get at his chest, get more surface area to transfer his own qi through. “I know you’re hurting, I know you just want to curl up and die right now, this shidi is just trying to help so if Shixiong would cooperate that would be just great!” Shen Yuan scowled. “And for heaven’s sake, could you stop digging your knee into me?”
“Tha’s no’ my knee,” Luo Binghe slurred.
“What’s that?” Shen Yuan said encouragingly. Engagement! He wasn’t dead!
“I said,” Luo Binghe enunciated, “that’s not my knee. That’s my cock.”
“What.”
Shen Yuan’s gaze turned helplessly, tracing the lines under the blanket. One leg was there. The other… was there. So the long, rounded thing poking insistently at his flank was— it was—!
“Luo-shixiong, did you breathe in the fumes?!” Shen Yuan shrieked, letting go of his shixiong’s wrist as if burned and scuttling back.
Or, he tried to. For someone who was writhing on the floor in— well, Shen Yuan thought it was agony— he had a surprisingly strong grip.
“Luo-shixiong!”
Shen Yuan felt his soul leave his body. It was like he was trapped in one of those awful, embarrassing spring books everyone pretended for their own sanity weren’t coming from Xian Shu! He was an expert at tending to swords, but not those kinds of swords! Abort, abort!
“Shen-shidi,” Luo Binghe groaned, handsome features contorted in something that looked like pain but was… probably not. The complete opposite, in fact. Shen Yuan mentally censored it as fast as he was seeing it. “Shen-shidi, I think… I think…”
“Yes?” Shen Yuan forced out. “What is it, Luo-shixiong? Can I get you something?”
Can I get you to let go? Shen Yuan thought miserably. Please, his poor heart can’t handle such a handsome man clinging so needily to him. That absolutely, positively demon dick was still prodding him and he was desperately trying not to think about it.
Terrible.
“I think…” Luo Binghe’s unfairly long, alluringly dark lashes fluttered over his starry eyes. “Shidi treated Xin Mo a little too well.” That beautiful mouth pouted. “This Shixiong is feeling neglected, Shidi should make it up to me.”
Fuck, this really was a spring book plot!
And that was about when Xin Mo threw itself across the room with a metallic screech to kill its own wielder.
Later, after Shen Yuan cuddled Xin Mo back into general murderousness — as opposed to the far more proactive specific murderousness — ‘cuddled’ Luo Binghe into something approaching not murderousness while Xin Mo pouted at not being the center of Shen Yuan’s attention, cuddled Xin Mo again, Shen Yuan finally has a chance to gibber in peace while he processed the day.
“Was it that unsettling? It was just sex,” Luo Binghe idly remarked, watching Shen Yuan cling to Xin Mo between them with a raised brow. “Oh, was it your first? In that case, this Shixiong is flattered.”
“Shut up,” Shen Yuan muttered, petting the sword’s crossguard. “Also, yes. Also shut up about that too.” Just sex? Just sex? Shen Yuan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There’s nothing ‘just’ about taking that weapons grade demon dick, okay? The feeling was only just coming back into his toes, okay!
Luo Binghe, because he’s a confident flirt that never relents, tenderly tucked a loose lock of hair behind Shen Yuan’s ear like it wasn’t a direct assault on Shen Yuan’s sanity and offered him a bright, nearly innocent grin. “If Shen-shidi found this Shixiong lacking, allow him to try again. This Shixiong swears Shen-shidi will be completely satisfied this time.”
Oh, heavens, again?
Shen Yuan’s would die . Shixiong, gege, have mercy on his ass, ah!
Between them, in Shen Yuan’s arms, Xin Mo yowls angrily at the notion.
“How about,” Shen Yuan said over the racket, petting urgently, “Luo-shixiong gets us something to eat, instead? This Shidi will be plenty satisfied with that.”
Luo Binghe shot his sword a dark look but slipped off the bed agreeably enough.
Alone, Shen Yuan buried his face in the sheets, sighing. What a day. What a day, on top a week, on top of a month.
“You are such a troublemaker,” he muttered to Xin Mo. “I shudder to think what you’ll inflict on the mortal world, greedy thing.”
Xin Mo purred, flushing qi through channels still a little, ah, sensitive from recent ministrations.
Shen Yuan flushed, spluttering, holding the sword out at arm’s length “Stop that! This is all your fault!”
Liu-shimei can never know about this, ever.
“Shidi, do you not have any meat in the house?” Luo Binghe shouted from the kitchen.
...Fuck, he forgot to get fish.