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Yue Qingyuan stands at the entrance to his bedchambers, stunned speechless at the vision in red before him. It feels like a dream, like he might wake up at any moment to find himself cold and alone of Qiong Ding peak once more. To find Xiao Jiu still dead and lost to him.
But here Xiao Jiu sits, awaiting his arrival from the wedding banquet. From his vantage, he can clearly see everything that he had missed earlier: the delicate embroidery of the veil, the elegant jewels adorning silken hair. Everything he always dreamed of giving Xiao Jiu, but never dreamt he would ever have the means for.
He takes a deep breath and walks in, wary of shattering the illusion.
Xiao Jiu looks up at the sound of movement, but does not say a word. Can he see him through his veil?
Cautiously, he sits down at the low table, facing Xiao Jiu and hesitantly reaches out to lift the veil. His hands tremble with nerves, with excitement, with fear. Slowly, Xiao Jiu’s glaring eyes are revealed from behind the veil. Striking streaks of crimson enhance Xiao Jiu’s already fierce eyes and a subtle tint of red accentuates his pouting lips, making them look full and soft.
Yue Qingyuan finds himself at a loss for words, unable to believe his good fortune. Xiao Jiu, here, with him. A beautiful offering, wrapped up, prettied up, and delivered straight to his chambers.
And then Xiao Jiu speaks, dragging him back to reality, tone dripping with scorn.
“And now that this farce is over with and Yue Qingyuan has this lowly one here, what does he intend to do with him?”
Yue Qingyuan reels back in shock.
“Nothing! Xiao— Shen Jiu is perfectly safe here, no harm will come to him, this one swears.” Yue Qingyuan hastens to reassure him, standing up and retreating swiftly, giving him space.
A thunderous expression passes over Xiao Jiu’s face.
“Then, Yue Qingyuan does not intend to complete the ceremony? After all this, after dragging this lowly one back with him, does he intend to shame him? Or perhaps Yue Qingyuan wishes to keep an exit open for himself, to allow himself an easy escape to claim the wedding was unlawful?”
“Of course not! Shen Jiu is my husband and this one would never claim otherwise!” Yue Qingyuan says. “This one simply… No one needs know of what happens within these chambers. Shen Jiu should not feel forced to do anything he does not wish to do.”
Xiao Jiu sneers at him.
“And what is to stop Yue Qingyuan from ridding himself of this lowly—”
“Shen Jiu is not lowly! Please,” he interrupts, pleading. “Please, there is no need for this. For… formalities between us.”
“And what is this Shen to you, then, Head Disciple Yue, future Sect Leader Yue,” he asks pointedly, “if not lowly?”
“He—” Yue Qingyuan hesitates. He whispers, meek and questioning. “This one has said, he is this one’s husband, is he not?”
“Then Yue Qingyuan should ensure the ceremony is complete.” Shen Jiu bites out. Then his expression turns mocking. “Or does Yue Qingyuan not know how to use his sword? Is the mighty Xuan Su Sword impotent as well as an oath-breaker?”
He stands abruptly and stalks around the table to lean into Yue Qingyuan’s space, almost touching, daring him to make a move. The scant difference in height between them means that Yue Qingyuan can feel Shen Jiu’s breath against his lips, can feel the heat of it against his face. Shen Jiu is so close and Yue Qingyuan yearns to pull him in, to devour him, to claim him. But it is not his place to do so and he clings to his self-control.
Xiao Jiu takes a step forward and Yue Qingyuan stumbles back, legs knocking against their marital bed, bedecked in red and double happiness characters. Xiao Jiu places a delicate hand on his chest and pushes. Yue Qingyuan, for all that he could resist, lets himself fall backward onto the bed. There is nothing he would not give his Xiao Jiu, nothing he would not do for him.
Xiao Jiu climbs onto the bed after Yue Qingyuan, crawling up until he is face to face with him once more. Yue Qingyuan tries to scramble back instinctively, but Xiao Jiu claws at his chest, daring him to move any farther.
Xiao Jiu looms over him, dark and foreboding, a ravishing sight.
“Yue Qingyuan seems quite frightened of his husband.” Xiao Jiu hisses, now nose to nose with him. Yue Qingyuan can feel his own breathing accelerating, his skin tingling, his heart pounding; all urging him to get closer, to claim what he wants. He feels dizzy with it. When Xiao Jiu speaks, he can practically taste the words. “Did Yue Qingyuan finally realize it may be dangerous to bring a demonic cultivator into his home? Into his bed?”
“Xiao Jiu, please…” Yue Qingyuan doesn’t quite know what he is asking for. For mercy? For sweet release? For forgiveness?
Xiao Jiu gives him none of it. He reaches backward and grabs Yue Qingyuan’s hot length in a tight, unforgiving grip. Yue Qingyuan flinches at the sweet pleasure-pain of his touch.
“Yue Qingyuan, Yue-langzhu certainly seems quite eager to deflower his husband, despite his claims to the contrary.” His eyes narrow. He leans even closer until their chests touch and Yue Qingyuan is sure that Xiao Jiu can feel his heart beat, can hear the clamor in his chest that screams ‘Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu’.
Xiao Jiu’s hand tightens on him and Yue Qingyuan can’t hold back the gasp that escapes him, nor can he stop his hips from bucking up into that delicious pressure. He surges up, wrapping his arms around Xiao Jiu and trapping his lips in a desperate, devouring kiss.
Xiao Jiu tries to retreat, tries to break out of his grip, but can’t escape. In his haste, Yue Qingyuan flips them, pinning Xiao Jiu to the bed, caging him with his arms. Xiao Jiu’s hands come up to blindly grasp at his robes and Yue Qingyuan doesn’t know if he means to drag him closer or to push him away. Xiao Jiu’s lips part – for breath? to yell? his mind has little space for such details – and he takes the opening to plunge deeper.
Xiao Jiu fills his senses, his thoughts, it is all he can taste, all he can smell, all he can feel.
Against his mouth, Xiao Jiu makes desperate little noises, plaintive, pleading noises. Yue Qingyuan wants more. More, more, more. Greed overcomes him and he takes and takes and take. His head spins with it.
They part, panting for breath. Yue Qingyuan wants nothing more than to dive back, but the ravished, bullied look that Shen Jiu gives him stops him. It awakens something deep within him, a terrifying cavernous hunger that demands he take everything.
The guilt is stronger.
“Qi—”
“This one apologizes.” He looks away and pushes himself back, giving Xiao Jiu a chance to retreat. “He did not— That is— He had no intention of making his husband uncomfortable in any way.”
Xiao Jiu’s expression grows frigid.
“If this one is to be properly wed to the future Cang Qiong sect leader, some discomfort will have to be had and Yue Qingyuan would do well to remember his role in all of this.”
“…Yes, of course, husband.” He feels like his insides have been carved out, he feels cold and gutted. He knows exactly his role in this.
He is the reason Xiao Jiu had to debase himself by marrying into Cang Qiong rather than join the sect as a cultivator in his own right, as he should have been able to. He is the reason for this farce of a wedding. He is the reason Xiao Jiu has no choice but to consummate this wedding.
He forces himself to lean back in and reclaim Xiao Jiu’s lips, but the heat of the earlier moment is gone. He kisses him softly, apologetically, hoping to convey his regrets.
Xiao Jiu grows increasingly incensed and bites down sharply on his bottom lip, drawing blood, and Yue Qingyuan keens, kissing him deeper, heat building once more. Xiao Jiu grinds up against him, pushing their hips together roughly, seeking friction through the layers and layers of crimson silk and embroidery.
Yue Qingyuan’s groans, mind going blank and, before he realizes, he finds himself on his back once more, looking up into Xiao Jiu’s face. They part once again, panting breaths mingling.
“Does Qi— Yue-langzhu require help getting himself ready?” Xiao Jiu raises a judgmental eyebrow at him.
Before Yue Qingyuan can answer, Xiao Jiu slides down the length of his body to hike up his robes and yank down his pants, just far enough for his cock to spring free.
Xiao Jiu sneers at the sight and grips it punishingly tight.
“Husband—”
“Langzhu is quite well-endowed, is he planning to murder someone with such a weapon?”
He gives a few experimental tugs, tight and painful and the friction burns, yet Yue Qingyuan moans at the feel of Xiao Jiu’s hand on him, Xiao Jiu’s attention on him.
“Please, Xiao Jiu!” He cries out, desperate for more, desperate for him to slow down, to be gentler, to throw him off the edge and be done with him. His hips twitch and he desperately tries to hold himself still, to follow whatever pace Xiao Jiu sets. Pre-cum leaks out in a continuous stream, gentling the slide.
“So desperate for it. This one has barely touched Langzhu and look at the mess he’s become.” Xiao Jiu gives a vicious twist of his wrist at the head and presses his nail to the opening, ignoring Yue Qingyuan’s cries. “Such a wanton beast. Is this all that Cang Qiong’s best amounts to? A common slut willing to put out for the first person to claim him?”
“Xiao Jiu, Xiao Jiu, I’m— Please! Ah!”
But Xiao Jiu has no mercy to give him. His hand moves faster, an unrelenting, brutal pace, and Yue Qingyuan is thrown over the edge, crying out for Xiao Jiu as he cums.
“Useless.” Xiao Jiu declares, staring at his cum-covered hand in disgust. He continues to pump Yue Qingyuan’s softening, oversensitive length, ignoring his protests. “A useless beast with no self-control.”
“I’m sorry, Qi-ge is sorry, Xiao Jiu.” His hips twitch involuntarily, trying to get away from the hand still gripping him, to no avail. “Please, please—”
Xiao Jiu stops, still holding his cock, but almost gently, almost cradling the soft length in the palm of his hand instead. Yue Qingyuan stares at him through teary eyes, a strange feeling of dread and anticipation building within his chest.
“And what does Langzhu want, then?” Xiao Jiu asks.
“I— Xiao Jiu. I want— Xiao Jiu…”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Xiao Jiu lowers his head toward the length and licks a long stripe along its underside. Yue Qingyuan’s eyes close against his will, head tipped back in a long groan. He can feel his cock already responding again, valiantly trying to rise.
“Xiao Jiu is right here, Qi-ge.” Xiao Jiu whispers, like a secret, a confession. A promise. “Xiao Jiu is right here and Qi-ge will never be rid of him again. No matter how far you run, no matter how high you climb. Xiao Jiu will be there to drag you back down with him.”
“Yes, please. Please, Xiao Jiu. Qi-ge needs you. Qi-ge—”
Without warning, Xiao Jiu sinks down on him, taking in as much as he can into his mouth. Yue Qingyuan can’t breathe, can’t think, can only make wordless little sounds as his cock sinks into that sinful heat. Xiao Jiu pulls off slowly, teasingly, and Yue Qingyuan can feel as his hips try to follow that sweet heat.
He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He wants to press Xiao Jiu down onto his cock and never let him back up. He wants to drag Xiao Jiu off and kiss him, taste himself on his tongue. He settles for twisting his hands in the covers next to him, trying to restrain himself from reaching over.
Xiao Jiu bobs up and down in a slow, steady rhythm, gentle, so gentle, taking him a bit deeper each time until Yue Qingyuan feels the tip of his cock brush against Xiao Jiu’s throat. It’s too much, too much and too little all at once and he wants Xiao Jiu to never stop.
As if reading his mind, Xiao Jiu pulls off entirely, lips red and puffy. He looks straight into Yue Qingyuan’s eyes and smirks as he sits up fully. Face flushed, he looks alive, so alive. Radiant and triumphant.
His Xiao Jiu in all his glory.
“Is Langzhu done already?” In a long, sinuous move, Xiao Jiu slides up his body and Yue Qingyuan can feel his hot breath against the delicate skin of his neck. He nips gently at his pressure point. “The night is yet young and Langzhu has much to make up for.”
As if to punctuate his point, Xiao Jiu bites down, hard, breaking skin. Yue Qingyuan screams. Survival instinct wars with desire and he finds himself trying to throw his attacker off, but a strange sense of weakness fills him and he suddenly lacks the strength to even raise his arms.
Xiao Jiu releases him and laps gently at the bleeding wound.
“Has Langzhu finally realized the position he’s in? Langzhu is at his husband’s mercy.” Xiao Jiu licks a trail up his jaw. Yue Qingyuan whimpers, lingering pain softened by the warmth of Xiao Jiu’s tongue. He whispers in his ear. “At my mercy. Will Langzhu beg?”
Yue Qingyuan tries to speak, tries to call out to Xiao Jiu, but barely manages to open his mouth before Xiao Jiu covers it with his own and licks his way in, twining their tongues together. Xiao Jiu is rough, invading his mouth, exploring every corner. He fills him, he is all Yue Qingyuan can focus on.
So focused on the taste of Xiao Jiu he is, he barely notices the hand that encircles his cock again, giving it a quick stroke, slicking him up and directing him toward Xiao Jiu.
“Ngh!” He gasps into Xiao Jiu’s mouth as a tight heat surround the tip of his cock, wet and slick – and when, when did Xiao Jiu even – and burning hot. He wants to chase that heat, wants more, wants everything that Xiao Jiu is, but his body does not listen to him.
His eyes slid shut at some point and he drags them open to stare up at Xiao Jiu. He wants to see, he wants to watch as he enters Xiao Jiu’s body, but the expanse of wedding red silk pools around Xiao Jiu’s thighs, blocking his view.
He moans a plea into Xiao Jiu’s mouth. Xiao Jiu sits up, sinking down onto him an extra inch with a hot gasp of air.
“Langzhu is so big, this is what he was made for isn’t it?” He pants, trying to settle around Yue Qingyuan’s girth. Yue Qingyuan can feel himself twitch in that warm hole and Xiao Jiu gasps in response, his head falling back and baring the elegant curve of his neck. His voice is rough and strained when he speaks. “This husband,” he presses himself deeper, gasping, “can see that Langzhu agrees. This is all he is good for, a warm pillar for this husband to pleasure himself with.” He sits fully with a long drawn-out moan. “This husband could just as easily replace Langzhu with a large jade toy, couldn’t he? Can Langzhu prove himself better?”
He glares down at Yue Qingyuan and punctuates his statement with a sharp squeeze around his cock. Yue Qingyuan’s mouth feels so dry, he tries to catch his breath, tries to speak.
“Yes. Yes, Xiao Jiu, this husband can— Please, please let this husband prove himself. Please—” He tries to move, tries to buck up, to prove himself to Xiao Jiu. He can’t move, he can’t, he— “Please, please, Xiao Jiu, husband, please!”
But Xiao Jiu does not release him from whatever spell he is under, only listens to him beg for release, for another chance to please him. There is an odd look in his eyes, but Yue Qingyuan is too far gone to read it, all he knows is want, is Xiao Jiu, warm and open for him. He feels feverish with it.
Gaze locked onto his face, Xiao Jiu leans backward and, almost daintily, gathers his crimson robes into his arms to put himself on full display: his cock, flush and jutting proudly between his legs, Yue Qingyuan’s large girth stretching him and disappearing inside of him.
Yue Qingyuan stares, disbelieving. This, this is them, he and Xiao Jiu, connected together, bound together—
“Look at me, Qi-ge.” Xiao Jiu’s expression burns in its intensity. He grits his teeth, baring them in a ferocious snarl as he slowly drags himself up the length, robes parted to show Yue Qingyuan everything. He can feel the rough drag of it, sinfully tight. He keeps his eyes on Xiao Jiu, tries to keep his eyes open, tries to catch every single twitch, every single second.
As he reaches the tip once more, Xiao Jiu grins down at him, wide and daring, and sinks back down in a single smooth motion. Yue Qingyuan feels it like a punch to the chest; air pushed out of his lungs all at once. He gets no time to adjust, no time to appreciate the feel of it before Xiao Jiu repeats the entire process, faster and faster and faster, properly riding him now.
Yue Qingyuan loses himself to the maelstrom of new sensations, caught in Xiao Jiu’s thrall, unable to move, unable to think, unable to do anything other than take it, take whatever Xiao Jiu deems him worthy of.
Xiao Jiu has lost all self-control now, focused entirely on chasing his own pleasure. It is so much, too much, all at once, but Xiao Jiu does not slow. He leans forward against Yue Qingyuan’s chest for additional leverage – regrettably letting his robes fall back around him, concealing the view once more.
Loud panting and moaning rise up around them, echoing and mixing until he can’t tell where the sound comes from.
Xiao Jiu’s face is so close to his own now. Close, but just out of reach and Yue Qingyuan stares, mesmerized, into that beautiful face that has haunted his dreams. He wants to reach out and touch, wants to raise himself up and kiss that furious little snarl off his lips, wants to swallow those moans, wants to mark him, claim him.
A frustrated sound leaves him as he begs and begs Xiao Jiu for release.
Xiao Jiu, his mean and petty and beautiful Xiao Jiu, leans forward the tiniest amount, teasingly close. Tempting him. Daring him.
“Mine. Qi-ge is mine. Mine to do with as I please. Mine to keep. Forever.” He bites out through clenched teeth. “Say it.”
“Yours.” Yue Qingyuan agrees, full-heartedly. “Qi-ge is Xiao Jiu’s. Only Xiao Jiu’s. Forever.”
“Mine.” Xiao Jiu’s grin is almost frightening in its triumph, accelerating once more, chasing his release with increasing fervor.
“Qi-ge!” Xiao Jiu cries as he climaxes. His hole grows impossibly tight, a hot, unrelenting vice around Yue Qingyuan’s cock, pushing him to his own climax.
“Xiao Jiu!” He sobs, overwhelmed. For a moment, it is all he is, him inside Xiao Jiu. Xiao Jiu around him. It is all he feels, all he can think about. The world could end here and now and he doesn’t think he would even notice, as long as Xiao Jiu was with him.
When he comes back to himself, he finds Xiao Jiu collapsed in a limp pile of limbs on top of his chest, Yue Qingyuan’s softening cock having slipped out of his tender, abused hole.
Yue Qingyuan goes to gather him in his arms, unthinkingly, finding himself surprised when his body responds properly. He wraps himself around Xiao Jiu, clings to him, presses him into his chest as if he could open his ribs and let Xiao Jiu burrow within them. He presses his face against the top of Xiao Jiu’s head, taking a deep breath. He wants Xiao Jiu to fill all of him.
They stay wrapped up in each other for a time, breathing each other in, languishing in the afterglow.
Eventually, Xiao Jiu grumbles to be released and pushes himself up onto his elbows to look into Yue Qingyuan’s eyes. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy and Yue Qingyuan finds himself reaching out to brush the tear stains against his cheeks before he can think better of it.
Xiao Jiu’s face is soft in spite of his years of rough-living. His face is flushed from their recent exertions and warm to the touch and Yue Qingyuan finds himself running his hand up and through the soft silky strands of hair falling out of the elaborate wedding hairdo.
In the dim light of the evening, Yue Qingyuan can almost believe that Xiao Jiu is looking at him wistfully. Can almost believe that this is something Xiao Jiu wanted. Can almost believe that Xiao Jiu meant everything he said, in the heat of the moment.
He guides Xiao Jiu back down into the crook of his neck, running his hand down his back in soothing, reassuring motions.
“Rest, Xiao Jiu.” He whispers. “Qi-ge is here. Qi-ge will watch over you.”