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come home to me

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Shen Qingqiu has been sitting like this for hours. Luo Binghe reclines against their pillows, a book in one hand, the other hand gently stroking Shen Qingqiu’s cock with barely-there touches, so light they’re maddening. Despite how often Luo Binghe handles a sword--metaphorical and literal--his hands are soft and smooth. No hint of calluses for the protagonist. 

Of course, it only does so much to distract him from the, ahem, heavenly pillar buried deep in his ass. 

It all started when Shen Qingqiu returned to the demon realm after a visit to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. Luo Binghe does his best to provide everything, to make the Demon Realm as much of a home as the Bamboo House ever was. Is.

Perhaps Shen Qingqiu shouldn't have spent so much time on Bai Zhan Peak, but Liu Qingge is sort of his friend and no one wants an angry War God. Except, probably, Luo Binghe.

Shen Qingqiu likes talking, well, sort of talking, with Liu Qingge about monsters, their shared interest. And now he's paying for it.

"Shizun, I want to see you come like this," Luo Binghe says. He turns the page.

"How can I when Binghe is so inattentive," Shen Qingqiu pants. His fan is on the bed. It's a new one that Luo Binghe gave to him when he returned. The art is lewd, a facsimile of the two of them in bed, fan-Shen Qingqiu's back arched in a shameless display, red marks all over his neck. Shen Qingqiu doesn't know where or how Binghe got it, but then few things are impossible for a Heavenly Demon with a side of protagonist halo. He can’t help but be surprised with the level of detail, they even got the mole on his left shoulder.

It's a game they play sometimes. Luo Binghe will steer him into bed, suck on his cock like it's candy while gently fingering Shen Qingqiu open. He's gotten much better at this over the years, but it's never quite enough. There's no getting around it--Luo Binghe's cock is huge, and fingers only go so far. But Luo Binghe always makes sure that Shen Qingqiu comes before slowly lowering him onto his cock. There's the first round, wet and quick and messy, Luo Binghe's come dripping out of Shen Qinqiu's hole, the sound of Luo Binghe's cock pounding into him, the lewd sound of skin on skin.

And then Luo Binghe, soft inside of him, will wait until he gets hard again. The second round is slower, with Luo Binghe bringing him to the edge again and again while pausing just when Shen Qingqiu is about to come. It’s maddening and It's not something Shen Qingqiu ever thought that he'd respond to, but Luo Binghe, always attentive otherwise, will ignore him in favor of paperwork, reading, anything that makes Shen Qingqiu squirm. Sometimes Shen Qingqiu is so worn out he falls asleep on Luo Binghe's cock, only to be pulled into the dream realm by his husband and get tumbled all over again.

"Binghe, this husband needs you," Shen Qingqiu breathes. What is shame when he's stretched open like this? Luo Binghe isn't even touching him anymore and Shen Qingqiu feels like a livewire ready to snap.

"Tell this disciple what you need." Luo Binghe finally lets go of the book, putting an impossibly ornate bookmark between the pages.

Shen Qingqiu starts rotating his hips and Luo Binghe reaches out to press one of the many, many bruises on his neck. The burn in his thighs is intense, it would be all-consuming were it not for the stretch, the press of Luo Binghe's cock just shy of where he needs it.

"Doesn't this shameless disciple want to take care of his Shizun." Shen Qingqiu is a sweaty, disheveled mess, hair hanging loose around his shoulders and falling down his back.

"Always," Luo Binghe says. He leans in to capture Shen Qingqiu's lips in a kiss, his tongue licking over Shen Qinqiu's quivering lower lip. It's instinct to open his mouth, to let Luo Binghe in any and every way possible. "But this lowly disciple is witless, he may need some instruction."

Who is instructing who here? Who is quivering and open and so vulnerable? Even when Luo Binghe bit more than kissed and fucked Shen Qingqiu till he was raw, there was never any hesitation. Why now?

Luo Binghe reaches up to brush some of Shen Qingqiu's hair back, placing soft kisses below his ear. "Tell me what you need, tell me what you want," he whispers.

"You!" Shen Qingqiu reaches for that lewd fan, a perfect match for his impossibly shameless husband. "What has this master done to deserve such treatment?"

"Shizun left."

For a day! He left for a day! And he comes back to a black lotus demon lord, what sort of homecoming is this?

Shen Qingqiu can't help himself, he's horny and annoyed and Luo Binghe is being an insufferable tease. Somehow it's easier to blame this on Luo Binghe's dick he swats Luo Binghe' with his fan with what he tells himself is well-earned indignation. There's a red mark on Luo Binghe's shoulder and Shen Qingqiu freezes. This isn't part of their usual games.

"Does Shizun want to punish this disciple?" Luo Binghe has a twinkle in his eye. He moves his hands to play with Shen Qingqiu's nipples. At this point, Luo Binghe knows his body so well, he knows that Shen Qingqiu will moan like he's getting paid for it. Luo Binghe shows no mercy. He shifts his hips right where Shen Qingqiu needs them but only for a moment. Impudent! Shen Qingqiu swats him with the fan again and this time Binghe is the one who moans.

"It seems Binghe would like to be punished instead." Another slap as Shen Qingqiu's fan and Luo Binghe thrusts again. Shen Qingqiu can't help looking at the scar on Luo Binghe's chest.

"Shizun caught me," Luo Binghe says, shameless as ever. And then he does the worst thing--he pulls out.

Shen Qinqiu is leaking, come dripping down his thighs, furious and horny. Luo Binghe turns over, baring his unmarked back, his ass, his thighs.


"This disciple deserves to be punished."

How is Shen Qingqiu supposed to deal with his complete M of a husband? Doesn't this master deserve to finish? Keeping the fan closed, Shen Qingqiu brings the guard down on Luo Binghe's ass, leaving a fresh red print against creamy white skin. It's surprisingly satisfying. Luo Binghe quivers.



"It seems like Binghe is enjoying his punishment a little too much." For that matter so is Shen Qingqiu. He's hard and leaking and his thighs are sticky and his shameless brat of a husband is lying there moaning while Shen Qingqiu spanks him with a fan again and again and again and both of them are enjoying it. How has his life come to this?

He can see Luo Binghe rutting against the bed, trying to get any kind of friction. Shen Qingqiu hits him again. “Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, voice soft and smoky,

Luo Binghe looks back at him with tears in his eyes, his most effective weapon. Shen Qingqiu's dick is interested and god when did he develop a kink for Binghe crying. He kind of hates himself but Luo Binghe is there and willing and before Shen Qingqiu can think of kissing Luo Binghe's tears away Luo Binghe sits up, crawls over, and puts his arms around Shen Qingqiu, head resting in the crook of his shoulder. “Husband,” he breathes. Luo Binghe looks up, tears still wet on his cheeks, eyes ready to spill over again. 

“I think Binghe has been sufficiently punished.” Shen Qingqiu pushes him back and lies next to him scooting close enough that they can touch. He reaches out to wrap a hand around both of them and kisses the tears on Luo Binghe’s cheeks. They’re both wet and sticky and Luo Binghe sucks another mark on the side of Shen Qingqiu’s neck, high enough that his collar won’t cover it. He laces his hand with Shen Qingqiu’s and meets his lips for a kiss. 

It’s too good and Shen Qingqiu has been on the edge for far too long, he comes and Luo Binghe follows. 

They’re panting and sweat-slicked, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as Shen Qingqiu pulls Luo Binghe into his arms running his hand through Luo Binghe’s hair. Luo Binghe sighs, content. He doesn’t notice it at first, but the fan is there on the bed, crushed beneath Luo Binghe’s thigh. 

“Binghe, the fan.” Lewd as it is, Shen Qingqiu feels a little pang of sorrow. The fan is useless now--there’s a crack in the guard and there’s a rip at the edge. 

But Binghe doesn’t seem upset. He pulls it out from under his thigh and fans the two of them, refreshing as the sweat cools on their bodies. “I’ll just have to get Shizun more,” he says with a smile.