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    “Are you cold?” he asks, because Shang Qinghua is usually cold. Mobei-jun does his best to keep him well supplied with furs, and warm cups of tea, and other necessities, but he still sometimes catches him blowing on the tips of his fingers in between drafts of trade agreements.

    “Ah, a little,” Shang Qinghua says, rubbing at his cheek with one hand, “but it’s all right, my king.”

    Mobei-jun says nothing, only extends a hand to tap him on the head, once, carefully. He stabilizes Shang Qinghua’s temperature with the touch, and watches as his cheeks go flushed.

    “There,” he says.

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    21 Jul 2021

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    Shang Qinghua turned his head as far as he could from where he was curled up on the ground, and saw a figure at the foot of the staircase. 

    Wait...Mobei Jun...King. Oh FUCK. Mobei Jun, the Demon King?! That Mobei Jun?? What the hell was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be in the Demon Realm? Torturing humans and what not?

    Mobei Jun took a few graceful steps into the light, and...oh. Oh no. 

    He was hot.

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    21 Jul 2021