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Shen Qingqiu’s been doing this a long time. A long time, a veritable stretch which Shen Qingqiu will not specify, thank you very much! Never ask a bottom his age!
Shen Qingqiu’s sighing, making a scathing comment on the final edits on their newest vid (Why can you see the sound boom in the last thirty minutes of the vid? Why?) before he greenlights it for release.
Shang Qinghua bursts into his office. “Bro, bro, bro!” He blurts, so excited he looks like a hamster vibrating. Shen Qingqiu knows just by looking at him that Shang Qinghua’s exceeded his allotted caffeine dosage for the day. Shen Qingqiu pinches his nose. Takes a deep breath. Braces himself for whatever asinine thing Shang Qinghua thinks he has to know bad enough to burst into Shen Qingqiu’s sanctum.
“I’ve found the biggest dick you’ve ever seen!”
***
Shen Qingqiu hears this claim about three times a week. Biggest dick, thickest schlong, most massive meat, blah blah blah. So many men, so many lackluster dicks. Shen Qingqiu is a size queen, pure and simple; a dick connoisseur, if you will. He’s had bigger dicks inside him than most men have arms. He’s heard just about every claim of ‘biggest dick’ under the sun. Most the time they aren’t even as big as his forearm. Yawn.
This ‘top’ is not very convincing, on first glance. He’s very pretty, with a face for the cover of a boy band, although he’s sturdy enough. Broad shoulders. Some definition in the thighs. But he’s so young looking, young enough that Shen Qingqiu looks over his shoulder and says: “Did you check to see if his ID was fake?”
Shang Qinghua passes Shen Qingqiu a clipboard with his photocopied ID and, on the next page, a background report. He hums, “Luo Binghe,” he says, looking up to make sure the man responds. He’s had all sorts of ID fraud in this business. Shen Qingqiu refuses to fuck around with age.
‘Luo Binghe’ nods rapidly, reminding Shen Qingqiu ever so much like a dog. His curly hair even bounces! Bounces!
“Why do you want to do porn?” He asks, watching Binghe closely.
Luo Binghe looks down at his feet, all of a sudden. A little flush runs over his cheeks, turning them a dusky pink. Shen Qingqiu gets the impression he’s corrupting an innocent. “College tuition,” Luo Binghe says, to his toes.
Cute! Cute! Even if Luo Binghe’s dick is substandard, he might not mind giving it a little bit of a ride.
Shen Qingqiu hums, willing to entertain this for a moment. “All right, show us your dick.”
Shen Qingqiu’s jaw drops.
***
“You weren’t kidding!” Shen Qingqiu hisses, using the clipboard to hide his mouth. They’re both watching Luo Binghe strip down to nothing. For a guy who was so shy in the other room, he certainly isn’t having a hard time stripping in front of the camera. And why would he be shy! His dick is almost literally the length of his thigh, and thicker around than a coke can. A coke liter bottle, even. Soft.
They’re ostensibly doing a camera check, to see how photogenic Luo Binghe is on screen. Really, Shen Qingqiu just wants to see how a dick that fucking large can get hard.
Also, a bit practically, to see if Luo Binghe can get hard. Does he have enough blood? Can he stay standing and get hard? What even is his blood-pressure?
“All right, Binghe, can you touch yourself?” Shen Qingqiu calls, lowering his clipboard. “Give us a little show, if you can.”
Luo Binghe starts by fisting his dick, rolling his foreskin down and over the head. And, wow, does that dick get full, so rapidly it seems to spring up, as eager as a fucking whack-a-mole, right into Luo Binghe’s hand. So much for worrying about blood supply! Shen Qingqiu’s almost never seen a dick get that hard that fast. Especially not one without pharmaceutical aid.
“A fucking grower and a shower?” Shen Qingqiu hisses to Shang Qinghua, back behind the clipboard.
Shang Qinghua looks smug. Shen Qingqiu looks away, so he doesn’t have to look at Shang Qinghua’s expression. He deserves it, just this once. Luckily there’s a dick to look at, large enough it’s causing its own well of gravity and drawing Shen Qingqiu’s gaze.
More than that, Luo Binghe does give them a pretty good show, fisting his dick, squeezing it, showing off its massive size. It’s huge even compared to Luo Binghe’s own hands.
Shen Qingqiu is sort of, not-staring, at it in a daze, when Luo Binghe pauses, bites his lip. “Can I get some lube?”
Can they.
Needless to say, Luo Binghe passes his screen test with flying colors.
***
The problem comes later.
The thing about Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua’s company is this; they don’t just create porn, they create a narrative. Shen Qingqiu’s porn stars have to act. Luo Binghe is good at this, too, miracle of miracles, but Shen Qingqiu can’t find a costar to his quality whose willing to take that dick!
Shen Qingqiu is pacing his office, still spitting out invective about how Gongyi Xiao should be fucking flattered to take Binghe’s dick when Shang Qinghua comes in, the bastard.
Shang Qinghua lets him pace a few more times, to cool down, before dropping his bomb: “I think you’re going to have to do it, bro.”
***
It’s not like Shen Qingqiu has a problem taking dick. He’s certainly done his share.
He’s just on the other side of the camera now. Shen Qingqiu likes being in control, more than he likes even taking dicks.
And Binghe is huge.
For most filming, at the end of the star portion of his career, Shen Qingqiu gave himself two fingers and a good amount of lube. Maybe a plug, if the cock was particularly ambitious.
Even now, in his personal life, Shen Qingqiu’s got starter dildos in every conceivable size, so it’s quite an unsatisfactory surprise to realize he doesn’t have one as big as Binghe. He’s never unprepared.
Luo Binghe had whined that he’d be more than willing to do all the foreplay. But Shen Qingqiu wasn’t an idiot! Never trust a top about foreplay before he’s proven himself! Shen Qingqiu is done with the portion of his life that consisted of sad finger-bangings in the bathrooms of gay-bars, thank you very much! Plus, in porn, it’s not his responsibility to show accurate sexual progression! There’s a market for excruciatingly long foreplay, but that’s not the point of this video! Shang Qinghua’s written some drivel about a Demon Emperor taking his previous Shizun as some sort of concubine, and Shen Qingqiu has polished it into a semi-coherent story.
They’re going for the D/s themes, the rough play, the culmination of a hundred years of yearning and the love-hate of it all! Shen Qingqiu has to be ready to take that dick at the drop of a hat!
It has absolutely nothing to do with how quickly Shen Qingqiu wants to get on it.
When he’s done prepping himself, Shang Qinghua, the ass, blurts: “Wow, I think I could probably see out your mouth.”
Thank you for that edifying commentary, Shang Qingqua. Shen Qingqiu beats him over the head with an unused dildo.
***
“Are you a virgin?” Shen Qingqiu asks, incredulous. He’s on his back, legs pinned next to his head (he’s still kept up on his yoga even if he’s supposed to be retired!), absolutely folded in half, absolute monster of a cock just taunting him; Luo Binghe’s just nudged the tip against the gape of his hole, and, oh, Shen Qingqiu can just tell it’ll be a real treat. If Luo Binghe wasn’t a virgin! Shen Qingqiu doesn’t do virgins! This business is not for virgins!
Luo Binghe keens into the inside of his calf, nodding insensately against his calf, dazed and delirious and virginal. “Shizun, Shizun,” he’s slurring. “Shizun is my first. Saving myself for Shizun.”
Shen Qingqiu’s about to call cut, to throw an absolute shit fit, (these aren’t even Binghe’s lines! OOC!) when Luo Binghe’s hips hitch, his fat head catching on Shen Qingqiu’s stretched out hole. Luo Binghe freezes, the head of his dick enveloped. Shen Qingqiu’s briefly afraid Luo Binghe’s having a seizure; the cords in his neck are sticking right out, his eyes rolling about in his skull, he’s shaking like someone’s shoved a wired old-school Hitachi massager up his ass. Before Shen Qingqiu can work up enough worry, Luo Binghe plunges his dick right in.
Luo Binghe’s dick is even bigger than Shen Qingqiu was anticipating, bigger than he’d even imagined while watching Binghe’s screen test and opening himself on his fingers. Shen Qingqiu’s still stretching around it, his ass feeling like he hadn’t even bothered to stretch at all. It’s impaling him, driving out all of his organs to make a hollow hole for cock. It’s so massive Shen Qingqiu isn’t certain how Luo Binghe’s managed to get inside at all.
It’s too much; Shen Qingqiu will break, he’ll tear, split right in half down the middle.
It’s perfect.
Shen Qingqiu’s vision whites, every single one of his bones disintegrating into the lambent mush of the post-fucked. He’s a cocksleeve, a dick-warmer, a human onahole, a warm bit of flesh to squeeze Luo Binghe’s dick. Shen Qingqiu’s never believed in soulmates, a perfect pairing of persons, but abruptly he absolutly believes with the fervor of a fanatic in dickmates. He’s found his dick, the one dick meant to fill his hole, the gong to his shou. He’s gibbering. It’s his turn to go completely off script, incoherently rambling about Binghe and sex and the most perfect dick. Every dick up until now has been a substandard facsimile of this pleasure, this pressure, this fullness. This is the supreme dick, the ultimate dick! The heavenly pillar of dicks! This dick is the dick of all dicks!
“I love you,” Shen Qingqiu, veteran of such titles as ‘Brokeback Twink’, ‘Sect of Semen’ and ‘Ten Dicks, One Hole’, blurts, so dick drunk it comes out garbled around a tremendous amount of drool. He spasms, coming completely untouched. He’s almost completely insensate to it; his prostate crammed at every conceivable angle and lighting him up from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. Every thrust of Binghe into his hollowed out body seems like an orgasm.
Luo Binghe beams down at him, a thousand watts of joy right in his face. “I knew it,” Luo Binghe cries, literally, tears streaming down his cheeks in inch-wide swaths. “I knew as soon as I saw Shizun that his hole was perfect for me.” He’s fucking, jack-rabbiting really, literally shoving Shen Qingqiu across the mattress with every thrust. It’s okay. Shen Qingqiu sprung for the California King. They’ve got a few feet left. “Shizun is perfect for me.”
Shen Qingqiu idly pats Binghe’s hair as his eyes roll back into his head. Yes, yes, Binghe. Don’t get distracted.