Work Text:
Shang Qinghua knew that the world didn’t play fair. Just look at his life! What had he done to deserve being transmigrated into his own novel and be denied his rightful place as the isekai protagonist? In a world populated with immortal and peerless beauties, Shang Qinghua looked vaguely like a hamster.
Better-looking than he’d been in his last life, but still. Hamster.
Cucumber-bro bitched and moaned a lot, but at least he was good-looking, he thought. Good-looking enough to bend Luo Binghe, good-looking enough to bend Liu Qingge, good-looking enough to bend Yue Qingyuan! Shang Qinghua was 100 percent confident that he’d written a completely platonic brotherly friendship between the scum villain and his childhood friend - the entire point had been to contrast Luo Binghe’s desolate upbringing, show that even as Shen Jiu tormented the protagonist for having a mother’s love, he failed to recognize how he’d squandered the non-romantic love of his adopted brother and that his agonies were of his own making.
You didn’t write shit, said the Cucumber-bro of his imagination. Green eyes narrowed at him; a fan tapped against a smooth white cheek. You completely made all that up!
Ah, Cucumber-bro had probably just turned the whole world gay. Shang Qinghua was also pretty confident that he’d never envisioned the scum villain of his series looking quite like that, either. What would the point have been?
Maybe, said Cucumber-bro, voice sweet, your subconscious was trying to tell you something.
Just because he wrote a lot about beautiful men’s heavenly pillars entering various flower holes didn’t necessarily mean that he was fantasizing about them piercing chrysanthemums as well! Shang Qinghua maintained that somewhere along the line Cucumber-bro had stolen the protagonist’s harem-building halo and no man was safe from it.
Not even Shang Qinghua. His hand tightened on his cock as he pumped, his breathing coming out faster. Precum beaded at the tip and he smeared it along his length.
That’s disgusting, Cucumber-bro said. He was kneeling, his face partially turned away, but his expression of revulsion was clear. Not only are you an incompetent writer, but you can’t even admit to yourself that you’re attracted to men? He rolled his eyes. You’re blaming this on me?
Shang Qinghua groaned. Come spurted all over his fist. He imagined it splattering on Shen Qingqiu’s face, white splashing across his cheek. Because it was a fantasy, Cucumber-bro didn’t close his mouth in time; some landed on his tongue, an obscene contrast of white on red, and he made a shocked expression as he swallowed.
A one-pump man, he imagined Cucumber-bro saying. I should have known.
Shang Qinghua’s cock twitched again. No one in Proud Immortal Demon’s Way had anything approaching a realistic refractory period. It had made for incredibly long sex scenes, but when you were a single man trying to get off while thinking about your best and only friend, it was more than a little inconvenient.
Kind of fun though, sometimes. Just a bit.
In his head, he dug his hand into Cucumber-bro’s hair and pushed his head down onto the ground. Cucumber-bro remained on all fours, one hand clenched around his fan. Shang Qinghua pushed his robes up, exposing the pale, round curve of his ass. Nobody wore underwear in his fantasies, not him and not Cucumber-bro.
He parted the cheeks, pushing a thumb into the hole. It fluttered around him, warm and wet. Shang Qinghua had never actually fingered anyone in any life and wasn’t sure of what to expect, so he decided to retcon in some sort of mysterious fruit that made asses self-lubricate, but not in a gross way. And was also an aphrodisiac.
Cucumber-bro shuddered, red crawling over his cheeks, then said:
You’re terrible at this. No wonder Luo Binghe made such a mess of it, the first time. It came out breathy, but his determination to be a giant bitch could triumph over anything the world had to throw at him. In the privacy of his own fantasy, Shang Qinghua could admit that his dick was not even a little turned off by that.
Okay, Shang Qinghua didn’t like anal. Certain holes were made for things to come out of, not the other way around! He’d been really firm on that in his first life. It had been a somewhat divisive stance to take, with fans complaining bitterly - and Peerless Cucumber had definitely been one of them - that of course Luo Binghe did anal, he did everything else so what was with this weird reluctance?
Shang Qinghua had held his ground. Fans could imagine what they wanted, he’d said. But he had no interest in anal!
Right now though, his dick was disagreeing.
Harem-building halo, he thought. It wasn’t his fault!
Cucumber-bro rolled his eyes. His hair fell over his back in an inky wave, loose and falling around his face. You can’t even write a good sex scene, he said. It’s all unrealistic - and you rely too heavily on aphrodisiacs. What kind of a harem protagonist can’t get a woman off without drugs?
Shang Qinghua imagined holding a fan in his other hand. He brought it down with a hard smack, right on the top of that perfectly round butt. A red stripe bloomed across the white skin there. His ass bounced so Shang Qinghua did it again, on the other side for symmetry. And then a third time, hard enough that the crack echoed in the room.
There was no way he’d imagined Shen Qingqiu’s ass in such crystal clear clarity before, he thought. It was all Cucumber-bro.
What did you say about my writing? he said.
Cucumber-bro wailed with each slap. His arms gave out on him. He caught himself on his elbows. His cock, which had been hard the whole time (Shang Qinghua guiltily added), gave an excited jump, drooling onto the ground below to form a puddle. Shang Qinghua pressed the tip of the fan against the soft skin behind his balls, teasing it as Cucumber-bro bit back a sob.
It’s terrible, Cucumber-bro insisted through tears. It was a complete waste of my life! You write like you’ve never even seen a woman in real life, your plot development is shit, you disregard the three-act structure -
You’re kind of a masochist, huh, Shang Qinghua said in his fantasy, then paused. Cucumber-bro did have a habit of being kidnapped or tied up and having his clothes ripped off of him in weirdly erotic ways, but if he had any kind of trembling M tendencies, Shang Qinghua had certainly never been the recipient of them. Oh well, he thought, and kept moving his hand. He imagined Cucumber-bro watching him, lip curled, maintaining that haughty attitude while on his hands and knees with his ass up. Shit, he thought. Maybe he was a little gay.
You can’t even maintain my characterization in your little jerk off fantasy, Cucumber-bro said. How did you get paid for this?
Vengefully, Shang Qinghua jabbed the tip of the fan into his entrance. He began to fuck it into Cucumber-bro’s hole while his favorite anti-fan wailed and rocked back onto it. Every time he dragged the fan out, he could see Cucumber-bro trying to grab onto it, the inside of his ass peeking out with every push and pull.
I had bills to pay! Shang Qinghua said. And you read all of it! You were the first comment on almost every chapter! He angled the fan and pushed it up, jamming it against where he’d decided the prostate would be. There’s no way you didn’t get off on my porn, he added. Don’t try to save face now!
Cucumber-bro hid his face in the crook of his elbow like the blushing maiden of a hentai manga. Not so hard! he said. Shang Qinghua paused, then edited that to: You’re going to break me!
That didn’t really work either. Goddamnit, he thought. Porn dialogue was difficult. No one ever gave him enough credit for that. So sometimes he got lazy! No one except Cucumber-bro had ever cared!
Cucumber-bro sighed. He lifted his face up and gave that gentle smile that he pretty much only reserved for Luo Binghe.
I’m sorry, he said sweetly. You’re an amazing writer.
Shang Qinghua’s dick wilted.
What that said about him, he didn’t want to contemplate.
Sighing, he scribbled over that bit and decided to skip ahead in his fantasy.
Your dick is so small I wouldn’t even be able to feel it , Cucumber-bro said poisonously. I take your son’s heavenly pillar every day, do you really think you can get me off?
Ah, that was better. Shang Qinghua’s dick was back in action.
He pulled the fan out slowly. Cucumber-bro shrieked as the tip dragged over his prostate again, teeth sinking into his arm as he tried to muffle the sound. He was trembling, sweat pooling in the hollow of his back. His asshole twitched, red and abused-looking, fucked open and inviting.
Shang Qinghua decided to change his stance on anal. He lined his dick up, thrusting up between Cucumber-bro’s cheeks, rubbing himself against the sensitive hole there as Cucumber-bro swore at him and thrashed.
Hey, he said. So tell me what you think about my writing.
You can’t write dialogue, Cucumber-bro said immediately. Every time you run out of ideas, you throw in a new wife, magical fruit, or random monster. You forget the names of your characters every few chapters and you think no one notices -
Shang Qinghua pushed in. Fuck, he thought. Fuck. If Cucumber-bro was as good in real life as he was in his head, it was a crime for Luo Binghe to keep that to himself. He rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock, imagining it was Cucumber-bro wrapping so tightly around him, insides squeezing as he took another deep breath to launch into more scathing criticism.
You’re the only one who notices, Shang Qinghua said. He imagined pressing Cucumber-bro down flat against the ground, trapping him there and whispering into his ear as he fucked in and out of his pliant body. That was Cucumber-bro all over, he thought; mouthy and mean, but he’d go down so easily, take his dick so well. Kind of a tsundere, except he reserved all that attitude for Shang Qinghua. Only Shang Qinghua got to see that side of him, the Shen Yuan side. Did that make him special? God, he wished it did.
You’re the only one who’s ever noticed, he continued. His hand began to move faster, sliding over the slick flesh. No one else ever cared about my writing. No one else ever thought I could be better than I was. Fuck, I used to think about this all the time - my loudest anti-fan, sucking my dick under the desk while I worked.
I would have never, Cucumber-bro said stubbornly, but the way he was turning red turned his words into a lie.
Admit it! Shang Qinghua bit his fist, pretending it was the flesh of Cucumber-bro’s shoulder. Licked it in apology, soothing the hurt, but his hips never faltered in the fantasy. He could never have lasted this long in real life; he’d probably have come as soon as he got inside, just from watching that tiny hole stretch around his dick and take him in so easily. You used to think about me too. You wanted my attention! You wanted me to know you were there!
Cucumber-bro came, loud and wanton, hips pushing back and up against Shang Qinghua’s. His hole convulsed, milking his dick like it wanted to squeeze out all the come.
Cucumber-bro hid his face again, still blushing. Shang Qinghua kept fucking him, pulling back enough that he could see where their bodies had connected. It was absolutely amazing, he thought hazily, that that pink little hole could take him, let alone Luo Binghe. He thought about that massive heavenly pillar - and Shang Qinghua knew exactly what it looked like, he’d written about it enough times - bullying its way into Cucumber-bro’s body, Luo Binghe bouncing his shizun up and down on his hips, that huge dick making the elegant Peak Lord come untouched -
You’re my favorite writer, Cucumber-bro admitted shyly, and Shang Qinghua came. Not inside the clenching wet heat of his friend’s body, but all over his hand, come splurting through his fingers and staining the sheets. To his embarrassment, some even got on the wall.
He stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. Exhaustion started making itself known, along with its close buddy, post-masturbation shame.
Harem novel, he thought. He’d transmigrated into another world, only to end up jerking off secretly in his room while thinking about Peerless Cucumber. Again. Life really wasn’t fair.