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The night was quiet. The moon hung high in the sky, a thin crescent half-obscured by a veil of slowly passing clouds. There was a cold wind howling through the palace’s gardens – everything else was quiet, save for the occasional sound of servants and guards shuffling around, traversing the winding halls quietly and unobtrusively.
The inner palace, nestled in the heart of the sprawling palace grounds, was perhaps the quietest of them all – at first glance, that is. Emperor Luo was a famously jealous man; it was then no surprise that his personal chambers, where he and his Empress resided, were sealed off in a hundred different ways, creating an airtight, unbreachable fortress for the couple.
No servant knew for sure what went on inside – although they all had a pretty good, and, one might say, pretty accurate idea.
In the safest corner of the inner palace lay the bedchambers; in those chambers one could find a bed big enough to comfortably fit half a dozen men. It was tastefully decorated, intricately carved, made of a wood so dark it was practically black, with thick, red gauze curtains hanging from its canopy. It was, most importantly, incredibly sturdy – many a bed had found its untimely demise in this very room.
A few candles were lit across the room, their flames flickering as the cold wind swept in through a window which was left wide open. The gauze curtains shifted and, backlit by a sliver of moonlight, one could easily make out two figures behind it, intimately entangled.
It wasn't quiet here. The room was filled with a constant litany of desperate whines and panting and wanton moans but most of all a single, incredibly muffled word, repeated again and again as if in worshipful prayer.
“Shizun, Shizun, Shizun,” Luo Binghe whined through the thin cloth tied over his mouth, back arching off the bed in a sensual display of shivering sinews and flexing muscles. Shen Qingqiu hummed in answer, watching his husband’s bared throat, the silky smooth expanse of skin like a blank canvas.
He hovered the candle above that bobbing Adam’s apple – allowed the striking red wax to dribble a thick, uncertain line across Luo Binghe's throat. The man moaned, hips bucking upward, and Shen Qingqiu moaned in turn as the movement drove Luo Binghe’s cock further into him. He hadn't thought it could go deeper – he absently considered whether Luo Binghe could have reached his cervix, had Shen Qingqiu had one.
He pulled the candle back, eyes tracing the already drying specks of scarlet over his husband’s throat, like a bird with its throat cut. The thought made him coo, fingers dancing along the warm wax as he gently scratched it away. Luo Binghe sobbed, his chest heaving in a truly inviting way, dotted and streaked as it was with red. His fingers curled and uncurled, spasming where they were tied to the bedpost above his head, claws digging into the meat of his palms.
“Binghe is such a good boy,” Shen Qingqiu murmured, breathing a tender kiss against his husband’s jawline. Luo Binghe keened, lowering his face and turning towards Shen Qingqiu like a flower to the sun, seeking more. His eyes were glistening and starry, cheeks streaked with tears, full lips bitten raw around the saliva-soaked cloth, hair sticking to his face in an untamed mess of curls. He looked every part the debauched, bullied maiden, and Shen Qingqiu couldn't help the approving little sound that escaped him as he leaned down and kissed him, tonguing at the cloth separating them before going back to peppering his husband’s sweaty skin with chaste little pecks.
He rolled his hips all the while, a slow, torturous canting that did little more than drive both of them mad, but that was alright – he liked them mad. His sweet white lotus trembled under his ministrations, giving aborted little jerks of his hips not unlike an untamed mare trying to knock him off. Luo Binghe pulled back, going only far enough for his garbled, almost incoherent string of “please, please, please” to be audible against Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, high pitched and frantic.
“Please what, darling?” Shen Qingqiu asked, soothing his free hand over Luo Binghe's pecs, curling his fingers and grabbing a handful. “The point of having you gagged is that you cannot speak, and yet,” he sighed, massaging the muscle like a cat making biscuits, “look at you. My Binghe really can be so silly.”
Luo Binghe moaned, eyes squeezing shut, lashes clumpy with tears. Shen Qingqiu stared at the long, deep shadows they cast as they fluttered against his flushed cheeks.
The wax was dripping onto his fingers now, sending shivers running along his spine. He pulled away, sitting back on his husband's lap, and allowed the wax to dribble thick and hot over Luo Binghe's chest, down his abs, his navel, until it was threatening to drip onto the thick curls of pubic hair at the base of his dick. Luo Binghe thrashed under him, mouth open, fangs peeking out over the near-transparent fabric as he groaned at the ceiling.
“There we go,” Shen Qingqiu murmured.
Luo Binghe sobbed, lips wobbling as he blinked up at him. To his eyes, his Shizun looked like heaven on earth, perched on Luo Binghe's cock, his hair a sleek fall of ink over his shoulders. His eyes were lidded and soft with pleasure, his mouth quirked into a gentle smile – even his cock was pretty, slender and flushed and drooling pre-cum onto Luo Binghe's spasming stomach. Shen Qingqiu had been torturing and soothing him in turns for what felt like hours now, his words like a coiled whip, smooth, cool leather with a sharp bite of pleasure. Luo Binghe felt he’d burst with frustration if he didn’t get to come and mark his insides right about now.
“My sweet, silly boy,” Shen Qingqiu crooned as he caressed his cheek, thumbing at the errant tears that kept flowing down his face. He leaned down, breathing a soft kiss onto Luo Binghe’s huadian, his sigh hot and damp against his skin. “What am I to do with you, hm?”
Whatever you want, Luo Binghe thought deliriously, anything you want.
Shen Qingqiu lowered himself, pressing the whole lithe line of his body against Luo Binghe’s. He raised his hips incrementally, tucking his face into the crook of Luo Binghe’s shoulder and inhaling deeply, then sat back down. Then he did it again, and again, and again, building a slow, torturous rhythm of teasing friction and maddening heat that had Luo Binghe bucking up and chasing after him all over again. He sounded pathetic to his own ears, when he could hear himself over his rushing blood, mewling and moaning incoherently. Shen Qingqiu dragged his parted lips over the thin skin over his carotid and then bit down, breaking skin and giving a good suck for good measure, willingly drinking Luo Binghe's blood and moaning as if he were sampling a particularly delicious sweet.
Luo Binghe writhed under him, back arching off the bed even under their combined weight. His hips were jackrabbiting upward now, desperate to get Shen Qingqiu to really move, to have mercy and stop playing with him. He thrashed until, with an exasperated sigh, Shen Qingqiu reached up and untied the cloth in his mouth, tugging it free, and Luo Binghe inhaled as if only now resurfacing from underwater.
“A’Niang,” he sobbed pathetically, his whole frame trembling with anticipation.
Shen Qingqiu froze for a short moment before he moaned and abruptly sat back down, the sound of skin on skin ringing incredibly loud in the room. The weight of what he’d just said and his Shizun’s reaction to it was slowly dawning on Luo Binghe, making his face warm with uncharacteristic embarrassment. He didn't get a chance to regret it though, because Shen Qingqiu was pulling back slightly, staring down at him with a heated, considering gaze.
“Sure,” he breathed with a mean smirk that had Luo Binghe biting the inside of his cheek against a whimper, “I can be your A’Niang. Binghe is such a good boy, isn’t he? Will you be A’Niang’s little helper?”
Luo Binghe moaned, nodding jerkily. Anything, he’d be anything. If– if his A’Niang wanted, he’d do it. He’d do anything.
Shen Qingqiu blew out the candle and tossed it to the floor where it quietly rolled away, then reached up to the headboard and the sturdy leather cuffs currently restraining his husband’s hands, graciously allowing Luo Binghe to ogle him from beneath. He made quick work of the buckles and looked down at where his husband’s hands remained hesitantly suspended midair with a smile.
“Binghe wants to come, is that right?”
Luo Binghe nodded, dazed. His nether regions were occupying quite a big portion of the blood required for coherent thought.
“He can,” Shen Qingqiu allowed, leaning back and rising onto his knees until Luo Binghe’s cock slipped out of him. Luo Binghe whined at the loss, letting his hands drop to his side where he fisted them into the sweat-soaked sheets, absently noting a few stray drops of dried wax.
His husband lowered himself onto Luo Binghe's quivering thighs, cocks sliding together, and traced slender fingers along his swollen, almost purplish length – right down to the thin red ribbon tied at its base. He tugged it free, letting it fall to the bed to get lost between the blankets. “He simply has to help his A’Niang find his pleasure as well. Alright?”
Luo Binghe was nodding as he instantly took hold of Shen Qingqiu's waist, reversing their positions in a heartbeat and drinking in his husband’s quiet laughter. He was aching to seathe himself in that welcoming heat again, but it seemed only fair that his A’Niang found his pleasure first.
With that single thought in mind, Luo Binghe kissed his way down Shen Qingqiu’s body. He traced his path with his hands, fingers fanned out over his husband’s skin, trying to hold as much of him as humanly possible. When he got to his cock he licked at the head, giving it a wet greeting kiss and glancing up at Shen Qingqiu. His husband looked down at him with dark eyes, shooting him a soft smile as he threaded his fingers into Luo Binghe’s hair, scratching at his scalp.
“Go on,” he murmured, giving Luo Binghe’s curls a light tug. Luo Binghe exhaled and opened his mouth, watching Shen Qingqiu’s expression as he swallowed his cock in one slow, steady motion. The way his eyelashes fluttered close and his lips parted on a low groan fanned the fire in Luo Binghe’s stomach and he moaned and bobbed his head, revelling in the way Shen Qingqiu’s hips bucked and his thighs fell open as if to beckon him further in.
Luo Binghe needn’t be asked twice. He set up a steady rhythm, eyes slipping closed at the familiar, beloved taste of his husband. Or, if we’re talking about their current play, his A’Niang. Luo Binghe truly doesn’t know what possessed him to say it in the first place – if anything, shouldn’t he have called A’Die? He slid his hands beneath Shen Qinqiu’s ass as he pondered it, kneading the firm muscle and listening to the small sounds of pleasure from above him. His husband had been a beam of light in his life ever since the day they met, giving him medicine, teaching him, supporting him, and showering him with praise and affection in such a way that only ever made Luo Binghe hungrier for more. It was part of the reason why his absence during those wretched years they spent apart destroyed Luo Binghe to the extent it did. In a way, Shen Qingqiu really was quite like a mother to him, strict but indulgent and infinitely caring. Everything, he really was everything to Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu moaned loudly above him, breaking Luo Binghe out of his thoughts. His thighs shifted, trying to close but only managing to squish against Luo Binghe’s cheeks, which paired with the telling arch of his back and the tremble of his stomach was indication enough for Luo Binghe to immediately pull off of him. Shen Qingqiu hissed at the loss, shooting him a hot glare that only managed to turn Luo Binghe on even more. He really was beautiful no matter what, but ah, that lovely frown…
“Binghe is horrible,” Shen Qingqiu grumbled, settling back against the sheets and tugging at Luo Binghe’s hair in punishment. One of Luo Binghe’s favourite punishments, if he had to pick.
“This husband apologises,” he replied, pressing a kiss against Shen Qingqiu’s stomach and moving up onto his knees. His husband watched him through lidded eyes, gaze sliding down to where Luo Binghe’s cock bobbed eagerly into view.
“Is Binghe really sorry?” Shen Qingqiu asked, opening his arms invitingly, and who was Luo Binghe to refuse? He leaned down onto his forearms on either of his husband’s sides, tilting his face and pressing a kiss over those beautiful red and bitten lips.
“He is,” he murmured against Shen Qingqiu’s skin, inhaling his scent and sighing with satisfaction.
He could feel Shen Qingqiu’s lips curl, and then there were hands on his back, sliding lower and lower down until one held onto his waist and the other curled over his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Shen Qingqiu shifted, tilting his head until his lips were grazing the shell of Luo Binghe’s ear.
“Then he should make it up to his A’Niang,” he murmured, and Luo Binghe’s cock gave an incriminating kick where it laid against Shen Qingqiu’s. With a low, pitiful sound he reached down, positioning his cock at his husband’s entrance and then sliding in, in, in. They moaned in tandem then, curling into each other until Luo Binghe felt they were about to meld together and truly become one.
“Yes, that’s it,” Shen Qingqiu breathed, kissing his ear, his cheek, his temple, anywhere he could reach. “So good. Binghe is so good.”
Luo Binghe whimpered as he bottomed out, hips twitching helplessly as he made a weak attempt at self-control and set up a slow, steady rhythm. He turned his face in search of his husband’s lips, moaning with delight when Shen Qingqiu met him in an ardent, hungry kiss. From that point on it didn’t take long for the two of them to devolve into a trembling tangle of limbs and flesh, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the otherwise quiet room.
“A’Niang,” Luo Binghe breathed out with a trembling sigh, burrowing into the elegant curve of his husband’s throat as if to hide there. “A’Niang, A’Niang, A’Niang,” he whined, and Shen Qingqiu moaned in answer, his fingers sinking into Luo Binghe skin and steering him closer, closer still.
“I’m here,” he breathed out, turning his face and kissing Luo Binghe’s damp hair. “A’Niang’s here.”
Luo Binghe sobbed, hips speeding up as he chased his pleasure, both too far and almost within reach. Shen Qingqiu crossed his ankles over his back and hugged him close, his every exhale paired with moans, muttered praise and encouragement. Luo Binghe drank in every word and reached down to take his husband’s cock in an unsteady grip, jerking it messily and out of rhythm and shivering when Shen Qingqiu’s insides spasmed around him, sucking him in greedily.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Shen Qingqiu moaned and then he was coming, body arching into Luo Binghe’s hold, nails digging into his skin, his come splattering over both of their stomachs and over Luo Binghe’s hand. “Come, Binghe, come for your A’Niang,” he breathed against his skin and Luo Binghe did, his whole body pulling taut and spasming before the tension broke and he came with a trembling, wanton moan. He half-collapsed onto his husband afterwards, like a puppet with its strings cut, curling into him and hiding his overwhelmed tears against his clavicles.
Shen Qingqiu pulled him close, turning them onto their sides and breathing gentle kisses over Luo Binghe’s face, his neck, his shoulder, then settled into his embrace with a satisfied sigh. After a few quiet, peaceful minutes, when he properly came back to himself, Luo Binghe reached up and tugged him into a soft, languid kiss with a hand on his cheek, peppering his face with his own kisses in turn.
“A’Niang,” he murmured, batting his eyelashes and flinching when Shen Qingqiu pinched his side.
“There is no way I’m not letting you call me that outside of this bed,” he said stonily, narrowing his eyes when Luo Binghe attempted to pout at him. “That is final.”
With a despondent sigh, Luo Binghe burrowed into the crook of his shoulder, defeated. “Shizuuun,” he whined, grinning when Shen Qingqiu just pinched him harder. “Husbaaand,” Luo Binghe amended, and was rewarded with an exasperated sigh and soft lips pressing against his hair.
“Always falling back into old habits, are we, Binghe?”
“This husband apologises,” Luo Binghe said, heart swelling with love as Shen Qingqiu’s chuckled.
“Don’t bother, since you’re not sorry,” he replied, resting his head on one of their many pillows. His fingers smoothed over Luo Binghe’s skin, tracing the line of his throat and the skin of his chest, scratching away the residual specks of wax, and Luo Binghe closed his eyes and basked in the attention.
Eventually, the drying come began to get uncomfortable. Luo Binghe pressed a chaste kiss onto his husband’s lips as he slipped out of the bed to get the towels and the basin of water at the other end of the room, promising to be back in a moment when Shen Qingqiu clung to him with a displeased grumble. He’d change the sheets the next day – for now, a cursory wipe is all he did, gently rubbing the towel over Shen Qingqiu’s skin and following it with a trail of kisses until his husband batted him away with a sleepy groan. He wiped himself off more quickly, the faster he could get back to Shen Qingqiu, picking up the candle from the floor and placing everything back in its place.
Shen Qingqiu was asleep by the time Luo Binghe slid his hands beneath him and shifted him over to a cleaner part of the bed, crawling in after him and smiling when Shen Qingqiu immediately turned towards him and snuggled closer with a pleased sigh. Luo Binghe pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, inhaling the intimate scent of his scalp, and allowed his eyes to slip closed.
He opened them in his dreams to the sight of one of the many hidden paths of Qing Jing Peak and Shen Qingqiu standing at its end, surrounded by bamboo, staring out over a small pond. He turned to Luo Binghe with a smile when he walked over, extending a hand in invitation. Luo Binghe cradled it with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss over the knuckles and allowing the peaceful quiet of the dream to wash over him.