Work Text:
When Shen Qingqiu returned from teaching her afternoon classes, she found that an animal had sneaked into the bamboo house.
Shen Qingqiu could honestly say she'd never considered this to even be possible—surely there were wards around the place to prevent it?—but secretly, she was excited. Memories of bandaging and feeding hurt strays from her previous life floated to the top of her mind, fondly nostalgic, alongside the dog her family had finally let her keep after quite a bit of pleading and even a few years.
Of course, as a peak lord with dignity, she couldn't possibly sink so far as to insist on keeping the creature herself, but depending on what it was, dangling it in front of Ning Yingying might be enough to get the girl to beg her to keep it, and then she would be simply forced to, as a favor to her core disciple, no question about it.
Luo Binghe was too obedient to be a proper help in this venture, and Ming Fan didn't often attach to animals, so Ning Yingying! Help your Shizun! You're her only hope!
Outwardly, Shen Qingqiu just fanned herself and let out a faint smile at her own plotting as she followed the noises of struggle to Luo Binghe's room.
There were no noises inside but the animal's thumping attempts to get free, so Shen Qingqiu slipped into the room and shut the door behind her, sending Luo Binghe a silent apology as she did so. Sorry, Binghe! She knew how uncomfortable it was to have your mom go in your room while you were gone, but there were circumstances! (Also, his room was pristine. Even Shen Qingqiu's occasionally-draconian mother wouldn't be able to find fault even if she took a Q-tip to the corners in search of dust.)
The 'circumstances' seemed to have gotten itself trapped in his wardrobe, thumping with purpose against the inside, so she crept over to the doors and crouched, spreading her robes to make it harder for a small creature to instantly make a break for it and mess up her disciple's room.
Then she eased the door open.
There was no furry or feathery or scaly creature in there.
Instead, the most beautiful teenager in this universe was curled up on the floor of his own wardrobe.
She had just enough time to register the strange, almost-fetal position he was in and the wince on his face before it all went slack and... something... hit her face, painting it in hot, wet stripes.
She froze.
Panting heavily, sweat sticking his hair to his temples and neck in feathery whorls, face flushed like he's been painted by some good ero-artist on the internet, Luo Binghe's eyes opened, thick, girlishly pretty eyelashes fluttering as he blinked in confusion, then fell on her face.
He went from red to white so fast she was a little worried for his blood pressure.
Some of the substance on her face dripped off her nose in a glob.
Distantly, she noted that her disciple had something flushed and thick and generally porn-sized in his fist near his crotch, which seemed pretty absurd for someone who was fifteen years old, but what did she know about male development?? Maybe he was fully grown. Probably.
(Who was she kidding? Like Airplane would let his porn protagonist stay at porn-average.)
Salty musk was filling her nose, the substance cooling rapidly in the air, wet and... strangely creamy?
Luo Binghe parted pale lips, then stopped, staring as another glob rolled down her face, catching on her lip.
Thoughtlessly, habitually, she licked it away.
Huh, she thought vaguely as she watched her disciple turn from white to scarlet again, emit a choked whimper, and curl up on himself in a violent jerk. I thought this stuff was supposed to taste bad? It was actually a little bit appealing.
Well, he was a porn protagonist. Figured his... fluids... would taste fine. Really, it was lucky they didn't straight-up taste like ambrosia! Shen Qingqiu should... count her blessings.
And. Not give into the strange compulsion to lick the rest of it off too. (No matter how much the back of her mind whined about the waste.)
Luo Binghe slumped, boneless and trembling and no less pretty for any of it, and the room lapsed into silence again.
Eventually, he looked up, teary and pathetic and she wanted to squeeze him like a plush toy so bad. "Sh-Shizun... This... this disciple..."
"Why is Binghe in the closet?" she asked, baffled. Really, wasn't self-love supposed to happen in a bed?? The bed was right there, comfy and free to use.
His gaze darted to the side, mortification contorting his youthful, pretty face in a way that made her stomach tighten weirdly. So bullied! So... so bulliable!!
She bit down on the corner of her mouth to stop herself from doing anything unwise. Then she searched her brain for any possible reason her disciple would be touching himself (...touching... himself...) in a closet. Had she raised him to have some kind of claustrophobia kink? Was he hiding his masturbation aids in here? Was he just hiding in here?
...Oh!
"This master was remiss in not teaching Binghe how to draw up proper privacy talismans," she said, and habitually reached out to pat those soft curls, invoking a soft, oh, from Binghe. They were slightly damp from all the sweat. That he had worked up while masturbating. Repress!! "This master will remedy that when Binghe has... put himself back together."
She stood, and took in the beautiful, bullied youth on the floor of his own wardrobe for a moment, then retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped away the... substance... on her face, sternly ordering herself not to lick it off. (Why would she lick it off!! It was someone else's bodily fluids!! Her student's bodily fluids!! No matter how good they tasted or the lurking suspicion that she might have just done something altogether more suggestive than she should have...) She gave him a small smile—it wouldn't do to give the stallion protagonist a complex about his sexuality!!—and said, "Don't look like that, Binghe. It's a very normal part of growing up." Except for the 'giving your teacher a facial by blowing your load at the wrong moment' part. "It's alright, ah? Good boy. This master will wait outside."
With that, she glided out of the room with dignity, and not at all like the reality of the situation was starting to sink in for her.
She closed the door behind her, took several steps away from it, and then heard the thumping she had thought was some just of small animal start up again, quicker and much more frantic, now accompanied by choked, bitten-down, unbearably horny whimpers and moans.
Hot, hot, hot face in her hands, she desperately told herself that that had nothing to do with her, and really, the stallion protagonist of endless stamina and no refractory period was just... not done!! And he was trying to finish up quick!! As respectful of her time and grace as always!!! And he definitely, definitely, definitely—
"Sh-Shizun..."
—wouldn't be thinking of her as he did it. Definitely.
And if the walk back to her own room to attain the materials for talisman painting was oddly slippery—it definitely, definitely, definitely wasn't.