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Luo Binghe wakes early as he tends to, early enough that his Shizun is still sleeping deeply, nestled into their blankets, softly breathing as he dreams only of sweet, gentle things - Luo Binghe always makes sure of that. Dreams of their bamboo home, of soft grass and music in the air, of festivals and gentle touches, of warmth - those ones he allows. But all of the cold memories of that day facing the Endless Abyss, of Shizun's self-destruction and his fear, of that bastard who dared touch his Shizun as if all those faceless, nameless women in his palace weren't enough already - these dreams he always brushes away, like the irritating bugs they are.

Making sure to not disturb his sleeping master, Luo Binghe slips out of bed, making his way to their kitchen and methodically preparing a simple breakfast. It’s a task he’s done many, many times and it helps him soothe the anxious, excited nerves that make his heart tremble with anticipation.

It’s a special day today. Very special. Not a day Luo Binghe had ever deigned to particularly acknowledge or celebrate ever before, not after his mother’s passing, but now? Now he has a wonderful husband whom he loves and who loves him back - and isn’t that a spectacular thing to think of? It still shakes him to his core that someone as perfect, as precious and loving and intelligent and beautiful and every other good thing he can name, someone like Shizun… loves him.

Sometimes the life he lives now feels so overwhelmingly perfect that he wonders if he’s not stuck inside of a dream of his own making, sleeping and dreaming so deeply that he can’t (won’t?) wake up. Part of him privately wonders if the other world and the other 'Luo Binghe' had been secret ways his mind was attempting to wake him, but he really doesn't care anymore. If he can only have this life and this Shizun in a dream, then he'll stay asleep forever.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he spoons the congee into bowls for them, trying to hold himself back from running back to bed to crawl into his Shizun’s arms like a child for comfort, instead forcing himself to think about his duty to provide breakfast and the day ahead of them.

Luo Binghe’s birthday.

When Shizun had asked him, with that soft and sincere expression on his face, what he could give to Luo Binghe to celebrate another year alive, he hadn’t needed to fake the tears that spilled down his cheeks. That question itself had been more than enough of a gift, that his beloved would think of him, but he wouldn’t deny Shizun if the other man wanted to offer him something.

Oh, no, he wouldn’t deny him at all.

If anything, he knew very well that his easily embarrassed master would be the one struggling not to deny Luo Binghe.

Because… Luo Binghe knows what he wants as a gift from his Shen Qingqiu. The only thing he desires and the only thing he craves is Shen Qingqiu himself after all. He wants. He wants and he wants and he wants ever more. It’s an all-encompassing desire that he can never seem to satiate. He knows that Shizun loves him back, but he still doesn’t think the other man understands just how much Luo Binghe loves him to begin with.

He loves him enough to claw his way back out from the Abyss, to hold his cold and lifeless body every night for years on end with the sole hope of reviving him being the only thing sustaining him, to break the world in half and die with him so that they could be together. He loves him so much he can't stand being apart from him, at his side at all times during the day and at night in his dream dimension - Shen Qingqiu is his everything. Without him, Luo Binghe is nothing.

Luo Binghe loves him so much that he can’t help but be greedy with his affections, always begging for more and more, lapping up Shizun’s modest words of praise and gentle touches of love, basking in joy so golden and warm that his heart hurts trying to hold it all. He does try to contain himself, understands how overwhelming he can be, how possessive and needy he can be, but today? Today of all days when his precious Shizun offers to give him anything?

There is so much he wants.

Today, they will not be leaving their bamboo house. Today, for as much as Shizun can stomach to give him, Luo Binghe will take and take and take. He plans on swallowing his Shizun down in every single way he craves most. Perhaps it will be enough to satiate that itching, wild desire to crawl inside of Shizun’s chest to nestle next to his beating heart, so close that he will never be able to be separated again.

He sets the dishes on the table with a talisman to keep them warm, starts some tea that will be ready by the time he wakes Shizun, and heads to the bedroom to do so.

Shizun is still sleeping, expression relaxed, lashes dark and pretty against his porcelain face, his lips slightly parted. Light filters over him through the curtains, bathing him in a muted golden aura. Shizun has stretched himself out, turning to his side and reaching an arm to Luo Binghe’s side of the bed, clearly having noticed the lack of Luo Binghe’s warmth in his sleep, seeking it out unconsciously. Luo Binghe’s chest feels far too small to contain all of the love that floods into him when he sees it.

Instead of gently petting the long, silken hair away from Shizun’s face and gently kissing him until he wakes as usual, as he’d planned to, Luo Binghe decides to begin his ‘gift’.

He lightly lifts the covers at Shizun’s feet and crawls under them, careful not to wake his slumbering master. Slowly, he makes his way under the covers until he reaches Shizun’s midsection, a perverted, guilty pleasure warming his stomach as he lowers his face down to nuzzle at the silken fabric of Shizun’s pants across his groin.

He’s pictured this many times, even formed the scenario in his dreams. His dream dimension is very useful that way, offering him a way to indulge in all of his desires without pressuring Shizun into playing along with him. The very last thing he would want is to frighten the man with the enormity of his desire. Feeding himself with scraps of dreams and half-formed thoughts with an imagined shade of Shizun to keep himself from starving, but today…

Today he will feast.

His breath is hot as he pants against the smooth fabric, nudging his nose until he feels the outline of Shizun through them. The scent of Shizun is strong under the blanket and pressed up close against him like this, the earthy smell of bamboo and floral soap on top of the more human smell of skin and salt. Immortal as Shen Qingqiu is, he’s still human, and it makes Luo Binghe’s mouth water.

His mouth parts with a slick sound and he kisses at the hidden prize underneath, tracing it with his lips and tongue, wetting the fabric. He laves over it, tongue pressing flat against it in long stripes, pausing now and then to suck at it through the fabric steadily becoming transparent thanks to his saliva.

In all truth, Luo Binghe would be quite satisfied to stay just like that, lapping at his master like a disobedient dog until he awoke and rightfully scolded Luo Binghe for being so shameless - the honey warmth in Luo Binghe’s stomach only blooms brighter at the idea of being scolded by his Shizun - but he’s thrilled when he feels Shizun shift in his sleep as his manhood twitches in interest, slowly filling under his lips. The heat builds under the blanket as Luo Binghe teases Shizun into hardness, fabric growing wetter and wetter under his attention.

Soon enough, he hears the telltale sound of Shizun’s breathing change - the slow and steady breaths of sleep morphing into something quicker and sharper as he’s dragged into awareness.

Then, Shizun gasps, his hips arching off the bed and rubbing against Luo Binghe’s mouth. He hums happily, blinking innocently up at his master as the sheets are ripped away, meeting the shocked green eyes staring down at him.

“Binghe!” Shizun scolds with beautifully flushed cheeks, reaching down and pushing at Luo Binghe’s forehead, trying to urge him away. Luo Binghe doesn’t move except to lick firmly at the bulge he’s carefully teased forth. Shizun glowers at him, his expression completely ruined by how his cock twitches against Luo Binghe’s lips. “Stop that!”

“But Shizun,” Luo Binghe demurs, fluttering his lashes and speaking so closely he knows Shizun can feel his lips against the wet fabric, “this disciple was promised that today I’d be granted whatever I wish. Within reason, of course.”

A strange expression comes across Shizun’s face. “Is this reasonable to you?”

“Is it not reasonable to wish to satisfy my master?”

Well. It wouldn’t be the first time Shen Qingqiu has denied allowing Luo Binghe to service him. It had been a hard fought battle before he was even allowed to take Shizun inside of him, a battle full of many tears on Luo Binghe’s end, both real and false. But, oh, it had been a battle worth fighting.

“You’re utterly shameless,” Shizun grumbles, looking away but no longer pushing at Luo Binghe to move away. It had been a mere show of denial, in the end. Shizun likes playing that game. Putting on airs and having Luo Binghe chase him, court him every night, and it’s a game he’s become quite good at winning.

Luo Binghe smiles sweetly at his master. “Perhaps Shizun should punish this lowly disciple for being so shameless.”

Shizun would normally dismiss him outright after a small show of displeasure to allow him to save some face, ever resistant to Luo Binghe’s masochistic tendencies, but this time he doesn’t. In slow and carefully chosen words, Shizun asks, “Does Binghe… desire for this master to punish him? Is this something Binghe would like?”

If Luo Binghe had not already grown heated and aroused from suckling at his master, that would have been more than enough to ignite his desire. His blood boils with arousal, rushing in his ears and pounding through his veins. “Oh, yes, Shizun - this lowly disciple needs punishment for misbehaving, for being so presumptuous to touch his master without permission.”

Nearly any other day of the year and he would be denied, but not today. Today, on this crisp morning in their shared home, Shen Qingqiu simply closes his eyes and nods, taking a moment to collect himself. Luo Binghe patiently waits for him to prepare - his beloved is quite easily embarrassed, but when he wishes to he can be quite composed no matter the situation.

It only takes a moment before Shizun’s eyes reopen.

Shizun gives him a stern look then, face haughty and cold, easily slipping into the role of an aloof, frigid Immortal, and a displeased master. A thrill shoots through Luo Binghe at it; he’s not ashamed to admit the amount of times he’s masturbated thinking of his master properly putting him in his place. He could whip him, cut him, humiliate him, and Luo Binghe would eagerly accept all of it, completely and utterly submit his body to Shen Qingqiu.

Perhaps the fact that Shizun would never truly hurt him is what makes him crave it so much, that forbidden fruit only given to him in the smallest tastes when he manages to convince Shizun to play along with his perversion. If, one day, Shizun ever reverts back to the man who would pour tea over his head and have him publicly whipped, Luo Binghe would gratefully allow him to do so - just so long as Shizun keeps him at his side, loves him, Luo Binghe would endure anything.

Long, slender fingers grab his chin, angling his face up as Shen Qingqiu looks down at him with an almost disinterested chill. “Yes, Binghe has been presumptuous and very shameless. This master has truly been remiss with his instruction and guidance, allowing his disciple to act so disobediently… It is this master’s duty to correct Binghe’s behaviour.”

Luo Binghe throbs.

Shizun pushes away the covers properly, turning and situating himself on the bed in a more comfortable position, patting his lap. He lifts his chin and gazes coolly at Luo Binghe, his voice commanding. “Binghe, lay yourself over here.”

Luo Binghe is helpless to resist, the voice like a hook stuck inside of his guts and pulling him to obey, dragging his body forwards until he situates himself as instructed, his midsection laid across Shizun’s lap. He can already anticipate the punishment Shizun has in mind for him and he can’t help but grind his heated erection against Shizun’s thigh as the arousal at the mere idea of it threatens to choke him.

A quick swat at the back of his thighs reminds him of his place and he achingly stops himself from rutting against Shizun’s leg, trying to be good for him. Part of their dance is Luo Binghe always trying to take more than he should, and being scolded for it is his prize that makes his blood sing, but being praised for being obedient… Well, it’s just as intoxicating.

“Tell this master, Binghe,” Shizun starts, sounding almost lazy with how unaffected and distant his voice is - oh, how Luo Binghe loves him so. One of his slim, refined hands palm over the swell of Luo Binghe’s rear. “How many strokes does a disciple as disobedient and unfilial as you deserve?”

His stomach warms in surprised delight. It’s an elegant way of giving Luo Binghe control over the situation, allowing him to choose just how much he wants for his gift of Shizun’s attention, while simultaneously making his guts twist in aroused humiliation. Forcing him to admit to his shameful behaviour and account for them, not allowed to pick a number either too high nor too low.

He looks over his shoulder, up at his aloof master’s shrewd, cold eyes, and whines in need. “Shizun…”

“Oh, hush, you little beast,” Shizun says sharply, clicking his tongue and looking down at him with a cool detachment, as though inspecting something dirty and beneath him. Luo Binghe fists his hands in the sheets and bites harshly at the inside of his cheek until he tastes his own blood to stop himself from pushing his Shizun down and mounting his cock, riding him raw until he makes that cold mask melt. “Cease this innocent act. Confess to your master and accept your punishment.”

“Yes, Shizun,” Luo Binghe concedes when he regains enough self-control to speak. “This disciple has been very wrong. I’ve lusted over my master, been disobedient, slipping into his bed and molesting him while he sleeps, shamefully touching myself at the thought of him. Please punish this disciple - would fifty strokes be enough to satisfy?”

In all truth, he would have asked for more, but he knew that even fifty would be stretching his gentle Shizun’s capacity thin.

To prove his musings correct, Shizun hesitates for a long moment before he nods shortly. “This master agrees. Luo Binghe will count each stroke out loud, clearly, understood?”

His stomach shivers in even greater delight, his spine tingling in anticipation. His Shizun is always so resistant, so careful, refusing to take too drastic of a step no matter how hungry Luo Binghe is for him, but when he sheds his embarrassment and his urge to handle Luo Binghe like delicate glass, Shizun truly becomes a most wonderful master. Luo Binghe would give him anything.

Shizun pulls his robes apart, pushing them down to bare his rear and thighs.

“Prepare yourself,” Shizun warns shortly before his palm comes sharply down onto his skin, a bright sting that makes his toes curl.

“One,” Luo Binghe obediently counts.

“Good,” Shizun approves as he brings his hand down again. Luo Binghe nearly forgets to count again, blindsided by the burning, conflicting feelings of being both punished and praised by his Shizun at once, like fire and electricity clashing inside of him.

The swirl of sensations drive him further into that precious, delirious state he sometimes achieves when Shizun dotes on him like this - when his mind goes soft at the edges and he stops being able to think of anything but his Shizun. No worries or anxieties of anything except for pleasing his master. The world going blurry and hazy and warm, blanketed by his master’s love.

The first ten strokes come down in that steady manner, each hit igniting a small spark of pain in Luo Binghe that he treasures, and when he counts out the hit he’s praised, reinforcing his need to be good. Good for his Shizun. Good enough that he’ll never find fault in him. Good and perfect and obedient enough when it’s called for that Shizun will never leave him.

His breath hitches as the thought worms its way in under the hazy warmth of Shizun’s attention. Shizun hits him and Luo Binghe doesn’t count it.

“... Binghe.”

Shizun hits him again, gentler this time. It’s the opposite of what he wants. He wants Shizun to hurt him so badly that it will stop him from thinking. He doesn’t want to be trapped in his head anymore.

“... If Binghe would like to stop, then -”

“No,” Luo Binghe gasps, feeling moved to very real, very bitter tears, sniffling into the sheets and feeling a tremble beginning at his core and moving out to his limbs. “No, Shizun, please. Please. Don’t stop. Please finish this. I need it.”

“Alright,” Shizun says very softly. Luo Binghe is glad once more at how weak Shizun is towards his misery. Then, more firmly, back in the role of the strict master, he says again, “Alright. Count properly.”

And he brings his hand down harsher than before, making all of his previous strokes seem pitifully weak in comparison. Luo Binghe keens in pleasure, whimpering out his count for it. This is what he’d been craving. It feels so good - the pain scratches that itch deep inside of him, makes him settle back into himself, satisfied that Shizun is here, imprinting his ownership onto his body.

Each time Shizun’s hand comes down, it burns a little brighter, a little deeper, the feeling of it sinking deep into his skin. He’s moaning whorishly now, his erection straining and aching with need as it drags back and forth on the bed to the motion of his hips rising to meet Shizun’s hand eagerly.

At thirty strokes, Shizun’s hand strays a little and comes down on the more tender skin on his upper thighs, making him jolt.

“Th-thirty,” Luo Binghe counts obediently, erection twitching and drooling at the fresh, stark pain. Distantly, some part of his mind is aware that he’s making a mess and worries over it, thinking of the scrubbing he’ll have to do to clean it later. Then Shizun’s hand comes down again and that thought scatters away like fizzling sparks, leaving his mind blissfully empty of everything except Shizun.

In truth, the pain itself is nothing more strenuous to endure than a papercut would be in comparison to the many trials he’s undergone in the Endless Abyss and beyond that. But he feels it still. Feels it more than any enemy’s attack. Because it is his most dearly beloved, precious, gentle master who’s gifting it to him. And it really is just that - a gift.

His skin will bruise from this if he restrains his heavenly demon blood, shackles it down inside of himself so that he can guard the marks on his skin for as long as he possibly can, just as he’d done with the scars left by Xiu Ya. Luo Binghe eagerly anticipates looking at the bruises in the shape of Shizun’s palm in the days to come.

At forty, his skin feels raw and sore and so, so wonderful. He can’t stop his hips from moving anymore even as Shizun tsk’s above him at his shamelessly lewd behaviour, making small motions to grind his cock into the bed, sliding through the mess of pre-come he’s left. It’s filthy and dirty and Luo Binghe loves it all for the pure fact that it’s Shizun who’s made him this way, loves being able to show his lover just how much he enjoys it.

In between his counts, he moans, “Shizun, Shizun, Shizun -”

Perhaps it’s his visible, vocal enjoyment that gives Shizun that small bit of courage to overcome his own biases and embarrassment because the forty-fifth stroke comes down on his perineum, the delicate and sensitive skin just above his heavy, aching stones. Luo Binghe keens, torn between rutting down - he’s so close already - and arching his back to better present himself for Shizun to strike.

Forty-six lands on his perineum again, hurting so deliciously and making him feel so good, he might just cry.

After the next hit strays a bit further down until soft fingertips smack sharply against his stones, he decides he will cry. His chest feels too full, packed with such overwhelming love that he might just drown in it if he doesn’t let it out.

Shizun goes stiff under him. “Binghe?”

Oh, his darling, gentle master. Luo Binghe feels so fond. He turns his head to look over his shoulder at him, weeping and trying to convey just how much he loves everything about this exact moment to his Shizun. “Shizun, I’m so happy…” He reaches a hand back to grasp Shizun’s wrist and brings his hand towards Luo Binghe’s heated rear when his master looks reluctant. “Shizun, please, we’re so close. I’m close.”

Shizun’s tongue flits out to wet his lips and after another moment he nods.

Luo Binghe tilts his rear up and spreads his legs, fluttering his wet lashes and pouting his lips in just the right way he knows Shizun loves. He forces himself not to smile as Shizun sharply inhales; although his master denies it, Luo Binghe knows that his messy, crying face arouses him just as much as it makes him weak to Luo Binghe’s every whim. “Hit this disciple lower - lower than the last one.” Shizun makes a small noise of disagreement and Luo Binghe whines, “Punish me. Please?”

Shizun seems to struggle for a long moment before his brow smoothes and he’s settled himself back into his cold persona. “Don’t presume to tell this master what to do.”

Before Luo Binghe can play his part and beg forgiveness for being so forward, Shizun does as asked and uses the full force of his palm to slap Luo Binghe’s balls. Oh. Oh. Luo Binghe begins crying in earnest, counting out a strangled forty-eight as he reels with the unbelievably delicious mixture of pleasure and pain making his lower half throb. His cock won’t stop leaking, his guts tangled and snarled with arousal, dragging him closer and closer to the edge.

Shizun mercifully does it again and Luo Binghe shoves his face into the sheets, bawling his count into the bed, rubbing his face into it and smothering himself in the shared smell of them.

His balls are throbbing, aching, and he needs more - he wants Shizun to punish them, step on him and grind the heel of his boot in until he’s begging for relief, and then for him to keep going anyways until he crushes an orgasm out of Luo Binghe. It would hurt so nicely; he’d surely feel the ache for days, every time he moved or sat or dared to touch himself. Perhaps on another birthday he’ll use his Shizun’s goodwill and gift to satisfy those urges.

And then, the very last hit, right over top of the last two -

“F-Fifty,” Luo Binghe sobs, body tightening up as he teeters on the thin, razor-wired edge of ecstasy. He wants to be good, wants to be obedient, but he can’t stop himself from humping the bed, hiccuping through his tears as he whines for his Shizun.

“Good boy, Binghe,” Shizun soothes, petting over his raw rear. “You did so well for this master, took your punishment so well… This master is very satisfied.”

The words are more effective than any aphrodisiac, shooting into Luo Binghe’s brain like a shock of lightning, making his cock twitch harshly. He drives his hips harder into the bed, the sheets tearing in his hands in his desperation. His master is so giving, so loving, so perfect - Luo Binghe sobs and shudders. He’s so close, it hurts. “Please, again, tell me again, please, Shizun -”

Shizun pets his bruised ass calmly, then curls his fingers until his nails dig into the sore, bruising spots and says in a low, rough voice, “You made this master proud, Binghe.”

He howls as he orgasms, his aching balls tightening painfully as he spills over the bed in long ropes, making a mess of the sheets. Shizun holds him gently through it, ‘good boy’s falling from his lips and dragging his orgasm out until he feels like his stomach has turned itself inside out. Then, he slumps across Shizun’s lap and lets himself drift.

His heart is so full. So full. So happy. He chokes on his sobs as Shizun murmurs a small piece of praise at how well he took it, how well he obeyed. Luo Binghe feels so warm, brain fuzzy, almost sleepy in his contentment. His body could simply float away with how light and satisfied he feels.

He would give everything for Shizun to keep punishing him as he wishes, keep driving him further into that blurry, dreamy state he only gets when he feels properly owned by his beloved. But, as Shizun gently murmurs soothing words at him as he urges him to sit up, Luo Binghe sadly recognizes this session of play is over. He soothes himself by thinking of the rest of the day yet ahead of them.

“Is Binghe alright?”

Luo Binghe sniffles through his tears and nods, messy cheek rubbing against the soft sheets, and he arches up into the cool hand that pushes his bangs out of his face and wipes the rest of his tears away. He’s quite more than alright. Eventually he goes with the urging and he sits upright, the bruises and welts on his rear stinging as he moves, making his lashes flutter in pure delight.

“I truly don’t understand why you enjoy things like this,” Shizun says quietly, clearly conflicted as he sees Luo Binghe gingerly stand from the bed, sucking a breath through his teeth as his robes grate against the fresh marks.

Luo Binghe hums happily and lays his scarred hand over the matching scar on his chest. “Shizun, this disciple will always be overjoyed at the honour of wearing your marks.”

Shizun goes silent, staring at him. Luo Binghe meets his gaze evenly and openly, acknowledging how hurt his Shizun must be at the reminder of their many misunderstandings, but Luo Binghe feels no bitterness at their past anymore. It’s nothing but the pure truth that he is deeply happy to have been scarred by his beloved, always carrying a physical reminder of him inside of his body, and he won’t allow himself to be ashamed of that joy.

When Shizun does not respond, Luo Binghe smiles and says, “When Shizun is ready, breakfast has been prepared.” And he shrugs on his own outer robe and heads to the kitchen to prepare a fresh pot of tea, the old one having steeped for far too long now.

It takes a few minutes, just long enough for Luo Binghe to serve the tea, before Shizun emerges. His hair is still down and his robes are mussed and loose, but he’s just as unbearably beautiful as ever. Shizun takes a seat at the table, mood clearly improving at the modest spread of food Luo Binghe had prepared. If nothing else, Shizun would not leave him if only for the fact that his cooking is much too good to be replaced.

Shizun's motions are as delicate and elegant as ever as he picks at the side dishes of the meal, spooning congee into his mouth and sipping at the newly prepared tea. Luo Binghe simply satisfies himself by watching, leaving his own breakfast untouched for now.

It's not an altogether uncommon occurrence for Luo Binghe to follow his master’s every movement with his eyes, drinking in his appearance, burning the image of him into his eyes so that when he shuts them, when he blinks, when he's forced away from his side, he will still see the afterimages of him. After the visuals of Shizun coming undone in bed, watching him eat come only second in Luo Binghe’s favourites. Providing for him, ensuring he never goes hungry or wants for a single thing; it soothes him, makes him feel good. Accomplished. Making his most loved one safe and happy and healthy is an addiction he feeds regularly.

He knows at times there are Peak Lords, demons, bystanders watching them that whisper snidely of how reliant Shen Qingqiu is of him. That Shen Qingqiu must be lazy or weak to make his old disciple do so much for him: cooking, cleaning, attending to Qing Jing Peak paperwork when his Shizun doesn't wish to bother with it. Luo Binghe doesn't care. He would breathe for Shizun as well if he could.

But he can't do that as much as he wishes he could, so he satisfies himself with watching, that heady satisfaction at every small smile and sound Shizun makes coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach. He spreads his legs and kneads his growing arousal subtly to avoid Shizun’s notice.

When Shizun finally finishes his meal with a soft sigh of contentment that makes Luo Binghe feel so good he might just combust, he notices Luo Binghe's untouched meal.

"Does Binghe not wish to eat?" Shizun asks, a bit cautiously, his eyes drifting from Luo Binghe's face to the bowl. He wonders what idea has wormed its way inside of Shizun's head this time. Whatever it is, it surely pales to the desire Luo Binghe actually intends to ask for.

Luo Binghe gently grasps his own bowl of congee. “Would… Would Shizun… Um.”

Shizun’s eyes flash with preemptive reluctancy. Luo Binghe has never been very shy about his wants and desires when he expresses them, though he hides away the bulk of his most inner depraved cravings because he knew they would frighten his sweet, thin-faced master. But today is his day. Shizun had said he would not deny him anything if it was in his power.

“I…” Luo Binghe licks his lips and reaches over to rest it atop of Shizun’s robes, feeling out his soft pillar underneath, his other hand grasping his bowl of congee and bringing it closer. “This lowly disciple - this pathetic one wonders if Shizun would grant him a small favour, and complete this dish with his…”

Shizun looks down at his hand and then at Luo Binghe’s bowl. He can occasionally be very obtuse, dense and naive and completely unaware, but Luo Binghe can see as his brain pieces the two things together, thoroughly endeared at how Shizun’s face goes bright red despite his struggle to maintain his composure.

Shizun sputters, “Y-You -! You want…?!”

Luo Binghe leans forwards to rest their foreheads together, close enough that he can individually count Shen Qingqiu’s eyelashes and see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. He knows that his master is weak to his face and uses it to his full advantage, lip quivering in a pout as he lets his eyes grow wet with false tears. “Shizun promised. He promised that today, this disciple of his would be allowed to ask for whatever his heart desires. And this disciple desires nothing more than to have his master share his seed with me in this meal.”

Shizun’s jaw drops in shock at the bold desire said out loud. Luo Binghe has to steel his heart to maintain his pathetic mask instead of dropping all pretenses and kissing his cute master breathless - he just barely manages, but it’s a very close thing.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe whines pathetically.

The mask of being an indifferent, cold master has completely dissolved now, Shizun shying away from him and covering his face with his sleeves when he realizes he doesn’t have a fan nearby to snap open. “You’re filthy…!”

Luo Binghe only barely swallows back a moan, shifting on his stinging thighs and rear, the humiliation sparking the physical reminders of his earlier punishment. Oh, he can already feel his cock begin to leak anew, and he pushes a few more tears out of his eyes. “Yes, I’m filthy - I’m a dirty little beast, so pathetic and lowly - this dirty disciple of Shizun’s begs forgiveness. Please, Shizun, please, forgive this one’s disgusting request.”

“F-Fine!” Shizun hisses, cutting into his mounting tirade of self-degradation, voice low and ears burning red. “Do whatever you please…!”

Luo Binghe needs no more invitation than that, false tears drying. He readily slips his hands inside of Shizun’s robes, drawing out his cock, curling his fingers around it and stroking.

The angle is the slightest bit awkward as they sit next to one another, but it provides Luo Binghe a wonderful point of view of both Shizun’s face as well as his cock. After a few strokes it becomes just as pleasantly flushed as Shizun’s cheeks, the red of it standing out starkly against the whites and greens of his robes. It looks just as mouth-watering as always, not as long or thick as his own but a perfect size to match his exceedingly perfect master. If he were not already so dead set on having his master’s essence mixed with his breakfast, he’d have thrown his bowl of congee to the side and gotten on his knees to swallow him down.

“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmurs, just to have the feeling of it on his tongue. “Shizun…”

Shizun trembles under his hand. Luo Binghe is nothing if not single-minded when it comes to mastering whatever skill he desires, and he had certainly desired mastering pleasing Shizun. Luo Binghe’s talent at pleasuring him has become a true work of art, honed to a fine point. It helps that Shizun had not found any relief before, when he'd been teased into hardness in his sleep, that dimmed sense of urgency being reignited.

Luo Binghe leans further into Shizun, breathing in the smell of him, nuzzling against the side of his beautiful face. He presses a trail of kisses over a soft, warm cheek, up to his temple, and then back down and over to his ear.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe moans, lips brushing Shen Qingqiu’s ear, delighting as Shizun shivers. So sensitive… So precious. He wants to devour every last little reaction. He presses a kiss to the ear before opening his mouth to lick over the ridges of cartilage, tasting the delicate skin.

“Binghe,” Shizun says, a tremor in his voice.

Luo Binghe doesn’t bother holding back his small, happy sounds, murmuring into Shizun’s ear. Shizun shivers again as his breath gusts over the trails of saliva left on his skin, and Luo Binghe takes care to lave a new, hot stripe over it before taking the shell of it between his teeth, worrying at it gently.

His habit of biting is something Shizun has long tried to break but never quite managed - Luo Binghe’s desire to taste Shizun is insatiable; to have him in his mouth, to consume him, to mark him as disobedient and unfilial as it sounds. It must be his demon blood caling for it, mixing with his desperation and mindless need when he’s thrown into the deep pool of arousal that Shizun incites in him. Of course he soothes every mark away with his qi and blood parasites afterwards, wiping the porcelain skin back to it’s clean state.

But this time, his goal isn’t to mark Shizun, it’s simply to tease him, to pleasure him until Luo Binghe gets what he desires.

He drags his hand over Shizun’s silken pillar, delighting in the feeling of it throbbing. He closes his eyes and lets his awareness sink inside of Shizun’s body, following his blood pounding through veins, tracing it as it swirls in his heart and down, down into the cock in his hand. The sensation of it is dizzying, Shizun’s entire body becoming perfectly clear in his mind’s eye. Feeling his blood being pumped through Shizun’s veins, every parasite Luo Binghe had put inside of his body passing through the most intimate parts of his heart - it's addicting.

He can visualize it clearly when Shizun inhales sharply as Luo Binghe’s hand rubs at the leaking tip, his lungs expanding with a shuddering breath. He can picture it clearly when Shizun’s hands shut, the way his tendons slip over bone and his muscles clench. He can anticipate the impending orgasm as Shizun’s blood pumps faster, his thighs flexing, stomach tightening, the blood flooding through him only going faster and faster, hotter and hotter -

“Binghe, I -”

Luo Binghe licks at the shell of Shizun’s ear again, tracing where he can feel the blood flushing them, and Shizun's words scatter into a sharp moan instead as his body stiffens. Luo Binghe’s mouth starts to water preemptively as he watches the ropes of white shoot from the flushed cock in his hand, streaking the top of his congee, looking pearlescent against it.

He strokes until Shizun's breath hisses through his teeth and he's sure every last drop has been wrung out.

Shizun slumps back, panting, face cute and pink and his eyes hazy with pleasure. His eyes are dark as he watches Luo Binghe pick up his spoon and dip it into the bowl of congee, as he scoops up a small portion, ensuring to take some of Shizun's essence. Luo Binghe meets his gaze as he slides the spoon into his mouth then pulls it out clean, chewing and savouring the salty taste mixing with the porridge. It's an addicting flavour that makes his stomach shiver in excitement, his manhood hardening further as it drools in his robes.

Shizun shakes his head in disbelief, but Luo Binghe doesn't miss the way his softening cock twitches. How like him. It's almost cute the way he always denies his arousal, makes Luo Binghe carefully draw it out of him, like prying pearls from an oyster.

He takes another mouthful, spreading it across the roof of his mouth, licking his teeth until he's sure the taste has been pushed into every corner. It's doubtful he'll be able to convince his thin-faced master to do this for him again so he'll savour every second of it now, memorizing the way Shizun's most intimate taste mixes with the flavour of their favourite meal - the first meal he'd ever made for Shizun.

Luo Binghe could not imagine a more perfect meal to have for his birthday.

He eats slowly under Shizun's gaze, his skin feeling hot at the attention. The very idea of Shizun watching him do something so dirty, enjoying himself so obviously, lapping up his master’s semen like a man enjoying a heavenly dish unlike anything else - he hums and moans between bites, playing it up just slightly so he can watch Shizun flush.

When he slides the spoon into his mouth, he wraps his tongue around it and sucks gently at it, hollowing his cheeks like he does when he suckles at Shizun’s pillar, teasing his cute master.

It ends far too soon as his spoon scrapes the bottom of his bowl and he pouts at it. Pride is worthless in their shared, private home, so he dips his head and drags his tongue across the empty bowl until he's sure he's consumed every last scrap. Shizun clicks his tongue at the show and Luo Binghe smiles bashfully at the minor admonishment.

"Thank you for the meal, Shizun," Luo Binghe purrs, turning and nuzzling his face into the crook of Shizun's neck, inhaling the gentle scent of bamboo and kissing at the soft skin at the edge of his robes. He's still hard and leaking in his pants, so he reaches down and kneads at it, sighing against Shizun's neck.

Shizun's hand comes up to thread through Luo Binghe's mane of hair, fingertips rubbing gently at his scalp, sending a tingle down his spine. "This master… This master is glad Binghe is enjoying himself."

"Oh, I am, very much."

“Is Binghe close?” Shizun asks, lowering an elegant hand to rest over Luo Binghe’s, the pressure so soft it feels like nothing at all but his hips still jerk in response, body feeling electrified at the small act.

“Yes, Shizun,” he dutifully responds, grinding the heel of his palm harder into himself.

“Good,” Shizun breathes, fingertips trailing up Luo Binghe’s forearm, dipping into the sleeve of his robe.

It’s softly intimate and makes his heart feel so full and warm it aches. A shiver runs down his body as Shizun rubs circles into the skin on his arm and his scalp, dreamily warm as Shizun holds him while he touches himself.

“Binghe, pull yourself out, let this master watch.”

He doesn’t bother swallowing the broken little moan that rips out of him at that, and he fumbles with his pants to push them down without breaking away from Shizun’s embrace, freeing himself, proudly preening at Shizun’s approving hum. Shamelessly, he wraps his hand around himself, dragging through the mess of precome to slick the way. With the ache of his punishment still sparking arousal deep inside of him mixing with the erotic meal he’d just had, it takes very little time before he spills over his hand, shooting up and making a mess on the table.

Shizun presses a chaste kiss on the crown of his head, holding him through the euphoric bliss of his second orgasm of the day. "What would Binghe like now?"

“Just… Just a moment, Shizun.”

Taking that moment, Luo Binghe slowly calms himself, evening out his breathing before standing to take the dishes to the counter and wiping off his hand. Then he goes and wipes up the table, cleaning up his mess before returning to rinse the dishes quickly and efficiently, Shizun watching him fondly, leaning forward on his hand, elbow resting on the table.

“Shizun.”

“Mhm?”

Luo Binghe wanders back to his husband, taking his hands. “Would Shizun be kind enough to brush this disciple’s hair?”

Shizun smiles up at him and stands, guiding Luo Binghe back to the bedroom, picking up a comb and settling himself onto a clean part of the bed, motioning for Luo Binghe to sit between his legs on the floor. He does, of course, kneeling and beaming happily. It’s difficult to contain himself from peeking over his shoulder but he just barely manages it, relaxing back into Shizun’s hands as they card through his hair.

“Binghe’s hair is so soft,” Shizun marvels, first dragging his fingers through and drawing the comb through after. Luo Binghe preens at the praise, grateful that his genetics graced him with something Shizun would deign to approve of.

The soothing motion of Shizun’s hand separating sections of hair to bring the comb through gently tug at his scalp, his skin prickling at the near-teasing sensation. He would happily sit for an entire day of Shizun playing with his hair, his eyes half-lidded as he sinks back, drifting into a blurry, dreamy state where he feels safe and cared for.

He feels himself drift away into thoughts as he sits between Shizun’s legs, reminiscing on their bamboo house and all the time it took for them to finally get to this comfortable place between them.

Mostly, he thinks about his life before the Endless Abyss, when his heart had been so very close to breaking under the cruel hands of Shen Qingqiu and his shixiongs after the crushing loss of his washerwoman mother. Everything was so difficult, so harsh, so cold, and the only kind hand for a long time had been the girlish, ditzy Ning-shijie. He doesn’t feel anything but respectful friendship for her now, but he’d gotten very close to desperately latching onto her affections for the simple fact she’d been the only one to offer a helping hand.

Then, just at his breaking point, Shizun had undergone a severe fever and awoke as nearly a completely different person. His cold actions then had a purpose, his behaviour hesitating between being distant and being caring. Luo Binghe had been given medicine, opportunities, a bed, a true mentor in the man he’d so desperately looked up to - and he’d never bothered looking back, throwing himself entirely into his adoration for Shen Qingqiu.

He still can’t understand it fully, and he’d never questioned his Shizun on why exactly he’d been tested so thoroughly for those first few years, what it was about him that first drew such criticism and later such gentle support. Why Shizun would be so cold one day and warm the next, only to hurt him like he had - 

Memories of the Endless Abyss burn cold, and Luo Binghe shivers and pushes himself back, Shizun easily adjusting around him.

The soft hands drawing through his hair soothe those old hurts, the palm petting over the crown of his head erasing the feeling of scalding tea being poured on him, the firm and warm presence at his back centering him away from those cold nights in the woodshed.

It is the truth that he would still happily dedicate himself to Shen Qingqiu’s happiness and grovel at his feet for a chance to love him even if he returned back to that cold, bitter person - but he thinks, perhaps, he can only think that because he has such faith it will never happen. His Shizun… His husband. The blood in his veins and the heart in his chest, Shen Qingqiu. His Shizun will never leave him. Shizun promised.

Shizun has lied so very many times but this time he believes it. He must believe it. If he couldn't believe that Shizun - soft and gentle and warm Shizun - would stay with him forever, he doesn't think he could do it anymore. If Shizun ever left him, he wouldn't…

He wouldn't……

Luo Binghe would not.

Death would be a blessing in a world like that.

He raises his scarred hand and kisses the mark, pouring his love into it. His Shizun can hurt him and scar him and punish him, but he can do so because he loves Luo Binghe back. He may never understand his Shizun’s past actions in their entirety, but he must always have faith in that - that Shizun loves him.

Unaware of his thoughts, Shizun draws some of his hair back, picking up a simple green ribbon to tie it with, then his clever fingers draw out another section and lightly tug the strands into a quick braid. It’s a simple touch, but one he adores. As though this is just another way for Shizun to mark him, to show everyone that Luo Binghe belongs to him.

Liu Qingge would never get a braid in his hair like this, Luo Binghe thinks viciously, grinning to himself.

Shizun spends another moment tugging wayward sections into place, ensuring the ribbon is tightly tied and that the braid won’t fall apart, before finally nudging Luo Binghe with his knees. “All done, Binghe.”

“Thank you, Shizun,” he chirps happily, turning on his knees to look up at his master’s face. “May this disciple help Shizun do his hair and get dressed?”

Shizun hums playfully as if in thought, before flicking Luo Binghe’s nose with the tip of a finger and smiling warmly at him. “Of course, if that is what Binghe desires. This master is not opposed.”

He jumps up immediately, grabbing a delicate crown from a shelf nearby and clambering up onto the bed to sit behind his Shizun, accepting the passed comb. He mimics Shizun’s earlier actions, careful not to tug at any knots and brushing gently until the dark hair is smooth and shining as silk, pooling through his fingers. He can’t resist taking a handful now and then to kiss at the midnight strands, breathing in the soothing smell of Shizun’s herbal hair oil.

It's a few days too soon to reapply the oil, but Binghe satisfies himself with the knowledge that he will be the one granted the privilege of drawing the oil through Shizun's hair, gathering his hair up and rubbing it in.

No one else can thread their fingers through Shen Qingqiu’s black silk, can feel how soft it is, can pet through the small downy hairs at the base of his head. No one but Binghe. Dark possessiveness thrills through him and his fingers tremble with the urge to grab the hair tightly, to cover Shizun with his body and hold him down, force him to stay right there with him forever, but he can't. It would hurt Shizun, and he'll never do something that despicable again.

So he takes another deep breath with his nose buried in Shizun’s hair and slowly relaxes his hand, combing through it all once more to hide the evidence of his inner thoughts.

He picks out a crown that Binghe himself had commissioned for Shizun, something delicate and silver, with green accents to it.

The hair crown is easy to place with his practiced hands and they stand together after, moving to Shizun’s wardrobe as they pick out an outfit for him. Shizun seems happy to leave this all to Luo Binghe’s decision, giving cursory approving nods when the outfit is presented.

Oh, this lazy master of his, Binghe thinks very fondly. He wonders how the man got by without him there to dress him and cater to his needs. Of course Shen Qingqiu would look breathtaking as befitting of a peerless beauty anyways, even with sloppy robes and improperly done hair, but with his loyal Luo Binghe here he need never worry about such things. It's better this way.

Shizun needing him for something as small as this sates a thirst he hadn't even known he had.

Again, the repetitive motions and soothing knowledge that he’s tending to his beloved husband, removing the inane task of dressing from him, bring Luo Binghe into that soft, blurry mental state. Shizun shouldn’t need to worry himself over something so simple, so small, something that Luo Binghe can take care of for him. As his husband, his disciple, his adoring servant, this is Luo Binghe’s responsibility.

Layer upon delicate layer of silk and cotton, wrapping his Shizun in fabrics with detailed edging, tied together with an expensive sash. Something deep inside of Luo Binghe is gratified at seeing his lover dressed in such luxurious clothes, that care-taking itch scratched. He would lavish his lover in jewels and gold and silks so precious they would bankrupt Cang Qiong and dazzle all the common men who would dare look his way, reminding them of their places underneath him, but Shizun is an easily embarrassed man who denies such things. One day, perhaps. One day, he can dress his husband in dripping gold and gems, give him all the fineries that befit someone as perfect as him - yet he knows that even the most precious jewel would still pale in comparison to his Shen Qingqiu.

He peruses the collection of fans for one to tuck inside of Shizun’s belt and selects one that he’d bought him, a cream coloured one with a beautiful painting of a graceful crane standing amidst lotuses with a tassel and jade gem hanging off the end of it. It slips easily into the sash at Shizun’s side and Luo Binghe smiles in satisfaction at the way Shizun nods in appreciation.

The last touch of the outfit is putting Shizun’s boots on though he doesn’t really need them inside of their own home. Still, it gives Luo Binghe an excuse to kneel down and bend his head to press a soft kiss to the top arch of his foot, putting himself as low beneath his Shizun as he can, shaking with a small laugh when Shizun twitches with the desire to pull away from him. Before he can, Luo Binghe slips his boots on and stands again.

“You really…!” Shizun scowls, blushing prettily. He gets over himself quickly, snapping out that same fan Luo Binghe had just given him, and covering his mouth with the image of a crane surrounded by lotuses. “Now what? Does Binghe desire to go out?”

"No.” The absolute last thing he wants to do is share Shizun with someone else today. The very idea of it makes his stomach churn bitterly. No one outside deserves to see his Shizun. “Does Shizun have any Peak paperwork to attend to?" Luo Binghe asks politely, words clearly leading Shizun to his desk.

“Paperwork?” A touch of incredulity colours the word.

Luo Binghe smiles and nods firmly, raising a hand to trace a finger across his lips, Shizun’s eyes following them with a sudden understanding.

Shizun gives him a look but agreeably goes to sit at his desk, shuffling papers and letters, watching Luo Binghe from the corner of his eyes as he waits. He looks for all the world the perfect, untouchable Immortal that he’d been in Luo Binghe’s eyes during his youth. Elegant. Beautiful. Refined. All this perfect man, all for him.

Luo Binghe smiles and brings him some tea before laying down and settling into a comfortable position where he can rest his head on Shizun’s lap, pulling apart the robes he’d just put on his master just enough where he can expose his master’s pillar once again.

Wordlessly, Shizun watches him as he dips his head forwards and draws the soft, velvety cock into his mouth, not sucking or enticing. Simply letting it rest. He turns his eyes up to Shizun and is rewarded with a hand carding through his hair, making him melt.

“Is Binghe comfortable?” Shizun asks softly, petting his hair like a master petting his loyal dog.

Luo Binghe feels his stomach warm again, fluttering happily at the idea of being Shizun’s pet, but he pushes it down and focuses instead on being good for Shizun.

This is a common pastime for them at this point, once Luo Binghe had finally gotten Shizun past the hurdle of being afraid to have Luo Binghe submit to him.

He curls up a bit more, wrapping himself around his seated master, his eyes drifting lazily half-shut as he looks up at Shizun’s face, watching the way he glances over his desk. Besides the small hint of red on his cheeks from the embarrassment he’s undoubtedly choking down, Shizun looks focused and utterly unconcerned with Luo Binghe’s current position, his hands confidently arranging papers and scrolls, deciding which order to handle them in.

Typically, Luo Binghe would be the one taking care of such things. Menial matters being handled before they could bother his dear master and take up any of his attention, letters being discarded or responded to as needed, and any pressing matters carefully organized to be handled in the easiest manner. It's something simple to do between his duties as a Demon Lord, almost relaxing in a way.

He’s aware that many, both demons and cultivators alike, find Luo Binghe’s services demeaning and below his station. To throw himself at his master’s feet and beg to be used in any and every way possible, how can a Heavenly Demon like him swallow his pride to do such a thing? But he doesn’t concern himself with the pride of others. Even if everything else in the world ceased to be besides himself and Shizun, he would be utterly content.

Just so long as he can stay at Shen Qingqiu’s side, care for him, love him, Luo Binghe needs nothing else. Needs no one else.

Satisfied, he lets himself drift away into that soft, blurry world again.

To possess Shizun, to own him and be the only one granted the privilege of seeing him; it's a very heady thought. But like this, to be the one possessed… To be the one wanted and used so lovingly… It's better than he could ever dream of.

So he lets himself sink into the feeling, drowning himself in it, wishing to never breach the surface again if he could avoid it. Above him, all he hears are the gentle sounds of papers being moved, outside he distantly hears disciples and the bamboo moving in the breeze, and all he feels is the warmth of his master around him - in him.

He opens his eyes, not being quite sure of when they’d drifted shut in his contentment, looking up again at his beloved husband. The sun has clearly begun its travel across the sky, the light streaming through the windows and dousing his husband’s face in a beautiful sunny warmth.

Shen Qingqiu is still focused on his reports and letters, elegant and controlled as he picks up his brush to respond to something or perhaps mark a student’s essay, gaze never straying from his work, expression schooled and aloof.

His Shizun looks exactly like a perfect Immortal scholar, unperturbed and untouched by mortal worries. He doesn’t look even the slightest as though he has a man warming his cock with his mouth. It’s almost as though, to Shizun, Binghe isn’t even there - that he’s more akin to a common accessory than a living person, simply fit to be used.

A wave of molten arousal rolls over him, spreading from the crown of his head all the way down to his feet, heating him inside and chasing away the blurry haze from his mind. He swallows down a mouthful of saliva around Shizun, trying to focus on being a good cockwarmer rather than the way arousal pools in his stomach.

Be good, he tells himself, thighs rubbing together in small motions to try and settle his arousal. Be good.

Ever observant, his master looks down at him and then at where he's trying to subtly curb the fire burning in his veins. Then, he looks back at his paperwork, clearly dismissing Binghe’s growing need in favour of his Peak duties. The growing fire explodes into an inferno, cooking him from the inside. He sucks a bit at Shizun’s cock as more saliva pools in his mouth, rubbing his cheek into the silken robes on Shizun's thighs.

Shizun clicks his tongue disapprovingly without even glancing down.

Binghe shudders and settles himself. Be good. Be good. Be good for Shizun. Be quiet and still and obedient. Be good.

Chastened from Shizun’s wordless and almost absent-minded scolding, he repeats that mantra over and over, forcing himself to stop suckling the delicious cock in his mouth and return to simply warming it. It's so hard. He wants Shizun to hold his head down right here, use his mouth as simply another free hole to fuck - use his mouth to get hard and then grab his hair as leverage to fuck his face until he comes right down Binghe’s throat.

He shuts his eyes and tries to smother those mental images. Be good. All he needs to do is be good for his master.

Somehow, he manages to restrain himself, clawing his fingers into his palms until he's sure the skin splits, fighting back the sizzling burning need filling him. Right now, he's Shizun's property, his good little cockwarmer, without a will of his own, his only use to fulfill this duty. He only needs to be good and stay in his proper place.

That's right - he must be good. If he's good, Shizun will praise him. His thighs and ass tingle with the reminder of his previous punishment and while indulging in more pain sounds wonderful, he's been a good boy for so long now it would be disappointing to ruin all this effort.

After another agonizingly long moment, there's a small telltale clattering sound as Shizun cleans his brush and ink and puts them away. Binghe’s stomach twists in anticipation. When a hand soothingly pets through his hair and urges his mouth off of Shizun's now half-hard cock, he obligingly lets it slip out, dizzy and drunk with desire.

"Shizun," he whines, lips feeling a bit swollen and slick, his mouth empty.

Shizun reaches out a hand, tracing a thumb over his bottom lip, eyes hooded and dark. "Binghe did so well at caring for his master." A harsh shiver runs down Binghe's spine, all the way down until it joins with the trembling mass of need building in his guts. "Such a good disciple I have, hm?"

"Yes, Shizun, this disciple was very good for you," Binghe agrees happily, gazing up at him lovingly. "This disciple was very pleased to be of service."

He gets a hum and more petting in response. He wants to enjoy it and preen at the petting, but Shizun's pretty cock is still right in front of his face, tempting him.

Shizun smiles with an edge of tease when he notices Luo Binghe’s hungry stare. "Did Binghe not have enough to eat earlier?"

"This disciple can never have enough if it is Shizun providing," he responds quickly.

That gets him a primly raised brow. "What a greedy little beast I've raised." Binghe's body thrums with arousal at that, trying to contain himself, but he's not sure how much longer he can. His eyes turn wide and pleading and Shen Qingqiu, ever weak to him, relents. "But, this master supposes Binghe has been good enough to deserve a treat. You may take me in your mouth."

He happily does so, sucking him back in, encasing him in the warm wet of his mouth.

Shizun hums in approval, fingers threading through his hair, petting it away from his face and holding him close. He easily goes forward until his nose presses against the short, well-groomed hair at the base of it, his tongue flat against the underside to feel the blood pumping through the thick vein running under it. All the salt of Shen Qingqiu’s skin and sweat have already been suckled away, but with a few enticing motions of his head, dragging his lips up and down his length to kiss and lap at the head, he's rewarded with a few pearls of precome, hot and bitter.

"Good, Binghe," Shizun praises, head tilting back in delight and obscuring his expression. Luo Binghe has seen that visage of gratified arousal many, many times before, but he still whines around the cock in his mouth until Shizun looks back down at him to show off that pleasantly flushed face. Shizun quirks his lips and tightens his hand deliciously in Binghe’s hair. "Hush, Binghe. Be quiet; make your master feel good."

Something hot and wanting drips down Luo Binghe’s spine. He raises his own hand to cover Shizun's in his hair and presses it down, looking up pleadingly, silently urging his master to take his pleasure from him.

Shizun tuts, shaking his head but obligingly repositioning them so he can drag Luo Binghe’s mouth over himself more easily. "What a lazy disciple I have… Disgracefully making his master do his work for him."

Binghe whines pathetically as Shen Qingqiu forcefully grabs his hair in both hands and roughly pushes his cock down his throat a few times, drool slicking his mouth and chin. It's wet and messy, and everything he'd been craving. He's long since lost his gag reflex, but he pretends to choke every time Shizun grinds his hips against his face, chasing that tightness when Luo Binghe’s throat flutters around him.

Shen Qingqiu moans as he gags around him again, eyes shutting and fanning out those dark lashes against his skin. "Good boy - just like that."

Luo Binghe flushes from head to toe, warming at the praise.

So good… His master - his husband - is so good to him. Happy tears sting his eyes, dripping down his cheeks, adding to the salty taste in his mouth. He's fully erect again by now, throbbing and untouched against his thigh as he tends to his master. Perhaps, if he's good, Shizun will allow him to come again. Ah, but he would be happy at being denied, too - whining and crying as Shizun coldly forces his erection back into softness, his balls and stomach aching and feeling bruised with unfulfilled need.

When Shen Qingqiu accidentally tugs a bit too sharply at his hair, he groans happily, rumbling around the thick cock in his mouth and making Shizun rut forward again in return, cursing lowly.

That marks the beginning of the end as Shizun's control begins fraying, his hips snapping so hard against Luo Binghe’s face he thinks dizzily for a moment that his nose might bloody, but sadly it does not. Inwardly, Luo Binghe decides to practice more, to get on his knees again and again until he's become so enticing that Shizun can't help but fuck his face so hard he bruises and bloodies him. It would feel so good, so perfect, his blood being shed for his master’s pleasure… He shivers and sucks hard at the cock in his mouth, thirsting for it.

Another burst of precome coats his tongue and he eagerly drinks it down, hollowing his cheeks whenever Shizun drags his cock to the entrance of his mouth, urging the orgasm out of him. He's close - Binghe can feel it in the way his thrusts grow rougher, the hands in his hair tighter, the tension lining his master’s beautiful face -

And then, with a choked, "Binghe," Shizun shallowly rolls his hips and comes over Luo Binghe’s tongue in hot pulses.

The first few times they'd tried this, Shizun had always buried himself deep into Binghe’s throat and come right down it, forcing his seed down into his stomach - but he'd wept at the loss of not being able to taste it, coat his tongue and teeth in it.

Now, however, he gets to take his delight in sucking all the remaining come from Shizun’s urethra until his master pulls his softening cock free, holding it all in his mouth.

Shizun releases his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp in a wordless apology. "Good, good… Show your master."

Binghe preens at the praise and obediently opens his mouth carefully, displaying the thick mouthful of semen inside, curling his tongue in his prize. Shizun pets him again and nods, wiping away his tear tracks. "You pleased this master; now, swallow."

After a moment longer to enjoy the feeling and taste of Shizun, he does, focusing on the sensation of it sliding down his throat, coating his insides.

"Take me," he pants when he's done, feeling far too empty. He needs to be closer, needs to be held and filled and taken. His cock is so hard it hurts and he wants - needs - his husband to fuck the orgasm out of him. So greedy of him, so shameless, but it's Shizun who told him that he would be allowed anything today. "Shizun, please bed me - I can't take it any longer, I need you -"

"Alright," Shizun soothes, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Up, to the bed."

Luo Binghe stands in one fluid motion, gathering Shizun into his arms as he goes, smiling at the light tap of the fan on his head in scolding. He very carefully deposits Shen Qingqiu onto the bed first, still looking perfectly put together besides his flushed cheeks.

"Binghe may undress," Shizun interrupts as he goes to join him on the bed.

He uncaringly rips his robes off, leaving the scraps on the ground to clean later, clambering onto the bed and crawling into Shizun's lap, seating himself across it and draping his arms around Shizun's neck like a child with their parent.

"Shameless," Shizun scolds lightly even as he wraps his arms around Binghe, holding his naked body against him.

He is shameless for Shizun's affections, always.

Shen Qingqiu cradles Luo Binghe in his arms, a hand gently pressing against the back of his head, urging him to nestle into the warm crook of Shizun’s neck, fingers lightly playing with his hair and rubbing against his scalp, making him shiver and melt. His other hand drifts lower and lower, petting over Luo Binghe’s naked body, stroking across hard planes of muscle and tracing over where his bones lay under his skin, mapping him out in sure but gentle touches. He feels… owned. Cared for. Seen and known and loved.

A slender finger trails over his chest, idly drawing patterns in before a well-groomed nail drags over one of his nipples, sending a shiver down his body. Then, that same nail curves around the edges of the scar left by Xiu Ya, tender as it traces around the raised skin - he very nearly loses his control right then, balls tightening up against his body and his cock drooling.

"Shizun," Luo Binghe moans, arching himself slightly into the touch.

He's already wound tight from sucking Shen Qingqiu off, this further teasing almost tortuous to endure, but he knows he must. Shizun always takes care of him so well when he's like this.

Confirming his unspoken thoughts, Shizun hushes him, petting over his taut stomach. "Be good for a bit longer. Then, this master will prepare you to take him."

"Mm… Yes, Shizun."

The Xiu Ya scar remains the focus of attention for a few minutes longer, caressed and scratched, every touch shooting heat down his body. His lover's mark etched into his body being so carefully played with by the very hand that gave it to him makes his blood sing.

It's as though the scar tissue is directly connected to his weeping pillar, every stroke of nails on his chest causing a firm tug deep inside of his stomach, his brain tangled up and suffocating under the thick blanket of hot need.

If he thought he could get away with it, he'd beg for more scars just so he can feel like this everywhere, all over his body. Branded, possessed, kept.

When Shizun moves his hand away from the scar to massage his stomach and flanks instead, he's already melting, entire body hot and trembling, cock bobbing in the air and waiting for its owner's touch to release it. Whimpering and whining do nothing but get him hushed again, lips pressed soothingly to his forehead as Shizun reminds him to be patient.

He's trying. He really is.

Shizun's hand pulls away to grab the jar of oil they keep at their bed, drizzling it messily over the junction of Luo Binghe’s legs, letting it drip over his cock and down between his thighs.

He sighs in relief and nuzzles deeper into his master’s neck as those clever fingers finally find their way between his slick thighs, dipping down to press against his taint in small pulses that sting at the previous bruises left from his punishment and make his stomach flex, before finally pressing against his entrance.

"Yes, Shizun," he moans lewdly as the first finger slowly slides in, using the mess of oil to ease the way.

It’s far too little stimulation and far too shallow to be satisfying, but his husband never fucks him until he’s stretched and loose and begging for him to finally enter him. Slowly, the finger dips in and out of him, pressing in until the meat of Shizun’s palm meets his perineum, and back out again.

When Shizun finds a rhythm that satisfies him, he adds another finger. It’s still not nearly enough - Luo Binghe frequently fingers himself daydreaming about his husband fucking him full of come, playing with toys and showing off to Shizun when his beloved husband’s stamina finally gives out and Luo Binghe has not had enough. He always craves being ready to take his husband inside.

Ever careful, Shizun delicately scissors his fingers, crooking them, twisting them, prying Luo Binghe open in controlled movements. Binghe clutches tightly at Shizun’s neck and presses an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, moaning needily.

“Shizun, more… I’m ready.”

Shizun hums noncommittally, pressing his fingers as deep as they can go. “Did this master ask for Binghe’s opinion?”

Shizun’s voice is disinterested, aloof mask back in place once again just for Binghe. He burns so hot he thinks he may simply combust. He presses his face hard into the crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, heart feeling much too small to contain all of his love. “No, Shizun.”

“Binghe should learn to be patient,” Shizun says, curling his fingers in a come hither motion, wrist turning, until finally he brushes against the pleasure spot inside of Luo Binghe.

He mewls, hips jerking up, arms tightening further in a reflexive, uncontrolled moment. “Shizun, Shizun, there - right there - ahh, hah -”

Shizun’s lips curl into a smile and he taps his fingers against that spot again, causing another whine to spill from Luo Binghe’s lips, his body shivering. Now that Shizun has found that bundle of nerves inside of him, his fingers stay right there, alternately rubbing relentlessly at it and teasing around it in gentle circles.

Luo Binghe’s stomach quivers with every small touch, cock throbbing and hardening more. He feels so close, barely hanging at the edge but not quite able to make it over - every time he thinks he may orgasm, Shizun draws away and teases at the edges of that spot, and every time he relaxes again, gaining control, Shizun cruelly grinds his fingers against him again.

Luo Binghe sobs, legs trembling. "Shizun, this disciple apologizes but I can't -"

"You can," Shizun interrupts firmly, shoving his fingertips into those nerves. Binghe gasps, vision overtaken with stars, head swimming at the abruptly sharp stimulation, hips rising in a feeble attempt to escape. "You will."

It’s torture. Shizun tightens his arm around him, holding him close as he squirms. Every stroke sends a hard shudder through his body, a painfully intense pleasure radiating out, almost as if Shizun is stroking the inside of his pillar with every press of his fingers. His cock is stiff and taut against his belly, twitching in response to the inescapable massage inside of him, precome drooling out consistently now, drops of it catching in the divots of his stomach.

His thighs burn with the effort of remaining in place, every muscle flexed and trembling tightly, hands digging into Shizun’s robes, mouth dropped open as he moans loudly in a long, keen.

“Shizun, Shizun, Shizun -”

“Binghe is such a… such a very good boy for his master,” Shizun says, stuttering only slightly over his embarrassment. Binghe doesn’t mind a bit, pleasure flooding him with those words. “He’s been so good, he always takes very good care of this master.”

“Yes, yes, I love Shizun, love Shizun so much,” he whines, rubbing his face into Shizun’s neck.

Shizun draws his fingers out and for a moment, Binghe relaxes like a puppet with strings cut, panting and hoping that this means finally Shizun will roll him onto his back and spread his legs and take what’s his - but then he pushes back in with three fingers and finds that spot again, brutally digging into it, massaging and massaging until -

He feels his cock drool out a long string of semen, unbroken and unceasing as Shizun rubs relentlessly at that spot inside. There’s no break of tension, no escape - he isn’t orgasming, but his balls are drawn taut against him, more and more semen pushed out of him and pooling on his tense, trembling stomach.

He thinks he might be wailing, begging, but his blood is rushing too loudly in his ears to hear. His world narrows down to the feeling of Shizun turning him inside out with those three fingers.

"I can't, I can't, I can't, please - nngh, ple--ase," he begs mindlessly.

"Just a bit more, Binghe, be good."

Be good. He sobs and nods, entire body quaking.

His cock jerks and spills more and more and more. He manages to rip his face away from the now spit-damp spot on Shizun’s neck to look down at himself, wide eyes trailing from Shizun’s hand between his shaking thighs and to his dripping erection. It’s as though something inside of him has broken, unable to stop his semen from uselessly spilling out, body reacting uncontrollably to Shizun’s torturous touch.

He bawls like a child as his guts turn inside out, everything wrung bit by bit out of his system. By the time Shizun mercifully pulls his hand away, Luo Binghe feels drunk and completely ruined.

His belly is covered in his spend, cock a deep red, muscles finally relaxing and aching from how tense he'd been. More tears brim at his eyes, and he sniffles, letting his loving master hold him together with his arms.

“Shi --- zun,” he whimpers, throat feeling raw.

“Good boy… Binghe did so well for me," Shizun praises, kissing his temple. Binghe's ruined, aching, still-hard cock quivers at the praise, every last inch of his body both craving and fearing release. "Now let this master comfort you, hm?”

He nods, limbs limp and loose as Shizun lays him down on the bed, too weak to do anything but whimper. His body feels like one raw nerve, every touch of Shizun's cool hands branding him.

When Shen Qingqiu finally, finally, sinks inside of him, filling him, completing him, ruthlessly sliding against his bruised prostate, Binghe chokes on a broken sob as he comes. His empty balls draw up uselessly, cock pulsing with nothing coming out, everything of his already poured out over his own belly. It feels so good it hurts. He's crying in earnest again, hole spasming as Shizun starts fucking him through his orgasm.

"Good, Binghe, you feel so good around this master," Shizun praises, gathering his legs up and pushing them back, hips snapping against his welted ass, shocks of pain and pleasure mixing - everything hurts; everything feels good - he can't tell the difference anymore. His head feels dizzy, delirious, drooling and crying, lungs trying and failing to get enough air as Shizun fucks it out of him.

Eventually, his orgasm fades away and his cock softens, bouncing limply in the mess on his stomach as Shizun roughly rails into him.

Like this, with his knees next to his shoulders, Shizun can drive in as deep as he wishes, as though he's fucking right into Binghe's stomach.

"Tell me, is Binghe enjoying himself?" Shizun asks teasingly.

Binghe's tongue feels fat and heavy when he tries to respond, to tell his master just how much he loves him, loves the way the weight of him feels, but everytime he goes to speak Shizun grinds all the way in, cockhead dragging pointedly across his prostate before plunging deep into his guts, his words dying into pained-pleasured moans.

He breathes out a broken, keening sound, and Shizun laughs, leaning down to kiss his chest, again right over the Xiu Ya scar.

It's a marvel that Luo Binghe has not simply died, perishing under the molten, burning, crushing weight of how deeply and completely he loves Shen Qingqiu. His heart aches and his lungs cannot breathe in enough of Shen Qingqiu’s air, his scent, his everything. He wants to embed his husband into him, make it impossible to ever again be separated.

Shizun presses his soft, loving lips to that scar and quietly, shyly murmurs, "I love my Binghe."

If he hadn't already been crying, he knows that he would have broken into sobs just then.

He drags up his leaden arms and cradles Shizun's face, trying to brand the sight of him into his mind so he can replay this memory over and over again inside of his dreams. "Shizun, I love Shizun, love Shizun so much, I love - love you, love you, love you -"

Shizun turns his face and kisses his scarred palm.

Luo Binghe wails brokenly.

"Binghe, I'm close," Shizun pants, rocking against him urgently.

He feels so sore and tender, entire body still one stripped raw nerve, but he valiantly attempts to tighten himself, to make it feel good for his beloved master. A shred of pride flashes through him as Shen Qingqiu groans deeply, rutting into the tight passage before finally fucking all the way in.

With a satisfied moan, Shizun comes inside of him, hot and filthy.

Luo Binghe melts into the bed, blissful. His stomach is full, now fed from both sides, Shizun’s seed marking him utterly. He wishes it could last forever until he's packed to the brim, but Shizun is only human and eventually the small pulses of his cock end.

Shizun slowly pulls out of him, dragging a trail of semen out with him, Luo Binghe whining at the loss, hicciping on his fading sobs. Then Shizun releases the firm hold on Luo Binghe’s knees and he limply lays in the sheets, trying vainly to clamp his hole shut to keep Shizun's semen inside.

After prying some of his layers of robes off to wipe away some of the mess on Luo Binghe's face and stomach, then tossing them to the side, Shizun lazily flops down next to him, holding him close and kissing at his face. "Binghe… My Binghe… Was that good? Did you enjoy it?"

How could he not have? It was perfect. He can't help but feel almost guilty, undeserving of something so wonderful, but Shizun had given it to him even as worthless as he is. He knows he cannot put into words just how much he loves, just how much Shen Qingqiu has done for him, so he settles on saying, "This husband is very happy, Shizun."

"Mm… good."

They lay together in a comfortable quiet for a while then, enjoying each other's company, simply breathing together and unwinding in the golden afterglow. It doesn't take very long until Luo Binghe regains feeling in his numb legs, can feel his stamina building again, and he wants.

He should be a good and honest husband and get up to make dinner for Shizun.

He should.

But instead he draws his delicious, perfect lover close again, kissing him even as his lips sting, his entire body feeling swollen and tender. It feels good, so good. He feels wrecked, owned and held by Shizun in every possibly way. Today is his day, and Shizun has been oh so wonderful that he can't help but push for more and more.

Luo Binghe doesn't plan on letting Shizun leave this bed for the rest of the night, plans on loving him and tasting him and branding the feeling of his body into himself, until their bamboo house is drenched in the smell of sex and the entirety of Cang Qiong knows exactly how well his master takes care of him.

"Greedy," Shizun murmurs into his mouth, not quite scolding, still warm and indulgent in the lingering euphoria of his orgasm.

Luo Binghe smiles. He is greedy; very much so. Shizun opens his arms and lets Binghe sink back against him, groaning approvingly as he slowly coaxes Shizun back into hardness for him to enjoy again.

Their next round of love making is heralded by more of Luo Binghe's hot tears, all the love inside of him full to spilling.

When they finally give in and Luo Binghe has finished gorging himself, stuffing himself full of his master’s love in the waking world, and they fall asleep, they both already know that their dreams will be entwined and hot and filthy too. It's too much, Binghe knows. It's far too greedy and far too desperate. Any other person would have grown tired of him already. But Shizun isn't ‘ any other person’. Shizun is Shizun.

And Luo Binghe loves him more than anything.