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The order had been simple enough.
“Bathe him and bring him to my chambers,” he had told the maids and eunuchs when they entered the cell. “Burn those clothes.” The ones he wore were threadbare and as filthy as the rest of him. Luo Binghe’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “My wives have plenty to spare, he may borrow some.”
Luo Binghe thought dressing Shen Qingqiu in women’s clothes would be amusing. His icy facade had withstood the dragging of his name and remained unflinching during the torture Luo Binghe imparted on him. But he had always been a prideful man, and even he was bound to take a blow from being stripped, washed, and then dressed in colorful, flowery fabrics.
He had grown tired of the damp cell that housed his former master, and he thought a change of scenery would do them well. He had a guqin brought to his room, so his former master may perform for him. His fingers hadn’t healed right after Luo Binghe broke them, and he couldn’t fully bend some of them, much less play properly. It should be entertaining enough to see him struggle.
It felt like the servants were taking their sweet time with Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe wondered, mildly irritated, just how long it could take them to empty a few buckets of cold water over a naked man. Could it be that Shen Qingqiu decided to put up a fight? A single eunuch would be enough to subdue him in his current state, Luo Binghe could only hope they hadn’t decided to give him a few lashes for his impertinence.
The pleasure of punishing Shen Qingqiu was his alone.
After what seemed like forever, the servants announced themselves. Luo Binghe was feeling twitchy by then, somewhat impatient, not unlike a child waiting to be handed their favorite toy.
He expected Shen Qingqiu to look like a wet cat, still dripping from his cold bath, and ridiculous too, with an ill-fitting gown too tight for him, stretched over all the wrong places.
That is not what happens.
Shen Qingqiu has too much dignity to allow the servants to drag him into the room, so he walks on his own slowly, trying to hide a limp, flanked by them. They’ve dressed him in fine silks, in the red of Luo Binghe’s sigil and a green that matched Shen Qingqiu’s eyes. They’ve tamed the tangled mess his hair used to be, pinned it up, and adorned it in the style that was popular in the harem.
Framed by gold and flowers, Shen Qingqiu’s face had more color than it had in months. A pink blush was applied to his cheeks, making them appear sun-kissed. His eyebrows had been shaped and his lashes darkened. His lips were painted a crimson red, the same as the huadian on his forehead.
From a withered weed to a bloomed rose, he thought. Any sentient beast could admit that he made quite the picture.
Shen Qingqiu looked dainty, something Luo Binghe never thought he would think about his former master. Lovely even, it was clear that the servants had put in their best efforts.
Luo Binghe suspected that his orders, or at least the intention behind them, had been misinterpreted. However, he would not complain. After all, they had done as he asked and even exceeded his expectations.
Curtly, he dismissed them and he was soon left alone with Shen Qingqiu.
He approached him as one would a wild animal. The high shoes he wore put him almost at eye-level with Luo Binghe, but he wasn’t meeting his gaze.
Luo Binghe captured his chin between his fingers and forced him to turn his face. Shen Qingqiu growled and glared at him, hand shooting up to grab his wrist. Luo Binghe noticed the nail guards on his pinkie and ring finger, and a smile pulled at his lips.
“I was hoping that Shizun would play the guqin for me, but it seems like he won’t be able to do so.”
He looked ready to take them off and throw them at his face, which was more fire than he had shown in months.
Luo Binghe found himself equally incensed.
Oh, well. A shame about the music, he would just have to find another way to entertain himself.
Easily freeing himself from his grip, he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him towards him. Shen Qingqiu’s hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance.
He looked like a prissy maiden trying to fight off the advances of a suitor. The image made him chuckle. A tug had him stumbling forward and Luo Binghe cushioned his fall with his lap.
“Does your lechery know no bounds?” He hissed. It seems like he had misunderstood his intentions too. “And you have no right to keep using that title!”
Luo Binghe had missed his voice. Lately, he had taken to wearing his silence as armor. Only delighting him with his screams every so often.
“Shizun of all people shouldn’t lecture others on lechery.” He teased lightly. “What is it, Shizun is fond of whores but he doesn’t care to play the part?”
Something akin to fear shone in his eyes through the rage.
“I am no whore.”
“You are not,” he allowed. “A whore wouldn't wear clothes as fine as these,” he rubbed the silk between his fingers. “A wife of mine would.”
Under the fake blush, he reddened. Luo Binghe wondered if it was because of the implications.
“You dare-”
“Who would take a fallen man to wife?” He teased, feeling himself growing warm. “No, if anything, Shizun would be a concubine.”
He squeezed his hip.
“ Shen Qingqiu is such a mouthful, a concubine has no need of a name like that. What was it that Haitang called Shizun, A-Jiu?” He visibly flinched. “Shizun is older than this lord though… Qing-er, maybe?”
His pretty lips twisted into a snarl.
Luo Binghe would’ve liked to taste them, to see if he would find in them the poison they so eagerly spewed, but that would get the crimson all over his face, and he could think of a better way of ruining his make-up.
“Qing-er,” he repeated, fond and mocking, “Won’t you serve your lord a cup of wine?”
Shen Qingqiu didn’t weigh his options for long. Given a chance to leave his lap, he swiftly extricated himself from Luo Binghe’s hold and walked to his desk. As he looked through the cabinets, Luo Binghe appreciated the way the robes hugged his waist.
Finally, he finds the demon-made wine Luo Binghe indulges in occasionally, a sweet brew with strong effects.
He brings it to the table along with the only glass in the cabinet. His hand trembles when he pours it, but years of being a peak lord have made him graceful in a manner that is not easily shrugged off.
Before Luo Binghe can reach for the glass, Shen Qingqiu grabs it and downs it in one go. He meets Luo Binghe’s eyes afterwards, defiant, daring him to punish him for his insolence.
Luo Binghe cannot bring himself to do so. Not when he’s fighting a smile.
“Drinking games are common in brothels, this lord wonders if he ever partook in them: Qing-er drinks like a whore.”
Shen Qingqiu does not grace him with an answer, he reaches for the jar instead. Pink liquid fills the glass once more.
“Maybe he is more fit to be a whore, if he cannot even follow such a simple instruction from his lord.”
He doesn’t quite manage to hide the twitch of his hand as he sets down the jar. He doesn’t snatch away the cup this time, but holds it carefully with both hands before offering it to Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe thinks about taking it and pouring it over his head, ultimately deciding against it.
He accepts the cup, purposefully brushing his fingers over Shen Qingqiu’s as he takes it.
“Did Qing-er enjoy the wine?” He asked as he took a small sip.
“It was passable.”
He chuckled. “Qing-er has such high standards. He’ll have to learn to enjoy what he’s given.”
“Some people have means, others have taste.”
“Qing-er has neither. This is quite expensive, and a fine brew.” He cocked his head to the side. “Had he drunk it like a civilized man, he might have appreciated it better.”
“The wrong company will make the finest meal taste foul.”
The fingers of his free hand dug on his knee, where Shen Qingqiu couldn’t see it.
He just refused to help himself. He knew that he was at his mercy, powerless to stop him should he wish to harm him as he had done countless times before, and yet he refused to play nice.
Wasn’t he being kind, allowing him nice clothes and a respite from torture? He should be groveling at his feet, climbing on his lap to curry his favor- Not wielding his tongue as a knife.
“Qing-er has such a sharp tongue,” he mused. “This lord wonders… Should he touch it, would it cut him?”
Shen Qingqiu tried to move out of his reach, but Luo Binghe was faster. A hand closed around his arm and the other caught his jaw. Shen Qingqiu was unable to close his mouth, and Luo Binghe’s thumb pushed past his futile resistance and pressed on his tongue.
“No knives here.” He said softly. “Qing-er acts so boldly for someone as helpless as he is. Doesn’t he know he’s at this lord’s mercy?”
He must have known it to some degree, because for all the tension in his jaw, he wasn’t trying to bite off his finger.
Still, he did nothing to disguise the hatred in his eyes.
“A concubine has more duties than just serving wine. If Qing-er is unaware of what is expected of him, this lord will be happy to show him.”
It took little force to bring to his knees. Shen Qingqiu, weak as he was, couldn’t put up much of a fight, and the high shoes and heavy robes restricted his movements.
Some of the red in his lips had smudged, staining his pale face. Even like this, suddenly so still and with an animalistic look in his eyes, he managed to be alluring.
No wonder he frequented brothels so often. The whores were probably quite welcoming to their unusually handsome patron, a reprieve from the old lechers and green youths they had to serve.
He kept him down with one hand and brought the other his sash, loosening it.
Given his familiarity with such establishments and the fact that the expectations of whores and concubines weren’t too different, it wasn’t a reach to assume that he’d be able to tell what Luo Binghe wanted and act accordingly.
Whatever self-preservation had kept him from biting off his finger vanished right then.
It seemed like he indeed realized what Luo Binghe wanted, but he had no intention to play nice about it. Luo Binghe wasn’t wholly displeased by this- better hatred than dullness and apathy. He wanted him present for what was going to happen. No point in having his pretty head drifting away.
Shen Qingqiu tried to pull back, but he found Luo Binghe’s grip unforgivingly firm.
Luo Binghe was a practical man with many wives, so despite his status, he did not wear an unreasonable number of layers. He undoes the little knots with swift fingers as Shen Qingqiu watches in horror, until the innermost one is revealed along with his hardening arousal, which has been pressing insistently against the fabric since Shen Qingqiu was forced to his lap.
For his part, Shen Qingqiu was frozen.
“Surely it’s nothing Qing-er hasn’t seen before?” He cocked his head to the side, amused. “Unless he’s hiding something beneath those robes…”
Luo Binghe didn’t think he had ever found himself on the receiving end of such a wrathful gaze.
“You’re disgusting.” He proclaimed, remarkably calm. “This master should’ve put an end to you while he still could.”
His cock twitched violently.
Mourning the fine updo, his hand moved from Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and sank into his hair. Pulling, he tilted back his face. Shen Qingqiu hissed.
Luo Binghe parted his robes and freed his cock.
He was already leaking, red and heavy on his hand.
“If Shizun bites, this lord will pull out all of his teeth,” that was all the warning he got before he was prying his jaws open and pushing past his red lips.
He made a choked, fearful noise, but this did not stop Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu shut his eyes, hands flying to hold onto Luo Binghe’s sleeves, trying to keep him from pushing further and failing to do so.
Luo Binghe groaned. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth was hot and wet, tongue soft under the head of his cock. Slowly, he dragged it back and forth over it. It didn’t cut him, he discovered pleasantly, in fact he found it quite welcoming.
Holding him tighter by the roots, Luo Binghe rolled his hips, hitting the back of his throat. Shen Qingqiu whimpered loudly, the sound sending a thrill down his spine. He wasn’t attempting to bite him, too busy trying to breathe.
Luo Binghe knew it was futile to try to coax him into using his hands or pleasuring him properly, so he contented himself with thrusting into his face leisurely. Watching him struggle to take his cock made up for it.
His red lips stretched over him obscenely as he tried to follow his rhythm. Luo Binghe was nowhere near as rough as he could be, so Shen Qingqiu eventually managed to bob his head along his hips. As drool and seed gathered in his mouth, he had no choice but to swallow around him, the feeling making him stutter.
He loosened his hold on his hair, just enough to give him a bit more room to move.
“Shizun, open your eyes,” he ordered, voice thick with lust.
He grunted as the man failed to comply, and pushed his face forcefully until it met his pelvis. Desperate fingers dug into his thighs. His throat fluttered nervously around length. Dark tears streamed down his cheeks, but he still kept his eyes closed.
He could pinch his nose, he thought. He could fuck him ruthlessly and leave him voiceless for the weeks to come- But right then, the only thing he really wanted was to see those hateful eyes of his.
“Shizun,” he said gentler, though his entire body was shaking with the effort of keeping still. “This lord can make this last for as long as he wishes. Your belly will be full of seed and you’ll keep me warm through court unless you open your eyes-” Inevitably, his voice grew into a growl.
Stubbornly, Shen Qingqiu’s face only tightened.
Damn him, he thought hatefully, sharply snapping his hips.
“Look at me!”
At last, Shen Qingqiu opened his eyes. Luo Binghe met his gaze, seeking his fiery contempt- Only to find nothing but disdain. Shen Qingqiu looked at him like he was the dirt beneath his feet; mundane and unworthy of notice.
All of his body tensed as he came violently, spilling down his throat with a curse. As his body lost itself on his release, Shen Qingqiu managed to free himself and fell back, coughing. Seed dribbled down his chin, and he furiously wiped it away.
Luo Binghe breathed heavily, feeling boneless.
Shen Qingqiu turned his head when he stopped coughing. The servants’ hard work was ruined; the makeup was smudged and all over his face, locks of dark hair were coming loose of his updo and more than one pin lay abandoned on the floor, his robes were ruffled and the front of his dress was damp with their combined fluids.
All in all, debauched yet unbroken, Shen Qingqiu still painted an enticing picture.
They would have to do this more often. Luo Binghe had many wives to borrow clothes from. Shen Qingqiu would never run out of silks to ruin.