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Yue Qingyuan smiles and nods at Qi Qingqi, attention fixed on a point across the room, where Shen Qingqiu is smiling sharply at a cultivator in front of him, fan coyly poised in front of his face.

“Sect Leader,” Qi Qingqi’s voice comes, annoyed. “The requisition order?”

“The requisition should be approved,” Yue Qingyuan says, distractedly.

Shen Qingqiu has lowered the fan a few inches, so that just the top part of his mouth is exposed; he leans in towards the other man flirtatiously.

Yue Qingyuan allows his hands to curl tightly inside his sleeves, where they can’t be seen, but turns to give Qi Qingqiu, who is staring at him judgmentally, a smile. “Send the order to An Ding Peak, and let me know if there are any issues.”

“Of course, Sect Leader,” Qi Qingqi says dryly. Her eyes dart across the room to land on Shen Qingqiu briefly, before cutting back to Yue Qingyuan with an expression that could make a lesser man want to crawl into a corner and die. 

The waves of judgment roll off Yue Qingyuan like water off a duck.

“I’ll let you go,” Qi Qingqi says, and sweeps off.

Yue Qingyuan is suddenly anxious. He is never without something to do at a function like this- he knows that there are many officials he should be headed towards at this very moment- but in the sudden, resounding silence of a three-second period with no one speaking to him, his eyes are drawn, against his will, like magnets, to Shen Qingqiu, who has allowed the other man to corner him against a wall.

Yue Qingyuan breathes out slowly to calm himself. Shen Qingqiu has made many choices in his life, and flirting with other men while Yue Qingyuan is right there is hardly the worst one. He must be trying to make some kind of point; better for Yue Qingyuan to let him do it.

But just as he’s about to look away, he sees the cultivator reaching out an impudent hand towards Shen Qingqiu’s waist.

Before he’s thought of it, Yue Qingyuan is standing by the man’s side, and his wayward hand has brushed against Yue Qingyuan’s waist, instead of Shen Qingqiu’s.

The other man freezes, and Yue Qingyuan does his frostiest impression of Shen Qingqiu, as he slowly looks down at the man’s hand.

It snaps back, as though burned.

Yue Qingyuan looks up at the man’s face.

“Please be more careful with your hands in the future,” he says. His words are strictly polite; his tone, a little less so.

“Begging the Sect Leader’s forgiveness!” the man stammers, and has bowed and rushed off even before Yue Qingyuan has fully turned back to face Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu is watching him, the fan tapping lightly at his lips only partially hiding his satisfied expression. He is much too poised to lean back against the wall, but Yue Qingyuan is struck by the sudden thought that when they were younger, he would have crossed his arms and tilted his head back, chin lifted up in a sneer.

He was shorter than Yue Qingyuan, back then. Now, he just hides his face poorly behind his fan, and looks him directly in the eyes from the same height.

“I interrupted your conversation,” Yue Qingyuan says. He sounds stiff to his own ears. “My apologies.”

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrow. The fan taps harder.

Ah. That was not what he should have said.

Yue Qingyuan makes an attempt to salvage the situation. “I’ll let you get back to the event,” he says, already turning to leave.

The sneering noise Shen Qingqiu makes in response is almost inaudible, but it stops Yue Qingyuan in his tracks nonetheless.

“So eager to go,” Shen Qingqiu’s voice says from behind his fan, low and cutting.

Yue Qingyuan’s heart sinks.

“I would be happy to stay, if you wish it,” he says in response.

They’re in public; he can’t let anything out but those proper, direct words.

They’re in public; he can’t turn and take Shen Qingqiu’s hand in his.

They’re in public; he can’t tell Shen Qingqiu that for him, he would give everything up to never leave him behind again.

Not even when they’re alone, can he let out the thick, oily regret that rises in his throat.

All he can offer is platitudes and niceties now. Now, when it’s long since too late to redeem himself.

“If I wish it,” Shen Qingqiu says, eyes watching him.

Yue Qingyuan meets his gaze steadily, and Shen Qingqiu’s eyes narrow.

“How generous,” he says, tone cool.

“Qingqiu Shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says, pleadingly.

Shen Qingqiu’s eyes glance down at Yue Qingyuan’s waist.

Where the other cultivator’s hand brushed against him.

“Come with me,” Shen Qingqiu says, and turns to walk briskly away.

----------------------------

Shen Qingqiu leads Yue Qingyuan through the gardens on a slightly circuitous route, before bringing him back to a small, unused room near where the function is taking place.

The quiet voices of the cultivators mingling don’t carry through the thick wood of the building, but their riotous laughter is plain to hear.

There are rooms that are farther from the guests, that would be equally suited to whatever Shen Qingqiu has planned.

Yue Qingyuan knows this, because they’ve used many of them. For quiet meetings, whispered discussions, a few arguments.

He wonders which this will be.

Shen Qingqiu turns on him when the door is closed, glaring cooly.

“Well?” he says.

Yue Qingyuan doesn’t know what to say in response, so he says nothing.

The silence drags on, and Shen Qingqiu’s gaze grows cloudier and cloudier.

After a few minutes more, he speaks.

“If you’re not going to say anything, I will,” he says.

Yue Qingyuan stays silent, waiting for him.

“Ridiculous,” Shen Qingqiu says. He looks slowly up and down Yue Qingyuan’s body, eyes narrowed.

“You let him touch you,” he says.

Yue QIngyuan doesn’t say anything.

“That eager for hands on you, that you’d let just anyone do it?” Shen Qingqiu says, tone mocking.

Yue Qingyuan still doesn’t respond. He and Shen Qingqiu have had very sporadic sexual encounters, on and off, for the past few years. He thinks that Shen Qingqiu would know that he is not particularly interested in desperate contact with strangers.

“Ridiculous,” Shen Qingqiu says again.

He’s at an appropriate, measured distance from Yue Qingyuan. He’s not in his space.

The room is small, but an entirely normal size. They’re not in a closet.

The air circulates less than the places they usually meet, though; Yue Qingyuan can smell the light fragrance Shen Qingqiu wears in his hair.

Shen Qingqiu is not being in any way inappropriate with his actions, but Yue Qingyuan is starting to feel…

He swallows, making sure none of his internal struggle shows on his face.

“Come here,” Shen Qingqiu says imperiously, gesturing in front of himself with his fan.

Yue Qingyuan hesitates for a moment, but steps forward.

He’s now within easy reach of Shen Qingqiu.

“You really let him touch you,” Shen Qingqiu says, lifting a few locks of Yue Qingyuan’s hair with his fan. He lets the strands slowly fall, draping onto Yue Qingyuan’s shoulder. “Desperate.”

Yue Qingyuan’s scalp tingles with the slight movements of his hair.

His whole body feels sensitive.

“And at a formal event, too,” Shen Qingqiu says, moving the fan to trace lightly over the lines of Yue Qingyuan’s collar. It never quite brushes the skin of his neck; only presses the fabric gently into his collarbones. “You couldn’t even stay long enough to welcome your guests- you snuck off with the first person who asked you to leave. Came to a tiny, out of the way room with them. What were you thinking would happen?”

Yue Qingyuan notices that he’s stopped breathing.

He carefully makes himself start again.

“Xiao Jiu,” he says, quietly.

Shen Qingqiu glares, and raps the fan on his chest, instantly withdrawing it.

“It’s Shen Qingqiu,” he says.

“Qingqiu Shidi,” Yue Qingyuan says, helplessly. His heart is tight in his chest. Each beat feels like it hurts.

“That’s better,” Shen Qingqiu says, still scowling. The fan taps against his chin. “Now, what did you want? Coming here like this.”

Yue Qingyuan watches him, wordless.

He can’t tell Shen Qingqiu what he wants, because Shen Qingqiu doesn’t want the same thing.

Shen Qingqiu waits for seconds that drag into minutes, as Yue Qingyuan fails to respond.

Shen Qingqiu’s face gets darker and darker.

“Maybe you’d enjoy that man who touched your waist more than this,” Shen Qingqiu says, finally. “Should I go find him for you?”

“No,” Yue Qingyuan says, jerking his head back, brows furrowing.

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, sounding satisfied. “Even though you look like you want to be touched?”

He reaches his hand out, and lightly brushes Yue Qingyuan’s waist, in the same spot the other cultivator had.

Yue Qingyuan closes his eyes, breathing out carefully through his nose.

Shen Qingqiu draws his hand slowly up, over the fabric of Yue Qingyuan’s sect leader robes, tracing the line of his lapel. His voice is still low in Yue Qingyuan’s ears. “Look at that. A single touch, and you close your eyes and let me do whatever I want. Do you give it up this easily for everyone?”

“Qingqiu Shidi…” Yue Qingyuan says, voice carefully controlled, to hide the shiver that wants to work its way through him.

“If you’re really so desperate, I can help you,” Shen Qingqiu says, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “You need that? For someone to give it to you, even though you’re too much of a coward to ask for it?”

Yue Qingyuan feels a tremor run though his body. Shen Qingqiu’s hand, resting on his chest, must feel it too, because he laughs.

“Get against the wall,” Shen Qingqiu says, pushing Yue Qingyuan back disdainfully.

Yue Qingyuan, eyes closed, does what he says. He takes half a step back, and his shoulders meet the wall.

“Jealous of me flirting, because you wanted to be the one taking someone home,” Shen Qingqiu mocks, hand undoing Yue Qingyuan’s pants roughly. He jerks them down, and Yue Qingyuan’s cock feels the cool air wash over it. “And you’re already hard. How shameless.”

Yue Qingyuan’s fists clench at his sides, breath carefully controlled. He keeps his eyes tightly shut, as the air shifts in front of him, and-

“Xiao.. Qingqiu Shidi!” he gasps, eyes flying open as he feels his cock enveloped in wet warmth. Shen Qingqiu is on his knees in front of him, mouth already wrapped around his cock. He glares up at Yue Qingyuan, and slides his teeth on his cock warningly for the slip of the tongue.

“Don’t, you- you don’t have to-” Yue Qingyuan says desperately, shoulders and neck heating in shame as Shen Qingqiu works his tongue along the bottom of his cock.

Shen Qingqiu makes a noise of disdain around his cock, and starts working his head back and forth, the wet slide of Yue Qingyuan’s cock making obscene noises.

This is not the first time that Shen Qingqiu has… has done this for him. But like this, in public, close enough to the guests that their occasional laughter filters through the walls, it’s...

Yue Qingyuan hadn’t been able to say no to the idea of being touched by Shen Qingqiu, when it was just his hand. If someone had walked in, it would only have been Yue Qingyuan who would have been humiliated.

But if someone walked in on this- saw Xiao Jiu down on his knees, pleasuring the sect leader, his usually pristine robes picking up the dust from the unswept floor-

No. It’s too- too demeaning for Shen Qingqiu, too...

“Wait,” Yue Qingyuan says, voice desperate.

Shen Qingqiu ignores him completely, mouth doing something filthy that makes Yue Qingyuan’s cock leak all over his tongue.

“Q..Qingqiu Shidi, stop-” Yue Qingyuan says, helplessly.

Shen Qingqiu pulls off and glares at him.

“What on earth is the problem?” he says, testily, hand still working Yue Qingyuan’s cock. “You’re not the one down on your knees in a dusty storeroom, what could you possibly have to object to?”

“I… if someone comes…” Yue Qingyuan says, eyelids falling to half mast under the fast movement of Shen Qingqiu’s hand on him.

“Fine,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and with a surge of spiritual energy, he shoves a freestanding bureau into the door. It rams into it with a low bang. “Now keep your mouth shut, I have to concentrate.”

Yue Qingyuan feels his face heat further, as Shen Qingqiu take his cock back in his perfect, wet mouth.

Shen Qingqiu does the absolutely filthiest things possible over the next few minutes, and Yue Qingyuan is completely unable to stop himself from enjoying it. He shouldn’t want Xiao Jiu like this- shouldn’t enjoy the way his cheeks hollow, the slick sounds that come from his mouth, the wetness of his tongue and lips, how his face looks from above when he’s down on his knees, the spit dripping down his chin. 

But all Yue Qingyuan can do is tilt his head back to rest against the wall, hands clenching into fists in his sleeves, tight enough that his nails leave red marks in his palms, and try not to come.

It’s a futile effort, though; he’s never been able to resist Xiao Jiu.

“X- Qingqiu Shidi,” he says, voice tight. “I- stop, I’m going to-”

Shen Qingqiu gives him a disdainful look, and completely fails to stop what he’s doing.

“Wait,” Yue Qingyuan says, face hot. 

There is absolutely no way he can come in Shen Qingqiu’s mouth. He would never forgive himself for dirtying him like that, being so disrespectful, when all he wants is to…

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve the humiliation of it. Yue Qingyuan would rather that Shen Qingqiu put him down on his knees, make Yue Qingyuan suck him in public, come in his mouth and defile him on the ground where anyone could walk in. He owes that to Shen Qingqiu, so why is Shen Qingqiu letting him treat him like this?

It should be Yue Qingyuan-

“ Stop ,” he says, desperately, thighs starting to shiver, “I can’t-” 

He digs his nails into his palms.

Shen Qingqiu completely ignores him.

Yue Qingyuan shifts as though trying to diplomatically extract himself, but Shen Qingqiu has him backed against the wall, and his hips have nowhere to go. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth is devastating him, slick and wet and relentless, not letting up for a moment.

Shen Qingqiu gives a particularly hard suck to the head of his cock, and Yue Qingyuan’s hand jumps up, resting discourteously on Shen Qingqiu’s face, trying to push him away before the hot, shivering heat in him escapes him in a way he can’t control.

He can’t bring himself to use any real force in his push, though, so his hand just rests beseechingly on Shen Qingqiu’s face, trying to guide him back.

Shen Qingqiu makes an annoyed noise, and sucks harder.

“I-” Yue Qingyuan says desperately, feeling the heat in him spreading out from his center, through his chest and waist and legs and arms and into his fingers and his neck, pulsing in time with the pull of Shen Qingqiu’s mouth on him. “Shidi- stop, stop, I’m going to-”

Shen Qingqiu hums around him in vindictive satisfaction, and Yue Qingyuan slams his fist into the wall with his free hand, hard enough that the heavy wood splinters, other hand still gentle on Shen Qingqiu’s face.

He comes. He comes in Shen Qingqiu’s mouth, while he’s down on his knees, servicing him with the gathering of distinguished guests only a few rooms away, holding Yue Qingyuan’s hips pinned against the wall so he can’t do anything but bite down on his lip to muffle the gasps that try to escape.

“Xiao Jiu- Xiao Jiu-” he pants, as he fills Shen Qingqiu’s mouth with come.

Shen Qingqiu tongues at him roughly through his orgasm, until the last spurts of come have finished, then pulls off with a popping noise, mouth full.

Yue Qingyuan knows that it’s full, because Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth to let him see the slick mess he’s left.

“Disgusting,” Shen Qingqiu says with an unkind laugh, words thick through the wetness.

Yue Qingyuan rubs his thumb unthinkingly over Shen Qingqiu’s cheek, unable to tear his eyes away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he doesn’t say. 

He knows it wouldn’t matter.

“Did that satisfy you?” Shen Qingqiu says, batting Yue Qingyuan’s hand away dismissively, eyes locked on his face. “Coming in my mouth like that? Having me down on my knees?”

His fingers go idly to the fan on his waist, but he doesn’t draw it, just strokes them along it.

“If only your guests knew how dirty their esteemed sect leader was,” he says, still watching Yue Qingqyuan. “All the things he likes to do to the people in his power.”

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes close. They feel a little hot.

“Don’t look away from me,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, and Yue Qingyuan opens his eyes again. His gaze, without his permission, darts down to where the whiteness still pools in Shen Qingqiu’s mouth.

Shen Qingqiu laughs at him, and finally rises from his knees, brushing himself off.

“Can’t take your eyes off what you did to me, huh?” he says, leaning into Yue Qingyuan’s space.

“Open your mouth,” he says. 

Yue Qingyuan does.

Shen Qingqiu looks at him disdainfully for a moment, and then closes the space between them, slowly pressing his tongue, still coated in the white slickness, into Yue Qingyuan’s mouth.

Yue Qingyuan’s eyes want to fall closed; they feel like they can’t stay open, like everything in him wants to give way and block out everything and return what surely counts as a kiss. But Shen Qingqiu is watching him, eyes narrow, and he told Yue Qingyuan not to look away from him.

So he doesn’t.

Shen Qingqiu fucks his tongue slowly into Yue Qingyuan’s mouth, pressing more and more of his come into him, and Yue Qingyuan accepts it all, obedient and conciliatory.

After a few minutes, Shen Qingqiu pulls back, mouth wet.

“There,” he says, voice harsh. “That should satisfy you.”

Yue Qingyuan presses his fingers into the wall by his hips to hide the way they tremble.

He would give anything to be able to touch Shen Qingqiu. To- to hold him, gently, carefully, in his arms for a brief moment. Or to take his hand, even just once, in kindness.

To kiss him, softly.

Just once.

But he lost the right to ask for that long ago.

“Say thank you,” Shen Qingqiu says, tone haughty.

Yue Qingyuan closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, and means it.