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“I told you to keep still.”
Luo Binghe thrashes in the hold of the young man who’d saved him, gasping as waves of heat roll over him, consuming him from the inside out.
“Let go! Demon!”
The man’s hand on his chest stills, and then there’s a clipped, disbelieving laugh from above him. Luo Binghe’s arms are pulled up over his head and pinned to the bed with one broad palm.
“Aren’t you one, too?”
Gritting his teeth, Luo Binghe turns away, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead trickling down his cheek. How could he forget, when that revelation was the very reason his Shizun had pushed him down the Abyss, smiling as he did so—believing he was rid of the thorn in his side at last.
“How foolish.” The man presses the back of his hand to Luo Binghe’s forehead. His skin is cool to the touch, abnormally so, like a layer of frost on a river. “Hmn. A fever, and…” Two fingers are placed on his pulse point, right over his exposed throat. Luo Binghe feels like a cornered animal, baring his teeth without thinking when the man looks at him, shock flitting across those sharp features.
“A heavenly demon?”
He barely hears it through the roaring in his ears, the twin threads of spiritual energy inside him flaring—burning through him like fire in his veins, making him shiver as his thoughts begin to pull him under into the dark depths of madness.
“Your demonic qi is out of control. You’re qi deviating.”
“You don’t say.” Luo Binghe chuckles, coughing, his vision already blurring. How many qi deviations had he suffered from the manual that Shen Qingqiu had given him? He, of all people, would know. “Is this it, then?”
The man sighs, shaking his head as he continues to press down on Luo Binghe’s trembling body, fingers splaying out over the sweat-soaked cotton of his inner robes.
“Your cultivation level isn’t low. You won’t die from this. But only if you do as I say.”
Dimly, he remembers, digging his bloodied nails into his palm for the pain to ground him: Luo Binghe doesn’t want to die here. He would not die here. He hadn’t survived the harshest of winters and the cruelest of beatings at the hands of both complete strangers and his own master only to die from a qi deviation.
Yes. He can’t die until he wipes the sneer from his Shizun’s face, until he chokes the life from that elegant throat with his own bare hands. No, until he’s made Shen Qingqiu pay for everything that he’s done to him a hundred times over, and then some.
They would all pay.
“What,” Luo Binghe says, “do you need me to do?”
Maybe he’s imagining it, but he thinks he sees the shadow of a small smirk on the man’s otherwise aloof face. “Don’t move.”
Luo Binghe stays still as the man peels off his robes, exposing his skin to the chilly air of the room. It’s completely at odds with the hellish fire he’d experienced days ago when he’d landed in brambles, delirious and cut all over, crawling over cracked ground on bloodied hands for ages until, suddenly, he’d woken up here. “What’s... your name?”
The man unbuckles the belt over his chest, tossing his fur-lined robe to the side of the bed. “Mobei-jun. And you, boy?”
A title. This Mobei-jun must be someone important in the demon realm.
“Luo Binghe,” he answers, watching Mobei-jun dazedly from beneath hooded eyes. He’s never given the male form much thought until now, especially since he’d only been with Qin Wanyue at the Immortal Alliance Conference—but as Mobei-jun shrugs off his inner robe to bare the scarred and muscular expanse of his back, Luo Binghe finds he doesn’t mind it at all. “Are you suggesting dual cultivation?”
“It may not have to come to that.” Mobei-jun gets into the bed beside him, pulling him towards him so they’re flush together. “Since you have demonic qi, I can transfer some to you, like this.”
Luo Binghe flinches slightly at the sudden rush of cold air between them right before his warm back meets the cool skin of Mobei-jun’s chest. An ice demon, then? “It’s cold—”
“It’ll help cool you down,” Mobei-jun interrupts, sighing exasperatedly. For an ice demon, he seems to have a short temper. “Stop. Moving.”
Shutting his eyes, Luo Binghe exhales, trying to focus on the cooling sensation where their skin meets and where Mobei-jun is transferring qi to him through his hands, his back. The cold soothes him, making him arch back into it, letting out a soft moan of relief. His roiling thoughts are turbulent still, making him swallow back helpless noises while Mobei-jun holds him tighter in warning, an anchor tethering him.
“It’s hot,” he chokes out, feeling the backlash from his qi as it runs amok inside him, turning inwards and back against him like the crashing of a tide. “It’s burning, nggh, it hurts —”
“This can’t be…” Luo Binghe hears Mobei-jun mutter, right before another swell of demonic qi is directed through his veins. He feels Mobei-jun burying his head in the crook of his neck, frosty breath in his sweaty hair—Luo Binghe reaches back towards him without thinking to grip at his thigh through his pants, feeling his nails lengthen into claws as they catch at threads.
His skin feels like it’s been set alight all over; the chill he felt earlier has dissipated, his blood feeling like it’s beginning to boil. He huddles back into where Mobei-jun’s arms are bracketing him, shuddering. “Please—” Luo Binghe rasps, unsure of what he’s asking for, clinging tightly to the arm over his chest to try and forget about the heat. “I—”
“All right.” Mobei-jun breathes, pushing back Luo Binghe’s hair as his hand snakes down his stomach. “This is just to help you. Stay calm.”
He undoes the loose knot tying Luo Binghe’s inner pants, yanking them down to his knees. Luo Binghe jerks, face flushing as his thighs are parted. “What are you—”
“Relax,” Mobei-jun growls, just as something long and cool is forced between his legs. Luo Binghe would protest more if not for how it immediately soothes him; he lets out a soft whimper, wanting more of where that came from. He’s pushed onto his stomach, face pressed into a pillow as Mobei-jun thrusts forward, his cock bumping and brushing against Luo Binghe’s. “Squeeze your legs together.”
He nearly sobs from the relief of it as Mobei-jun fucks his thighs, dragging his stiffening cock back between the tender inner skin of his legs, simulating the actual motions of fucking. This… Luo Binghe hadn’t thought about how men could do something like this, either. He remembers Qin Wanyue’s shy sweetness, pulling him down as she welcomed him inside her. Never would he have imagined he’d end up in a similar position, but with someone else’s pillar lined up against him like this, rushed and fevered and intimate.
Wildly different sensations overwhelm Luo Binghe all at the same time: the coarse hair rubbing against the back of his thighs as Mobei-jun begins to move, the cold breath tickling his nape, the fingers that eventually curl around his hot, half-hard dick.
“Nngh,” Luo Binghe manages, when Mobei-jun begins to touch him, squeezing, large hand cooling him down even there as he tugs and plays with his stones. “F-fuck, that’s…”
“Good?” Mobei-jun whispers, voice low. “Concentrate. Calm your mind.”
How is he supposed to do that, now that his thoughts are spiralling out of control for an entirely different reason? Still, the roaring in his ears has subsided; Mobei-jun’s voice still sounds muted and far away, but it helps to have his fingers painting little paths of ice down Luo Binghe’s skin, rubbing the heat from his cock, his demonic qi flowing slowly, gently into him.
It’s oddly comforting. Luo Binghe hasn’t remembered feeling… safe, like this, in years.
When Mobei-jun’s pillar pushes against the soft skin of his balls where they’re drawn up tight against his body, Luo Binghe jerks from the stimulation of it, gasping. He hears a chuckle from behind him, fingers gripping him tighter at the base. “Sensitive, aren’t you.”
Luo Binghe feels a flush creep up his neck, and grips the sheets tighter. “Shut up.” He squirms, acutely aware now of where Mobei-jun’s slick has also gotten his thighs damp and wet. “Feels good,” Luo Binghe pants into the sheets, muffled. His ears burn as he mumbles, “Still hot… inside.”
He thinks he feels a knowing smile against his skin. Sure enough, that’s when Mobei-jun stills, pulling out from where he’d been thrusting wetly between Luo Binghe’s thighs. Luo Binghe looks back at him bleary-eyed from over his shoulder as Mobei-jun looms over him, shuffling closer. A light touch brushes against the edge of his rim. “Here?”
Luo Binghe nods. “Could you…” He starts, dropping his gaze and his voice. “Cool me down? There?”
“What with?” Mobei-jun asks calmly, even as he’s rubbing the head of his cock against Luo Binghe’s entrance, smearing it with slick. Luo Binghe would never have entertained the thought, normally, but thinking about being cooled down inside and out is very, very tempting. Mobei-jun pulls back, jostling Luo Binghe so that his back is to Mobei-jun’s chest again. “I’m not going to fuck you, not while you have a fever.”
“But it’s too much,” Luo Binghe groans, arching back against him. “Too hot. Mobei-jun—”
Mobei-jun tsks, making an impatient little noise as he nudges Luo Binghe’s legs apart with his own, swiping his fingers over Luo Binghe’s lips. “Suck.”
Dizzy with it, Luo Binghe lets his tongue dart out over the cool fingertips, taking them into his mouth. They’re icy-cool in his mouth, reminding him of the sweet, shaved ice treats he’s once had in a northern town. He can’t help but lick the skin between Mobei-jun’s fingers greedily, wishing it really was ice that would melt into cool spring water so that he might slake his thirst.
When Mobei-jun pulls his hand away, Luo Binghe swallows back a whine, tongue chasing the cold.
A wet finger breaches him, slick and cool, soothing where he’s burning inside. He clamps down on the invasive sensation reflexively, only to be rewarded with a sharp nip on his shoulder, fangs pricking his skin a little like a warning.
“You’re the one who asked,” Mobei-jun says irritably into Luo Binghe’s ear, biting on a pinkened earlobe. “Don’t tense up. Relax.”
“I’m trying,” Luo Binghe snaps back, feeling sweat drip down his chin and onto the sheets. It’s easier said than done, especially when no one has done this to Luo Binghe before, not even himself.
Still, he lets out a shaky exhale, closing his eyes as Mobei-jun inserts another finger after a few moments, pressing down against the heat of his inner walls. “Ah…”
The cold is grounding all around him—the hard planes of Mobei-jun’s body behind him, the arm holding him over his chest, the deft fingers filling him up and cooling his hot, swollen lower body down as dark tendrils of qi continue to swirl around them.
Luo Binghe moans, thrusting his head back when Mobei-jun’s fingers crook inside him, twisting.
His mouth is covered abruptly with a palm. “Shh,” Mobei-jun murmurs, slotting in a third finger in Luo Binghe’s heat. It burns, even with his spit, even with the cold. Luo Binghe scrabbles at his arm for purchase, claws growing sharper of their own accord, digging into Mobei-jun’s skin as his cries are muffled. “It’s late, we can’t have everyone barging in here. Foolish boy.”
Indignant, Luo Binghe bites down on Mobei-jun’s palm, secretly pleased when Mobei-jun hisses sharply and loosens his hold on Luo Binghe’s mouth. He takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into Mobei-jun’s wrist, tasting blood in his mouth when he realises his canines have lengthened into fangs from all the demonic qi surging in his body.
Mobei-jun swears as Luo Binghe licks up the trail of blood on his trembling wrist, dragging his new fangs down his arm. He thinks he feels Mobei-jun’s cock jumping against his thighs behind him. “You little—”
Luo Binghe’s loose hair is bunched up into a fistful and yanked back as he’s pulled into Mobei-jun’s lap. He feels the wet heat of Mobei-jun’s mouth on the back of his neck, right before Mobei-jun bites him back, the shock of it coursing it through him like lightning. It stings, hurting even more as Mobei-jun sucks down hard between teeth and fangs—it’s sure to leave a bruise, or several. The cold, soft lap of his tongue on the marks he’s left, almost like an apology, make shivers go down Luo Binghe’s spine.
One ankle hooks under his own, then, pushing his legs apart so Mobei-jun can push his fingers in deeper, his other hand letting go of Luo Binghe’s hair to fist his cock.
“Ah, ah , that’s…” He grips Mobei-jun’s thigh as he’s patiently, mercilessly stimulated from both the front and back. The voices in his head are completely gone now, his vision clear as he blinks through the sweat in his eyes to take in the details of the room, the huge four-poster bed, the soft grey pelt of a beast they’re fucking on. “I’m close—”
Mobei-jun noses behind Luo Binghe’s ear as he strokes his cock faster, in rhythm with where he’s fucking Luo Binghe deep with his fingers. “Then, let go.”
Luo Binghe does.
As his orgasm subsides, he briefly registers being manoeuvred onto his stomach as Mobei-jun rubs his cockhead against the cleft of Luo Binghe’s ass before slipping in between his thighs again. His arms bracket Luo Binghe’s body as his dark hair falls off Luo Binghe’s shoulders, pooling onto the sheets.
Squeezing his thighs weakly around where Mobei-jun’s fucking his thighs while he’s still reeling from the little aftershocks, Luo Binghe trembles, oversensitised, as Mobei-jun’s soft pants and exhalations tickle the back of his ear, his neck.
It doesn’t take long for Mobei-jun after—a few more thrusts, and then he’s stilling and cursing softly as he pulls out, coming all over Luo Binghe’s thighs and lower back.
Mobei-jun all but collapses onto him, his weight pressing Luo Binghe further down into the thick, wild scent of the pelt, fingers tight around one of Luo Binghe’s wrists. It’s rather like having a too-heavy, cooling blanket on him; Luo Binghe can’t complain.
The last of the demonic qi that Mobei-jun was channeling to him dissipates, leaving the two of them in a heaving, sweaty heap.
It worked. Not only did that smoothen the qi transfer, even Mobei-jun’s ice powers were able to cool down his qi deviation-induced fever.
Luo Binghe’s thoughts are the clearest they’ve been in a very long time.
He wants to thank Mobei-jun, but he’s so exhausted that even when he opens his mouth, the words won’t come out. Luo Binghe inches closer to Mobei-jun instead, unwilling to leave the cooling effects of his body.
As if reading his thoughts, Mobei-jun freezes at first at Luo Binghe moving closer to him, but he tsks quietly and gingerly lets him, awkwardly slinging an arm over Luo Binghe’s chest.
“Sleep, Luo Binghe,” Mobei-jun says, then, using his name for the first time. He pulls a thick curl of sweaty hair back from Luo Binghe’s face with the tip of a claw, the gesture unexpectedly tender for all his stiffness. “I’ll be here when you wake.”
And for once in his life, Luo Binghe believes.
Fin