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

[sagramore]

Sagramore, against what should be his better judgement, kisses Shen Qingqiu back softly.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu sighs happily into it, a little zing of pleasure zipping down his spine just at the movement of lips on lips. Sagramore's mouth is warm and clever. He squirms closer, his hand shifting around to the back of Sagramore's neck, and kisses him again—unhurried, exploratory, but god, it's nice—he's not sure anything has ever been nicer. Is this what it would have been like to kiss girls, if he'd done it back when he was straight?<sup>1

1</sup> It is not.

[sagramore]

He has the fleeting thought that it's so obvious he's not the person Shen Qingqiu actually wants that it's mildly ridiculous for him to let this happen -- but on the other hand, he's been not the person actually wanted plenty of times and that's never changed anything. Come to that he's not even the person Luo Binghe actually wanted. It's not a role he minds taking.

And he does care about Shen Qingqiu very much, and he does want him to feel good, and this is how he takes care of people he loves and it always has been.

He gathers Shen Qingqiu into his lap and meets this kiss too, as sweetly and as seriously as he can.

[peaklordshen]

The only thing better than kissing, Shen Qingqiu has decided, is being kissed, and being pulled closer, and being in Sagramore's lap. His hands have dropped to Sagramore's chest, and he's just—tracing out the shape of him, squeezing appreciatively, touching, touching, touching. He's lost the part of this where he talks, but maybe that's okay—he's allowed to touch, now, allowed to trace every line of the body he's noticed when Sagramore hugged him, tight, at the bar; when Sagramore held him when he cried. He breaks the kiss to laugh, a little, a huff of air against Sagramore's jaw, and bump his cheek with his nose. He likes him so much, when he's gay.

[sagramore]

He can't help laughing too, turning his head to press little kisses at the corners of Shen Qingqiu's eyes. "All right?"

[peaklordshen]

"Very good," Shen Qingqiu says, catching his chin to kiss him again, quickly, on the mouth. "Thou art--very good to kiss," he says. His tongue feels clumsy around the antiquated syllables, but he wants Sagramore to know. "Not that I'm surprised. You come very highly reviewed."

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs again. "I do?" He tucks Shen Qingqiu's hair back again, and kisses the base of his throat softly.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu shivers at the touch of lips on his throat, craning his head to give Sagramore more access. "Mmh," half agreement and half pleasure. "Mainly by Laertes. He loves you--thee--dearly."

[sagramore]

He smiles, and although Sagramore is generally a warm and demonstrative person his warmth suffuses with additional pleasure. "Laertes," in a tone he uses for no one else. "My extraordinary man. Of course he did."

He presses more kisses into the hollows of Shen Qingqiu's neck, letting his tongue dart out to taste the salt of his skin.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu stops thinking about Laertes, satisfied that he's conveyed the important thing¹ and letting himself sink back into sensation. He squirms in Sagramore's lap, his hands tugging and messing with Sagramore's curls, urging him on. He's never been touched like this. It feels like a thousand years since anyone touched him at all, though he knows hazily that that isn't quite true--people touched each other, here at the Mansion, more than they did at Qing Jing, and even there--but. Not like this. No one has touched him like this, in any body, and no one has touched any body of his like this. Certainly no one had drawn Shen Jiu close like this. Certainly no one had pressed a hot mouth to his skin just for the pleasure of it. It brings them closer aligned, he thinks, the newness of it; if earlier he had felt abstracted from his body, he's entirely within in now, maybe more than he's ever been, entirely unselfconscious, almost unable to see himself from the outside.

¹ The message being: Sagramore is loved.

[sagramore]

"Thou'rt so good," Sagramore murmurs, in the midst of more kisses, his deft hands finding their way under Shen Qingqiu's robes (having had practice on Luo Binghe's more than once, he's very comfortable sorting his way through this kind of clothing now). He is happy to see Shen Qingqiu relaxed, for once, and permitting himself the kind of pleasure he clearly wants. He's happy to have the chance to touch him like this, his fingers sliding along skin; he grazes one of Shen Qingqiu's nipples with his thumb and sucks softly at his throat -- careful to leave no marks for (he hopes) Luo Binghe to find later.

[peaklordshen]

Oh, that's—Shen Qingqiu gasps at the feeling of hands on his bare chest, lets out a shocked little moan when Sagramore brushes across his nipple. He's—he's really gay right now. Experiment—absolute success!

He should—stop Sagramore. Now that he has his proof. But—maybe just a little more; maybe he can have a little more touch, a little more skin against his skin, a little more pleasure. He plucks at Sagramore's shirt, not having Sagramore's facility to bypass it so easily. "Please?"

[sagramore]

"Let me at least close the door first," not without another teasing touch first, to be sure Shen Qingqiu knows it's not a rejection.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu supposes this would be a good time to put on the brakes, so to speak, but this could be his only chance to be gay. He doesn't want to waste it. So while Sagramore closes the door he undoes the ties of his robes, letting them slip from his shoulders and pool around his waist. He doesn't know what Sagramore is getting out of this, really, but he knows this body is handsome; maybe he'll enjoy seeing more of it.

[sagramore]

Sagramore stops to admire him, gazing at him softly -- he can't entirely help himself from thinking that this is how Shen Qingqiu wants to present himself to Luo Binghe, but if he's trying to practice first, that's his right. And Sagramore knows he's a good first time; he's careful and attentive and he'll worry about Shen Qingqiu, who he thinks could do with more people to worry about him.

He joins Shen Qingqiu on the couch again, bending for a kiss, and runs his hands over Shen Qingqiu's chest appreciatively.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu kisses him back, making little pleased noises into it, but catches his hands when he starts touching again. "Your shirt," he reminds him.

[sagramore]

He laughs, with a little grin. "Ah, thy pardon, sir," and pulls his tunic off over his head. The large bruise around his ribs is faded now to yellow, and otherwise he looks as he always does, not that Shen Qingqiu should know -- lean and wiry, well-muscled in his arms, his chest hair greying, and marked with innumerable little scars.

[peaklordshen]

"Much better," says Shen Qingqiu, and lays his hands, a little wondering, on Sagramore's chest in turn. He traces over the scars, ghosts his fingertips over the healing bruise, absently sending enough qi to finish the process, and remembers doing the same to a smaller, angrier Sagramore. The thought fills him with unspeakable, full-body tenderness, and he leans up to kiss him again, soft and thorough.

[sagramore]

Sagramore pulls him into his lap again, hitching their bodies together, and murmurs to him, mostly endearments.

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu rocks against him, luxuriating in the feeling of their bare chests together, in the strength of Sagramore's arms, in the deep murmur of his voice. He nuzzles the skin under Sagramore's ear, drags his mouth over it hot and wet, even gets up his courage to suck, though not hard.¹ He's hard; he's been hard for a long time, maybe since Sagramore kissed him the very first time, but he spends so little time thinking about his dick when he's straight² that it hasn't become urgent until now, with their bodies flush, when he realizes he's not the only one, and that's dizzying, the sudden power of that, the proof that Sagramore is getting something out of this, that he is wanted, that this isn't just—some favor, done out of the kindness of Sagramore's endlessly kind heart.

¹More out of concern for not hurting him than not to leave marks for anyone else to see—he's not exactly thinking about that right now.
² Absolutely never thinking about or doing anything with your dick is sooo normal straight man of you dude you're so right

[sagramore]

"There, my heart," softly, letting his hands drift lower. "Dost know that thou likest?"

[peaklordshen]

Shen Qingqiu doesn't know how to answer that question. There's something in the back of his brain, somewhere, that worries if he goes too far with Sagramore, does something too gay, it will break the BL pollen's curse. That's how it works with most of the stupid wifeplot plants in Proud Immortal Demon Way. And he can't let that happen with Sagramore—if it happens, it has to happen with Binghe. Of course, if he gets to too gay levels with Binghe, the Heavenly Pillar will cure him anyway—but he redirects his brain. That isn't fair. That's breaking some kind of gay code, probably, thinking about another man's dick when there's what feels like a very lovely one much closer at hand.

Speaking of hand. Hands are great; he loves hands. Handjobs between bros aren't even gay. And Sagramore is his bro, the best one he has here, handsome and charming and funny and sweet and solid and gorgeous against him, and Shen Qingqiu slips a hand between them to explore, tracing the hot weight of him through his trousers. He bites his lips at the feeling of it against his palm, letting out a little shaky sigh.

[sagramore]

His breath catches a little, enough for him to swallow his next question for the moment in favor of shifting against Shen Qingqiu's hand.

[peaklordshen]

Emboldened, Shen Qingqiu presses a kiss to Sagramore's stubbled cheek—mmh, that's nice, he gets distracted for a moment— and then lets his questing fingers figure out how the ties to Sagramore's trousers work, slipping his hand inside.

[sagramore]

"Thou'rt so good," softly; and he drops his hands to help with his laces and braies. "My heart. Christ, I want the best for thee--"