Archive of Our Own

If anyone ever came after him for misappropriation of sect funds—well, Shang Qinghua would be screwed if that ever happened. For obvious reasons. But in this specific case, he had a totally iron-clad defense, because the little display surfaces he'd invented were actually—legitimately—work related. They permitted rapid communication for short messages; unlike traditional post or letterbox communication, they didn't transmit physical objects, which meant they weren't a security risk. They did need charging with spiritual energy, but this also wasn't an issue, given that they were primarily distributed direct within An Ding—secondarily: through Cang Qiong more generally; tertiarily, amongst Shang Qinghua's favoritest sketchy-ass rogue cultivator contacts. How was he supposed to keep an eye on trade deals without an information network?

He personally knew who most of the users were, and did get notifications every time a new user was registered (though not who it was—but it was enough to keep a general eye on network size and spread). He had gotten enough of the basic opsec training on An Ding that keeping usage anonymized was actually possible. Messages would go to a "user account"—the particular character a user selected as their anonymized identifier—as long as the user correctly set up the device.

Obviously his System had done most of the work on these. He'd just gotten it to set up the talisman string required to create the surfaces, and then An Ding and the artifact refining peak had collaborated to produce them.

They worked best in a close radius, maybe 10 li, at which distance two surfaces could directly connect to message; at longer distances, all other surfaces connected to each other in a sort of rudimentary network. (Shang Qinghua had spent most of his free time over six months hauling ass all over the countryside and manually burying specialty high-transfer-radius surfaces under crossroads markers, as sort of rudimentary network towers. This was the sort of inconvenient but important work he'd usually defer to his disciples, but his disciples were already too active on the damn surfaces. Also it would have been impossible for him to get laid on this trip if he'd brought any disciples along).

There were only a couple of problems, really.

First of all: they weren't actually that difficult to produce. Well beyond all but the most gifted disciple, of course, but… All you really needed was enough qi control to handle delicate, multi-layered talisman chains, and the skill to reproduce a complex talisman—but all the individual pieces could be made individually and just linked up in the activation phase. So they were proliferating, especially amongst rogue cultivators, for whom "the ability to copy talismans" and "solid qi control" were survival skills and not specialized out.

Second of all: he'd designed them assuming a somewhat fixed userbase size; there were already heated conflicts over a favored username already being selected, and it was becoming somewhat challenging to keep up with the ballooning spread of his new, uh, network.

Thirdly: as an emergent property of anonymized, text-based peer-to-peer communications, they'd also turned into xianxia Grindr.

So the point was: Shang Qinghua had more than one surface. Personally. Because one of them was for organizing shipments and proposing bids remotely to undercut his competitors and all the other mild-mannered logistical badassery his day job entailed.

And the other one was for getting his throat fucked, discreetly, on occasion. More typically it was for getting xianxia cybered via wax tablet display surface while he morosely sucked on his own fingers.

He was trying to figure out how to link more than one user account onto a single surface at the same time but his System was uncooperatively back in low power mode, and the artifact refining peak had just sent him a message saying that this "seemed like it would be ontologically challenging," the dirty cowards.

A lot of important messages came in for him, was the relevant information. In retrospect—though he didn't know this at the time—it started when he'd had a big box of blanks with him when Mobei-jun had hauled his ass to the Northern Palace. Mobei-jun had seen his phone (by then he'd already given up on calling them surfaces. Everyone called them cellphones, it would have been weirder not to) before, but he'd examined it and proclaimed that the messages (coordinating supply deliveries, a question about when he'd be back on An Ding, a reminder that the next Peak Lord meeting was in three days) were beneath his concern. Shang Qinghua hadn't even tried to talk him into taking a phone. He'd done the thing where your scary boss who could kill you had your cellphone number and could text you at 11pm to have work ready by the next morning in his last life, and wasn't keen to repeat it now. So Mobei-jun basically ignored his phone when it went off, these days.

But it wasn't his work phone that went off that day. It had been his personal, which had a different ringtone. He'd been hip-deep in sorting out the absolute mess Mobei-jun's uncle had made of the treasury at this particular fortress, and left his phone on his usual desk while he had papers spread out across multiple tables and half the bed.

There was a crunch. He looked up.

"I broke this," Mobei-jun said, holding up a crumpled phone. "There was a message for you. It was impolite."

Shang Qinghua hadn't known which phone was broken. Mostly he was thinking "impolite" was a lot coming from a guy who had just yesterday left bruises Shang Qinghua was still qi-circulating away. "No trouble, my king, I can just reload the messages onto one of the new blanks. Rude messages are just part of the job!"

There was a bewildered silence from Mobei-jun. Shang Qinghua was pretty good at reading his silences by then. But, well, maybe technology was confusing for a demon! So he showed Mobei-jun how they worked.

Mobei-jun actually listened to him, for once, and even asked a couple questions! Yes, they worked across realms, but the transmission sometimes got a little garbled; he was working on that (he thought burying transmitter-devices on both sides of the borderlands might help but he hadn't gotten around to it yet). Yes, totally anonymous, though people gave themselves away all the time by what they said or how they said it. No, it didn't support Northern Demonic, just Chinese characters. He demonstrated how messages would appear in the soft wax underneath the surface and then wipe themselves clean. Then he went back to his paperwork and completely forgot about all that.

When he got back to An Ding and counted the cellphone blanks in his crate, he was a half dozen short—but that happened any time there were bulk blanks anywhere. People stole them, new ones got made… He didn't think twice about it. He should have.

It was under a week after that interaction that his personal phone got his first message from user "ice". Obviously, this scared the shit out of him: Binghe hadn't even been born yet! (There was a universal setup process that was part of the operating talisman and appeared for all cellphones, even knockoffs, and it specifically instructed users not to use characters from their names as a username, but it still happened all the time.)

冰: Hello

飞: .7 bear daddy dl/discreet chat only

冰: What does that mean

飞: oh, are you new here? i'm not looking to meet up for sex or a relationship but i'll chat.

冰: The rest of that

飞: .7 i mostly top but i don't mind bottoming now and again.
飞: bear is maybe pushing it but i just mean i'm not a skinny little waif.
飞: daddy is self explanatory ;)

冰: It is not

Okay, well, Shang Qinghua didn't really know where to begin with that.

飞: you know what don't worry about it.
飞: it just means i'm good for it.

冰: Good for what

Fuck, but Shang Qinghua missed being able to just send a dick pic. Patiently teaching people how to sext from first principles was so much work. Still: better than nothing.

飞: depends what you like. tell me what you're into, baby

冰: No
冰: I am not your baby
冰: And I am curious about your preferences

Exhausting.

飞: i'm not a complicated guy. tell me about your body, then. what i like to do is gonna depend on what works for you.
飞: you like to be held down?

A long silence. 冰 was writing, and then he (actually, Shang Qinghua was only assuming it was a guy) stopped.

飞: you're a dude, right?

冰: You also sleep with women?

飞: sometimes. not often.

冰: Yes I am a man

飞: okay. are you strong?

冰: Yes I am very strong

飞: cool. usually i like a guy who can throw me around a little but i don't think that's what i want right now.

冰: What do you want

飞: to push you down and fuck you so hard you cry on my cock.

A long pause. Well, if the guy wasn't into it he wasn't into it. But it wasn't like he was giving Shang Qinghua much to work with here.

冰: I don't think you could make me cry

Fuck! Okay!

飞: as in you don't want me to, or you actually don't think i could?

冰: I don't think you could
冰: You could try

飞: haha, i think i could. that's what daddy means.

There was another long pause.

冰: How would you make me cry

飞: i mean you don't actually have to shed real tears. but you seem like maybe you don't do this a lot?
飞: have you even taken it before?

冰: No
冰: Not voluntarily

Okay. That almost sent Shang Qinghua spiraling before he remembered that this horrible porn world had a lot of ways to involuntarily take it that were, mostly, fine; and if they weren't fine, they were still not his personal fault! Okay! He could get this back on track!!

飞: only counts if you want it
飞: you want it from me?

冰: Yes
冰: If you could make me take it
冰: Still not convinced you could

Things devolved from there.

Somehow, though, 冰 ended up being one of his most frequent correspondents. Even though it was like pulling teeth to get responses out of him. That was pretty much fine, because Shang Qinghua could yap enough for two.

冰 was almost unbelievably taciturn, but it seemed like he was also completely sincere. Generally things went like this: Shang Qinghua would send a "hey." 冰 would then message him with something like "What are you doing," Shang Qinghua would reply with a lovingly crafted and compellingly nasty 200-500 character sex essay, and 冰 would stiffly reply along the lines of "I like that." It was, almost, kind of cute.

It was also weirdly reliable. Shang Qinghua's other contacts dropped in and out pretty frequently. A lot of them would even outright tell him that they'd been seeing someone, the lucky bastards who had enough free time to date!!! But 冰 was seemingly always around.

They'd been doing this for a couple months the first time Shang Qinghua got fucking anything personal out of 冰, and it was a doozy. They were actually both on their phones at the same time (Shang Qinghua wasn't stupid enough to believe that 冰 actually jerked himself raw for a quarter shichen every time Shang Qinghua sent him a horny imagine, but it was a nice thought) and Shang Qinghua had gone on another asking-questions bender.

飞: come on tell me about your dick. wanna imagine sucking it

冰: I don't have one of those

飞: uh. you said you were a dude?

冰: I am

飞: okay you gotta give me something to go on here
飞: are you a demon?
飞: is this like a tentacle situation?

冰: Yes
冰: No
冰: You said you'd slept with women before
冰: That's what I have

飞: fuck. okay.
飞: in my defense i really don't know what i'm doing with those. the women ive slept with mostly rode me through the mattress or used a strap.

冰: What is a strap

飞: my god. you are old enough to be talking dirty like this right like you're not a secret child??

冰: I'm your age

飞: okay good
飞: so tell me about your pussy then. do you get nice and wet for me?

Weirdly, this dirty talk was way harder and more embarrassing than normal. It made him feel like some sort of sleazy straight guy! Which he wasn't. And this wasn't straight. Except all the lines he could think of came from straight porn, which he had never found particularly erotic.

冰: I get hard for you

飞: oh fuck. can daddy suck on your clit while fingering you open? would that feel good for you?

冰: My cock

Okay, princess, whatever you say.

Or, uh. Prince.

飞: spoiled! okay, fine, brat
飞: can daddy suck your cock while fingering you open?
飞: would THAT feel good for you?

冰: Yes

So honestly that had come out okay. Shang Qinghua really didn't know what to do with, uh, vaginas. He applied to Qi Qingqi for advice, which went about as badly as he should have expected:

向: help a guy i've been sexting for months has a vagina what do i do

畸: Does Liu Qingge know it's you?

The inevitable humiliated explosion, etc. But she had given him advice eventually.

Other than that Shang Qinghua didn't really change how he talked to 冰, which was to say, mostly he talked about pushing him down, bending him over, tying him up, fucking him hard.

飞: if you're a demon you're pretty tough, right? bet i could fit my whole hand into your ass with a little hard work

冰: You don't have to always specify you mean my ass
冰: I have other holes

飞: well your ass is what i'm thinking of fucking right now. cause you're a guy and that's where i fuck guys.

A long pause. Shang Qinghua was about to start backpedaling when:

冰: Do you actually sleep with people you talk to on here

飞: yeah when i have time. you don't?
飞: oh shit did you wanna meet up? where are you located?

冰: No
冰: Demon realm
冰: You said chat only

飞: yeah because i was insanely busy at the time.
飞: wait the fucking demon realm?? where in the demon realm?
飞: you don't have to answer that sorry i'm just always amazed these things even work consistently across the border

Shang Qinghua had buried a bunch of signal boosters on both sides of the border to the demonic realms, but usually when he was there he was simply Phone Off Unreachable. If a text came in it came in, but he wasn't checking it till later. He did not want his king to kill him! Also, it was kind of annoying to transfer messages between phones and he didn't want Mobei-jun breaking any more of them.

冰: North

Okay, that made sense. Both in terms of where Shang Qinghua had buried signal boosters and in term of where blank phones might have disappeared to.

冰: Stop doing that

飞: ??

冰: Stop sleeping with other people you talk to on here
冰: Also stop talking to other people on here

Hahaha, okay, kind of controlling. Shang Qinghua was not going to cut off his only source of hookups just because this guy was weird about it, but he could play in the space.

飞: you want daddy's dick all to yourself?

冰: Yes

飞: i don't know, that's a lot of responsibility. can you handle it?

冰: Yes

飞: are you sure? i've got a pretty high sex drive, you know
飞: maybe i can just keep you at home and fuck you every day. whenever i feel like it. would you like that?

This reply was almost instant.

冰: Yes

飞: you really like that idea, huh, baby?

冰: Not your baby

Haha, yeah, he loved it.

飞: maybe i'd keep you tied to my bed. just use you like that.

冰: I am strong enough to break free

飞: no worries, i have immortal binding cables. that should do the trick
飞: you don't need to think about breaking out, ok? you wanted me all to yourself, didn't you?

A long pause. Shang Qinghua was, bizarrely, absolutely positive the other guy was rubbing himself sore. Fuck, maybe fingering himself?

飞: are you touching yourself about it? tell me

冰: Yes

飞: tell me how

冰: Can't write at the same time

Okay! Very fucking hot.

飞: well good boy letting daddy take care of you

冰: Not your baby

飞: oh come on yes you are. once you want me tying you to the bedposts and keeping you wet and open for me to fuck whenever i want i think i get to call you baby if i want to
飞: right, baby? say yes for me

It took him a minute to reply. Shang Qinghua hoped it was because he thought this was hot and not ridiculous. But it seemed like he had really hit on something. For, uh. 冰.

冰: Yes

Okay: nailed it.

飞: anyway i don't think you get to tell daddy who he's allowed to fuck, baby.
飞: it's cute that you're so into me but that's not up to you

冰: Why not
冰: If I am your baby

Shang Qinghua stared at this message in consternation. Like, where to even start…

冰: What is the point of being your baby if you will not let me tell you what to do

飞: the point is i get to tell you what to do

冰: No

飞: uh, yes?

冰: No

飞: i feel like we're having some kind of fundamental misunderstanding here

冰: You haven't actually
冰: Can you erase messages

飞: i haven't actually what?
飞: and no i haven't figured that out yet. really annoying.

冰: It's not "hot" just to imagine it
冰: I want you to do it

飞: you want to meet up? i could do that i travel a lot with my work.

A long pause.

冰: No

飞: so then this is what we're gonna be doing.

冰: Do you sleep with people when you travel for work

For fuck's sake.

飞: look is this some kind of demon culture thing i'm missing? you really can't ask me to stop fucking other people unless this is something serious.
飞: which it's not. because you don't want to meet in person. and i'm busy.

冰: Why can't it be serious

飞: because we're corresponding by fucking letter?? you're definitely my most reliable correspondent, but you're not my husband. you're not even my boyfriend.

冰: I am writing serious letters

飞: if i get more than one word out of you it's cause for a red letter day!

冰: I don't say things I don't mean
冰: Also I write slower than you
冰: You always say three more things before I can finish a sentence

Okay, well, now Shang Qinghua felt like an asshole. (Not a new feeling by any means, but still not a fun one).

飞: okay. but you don't want to meet in person, right? so it sounds like you also can't do something serious right now.
飞: other than letters. which, sorry, are not that serious.

冰: They are not serious to you?

飞: i mean it's hot. it's hotter now that i know apparently you do really like it. but i'm not in a position to start anything up especially not with some random demon.

冰: Why not

飞: i have to focus on my career
飞: sorry
飞: anyway i'm pretty sure trying to date me would get you killed, or something. i don't think i'm worth all that.
飞: speaking of which if you do message other people on here don't mention you're a demon. there's some hardliners on the network i think.

冰: I am not going to message other people

飞: man you probably should. i think we should cool things off for a little bit.
飞: i can recommend a couple guys you might like?

冰: Have you fucked them

飞: do you want direct recommendations? i was assuming you wouldn't. i don't sleep with every guy i talk to on here.
飞: i haven't slept with you! haha.

冰: No one you've slept with
冰: No one you've talked with

飞: so you want unvetted guys i only know by reputation?
飞: i don't know man there's a lot of creeps out there!

冰: I don't
冰: Want anyone else
冰: I will wait

Hahaha. What.

飞: haha. what.

冰: I will wait until you can be serious

飞: well that's not going to happen anytime soon.

冰: I will wait

God. Fucking whatever.

So Shang Qinghua just didn't message 冰 for ages after that. Which was really fucking annoying, actually, because he was kind of in a dry spell; a couple of his other reliable contacts had paired off and gone exclusive. He needed the stress relief, too, because Mobei-jun was hitting him even more than he usually did for some fucking reason. Maybe his shitty uncle was being eviler than usual. Shit rolls downhill! Ha ha ha. Ha.

Upside, though: his groveling was apparently coming along in leaps and bounds. Mobei-jun kept fucking hitting him, but he also stopped way sooner than he usually did. So something he was doing must be working. Also, it was a lot more shoving Shang Qinghua up against things, getting in his personal space, first, and then snarling and hitting him when he didn't—what? What did Mobei-jun expect, here?

He limped back to his office, and settled in to work. Mobei-jun had dropped his cloak here when he'd picked Shang Qinghua up. Shang Qinghua pulled it over himself. It was warm, okay? And it smelled like his horrid fucking king. Ugh.

He took his phones out of his sleeves (so he could tie them back enough to actually write), and dumped them on the desktop with a little clatter. On a whim, he messaged 冰. Maybe he'd changed his mind about meeting up? He said he was in the Northern Realm, and given where Shang Qinghua had lost some phones, that probably meant in this very palace! A guy could dream…

飞: hey if a demon keeps hitting you and threatening to kill you that means you should get ready to get fucking killed, right?
飞: since i'm going to die anyway have you changed your mind about meeting up?

Something in the depths of Mobei-jun's cloak went brrpt!

Twice. In rapid succession. Like someone had just double-texted.

Hahaha.

Uh oh.

Obviously, this meant Shang Qinghua got absolutely no work done, because he was busy trying to break into Mobei-jun's fucking phone and delete those messages. There wasn't any good way to delete anything! Even destroying the phone wouldn't do it, because it was all linked to the fucking user account, so whenever he got his hands on a new phone—which he would, because he was Mobei-fucking-jun—it would just show up again.

When he heard/felt a portal opening behind him, he only barely managed to scramble the phone back into the little inner cloak pocket he'd fished it out of. Alas, he was unable to conceal that he'd wrapped himself in Mobei-jun's robe. He dropped that back over his chair with alacrity, and went to his knees.

"My king," he said, immediately. "This humble one apologizes for, uh, borrowing your cloak." And felt ridiculous.

Mobei-jun just took the cloak off the chair and turned to leave. Then he turned back around and said, magnanimously, "This king keeps you warm."

With these parting words, he delivered a single smack for the road, and left. Fucking ow.

Shang Qinghua subsequently over the next few minutes spiraled into the absolute depths of panic. He hadn't managed to even get into Mobei-jun's phone. Ahh!! Why had he been so insistent about the set-up process walking people through creating a strong password? Why hadn't he inserted some kind of universal password that only he knew? Fuck. Fuck!

He did not have the brain capacity to think in any way about what it might mean that he had, apparently, been cybering with his king for over… for a long time. For a worryingly long time! Honestly! And he didn't have time to think about all the absolutely insane bullshit he had been saying to his king, to Mobei-jun's apparent fucking enjoyment! Mostly what he had time to think about was whether his fucking escape route would hold up against Mobei-jun, famously a guy who could go anywhere and find anyone!!!!

Signs pointed to, no it would not! It wasn't like he could even hide inside the Cang Qiong wards, because he'd specifically made a fucking Mobei-jun shaped hole in them. It was going to be so fucking difficult to close that up, not least because he'd probably have to explain why that hole was there in the first place!!! Shang Qinghua was just going to have to… hope that his king wouldn't kill him about all the daddy stuff.

Hahaha!! He was so fucked.

Then his phone went fucking brrpt! Shang Qinghua jumped, terrified, but all Mobei-jun had said was:

冰: Things are no longer "cooled off"?

飞: oh so you ARE ready to meet up?

冰: No

飞: why did i fucking bother.

And then he vengefully put his phone on mute to freak out in peace.

When he'd calmed down enough to think (mostly because Mobei-jun hadn't come rocketing through a portal to rip his hands and/or dick and/or head clean off), he checked his phone again.

冰: We can still write to each other
冰: I will not push
冰: I need
冰: I miss you
冰: *your cock

Against his better judgement, Shang Qinghua was a tiny bit moved by this. Aw! His king had emotions in there, somewhere. Like, wayyyy deep down.

飞: so no info on what the hitting is supposed to mean?

冰: Hit him back

Fucking useless.

飞: great thanks super helpful!
飞: don't think that applies in this situation on account of he would kill me to death but thanks anyway.

冰: Doubtful

飞: can we talk about how much you missed my cock instead?

冰: Yes

After a long pause, Shang Qinghua realized that was it. Asked and answered! Classic 冰. Classic Mobei-jun, holy shit.

飞: okay so. tell me about that.

冰: I have felt
冰: Empty

Okay. That was. A lot to consider. Shang Qinghua stopped thinking about how it was his fucking king who apparently liked playing bottom boy in his DMs and just focused on delivering the goods. So to speak.

His king was, apparently, fucking gagging for it. Who knew? Ridiculous as it was to say, he apparently had actually missed Shang Qinghua's cock. Or, well, 飞's, anyway. He seemed to be making more of an effort to contribute to the conversations and even reached out first sometimes.

冰: What are you doing

飞: boring shit mostly. you would not believe how many meetings can be had on the subject of talisman paper. what's up

冰: I am

(Here there was a long, long pause, like half a ke. Shang Qinghua waited patiently for a horny essay or something).

冰: Thinking about daddy's cock

…Okay!

It was, unfortunately, really doing it for Shang Qinghua. Not that his standards for dirty talk had ever been high, but imagining this strained dialogue being ripped out of Mobei-jun like he had been hit with pollen from a Golden Truth-Seeking Lily was. Haha! Whoo boy! Just imagining Mobei-jun saying absolutely anything he'd been willing to send as 冰 was enough to get him over the line. Just from thinking about it.

Also, there was a small and not particularly guilty part of Shang Qinghua that really enjoyed making Mobei-jun say the most humiliating shit he could think of. He could just picture Mobei-jun hunched over his phone with his most pissed-off frown, angrily writing that he was 飞's baby. Phew!

It was this unfortunate sadistic streak that possessed Shang Qinghua one day to consult Qi Qingqi, who could be relied upon for advice in this area.

向: what should I make a dildo out of

畸: Why don't you just commission one, you bizarre little man?
畸: Jade is common, but I don't recommend it. Nothing porous. Glass, metal, lacquered wood.

向: haha it's for a friend iykwim

畸: Your friend who isn't Liu Qingge?

向: would you drop it.

畸: I don't know why you're being so tightassed about it.
畸: If anything, he's the one who should be embarrassed.

向: okay you probably feel really clever and funny right now but you're not going to be smiling come next month when i "can't find" the requisition you made for new disciple robes.

畸: Maybe stick to glass or metal if you plan to use it anywhere that self-lubricates.
畸: And if it's a gift, send oil along too.

向: teach your grandmother to suck eggs.

He'd worried a lot about bringing it up, later, but it was really easy.

飞: so i know you still don't want to meet up but i got something for you
飞: do you ever go through Hanggai

冰: I could

飞: okay. leaving you something in four days. it'll be in the wall behind the teahouse.

Then he refused to provide any additional information about what it was. Mobei-jun was a total brat about it, which was also cute: being able to say no and threaten him a little felt really fucking good!

The location Shang Qinghua had given 冰 was in the same town as the place he normally dropped packages for Mobei-jun. Plenty of cultivators passed through there and Shang Qinghua himself often had business there, because it was close to the border, so it was a good spot for a dead drop. Anyway, he wasn't being lazy, he was being considerate, because this way Mobei-jun also wouldn't have to go to two separate places to pick up his mail.

飞: let me know when you pick it up

Mobei-jun was impatient, apparently. It was less than a day later when Shang Qinghua's phone went off.

冰: I have it

飞: don't open it yet. wait until you're somewhere private.

冰: Okay

There was a wait—Shang Qinghua had expected to need a couple hours, but his phone did go off repeatedly during the Peak Lord meeting, fuck his whole life. Qi Qingqi was laughing at him outright. Apparently his king was greedy, but he was going to have to wait!

"Ahahaha, sorry," he said after forcing the stupid little message flag back down and turning the thing entirely off. Shen Qingqiu gave him an even scarier and more suspicious glare than usual. Yikes!

Once he'd escaped the Peak Lord meeting (and the usual post-meeting fracas, during which four different people tried to waylay him to plead for a bigger budget and he had to play a little minigame called "Get Back to An Ding Peak Before Anyone Can Make You Promise Renovations") Shang Qinghua locked himself in his office and turned his phone back on.

冰: I'm alone
冰: Hello
冰: Can I open it
冰: Please can I open it

Holy shit.

飞: sorry daddy's so late, he got caught up at work.
飞: good job asking nicely, though, baby.
飞: yeah go ahead open it.
飞: tell me what you think.

冰: What

飞: you can definitely figure out what to do with those.

冰: Yes
冰: Which one is you

飞: ?

冰: Are you like the big one or the little one

飞: i'd say it's more of a big one and a regular sized one situation

冰: You are the little one then

飞: come on man.

冰: I will use that one first

Okay, that was pretty hot.

冰: Although the other one looks more satisfying

What the fuck ever.

Getting dicked down didn't seem to make Mobei-jun any nicer, though. He was still kicking Shang Qinghua's ass on the regular, and perpetually seemed to be shoving him into walls and bookshelves and desks and then crowding in really close for some reason. Maybe so Shang Qinghua couldn't fall to his knees and grovel?

It was sincerely awful; the cognitive dissonance of knowing his king had been desperately edging at Shang Qinghua's say-so only hours before did not seem to soften the literal physical blows at all, and actually kind of felt like it made them worse. Hello! That's your daddy you're hitting, asshole!!

It was also awful because other than the hitting—if you could even say other than the hitting, which in Shang Qinghua's opinion you could not, but this was his life and he sort of had to—Mobei-jun was actually being a really good boss. He was being way better about boundaries, by which Shang Qinghua meant his desk hadn't been snooped through (and thus: rearranged) every time he went back to An Ding, or vice versa. He was solicitous about giving him transport back and forth, including to another meeting, not even for him, when Shang Qinghua complained about how long travel would take him, even by sword.

This had the trade off of "spending three weeks in Mobei-jun's stupid castle getting the shit kicked out of him" instead of three weeks on a sword. In future, Shang Qinghua was not sure he would take that deal. At least Mobei-jun was spending half his time locked into his bedroom, shoving a heaven-sized pillar into his guts on Shang Qinghua's orders. This also meant Shang Qinghua was not getting a lot of work done, because, uh: distracting!

Sometime during the second week, Shang Qinghua's hookup phone went off while Mobei-jun was in the room with him. Mobei-jun had gotten used to his work phone's ringtone, but the second he heard that stupid little brrpt! his eyes narrowed and he made a grab for it in Shang Qinghua's sleeve.

Shang Qinghua yelped and ducked away. "Ahh, my king, mercy! I need that!"

"Who is messaging you," Mobei-jun demanded furiously.

A montage of every movie and TV scene where a jilted wife demanded to look at her husband's phone played absurdly in front of Shang Qinghua's mind's eye.

"Uh, it's work," he lied.

"That is not the noise your work phone makes. That is the noise the—rude one makes."

"The rude—"

At this point Shang Qinghua remembered the time Mobei-jun had crushed a personal phone. For rudeness, to him. At which point phone blanks had gone missing and 冰 had started messaging him. Which meant Mobei-jun knew exactly who the fuck had been ordering him around. For over a year.

"Oh shit," he whispered quietly but involuntarily. He put his hands over his face.

"What?" Mobei-jun asked, still sounding really mad. Oh shit!

"Well," Shang Qinghua said, because this was obviously going to end with him getting hit, so he might as well earn it. "I actually get to exchange rude messages with anyone I want."

Predictably, Mobei-jun backhanded him for that. He'd been expecting it, though, so he could kind of move his head with it. He barely even saw stars. Still, it was kind of bullshit.

"Fucking ow!" he snapped, because truly: fuck it. If he was blowing his spot up he was blowing his spot up. "Stop fucking hitting me, you brat! Use your words!!!"

Mobei-jun just snarled at him and hit him again, or tried to. Shang Qinghua actually caught his hand at the wrist, though.

Ahh! Now he was just holding Mobei-jun's hand. Arm. Wrist. Overcome with terror, Shang Qinghua flung it away, apparently harder than Mobei-jun was expecting because it rebounded directly into Mobei-jun's face. It didn't even hit that hard, but it left a small mark on one sallow cheekbone. Ahh!!!

Instead of instantly freezing Shang Qinghua's insolent blood in his veins, though, Mobei-jun just stood there with his eyes huge, for some reason. This was especially freaky with his scary blue-white irises. His slit pupils were pin-small. Pinhole-shaped? Because: vertical.

Anyway. Shang Qinghua slid his hands down onto Mobei-jun's shoulders, just north of those gorgeous tits—pecs?—and shoved him, hard, putting all his muscle into it. Mobei-jun stumbled back a few steps. He should have put some qi into it, really thrown him into the fucking wall, but as it was, Shang Qinghua only made it a couple steps toward the door before Mobei-jun tackled him to the floor. Shang Qinghua braced to have his fucking throat ripped out, but Mobei-jun just pinned him there and breathed, "Finally."

Shang Qinghua remained convinced for a long petrified moment that he was about to be rent limb from limb. When his gory demise didn't immediately materialize, he relaxed into the floor. Rest when you can, that's the An Ding motto!

Mobei-jun waited silently, then growled and shook him a little.

"What?" Shang Qinghua demanded. "Literally what do you want me to even do right now? You have me completely pinned!"

Mobei-jun said, in tones which could only be called petulant, "Am I your baby or not?"

Shang Qinghua blinked at the floor, stunlocked. Then he craned his head back as far as he could (not very far). "My fucking what?"

Mobei-jun said, "You have been. Rude. To this king. For months."

"No, seriously, fucking what?" Shang Qinghua said.

"No follow through," Mobei-jun said, as if he hadn't spoken. "You say you want something serious and then you tease. It is cruel."

"Cruel?" Shang Qinghua repeated, amazed. "Sorry, cruel? You think I've been cruel to you?"

"Yes." Mobei-jun was growling as he spoke, which was always very very sexy and maybe even hotter when he could feel the rumbling coming out of his maybe diaphragm? Was that in the, like, torso?

Also he was going to fucking die so he didn't even really worry about how enjoying it too obviously would get him killed.

Shang Qinghua struggled to come up with something to say.

"My king, are you fucking serious?"

Wait, no, that wasn't right.

He tried again: "Cruel to you? My king, if I weren't a cultivator I would be fucking dead by now! Like, a lot of times over!"

Mobei-jun was giving him his usual flat glare, but this close to his face and with both of them horizontal and pressed up against each other and with his pupils pin(hole)pointed and at close close range the effect was, uh, very different.

"But you are a cultivator."

Shang Qinghua truly didn't know where to start. A horrible giggle bubbled up out of his chest. He tried to repress it, with rising alarm, but it just kept getting louder and more hysterical.

"Get the hell off me," he managed, after a moment. Mobei-jun visibly didn't want to let go, but stiffly removed himself from Shang Qinghua and scooted back to sit just out of arm's reach. Shang Qinghua put his hands over his face until he calmed down, which took a little while.

"I'm leaving," he said, then. "Don't contact me. Uh, unless it's for work. I guess." Undercut his own exit line.

"You said you'd—"

"Serve you for the rest of my life. I know," Shang Qinghua said. He felt very tired. "Yeah, I'm, uh, still gonna do that. Just give me some space."

"Your service doesn't—permit. For space. This king—"

"Oh my god," Shang Qinghua said. "I don't want to be around you, right now, my king. I would never have been rude by letter if I'd known it was you, and I think you know that! Or you wouldn't have hidden it from me!"

"I did not hide," Mobei-jun said, sounding a little offended.

"You contacted me anonymously!" Shang Qinghua frankly had to admit he wailed.

"How many people do you know who would use ice as an assumed name?"

Shang Qinghua raised a silent prayer to the heavens in thanks that Luo Binghe (probably) wasn't even a twinkle in Su Xiyan's eye yet.

"It's not supposed to mean anything! It's supposed to be anonymous! I shouldn't have been able to guess," Shang Qinghua said. "Anyway, that's—that's not the point. The point is give me some face, okay? We should just pretend this never happened."

"But it did happen," Mobei-jun pointed out, as if this was a flaw in Shang Qinghua's logic which he might not have noticed.

"Don't you wish it hadn't?" Shang Qinghua asked, feeling sincere desperation.

"No," Mobei-jun said. "I want you to fuck me."

Okay, that was—haha. Wow. Powerful stuff!

"Uh," Shang Qinghua said. "What? Sorry, I mean—I mean what?"

Mobei-jun was scowling now. "This king does not repeat himself."

"I think my king is going to have to," Shang Qinghua said, or, perhaps, some higher power temporarily possessing Shang Qinghua's body said. He felt like he was in a cutscene or something. Except: that was exactly what he had been thinking at the moment those words came out of his mouth, so probably he was not suffering some sort of catastsrophic system glitch so much as simply in possession of a very stupid death wish!

Mobei-jun's scowl was shading towards a glare, but he obediently (!) (?) (!?!) said again: "I want you to fuck me."

Okay! Still just as powerful the second time!

"Wh…" said Shang Qinghua, and then rallied. "My king, seriously?"

"What do you mean seriously?" Mobei-jun demanded, now looking thunderous. "Hasn't this king been making it clear enough?"

"No!" Shang Qinghua yelled, because apparently he got to yell at Mobei-jun now. "You have not!"

"What else do I have to do, then?" Mobei-jun snarled, looking—holy shit—genuinely desperate.

"What the hell is up with the hitting?" Shang Qinghua asked. Asked, emphatically. Not yelling at his king. "You had to know I don't like it! Even before I told you so!"

Mobei-jun had the fucking gall to roll his eyes.

"You're not supposed to like it," Mobei-jun said, flat. "You're supposed to hit me back."

"Hit you back? So you could fucking grind my bones into powder? My king," Shang Qinghua said, feeling hysterical. "My king, are you kidding me right now? Do you know how much effort I put into not getting into physical fights with you?"

"Yes," said Mobei-jun. "It is very frustrating."

Shang Qinghua yelled inarticulately a little bit. It didn't help at all.

"So you're not going to fuck me," Mobei-jun said, in his pissed-off voice, but it was the one he used when he was frustrated with something (eg, his shitty uncle executing some annoying plot against him) but knew Shang Qinghua couldn't actually fix the situation with a snap of his fingers.

"Hang on, just, give me a fucking minute," said Shang Qinghua into his hands. "I need to. First of all. We're circling back to the hitting and whether or not I'm going to fuck you. But can I please have a minute to play catch-up that you—have been letting me—"

"So you will fuck me," said Mobei-jun, perking up as much as he ever did. The corner of his mouth actually lifted like a millimeter. Holy shit.

"I might fuck you, if you're good," Shang Qinghua said on autopilot, because his horrible overloaded brain had apparently decided to put his mouth into "slightly scary hookup" mode, which was probably wrong. But maybe not? He froze and peeked out through his fingers. Mobei-jun looked kind of furious again, but he wasn't saying anything. Shang Qinghua was beginning to suspect that was his turned-on face.

…He really was just sitting there silently now, watching Shang Qinghua with a tiny trace of anxiety. Like he was actually trying to be good.

"My king," Shang Qinghua said, kind of helplessly, and then because he was an awful man at heart, "What do you say?"

Mobei-jun made a little noise in his throat, like it fucking hurt, and then said, "Please."

"Please what," Shang Qinghua asked, pushing his luck, now feeling a little bit hypnotized.

"Please, daddy," Mobei-jun muttered. He looked agonized. Shang Qinghua was absolutely going to put his dick in that, there wasn't any denying it anymore. He'd honestly probably put up with the hitting. He'd been putting up with it before and hadn't even had Mobei-jun saying, uh, things like that to him about it.

"Yeah, okay, baby," he said. "Yeah, I'll fuck you."

Not that it was ever that fucking easy.

"Fucking teeth, oh my god, please stop biting daddy," Shang Qinghua begged, trying to use the word "daddy" as a kind of reinforcement for the important part of the sentence. Was this how clicker training worked?

"Mnr," Mobei-jun said, with his mouth full.

"I am going to have fucking gag you," Shang Qinghua said, despairingly. He didn't want to do that! He wanted to fucking hear him—apparently Mobei-jun was capable of sex talk (who knew!), which was very hot.

"Mnr," Mobei-jun said again, but he looked angrier than ever, so presumably he liked that idea?

"Just, seriously, not any harder than that, okay? Or I'll start bleeding everywhere and neither of us will be happy."

Mobei-jun finally unclenched his jaw from Shang Qinghua's shoulder, where he had been busily gnawing a hole. "I am hardly biting you at all," he said, affronted. Shang Qinghua pushed him off a little, and Mobei-jun withdrew obligingly enough.

"Okay. Did you actually hear the stuff I said about bleeding?" Shang Qinghua said.

"I would like it if you bled," Mobei-jun said, sounding actually a little apologetic about it.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't," Shang Qinghua said.

"Right," Mobei-jun said, like he wanted praise for not biting Shang Qinghua hard enough to bleed right off the bat.

"I do not find that sexy at all," Shang Qinghua said, firmly and clearly, like he was explaining chess to a dog. He shoved Mobei-jun gently with one hand in the middle of his huge chest, to emphasize that he was serious. (Mobei-jun didn't move at all, but it was the principle of the thing). "If I start bleeding I will want to stop having sex immediately. Okay?"

"Okay," Mobei-jun said, like a sulky child.

"Look, how about you, uh, just do what daddy tells you?" Shang Qinghua had to start thinking about things before he let them exit his mouth. Holy shit.

But Mobei-jun gave him just a tiny nod. Holy shit.

"Come, uh, come kiss me, baby," he blurted out, and Mobei-jun crawled across the floor—from, okay, like two feet away—to press Shang Qinghua back down into the ground and, uh, well, gently-for-him bite at his mouth. Shang Qinghua put his hand in Mobei-jun's hair and pulled him into place and said, "Like this," and kissed him properly, with no biting at all.

Mobei-jun started making tiny little noises into his mouth pretty quickly. Gratifying! His mouth was wet and cool, almost cold. It was a little disconcerting, but in a way that kind of made Shang Qinghua hard, probably because of the thousand-odd times he'd imagined this while shooting his airplane.

"Okay, okay. We're not—let me up, I'm not doing this on the fucking floor."

"Where," Mobei-jun bit out. Again the edge of desperation in his voice.

"Uh," Shang Qinghua said, brain totally fucking blank. He'd thought about fucking Mobei-jun in every single part of this office, which was making it very hard to figure out what he actually wanted to do.

"Do you require a bed," Mobei-jun asked.

"Yes," Shang Qinghua said, because his king was so fucking smart. "Yes, baby, uh, my king, take me to—" but Mobei-jun had already scooped him up and flung them both through a portal even though the bed was in the next room and the door was right there!

Mobei-jun was rumbling low in his chest again and looked furious. He dropped Shang Qinghua on the bed with a thump Shang Qinghua felt in his teeth. He wheezed, because all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

"Whg," Shang Qinghua said, but Mobei-jun was flinging his own clothes off and all over the floor, and it was so Shang Qinghua could fuck him, so Shang Qinghua's brain was basically on vacation indefinitely as of right now.

"Take your clothes off," Mobei-jun demanded, except it was almost pleading.

"Hang on," said Shang Qinghua, obediently opening up his robes. "No, hang on. Get on the bed. I tell you what to do. I'm only doing this because I was going to anyway," he added hastily as he frantically unlaced his xianxia trousers, fuck, why were these things so complicated!! He needed to invent the zipper posthaste.

Mobei-jun had flung himself onto the bed like a teenager belly flopping into a public pool. He was still kicking his socks off. Shang Qinghua wondered why he wore socks. Wasn't he supposed to be a chilly guy? Not a cozy guy.

His brain had fucking shut off because he was trying not to think about how Mobei-jun's dick was out and hard and big enough to be visible, and also, unrelatedly, kind of scary-looking. Not because it was a, like, because of his particular equipment, but because Mobei-jun always looked sort of like a frostbitten corpse and that effect was apparently exaggerated on his, like—his eyelids were also a weird color on the inside, it sort of made him look like he had eyeliner on all the time. The inside of his mouth was also not a normal human color and Shang Qinghua had gotten used to that eventually, too! He would get used to the scary demon, uh, mucous membranes. 

"Why are you just staring," Mobei-jun asked crankily. Shang Qinghua had gotten distracted and was now just standing there with his robes halfway undone.

"Spread your legs," said Shang Qinghua, kind of scared. Like, he truly had not spent a lot of time thinking about the human vagina, never mind the demonic one. Mobei-jun, holy shit, did that. It was—well, weird-looking, but he didn't know on what front. But that was fine. It wasn't awful, actually. Sort of fleshy? He'd be able to put his face on it without panicking, was basically his conclusion here, and that was kind of a relief.

You're lucky it doesn't have teeth, Shang Qinghua reminded himself. Okay. Okay! Get in there, champ!

The demonic vagina didn't really get any less scary when he looked at Mobei-jun's face above it, but it was, somehow, a little more compelling. Like, oh yeah, this was his king who he'd wanted to fuck for decades. Shang Qinghua took a deep breath like he was about to dive underwater and put his face on it.

Then he sort of chickened out and decided to just suck Mobei-jun's dick. He slid up and lipped it into his mouth. He was a champion fucking cocksucker, okay! He knew what he was doing! Except sucking the way he usually would on a dick made Mobei-jun yell and then hipcheck him hard in the face.

"My king… ow… you can just say I'm going too hard," Shang Qinghua said, trying not to sound too aggrieved.

"It was. Involuntary," Mobei-jun said. Sounding actually flustered. That was almost an actual apology, even.

"S'fine," said Shang Qinghua, suddenly feeling magnanimous. He patted Mobei-jun's thigh a little condescendingly. "Daddy forgives you." Then he flexed his jaw and put his mouth back on Mobei-jun's dick, gently this time, mostly just licking it.

Mobei-jun tipped his head back into the pillows and gripped at Shang Qinghua's shoulders. "Your robes," Mobei-jun said. "Off." A long pause, while Shang Qinghua was trying to decide whether this was worth taking his mouth away for. Then Mobei-jun forced out a quiet, begrudging, "Please." Benevolently, Shang Qinghua sat back and shrugged his last underrobes off.

"Of course, baby," Shang Qinghua said. "Watch the claws though."

"No hitting, no biting, no scratching," Mobei-jun was grouching, but his eyes were fixed on Shang Qinghua's dick.

Shang Qinghua curled his hand around himself. "Like what you see?"

"Yes," Mobei-jun said, which made Shang Qinghua pulse a little against his palm. He squeezed at himself.

"Oh my god," he said faintly, like a total moron.

"It doesn't look that small when it's on you," Mobei-jun said, which at least had the knock-on benefit that Shang Qinghua didn't immediately shoot off all over himself.

"It's not going to feel small either," Shang Qinghua snapped at him. Mobei-jun's pupils had gone very thin again and he was almost squirming on the bed.

"Better not," Mobei-jun said, fucking goading him.

Which apparently was hot when he wasn't getting hit about it. Whatever, he'd think about that later.

Shang Qinghua climbed up the bed and over Mobei-jun to kiss him a little. Mobei-jun clung to him in a way that was pretty flattering: both arms and at least one leg around him. He felt… Well. It was pretty chilly for Shang Qinghua, with his back to the cool air and his chest pressed up against Mobei-jun, who wasn't actively cold but who seemed to be pretty much room temperature. Which was wigging out some animal part of Shang Qinghua's brain, even as the weirdness of it got him hot. Because Shang Qinghua was a pervert, apparently. At least Mobei-jun was warming up a little as they made out. In his bed.

It was like he could only have little fractions of thoughts, a quarter or a half of a thought at a time, and they never quite matched up to each other.

Finally he pulled away from kissing Mobei-jun and reached his hand down to where Mobei-jun had been enthusiastically rubbing his, uh, petals (and also dick) against Shang Qinghua's hip.

The petals felt more immediately relevant because there was a wet spot on his hip, which was sort of rewiring his brain. It was like getting jizzed on, but backwards, kind of. Like the definitive proof of satisfaction, guaranteed, but you got it ahead of the, uh, cumshot. As it were. He pushed his hand down between his king's thick fucking thighs and up behind his cock, just to—he wasn't quite sure where or how to aim, at first, but it was, uh, it was easy to tell once his fingers actually touched. It was swallowing him up, almost, clinging to his fingers.

"More," demanded Mobei-jun, already squeezing greedily at two fingers.

"Are you gonna be good for me or not?" Shang Qinghua said. Mobei-jun grunted, so Shang Qinghua gave him another finger, which turned the grunt into a groan.

Shang Qinghua put his teeth on Mobei-jun's shoulder and felt Mobei-jun jerk and squeeze down on his fingers so hard it actually kind of hurt his knuckles. Before he even bit down! He waited for Mobei-jun to relax a little and then put his whole, sore jaw (with a little qi support) into it. Mobei-jun moaned and clung so hard at Shang Qinghua that that hurt, too.

He unfixed his jaw when he ran out of air, and Mobei-jun released his tight squeeze at him to let him breathe again. Shang Qinghua panted wetly against Mobei-jun's neck.

"Fuck," he said.

"You didn't break the skin," Mobei-jun said, and that was definitely his disappointed voice.

"My king, my teeth are really blunt," Shang Qinghua said, feeling… very very fond of his stupid spoiled king. "Might've bruised under the skin," he added, because he really had been biting pretty hard. It would definitely have broken the skin on another human.

"Mn," Mobei-jun said, as if that would be an acceptable outcome.

Shang Qinghua overlapped his teeth with the—actually pretty deep, holy shit—bitemark, and bit down again, as hard as he could without the qi support. He started moving his fingers again. He didn't go quite a hard as he would on an asshole, at first, in case it was like the blowjob. But it seemed like either pussies, demons, or Mobei-jun were tougher than that. He was really putting his whole wrist into it within a minute flat. Mobei-jun liked either the bite or Shang Qinghua's fingers, because he was kind of, haha, writhing between the two, rocking into each of them at the same time, torn between them. Shang Qinghua took his mouth off Mobei-jun, so he could focus all that energy on fucking himself with Shang Qinghua's hand.

"Where do you want me to put it?" Shang Qinghua said, when Mobei-jun was panting and trembling again, a little harder this time. God, he was gorgeous cumming. Man, if that was what a, uh, vaginal orgasm looked like straight men had literally no excuse for not recognizing a real one.

"Put—?" Mobei-jun managed.

"Where do you want me to fuck you?" Shang Qinghua asked, again.

"I got you a bed," Mobei-jun said, frowning at him. Shang Qinghua bit him again so he wouldn't hear Shang Qinghua's smile in his voice.

When his smile had been concealed, Shang Qinghua drew his fingers out of Mobei-jun. "Thank you for the bed, baby," he said, to get a little grumble out of Mobei-jun. Then Shang Qinghua licked a fingertip, curious, which got a winded noise out of Mobei-jun. It didn't taste bad, or anything, a little more flavorless than the initial blowjob, maybe. He reached out to Mobei-jun's parted lips, just rested two fingers there. Mobei-jun licked his lips, cold tongue sliding over his taste on Shang Qinghua's fingers but not sucking on them.

Well, that was fine. His king's teeth were very sexy but also scary to imagine wrapped around any part of his body. Shang Qinghua cheerfully took his fingers back and pushed them into his own mouth to the knuckle, licked them clean, sucked on them a little. Not trying to be too showy, just: he was fucking good at this. Maybe he did want to demonstrate that: his whole life didn't fucking revolve around his king. He was good at this because he'd done it before! He'd kept like half of his muscle memory when he transmigrated (or maybe it was just easier to learn stuff he remembered being able to do) but this body could also turn off its gag reflex. He had therefore significantly refined his technique since transmigrating!

He had a great reputation on the anonymized best-of ranking chain letters that intermittently circulated around the douchier sections of Xianxia Grindr. Admittedly: mostly specifically for cocksucking rather than as an all-rounder or a good date, but Mobei-jun was apparently into this particular flavor of insane bullshit.

Mobei-jun was really staring at the seal Shang Qinghua's lips were making over his fingers. Shang Qinghua sucked for another few moments. Then he took his fingers back out, and reached down between Mobei-jun's legs. They tipped open easily, fucking greedy for it. Shang Qinghua slapped his pussy, open-handed the way he'd hold it for a strike he wanted to be louder than it was painful. Mobei-jun still jolted.

"Fuck," Shang Qinghua said. "Gonna have fun with that later. But what I actually want to know is whether you want me here—or here?" This last asked with his fingertips tucked politely against Mobei-jun's chrysanthemum.

"Not there," Mobei-jun said. He looked a little nervous, a little obstinate. Maybe like he didn't know if admitting to that would just guarantee that's where he'd be taking it.

"Okay," Shang Qinghua said, though, because he really wanted to get his dick into Mobei-jun before his adrenaline crash caught up with him. Whichever hole got his dick wet with a minimum of fuss and tzimmes was all good with him.

"Oil?" he asked.

Mobei-jun frowned at him. "You will not need it for this."

"Right," Shang Qinghua said. "Still better to have it on hand."

Mobei-jun resentfully gestured at the little chest by his bedside. "In there."

Shang Qinghua clambered over to snoop. There was: oil, both dildos, a couple holy shit really trashy yellow books (the kind with illustrated plates). He fished the oil out and put it on top of the chest in case they needed it later.

"Okay," he said, also grabbing one of the blankets Mobei-jun for some reason kept folded at the bottom of his bed, also just in case. Because he was already a little chilly. He clambered back on top of Mobei-jun on his knees, muscling his thighs apart, and Mobei-jun just let him.

"Fuck, my king!" Shang Qinghua said, fucking agonized. "Baby. Need me so bad, baby, should have just told me—"

Mobei-jun was making grouchy little noises like he wanted to complain, but Shang Qinghua was grinding against his pussy. The tip of his dick kept flirting with the base of Mobei-jun's. He wanted to try that again later, under, like, experimental conditions, see how long Mobei-jun would tolerate a tease.

Then he figured out the angle to push in at and he just caught on Mobei-jun's hole. It made him groan. He was so slippery, it was like—well, like the fucking lube was coming out of his fucking hole, which it fucking was. Shang Qinghua was stupid, maybe.

Finally he got it in. Mobei-jun was really wet inside, tight but not painful. He felt.

Look. It was the body temperature thing. Mobei-jun felt colder around his dick than his body did against Shang Qinghua's body. Cool and slick and really good to fuck. Shang Qinghua had the sudden thought that from the other perspective his dick probably felt searing hot (and huge?) inside of Mobei-jun, and then had to stop thinking about it immediately because he didn't want to nut just yet.

Uh. His king really, uh, felt a lot like a fleshlight. (Xiang Fei had, if nothing else, always had sex toy money). He had not enjoyed the fleshlight much; honestly, thinking about Mobei-jun (and other chilly individuals, but who was he kidding: Mobei-jun) had probably been what made the thing easiest to use.

Not that he had consciously imagined his king with a pussy, but: ha ha, uh oh! Maybe he had! Ahh!

Anyway, the fleshlight had been fine but not fantastic, but his king felt fucking incredible. Cool and slick and sort of—not rubbery, but it was a weird temperature for something alive to be. And he was so wet. Shang Qinghua was getting goosebumps all over his back, his arms, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"Baby," Shang Qinghua said. He wanted basically nothing more than to just hammer Mobei-jun completely stupid. But if he did that he'd bust.

"Qinghua," said Mobei-jun, bucking impatiently, and then without prompting but looking furious about it, "…Daddy," which did not help with Shang Qinghua's ongoing attempt not to jizz instantly.

He bit the inside of his cheek hard and reached down to give Mobei-jun something else to think about, namely, Shang Qinghua's thumb stroking over his dick. (Fucking gently, because he was trying not to get kicked). This made Mobei-jun convulse inside and out, which felt, haha, it felt—it sure felt! Shang Qinghua hastily started thrusting, because if he kept dicking around like that he really was going to embarrass himself.

Mobei-jun's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open on a shocked little grunt. He clawed at the bed, ripping holes in the sheets (instead of Shang Qinghua's naked and fragile human shoulders, thank fucking god).

"You like that, baby? Feels good?" said Shang Qinghua's own mouth, basically on autopilot.

"Yes," Mobei-jun said, almost hilariously blunt, but it was so obviously honest that it was kind of hotter than anything else he could have said. His mouth was still hanging open a little and his teeth were very sharp and white against his blackish lips and tongue. Shang Qinghua leaned forward and kissed him, licking those scary canines and swallowing the tiny noises Mobei-jun made every time Shang Qinghua bottomed out.

"This what you wanted, baby?" Shang Qinghua asked the second he stopped kissing Mobei-jun, because he was putting too much work into the rest of it to stop himself from talking. "Fuck, you needed it really bad, huh? Needed daddy's cock in you."

"Yes," Mobei-jun said again, frankly. "I needed it."

Shang Qinghua groaned and bit Mobei-jun's shoulder again, which earned a deep growl (a sexy bite-me-harder one, not a scary I'm-going-to-rip-your-dick-off one). This was really too fucking much.

In order not to come immediately, Shang Qinghua determinedly focused on drafting an idea for a set of prosthetic teeth. Maybe he could mock up something like those stupid plastic vampire fangs except made of—uh, metal, maybe, or actual teeth? No, actual teeth was gross, it would have to be metal. Anyway, something he could stick in his mouth so he could draw actual blood, which Mobei-jun was clearly desperate for. Or they could just get into knifeplay, although that was, haha, kind of scary.

Mobei-jun rudely interrupted his brainstorming by fumbling between them with one of his hands. Shang Qinghua got a little scared for a second (ahh! claws!!) but Mobei-jun just shoved his palm over his own dick and carefully parted his fingers around where Shang Qinghua was fucking into him, kind of—god—holding himself open. He looked up at Shang Qinghua with his freaky eyes and ground his palm down onto himself, panting open-mouthed, looking completely fucking indecent.

"Keep going," Mobei-jun said, because Shang Qinghua had kind of slowed down to watch him palm himself. Fuck. He picked the pace back up. Because he'd been about to do that anyway, and for no other reason!

"So fucking needy," he said, kind of out of breath at this point. "My king, baby, I can't believe we could've been doing this ages ago—"

Mobei-jun made a frustrated noise and bucked up against Shang Qinghua, kind of, haha, fucking himself onto Shang Qinghua's cock. "Fuck," Shang Qinghua said. "Lemme—" and pulled out. Mobei-jun snarled.

"Calm the fuck down," Shang Qinghua said, rolling his eyes and onto his back. He leaned back against the headboard a little, sitting half upright.

"Climb on," he said, and patted his thighs. Mobei-jun, uh, did, with alacrity. Crazy!! He braced a hand against the huge heavy headboard next to Shang Qinghua's head. Shang Qinghua held his cock in a hand to make it easier for Mobei-jun to sink down on. And ride. Which Mobei-jun promptly did. Hard. He was definitely willing to put his whole back into it. And Shang Qinghua really needed a minute to catch his breath, so this was a nice little break for him.

Feeling slightly useless, Shang Qinghua put his hands on Mobei-jun's hips and dug his blunt fingernails into the flesh there. Mobei-jun snarled again, but like, a good snarl this time, and longingly snapped his teeth next to Shang Qinghua's ear. He was being so, so good about not giving Shang Qinghua some kind of terrible sex injury, it was actually a little cute.

Fuck! This, too, went straight to his dick. Shang Qinghua started mentally inventing some kind of artificial claw cap he could wear to scratch Mobei-jun. Unfortunately he was close enough that he started talking about it out loud, and something about that had Mobei-jun convulsing on and around Shang Qinghua's poor human cock, which had not been designed to put up with this kind of punishment. It felt like his dick was going through a really incredible sexy torture device.

He barely managed not to bust by the skin of his teeth, dug his fingers harder into Mobei-jun, gulped for air like a fish. Mobei-jun was panting and hanging onto the headboard a little. Shang Qinghua pulled his face down to kiss him through it. It was taking him a while to stop, uh, going off this time, just riding out the waves as they shivered over Shang Qinghua's cock.

The kissing was. Pretty nice, really. Mobei-jun was being good about not biting even though he clearly wanted to bite very badly. Shang Qinghua, feeling this deserved a reward, reached down and slapped his king's muscular, thin-skinned inner thigh as hard as he could (actually hard enough to hurt his own hand, but he manfully withheld a whimper and tried to subtly shake it out).

Mobei-jun whined into Shang Qinghua's mouth.

"I'm—pretty close," Shang Qinghua admitted. Mobei-jun made a noise Shang Qinghua could only describe as desperate and grabbed at him, at his shoulders, shoved his face back against Shang Qinghua's and kissed him again, deep and greedy.

Fucking hell. Okay. Apparently Mobei-jun wanted to fucking get him off, which was doing insane things to his whole, like, tingling spine and gut and also dick. He tried not to embarrass himself too badly but absolutely shot off right into Mobei-jun's cunt.

It felt. Well obviously it felt really fucking good. Shang Qinghua was trying to catch his breath but it was just—really good, really—rolling over his whole body, over and over.

"Yes," hissed Mobei-jun, grinding his hips down, and then horribly: "Give it to me, give me an heir—"

What the fuck. Somehow that made him pulse again, though. "Whuh?" Shang Qinghua said, trying to get properly alarmed but mostly just feeling like the better part of his brain had just shot into Mobei-jun's, uh. Oh god. What.

"Is that, uh, is that likely to happen?" Shang Qinghua said when he recovered, trying not to sound like he was about to freak out.

Mobei-jun gave him a disgruntled look, because apparently he wanted another orgasm—his hand was back on his own dick—and Shang Qinghua was ruining the mood for him. Okay, that was fine, daddy could wait to ask a couple extremely urgent questions, apparently.

Mobei-jun clenched down again on his softening dick and Shang Qinghua sucked in a pained breath. Way too sensitive! "My king—fuck, off, off me, please," he said, strained. Mobei-jun gave one of his threatening growls but did reluctantly climb off, looking mutinous.

"Relax, okay, lay back down, you'll like this," Shang Qinghua said with confidence, because based on the last ten minutes or so Mobei-jun was, haha, significantly more resilient than any previous partner Shang Qinghua had had. When Mobei-jun obeyed (still glaring) Shang Qinghua gave him a sweet little kiss just to fuck with him and then got four fingers inside him with basically no warning.

The thumb was more difficult, but Mobei-jun had already been ridiculously wet and now he was downright sloppy with Shang Qinghua's cum leaking out of him (the sight of which made Shang Qinghua's spent dick lurch painfully. It was noticeably warmer than the, uh, rest of it). Also working out how to curl his fingers got some really impressive noises out of Mobei-jun. Shang Qinghua got his whole fist inside to the wrist and twisted it, and then leaned down and licked Mobei-jun's dick again, and Mobei-jun clenched so hard as he came that Shang Qinghua was a little worried he wouldn't be getting the hand back. Worth it!

"Fuck, that's really—" Shang Qinghua said, because he couldn't actually shut himself up. He put his mouth on Mobei-jun's dick and experimented a little with how hard he could suck before Mobei-jun started complaining. Conclusion: pretty hard, but Mobei-jun was also clearly trying to be good, so probably none of those results were valid. Well, he'd have to repeat the experiment at a later date: a thought that was going to get him fucking killed.

"Qinghua," Mobei-jun said, after a while. A huge cool hand landed kind of awkwardly on his face and head. He was just twisting his wrist gently-slowly while he sucked Mobei-jun's cock. Having fun. Getting comfortable with Mobei-jun's equipment. He would definitely be able to work with this! Kind of a relief.

"Uh, yeah?" he said after a minute, because he kind of didn't want to take his mouth off what it was already doing.

"Now you won't sleep with anyone else," Mobei-jun said, extremely pleased with himself. "Because it is serious."

Fucking hell with this guy.

"Yeah, alright," he said anyway, still wrist deep. "Daddy's all yours."