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Shang Qinghua was not a masochist by any means. Sure, he could take a hit, but that had nothing to do with his sexual proclivities. It had all to do with his profession of personal informant and mole to a demon king. One had to be ready to take his lumps if he wanted to get into this career after all. However, in recent years, his king had become less and less inclined to smack Shang Qinghua. It used to be that he’d flubber through his reports, his hands shaking as he held his scroll out in front of him, and he’d get a beating. Or, he’d fail to report something minor that wasn’t of consequence to the mission, and he’d get beat. But as time went on, the beatings got more random. Shang Qinghua could get everything written out in a concise scroll and report it in a steady, unwavering voice, and still, he’d get hit. It had become such an integral part of his everyday life that he’d grown accustomed to it. And he thrived on routine, so naturally, when Mobei-jun stopped beating him, he began to get anxious.
At first, he thought his king had decided he was of no use to him and was going to kill Shang Qinghua whenever he got around to it. So naturally, Shang Qinghua redoubled his efforts, making sure to get every drop of information into his reports, even if it meant the scroll scraped the ground.
When this didn’t work, he thought that maybe his king was finally beginning to appreciate the servant's efforts. And while that might’ve been somewhat true, it wasn’t the reason he’d stopped hitting him.
It was only made clear to him when his king swept him into a tight hold, their lips touching, the aftertaste of spicy noodles in their mouths mixing together. They hadn’t been that good, his king having never touched a kitchen utensil in his life. But the appreciation inside of Shang Qinghua moved his hand, shoving mouthful upon mouthful into his face until every last bit was gone.
Their tongues danced around each other, Shang Qinghua groaning at the feeling. His stool fell from underneath him, clattering on the floor. He’d thrown himself, body first, into the kiss, expecting Mobei-jun to do the same. However, that wasn’t the case. Instead, Mobei-jun was…gentle. His lips moved against Shang Qinghua’s like a breeze drifting through a meadow. He hadn’t known his king could be so tender, only having ever been on the receiving end of his harsh smacks. Even when he was helping Shang Qinghua onto the pull cart, his hands were rough, lifting him up and setting him down like he was a sack of potatoes.
He fucked like he kissed. Gentle like Shang Qinghua might shatter if he wasn’t. It was nice. Nice to know his king cared enough to want to keep him in one piece.
However, as nice as it was, their time together left Shang Qinghua with an itch inside. As he lay in the cool bed, he couldn’t help but want something more, something carnal.
So he set about making a plan.
He was going to fuck up.
He was going to fuck up so bad, so many times it got his king furious with him. And, once his king was successfully goaded into a bout of fierce fury, he would offer himself up to quell his anger. In a perfect scenario, his king would take the offer and fuck him roughly. Worst case scenario, he ends up having to beg his king for forgiveness for fucking up his day in hopes of a good dicking.
God, how had his life come to this? Can’t even ask his husband for him to be a bit rougher.
>>>>>>>>>>>
“Why didn’t you tell me of this situation?” Mobei-jun placed a familiar-looking scroll down on Shang Qinghua’s desk, pushing it towards him.
“Oh! My king, I’m sorry, it totally slipped my mind!” Shang Qinghua faked a gasp, smacking his palm against his forehead.
He made sure his robes fell off the shoulder, just slightly, as he leaned over to grab the scroll.
Mobei-jun’s mouth was turned down in a scowl, his brows furrowed.
Yes! This was it!
“Don’t let it happen again,” Mobei-jun snatched the scroll back, tucking it into his sleeve before striding out of the room.
What? What was that? He wasn’t even going to hit him?
Shang Qinghua sighed, cradling his head in his hands. He didn’t even want to work anymore.
>>>>>>>>>>
It went on like that for another month, Shang Qinghua fucking up in some nonlethal but very annoying way, then apologizing for it like a bad porn actor trying to get out of paying for a mediocre pizza.
And every single time, Mobei-jun would just huff before turning around and slamming the door behind him. If his king abused his doorframe anymore, it might crack right down the middle.
To save himself the trouble of having to arrange a replacement door, Shang Qinghua decided that he was going to do one more fuck up. Just one.
>>>>>>>>>>>>
“His Highness wants you,” a servant popped their head into Shang Qinghua’s office, not bothering to knock.
Their voice was taunting, like one classmate teasing another for getting called to the principal's office.
But Shang Qinghua hopped off his chair in unadulterated glee, his robes flapping behind him as he rushed through the winding halls of the Northern Ice Palace.
He composed himself instantly as he skidded to a halt in front of his king’s personal office. Taking a deep breath, he rapped lightly on the door, pushing it open when he got the okay. Mobei-jun had told him he didn’t need to knock anymore, but Shang Qinghua, who’d spent his first life in a world of handheld porn devices, felt far too impolite doing something like that.
The door creaked open, revealing Mobei-jun sitting at his desk, scroll in hand.
“Yes, my king?” Shang Qinghua asked in faux hesitance as if he didn’t know what was wrong.
“You-” Mobei-jun took a deep breath before continuing, “You made a mistake in this last report. You said Silver Snout Lizards weren’t venomous. However, I’ve just been informed that a large group of demons were found in a cave, bitten by the creature.” Mobei-jun put emphasis on the last bit.
Oh, Shang Qinghua knew what that meant. The Silver Snout Lizard bite wasn’t fatal, but to say it wasn’t venomous was a bit of a stretch. Getting bit by one may cause a slightly raised body temperature, some confusion, and a bit of barfing if you are unlucky.
“I must have gotten it mixed up with the Gold-Backed Serpent. This one is sorry, my king.” Shang Qinghua lowered his head like he was repenting for his mistakes. In reality, he was hiding the wide grin stretching across his face, making his cheeks hurt.
“Fine. Go.” Mobei-jun was obviously miffed, letting out a huff as he shooed Shang Qinghua off.
Was he kidding?
“What does a man have to do to get roughed up around here!?” Shang Qinghua let out a cry, throwing his hands up in defeat.
Mobei-jun’s brow creased further, his mouth flattening out in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” He got up, making his way over to Shang Qinghua.
“You thought I was actually making those mistakes? Do you think I’m so incompetent, my king?” Shang Qinghua paced around the room, his hands flailing around in big gestures.
“No, I knew it was strange, but–” Mobei-jun started, turning his head to watch Shang Qinghua walk around.
“But what? But you didn’t want to say anything? But you didn’t want to get mad at me? To hit me? Just a bit?” Shang Qinghua strode over to his king, grabbing his lapels and jostling them.
“You want me to…hit you?” Mobei-jun leaned in, his hands gripping Shang Qinghua’s in a tight grasp, not letting him pull away. Not that he wanted to.
“Yes! Yes, I want you to hit me, ok? I didn’t think I liked it at the time, but now that you’ve stopped doing it, I kind of miss it. But that doesn’t make me weird or a pervert. I just have different tastes than you think I do, or I guess that I lead you to believe with all the begging and crying and–” Shang Qinghua flinched as one of Mobei-jun’s hands came up.
“Lightly, though! Not full throttle on my face, please!” He wailed helplessly, bracing for impact.
Mobei-jun roughly gripped his chin, tilting his face up so he could capture it in a kiss. This kiss was different than the usual ones. It was fervent, heated, and lustful as their bodies pressed against each other. Mobei-jun’s knee slid in between his legs, grinding on Shang Qinghua’s half-hard cock. He let a broken cry slip from his lips as he ground down, attempting to get more friction. He was jostled as Mobei-jun moved them, backing them up until he had Shang Qinghua’s back up against the solid wood desk. His hand roughly grazed Shang Qinghua’s nipples, pulling a whine from him. Their mouths still connected, he untied Shang Qinghua’s casual robes he wore around the palace, taking no time at all to undress him.
A brief sense of panic overtook Shang Qinghua as his eyes landed on the door behind Mobei-jun as his king stripped himself. But his fear was quickly subdued as he remembered that nobody else was allowed to just waltz into this office unannounced. That was a privilege saved specifically for him.
He let out a weak cry as Mobei-jun’s hand slipped down to his cock, stroking him lightly, collecting the jewling precome from the tip before sliding down to his entrance. They both went still.
Shang Qinghua heard Mobei-jun’s breath hitch, a rare feat. His cold fingers played with the plug sitting just inside Shang Qinghua lightly, pressing it further in before tugging on it playfully. Shang Qinghua let out a huff at the feeling, wiggling his hips. A dopey smile broke out on his face as Mobei-jun slowly slid the object out, letting it clatter to the floor, only to immediately press his hard cock against the entrance.
A sudden blazing fire ignited inside of Shang Qinghua, the smile on his face dropping instantly, replaced by an open-mouthed moan as the larger man pushed past the ring of muscles.
There was lube left over from when Shang Qinghua had prepared himself, but it wasn’t enough to get rid of the aching burn as Mobei-jun’s cock pressed into him. He let out a keen at the feeling, his back arching to get more. Shang Qinghua was not a masochist.
Mobei-jun let out a deep groan as their bodies connected, leaning over Shang Qinghua’s body.
His cock pressed against Shang Qinghua’s walls perfectly, fitting into him as he always had. But this time was different.
Mobei-jun drew back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside before snapping his hips forward violently. Shang Qinghua let out a sharp cry as he was subjected to Mobei-jun’s harsh pace. Sharp teeth nipped at his jawline, leaving wet spots on his skin. Cold, hard breath cascaded down Shang Qinghua’s neck as Mobei-jun fucked into him fervently. It was messy and rough. Exactly how he’d wanted it.
“My king!” Shang Qinghua called out, his nails digging into the wood of the desk, splintering it under his fingers.
“No,” Mobei-jun gripped his hips tightly, not letting him squirm away.
“Wuh?” Shang Qinghua’s brain was as good as mush, fogged over by lust.
“Call me. My name.” Mobei-jun panted, sweat clinging to his collarbones in a light sheen.
Damn, his king must be really worked up.
“Mobei-jun, MOBEI-” Shang Qinghua wailed as Mobei-jun’s cock stuck his sweet spot.
Mobei-jun let out a light gasp, his mouth opened slightly as he fucked into Shang Qinghua. Suddenly, he raised a hand, bringing it down across Shang Qinghua’s face. The slap burned, most likely leaving a nasty red mark on his cheeks. A shriveled whine slipped from his throat at the sting. His cock twitched at the feeling, precome leaking from his cock in between them. Mobei-jun froze for a second, only starting again when Shang Qinghua grumbled at the lost feeling. His free hand came to yank at Shang Qinghua’s messy hair, holding it in a death grip as he forced Shang Qinghua to look him in the face.
Shang Qinghua let out a loud groan, his back arching off the desk.
The heat inside of him finally overflowed, coming all over himself as Mobei-jun groaned at the sudden tightness around his cock.
Shang Qinghua panted as he recovered from his orgasm. While Mobei-jun kept thrusting into him before coming inside Shang Qinghua, not caring as it leaked onto the expensive wooden desk.
“You know this doesn’t mean you can start hitting me again, right?” Shang Qinghua muttered, rubbing at his aching skull.
“Does it also mean you’re going to start doing your job well again?” Mobei-jun let out a rare chuckle of amusement.
“Maybe, if I ever start slipping up again, you’ll know what to do,” Shang Qinghua peeled himself off the desk, sitting up as he watched Mobei-jun grab a rag from who knows where to clean them up.
“Rough you up a bit?”
“Exactly,” Shang Qinghua sighed wistfully as Mobei-jun used the rough rag to wipe him down.
Maybe Shang Qinghua was a bit of a masochist.