Chapter Text
He had to do it.
He had to do it. There was no way around it. He’d had years to try and come up with something--anything--
If he didn’t push his favorite disciple off the ledge, if he didn’t start the Endless Abyss scenario, then that was it. That was the end of this whole run, good-bye, no more do-overs. There was no way to earn enough BP or satisfaction points or character points or whatever the obviously rigged, heartless, dumb-fuck System wanted out of him--
He didn’t have any options, standing there, Luo Binghe staring at the sword in his hands. He had to make him go--he couldn’t make him understand, what could he even say?! What could anyone say in this scenario?! There was no way to make this okay! He just had to!
Shen Qingqiu’s arms were shaking. Without a Cure was nothing--the pain racing through his nerves, his hands white-knuckle clenching Xiu Ya, it burned like a fire of retribution. Punishing him for the betrayal he was about to commit, for the sin against this innocent White Lotus who had, at this point in his life, done nothing--nothing wrong, nothing to deserve this, nothing--
His whole arm was shuddering. Sweat was streaking the inner lines of his palms, so badly that he almost felt the sword was simply slip out of his grasp if he moved. They stood there, locked, his teeth clenched as he tried to overcome it--he didn’t have a choice, if he was sent back to his original world he would be dead, just a corpse in an apartment choked by stale air--
And his precious disciple was staring, his dark eyes so wide and huge, shining with tears and starlight as he struggled to swallow down every emotion that he couldn’t understand being directed at him. “Shizun,” he said, his voice so small, near broken, unable to believe what was about to happen. Not his Shizun, not his gentle and kind Shen Qingqiu, who had gone so far to take him under his wing, to show him what it might be like to have someone so close--
“System!” Shen Qingqiu screamed in his head. The automatic voice chimed at him, and he nearly winced in pain at how unaffected, how careless its ever-cheerful tone of false usefulness grated across his flayed-raw emotions.
[Yes, User?] the System prompted, watching the pitiful scene stretching out.
“This has to happen. There is no other way. Right? Endless Abyss can’t be--I don’t know, hacked out!” he howled soundlessly, while Luo Binghe waited, silent, trembling, desperate for his Shizun to say it was all a mistake. The System just chirped an affirmative. Shen Qingqiu’s harsh grasp on his sword clenched so tightly the tendons in the back of his hand creaked, tingling like they might pop under the strain. “But, System--” Desperate, hesitation, searching for loopholes. Clawing for some way to manipulate this damned hellish scenario, anything, something he could--
The idea trickled into his head and down his spine like icy water, pooling into his guts in a lump of frigid terror. It was awful. It was suicide. It was surely the end of this stupid dumb-fuck story that he’d gotten himself trapped inside of, the last chapter that he’d be able to drag this odd body-and-soul combo of scum villain and would-be fixer-upper through before he was killed off for real.
But it was better than this. Anything was better than this.
“He doesn’t have to be alone, right? The plot’s already changed.” The System did not have an immediate response, a slow [ . . . ] tapping out in the glowing window as it tried to figure out what this User meant.
Shen Qingqiu did not wait for the System to decide if he was right or wrong. The ice in his belly firmed into a steely wall, wrapped around itself, stilling the trembling fear. It flowed up his arms, a resolve that made his hands soften, relax. He felt like he was going to pass out, darkness creeping into the corners of his vision, panic clawing at the back of his mind. But his countenance was calm--expression smoothed over as Xiu Ya slipped from his fingers, clattering on the ground with a ringing cry.
He stepped forward, arms up, hands open. Binghe’s clouded gaze cleared, a sob leaving him as he threw himself into his Shizun’s opened arms, striking him with the force of a charging boar and wrapping his arms in an iron chain lock around Shen Qingqiu’s middle. His face buried into his master’s chest, soft, broken cries of relief escaping him as his whole body shook.
Shen Qingqiu folded his arms around the trembling boy, his sleeves flowing about him like a blanket. “Silly child,” he whispered, head dipping down until his cheek rest on Binghe’s wild hair, blowing around them in a mane of curls from the hot wind that gusted upwards from the inferno of the Endless Abyss. “Your shizun would never make you face such terrors alone.” He took a deep breath, squeezed the youth tighter, his own hands shaking ever so slightly, the only betrayal of his cool composure. “But this master has no choice but to take you to your fate.”
And then he tipped himself, and Luo Binghe in his arms, over the edge of the cliff. For one stunning moment, all breath left him as his weight simply disappeared. His eyes went to Xiu Ya’s shining blade, laying upon the stone behind him. If he’d not dropped it, he could still catch them both--
But the System would have punished him, he was sure, if he tried to cheat it by just dipping them both down and then flying right back out. He made no attempt to reach for his sword, and gravity caught up with both of them. Luo Binghe shouted something out, terrified not for his own fall but for his Shizun wrapped about him, as the pair dropped down and into the billowing smoke of the Abyss.
***
The Endless Abyss was a hostile nightmare, even to demons. For a human, the place was an absolute hellscape--there was no water, certainly no food that was not poison, and the softest plants to be found were still coated with layers of toxic thorns that would cause excruciating pain at the slightest brush against the skin. If it were not for having already mastered inedia long before, Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t have lasted more than a few days purely from the dry heat, sapping the moisture from all things that dared walk the blackened, ruined ground of sand, rock, and pulverized bone. It was still utterly miserable, feeling the dryness in his skin, his mouth, his eyes--always burning and red from the smoke that drifted through the air. This place was not meant for humans. Not even immortals.
He sat crosslegged on the cruel ground, eyes closed, head bowed. Meditation was the best thing he could do for himself, when it came time to rest--sleeping properly was too dangerous to indulge. Clearing his mind and letting his qi circulate was the best he could do. In a place like this, there was precious little spiritual energy go around--demonic force surrounded him in on all sides, just as choking as the smoke and the heat, pressing inwards against his own spirit and trying at every second to smother it out.
Together with his Without a Cure, unmedicated since he’d made the idiot decision to jump down this hellhole, he didn’t know how long he’d be able to keep going. Sooner or later, his meridians were going to seize up like dried-out riverbeds, choked between the demonic qi battering inwards and the poison forever seeping outwards. The longer he spent in this blasted nowhere land, between any truly habitable realm, the more he despaired about the inevitable fading of his health.
Not to mention that he looked like shit! He hadn’t exactly had time to pack extra clothes before he just jumped off the edge like an absolute moron, and fights were endless down here--distorted, twisted monsters, over-flowing with completely unregulated demonic qi that had long since rendered them into horrible beasts that couldn’t even be called demons any longer, were everywhere, and their only desires were to kill. With his spiritual qi like a beacon of strangeness, he attracted them like a lamp attracting giant, homicidal, deadly moths. Innumerable attacks had left his robes shredded into ribbons, gathered around him, tied off here and there to keep them from just slipping away, his best attempts to keep himself covered. More to keep the sand from scraping his skin any rawer than any remaining sense of modesty, honestly.
After the fourth time Luo Binghe had to pull him from the jaws of a huge beast, evading being swallowed only by clinging like a limpet to the back of its tongue, he’d sort of given up on looking cool and untouchable in front of his disciple any longer. He’d had to retrieve as much of his robes from the creature’s teeth as he could, streaks of bared, bloodied skin making Luo Binghe turn red from secondhand shame, unable to even look at him as he’d cleaned himself with the scraps of his outermost layer and tried miserably to arrange the remaining layers into something passable. It had only gotten worse from there.
Luo Binghe, of course, looked fine. He was the protagonist! He couldn’t get bedraggled, his hair frazzled and knotted and bitten off in irregular ragged ends, his skin rough and snagged for want of a proper rest and bath, his eyes bruised and stinging from endless stress and hot wind blowing at them--
“Shizun.” A blessedly cool hand pressed to his cheek and Shen Qingqiu sighed, eyes easing open. Meditating was really getting him nowhere, and Luo Binghe could clearly tell how much he struggled at self-regulation in this environment. He fought down the hint of a blush that wanted to rise at the way his disciple was staring so thoroughly into his face, leaned forward, concern etched over his devastatingly beautiful features.
Of course, Luo Binghe had asked why. He’d asked why a dozen times, but Shen Qingqiu had no real answer that he could give him. He didn’t know what to say--all he could finally settle on was the utterly unsatisfying, “It was necessary.” Still, he was forgiven. Praises to whatever gods might care about the world inside a trashy stallion novel, Luo Binghe had forgiven him for his insanity, because they were there together. That was all his little lamb desired--as long as Shizun was there, he could forgive him for his utterly nonsense decision to trap them both in the Endless Abyss.
“Shizun.” The hand slid up, over his tangled hair. A sense of exhaustion tempered Shen Qingqiu’s reactions to the embarrassing gesture--his eyes just slid most of the way shut, breath sliding out of him in a long, slow sigh. Luo Binghe still had that glow to him, that perfect touch about his frame, even in a place like this. It really wasn’t fair--but at least he was taking some shelter with him! “Shizun, you seem so tired. You can’t rest?”
Of course, he knew already. He was repeating himself out of worry. It was obvious to the both of them what the endless flow of demonic qi was doing to Shen Qingqiu’s human body, stifling and suppressing him worse with every day spent in this hostile land. Still, he refused to look completely helpless in front of his disciple, clapping his hands on his thighs and rising from his folded position.
“It’s nothing,” he insisted. “We should move on from here. Somewhere in this place is the object we seek--” He figured that finding Xin Mo was what really mattered in this particular scenario, right? If they found Xin Mo, maybe he could figure out a way to get them out of this place a little early. It wasn’t like the plot wasn’t already completely messed up by him being here at all. Luo Binghe would’ve been killing monsters by the droves if he wasn’t constantly worrying about protecting his shizun instead of hunting... Although he supposed that not being in a torturous, agonized rage at every moment was also slowing down his rampant slaughter.
“Shizun.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyebrow twitched. How many more times was he going to hear that, in that soft, beseeching tone, so concerned? It made it hard to keep pushing onwards, when his white lotus, the only bright and shining thing in this entire realm, looked so pitiable, so worried for him. He took a slow breath, steeling his expression to calm, doing his best to pretend his eyes weren’t so scorched that he felt the threat of tears just from the scratching, burning pain.
“Luo Binghe,” he said, tone cool and disaffected, “we do not have time. More monsters could appear at any mo--”
The outer wall of the black-stone cavern they’d hidden within, seeking some minor shelter from the endless hunting of the beasts that roamed the Endless Abyss, burst inwards. Shen Qingqiu barely had time to duck himself down, trying to shield himself from the flying shards of stone. His fan was long since destroyed, there was absolutely no vegetation here that he could manipulate with what little qi he could keep gathered in himself, and his clothing was utterly useless at protecting his body--he felt the sting of the shards flying right through the cloth, slashing across the skin and digging into his arms in burning little thorns of stone. Luo Binghe’s sword--a mundane backup weapon--was flickering, flashing, swiping away all the larger pieces of rock, protecting him from anything that would actually shatter a bone if it struck, but the pain was still--
And then the culprit charged in. Like an ox, but its legs were those of a bear--huge, flat paws with massive hooked claws, rearing up on its hind legs with a saliva-spraying bellow. Its eyes were huge and round and bulging, full of an insane yellow light, like sulfur lamps blaring through the darkness of the smoky cavern. It tackled Luo Binghe full-on, arms swinging out wide to try and crush him in its powerful grasp.
One, two, with a flash of bright metal Luo Binghe’s blade flicked through the monster’s shoulders, both its arms sliced clean from its body in a spray of black, oily blood. The substance stunk like some kind of rotten ichor, hissing where it splattered over the ground, black vapor rising from it instantly in a threat of some horrible acid or toxin. The monster’s body hit Luo Binghe at full charge, but with a roll of his shoulder, he bowed and twisted, throwing its momentum off-course and sending it crashing into the wall head-first. Dazed, the disarmed monster staggered, collapsing in a heap, eyes staring blankly at nothing, chest heaving in breaths that grew more staggered and slow as it bled onto the stone.
Luo Binghe strode up to the mangled horror, eyes flashing, plunging the sword directly through its thick neck to ensure it never rose again. The moment of silence was interrupted by the soft thud of Shen Qingqiu dropping to his knees.
The monster’s blood had drenched through the sorry remains of his robes, wisps of black fumes rising from where it chewed away the fabric like termites devouring a wooden beam. His skin was on fire, the wounds from the stone shards vulnerable immediately to the sticky, rank substance, burning into him like molten lead being dripped onto his body. It was all he could do not to shriek, hauling at his robes viciously to pull as much of the blood away from himself as he could--
Luo Binghe’s arms were around him, shredding the fabric away. Not a thought could be spared for propriety as his body was bared, Luo Binghe’s hands racing down his form, swiping away at the substance. His qi surged, connecting them--a soft gasp, as his disciple worked quickly to purify the venomous blood that had tainted his wounds, pulling free splinters of rock. He nearly collapsed under the boy’s frightened energy, pushed to his back on the stone floor of the half-destroyed cavern, his eyes wide as Luo Binghe nearly fell atop him, searching his body furiously for more injuries.
Both of them froze as Luo Binghe’s hands hit his bare thighs, the sudden realization striking them both of just how much of Shen Qingqiu’s skin was bared. Nothing remained on him but the wrap of cloth just about his hips, the absolute last refuge of modesty, and his disciple knelt between his open knees. For several long moments, there was just silence between them, staring into one another’s eyes, desperately asking each other, ‘What do I do about this?’
Luo Binghe moved first. His hands dove inwards to himself, to the waist ties of his robes. His expression was locked in something almost fearful, trembling gaze and half-parted lips, as he yanked his clothing out of place with an utter lack of care--roughly pulling the layers apart until he had his chest bared. Then he sank inwards, pressing himself over his shizun, chest to chest with the older man.
“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu whispered, no idea what to do with himself, with his expression, as his disciple pressed into him. He really shouldn’t have been so surprised by the flow of qi between them--right. Right! Of course! He’d done this himself before--the more skin to skin they had, the easier it was to assist each other with circulation. The gods knew he could use the help right now, with how much of a beating he was taking!
He could feel it, when his circulation wanted to drag, nearly stop, through his arm. It made him wince--not now, not now! Not when Mu Qingfang was a whole world away, any chance of medicine far out of reach, and demonic qi surging at him at all times with the mindless desire to crush out the light of his spirit, like the ocean closing in around a candle. Luo Binghe could feel it too, connected as they were--his brows pinched inwards, his lower lip curled beneath his teeth. It was too cute! Even if he was suffering, Shen Qingqiu was still weak to how cute his little lamb’s face was!
Unbidden, unasked, with the state his clothing was in, he remembered the one way to truly cure Without a Cure. The chapters of lurid text in Proud Immortal Demon Way, dedicated to the poisoned maiden, the useless flower, and the powers of dual cultivation with a Heavenly Demon-- His face flared up. Hastily, he ducked, trying to hide his expression in the only place left to him, burying his burning face in Luo Binghe’s hair.
“Shizun?” the young man asked softly, tilting his head, trying to look at the man’s face. Worried that the pain was too great, that he was losing the fight to Without a Cure, that the hostilities of the Endless Abyss were tearing him apart from the inside--tears flooded Luo Binghe’s face, as he kept their bodies pressed together, trying to overcome the creeping stagnation that threatened his master’s spiritual circulation. “Shizun... I’m sorry... This one shouldn’t have--”
An electric fizzle of icy pain ran through Shen Qingqiu’s arm, and he gasped, cutting off his disciple’s tearful apology for splashing the dangerous blood everywhere. His hands clenched in the shoulders of the boy’s open robes, gripping hard as his body protested the amount of wretched strain he’d been forced through in such a short time, reserves struggling to make up for being unable to gather more strength from his surroundings. Cold sweat burst onto his brow, prickling down the back of his neck, and his next breath felt too ragged--a fearful sensation in a body that was normally so powerful and capable.
“Binghe,” he said, tone strained. The way his voice caught in his aching chest was pathetic, a weakness he’d never wanted to feel in the face of his white lotus. Everything he’d done to escape death so far, and he’d never felt closer to it in that moment--a horrible dread that the double-team forces of Without a Cure and the demonic qi overloading the Endless Abyss were going to make his spiritual circulation flatline. He would be lucky to survive such a horrifying event for even a few hours, let alone how many years they still had before Xin Mo was recovered and under control. He had no options to hide behind. There was no other way.
Forgive me, Binghe, for using you like this! He couldn’t afford to have shame any longer. If he tried to maintain some kind of honor, he would die. It was inescapable now.
“Shizun.” Luo Binghe pulled back further, gripping Shen Qingqiu’s chest and turning his head, forcing their eyes to meet. It was all Shen Qingqiu could do not to burst into open sobbing purely from the frustration of it all--! But at least it didn’t mean he wasn’t straight--he was just trying to survive, okay?! He just hoped that Luo Binghe didn’t kill him out of the horror of even suggesting it--! But he was going to die either way. What else could he do?!
“Binghe, I--I cannot go any further,” he said. His arms shook as he slid them down his disciple’s arms, taking up the young man’s hands, squeezing them. His grip felt too weak, his hands shaking, like he could barely hold on. He really was going to die if he didn’t-- “Forgive this old master, Binghe, I...”
“Shizun, no, no!” Binghe surged forward like he could attack the words right out of the air, his eyes wide and wild, a blend of horror and anger making them flash like blades. His own hands turned out to grip Shen Qingqiu’s, taking over for his teacher’s weakened grasp, clutching them tightly. “No, no, Shizun--Th-this disciple will think of something, I, I--Binghe will--”
“Shush, child,” he interrupted the stammering young man. A slow, deep breath inwards, steeling his nerves. The smoke made him cough it back out, ruining his attempts to ground himself, leaving him more helpless and miserable than expected. He couldn’t maintain his student’s gaze, looking off at the floor of the cavern beside them, wishing he could hide his shame. If Luo Binghe decided to kill him for asking this, he deserved it--! But if he just said nothing, his death was certain. If he survived this moment, maybe he’d have a chance to earn some forgiveness! “There is... there is one thing. There is one thing that Binghe could... could do... to help this old master.”
“Anything, Shizun!” he shouted immediately, throwing himself forward again, too much weight on Shen Qingqiu’s middle. Tears, huge and shining in the dim light, rolled down his grief-paled face. His mouth was a quivering, drawn line, his whole countenance falling apart as he watched his teacher fading before his eyes. “This student will do anything!”
Shen Qingqiu opened his mouth. Coughed out some of the ever-present smoke, grimaced. Tried again, and again, struggling with the words. How could he ask a man to--! If his life weren’t on the line, there was no way he’d--!
“Luo Binghe is... is a Heavenly Demon,” he started. He just couldn’t get right to the point--he couldn’t! Even if he was watching his time slip away frightfully quickly, he just couldn’t! He’d die from the words leaving his mouth!
The reminder of his dark heritage made Luo Binghe flinch, like he’d been reprimanded, but he nodded sullenly. He was not soon to forget--Heavenly Demons could not be mentioned in the same breath as other demons... Gods, why had he said that to the boy! To his poor little lamb! He was so stupid when he was desperately searching for excuses--it would have been better to say nothing at all, give him no reasons whatsoever, than something like that!
“This Shizun was--I was--harsh. And... and afraid,” he said. Because he was! Luo Binghe could--and in another world, another time, had!--shred him limb from limb without even exerting any effort! “Heavenly Demons are... powerful, Binghe. They are the most powerful beings in either realm.” Since there were so few of them mentioned in the book, he was pretty sure that was true, if only because Luo Binghe was pretty much the only one. That counted. “I did not... I should not have said that out of fear. I was unkind to my Luo Binghe.”
The boy above him sniffled, tears rolling down his face. As he did far too easily for this altered, revised Shen Qingqiu, he forgave instantly, bowing down and crying onto him like a small child. “Shizun, Shizun--I--Shizun--” Shen Qingqiu slid a hand up, pressing a finger to his lips, silencing him.
“Hush. I’m not done.” He allowed a few ticks to pass, letting Binghe’s tears abate slightly. What a crybaby! Even if it was justified this time, still! “Heavenly Demons have powers far, far beyond humans, and far, far beyond other demons. They are powers you will need years, decades, to master--this teacher will attempt to help you, but I cannot claim to know all the powers you have.” Since Airplane-bro would just add new ones like a Golden Era Superman comic, and the plot had fallen apart completely around him, even knowing more of Luo Binghe’s powers than anyone else in the world right now, he was sure there were hidden ones just waiting to trip them up. It seemed like the rule of things, here in the System’s version of the world!
“One of these powers is... you can heal others.” Luo Binghe’s eyes went huge, his mouth open wide, awe and relief welling up in his shining face. How was he not streaked with soot and dust like Shen Qingqiu? Stupid protagonist powers. “A Heavenly Demon can purify nearly any poison, heal many injuries and diseases of the body, with their power.”
“How can I heal Shizun?” he burst out, clutching his teacher’s shoulders, just barely holding himself back from shaking him against the stone floor. “Please, please! Tell this one how!”
Shen Qingqiu wanted to push him away, desperately wished for a little more space between them. But not only was there really no point anymore, he wasn’t sure he had the strength left! The more he submitted to the exhaustion racing through him, the faster it seemed to eat its way along his insides, burning his muscles like acid within and leaving him weak and shivering with pain. So he just refused to look into the boy’s huge eyes, staring at nothing, and forced the words out through tightened teeth, “Dual cultivation.”
There was a beat of silence. Luo Binghe’s beautiful face slowly went redder, redder, as he realized exactly what that meant. He scrambled backwards off of his teacher’s body, stumbling back just like his clumsy self when training on Qing Jing Peak. His legs were splayed wide, his arms back behind himself to hold up his weight, lest he lay flat on the floor just like his master. His eyes were huge, like he was wrought with terror.
It wasn’t what Shen Qingqiu had expected. Fury, sure. Disgust, absolutely. Outrage, but--he had dared hope--a begrudging acceptance, a willingness to get something so unpleasant out of the way right now and then hopefully never speak of it again. Instead, Luo Binghe looked like he was going to die of fright. ...For a moment. It was an expression that, admittedly, Shen Qingqiu wasn’t so sure he was reading correctly.
Because Luo Binghe’s shaking, his rapid breaths, were accompanied with a very... dramatic, very visible, spike in attentiveness through his disheveled robes. Untied and loosened from the front as they were, there was no way to hide the mighty heavenly pillar, at its awe-inspiring size, as it rose. Shen Qingqiu had no idea what to think, his own face turning boiled-lobster red, as he stared unblinking at his disciple’s body and its rampant reaction to the task at hand.
Well, well--! Luo Binghe was a stallion among stallions, and thanks to Shen Qingqiu and the System messing up the plot, he had yet to do any real, proper flirting with any of his future wives! It was only natural that a young man with such a libido would gradually develop a hair-trigger to his interests, until any warm body just might do for relief! Really, they’d been through so much, was it wrong to want a bit of relief, to de-stress for a minute?! Of course not!
“Sh-Shizun,” Luo Binghe whispered, and why did his voice sound like that?! Almost like he was awed! The young man got himself up onto his knees, recovering from his dramatic stumble, and with shaking hands he--he--
Shen Qingqiu couldn’t watch, as his wonderful little lamb slid his robes open further below, pushing the last scraps of fabric out of the way. He knew the moment that the Heavenly Demon’s powerful scepter had been unleashed from its confines by the way Luo Binghe’s voice rose in a quavering gasp, like just the air was too much for him after so long without any close company. And then cool, soft hands were untwisting the bit of cloth between his own legs, and he had to press his hands over his face and pretend he was somewhere else just to survive. Flame coiled in his belly like an anxious snake, rattling within, as his final protection from sight was slid away. Luo Binghe’s hands were trembling as they slid up his inner thighs, a touch so soft and tentative, like he was terrified of shattering his Shizun’s admittedly weakened body by handling him too hard.
“Binghe,” he said, voice strangled, as a hand pressed all the way up. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t want to look, as he felt his disciples fingers sliding around the base of his soft cock. The body he’d been inhabiting all this time honestly had nothing to scoff at--if he were being compared to any other man than the stallion protagonist, he’d be utterly happy with the sword he had to work with. It was only side by side to Luo Binghe’s--wait, he was side by side to that thing?!
He twisted a little, gasping, pressing up on his elbows as finally his will broke and he had to look down. His precious little lamb--his favored disciple--his sweet, innocent Binghe--had both of them wrapped in his hands, Shen Qingqiu’s still-soft member tucked and held close along the scorching-hot belly of Luo Binghe’s own utter monster. It was dizzying, the feeling of the steely shaft frotting down against his own, the hot silk-purse of Binghe’s balls pressing directly into his own when the young man rocked all the way forward with a soft groan.
He’d expected minimal touching, only what was absolutely necessary to get through this, quick and perfunctory as possible so that it was done and over with--not this, this--this, this--this seduction?! He couldn’t help the way his voice rose up, as the tingling heat from his disciple’s overexcited sex pressed against his own spread through him, suffusing his crotch and starting to awaken him. It couldn’t be helped--he was only a man! No one could resist this kind of attention!
His body dropped back, strength gone from his spine, hands wrapped over his mouth to stifle the way he whimpered as his own cock began to fill and stand. His thighs trembled, legs hiking up a little, helpless to stop himself. Surely Binghe was nudging him up? He wasn’t just--just opening himself up just because his disciple was rocking against him, faster, hissing through bared teeth, his eyes closed in focus--long lashes brushing over his cheeks, brows drawn together, looking so devastating as they moved together--
They were making a wet mess against each other, slickness spilling from both their tips to be smeared between their shafts and Luo Binghe’s hands. It made every rock of the young man’s hips a silk-smooth glide, eliminating the awkward catch of dry skin. Shen Qingqiu’s legs were hiked all the way up, hooked over Luo Binghe’s hips, and he didn’t know when he’d done that.
“Binghe--” he whined, an awful tone of voice that he couldn’t control. Pulses of heat were running up through him, through his stomach, through the shaft of his cock as his disciple moved faster--faster on him--
And then the young man was pulling back, tugging away. He couldn’t help the broken little noise that escaped from his throat, even if he didn’t know why he’d made it. He felt helpless, staring up at Luo Binghe, pleading for--anything, he didn’t even know what, he had no idea, he just--
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe murmured. His hands slid down, curling under the curve of Shen Qingqui’s buttocks, fingertips reaching in to touch the small wrinkles of his tiny hidden hole. Both men were flushed horribly red, staring down, at the comparison of size--Binghe’s tip alone was like a fist, and the rest of his pounding shaft just went on seemingly forever. Shen Qingqiu’s hole was merely a pin-prick compared to that implement of destruction, and a shudder went through him, ice-cold licking up and down along his spine as he realized what was doming for him.
“Binghe,” was all he could squeak out, trying to say anything of meaning and failing. His disciple stared down at him, face twisted, concern and hunger mixed together on his knitted brow, his taut-drawn lips. Shen Qingqiu tried, he truly tried, to come up with something to say. He would endure--he’d have to, because the consequences were worse if he did not--and then it would be over, and hopefully he’d be able to recover himself with grace--
Luo Binghe pushed Shen Qingqiu’s legs down flat. He swung his own up, hiking his whole body up high, over his teacher’s--hovering over him, reaching beneath himself, grabbing the root of Shen Qingqiu’s cock--his eyes were soft, shimmering, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He whispered again, voice barely there, “Shizun,” and then he sat himself down atop his teacher. His eyes rolled back and his body jolted, feet sliding outward from beneath him with a groan as he sank directly into his master’s lap.
“Bi--bi--ng--he--” Shen Qingqiu found the strength to surge up, shock driving him to sit upright. He snatched at his disciple’s shoulders, grabbing on tight to him, making some noise--some kind of broken, desperate noise of disbelief--as he was swallowed whole inside the Heavenly Demon’s body, an embrace grabbing hold of his shaft so tight it hurt. Spasms ran through Luo Binghe’s insides, strong body not sure what to do with this voluntary impalement, and every clench gripped at Shen Qingqiu’s cock like a fist squeezing him. He cried out helplessly, sagging forward against Luo Binghe, arms twined around him, face pressed into the strength of his shoulder. “Binghe--ah, ohhnn--ngkh--” He had to be hurting him, it couldn’t be any good like this, he had no idea what to do with a man this way--if only he’d spent even a minute on Green JJ, maybe he’d have something to go on--
“Shizun--please--” Luo Binghe’s voice was taut, just as desperate as Shen Qingqiu, his teeth gritted tight. He gripped his teacher hard about the middle, clutching him, panting for breath. His thighs bunched, and he pushed himself up--only a few inches, just a short rise--and then dropped again, the cheeks of his ass smacking light on his shizun’s thighs. It made Shen Qingqiu howl, that too-tight grip sliding up and then dropping back down over his shaft, so hot inside it was burning--
Binghe was hard as steel against his stomach. His cock was practically shooting off, precome so plentiful it could pass for another man’s finish. It should have been disgusting, the amount of wet mess pouring from his swollen, flame-flushed tip, but Shen Qingqiu couldn’t stop the instinct that had his hand wrapping around it. He clutched the Heavenly Pillar like the hilt of his sword, and his precious disciple let out a pained cry, the muscles of his stomach jumping and pulling in wickedly tight. It served to choke his teacher’s cock inside of him at the same time, wringing the not-at-all-diminutive staff buried in his guts, and the pair of them were crying out together.
He had no idea if it was good. Shen Qingqiu was so far beyond trying to figure out if the sex was any good. His body was exhausted and in pain, his mind was tormented with the fear of death and the horrors of the Endless Abyss. Luo Binghe was writhing atop him like he was being tortured, but his cock never stopped gushing out slickness, as if his body craved the harsh touch of his utterly inexperienced shizun. As if, for a protagonist like him, pain was no obstacle to pleasure at all--
Dear gods of stallion novels, do forgive me if I have raised a masochist for real--!
He hardly even realized when his body seized, clutching tight around the young man in his arms, gripping him as close as he could hold him. He felt it like a lance of electrical heat up from his tightening balls, pulsing through him and leaving like he’d spit fire, coming into his Binghe’s body like a horrible pervert. The only noise he could make as he ejaculated was a tiny whimper, lungs seized too tight by it all to produce anything more. Dimly aware that this was a two-person act, he jerked the massive prick in his hand, arm pumping up and down with the effort to attend to the entire length in long, rapid strokes. Luo Binghe cried out brokenly against him, face buried in his messy hair, hands clutching into his shoulders so hard he was going to have finger-shaped bruises--
When his stallion protagonist shot off against his stomach, it was a hot flood. If he’d still had the dappling of tiny wounds from the stone shards, he’d probably have regretted everything from the salty tide that washed over his skin, but all of those ailments were gone as if they’d never been as his Binghe came on him--and came, and came--and more--it didn’t seem like he was going to stop! The amount of cream that poured from him was utterly absurd, and Shen Qingqiu had to actually question it, because he didn’t think making a huge mess like this was actually what most people wanted out of a power-male?!
When it finally came to an end, a pearly pool surrounding them on the cracked stone, Luo Binghe slumped backwards with a massive release of held breath. Shen Qingqiu’s breath escaped him at the same time, some pin of tension springing free in his ribcage and letting it rush free, the pair of them breathing together perfectly for those few enchanted, perfect moments--
Perfect?! I just defiled my little lamb! What’s perfect about that?!
But as he dared to open his eyes, looking up at Luo Binghe’s face, the boy was... at ease. Eyes closed most of the way, lips glossy and slightly parted, chest rising and falling slow and deep like he was meditative. Shen Qingqiu couldn’t disagree--he felt... settled, within. The ridiculously OP abilities of dual cultivation with the protagonist had circulated his qi perfectly through him, and the Without a Cure was gone without a single trace. The pain of his burning eyes, the aching in his muscles that had not been able to properly rest, all of that was gone. His lungs felt clear from the smoke, if just for a moment, and he would swear that even his skin was healthier, smoother, the dry roughness alleviated.
“Shizun is well?” Luo Binghe asked, his voice soft and maybe a bit... dreamy? Shen Qingqiu was sure he hadn’t done a good job at all, he had no idea what he was doing with a man and the circumstances hadn’t exactly allowed for a lot of finesse, but... if he didn’t know better, he’d say that his precious white lotus looked well-fucked. That was not something he was mentally prepared to deal with. Sure, he’d read pages upon pages about Luo Binghe satisfying himself with his beautiful women, but nothing had ever really implied this... serene, soft, sleepy look on the protagonist’s gently-smiling face.
“Shizun... is well,” he said, looking away, unable to hold that half-lidded gaze. His face was far too hot for the look of... satisfaction, he couldn’t call it anything else, that was painted all over his Binghe. “Shizun has... has been cured. And. Restored.”
“This disciple is so happy,” Luo Binghe murmured. With the languid, slow movements of a drowsy cat, he pulled his hips up slowly--a tiny gasp, a little “ah” escaping as he pulled himself up and off of his master’s rod, biting his lower lip adorably. Testing the shape of his own hole, he put two fingertips to the swollen rim, shivering a little at the touch to his sensitive entrance. “Shizun, ah... Made this disciple... feel very good.” His cock was still standing as high as before he’d unloaded an absolute lake around them, but he was doing his best to pay it no mind. He kept sneaking glances at Shen Qingqiu, trying to study his face, as he began pulling his robes back on.
Shen Qingqiu was going to die of embarrassment. Now that it was all over, the frantic moment between them finished, he couldn’t believe he’d--! He’d topped the protagonist! That wasn’t allowed to happen! Even the feistiest of his wives never got to top the perfect stallion, even if it really would have made perfect sense for their character before he seduced them--but that was a rant he’d already made in the comments, back when yet another demon princess who really should’ve demanded that Luo Binghe lay back and let her take control had instead melted like a gentle flower--no one got to mess with Luo Binghe! He was always in control!
Well. Speaking fairly, he’d been in control there, too. Even if it was Shen Qingqiu’s cock up his... ahem, he’d been the one to actually do pretty much everything. He’d made every move, pretty much, exactly as one would expect. He’d just never expected the mighty protagonist Luo Binghe to let anyone inside of him, so...!
Face flushed in a way that was far more pleased than anything else, Luo Binghe offered out his outer robe. Shen Qingqiu about died inside once again, but he accepted it--the symbol of conquest that Luo Binghe gave to every newly-tamed wife. He had nothing else left, after all. For what bit of protection it could offer, he pulled the outer robe about himself, rising to his feet. Given that Luo Binghe still had growing to do, it did not fit very well, but it was better than absolutely nothing. Catching sight of the slowly-falling lump in Binghe’s now-thinner layers, his tight little hole gave a hard clench, a pulse running up through the tunnel that he largely didn’t think about with his cultivation level. A feeling of relief from not having taken that in his insides and been stretched around it... right? That’s what that shivery feeling inside was. Right?
“This... this old man... thanks his disciple,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say. Luo Binghe gave him a smile like the sun rising above the sea, so bright he couldn’t look at it for more than a moment, and a strong arm looped about his waist, drawing him in close. He flushed hard, trembling a bit, confused. He wasn’t the one who’d had his ass pounded--he didn’t need any help standing! Not that he felt he could call what he’d done with Luo Binghe really a... pounding, which was...
Wait, wait, wait--not unfortunate, not unfortunate, I was not about to think that it was unfortunate!
“Anything for my Shizun. Please, depend on this one for everything,” Luo Binghe replied, holding him closely, as if afraid that the effects of dual cultivation would wear off if they didn’t stay as tight together as possible. Shen Qingqiu’s flush only grew worse, the longer he was embraced, until finally he had to push the boy away and get himself a little breathing room, adjusting the outer robe he’d been given and clearing his throat awkwardly. The shuffling display just made Luo Binghe grin, wide and sparkling.
“We must resume our search,” Shen Qingqiu said finally, because it seemed like they might be locked here, just awkwardly interacting this way, for an hour if he did not remind them why they were here.
“Yes, Shizun.” And once again Luo Binghe led the way, sword drawn before him for when more monsters inevitably came, drawn to the only things within this hell that were not their own kind.