[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

[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."

[protagonisthalo]

"Show me, then." He tosses his hair with some of his usual haughtiness. "I tire of waiting."

[sagramore]

His voice softens for another order. "Lie back, my lord."

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe rolls off of him and lies back. He cannot help but do it for show, conscious of how his hair pools underneath him and how a small arch of his back will show off his chest.

[sagramore]

He laughs again, but it's appreciative, and settles between Luo Binghe's thighs, bending down to press a kiss at the base of his cock. He has the clay pot still in his hand, and he opens it and dips his fingers in.

[protagonisthalo]

He tangles a hand in Sagramore's hair affectionately. If he were forced to be very honest with himself, he might admit to being nervous, but it's covered over by spite. See, Shen Qingqiu, how hard is it to sleep with a man?

[sagramore]

Sagramore bows his head into the touch as he strokes Luo Binghe's patently ridiculous cock (he adores it, but it is patently ridiculous). It feels good to have the heat and weight of it in his hand, and for a few moments he's distracted by that, and how easy it is to kiss and suck the crown of it while he strokes. He does want to have it in him again at some point.

But he has a plan of action, and he gathers a little more slick. He goes slow, as he did for Laertes, assuming this is new for Luo Binghe. He's very patient when it's worth it, and he opens Luo Binghe up by degrees, attentive to his reactions.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe has done nothing like this before, not even for himself. Unlike what he and Sagramore did before—Sagramore servicing him on his knees, Luo Binghe taking him—there is no comparison with what Luo Binghe has done with his wives, unless he is in the role of the wife. The thought makes him flush all down his neck and chest—it is profane, taboo, but it urges him on like a kick.

What Sagramore is doing doesn't hurt, exactly, but it feels new—it brings his awareness to places and sensations he's never known before. This feeling of something undiscovered within his own body makes his breath hitch desperately; he struggles to keep his hips still.

[sagramore]

"Art good," Sagramore murmurs as he works, because he's terrible at being quiet and he likes to talk to his partners. "Thou'rt so good, feel thee, thou'rt so sweet and thou takest me so well."

He takes long enough that Luo Binghe might very well start to get impatient, but he wants to make sure he's properly ready; he's determined not to hurt him.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe is impatient. He has never been impatient with women, happy to take his time attending to her pleasure before even thinking about his own. He thought this an appealing quality, something that contributed to the legends of his prowess in bed. Now, though, he is learning that he is not patient at all. Sagramore is so handsome and appreciative. The combination of his sweet praises with the pressure of his fingers makes Luo Binghe squirm. "Yes, yes—if I'm so good, then test my fortitude already," he manages.

[sagramore]

He laughs. "At thy word, my lord." He draws his fingers out slowly, teasing at Luo Binghe as he does.

[protagonisthalo]

"Mm—" He holds back a swear. "You have some demonic nature about you, Sagramore—"

[sagramore]

"I should hope so, if it made me half so pleasing as thee," sitting back on his heels to get the pot again.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe props himself up on his elbows, eager to see Sagramore prepare himself. Sagramore's naked body is well worth looking at. "You have yet to discover how pleasing I can be."<sup>1

1</sup>A mild callback to a line this Luo Binghe never delivered, "Shizun still doesn't know how considerate I can be," which was then, and is now, innuendo.

[sagramore]

Since Luo Binghe is watching him, he undresses more purposefully than he otherwise might, making sure there is opportunity to admire him -- though he looks much the same as the last time Luo Binghe had cause to see him naked, there is one new and substantial bruise around his ribs from seizing and falling in Asmodean's room. He takes the time to fold his clothes before he puts them aside (because he is enjoying making Luo Binghe wait) and then begins slicking up his cock.

[protagonisthalo]

Luo Binghe watches him greedily—his eyes flicker at the sight of the bruise, but he makes no comment. It is still novel to look upon a man's body and desire it openly, and every moment of it sates a thirst he didn't know existed. Sagramore is not as big as Luo Binghe, he thinks a little smugly, but he is well-formed and quite lovely to look at. And he is taking too long on purpose. "You are a wicked tease—making the Emperor wait here undressed while you attend to your own matters, rather than his pleasure. I might throw you in the dungeon."