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“Feng Xin,” Pei Ming’s voice comes in through the communication array, sounding slightly strained, “Feng Xin, can you hear me?”

“Can this wait?” Feng Xin taps a finger to his temple, barely paying attention to Pei Ming’s faint voice as he slashes at another ghost, “I’m busy – some of us don’t push all of our shit onto junior officials.” It’s a cheap shot, but Feng Xin has been killing ghosts all day, his patience wearing thin. “If it’s not urgent, then –”

“Blooms of jasmine tell no lies,” Pei Ming grits out, and Feng Xin frowns, the phrase somehow familiar ..?

It strikes him right between the eyes and he stumbles, making an undignified choking sound into the array, tripping over his own feet and slamming into the forest floor.

(Feng Xin and Pei Ming have a pact.

They’re both Gods of Love, albeit in different forms; there’s Pei Ming, the god of pure, romantic love, the love you’d find in thousand-page novels, of yearning over centuries upon centuries, and then there’s Feng Xin, the god of lust (officially) and the god of dick (unofficially).

Naturally, both of them have an enhanced … experience when dealing with aphrodisiacs, since their domains have such ties to – here, Feng Xin gags a bit – carnal desires.

And that's where the pact comes in.

If one of them gets poisoned by an aphrodisiac, they’ll say a code-phrase into the communication array. The other person will drop everything and contain the affected, to stop them from forcing themselves upon innocents and upsetting the Heavens. 

Fighting is allowed, injury is allowed, and dual cultivation isn’t out of the question, although Feng Xin would probably do anything to keep the situation from coming to that.

They made the pact what, four centuries ago? Three?

Feng Xin hasn’t thought about it in what feels like forever. He doesn’t ever want to think about it, either, but Pei Ming has a strange ability to get into trouble at the most inopportune times.)

“Holy shit,” he swears, “Right now –?!”

“Hurry the fuck up,” and gasps and little whispers erupt in the – very public – array, since Pei Ming has been nothing but polite and well-mannered in the array since the moment he ascended, never saying so much as a damn when he entered, not even during the most stressful of situations – that means that he’s probably surrounded by other gods, maybe by mortals, while under the influence of poison –

“Where are you?” Feng Xin’s voice goes serious, and he turns away from the demons entirely; he doesn’t have time to spare on them, not if Pei Ming really has been doused in a powerful aphrodisiac. “Pei Ming, you better fucking not be in the Southeast.”

“The Heavens,” Pei Ming gasps out, and it sounds as if he’s losing control, voice breaking as he forces the words out, “Hurry up, hurry up –”

Feng Xin ascends immediately, not even bothering to get the dirt and blood off of his face; he sprints through the Heavens, searching for signs of Pei Ming’s tell-tale spiritual energy. Gods and officials stare at him as he races along the streets, some of the bolder ones immediately beginning to follow, but Feng Xin keeps his mind focused – where would he be?

There’s a cluster of gods converging on a barrier of pure gold, and Feng Xin pushes through the crowd and stands, shell-shocked at the edge.

Pei Ming glares at him, hair slipping from its elegant ponytail and framing his face in soft waves, robes half-undone, exposing a sheen of sweat on his collarbones – “Feng Xin,” he growls, and his voice drops an octave, spiritual energy flaring to life around him. “Feng Xin, you fucking promised.”

“Fight, not fuck,” Feng Xin says automatically, and then pushes his way into the barrier. It lets him through, parting around him, and Feng Xin thinks – Pei Ming really is a good guy.

The barrier, from his brief brush with it, was designed to keep anybody but Feng Xin from getting in. On the flipside, it also prevents anybody but Feng Xin from getting out, so Pei Ming has effectively locked himself in here, clearly unwilling to hurt anybody in his lust-induced state. 

(Pei Ming might be a whore, but he’s a whore with morals.)

The whore in question drags himself to his feet, breath hitching unsteadily as he pulls his sword from his sheath, dragging a finger against the blade; blood drips to the floor, and Pei Ming takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Fight,” Pei Ming murmurs, eyes hazy and unfocused, “Fight, not fuck, huh?”

A shiver runs down his spine.

Feng Xin blocks the first strike on instinct, his bones thrumming with the power behind the blow – Pei Ming, all senses heightened by the lust running through his veins and his spiritual energy blazing in chaotic bursts of gold, is a dangerous enemy to have.

Scratch dangerous. Try terrifying. The tip of that sword barely brushes his shoulder-plate, but when he looks down, the golden metal has been neatly sliced in half. 

Fuck.

He’s not sure how long they fight for. All Feng Xin knows is that he’s been here for far too long, fighting with this slightly unhinged Pei Ming for what feels like fucking days, the crowd at the edge of the golden barrier only growing in size as they continue to fight. 

This fucking sucks.

A god doesn’t necessarily need sleep, just as they don’t need food, but it’s sure fucking nice to have it, anyway.

Feng Xin is running on fumes, having exhausted part of his spiritual energy during the battle with demons before Pei Ming even called him up here, and yet Pei Ming’s strikes have the same amount of power, if not more, then his first swing of that sword. Is it the poison? More importantly, how long does Feng Xin have to keep fighting?

“Fuck,” Feng Xin gasps, barely managing to parry the next blow, “You son of a bitch, you owe me so fucking much – how’d you even get poisoned, anyway?”

No response. Pei Ming’s eyes are glassy, his movements almost mechanical, nothing like the fluid fighting-style Feng Xin has come to associate with him. 

A lucky hit catches him in the ribs and Feng Xin gags, all the air leaving his lungs in a strangled wheeze – he flies out of the barrier with the force of the blow, slamming into a palace wall to the sound of the crack-crack-crack of his bones breaking. They quickly begin to knit back together, but holy shit it hurts.

He drags himself upwards, supporting himself using his bow as a sort of cane, and just for a moment, thinks about leaving Pei Ming there. It would save him a whole lot of trouble.

The barrier groans, unable to withstand all of Pei Ming’s attention, and Feng Xin lunges forwards to relieve the pressure; the moment he falls back into the space enclosed by the barrier, Pei Ming turns those wide, unseeing eyes onto him, and grabs at his robes. Feng Xin flails, trying to knock Pei MIng’s sword out of his hands and succeeds in disarming … both of them, which was … decidedly not what he meant to do.

Pei Ming’s sword flies out of the barrier, taking Feng Xin’s bow with it. Dammit.

Insistent hands tug at his robes, as if trying to yank them off, which means that they’ve reached the fuck part of the fight, fuck, or die mantra.

The officials outside – why the fuck are people still watching? – lapse into frenzied whispers, clearly excited to see the two generals fuck – which is so fucking disrespectful but what can Feng Xin do about it? The Heavens have never been a good place, despite the golden exterior. Still, he’s not about to debase himself in front of what looks like half of the entire population of the Heavens, even if Pei Ming wouldn’t mind.

Feng Xin twists out of Pei Ming’s grip and slams their foreheads together, gauging how much of the poison is still in Pei Ming’s veins and holy fucking shit? Why is there still so much??

“You have to be joking,” he says, incredulous, “Pei Ming, tell me you’re joking.”

Pei Ming doesn’t say anything, just continues to try and grab at Feng Xin’s robes.

Fuck.

His mind races through possible options. He could continue to fight, but given the incredibly fucking slow rate of poison leaving Pei Ming’s core, Feng Xin would probably tire out before all of it leaves. He could try and dual cultivate, but his spiritual energy is depleted from all of the fighting, and he wouldn’t be able to really help.

Fuck.

As much as he hates to admit it, Feng Xin doesn’t really want Pei Ming to die. That would kind of suck, not only because his absence would lead to a sort of power vacuum, but because Pei Ming is … his friend.

“Fuck,” Feng Xin curses, darting backwards and dodging each of Pei Ming’s attempts at tearing his robes off, “Fuck, fuck – Ling Wen?”

To her credit, she responds instantly. “General Nan Yang.”

“Is there anybody available who can dual-cultivate with Pei Ming?” Feng Xin knows he must sound out of breath, every muscle screaming in protest as he yanks himself backwards again. “Anybody of a suitable cultivation-level, I mean.”

“Nan Yang,” she says after a pause, sounding sympathetic, “The only people fitting that criteria would be you, or Xuan Zhen.”

His mind stutters to a halt.

“Out of the question,” Feng Xin snaps, and he’s thinking about Mu Qing’s centuries of abstinence, of carefully avoiding anything related to … sex. He can’t ask him to get rid of all that work for Pei Ming, of all people. “Is there anybody available who can lend me some spiritual energy?”

“The only person available is … also Xuan Zhen.”

Feng Xin mutters a curse under his breath, before reluctantly opening up the public communication array. He’s not stupid, he knows that without Mu Qing’s help Pei Ming isn’t going to survive this, but it still stings to have to swallow his pride.

(Pei Ming had better grovel at his fucking feet to make up for this. Honestly.)

“General Xuan Zhen,” he calls, crisp and respectful to show that he’s not fucking around, “I’m … sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”

Gasps echo around the array. Feng Xin finds that a little insulting.

“Oh?” Mu Qing’s voice is so fucking smug. “The great Nan Yang needs my help? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Fuck you too,” Feng Xin chokes as Pei Ming slams a fist into his bruised ribs, the noise carrying into the array. “Fuck – look, Xuan Zhen, could you lend me some spiritual – Pei Ming, if you don’t fucking stay still – could you lend me some spiritual energy?”

“Spiritual energy?” Mu Qing makes a soft noise of surprise. “Why should I give you any?”

“It’s either that or you dual-cultivate with him instead of me,” Feng Xin’s patience is hanging by a thread, and he swears yet again as his robes rip, the hem of the fabric fluttering to the floor. “Fuck! Just – will you give it to me?”

Mu Qing goes silent.

“Hello??” Feng Xin frantically taps at his temple, wondering if he’s run out of spiritual energy already. “Xuan Zhen? Mu Qing?”

Nothing.

“Fine,” Mu Qing finally snaps, and all traces of teasing have disappeared from his tone, leaving only the sharp edge of what Feng Xin wants to call … jealousy? “I’ll meet you at his palace for the transfer.”

“Thank you,” Feng Xin sighs in relief, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Seriously, thank you, Mu Qing, I’m in your debt.”

“You’re not in my debt, he is.” And with that, Mu Qing vanishes from the array.

Now for the secondary problem. Moving Pei Ming’s thrashing body to his palace. If Feng Xin can get Pei Ming to the palace, then they can activate the barrier from the array drawn around all Heavenly palaces in case of an emergency like this. Unfortunately –

“Stop fucking moving!” No matter how many times Feng Xin knocks him over the head, Pei Ming just won’t stop trying to lunge at him. “I’m trying to help you!! Calm down!”

That only seems to spur Pei Ming further, and Feng Xin just –

He murmurs a faint apology to Mu Qing – he was trying to save as much spiritual energy as possible, so Mu Qing wouldn’t have to give him too much – and grabs Pei Ming by the collar, slamming their lips together.

(He didn’t have to kiss him, but it was the only thing that would make Pei Ming stay still. Plus, after seeing Hua Cheng and Xie Lian exchange spiritual energy like this, Feng Xin is a little curious to see if the energy transfer is more efficient like this. Just a little. It isn't, by the way.)

The haze in Pei Ming’s eyes clears, and he pulls away, gasping for breath.

“I feel like shit,” Pei Ming moans, flopping over onto the floor. “You don’t look much better, though. Dammit, I can’t believe I was so careless – I feel like shit.”

“The poison isn’t fully out yet,” Feng Xin feels similarly exhausted, dragging a hand over his face. “There’s no other option, now. I’ll dual-cultivate with you.”

“You don’t have to –”

Feng Xin gives him a glare. “I don’t have to do shit, but you’re my friend. I don’t want to see you die.”

Silence.

A low groan. “That’s hot,” Pei Ming mumbles. “That’s really hot. You’re my friend?”

“But I’m not helping you in full view of fucking – everyone,” Feng Xin snaps, planting his boot on Pei Ming’s back and pinning him to the floor. “You’re my friend, but I’m not going to suck you off while everyone is watching.”

Pei Ming is oddly docile beneath his boot, the only movements being a twitch of his shoulders every time Feng Xin presses down, and the slow rocking of his hips against the ground –

Oh, come on.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting off on this,” Feng Xin says incredulously, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m horny,” Pei Ming’s voice is muffled against the dirt, whiny and reproachful. “I’m so fucking horny, Feng Xin, if you were in my position I’m sure you’d be doing the same, if not more.”

“I didn’t ask if you were horny or not, I asked if you got off on me yelling at you.” Feng Xin feels faint, which might be because of the non-stop fighting without rest, or it might be because of Pei Ming’s utter shamelessness. “Here, if you let me restrain you, I’ll bring you to a palace where we can … uh … fuck it out … without so many people watching.”

Pei Ming lies, unmoving under his grip, as Feng Xin carefully begins to bind him.

When he begins to wrap a golden cord around Pei Ming’s neck, pulling the ends tight, Pei Ming unexpectedly arches up into the touch with a breathless “Harder.”

…

“Don’t tell me,” Feng Xin says weakly.

Beneath him, Pei Ming pants, entire body beginning to tremble. “Harder, please, Feng Xin, Feng Xin, please –”

Feng Xin is exhausted.

---

Mu Qing meets them at the golden palace, eyeing Pei Ming’s bound body with barely hidden disgust.

“Don’t,” Feng Xin cuts off whatever snide remark Mu Qing is about to say, feeling vaguely dizzy. “Just lend me some spiritual energy, and then you can leave. You don’t have to stay, or anything.”

He hears a knowing snort of laughter from the bundle of robes beneath his arm. “Don’t listen to him, Xuan Zhen, you’re welcome to stay.”

“Shut up.” He smacks Pei Ming over the head, flushing from the mental image his words bring up. “Mu Qing, really, thank you for this.” Feng Xin stumbles inside, arms trembling from the strain of holding Pei Ming up. “And I’m sure Pei Ming is grateful too, right?”

“Thank you,” Pei Ming says – at least he sounds kind of earnest – right before Feng Xin tosses him onto the bed. “Hey, be careful with me, I’m fragile!”

Feng Xin attaches the golden binding cord to the top of the headboard, before standing back and admiring the view, of Pei Ming all tied up against the rich wood of the bedframe; his skin practically glows against it, eyes hooded, tongue darting out to wet his lips – so fucking sexy.

“Well,” he murmurs, tearing his gaze away and bowing his head to Mu Qing, “Could you ..?”

Without so much as a word, Mu Qing carefully presses their palms together, spiritual energy slowly seeping into Feng Xin’s meridians and replenishing his own depleted energy. Liquid gold surges through his veins, making him shudder with the feeling, and he pulls away as soon as he can, as to not embarrass himself.

“Thank you, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin murmurs, the exhaustion lifting from his bones, his strength slowly beginning to return. “You can go now.”

He turns, ready to get this all over with, when he hears –

“I’m not leaving.”

They all freeze.

“Hoho?” Pei Ming lifts his chin to stare, eyes alight with a strange mix of lust and mischief. “Xuan Zhen? You want to join us?”

Feng Xin can’t move, his entire body frozen because did Mu Qing just –?

“I’m not leaving,” Mu Qing repeats, face twisted into a scowl, even as he turns an inelegant shade of red, “Because – because – Ming Guang isn’t in his right mind, he could – hurt you, or something. He’s poisoned, you can’t possibly expect him to – to – to be able to control himself.”

“Sounds like you just want to watch,” Pei Ming murmurs, smug and way too fucking loud because Feng Xin is still processing that Mu Qing wants to stay? And maybe watch them fuck??

“You don’t have to, he won’t hurt me.” Feng Xin tries, really tries to mount an argument even as his traitorous dick twitches at the thought of Mu Qing staying and – “I trust him, you really don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Feng Xin flounders for words, knowing his face must be redder than the curtains around them. “But – but –”

“Your cultivation,” Pei Ming interjects smoothly, eyes sharp and focused despite the mounting lust building in the room. “Can you stay without breaking your vows?”

“He’s not staying!!” The knowledge that Mu Qing would be watching them – Feng Xin doesn’t know how he’d last, knowing Mu Qing would be right there, almost close enough to touch. “Mu Qing, he can’t hurt me, I wouldn’t let him –”

“You don’t know that you’d be able to!” 

Feng Xin trembles, another protest on the tip of his tongue, before he catches sight of the expression on Mu Qing’s face.

He looks – upset, sure, but his eyes are filled with fire, his feet planted in front of the door with a stubborn finality. Mu Qing gives him another glare, lip quivering slightly, and Feng Xin realizes that he’s genuinely worried about what Pei Ming could do to him. (Not that he thinks that Pei Ming would, but still.) His heart softens, and he heaves a sigh.

"Fine," he murmurs, trying to calm his racing heart. "But – you know what you're about to see, right?"

"I'm not stupid, of course I know!" and that beautiful red flush on those features is so, so gorgeous, Mu Qing crossing his arms in front of his chest and plopping himself down on a chair by the doorway, still with that violent blush on his face. "If he does anything to hurt you, I'll get you out of there."

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Feng Xin mutters under his breath, and then gingerly sits down on the bed, inching closer to where Pei Ming lies, bound and helpless to anything Feng Xin might do to him. The power makes heat begin to curl in the pit of his stomach, the knowledge that Pei Ming would have to take whatever he gives – but the poison takes precedence. 

How does he do this, with Mu Qing still … watching?

Just pretend he’s not there, a voice in his head whispers, and Feng Xin closes his eyes, firmly ignoring the presence near the door and turning all of his attention onto the god in the bed with him.

He disrobes, tossing his clothes to the corner and beginning to take Pei MIng’s clothes off too, practically ripping them off in his haste. After a moment of hesitation, he kisses him, one hand wandering between Pei Ming’s legs and slowly beginning to tease at the tip of his cock.

“Don’t tease,” Pei Ming groans, “I’m poisoned, have some pity on me.”

“Should’ve thought about that before getting poisoned in the first place,” Feng Xin bites back, but acquiesces, pumping him up and down as quickly as he can, hand slick with the copious amounts of pre-cum leaking from the tip, “Seriously, how’d you even manage that?”

Pei Ming doesn’t answer, instead surging upwards to kiss him senseless.

“I’ll just have to assume you got poisoned by doing something – something stupid,” and Feng Xin squeezes his eyes shut, panting against Pei Ming’s mouth, hot and wet. He’s harder than he should be, because Mu Qing sits by the door, eyes sharp and focused on them –

“You’re getting off on this,” Pei Ming rumbles in his ear, not quite loud enough for Mu Qing to hear, his breath ghosting over his fevered skin, “Really, Feng Xin – you’re actually getting off on this,” he repeats, throwing Feng Xin’s own words back at him. “How … shameless.”

He can’t even say anything in his defense because it’s true.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, slamming a hand into Pei Ming’s chest and forcing him down, into the sheets, “Listen. I’ll help you with your problem, but – don’t bring him into this. You know his cultivation path.”

“Alright, alright,” Pei Ming dips his head, sending Mu Qing a sly wink despite Feng Xin’s weight pinning him down. “The offer still stands, Xuan Zhen, you can join us if you’d like.”

Mu Qing swallows, the sound loud in the quiet. “I …”

“He doesn’t want to join in!” Feng Xin cuffs him over the head, resolutely not looking at Mu Qing’s expression, “Pei Ming, I said I’d help you, seriously. He doesn’t have to do anything with this, so be quiet!”

To his surprise, Pei Ming actually shuts up.

With Pei Ming quiet and obediently splayed out against the bed, Feng Xin is free to find the oil – which there should be some around here, because this is Pei Ming’s palace, and Pei Ming has probably fucked someone on every single surface here.

“Here,” Mu Qing murmurs, leaning forward to press a small bottle of oil into his hands, and the simple contact sends shivers down his spine.

Feng Xin takes a deep, steadying breath. “Thanks.”

He returns to the bed, climbing onto Pei Ming’s thighs and slowly beginning to slick his fingers with the oil; he slides one into himself, blushing furiously, and tries to angle his hips in a way that Mu Qing won’t see him.

… which fails. He hears Mu Qing’s sharp inhale, and Feng Xin wants to die of embarrassment.

As soon as he deems himself ready, he adds another finger, desperate to get this over as soon as possible so that Mu Qing will stop staring. It’s embarrassing, the sound that forces its way out of his throat, but he continues, trying to shake the heavy weight of Mu Qing’s gaze off of his back.

“Feng Xin …” and his attentions are brought back to the god beneath him, Pei Ming whining pitifully as his cock bobs against his stomach, an angry red color, “Please touch me ..?”

“You’re so needy,” Feng Xin scolds, half-heartedly, and uses his free hand to spread oil onto Pei Ming’s weeping cock, his other hand still scissoring himself open. “Is this how you treat all your women? Make them do all the work for you?”

“When I’m with other women, I’m not usually poisoned.” Pei Ming pouts, hips jerking up into Feng Xin’s fist. “Once I’ve got it out, I’ll be sure to take care of you, baobei.”

Holy shit.

“Fuck, don’t call me that,” Feng Xin’s grip tightens in reprimand, but Pei Ming just lets out a pleased little groan and continues to buck his hips upwards. 

Feng Xin spreads his fingers a little wider, just enough so that he can slip another finger in, the burn edging on the side of pain; he hisses, squeezing around the stretch, but slowly, so fucking slowly, pushes three fingers inside of himself. His wrist is starting to cramp, but he grits his teeth and bears it, continuing to stretch himself out.

The moment he feels that he’s loose enough, Feng Xin positions himself over Pei Ming’s cock, dropping down without so much of a warning – Pei Ming jerks upwards, a startled cry escaping from his lips, while Feng Xin lets out an embarrassing squeak.

“Feng Xin, warn me before you do that,” Pei Ming twists in his bonds, biting at his bottom lip as he thrashes from side to side. “Fuck, fuck –”

Feng Xin can’t quite make words, his breath coming in short pants, as if the air has been pushed out of his chest to make room for the cock splitting him in half. He slumps forwards, catching himself on his elbows, his nose just inches away from Pei Ming's face.

There's no good reason not to kiss him, and Feng Xin closes the distance, pressing their lips together as he slowly begins to grind his hips downwards.

“Shit,” Pei Ming curses into the kiss, “You’re not the God of Lust for nothing, are you? Fuck, you’re so tight …”

Across the room, Mu Qing makes an unidentifiable sound, sort of like a gasp or a strangled wheeze, and Feng Xin would be concerned if not for the giant cock pressing up against every sensitive spot inside of him. He takes a moment to catch his breath, shoulders heaving as he tries to get the badly needed air back into his lungs. 

“I haven’t done … anything like this in … a long time,” he offers by way of an explanation, forcing the words out between ragged pants. “Why are you … so big? ”

Pei Ming laughs, hips twitching upwards as if he can’t quite control himself. “You impressed?”

“As if,” Feng Xin slowly begins to ride, hoisting himself up with a smooth movement of his thighs, sinking back down and grinding his hips in a tight circle around that – definitely above-average – goddamned cock. “One of us was called Ju Yang, and it sure as fuck wasn’t – ah – you.”

“So you’ve gotten fucked by bigger?”

Feng Xin doesn’t answer that one, because he hasn’t (but there’s no need to stoke Pei Ming’s ego any higher than it already is.)

The sound of it is so fucking – lewd, the squelch of oil as Pei Ming bucks his hips upwards, the slide of Feng Xin dropping his hips down echoing around the room as they begin to fuck in earnest; Feng Xin gasps, arching his back as he feels an unbelievable pressure against that spot, hands fisting in the blankets around them –

“Mm,” Pei Ming purrs, “Found it.”

“Shut up, you can’t even do anything,” Feng Xin pulls at the golden cord around his neck in warning, and – unsurprisingly – Pei Ming moans, eyes fluttering shut. “You want me to choke you? Really?”

“What can I say? You look so sexy on top of me,” and Pei Ming smiles at him, a lascivious curve of his lips that sends heat frissioning from the base of his spine to the tips of his fingers, “I want you to do what you want with me. Use me to chase your own pleasure, just – use me.”

“You’re the one who’s poisoned, idiot.” Feng Xin tugs sharply at the golden cord, swallowing around his suddenly dry throat. “It’s not my pleasure you’re supposed to be worrying about.”

The bed creaks, Pei Ming straining at his bonds to no avail. “At least untie me then ..?” 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Feng Xin pulls at the cord again, watching with fascination at how Pei Ming arches into the touch, chest heaving as the gold pulls against his throat, a beautiful complement to his tanned skin. “Just lie back, I’ll take care of the poison for you.”

“But I want to touch you,” Pei Ming whines, unbelievably shameless with the way his fingers twitch against the headboard, his intent clear. “You can’t ride me like this and expect me to keep my hands to myself.”

When it’s clear Feng Xin won’t relent, Pei Ming tries another route.

“I want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmurs, voice deepening to a sensual rumble, pupils blown wide with desire, looking every inch the proud general who has conquered – and deflowered – more maidens than there are stars in the night sky. “I want to bounce you up and down on my cock until you beg me for mercy, until I hear your pretty voice scream as I fuck you into the –”

“Holy fuck,” Feng Xin reels backwards, yanking Pei Ming’s collar – it’s a collar, Feng Xin realizes with a start, he’s put a collar on Pei Ming, the proudest martial god of them all – and blushes a furious red. “How can you even say – s-say something like that?”

“I’m just saying what I want to do to you,” Pei Ming’s arms flex under his restraints, the gold cord groaning under his strength. “Are you going to gag me to stop me from –”

“You’re so – shameless,” Feng Xin gasps, eyes slipping shut from the pleasure coiling in the pit of his stomach, “It’s just dual-cultivation, stop making this into one of your – your – your perverted fantasies!”

Pei Ming looks at him, and – “I’ve fantasized about fucking every god in the Heavens,” he says seriously, “But I’ve fantasized about fucking you the most.”

…

Feng Xin drops the golden cord in his hands.

“You’ve what?!” His noise of surprise is echoed by Mu Qing, the both of them staring at the bound God of the North on the bed, “You’ve – you’ve – you’ve fantasized about –”

“Haven’t you all done it?” Pei Ming tilts his head to the right, cocking an eyebrow, “I mean, some of them are a little young, and it would feel weird to fantasize about sex with them, but you and Xuan Zhen are fair game. And Xie Lian, I guess –”

“Don’t you even dare say Dianxia’s name while you’re inside of me –”

“But I’ve definitely thought about this.” Pei Ming rolls his hips upwards with the kind of skill that only comes from experience. “How you’d feel wrapped around my cock, how you’d sound when I finally fucked into you, if you’d cry out when I –”

Feng Xin scrambles to grab the golden cord, pulling it as roughly as he can, determined to make Pei Ming shut up. “Be quiet!”

“You’re gorgeous,” Pei Ming gasps, still speaking despite the collar tightening around his neck, “Seriously, you got the name Ju Yang and you expected me not to think about having sex with you –?”

“Be quiet!!”  

“Your shoulders are so broad,” Pei Ming very deliberately eyes the slope of Feng Xin’s throat, “Yet your waist fits so nicely in my hands,” and Pei Ming bats his eyelashes up at him, smirking playfully, “While Xuan Zhen is slim from head to toe, you’ve got a –”

Feng Xin abandons the golden cord, instead slamming his hands around Pei Ming’s throat, squeezing as tightly as he dares. “Shameless,” he spits, “Don’t speak.”

“Yes,” Pei Ming groans in bliss, baring the skin of his neck for Feng Xin to mark up, “Yes, harder, Feng Xin –”

“This is ridiculous,” Feng Xin mutters to himself, before slowly tightening his grip, in tiny increments so that Pei Ming can tell him to stop at any time; his fingers will leave bruises, with how hard he’s holding him. “You like that?”

“I’d like anything you give me,” Pei Ming shifts beneath him, and too late Feng Xin realizes what he’s done – Pei Ming plants his feet against the mattress and with the extra leverage, Pei Ming can snap his hips upwards with more force, the tip of his cock hitting that spot with no trouble at all –

Feng Xin can’t muffle the moans that spill from his lips, his grip loosening as he slumps over, helpless to Pei Ming’s thrusts.

“Dammit,” he curses, thighs burning, “Dammit, shit. Let me – you need to come, just –”

“It’s not going to take long,” Pei Ming pants, “Not when you’re looking at me like that. You sound so needy – so desperate for my cock –”

Feng Xin pushes himself up, leaning backwards slightly, and like this – like this – the angle is merciless, nothing stopping Pei Ming’s cock from hitting that particular spot as he drops downwards, nothing stopping it from scraping against that goddamned spot on the way out – Feng Xin dissolves into helpless whimpers, squirming on that cock and succeeding in doing nothing but coaxing it deeper.

“Ah, a-ah,” and Feng Xin can see, out of the corner of his eye, his toes curling from where his legs are splayed on either side, “I’m – I’m – I’m close –”

“Feng Xin,” his name, in Pei Ming’s low growl, sends sparks of pleasure up his spine, “Come for me.”

And come he does, entire body wrenching forwards as he cries out, going impossibly tight around Pei Ming’s stupidly perfect cock, the head catching on what feels like every sensitive spot inside him; Pei Ming moans, hips stuttering from that perfect rhythm and finally, finally releasing into him, the warmth of his cum filling Feng Xin up to the brim.

Their spiritual energy intertwines, mixing together and chasing the dark remnants of poison out of Pei Ming’s core, and Feng Xin doesn’t bother to try and stop the high-pitched whine that spills from his lips – it’s been so long since he’s dual-cultivated with anyone, and the unfamiliar rush of pleasure burns its way into his veins, a searing kind of bliss that he hasn’t felt in centuries.

Feng Xin comes back to himself with a start, lurching forwards and planting both hands on Pei Ming’s chest, prodding at his core. 

“The poison,” he says faintly, still slightly dazed from the aftershocks. “Can you feel it still? How much is left? Do we need to go again?”

“We need to go again,” Pei Ming replies without so much as a pause, gazing up at him with a playful smile dancing on his lips. “We absolutely have to go again, or I'll die.”

“Oh, be quiet.” Feng Xin continues to try and find any traces of the poison, the spiritual energy around them flowing easily into Pei Ming’s chest. “But yeah, I think we should go again, just in case it hasn’t been fully dispersed.”

“Yeah, just in case.” Pei Ming’s eyes sharpen on something just behind him, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Enjoying the view, Xuan Zhen?”

Feng Xin’s stomach drops – he's completely forgotten about Mu Qing in the corner. He whips around, feeling cum trickle down the inside of his thigh, and meets Mu Qing's stunned gaze.

The embarrassment hits him in waves, each one stronger than the one before.

"Mu Qing!" Feng Xin's voice is shrill with shock, cracking on Mu Qing's name, "What – why – you were still watching?!"

"I've been here the entire time, dumbass," Mu Qing shoots him a glare, before shifting in his seat and turning away, resolutely not meeting his eyes. "Just … it's … just keep going."

A laugh from beneath him. "Seems like our Xuan Zhen likes to watch."

Feng Xin slaps him half-heartedly, biting his lip in embarrassment. "He's not ours," he snaps, "Mu Qing, I – I'm sorry you had to see that –”

"I'm not," Pei Ming interrupts, beaming. "You looked gorgeous on top of me, and Xuan Zhen thought so too, right?" He leers at Mu Qing, using his restraints to pull himself upwards, a lecherous smile still on his face. “Bet he’s jealous.”

The room seems too hot, Feng Xin floundering under two sets of intense stares; “Stop looking,” he stammers, hands automatically moving to try and hide himself from Mu Qing’s searching gaze, “Mu Qing, you –”

A loud snap echoes throughout the room, and in a heartbeat, he’s pushed over and pressed against the mattress, a warm palm spread against his back.

“Insatiable,” he breathes, struggling against that grip and not getting a single inch. “Fuck you.”

“Maybe later, if you ask nicely,” and Pei Ming slowly reenters him, cock dragging over sensitive walls until he’s fully sheathed, sparks of pleasure skittering up his spine; “Want me to fuck you until my cum drips out of your –?”

“Your mouth is absolutely filthy,” Feng Xin growls, “Absolutely fucking filthy, you – you –”

The cock inside him pushes a little deeper, the chest against his back shaking with stifled laughter. “Look who’s talking,” Pei Ming snickers, slowly beginning to rock back and forth, “Are you really the person to criticize my word choice? You’re the one whose mouth should be washed out, I’m tame compared to you.”

“You –!” Whatever he’s about to say dies in his throat as Pei Ming’s other hand comes down to fist in his hair, his eyes falling shut as those hips roll forwards, every other thrust making him gasp sharply, entire body beginning to tremble.

“Look,” Pei Ming whispers suddenly, and –

Feng Xin opens his eyes, Pei Ming still fucking those obscene, desperate noises from his lips, and makes direct eye-contact with Mu Qing.

It’s too much. He whines, shoving his face back into the bed with a strangled noise of embarrassment – “Don’t look,” he pants, holding up a trembling hand to block Mu Qing’s view, “Mu Qing, please, don’t look –”

Pei Ming thrusts his hips forwards, and Feng Xin’s hand drops to the covers to support himself as he grits his teeth against the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Don’t look,” he says again, face scarlet with shame, “S-Seriously, don’t – ah, a-ah – don’t look!”

“But he wants to,” Pei Ming murmurs against his neck, nipping at the faint sheen of sweat there, “He wants to see me take you apart. Hey, Xuan Zhen,” he raises his voice, leering at Mu Qing who sits, red-faced, by the doorway, “Come over, yeah? Take a good look at him, if you’d like.”

“Don’t,” Feng Xin snaps warningly, refusing to even glance in Mu Qing’s direction for fear of what he’d see. Disgust, most likely. “Don’t listen to him, you don’t have to – ah!”

He writhes, inadvertently fucking himself deeper on Pei Ming’s cock, entire body trembling uncontrollably as the head scrapes against raw, sensitive nerves. “Mu Qing, Mu Qing, d-don’t look, don’t –”

Feng Xin gasps on the next thrust, arms giving out completely, and almost completely fails to hear the soft footsteps coming closer.

“What do your vows stop you from doing?” Pei Ming’s voice is light and airy despite the fact that he’s absolutely railing Feng Xin into the fucking mattress. “You want to join us?”

“I can’t come,” Mu Qing’s voice washes over him, sweet and velvety, sending currents of heat down his spine, “But I can touch him.”

The first brush against his lips surprises him, and the air gets punched out of his chest with the simple touch – he opens his eyes, sees Mu Qing’s face in front of him, and barely keeps from coming. As it is, he makes a decidedly undignified sound, a moan and a squeak mixed into a lewd whimper, his lips instinctively parting to accommodate those elegant fingers.

He can hear Mu Qing’s breath catch in his throat.

“A-Ah, ah, wait, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin curls his hands into fists, trying to keep his eyes on Mu Qing’s face, “You – your cultivation –”

 “I’m sure he knows his own cultivation better than you do,” a warm hand comes up to his neck, holding him upwards as Pei Ming’s hips begin to pick up speed, “He knows what he can do, and what he can’t. Just let him decide what he wants.”

Feng Xin pants, Pei Ming’s grip around his bun forcing him to bend back, chest jutting outwards, and he watches as Mu Qing leans down and – and –

“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin gasps, scandalized, “What are you –?!”

Warm lips wrap around a nipple, and the bolt of sensation goes straight to his cock – “Mu Qing!” and he’s not sure if he can touch him or not, so Feng Xin just writhes against that goddamned tongue, torn between arching back into Pei Ming’s hips and bucking forwards into Mu Qing’s mouth – he sobs, nails digging into his own palms as he struggles to control himself.

“He likes that,” Pei Ming’s voice murmurs into his ear, “He really likes that, I can feel him tightening up.”

“You’re so fucking shameless,” Feng Xin spits, voice breaking as Mu Qing does that with his tongue, “You’re shameless, really, too fucking – f-fucking – ah!”

Cold fingers begin to toy with his other nipple, and Feng Xin whines – his chest is alight with sensation, Mu Qing’s tongue searing and wet against his right, those fingers pinching and so, fucking cold against his left –

He’s close, so fucking close, but he can’t – can’t – not when Mu Qing is right there, peeking up at him through long, fluttering lashes –

“Wait, I’m gonna – wait,” Feng Xin tries to twist away, and Mu Qing clearly isn’t expecting the sudden movement and he bites down on one of his nipples, sending sharp, overwhelming pleasure down his spine, and it’s too much – Feng Xin comes with a strangled wail, hands flying up to grab at Mu Qing’s ponytail, pushing him deeper into his chest. Mu Qing obliges, tugging at the nub with his teeth, and Feng Xin can’t stop the moan that rips its way out of his throat, the helpless whimpers that fall from his lips –

“Just like that,” Pei Ming licks a long stripe up his throat, sucking marks into the underside of his jaw, “Just like that, good, Feng Xin.”

The praise hits him like a ton of bricks and he gasps, inadvertently tightening up further. Pei MIng is relentless, hips still thrusting forwards through his release, a warm hand grasping at his cock as it jerks and twitches and helplessly begins to dribble come onto the covers; similarly, Mu Qing twists and sharply squeezes at his nipples, prolonging his pleasure with those cool, slender fingers.

His mind is foggy with pleasure and he’s fairly certain he’s crying out, a litany of swears and breathless pleas for more echoing in the room around them. Feng Xin pulls Mu Qing even closer, his grip on the silver hair in his fingers so tight that it has to hurt, but Mu Qing just lets him, still mouthing at his chest with the desperation of a parched man getting a taste of water. 

Feng Xin’s breath still comes in soft, bitten-off pants, and he shudders one last time before slumping into Mu Qing’s waiting arms, spent.

Even as he comes down, Pei Ming still gently rocks forwards, the tip of his cock brushing up against that particular spot, while Mu Qing continues to bite and use his nipples as a teething toy – not that he’s complaining.

“You … both are insatiable,” he groans, toes curling from the minute stimulation, “Really, can’t even give me a moment to rest?”

“Sorry,” Pei Ming snickers, not sounding sorry in the slightest. 

“We still have to get the rest of the poison out,” Mu Qing points out, as a justification for how he’s still scraping his teeth against Feng Xin’s reddened, abused nipples, which doesn’t even make sense but Feng Xin isn’t going to protest. “Ming Guang, how much would you say is left?”

“Just a little,” and Pei Ming snaps his cock forwards, forcing a cry of overstimulation from Feng Xin’s lips. “What do you think, Feng Xin? Can you give me one more?”

Feng Xin rolls his hips backwards to meet his thrusts, biting back another moan, and sends Pei Ming a glare over his shoulder. “I can take whatever you can give me,” he says, feeling his cock already begin to harden yet again, “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s not a very sexy line,” Pei Ming grumbles, but begins to pick up speed, hips pistoning in and out until they’re back at the furious pace from before.

Beside him, Mu Qing seems unsure of what to do. 

Feng Xin – Feng Xin has never wanted so deeply, so desperately as he does now. He tentatively reaches out, lets his fingers brush Mu Qing’s cheek, giving him ample time to jerk back if he doesn’t want it.

“Feng Xin,” a careful hand wraps over his own, Mu Qing looking at him with impossibly dark eyes, “You …”

“What?” Feng Xin knows he sounds debauched, voice cracking each time Pei Ming’s hips slam flush with his own, but it’s not like he can do anything about that. “M-Mu Qing, I – ah – what?”

“You look good like this,” and Mu Qing’s entire face is a blazing red, unable to meet his eyes, but his voice –

Feng Xin claps both hands over his mouth, eyes widening with shock, and he makes a truly inhuman noise as he tries to hide his face. “Mu Qing,” he whimpers, entire body trembling from five words, "D-Don't say things like that!"

"He likes your voice," Pei Ming hums, observant as always."Keep talking to him, see what happens."

Cool fingers pull the hand over his mouth away, Mu Qing pressing a hesitant kiss to the corner of his lips. "You … like my voice?"

His entire body flushes with heat. Mu Qing's voice like silk, like liquid silver, so fucking smooth and so, so impossibly sexy, makes him melt. Feng Xin whines, squeezing his eyes shut and tries to focus on anything but Mu Qing's whispers in his ears. “No, I don’t!”

“He does,” Pei Ming tugs at his bun, a smile audible in his voice, “He really does.”

Feng Xin glares up at Mu Qing, lips falling open around another moan; “I don’t,” he protests weakly, his resolve faltering at the sight of those focused eyes, Mu Qing's face earnest and open in front of him, “I really don’t, I don’t –”

“Say his name for him.” Pei Ming continues that devastating pace, pulling Feng Xin backwards until his back is flush with Pei Ming’s broad chest, and with his other hand, carefully cups Mu Qing’s jaw in his palm, splaying his fingers out on pale skin. “Watch his face.”

There’s no way he can hide, with his head being held up and forced to stare directly into Mu Qing’s dark eyes.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing breathes, and –

His name sounds so good in that voice, lilting on the ends of the syllables, and Feng Xin has heard his name a thousand times from those lips but never before has he heard his name like this, soft, intent, possessive, an undercurrent of lust present in the bitten-off growl – almost as if Mu Qing wants him.

A desperate whine rips its way out of his throat, and Feng Xin’s eyes shut on instinct as he bites his lip until he can taste iron, trying to keep the rest of the humiliating noises at bay.

“See how he likes it?” Pei Ming mouths at his nape, leaving butterfly kisses wherever he licks over the skin, hips not stopping for even a second. “Why don’t you say it again, hm?”

Feng Xin shakes his head, eyes snapping open to meet Mu Qing’s gaze, and holy fucking shit. Mu Qing tilts his chin upwards, pressing a feather-light kiss to his chapped lips, licking shyly at – holy shit – at his bottom lip, pulling away just slightly so that their breaths intermingle in the air, and whispers –

“A’Xin.”

He can’t be held accountable for the noise he makes.

It’s as if he’s a puppet, and his strings have been cut; Feng Xin collapses, going limp, hips helplessly twitching backwards as he comes for the third time, embarrassingly fast, biting down hard on Mu Qing’s fingers as he tries to control his voice – “A’Xin, you look gorgeous,” he hears, Mu Qing’s words only making him soar higher –

“Oh, fuck,” Pei Ming groans, spilling into him for the second time, “Damn, he’s so tight. He really likes your voice, Xuan Zhen …” 

Their voices fade into the background, Feng Xin focused on nothing but the slick stretch of that cock inside of him, made only slicker by the cum adding to the slide, Mu Qing’s feather-light kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead –

Eventually, Pei Ming pulls out, leaving him breathtakingly empty.

“The … the poison,” Feng Xin manages, supporting himself on shaking limbs, grimacing at the stickiness of cum dribbling from his entrance. “The poison, Pei Ming, is it –?”

“General Nan Yang, always so responsible,” and Pei Ming sits down at the headboard of the bed, settling into a meditating position. “I’ll make sure everything’s okay, you two can go at it.”

Feng Xin pushes himself up, a protest on the tip of his tongue, of Mu Qing has his cultivation, he can’t –

“I fucked a cultivator, a couple decades ago,” Pei Ming has a knowing smile on his face. “Same path as him and the Crown Prince, but he didn’t break his vows; as long as he didn’t come, and didn’t lose any jing, then he was fine. It’s probably the same for Xuan Zhen, so go for it.”

“Still, you can’t force him to –”

Mu Qing kisses him, pinning him to the sheets in a vice grip, growling out a “Stop assuming you know what I want.” Slender fingers wrap around his wrists, while sharp teeth bite down on the side of his neck, Mu Qing all around him and making him dizzy with – with everything. “How could I not want you?”

…

Pei Ming whistles, lowly.

“Mu Qing, Mu Qing,” and Feng Xin goes slack under those worshipful touches, “You really – want to have ... with me?”

After a moment of pause, Mu Qing nods.

“Okay, okay, fuck,” Feng Xin yanks the golden cord from the headboard and rips it in half, using the shorter length of gold to tie a ribbon at the base of Mu Qing’s cock, to prevent him from actually coming. “We’re really doing this? Right now?”

As his fingers fumble to make loops with the gold cord, he realizes that Mu Qing is so, achingly hard, little dribbles of pre-cum leaking from the tip – he did like watching. He totally liked watching them go at it, he –

“If you make me wait, I’ll kill you,” Mu Qing snaps, before leaning down to adjust the ribbon, pulling the ends a little tighter. “Let’s go.”

“Fuck,” Feng Xin hasn’t felt like this, entire body thrumming with desire, since he first got the title of the God of Lust. “Fuck, holy fuck – we’re really doing this? Okay, we’re doing this.”

“Here,” and Mu Qing fumbles with the oil, but Feng Xin has been waiting for what feels like forever for this, and he can’t wait any longer, not when what he so desperately wants is right in front of him; he lunges at Mu Qing, bowling them both over onto the bed. “Feng Xin –?!”

Feng Xin feels as if he’s floating, the amount of lustful energy in the room making him dizzy with power – even as the God of Lust, he’s never been – never been surrounded by so much pure, unbridled want before, and the sheer volume of desire makes him want to –

He’s so, devastatingly horny.

Feng Xin is vaguely aware that his mouth is watering, the entire world slowly beginning to turn a strange gold as he straddles Mu Qing’s hips; “I want you too,” he pants, blinking to try and get the spots out of his vision, “I want you.”

“Oh,” Mu Qing is staring into his eyes, “Hey, Ming Guang, is it just me or is he ...”

“God of Lust,” from his place against the headboard, Pei Ming looks amused, watching them both with a handsome smirk on his features. “When’s the last time the God of Lust cut loose?”

Feng Xin drags his tongue across his lower lip, watching intently as Mu Qing follows the movement. “You want me,” he notes, grinding down into Mu Qing’s lap for emphasis, “Don’t you?”

The desire spikes, the god beneath him choking on a sharp inhale. 

“Y-Yes,” and Mu Qing stutters, and if that isn’t provocative enough, he also bites at his lip, as if unsure of what to do with Feng Xin’s weight on his own hips, Mu Qing’s cock hot and heavy between them.

It’s almost as if it's an offering, a beautiful offering for the God of Lust, presented to him all wrapped up in a pretty gold bow. A prayer goes along with it, a barely-there yes, of pure want emanating from every line of Mu Qing's body, of the hungry gaze still set on him – an offering, for him.

“Well, Xuan Zhen,” and he uses Mu Qing’s title, just to see him shiver, “This god accepts his gift.”

Feng Xin slams himself down on that cock, pleasure sparking hot and bright and gods everything is just too much, still oversensitive from the what, three orgasms he’s already had? And yet his hips unconsciously grind down, chasing that sharp pleasure no matter how much it burns. “Mu Qing,” he gasps, thighs tensing and untensing as he struggles to keep his thoughts in order, “You feel – you feel so – so good –”

No response – Mu Qing’s lips are slightly parted, his eyes unfocused – that’s right, Mu Qing is a virgin, isn’t he?

“I’ll make it good for you, too,” Feng Xin promises, deliriously, “Tell me, t-tell me, does this feel good? Are you – f-feeling – feeling good?”

Still no response.

The bed shifts, and Pei Ming is there, propping Mu Qing’s head up in a steady hand. “He asked you a question, Xuan Zhen. Does it feel good? Feng Xin wrapped around your cock?”

A low whine, Mu Qing biting at his lip and trying to look away, but his eyes are always drawn back to Feng Xin’s sweat-soaked face, at the hair slipping from his bun, his bangs plastered to his forehead – “It’s good,” Mu Qing whispers, fingers flexing at his sides, “It’s really good.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Feng Xin throws his head back, still frantically grinding his hips in small circles, “Mu Qing, I, I – ngh – if you like it, then – that’s –!”

Pei Ming cradles Mu Qing’s head in his fingers, carding his nails through those silver locks, leaning down to whisper something into his ear.

“Look at him,” Pei Ming smiles, dark and possessive, “Look at him, so desperate, he’s desperate for your cock – that’s what you were thinking of when watching us earlier, wasn’t it? Thinking about him stretching around you, your cock forcing him open? Is that what you wanted, Xuan Zhen?” He bites down on one of Mu Qing’s earlobes, eliciting a soft whimper. “Gorgeous, the both of you.”

Feng Xin listens with faint surprise, feeling his face flush from the dirty words – and he’s not even the person those words are intended for!

“You’ve got the filthiest mouth,” Feng Xin laughs, breathless and for some reason, unbelievably happy. “Stop teasing him, he’s doing fine. Good, even.”

Beneath him, Mu Qing tenses from the praise – immediately, Feng Xin begins to ride a little harder, wanting to feel him come inside, before –

“Feng Xin, you bound him, remember?” Pei Ming slips his hand into his own, moving their joined hands lower and lower until they brush up against the sleek surface of the golden binding cord, still wrapped snugly around the base of Mu Qing’s cock. “He can’t come like that.”

Feng Xin groans, all instincts desperate for his lover to reach the same pleasure. What remains of his rational thought tells him to just deal with it, that Mu Qing can’t come without breaking his – stupid – vows.

“Fine, f-fine, fine,” and Feng Xin slows, breath coming in ragged pants. “So – if he can’t come, then am I the only one who’s going to …? Am I supposed to use him? Is this what this is?”

“Yes,” Mu Qing murmurs breathlessly, hands coming up to hang loosely on Feng Xin’s waist, slowly rubbing circles into his skin, “Use me.”

… he’s surrounded by a bunch of horny bastards, isn’t he?

Not that he can say that without sounding like a hypocrite.

Feng Xin resumes his rhythm, Pei Ming moving to his side and helping him bounce up and down, palms secure around his waist and setting the pace; Mu Qing twists beneath him, face pinched with pleasure, and he grabs at Feng Xin’s hands, gripping them so tight that it almost hurts.

It’s still missing something, though.

“Pei Ming,” he gasps out, “Get over here.”

Beneath him, Mu Qing’s breath catches, his hips stuttering with surprise.

“Both of you won’t fit,” because – fucking – obviously, “You can fuck my thighs, m-maybe –?”

“Of course,” and Pei Ming maneuvers them all so that Feng Xin is sandwiched between them, Mu Qing’s cock driving into him while Pei Ming slides his – still slick – cock in between Feng Xin’s sturdy thighs, the three of them moving in tandem – the world goes fuzzy, everything narrowing down to this, the soft noises that fall from Mu Qing’s lips, the deep gasps that Pei Ming can’t help but make –

It feels like power.

Liquid power, maybe. Slightly out of his mind with all of the pleasure, Feng Xin wonders if he should have an orgy before all of his battles, if it would help since he’s the God of Lust and all – he feels like he could jump out of the palace and kill anything in his path, veins thrumming with a heady feeling of – of –

Mu Qing’s cock twitches inside of him, a shuddering exhale wet against his shoulder. “I’m close,” Mu Qing breathes, “I think I’m close.”

Immediately, Feng Xin moves to get out from between them, but Mu Qing grabs his hips and keeps him there.

“Aren’t you about to –?” Feng Xin squirms, his cock pressed in between his stomach and Mu Qing’s abdomen, Pei Ming pressing slow, reverent kisses to the planes of his back, “Your – your vows, Mu Qing, wait, you can’t, wait –”

“I – I don’t know what’s happening,” Mu Qing looks as if he might be losing control, grabbing at Feng Xin’s waist, “I’m – why does this feel so good?”

A low laugh. “That’s sex for you,” and Pei Ming pushes his way forwards, smiling at Mu Qing with all of the self-satisfied pride of a man who has gotten exactly what he wants, having sex with two of the most-wanted gods in the entirety of the Heavens. “Are you addicted yet?”

“I might be,” Mu Qing whispers, voice trembling, “If it always feels like this, then – then m-maybe.”

The both of them share a look, silently agreeing to blow Mu Qing’s fucking mind.

Feng Xin swings a leg over Mu Qing’s side, thighs wrapping around that slender waist and ankles locking behind him with a satisfied sigh; Pei Ming reaches down and teases at the base, nails scraping along the base of Mu Qing’s cock whenever Feng Xin rises up enough to expose the golden cord.

“What are you two –?”

Pei Ming leans in and after a moment of hesitation, lifts the two of them so that he can get a better view – Feng Xin gives those muscles an appreciative once-over, because both he and Mu Qing aren’t exactly the lightest, both well-respected and powerful generals in their own rights and nothing like the fair, blushing maidens Pei Ming usually surrounds himself with. They’re basically fucking in Pei Ming’s lap now, and Feng Xin shoots him a faintly amused stare.

“Really?” Feng Xin tries his best to sound stern, but it’s impossible to keep from smiling when Pei Ming drops an adoring kiss on the tip of his nose. “Pervert.”

“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve wanted this for centuries?” Pei Ming puts a firm hand on the small of his back, the other presumably supporting Mu Qing out of view. “Forgive me, Generals.”

Mu Qing pants, looking slightly overwhelmed. 

“Is this too much?” Pei Ming notices it as well. “Xuan Zhen?”

A sharp shake of his head. Mu Qing has a hazy, fucked-out look on his face, but his eyes are clear and steady, locked on Feng Xin’s lips. “I’m okay,” he whispers, hands twitching from where they’re pressed against Feng Xin’s stomach, “I – Feng Xin, I – I –”

They both sit patiently, Pei Ming and Feng Xin both taking turns pressing worshipful kisses to his forehead as they wait for Mu Qing to speak.

After a couple of moments, Mu Qing nods and shifts slightly, hands coming to rest on Feng Xin’s hips. “I’m okay,” he repeats, stronger this time. “You can keep going. It was just a little – new.” 

“Only if you’re sure,” Feng Xin says immediately, cupping Mu Qing’s jaw, pleasure forgotten, “If you’re not sure, we’ll stop.”

“No, keep going,” Mu Qing casts a hesitant glance towards Pei Ming, worrying at his lip. “I was just – surprised. The two of you are really … really experienced.”

Feng Xin chokes on his own tongue.

“I won’t deny that,” Pei Ming tilts his head. “Does that surprise you?”

Another beat of silence.

“I just.” Mu Qing glares at the bedsheets, knuckles turning white with the strain as he squeezes the poor blankets in an unforgiving grip, “I … I’m not … good at this. I don’t want you two to have to … I’m just. Not good at anything like – like this.”

A wave of affection washes over him, and Feng Xin can’t help but smile. “We aren’t doing anything we don’t want,” he leans closer, wrapping his arms around him in a hug – he’s not sure the last time he’s hugged Mu Qing, if there even has been a last time – and stares right into his eyes, their noses just barely brushing. “And it doesn’t matter if you’re not good at this, because – it’s your first time, we’re supposed to be the ones making it good for you.”

Mu Qing’s eyes dart down to the arms around him, visibly swallowing.

“You’re hugging me,” he says, as if he can’t quite believe it.

“We’re literally fucking,” Feng Xin flicks him on the forehead, trying to stifle the laughter bubbling into his chest. “I feel like we’ve skipped a couple steps here. Do you … want to keep hugging?”

Mu Qing flushes, the red on his cheeks a sharp contrast to his pale skin, but refuses to look away first. “Do what you want.”

That’s … cute.

Really cute.

Pei Ming startles them both out of their musings with a pointed cough, muttering something that sounds like “It’s even more painful seeing it up close,” and then shifts in place yet again, the abrupt change in position pushing Mu Qing deeper into Feng Xin and –

“We were having a moment,” Feng Xin snaps, voice breaking as Pei Ming moves them both, “Hey, Pei Ming, we –”

“You guys can talk it out later,” and Pei Ming gives him a pleading pout, an expression that really shouldn’t be as endearing as Feng Xin finds it to be. “But for now, let me have you both.”

“Fine,” Feng Xin rolls his eyes, turning back to Mu Qing with a conspiratorial whisper of “Impatient, isn’t he?” before rolling his hips downwards, arms not leaving Mu Qing’s shoulders while he moves. For some reason, he really … wants to keep hugging him.

Pei Ming snickers.

He stops snickering when Feng Xin glares at him, but the mischief still dances in his eyes; he leans forwards, licking his lips, and joins Feng Xin in his quest to make Mu Qing break.

“Next time, we’ll open you up,” and Pei Ming’s eyes are filled with desire, biting down on Mu Qing’s shoulder, fingers tracing spiralling patterns into his pale skin, “I’ll fuck Feng Xin until he’s begging for it, and then we’ll fit his cock into you – you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

The words wash over Mu Qing and he moans, his entire body beginning to shake.

“Stretching you out so fucking wide,” Pei Ming’s voice, even when Feng Xin isn’t the one being spoken to, still makes him tremble with arousal, with how honeyed and wanton it is, filthy fantasies falling from his lips as easy as breathing. “You want it? You want his cock inside you?”

“Yes,” Mu Qing whines, hips faltering in their rhythm, “I want – I w-want –”

“Feel that?” And Pei Ming folds their hands together and places them up against Feng Xin’s stomach, “That’s you, you’re fucking into him right now – you can feel yourself, Xuan Zhen, right there –”

“Who taught you how to speak?” Feng Xin shoots Pei Ming an exasperated glare. “I’ve heard courtesans with cleaner tongues than you.”

Pei Ming winks at him, leaning forwards and dropping a light kiss on his lips. “When you’ve fucked around as much as I have, you pick up a couple of tricks.” The expression on his face, a burning lust, steals his breath away. “Want to see what else this tongue can do?”

The thought is tempting, but Feng Xin shakes his head. “Later,” he whispers, “Mu Qing, are you –?”

Mu Qing jerks in his grip, as soon as he hears Feng Xin say his name; seems like he’s not the only one with a liking to voices, Feng Xin thinks with a smile, but who can blame him?

“Mu Qing,” he can’t quite hide the amusement in his voice, “Mu Qing, Qing’er.”

“A’Xin,” comes the sharp reply, Mu Qing giving him as harsh of a glare that he can muster, “I – this – I’m –”

“Mm, it's alright,” and Feng Xin pulls him a little closer, still hugging him tight, taking a page out of Pei Ming’s vast library of dirty talk, “You want me to fuck you, after?”

Mu Qing lets out a long, shuddering whine, staring at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Y-Yes,” Mu Qing throws his head back, exposing the long, elegant slope of his neck, and Feng Xin can’t help but sink his teeth into that throat, hands moving down to cup Pei Ming and Mu Qing’s intertwined hands, pressing them harder into his stomach. 

Feng Xin smiles up at him, biting at his lip almost teasingly, pitching his voice down to whisper in his ear, “Then I will, Qing’er.”

The moment that name leaves his lips, Mu Qing arches back, eyes fluttering shut as he wails, while Pei Ming pulls roughly at the ends of the golden cord, so tight that it looks painful (the noise Mu Qing makes has him believing that it’s anything but). Mu Qing’s head slams back against Pei Ming’s shoulder, his hips still snapping forwards in short, rabbiting bursts, and he looks so –

“He looks so lovely,” Pei Ming murmurs, fingers dancing on the swell of Mu Qing’s neck, “Don’t you think so, Feng Xin?”

“Don’t ask questions that you already know the answer to,” Feng Xin counters, watching Mu Qing shudder with what he knows is a disgustingly fond smile on his lips. “He looks beautiful,” he whispers into Mu Qing’s ear, making sure he hears it, “So, so pretty.”

Mu Qing’s hips eventually slow to a stop, and Mu Qing slumps forwards, hiding his face in the crook of Feng Xin’s neck. “Be … quiet,” he manages, “Embarrassing.” 

They stop for a moment, to let Mu Qing recover from what’s probably the first orgasm he’s ever had in his entire life.

Feng Xin speaks first, smoothing the hair out of Mu Qing’s face. “Your … cultivation?”

After a pause, Mu Qing flexes his fingers; a bright spiritual flame flares to life in his palm, and he fairly collapses into Feng Xin’s arms. “Still intact,” his voice absolutely drips with relief. “Not that I was worried, though.”

Pei Ming carefully sets them both down onto the bed, giving Mu Qing a light peck on the cheek, before turning his attention to Feng Xin.

… come to think about it, both of them are staring at him. Namely, his still-hard cock.

“What?” Feng Xin blinks at the both of them, eyebrows raising to his hairline. “Hey, this is normal. Lust God, remember? And I already came like – four times, you don’t need to –”

“But we want to,” and Pei Ming settles between Feng Xin’s thighs, spreading them apart and licking his lips hungrily, “Don’t we, Xuan Zhen?”

Feng Xin can’t help but laugh at how Mu Qing perks up, eyes lighting up at the prospect of watching Feng Xin fall apart all over again. He shakes his head fondly, before leaning back against the headboard with a relaxed smile. “If you insist,” he concedes, hooking his knees over Pei Ming’s sturdy shoulders, “Show me what that tongue can do, General.”

“Gladly,” and Pei Ming proceeds to show him exactly how good he is with his tongue. Seriously. Holy shit.

He registers light, barely-there licks at his entrance, Pei Ming content to just tease – “Don’t,” Feng Xin kicks at his back weakly, “Hurry up,” – before finally pushing in, nipping at the tender skin; he seems content to slowly, so fucking slowly press the flat of his tongue against his walls, beginning to lick the cum out of him – damn.

Feng Xin shudders, eyes slipping closed with muted bliss, thighs tensing around Pei Ming’s head – he hopes that he isn’t smothering him, but Pei Ming doesn’t seem to mind.

“You wish you were in my place, don’t you, Xuan Zhen?” Pei Ming’s voice is muffled from how he has his face shoved in Feng Xin’s thighs, “Crushed to death by Feng Xin’s gorgeous –”

“Be quiet.” He turns to Mu Qing with an apology on his lips, that Pei Ming isn’t usually this daring (who is he kidding, that’s a bold-faced lie) only to see that Mu Qing’s eyes are wide with curiosity, licking his lips as he watches Pei Ming dip his tongue into –

He laughs, incredulous. “Both of you are so shameless.”

“Can you blame him?” Pei Ming sends Mu Qing a sly wink. “It’s his first time seeing something like this, he’s bound to be curious.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Feng Xin kicks at his shoulders, trying to get him to go a little faster. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired? Hurry up, I’m – ah!”

The words die in his throat, his legs instinctively slamming shut on either side of Pei Ming’s head – Pei Ming makes a small noise of satisfaction, his tongue going even deeper – Feng Xin pants, the languid heat in his abdomen coiling tighter and tighter as that stupidly talented tongue forces itself against every single sensitive spot inside of him. “Oh,” he moans, “You – you – Pei Ming –”

It’s short and sweet, Feng Xin wrung out from all four of his prior releases, oversensitive and shivering with the waves of sensation. 

The fifth is gentle, a slow thing that peaks when he least expects it; one moment, Pei Ming is smirking up at him, the bitten-red of his lips just barely visible, and the next all he can see is the bright stars against the backs of his eyelids as he tips over the peak that he wasn’t even aware he was climbing. He moans, hips rolling wantonly into Pei Ming’s eager mouth, riding out the waves of his – he feels like he has to stress that it’s his fifth orgasm. These gods are fucking insatiable.

Feng Xin pants as he comes back down, slowly unhooking his ankles from behind Pei Ming’s head, thighs still twitching from the aftershocks.

“So?” Pei Ming smiles at him, looking entirely too smug. “So, Feng Xin? How’d I do?”

“Not … bad,” Feng Xin feels pleasantly sore, entire body aching from his shoulders to the tips of his toes, but in a good way. “I don’t think I have enough information to tell,” and he licks his lips, spreading his legs wider, “Maybe a repeat performance is in order ..?”

Pei Ming’s smile slowly widens, eyes glinting in interest. “You can keep going?”

“Both of you,” Mu Qing tugs them both down, swatting them over the heads, “You need to calm down. He came five times, don’t wear him out.”

“Xuan Zhen, nobody’s been able to keep up with me in a long time,” Pei Ming’s smile is a sharp, dangerous thing, something intensely hungry in his expression, “Feng Xin, you’re … really making it hard for me to control myself,” and he’s bowled over, Mu Qing letting out a surprised yelp as Pei Ming knocks the both of them into the sheets, hands already roving down, down, down – 

None of them leave the palace for a long time.

---

Ling Wen surveys them all, face carefully blank.

“So,” her voice is pinched, as if she’s struggling to keep a neutral expression. “I see that General Pei’s meridians are … intact.”

Feng Xin shifts uncomfortably under that piercing gaze.

She looks away, heaving a sigh and pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Don’t tell me how, I don’t want to know. Please understand, I’m glad you’re alright,” it looks as if it's a struggle to smile at Pei Ming but she does anyway, wincing all the while. “But don’t ever tell me how you did it. I really don’t want to know.”

“Don’t you need to know a little bit?” Pei Ming hasn’t dropped that smug, satisfied smirk since they left the palace. “To write your report?”

“I’ll kill you myself,” Mu Qing hisses, face dusted with pink, “Shut up.”

“You didn’t want me to shut up when you decided to sleep with me,” Pei Ming pouts, and Ling Wen makes a noise as if she’s been stabbed, hands instantly coming up to cover her ears. Feng Xin sends her an apologetic look.

It’s Mu Qing’s turn to cover his face with his hands. “And with every word out of your mouth, you make me regret that decision even more.”

Feng Xin laughs, almost nervously, stepping between them and bowing deeply to Ling Wen – he feels so, so sorry for her, having to listen to all of this. “We’ll go now. Sorry for the trouble.”

He ushers the both of them out, dipping his head in another respectful bow as they leave.

The gods outside stare at them unabashedly, no doubt because they heard the filthy sex they all had for fucking – hours. Feng Xin wants to die of shame. Mu Qing looks as if he shares the same sentiment, face downturned and dusted with pink. Pei Ming, on the other hand …

“Let’s go again!” Pei Ming practically glows, reaching down and grabbing Feng Xin’s ass through his robes – judging by the sound Mu Qing makes, he’s probably done the same to him. “Don’t you two want to –?”

Both of them slap him upside the head at the same time.

("There's a reason why the North is always at the top of those maps," Pei Ming announces smugly, after railing the both of them into the next century.

It's a terrible joke, but Feng Xin bursts into laughter. Mu Qing doesn't find it as funny, but he can't help but smile once he sees Feng Xin nearly fall off the bed with how hard he's laughing.)