open post: in a slightly hazy lounge

[peaklordshen]

After a few false starts, Shen Qingqiu has found a proper place to test out Crowley's BL pollen vape pen.

He posts up in one of the lounges, close enough to the bar that anyone leaving there might find him. He's still in his braid and loose robes - no one else had noticeably started dressing gayer¹ when they took the stuff, intentional or not, so neither will he. He also brings snacks,² and the next book in the Blood at Dusk series, Moonless Midnight, in case it takes a while to kick in, or a while for anyone to come along to prove it has, anyway. If no one finds him here he will go looking, but roaming the Mansion's halls newly homosexual feels like a much more risky prospect than just staying put and seeing what happens.

He arrays himself on a couch, feet tucked up under him (although this might not be immediately apparent due to the robes), Crowley's pen tucked behind one ear so he can make more notes now that he has a glimmer of a chance that Binghe will forgive him,³ and takes a drag on the vape.

He coughs. It's smoke, not pollen—the blooms must be dried and then burned, like with tobacco—and has an odd, kind of greenish flavor. Not unpleasant, but not pleasant, either. He expected it to taste of, like. Cherry blossom, or something. Pink rather than green. Shit, maybe he is a little homophobic.

He takes another drag, and lets the smoke out of his mouth slowly this time, watching it curl up to the ceiling.

By the time anyone finds him, he will be staring unblinking at the opposite wall, book open on his lap to the third page of the first chapter.

[Threads with Sagramore and Luo Binghe are NSFW.]

¹ Please explain what you mean by this, Shen Qingqiu. I'll wait.
² Crowley did tell him to.
³ After he confirms that the pollen works. And goes to find Binghe. And kisses him. And— well. Maybe. After. He can raise the book club idea again?

Comments

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe groans at the sound of his name. "Yes—" he gasps. "Call my name—let everyone know who is taking you—who is making you writhe with bliss—" He nips at Shen Qingqiu's earlobe.

Luo Binghe has legendary stamina, and he is proud of it—sometimes he can make his wives finish multiple times, and never finish himself at all.¹ But Shen Qingqiu spent so long teasing him with his words and actions. Luo Binghe has been painfully aroused since he saw Shen Qingqiu on his knees. Maybe since he saw him lost in thought² on the sofa, looking soft and wifeable. He is impatient for release—but he will make sure Shen Qingqiu attains climax first.

He props himself up and takes hold of both Shen Qingqiu's hands, interlacing their fingers and pinning Shen Qingqiu's hands to the floor. He pushes against that leverage to drive into Shen Qingqiu hard. This leaves him without a hand free to stroke Shen Qingqiu to release, but he makes up for that with his blood parasites, increasing the thrum of pleasure and concentrating it where it's needed. On every stroke, he grinds his sculpted abs against Shen Qingqiu's cock, spurred onward by the wetness it smears there. "Show me—let me see how it makes you feel to be the favorite of the emperor—"

¹Hmmm.
²Stoned.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu is about to object, just a little—writhing with bliss seems a little strong, thank you!!—and then Binghe changes position, pinning him to the floor, and he absolutely does writhe, humiliatingly, and then can't stop writhing, into the sudden friction on his dick, back onto the pillar, hips moving with no intent at all, just more, more, until his brain whites out, head slamming back into the (thankfully cushioned, with both carpet and Bingge's robes) floor.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe follows him with an involuntary sob, made witless with lust—though he doesn't neglect to circulate his qi with Shen Qingqiu's, to make sure the poison is cured. Then he releases his hold on Shen Qingqiu's blood, releases his muscles, releases everything and lets himself fall onto Shen Qingqiu, trembling and gasping for air, entirely humbled and spent.

[peaklordshen]

When Shen Qingqiu comes back to himself it is to a sudden and startling clarity of mind. The haze of BL pollen, the relaxation of it, is gone, used up by the level of homosexual activity they'd just engaged in—or maybe just cured, like everything else, by Binghe's magical healing cock. The magical healing cock which is still inside him—soft, but very, very present in his now-heterosexual body.

He doesn't know how to feel. His body aches with exertion, his mind awhirl with everything that had happened to him in the last few hours—not even just with Binghe, although that's certainly most present—but with everyone. Everything he'd done, everything he'd said, the joy, the shamelessness of it—his cheeks heat, and there's a heaviness at the pit of his stomach. His vision blurs, and he presses his lips together, tightly, so as not to cry; wraps his arms around Binghe and holds him, just as tightly, so he doesn't pull back and notice.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe is perfectly happy to be held. Despite everything, he feels as though he's never done that before in his life. He realizes now—he thought that he had already made the decision, to turn away from his previous life and embrace something new, but he had only been toying with the idea. But being with Shen Qingqiu has laid it brutally bare: he has never, before, loved someone he took to bed. Never before has he wanted to please them so much, or received so much pleasure simply from their attention. If this is what's real, then all of Luo Binghe's life has been a sham.

It's exactly what he feared—when he kissed Claudius and then flinched away, when he raged at the library book that seemed to know him better than himself, when he got drunk with Janet and said all that nonsense. This is what he was terrified to discover, and now he cannot ignore it. But it is worth it for Shen Qingqiu. He has never had this before, but he has it now, and the sheer wonder and joy of it makes everything he previously valued cheap by comparison. One hundred-some wives for Shen Qingqiu is an easy trade. He buries his face in Shen Qingqiu's neck, hoping that any wetness there will be masked by sweat, and that any shaking of his shoulders will be taken as recovery from exertion.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu takes a quick, wet breath, running a hand through Binghe's hair and down the long line of his spine. He should—extricate himself, thank Binghe for the good time, and slip off-page into obscurity like so many women before him. But—it wouldn't be in-character, for their little roleplay. And if he ever gets to be gay again, his gay self would have words with him for not getting the full wife experience, here.

Which—speaking of. They're still on the floor. Naked. In public. Another wave of shame rolls over him, this one much more targeted and immediate. "Binghe," he hisses. "Binghe—the door—"

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe's heart thrills just to hear Shen Qingqiu speaking to him in that cute, fussy tone. He pulls back to smile wickedly down at him, bursting with delight. "Oh? Is the door open?" He feigns surprise. "And who was it, just a moment ago, who called my first name so intimately? You were so eager for the world to know that you have made a pet of the King of Demons himself?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu might never stop blushing. His cheeks might just be permanently stained red; he might just exist in a permanent state of acute embarrassment for the rest of his life.

"Don't mock me," he admonishes; but there's no hint of cruelty in Binghe's expression, just open pleasure and wicked delight. He's back to thinking about Binghe in straight man ways, but his gay self would want to kiss him, again, for the look on his face. His gaze hooks on his mouth, just for a moment, before he lowers his eyelashes.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe brushes the hair from Shen Qingqiu's face and gazes down at him, loose and giddy with affection. "I see, I see. So my wife wants me all to himself—he doesn't want anyone else to see this body he has claimed as his own. He wants his own beauty to be for my eyes only. An acceptable request." He flicks a hand, and shuts the door with a burst of qi. Shen Qingqiu could have done that himself if he were thinking clearly; he must have been so addled by Luo Binghe that he forgot. Luo Binghe dives back toward him, kissing his jaw and neck, not sensuously but just quick little pecks to express his fondness.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu bears the onslaught admirably,¹ kissing back when Binghe's pecks touch his lips,² still squirming and embarrassed. Having the door closed is better, but it hadn't really been what he meant, which is why he hadn't done it himself. If Binghe is going to keep referring to him as his wife, shouldn't they be somewhere a little more. Conjugal? He puts a hand up, finally, to stop Binghe's mouth. "I know, rightfully, this whole Mansion is yours to do with what you will," he says, delicately, "but—does my emperor not have quarters of his own?"

It's maybe a little pathetic of him, to angle for more time like this when he's not even gay anymore. Especially when Binghe hasn't just picked him up and taken him to bed already. If he really wanted Shen Qingqiu as his wife, surely he would have laughed off the door request and paraded them both naked through the halls, regardless of who saw. He should—let Binghe finish with whatever sweet conclusion he'd had planned for the encounter, not humiliate himself further. He hunches his shoulders, a little. "I mean. We don't have to—"

¹ Enjoys it very very much.
² when he cranes his head around to catch Binghe's mouth.

[protagonisthalo]

"Impatient." Luo Binghe kisses the corner of his mouth. "Of course I'll take you to my quarters. After serving me, my wife deserves to recover in luxury." And as much as he's wanted to join with Shen Qingqiu in body, he has been looking forward to this equally. It's his favorite part of sex—to lie around without a care, languid and indolent, in the arms of someone pleased with him.

Shen Qingqiu, with his thin face, probably would not like Luo Binghe to parade him through the hallways naked and debauched, no matter how much Luo Binghe might wish it. But neither does Luo Binghe want to stop touching him long enough for both of them to properly dress. Luo Binghe pushes himself off of Shen Qingqiu with another reassuring kiss to his forehead and finds his silk trousers, quickly pulling them on. Then he gently nudges Shen Qingqiu into sitting up, taking the rest of his clothing from behind Shen Qingqiu's head and casually disappearing it into his storage ring. That is all the clothing he intends to wear. Then he reaches for Shen Qingqiu's inner robe and drapes it around his shoulders, raising an eyebrow at him—daring him to be satisfied with only this to protect his decency. If Shen Qingqiu puts up another endearing display of being scandalized, all the better.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu wraps the inner robe tighter around himself, flushing even brighter red. It's not like anyone will mistake what they've been doing, with Binghe flashing his entire chest like this, displaying miles of muscle and skin, shining with recent exertion, so there's no real point in getting further dressed. He twists around, though, and finds the sleeve of his outer robe, dipping into it to grab the fan Binghe had returned to him. At the very least he can hide behind it so he doesn't have to make eye contact with anyone.

He stands up, and then sways at the unexpected weakness in his legs, steadying himself against Binghe's aforementioned very bare chest with one hand. "Ah," he says, more breath than word.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe cannot stop smiling at him. He already wants to ravish him again—but there will be plenty of time for that. For now, he scoops Shen Qingqiu up into his arms, cradling him against his naked chest. "I understand," he says. "It is exhausting, to take me as hard and deep as I desire. Shizun did well." If he's a bit smug, a bit trying to fluster Shen Qingqiu on purpose, he thinks he's earned it. He has never been so happy to have satisfied a lover.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu yelps, a little, as Binghe picks him up, even though he'd known¹ it was going to happen. He wraps his arms around Binghe's neck, for stability, and buries his burning face in his chest. If only Binghe wouldn't smile at him like that, it would make getting his bearings back in his heterosexuality easier.

Somehow being back in contact with his skin reawakens the tears he'd managed to swallow down while Binghe was looking at him. He feels so foolish, and small, and grateful—for Binghe indulging him, giving in to his desires even if they were born of loneliness and selfishness rather than the purity of gay love. Binghe is so good, so pleased with him, despite how incredibly embarrassing he'd been when Binghe pushed inside him, despite how he'd barely done anything to make it good—hadn't even had a chance to wrap his hand around the Pillar, or try to take it in his mouth. He sniffs, pathetically, against Binghe's chest. No wonder wives lingered, forever, in his harem, long after he'd forgotten them; Shen Qingqiu would wait for years to feel like this again, held and cherished and satisfied throughout his whole body.

¹Hoped it would.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe freezes in alarm when he hears Shen Qingqiu's sad little sniff. He briefly considers pretending he hasn't noticed until they get to his bedchamber—Shen Qingqiu is clearly trying to hide it, and he will be more comfortable when they're fully in private—but he can't bring himself to proceed when Shen Qingqiu is in distress. "Shizun? Are you hurt?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head quickly, suddenly furious with himself. He couldn't wait to cry about this until he was alone?? Pull yourself together, dude!!!!

He takes a breath. "I'm alright," he reassures Binghe, reaching up without lifting his head to cup Binghe's jaw by feel, stroking a thumb over his cheek. "Just—overwhelmed."<sup>1

1</sup> Well, this part's true!

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe melts. He feels the same. He turns his head to kiss Shen Qingqiu's thumb, then drops his head to kiss Shen Qingqiu's scalp, not making him show his face. "Let's go to bed," he says—his own voice sounds alien in its tenderness.

As always, it seems ridiculous that most people do not have a teleporting sword, and have to walk through hallways all the time. But Luo Binghe minds it far less with Shen Qingqiu's breath tickling his bare chest, and Shen Qingqiu's body heat bleeding into his hands through the thin fabric of his robe. He takes Shen Qingqiu to his bed and lays him down there, as gently as a leaf alights on a pond. Then he eagerly clambers into bed beside him, wrapping both arms around Shen Qingqiu's waist and sliding his thigh between his legs—not trying to start anything, just wanting to be more entangled. He turns his face into Shen Qingqiu's shoulder and sighs.

"I thought you didn't want me," he admits, and flushes at how it sounds—almost shy. "I'm—I'm really happy."

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu has never thought of himself as particularly brave, but he's never quite felt like this much of a coward before. He lets Luo Binghe cuddle up to him, warm and strong and perfect, brushes his beautiful hair out of his beautiful face, and wills himself to say, I don't. Wills himself to say, I did, but it wasn't really me, wills himself to say, I can't give you what you want. But—he can't. He can't, he can't bring himself to do anything that might dampen Binghe's silly, sweet mood, that might break him open like he'd broken open when Shen Qinqgiu had pushed him away after their first kiss.

He takes a long breath. He just—has to keep himself in the headspace of Gay Shen Yuan a little longer, try and remember that lightness, that freedom, try to speak of his straight self as if it's in the past. "I was just—scared. Like you said. Because—because you're a man."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe nods thoughtfully against his shoulder. "Sagramore said that, in his world, people frown on two men being together. Is it like that?"

[peaklordshen]

Of course. There's no homophobia in Proud Immortal Demon Way—there are no gay people in there.¹ How would Binghe know? "It—yeah," he says. "It's illegal. Not—sex, not anymore, but men can't get married to each other, and it can ruin your career, and people—" he swallows. "Some people hurt people, for it. Even kill them. And—people think it means something about you, too. Weakness, or stupidity, or—or predatory appetites. Things no one could ever think of Binghe," he finishes, quickly, reminded of his own misstep, his echo of the original Shen Qingqiu during their fight, and he presses a little kiss to Binghe's hair so he knows he means it.

¹ I'm just gonna stop footnoting this one.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe's eyes widen in shock. He thought, from what Sagramore said, that it was considered—impolite, or uncouth. But what Shen Qingqiu is describing is much more serious. If that's all true, then it's not comparable to Luo Binghe's own struggle—the way he feared desiring men because it would cheapen his assets. It's more comparable to how Luo Binghe felt upon learning that he was a demon. Wrong, and permanently outcast. He hugs Shen Qingqiu a little tighter, with a rush of empathy. Shen Qingqiu is here with him; it must be like Luo Binghe's exile to the demon realm, attempting to find a home where no one will mind what is monstrous and irreparable. "No one could think those things of you either. And if anyone tried to hurt you, I'd tear them apart with my bare hands." This last part is said no less sleepily or affectionately than the rest of it.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu pets Luo Binghe's head, cuddling closer. He knows Binghe means it, and that that part, even if nothing else, will remain true: now that they've slept together, in some small way Shen Qingqiu is his, even if not fully, even if not the way he would be if this were Proud Immortal Demon Way and if Shen Qingqiu were a woman. His to protect, and his--if he so chooses--to destroy.

"Thank you," he says, and it comes out a little thick--like this conversation matters more than just discussing hypothetical homophobia that will probably never touch him here, considering how gay everyone else is, and would never touch him anywhere else, either, because here is the only place he's done anything that could be considered gay. (He understands that maybe not everyone is familiar with the concept of BL pollen.)

There's so much more he should say. He needs to set some boundaries--explain that this was a wonderful experience but that he has to go back to being straight now, but can they please hang out for real this time--but he's so bone-deep tired, worn out by sex and laughter and the sudden hollowing return of shame, and Binghe is breathing so soft and sweet against his shoulder. So he just lets his eyes close, instead, running his fingers through Binghe's hair and selfishly basking in the experience, however brief, of being adored.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe has more to discuss. As always, he is too greedy, wanting more and more even when already given the most anyone could ask for. He wanted to talk about Blood at Dusk—he has much to say about Shen Qingqiu's uncharitable view of Ted. And he has not forgotten about the poison.

But he can tell that Shen Qingqiu is dozing off. The rise and fall of his chest is slowing. It's Luo Binghe's nature to try and spend all his pleasures at once, too accustomed to the cruelty of the world to trust that the opportunity will still be there in the future. But he will try to calm himself, to let Shen Qingqiu rest. He deserves it.

Luo Binghe raises his head to look at him, eager to see how beautiful he is in repose—as he is beautiful in movement—as he is perfect at all times. Shen Qingqiu's hair is sweetly mussed, his eyelashes stark against his skin, his mouth slightly open and begging to be kissed. Luo Binghe does kiss it, just once, very softly. His heart hurts from trying to contain how much he feels.

Carefully, without disturbing Shen Qingqiu, he takes the annotated copy of Blood at Dusk from his ring, and uses his qi to float it to the other side of the bed, where Shen Qingqiu will see it when he wakes. After he and Sagramore finished with things, Luo Binghe stayed up most of the night writing responses to all of Shen Qingqiu's notes, half-dead with longing and self-conscious of how formal and stiff his own writing looked under Shen Qingqiu's cutely passionate scrawl.

Now to important matters. Luo Binghe does need to sleep, but only every few days. He could easily stay up and watch Shen Qingqiu breathe peacefully until he awakens, and if this weren't so urgent, he would. Instead he settles himself back against Shen Qingqiu's side, reaching up to lift Shen Qingqiu's hand and put it back on his head, even though Shen Qingqiu is now too asleep to keep petting him. Then he closes his eyes and sinks into Shen Qingqiu's dreamscape.

It is tempting to replay the encounter they just concluded from Shen Qingqiu's perspective—to seek out confirmation that his pleasure wasn't feigned. It is even more tempting to dive into the past few days when they were fighting, to see what made Shen Qingqiu realize how much he wanted Luo Binghe. What stops him is fear. Shen Qingqiu was angry at him, or maybe hurt by what Luo Binghe said; he would rather live in the current moment, when they are united in feeling and shared understanding.¹

So he sifts through Shen Qingqiu's memories for events related to the poison. It's quickly clear that Shen Qingqiu has been suffering the effects of Without-a-Cure for a long time. Luo Binghe flips through what seems like endless sessions of meridian-clearing with a threateningly handsome man, who sits close and touches Shen Qingqiu's wrist with an intimacy that makes Luo Binghe seethe. He looks familiar, and after a dozen or so of these scenes, Luo Binghe places him—Liu Qingge, the Bai Zhan Peak Lord who died when Luo Binghe was fifteen. Of course this Shen Qingqiu is too good to have murdered him. Luo Binghe would never say it to Liu Mingyan, but seeing the way the man looks at Shen Qingqiu, it seems maybe his death was not the great loss Luo Binghe imagined.

When he comes across the moment of poisoning, he is surprised to see his own face, younger and dressed in the disciple robes of Qing Jing Peak. Luo Binghe hates thinking of his younger self; his first reaction to this vision, before he even registers what's happening, is revulsion. Then he recognizes what he's seeing. It is his fight with the hundred-year-old demon Tianchui², which Shen Qingqiu pressed him into in the obvious hope that he would die in the attempt. (If that version of Shen Qingqiu could have been said to hope for anything; it was a cold, almost bored attempt on Luo Binghe's young life.)

He is seeing the same event, but refracted through a different lense—not only from Shen Qingqiu's perspective, but from the universe where Luo Binghe is loved. He can see it at once. The young Binghe, too fresh-faced and naive to conceal his emotions, is brimming over with pride and desperation to please, and Shen Qingqiu acknowledges it—acknowledges him—tells him he's done well. The memory is sweet and cottony-soft, but Luo Binghe, watching, is bitter as turned wine. Why should this Binghe get to be so happy? He has not accomplished anything, not a single one of the victories Luo Binghe clawed from nothing in order to earn the right to be proud of himself.

Then the defeated demon charges, his spiked armor shining with poison. Luo Binghe remembers this—he dodged at the last moment, but this Binghe is stupidly distracted by gazing at his shizun's face, soaking up every drop of approval that may come his way. Shen Qingqiu notices before him. He pushes Binghe out of the way, and—even in the memory, Luo Binghe wants to stop it—throws himself in the demon's path.

Shen Qingqiu passes out soon after that—after some bluster over not being poisoned, during which he dares Sha Hualing to attempt to kill him. He must have had a plan that the memory hasn't preserved; Shen Qingqiu is too intelligent to simply put himself in the path of a fatal blow because he does not want to admit he's been poisoned.³ The memory blurs and turns dark, but one thing stands out clearly: young Binghe's face. Devastated, terrified, but above all disbelieving.

Luo Binghe understands him perfectly. The younger Binghe had no value to the Peak, and no value to any person. Shen Qingqiu is one of the most powerful cultivators in the world, and yet he put himself in front of his disciple—he valued Binghe's life above his own. While the Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe knew was sending a fifteen-year-old to his death, this Shen Qingqiu was chiding him for not being more careful, for making his shizun worry. The sight of it that face is sharp as broken glass; it seems to cut him.

He breaks off the dream. Back in his waking body, he is trembling, his grip around Shen Qingqiu far too tight. Luo Binghe presses his face to Shen Qingqiu's shoulder so hard he almost can't breathe, trying to drown himself in Shen Qingqiu's skin.

He understands everything now. He understands his other self, in Shen Qingqiu's world—how he must have adored his shizun. And Shen Qingqiu. How nothing but Luo Binghe mattered to him. Why it was so easy for him to say, when he arrived, that Luo Binghe was good in all things.

To put someone's life before your own; can there be any other definition of love? Even though Luo Binghe was young, even if it wasn't charged with the desire Shen Qingqiu feels now.

Luo Binghe no longer cares if this place is a test, or a trap. If it is a dream, let him never wake. If it is false, let him never discover what is true. Shen Qingqiu put him before all else; he will do the same, for as long as he is able.

¹Perfect understanding!
²"Heavenly Hammer"; he wields a big hammer. Airplane sucks at names.
³Of course this is exactly what happened.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu wakes up over-warm, sore, and to the completely alien feeling of being held. The smell of the person holding him is familiar, and he breathes in the comfort of it before he comes fully awake, and then he goes very, very still.

That's--Bingge. He opens his eyes. Bingge, one arm flung across his stomach, Shen Qingqiu's hand in his hair. He looks so sweet, in sleep, the gravitas and power he wields effortlessly in his waking life fading away and leaving just--a man, handsome and vulnerable like any other man at rest, his forehead smooth of worries, his full mouth relaxed into what could, from some angles, be mistaken for a smile.

The dawn is grey through the windows. If Shen Qingqiu were a wife in truth--if he didn't need the pollen; if Bingge cared for him as more than a novelty, a revelation, the only man here from his own world that Bingge could show his mastery over; he would be able to stay. He would be able to kiss Binghe awake and then keep kissing him, would be able to tease until Binghe pressed him to the bed again. Binghe would still move on, of course, still chase after some brighter star, but he would have--days, probably, maybe weeks with how slowly Binghe has been moving since they got here.

But--instead he had one night, and now he needs to go.

He carefully disentangles himself from Binghe's arms and slips out of bed, replacing his body with one of Binghe's many pillows. He notices the copy of Blood at Dusk by the bedside. Ah. Binghe, ever thoughtful, must be returning it to him, putting it somewhere where he would see when he woke up so he would know to take it when he left. That, too, confirms what he already believed; this is the right move, the expected one, to sneak out before Binghe wakes.

He takes a last look at him; the dark sweep of his lashes on his cheeks, the striking crimson mark at the center of his forehead. He remembers the way he shivered, when he kissed it last night; he can't help but lean down to do it again, ever so softly, so he won't wake him up, and then he gathers his things and flees.