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Shen Yuan almost dies from a qi deviation.
Luo Binghe is gone from the palace when it happens, taking care of some business with Mobei in the North. Truthfully, it's probably something that Mobei can handle on his own, but Luo Binghe had needed to get some actual, physical distance between himself and Shen Yuan. He’s not entirely sure what it is that he’d felt the night of their “agreement”; he just knows that it’s dangerous.
But it isn’t easy, staying away. There’s a restlessness involved that Luo Binghe isn’t accustomed to. It even gets to a point where he summons Shen Yuan’s consciousness into his dreams without realizing it. The worst part of waking up from that dreamscape isn't the loss of face, nor the humiliation of Shen Yuan’s successful deception, but the yawning, aching disappointment that it hadn’t been real.
And then Luo Binghe returns to find that Shen Yuan had come this close to dying. That it’s only due to Mingyan’s vigilance that he hadn’t.
It...unsettles Luo Binghe.
If Shen Yuan dies, then Luo Binghe will never be able to slake this hunger inside of him. And that would be unacceptable.
Keeping his distance is clearly not a solution.
Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is frustrated and in pain, and it makes him surly. Sarcastic. He pushes Luo Binghe on purpose, looking for a fight.
Of course, the obvious solution is dual cultivation. Indeed, if this were one of Luo Binghe’s wives, Luo Binghe would already have resolved the issue by fucking her into the mattress. It’s oh so very tempting to call upon his blood parasites--to use what he’s learned to cut off Shen Yuan’s poisonous words by reducing him into a moaning, quivering mess.
But when Shen Yuan feels the blood parasites stirring...he thinks that Luo Binghe is going to use them to cause him pain.
The impulse passes, leaving a bitter aftertaste in Luo Binghe’s mouth.
Still, the matter of dual cultivation cannot be dismissed.
Shen Yuan may very well hate Luo Binghe to death, but he also wants Luo Binghe. Badly. And yet, Luo Binghe can tell that Shen Yuan is hesitant to act upon his attraction. Part of it is probably due to his thin face and virginal jitters, but Luo Binghe suspects it's primarily the result of some ridiculous sense of obligation to the impostor. That shouldn't be too much of an obstacle, though, since Shen Yuan is a very pragmatic person. Luo Binghe is certain that--provided with a compelling excuse and a guarantee of no backlash from Xin Mo--Shen Yuan will give in again. Only this time, Luo Binghe will follow through.
And what better excuse is there than using dual cultivation to recover from a qi deviation?
...Which just leaves the little matter of Luo Binghe’s lack of practical experience. Even though Luo Binghe had worked himself open with the blood parasites, and even used his fingers, there’s a limit to how much one can learn from experimenting by oneself. No matter how enjoyable it’s proven to be.
Mastering the lovemaking of cutsleeves isn’t just about bringing pleasure, after all, but not bringing any pain. And Luo Binghe knows that his Heavenly Demon constitution makes his experience of pain rather different from that of pure-blooded humans--even when they’ve cultivated to immortality.
In theory, he could just sidestep the matter entirely by allowing Shen Yuan to fuck him. The thought of it is even...appealing. But as much as Luo Binghe enjoys the idea of taking Shen Yuan inside him, there’s no way he can ever actually allow it to happen. While it isn’t uncommon for men of high station to take male lovers, it’s universally accepted that the subordinate should be the one to ‘receive’. And for Luo Binghe to take up the position of an inferior...
It would be far too large a loss of face.
And thus, he needs to test his new techniques with a human partner before he attempts to use them on Shen Yuan.
He considers asking Yingying, but ultimately decides against it. He doesn’t like seeing her so soon after dual cultivation, for one thing. The far-away expression; the sweet, vacant smiles. Observing them on Yingying…
Well, he’d rather not if he can avoid it.
For another thing, he doesn’t think she’d enjoy it. She’d agree to it, of course, because she wants to please him, but he’d feel as though he’s imposing. With some of his wives, that doesn’t bother him. But it does when he’s with Yingying.
She never says when something is bothering her, but he can always tell, and it has a tendency to affect his own mood in kind. Better not to let her get to that point in the first place.
So he selects a wife who he knows to be more adventurous. Conveniently, it’s also a wife in dire need of attention. She’s been kicking up a fuss ever since he’d brought Shen Yuan to the palace.
Two birds with one stone.
Of course, he can’t just show up and demand anything. His wives aren’t whores. There must be romance. Seduction. Sometimes even a certain degree of ceremony.
He sends a servant to inform the Palace Mistress that he will be coming to her courtyard for dinner.
Luo Binghe has organized the humans of his harem in the manner that human women of noble birth are accustomed to.
Demons don’t bother with such formalities; their concern over bloodline purity is a practical function of their concern with the preservation of the literal power of their blood. Only the very highest of the demons bother with any kind of formal marriages at all, and only as a means of securing political alliances. They also don’t bother to seclude their women in harems, since bloodline purity is so easily determined through sight and smell alone.
However, Luo Binghe is in need of cultivation partners, which means seeking out female cultivators. And female cultivators are overwhelmingly women that come from wealthy or noble families. That is, women who will be accustomed to living in a harem, but will also have expectations about how that harem is run.
Though it’s troublesome at times, as Luo Binghe must also follow certain loose regulations, he knows that it will be invaluable once his household grows.
(When he’s moved on from the Demon Realm and returned to Huan Hua Palace, he will transform it into the largest palace complex to ever grace the Middle Kingdom. He will have more consorts and descendants and wealth than any human Emperor, even those of legend. How much face will they lose, once they’re surpassed by a filthy, discarded mongrel like Luo Binghe? When their descendants must take Luo Binghe’s sons and daughters in marriage in order to retain any standing?)
And who better to run the human portion of his harem than the Palace Mistress, who had been raised for such a role? It additionally serves as a way to channel the Palace Mistress’ more obnoxious personality traits into something constructive.
He may not particularly like the Palace Mistress, but she is undeniably useful.
Hence the need to appease her from time to time.
The Palace Mistress has the dinner prepared for him when he arrives, as is customary. He still cooks occasionally for his wives, when he has the time to indulge himself, but usually in a large batch to be distributed to their courtyards by servants.
They exchange the requisite formalities, switching to smalltalk as they eat. Tedious, but bearable. The Palace Mistress is always sweet and amicable when Luo Binghe is paying her attention, but it’s obvious from her body language that she’s bursting at the seams to say something of greater consequence. Luo Binghe is well aware of the topic she has in mind.
“This husband thought we had settled the matter of Shen Qingqiu,” he says, after she makes a particularly constipated expression.
“We have!” she agrees hastily. “This consort will always trust in Husband’s judgment.” This is a flagrant lie. Much like her father, the Palace Mistress has a paranoid nature; Luo Binghe’s words will never be able to settle her suspicions.
He sighs. “Then what is it that bothers you?”
She pouts. “Having male favorites is of course Husband’s right, but...Shen Qingqiu is not a eunuch. It’s improper to house him in the same wing of the palace as Husband’s consorts.”
It’s a valid point, much to his chagrin. When he’d first brought Shen Yuan here, Luo Binghe had entertained the idea of turning him into a eunuch. But the notion had lost its lustre once he learned about Shen Yuan’s true identity. He has so many plans for those parts that are missing from a eunuch.
He’s brought himself to climax several times to the thought of licking and caressing Shen Yuan’s delicate, sensitive stones; of taking Shen Yuan’s cock deep into his throat.
“Husband?” The Palace Mistress prompts.
“As we are not presently in the Human Realm,” Luo Binghe says diplomatically, “and this husband trusts in the judgment of both his consorts and Shen Qingqiu, the arrangement will not be changed. But if Shen Qingqiu is still part of this husband’s household when we return to Huan Hua Palace, this husband shall reevaluate.”
Triumph flashes in the Palace Mistress’ eyes, and Luo Binghe realizes just what it is that she’d been fishing for: a reassurance that Shen Qingqiu’s place in Luo Binghe’s household is not necessarily permanent.
He won’t tell her so, since she has an unfortunate habit of gloating, but she’s never had anything to worry about in that regard.
“Husband is so wise!” she exclaims cheerily. She ducks her head in a play at being demure. “Would Husband like to go to bed?”
It doesn’t take much cajoling at all to get her to agree, in the end. He mentions how he’d heard it can be very pleasurable, and that she’s the only consort that he knows is brave enough to try it.
That spark of calculation in her eyes always means that he’ll get his way.
At first, he goes through the regular routine: kissing her the way that she likes, suckling her sensitive nipples, teasing at her clit and cunt with his fingers.
He then sets to work with his blood parasites, using them to relax the muscles inside of her. She gasps at the novel sensation, squirming.
“How does it feel?” he asks.
She lets out a breathy moan. “It feels a little odd, but...good.”
He hums thoughtfully, dipping his fingers into the jar of oil. If his blood has done its job, then she should be able to take two fingers right away without any difficulty. He presses them up against her relaxed hole and slides them inside.
The Palace Mistress lets out another moan, louder this time.
Indeed, she's already sufficiently loose and relaxed, so he teases along her walls in a promise of what’s to come. That earns him an enthusiastic sound of pleasure. He pulls his fingers out briefly so that he can maneuver his head between her legs, laving at her clit with his tongue, and then works them back inside.
He plays with her like that for a while, always stilling just as she’s about to climax.
“Inside,” she gasps out, after the fourth time he’s denied her release. “Please, Husband.”
The capitulation doesn’t thrill him in the way he’s accustomed to. If anything, he finds himself hesitant.
It’s happened a few times, since he’s brought Shen Yuan to the palace, where he’s been holding one of his women, his seed leaking out from a freshly-used cunt, and he’s felt...oddly uneasy. Like all he wishes to do is leave. But there’s etiquette to be observed. Women are sensitive, emotional creatures, and leaving in the immediate aftermath of a liaison is sure to prove troublesome down the line.
Normally, it isn’t such a chore. There’s a certain satisfaction, in fact, in having a thoroughly sated body clinging to him, half-lidded eyes looking upon him with affection. But now, the prospect seems...tiresome.
If he brings the Palace Mistress to climax and eschews his own pleasure, a hasty retreat is more likely to be forgiven.
He’s not even fully hard.
“Husband,” she whines, fucking herself down onto his fingers. “This consort will die if she’s left empty.“
Then again, the whole point of this exercise is to see if he can actually fuck somebody’s ass without causing them pain, so it would be a waste to back out now.
“How can I deny Consort Han, when she begs so prettily?” he says, injecting his voice with smolder. He manipulates his blood to bring himself to full hardness and pulls his fingers out. He then slicks himself with the oil, pressing up against her hole.
Pushing inside, his cock meets more resistance than it would in a cunt, but the slide is still smooth. She moans obscenely as he bottoms out, her body shuddering. She certainly doesn't seem to be in any pain. Just to make sure, he asks, “It doesn’t hurt?”
With a shake of her head, she says breathlessly, “Husband’s pillar feels wonderful.”
It’s possible, even likely, that she’s exaggerating for the sake of winning favor. He tests her sincerity by pulling out most of the way and thrusting back in--not hard, but much faster than before. In this context, his lack of enthusiasm is actually an advantage; he has no trouble restraining himself.
“Oh,” she gasps out. ”Oh, Husband.”
He does it twice more, carefully observing her reactions. After determining that they’re indeed honest, he picks up his pace still further.
But despite the admittedly pleasant sensation of that hot tightness massaging his cock, his pleasure barely builds. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to come, even if he fucks her for a shichen. It looks as though he’ll have to use his blood to save face.
This is always a possibility when he forces himself to perform when he’s not really in the mood, though this is even worse than usual.
(In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is a consequence of sealing Xin Mo. He wonders if Shen Yuan is right.)
Having received the answers he’d been looking for, he sees no point in drawing it out longer than necessary. He reaches between their bodies to tease at the slickness of her cunt, playing with her clit in the way that he knows she likes. After that, it’s not long at all before she comes, her moans overly loud and grating.
He triggers his own “release” after only a few additional thrusts, letting out a low hum of fake satisfaction.
The Palace Mistress radiates smugness when she cuddles into his chest a few moments later. From her perspective, he’d come for more quickly than usual. “Husband enjoyed himself?”
“Very much,” he lies. He presses a kiss to her lips. “This husband thanks his darling consort.”
She beams. “We can do this again whenever Husband likes.”
She snuggles into him and he obliges her, wrapping her up in his arms. He uses his blood parasites to heal the small lesions and mild swelling that he can sense inside her, then summons his outer robe with a pulse of demonic qi and drapes it over her body. It’s a post-coital ritual his wives have come to expect; the Palace Mistress would feel slighted if he failed to perform it.
The servants have no doubt already drawn them a bath, but she seems content to remain where they are for the moment. In the meantime, Luo Binghe finds his mind wandering.
It seems that women can enjoy this kind of fucking as well, despite their lack of the special “spot”. So, for a man, it must be truly exquisite. When Shen Yuan finally stops being needlessly stubborn and allows Luo Binghe to fuck him, he’ll be in for quite the treat.
Which is why Luo Binghe definitely can’t fuck him immediately. He’s going to draw it out. Savor it. Kiss and lick and suck over Shen Yuan’s sensitive parts until Shen Yuan is shaking with need. But he won’t let Shen Yuan come. He’ll work Shen Yuan’s hole with his blood parasites, with his mouth, and by the time Luo Binghe is done, Shen Yuan will be begging to be fucked--just like the Palace Mistress had. Thin face be damned.
“Oh my,” says the Palace Mistress, bringing Luo Binghe back to the present. “It seems that Husband is ready for another round.” She reaches down to stroke over his very stiff, very real erection. She leans in close to his ear and breathes, “Would Husband like to have me again?”
He answers her by throwing his outer robe off her body and flipping her onto her stomach, sinking back inside with a single thrust.
Of course, the first time he fucks Shen Yuan, it will be face-to-face. Luo Binghe is going to watch every little change in Shen Yuan’s expression. The way his cheeks will flush with embarrassment and pleasure, and eventually only pleasure as he becomes too overwhelmed to be embarrassed. And once Luo Binghe finally lets Shen Yuan come on his cock, he’ll clean up Shen Yuan’s seed with his tongue, and finally, finally get a taste.
He’ll spill deep inside Shen Yuan’s body with the flavor of it lingering in his mouth.
The hot, tight sheath around his cock pulses rhythmically, milking him, and he’s vaguely aware of somebody letting out a high-pitched moan. But it’s not quite enough. Suddenly desperate to come, he works his blood parasites over that spot inside him as he fucks into the warmth.
He tips over the edge, his own low moan sounding strangely far away.
Full awareness takes a breath to return. His heart starts to slow as he pulls out, his seed leaking from the puffy, well-used hole. The Palace Mistress lets out a contented sound, rolling onto her back. There’s a sleepy smile on her face--a visible, shiny slickness between her legs. “Husband has such good ideas,” she says, her voice thick with lingering pleasure and relaxation.
A sight like this should leave Luo Binghe feeling proud, but instead...there’s a lump in his throat.
Right now, he should be picking up her pliant body and taking her to the bath, enjoying the lingering sense of lightness from his own release. So why does his chest feel tight?
He knows the answer. It’s just so unbelievably stupid that he can’t bring himself to accept it. Why should Luo Binghe be sad that the person he’s with isn’t Shen Yuan? Why should it matter? Fucking the Palace Mistress won't stop him from fucking Shen Yuan! Shen Yuan is here for as long as Luo Binghe wants him to be, and he’ll definitely give in eventually.
Won’t he?
“Husband?” the Palace Mistress asks him. “Is something the matter?”
He should answer her. He should put on a smile and stroke her hair and reassure her. But he can’t.
He can’t.
Without saying a word, he slides off the bed, covers himself with his outer robe, and leaves.