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Retrospectively Shen Qingqiu knows Luo Binghe was right, in a very roundabout way. He should have been paying more attention to him. But it wasn’t Shen Qingqiu’s fault. Not really. 

Not completely, at least, because he was just trying to be a good host and ultimately, a good husband. That his interest was piqued by some other demons should be of no consequence, especially since it wasn’t the type of interest Luo Binghe has mistaken it for. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes flutter shut and he exhales, part in exasperation.

“Shizun,” comes the familiar complaint once more. Shen Qingqiu feels the warm drip of crocodile tears against his neck. “This one cannot seem to hold your attention.”

Rich, given that Shen Qingqiu’s currently pressed face-first against the wall in a small alcove, not too far from the grand dining hall of the imperial palace, trying his best not to get loud as he’s slowly worked open on Luo Binghe’s fingers. Luo Binghe cannot see his face so it he must be looking at the droop of his shoulders, or at Shen Qingqiu’s knuckles, which are a shade less whiter as they clench in a fist. Shen Qingqiu makes to scold him but Luo Binghe crooks his fingers in a way that sends his brain tumbling off its tracks.

He sometimes misses the more inexperienced Luo Binghe; the pain would keep him grounded, at least for a little bit. Unfortunately for him, Luo Binghe has long proven to be a quick study.

“Someone…” Shen Qingqiu breathes for the tenth time. “Someone can catch us, Binghe. Let us at least retire to our room.”

He would be embarrassed at how much he sounds like a mistress from some lurid palatial TV drama, and he feels like one too, but he’s too wrapped up in what Luo Binghe is doing to him. Luo Binghe ignores him and continues moving his hand sending stars blooming behind Shen Qingqiu’s eyes.

“No one will catch us, Shizun,” Luo Binghe replies, showing more patience for this than he had for the fact that Shen Qingqiu has been utterly entranced by the visiting delegation over the past few days. 

They are subterranean demons, located deep underneath a volcano somewhere far away, tall and scaly and strangely shaped like bipedal dragons with gorgeous, curling horns as grey and sturdy as iron. They hold themselves with an old sort of dignity despite dripping magma all over the place— none more so than the clan leader, whose father is, of course, a minor celestial demon. Due to this, the clan leader looks to be part human with a handsome face, scales artfully crawling up past his collar and across his strong jaw.  

Shen Qingqiu can’t help the fact Shang Qinghua, despite treating common sense like a stranger, can craft monsters that look fucking awesome. These in particular have been the coolest demons he’s seen in a while, especially when they show off the way they instantly forge weapons from their own body. The leader himself has a whip of liquid fire that sits along the line of his spine, pulsing with faint light.

Luo Binghe removes his hand and despite his protests, Shen Qingqiu lets out a small noise at the emptiness. He immediately bites down on his lip but it’s too late— he can feel some of the smugness radiate off Luo Binghe, momentarily taking over the jealousy. 

Shen Qingqiu hangs his head, cheeks burning as a hand pushes up underneath the layers of shirts, running over heated skin. Luo Binghe mouths over the nape of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, lips wet and hungry as the black claws he retracted earlier come back out. By the time they’ve slid over the curve of Shen Qingqiu’s rear, they’re long again.

“Does Shizun like this better?” Luo Binghe asks, fake innocence dripping from his voice as he digs his fingers in, forming bruises against pale skin. Shen Qingqiu has to stuff his knuckles into his mouth as Luo Binghe squeezes, then massages. He knows what’s coming next. “Or does he still prefer we rejoin our guests in the banquet hall?”

So maybe Shen Qingqiu has been overly friendly, in an attempt to hang out with what he saw as some really cool demons. It was all out of genuine curiosity— but of course, Luo Binghe misconstrued it. 

Not that Shen Qingqiu can blame him, he supposes. Shen Qingqiu has dedicated a lot of his time towards the dealings, more so than usual, and Luo Binghe had taken notice over the few days. He had tried to artfully drop some hints, pout, whine, and flat out tell Shen Qingqiu his husband wants more attention.

Every now and then, Shen Qingqiu will admit he’s not the most perceptive person around. Unfortunately, this is one of the times because every hint Luo Binghe gave him flew in one ear and out the other in the favour of demons who can self-immolate and regenerate at will.

“What do you think?” Shen Qingqiu grits out, breathless. Luo Binghe firmly nudges his feet apart, the waist of Shen Qingqiu’s pants starting to dig against his thighs as Luo Binghe cards his other hand through Shen Qingqiu’s hair. Luo Binghe has been under a dark cloud all day, but it had been at its darkest at dinner, where the wine had been as free flowing as the revelry.

Seeing your husband gleefully take up an offer to touch another clan leader’s long, thick horns will do that to you, one supposes. Even if your blissfully unaware and pointedly human husband doesn’t understand that it’s how those particular demons test the waters for potential courtship. Shen Qingqiu had only realized this after his hand brushed across the base of the demon’s horn and he got a wide, curling smile in return.

Had he realized this earlier, perhaps Luo Binghe wouldn’t have coldly pulled him back and drawn his sword, threatening to lop off the demon’s horns, quicker than he could regenerate them. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have tried to pacify him by pulling him away from the banquet, and perhaps Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have been tucked into a dark alcove with his legs spread, teeth breaking skin across his knuckles as Luo Binghe slicks himself up and pushes into him.

Once Luo Binghe has started to sink in, both his hands grip Shen Qingqiu’s waist tightly. The claws are new; Luo Binghe has always been able to transform his hands from regular human hands to something more elegantly beast-like, but he’s never done it in a situation like this, never wanting to hurt Shen Qingqiu. 

Even now, he doesn’t dig enough to break skin. Shen Qingqiu can still feel the bruises form though, layered underneath the pain-pleasure of Luo Binghe seating himself within, a sensation that’s all too familiar for him.

Shen Qingqiu won’t admit it, but it’s turning him on so much he feels himself going stupid. He’s hard and he’s dripping and normally he can maintain his complaints well into the act but right now, as Luo Binghe pushes in, his brain threatens to drip out of his ears.

…So maybe he’s been enjoying all of this a little too much. He still should have listened to Luo Binghe, at least for the sake of his hips because Luo Binghe pulls him, yanking him back so that they’re joined fully. It’s a stark difference from how carefully he held Shen Qingqiu two nights ago.

Shen Qingqiu’s breath hitches. Luo Binghe slides his hand up Shen Qingqiu’s chest, then neck, lingering around the jut of his throat for a moment before reaching to cup his jaw. He turns Shen Qingqiu’s head just enough that when Luo Binghe leans in, Shen Qingqiu can see the wild glimmer in his eyes.

It’s irreproachably handsome. Shen Qingqiu knows he’s a dead man. Luo Binghe looks at him intently as he begins to withdraw, and Shen Qingqiu hisses at the drag, his eyes fluttering shut. His thighs twitch and he shudders when he feels the press of a claw against his jaw.

“Careful,” Shen Qingqiu tries to warn but Luo Binghe simply hums. Shen Qingqiu expects a proper, messy kiss but it never comes.

“Why is Shizun not looking at me?” Luo Binghe murmurs instead and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes fly open, just as Luo Binghe snaps his hips forward. 

This time, he does not have to re-angle himself to see how to properly fuck Shen Qingqiu. He moves with a learned precision he often pretends not to have, and Shen Qingqiu’s vision vignettes as Luo Binghe reaches that certain spot. The drag back out is torturously slow, and Shen Qingqiu’s nerves turn into live wires.

The next thrust punches Luo Binghe’s name out of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth a little too loudly. Luo Binghe finally kisses him hungrily, sucking Shen Qingqiu’s lower lip between his teeth. His tongue slides eagerly into Shen Qingqiu’s mouth as he rolls his hips again, his pace still maddeningly languid. Time slows down and Shen Qingqiu completely sinks into the sensation, pleasure pulling him under. 

He is further pressed against the wall, Luo Binghe now resting his entire weight along his back. Shen Qingqiu is completely pinned as he’s fucked, slow and deep. Luo Binghe keeps moving in him with a precision that makes him melt. Luo Binghe shifts his other hand from Shen Qingqiu’s hip to his front, palming over him before squeezing. 

Really, Luo Binghe’s ability to demolish the learning curve is too good. Shen Qingqiu lets out one pathetic noise after another, but he barely has any space, any leeway. 

With Luo Binghe moving like this they could be here all night. While Shen Qingqiu does not necessarily oppose the activity itself, he’d still rather make love somewhere more comfortable but the thought quickly vanishes as Luo Binghe breaks the kiss and leans back, grazing over the nape of Shen Qingqiu’s neck with bared teeth again. The gentle pressure of fangs sends shivers up Shen Qingqiu’s spine. Luo Binghe draws out, then bites down just as he cants his hips forward.

It’s primal, animal to be claimed like this. The soft pain of the mark brings some clarity to Shen Qingqiu, if barely.

“We— have to go back,” Shen Qingqiu manages to stutter out, the immense wave of arousal rolling through him making it hard to remember how to breathe. “Don’t take too long, Binghe, it’s not proper to get caught, especially with your position—”

He’s rambling about things that don’t matter, and half his words he’s probably subconsciously drawing from spring stories lodged deep within his memory. but Shen Qingqiu can’t help it. Luo Binghe is driving him insane as he fucks him. He’s too big, too much, yet Shen Qingqiu’s on the edge, trying to fight the part of him that wants more and more.

Luo Binghe tucks Shen Qingqiu’s hair behind his ear and leans in. Exhaling, he whispers in a low voice, “Who besides Shizun can tell me anything?”

“We cannot leave our guests,” Shen Qingqiu starts and immediately, almost recklessly, Luo Binghe pulls out. Quicker than he can comprehend it, Shen Qingqiu is flipped around, and immediately pressed against the wall once more.

Normally, Shen Qingqiu finds Luo Binghe’s jealousy cute, but this time it punches the breath out of his lungs. Luo Binghe looks down at Shen Qingqiu, thick lashes lending to the lethal look in his eyes.

“Of course,” Luo Binghe murmurs, reaching forward and running a knuckle alongside Shen Qingqiu’s cheek. Shen Qingqiu is so used to Luo Binghe’s extortionate expressions that when he turns something smoother, darker towards Shen Qingqiu, he’s at a loss for words. “We would not want to displease them.”

“Now hold on—”

It’s too late. Shen Qingqiu’s already getting lifted up against the wall, and he has no choice but to wrap his legs around Luo Binghe. There’s the light sound of ripping fabric as Luo Binghe manhandles him, and his robes fall open, the bare skin of his chest rising into gooseflesh as the cool night air brushes over it.

“This one will be quick.” Luo Binghe says, an acerbic bite to his tone as he guides himself into Shen Qingqiu again. Shen Qingqiu’s eyes roll at the pressure and though his body has gotten used to it, it still makes his heart beat faster. 

Luo Binghe has not lied. He sets an unyielding pace almost immediately and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes blow wide as he lets out one choked cry after another.  Shen Qingqiu is consumed by heat and lust, dripping all over as his husband fucks him mercilessly. The idea of keeping quiet gets more and more muted as Shen Qingqiu is brought perilously close to the edge by the onslaught. 

One particularly well aimed thrust has his hands scrambling up Luo Binghe’s shoulders and tangling in his hair. Shen Qingqiu tugs and Luo Binghe groans, burying his face into Shen Qingqiu’s neck. He inhales deeply as he continues to snap his hips up.

”This one has no horns for you to hold onto,” Luo Binghe says, his own voice broken with pleasure. “Please endure it.”

“Why are you so— oh — worked up?”

It’s a redundant question. Shen Qingqiu already knows. Still, Luo Binghe’s response has his toes curling.

“Don’t look at those other demons, Shizun,” Luo Binghe bares fangs against flesh, sucking in a vivid mark too high upon Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “Only look at me.”

Shen Qingqiu thinks he lets out a breathy admonishment but can’t be too sure, his head hazy and utterly enveloped with greed. He thinks he must make a strange sight, all red, bitten, wet, but it only seems to spur Luo Binghe further.

“This one should be enough for Shizun,” Luo Binghe bites downwards, pinching Shen Qingqiu’s chest, not breaking his pace as he lays a very thorough claim. Bruises start to smatter across Shen Qingqiu’s chest, raised under Binghe’s teeth. “Or does Shizun desire more? Should I grow horns? Scales? How beastly should I become?”

“You—” are a beast already, Shen Qingqiu wants to say, but he knows it would set Luo Binghe off even more. As it is, Luo Binghe does not hide his jealousy and Shen Qingqiu doesn’t think he’ll be able to move for a week. All he can do is shake his head and curse, unaware of how high his voice is going, his thin face completely forgotten. 

He thinks he says Luo Binghe’s name a few times. He must have, with how unforgiving the pace is. Heat and pressure build within him, his blood boiling, his heart drumming rapidly as he clings. Luo Binghe captures him once more in a harsh, biting kiss and the moment Shen Qingqiu tastes iron on his lips, he finds himself coming undone rapidly.

White noise fills his head as he comes and Luo Binghe moves quickly to wrap a loose hand around him, catching most of the mess. Shen Qingqiu’s moan is muffled into Luo Binghe’s mouth and his vision blurs. For a very long moment, his body does not feel like his own. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t experienced it like this before, long and drawn out, unending. 

It could be dangerous. It is dangerous, just how much Shen Qingqiu liked this. He only barely registers Luo Binghe moving, finishing within him as well, as pleasure continues to course through him. By the time they’re completely spent, clarity has made its way back to them.

 In the distance, Shen Qingqiu hears a crash and a clatter, but is too exhausted to care. They stay there for a few moments, the sound of their breathing filling the silence. In the very far distance, Shen Qingqiu can still hear the din of the banquet.

“Shizun…” Luo Binghe says quietly and Shen Qingqiu makes an undignified noise. Both of them wear a ginger expression for a moment as Luo Binghe slowly pulls out.

“Don’t you dare ‘Shizun’ me,” Shen Qingqiu grumbles hoarsely, and chooses to ignore the small smile that tugs at the corner of Luo Binghe’s lips. “You are so troublesome.”

“Sorry,” the deference is back in Luo Binghe’s voice, as are the manners. If Shen Qingqiu had any wherewithal, he’d scold him or make a smart ass comment, but all he can do now is tell Luo Binghe to set him down carefully. 

This time, Luo Binghe listens.

When his feet hit the ground, a harsh tremor runs through Shen Qingqiu’s thighs. Shen Qingqiu slumps back against the wall and Luo Binghe catches him by the waist before he hits it too hard. They’re both panting, chests rising and falling in sync. Shen Qingqiu’s gone cross eyed and boneless for a few moments; when reality snaps back into place, Luo Binghe is carefully re-arranging his robes for him, covering over the mess as he retracts his claws. 

His entire body feels like jelly. Shen Qingqiu watches wearily as Luo Binghe barely manages to hide an incredibly self-satisfied expression.

 Knowing him, Shen Qingqiu must be covered in visible bruises that even his high collar cannot cover.  Shen Qingqiu tries to shoot him a look that’s somewhere between scathing and exasperated but by Luo Binghe’s returning expression he knows he looks nothing more than utterly debauched.

“Does Shizun want to return to the banquet?” Luo Binghe asks so politely that Shen Qingqiu can’t help but scoff. 

Luo Binghe tilts his head, and Shen Qingqiu gives in to his urge to roll his eyes. Luo Binghe can act cute all he wants, but Shen Qingqiu already knows he’s a few steps ahead. If they return to the banquet, everyone will know what they were up to if they don’t already. And if they don’t, if they simply retire to their chambers for the night, then…

… Either way you look at it, Luo Binghe is clearly going to emerge a winner. It just depends what type of victory Shen Qingqiu wants to give him. And even though Shen Qingqiu should be looking out for himself, and admittedly does want to see if there are any other cool tricks their guests can pull off, he’s messy and sticky and utterly entranced by the now-innocent expression Luo Binghe wears.

Slowly, he shakes his head.