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Demonic successions are always two of three things: bloody, treacherous, or treacherously bloody. 

More often than not, it's bloody and treacherously bloody, because there's nothing that gets the demon court going more than an extra helping of killing as a side.

This, Shen Jiu knows because he was there for Tianlang-Jun’s succession. At that time, Shen Jiu was young and fresh to court, running around as an errand boy for the quartermaster in exchange for education. Each succession meant the toppling of the old guard and an opportunity for the new Demon Emperor to install their own trusted personnel, and Shen Jiu had caught that opportunity and took over the role of the imperial tutor. 

He’s taught demonic history for a long time, and when he says a long time, he means a long time. He's raised court officials and seen them go from barely weaned infant, not fully grown into their demonic heritage, to esteemed, bloodthirsty members of the imperial court or palace guard or wherever it is they end up going. 

On the account of treacherously bloody, this is also why Shen Jiu is currently locked up. The stone floor of the storage room is hard on his knees - they haven’t gone as far as to call it a cell, but really, that’s what this is. A holding cell until His New Imperial Majesty, Luo Binghe, sorts out what to do with the old guard. The easiest route is execution. Exile, if the Emperor wants to make a show of how they view the old guard so far beneath them that they are not a threat, but this is Luo Binghe. This is Luo Binghe, half demon bastard child of Tianlang-Jun, who walks around with his head up high like being a halfbreed is something to be proud of and not to be shunned, and is allowed to, because some bitch dropped him off at the palace as a servant, and he worked for like, a month in the kitchen, before some demon realized that this kid was powerful and just hadn't awakened yet.

A little off topic, Shen Jiu agrees, but the point is that Luo Binghe never was the standard and so he never did things by the standard. 

Mind you, Shen Jiu had worked as an errand boy for three decades before someone even saw fit to promote him to junior palace ground caretaker, because he’d had a human mother which meant his blood wasn’t pure enough--

Anyway. They were all too afraid to teach Luo Binghe though, and Shen Jiu, who did, they sneered at behind his back because he could never manage to mold Luo Binghe into the image of an ideal demon lord, and so Shen Jiu taught and cursed this child all in one breath. 

That’s the past. The now is: Shen Jiu’s knees hurt on the cold floor of the stone storage room, but the cold does nothing to alleviate the empty burning inside him - there’s nothing to differentiate the days from each other, but Shen Jiu’s existence has narrowed down to the sun’s turn into moon and turn back again. It’s been nearly a month since they threw him here, chained with no access to his powers and forgotten. 

Luo Binghe should have had ample time to deal with the old guard. A part of Shen Jiu wonders - maybe Luo Binghe had forgotten him, but what type of person would forget the teacher who humiliated them in front of the whole court? Would Shen Jiu be left here for dead as his punishment? But Luo Binghe is anything but so indirect - he is exactly the type to rend Shen Jiu from limb to limb and have each pinned for public display than allow Shen Jiu to wither away.

Shen Jiu knows. He’s taught this child after all, seen him grow up. 

This time the light footsteps outside the room stop and the lock to the door jiggles before light pours in and Shen Jiu has to close his eyes against the brightness. 

A servant brings Shen Jiu to the baths, cleans him and anoints him with some blend of floral and herbal oils. he sneers at the servant, once they have dressed him in a clean set of new robes. “What is this, fatten the prisoner up before sending him to the slaughter?” The servant flinches, but does not reply.

Appropriately cowed, the servant leads Shen Jiu to a set of ornate doors, pushes him through, and leaves him to fend for himself. 

The door clicks shut behind him, the well oiled hinges making barely a whisper. The room is lavish, grand and black and gold, as befitting the Emperor. A bed lies in the far corner, four posted and with a silk canopy, and the curtains must obscure what lies beyond to mere shadows dancing along the screen. There is a lounge on the other side of the room, surrounded by luxurious foods, and in the middle, before him, is a lowset desk sitting on bamboo slats, and behind the desk is a figure gazing out the window.

Shen Jiu is faced with the back of a living ghost. 

Luo Binghe stares out the window for a moment longer before turning. “Well?” he says, voice dark and so much deeper than Shen Jiu remembers. 

If Shen Jiu had sent a boy off to a suicide expedition in the North, then today he reluctantly welcomes back a man who has grown into himself. Luo Binghe’s height had already shot up when he was being suited to a new set of armour, but he hadn’t filled out in the way he has now, shoulders broad, presence commanding. His eyes catch Shen Jiu and hold him there. “Need a moment, Shizun?” 

Hardly, Shen Jiu wants to say, but he knows that it is silence that will rankle Luo Binghe the most. He keeps his face impassive, and makes no acknowledgement he has heard. 

Luo Binghe laughs. “Not a word for our touching reunion, Shizun? And here I thought, when I came back with the North all sorted out and wrapped up like a present, you’d be happy to see this disciple.”

Shen Jiu fumes inwardly. Truly, nothing would be a better present than Luo Binghe actually acting according to Shen Jiu’s plans and dying in the North, and then Shen Jiu would be able to guide a puppet onto the throne and life would be, well, nice. On the outside, he shrugs, and smiles something sharp. “This master has nothing to say to you.” 

“That’s fine,” Luo Binghe says, “you don’t need to talk through this.”

It sends a frisson of alarm through Shen Jiu, but he’s had centuries on Luo Binghe in keeping his mask in place. Luo Binghe will not see it. “No?”

“I imagine Shizun is hungry,” Luo Binghe says, and Shen Jiu realizes then, that he’s in trouble. The hunger pangs have been the least of his worries when he’d been sure Luo Binghe will get rid of him sooner rather than later. Then Shen Jiu had been summoned, and it rankles him to admit it, but the sight of Luo Binghe grown had thrown him off. “This Lord will graciously allow him the choice to feed, on one condition.” 

So this means Luo Binghe means to degrade him by watching him being fucked. It’s hardly the first thing Shen Jiu thought of, but given Shen Jiu’s heritage as half incubus, it doesn’t blindside him.

“I refuse.” 

Luo Binghe shakes his head, tutting. “Before you even hear my offer? How cold-hearted, Shizun!” His expression promises nothing good as he gestures for servants to bring out whatever he has planned. He’s already reconciled himself with maiming, torture, even a last pity feeding before execution. 

Shen Jiu has already braced himself for another demon or torture devices, but rather than he’s expecting, it’s blood red silk with red gauze trailing, dripping, and in the tray beside, a needle and two gold studs. 

His blood runs cold. Does Luo Binghe mean to - does he mean to fuck Shen Jiu himself ?

No. Shen Jiu needs a way to convince Luo Binghe right now that this is a bad idea and would go against what he wants. “Surely,” he says slowly, “This Lord would consider how this would look to an outside eye?” 

“Would this not look like casting aside the old guard?” 

“Sentimental and weak,” Shen Jiu counters. “Execution has always been the way.” At least then, he can still figure out a way to slip himself out of the noose, but if Luo Binghe were to go forward with this--

“I’ve considered as much, but Shizun, one can kill the old, or one can subjugate the old. Would you call subjugation sentimental and weak? Would any of my court dare?”

Shen Jiu grits his teeth. “My Lord has the ability to decorate his harem with any number of beauties in his empire, surely this member of the old guard has no place standing amongst them.” 

Luo Binghe laughs - past the haze, Shen Jiu sees him standing near the fire of a nearby lit candle, and is that the needle in his hand? “If I say there is a place, then there is. Anyone who dares deny that - well - they won’t be an issue for much longer. Shizun would be the prized jewel of my entire empire. I’d make sure to personally see to that he’s always comfortable and fed and happy, it really would not be a bad life.”

He refuses to shake. The reminder, again, that he is starving right now makes that refusal to shake a little harder to actually make happen. “Fuck you.”

Luo Binghe snorts. “I had expected this of you, and yet, your mouth still does not cease to surprise me,” he says, and advances. 

There’s nowhere to run, and Shen Jiu is in no state to fight back, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He lunges at Luo Binghe, trying to knock the needle out of his hand, and is rewarded for his troubles by the demon lord shoving him down and resting his full weight on Shen Jiu’s thighs, one hand pinning his arms above his head and the other wrenching open his robes, the fabric giving way with a tear.

“My apologies,” Luo Binghe says, nothing apologetic in his voice.

“How like you,” Shen Jiu gasps, and even to him it sounds too thin, “to pin one who can not fight back.” And then he has to fight back a hiss of pain as the needle presses through one nipple, followed by the gold stud, and then the needle is drawn away. 

“I will not risk my concubine ruining his own beauty with useless thrashing,” Luo Binghe says, and in goes the needle, in goes the second stud, out goes the needle. “Done. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He pats Shen Jiu’s head mockingly. “Do I have to teach you how to dress yourself too, Shizun?” 

Shen Jiu shakes when Luo Binghe lets him up. The pain, previously dull after the initial punctures, starts throbbing as he pushes himself on to his knees. With as much grace as he can muster, Shen Jiu pulls himself off the ground and dusts off his robes, drawing the parting closed around his front. 

All stands still, for one long breath. Shen Jiu glares in defiance, in hatred, and in pain. Luo Binghe stares back, impassive and heavy, and Shen Jiu, with a sinking heart but high chin, takes the red silk from beside him. 








It hurts every time Shen Jiu accidentally jostles the piercings. 

He has an easier time putting the red silk robe on than expected - he had, after all, come from a humble background serving the members of nobility before he had gone to the palace and risen above them. He still remembers the motions of helping his mistress into her robes each morning even if he has not had to for centuries; habits are hard to break. It’s harder to actually do it on himself, but Shen Jiu manages to get the red silk robe properly on after a small eternity.

Shen Jiu has his back turned, but he can still feel Luo Binghe’s gaze on him. 

Hesitantly, Shen Jiu comes before Luo Binghe again. Luo Binghe tilts his head, a hand under Shen Jiu’s chin casually tipping it up, the touch warm but leaving Shen Jiu’s body cold with dread. Shen Jiu has calmed ever so slightly at this point and does not move. Luo Binghe draws closer instead.

“Will you not show this Lord your appreciation for saving your life?” Luo Binghe asks, sliding a finger across Shen Jiu’s lips. “No? Then let me put it like this - despite your attitude, Shizun, I’m not about to let you starve. You can get your fill here, or you can do nothing, and when I am through with my reports for today, I’ll have the servants show off the newest concubine to the court.” 

Despite knowing how low Luo Binghe can go, this still takes him aback. “You mean for me to choose,” Shen Jiu says coldly, “between letting you fuck me, or for half the court to fuck me.” 

Luo Binghe pulls him towards the desk with the letters and ink. “And is the role of the concubine not to serve the imperial court?”

“Would that please you, to see me like that?” he sneers. “Disgusting.” Without the emperor’s favour, an Imperial Concubine is marked available in the court, and a plaything chosen by the Emperor himself is always too tempting a challenge. 

Luo Binghe acts like he hasn’t heard him. “Come,” he says again, sitting down on the chaise behind the table, and pats the cushion placed alongside, a glint in his eyes like he’s expecting Shen Jiu to notice that he even arranged to protect his knees like a dainty maiden, and he’s waiting for Shen Jiu to react. Shen Jiu hates him hates him hates --

Without a second warning, he’s pulled down to his knees on the cushion, landing with a soft thud. 

“Serve me,” Luo Binghe says, and laughs when he doesn’t get a response out of Shen Jiu once again, instead of angering--

And here is what Shen Jiu doesn’t understand - does Luo Binghe mean to use Shen Jiu and then discard him for dead - or worse, scraps for the picking? This could merely be the humiliation before his execution, in which case Shen Jiu would go down raising hell. But this declaration of intending to name him concubine - if Luo Binghe truly does not go back on his word, then is this him thinking he can tame and leash a member of the old guard to parade around like a kept pet? 

Shen Jiu had clawed his way up from the bottom of the palace order to imperial tutor, trusted by Tianlang-Jun to sort out any problems but not trusted farther than can be thrown, precisely because Shen Jiu knew how to read others. But never had Shen Jiu been forced to come to a conclusion with so little information, and so little time to observe what made his opponent tick. That his life was on the line was hardly new. 

Even as a child clinging to Shen Jiu’s robes only to get swept aside, Luo Binghe had only ever been straightforward and so utterly see through that Shen Jiu didn’t give him a second glance past the talent he could see bubbling within the young halfbreed, whom others celebrated just as much as they spat upon Shen Jiu’s own heritage. 

Returned, Luo Binghe now wears his new mask well enough; keeps it blank enough that Shen Jiu cannot reconcile it with the Luo Binghe of the past. What chills Shen Jiu the most is that he can’t elicit the reactions he used to be able to count on from Luo Binghe, and that Luo Binghe isn’t losing interest in him like he’d hoped. 

Shen Jiu’s incubus nature means he can scent the faint stirrings of arousal as the demon lord readies for the promise of fucking his concubine’s mouth, like he’s never been refused, like it’s inevitable that Shen Jiu won’t, and on this basis alone Shen Jiu almost doesn’t but - but there’s a threat of being passed around over his head, and he’s in strange territory. Coupled with the discomfort of having a meal dangled in front of him when he’s been forced to go without, with no end in sight, means Shen Jiu slowly, ever so slowly leans forward. Undoes the belt holding Luo Binghe’s robes together. Gives his cock a cursory pump. 

He’s half hard. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Luo Binghe’s mouth curls a little at the end, mocking. And now, with arousal and the scent of sex starting to cloud the air, Shen Jiu detaches himself from the act and falls back into practiced motions. He mouths at the tip of the cock. Luo Binghe shifts forward ever so slightly, and a hand snakes into Shen Jiu’s hair. 

Shen Jiu takes it as his cue to move. He pulls back and gives the head a kittenish lick before moving down the bottom of the length and comes back up, and then envelops as much as he can in one motion, drawing a soft hitch in breath from Luo Binghe, which brings him no end in satisfaction. Take that. 

Shen Jiu just about has a rhythm going on, and the length in his mouth has thickened to a truly worrying mouthful when the hand in his hair holds him back as he goes down again. Unable to help the spit that escapes down his chin, and barely holding back from gagging, he looks up and catches Luo Binghe’s gaze, meaning to pull off, before he’s stopped once again from pulling off. 

“This is good for now, Shizun.” Luo Binghe’s eyes are bright. “I would play with you all day if I could, but I told someone to come back in a shi chen for these reports, and we’ve passed at least a quarter. Warm me and we’ll finish soon, alright?”

The casual tone that the demon brat is taking makes Shen Jiu see red - warm his cock, like one of simpering demonesses trying to crawl their way up the instability of this newly born court, clutching the robes of the strong. Warm his cock, like a concubine showing the highest subservience to their lord, nursing their lord’s cock in moist warmth until their lord deems them good to be used. And - seeing as Luo Binghe now seems to want to be the world’s best fucking history student, the implications of this isn’t small either. 

Back when the demonic world had been split into five factions, the great demon lord Wanshen-Jun, one of the ancestors of the heavenly demon bloodline, great uniter of the realm, had his lover killed by one of his rivals. In revenge, when he defeated him, Wanshen-Jun took his rival’s lover as fed them his blood, and used them to warm his cock as a last insult. 

And there was Jintian-Jun, who’d led a foray into the hostile takeover of the human realm that didn’t work before he’d gotten offed himself, but the point! The point was that he had hosted a celebration and presented each of his court officials with their own personal warmer - alright, there’s just a lot of stories and none of them, befitting demonic history, are very.. nice. To put it lightly. 

In the present, Luo Binghe only takes one languid thrust against his mouth before going back to look at his report, picking up his brush to resume where he must have left off before bringing Shen Jiu over, and the thought of getting humiliated like this and for Luo Binghe to pay no attention like it isn’t taking Shen Jiu everything not to lunge up and try to strangle the emperor, power or no power, makes him try to pull away out of rage. 

The hand in his hair keeps him there effortlessly no matter how hard he tries to move back, and Shen Jiu swallows again past the length that’s keeping him speared there. 

“It’ll only be another few moments, I’m almost done. Stay still ,” Luo Binghe snaps.

Shen Jiu shuts his eyes at the image they must make - him on the floor with his mouth used like an object for Luo Binghe to sheathe his cock into something warm and wet, and even as the length softens slightly in his mouth, he’s pressed further down until his nose meets the wiry hair at the base of Luo Binghe’s cock. Shen Jiu shifts again, and is rewarded for his troubles when Luo Binghe shifts back, shoves a leg between Shen Jiu’s and then lifts him bodily so that his own cock is now rubbing against a muscular thigh. 

Shen Jiu tries to ask what, but there’s still a cock in his mouth. 

“Are you really so bored? Then here, something for you to do. You can thank me.” The demon lord smiles down at him, eyes laughing. Shen Jiu holds back the urge to bite his dick, only because he knows Luo Binghe can probably regrow it, and then Luo Binghe would proceed to make Shen Jiu’s life hell among living hells.  

When Shen Jiu’s body receives the ejaculate of another party, this is where he receives the most energy, but the sexual energy of another party bringing him to orgasm also offers some sustenance. Luo Binghe knows this, but expects him to rut like a dog against his thigh, and the mere thought that Luo Binghe thinks he can hold Shen Jiu’s hunger over him like this makes Shen Jiu sneer.

If Luo Binghe thinks a month is the worst Shen Jiu has had to live through, he’s a fool. 

When Shen Jiu doesn’t move, the demon lord’s eyes darken. “Does this concubine expect This Lord to do everything for him? Fine. Today I’ll indulge you. This will be another gift from me to you.” Luo Binghe sets a torturously slow pace as he rubs his thigh against Shen Jiu’s cock, and despite everything, Shen Jiu hates how the friction is getting to him in a way that makes his head feel light and hazy. He turns his head to the side so that his hair might hide the expression on his face, and at this moment Shen Jiu notices movement out of the corner of his eye in the doorway. 

He jolts, trying to pull off Luo Binghe’s cock, only for the demon lord to grab Shen Jiu’s hair and push himself in deeper, drawing tears to Shen Jiu’s eyes. 

It’s a servant. Shen Jiu flushes furiously at the sight they must surely make, and pointedly keeps his eyes away and at the relatively safe sight of the leg of the desk. Luo Binghe’s cock is still down his throat, making it hard for Shen Jiu to breathe properly. And then there is Shen Jiu himself, a barely dressed concubine rutting against the emperor’s thigh whilst warming his cock. 

“My Lord, here is the oil that was requested.” 

“Good,” Luo Binghe says. “Place it on the table before me.”

The servant comes closer, and Shen Jiu feels like he’s going to shiver out of his skin. 

“Oh? Is my little jewel shy?” Luo Binghe catches it immediately, petting Shen Jiu’s hair, and it feels like the heat shoots through that point of contact to make his face even more red. “But why, when he looks so beautiful tonight?” 

Shen Jiu chokes, and before he thinks better of it, hits Luo Binghe’s arm. 

He gets a raised eyebrow and then a punishing push of the cock even deeper into his throat than he thought possible, and he can’t breathe--

Luo Binghe pulls out for a glorious second before pushing back in.

“I think something about being in company is making you a little more… feisty,” the demon lord says lowly. He slides the hand curled around Shen Jiu’s waist down, and down, until Shen Jiu swallows through a suddenly dry throat as Luo Binghe’s hand cups his ass through red silk. 

Steady. He’ll keep his gaze steady and he won’t give the demon brat the pleasure of a response, because he has to be aiming for that.

“Look at you,” Luo Binghe coos, sliding both hands to spread his ass until he stops at Shen Jiu’s entrance. “What do you think the servant sees when they look at you? They’ll look at your pretty pretty mouth, and pretty little cock straining against your dress. And they’ll think about your pretty little hole, look at how it’s twitching.” He presses at the rim through the fabric. The promise of something more combined with the musky scent in his nose, cock on his tongue, and the thought of how he must look like this - he doesn’t dare think about the servant still in the room - is nearly enough to bring him over, and then--

It’s gone. 

Luo Binghe moves his leg away, and unthinkingly, Shen Jiu’s hips follow. Then he realizes that Luo Binghe’s hand is there to prevent any more friction and the bastard is smiling, and Shen Jiu wants to wipe the smug look off his face. The throbbing cock eventually eases out of his mouth, and past the blinding need to come, Shen Jiu realizes that there’s the scent of roses in the air - an oil of some sort, and something cold teasing at his entrance, and almost unwittingly he pushes back against that feeling. Shit. Luo Binghe says something lowly to the servant, who takes his leave. He shifts Shen Jiu around so that he’s lying with his hips up, and this time the finger slides home inside. 

Shen Jiu startles, but holds still with effort. He won’t give the demon the satisfaction of seeing him react any more than this, and grits his teeth even as the pleasure wrings tremors from him - the demon is curling his fingers so that each rub lights up the spot inside Shen Jiu that makes him melt.

Luo Binghe adds another finger, and then another. Instead of just making circles as he has up until then, he begins to thrust his fingers in and out, running over the spot with increasing pressure every time.

Shen Jiu’s breath hitches and he tries to pull away from the sensation, but Luo Binghe won’t let him.

It goes on for long enough that Shen Jiu is squirming in his lap and so, so turned on that it’s painful, and he can’t help but look down - the cut of his red cockhead against the red of the silk - smearing wetness against the silk - makes him swallow. He thinks that any second, Luo Binghe will sit him on his cock, but Luo Binghe once again defies Shen Jiu’s expectation. The demon keeps him on his fingers and fucks Shen Jiu until he’s an incoherent mess desperately gasping for every breath.

A thumb swipes over the tip of Shen Jiu’s cock, a little greet and go. Shen Jiu’s arms fly to grip Luo Binghe’s, knuckles white, mouth open in a silent wail. 

It’s so much - on the verge of too much. He pants, and shakes through the waves of pleasure wracking him. He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even protest as a mouth covers his until he registers the taste of iron.


His eyes fly open. The panic cuts through the haze that the orgasm has brought. The pressure on his mouth is bruising and punishing, and Luo Binghe is holding the sides of his head so that even as Shen Jiu tries to pull away, he can’t. He can’t do anything except either swallow the mouthful of blood or be forced to choke on it. 

Luo Binghe pulls back after the longest kiss of Shen Jiu’s life, with a last cursory bite at Shen Jiu’s bottom lip - there’s not much to compare to, to be honest, because feeding as a half-incubus certainly doesn’t require kissing to consume the sexual energy. 

Shen Jiu coughs and spits what he can out onto the floor, but he can taste the tang of iron down his throat and knows that he’s definitely downed enough for Luo Binghe to be able to control his body to his whims like a puppet. The despair sits heavy in his stomach - that it’s come down to this, and that he’s let the demon bastard do this to him is unthinkable.

Shen Jiu feels too warm, and he can feel the phantom sensation of Luo Binghe’s blood sitting in his stomach like a death sentence. He doesn’t know if the sensation is because of the demon bastard’s blood, or if it’s everything else getting to him. The fact that his judgement is so clouded worries Shen Jiu as much as it enrages him.

And if Shen Jiu had wondered before then whether the blood was doing anything to him, he now has something to compare it to as he feels the sensation of something soft trailing over his chest, up, then down, then back up, even as nothing is physically there. 

“How was that, Shizun? Not too bad, right?” Luo Binghe murmurs in his ear. “Things don’t have to be bad at all if you behave.” He punctuates every word with the sensation of a phantom hand rubbing Shen Jiu’s body - tracing his ribs, curving up his sides, and pinching his nipples. 

Luo Binghe’s hands sit comfortably around Shen Jiu’s waist, locking him in place. 

The attention laid upon his nipples makes Shen Jiu bite back a gasp. The blood parasites are making it feel like his piercings are being played with. His back arches - Luo Binghe’s eyebrows raise and his smile grows downright wicked as he realizes what he’s discovered; how sensitive Shen Jiu is there. Even if Shen Jiu hadn’t fought down the urge to curl in on himself - he can’t show weakness, not in the face of Luo Binghe’s scrutiny - he wouldn’t be able to anyway, because as he tries to push away from the demon lord, he finds that his arms don’t answer. Luo Binghe does let him squirm however, and each movement causes the silk of the red robes to brush against his new piercings, an exquisite torture. 

Luo Binghe rearranges Shen Jiu so that he’s firmly in his lap with his back pressed against Luo Binghe’s front, and in his new seat, Shen Jiu can feel the demon lord’s cock, still hard, demanding urgent attention underneath him. But Luo Binghe doesn’t push in, and doesn’t even touch Shen Jiu’s cock or entrance. Instead, the phantom hands tease at his chest, pinching and tugging and twisting his nipples until they stand red and upright, and despite his best efforts, Shen Jiu can’t help but pant raggedly, like he’s just run a lap around the palace.

His head lies tossed back against Luo Binghe’s shoulder - having fallen against it only for Shen Jiu to jolt back upright, unwilling to touch the demon lord more than he had to, until the next assault on his nipples which would make him arch again in a vain effort to distance himself from the sensation, and Shen Jiu would fall against the solid chest behind him again. 

As a half incubus, Shen Jiu does not hold the ability of his pureblood sire to control their arousal at will. As a result, his every reaction to Luo Binghe’s manipulations and treatment of his body is too honest and too telling, and he feels the humiliation colour his face and neck red as his cock fills from the attention being laved upon him. 

If Luo Binghe keeps it up, Shen Jiu really might come just from having his nipples played with like this. 

This close against the other demon, Shen Jiu feels the pleased hum Luo Binghe makes at this new discovery, and the wave of loathing for himself and for the demon lord who’s humiliated him in such a way surges back crushingly. And yet - even this thought doesn’t manage to hold on for much longer as the phantom hands on his chest leave for a second only to be replaced by the sensation of something warm and wet enveloping his abused nipples, licking and lapping at them until the moans and whimpers that Shen Jiu has been holding back rather successfully at that point all rush out like a dam broken. 

Through the wet heat that laves over his right nipple unforgivingly, a strangled noise is torn out of Shen Jiu’s throat as the feeling of something hard latches on lightly to the nipple and what feels like a tongue changes to flick rapidly back and forth over the poor nub. 

Shen Jiu lurches forward so hard that Luo Binghe has to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him from falling off, and when that sensation doesn’t cease, the haze from before comes back, even more cloying, so that the only thing Shen Jiu can possibly focus on is the heat from his chest, the heat sitting in his stomach that amplifies his hunger and - for a heartstopping second makes him lose himself and forget where he is. All he can think about is the solid press of the cock underneath him, so close but so far from offering the relief and the energy he needs, and so he rocks his hips back against the solid presence surrounding him.

“That’s it,” Luo Binghe murmurs, breath tickling Shen Jiu’s ear. “My gorgeous little jewel, you need it, don’t you?”

Shen Jiu lets his head fall back and mewls - he’s almost there, he’s close--

The tingling pleasure driving his nipples crazy spikes for a fleeting second, and then swirls in soothing circles under his skin, taken away right before he can reach his climax. Shen Jiu snarls, trying to turn around, but the warm, solid pressure around his waist lets off and Shen Jiu feels the silk robes being tugged off of him. 

Hands return to his waist and guide him up and then above the head of the cock, suspending him in place. It’s so good, but not enough, and Shen Jiu tilts his hips back and tries to sink onto the heat beneath him, tries to draw the cock that can offer him relief deeper into himself. 

There’s a deep groan right next to his ear, a bitten off, “fuck,” and a hot mouth latches onto his neck, and moves up to bite on the lobe of his ear. He is taken in one smooth thrust upwards, and Shen Jiu screams.

He is split apart. All the oil from earlier which has still left him wet and open doesn’t prepare him for the overwhelming press and pain of the cock that holds him open. If the fingers had rubbed against his sweet spot earlier, then what fills him now keeps him impaled and full and stretches him in every way until Shen Jiu can’t think and can’t breathe through it. His cock flags a little at the pain and the panic, but then the wet heat sensation of phantom mouths and wandering hands comes back to his nipples and plays with his new piercings. The new pressure on his neglected cock makes him jolt, and instantly he regrets it again as the motion sends a new flair of pain through him. 

Luo Binghe makes a sound that can only be classified as a snarl. “You’re tight - so tight, Shizun. Clenched so tight around me, so good - like your ass was made to fit around my cock. Will you warm This Lord with your ass too? This Lord is generous and will make it good for you too as a reward,” he says, and Shen Jiu feels the muscles inside him relax from how tense they were around Luo Binghe’s cock. His blood has done that - and for a second Shen Jiu doesn’t understand why the demon lord isn’t revelling in Shen Jiu’s pain until - “This Lord will have you crying and begging for his cock. This Lord will have you come undone and shatter and remold yourself to serve only one.”

And ah. Sex has always made honest people out of even the most crooked. What Luo Binghe wants from him, is it still this complete and utter humiliation of his former teacher? Through the building pleasure of the cock sinking deep into him once and twice and time and time again, Shen Jiu realizes that perhaps he had been wrong about the motivation - perhaps it had simply just been desire.

Fingers shove themselves inside his mouth. Shen Jiu whines and swirls a tongue around them as he had done with Luo Binghe’s cock earlier, and is rewarded for it by the darkening of Luo Binghe’s eyes and the harder, insistent pounding of his cock that hits his sweet spot every time, bringing stars before his eyes. The pain from earlier bleeds into pleasure, and Shen Jiu feels a sharp, hungry joy at the confirmation that he holds the desire of the demon lord and that Shen Jiu can make use of it. He doesn’t have nothing , not anymore.

“Feels good?” he hears Luo Binghe say briefly, and doesn’t register the phrase in time, before Shen Jiu feels the sensation of something stirring up his spot of pleasure from the inside; he hadn’t even known he could feel like this - being continuously stroked and coaxed from the inside even as the thick cock presses against his walls and drives out his breath with every stroke. It builds, builds, and Shen Jiu comes apart on Luo Binghe’s cock, and it doesn't stop .

Shen Jiu’s come catches the edge of the desk Luo Binghe had braced the two of them against, and to his mortification, on the edges of the top reports as well. Shen Jiu slumps forward, and is rearranged by Luo Binghe again until he’s leaned completely back and supported by the chest behind him, one of the demon lord’s arms around Shen Jiu’s chest and the other braced against the floor as the assault on his prostate from the blood parasites as well as the cock pounding him continues until the warm pleasure of having reached completion turns overbearing. 

Shen Jiu pushes against Luo Binghe’s chest, trying to get him to stop, only for the arm to tighten. “S-st-ahhh!” His voice breaks before the protest has fully formed; it’s impossible to even think past the heat-good-too much. 

The demon lord keeps up the punishing pace.

“It’s too-too much,” Shen Jiu cries, “H-hurts,” and he doesn’t even recognize his own voice at how it cracks whenever the cock pounds him just right with each stroke. There’s something building again, something scarily close to-- “Too much, I can’t --”

“You can.” Luo Binghe groans loudly, pace getting erratic, and he’s breathing hard as he sheathes himself in deep Shen Jiu with a soft, “Come for me.”

And Shen Jiu blacks out. 








Shen Jiu comes to, head fuzzy and stomach sated.

It almost feels strange now that the hunger pangs are gone. Having been a steady companion for so long, the loss is alien and makes him feel uneasy. It is not so much that he misses them at all, but what will come in the future, now that his appetite has been temporarily seen to. He is still on the floor of the room, laid on the bamboo mat beside the table they fucked before, with his own concubine robe arranged so that it covered him - somewhat - while he dozed. 

A hand cards through Shen Jiu’s hair again, heavy and possessive.

Shen Jiu keeps his breathing steady and his eyes closed, and seeing as Luo Binghe does not give indication that he knows Shen Jiu is awake, Shen Jiu wonders if the rumours that the demon blood would allow heavenly demons to track those that ingest it would allow Luo Binghe to know whether Shen Jiu is sleeping or awake too. 

Luo Binghe will surely ensure that the only source of Shen Jiu’s feeding is himself, and Shen Jiu wonders whether he will fuck him regularly, like meals, or without himself until Shen Jiu himself is hungry enough to beg. Shen Jiu will not, naturally. 

Shen Jiu shifts, feigning wakefulness. His entrance still aches and the piercings on his chest are still tender and sore - so he hasn’t been healed, but he’s sure the blood will do their part to make sure nothing gets infected.

“It’s about time you join us again, Shizun,” Luo Binghe says dryly. “You’ve been under for nearly half a shi chen - I was almost tempted to call you back from your dream.” 

Ah - Shen Jiu realizes that the rumours also stated the Luo Binghe had grown strong with dream magic, so it should be quite safe to say he knew exactly when Shen Jiu had woken up. Shen Jiu catalogues that information for the future, should he need it. 

“I still need to finish the last set of reports for tonight,” Luo Binghe says. “Shizun is welcome to stay in my suite or stay in the concubine quarters.”

Shen Jiu rises. No doubt Luo Binghe would prefer him to stay in his suite, so all the more reason to get out. He pulls the red robes on - they will be better than nothing. “I will be taking my leave for tonight then,” Shen Jiu says, and walks out with barely a limp showing. 

When Shen Jiu shuts the doors behind him, he almost expects some type of punishment, but there is none. He lets out a breath, feels the tension leave him somewhat, and the ache that the adrenaline has washed away comes back. Luo Binghe may be a generous lover to some degree, but it’s still a heavy burden to hold. 

Shen Jiu has been left alive, and has come out with his limbs intact. He smiles. Curls his fingers. Tonight, Luo Binghe has misstepped - where Luo Binghe erred is that he has not nipped this threat in the bud, and now Shen Jiu has time to turn the tables on him.

Tonight has established that Luo Binghe wants something of Shen Jiu, and Shen Jiu must rely on Luo Binghe’s favour to live another day. For now, they are at stallmate - knife edged the line may be - and Shen Jiu must play this carefully to the end.