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When he awakens to the playfulness of flittering shadows dancing across his face, eyes opening upon an unfamiliar ceiling, an unfamiliar face calling him out of slumber, Shen Yuan has no idea what to expect. He gapes, certainly longer than he should, at those thick eyebrows creased by worry, his hands gripping at the crisp bedding laid beneath him. Finally, the system alerts him, its timing henceforth always impeccable, to the identity of the perceived trespasser. 

One Yue Qingyuan, Sect Master of Cang Qiong Mountain. The same Yue Qingyuan from Proud Immortal Demon Way, the bane of Shen Yuan’s existence on Earth. 

Which reminds him—wasn’t that rather short-lived? Barely in his twenties and already dead! Even by his own standards, it’s a little too pathetic. 

The threads of his previous life unravel suddenly, like a ball of yarn spun loose, all its viscera slipping through the cracks in between Shen Yuan’s fingers. He scrambles to put it all back together—the dark walls of his room, washed down in the blue light of a computer screen; the minimalist graphics of a community forum board, the seemingly endless scroll of comments upon comments; the bitter taste of bile and something gone horribly stale permeating the back of his throat. 

“Shidi?” When Shen Yuan turns to look at him, Yue Qingyuan looks a little worse than he did before, trouble and concern weaved together over that handsome face. Slow on the uptake, Shen Yuan idly takes note of just how pleasing to the eye the man is. “Are you feeling better now? The fever seems to have broken, but if Qingqiu would rather have Mu-shidi look him over again—”

Wait a second—back that right the fuck up. Qingqiu? As in Shen Qingqiu? As in the Scum Villain extraordinaire, Proud Immortal Demon Way’s Number One Public Enemy, Shen Qingqiu???

Shen Yuan—no, Shen Qingqiu cruelly tugs at his face, pressing the imprint of his fingertips deep into his cheeks, squeezing them close and pulling on them mercilessly. Much to his surprise, his flesh does not give in, won’t crack like an egg to reveal his old self as the brutal joke Shen Qingqiu knows he has always been the punchline to. 

Plan B involves a mirror and some more fondling, so much so that he can feel his face throbbing, swollen in certain places where he’d really focused his abuse. Unfortunately, the reflection staring back at him from that clear pool proves no greater comfort, leaving Shen Qingqiu with the chilling realization that this is his new reality. 

Behind him, the shuffle of uncertain footsteps hooks his attention. Yue Qingyuan had left the door to his chamber open, a safety precaution of sorts, so it’s no surprise when Shen Qingqiu hears a new voice call out to him.

“Shizun? This disciple can’t help worrying—is shizun really feeling better?” The newcomer can barely mask the discomfort of having to ask such a question, perhaps afraid, in some ways, of how the villainous Shen Qingqiu might react. 

“Ming Fan.” He waves the boy off, reaching into his belt to pull out the fan he’d stashed there earlier. With a gentle flourish of his hand, the spine snaps open, its canvas providing Shen Qingqiu with the perfect cover for his unbearably thin face. The original goods had left him this much; might as well work it for all its worth. “Your efforts would be better put to use training than worrying needlessly. Tell this master, where is Luo Binghe?” 

Ming Fan watches him, for a moment, as though Shen Qingqiu has truly gone mad. He tips his head to the side, mulling over some thought or other, his brain practically eating itself alive the whole time. 

“Luo…Binghe?” Ming Fan considers himself, finally relenting a moment later. “Shizun, I’m afraid I don’t know anybody by that name on Qing Jing Peak.” 

That’s not right.

Shen Qingqiu thinks he must have been struck by lightning. 

“What about Bai Zhan Peak? Qiong Ding Peak?” Ming Fan shakes his head uselessly, and Shen Qingqiu tries one more time, albeit no more convinced of this guess than all his others. “An Ding Peak?” 

“Not to my knowledge…” When Shen Qingqiu deflates, visibly sinking into himself, Ming Fan hurriedly adds. “But shizun mustn’t rely on this one’s memory! Certainly, I might have forgotten such a disciple.”

Even without Ming Fan’s squirming, Shen Qingqiu can call the lie for what it is—bullshit. How could anybody ever deign to forget Luo Binghe? With his protagonist halo brighter than every star in the heavens, more brilliant than every god and goddess to ever walk these immortal realms; you’d be an idiot to forget such a person and most certainly not the original Shen Qingqiu’s head disciple.

Which is all to say that Luo Binghe must really be gone, either never here or perhaps nipped in the bud before he could ever reach the doorstep of Qing Jing Peak. Meanwhile, Shen Yuan gets to walk around in the body of the great and illustrious Shen Qingqiu, a new and improved version that leaves all of Cang Qiong Mountain watching him through narrowed eyes. Though none of them ever complain, not when the shadow of their former enemy fades this quickly with the rising sun. 

Still, Shen Qingqiu doesn't hold onto hope for long. If he is here, Luo Binghe may yet be out there, waiting, biding his time. There is a certain inherent fear that makes the skin crawl up and down his arms, along his back: what if it had been the original goods that cursed Luo Binghe out of this world? One day, unexpected to all, he might show up and demand ransom, vengeance a steady thrum inside his chest.

The days pass in a daze, nights spent restlessly awake. Shen Qingqiu bides his time, plans out contingencies for his contingencies, stashing a fortune none-too-small beneath the floorboards of his bamboo hut, all while gathering allies that will stay at his beck and call. First, he rescues the War God of Bai Zhan Peak, Liu Qingge, an unnecessary casualty of the original Shen Qingqiu’s greed. Then, it’s Shang Qinghua he stumbles over, finding in him not only an ally, not even just another transmigrator, but the very devil that had created this awful novel in the first place. 

The truth is that Shang Qinghua can hardly be called an asset. If anything, he’s just a glorified loudmouth that never stops reminding Shen Qingqiu of everything he’s lost (and everything he’s been all-too-glad to part with). Then again, beggars can't be choosers and Shen Qingqiu needs all the help he can get. Even if Shang Qinghua tends to create more problems than he solves. 

For all intents and purposes, if Luo Binghe were to show up, and that's a very big if, Shen Qingqiu will be prepared. One way or another. 

Thing is, nothing happens. 

Long years pass, enough of them that Shen Qingqiu loses count eventually. Just one of the many perks of immortality, he thinks to himself over morning tea, still hot where the steam licks off its surface in thin ribbons.

Gently, Shen Qingqiu brings the cup to his lips, blows it cool and takes a sip before setting it back down. When he raises his eyes, the open fan of his eyelashes thick over them, it is with a calm and cool demeanour that he speaks. 

“A mission?” 

“Yes, if Qingqiu finds himself up to it.” Yue Qingyuan smiles amenably. His own cup of tea sits warm between his hands, clutched tightly by those long, firm fingers. 

“Zhangmen-shixiong, your worry is palpable all the way over here.” As though wishing to blow it away, Shen Qingqiu flaps his fan a few times in that direction. Nevertheless, there is a slight tone of resignation in his voice when he continues. “Is that why Liu-shidi has accompanied you today?” His gaze jumps over Yue Qingyuan, like a pebble skipping the surface of a lake’s still waters, to where Liu Qingge sits unmoving, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. 

They’ve gotten closer, the two of them. Shen Qingqiu recalls fondly all the time they’ve spent together, Liu Qingge a quiet shadow at his side, body warm and much more open than he might lead you to believe. A smile stretches over his lips when Liu Qingge looks him over and flushes faintly. 

“What other reason would there be?” He snaps, huffing a little while turning to look away.

“And here I thought Liu-shidi missed me.” Shen Qingqiu makes a show of pouting, even though he knows Liu Qingge won’t see it. Still, the cover of the fan does little to stifle that splutter that builds up inside his shidi.

“Shen Qingqiu! ”

“There, there.” Yue Qingyuan soothes in a mild voice. He then uses the same tone to speak to Shen Qingqiu. “Qingqiu, if you were to find yourself incapacitated in any form, wouldn’t you be thankful for a helping hand?”

There is no denying it; a great deal of many dangers lurk out there. Not to mention that Luo Binghe has not yet deigned to show his face at Cang Qiong Mountain. Say, if he were to suddenly turn up, red-eyed and bloodthirsty, having Liu Qingge’s protection would be the difference between life and death. 

Shen Qingqiu spent the better part of these years searching for any trace of him, wistful as a maiden betrothed-at-birth only to find herself catfished, her beloved nothing but a figment of collective imagination. He’d done it partly out of fear, wanting to have some kind of ace tucked against the hem of his sleeve, insurance to hold against Luo Binghe in exchange for his paltry life. As for the other parts—of course Shen Qingqiu was curious! 

What good is a stallion novel without a stallion protagonist? Isn’t this just a shitty novel then?!

When asked about the possible whereabouts of Luo Binghe, not even notorious author of Proud Immortal Demon Way, Great Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, could say for certain what exactly had happened. In fact, Shang Qinghua ended up being just as useless as Shen Qingqiu anticipated, shrugging him off with a measly, "Beats me. But Cucumber-bro, shouldn't you be happy you get to keep your arms and legs? It’s better to take the gift than to look the horse in the mouth."

Wisdom from someone like Airplane-bro is worth as much in theory as in practice—nothing!

As though Shen Qingqiu hadn’t been the first to count his blessings; arms, legs, fingers, and toes. Still, Luo Binghe’s absence posed too big a variable for it to simply go ignored. The plot of the novel had already suffered greatly at the hands of Airplane-bro; without a protagonist willing and able to carry the story all on his own, what was there to stop the narrative from collapsing in on itself? Thinking of it that way, the only thing more terrifying to Shen Qingqiu than a blackened Luo Binghe was no Binghe at all. 

And yet, nothing happened. 

Shen Qingqiu idled the time away, kept busy by his invigorating Peak Lord duties. What little he could delegate away, he entrusted to his head disciple, a Ming Fan blissfully unaware of his otherwise tragic ending. As for the rest, Shen Qingqiu enjoyed the game just as a player would. He’d poured his everything into maxing out each branch of his skill tree, whether it was cultivating in isolation, practicing sword skills with his precious Xiu Ya, or brawling with Liu Qingge (yes, the very same one). Whenever possible, he fashioned for himself a positive image, charitable, kind, reliable, an image befitting of a man still in possession of all four of his limbs. Even without the looming threat of dismemberment, he would never allow himself to become a scum villain like the original goods had. That much was certain.

With that sole goal in mind, he’d single-handedly headed perhaps the most successful of redemption arcs. So, when he accepts Yue Qingyuan’s mission, departing from Qing Jing Peak with one Xiu Ya on his hip and one Liu Qingge in tow, Shen Qingqiu assumes himself to be as safe as humanly possible.

Why, pray Great Master Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, must he then be humiliated thusly?

The trip down Cang Qiong Mountain gives Shen Qingqiu no reason to complain.

Liu Qingge is as good a companion as he could ever ask for, comfortable to be around, quiet unless questioned, and so very easy to tease. Shen Qingqiu ought to be ashamed of how naturally it comes to him, but he chooses, instead, to blame it on how easy Liu Qingge makes it for him. 

His shidi is just so reactive. He’s like a grenade in Shen Qingqiu’s hand, pin pulled with only a trigger finger to keep Liu Qingge from blowing up like fireworks. And why should he—keep Liu Qingge from achieving his true potential? When he’s dyed from collarbone to crown in shades of pink and red, when he looks this handsome, reduced to a stuttering mess beneath the weight of all those casual compliments, why should Shen Qingqiu deprive either of them of such a display?

It would be a crime!

With Luo Binghe nerfed so badly he’s been taken out of the picture entirely, Liu Qingge is truly left without a peer in the world. Shen Qingqiu often finds himself taking stock of his shidi, gaze flowing along the soft course of Liu Qingge’s features. He naturally gravitates towards the beauty mark speckled just under Liu Qingge’s eyelid, the careless flick of a paintbrush having marked him forevermore.

“What?” Caught being stared again , Liu Qingge can’t help the low bark that escapes him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be caught dead caring about something as superficial as being looked at. However, with Shen Qingqiu at the tail end of each of these encounters, Liu Qingge doesn’t think these to be normal circumstances at all.

“Nothing.” Shen Qingqiu hums playfully, snapping his fan open to hide behind it. “I was just thinking that spending time with Liu-shidi like this is really not that bad.” 

“You should come along more often, then.”

“Perhaps I will.” Shen Qingqiu finds himself replying long before his mind catches up to Liu Qingge’s words, not to mention his own. He stutters halfway through a step, stumbling over his own legs and almost eating a mouthful of shit. Luckily, Liu Qingge doesn’t stop long enough to notice, leaving him in the dust, the gesture not nearly as cruel as it would have been had Shen Qingqiu not noticed the faint flush climbing up the chiseled column of his neck.

W—Wait a second! Come again?

Liu Qingge actually wants to be here? It’s not just circumstance and a colossal heap of bad luck on Shen Qingqiu’s part that has them chained together like a dog to a tree? However, before Shen Qingqiu can follow a more thorough line of inquiry into this new development, it’s Liu Qingge speaking again. Undoubtedly, it must be a record of some kind , the amount of idle talk they’ve been making.

“You should rest.” 

It’s not a suggestion—of course, it isn't. If it was, Liu Qingge wouldn’t already be scouting for a place to set up camp, all two sets of robes he’s got on his back and Cheng Luan already sheathed on his hip. 

“We should keep going.” Shen Qingqiu sighs, shaking his head as though it’ll clear up Liu Qingge’s stubbornness and not his own. It’s becoming harder and harder to maintain the facade of a proper peak lord with this many helicopter parents hovering all over him. “Shidi needn’t worry himself about this shixiong.”

“I’m not,” and then he’s adding in a rush, “worrying.” 

“Wonderful! We’ll carry on as normal then.” He makes to walk away, but Liu Qingge’s hand around his wrist is grounding. Shen Qingqiu looks between them; the punishing grip squeezing him, that cool face so close to his own. “Liu-shidi?” 

“It’s gone.” 

What is? 

“Your spiritual power.” Liu Qingge clarifies. 

Ah, Without a Cure! What shitty timing!

It’s a cruel world that casts its protagonist aside like trash, and an even crueler world that pits a single, hard-working man against a poison incurable. 

When Sha Hualing and her rowdy band of demons decided to take a vacation on Cang Qiong Mountain, Shen Qingqiu had been the first to come out in defense of the sect. Nevermind that Yue Qingyuan temporarily stepped out on important Sect Leader business, all while Liu Qingge was still recovering in the Ling Xi Caves after suffering from an extraordinarily bad case of qi deviation. It was no less his merit that drove the demoness out with her tail caught between her legs. 

Likewise, it was also Shen Qingqiu’s merit that got him infected by Without a Cure, which, as its name might indicate, could not be cured. 

Which brings us to why Liu Qingge is here in the first place—damage control. 

With a sigh, Shen Qingqiu (reluctantly) allows himself to be maneuvered deeper into the forest, past a few thickets of bushes, and into the cool shadow of a small cave opening they’d noticed on their way in. The whole time, Liu Qingge is a firm presence at his side. He keeps a watchful eye over their surroundings as he helps Shen Qingqiu into a sitting position, following suit only once Liu Qingge is sure of his comfort.

“Shidi—”  

“Keep still.” Liu Qingge levels him with a glare that could easily fell a thousand men and beasts, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even flinch. He huffs, a small smile tugging at his lips before he’s settling into the spot. Emotion plays on Shen Qingqiu more naturally than it would’ve otherwise, with Liu Qingge watching him through those cool eyes. A beat later, that fine face slips out of sight, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t lose the heat of Liu Qingge’s body, not before and not after his warm hands settle atop Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder blades. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever properly thanked you. For everything.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Nonsense. Shidi has been so thoughtful towards this humble shixiong.” A laughter accompanies his words, melodious and gentle. Behind him, Liu Qingge stiffens for a moment, his spiritual power rushing into Shen Qingqiu more forceful than it had before. The shift only lasts an instant before reverting. “It doesn’t feel right to overlook the inconvenience I’ve caused Bai Zhan Peak.” 

“It’s no problem.” Liu Qingge clicks his tongue, feigning irritation at Shen Qingqiu. It doesn’t really work, but Shen Qingqiu doesn’t push. This is their little secret. “If you want to pay me back, stop stirring up trouble.”

“That’s no good. How will Liu-shidi know to visit me then?” 

“Just ask!”

“And Liu-shidi will come?” He makes a show of snapping his fan open, punctuating his question with the sharp sound of its ribs cracking open. “Just like that?”

At that, Liu Qingge can only stare. His face twists into a complicated loop of expressions, mind tying itself in knots while he ponders the proper answer. It truly is a miracle Shen Qingqiu can’t see him.

“Yes. Just like that.”

“Liu-shidi is so reliable. This shixiong is impressed.” Before he can catch himself, Shen Qingqiu turns, hand reaching to rest atop Liu Qingge’s head, petting it gently in soothing strokes. “Bai Zhan Peak is most fortunate to have you as its lord.” Unlike him, however, Liu Qingge is quick to think on his feet. He scrambles to shake Shen Qingqiu off, his cheeks flashing through every shade of red before settling on a deep scarlet. 

“Don’t say such things with a face like that!” 

“Wh—A face like what—”

Suddenly, on the harsh note of a shrill squawk, both Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge spring upright. There is little Shen Qingqiu can do at the moment, but Liu Qingge’s hand shoots out towards Cheng Luan, its blade humming with threatening intent.

“Stand back.” And, for once, Shen Qingqiu doesn’t challenge him. He’s quick to fall behind Liu Qingge, hiding in the small gap between their heights. Whatever is lying in wait out there has quieted down. Still, neither of them makes the mistake of even breathing, their muscles tense. Shen Qingqiu notices the flutter of a vein climbing down Liu Qingge’s throat, bulging out under the pressure of his body. 

They wait, a second, then another, and just as Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to speak, a body hurtles towards them. The poor thing is so terrified, scared of its wits entirely, so much so that neither of them gets a good look at it before Liu Qingge has it skewered right by their feet. Behind him, Shen Qingqiu freezes. Cheng Luan glints in the light, black blood curling down its edge.

“Poor guy…” He steps around Liu Qingge, careful as he crouches down. “What could have possibly scared it this badly?” His fingers reach to stroke the greyed fur of its head, avoiding the set of two, sharp horns nestled into the crown of its head. 

“Don’t touch.” Cheng Luan flashes by Shen Qingqiu’s face, having been pulled out by Liu Qingge. He waves the gore away, then eases the sword back inside its sheath. “It could be poisonous.”

“Worse than Without a Cure? Doubtful.” Shen Qingqiu snorts, but listens nonetheless. He hurries to Liu Qingge's side as he makes his way deeper into the cave. “Does Liu-shidi believe that what we’re looking for is inside here?” Yue Qingyuan had been uncharacteristically vague when handing out this particular assignment. A creature, a couple of trampled villagers, some rotten crops. The usual. Why he'd needed not one, but two peak lords; it's hard to say.   

“Could be.” Liu Qingge shrugs. “Don’t wander off. And keep close by.”

“Where else would I go when I’ve got you right here?”

When Liu Qingge starts power-walking at speeds unprecedented, Shen Qingqiu can’t help snickering into the sleeve of his robes. One day he might consider pulling the brakes on teasing his shidi, but, as long as Liu Qingge insists on fretting over his every move, Shen Qingqiu thinks he’s allowed this much. 

The tunnel at the back of the cave winds all over the place, up and down and left and right, all shallow steps and slippery slopes. It’s not just once that Liu Qingge has to catch Shen Qingqiu from tripping all over himself. The further they go in, the messier it gets, too. There are bones laid to the wayside, picked clean like toothpicks, and plenty of rubble. Among everything else, Shen Qingqiu notices a few armour pieces along with a couple of swords. Nothing too fancy, just a grim reminder that whatever has made its home down here is no stranger to human flesh. Eventually, just as Shen Qingqiu is about to call it quits, they notice the literal and proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Though, thankfully, there is no afterlife when they make it to the other side, just an open cavern brightly illuminated through the open ceiling.

“Oh. This is beautiful.” Shen Qingqiu forgets himself when he rushes out from behind Liu Qingge’s protection. There is a kick to his step as he strides towards the other end of the chamber, Liu Qingge loitering at a respectful distance. “To think that a place like this would be here…How remarkable!” 

And just as he’s done admiring, lavishing the cavern’s architecture in words of the highest praise, Shen Qingqiu finds himself struck silent. Only a breadth away from where he’d laid his hand upon the wall, a crack has opened wide, revealing, beneath the opaque layer that peeled away, a glowing red iris. At its centre, a dark slit stretches vertically, focused entirely on Shen Qingqiu’s lean figure. The eye watches him carefully awhile, then fluttering behind, over to where Liu Qingge stands unmoving. It appears pleased with the sight, narrowing in delight, like the eye of a youth gratified by his latest romantic conquest or that of a beast eager to devour a fresh meal. 

Not much difference between the two, really. 

Before Shen Qingqiu can even breathe, Liu Qingge’s hand has already moved to grip the handle of Cheng Luan. The blade rattles inside its sheath, catching the light overhead as it’s pulled out and reflecting it back in a sharp glare.

Ah, this is no good! Absolutely no good!  

“Liu-shidi.” Shen Qingqiu heaves a sigh heavy, feeling at once both defeated and strangely endeared. 

Please think twice before you threaten to slaughter anything that so much as moves, especially when the offender is definitely a monster that could easily turn us both into cultivator roast! 

His hand reaches over, fingers curling soft between Liu Qingge’s, slotting perfectly in the gaps between his digits. An intimate touch, it leaves both of them speechless for an instant, Shen Qingqiu the first to pull back.

“Seeing as it hasn’t attacked either of us,” he clears his throat, hoping to restore the peace between them, “it may yet be to our benefit that we don’t incense it.” 

“En.” 

Their exchange is witnessed with quiet rapture. Now that both Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge fall silent, it is their surroundings that begin clattering. The ground beneath their feet seems to scurry away, and the walls crumble, small pebbles coming loose in an avalanche of dust. Shen Qingqiu is kept busy by a quick check of the cavern’s integrity, but Liu Qingge takes note of one most crucial change—before them, the “wall” Shen Qingqiu had clung to earlier has come to life, unfurling to reveal a growing form. 

“Watch out.” Liu Qingge tugs him closer, tucking Shen Qingqiu into his side and keeping him protected from any flying debris. Slowly, he starts to lose sight of himself there, in the warm comfort of Liu Qingge’s body. At some point, the humidity of the cavern had seeped into Shen Qingqiu's bones, chilling his skin and cooling his flesh, leaving him to shiver restlessly. Like that, he is reluctant to pull away, unable to find any good reason to do so. Moreover, the arm wrapped around Shen Qingqiu’s waist sits firm, holding on so tightly he is truly worried about breaking away. Wouldn’t that entail leaving his precious shidi with no face to spare? 

It would be best to stay his ground, after all. For Liu-shidi’s sake, of course. 

“Thank you.” He speaks in a small voice, turning to look away from where Liu Qingge is staring back at him, a heated sort of look burning quietly across his face. 

Luckily for Shen Qingqiu, there is plenty else that warrants his attention. 

What had initially been a small, cramped cavern is now a giant, open space, herded off by a structure of walls neither of the two had glimpsed before. They stretch long and narrow, so far their eyes can hardly follow past where the light thins out, replaced instead by shadows growing dark into the distance. Most importantly, Shen Qingqiu’s object of affection has revealed itself to be a dragon, born of myth and ancient blood. Older than, perhaps, even the world. 

With its head lowered, it stretches its neck, approaching cautiously, as if worried of frightening children away, not two fully-grown men. Its eyes shine brilliantly, glowing, in a low flame, with a wondrous kind of curiosity. Each of its movements appears to have a mind of its own. Never too fast, its strides short and calculated, and without ever standing taller than either Shen Qingqiu’s or Liu Qingge’s height. 

Like this, it really looks too much like a puppy! 

Shen Qingqiu aches to touch it, to pet its head and rub at the smooth spot between its horns, yet each and every one of these fantasies is promptly intercepted by the rational side of his brain. Pet a dragon, lose a hand—had there ever been such an idiom? Regardless, it seems to him a steep price to pay; Shen Qingqiu requires both of his hands, if not for everyday practical uses then at least for his nightly activities. It isn’t as though he’s getting any younger, but his bed does seem to only grow colder with each passing day.

Then again, not having somebody to wait for him back at the bamboo hut might be exactly the reason he needs to bite the bullet. The only one who’d mourn him, and who Shen Qingqiu would certainly miss, himself, is already here. As for the opportunity of petting a dragon; that has to be one in a million. 

“Hey there.” He croons in a soothing voice, hand slowly approaching. Except, Shen Qingqiu isn’t given the chance to back out. Not one moment later, the dragon pushes its head into his welcoming palm, purring a gentle sound as it rubs against his warm skin. It’s such a sweet gesture that Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even realize how wide he’s smiling before he’s seeking out his shidi's approval. 

“It likes you.” Liu Qingge states noncommittally. 

“You think so?” Kept busy, Shen Qingqiu can no longer hide inside the shadow of his fan. He bears his emotions openly, although a little shyly, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Would Liu-shidi like to try?” 

“Don’t need to.” 

“So stubborn.” Shen Qingqiu huffs, but as soon as he returns to the task at hand, his face smoothes over once more, eyes crinkling into two thin crescents. “Don’t you think so, little one?” 

Unexpectedly, the dragon snorts lightly, blowing a puff of warm air into Shen Qingqiu’s hands.

“Ah! You agree, don’t you?” 

At that, Liu Qingge can no longer ignore the two. He’d always had a thick face, but hearing Shen Qingqiu make fun of him so shamelessly, not even Bai Zhan’s fearsome Peak Lord can stand idle. 

“Fine.” Yet, now that he’s finally decided to do so of his own accord, Liu Qingge is no longer allowed to touch. Each time he reaches out, the dragon pulls away, its pupils narrowing in mischief. Shen Qingqiu can barely hold his laughter at their exchange, and, if he is being transparent, Liu Qingge’s frustration is practically palpable. “Do you want to be pet or not?” He growls through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest in defiance. 

The question goes unanswered. It’s no longer his place to decide who gets dealt the pets and who doesn’t. This becomes more apparent than ever when the dragon surges forward, invading Liu Qingge’s personal space with little regard for his stuttered protests. Muzzle opening, its tongue unfurls to lick up and down his jaw, slobbering all over Liu Qingge and dousing him in its balmy, puffed breath. 

At that, even Shen Qingqiu would freeze. Which he does, just from watching the way Liu Qingge’s body draws taut.

“Shidi! Are you alright?” When the creature pulls away, sitting back with a coy look, Shen Qingqiu rushes to Liu Qingge’s side. He’s not really concerned, more amused than anything, but there is a part of him that worries about the fallback of Liu Qingge’s impulses. Imagine his surprise when Liu Qingge doesn’t start swinging madly, when Cheng Luan doesn’t so much as stir, all of him as still as lake waters. 

“Shidi…?” He tries again, concern colouring his tone. Liu Qingge responds—though it can barely be called that. His eyes track Shen Qingqiu’s features with a slight delay, body swaying on the legs wobbling beneath him. If he didn’t know better, Shen Qingqiu might think him drunk, but the suddenness of it all…it doesn’t bode well for either of them. 

“Shen Qingqiu.” Liu Qingge mutters quietly, his eyebrows knitting together above the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes. Yes, I’m here.” 

Pity that here is nowhere near enough to where Liu Qingge needs him. 

Shen Qingqiu isn’t given the time of day to react, not when Liu Qingge smothers the voice hanging off his lips with his own mouth, kissing into Shen Qingqiu with the desperation of a drowning man. His tongue presses forward, determined to breach, and for some reason still foreign to him, Shen Qingqiu allows it.    

He’d never admit it, not to himself and certainly not to Liu Qingge. But there have been thoughts, fleeting little fantasies making a mess of his head. That empty bed he’s always gone back to, relying only on his hands to relieve the darkest of nights? It had been Liu Qingge on his mind, Liu Qingge and the sculpt of his body, the peak of muscle from where his robes had clung to the sweat of his skin. Even now, Liu Qingge is the only one on his mind. 

So, Shen Qingqiu allows it. He allows both of them this small moment of respite, even if only for a second. 

“Liu-shidi…slow down…”

“I—I can’t.” Liu Qingge huffs against him, body inching forward even as he seems to be pulling himself away from Shen Qingqiu’s embrace. Whatever it is that’s compelling him to seek the contact out, Liu Qingge is fighting it back. Shen Qingqiu lends him the aid of his hands, cool against the scorching heat of Liu Qingge’s face. It feels as though a fever has taken him over, settling as deep as his bones will allow it. 

A poison? But Liu Qingge hadn’t touched anything that Shen Qingqiu hadn’t, except for—

Realization dawns over him just as the heat starts pooling in his own belly, coiling around his organs like a snake, the steady beat of its wings chasing the heat through his veins. Shen Qingqiu glances behind. The dragon watches them as patiently as ever, a twinkle of mischief dancing across its vision. When it had licked Liu Qingge, and when Liu Qingge had kissed him—the insistent tug of his sleeves steals Shen Qingqiu away.

“Shhh, everything will be alright.” It feels disingenuous, making promises Shen Qingqiu can’t guarantee will be kept. Still, as long as they’re together, as long as Liu Qingge trusts him, they’ll figure it all out.

“What…is this…?” Liu Qingge tries. Fire crawls inside his lungs, makes his mind tingle. He pants gently, turning his attention to pull at his own clothes, collar loosening around his neck. 

“Shixiong can’t be too sure, but,” Shen Qingqiu drifts off, his gaze following the delicate weave of Liu Qingge’s fingers, the drapery of silk falling off his frame and to the ground below. His robes come undone and Shen Qingqiu feels—jealous? Needy? It’s hard to tell. “I think it might be an aphrodisiac.” 

If Liu Qingge has heard him, his face registers no reaction. His mouth, on the other hand, moves to ghost the blade of Shen Qingqiu’s jaw, arms coiling around his neck, pulling him in. Like that, their bodies pressed against each other, not even a breath keeping them apart, Shen Qingqiu can feel all of Liu Qingge. 

Good doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

This hunger that howls within him; it craves to be touched, a flame looking to get stoked into a blaze. It’s so overwhelming Shen Qingqiu thinks he might drop dead if Liu Qingge doesn’t keep touching him, and, as far as he can tell, the feeling is mutual. Liu Qingge doesn’t risk letting go. His hands seek out every shape of Shen Qingqiu, the curves and the dips, the hollows and the firm, anything and everything there is to be had. Only when they are both naked does he mellow out a little, sighing in relief. The sun bears down on Shen Qingqiu, warming his back up, and whatever its light can't reach, Liu Qingge cares for it with his own breath, kissing along the jut of his collarbones, the swell of a nipple. 

There is a quiet stir behind them, a large body that drags a little closer. Once they’re touching, Shen Qingqiu can’t help but gasp. He casts a glance over his shoulder, eyeing what he can feel nestling against the root of his spine, a hard length twitching slightly against him. 

There’s no fucking way—absolutely no fucking way!!! 

For a second, Shen Qingqiu assumes he must be hallucinating. It would hardly be out of the realm of possibility given how badly this aphrodisiac is affecting him. So, when his vision blurs a little, pupils melting into wide, dark pools, and one turns into two, Shen Qingqiu is certain he’s seeing things. His lips part on a broken smile, something inside him unhinging, and he reaches a hand to try and make sense of what is real and what is fake.

The answer; all of it is real.

He’d been so quick to dismiss his sight, ready to chalk everything up to the heat induced by their circumstances, but Shen Qingqiu’s hand doesn’t lie to him. This dragon has two cocks. And they’re fucking huge! There isn’t a chance in heaven nor hell that either of those is fitting anywhere inside him. 

Yet, Shen Qingqiu continues touching. He works one of the lengths up between his fingers, pumping it in tight, full strokes, the grip of his palm barely wide enough to encompass the whole of it. It’s then that Shen Qingqiu notes, with slight trepidation, throat gone bone-dry, that the feel of it excites him. There are scales running along its shape, rigid grooves that catch between his fingertips. And, so, Shen Qingqiu drags it out, works the cock up to its full height, a quiet purr sounding above him. 

“Ah, you like that, don’t you?” He notes, a slight glimmer of excitement seeping into his voice. The dragon exhales, a long, drawn-out puff of air before it descends, bracing its muzzle against the cradle of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. “Of course you do.” 

On the other side, Liu Qingge stirs, pushing further into him. It’s cute, in a way Shen Qingqiu would never have expected from him.

“Shixiong…”

He—He—Headshot!  

As far as he can recall, Liu Qingge has never willingly called him by this title. "Shen Qingqiu", yes, and sometimes even, "Shen Qingqiu!", with all the added connotations. But never "Shixiong".  

“Your shixiong is right here. Liu-shidi should lay down.” 

A nod is all it takes before Liu Qingge does as he’s told. There is virtually no shame left in his body, nothing aside from the permanent flush stamped over his cheeks, a small smattering of freckles blending into the hazy tones. 

There is a nudge at Shen Qingqiu's back, and then it's his turn. He kneels down, bracing himself on open hands to work some of that extra weight off of his knees. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he supposes it’ll do.

The dragon towers above him, belly soft and smooth where it drapes over Shen Qingqiu’s naked back. There is just enough force to keep him pinned down, keep him steady, enough that there’s a pleasurable bite to the comfort it brings though not enough that it hurts. How kind, he thinks to himself, that this creature would be so thoughtful after infecting us both with its aphrodisiac! 

It really does sound like a two-bit joke. And yet, Shen Qingqiu keens a little feeling the girth of one of those massive cocks press against his softening hole, stretching it bit by bit with the swell of its head. 

“Fuck,” he hears himself muttering, mindless already with the burn of the contact. His body is so loose, so pliant in the way it gapes open, greedy to be filled bit by burning bit, a concept the creature is more than eager to fulfill. It surges forth, cock leaking enough precum it dribbles down Shen Qingqiu’s cheeks, down his split thighs and all over his calves, until it’s sheathed all the way inside him. 

Shen Qingqiu gets caught on a moan, shamelessly loud as it echoes through the cavern, and he quickly finds that the thirst only recently quenched starts surging back up, swallowing him whole. He wants the movement, craves the friction of those rough scales and ridges catching on his rim, rawing the walls of his insides until he’s begging. 

However, the push and pull never comes, the dragon happy to warm Shen Qingqiu’s body with anticipation alone. What does come, shortly after, is the sound of another’s breath being worked out clean from his lungs. Shakily, Shen Qingqiu raises his head from where he’d planted it against the chilled stone, opening his drowsy eyes to a sight unlike any other.

Liu Qingge squirms against that same rocky floor, sharp edges dragging marks along his back, traces Shen Qingqiu can only guess will last well into the week. His hands grapple for a touch of stability, fingers winding in a small patch of grass just above his head while the rest of his body trembles violently. He’s bent in half, knees on either side of his head, thighs held down in a flutter of shivers by pointed claws. At the same time, the dragon has its muzzle pressed into the tight heat of Liu Qingge’s own hole, tongue snaking in and out of him. 

There’s nothing else quite like it. In all the wicked scenarios Shang Qinghua has written, of all the bland housewife novel tropes he’s weaved into this world, Shen Qingqiu thinks nothing has and nothing ever will compare to this. 

It’s at this moment that the cock buried inside him twitches a few times, maddened by pleasure, and the dragon’s body loses its grip, wracked by tremors increasingly more vicious. It dips forward, pressing into the furthest reaches of Shen Qingqiu and rubbing his prostrate raw. His vision dyes to black, a pang of fear thundering through Shen Qingqiu; that he might get crushed beneath the body of a creature whose cock had been stuck inside him, that Yue Qingyuan might find both him and his shidi like this. After everything, his face is still too thin! Though not nearly as thin as his treacherous body’s desires. 

Shen Qingqiu’s lips crack open on moan after moan, an arrangement strung together out of gasps and groans, dizzying as the pleasure racks higher inside him. The weight of that second cock sliding between his cheeks, a constant reminder of what could have been, what may yet be, if only Shen Qingqiu gathers himself enough to ask for it. As things stand, just this much is enough for him to come, and maybe that’s what Shen Qingqiu needs, what everybody needs, but does he truly have it in him to do so?

The answer comes seconds later, when the dragon releases inside him, streaking him in white all over, his seed pouring out of Shen Qingqiu freely. Its impact is enough to have him tearing the skin off of his lips, a scream shattering Shen Qingqiu when he comes only moments after. 

“Shen...Shixiong...“ 

In front of him, Liu Qingge shudders. Shen Qingqiu drags himself up on his elbows, his knees protesting the harshness of the terrain, groaning and creaking their reminder of an age that has long foregone frivolous sex in unlikely settings. Still, Shen Qingqiu digresses. He pushes past his body’s urging, past that bone-deep feeling of being satisfied, full, ready to turn in for the next month or year. Dragging himself forward on all fours, Shen Qingqiu perches himself on Liu Qingge’s stomach, struggling to make space for himself next to the dragon’s head. A gentle snort reassures him that he is meant to be there, and if Shen Qingqiu were to still doubt his role, Liu Qingge is reaching for him, hands wrapping around his tresses. 

“Your shixiong is here. Won’t you relax?” Shen Qingqiu’s voice sounds hoarse even to his own ears, but Liu Qingge nods his understanding, eyebrows smoothening for only a second before knitting back together. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” 

Tsk, isn’t it obvious?

Pushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear, Shen Qingqiu lowers himself, admonishing Liu Qingge with a click of his tongue. How is he to be more forthcoming than this? Isn’t his face already this close to Liu-shidi’s painfully erect cock?

“Helping.” He replies coldly, the flush seared across his cheeks too hot for Shen Qingqiu to even look at him. Certainly, this is only a case of good friends helping one another out. That’s all there is to this exchange of theirs. Surely.

Up close, Shen Qingiu can’t help himself from admiring yet another pretty shape on Liu Qingge. His cock curves beautifully, a perfectly proportionate arc where the head of his erection bobs softly against his navel. With each movement, of which there are many when Liu Qingge can’t stop himself from squirming, it draws an attractive line of sight from itself to the rest of that well-toned body, to the way his muscles stiffen and relax, the way his hips work overtime to keep him afloat, to how Liu Qingge’s abdomen draws both light and shadow upon itself. 

Shen Qingqiu can't look away, his mouth suddenly both dry and wet when the saliva pools beneath his tongue. He darts it out to lick at his lips, trying in vain to alleviate some of the stiffness in his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing uselessly. Then, leaving himself no room for thoughts, Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth and swallows, drawing Liu Qingge all the way inside himself. By the time the tip of his cock hits the back of Shen Qingqiu’s throat, he’s already muffling his moans inside the smooth skin of Liu Qingge’s stomach, inhaling the thick scent of sweat and sex and something truly magical.

“A-Ah! Shixiong…“ Distantly, he can hear Liu Qingge stutter, can feel his back rise off the ground, spine curling underneath him to prop his body up. A low growl vibrates just next to him and Shen Qingqiu opens his eyes to find those crimson irises staring at him, pupils blown-wide and darker than midnight. Inside them, he can spy his own reflection; the looseness of his features, mouth speared open on Liu Qingge’s length, cheeks hollowed and lips spread thin over the pulsing muscle. It’s an embarrassing sight, not for its lewdness, but for how beautiful Shen Qingqiu looks like this, moored upon the rocky shores of pleasure. 

Nonetheless, he does feel embarrassed, Shen Qingqiu’s flight-or-flight response kicking into high gear while his heart beats like a steady hammer against his chest. Just then, a hand—Liu Qingge’s hand—comes up to tangle in the crown of his head, reining him back in by those few loose strands of hair that frame Shen Qingqiu’s face. His irises seem even darker than their usual, clouded by the thick haze of pleasure Shen Qingqiu can feel gripping at the base of his own skull, blooming like cotton. He swallows dryly, pushes back whatever inhibition still reels him in down his strained throat. 

Liu Qingge shudders again, his body jolting like lightning when he pushes into the wet warmth of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. Taken apart little by little, it takes him no time to shatter whole. He allows himself to be used, to be pleasured, to have everything beneath and above the skies laid before him. And Shen Qingqiu revels in the rapture. Bliss runs wild beneath the tips of his fingers, nails digging into the meat of Liu Qingge’s thighs, stamping them with crescents all over while Shen Qingqiu sucks him dry. 

When he finally comes, what feels like hours later though is perhaps only minutes, only mere fragments of time shattered between them in a pocket dimension tucked between reality and fantasy, Shen Qingqiu finds true religion. The weight that settles thick at the back of his throat is grounding, dispelling the fraying edges of that charm cast over him like a net. Liu Qingge, too, looks a little clearer once he’s stopped convulsing, his body unfurling into a position of sated comfort. 

They eye each other cautiously, unsure of what’s meant to come after. As far as Shen Qingqiu knows, there’s no rule for what comes after being mated by a dragon. He’d have tried asking G***le before if he knew such a day were to come, but alas, how could Shen Qingqiu have ever known? 

Carefully, the dragon dismounts both of them, sitting back on its hind legs and coiling its tail and abdomen around itself. It looks every bit as innocent as it did before, back when Shen Qingqiu had been naive enough to think of it as nothing but an overgrown, scaly puppy. Tipping its head to the side, it looks over at both of them inquisitively. Shen Qingqiu follows, with great trepidation, the arc drawn by the two twin cocks, still rising headstrong and heady from between parted folds.

Maybe they’re not the only ones unsure of what to do next. 

For now, he moves to tug at Liu Qingge, wanting to assess any damages that might have left his precious shidi needing some close counselling. What he finds is a Liu Qingge blushing madly, furiously avoiding Shen Qingqiu.

“Liu-shidi. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine!” He snaps to a standing position, tugging the remnants of his robes tighter around himself. Shen Qingqiu watches him, mild amusement playing fondly in his eyes. There’s nothing else he gets to say before a shy nudge catches his attention. 

“And you? Are you alright?” His lips curl into a smile, body turning to face their spectator. Up close, Shen Qingqiu finds himself once again endeared, hands reaching to cup the sides of its face, fingers tracing the shape of its scales. A huff, gale of air hitting him head-on and tickling him all over. Shen Qingqiu laughs, the sound rising all around them like the clinking of crystal bells, pure and precious. He’s sought out by a pair of arms encircling his waist, Liu Qingge’s face burying at the base of his neck, hiding there.

“Shidi. What is it?” His hands lay themselves neatly over Liu Qingge’s, fitting right against them, taking their shape while his fingers brush up against his knuckles. Shen Qingqiu can almost taste Liu Qingge’s sigh upon his skin, immersed in only the sound of their still-ragged breathing. “Tell this shixiong and he’ll be happy to help.”

His response comes in the shape of Liu Qingge’s nails embedded in his arm, the feeling of being pulled close into that warm embrace, held with so much care and tenderness Shen Qingqiu can’t tell himself apart from Liu Qingge. 

There is no more need for words between them. No point in wasting any breath when Liu Qingge is already breathing down the line of his jaw, burying pleas unspoken in the skin he finds there. Shen Qingqiu turns his head, settling against that wide chest and humming a mild melody. He leaves Liu Qingge to quest along the flutter of his pulse, down the working muscles of his neck, along the wing of his collarbone and all the way up his shoulder. 

What Liu Qingge wants—what they both want—

Against him, the creature starts purring again, nuzzling against Shen Qingqiu’s heartbeat and breathing deep and heavy. He feels as though he’s been driven mad, thinking that he might know the meaning of such small offerings. Still, Shen Qingqiu cannot doubt the sight of those cocks as they tease into his field of vision. His mind has perhaps never been clearer before when Shen Qingqiu decides, much to his internal horror, that he’ll help keep the game up between the three of them. 

“Shidi—Liu-shidi,” his breath hitches, body shuffling to pull away from Liu Qingge. “Can you listen to this shixiong of yours?”

The frown that crinkles Liu Qingge’s features is more familiar than anything else Shen Qingqiu has encountered today. His hand settles soft against that handsome face, polished like jade and so very beautiful. When he nods, Shen Qingqiu continues. 

“I want to have you. Will you allow it?” 

Liu Qingge flushes for the both of them, scarlet surprisingly fitting on his skin despite the cool tones lurking there. 

“If it’s you…” Then yes. 

“Good.” Shen Qingqiu smiles back at him in reassurance. Then, he’s turning around, peeking up at those beaming eyes through the open fan of his dark lashes. “And you? Will you…take me?” At that, he finally breaks into a blush of his own. His skin burns when he averts his gaze, unable to face the heat that glimmers dangerously in those ruby irises. 

He doesn't make it far, not when Shen Qingqiu feels himself get pushed, warm, wet nose pressing into the dip of his waist. Without much fuss, he’s directed to sit back on his knees, his ass shyly suspended midair. 

Only then does it occur to him he’s being watched from both ends.  

Liu Qingge has no shame. He undresses Shen Qingqiu down to the very bone with his sight, alone, following every curve, every swing and every dip of that delicate body. Shen Qingqiu quickly pipes up, scrambling for some cover and finding none. For what it’s worth, the problem doesn’t persist much longer. 

That familiar pressure returns, the press of a cock against his hole, thick head easing into him without much restraint, body still slack with the after-effects of their first coupling and the lingering traces of the aphrodisiac still coursing through him. The dragon mounts him in a slow, smooth movement, burying itself inside Shen Qingqiu and nesting there. Like that, it pauses and waits, head dropping to lick soothingly along the juncture of neck and shoulder. 

“Shidi,” he calls out, “Come here.” And when Liu Qingge makes to turn and face away, it’s Shen Qingqiu’s hand on his elbow that pulls him back, face-to-face. “No, no. I want to see you.”

It’s a simple request, one that Liu Qingge could easily reject. There would be no cost, both of them know this, so, Shen Qingqiu can’t help the way joy blooms through him eternal when he accepts. Liu Qingge maneuvers his body, just so, ever so careful of each fleeting touch he lays upon Shen Qingqiu, as though worried it might ruin the fragile little balance between them. Instead, it only makes the air turn headier, the way Liu Qingge pants himself dry, and Shen Qingqiu can only swallow watching the way he moves, captive to that traitorous breath that makes his chest quiver. His hands move to catch Liu Qingge, worship thick at his fingertips when he helps him land upon his lap, Liu Qingge’s knees flexing underneath him. The weight of everything they share, all that’s left unspoken, it makes up for the loss of the aphrodisiac. 

“Is this—” Liu Qingge tries, fails, and Shen Qingqiu watches how poorly he takes the loss. The War God of Bai Zhan Peak is not used to losing, victory as sure in his hands as the hilt of Cheng Luan. 

“Yes. This is perfect.” Shen Qingqiu hears himself say, but it’s a distant thing. His palms glide along the sculpt of Liu Qingge’s abdomen, down along his waist, where his hips taper off. He feels entranced by every part of Liu Qingge that moves beneath him, as though Shen Qingqiu is the orchestrator of something truly magical. “Can you stand for me?” 

His question does not deign an answer. Liu Qingge only props himself higher up on his knees, spine curling where Shen Qingqiu pushes his ass out and pulls his shoulders in. When he’s lowered back down, Liu Qingge bristles; the feeling of Shen Qingqiu’s hard cock against him is a taunt he’s not entirely sure how to react to. All he can do is stammer uselessly. 

“Ah, p-please— ” 

He can hardly believe this is the same man, the same Liu Qingge he’s known all these years. If Shang Qinghua could see him, could see them—well, Shen Qingqiu would surely drop dead! He still feels somewhat drunk seeing Liu Qingge like this, so pliant, only for him. 

“If it’s alright with Liu-shidi, then…” And then he’s opening Liu Qingge, dragging him down onto his cock until they’re flush with each other. Shen Qingqiu reels, head thrown back against a firm belly, holding himself steady by biting into Liu Qingge, nails marking him red and purple all over. Against him, Liu Qingge keens just as badly, curling in on himself, forehead falling against the bare crook of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. 

For a moment, all they can do is breathe.

Behind them, the dragon stirs, tail slithering about their ankles. It wraps around their entwined bodies, pulling Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge closer to each other, closer to that warm body casting its shadow dark over them. The cock inside Shen Qingqiu stirs when his own hole tightens around it, Liu Qingge so impossibly warm as he’s pulling Shen Qingqiu deeper into himself. 

It’s a delicate game of dominoes, a balancing act at which nobody seems to excel; one sensation kickstarts another then another and another, until the snake is finally swallowing back its own tail. A perfect cycle of give and take. Shen Qingqiu loves it, in a way he can’t ever recall having his attention caught before. Liu Qingge is beautiful, perfect, a creation far too good for the hands of someone like Shang Qinghua—except, that’s precisely what he is. 

Eventually, just this little is no longer enough. He craves the fiction, yearns to play tug of war with the bodies sandwiching him so perfectly in the middle. Testing the give, Shen Qingqiu pushes himself along the length of the cock inside him, feeling it jerk after him if only a fraction. In his arms, Liu Qingge comes willingly, following him wherever Shen Qingqiu takes them. 

“Liu-shidi…”   

Shaky hands reach to grab hold of the horns sprouting beautifully out of the dragon’s head, earning Liu Qingge a pleased rumble that shakes him to the very core. Shen Qingqiu follows the exchange, finds his heart hammering inside his chest with a feeling foreign to him. 

At the same time, they begin rocking against each other, a gentle sway of hips and waist, muscles undulating beneath skin stretched thin. Shen Qingqiu finds that his hand quickly develops a mind of its own, following a close agenda that involves touching Liu Qingge, feeling out Liu Qingge, holding Liu Qingge. 

And, gods be blessed, he’s also got two hands!

His other reaches behind, arm looping around a slender neck, holding himself suspended before dropping back down against the cock pulsating inside him. At times, Shen Qingqiu will stroke at the swell of the dragon’s head, working the pads of his fingers against the scales, rubbing soothing patterns into a willing body. And, for all the care he extends to both of his partners, Shen Qingqiu is rewarded tenfold. The pinprick graze of teeth edges along his shoulder, not so much a threat as it is a promise. He waits, patient all over except for where his jackrabitting heart threatens to bust right out of his ribcage. 

Ah, it feels so good! Even when it's not enough. 

Because, even filled to the brim, his ass plugged and his cock inside Liu Qingge, Shen Qingqiu finds that he wants more, needs more. He yields, mouth falling slack, lolling open to make space for the deviled tongue slithering along his jaw. It slips inside him so easily, no resistance rising up to hinder its slow advance, leaving it to ravage him slowly from the inside. 

This same muscle had entered Liu Qingge only minutes ago. That thought, alone, is enough to silence every one of Shen Qingqiu’s mindless worries before they’ve made it past his lips. All at once, he’s overwhelmed by the notion that he’s yet to taste Liu Qingge's insides for himself, to feel him shatter into a babbling brook of nonsense and turmoil on his own tongue. Briefly, he thinks of the potential of a next time. 

“Liu-shidi. Liu-shidi.” After pulling away, his tongue shyly flicking to chase the kiss back upon itself, Shen Qingqiu urges in a tone all-too-gentle. Like this, lost in the narrow space between overwhelming pleasure and something as-of-yet-unnamed, something much, much darker, Liu Qingge looks unreal. 

His eyes draw closed, squeezed shut under the mounting pressure, eyebrows pulled together at the seam. With each thrust, his lips flutter open, parting on the moans pouring out of him ceaselessly. As for that body, the same one Shen Qingqiu could never catch a proper glimpse of, it is even more marvelous in real time. None of Shen Qingqiu’s fantasies have ever done it justice. Liu Qingge is sculpted entirely of muscle, one long stretch of flesh pulled taut and firm beneath the touch, all of it gilded in a thin layer of sweat that shines golden under the sun.

If this were a porno, then Liu-shidi would undoubtedly be the #1 Money Maker! 

Shen Qingqiu can already feel himself teetering dangerously close to the edge, always a breath short of coming undone. It doesn’t help that Liu Qingge sounds so needy, little punched-out notes spilling out of him broken. His breathing comes out uneven, ragged, as if it’s been shredded to pieces on the rocky shores of an orgasm unlike any other.

Shen Qingqiu can relate, though he also can’t help wondering—could this be Liu Qingge’s first time? 

No way! 

…right?

Right?!

“Liu-shidi.” He tries again, hands cupping those flushed cheeks tenderly. At that, Liu Qingge finally cracks his eyes open, watching Shen Qingqiu through pupils blown-wide. It’s impossible to tell whether or not he’s actually coherent, his gaze unfocused as it teeters from side to side. Still, Shen Qingqiu can’t help himself when Liu Qingge makes it this easy. “Qingqiu will be kissing you now, if it’s alright with Liu-shidi.” But before he can make good on that promise, it’s Liu Qingge overwhelming him, his mouth starved on Shen Qingqiu’s. He kisses and bites, tongue licking its way into the wet warmth behind those full lips.

It doesn’t take nearly long enough for Liu Qingge to prove himself Shen Qingqiu’s undoing.

As expected, every one of his muscles is poised for the kill, the steady clamour of battle a rush inside Liu Qingge’s veins. He kisses Shen Qingqiu like he’s starved for blood, pinching the skin to taste iron fresh. Once that’s no longer enough, he moves lower, down along the line of his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, traces of his journey loudly blooming across Shen Qingqiu’s skin. Each open wound Liu Qingge inflicts upon him leaves marks far beneath the surface, taking root inside his heart and coiling tight around it. 

“Shidi.” Shen Qingqiu can barely come up for air, the space between himself and Liu Qingge’s roving mouth too tight for such an allowance. “Slow down.” 

“Can’t…” Of course he’d be just as breathless. When Liu Qingge tears himself off of Shen Qingqiu’s body, he barely manages it. Whatever restraint there’s still left inside him, it is rapidly fraying, the edges of him coming undone without the hold of Shen Qingqiu to keep him together. 

“Here. Will you let this shixiong help you?”

“Please.” Liu Qingge gasps, short-breathed. Each little sound splinters off of him as though he’s being carefully carved out by Shen Qingqiu’s hands slipping down the firm planes of his abdomen, tracing the outline of his muscles before wrapping around his erection. Touch as soft as a silk ribbon, long fingers draw out the arc of Liu Qingge’s cock, skirting the lip of his head with a torturous softness, a barely-there touch that chases all thoughts clean out of Liu Qingge’s mind. His head lolls to the side, forehead falling into the crook of Shen Qingiu’s shoulder, where the darkness and warmth can lull him into comfort. 

“Good boy.” Aided by a surge of adrenaline, Shen Qingqiu easily slips into the role Liu Qingge needs him to play—that of a reliable shixiong, someone worthy of Liu Qingge’s approval and respect, someone he won’t come to hate for having seen him this way. 

And what a sight it is; Liu Qingge melts into the hollow of Shen Qingqiu’s embrace. His arms wind around that strong neck, anchoring himself with thighs splayed open on either side of Shen Qingqiu. All while eager fingers dig into the soft depressions on either side of Shen Qingqiu’s spine, nails rooted inside flesh as cool and pale as jade. 

There is something to be said about the way Liu Qingge fits so perfectly against him, taking on the shape of everything Shen Qingqiu cannot deign to ever be—all rough edges, a violent desire to be subdued, held on a leash so tight Liu Qingge would never escape out of his sight.

The truth is that Shen Qingqiu does not allow himself to entertain such ideas, not when he cannot hope to reconcile them against everything he ever thought he knew about the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. That he would fall, willingly, without regret, to the blade of Shen Qingqiu’s tongue against his pulsepoint, of Shen Qingqiu’s fingers inside the dimples of his back, Shen Qingqiu’s voice ringing in his ears—who could have ever guessed?

Still, Shen Qingqiu’s body moves before he can stop it, long before he can think twice about what it is that is happening. All he knows is that Liu Qingge needs him, and he needs him now.

“There, there.” Shen Qingqiu soothes, but whether it’s aimed more at himself or at Liu Qingge is hard to say. What matters is that it works both ways. Liu Qingge goes slack against him, his body rapidly losing mass when Shen Qingqiu quickens his pace, now stroking him in earnest. “You trust your shixiong, don’t you, Liu-shidi?”

“Y-Yes.” By sheer will alone, Liu Qingge still manages an answer. It’s a feat, a testament to his will. How could Shen Qingqiu not feel pride well inside him? So overwhelming, it earns Liu Qingge the reward of a wrist’s flick against his cock, his hole tightening around Shen Qingqiu in response to the stimulation. 

“A-Ah.” Both of them are rapidly nearing the end of this chapter of their lives, a chapter Shen Qingqiu will shamefully later dub as the “Getting Fucked by a Legendary Beast While Fucking My Shidi Under the Influence of Dragon-Saliva Aphrodisiacs” chapter (it’s a work in progress, alright). For now, however, his mind is still consumed by the feeling of the cock spearing him open, scales scraping at his insides in the most minute of movements, the feeling of Liu Qingge rapidly fluttering around him. “Liu-shidi, come for me? Qingqiu knows you can be a good boy for me.” 

And maybe he should be surprised that Liu Qingge had dragged it out this long only to come with a single command, but Shen Qingqiu only knows the satisfaction of having been the one to give Liu Qingge everything he’d ever needed. Finally, he can pay off some of that debt he’s owed since Sha Hualing played her little party trick, forcing his shidi into becoming Shen Qingqiu’s personal spiritual pump. 

Spent, Liu Qingge falls against him, body heaving long, dry breaths. Shen Qingqiu welcomes him, hides him inside the safety of his arms, keeping him there before following in Liu Qingge’s footsteps. The body behind him is just as kind, eager to hold the both of them against itself, to warm them up when the night’s breeze whistles through the empty cavern. When the chill finally settles, Shen Qingqiu still feels happy and full, a resounding satisfaction thrumming inside him.

Liu Qingge is long gone by the time his own eyelids start falling heavy, but Shen Qingqiu takes a moment to run a thumb along his cheek, drawing out the shape of the bones beneath. He digs out a gentle sigh from inside Liu Qingge, helps him ease into a more comfortable position, Shen Qingqiu's chin propped against the top of his head, and they snuggle close together, trading body heat like the priceless commodity it has become. The tail wrapped around them weaves a little tighter, wrapping in on itself to make a bed for their exhausted bodies, and Shen Qingqiu clings on to what little  mind is needed to show proper gratitude.

"Thank you." His smile is audible even to himself, even though he's not entirely sure if thankful is what he ought to be feeling. "We'll be in your care tonight, if you don't mind." The dragon purrs its reply, head nuzzling against Shen Qingqiu. With a laugh, he lays back, a hand coming up to stroke at the creature's whiskers. 

"Until tomorrow, then..." And then he's fast asleep.

Sweet dreams haunt his slumber, dreams of crimson eyes set alight, of a lovely boy with onyx hair, its luster unbearably alluring even through the thick mist of sleep. There are unsung promises that hum inside his veins, traces of the aphrodisiac still lingering within him, but Shen Qingqiu doesn't find reason to mind it. He's never before felt happier. 

Waking up, Shen Qingqiu is quick to realize that something has changed.

The dragon? Gone. As far as the eye can see, there is not a trace of there ever having been such a creature. Were it not for the quiet ache of his body, muscles sore and burning, or for the way his thighs stick together, still painted white where they rub against each other, Shen Qingqiu would have readily chalked all of it up to a cruel, wet dream. 

Against him, Liu Qingge stirs, woken up by the rousing of his body pillow, his presence there the only proof of anything having ever happened. 

"Shen...Qingqiu?" 

"Liu-Shidi, what's with the face?" Shen Qingqiu tuts at him. "You'll hurt my feelings if you look at me like that." 

But that only makes Liu Qingge's expression worsen, souring the more he looks at him. His head snaps violently to the size, eyes avoiding having to look at Shen Qingqiu for even a second longer. 

"Shameless! Dress yourself properly!"

"Ah, but this shixiong isn't the only one naked. Has Liu-shidi already forgotten the events of the previous day?" 

"I haven't! How could I—" Liu Qingge notices the strange look on Shen Qingqiu's face, the way his smile freezes halfway to turning upside-down entirely. A second later, he notices the shift in air behind him, the gust of a warm wind carrying in the company of another. Not enemy, not entirely. Just unknown. 

"It can't be..."

Stood before them on his knees, a handsome youth, mild in mannerisms and features gentle as flowing streams. The subtle crinkle of his eyes gives way to a smile most-brilliant, so wholly devoid of that earlier fire. And yet, across Shen Qingqiu's bare back, countless welts still burn, cutting an erotic visage for anybody looking. Namely, Liu Qingge. 

"Shizun. Shishu." The young man speaks simply, bowing his head in a polite greeting. "You're awake."

Unaware (or simply unashamed), he makes no move to hide his manhood, the sight of it plainly mortifying to Shen Qingqiu, though no more than that familiar face. It is a face so recognizable, unmistakable, that even without having met him before, Shen Qingqiu knows precisely who it is that’s just fucked him within an inch of his life. 

LUO BINGHE?!