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Shizun never sleeps after sex. It’s something Luo Binghe had to learn to get used to, after having so many lovers drowse trustingly into his arms. Right now, if he were with any one of his wives, they would be happily esconced in the sheets, curled up against Luo Binghe. Never Shizun, though, as he sits quietly by the low table right by the other side of the room, his hands folded on his lap as moonlight falls on the harsh planes on his face. Luo Binghe watches him closely the whole time, half-afraid he’ll dissolve the moment he stops looking.
Tonight is a bad night: he can tell by Shizun’s silence. Luo Binghe has learned to relax at the quiet sounds of crinkling paper, the soft clink of porcelain on wood as Shizun drinks a cup of tea that Luo Binghe always makes him while Luo Binghe tidies up the bed and folds their discarded clothes. It’s when Shizun sits in utter silence that he gets worried. Most nights, Shizun would shake himself free from his wordless torpor after an hour or so, slipping back between the sheets into Luo Binghe’s waiting arms. Other nights, he would remain apart for hours. Black eyes like hollow tunnels carving down into memories that Luo Binghe knows he has no right to follow.
(He does, sometimes. When Shizun starts to shiver in his sleep, ice-cold sweat dripping from his forehead and increasingly frantic entreaties falling from his too-pale lips. Luo Binghe eases himself into Shizun’s dreams like a knife through flesh and finds him. Most of the time, he’s wandering- his dreamself often in the form of a young boy, sometimes that of a ragged little child, very rarely an adult- lost in the blackened halls of a burnt mansion. Other times, he’s trying and failing to outrun the roaring flames licking at his heels.
Luo Binghe can ease the dreams, somewhat. He can open a corridor and lead Shizun out of those dark, blackened halls, into the bright softness of the bamboo forest surrounding Qing Jing. Shizun never thanks him for it, but he doesn’t tell Luo Binghe to get out, either. Not even when Shizun recognizes him as Luo Binghe sits beside him under the sun, watching him as intently as he does in the waking world. Unlike there, Shizun doesn’t mind.
The other, worse dreams – Luo Binghe doesn’t wait, just rips him out of the hell of his dreamscape, into reality. Sometimes it works: Shizun’s eyes snap open and he clings to Luo Binghe with a fervor he can't otherwise show, trembling until the dawn rises. Sometimes it's Luo Binghe's own image that appears in Shizun's nightmares, and Luo Binghe pushes down the lump in his throat as Shizun scrambles away from him and his touch.
He always comes back. The terror of the Water Prison fading from him as his mind returns to the present, leaving only resentment and need. Only when Shizun tentatively edges closer to him does Luo Binghe reach out to gather him close, pepper his face with kisses and blinking hard to chase away the stinging in his own eyes.
Shizun has never forgiven Luo Binghe for this. It's well worth-it to Luo Binghe as he feels Shizun relax in his grip, his heartbeat slowing down against his.)
Right now he’s awake, but Luo Binghe knows that in his mind he’s wandering the halls of that lonely mansion. Luo Binghe had been rougher than he wanted to be, at Shizun’s urging. Though Shizun had refused to explain, Luo Binghe can guess it must have something to do with Yue Qingyuan – again. Unfortunately, his empire’s dealings with the Four Great Sects ensured he could never cut Yue Qingyuan completely from their lives. A fact Luo Binghe sorely regretted, especially with the way Shizun had grabbed onto his wrist the moment he’d stepped onto Cang Qiong Mountain to pick him up today, after Yue Qingyuan insisted on discussing the provisions of a treaty in person.
Luo Binghe had nearly flinched before he could contain himself, and he’d had to stifle his instinctive recoil at the fire in Shizun’s black eyes as he tersely told Luo Binghe take me away. Yue Qingyuan had drawn back a respectful distance, but his gaze was on Shizun the whole time. Luo Binghe had been all too happy to follow Shizun’s wishes, smirking coldly at Yue Qingyuan and his helpless longing. He’d been less happy when they were finally back at the bamboo house in his realm. Shizun snarling at him fuck me like the beast you are as he yanked Luo Binghe down on top of him on their bed.
A quiet part ofLuo Binghe had proetested even as he followed Shizun’s wishes to pin him down, and it’s that part of him that had him fucking into Shizun slow and deep instead of hard and fast. That soothed the bites he’d left on his neck as Shizun struggled against the gentle treatment. That had Luo Binghe catching his hands before they could scratch himand slotting their fingers together, making soothing sounds as he kissed him deeply, gently, until Shizun breathed out. The last of the bitterness shivering out of him and to Luo Binghe’s relief he kissed back. Just as deeply, just as carefully, the tension flooding out of him as Luo Binghe rocked into him until they were both coming.
But he’d been unable to stop Shizun from getting up as soon as he’d come, from heading to the washstand and wiping himself down, dressing in his robes as the sweat cools on Luo Binghe’s skin. Luo Binghe watches him as he sits by the low table, his stomach twisting unpleasantly when he sees it’s cold enough to see Shizun’s breath. But he knows better than to try and light a fire, Shizun could never stand the crackle of an open flame. So he stays put as the silence drags on.
Eventually he can’t take it anymore. “Shizun?” he asks, and has to bite down on the instinctive surge of fear in his chest when Shizun lifts his head. But unlike before, he doesn’t try to reach for a whip – though the sharpness of his black gaze has much the same effect when it lands on Luo Binghe, no matter how he endeavours not to show it.
“Binghe, what do you want?” Shizun bites out his name with icily familiar scorn. “You’ve been staring at me like a hungry dog for the better part of the night.” and Luo Binghe always hates himself a little for how his heart lifts, just a little at the sound of his name falling from Shizun’s lips. His name, not little beast, or brute, or monster.
Hope makes him bold. “Shizun should know by now that I’m always hungry for him,” he says, and Shizun scoffs. Though to Luo Binghe’s delight he sees his shoulders loosen, just a little.
“Like a mangy stray begging for food and getting kicked for its trouble.” Shizun says coldly. Luo Binghe smiles cheekily.
“Who’s the stray? You or me?” Luo Binghe keeps the smirk plastered on his face even as his chest twists unpleasantly at the dark look on Shizun’s face. That used to presage a beating, once. “The only reason you don’t beg is because I always give you what you want without your having to admit to it.”
He keeps his voice coy, teasing. Tender. Shizun’s expression is nothing short of displeased. Luo Binghe knows him, though. Just like he knows how he gasps beneath him when Luo Binghe has had enough of teasing him and thrusts all the way in. How tightly his fingers always knot into Luo Binghe’s robes as they kiss good-bye, right before Luo Binghe leaves for some quest or another. Sometimes he does so even when there aren’t any pressing affairs for him to handle, just to see that bright flash of relief flaring hectically bright in Shizun’s eyes upon his return, twin points of warmth on his stony face. To feel how hard Shizun clings to him after as he beds him, fucks into him punishingly deep until he’s sobbing out Luo Binghe's name, all that icy control slipping away in the face of his own desperate desire.
Though Luo Binghe's been leaving on his own less and less. These days, wherever Luo Binghe goes, it’s with his hand tucked into Shizun’s, his soft, sometimes malicious voice whispering guidance into Luo Binghe's ear. In Luo Binghe's (necessary) absence, Shizun’s sharp-witted, acerbic self holds court in his realm, as prominent and as vital a figure he ever had been in Cang Qiong Mountain. As regal as an emperor in his own right as his arms open for Luo Binghe to collapse into in exhausted triumph after every military campaign, every mission, every day spent bending the world to his will.
Shizun’s silence brings Luo Binghe back to the present. Neither does he move from his perch by the low table. His fingers have begun to tremble now, their tips blue with cold. Anxiety roils in Luo Binghe’s gut, and he sighs.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe drawls sweetly. ”Come on.” You can either come here yourself or I can make you. The words are almost on the tip of Luo Binghe’s tongue, but he holds himself back. There’s a fragility to this moment he doesn’t want to shatter. Like coaxing a frightened bird into his palms, feeling the patter of its heartbeat against his skin.
A memory wells up in Luo Binghe. The Water Prison, Luo Binghe fucking Shizun for the first time right after Yue Qingyuan had abandoned him. Luo Binghe had been watching in the shadows, and as soon as Yue Qingyuan had gone, he’d stepped out to stand in front of Shizun. Shizun, who refused to even glance at Luo Binghe until he’d jerked him up by the hair to force him to look his disciple in the face. To mock him about how his oldest, most powerful protector had left him all alone.
Shizun had laughed, then. He’d been doing an awful lot of laughing since Luo Binghe had started to torture him, but this time it scraped down Luo Binghe’s back like an ice-cold blade.
“What makes you think I’m not used to being left alone?” His black eyes had been feral. None of the cool aloof cruelty, only hot rage, pain. Luo Binghe’s hand had tightened around the back of his neck. He’d been preparing to smash his head against the stone floor. Instead, he’d dragged Shizun in for a firm, unyielding kiss.
He’d been expecting a struggle. He hadn’t expected Shizun to melt against him, like all the fight, all the pride had gone out of him, like Yue Qingyuan had torn out what was left of his heart and left nothing but a hollow shell for Luo Binghe to do whatever he pleased with. Crumpling against him as Luo Binghe dragged him forwards, his mouth half-open against Luo Binghe’s, breathing shallowly, not even fighting as Luo Binghe shoved him flat on his back and spread his legs apart. His eyes half-lidded with contempt and an oddly detached triumph on his face. Like Luo Binghe well-proven his bestial nature to him many times over, and now he was beyond caring what more he would do to him. Like there was nothing left of him to hurt.
That wouldn’t do. So Luo Binghe did what he could. He touched him. Light and gentle. Kissing Shizun everywhere he could reach, reaching beneath the layers of his robes. Untying them as Luo Binghe nibbled at the alabaster column of his neck, his chest. Shizun had tried to struggle, but a soft bite to his throat, a caress down his back and between Shizun’s spread thighs had left him gasping on the Water Prison’s floor.
Luo Binghe expected the scrape of nails, he’d anticipated hurt, to be shoved away and rejected. He hadn’t expected Shizun to look so bewildered as he pulled Luo Binghe up for one frantically heated kiss after another. A statue coming to life with every caress, every squeeze of Luo Binghe’s hand around his cock, breath shivering into marble and blood blooming on snow as Luo Binghe pushed his oil-coated fingers inside him. Truth be told, Luo Binghe had been as confused by his own gentleness, working him open until Shizun was boneless on the floor, his gaze still so very far away. Luo Binghe bringing him back by lining himself up, and those distant black eyes flaring bright and present as he thrust in. Fucking him slowly. Savoring it, savoring him as Shizun cursed him and moaned, calling him beast even as his hips arched up to meet Luo Binghe’s. Luo Binghe bottoming out inside Shizun and as his shocked gaze caught Shizun’s equally raw one, to his horror he could feel tears stinging his eyes.
A dead man does not feel pain. He does not scream, gasp, or cry out in a voice wet and broken with tears, breaths hitching in a soft sob as he asks questions he gets no answers to, only sharp nails digging into his back with how tightly they cling to him, equally harsh kisses. Luo Binghe had been a dead man walking for how many years in the Abyss. Only then, inside Shizun, smearing tear-wet kisses over his trembling, equally hungry lips as orgasm rocked through them both did Luo Binghe feel himself fully come back to life.
As soon as Luo Binghe had pulled out, Shizun had turned away from him. Luo Binghe would have thought it a dismissal, a rejection if he hadn’t seen the dead look in his eyes, as if he were resigned to being used and left behind, just like that. The spiteful, hurt child inside of Luo Binghe – the voice that sounds an awful lot like Xin Mo at its worst – whispers he should do just that, make Shizun feel as small and as powerless as he’d never hesitated to make Luo Binghe feel.
For once in a very long time, Luo Binghe had refused to listen to it. Instead, Luo Binghe wrapped his discarded overrobe around him, his throat aching, cursing the last remaining dregs of his own mercy stirring at the utter confusion on Shizun’s face. His own face was still hot, still damp from his tears when he gathered Shizun up in his arms to take him away.
It had taken a very long time to get to where they are now. So much anger, so much blame. So much pain, and even more tears – not just Luo Binghe’s. It has always been worth it, though. Especially now, when Shizun lifts his head and Luo Binghe’s breath catches at the all too-human pain he never shows anyone else.
“Go to your wives if you’re still not sated.” Shizun’s face is like cracked marble. So is his voice, and in it Luo Binghe can hear the little boy still wandering his dreamscape, all alone and lost. “I’m tired.” He tucks his cold hands into his sleeves. Luo Binghe wants to make him a cup of tea he can use to warm his trembling fingers. Even though Luo Binghe still half-expects him to dump it on top of his head whenever he does.
Suddenly, it all comes tumbling out. “I don’t want to go to them. I want to take care of you.” He could kick himself for blurting it out just like that, but Shizun always had a way of breaking his heart open.
Silence. Luo Binghe tries not to fidget, suddenly all of fifteen years old again and waiting for the lash of a whip. He pushes down the sick lump in his throat, forces himself to meet Shizun’s gaze. Shizun, who’s glaring at him in equal parts bewilderment and anger. His eyes are near-lightless, and only the slight tremor along his mouth betrays him until he blocks it from view with his hand.
“Why?” Shizun’s voice is very, very quiet. The tautness in Luo Binghe’s chest ease in relief even as he tenses up, trying to figure out how to even answer.
“I just do.” Luo Binghe says, and he feels every bit like he’s the boy trapped in the Abyss. Utterly lost and overwhelmed, and in sheer terror. A child on his knees, holding up his heart and his devotion to a cold, unfeeling immortal.
He’s so lost in his emotions that he doesn’t notice Shizun has made his way back to their bed. Only that he’s already beside him, and instinct has Luo Binghe flinch before he can stop himself. Shizun freezes, and Luo Binghe curses himself for ruining the moment, expecting Shizun to draw back the way he always does whenever Luo Binghe can’t control his body’s expectation of pain. But this time, Shizun doesn’t draw away. He just waits, until Luo Binghe pushes himself forwards. His hands closing around Shizun’s slender hips as he presses his forehead against his chest. Against Shizun’s heart, beating as fast as his.
“You’re a pathetic fool, aren’t you?” He can feel Shizun tucking his hair behind his ears. “You’ll do anything for, give every bit of yourself to me. Whether I want it or not.” He smells like the night air, crisp and far too cold for Luo Binghe’s liking. His hands when Luo Binghe catches them in his, feel like ice.
“You’re so cold.” Luo Binghe mumbles, rubbing heat into Shizun’s hands, nuzzling into his palms, his wrists – everywhere he can reach. Coaxing warmth into Shizun’s porcelain skin, making a pleased noise as he sees the rosy flush beneath white marble, warmth staining Shizun’s wrists, all the way up his throat, his cheeks. Warming his black eyes, softening like thawing ice as Luo Binghe’s suddenly too-clumsy hands reach for his belt and stop. Waiting for Shizun to draw away, or allow Luo Binghe closer.
Shizun takes a deep breath, reaches for his belt and unties it himself, unhooking his robes from his shoulders and letting them fall to his feet before getting on the bed. Luo Binghe’s mouth never fails to go dry at the sight of Shizun’s beautiful body, slender and strong under his palms. To his surprise, Shizun pushes him down. Luo Binghe lets him, head resting heavily against his pillow, anticipation already making a stiff mast of his cock, his balls drawn up tight, and Shizun scoffs when he tugs the blanket down and sees it.
“Over-eager brute,” he murmurs, but there’s that trace of soft fondness to it that Luo Binghe has learned to cling to, to hoard. But instead of straddling Luo Binghe like he expects, Shizun just pauses, breathing hard as he kneels beside Luo Binghe, his brow furrowed. Before Luo Binghe can call to him, shake him from whatever shadowed memory’s clinging to him, Shizun takes a deep breath. All coherent thought remaining in Luo Binghe’s head promptly comes to a grinding halt as Shizun slides down in one graceful movement and takes him by the mouth.
He’s good. Slightly out of practice, and he chokes a little at Luo Binghe’s girth, before learning to adjust. His mouth is hot, his tongue divine. Luo Binghe can’t help it – he yelps.
“Shizun!” It’s a most undignified sound. Luo Binghe's certain it’s triumph he sees flaring bright and malicious in Shizun’s face, perhaps even a trace of mischievous glee that damn near breaks his heart for how sweet it is - but Shizun’s mouth is currently stuffed full of Luo Binghe’s cock, so he’s not complaining. Luo Binghe’s mouth falls open as Shizun starts to move, swallowing him down almost to the root. All this time he keeps his gaze on Luo Binghe’s, something almost viciously challenging in it even as he sucks his disciple off.
Luo Binghe whines, reaching down to grope blindly at Shizun. His fingers brush against Shizun’s silky hair, but before he can get a grip, Shizun suddenly pulls off. Luo Binghe draws back, alarmed, letting him go as quickly as he can. But Shizun just grabs his wrists. Keeps Luo Binghe’s hands on his face. His face is completely flushed, his eyes red-rimmed, looking suddenly so young and so lost. Looking at him, Luo Binghe not for the first time wants to cry.
“Don’t stop,” Shizun says, his voice raw and just the tiniest bit broken. Luo Binghe can only give him a shaky nod, a slow gasp as Shizun takes him into his mouth again. Luo Binghe’s fingers sweep Shizun’s hair away from his face. He never yanks, he just strokes Shizun’s hair, tugs lightly, gently as he fucks gently into Shizun’s mouth. Not driving it in, just filling him up. Thrusting into his open, pliant mouth, holding him as gently as he’s ever held anyone, as he himself has ever been held in his life.
A moan. Shizun’s. Black eyes flash at Luo Binghe, and Luo Binghe loses his breath at the sight of his sweaty, flushed face, his lips stretched wide around the girth of Luo Binghe’s cock. And then he’s coming, pouring right into Shizun’s mouth before he can stop himself. Shizun groans, and the sight of his throat flexing as he swallows all of Luo Binghe’s come nearly has Luo Binghe pass out from the pleasure of it.
Luo Binghe falls flat on his back on the bed, his limbs trembling as he feels himself going soft in Shizun’s mouth. He cannot tear his eyes away from Shizun as he pulls off, come dribbling from the corner of his lips. Shizun coughs wetly, breathing deeply as he wipes his mouth with the back of his shaking hand. And then Luo Binghe sees that Shizun’s own cock is still hard, leaking.
Luo Binghe pushes himself up slowly, so as not to spook Shizun. But Shizun doesn’t flinch or jerk away, just breathes deeply as Luo Binghe’s fingers close over his cock.
One gentle, exquisitely slow pull. Then another. And another. Shizun grunts again as his hips jerking up and Luo Binghe uses his own momentum to push him down, reversing their positions so now it’s Shizun lying prone and vulnerable on his back as Luo Binghe crawls between his legs. Shizun moans softly, surrenders. His legs spreading open wide as Luo Binghe pushes his thighs apart, and Luo Binghe goes hard again almost without realizing it, working Shizun’s cock in time to Shizun thrusting up against his touch. Rutting into Luo Binghe’s fingers, throwing his head back when Luo Binghe plays with his dripping slit, his cheeks glowing red, his eyes hectic.
Luo Binghe curses aloud, then before he quite knows it, he’s joining his cock to Shizun’s. Squeezing their erect lengths together, precum and saliva making his hand glide as he strokes up and down. Shizun’s fingers clench on the sheets, the veins on his jaw standing out. His eyes glittering, full of so much anger, so much hate. So much lust, so much softness. Blowing open wide as Luo Binghe’s gives them both one last pull, and then all Luo Binghe’s thoughts go static as they come.
When he floats back to the surface, it’s to his head on Shizun’s chest, the two of them rank with sweat and tacky with come. Shizun’s chest heaves beneath Luo Binghe’s cheek.
“Luo Binghe,” he snarls. “Get off me.” But it’s a weak demand, and he makes no move to dislodge Luo Binghe, even when Luo Binghe sinks down deeper into his embrace, nuzzling into Shizun’s heartbeat. Half-expecting to be shoved back, but instead Shizun lets out a breath that’s more like a gasp, and Luo Binghe feels a tender thrill as he feels Shizun’s arms winding tight around his shoulders.
Come dries between their bodies. The air warms by increments. Luo Binghe hadn’t even noticed the sun was starting to rise, not until he lifts his head to meet Shizun’s gaze. Shizun’s eyelashes fan against his cheeks, and his gaze is tired. But he doesn’t look away from Luo Binghe, not even when Luo Binghe takes his hand and kisses it.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe’s breath stirs the silence. “Shizun, I love you. I love you so much.” Shizun’s eyes remain steady on his face. The softness remains, the darkness too.
“I pity you for it.” is all he tells him, his voice hoarse from wanting. Luo Binghe smiles against his fingers, and he lets his tears drip freely down his cheeks as Shizun folds him gently into his embrace. Holding Luo Binghe close, tight. Like he’s a precious child, finally home.