Work Text:
By the time Shen Qingqiu ties off the last knot and sits back, Liu Qingge is heavy-lidded and shivery, expression glazed.
Diamonds of bright red rope lash down his finely muscled body, hugging his ribcage in a snug harness. A clever set of loops restrain his arms behind his back, limiting his range of motion. Like this, he’s at Shen Qingqiu’s mercy. Helpless; wanting.
Hunger burns in Luo Binghe’s belly as he appraises his Shizun’s work.
The details are everything. How the rope is positioned so that any slight movement makes the material drag against dusky nipples; how each clever knot draws attention to skin studded with beauty marks, red against white, every inch begging for the touch of tongue, or teeth.
The rope continues down to frame the jut of Liu Qingge’s erection, pressing close to his balls and hooking into the crease of his hip. Luo Binghe’s gaze lingers there, mouth growing wet at the lewd way his cock bobs in the air, ruddy with arousal.
Who knew the Bai Zhan War God would like being tied up so much? Shizun is so skilled, to be able to make the stiff, antagonistic Liu Qingge so pliant with just a few lengths of rope.
And for Liu Qingge to just… let him…
It’s not like Luo Binghe can really talk, though, laying flat on his back with his wrists immobilized above his head and the bound Liu Qingge straddling his hips, a solid weight pinning him to the bed.
“One last thing, Shidi,” comes Shizun’s even-toned voice, and Luo Binghe drags his gaze away from the vee of Liu Qingge’s legs just in time to see Shen Qingqiu lift a thick length of tanned leather, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
Nails digging into his palms, Luo Binghe watches the last piece fall into place.
Elegant fingertips tilt Liu Qingge’s chin up, exposing the curve of his throat, and Luo Binghe wants to pant at the way Liu Qingge just— allows it. How he lets the collar circle his neck, settling snugly under the prominent swell of his Adam’s apple.
How he allows himself to be so easily claimed by Shen Qingqiu. Owned.
If it were Luo Binghe putting the collar on him, tying him up— there would be a fight. A struggle. No doubt Liu Qingge would resist, fighting tooth and nail with vicious intensity, refusing to surrender, just like always.
No matter. Luo Binghe would just have to overpower him. Like always.
But with Shizun…
A metallic click, and then it’s done. Held in Shen Qingqiu’s palm is a long, thin, sturdy strip of leather connecting to the base of the collar— a leash.
Shen Qingqiu gives it an experimental pull, and Liu Qingge sways towards him and makes this breathy little noise that goes straight to Luo Binghe’s cock.
A low, satisfied sound from Shen Qingqiu. “It suits you, Shidi,” he says, and really, it does.
The soft black leather compliments his starry skin and the ink-black hair streaming from his high ponytail. It draws attention to the sensuous curve of his throat and strong jawline, and combined with the red harness…
To think that the prideful Liu Qingge would allow himself to be restrained, let alone collared and leashed like an animal, like a dog…
The urge to hold him down and take him while he’s like this is so powerful that Luo Binghe finds himself yanking urgently at his own bonds, a desperate whine building in the back of his throat. The headboard creaks dangerously.
“Patience, Binghe.” Shen Qingqiu lifts another familiar strip of leather. “I didn’t forget about you.”
When the collar closes around his own throat, all the air leaves his lungs in a low groan, and he moves without thinking, hips fucking up instinctively as though he could bury himself in Liu Qingge’s tempting heat if he just tried hard enough. Above him, Liu Qingge gasps and sways, muscles tensing to keep his balance.
“Ah-ah, be good,” Shen Qingqiu scolds, attaching the leash and giving a sharp tug that briefly constricts Luo Binghe’s breathing– which just makes him groan louder.
“Shizun,” he hears himself plead, squirming. His leaking cock slides maddeningly against lush skin, but finds no relief.
Another tug. “Hush. Your shishu is behaving himself, isn't he?”
Pink blossoms high on Liu Qingge's cheeks at the off-handed praise; he shivers, thighs quivering around Luo Binghe’s hips. His usually fierce gaze is unfocused, and he looks… soft. Vulnerable. Like he would do anything asked of him right now. Like he could melt at a single touch.
Fuck. The collar… really pushed him under, didn’t it?
Luo Binghe wonders if the rope is the only thing keeping Liu Qingge from falling apart completely. The thought is heady. How much more would it take to push him over the edge? How much more could he take until—
“Stay still, Binghe.”
The leash snaps taut again. The combination of the delicious pressure around his throat and the commanding note in Shen Qingqiu’s voice are almost enough to make him come; he tightens control of his blood, forcing his hips to still. He hadn’t realized he was already so close.
“Yes, Shizun,” he pants once he’s calmed enough, delighting in the way the collar emphasizes the vibrations of every syllable.
He wants to see how far this little game will go.
Satisfied with his obedience, Shen Qingqiu slackens his grip and turns his attention back to Liu Qingge, who— despite all the commotion— hasn’t moved much from his position since he was ordered to straddle Luo Binghe’s lap and stay there.
Dark lashes dip as Shen Qingqiu traces the angles of Liu Qingge’s face with gentle fingers, brushing a thumb over the beauty mark near his eye. Cards through the long bang grazing his jaw; strokes the skin-warmed leather at his throat.
“Shidi is so pretty like this,” Shen Qingqiu says, tone light but eyes darker than Luo Binghe has ever seen them. “It’s no wonder my disciple has trouble controlling himself.”
Luo Binghe swallows an aggrieved sound. Who could really blame him for being unable to stay still while the haughty Liu Qingge got wrapped up like a present in his lap, tight ass pressed against his aching, neglected cock? The cultivator looks fucked-out already, fluttering lashes doing little to conceal pupils blown wide with arousal— and they’ve hardly even touched him.
Shen Qingqiu tucks his fingertips thoughtfully under the lines criss-crossing his shidi’s sternum, tests the tension, pulls— then lets them snap back against flushed skin. Earns a sharp inhale from Liu Qingge, who arches as much as the rope will allow, chasing the contact. The sting.
Luo Binghe knows better than most how much Liu Qingge likes pain. Knows that he needs it. Craves it.
That hand pets down his flank to settle at the crease of his hip, maddeningly close to the place where Liu Qingge is no doubt desperate to be touched. Framed by red, his untouched erection stands at attention; as Luo Binghe watches, it blurts a pearl of precome, which drips down to join the puddle pooling in the ridges of Luo Binghe’s abdomen.
He’s not the only one to notice. With a hum, Shen Qingqiu drags his index and middle fingers through the puddle, then brings them up to tap on Liu Qingge’s lips.
“Open.”
Liu Qingge obeys without hesitation, pink tongue darting out to taste himself, the quiet moan spilling from his throat overwhelmingly erotic. Luo Binghe’s mouth fills with saliva so fast that he has to swallow or risk choking.
“Very good,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, pushing in to the second knuckle, and Liu Qingge just takes it, eyes glassy. “I think your shishu deserves a reward, don’t you?”
Luo Binghe realizes too late that this last question is directed to him, but it doesn’t matter; Shen Qingqiu doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer. Without another word, he pulls free and produces a small bottle from the depths of his robes, shifting behind the kneeling Liu Qingge.
A firm hand wraps around the base of Luo Binge's erection. He moans encouragingly, hopeful, but it just angles him away from Liu Qingge’s ass, out of the way so Shen Qingqiu can—
From his vantage point, Luo Binghe can’t see when his shizun’s slick fingers breach the tight furl of Liu Qingge’s entrance, but he’s so dialed in to every minute shift of the man’s body language that the exact moment it happens, he feels like he’s been struck by lightning.
“A-ah!” Mouth dropping open, Liu Qingge’s body trembles with tension— then relaxes into pleasure all at once, allowing Shen Qingqiu to stretch him open.
And Luo Binghe is helpless to do anything but watch.
Panting shallowly, his gaze drops to the soft shape of parted lips, bitten red, transfixed by the notes of strain and bliss dancing across Liu Qingge’s infuriatingly perfect face as more fingers are added. Every time Shen Qingqiu grazes his prostate, his brows knit and his needy cock leaks, chest heaving against the rope in short gasps.
Luo Binghe wants to ruin him.
He must still be loose from last night, because it’s not long before Shen Qingqiu draws back and pours the oil onto Luo Binghe’s aching erection, who hisses in surprise at the coolness of it.
When Shen Qingqiu finally guides the fat head to Liu Qingge’s softened, slick hole, Luo Binghe is so hard he can hardly stand it. At the first press, they gasp in tandem, anticipation cresting— and then Luo Binghe sinks in.
Silken heat blazes around him. He throws his head back, moaning with feeling as he is slowly enveloped. Above him, Liu Qingge melts, rapture glowing on his face.
The way Liu Qingge goes perfectly pliant the moment he gets a little bit of cock in him… Luo Binghe will never, ever get tired of it.
He can’t help it; he plants his heels in the bed and thrusts upwards, burying himself as deep as he can. The force of it rips a little moan from Liu Qingge’s collared throat, and he shudders as he sinks down further, taking Luo Binghe to the root. A gently rounded shape peeks through just below his navel, briefly distorting his otherwise flat belly.
Animal need consumes Luo Binghe at the sight.
Teeth gritted, he rears back and drives in hard, doing his best to aim for Liu Qingge’s sweet spot, needing to see the man shake apart, to watch him come undone, unraveling on Luo Binghe’s thick length. He’s obsessed with the feeling of that greedy body clutching at him, sucking at him like it never wants to let him go, more honest about what it wants than the arrogant Liu Qingge could ever be—
The leash snaps taut again, choking off his air.
“Did I give you permission to move, Binghe?” comes Shizun’s cool voice.
It’s the most difficult thing in the world to still his hips this time, now that he’s gotten a taste. “No, Shizun,” he pants, strained. “But please, Shizun— husband, I need—”
“I will give you what you need when I decide to give it,” says Shen Qingqiu, and his stern tone brooks no argument. “Really, Binghe, if you can’t behave yourself, next time I’ll need to tie you up more thoroughly.”
At the threat of more rope, Luo Binghe whimpers and curls his toes in the sheets, the wet, tight heat of Liu Qingge steadily driving all rational thought from his mind. That sounds like the sort of punishment he’d usually have to beg for. “Shizun—”
“Wait a bit longer; I’m not quite done preparing your shishu.”
Above him, Liu Qingge shivers and blinks in the slow, dazed way that betrays how far gone he already is.
The return of Shen Qingqiu’s slick fingers nearly makes Luo Binghe black out with shock and lust. They circle Liu Qingge’s stretched rim, rubbing, exploring the place where their bodies connect– the place where he is already buried deep.
“Wha—” Luo Binghe gasps, then groans when Shen Qingqiu presses, and somehow Liu Qingge’s body relaxes enough to allow that long finger to slip in and slot against his cock, making everything impossibly tighter. His mind scatters, scrambling to digest this new truth, that Shizun— Shizun intends to— to, at the same time—!
Somehow Liu Qingge ends up laying pressed chest-to-chest on top of Luo Binghe, face tucked into the crook of his neck, muffling his sounds, too weak to move as he’s meticulously stretched beyond his limits. Sweat gleams on his skin from the effort; heat rolls off him like a furnace. The ropes decorating his torso scrape Luo Binghe’s skin every time he tenses or squirms.
When the second finger eases in beside the first, they both whimper.
“Shh, you’re almost there, Shidi, doing so good,” says Shen Qingqiu as he fucks in and out carefully, each knuckle catching slightly on the rim. “You can take us, can’t you?”
Breath coming out in strained little puffs, Liu Qingge nods, lashes trembling against Luo Binghe’s jaw.
“Good boy. I know you can.” A third finger is added, and Liu Qingge keens.
Liu Qingge was made for this, Luo Binge realizes with a wave of intense pleasure, and— he must have said that out loud, because Liu Qingge huffs against his skin.
“Beast,” he mutters, but there's none of his usual poison in it. He sounds… drunk.
“And what does that make you, Liu-shishu?” Luo Binghe whispers, breathless. “All trussed up like a little pet, led around on a lead?”
There's no answer, but Luo Binghe can feel the distinct press of teeth against his skin, obviously meant to be threatening. It’s cute, like a kitten’s bite.
“You like it,” he purrs, feeling Liu Qingge pulse and tighten at his words. “You like belonging to Shizun, don’t you? Wearing his collar?”
Liu Qingge doesn’t even try to deny it. Trapped between their bodies, his cock twitches and leaks, slicking their stomachs.
They both whine when Shen Qingqiu withdraws his fingers entirely, but then he’s moving to straddle Luo Binghe’s thighs, parting his robes to reveal his own arousal, and fuck, it’s not as monstrously thick as Luo Binghe, but it’s long and pretty and perfect, more than enough to fill Liu Qingge to capacity on its own.
When the slick head of Shen Qingqiu’s cock nudges at Liu Qingge’s entrance, a bolt of possessiveness strikes Luo Binghe’s core. High above his head, his bound hands curl into fists.
“You’re ours,” he growls into the dark silk of Liu Qingge’s hair.
Blunt teeth sink into his shoulder in response, a drop of viciousness resurfacing despite everything. When Shen Qingqiu begins to press in, achingly slowly, Luo Binghe forgets to breathe, feeling Liu Qingge’s desperate moan vibrate through his skin and into his bones.
An eternity passes before Shen Qingqiu bottoms out, balls flush against Luo Binghe’s. He stays there for a long, maddening moment to let them all adjust, petting a soothing hand down Liu Qingge’s spine.
“Shidi?” he asks, and he might sound serene if not for the barely-restrained hunger rumbling in his throat.
“Please,” chokes Liu Qingge, voice absolutely wrecked, and Luo Binghe’s head spins because Liu Qingge almost never—
Fingers curling into the lattice of rope for leverage, Shen Qingqiu hums and starts up a smooth, steady rhythm, sliding almost all the way out with every roll of his hips.
Gasps and moans and the filthy sounds of fucking fill the room.
It’s intense. Even though he can’t move much like this— tied up and pinned under the weight of two men— Luo Binghe thrills in the feeling of his shizun pressed tightly against him, fucking into the same hole, filling Liu Qingge more completely than he’s ever been filled before. His entire world narrows to the molten point where the three of them join, hyper-aware of every little movement, every minute detail.
Somehow it almost feels like they're both being fucked by Shen Qingqiu, and it takes everything in him not to come immediately. To stay where he is, to let it happen.
And Liu Qingge just… yields. To think that a man like the Bai Zhan Peak Lord could take cock like he was born to do it— and not just Luo Binghe’s, either, which is a feat on its own, but both of them—
Luo Binghe bets he loves it, bets he can’t get enough of being opened up and stuffed to the brim, of being stretched beyond his limits, of being bound and collared and made into nothing more than an obedient little cocksleeve. Bets he’ll crave it, will be too stubborn to ask for it again; will have to rely on Shizun's kindness to help fill him up in exactly the way he needs.
Pleasure licking at his spine, he tongues around the shell of his shishu’s ear and tells him so. Earns a little fucked-out noise of protest and a weak press of teeth, but Liu Qingge can’t hide the way the words affect him.
His insides ripple and clench— he must be teetering on the knife’s edge of orgasm, barely holding back. He’s so close, the thread of tension within him wound tight. If Luo Binghe didn’t have a vice grip on his blood, he’d be in the same boat.
Shen Qingqiu’s breaths are coming faster now too, elegant brows furrowed in concentration as he continues his steady fucking. A high flush dusts his cheeks— he must be approaching orgasm, too.
But nothing escapes his shizun’s notice.
As Luo Binghe watches, he gathers a leash in one hand and gives it a gentle tug, as though to remind them who they belong to, as though they could forget. At the feeling, Liu Qingge gasps for breath and lifts his head, straining to look over his shoulder at Shen Qingqiu, a dog seeking out its master. And his expression— fuck.
“You look so perfect like this, Shidi,” says Shen Qingqiu, and Liu Qingge shivers, lashes fluttering. “Are you close? Would you like to come?”
A soft, wounded noise tears from Liu Qingge’s throat, and he nods.
“Then come, Shidi,” Shen Qingqiu orders, tightening his hold— not enough to choke, but enough that—
The thread snaps. Liu Qingge’s pretty mouth drops open in a heartfelt moan, and he obeys, shaking to pieces. His untouched cock jumps and spurts against Luo Binghe’s belly, body tightening deliciously around both their erections, pressing them together, massaging, and Shen Qingqiu fucks him through the aftershocks.
Just as he’s starting to gasp and whimper from overstimulation, Shen Qingqiu bites his lip and comes, too— and Luo Binghe nearly loses his mind at the way he swells and pulses against him, liquid heat painting Liu Qingge’s insides—
And Luo Binghe needs— he just needs—
After a few last leisurely thrusts, Shen Qingqiu gives a satisfied sigh and pulls out. Despite his sensitivity, Liu Qingge’s well-used hole clutches like it’s trying to keep him inside, and it’s so slick and hot Luo Binghe can hardly stand it—
“Shizun, please,” Luo Binghe begs, desperation prickling the corners of his eyes as Shen Qingqiu slips off of him.
“Be a good boy,” Shen Qingqiu says, reaching out to touch the rope that secures Luo Binghe’s wrists to the headboard and snapping them with a quick burst of spiritual energy, “and finish fucking your shishu for me.”
Luo Binghe doesn’t need to be told twice.
He gets his aching arms around Liu Qingge and flips them both over, folds the man in half— spares a split-second to delight in how easy he is like this, how pliant— and plunges in to the hilt.
Pinned to the bed under his weight, Liu Qingge squirms as much as his bonds will allow and cries out, his hole perfect and welcoming and messy with Shen Qingqiu’s release. Luo Binghe surges forward to crush his mouth against Liu Qingge’s, licking, biting, taking. Can’t help but groan at the feel of him, the taste.
The pace he takes up then is filthy, brutal, animal in nature as he chases his own orgasm. His entire being narrows down to the molten, clenching heat of Liu Qingge’s incredible body, the slickness of his mouth. Greedily he swallows every sound, savoring the moment that the high whines of overstimulation morph into noises of pleasure. Luo Binghe fucks his shizun’s seed deep, deeper, churning it up, obsessed with how wet and sloppy everything is.
“Binghe,” calls Shen Qingqiu, and he tears his mouth away with difficulty to look at his husband, who has rearranged himself to lounge beside them, one hand idly toying with their leashes. “Come.”
Orgasm crests, inevitable as the rising sun. Teeth sinking into Liu Qingge’s neck, right below the collar where his pulse races rabbit-fast, Luo Binghe buries himself as far as he can go and comes with a snarl, pumping his release deep inside to mix with Shen Qingqiu’s.
When he floats back to himself, he doesn’t pull out immediately. Instead he luxuriates in the glow, the slick warmth. Grinds his hips in small, languid circles, drawing out his pleasure. Licks over the crescent-moon imprint left on Liu Qingge’s skin; earns a delicious shiver that immediately makes him want to roll Liu Qingge onto his belly and go for another round.
Maybe Shen Qingqiu can sense his intentions, because the collar tightens around his neck, its presence demanding. His hips still automatically, keeping Liu Qingge plugged full.
“Give your shishu a moment to breathe,” Shen Qingqiu chides, and Luo Binghe finally draws back enough to look at Liu Qingge, allowing the man’s body to unfold a little.
Glassy-eyed and flushed, spit shining at the corners of swollen lips and black hair spilling everywhere, he looks gone. Legs forced wide around Luo Binghe’s hips, he lays slack in his bonds, not seeming to care that his arms are still bound behind his back.
On his belly gleams the drying evidence of his orgasm— and his pretty cock, fucked back into semi-hardness. Further down, the puffy rim of his entrance stretches around Luo Binghe, clutching sweetly despite having just been stuffed full with two cocks.
Luo Binghe can’t help it. He reaches down, gently tucking the first knuckle of his thumb beside his cock, testing. White, frothy come leaks out as the ring of muscle yields easily.
“Liu-shishu,” he murmurs over the resulting whimper, renewed arousal stirring in his core. “You’re so…”
A warm hand slides into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and then it’s his turn to shudder, leaning into the touch.
“Help me untie your shishu,” says Shen Qingqiu, “then we can see about letting you have him again.”