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Zhuzhi lang, donning an aura of calm confidence, strides as quickly as he dares amongst his men, nodding at their greetings and tasting their campfires and meals on the air.
While it is not unheard of for his Junshang to send for him at all times of the day and night, he does not typically do so with a bloodbeast.
Your presence is requested in Immortal Master Shen's tent, the creature had mindlessly recited, dripping scarlet on Zhuzhi lang's boots. Immediately.
He's heard no alarms, sensed no incoming danger. He'd even been told by the Junshang to take the night off, as Tianlang jun claimed he would be happy to address Shen Qingqiu's cursed growths himself, giving Zhuzhi lang a bit of rare—and dearly appreciated—time alone.
Of course, the summons arrived just as Zhuzhi lang had come to the climax of the novel he'd been reading. He steps to the front flap of Shen Qingqiu's tent and wonders how long this is going to take.
"Junshang," he murmurs.
"Ah, nephew. Please, come in."
The moment he steps inside, he knows something is wrong. Swirled warmly between the incense drifting from its burner and the slight, rancid sweetness of Junshang's general state of decay, Zhuzhi lang smells sex.
That, in and of itself, is not problematic, nor even particularly surprising. What arrests his attention, after his eyes flick to Shen Qingqiu and notice his hectic flush, is the sheepish way Tianlang jun is hunched in on himself at the edge of the bed.
Zhuzhi lang has never seen such behavior from his uncle, has never met a man so brazen and shameless as Tianlang jun. What has happened here, to make the Emperor of the Demon Realm act this way?
"Junshang?" he says, rather than sharing his rising panic.
"Well, Zhuzhi my boy," Tianlang jun lilts, but the words are sharp with strain. "We have ourselves a bit of a delicate situation, here."
A pained whimper makes its way from Shen Qingqiu's chest, and Zhuzhi lang realizes the man is covering his face with his hands. The motion draws attention to his sleeves, of which there is only one layer.
All right. Clearly, Zhuzhi lang is missing something vital, here. He reassesses the room, finding that while both men are sitting up properly on the bed, Junshang is also bedecked in a single underrobe. The blankets have been carefully arranged over them to preserve their modesty, but…
"Junshang, are you… hiding your hand?"
"So clever, my nephew!" Tianlang jun weakly laughs in Shen Qingqiu's direction, drawing another wretched squeak from the immortal master. Zhuzhi lang's jaw clenches; he knows what this is about before Tianlang jun even bothers to hold his fingerless palm up.
"Heavens and hells," Zhuzhi lang mutters, then pulls in a slow breath. "How can this humble servant be of assistance?"
He doesn't want to ask; doesn't want to know. He most certainly does not want to fish around in Shen Qingqiu's cavities for his Junshang's missing digits.
"It is only…" Pausing, Tianlang jun shoots Shen Qingqiu an apologetic glance he cannot see, as he has now covered his head with the blanket. "Your fingers aren't as prone to detaching."
Gods no. Please, no. Please let this be an elaborate setup on Tianlang jun's part to make Zhuzhi lang blush and stammer so they can laugh at him. Shen Qingqiu has gone deathly still beneath his makeshift shield, and Zhuzhi lang latches onto this thought, seeing a way out.
"I am certain Immortal Master Shen would not wish for this humble servant to see him so indisposed." Damn it, he is blushing, he can feel it at the tips of his ears. This is mortifying. "And to touch, that is t-too much to countenance."
Tianlang jun sighs; even he is covering his face, now. Zhuzhi lang supposes he should be grateful the fool stopped after 5 fingers, rather than all ten.
Fuck. He would rather ride into a hundred bloody battles than be here, in this tent.
"If that is all—"
"It's fine," Zhuzhi lang hears from the lump on the bed, despite wishing he did not.
"I ensured it was all right with Immortal Master Shen prior to summoning you," Tianlang jun adds meekly.
"Surely, there is another way to—"
"I thought you said you would repay my kindness," Shen Qingqiu snaps, blanket tugged down just far enough. One baleful eye scowls at Zhuzhi lang.
Zhuzhi lang resists the urge to scream; that is unfair! Yet the man is not wrong. With a sigh that feels like it starts in his toes, Zhuzhi lang edges closer to the bed. "I suppose I need to… assess the s-situation then," he forces out, wanting to sink through the packed earth below.
Giving into his embarrassment, Zhuzhi lang closes his eyes. Shen Qingqiu squirms and gasps and attempts to arrange himself, Tianlang jun solicitous with pillows and blankets, murmuring encouragement despite his own humiliation.
"He is ready, nephew." A quiet hangs in the air, as if they are all holding their breath. Perhaps they are.
"Then this humble servant begs Immortal Master Shen's pardon," Zhuzhi lang murmurs, resigned, and peels his eyes open.
Tianlang jun has done an admirable job of preserving what he can of Shen Qingqiu's dignity; only his… opening… remains uncovered, even his thighs and cock covered primly by sheets and blankets. Zhuzhi lang, holding in a humorless chuckle, sees what he assumes to be Tianlang jun's thumb, which seems to have given up before making it fully past the starting line.
"I will begin," he says, for lack of anything else, and carefully slips the digit from Shen Qingqiu while doing his best to think of anything other than Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu's rectum.
"One down, Immortal Master Shen," Tianlang jun says encouragingly, and Zhuzhi lang grits his teeth.
"Please, don't," Shen Qingqiu whimpers.
"I'm only trying to help—"
"I'd say you've helped enough," comes the reply, and Zhuzhi lang does not entirely stifle his laugh. The sound startles a chuckle from Shen Qingqiu, which only makes Zhuzhi lang laugh harder, and then all three have to take a moment to catch their breaths after half-hysterically giggling.
"This is terrible," Shen Qingqiu finally says, and though Zhuzhi lang cannot see his face, he can hear his grin.
"Truly," Zhuzhi lang agrees, but the tension has broken, and with a quick warning, Zhuzhi lang gets to work retrieving the remainder of Junshang's hand.
It is not easy, nor without its pitfalls (at one point, Shen Qingqiu lets out an entirely involuntary groan that has all of them red-cheeked and avoiding each other's gazes), but at long last, the deed is done. Sitting back on his heels, Zhuzhi lang takes a deep breath, and only just resists patting Shen Qingqiu's thigh like he's calming a horse.
"Immortal Master Shen, this humble servant has finished."
"What? Really?" Shen Qingqiu says, obviously elated. A hand (with fingers attached) lands on his knee.
"He is not finished," Tianlang jun murmurs, and Zhuzhi lang barely registers Shen Qingqiu's crestfallen expression through his own shock. Had he miscounted? He jerks his attention to the hand carefully caressing Shen Qingqiu's leg.
"But all five fingers are there!" he says without thinking, and if the dead silence that descends hadn't clued him in, the soft, wounded sound in Tianlang jun's throat seals the deal.
"No," Zhuzhi lang breathes.
"I'm afraid so."
"No," Zhuzhi lang repeats, springing from the bed. "You misunderstand, Junshang. No, I WILL NOT DO THIS."
"Nephew—"
"I barely retrieved the last one, it was shoved so far in!" Zhuzhi lang shouts, decorum forgotten. "We may as well reach down his throat for your prick!"
"Zhuzhi lang!" Tianlang jun roars, fury lighting in his eyes. "Have some respect—"
"Zhuzhi lang has been more than generous," Shen Qingqiu warbles, clearly on the verge of tears. "If he cannot, then he cannot." Startled from their argument at the noble resignation in his voice, the demons turn to him, blinking. He quails under their combined attention.
"Perhaps I'll p-pass it," he whispers, wincing.
"That's ridiculous," Tianlang jun states, but he sounds uncertain.
"I don't see another option." Zhuzhi lang wants to drag his hands down his face, but currently, well. There is cleaning up to do. "I could… see if the cooks perhaps have an implement we can—"
"Absolutely not," Tianlang jun growls.
They cease speaking, their relative quiet allowing the shrill calls of insects and other nightlife to take over. Shen Qingqiu's anus bravely bears the continued light of the lamp, seemingly forgotten by its wielder, and Zhuzhi lang wonders how many demons overheard this conversation, cringing for Shen Qingqiu's loss of face.
And his Junshang as well, but, frankly, in that case, it is well-deserved.
"There is a way," Tianlang jun eventually says. Zhuzhi lang bristles at the wheedling tone of his voice.
"There is?"
Shen Qingqiu sounds so hopeful; Zhuzhi lang wishes the man had a better grasp of Junshang's idiocy before he agreed to sleep with him. If Zhuzhi lang cannot think of a way, there is no possibility Tianlang jun—
"Demons, as a species, are known for their… prodigious tongues," Tianlang jun begins, and continues through Zhuzhi lang's sudden, boiling horror. "And Zhuzhi lang's is longer than most."
"You cannot possibly expect me to—"
Words dying on his—apparently prodigious—tongue, Zhuzhi lang grimaces at Shen Qingqiu's hopeful look.
"You've already been rooting around in there for nearly a shi," Tianlang jun points out, as if any of them could forget. "Just get the job done."
"When Immortal Master Shen agreed to bed the Junshang, he was not giving consent for the Junshang's nephew to…" Trailing off, Zhuzhi lang gestures to Shen Qingqiu's hole, and Shen Qingqiu's cheekbones redden at the reminder of it. "That is… quite intimate," Zhuzhi lang tries.
"If Zhuzhi lang is not opposed," Shen Qingqiu manages, then peters out.
"See? He's into it!" Tianlang jun exults, squeezing Shen Qingqiu's knee. "What a good sport."
"That is not… Junshang," Zhuzhi lang admonishes, but truthfully, he's been so embarrassed for so long, he's finding it hard to muster much of anything in the way of shame. Perhaps Shen Qingqiu feels the same, because he pulls the blanket completely away from his face and reaches for Zhuzhi lang's hand. Waffling between pointing out that it is dirty and ensuring he does not hurt Shen Qingqiu's feelings, Zhuzhi lang finally allows their fingers to tangle.
"As long as Zhuzhi lang is not disgusted by this master's body, I would be willing."
And there's the whole of it, really. Gathering his courage, Zhuzhi lang offers a smile. "I am hardly disgusted," Zhuzhi lang says. "If it were an act we agreed upon beforehand, without coercion, I would happily do anything Immortal Master Shen would like."
Tianlang jun gasps, then titters, of course he does, but Shen Qingqiu pays it no mind. "I'm telling you now, Zhuzhi lang. I would like it."
"You better make it good for him," Tianlang jun says, crawling from the bed and fastening his robe. "I'll be back with food, soon. You two enjoy yourselves, and for heaven's sake, please retrieve my dick. I feel off-balance."
Shen Qingqiu laughs, open and throaty, and Zhuzhi lang holds in a snarky comment likely echoed in Shen Qingqiu's mind. "We'll do our best," Shen Qingqiu says, shooing Tianlang jun out of the tent.
His eyes meet Zhuzhi lang's, and he squeezes their fingers together. "I'll be in your care, then. And… Thank you."
"The pleasure, I assure you, is mine," Zhuzhi lang murmurs, and sinks between Shen Qingqiu's legs.