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Shen Qingqiu can't fall asleep.
This has been a normal occurrence ever since he woke up on that horrible day to find Yue Qingyuan and The System staring at him. For about every other of his evenings, Shen Qingqiu finds himself staying awake past midnight, eyes fluttering over paperwork and his students’ calligraphy submissions, resigning himself to a body that could not fall asleep as easily as his previous one. His cultivation doesn't make sleep necessary every day, but, whether placebo or not, Shen Qingqiu feels better afterwards, as if the mistakes and anxieties of yesterday have vanished, and he can start fresh. Plus, even for a cultivator of his station, they were warned against practicing insomnia for too long. Being immortal didn't mean he was a god.
Shen Qingqiu now feels that limitation painfully, pacing the cold floorboards, eyes glaring accusingly at the long-finished pile of paperwork as the moon drifts further and further into the dark sky, candlelight flickering with the wind as his steps silently move back and forth as he thinks.
It's been twelve days since Shen Qingqiu has slept.
The situation has been steadily creeping from mildly frustrating to outright intolerable. He even found himself snapping at Luo Binghe! The white lotus protagonist, with his big, long-lashed eyes that sadly folded downward at his annoyance during one of the disciple’s reoccurring training stumbles!
To be fair, Shen Qingqiu grumbles to himself, feeling the meditative thrum of his feet hitting the floor, that accident was the fifth time that month. How was his little lamb supposed to survive the nearing conference if he kept stumbling into Shen Qingqiu’s arms during simple practice forms? What if the protagonist halo failed? What if Shen Qingqiu’s teachings weren't good enough; that he was simply softening Luo Binghe up for slaughter—
Shen Qingqiu brings a hand up to his temples, trying to stave off the headache.
“Shizun?”
Shen Qingqiu turns to his door at the sound, seeing a shadow reflecting under his door. “Yes, Binghe? You're up too late,” He mildly scolds, no heat in his voice.
“This disciple apologizes, and came to inform Shizun he will be retiring to bed. Does Shizun require anything beforehand?”
Without his consent, Shen Qingqiu feels a smile turn the edges of his lips. Ah, what a good, filial disciple he has! If nothing else, Shen Qingqiu is glad he has preserved this innocence.
“No, Binghe. Rest well.”
The shadow pauses at the door for a second before turning; his steps are much louder due to his lower cultivation, but still light. Luo Binghe’s shadow crosses under the wood before it disappears from the door.
Leaving Shen Qingqiu alone with his thoughts. Again.
A fan flutters against Shen Qingqiu’s face for a lack of anything better to do. Similar to what happened the last time he opened it, it quickly grows boring, and he folds it once more.
Shen Qingqiu sighs and decides to sit down on his bed after subduing the candlelight, throwing himself back onto the sheets. He tosses and turns, already long prepared for rest in his inner robes and loosely-braided hair. Thankfully, he had thrown those terrible ceramic pillows out of his house as quickly as he could (no wonder the OG scum villain turned out so terrible — he always had a cramped neck!) and replaced them with feather-stuffed covers, pillows, and the equivalent of a plush mattress. The logistical nightmare of custom ordering a new type of mattress was so worth it, especially when Shen Qingqiu could actually fall asleep.
He attempts to smother himself with the soft pillow after a shichen passes. Sadly, it does not work.
Shen Qingqiu sits back up. Goddamnit. He misses the internet and his playstation, squeaky gaming chair wheels and all. He misses his phone, too, and everything he could access on there to pass the time. Didn't he forget to reply to a message? Something from his sister—
Shen Qingqiu, for some unknown and irrational reason, feels a lump form in his throat. He throws himself off the bed before it can settle, mind flickering endlessly before frantically remembering the old jars of rice liquor sitting in the floor compartment of the kitchen. He steels himself, straightening his back as his feet lead him towards his goal, fingers only slightly scrambling for the floordoor when he reaches the kitchen. He cannot stay up for another night.
The jar is cool and sprinkled with a fine layer of dust on the clay jugs, but Shen Qingqiu can't find it in him to care enough to wipe them off before his fingers open the lid and he downs the clear liquid, sputtering as thick heat unexpectedly flutters down his throat.
Once, back during the few parties he let himself attend in his undergrad years, Shen Qingqiu remembers awkwardly indulging himself like this — how the world softened with the liquid, his thoughts settling, mind steadily drifting more towards sleep as the sips increased. Whatever is in these, it quickly does the same when Shen Qingqiu mentally braces himself for another taste, eyebrows scrunching into a frown at the astringent bitterness. Wow, no wonder the original Shen Qingqiu had hidden them away! Rocks for pillows, bad alcohol for entertainment, kids for company; Shen Qingqiu almost wants to pat the scum villain on the back in sympathy, but he'll soon lose that same arm to Luo Binghe after the conference!
Shen Qingqiu hears his chuckles bounce off the empty walls, suddenly finding the thought terribly amusing as he remembers Luo Binghe quietly sleeping in the room next to him, fresh-faced and uncharred by the future of his fate. Shen Qingqiu brings his hands up to his eyes with a shuddering breath, feeling his heart quicken as he remembers— as he remembers what he has to do—
He stands up; or he tries to, at least, as he wobbles a bit on the way up. Shen Qingqiu ignores the fresh coolness on his face as he grips the jug, taking careful sips as he makes his way towards Luo Binghe’s room. Only a second's pause briefly grabs him before he opens it, letting the mild light of a half-moon drift into the dark room, illuminating a figure laying on what amounted to an elevated futon, the blankets on Luo Binghe simple but thick due to the winter’s steady encroachment.
It's almost comical, how relieved Shen Qingqiu instantly feels at the sight of that chest moving up and down in calm breaths. In fact, he feels so relieved that an almost-forgotten sensation of fatigue settles in his mind, drooping his eyelids downwards.
Shen Qingqiu stumbles at the sudden drowsiness, accidentally pushing his foot too far down on the wood, causing it to creak.
Luo Binghe shifts towards the door, but Shen Qingqiu, unexpectedly, doesn't feel a sensation of shame at being caught staring at the sleeping protagonist as his gaze meets wide, dark eyes. His disciple does seem surprised, but thankfully not upset, his sweetly bemused expression morphing into something Shen Qingqiu can't quite place.
“Shizun, is everything alright?” Luo Binghe quietly whispers, as if afraid of disturbing the darkness.
Shen Qingqiu stares at a curly lock silently escaping the hold of his disciple’s loose braid, watching it frame and settle along a flushed cheek. “Hm? Oh, I was— that is, this master was… this master couldn't sleep, so… I simply wanted to make sure Binghe was alright. That's all,” He settles on, self-consciously clutching the jar of alcohol in his grasp.
A smile, pure and dimpled, spreads on his white lotus’ face. “Shizun takes care of this disciple very well,” He demurely answers, voice still low from sleep. “This disciple is in need of nothing, and only asks to serve Shizun until the rest of his days, for any task that is needed.”
Shen Qingqiu feels an embarrassed flush lightly gather on the base of his cheeks. “Such grand statements are unneeded, Binghe.”
Luo Binghe simply stares at him with that soft smile, letting the silence comfortably linger in the night. Dark eyes peer into his own with a glint, blinks slowly fluttering thick, black eyelashes that settle on smooth skin. Dimly, Shen Qingqiu notices Luo Binghe has shifted just enough to show the beginnings of a bare shoulder, skin giving way to a sharp collarbone that dips down into concealed darkness.
“Well!” Shen Qingqiu too-loudly exclaims, “Sorry for disturbing your needed rest. This master will hurry off—”
“Shizun can stay, if he can't sleep. It would make this disciple feel better, knowing Shizun is guarding him with a peaceful heart,” Luo Binghe interrupts.
Shen Qingqiu’s lips thin at the reminder of an empty bed waiting for him back in his room, and his thoughts settle on how he felt so much calmer when Binghe was sleeping across from him. His mind dully drifts under the haze of the moon's light, and before he lets himself think on it more, the door closes behind him.
Immediately, Shen Qingqiu feels trepidation enter his bones for a reason he can't name, so he immediately brushes the feeling aside. Fantastic stuff in this jar, 10/10 rating from Shen Qingqiu for how easily he can stick his thoughts in the ‘Never Touch This Again!’ box. That's his favorite box.
And his favorite disciple seems to pick up on his energy, eagerly shifting to the side to… give Shen Qingqiu room?
“Binghe,” He amusingly comments, “There's very little space on your bed, and this master could hardly impose—”
“But Shizun,” Luo Binghe hurriedly states, “This disciple has noticed your restlessness this past week. Please, won't you allow your disciple to at least attempt to soothe his master? This disciple is aware his resources are meager, but… there's no chair or spare bedding in this room, and a filial disciple could hardly allow his Shizun to stay upright on wooden floorboards.”
Dark eyes glint with a thin film of liquid in the consuming darkness, only reflecting light off a small window on the opposite side of the room. Shen Qingqiu can see shadows of a pouting expression in the dark-blue light, and, damn him, his resolve crumbles like rice paper.
He waves a hand in surrender, “No need for dramatics,” He half-mumbles, already feeling the edges of sleep try to claim him as he sets down the jar and crawls into Luo Binghe’s single-person bed. Shen Qingqiu leaves his back to his disciple as he lays down, unwilling to make the other more uncomfortable with a face-to-face sleeping arrangement. He shifts within the fabric, cataloging how he'll order better blankets for Luo Binghe soon. The best blanket, certainly, full of feathers and fine silk for the warmer months.
“Good night, Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, feeling his mind settle at the gentle breaths behind him, lulling in their meditative rhythm and the call of safety, safety, safety in Shen Qingqiu’s body.
“Good night, Shizun,” Luo Binghe softly answers. With that, Shen Qingqiu drowsily feels his lips turn upwards, mind greeting sleep with wide, open arms.
He’s too warm. Shen Qingqiu shifts, feeling discomfort and sweat sticking to the back of his robe, his inhale coming in deeper as he feels the flicker of heat in his gut turn into a vivid, bright flame.
Shen Qingqiu groans, low and drawn-out. His body jerks without his permission, instinctively pushing deeper into the warmth in front of his body. His arms are circled around the source of that heat, clamping down, and a low gasp responds, quickly muffled into fabric.
Something tickles at the edges of Shen Qingqiu’s brain at the situation as he moves his body back and forth, hand clenching slightly-coarser fabric.
“Shizun,” Someone moans, and Shen Qingqiu shifts his hips further, desperately trying to build that heat in his gut, feeling it ramp up at the sound. His mind feels sticky with remnants of sleep and liquor, unable to grasp stirrings of higher function as he ruts and frustratingly slams into the hot, wet fabric encircling his cock. “Shizun, ah! F-fuck, fuck, Shizun, oh—!”
The jumbled sounds spur him further, and Shen Qingqiu inexpertly thrusts into it. It's not quite enough, too little to yet tip him off the edge, but far too good to stop. He feels something shift more around him, and, to his despair, the warmth pulls away for a moment. Shen Qingqiu finds himself whining a bit in disappointment, but a soft voice comfortingly shushes him, and then something tugs on the fabric of his pants.
Shen Qingqiu, confused but obedient, lets the hands wander. The tugging increases, and he shifts to help, sighing in satisfaction as cool air hits his skin. Eagerly, something warm pulls itself close again, slotting back to the hot skin that radiates from between his thighs like a beacon.
Oh.
Oh. That's… that's his dick around something. Something that sobs out a—
“Shizun, please, please don't stop,” Luo Binghe whines, voice quiet and low-pitched with need. A whimper jolts out as the warmth — the protagonist’s bare ass! the space between the protagonist’s legs!!! oh no oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck — slams back into him, movements jagged and inexperienced.
“Please,” He hears Luo Binghe hoarsely beg, hips shifting backwards to slickly slide up against Shen Qingqiu’s firm length and what was he doing?! “Please continue, Shizun. This disciple wants you to use him for your pleasure. Please,” Luo Binghe quietly whines, pulling out a gasp as he flexes around Shen Qingqiu’s cock, clamping down, “Please.”
Shen Qingqiu’s mind collapses inward at that statement, and he shudders, hips jerking deeper into the warm parting of his disciple’s… his disciple’s…
He squeezes his eyes shut, mouth parting out a hungry, pained moan that he can't quite manage to stop as Luo Binghe’s panting increases, the younger man's lower half clumsily bouncing off his hips as they lay on their side, Shen Qingqiu spooning into his disciple. Luo Binghe, seemingly to find a better grip, uses his left hand to reach back and hold onto the left side of Shen Qingqiu’s hip, pulling them together in a steadier rhythm.
Fuck. It feels so good, so much better than anything Shen Qingqiu has felt within both of his lives, warmth and softness so inviting and slick around his wet cock. Luo Binghe, somehow, sounds as if he's feeling the same way, yelling out louder as he enthusiastically lets Shen Qingqiu’s hard dick part along his thighs, dragging along the opening of his hole and perineum, the slick head pressing so wonderfully along the flesh of his testicles and the occasional rub against another's cock. Shen Qingqiu’s hazy eyes spot the twitch of something along his vision, and his gaze widens at the frantic movement of Luo Binghe’s hand jutting over the horizon of curly hair.
His white lotus is jerking himself off to Shen Qingqiu’s dick between his legs. The fat head is pulsing clear liquid from the tip, flush with abuse as a calloused hand frantically pulls along the heavenly pillar — and what a pillar it is! Thicker than what Luo Binghe can encircle and much longer than Shen Qingqiu’s own down-to-earth pillar, Luo Binghe still tries his best to deal with it, hand movements growing faster as he moves their hips in tandem.
“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu numbly mutters, “Fuck,” He almost-yells as thighs suddenly squeeze over his cock, forcing Shen Qingqiu’s eyes to clench shut at the overwhelming sensation.
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe keeps repeating like a mantra, red lips parting into desperate pants. “Shizun.”
“Binghe— what—?” Shen Qingqiu tries to question, mouth and mind feeling full of cotton. His lips are close enough to brush against Luo Binghe’s neck and the soft hair gathered there, catching hints of sweat that have accumulated on that perfect skin. Against his better judgment, Shen Qingqiu instinctively shifts forward, following the push and pull of Luo Binghe’s motions, legs trembling just from the sheer shock and pleasure building like an overwhelming tsunami within his body.
“Binghe,” He distantly hears himself plea in a fluttering tone, unsure of what he was, exactly, pleading for, grinding his cock in short, shallower thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against each other follows it, wet and slippery from a mixture of sweat, the spit he glimpsed on Luo Binghe’s hand, and precum, “Binghe, I’m—!”
“Please come for me, please Shizun, please come on me, please, I want to feel you, Shizun—”
Shen Qingqiu, helpless against the tide, follows Luo Binghe’s command, sobbing out a yell as everything in him tenses and shakes as he cums. Luo Binghe keeps rubbing around him as his orgasm continues, and Shen Qingqiu moans, first in pleasure then overstimulation as his disciple seemingly tries to use him to rub against his own unsatisfied cock. Luo Binghe whimpers, and Shen Qingqiu has just enough higher functioning left in his brain to bring his left hand around, fingers fluttering over the soft, tensed skin of Luo Binghe’s stomach until they reach their lower goal.
His disciple cries out when Shen Qingqiu wraps a hand around the warm shaft, pausing only for a second as he realizes cum is now coated over his hands. Shen Qingqiu’s cum.
He suddenly jerks hard and fast over Luo Binghe’s dick when he gets a proper hold, ignoring how his own cock twitches at his disciple’s increasingly louder moans, back arching forward into his hand.
“Shizun—!” Luo Binghe wetly yells, and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes widen at the tears dripping down his disciple’s flushed cheeks. “Shizun, please don't stop, don't stop, ohhh…”
Luo Binghe suddenly goes completely silent, back arched and muscles tense as new wetness falls on Shen Qingqiu’s arm, dark eyes unseeingly fixed on the ceiling as he comes around Shen Qingqiu’s hand.
Shen Qingqiu can't help but stare at the beautiful sight, his own lips parted.
Luo Binghe starts taking in gulping breaths as a few seconds pass, and Shen Qingqiu silently takes his hand off of this disciple’s slick, softening cock, ignoring the thick wetness sliding down his hand.
They both sit still for a moment, silently breathing at different rates, and then Luo Binghe turns around.
Shen Qingqiu stops his flinch, but pulls his eyes away from Luo Binghe’s own. Luo Binghe doesn't try to meet his gaze, merely pulling himself closer as he settles his head against Shen Qingqiu’s chest, the top of his curly hair gently tickling the underside of Shen Qingqiu’s tense jaw. He simply lays there, one hand splayed around Shen Qingqiu’s ribs, breath puffing calmly on stained inner robes.
Well, Shen Qingqiu can’t help but hysterically think into the darkness, at least he didn't stick it in the protagonist! That would have been actually gay, and then he'd have to have a whole crisis about it, which he thankfully now does not need to have because he's not gay and Luo Binghe isn't gay and no one needs to talk about this weird event ever again!!!
“Shizun,” Luo Binghe breathlessly says next to him, tone more content and relaxed than Shen Qingqiu has ever heard as a finger lightly traces his collarbone, “When this disciple is more established, I— that is—” He begins, voice uncharacteristically bashful, “I love you, Shizun. Please allow me to formally court you after I prove myself at the Immortal Alliance Conference.”
Shen Qingqiu valiantly resists the urge to grab the nearest pillow and place it over his face. Instead, he lightly squeezes Luo Binghe’s body, ignoring the stickiness sliding between their tangled legs.
“We'll discuss it after, Binghe. For now, rest,” He gently answers. Luo Binghe seems slightly mollified by his answer, and curls up further into him, breath microscopically petering out into the lull of a deep sleep.
Shen Qingqiu looks up at the ceiling, and stares.