Chapter Text
Now
Shen Qingqiu steps out of the carriage with a sigh. It’s undignified for an immortal Peak Lord like himself to be stiff and need to stretch after a carriage ride, even a long one like their travels to Jue Di Gorge. Right now, though, Shen Qingqiu almost wishes he took Luo Binghe up on that offer of a waist massage.
It was far too solicitous an offer, not to mention beyond the bounds of propriety between master and disciple. Even so! His back hurts! Those carriage benches aren’t padded nearly enough!!
On the other hand, Shen Qingqiu will begrudgingly acknowledge that recently, his back has been bothering him more frequently, even at home in the bamboo house. He and Luo Binghe are only a bare two weeks returned from their unexpectedly long night hunt, the majority of which they spent roughing it out in the wilderness. He’s pretty sure his body hasn’t readjusted to the normal paces of sect life. That, or it’s his nerves about the Immortal Alliance Conference: he’s been more tired recently, and the two weeks leading up to the Conference have seen his appetite dwindle, much to Luo Binghe’s avid concern.
…Or maybe Shen Qingqiu’s just getting old.
This body may be frozen in its late twenties, but that certainly doesn’t stop Shen Qingqiu from feeling like an old man! Especially when held up against Luo Binghe, the pinnacle of youthful vigor.
Subtly, he leans side to side, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfort. It doesn’t really help; he’ll have to see about fashioning himself some sort of hot water bottle to lay on his back once he’s retired for the night. Hmph.
“Lazing about, Shixiong?” Qi Qingqi asks, sailing past him. She looks daisy fresh from their travels, already heading toward the gathering of Xian Shu disciples among the rest of the Cang Qiong contingent.
“Admiring the scenery,” Shen Qingqiu ripostes calmly, waving his fan in front of his face.
It’s true enough. Shen Qingqiu has never been to an Immortal Alliance Conference. He’s read about it, yes, but that does nothing to convey the sheer scope of it, the hustle and bustle of hundreds of disciples with dozens of uniform colors, the palpable wave of noise from people and animals alike. The Four Great Sects make up the majority of the contenders, but there are also representatives from vassal sects, small-to-medium sized independent sects or clans, and even a scattering of rogue cultivators, come to earn some merit for themselves.
This is the most other cultivators Shen Qingqiu has ever seen! He’s been Peak Lord for nearly three and a half years now, but he’s come across cultivators from other sects surprisingly rarely. Some of that is an artifact of him rarely leaving the Tian Gong Mountain Range, save for night hunts which have all thus far been solidly within Cang Qiong’s territory. On those trips, he’s usually accompanied by other Cang Qiong cultivators—Qing Jing specifically, if he’s leading a trip for his disciples, or mixed batches from other peaks when they coordinate on hunts, or Liu Qingge alone, because he occasionally invites Shen Qingqiu out on hunts.
On the other hand, Shen Qingqiu has been invited to a few conferences over the years. They were usually smaller affairs, geared toward the Four Arts (since Shen Qingqiu is a noted scholar in the field) or specifically focused on musical cultivation (which Qing Jing doesn’t focus on like some of the smaller sects, yet is nevertheless fascinating to learn about). He’s not been able to attend all those conferences, due conflicts in scheduling or his need to focus on his students; even so, the ones he did attend were nothing compared to the Immortal Alliance Conference!
This is the event of the season! Held only every four years! The brightest and best of the jianghu, gathered all in one place in order to show off their prowess!
…Well, certainly brightest if we’re judging solely by the color of their uniforms, Shen Qingqiu thinks to himself, a bit uncharitably.
Perhaps that's unfair to Huan Hua’s disciples. Their teachers surely wouldn't have allowed them to come to the Immortal Alliance Conference unless they were well-prepared for it. It's only...there's so very many of them, in a tellingly “quantity over quality” sort of way. Plus in the web-novel, a great number of the tittering girls he can see right now ended up following along behind his Binghe the whole competition, especially that Qin Wanyue, and she—
Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. He looks away from Huan Hua and walks toward his own tiny grouping of disciples. He hasn’t taken many of them to the Conference: the ones he left behind will have plenty of opportunities in the coming years to prove themselves, but they're too young right now, not suited for how fierce the competition will be.
Especially this year's competition.
Even if things turn out well—and Shen Qingqiu dearly hopes they will—he can't trust his younger disciples to the whims of fate. Not here. Not now.
It's hard enough trusting those disciples he has allowed here. Luo Binghe most of all.
Shen Qingqiu's gaze is drawn to Luo Binghe as though he's the magnetic north to his master's compass. It's not an inaccurate summation. After what happened between them on that trip—ah, Shen Qingqiu really should have been more careful. He should have scouted the area more thoroughly before they engaged the Star-Nosed Tiger they were sent to fight.
Luo Binghe stands proud and tall among his fellow disciples. Before their trip, he had already grown into himself well, well-fed and well-trained and cosseted, always given Shen Qingqiu's favor, but now? Now he draws everyone's attention, both within and without Cang Qiong.
Oh, a number of the older Qing Jing disciples no doubt still disdain Luo Binghe, at least a little, down in the depths of their hearts, but they would never dare show it. They can't challenge him any longer, either. It isn't Shen Qingqiu's protection that keeps them back now: it's Luo Binghe's own strength.
He keeps his scent tamped down, which took him a great deal of practice to pull off successfully (much as it does many young alphas, though Luo Binghe struggled with it more than many of them did, especially when around Shen Qingqiu). It was necessary for him to learn, not only because it's polite, but because if he allows his true scent to flare, someone might catch the undertones present in it.
Still, he doesn't use scent-blockers or dispelling talismans to completely hide his scent. It's well-known to all of Qing Jing Peak that Luo Binghe presented as an alpha while he was on that trip. A strong alpha. Even keeping his scent dampened, there's no hiding the sheer potency of it. It would be a fool who challenged Luo Binghe.
Shen Qingqiu has raised no fools.
Though I do wish I'd been a bit more careful how I raised Luo Binghe, he thinks wryly. And speaking of Cao Cao…
"Shizun!" Luo Binghe calls, having noticed his approach well before any of his fellow disciples. He's always been tuned on a hair trigger to Shen Qingqiu's presence, a sensitivity that has only grown more keen recently.
Shen Qingqiu nods at all his disciples. "Are there any issues I should be made aware of before I go to greet the other sects?" he asks mildly. Something may well have come up on the road or on the way into the camping grounds before the Gorge itself; it's better to know now, when they may still have time to deal with the issue. The disciples will only have a night's rest before they must rise early in the morning to enter the grounds of the competition.
"No, Shizun," his disciples chorus, slightly discordant.
"Good," Shen Qingqiu says. "Ming Fan, I expect you to help organize the Qing Jing camp and assist your fellow disciples with putting up their tents. Ning Yingying, you help the other girls. Yes, you may visit with Xian Shu once that's done. When the camp is prepared, any of you who wish may mingle with the other peaks or sects, but after the banquet tonight, I want you all around the same fire to sleep, is that understood?"
"Yes, Shizun," comes the peeping chorus again.
"Binghe, with me," Shen Qingqiu says.
"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe says, obedient as he falls into step behind Shen Qingqiu.
"Head disciples have been apportioned side rooms next to their masters," Shen Qingqiu explains, though this surely isn't news to Luo Binghe. "I do wish to give you the opportunity to mingle with others—that's the whole point of the Conference! We're supposed to foster good relations with our sister sects—but it's best to get settled and introduce you to some few of your fellow head disciples first."
Luo Binghe nods. He follows dutifully behind Shen Qingqiu as they weave through the grounds, heading toward the sprawling edifice that is the housing for all the sects' most important representatives. Higher up in the building, above the sleeping quarters, is the hall where all the masters and sect representatives will watch their disciples throughout the week.
Before the building, there is an arc of paving stones that later gives way to a field of grass. This has all been carefully marked so that no one will attempt to set their camps there, though that great space certainly isn’t empty. Much like the rest of the open space before Jue Di Gorge, it’s a bustling hive of movement. Shen Qingqiu can see servants, hired help, and even some cultivators preparing for the evening's banquet, making sure all the tables and decorations are in place. The head table will host the leaders of the Great Sects and many leaders of the lesser sects. Beyond that, the disciples will be afforded tables at which to sit, grouped together by sect. After the main courses are finished, disciples are encouraged to visit other tables for desserts and digestifs.
Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to worry about any of that right now. It's not long past midday now; he wants to check out his rooms and take whatever opportunity he can to rest before the intensive merriment this evening. No one expects any of the sect leaders to be out and about immediately after arriving, especially since not all of them have arrived yet: he has time to briefly recover.
It's a relief to shut himself away in his temporary rooms, once he and Luo Binghe flag down someone to point them in the right direction. The rooms aren’t large and they're admittedly rather plain, as expected for rooms that are only used once every four years, but they're more than serviceable. The best part of them is the way that they cut off scent, arrays built into the very walls so that no outsiders' smells can intrude upon the rooms visiting dignitaries are using.
There's already a steaming tub half tucked behind a privacy screen, along with neatly folded towels, and sometime between walking off to meet his disciples and now, Shen Qingqiu's trunk was removed from the carriage and brought in here to be settled neatly at the end of his bed. He can barely catch the scent of the beta attendant who must have brought it; either they were tamping down their scent when they entered or they used a scent-dispersing talisman just before they left.
"Shizun should bathe," Luo Binghe says. "This disciple will see about arranging Shizun's clothes for the evening banquet before we go to greet the others."
Shen Qingqiu wavers briefly, but the lure of the bath—hot water, a balm for his aches!—proves too strong. "Make sure you set your own room up," he says. "Binghe is going to be camping for the next week; he should enjoy a bed when he has a chance."
There is a quiet, fraught pause. "...Will I be sleeping in that bed?" Luo Binghe asks.
"Luo Binghe!" Shen Qingqiu says sharply.
"It's not an unreasonable question," Luo Binghe presses. "You said—”
"I said we would discuss this after the Conference," Shen Qingqiu hisses. "We can’t—Binghe, the eyes of all the sects are watching. You and I can't afford any missteps." Luo Binghe is staring stubbornly at the ground, which causes Shen Qingqiu’s heart to ache. Shen Qingqiu tips his head up, brushing his thumbs beneath starlit eyes that glimmer brightly, clearly wishing to spill over into tears. He allows his voice to soften. "I only want to keep you safe. If I didn't think it was suspicious to draw you out of the Immortal Alliance Conference right before it was set to begin..."
"I want to fight!" Luo Binghe says fiercely. "I have to prove my worth! How can I be worthy of Shizun, of calling myself a righteous cultivator, if I don't prove myself in front of the sects?"
"You've already proven yourself to me," Shen Qingqiu says. "More than enough times. You're the best of Qing Jing. You've single-handedly completed more hunts than many of your shixiong have even when they've spent years longer in the sect. You're my head disciple. You're my..."
His throat closes over the last word. He can't bring himself to speak it aloud. It's as much caution as it is his own thin face: who knows how thin these walls are? Who knows if someone might be listening? It’s only paranoia until a lack of caution causes actual problems.
"Anything that might draw scrutiny must be avoided," Shen Qingqiu finishes awkwardly. "As I said. We'll talk more after the Conference, when we have time and space to breathe."
"Yes, Shizun," Luo Binghe says, sounding quite miserable at the prospect.
Shen Qingqiu sighs. There's nothing else he can say here, so he retreats behind the privacy screen, tying up his hair, disrobing quickly, and settling into the water. On the other side of the screen, he can hear Luo Binghe moving around, obviously unpacking Shen Qingqiu's trunk and laying out his elaborate evening robes as promised.
The week-long Immortal Alliance Conference is going to be a challenge for the both of them. It will be the longest and furthest apart they've been since that disastrous, life-changing, fate-warping mission.
Shen Qingqiu can only pray the System wasn't lying to him when it promised there would no longer be an Endless Abyss quest.
Then
It took two days of travel, then another day and a half of careful investigation and poking around the village they were summoned to, but now Shen Qingqiu watches proudly as Luo Binghe stalks his way through moonlit trees, on the trail of the Star-Nosed Tiger that's been causing problems.
In all honesty, Shen Qingqiu doesn't need to be here for this hunt. Especially so because he's contributing practically nothing to the hunt: he's largely stood by and let Luo Binghe do as he will, leading the entire investigation. His faith isn’t misplaced. Shen Qingqiu has allowed Luo Binghe to go on plenty of night hunts all on his own in the past, with Luo Binghe always startlingly quick at completing them. The letters he's received from grateful villagers and merchants have all sung Luo Binghe's praises.
As expected! Who could ever be disappointed by Luo Binghe's work?
Certainly not Shen Qingqiu.
He's come along on this night hunt because he needs an opportunity to stretch his legs. He's been stuck on the mountain for the last three months, with barely even a jaunt down to the town at its base to tide him over, so when an opportunity arose for him to go on a hunt—to go on a hunt with Luo Binghe, specifically!—he jumped on it.
Time is quickly trickling away from them. Shen Qingqiu won't have this easy camaraderie with Luo Binghe for much longer, so he needs to make the most of it while he can.
Still, just because he trusts Luo Binghe to handle himself doesn't mean it's not good that Shen Qingqiu has come along. The initial reports about the beast harassing the villagers was a bit vague, so it took them some questioning of the villagers and examination of the surrounding areas to realize it was a Star-Nosed Tiger they’re facing. Said tigers, even juvenile ones like they’re guessing this one is, can be tricky opponents.
It’s strange, too: Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have thought a Star-Nosed Tiger would so determinedly haunt these woods; they generally prefer to live far from civilization. When the villagers began investigating, it should have fled rather than confront them; the fact that it would actively attack them…well, It's not uncommon, no, any wild beast will attack if it feels itself to be threatened. That it’s begun to attack humans means that, unfortunately, the Star-Nosed Tiger must be handled. Permanently.
Still, knowing the web-novel, Shen Qingqiu has to wonder if there's anything more to this. He doesn't particularly recall the name of the village from the web-novel. He's pretty sure there's no wife-to-be waiting in the wings. Luo Binghe, as an adult, probably never even passed within fifty li of this village.
In all likelihood, this really is just another hunt.
…They can't all make it into the web-novel! Besides, Shen Qingqiu has given his disciple more opportunities to prove himself than the Original Goods ever did. This hunt may well never have happened in the web-novel simply because the Original Goods never gave him the chance to go on it!
He'll keep an eye out for anything strange or otherwise plot-relevant, but he's not too worried.
In front of him, Luo Binghe stops. His head tips to the side, angling to catch the sound of something in the forest. Shen Qingqiu hears it, too: footfalls, ahead and to the left of them.
Luo Binghe glances over his shoulder. Shen Qingqiu nods encouragingly at him. Luo Binghe offers him a quicksilver grin, then faces forward and glides in an silent arc toward the sound of those footfalls, Shen Qingqiu a pace behind him.
They emerge in a great clearing. It's dim, the moon currently covered by a layer of clouds and so unable to provide more than soft, diffuse light. That’s nevertheless enough enough to make out the massive beast in the center of the clearing, pacing about and nosing at the grass, its two tails—proof that they were right in assuming it a juvenile, as otherwise it would have three—swaying behind it. The Star-Nosed Tiger’s back is to them, perfect for an ambush.
Luo Binghe lunges for it right as the wind shifts.
Oh, hell, Shen Qingqiu thinks as the Star-Nosed Tiger whirls to face his disciple. He needn't have worried, though: Luo Binghe compensates beautifully, ducking under the swipe from one massive paw, Zheng Yang licking out to score a deep blow against that limb. The Star-Nosed Tiger yowls in fury, teeth snapping at Luo Binghe, who skips a step back, right into the arc of the beast's tails, which move in a blindingly fast motion Shen Qingqiu wouldn't have believed if he didn't see it himself. Luo Binghe dodges the first one, just barely, but the second tail hits him solidly, sending him rolling several meters away with a surprised, high-pitched yelp.
Using his qi, Shen Qingqiu yanks a bundle of grass and flowers from the ground beneath the Star-Nosed Tiger’s feet, sending said bundle arrowing directly into the beast’s face. It yowls again, shaking its head violently and scrabbling at its face, but several of Shen Qingqiu's strikes landed true: one of its eyes is now little more than a bloodied ruin, several of its sensitive tentacle-whiskers are half-severed, and no few leaves of grass poke out from the tip of its nose and the underside of its muzzle like porcupine quills.
Luo Binghe is back on his feet quickly, no worse for the wear and ready to rejoin the fight. This time, with a good portion of its sensory organs damaged and the Star-Nosed Tiger so thoroughly distracted, Luo Binghe is able to get in close before it notices him. So close, in fact, that Star-Nosed Tiger doesn't have time to react before Luo Binghe leaps onto its back—which stands nearly at the height of his shoulders—and stabs Zheng Yang down through its spinal cord.
A quick fight, all told. Shen Qingqiu truly needn’t have worried himself. Sending a Peak Lord on this trip was overkill, especially when paired with the Protagonist.
Shen Qingqiu approaches when the Star-Nosed Tiger has gone completely still, the last of its death throes passed. Luo Binghe pulls Zheng Yang out of the corpse and jumps the now shorter distance down to the grass, already wiping the blood from his sword with a spare cleaning cloth as he does.
"Well done," Shen Qingqiu says warmly.
Luo Binghe grimaces. "This disciple misjudged the speed of the Star-Nosed Tiger’s attack. If Shizun wasn't here..."
"If Shizun wasn't here, Luo Binghe would have gotten back to his feet and dispatched the Star-Nosed Tiger anyway, though with perhaps a bit more effort on his end," Shen Qingqiu says. "These things happen, Binghe. No cultivator is perfect on every hunt, especially when they're still disciples."
"But if that happened at the Conference—” Luo Binghe tries to protest.
"Then everyone watching would have admired Luo Binghe for his swift recovery," Shen Qingqiu interrupts him smoothly. "Stop arguing and take the compliment."
Luo Binghe goes a bit red, ducks his head, and says, sounding shyly pleased, "Yes, Shizun."
"Now," Shen Qingqiu says, with a brief pat atop that curly head before he steps past his disciple, "I do believe there may be some useful parts from the Star-Nosed Tiger that we can harvest..."
Right as he says that, the moon comes out from behind the clouds, shining down on them. Cultivators have significantly better senses than mortals, night vision included among that, but Shen Qingqiu won't say no to a bit of extra light. It will allow them better ability to make out color in the darkness, that's for sure; not even cultivation can quite fix that. Shen Qingqiu crouches next to the the Star-Nosed Tiger, picking up one hefty paw and cradling it in his hands. Ah, it's such a beautiful creature. It’s really such a shame they had to kill it.
He wonders what brought the beast out here all by itself. Did its parents die, leaving it to strike out on its own? Is there a nest or den or the like somewhere nearby? Why was it in this clearing? Was it looking for something? It was certainly pacing through the grass enough, nose stuck down into it. Heh, was it looking for catnip or—?
"Shizun," Luo Binghe says from behind him. "I don't...feel so good."
This has Shen Qingqiu at immediate attention. Luo Binghe is nigh invulnerable, protected by plot armor and his Heavenly Demon healing abilities—except right now, those healing powers are sealed with the rest of his demonic powers, and he was thrown quite hard by the Star-Nosed Tiger. Any injuries may have only just caught up to him with the fading of his adrenaline.
"Let me see you," Shen Qingqiu says, already up from his crouch and back at Luo Binghe's side. He tips his disciple's chin skyward, then probes delicately along his skull in case he hit his head. "Tell me more. What specifically is wrong?"
"Don't know," Luo Binghe says. He blinks heavily. He’s gone lax and boneless, leaning a good portion of his weight into Shen Qingqiu’s hold.
"I can't feel any bumps or bruises," Shen Qingqiu mutters. "Probably not a concussion...Binghe isn't bleeding anywhere, is he?" He can't smell blood in the air, and his nose is fairly sensitive so he would probably notice, but there's no harm in asking.
"No," Luo Binghe says. "But it hurts, Shizun."
"What hurts? Binghe, I need you to answer me!"
"Hot," Luo Binghe says. "Shizun, I did a good job, right?"
They're the same height now, but Luo Binghe nevertheless contrives to look up through his lashes at Shen Qingqiu. His eyes are glassy like he’s come down with fever, the pupils wide in a way that probably isn't just because of the night’s darkness. His cheeks are flushed. His pink tongue pokes out to wet his lips while his nostrils flare, pulling in the scents from all around him, searching, searching, until he twists his head to bury his face in the inside of Shen Qingqiu's wrist.
Right over his scent gland.
Oh, no, Shen Qingqiu thinks.
Luo Binghe isn't injured at all, is he?
Shen Qingqiu's eyes dart around them. Trees, dead beast, full moon shining down overhead, and damningly: purple-black flowers ringing them, mixed among the tall grass and nearly invisible at night except for the way their paler purple stamen catch the moon's light. Worse of all is the pollen drifting through the air around them. Between the Star-Nosed Tiger’s pacing of the clearing, Luo Binghe rolling across half of it, and Shen Qingqiu yanking up another good portion of it from the ground, there’s a mass of it around them, not to mention dusted across their robes. Previously dark enough to match the flowers’ petals, the pollen is now busy soaking up the full moon’s light, turning paler and purer the longer the light shines on it.
Paler, and purer, and more powerful.
Moon-Blooming Lovers' Meeting. Fuck. What the hell are they doing here?! These flowers are a powerful aphrodisiac, especially under a full moon. They’re an aphrodisiac which sends omegas and alphas alike into their season, no matter how recently that season may have been, or if said omega or alpha is on suppressants, or...
Or if they haven't presented at all.
Moon-Blooming Lovers’ Meeting is fully capable of forcing a presentation. Luo Binghe isn't due to present for another half year; that doesn't matter to the flower, which is kickstarting the normal biological process into overdrive. No wonder he feels strange! Six months of growth and gradual presentation are being packed into a few minutes, and—oh, fuck. Shen Qingqiu isn't any safer right now!
Fucking shit. With a full moon to power the pollen’s effects, plus the amount of pollen they’ve already been dosed with—they’ll be lucky if they don’t go feral.
He probably should have realized his own jeopardy sooner, but his worry for Binghe blotted out his own awareness of his body. Now that he's put it together, now that he’s paying attention, he can feel unfamiliar warmth rising throughout his body. It crept up on him more subtly than Luo Binghe's symptoms did, but that's because he's a fully presented adult, albeit one who's been suppressing his heats since he transmigrated into this world. He’s no more immune to it than Luo Binghe is, though. Even now, he should be panicking more than he is. Instead, he allows Luo Binghe to keep nudging at his wrist while his disciple makes high, needy whines in the back of his throat.
Whines which hook at something in Shen Qingqiu's guts.
"Binghe," Shen Qingqiu says, trying to force his thoughts from the thick mire they've floundered in. "Binghe, we have to leave, we need to get out of here. Now.”
If they don’t, if they can’t at least leave this clearing, they’ll be left at the mercy of their instincts alone, waiting until the dose of pollen wears off. There’s no telling how long that might take, but if the next night or nights allows the moon to shine down on them and all that pollen again—!
"Need Shizun," Luo Binghe mumbles. "Shizun, Shizun, you're right here, why can't I smell you?"
The scent blockers, the suppressants, Shen Qingqiu's careful use of qi to dampen any outward expression of his secondary gender—take your pick! Admittedly, none of that is going to be of any use for much longer. Shen Qingqiu cycles his qi, trying desperately to halt a process already too far gone. He might as well throw a cup of water into a forest fire.
Luo Binghe's new scent is sharpening, overriding the last of his pup-scent and filling the air around them. It's warm and strong, Sichuan peppercorns and cinnamon. Shen Qingqiu's mouth waters, wanting to reach out, wanting to carry that scent with him always, wanting to lick it all up until it's a part of him, wanting to bite—
He rears back, only belatedly realizing he dipped his head down to scent along Luo Binghe’s cheek. No, no, he can't, he shouldn't, even if he doesn't quite recall why.
"Want to smell you," Luo Binghe says, shaking fingers already halfway through unlacing Shen Qingqiu’s right arm guard. "Need to. Shizun, I need you." Then he's tugging the arm guard off, tongue immediately going to work laving at Shen Qingqiu's exposed scent gland.
Shen Qingqiu...doesn't resist. He doesn't pull away. He allows Luo Binghe to coax his scent from him; he pushes it forward as much as he can, clumsily, unpracticed, but it's worth it for the way his jasmine and green tea twines together in the air with Luo Binghe's own scent. He's too hot, burning hot, and this only stokes the fire higher, but in the back of his mind, something clicks into place. Something unlocks.
Whatever has been set loose creeps to the forefront of Shen Qingqiu's mind, consuming him completely.
He gives in, licking a long stripe up the side of Luo Binghe's face. A purr rumbles out of his chest and his left wrist—the one not currently being paid attention to by Luo Binghe—rubs against the side of the new alpha's neck, trying to soak up some of that scent while leaving his own behind. Unfortunately, that wrist’s scent gland is still blocked by its arm guard. Faint displeasure zips through Shen Qingqiu, then is wiped away as teeth press ever so gently against his right wrist. His purr rumbles higher.
Shen Qingqiu allows himself to be slowly backed up, until Luo Binghe has crowded him up against a peach tree at the edge of the clearing. Here in the height of summer, the branches are ripe with fruit. More purple-black flowers are scattered among the fallen fruits at their feet. The combination of rotting, half-fermented fruit and aphrodisiac flowers and his and Luo Binghe's scents rises around them in a heady whirl that makes Shen Qingqiu's head spin. He hooks his left arm around Luo Binghe's waist, pressing the alpha against him. Luo Binghe pants heavily as he does, squirming in place; through the layers of robes between them, the both of them are blazing fever-hot.
"Shizun," Luo Binghe moans. His voice is deep and powerful in this moment. Even when they're pressed so tightly against each other, Luo Binghe finds enough space to move, rubbing against Shen Qingqiu, the hard line of his pillar sending a thrill through him.
Shen Qingqiu tilts his head back in invitation. Luo Binghe jumps on the chance immediately, hands scrambling to begin pulling apart Shen Qingqiu's robes. As soon as his throat is exposed, Luo Binghe buries his face there, licking and nibbling at one of the sensitive glands on the side of it the same way he had at Shen Qingqiu's wrist. Shen Qingqiu gasps at the sensation, his cunt throbbing with interest, slick coating the insides of his thighs.
Luo Binghe's hands don't stop just because his mouth is busy. He tugs at the ties holding Shen Qingqiu's robes together, teasing them all apart until he's able to slip his hands inside and trace over bare skin. His hips press forward in rolling motions, ceaseless demonstrations of his desire. Shen Qingqiu's purring has yet to cease, a counterpart to Luo Binghe's motions, but abruptly, none of it is enough.
He can't take this teasing. He needs something in him.
He wraps his left hand in Luo Binghe's hair, yanking his head back like a dog on a leash. Using that hold, he shoves Luo Binghe down to his knees. With his right hand, he hooks his thumb in the waistline of his pants, pulling them downward. Luo Binghe, who looked temporarily upset at being torn from Shen Qingqiu, is quick on the uptake. He helps to slide Shen Qingqiu's pants down, slipping them over his boots until he can kick them fully off, leaving him exposed.
Luo Binghe stares hungrily at the thatch of curling hair shielding Shen Qingqiu's cunt, damp with his slick, throbbing with need.
"Well?" Shen Qingqiu demands, and Luo Binghe doesn't need a push in order to dive forward. This doesn't mean Shen Qingqiu releases his grip, though. Instead, while playing with his clit with his free hand, he uses the other to guide Luo Binghe, yanking on his hair in reprimand when he does anything Shen Qingqiu dislikes but otherwise nearly smothering his disciple with how firmly he holds him in place against his sex.
His Binghe has always been a quick learner. It doesn't take long before he figures out the exact right pressure to use, which places he should pay the most attention, how to form the perfect curl of his tongue inside Shen Qingqiu to make his knees quiver—and then Shen Qingqiu's legs are clamping tight around Luo Binghe's head as he comes.
When the aftershocks have faded—when Luo Binghe's tongue, still industriously working away inside him, rides the edge of too much—he tugs Luo Binghe away. His face is shiny with spit and slick, somehow both blissed out and ravenous. The sight of it is enough to make Shen Qingqiu's stomach flip with the sheer need filling him.
Either his scent betrays him or Luo Binghe simply knows him too well. Whichever it is, Luo Binghe rises to his feet and begins attacking Shen Qingqiu's lips with the same ferocity he did his cunt. He puts the lessons from below to good use: it's not a direct translation, of course, but now he knows how to experiment, how to read what brings Shen Qingqiu pleasure as he smears Shen Qingqiu's own slick against his face and inside his mouth. At the same time, his fingers are busy exploring Shen Qingqiu's pussy: tracing along the same trail his tongue followed; pressing experimentally against his clit; slipping one finger after another into the pulsing heat of Shen Qingqiu's body, stretching him wide, wringing another orgasm from him in the process.
"More," Shen Qingqiu gasps, as Luo Binghe abandons his mouth to maul his neck once again. "More, more, I need more." He's burning up. He'll die if he doesn't take a knot, he really will.
Luo Binghe, however well he is able to read Shen Qingqiu, is lost in his presentation rut. He’s beyond words now, though not their comprehension. All that escapes him is a rumbling growl before he's hurriedly pulling his fingers out of Shen Qingqiu only long enough to remove his cock from the layers of his robes, line himself up, and shove inside.
It's too much, too fast, even with nearly all Luo Binghe's fingers inside Shen Qingqiu, and yet as Shen Qingqiu screams, he knows he wouldn't change it for the world. Luo Binghe's hands wrap themselves beneath Shen Qingqiu's thighs, an equal combination of strength and qi usage allowing him to lift Shen Qingqiu up into the air. It's a good thing Shen Qingqiu didn't fully remove the robes from his upper half, because it leaves a nice cushion between his back and the tree bark as Luo Binghe drives in and out of him.
Shen Qingqiu's fingers drop down to his clit. He rubs at it furiously as Luo Binghe slams into him; as he bottoms out deep inside; as Shen Qingqiu's back is thrust with bruising force against the tree's trunk; as the quiet, natural sounds of the night are taken over with the slick sounds of their coupling; as their scents twine ever further together, deepened by rut and heat and the smell of sex—
He nearly screams as he comes again. His inner walls squeeze around Luo Binghe, so when he bullies his way back through the clench of Shen Qingqiu's muscles, it's tight and overwhelming and amazing.
"More," Shen Qingqiu gasps again, shaking fingers having never left off rubbing his clit. The heat consuming him is nowhere near sated, not even after three orgasms in quick succession.
Luo Binghe obliges him. His pace quickens further; his head lowers so that he can mouth at Shen Qingqiu's chest, leaving a burning line of kisses and bites across his skin, laving particular attention on Shen Qingqiu's nipples. There, he clamps down as if he believes he might be able to pull milk from Shen Qingqiu's teats, and the sensation is enough for Shen Qingqiu to roll over another edge.
"Binghe," he cries, "Binghe, Binghe!"
Luo Binghe sucks even harder at him. Below, Shen Qingqiu can feel his knot beginning to swell. It catches against him several times before locking into place, leaving Luo Binghe a finite amount of space to continue pressing in. It feels perfect. This is what Shen Qingqiu has needed this whole time, this is what he’s been missing.
They’re locked together, as close as any two people can be, and—
Luo Binghe shoves forward. Warmth floods through Shen Qingqiu, come and qi alike, a tsunami that swamps him. In the midst of it all, teeth latch onto his mating gland, biting down hard enough to draw blood. Pain and pleasure and power and his omegan euphoria at being claimed roll through him, sparking an orgasm so much stronger and longer than any of the others before.
Shen Qingqiu’s eyes roll back in his head and his vision whites out. Everything he is, is sensation. All his muscles tense and release and tense again in waves; the brush of the night breeze against his oversensitive skin is like sandpaper; his qi is like a lightning storm inside him, unfathomable power waiting to burst out of him at his slightest inclination.
Slowly, he comes back down to himself. Luo Binghe is licking at the mating bite. It must be clean of blood already, but Luo Binghe’s tiny, happy growls likely mean he’s enjoying the presence of it being there at all. Shen Qingqiu is pleased with it, too. He begins purring again, digging his hands into Luo Binghe’s curly hair, gently scratching and petting at his alpha—his alpha!—appreciatively.
Staying right here, just like this for a while— it sounds perfect to him.
(In the recesses of his mind, there’s a thought that maybe this place isn’t the best, that there’s a problem here, but it’s easily brushed aside.)