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Shen Yuan's protests petered into soft, plaintive gasps as Luo Binghe mercilessly drove into him. It was either unbearable pleasure or heart-stopping agony, but always much more than he could handle. He no longer knew what he was begging to be released from. He thought he might be crying.
It's not supposed to bleed, you idiot, a disapproving voice said suddenly.
Shen Yuan smacked a hand against Luo Binghe's chest and scanned the room with his eyes for the intruder. Luo Binghe's concerned noises drifted into the background as the voice spoke again and Shen Yuan realized it was coming from inside his own head.
He just keeps thrusting and thrusting like an untamed beast, the voice continued. And you think it's acceptable just because he cries a little? I'm here weeping a river, watching this disgrace.
Shen Yuan grimaced and banged a hand on Luo Binghe's shoulder. "Pull out."
It turned out that he was being haunted by the former owner of his body, and Shen Jiu had Opinions about his relationship with Luo Binghe. Specifically, the sex part.
He could go get himself exorcised, but it seemed ungrateful to just eject Shen Jiu from his own body when Shen Yuan had been the one piloting it this long without permission. And who knew which one of them would actually wind up being ejected. It was a risk he just couldn't take.
So, he decided not to tell anyone.
It was hell on his sex life, but he had to admit his body appreciated the rest. His skin recovered its immortal glow, his ass didn't hurt, and he didn't have to endure the humiliation of his disciples witnessing him being carried around like a patient.
Luo Binghe, on the other hand, with his inexhaustible libido, alternately looked like a kicked puppy and a demon lord on the edge—alarmingly reminiscent of when he was red-eyed and high on Xin Mo.
Saliva is not lubrication, Shen Jiu said sharply, as Luo Binghe eagerly began fingering him. Face cream! Medicinal ointment! A brothel madam would ban him from her establishment forever for what he did to your asshole.
Shen Yuan grit his teeth and made Luo Binghe fetch the ointment.
The friction is improved, but the technique is tragic. Look at him just jabbing away at your prostate—trying to see what noises he can pull from you—just like a child with a toy. Pathetically failing to do any proper stretching for that ridiculous weapon of a cock. No wonder all your trysts end in brutality!
Shen Yuan looked down at his limp cock and silently apologized to it.
There was an endless litany of Shizun, do you no longer want me? Did this disciple do something wrong? Shizun, do you still love me? Which was usually followed by another failed attempt at sex and then the inevitable crying.
Luo Binghe's big, sad eyes were killing him, so he finally decided to just ignore the overly opinionated ghost in his brain and power through it.
But then—
If he doesn't slow down when you tell him to slow down, then he better pull out RIGHT NOW.
Shen Jiu's outrage vibrated in Shen Yuan's skull.
And if that conniving, unfilial brute tries to use those tears again to convince you to keep going, I'll cut off his oversized cock and beat him with it until he REALLY cries.
Shen Yuan sighed, pushed at Luo Binghe's chest with both hands, and said, "Let's stop."
"Again??" Luo Binghe cried in disbelief. He reluctantly pulled out and wrapped his arms around Shen Yuan's waist with a pout. His dark, wounded eyes looked up at him with genuine misery. "What did I do wrong this time?"
Besides being hopelessly untrainable and selfish in bed?
"Some people just can't do anal," Shen Yuan said finally, looking him dead in the eye. "You can have my hand, but chrysanthemums are out."