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Shen Qingqiu didn’t really notice anything during the entire time Binghe was, well, chasing him. He was too frantic, okay!? His life mattered slightly more than the fact that sometimes Binghe’s nails were different lengths or sometimes his wrist just felt different. But, spending so much time with him now, he’s started to notice the smaller details. Like the fact that Binghe uses some kind of brush that fluffs his hair in the morning and arranges his curls in the same way every day. Truly, the best use of the protagonist’s powers was keeping those unruly curls in meticulous order (until he ran his fingers through it, though Binghe never complained about that). Binghe is inclined to wear his own colors most of the time, but he can be “convinced” to wear Qing Jing Peak’s colors sometimes (Shen Qingqiu knows that Binghe craves the validation of being asked to wear his shizun’s colors, he won’t deny him that, it’s a small unassuming way for him to stake his claim on Binghe). Small details like an insight into Binghe’s mind were much more noticeable now.
Some details about Binghe have been changing. Fluctuating. Like, as mentioned, Binghe’s nail length. The feeling of his wrists. It sounds strange, but the feeling of his hands on Shen Qingqiu’s waist is different. It’s all incredibly suspicious. Figuring out how to approach the topic was…. Hard? Harder was making himself even consider bringing it up at any point, every time he thought of opening his mouth to ask Binghe why his hands were always different felt weird. It means he pays attention to Binghe’s hands! The protagonist is supposed to be handsome and perfect in every way but it’s strange to pay so much attention to his hands, right!? So, he ends up ‘pinning’ Binghe in their bedroom, specifically to their bed. Since…. Since that is where Binghe is most agreeable to be pinned. Listen, he’s not a very strong man compared to his protagonist husband, he has to go with what works!
“Shizun?” said demon purrs up at him, grinning. Shen Qingqiu almost falters, almost , seeing Binghe laid out beneath him, hair a golden glowing halo in the low candle light, eyes relaxed and bright with mirth. His husband really is perfect….
“This master must ask Binghe something.” he responds as casually as he can, like he’s not fighting the most intense war in himself about actually ruining this situation (as he is convinced that yes, this will ruin the wonderful mood). Binghe’s brows quirk at him, his brilliant smile dulling down into a tamed grin. “This master has noticed some of Binghe’s features look different sometimes.” That’s not creepy right? Being vague means he totally wasn’t oogling at his husband’s broad hands. His husband’s brow furrows a bit as he tucks his hands behind his own neck to lounge more easily. Caught you .
“.... Maybe? What does Shizun mean?” Binghe offers in return. Oh you little….
“Sometimes Binghe’s…. Binghe’s hands are different.” he admits.
“Oh? How does shizun know that?” The demon has the audacity to smirk up at him, though Shen Qingqiu can see the spark of uncertainty that lies beneath the surface of his husband’s confident veneer.
“..... They just feel different. Luo Binghe, don’t dodge my questions. Is there something wrong? Can this master help?” Growing frustrated, he sits back on his heels instead of looming over the other. Despite knowing he’ll look like a pouting child, the peak lord crosses his arms. Binghe sits up with him and pauses, expression faltering slightly as he glances over his husband’s face. There’s only a beat of Binghe seeming to consider his options before he rubs the back of his neck.
“It’s…. Just an illusion. Don’t worry about it, shizun…” Binghe admits sheepishly and everything starts to fall into place. Shen Qingqiu, despite himself, uncrosses his arms to point accusingly at the other, huffing.
“Binghe is hiding more things from me! Is Binghe hiding his demonic traits from this master?” he can’t help but get angry, really. Why would Binghe hide such a thing from him!? He thought he made it perfectly clear that he would accept Binghe for who he is! As a demon lord, as a protagonist , guilt and sadness look out of place on Luo Binghe’s face. Genuine sadness, not the teary eyes and whines he pulls out to get what he wants.
“.... Shizun wouldn’t like them.” He’d never heard Binghe’s voice sound like such a dejected whisper before and frankly he never wants to again. Yes, it’s his fault, but Binghe shouldn’t be hiding things from him! They’re married ! They’d gotten this far, what’s the use of hiding anything about himself!!
“Binghe should not assume what this master would or wouldn’t like.” he says in retort, internally flinching at how snippy he sounds. I sound like a bitch… For his part, Binghe stares at the peak lord, then down at the bed, then pointedly at his own hands like they had personally wronged him. Really, Binghe, just let me see! “This master wants to know all of Binghe. Binghe has seen all of this master, afterall.``He feels hopelessly shameless saying such a thing but Binghe would likely stare at his own hands until they fall off before he’d actually act. Who knew the all-mighty protagonist could be so self conscious? You do , Shen Qingqiu’s brain betrayingly whispers to him, you caused this . Okay, everything in this disaster of a story is his own fault! But he thought he resolved this! The teary eyes Binghe makes up at him are genuinely teary instead of fake, gripping Shen Qingqiu’s heart like a vice. “Please Binghe….” he pleads and gently takes Binghe’s hands, ignoring the brunt of Binghe’s stare. They’re so big...
“....Okay shizun.” Is the only response he gets before the illusion is released. The dissipation of spiritual energy is easier to ignore in favor of the fact that Binghe’s hands - no, those aren’t hands, those are mitts - are at least twice the size of his own now, both lengthwise and widthwise. If he had to guess, though, they’re actually three times bigger if one considers their bulk. They’re…. Definitely more claw than hand? The nails themselves are actual claws and fit to the bulk of his husband’s fingers to give them a distinctly demonic (maybe dragon like?) appearance. The peak lord tamps down the overwhelming urge to put one of Binghe’s fingers in his mouth. Weren’t Binghe’s hands normal during his childhood? How did this happen???
Binghe’s soft exhale brings him back to reality, back to the fact that his husband is sitting there and he’s just staring at his hands, the very thing that his husband is apparently self conscious about. His shame already thoroughly disposed of, Shen Qingqiu leans down and gently kisses the pad of Binghe’s first finger. A sharp inhale encourages him to continue, pressing a tiny kiss to each finger, then each palm before he rests his cheek fully in Binghe’s right hand. The demon lord looks appropriately shaken, like the world has fallen away and he had a personal revelation from a god. Knowing Binghe, that is exactly what this was. Really, what did Binghe expect? For his shizun to accept him, marry him, love him for so many years then get turned away by claws? Silly boy.
“This master loves every part of his husband.” Shame thoroughly stomped into dust, Shen Qingqiu lets his eyes flutter closed, ignoring the slight twitch of Binghe’s palm when his lashes brush it; “He knows he made…. Many mistakes before, but he believes Binghe is perfect as is. Demon, human, and all.”
“Shizun….” The demon lord’s voice is thick with emotion and held back sobs; “..... Every part of me?”
“Every part, Binghe. Even the stickiness and the…. Curious obsession with biting. This master takes Binghe as he is.” He gives a (hopefully) reassuring pat to Binghe’s other wrist and turns his face further into the palm he is pillowed against. Really, Binghe is already so big and wide, why would it be any surprise that his hands are actually so big? Even though he knows they are not , Shen Qingqiu thinks for a fleeting moment that perhaps his hands are more proportional to Binghe like this. His human hands are nice, or the illusion of them was, but these are so strong and warm and safe feeling.
They really do suit him better. A soft hiccup draws him from his revelry and forces him to open his eyes to acknowledge that yes, Binghe is crying. Genuinely crying. The same kind of crying Binghe did when he saw Shen Qingqiu in the wedding garb, except he is (thankfully) not on his knees sobbing this time. Just a normal gross sobbing on his bed. He reaches over and brushes a tear from Binghe’s face with the back of his finger, sighing.
“I like Shizun’s hands better….” Binghe’s voice is soft as he tries to reign in his crying, taking the hand near his face and turning it over to trace a line up the inside of a finger with the tip of his claw; “They’re gentle…. Long and slender. They’re so pretty ....” A shiver runs up Qingqiu’s spine, though he convinces himself that it is only a shiver and not a frisson of pleasure at the feeling of that claw tracing the lines of his hand. First the marriage line, then the heart line, the wisdom line, all the way down to the creases of his wrist, each trace of his claw tensing and relaxing his shizun’s hand.
“And I like Binghe’s.” he says back after the tracing stops, Binghe’s claw gently pressing over his pulse point; “They’re warm and safe.”