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“What were you talking to my uncle about?” The door slammed behind Mobei-jun, an icy breeze overtaking the room as he stormed over to Shang Qinghua.
“Huh?” The bun in Shang Qinghua’s mouth fell to the floor as he looked up at the ice demon.
He looked really mad, madder than Shang Qinghua had ever seen him. Oh fuck.
“I didn’t– I was just trying to get him to sign the agreement, my king.” Shang Qinghua tried his best to curb Mobei-jun’s anger, waving his hands wildly in front of himself.
“Really? And you needed to whisper with him behind my back for that?” Mobei-jun’s fist connected with the wall beside Shang Qinghua’s head.
He ducked instinctively, attempting to scuttle to the other side of the room to escape his king’s grip. Unfortunately for him, Mobei-jun was faster; he grabbed onto his collar, yanking Shang Qinghua back. Mobei-jun slammed him against the stone wall, his back crying out in agony as the rock cracked with the force.
“This one swears, my king, I really wasn’t trying to betray you!” Shang Qinghua pleaded, his hands coming up to grip Mobei-jun’s lapels.
Mentioning betrayal seemed to have been the wrong move, as Mobei-jun only seemed to get angrier. His large hand came to wrap around Shang Qinghua’s neck, squeezing roughly, blocking his windpipe. A strangled noise squeaked out as Shang Qinghua tried to claw Mobei-jun’s hand away from his neck.
He really hadn’t meant to seem like he was thinking of betraying his boss. His king had tasked him with getting Linguang-jun on board for Mobei-jun to take over when his father died. And to do that, he had to butter him up a bit. So obviously, when Linguang-jun leaned in to whisper to him during the meeting, Shang Qinghua couldn’t just pull away and risk offending the mobster. That would be terrible for business! How was he supposed to know it would make his king this angry! He really wasn’t going to betray him!
His vision was going splotchy as his airflow was blocked, his knees getting weak, and his ears beginning to ring. Mobei-jun let go of his neck, allowing Shang Qinghua to gasp sharply, a hand coming to rub at his sore neck; that was going to leave a nasty bruise. He only got a few seconds of reprieve before something blunt poked his stomach. He didn’t have to look down to know what it was.
“M-my king, think about this.” He pleaded, his palms beginning to sweat.
“Mn, I’ve already thought about it. Tell me, what were you two talking about?”
Shang Qinghua let out a cry as the barrel of the gun poked his navel, urging him to answer.
“Nothing, my king! I swear he was just telling me about how you used to be as a kid!” Shang Qinghua was telling the truth.
He’d asked Linguang-jun previously but only got a vague answer in return. It seemed premeditated that he would suddenly decide to tell him during such an important meeting.
The click of the trigger had Shang Qinghua squeezing his eyes shut, pressing himself back against the wall.
Something white-hot shot up his spine.
“My king! I swear, I really wouldn’t ever betray you! Please believe me!” Shang Qinghua wailed, attempting to make eye contact with Mobei-jun. Hoping that maybe the sincere, pitiful look in his eyes would convince his king.
With another click, Mobei-jun fired another blank into his stomach.
Shang Qinghua flinched, having to hold back his arm from reaching down and grabbing Mobei-jun’s wrist before bolting out the door and never looking back. He’d change his name and spend the rest of his life living off the generous amount of money he’d saved from this job. That is if Mobei-jun didn’t yank him back by the collar, shooting him right then and there, leaving him to bleed out on the floor.
Mobei-jun huffed, sounding almost miffed about Shang Qinghua still being alive.
“If you aren’t going to say anything useful, then shut the fuck up,” Mobei-jun growled, removing the gun from Shang Qinghua’s abdomen.
He tried to let out a small sigh, only for something cold to shove its way into his mouth. He froze, choking on his own tongue, trying to make room for the intrusion instinctively. His knees buckled under him, a tingling sensation spreading through his entire body.
The barrel of the gun clinked against his teeth, trying to shove its way down his throat. He choked around it, his hand coming up to grip Mobei-jun’s wrist. He didn’t pull it away and instead squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to slam against the wall with the force Mobei-jun put behind the shove. He let out a faint groan at the ache spreading through his head, down to his–
Oh no.
Oh fuck, this was not good.
Shang Qinghua shifted his hips, hoping to hide his growing erection. God, he was such a freak.
Who gets hard with a gun in their mouth?
Mobei-jun’s finger rested on the trigger, playing with it lightly as he pressed the barrel in harder, scraping it against Shang Qinghua’s throat, the tangy taste of blood filling his mouth.
“If you’re not going to tell me the truth, what use do I even have for you?” Mobei-jun’s mumbled, voice laced with resentment.
Shang Qinghua tried to supplicate, but the thick gun in his mouth made his crying come out garbled. His knees were shaking under his weight, threatening to give out with even the slightest jostle.
“You disgust me,” Mobei-jun growled virulently.
He pulled the trigger.
Shang Qinghua felt the echoing click of the gun resonant through his body. His life flashed before his eyes in a way it hadn’t since the day he’d met Mobei-jun all those years ago, gun pointed at his head–kind of like this– before the man keeled over from the multiple bullet wounds littering his body.
Heat shot through him, a loud cry ripping from his throat. He vaguely felt the gun slipping from his throat.
Something was wet and sticky. Was it blood? Was he dead?
Shang Qinghua brought a numb hand up to feel his face. It didn’t hurt.
He cracked open his eyes, squinting through his hazy vision, checking himself over.
He didn’t seem to be bleeding. At some point, he’d fallen to the floor, legs splayed out in front of him.
If he wasn’t bleeding, then what was so wet and hot?
“What’s wrong with you,” Mobei-jun’s voice broke through the haze.
“Mn, huh?” Shang Qinghua forgot himself as he gazed dazedly at his king.
He didn’t look as mad as he had before, the shadows on his face lightening considerably.
A large hand wrapped under his arm, dragging him back up to his feet with minimal effort.
“You’re some kind of freak, aren’t you?” Mobei-jun wasn’t looking at his face; his eyes were locked onto his– oh no.
Shang Qinghua’s hand flew to cover his crotch and the–most likely–very obvious stain now brandishing his pants.
“Um,” Shang Qinghua tried his best to think up some excuse for creaming his pants with a gun in his mouth. But there really wasn’t one.
Mobei-jun’s mouth was slightly open as if he couldn’t believe what had just transpired. The look on his–usually stoic– king’s face made something boil within Shang Qinghua. He felt the rage in his body well up now that he was directly out of harm's way, and he’d already gotten his rocks off. Most commonly known as post-nut clarity.
“Are you fucking KIDDING ME?” He yelled, delighting in the shock on Mobei-jun’s face as he finally broke his staring contest with Shang Qinghua’s dick.
“You think I wanted to talk to your fucking uncle? Because why the fuck would I want to do that, my king? I was only getting friendly with him because you tasked me with convincing him to let you take over the family business, my king. After all I’ve done for you, stealing, lying, blackmailing, I’ve done everything short of killing for you. My.King. But you know what? If you asked me to, it would kill for you. Because I’m a good fucking asset to have, MY KING!” Shang Qinghua cried out, tears welling in his eyes as he pushed at Mobei-jun’s chest, forgetting about the gun in his hand for a second.
Mobei-jun actually let himself be pushed back out of sheer shock. Shang Qinghua panted, catching his breath. It was only when Mobei-jun’s large hand gripped his shoulder that he came back to himself. He turned heel and ran, body slamming into the door as he tried to unlock it with shaking hands. A hand on his collar yanked him away, forcing all the air in his lungs out with the force. Fuck, why did Mobei-jun love grabbing him like he was scruffing a cat?
He was whipped around, back slamming into the firm hotel bed. Mobei-jun loomed over him, gun still in hand.
“Strip,” Mobei-jun gestured at him, anger back in his voice, along with something new Shang Qinghua couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Strip…what?” Shang Qinghua stared wide-eyed up at Mobei-jun, irises glazing over at the image. His king was really too pretty.
“Your clothes, dipshit” Mobei-jun rolled his eyes, yanking at Shang Qinghua’s shirt with his free hand.
“Oh… oh,” Shang Qinghua scrambled to unbutton his shirt, his fingers fumbling with the inconveniently small buttons. He let out a frustrated growl before deciding that if he was going to die here, having an intact shirt wasn’t really his top priority. He tore his dress shirt off, buttons popping.
He yanked his pants off, throwing them somewhere in the room.
Mobei-jun leaned over, placing the gun directly next to Shang Qinghua’s head as if tempting Shang Qinghua, daring him to do something with it.
However, Shang Qinghua barely noticed, too transfixed in watching Mobei-jun slowly unbutton his shirt, revealing his broad chest and pale skin.
His fingers looped in his waistband, pulling his pants down in one swift movement. Mobei-jun was hard.
Shang Qinghua felt a brief flash of satisfaction rush through his veins; at least he wasn’t the only freak in the room.
“My king, Ah-” Shang Qinghua yelped as Mobei-jun’s hand gripped his thigh, lifting his leg high in the air.
Mobei-jun’s cold finger entered him roughly, the only lubricant being his leftover spend from his previous orgasm. He bit back a cry at the uncomfortable feeling, his hips jumping away. Mobei-jun’s other hand held his hips in place as his finger moved inside the tight heat. Shang Qinghua let out a plaintive cry at the rough feeling of Mobei-jun’s dry fingers digging around inside of him. A second finger joined the first, pressing past the tight ring of resistance. Suddenly, something wet and thick began to spread across his hole. He let a confused whine slip from his lips as a sharp stinging paired with the thrusts.
Mobei-jun pulled his fingers out, bright red blood spotted on them. Letting out a groan, Shang Qinghua let his head fall back onto the bed.
Mobei-jun huffed before getting up, leaving Shang Qinghua's leg in the air. Shang Qinghua wanted to watch Mobei-jun move around the room, but when he looked to his left, he was met with the barrel of a gun.
He felt the bed shift as Mobei-jun got back on. Something cold and wet dripped over his half-hard cock, making it twitch. Gasping, he tore his eyes away from the gun by his head, watching as Mobei-jun drizzled a small vial of hotel-provided lube over his lower half.
He threw the plastic bottle in a random direction, aligning himself with Shang Qinghua’s entrance. Taking a deep breath, Shang Qinghua tried to brace himself.
The slow press of Mobei-jun’s cock sliding inside him caused a hiss of discomfort to slip from his lips, his eyes narrowing. Mobei-jun wasn’t exactly small. His cock dragged against Shang Qinghua’s sensitive walls, grinding against the spot inside of him that made his vision go white. He let out a shrill cry as Mobei-jun sunk down to the base in one solid motion, their hips connecting.
Letting out a deep grunt, Mobei-jun pulled out, snapping his hips forward. Shang Qinghua’s hands came up to grip Mobei-jun’s shoulders, nails digging into the hard skin.
“My king, slow-AH, slow down, ” Shang Qinghua cried desperately, his hips jerking as Mobei-jun set a punishing pace.
“Shut up,” Mobei-jun barked, grabbing the gun by Shang Qinghua’s head and pointing it at his brain.
Mind-melting pleasure mixed with fear as Mobei-jun fucked into him roughly, gun pointing at his head. With a finger on the trigger, Mobei-jun kept Shang Qinghua’s hips pinned to the mattress, keeping him from wiggling away.
All Shang Qinghua could do was lay there and take it, his back arched off the bed painfully. His eyes rolled back in his head as Mobei-jun’s hips snapped forward, driving straight into his sweet spot.
Low, brusque moans came from the man on top of him as their bodies moved in tandem, Shang Qinghua’s hips grinding against Mobei-jun against his will.
“My king! Please believe me! I would never- Ngh! I swear I wasn’t going to betray you!” Shang Qinghua wailed as his body was rocked against the mattress, his neglected cock weeping between his legs.
“I said shut up!” Mobei-jun bellowed, cocking the gun, the distinct noise sending a shiver up Shang Qinghua’s spine, traveling to his dick.
“My king! I’m going to–”
He pulled the trigger.
Shang Qinghua let out a throaty yell, coming across his stomach. He squirmed as he was fucked through his orgasm, Mobei-jun’s hips snapping furiously into him.
“Fuck,” Mobei-jun growled as he came, dropping the gun back onto the bed.
BANG!
Shang Qinghua jolted violently, his hands flying to cover his head.
Once the ringing in his ears died down, he slowly lowered his arms, staring wide eyes at Mobei-jun.
Mobei-jun, in turn, stared back. They both turned to look at the wall.
A small, singular hole stared back at them.
Shang Qinghua’s body broke out in a cold sweat. That could have been his head.
He turned back to look at Mobei-jun, unsure of what to say.
“I believe you,” Mobei-jun spoke first, his voice low, sounding almost apologetic or as apologetic as he could sound.
Yeah, you fucking better.