CONGRATULATIONS, USER.
CONGRATULATIONS, USER.
BOUND BY DARKNESS, YET DRAWN BY LOVE: THE DEMON'S ETERNAL CURSE AND THE MORTAL'S UNBREAKABLE HEART IN A WORLD THAT SHOULDN'T LET THEM BE TOGETHER BUT SOMEHOW AGAINST ALL ODDS, THEY COPULATE
MISSION HAS BEEN COMPLETED.
The soft, sweet voice rang in Yi Ming's mind. He furrowed his brows, a silent ah forming on his lips as the sound echoed in the hollowed-out chambers of his consciousness. This was not the voice he was accustomed to—no, far from it. The presence that had long plagued him was a raspy, invasive thing, perpetually hacking as if sick unto death. But this… this was different. It was soothing, a gentle balm to the heart.
He rubbed his eyes, shielding them from the glare of a vast, neon-bright screen that now hovered in the void before him. Moments ago he had poured his own life energy into the story's protagonist, a final, desperate transfusion to secure a victory that was never his to claim. Now, he stood unmoored, the mission's completion message flashing with a relentless, cheerful vibrancy that felt utterly alien.
A weary, dry laugh escaped him. "Fuck… does this mean I'm dead again?"
The screen shimmered, pixels swirling like liquid light before resolving into new text.
USER MAY CHOOSE TO RETURN HOME.
OR…
The word hung there, pulsing. A trail of crimson dots flickered beside it, as if the very system was pausing, contemplating how best to phrase what came next. Finally, the dots solidified, etching the final choice into the space between them.
OR USER MAY ELECT TO STAY.
He swallowed hard, bitting his lower lip, his mind a whirlpool of conflicting feelings. His modern life had been safe, predictable, and utterly, soul-crushingly mediocre.
His thoughts turned to the Sect: the mist-wrapped peaks of Mount Dingbu, the scent of pine and forging fires, the echoing clamor of the training grounds. Here, he had carved a place for himself. He had built something real—a sense of family not bound by blood but by shared hardship, fierce loyalty, and unexpected, blooming affection. The thought of severing that bond, of reducing this vibrant, painful, beautiful reality to a mere memory, was a devastation he knew his spirit could not survive.
"I wish to remain," he stated, his voice firmer than he felt. He watched as the words hung in the void, and in response, the blinding brightness of the screen dimmed, not to grey, but to an absolute, consuming pitch black.
AS YOU WISH.
The gentle voice murmured, not from without, but from within, like a final lock clicking open.
———————
He opened his eyes to the familiar, wooden beams of his bedchamber ceiling, the faint smell of medicinal herbs and sandalwood grounding him instantly.
"Shizun!"
The voices of his disciples cut through the lingering fog, clear and bright with relief. Li Zhameng and Xue Tuzi were at his bedside, their faces swimming into focus. Li Zhameng's eyes were wide, a sheen of unshed tears glistening within them, while Xue Tuzi's expression was a complex tapestry of worry and profound gratitude.
Xue Laohu's head throbbed. He rubbed his temples, the simple motion feeling strangely heavy. "How long have I been out?"
"Four months," Xue Tuzi answered softly, his voice carrying a weight that suggested each of those days had been counted.
"FOUR MONTHS?!" He bolted upright, the movement sending a dizzying rush to his head. To him, it felt as if only a second had passed—a mere blink between the moment he'd poured the last of his life force into Xue Tuzi and this moment of awakening. Yet, four whole months had silently slipped away.
"Shizun, please, don't exert yourself!" Xue Tuzi's hands were suddenly there, gentle but firm, guiding him to lean back against the propped-up pillows.
Li Zhameng approached with a steaming bowl of dark medicine, the pungent, bitter-sweet scent filling the space between them. "Shizun, drink up," he urged, his voice a soft command.
Xue Laohu grumbled instinctively but parted his lips. Li Zhameng brought a spoonful to his mouth blowing on it softly. Xue Laohu's gaze, still unsteady, landed on the small, pale scar at the corner of his disciple's mouth. A strange, warm flutter erupted in his chest, climbing swiftly to his face, growing hot.
"Is it too hot for Shizun?" Li Zhameng asked, pausing, his brow furrowed with concern.
"No, no, it's fine," he mumbled, quickly turning his attention to Xue Tuzi to hide his flush.
Turning his focus to Xue Tuzi, Xue Laohu saw the most profound change. The disciple who had once been a fragile collection of bones wrapped in parchment-pale skin was gone. In his place was a young man who had filled out, his frame no longer frail but hinting at a latent strength. Healthy color touched his cheeks, and the shadow of imminent death had lifted from his eyes, replaced by a bright, alert vitality.
"A-Tuzi, you look... good," Xue Laohu remarked, his voice still carrying the gravel of long disuse.
"That's because he dual cultivates with Shudu Gongzi nearly every day," Li Zhameng retorted. The words were a swift, careless blade, their edge sharpened by a pang of jealousy he made no effort to hide. He punctuated the statement by carelessly shoving another spoonful of medicine into Xue Laohu's mouth, forcing a surprised, choked cough from his master.
On cue, Xue Tuzi's face flushed a brilliant scarlet that spread to the very tips of his ears, a silent confession painted in high color.
"Someone called me?" A familiar voice, reverberated from the doorway.
Shudu stood there, a picture of effortless grace amidst the austere bedchamber. Tuanzhu was perched contentedly on his shoulder, her tiny mandibles working on a juicy slice of ripe peach. In his other hand, he held a woven basket brimming with glistening, dew-kissed fruit. His perceptive eyes swept the room, missing nothing, before landing on the awake sect master. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips.
"Grand Master Xue. You're finally awake."
"Mmm," Xue Laohu managed around the tail end of his cough, his gaze meeting the demon's.
Shudu set the basket on a nearby table with a soft thud, its sweet fragrance subtly altering the room's medicinal air. As he did, the two disciples began speaking over one another, a sudden, eager torrent of words as they sought to catch their master up on everything he had missed during the long, silent stretch of his qi deviation.
____________________________
Rumors of a restless ghost haunting the serene grounds of Mount Dingbu began to circulate shortly after Xue Laohu's recovery. The source, however, was neither phantom nor spirit, but something far more vibrantly alive: the nightly, carnal pleasures of Xue Tuzi and Shudu. Now that his Shizun was awake and recovering, a weight had lifted from Xue Tuzi's spirit, and with it came a liberated, almost desperate passion. He gave himself over completely to his lover's embrace, shedding his daytime reserve with the moonlight.
But the symphony that ensued—the rhythmic thumping, the throaty cries, the raw, beast-like grunts that rattled the very floorboards—terrified the junior disciples, who whispered of possessed oxen and mountain demons.
Xue Laohu, whose chamber fatefully shared a wall with theirs, had not known a full night's rest since awakening. His recovery was being hampered by a profound and specific sleep deprivation.
"My god, must it be every night?" he muttered into his pillow, tossing as the cacophony swelled, becoming louder, more rhythmic, more shamelessly ecstatic. "And must the entire mountain bear witness?" A final, piercing cry—one that sounded less like pleasure and more like a boar being slaughtered—echoed down the silent hallways.
"That's it!"
His patience, worn thinner than rice paper, finally snapped. He threw off his blankets, rolled up the sleeves of his sleeping robe with violent intent, and stormed toward his door, ready to pound on theirs and give both demon and disciple a piece of his mind that would curdle their passion for a week.
He yanked the door open and immediately collided with a solid, warm mass, sending them both tumbling to the floor in a heap.
"Ugh…" Xue Laohu groaned from beneath, rubbing his forehead. "Li Zhameng, your head is as hard as ever."
A low chuckle vibrated against him. In the dim light of the hallway, a mischievous smirk curled at the corner of Li Zhameng's mouth as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over Xue Laohu's ear. "And how, exactly, does Shizun know the hardness of my head?"
Xue Laohu's face ignited into a fiery, all-consuming blush. Before he could sputter a defense, another, far wearier voice sounded from down the hall.
"Grand Master Xue…"
Sect Leader Mao materialized from the shadows, looking more exhausted and disgruntled than a man who had just single-handedly fought off an invasion. He stopped short, taking in the scene before him: his revered Grand Master was tangled on the floor with his own disciple. And from the adjacent chamber, the unmistakable, passionate duet of Xue Tuzi and Shudu rose in a particularly enthusiastic decible, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.
The Sect Leader's eyes flickered from the flushed pair on the floor to the offending wall, then back again. He pinched the bridge of his nose as if warding off a spiritual migraine bred from sheer exasperation.
"I see," he stated, his voice a flat, resigned monotone over the amorous melody. The conclusion he drew was as inevitable as it was catastrophically wrong. "I guess it cannot be helped." He exhaled a sigh that seemed to carry the burdens of the entire, morally compromised sect. "Very well. You may have your disciple."
What? The word screamed silently in Xue Laohu's mind. Have who?Have my disciple?
Before his frozen tongue could form a question, Sect Leader Mao pressed on, delivering his verdict with bureaucratic finality. "It has always been against Sect rules for a disciple to elope with their master. However," he paused, another muffled cry underlining his point, "it seems love… know no bounds. We shall select an auspicious day for your union at once. You need not worry about the arrangements. The sect will take care of everything."
Xue Laohu's mouth fell open, a perfect portrait of stunned, silent disbelief. His brain scrambled to catch up, to protest this monumental misunderstanding.
But the chance to speak was stolen. Li Zhameng, seizing the moment with the speed of a striking hawk, closed the scant distance between them and sealed their lips together in a deep, claiming kiss. It was an answer, a celebration, and a perfect diversion all at once.
And not to mention, a certain someone, pressed so intimately between them in their tangled heap on the floor, had become very, very eagerly aroused.
Xue Laohu moved through the wedding rites as if in a dream. They bowed three times: first to heaven and earth, then to their ancestors, and finally, turning inward, to each other. The air in the mountain temple was thick with incense and the silent prayers of generations. They were both clad in layers of crimson silk, their heavy robes billowing and whispering with every movement in the sacred, silent space.
His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs as he reached for the gossamer veil that obscured his disciple's face. He lifted it slowly, the world narrowing to the space between them.
There they were—those emerald eyes, luminous and deep as a forest pool, their edges kissed with a ring of molten gold. They gazed up at him, not with reverence for a master, but with a boundless, consuming love that stole his breath. It was Li Zhameng who closed the final distance, his lips meeting Xue Laohu's in a searing, possessive kiss that was a vow in itself.
"Shizun," He breathed against his mouth, as he gently pressed Xue Laohu back. "You have no idea how much I have longed for this." His fingers found the intricate knot of Xue Laohu's ceremonial belt, tracing the silk with deliberate intent.
"Not here," Xue Laohu gasped, his own hands flying up to capture Li Zhameng's wandering ones. The sanctity of the temple felt suddenly, overwhelmingly close.
Before he could protest further, strong arms swept beneath him. In one fluid motion, Li Zhameng gathered his master into his embrace and carried him from the hall, his steps swift and purposeful towards their private chambers.
The bridal suite was a vision of opulent red. Silken drapes, the color of pomegranates and fresh blood, cascaded from the canopy of a vast bed. Yet, in stark, virginal contrast, the sheets beneath were an expanse of pristine, untouched white, awaiting their masters. With a soft, breathless laugh, Li Zhameng deposited Xue Laohu gently upon that snowy field. His own robes, already loosened, were shed with impatient grace, his focus entirely on the man before him.
A silent, breathless shriek tore through Xue Laohu's mind. He was utterly adrift. He had never been intimate with anyone but his own hands, let alone another man. The reality was a tidal wave of sensation and terrifying vulnerability. And his own disciple had already decided to conquer him and mount him. Xue Laohu's heart hammered against his ribs with the frantic, trapped rhythm of a startled hare. The memory of Xue Tuzi's agonized, breathless cries spilled into his ears, a cold visceral fear coiled in his stomach. He was not built to endure. The thought of being on the receiving end of that devouring intensity, threatened to unravel his very composure.
"Shizun…"
The voice that called him now was a stark contrast—sweet, soft, a velvet whisper that promised gentleness even as it demanded surrender. Li Zhameng moved over him, his own crimson robes having been shed like a serpent's skin. They pooled around his knees as he crouched on the bed, his body bared in the dim light. He was all lean muscle and elegant lines, a sculpture of youthful power, his gaze holding an intensity that was anything but innocent.
Xue Laohu swallowed thickly, his throat dry. He was not looking at his disciple anymore. He was staring at the terrifying monster that threatened to destroy his being. The instant Li Zhameng leaned in for a kiss, a bolt of instinctual defiance surged through Xue Laohu. Before those lips could touch his, before he could be claimed, he moved. It was not the calculated grace of a master, but the raw, desperate lunge of a cornered beast. In a blur of crimson silk he twisted his body, hooked a leg, and used Li Zhameng's own forward momentum against him. A heartbeat later, the roles were violently reversed. It was Xue Laohu who loomed above, his own body pinning Li Zhameng to the pristine sheets.
He pressed forward with eager, clumsy urgency, only to find himself unable to penetrate, his inexperienced efforts met an unyielding entrance. A soft, knowing chuckle came from Li Zhameng's lips. Beneath him, he shifted, a fluid roll of his hips that brought their bodies into a new, deliberate alignment. His gaze, dark with amusement locked onto his master's flustered face.
"My," he breathed, his voice a husky murmur laced with delight. "I didn't know Shizun was quite so… eager."
Before Xue Laohu could muster a defense Li Zhameng tilted his head, his lips brushing the shell of his master's ear in a whisper that was both instruction and exquisite torment. "One does not storm the entrance without preparation. The area… must be readied first."
The words, so blunt yet devastatingly intimate, sent a fresh wave of scorching heat crashing over Xue Laohu. His face, already flushed, burned as if branded, the blush spreading down his neck in a telltale wave of utter, flustered embarrassment.
Prep the area.
The words echoed in his mind. How is that done, again?
A wave of profound inexperience washed over Xue Laohu. He was, in every sense of the word, a virgin. His entire knowledge of intimacy was a patchwork of: the outlandish, exaggerated pornographic videos of Ogres Desires: Forbidden Fantasies he'd watched repeatedly, and the distant, heated echoes of passion from Xue Tuzi and Shudu.
Li Zhameng, moved with disarming ease he reached across to a small jade table, his fingers closing around a delicate ceramic jar. The air immediately bloomed with the warm, golden scent of honey and distant blossoms—a bridal gift from Elder Yansen, now repurposed with potent intent. Li Zhameng dipped two fingers into the viscous, golden substance, swirling them slowly to gather a generous amount. Then, with tenderness, he began to coat his own swirling pucker of skin.
The mere sight of Li Zhameng's slick fingers disappearing into the orifice, and the intimate sound it made against his skin, acted as a sudden, potent awakening. Deep within the tented confines of Xue Laohu's trousers, Mini Ming rose as if shocked back to life by a divine spark, it was hard and fully erected. In fact, it seemed to have gained a sudden, impressive measure of length straining eagerly against the restrictive silk.
Mini Ming blushed, a faint wispy curl of steam escaped from the top of its head, a tiny, pathetic flag of surrender to the forces of desire now utterly under its command. Xue Laohu glanced down at his own growing erection with a spike of nervous awe. It seemed this sentient member was a natural-born professional at the art of love making, operating on an instinct he himself utterly lacked.
A soft groan escaped Li Zhameng as his own body answered the intimate friction. His flesh had hardened, growing heavy and urgent from his own touch. He pulled his sticky fingers free and slid them into the other man's mouth. Eyes flying wide in shock, Xue Laohu was left dumbfounded by the bizarre, sweet-sour taste. He was then pushed down, a soft weight settling over him as lips nibbled at his scarlet ear and a feverish skin.
"Shizun…"
He withdrew his fingers, licked them clean with deliberate slowness, and then smothered it over his own body before planting himself over Xue Laohu.
"...Shizun," he murmured, the word a ragged breath against his master's skin. "Please... take me."
A sudden gasp caught in Xue Laohu's throat, and with it, his disciple's shaft. Before he could react, the reflexive convulsion of his swallow sent the length slipping down, in exchange Li Zhameng had completely swallowed Mini Ming. The member was hot, an engorged and throbbing length that pulsed against the confines of his mouth. Xue Laohu, inexperienced accidentally gagged on the shaft. He frowned, struggling to keep the sudden rush of saliva from spilling past his lips. After much suckling, he grew used to it, eagerly taking it deeper down his throat. His disciple reciprocated with loving affection, unable to contain his own arousal he released into the other's mouth.
He took his Shizun fully, gulping down the release with devoted thirst. Docile, encouraging licks followed, a tender urging for Mini Ming to give its last squirt.
"Shizun you feel so good. You take me so good," he moaned, as his hips rocked in a frantic, steady rhythm coming to a climax.
Xue Laohu's inexperienced mouth choked on the sudden mouthful. His cheeks puffed out like a startled squirrel's, holding the bitter liquid in innocent, panicked indecision—unsure whether to spit or swallow.
"Shizun, here—" Li Zhameng guided his master's face towards his own bottom. Xue Laohu, unable to hold the bitter fluid a moment longer, retched and spat the mouthful in a single, messy release onto his disciple. The area was nicely coated and ready for Mini Ming's intrusion, he pressed the head into the puckered hole and finally dipped himself in. A pained scream tore from Li Zhameng's throat, jolting Xue Laohu upright. Before him, his disciple's back arched in a taut bow of agony, his form withering against the sheets. A glassy sheen of tears blurred Li Zhameng's vision as the hilt of the shaft found its final, searing depth.
"Does… does it hurt?" The words slipped out, feeble and foolish, as he watched Li Zhameng draw ragged breaths. Of course it hurts, you idiot, he berated himself instantly, wincing at his own thoughtless question. He'd witnessed Xue Tuzi and Shudu enough times—a relentless, driving thrust where the demon never slowed, never relented. But this was different. The thought of causing that same brutal pain on his own disciple, was unthinkable. Hot, constricting flesh tightened around his shaft, but Mini Ming vibrated eagerly against it, hungry for more. Selfish bastard, he thought, attempting to pull back and relieve the pain. The shaft refused, stubbornly holding its ground.
"Shizun…" His disciple's voice was a broken, breathless whale. A trembling hand reached out, palm flattening against Xue Laohu's chest, he could feel the frantic, desperate rhythm of his heart.
"Shizun," Li Zhameng gasped again, tears carving glistening paths through his cheeks. "Do you love me?" The question was raw, stripped of all pretense. "If you say… if you say you love me, the pain will go away. Please."
Xue Laohu leaned in, closing the scant distance between them, pressing his body flush against his disciple's. One hand rose to cradle Li Zhameng's face, his thumb sweeping with infinite tenderness across a damp cheekbone, brushing the tears away.
"I love you."
"I love the sea that meets the sand in your eyes. I love the vast, unbroken expanse of your jade-like skin. Meng Meng," he whispered. "I love you."
A shuddering sigh escaped Li Zhameng as he melted, his arms lifting to lock tightly around Xue Laohu's neck. He buried his face in the crook of his master's shoulder, his entire body going pliant, surrendering completely to the embers of passion.
__________________________
In a nearby room, Xue Tuzi dangled from his bound wrists, limp and heavy as a slab of meat, as Shudu grasped his hips and sank his shaft in, Xue Tuzi's body convulsed in a violent arc. His head snapped back, tendons standing in stark relief against his throat, while his feet splayed and toes extended. The veins in his pale feet rose like blue rivers beneath the skin.
The sound that tore from Xue Tuzi's throat was not human—it was the raw scream of an animal in a slaughterhouse. The noise immediately startled the little Gu worm, Tuanzhu, who had been hovering in a state of exhausted, sleepless misery. From under the rumpled bedding of her makeshift nest, a large, gelatinous head slowly emerged. Her eyes, heavy with fatigue, narrowed into two tiny, furious slits as she scanned the room.
Her gaze landed on the source of her torment: Shudu, his form under Xue Tuzi. Just as her indignation peaked, she watched as Shudu leaned forward and silenced the awful screams not with a hand, but with his own lips, cradling the trembling man's face. The agonized cries dissolved into a series of choked, muffled moans and groans.
With a slight huff, Tuanzhu sank back beneath her bedding, pulling the fabric tightly over her head in a futile attempt to block out the incessantly noisy, humans in heat.
"Shhh... you're so loud," Shudu murmured. He began to quiet him with soft, lingering pecks-first on his damp eyelids, then his flushed cheeks, trailing down the line of his jaw until his lips finally brushed the delicate hollow of his Adam's apple.
"Shushu... I love you," Xue Tuzi cried, his voice cracking. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, shimmering with vulnerability and longing that broke through his pain. He turned his face, meeting Shudu's affection with his own desperate, answering kisses.
"Hmm... do you really love me? Or do you love riding my cock?" Shudu breathed the question into the space between them, holding the trembling man securely in his arms. His gaze was watchful, studying the way Xue Tuzi's body arched and shuddered at every point of contact. He pinched his chin gently, then dragged his fingertips in a slow, deliberate line down the column of his throat, over the frantic beat of his heart, and across the sweat-slicked plane of his chest. There, he paused to flick a pert, bejeweled nipple, coaxing a sharp, breathy gasp from the other's lips. Only then did his touch continue its possessive journey, finally settling on the man's throbbing shaft.
With one hand anchored firmly around Xue Tuzi's hips, he used the other to the man's aching. His own member, buried in the tender flesh, seeking out the perfect spot, sending shocks of pleasure through Xue Tuzi's body with each deliberate thrust.
"Ah I love you… I—I love you!" The soft, broken whispers spilled from Xue Tuzi's lips between ragged breaths. With every choked tear that fell, a profound, possessive satisfaction bloomed within Shudu, his own pleasure growing in perfect, harmony with the other man's surrender. He pressed his thumb hard against the stubborn head, rubbing and grinding at the tiny, unyielding opening until, it leaked. The fluid immediately spilled over his hand—a thick, sticky rush that coated his skin and dripped messily onto himself.
"Ahhh I love you. Ahh." His back arched violently, skin burning. The last of his strength failed, his legs finally losing their desperate grip on Shudu and falling limp at his sides.
Only after releasing inside of him did Shudu finally unbind him. He unwrapped the silk from Xue Tuzi's wrists, letting his arms fall limp onto the bed. The man collapsed, panting heavily, his body still climaxing twisting and turning nerves screaming in relentless pleasure. Shudu presented his still erect length, tracing it over Xue Tuzi's lips until they parted for a few slow, seductive licks. "Is this not big enough for you?" Shudu's voice was a low rumble as he watched it disappear past plush lips.
A shuddering breath was the first answer. "Mmm it's big. Very big," Xue Tuzi whispered, then swallowed it down with a convulsive gasp, only releasing it to pant heavily.
The gem embedded in Xue Tuzi's tongue scraped harshly against Shudu's length. Shudu furrowed his brows, his voice a low grumble. "You should take that thing off." It didn't hurt, not truly, but it sent an odd, prickling sensation skittering across his skin with every deliberate brush. Xue Tuzi, however, only offered a soft, dismissive hum in reply, taking the member completely into his mouth.
With every one of Shudu's gruff grunts, he bobbed his head, eyes lidded in bliss. "Ugh you take me so good," Shudu gasped, stroking his cheek. The praise made him ravenous, taking Shudu all the way to the back of his throat. "I'm coming," Shudu grunted through a clenched jaw. His brows furrowed in a fierce struggle for restraint, the veins along his neck cording with the intense, building pressure.
As soon as Xue Tuzi released him, Shudu spilled his seed over his face in a sudden, thick and sticky cascade, his own breath escaping in a deep, satiated sigh. Xue Tuzi lapped at the semen coating his lips, a portrait of delicious ruin.
"What a waste," he murmured. He leaned in, giving the dripping head a series of playful, cleaning licks, the rough gem on his tongue clicking softly against the tiny, still-leaking hole.
"That apothecary woman sold me conception pills," Xue Tuzi said, sitting up. His hand drifted from stroking the throbbing flesh to cupping the heavy sack, weighing it thoughtfully in his palm. "Do you think they'll work?"
"They won't work at all if you keep swallowing," Shudu retorted, a bead of sweat tracing a path from his temple down the sculpted plane of his bronze chest.
In response, Xue Tuzi merely pouted and reached over, plucking a single hair from the demon's sensitive skin. Shudu winced, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips before feeling his flesh stones get devoured.
"Tuzi…" he gasped, his grip shifting from forcing the jaw open to tilting the man's head back, exposing the long, vulnerable line of his throat. In the same motion, he sealed his lips there, a searing kiss that burned a path from his neck to the curve of his shoulder. Xue Tuzi shuddered, a tremor at the sudden, overwhelming sensation.
Shudu's whisper was a hot breath against his ear, lips just brushing the lobe. "One touch, and you melt for me." His hand stroked the man's erect member. "Can you blame me?" Xue Tuzi panted in reply, his legs falling open in vulnerable invitation. "How could I not submit to the man I love?"
He dipped one finger, then two, into the hot flesh, massaging it between his fingertips until the opening melted into a soft, honey-like slickness.
"Do you like it?"
"Yes."
"How much do you like it?"
"Very much."
Nothing pleased the demon more than the sound of Xue Tuzi begging—for more, for penetration, for release. He relished the anguished moans begging him to hurry, teasing just enough to bring the other man to the brink of tears before relenting. "This cock is yours," he murmured against feverish skin. "It fucks no one but you." Then he pressed his own slick length into the yielding flesh and drove it all the way inside.
An eternity later, they lay spent upon the bed. Xue Tuzi gasped softly, chest still heaving, as Shudu brought his thumb to the man's lips. He stroked the seductive, delicate mole at the corner of his mouth before claiming it in a deep, indulgent kiss.
"Shushu…" Xue Tuzi whispered when they parted, his eyes pleading, face still streaked with tears. "Do you love me?"
The demon watched him, a contented gleam in his gaze, before leaning close. His whisper was a hot promise against the shell of Xue Tuzi's ear. "I'll only say it once." To punctuate the threat, he caught the lobe between his teeth in a sharp, possessive bite, making the other man gasp and shrink back.
He brought his still harden member near Xue Tuzi's thighs, before spreading them apart and sinking himself in. Xue Tuzi's face contorted in silent agony, his brows furrowing deeply as he bit down hard on his own lip, stifling the raw cries that clawed at the back of his throat. The demon's shaft curved, once more finding that little tender lump of flesh that drove Xue Tuzi insane. Anytime his tip brushed against that sensitive knot, it sent waves of pure, shocking pleasure coursing through Xue Tuzi's body.
His whisper was a velvety threat against the shell of Xue Tuzi's ear. "Do you hear me? Can you feel how much I love you?" The sound of the demon's sack viciously slapping against his behind was obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Tuzi… Tuzi…" The punishing strokes continued, a patient, degrading rhythm that slowly painted the skin a vivid red.
A broken gasp was his surrender. "Yes! I can feel it, I can feel your love!"
Blah Blah Blah:
I was just itching to write some stuff and there you have it. I wrote an extra mainly because I wanted to explore Xue Laohu's relationship with Li Zhameng. But this conclude's the story.
Thank you for reading
Till Next Time!