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There was only one taboo widely known in the cultivation world. Demonic qi and those that use that energy were to be put down since it was evil. Even the sapa didn’t agree with the use of demonic, hateful energy and cultivation. Though, the justice sects had vowed to destroy the sapa and those that used demonic qi all the same.
Cheon Ma, the Heavenly Demon, was the well-known tense of this case. He was born powerful with a human appearance and dark, empty eyes. He was what every human cultivator feared to be born anew. He always came back, no matter how he was killed. Every 100 years or so he would reincarnate and wreck the world until he was killed again.
Cheong Myeong was one of the few present who witnessed Cheon Ma awaken his demonic heritage fully, his dark pupils turning blood red. He had already regained his memories, but now he had the power of the Heavenly Demon within him.
Demon cultists quaked in the presence of their new king. Humans, cultivators and non-cultivators alike, fell to their knees as Cheon Ma walked across the battlefield. Cheong Myeong was the only one who stood— that was, until he fell from the pain of Cheon Ma’s sword being lodged into his shoulder.
Cheong Myeong still had the scar from where he pulled the blade out from his flesh and struck at Cheon Ma. The Heavenly Demon stopped the blade with his hand with a blank smile on his face. Cheon Ma then patted the top of Cheong Myeong’s head before untying the green ribbon in his hair.
Cheong Myeong shivered as his hair fell across his back and shoulders. He tried to attack once more, embedding more qi into the blade. But then Cheon Ma reached out, gripped Cheong Myeong’s hand, and forcibly made him stop before it could even begin.
The battlefield was silent as Cheon Ma ordered his forces — his devoted followers — to retreat.
The demons were about to win… so why would they retreat?
He gazed at Cheon Ma’s smug, distant look. He wanted to attack but he had no strength. Was he truly that weak? He was the supposed sword saint, and yet he could do nothing against a heavenly demon.
Cheong Myeong passed out not long after, only waking to find Cheong Jin hauling him to get treatment.
Cheong Myeong passed out again, then woke to Tang Bo’s scarily concentrated face as needles pierced his skin.
When Cheong Myeong awoke for the last time, Sahyeong was by him with a relieved but concerned expression.
A few tense weeks passed as everyone recovered. Cheong Myeong missed the travel back to their sect, out of the mountains from where Cheong Myeong vowed to kill Cheon Ma. Instead, he healed slowly but surely atop Mount Hua, cultivating in his private quarters, eating only when someone forced themselves into his room.
No one knew why Cheon Ma retreated. His heritage blossomed fully and now he had the power to easily kill anyone he pleased.
Cheong Myeong was left in a state of dissatisfaction. He wanted to kill Cheon Ma. He wanted that man’s blood on his hands. Wanted to see the life drain from his eyes. How many people had Cheon Ma killed? How many more would die?
The sects met up in small batches, all of them too wary to meet as one large group. Cheong Mun would return from the meetings looking worse and worse. Cheong Myeong tried to ask, but would be denied such information, so he gave up and instead offered alcohol to his Sahyeong. And, for perhaps the first time, Cheon Mun accepted the bottle.
Cheong Myeong once saw Cheong Jin sending him worried looks, but he ignored it, slapped a smile onto his face, and made his sajil play a game of Go with him to pass the time. Neither of them mentioned how Cheong Mun left for another meeting, this time carrying his sword with a look of determination instead of fear.
Cheong Mun didn’t return for 3 days. When he entered the gates he was accompanied by a person with dark energy. Cheong Myeong instantly sat up from where he was taking a break under a plum tree and sprang to attack. He was blocked by Cheong Mun’s look, which made Cheong Myeong pause mid-step.
A demon was in the sect and Cheong Mun allowed it. Cheong Myeong was lost, rambling about their duty to kill all demons. As he spoke, more cultists entered after them in pairs of two.
The mountain was surrounded and, somehow, Cheong Myeong didn’t detect any of their presences until he was allowed to.
Cheong Mun smiled warmly. It was a tense, fickle thing. He then patted Cheong Myeong on the shoulder.
2 days later, Cheon Ma entered the sect in a carriage befitting an emperor. Cheong Myeong’s scar burned and the flash of Tang Bo’s face entered his mind.
Tang Bo explained in harsh whispers that the wound was deep and covered in qi that could have killed Cheong Myeong easily. The damage would linger, and Tang Bo could not help heal it any further. He retreated soon after to protect his family, guilt and tears across his face. Cheong Myeong used all of his energy to call Tang Bo a crybaby and wipe some of his tears away.
Demonic cultivation was a taboo, but there was also another that many sects lost over the years.
Cheong Myeong did not know what the taboo was. It was probably protected by the Sect Leader in Mount Hua, only passed down to one another as a last resort. Maybe Cheong Jin knew it, since he held most secrets of the sect as well.
He wished he knew more about it now. Maybe he could use it to slaughter Cheon Ma where he stood in silent gain of his power. They all met in a meeting hall soon after, Cheon Ma’s followers only talking to instruct others how to behave.
The room was stuffy, the smell of dense demonic qi thick in the air.
Cheon Ma smiled across him, the table rifled with parchment covered in ink. Cheong Myeong gritted his teeth as Cheong Mun Sahyeong read over the scrolls with a wall of professionalism befitting a sect leader.
Peace talks. That’s what’s happening right now. Or, more likely, a truce of some sorts.
Cheong Myeong didn’t know why he had to attend— and not as a guard like his fellow Mount Hua Elders behind him, but as a person seated at the table next to Cheong Mun.
Cheong Myeong’s fingers gripped into the fabric over his knee. He was without his sword, without a weapon to defeat the demon in front of him. He desperately wanted to behead Cheon Ma but without any weapon it was hopeless to think that it could be accomplished.
As Cheong Myeong thought of hundreds of ways to kill Cheon Ma with a broken chair leg, he noticed Cheong Mun’s hand shake. He turned his focus to the way that Cheong Mun gripped the documents in his hand.
“... Sahyeong?” he whispered quietly, trying to not draw attention to them despite it being silent in the room.
Cheong Mun didn’t say anything. Instead, his frame vibrated in anger. He sent a scolding glare to Cheon Ma, who pleasantly stared back.
Cheong Mun slapped the scroll to the table loudly. His muscles shook with such emotion. It was something that Cheong Myeong had never seen from his Sahyeong before.
Cheong Mun sent an accusing look to Cheon Ma and his followers, who looked non-pulsed by the reaction as if it was expected.
“You… You…!” Cheong Mun gritted his teeth, gnashing them in anger. “You asked for riches and shows of loyalty from all of the other sects. We can provide that as well. How dare you ask for—”
A follower from behind Cheon Ma’s left shoulder stepped forward. It was a Bishop. He quickly said, “We ask for only one thing from the Mount Hua Sect. Surely they can provide it. All other sects are offering much more.”
“I will not agree to what is being asked,” stated Cheong Mun, his tone deadly and decided. There was no changing his mind now. “Mount Hua will fight. We will not join the truce.”
The young Bishop nodded his head, accepting the reply. But before Cheong Mun could stop shaking, the follower asked, “Perhaps the person in question should know the proposal before it gets thrown out.”
Cheon Mun drew his sword. In one swift move, the follower was decapitated. The head rolled across the table, spinning a twirl of blood streaks. No one moved in the room as a tense silence overcame them. Cheong Myeong twitched for his weapon, remembering too late that he had nothing to fight with. He gritted his teeth and prepared to brawl…
Only, it didn’t come to that.
A low reverb filled his ears. It was a chuckle, somewhat amused and pleased. Cheong Myeong froze when he saw that the noise came from Cheon Ma, whose red eyes bore toward plum blossom swordsmen.
“I will not ask anything more from Mount Hua,” said Cheon Ma, his tone casual and passive. “Other sects will have to routinely give tributes to prove their value. Mount Hua simply has to provide me with one thing.”
“What?” Cheong Myeong didn’t understand what was going on. He looked between the heavenly demon and his Sahyeong in confusion. What was he missing?
Cheong Mun pointed his blade at Cheon Ma, who looked at the blade, unimpressed.
Cheong Myeong continued pressing for answers. “What is being asked of Mount Hua?”
Cheong Mun and Cheon Ma didn’t reply, their eyes locked onto each other. Cheong Myeong stood up in a flash, anger gripping his soul. He slapped his hand onto the table, much like his Sahyeong did earlier, and swiped the scroll that Cheong Mun was reading before he turned so angry.
Cheong Myeong quickly read through the scroll, elbowing Cheong Mun who turned away from Cheon Ma to stop Cheong Myeong from reading it. After only a few moments, Cheong Myeong understood what the scroll was asking for. He felt the tension drop from his shoulders as he turned to Cheong Mun with confusion.
“What’s… What’s a cultivation partner?” he asked.
The room broke out into a soft murmur. Cheong Myeong saw that even Cheong Jin didn’t seem to know the term. Meanwhile, the demons behind Cheon Ma flashed grins and commented things to one another with jeers.
Cheong Mun went tight-lipped, so Cheong Myeong turned to Cheon Ma for answers. The Heavenly Demon’s eyes flared and his tongue peeked out to lick his lips.
“You,” Cheong Myeong said, looking at Cheon Ma, “what’s a cultivation partner? You’re the one asking for it, so what is it?”
“Do you know of the taboo of the cultivation world?” asked Cheon Ma.
Cheong Myeong did— demonic qi. However, he knew that the Heavenly Demon wasn’t referring to that, so instead he shook his head. Cheon Ma must be talking about the second taboo of the cultivation world, which Cheong Myeong had no information about.
Cheon Ma continued, “Cultivation partners share their qi with each other in ways that will enhance their qi. Dual cultivation. However, when one of the partners isn’t as strong as the other, they can instead hurt their cultivation instead. Therefore, if I am to have a cultivation partner, they must be the strongest cultivator with pure qi.”
Cheong Myeong was confused for a few seconds. The sentences repeated in his mind. Quickly, he understood what was being said. Mount Hua was the strongest sect, and thus Cheon Ma chose one to ask for Cheong Mun to sacrifice one of them to become Cheon Ma’s cultivation partner.
Cheong Myeong then recalled that the document was asking for the strongest cultivator on Mount Hua’s peak.
There was only one person who that could be.
“You’re…” Cheong Myeong felt nauseous in realization. “You’re asking for me.”
Cheon Ma replied nonchalantly, “Naturally. You’re the strongest cultivator aside from myself.”
The process of being moved into a palace was quick and brutal. He was hours away from Mount Hua, but was promised visitation rights. Cheong Myeong paced in his room, biting his lip while he thumbed over his sword hilt. Cheon Ma was so blatant with how he looked down upon him. Cheong Myeong was nothing in comparison, if he was allowed his sword.
His room was simple. A bed, more luxurious than a Taoist’s should ever be. An ensuite bathroom, the tub large enough for Cheong Myeong to completely stretch out. Despite hating the fact that he was away from home, he knew that he could take great hot baths for hours. Cheong Myeong didn’t mind those accommodations. He loved beds, and he loved sitting in warmth.
It was everything else that made him wary. The closet, for one, was filled to the brim of the finest silks. He took one sweep of them before sliding the door closed with a bang. After a few breathing exercises, he opened it again to take a deeper look. Some of the robes were clearly to be layered, as they ranged from nearly translucent to being fur-lined. However, that wasn’t what irritated him. No… It was the fact that every robe was clearly tailored to his size.
How long had Cheon Ma been planning this?
Cheong Myeong gritted his teeth, breathed out slowly, and accepted the fact that he was horrid at having patience. Anxiety made him much too anxious— odd thing that. He much preferred being able to bash heads in and get the job done. He would much prefer to see Tang Bo, Cheong Mun, Cheong Jin… He would much prefer to be anywhere else but here.
But he came here willingly. Sort of.
After Cheon Ma made his intentions clear, a fight broke out. Not only was Cheong Mun trying to whack heads off, but other Mount Hua disciples in the room began to fight their way out. Cheong Myeong was the only one frozen in place as he went over the terms in his mind.
Just before Cheon Ma pulled out his sword, which would have surely chopped off Cheong Mun Sahyeong’s arm, Cheong Myeong spoke aloud.
He said in a soft but stern voice that he would accept the terms on Mount Hua’s behalf. Despite Cheong Mun trying to protect Cheong Myeong, Cheong Myeong still had power when he spoke since he was an Elder. He could do things in Mount Hua’s name, including accepting the terms for the truce.
Cheon Ma dodged from Cheong Mun’s blade instead of using a weapon. He smiled, if such a demon like him could smile, and gestured for Cheong Myeong to follow him. The room was silent and tense as Cheong Myeong looked out at the people that tried to fight for his freedom. Oh, how he would miss them.
Cheong Myeong entered the carriage with Cheon Ma across from him. He folded his arm, determined not to look at Cheon Ma unless he was spoken to.
The ride was not bumpy. It did not make sense, as they were atop a mountain, but Cheong Myeong decided that demonic powers were at play. Perhaps even demonic creatures that could fly. There were no windows he was able to look out of in order to check; the carriage had complete privacy. It was unnerving, likely on purpose.
Cheong Myeong felt faint, being surrounded by so much demonic qi. Usually, even on the battlefield, there was pur qi around him. He was cornered as he sat in the carriage with Cheon Ma staring at him, eyes unblinking.
“Swordsman,” whispered Cheon Ma, tone barely audibly.
Cheong Myeong jerked in his seat, looking at the man across from him. The inside of the carriage was dark. No natural light came in. A red glow was above them, a light stone. It only made Cheon Ma’s appearance even more daunting.
Cheong Myeong met Cheon Ma’s eyes, his heart skipping a beat in fear. He knew very little about dual cultivation. The first time he heard the words together was today. Before, the idea of exchanging qi in order to strengthen both people was not something he heard of. Cheong Myeong knew how healers worked, but when a healer worked on someone, their own qi didn’t develop as well.
He was flung into the unknown. Left to figure out his own way.
“Cheon Ma…” Cheong Myeong didn’t know how to refer to the heavenly demon, now.
Cheon Ma accepted the greeting, then continued, “Do you know the process of dual cultivation?” It was a rhetorical question. Cheon Ma already knew the answer. “Very well.”
Cheong Myeong stared, unflinching, as Cheon Ma leaned forward. Black fingernails scraped across Cheong Myeong’s forehead before moving his bangs to the side. It was not a tender touch, but it did no outright harm.
“I shall teach you tonight.”
It was foreboding. Cheong Myeong’s gut dropped. He felt nauseous for no reason, as if his instincts knew better than to trust the words said for him plainly.
Cheon Ma’s breath was hot. Cheong Myeong expected it to be cold, as if the body before him was an animated corpse. Cheon Ma was incredibly pale, unnaturally so. His hair was ink black, darker than even Cheong Myeong’s. Not to mention the blood-red eyes that made Cheong Myeong feel small when stared at by them.
He did not move. He was unwilling to show any signs of fear, nor any signs of aggression. If all he needed to do was be Cheon Ma’s dual cultivation partner, then Cheong Myeong would agree to it. If it meant that Mount Hua would remain intact, with no bloodshed or war efforts having to happen, then Cheong Myeong would fulfill the requirements in their stead.
The ride was long. Cheong Myeong lost the sense of time as the hour ticked by in the dark. Cheon Ma continued to look at him, even prodding at him every so often.
He pointed out that Cheong Myeong’s uniform had frayed and was therefore unusable. A single stitch was out of place, pulled out from training of some sorts, and yet Cheon Ma was upset by it.
He pointed to Cheong Myeong’s hair, which held a green ribbon. Cheon Ma said that red was more befitting of Cheong Myeong. Cheong Myeong didn’t reply, knowing that if he brought up Tang Bo, then he was only going to cause a disaster. The Tang family needed to survive unharmed.
He pointed at Cheong Myeong’s shoes, declaring them worn out. Cheong Myeong tried not to flinch, but it was useless. He loved these shoes. He had trained in them for a while now, so they fit snuggly and perfectly on his feet.
He pointed out that Cheong Myeong smelled of alcohol. He pointed out that Cheong Myeong had pink eyes and long lashes. He pointed out that Cheong Myeong’s qi was pure for someone with such large reserves. He pointed out that Cheong Myeong was the strongest cultivator.
He reminded Cheong Myeong that he was the only one who he would enter a cultivating partnership with. Cheong Myeong did not know if that was a compliment or something foreboding.
He felt small and desensitized by the time the carriage stopped. The lightstone above them continued to light up the carriage, to light up Cheon Ma’s eyes as they narrowed. Only a moment passed before a demon opened the door.
Cheon Ma’s parting words were, “Prepare yourself.”
Cheong Myeong nodded, a sign that he heard, then looked away. Cheon Ma left the carriage first. Cheong Myeong climbed out after.
He was guided through the grounds by a cultists. Cheong Myeong could take them down. He could take all of the followers down in the vicinity aside from Cheon Ma. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, but soon enough he was released into his room alone.
He sat on the bed now that he had nothing to do.
He had explored all that he was allowed. Similarly, his room had no windows. There were lights, thankfully, but nothing else worth noting. He ignored the closet, ignored how he felt pent up after being forced into riding in a carriage for hours with the worst company in the world, and ignored that he felt utterly defeated without even fighting.
Hours must have passed as he busied himself with meditation. He sat on the bed, circulating his qi and trying to reach level headedness. Cheon Ma said to prepare for what was coming, so Cheong Myeong was ensuring that his qi was perfectly fine.
He didn’t touch the door that was in the far left. He could tell that it was locked, and therefore he knew that he needed to ask to use it first. He didn’t know where it led, only knew that he was unsure of how to proceed. He couldn’t screw this truce up, so he would abide by caution.
More time passed. Cheong Myeong was hungry, but not truly. He was still too unsettled to eat, but enough time went by for his body to wonder why it was lacking. His throat was dry, but he had access to water.
The doors to his room slid open. Cheong Myeong finished his movement of qi, then opened his eyes. Most lights in the room were turned off to allow for a more peaceful meditation. He was still able to tell who entered his room.
Cheon Ma shut the door behind him, a tinge of his qi sealing it shut completely. Cheong Myeong should have felt threatened by it. In any other scenario, he would, but he had the upper hand here. Cheon Ma had prepared, perhaps for months based on the clothing in the closet, for Cheong Myeong to come to this room. Cheong Myeong would not die because he made Cheon Ma slightly angered.
Cheong Myeong mumbled to himself, going over how it felt to exchange qi with his sahyeong. It was a normal experience as a disciple, yet he felt like dual cultivation was much more intimate. As he wondered what the second taboo of the cultivation world was like, his thoughts were interrupted.
“You didn’t prepare.”
Cheon Ma looked over Cheong Myeong. A frown was over his face, distaste in his voice. He didn’t sound angry but he was by no means happy either. Not even calling it neutral would be correct.
Cheong Myeong blinked in confusion, tilting his head. “But I did.” He pointed to his chest. “I was meditating.”
In a flash, Cheon Ma had crossed the room. Cheong Myeong reacted just as swiftly, standing up and jumping back. It was what Cheon Ma wanted, it appeared, because now Cheon Ma had him pinned against the wall.
“Out.” Cheon Ma’s voice was clipped. “Change out of your clothes.”
Ah, right, everything Cheong Myeong wore caused offense to Cheon Ma. He slid against the wall and got out of Cheon Ma’s gaze to fumble toward the closet.
He slid the closet open to reveal the same robes that he had frowned upon earlier. He went with a simple black and red robe, something that was close to the dark plum blossom robes. Then, before he went to the bathroom area to change, he slid off his shoes and looked at the ones that were placed in the closet.
As he bent down to grab what appeared to be slippers, he heard Cheon Ma said, “Unneeded.” Cheong Myeong subconsciously tightened his shoulders.
He returned in the new robes a minute or so later. He felt out of place in the silk that didn’t itch his skin, even a little. They were too soft, too weak. They weren’t a material he could train in without feeling bad about the riches spent on it. His toes dug into the perfectly laid tiles of the ground.
Cheong Myeong did a little twirl, mostly out of spite, then spat out, “Happy?”
Cheon Ma hummed distantly.
Cheong Myeong stopped spinning, eyeing the man that brought him here. He crossed his arms once more, feeling annoyed at all of the changes that occurred in one day.
With finality and exhaustion coating his tone, he said, “So are you going to show me how to dual cultivate or what?”
Cheon Ma’s lit up red eyes were answer enough.
Cheon Ma’s fingernails were black and pointed, razor sharp at the end but overall short in length. It wasn’t a claw, nor was it from handling poisons. Cheon Ma was a demon, and thus his nails were naturally black.
Those name fingernails were scratching across Cheong Myeong cheeks. Cheon Ma’s hand was warm where it cupped Cheong Myeong’s cheek. He didn’t know that a demon’s touch could inflict something other than pain.
Cheong Myeong was directed to sit on the bed. He did so, his back leaning slightly against the feather-filled pillows. Everything in this room was soft. The robes, the bed, the sheets, the pillows…
Cheon Ma approached the bed, and with one fingertip pushed Cheong Myeong against the mattress. Cheong Myeong could have fought it, he supposed. But what else could he do when he was surrounded by enemies on all sides, with the strongest enemy before him?
Cheon Ma didn’t speak as his nails trailed Cheong Myeong’s face. His red eyes took in the sight of what was before him: the Mount Hua swordsman dressed in robes he specially commissioned. Cheong Myeong looked good in black. He looked good in red as well. It matched his eyes, it matched his fragrance.
Cheong Myeong looked up at Cheon Ma impatiently, annoyed with waiting. He wanted to return to Mount Hua, and all that needed to be done was cultivating with the heavenly demon.
“Cheong Myeong-ah.”
The fondness made Cheong Myeong flinch away from the warm fingers cupping his face. He narrowed his eyes at the demon who was glaring down at him. Things could be worse. Things could be better.
Cheon Ma met Cheong Myeong’s gaze. Then slowly, methodically, he peeled open Cheong Myeong’s robe. Layer by layer, tie by tie, he pulled back the cloth to reveal Cheong Myeong’s chest.
“Oh,” he said, gasping in realization. Cultivation between partners must take place at the dantians. Cheong Myeong understood now.
His hands fumbled up. When Cheon Ma did nothing but pause for a moment, Cheong Myeong knew that he was on the right path. His fingers traced over the fabric of Cheon Ma’s robes, surprised for it to feel soft when Cheong Myeong had fought against him enough times to know that it did not cut easily.
Cheong Myeong undid the main belt of Cheon Ma’s robes. He could feel the demonic qi easily when he touched Cheon Ma’s skin. It felt putrid and wrong, but all things would be alright if Cheong Myeong did his duties.
Why was his heart beating so fast, pounding against his ribs like it was trying to jump away?
Once Cheon Ma’s robes fell open and sloped down on his arms, it revealed his chest. Cheong Myeong felt the demonic qi surrounding him more than ever. He blatantly realized that he was anxious. Every move that Cheon Ma made spurred Cheong Myeong to want to grab his sword for protection…
His sword was left in the bathroom from when he changed. He cursed himself for not taking a weapon with him. He was too wound up in the idea of getting this over that he never considered that it might be dangerous.
As Cheong Myeong looked longing at the closed door to the bathtub, Cheon Ma continued to pursue his wants. Cheong Myeong’s robes continued to be pried away, more skin being revealed. His chest was scratched before Cheon Ma’s palm fell to lay above Cheong Myeong’s higher dantian.
Cheong Myeong didn’t know why he felt goosebumps, nor why he shivered. Even now, his heart continued to be loudly in his ears. He wants Cheon Ma to explain what dual cultivation was like, but he also didn’t want to have to ask.
As Cheong Myeong opened his mouth to ask a question, Cheon Ma’s other hand suddenly jerked. In one move, Cheong Myeong felt his hair fall across his shoulders. He widened his eyes, unsure of what was making Cheon Ma upset.
Ah…
He didn’t take out the green ribbon in his hair. In a burst of qi, the ribbon was scorched to ash. Cheong Myeong felt a bump in his throat, a plea for Cheon Ma not to do that. Tang Bo gave him that hair tie, you bastard! But he wouldn’t bring up the Tang family. Not if it could mean more torment for them.
As if nothing happened, Cheon Ma’s hand swooped down and took hold on Cheong Myeong’s fallen hair. Cheong Myeong frowned, anger about to spill out, but it was halted when Cheon Ma merely combed his fingers through his hair.
He was unsettled. Why? Why did Cheon Ma behave like this?
“Next?” he asked, voice subdued. What was the next step?
Cheon Ma’s fingers paused. His eyes assessed Cheong Myeong, his lips curling. “Hold still.”
Cheong Myeong did as told, but only for a few moments. Cheon Ma moved quickly as he tried to take off the rest of Cheong Myeong’s clothes. Cheong Myeong, feeling like his world was suddenly shattering, began to fight back. He scratched and punched against Cheon Ma’s arms and chest, kicking whenever he could, but before he knew it, he felt something strange.
He didn’t look, but he knew something was misplaced down below. He froze, his body flushed in shame. He understood now why cultivating with a partner was a taboo.
A finger was inside of him, circling his rim. Cheon Ma’s eyes were blazing red. Cheong Myeong felt defeated as he looked at the demon. He knew why Cheong Mun Sahyeong was against this proposal.
Cheon Ma’s finger was warm and long. Cheong Myeong could feel his nail as well. It was like a distant poke, slightly discomforting but not painful. His chest heaved, anxiety and rage tightening hold of his heart. If he was just a little stronger, he could fight back.
A second finger was added. After moving in and out a few times, they began to spread apart. Cheong Myeong exhaled shakily, his head dizzy. He refused to let Cheon Ma do this without a fight. He raised his right hand, trying to do something to make Cheon Ma pause for a moment, but instead all he did was catch Cheon Ma’s hair.
Cheong Myeong grinned, then pulled. Roughly, he yanked Cheon Ma forward. Maybe in this position Cheon Ma couldn’t finger him…?
His success was quickly doused out when Cheon Ma leaned forward even more. Cheong Myeong couldn’t do anything but widen his eyes as lips touched his own. Before Cheong Myeong could adjust to the new position, or to the kiss, he felt the fingers in him thrust in and out. It was harsher than before, like Cheon Ma was getting retribution for Cheong Myeong pulling his hair.
Cheong Myeong didn’t expect the tongue that was thrust in his mouth. He used a hand to push Cheon Ma away. It did nothing. Cheon Ma continued his pursuit, his tongue rough and hands rougher.
Cheong Myeong put his hand on Cheon Ma’s chest and pushed. He was surprised that Cheon Ma let himself be pushed back. He looked at Cheon Ma, who licked his lips. Cheong Myeong’s breathing was rushed as he looked at the demon.
He didn’t know that cultivation partners did marriageable acts. Even if he did, would he have still offered up himself? The answer was still yes.
With steeled resolve, Cheong Myeong laid back on the bed. He would no longer help with the process, but he also wouldn’t stop it. Now that he was aware of what dual cultivation was… He would fulfill the requirements, but no more than that.
Cheon Ma hummed. He couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. Either way, Cheon Ma added a third finger into Cheong Myeong’s hole. Cheong Myeong bit his lip, holding back any sounds of discomfort.
Or, he tried.
The fingers went in and out, thrusting at odd times. Cheong Myeong couldn’t time it. Cheon Ma simply looked down upon him, his eyes lit up with what could only be amusement, as Cheong Myeong’s face changed every time the thrusting occurred.
But then one particular force went in further. Cheong Myeong’s legs shook against his will and his mouth fell open in shock.
Cheon Ma, who had watched this reaction, did the same thing once more. He pushed his hand out, then in. As his fingers thrusted forward, he dug them into the warm walls of flesh. He licked his lips when he saw Cheong Myeong spasm, body unable to react despite the Taoist’s best wishes.
Cheon Ma then looked down. He saw Cheong Myeong’s cock, which had thus far merely twitched every so often, begin to rise and harden. Cheong Myeong hadn’t noticed yet, his eyes shut with small tears clinging to his lashes. Cheon Ma lifted the hand that was previously on Cheong Myeong chest and swished down.
Cheong Myeong opened his eyes instantly, a moan being forced from his throat. Cheon Ma’s fingers rubbed relentlessly inside of a spot inside of him, and his other hand touched his cock. Cheon Ma’s thumb rubbed over the seam, smearing precum over the slit. Cheon Ma didn’t stop as Cheong Myeong’s noises grew louder.
He only slowed when Cheong Myeong came, dousing his stomach and Cheon Ma’s hands with white. Cheong Myeong shook hard, his eyes blurry in defeat. He fell back onto the bed, his hands shaking at his sides.
“Cheong Myeong-ah,” said Cheon Ma, tone softer but no less harsh. “You’re prepared now.”
Cheong Myeong couldn’t refute anything as he lied there,disgusted with himself. He raised his hand, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Cheon Ma didn’t look disoriented, as if he had done this action many times before. Cheong Myeong cursed the demon in his head before remembering that it was useless to fight a battle he could never win.
The fingers moved inside of him once more. A fourth one was added, widening Cheong Myeong more with every movement. They scissored him open, widening the path for Cheon Ma. Cheong Myeong bit his lip, his nerves still on edge after the last surprise.
After a few endless minutes of Cheon Ma grinning every time Cheong Myeong made a noise of distress, the demon undid the rest of his robes. He lathered his hands in oil, coating both of their members, before he dipped forward.
Cheon Ma was much larger than his fingers. He was stronger and firmer, thicker as well. He was almost hotter to the touch, and Cheong Myeong’s insides craved it. Slowly, inch by inch, Cheon Ma bottomed out with a sigh. He laid on top of Cheong Myeong, his oil-covered hands brushing through Cheong Myeong’s hair.
Cheon Ma laid there for a while to allow Cheong Myeong to adjust, but he would get bored if that was all. As he did so, he nipped at Cheong Myeong’s ear, licking it before biting his ear lobe. He sucked a bite into Cheong Myeong’s neck, savoring the taste of the divine. He sucked limitless bruises of love, then pulled out.
He pushed back in with a grunt, his hands pining Cheong Myeong’s down. They moved as one, pulling away from each other before colliding harshly. Cheon Ma felt their qi interact. Two opposites, their qi was, but that was exactly why they could make one another stronger.
Cheong Myeong’s sounds were soft. He didn’t know what to do with his body or his voice. He couldn’t keep anything muted. Cheon Ma knew that he was special. He had known ever since he saw Cheong Myeong slay demons left and right, never leaving them alive.
He removed one of his hands that was pinning Cheong Myeong to the bed. Cheong Myeong, with his newfound freedom, gripping the sheets instead. Cheon Ma heard the silk rip. It was no matter. He would have them changed.
However, with his free hand, Cheon Ma latched onto Cheong Myeong’s cock. It had slowly risen, and was no rock hard and tall. Cheon Ma only had to touch it a little before it was beat red and leaking once more. Cheon Ma delighted in the moans that Cheong Myeong made, leaning forward to swallow them whole.
In only a few more thrusts, he finished inside, marking his claim on Cheong Myeong. He panted against his lover’s face, and Cheong Myeong only needed a couple of more seconds before he came again, his seed spreading onto them both.
Cheon Ma removed his hand from Cheong Myeong, licking what had been sprayed onto him. Cheong Myeong looked away, ashamed and embarrassed by the act. Cheon Ma would tame that out of him in time.
He pulled away from Cheong Myeong, then covered their bodies with the comforter provided. He pulled Cheong Myeong close, inserting his head in between Cheong Myeong’s shoulder and neck. He softly exhaled, then sucked another bite into the skin. Cheong Myeong didn’t protest, his head likely overwhelmed by the cultivation process.
Cheon Ma brushed his nails over Cheong Myeong’s scalp, soothing his swordsman to sleep. He knew it had been a stressful day. It was all that Cheon Ma had been building toward, and now that it had come, he wouldn’t let it go.