Chapter Text
“I believe I owe you an apology,” Mu Qingfang says, when Liu Qingge bursts into his cottage this afternoon. This time, Liu Qingge hesitantly thrusts a box of high-quality ink sticks into his hands, no doubt on Shen Qingqiu’s recommendation. Mu Qingfang takes them gratefully, but when Mu Qingfang carefully sets them aside without reacting, Liu Qingge’s expression falters. Mu Qingfang genuinely does like the gift -- he just has to stay focused if he wants a skittish thing like Liu Qingge to stick around and behave. After all, they’re going to have Important Conversations, and if Mu Qingfang knows anything about anything, it’s that nothing strikes The Fear of the Heavens into this man more than Important Conversations.
With what he hopes is an encouraging smile, Mu Qingfang gently pats the space beside him on the table and starts putting things in order -- an inkstone, several sheets of blank paper, and a few lists he’s written in advance.
Rather than the cheap, coarse ink that he usually uses, Mu Qingfang takes one of the nice ink sticks that Liu Qingge had given him and sets it next to the inkstone, brushing away the half-used nub he had set on the table before. The motion seems to make Liu Qingge’s shoulders relax a fraction, and with all the wariness of a stray cat, he slowly takes a seat at Mu Qingfang’s side.
“There’s nothing you need to apologize for,” he says stiffly, haltingly. It’s clear he’s confused and unsure; in a man like Liu Qingge, who likes things to be clear-cut and straightforward, unsureness often leads to ill-advised action.
Before Liu Qingge can get any wrong ideas, Mu Qingfang says, “After our last encounter, I realize I have overstepped my boundaries in the heat of the moment. I acted in a manner unbefitting of a caregiver, and while you might have enjoyed our encounters -- “ Liu Qingge flushes red and glances down at the blank paper, embarrassed but otherwise unprotesting; the heat in Mu Qingfang’s gut flares in gratification -- “and do not see anything wrong with our interactions, it’s my responsibility to ensure your safety, both physically and emotionally. Do you understand?”
Liu Qingge’s mouth screws up in a way that tells Mu Qingfang no, he does not quite understand, but doesn’t want to admit it. With a sigh, Mu Qingfang reaches over to pat Liu Qingge’s balled up fist, startling him enough that he glances up at Mu Qingfang, his face flushed a pretty pink. “You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do,” Liu Qingge manages, trying to put on a scowl.
Mu Qingfang easily sees through it. “No, I can’t. You could easily fight me off if you wanted to,” he agrees, knowing better than to confront Liu Qingge in a verbal conversation. “However, there is a right way and a wrong way to do things, and I have been going all about this in the wrong sort of way. Normally, in the dual cultivation division, if we anticipate prolonged contact with a patient, we draw up a contract together. When the treatment is over, the contract is burned, to ensure patient confidentiality. I really should have done this the moment we completed our first session, but I was… overenthusiastic. You understand, don’t you?”
Liu Qingge gives him a look, like he doesn’t understand but he’s trying not to make it show.
“I like having sex with you,” Mu Qingfang says, keeping his tone light and even, almost callous so as not to scare Liu Qingge off. “I like it a little too much.”
Liu Qingge’s eyes widen, his mouth dropping into a little ‘o’. Mu Qingfang waits for him to shake it off, to snap at how shameless he is being, or how insolent. But Liu Qingge doesn’t say anything. He swallows hard, shifts around in his seat, and hastily looks away, his fists squeezing and releasing, like he’s trying to stay calm.
“Unfortunately,” Mu Qingfang continues, when it’s clear Liu Qingge isn’t going to speak anytime soon, “that is a problem. I am in a position of great power over you. If I chose to withhold treatment in order to coerce you into something you don’t want, you would die.”
“You would, too,” Liu Qingge blurts out, and Mu Qingfang can’t help but feel a little fond over such a desperate attempt at a retort.
“You’re not wrong. But it doesn’t change the fact that this puts you in a vulnerable position,” Mu Qingfang insists, unable to help the smile that works its way onto his face. “As a medical practitioner, I have been acting terribly. You deserve better, Shixiong. Which is why before today’s session, I want to go over a few things with you.”
Liu Qingge stares dubiously down at the paper, before finally glancing up at Mu Qingfang. “What do I do?”
“You mark down all of the things you are interested in or willing to attempt with me, and I will compare your list with my list, and together, we will decide which things we are willing to do together, and which we are not,” Mu Qingfang says.
Ah, and there it is.
Immediately, Liu Qingge splutters, his face contorting in offense as he attempts to get to his feet. Mu Qingfang, having already anticipated this, grabs him by the wrist and holds onto him until he stops attempting to escape. “You -- that’s -- “ Liu Qingge stammers, his face a burning crimson. “Why would you want that!! What we’ve been doing is fine!!”
Mu Qingfang smiles encouragingly and says, “I’d like to know how to please you, too, you know. You’re not very forthcoming with your words in bed.”
Liu Qingge’s mouth flaps open and closed, open and closed, before he makes a pissy little huff and stubbornly glances away. “You -- you do fine.”
“Just fine?” Mu Qingfang laughs, just to watch him squirm.
It takes a second, before Liu Qingge is finally willing to glance at him -- or rather, to glance down at where he’s holding onto Liu Qingge’s wrists and begrudgingly says, “It’s… good. Stop asking me questions!”
Mu Qingfang laughs again, and says, “I figured you’d be a bit reluctant. You could look at mine, when you’re finished. Before I start looking at yours.”
That gives Liu Qingge pause, and after a moment, he slowly, shyly, raises his gaze to meet Mu Qingfang’s. “You -- “ he starts, but he doesn’t know where to go from that. With a huff, he reaches over to grab the universal list.
It’s silent in the cottage for a few long moments, as Liu Qingge skims through it, and then reads through it a little more thoroughly, his face growing increasingly red with each pass. Finally, on his third read-through, he haltingly asks, “What is dacryphilia?”
Something in Mu Qingfang’s gut untwists, and his shoulders relax a little, knowing that Liu Qingge won’t run. “It’s crying,” Mu Qingfang says. “Some people like that -- watching their partners get so overwhelmed they start sobbing, or experiencing the emotional catharsis of being allowed to or encouraged to cry.”
Liu Qingge stares at Mu Qingfang as if he’d grown another head, which, fair. One man’s kinks are another man’s revulsions. “People enjoy that?” Liu Qingge asks, his voice strange in a way that Mu Qingfang, perhaps, recognizes as vulnerability.
“Yes. I think you look pretty when you cry,” Mu Qingfang says, trying not to feel embarrassed as he says it, “But if you don’t like it, you shouldn’t encourage me. Would you like to cross that out?” Without missing a beat, Mu Qingfang offers the brush to Liu Qingge, who hesitates long enough for the ink to drip back down onto the inkstone.
“...it’s also fine if you do like it. Or if you don’t know yet, but you might want to try it some more before you make a decision,” Mu Qingfang hazards. “Would it help if I refrain from watching while you score off your list?”
Liu Qingge looks… a little overwhelmed, but not in a bad way. Hesitantly, he nods.
“I’ll put some tea on and retrieve some lotus paste cakes one of my disciples made,” Mu Qingfang says. “I took the evening shift off, too, so take your time. Just don’t run away, okay? We still need to complete today’s treatment session.”
Liu Qingge glances up at him, eyes big and unsure as he slowly nods again.
It takes about an hour, more or less, and once Liu Qingge settles into the idea of it, he proves to be quite diligent, marking off items and writing short comments in the cramped margins. More than once, he asks questions -- Does kissing really need to be on the list? What’s sensation play? People actually enjoy having sex outside? -- and he does, eventually, cross a few things out.
Mu Qingfang had made his own assumptions about Liu Qingge’s preferences of course, and was surprised to have been wrong about a few things -- the blindfolds and the aphrodisiacs, for example. However, there are a few things he had gotten right -- that Liu Qingge liked being both praised and humiliated, that Liu Qingge liked to be ordered around and made to earn his pleasure, that Liu Qingge liked to be taken roughly.
By the time they’re done marking their yes’s and no’s and outlining the basic rules of their engagement on paper, Liu Qingge is hard and squirming covertly in his seat, and there’s no way Mu Qingfang could deny him anything -- not when he looks like that.
The treatment session that follows is, ah, quite successful.
--
After that, well, it’s surprising, how easy it is for Liu Qingge to get used to their arrangement. After another session or two, Liu Qingge finally stops acting quite so much like a stray cat hoping for scraps, instead dropping into Mu Qingfang’s bed with about 70% of the arrogance Mu Qingfang is accustomed to expecting from the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. It’s heartening, seeing him like this -- comfortable enough to put aside his pride and relax a little.
Despite his newfound confidence, he still brings gifts with every visit, and he’s still shockingly well-behaved in bed -- even moreso, now that they’ve got parameters for him to work within. For a man who’d always acted above the rules, he sure took to them well enough when it suited him.
Hell, he even stays when Mu Qingfang asks him to, whiling away the hours until Mu Qingfang’s next shift tucked obediently up against Mu Qingfang’s side. Sometimes, before Mu Qingfang goes, Liu Qingge will even cook for him. It’s terribly domestic, and Mu Qingfang, too, takes to it like a fish to water.
Who would’ve thought that living a life side-by-side with someone would’ve felt this good? Sure, it wasn’t going to be permanent, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice. For the first time in his life, Mu Qingfang thinks, he understands the meaning of work-life balance. Granted, fucking Liu Qingge in his off hours is a part of his job, but, like, one he’d be happy to undertake regardless of his his moral and ethical duties to the peak.
He tries, almost a week into their arrangement, to inquire about Liu Qingge’s past dalliances during one of their treatment sessions -- of course, it’s stiffly shut down in favor of an extremely indelicate escape attempt. No matter; Mu Qingfang’s gotten increasingly better at corralling him back into bed. Or perhaps it’s a matter of Liu Qingge getting more comfortable with the idea of Mu Qingfang’s preferred brand of post-workout cooldown. Either way, Liu Qingge goes easily, when Mu Qingfang wraps his arms around his middle and, for lack of a better word, lays on him.
He likes that, when Mu Qingfang lays on him. The first couple times, Liu Qingge got all spluttery and embarrassed in the way he does when he likes things and doesn’t want to admit it, trying half-assedly to push Mu Qingfang off in token protest. Mu Qingfang would’ve been launched through the ceiling if Liu Qingge meant it, so the awkward pawing and complaining simply made Mu Qingfang drop all his weight onto Liu Qingge and snuggle in harder.
It didn’t take long for Liu Qingge to simply let it happen, to start anticipating it, even, to the point of allowing himself to delicately wrap his arms around Mu Qingfang’s middle and cling. After that first time, well -- Mu Qingfang takes to squishing Liu Qingge as often as he can, because Liu Qingge sure as shit isn’t going to ask for it.
Which is where Mu Qingfang finds himself now, maybe a week and a half since the first time they fucked, his face tucked into the crook of Liu Qingge’s neck. They both lay there in the afterglow, sweaty and naked and tangled up in one another, simply breathing. It was only a few days ago that Liu Qingge finally stopped -- simmering, for lack of a better word, during Mu Qingfang’s mandated post-sex cuddling. It’d been heartening to see Liu Qingge’s progress, to see Liu Qingge set aside his wariness and let himself be.
Today, though -- he gets a good ten minutes of dozing in, before Liu Qingge, in increments, begins to tense up. As if something is on his mind, or as if he’s gathering himself up to ask for something.
“Wh’sup?” Mu Qingfang says, his voice all a smear against Liu Qingge’s skin.
Liu Qingge jerks to attention immediately, his muscles tense like he’s ready to spring into a fight.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Mu Qingfang huffs, as he finally lifts his head off Liu Qingge’s shoulder to properly look. Liu Qingge’s face is stubbornly turned to the side, his cheeks flushed despite their ten minutes’ respite. “Come on, just say it.”
Liu Qingge swallows, and for a few long seconds Mu Qingfang thinks he’s going to have to coax it out of him, in the same manner one might try to coax something out of a disobedient dog’s mouth before it chews and swallows.
Instead, Liu Qingge braces himself and turns, looking Mu Qingfang in the eyes as he says, “Back when you -- in the dual cultivation division, did you -- did anyone -- “
Mu Qingfang blinks down at Liu Qingge, who, in his embarrassment, loses his nerve and looks away. He’s got something of an idea as to where this might be going, and he probably has Liu Mingyan to blame for this one -- why else would someone as taciturn as Liu Qingge ask about such banal topics as dual cultivation?
“Did anyone what?” Mu Qingfang asks, because even if he has the gist of it, Liu Qingge ought to learn to use his words instead of his fists.
Liu Qingge’s scowl deepens as his cheeks get ruddier, and he petulantly lets his arms drop from their place from around Mu Qingfang’s lower back. “You… never told me if you’ve… ever been courted. Afterward.”
Ah. It definitely was Liu Mingyan that put her poor brother up to it.
“No, I’ve never,” Mu Qingfang says, with a quiet laugh. “I’m not supposed to, with patients. Especially during my rotation in the dual cultivation division. It’s pretty high up there in terms of, y’know, ethically dubious acts for a medical professional, though I know a few people who have.” After a pause, he adds, “A couple of them are happily married, but most… well, it didn’t work out.”
“Ah,” Liu Qingge says, the tension in his body taking on… a different sort of energy, though what that might mean, Mu Qingfang has no clue. “So… even if someone asked, you wouldn’t…?”
Mu Qingfang sighs and rolls them both over onto their sides. He doesn’t miss the soft, forlorn sound Liu Qingge makes at no longer being pressed against the mattress. In consolation, Mu Qingfang finds the edge of the blanket and tugs it up, throwing his arm around Liu Qingge’s hip and tangling their ankles together. “It doesn’t feel right to, is all,” Mu Qingfang says, eventually. “It’s not uncommon for people to emotionally bond to someone after a traumatic event -- and yes, getting dosed up on sex poison counts as a traumatic event, even if you’re okay with me helping you through it. Usually, after a few months, the glamor wears off and they realize you’re just some guy, and they lose interest. It also helps that a lot of people aren’t too keen on knowing their lovers are medically obligated to have relations with other people.”
“Ah,” Liu Qingge says, quietly. And then, after a few seconds of silence, he adds, “Has anyone ever tried, though?”
Mu Qingfang laughs. “No one’s lasted more than three months, trying to hold out for me. After I finally agreed to spend time with her, I think she just realized I was boring and called it off herself.”
Liu Qingge’s face screws up in offense at that, and before he can protest, Mu Qingfang slides his finger up to press against Liu Qingge’s lips. “Ssh, just admit that I am. Aside from knowing everyone’s embarrassing secrets and being pretty good at sex, the only thing I ever think about is my job. That’s something a lot of people don’t realize they’re not okay with until they’re a few weeks in and bored. It’s not a bad thing; it’s just something that simply is.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t seem especially happy about that answer, but he begrudgingly accepts it, curling in a little closer to Mu Qingfang. Indulgently, Mu Qingfang settles his head against Liu Qingge’s shoulder and lets his eyes flutter closed. “Anyways, if your sister has any questions about the dual cultivation division, you ought to tell her she can ask me directly instead of trying to go through you. It’s really not as exciting as you think it would be, all things considered.”
Liu Qingge doesn’t say anything to that, but it does take a little while for the tension to bleed out of him. No doubt, the answer was less than ideal, but… well, Mu Qingfang isn’t the sort to spin fantastical tales, least of all about his job.
--
Mu Qingfang prides himself on being observant and adaptable. They’re necessary traits in a doctor, both within the clinic and on the field. He doesn’t let himself stay caught off guard for long; every second wasted is a second closer to someone’s death.
Perhaps he’s gotten a little cocky, his ego so inflated by his (well-deserved) reputation and his skill that he’d made his own assumptions and stuck to them. Or -- if Mu Qingfang was willing to be more honest with himself -- he’d simply failed to notice because something inside of him had chosen not to notice. After all, it was comfortable, what they had, and the stupid, animal hindbrain of his had simply expected it to last. It’s been nearly two weeks already -- if they’d been at this for that long, then surely, surely, he’d have a few more days to make his peace.
He should’ve clued in, when Liu Qingge came through the door looking more tense than usual, or when Liu Qingge kept his hands firmly to himself until Mu Qingfang asked to be touched, or when, halfway through the foreplay, Liu Qingge haltingly requested -- with words and everything! -- that they face each other when they -- you know. He hadn’t even seemed interested in the usual dirty talk, suddenly too fragile to take the mean edge of Mu Qingfang’s natural bossiness that he’d liked so much.
Mu Qingfang should’ve known. He should’ve seen it -- but even if he did, what would he have done about it? Mu Qingfang isn’t a saint -- above all, he is practical to a fault; he isn’t above ignoring inconvenient truths when it suited him. If Liu Qingge wanted it, who was Mu Qingfang to deny him?
And besides -- Liu Qingge wanted it. He wanted it so badly. Liu Qingge had let Mu Qingfang finger him open until he was gasping and writhing, his quiet, desperate sounds magnified in the stillness of Mu Qingfang’s cottage. He had let Mu Qingfang press the slick, steel plug inside and channel qi into it until they were both gasping with sensation, had let him kiss and tease and suck until Liu Qingge’s cock was aching red, bobbing against his abdomen like it was begging to be allowed release. Liu Qingge’s breath had turned sobbing and wet, beautiful as he pleaded for Mu Qingfang to wait, wait -- I’ll come. Don’t let me come.
Through the magic of the plug, Mu Qingfang could feel it, the way Liu Qingge’s body trembled around it, his insides pulsing in time with the twitching of his cock. It had been -- intense, the first time they’d tried it, but it was nothing like this. Mu Qingfang felt -- he felt run through, ragged and exposed, wounded with pleasure.
He should’ve realized, then, that something was different.
It isn’t until Liu Qingge curls over him, slowly pushing into him, that Mu Qingfang understands -- the poison has run its course. If Liu Qingge was to pull out and leave, right this very moment, nothing would happen. Nothing at all.
Something inside of Mu Qingfang twists, and in a fit of -- of wildness, of senselessness, of simple animal indulgence he throws his arms around Liu Qingge’s neck, pulling him close, as close as he can possibly get, so that there'd be no way for him to run away.
Liu Qingge’s breath hitches, his hips stuttering as he tucks his face into Mu Qingfang’s neck and groans. Everything suddenly feels, somehow, overwhelming, too intense to bear for reasons Mu Qingfang can’t quite articulate. His eyes are watering. His breath is wet, and his hands can’t stop moving, can’t stop clutching at whatever of Liu Qingge’s he can get at.
Mu Qingfang whines, almost pitifully, as Liu Qingge rolls his hips -- slow and steady, like the surging of tides. His forearms are braced on either wide of Mu Qingfang’s head, and his breath is hot as it puffs against Mu Qingfang’s neck, and he’s just -- he’s everywhere, inside him, all around him, in his lungs and heartbeat. It’s not enough. It’s not enough -- Mu Qingfang feels, nonsensically, like he has to take in everything he can, before it’s gone.
Like most things in Mu Qingfang’s life, it’s over before Mu Qingfang’s ready for it to be over. He comes, sensitive and overwrought, his whimpers choked in his throat, muffled against Liu Qingge’s sweet-smelling hair.
In his ear, Liu Qingge pants raggedly, his breath colored with low, animal moans, his voice broken and creaking as he chants Mu Qingfang’s name over, and over, and over again.