[closed post - in an atmospherically gloomy room]

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe is not proud of it, but he has spent the entire day rereading the first volume of Blood at Dusk. He's not hiding, but he has no desire to see anyone—except perhaps Nina, but when he ventured out to find her, he heard what sounded like a large number of people talking in one of the bars and turned away. He should have keyed the talisman the other way around, so he could call her. It's selfish, but he feels like being selfish.

So now he is curled up in one of the lounge areas and reading the book Shen Qingqiu gave back to him. It's the margin notes that are getting to him. Shen Qingqiu's casual writing is messier than the meticulous calligraphy on the invitation he sent, and alive with his personality—it grows sloppy when Shen Qingqiu finds something to be passionate about, then small and cramped, almost frantic as he tries to fit all his thoughts on the page. He may not be the true Shen Qingqiu, but he has a scholar's mind, criticizing certain scenes as "derivative", or the dialogue as "unrealistic." Luo Binghe treasures every note, every insight into Shen Qingqiu's mind—every opportunity to picture him hunched over the book, his cherished forehead creased with focus as he jotted down this litany of complaints.

And besides reading Shen Qingqiu's notes, Luo Binghe is reading the book. Despite what Shen Qingqiu derides as a "standard supernatural romance," Luo Binghe is not too hardened to be moved by the mishaps of Ted and Isabelle. Ted is drawn to Isabelle for reasons he cannot explain, and tries his best to care for her despite his melancholic nature. Despite the fact that he's never learned how to care for anyone. He sees, in Isabelle, salvation from his life of endless darkness, of the self-loathing nightmare of being a monster. He loves her, even though she is purely beautiful and good, and he lives in a world of blood and filth that has corrupted him utterly. And Isabelle loves him, but fears him. She is right to; what he wants from her is more than she can give, and he will never stop wanting it, no matter how much she tries to appease him. His monstrous nature would overwhelm her if she let it; it's best for her to run.

If one could die of heartbreak, Luo Binghe would have dropped dead right after his mother. So he knows he must simply continue enduring it. He runs his fingers over Shen Qingqiu's notes, reading every one five times over before moving on, wishing the book was longer.

Comments

[sagramore]

It isn't, as it happens, the first time he's offered himself as comfort to someone who would rather have someone else, and he isn't offended by the idea. He keeps one hand at Luo Binghe's waist, buries the other in his hair, and kisses him with none of the yielding of the time before; he kisses him as if he were Laertes, as if he had no other task now than to be kissed and taken care of.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe cannot quell his hunger—it only intensifies as Sagramore touches him more. He has been so miserable, and then so relieved, and now he doesn't want to think. He kisses down Sagramore's jaw to his neck, mumbling against the skin, "Tell me—tell me what you liked, the last time, tell me the good things I did—"

[sagramore]

"My sweet lord. I loved how thou moved me as though I had no weight to me at all, how thou laid thy hands in my hair and pulled, how thou took of me as if my only purpose were to give to thee. Thou wast commanding and haughty and I was pleased to serve thee."

[protagonisthalo]

"Yes, you were so good to me—you are so good—" He bites down on Sagramore's neck.

[sagramore]

"Wilt thou serve me a little, my lord?" His breath catches at the bite.

[protagonisthalo]

He nods, not pausing what he's doing, which is licking over the place he just bit. He has done so before—he has certain wives who favor it that way, Xiao Gongzhu with her whip, or sometimes Sha Hualing—but he's been afraid to do such a thing with men. With his wives, it's clearly play, and everyone knows who is truly in charge. In contrast, when Claudius treated Luo Binghe like he would lie down and submit, it caused the world to tilt disorientingly around him. But Sagramore won't disrespect him—and anyway, he no longer cares. Learning that Shen Qingqiu is holding back on him because of something so stupid has broken whatever restraint was left. He wants to do this, so he will. "Yes—tell me."

[sagramore]

"First I would have thee take us somewhere else but here. I would not risk anyone look on thee but me." He traces a fingertip along the rim of Luo Binghe's ear, then the line of his jaw, ending by grasping his chin and lifting his head in a grip that's gentle but firm, expecting no argument.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe is dazed and comforted by the confidence in his grasp. "Come to my rooms, then. Wait—" He turns away and carefully gathers the book and Shen Qingqiu's fan, tucking both away into the storage ring on his pinky. Then he turns back. "I am at your disposal."

[sagramore]

"Thy rooms, then. Take me."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe understands the need for discretion. The situation has changed since they coupled on the sofa; he doesn't touch Sagramore as he shows him the way to the rooms he's selected. Luo Binghe favors dark colors and polished wood, and the mansion has provided a lavish suite (although not as big as the one in his palace) draped with rich black silks. In the center sits a four-poster bed platform with a carved wooden canopy, shrouded by deep burgundy curtains embroidered with dragons and lotuses. Luo Binghe knows Sagramore intends to take the lead, but he is impatient, so he shoves him against the door and resumes kissing him ravenously. Let Sagramore bring him to heel if that's what he wants.

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs and buries his hand in Luo Binghe's hair again, pulling his head back. "To the bed, my lord."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe huffs out a breath at the tug on his hair, and gazes at him through half-lidded eyes. "You said you liked my strength—" He puts his hands to Sagramore's waist, and then slides them down to the backs of his thighs, silently asking permission to hoist him.

[sagramore]

He nods, and in spite of himself he shivers at the touch -- he does like being manhandled, and he likes having his thighs touched.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe lifts him easily, encouraging Sagramore to wrap his legs around his waist. He drops Sagramore to the bed with a little force, just to make him breathless, and then crawls on top of him, not kissing him again but merely burying his face in Sagramore's neck to smell him and feel the warmth of his skin. "Tell me what you'd like—I am at your service."

[sagramore]

That doesn't make him feel less desirous, and his hands wind up in Luo Binghe's hair again, carding through it. He's considering the size of Luo Binghe's cock, weighing what he wants and what he thinks he can reasonably manage and what he thinks would be helpful to Luo Binghe. Finally, "I would have thee."

[protagonisthalo]

It takes him a moment. The request is so unexpected that for a moment he misinterprets it, thinking Sagramore means he will have what Luo Binghe has to offer, what he gave him before. Then he is glad he's already hiding his face, unsure how to react. It would be different from play at submission with his wives; it would be exactly what he's feared. But when he thinks of himself with Shen Qingqiu, in the same circumstances, he feels a hot shiver of desire. He doesn't want to go into it unprepared.

There is no part of him capable of admitting to inexperience or insecurity.¹ He escalates instead, propping himself up on his forearms to look up at Sagramore from under his lashes. "To have the emperor in his own chambers, in his own bed. No one would believe it—the emperor himself spreading his legs for you."

¹But it won't be too surprising if Sagramore guesses.</I

[sagramore]

"No one should know it but thee." He brushes Luo Binghe's lips with his thumb. "Thou and I. Then what should it matter whether it would be believed?"

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe shudders, desire suddenly roaring to life within him like a bonfire. "Do it, then." He licks the tip of Sagramore's thumb.

[sagramore]

"The salve thou hast. Give it to me." His words are gentle, but still a directive.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe reaches into the inner pocket of his robe and hands him the little pot.

[sagramore]

"Christ, thou'rt good," as he takes it. He strokes Luo Binghe's cheek approvingly. "Thou hast ever well-pleased me. Let me see thee disrobe."

[protagonisthalo]

The praise is as heady as drink, and he lets it cloud his mind, making him giddy. He kneels over Sagramore and undoes his belt, and then lets his outer layer fall, pooling on the bed like water. He takes his time stripping off the rest, running his hands over his body as he does, thumbing his nipples—he knows how to display his assets. Finally he kneels naked, already half-aroused. He dips his head so that his hair falls forward fetchingly. Luo Binghe is not used to how bright the magic lights¹ are in the rest of the mansion, so the light in here is dimmed and warm. He knows how it glistens off his body, and he remembers how Sagramore eyed him the first time they met. He wants to feel desired.

¹Electricity.

[sagramore]

"Beautiful," he murmurs admiringly. "My lord is breathtaking." And he reaches out to run his hands down Luo Binghe's chest, caressing his body, before lifting his eyes back to meet Luo Binghe's. "I'm honored thou hast chosen me for this."

[protagonisthalo]

He smiles. "It's good you know the value of that which you possess, dear Sagramore."

[sagramore]

Sagramore laughs. "That's true. And I can see the value of thee. I hope I will give thee cause to know mine."