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"My Xiyan, won't you come greet this lord. He had a horrible nightmare last night."
"…Yes, A-Die."
Luo Binghe drags his feet when walking to Tianlang-jun, the man far bigger than he. Luo Binghe is only fourteen after all; compared to even Zhuzhi-lang, Luo Binghe is like a hatchling born yesterday.
Regardless of his size, his voice, his body, Tianlang-jun is a mad man who only sees a dead woman in the son that was practically thrown into his claws all in exchange for some peace and safety promised to the human realm.
Yue Qingyuan, Luo Binghe's own shibo, was the one to toss him into a pit with claims it was the only way to prevent the sects from being wiped out; to prevent Shen Qingqiu from falling into grave danger.
"It is a disciple's duty to always give for their master," Yue Qingyuan had said. "Disciple Luo is of course a good disciple willing to give himself for his master, yes?"
Luo Binghe is a good disciple—he wants to be a good disciple, anyway. His cultivation may not be up to the standards of Shen Qingqiu, he may be falling behind all his peers, but if there is something he could do to still be of use to Qing Jing, then was it not this?
"Of course, Zhangmen-shibo."
Yue Qingyuan had wasted no time at all in dropping Luo Binghe at Tianlang-jun's feet. There was no time left for farewells either; instead, Yue Qingyuan had seemed almost in a rush to leave Luo Binghe alone with the stranger.
He was only twelve back then. Tianlang-jun had been released by someone unknown to the sects followed by carnage the same day along with demands. Luo Binghe doesn't know what the demands were exactly, and he'll never know.
With little ease, Luo Binghe is lifted off the ground, held in Tianlang-jun's broad arms. "Sweet Xiyan, why not call me by something else? We always have this conversation, yet you never seem to learn."
It's said in a scolding tone with fondness drifting between the very words.
Luo Binghe blinks, glaze drifting from his father's face down to the chest on shameless display. There's nothing about it that entices him, but sometimes Tianlang-jun will push the boy's head against it with sweet talk of how Luo Binghe—Su Xiyan must love it so. How the chest is always out for his gaze, his comfort,.
Blinking a second time, Luo Binghe speaks softly, uncomfortable with the words bubbling in his throat. "Yes, Tian… Tian'ge."
A rumble gives away the satisfaction before the purr truly begins. "Much better! My Xiyan is so cute, even if she was rather hesitant in speaking. Tsk tsk, we should do something about that."
The demon lord sighs. "Did your betrayal make you forget how easily you spoke to me before? That's fine, dear. You'll speak to me in our bed."
Not a second is allowed for Luo Binghe to speak up, if he even dared to, his face pushed firmly against the bare chest, the head on the back of his head refusing to let him lift off.