Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yue Qingyuan knows that he’s found him when he watches the pinched, unfamiliar face, further down that he’s ever looked to meet his eyes, turn white in shock.

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan says breathlessly, as what must be Shen Qingqiu freezes in place, hand locked on his cane.

“You-” Shen Qingqiu breathes out, the rectangles of glass on his face catching the light distractingly. If his parted lips breathe another word Yue Qingyuan can’t hear it over the roar of machines rolling by, the cacophony reflecting off the tall, implacable buildings around them. The smell of burning claws its way into Yue Qingyuan’s nose; the air is close and foul, but for the first time since he found out the truth so many months ago, Yue Qingyuan feels like he can breathe freely.

“What are you doing here,” Shen Qingqiu says, face closing off into a contempt that looks familiar despite the new features. “You’re-”

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan says, unhesitatingly stepping forward and taking Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his own. Mistakes, he’s made; not noticing Shen Qingqiu’s death is one that can’t be atoned for. All he can do is make his apologies. “I’m late. But I’m here now.”

A look of shock tangles through Shen Qingqiu’s eyes, his thin chest moving the slightest bit as he inhales sharply. It sets off a wheezing cough, one, two heaves of his chest as he covers his mouth with a fist. His other hand remains on the cane, steadying him even as his body wavers; as he recovers he fixes Yue Qingyuan with a dead-eyed glare.

“You’re not wanted here,” he says semi-breathlessly, eyes locked on Yue Qingyuan’s through the interfering pieces of glass and voice rough. “Go away.”

—

Yue Qingyuan can’t, of course; it’s been too many years, too many lost opportunities. Seeing Shen Qingqiu like this, he wonders how he could have missed the signs; the fake that took his body is nothing like him. Shen Qingqiu looks more like himself, gaunt and unhealthily pale and only the height of Yue Qingyuan’s shoulder, a single cutting look more telling than the fake’s gestures with his stolen fans.

“Xiao Jiu,” he says hesitantly, as soon as the door closes behind them. The miniscule room they’ve come to is within a giant complex, as tall as a hill. There are no openings off it, besides an unlit closet with a door and some esoteric-looking cabinets, a metal basin for water prominently placed on one of them. A precarious-looking bed sits in one corner; a table with unfamiliar devices atop it is almost on top of it. It’s unclear whether it’s the rush of relief he felt at finally finding Shen Qingqiu that makes his knees weak, or if it’s the fact that he can’t summon any spiritual energy; Yue Qingyuan is no stranger to inedia, but it’s been a few days, now, that he’s wandered the streets looking for his shidi. He’s a little light-headed.

“You can’t stay,” Shen Qingqiu says warningly, hanging his cane on a hook by the door and opening the largest of the cabinets. A startling, but not unwelcome feeling of cold emanates from it; Shen Qingqiu removes some sort of canister, cracking open the lid with a snapping sound. He drinks from it with a frown, eyes lingering on Yue Qingyuan. “How did you get here? When will you go?”

“I,” Yue Qingyuan says, attempting to get a glance at what’s within the canister. “Can I drink something?”

Shen Qingqiu makes a small annoyed sound, and opens the same cabinet, removing a second canister. He moves as if to hand it to Yue Qingyuan, then hesitates for a split second; he cracks open the top of it and then pushes it into Yue Qingyuan’s hand. It’s shockingly cold, a balm against Yue Qingyuan’s overheated palm.

“Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says politely, raising it to his lips; the thirst that he’d ignored all this time is suddenly so strong he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t drink. Yet when he goes to take a sip, the liquid inside sizzles against his mouth like some sort of poisonous acid. Unable to help himself, he spits it out, coughing, almost dropping the canister in surprise.

“Oh please,” Shen Qingqiu sneers, rolling his eyes; he opens a different cabinet and withdraws a glass vessel, then activates some sort of mechanism by which water flows into the basin, even as Yue Qingyuan covers his mouth, still coughing. He watches as Shen Qingqiu fills the vessel, then hands it to Yue Qingyuan, grabbing the cold canister and dumping its contents into the basin. It hisses as it flows out through a hole at the bottom, the lingering taste of its contents tingling on Yue Qingyuan’s- tongue sweet and crawling. The pungent flavor feels like it’s stained his mouth. 

Yue Qingyuan raises the glass to his lips, much more cautiously this time; within it is water, laced with a powerfully metallic flavor. He’s so thirsty that even the strange mixture tastes like life-giving elixir; he drinks as much as he can, lowering the glass half-empty from his mouth to breathe heavily. As the water hits his stomach he finds himself suddenly light-headed; he doesn’t think that it shows on his face, but Shen Qingqiu is watching him with an expression of annoyance that gradually becomes more doubtful. The ringing in Yue Qingyuan’s ears is a little louder, now that they’re standing in an enclosed space. He wouldn’t mind sitting down. 

He tries to say as much, but before he can, the swaying of his vision grows more pronounced, and the room gets darker and darker, until it’s simply black.

—

When Yue Qingyuan awakens it’s to an unfamiliarly dark room; there’s only two rectangles of dim illumination coming from behind some sort of long, opaque hanging screens. His head is aching terribly, so he doesn’t move right away; and everything he would want to look at is right in front of him, anyway.

Shen Qingqiu, in his new body, is seated next to the bed that Yue Qingyuan is lying in, scowling at something in his hand. Before Yue Qingyuan can look for more than a few minutes, Shen Qingqiu glances up, huffing in annoyance. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, irascible as always. “Your cultivation isn’t working here?”

Yue Qingyuan shrugs in agreement, not wanting to look away. Speaking seems like a lot of effort, so he doesn’t; just keeps watching Shen Qingqiu, who has a tiny furrow between his brows that causes him almost physical pain to see, it’s so familiar. He could look at it for hours.

“That will make it difficult to get you out of here,” Shen Qingqiu says under his breath, fingers drumming on his legs. Yue Qingyuan feels his forehead twitch; he’s not planning to leave. Intending to say so, he tries to sit up; moving his limbs sets off an immense, leaden feeling of heaviness, interspersed with the ache of overexertion that he remembers from childhood, before he began cultivating. The sour, twisting feeling in his stomach is familiar from childhood, too; hunger.

“Can I eat something?” he asks, voice quiet like a sigh. Shen Qingqiu scowls at him like he’d prefer to hit him, and stalks off to seize an oddly shiny rectangle, which crinkles against the sheets as he throws it at Yue Qingyuan’s chest. When he slams back into his chair he snatches the item back up, and tears the covering on it, revealing some sort of baked, bread-like substance inside, which he shoes into Yue Qingyun’s hand. When Yue Qingyuan breaks off a section and places it in his mouth it doesn’t fizzle like the beverage did, thankfully; it’s salty and tastes like the best thing he’s ever eaten. He eats the entire package in large bites, throat painfully dry. He glances around for the glass he used before, but doesn’t see it.

“Could I have… more water?” he tries, while Shen Qingqiu stares at him unspeaking, arms crossed. Shen Qingqiu glares, and wordlessly stomps to the part of the room with the low counter, the sound of flowing water in the metal basin ringing for a few moments before he returns. Yue Qingyuan manages to sit up in that time.

The water is blessedly cool, as if pulled from underground.

“Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says genuinely, swallowing large pulls from the glass vessel. Well-being rushes through his system; the headache doesn’t subside, but it does feel less like he could die from it. Shen Qingqiu is still sitting there, watching him. Scowling. 

“Wipe that expression off your face,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, narrowing his eyes. Yue Qingyuan wasn’t aware he was making an expression. “You need to leave. Don’t get comfortable.” Shen Qingqiu’s bed is, in fact, rather comfortable. “Where’s Xuan Su?”

“I had to leave it behind,” Yue Qingyuan says evenly, sitting up a little more and crossing his legs under the sheets. Shen Qingqiu seems to have divested him of his outer robes; whether for his comfort or to spare the bedding from his grime, Yue Qingyuan won’t hazard a guess. “Xiao Jiu-”

“Don’t call me that,” Shen Qingqiu interrupts, narrowing his eyes. Yue Qingyuan smiles, undaunted.

“Qingqiu shidi,” he says instead. “I don’t intend to leave. Not without you.”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him in silence for a few tense moments; then a wash of anger flows across his face, cut by bitter laughter.

“Hah,” he says bitterly, and walks out of the room, taking his cane and slamming the door behind him.

—

It’s been a few months; Yue Qingyuan has grown more accustomed to the strong smells and tastes, the blaring noises of this realm. Shen Qingqiu hasn’t stopped trying to drive him away- but after the first few times that Yue Qingyuan slept outside his door after he locked him out, he’s stopped barring him from his home.

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan says in the deepest part of the night, when the outside noises have died and the steady orange light of the sleepless city is barely disturbed by the flash of the cars’ headlights. Only the occasionally flickering purple and reds of the neon signs make their muted live way through the pulled screen, a gentle contrast to the harsh glow of Shen Qingqiu’s monitor. “I could take you back. Why won’t you come?”

“Do you know how to take my body back from that thief?” Shen Qingqiu sneers, not looking away from the computer. It’s like he doesn’t care about the answer; he doesn’t wait for the ponderous no that attempts to guiltily force its way from Yue Qingyuan’s lips, just continues talking. “Zhangmen shixiong can feel free to return himself; if you drag me with you, you’d better just kill me. I won’t be made a mockery of.”

“There’s no cultivation here,” Yue Qingyuan says quietly. He rises from the bed and moves to Shen Qingqiu’s side, where he places a hand on his thin shoulder; he still expects to feel the flow of qi within him, but in this world, all that comes through is the subtle warmth of his body through the cloth. “You don’t want to return? To attempt to-”

“What?” Shen Qingqiu laughs unkindly. “To cultivate? I see what you thought of my skills, that you think starting this late would let me rise to a comparable level. Zhangmen shixiong is really too generous with his praise of his sect siblings,” he finishes poisonously.

Yue Qingyuan withdraws his hand in a movement that’s almost a flinch. Shen Qingqiu’s profile is set in the bitter expression that means he won’t continue the conversation if pressed; Yue Qingyuan sits back on the bed, and with a sigh, covers himself with the sheets, turning to the windows and closing his eyes. 

The sound of furious typing accompanies him to sleep.

—

“Oh, our Xiao Yue is so good,” one of the elderly women in the park praises, wrinkled face creasing further in a smile as she slaps one of Yue Qingyuan’s bare arms. “Always getting up early to do the morning exercises with us old folks- and so handsome, and still single! When are you going to let me introduce you to my granddaughter?”

“The one in Australia?” the woman next to her laughs, waving her hand in front of her face. “That won’t do! No, you should let me introduce you to my niece- she went to a very good school, you know, very well educated, she only lives a few towns over.”

“I’m afraid I already have someone in my heart,” Yue Qingyuan says with a smile, allowing the same unsurprised and complaining comments that follow every week wash over him. “I promised I’d help carry groceries this week- which stores did you want to go to?”

—

“Aren’t you sick of this?” Shen Qingqiu asks, voice rough with exhaustion, the dip of the bed at his weight enough to wake Yue Qingyuan. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t usually go anywhere; working from home, as he says he does, allows him to make the money that they need to order most goods directly to their home. It’s only within the years that Yue Qingyuan has been living here that the groceries have started arriving in Yue Qingyuan’s hands; now, Shen Qingqiu simply demands things by name when Yue Qingyuan returns from the morning tai chi sessions, causing him to spend long hours wandering the streets looking for the appropriate market. It’s soothing; he’s gotten quite familiar with the area. Where the children who avoid school go, where the paupers on the street congregate out of the sun to talk; where the ladies at the market need help getting their carts over the curbs. He’s gotten used to the rhythm of it; for a city with such hustle and so many yelling people, it’s soothing. Calming.

He hasn’t been able to simply exist like this for a long time. 

Passing the mantle of sect leadership seemed impossible until he did it; now he can’t think of anything he would like less. If Shen Qingqiu were ever to return with him, he’s not so sure, now, that he would want to return to Cang Qiong sect; he says as much.

“I’m never going to return,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, still acerbic despite the late hour. “Haven’t you gotten bored yet? You can’t stay here much longer.” The line of his gaze drops to something in the sheets, then skitters away; Yue Qingyuan follows it down, but all he sees is his hair, twisting loosely across the bedding. It’s still as long as he’s always worn it; only a few lines of gray twist along its length. 

“I told you,” Yue Qingyuan says, voice even and steady with the nearness of sleep. “I won’t go without you.”

“You want to hold your life hostage to guilt me into it?!” Shen Qingqiu explodes, standing suddenly enough to jolt Yue Qingyuan where he lays. He sits up, eyes widening, wanting to reach out to Shen Qingqiu; but he’s pacing across the short distance of floor, muscles so tight with anger that he’s trembling. “Die, then! Just- leave me alone!” Shen Qingqiu bites out, grabbing onto the counter with both hands as if to steady himself. “I don’t know why you-”

He cuts himself off, breathing unsteadily; the wheezing that accompanies overexertion tinges his breath. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t say anything, simply watching. After a few moments, he stands from the bed, walking to Shen Qingqiu’s side.

“Xiao Jiu,” he says, cautiously touching his elbow. Shen Qingqiu rips it away; Yue Qingyuan hesitates, and doesn’t try to take it again. “I don’t mind growing old with you.”

“What are you talking about,” Shen Qingqiu hisses, spinning to glare at Yue Qingyuan, eyes wild. “You don’t- I died. I died, and I started again, and you’re here to ruin it. Again.” He stares at Yue Qingyuan for a long moment, glare venomous. “When will I be able to get away from you?” he says, quiet and hateful.

“I’m sorry,” Yue Qingyuan says, helpless and apologetic and unable to be anything but unmoving. “I can’t leave.”

“You won’t leave,” Shen Qingqiu hisses, and for the first time in their adult lives, his voice sounds flavored with something more than acidic hatred. Something layered, and… not vulnerable. Shen Qingqiu wouldn’t let anything of that sort seep through. But there’s something beyond the cold disdain and burning distaste, the derision of his usual statements. Yue Qingyuan can’t tell what it is; can’t help but study that face, desperate to know the unknown. Shen Qingqiu’s hair, here, is kept short, and he wears the thin t-shirts so common in this realm, arms and neck and nape all bare. So much of him is bare, except for everything that Yue Qingyuan wants to see, shuttered behind his tightly drawn mouth and dark eyes.

But no- there’s something at the corner of his eye that shines in the dim light of the monitor. Yue Qingyuan’s eyes land on it right before the screen changes to black behind them and the sudden darkness momentarily robs him of his sight. 

In that moment of blindness, there’s a pressure against his mouth, firm and desperate, an uncomfortably blunt hardness beneath skin; there for only a moment before it’s gone. As Yue Qingyuan’s eyes adjust, all he sees is Shen Qingqiu stalking away from him, roughly kicking off his slippers as he gets into the bed, back turned to Yue Qingyuan with finality.

Yue Qingyuan is left standing alone, his recently abandoned place in Shen Qingqiu’s bed beckoning him to a future of uncertain welcome.

He stands by the counter for a few moments, just looking. Standing in Shen Qingqiu’s strange, small home, surrounded by all the clutter, the weight of the years between them. 

Like a magnet drawing him, he walks to the bed; he gets in.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t turn to face him; but he doesn’t move away.

Chapter Text

The decades have changed Yue Qingyuan so slowly that Shen Qingqiu has barely noticed it; but thin lines of gray trace through his hair now where it’s pulled back into a loose bun, trapped against the bed. It shifts with each motion of Shen Qingqiu’s hips as he grinds down; Yue Qingyuan’s eyes, as biddable as ever, stare unblinkingly up at Shen Qingqiu, half-lidded and lips parted. 

He’s still handsome; irritatingly so. But despite the way that Shen Qingqiu’s cock throbs having Yue Qingyuan beneath him, he can’t maintain the amount of leg strength that it takes to ride him for long. He prefers to start this way; he can’t stand having Yue Qingyuan over him, caging him in, for too much time. His thighs are already trembling with the strain, even as his ass clenches pleasurably around Yue Qingyuan’s cock. He’ll have to let Yue Qingyuan take over, soon; he’ll need to remind him how to behave, first.

Shen Qingqiu drags a hand up Yue Qingyuan’s chest, fingers trailing lightly along the fading marks on his skin. Yue Qingyuan’s eyes darken, then his gaze is finally broken by the flutter of eyelashes as Shen Qingqiu pinches cruelly at the meat of his chest. Yue Qingyuan’s cock jumps inside him.

“What do you want?” Shen Qingqiu asks pointedly.

“To make you feel good,” Yue Qingyuan answers immediately, handsome face half-flushed and dazed, the way he gets when Shen Qingqiu has been ordering him around for a while. 

“Hmph,” Shen Qingqiu says, digging his fingers into the meat of the same pec to watch him jerk, then settle into the pain, hands still obediently on the covers by his sides. 

Shen Qingqiu watches for a moment, body squeezing around the cock inside him; his own cock is an annoying pulse of arousal, demanding his attention. With a huff he swings a leg off of Yue Qingyuan, settling gingerly onto his back, then imperiously beckons Yue Qingyuan towards him. When Yue Qingyuan moves too eagerly into the space between his legs he glares, and Yue Qingyuan slows down, waiting for Shen Qingqiu’s directions.

“Beg for it,” Shen Qingqiu says, and Yue Qingyuan moves cautiously in towards him, head descending inch by inch until it’s poised over Shen Qingqiu’s. He knows better than to kiss Shen Qingqiu without permission; his lips are parting on soft words.

“Please,” he says, voice husky and desperate. It sends a slow tidal wash of heat through Shen Qingqiu, who narrows his eyes and grabs his chin. 

“I said beg,” he sneers. “Not ask. What would you do for it?”

“I’ll do anything,” Yue Qingyuan answers, eyes half-lidded and voice pleading. His words are hazy in that undefined way that falls over him when he’s like this; Shen Qingqiu spreads his legs imperiously, pulling Yue Qingyuan further between them by the chin. “Please, let me…”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs and grabs Yue Qingyuan’s cock in a too-tight grip, provoking a startled intake of breath. He squeezes just a little bit, just enough to hurt; runs a sharp nail along the shaft and pinches lightly at the base, making a red flush spread across Yue Qingyuan’s cheekbones. Yue Qingyuan is panting softly into the air above him; Shen Qingqiu can feel the way the soft skin at the underside of his jaw works as he swallows under his grip. Heat rippling through him, he lines Yue Qingyuan’s cock up with his hole, pressing just the tip against it. 

“Don’t go inside,” he says, and lets go of Yue Qingyuan’s chin to grip his hip. “Hold it yourself,” and he releases Yue Qingyuan’s cock, fingers immediately replaced by Yue Qingyuan’s, to grab both sides of his waist. He pulls him forward in a shallow motion, as if he’s going to let him grind inside; Yue Qingyuan’s voice hitches, and he valiantly tries to follow the motion without letting his cock leave Shen Qingqiu’s hole or push into it. Shen Qingqiu laughs at his struggle, and slaps one of his ass cheeks cruelly, the crack of it loud and painful-sounding. Yue Qingyuan doesn’t look away from his eyes, expression already desperate; his cock is wet and leaking against Shen Qingqiu’s hole as he follows the excruciatingly slow pace that Shen Qingqiu sets for their hips.

“Go on,” Shen Qingqiu says after a while; his mouth twists in pleasure when Yue Qingyuan doesn’t move, waiting for explicit instruction. His training has finally stuck. “Ask for it.”

“Please let me,” Yue Qingyuan whispers obediently, and Shen Qingqiu hums in satisfaction. He spreads his legs a little further, and slaps Yue Qingyuan’s ass once more for good measure, before pressing him inside himself, inch by inch. 

“Well?” he says, eyes fluttering closed at the pressure, keeping his voice steady as best he can. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Please,” Yue Qingyuan gasps, hips twitching. They begin to move, slow and steady, in the pattern that Shen Qingqiu set before; the slide of his thick cock inside Shen Qingqiu is distractingly good, making his breath come unevenly. It reflects against Yue Qingyuan’s face, so close to his; he should reprimand him for the liberty, but that can come later. Right now, he’s caught up in the slide inside him; it’s always best right at the beginning, like this, before he begins to feel claustrophobic and pinned down under Yue Qingyuan’s heavy frame. Yue Qingyuan has filled out since he got here, lithe muscle settling into the solid build of an older man; it’s easier, somehow, than it was when he was thin, and sharp, and every movement fragile. He knows how to behave, now; he’s predictable in his movements, broken to Shen Qingqiu’s needs. He’s grinding slowly, steadily against the spot Shen Qingqiu has trained him to; it’s so good, Shen Qingqiu needs to just relax into it.

And he manages to, for a few minutes; the quiet pants of Yue Qingyuan’s breath when he pinches him, squeezes his fingers into an ass cheek hard enough to bruise, all help. But soon that uncomfortable crawling sensation starts up in his veins, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance, pushing Yue Qingyuan back off of himself.

“Suck my cock,” he demands, shoving Yue Qingyuan down by the shoulders. Yue Qingyuan goes willingly, the looming heat over Shen Qingqiu dissipating into cool, easy to breathe air. He grabs Yue Qingyuan’s messy bun in a hand, twisting his fingers in the long strands and pulling a little, just to make sure he has the grip. Yue Qingyuan’s eyes are fixed on his cock already, even as Shen Qingqiu holds him back from it; he relaxes his fingers a bit, and Yue Qingyuan moves to take him in his mouth, lashes fluttering closed in pleasure. The slick slide is so good; he needs something inside.

“Fingers,” he demands, and Yue Qingyuan’s thick fingers come to his hole, pushing gently inside. He’s loose, after Yue Qingyuan’s big dick, but the way they press unerringly against the spot he needs them makes up for the lack of stretch. Shen Qingqiu exhales slowly in pleasure, adjusting to Yue Qingyuan’s tongue and lips sucking his cockhead so wetly; he likes the disgusting noises that it makes, the idea of Yue Qingyuan debasing himself so eagerly. He’ll be able to come like this.

He glances down at Yue Qingyuan’s handsome face, distorted by the cock that makes his mouth a filthy o and hollows his cheeks. Yue Qingyuan has never figured out how to take more than a few inches without choking, but that’s fine; Shen Qingqiu likes it best on the head, anyway.

“Use your hand,” he reminds him, and Yue Qingyuan’s hand comes up to stroke what he can’t reach. Shen Qingqiu idly tugs him back by the hair, hand firm and unyielding, until Yue Qingyuan’s mouth unwillingly pops off the head of his cock; his eyes flutter open, fixated on Shen Qingqiu’s cock, and he tries to lean forward against the leash of his hair. Unsuccessful. He looks up at Shen Qingqiu, bullied; Shen Qingqiu’s breath hitches and he lets him lean back in, just a little. Just enough to lick it, but not suck.

“Xiao Jiu,” Yue Qingyuan mumbles, and Shen Qingqiu casually slaps him across the face, provoking a moan and a twitch of Yue Qingyuan’s hips against the sheets.

“Don’t talk,” Shen Qingqiu says idly, yanking on his hair once more for good measure. “Not unless I tell you to.”

“But I want…” Yue Qingyuan starts, and is cut off by another slap, provoking a gasp.

“You want? Why would I care what you want?” Shen Qingqiu sneers, cock twitching in front of Yue Qingyuan’s face. “If you’re not begging, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please,” Yue Qingyuan says, big, dark eyes looking up at Shen Qingqiu, red lips wet with Shen Qingqiu’s precome. “I want you to- inside-”

“You always want me to come inside your mouth,” Shen Qingqiu breathes out disdainfully. He releases the pressure on Yue Qingyuan’s hair, letting him dip down eagerly to take him in his mouth; then pulls him off again. “Filthy, greedy thing. Use your hand.”

Yue Qingyuan’s fingers inside him have been moving steadily; now, slowly, as if in protest, his hand begins to slide up and down Shen Qingqiu’s cock as well, even as his eyes drop back down to rest needily on the head of Shen Qingqiu’s cock.

“Make me come on your face,” Shen Qingqiu says, slightly breathless. He lets Yue Qingyuan’s head dip down to press a sucking kiss against the head of his cock a few times, then tugs him back; watches him watch the movement of his own hand, mouth parted as if jealous of his own palm. Tingles of pleasure are already running through Shen Qingqiu’s body; Yue Qingyuan’s strong fingers on his cock are pulling him closer to orgasm, the slide of the ones inside him making his abs begin to tremble.

He forces Yue Qingyuan’s head down, the soft wetness that envelops his cock excruciatingly good; with a pleased gasp he tugs Yue Qingyuan’s head back before he can come, breathing unsteadily for a few moments before he does it again. Yue Qingyuan moans in pleasure with it, resisting the pull of Shen Qingqiu’s hand as he yanks him back harshly each time; wetness darkens the eyelashes at the corners of his eyes in response to the pain. Shen Qingqiu lets out a single groan and lets Yue Qingyuan’s hot mouth suck, hard, on his cock head; as he begins to teeter on the edge, he pulls him decisively off.

“Beg for it,” he demands. “Get me off with your hand- not like that, faster. Yes- yes,” as Yue Qingyuan’s obedient hand begins to strip his cock, the fingers inside pressing circles against the point that makes his hips tense and shift.

“Please,” Yue Qingyuan gasps, eyes still fixed on Shen Qingqiu’s cock as his hand works it. “Please, I-” 

He attempts to lean down to reach it despite Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his hair, extending his tongue; Shen Qingqiu slaps his face again, provoking dual moans. 

“Please, I want it,” Yue Qingyuan breathes, eyes watering prettily with the tears. “I need it, I- please, please, inside me, please-”

“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu murmurs, thighs twitching and abs shivering. He slaps Yue Qingyuan again, pulling at his hair; angles his handsome face so that he can see it. “I’m-” he bites his lip, chest heaving, as Yue Qingyuan’s hand obediently pulls at his cock. “Mm- nngh-”

He keeps his eyes open as he orgasms to watch his come paint Yue Qingyuan’s face. Yue Qingyuan looks desperate for it, and magnanimously, Shen Qingqiu releases his grip on his hair, letting him lean forward and take him in his soft mouth to suck him through the final waves.

“Fuck,” Shen Qingqiu moans loudly, all the tingling heat in his body immediately pulling toward the heat of Yue Qingyuan’s mouth, everything intensifying. “Nn- ah, don’t swallow,” he commands harshly, provoking a muffled sound of unhappiness from Yue Qingyuan. The waves of orgasm continue, spreading out and slowing in intensity, until eventually he’s no longer being tumbled head over heels by them; simply rocked, like a leaf on the waves of a beach. 

His hand is resting on Yue Qingyuan’s head, again; not tangled in his hair to pull, this time, just resting. Yue Qingyuan’s mouth has stopped sucking, just holding him there; Shen Qingqiu drops his hand to his jaw and encourages his face up.

“Did you swallow it?” he asks, as stern as he can be with the swells of orgasm still buffering him. He pulls Yue Qingyuan off his dick, and Yue Qingyuan, mouth full, shakes his head, looking bullied.

“Good,” Shen Qingqiu says, self-satisfied. “Spit it out.”

Yue Qingyuan looks at him like he’s been betrayed; Shen Qingqiu taps the base of his abs, right above where the line of his hair starts. “Here,” he commands. Yue Qingyuan leans forward and slowly, unwillingly, spits the contents of his mouth onto Shen Qingqiu’s stomach.

“Good,” Shen Qingqiu says, rubbing his thumb against Yue Qingyuan’s wet mouth. “Now jerk yourself off. If you’re good, I’ll let you lick it back up.”