aviansoph archive
fanwork page
[fic] Revelations From A Layover Flight
7 November 2024
This fic is also on AO3, if you find it easier to read there
Fandom: SVSSS
Focus: cumplane (sqh/sqq)
Setting: pre-abyss era, mildly canon divergent au
Length: 7,167 words
Content notes:
Themes:
Cucumber-typical homophobia; Airplane's sex-related plot devices; bros who argue and have sex about it; wingfic
Summary:
Shang Qinghua can practically see Shen Qingqiu’s head about to explode. “Bro! chill!!”
Bro does not chill.
“How does this even make sense,” Shen Qingqiu seethes. “Wings big enough to hold a human aloft would be too big to manage when walking around! These wings aren’t long enough! And how does the extra shoulder joint attach?”
Shang Qinghua shrugs. His wings shrug with him.
Foreword:
this is a very mild canon divergence au wherein sqq and sqh have their mutual discovery about being transmigrator bros much earlier on, during lbj’s white lotus days before the endless abyss. I needed this for the vibes to be right. don’t worry about it.
thanks to:
- verity for cheerleading
- ladyfish for giving this a title
- roland for betaing
teamwork! <3 ilu all
Fic:
Shang Qinghua can practically see Shen Qingqiu’s head about to explode. “Bro! chill!!”
Bro does not chill.
“How does this even make sense,” Shen Qingqiu seethes. “Wings big enough to hold a human aloft would be too big to manage when walking around! These wings aren’t long enough! And how does the extra shoulder joint attach?”
Shang Qinghua shrugs. His wings shrug with him.
The wings were an accident, in Shang Qinghua’s defense. He hadn’t meant to make it canon that you could meditate in the right intersection of energies and end up sprouting feathers. He had fun noodling around with the idea but never got around to working it into a proper wife plot.
Every time Shang Qinghua stumbles across another way this world stole his private, personal thoughts to expand the lore, he gets more bored of feeling horrified and violated. Whatever. This is fine. He doesn’t care anymore.
Shang Qinghua has been hearing tales since his second childhood of lofty, remote cultivators soaring between mountaintops on majestic wings, but you hear a lot of crap about cultivators if you listen to marketplace rumours. (Shang Qinghua listens, obviously, but discerningly.) He’s a peak lord on a mountaintop sect and he’s never once seen a cultivator fly by on anything but a sword.
But strange things happen when you spend time with Shen Qingqiu. Shang Qinghua has spent decades trying to avoid plot as much as possible, but Shen Qingqiu can’t help attracting it. Even when he leaves his sparkly-eyed baby protagonist disciple at home.
Anyway, here they are, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu away from Cang Qiong on a mission, downed from their swordflight by an unexpected storm in the middle of nowhere and desperately trying to stay dry in the midst of the downpour. And now Shang Qinghua has wings.
“What kind of wings do I have?” Shang Qinghua suddenly wonders. He twists to try to see behind himself, then remembers he could just spread his wings.
He concentrates on the sensation of newly available coiled strength on his back, and carefully extends his wings. They’re huge, no matter what Shen Qingqiu has been saying about wing size. Fuck yeah.
Shen Qingqiu looks scornful. “Do you even know how to recognize a bird species by its wings?” he asks.
“Do you?” Shang Qinghua shoots back.
Shen Qingqiu, in fact, does, and Shang Qinghua is treated to a lecture on wing anatomy and colouration, which Shang Qinghua immediately tunes out. The conclusion Shen Qingqiu quickly reaches is that Shang Qinghua has the wings of a red-crowned crane. “Of course that’s what they are,” Shen Qingqiu says, disdain in his voice. “You’re incapable of being original.”
Experimentally, Shang Qinghua shrugs his wing-shoulders. It’s very satisfying. “I’m not listening!” Shang Qinghua chirps. “My wings are great. Hey, I wonder if I can really fly with these things?”
“You’d better not be able to,” Shen Qingqiu says darkly. “ – but if you can, you need to show me. I need to see it!”
Outside, the heavy rain continues. It’s loud on the tile roof of this hut they found to wait out the weather in. Nobody’s going flying today, wings or sword.
---
The mission wasn’t supposed to take longer than a couple of weeks, and half of that time was allocated to flying there and back. The mission also wasn’t supposed to involve two peak lords travelling with no disciples along for support.
Qing Jing Peak’s intention with this trip was to take care of a perfectly ordinary visit to maintain an ongoing relationship with the scholars of a minor temple with expertise in spirit beasts.
Shang Qinghua was coerced into joining the group of travellers by Yue Qingyuan’s sad eyes while Yue Qingyuan worried aloud about Shen Qingqiu’s tendency to deprioritise his own well-being. Shang Qinghua, in a previous life, is the one who gave Yue Qingyuan the power of those sad eyes in the first place, but that didn’t stop him from being affected. Fuck! Yue Qingyuan was right about Shen Qingqiu, and moreover, if little white lotus Bingbing saw his shizun return to him in anything less than perfect health, Cang Qiong's preordained destruction might come early.
The mission went horribly awry, of course. The temple was delighted by the visit, but oh dear, this wasn’t a good time after all, the milk-frost walnuts were having a mast year, and a feral herd of demon pigs were gorging themselves and going on maddened rampages, much worse than the temple had ever seen before.
Due to a quirk of how they metabolise the milk-frost walnuts’ psychoactive ingredient, this is a real danger to any region with a local population of demon pigs. To most creatures, the walnuts cause a pleasant lethargy, like the feeling of stretching out for a nap in a patch of sunshine on a chilly day. Demon pigs are enraged by it instead, and demon pigs are dangerous at the best of times.
None of Qing Jing’s disciples were killed in the ensuing attempts to assist with the demon pigs. Shen Qingqiu came through the encounters safely, to Shang Qinghua's relief. Not a single injury on that flawless immortal skin.
But the disciples had to be left behind to convalesce at the temple, and Shen Qingqiu couldn’t wait around for them to be ready to travel. He promised Luo Binghe he would only be gone for two weeks, and he was insistent that he couldn’t break the promise, no matter what Shang Qinghua said. And Shang Qinghua was not about to let Shen Qingqiu travel alone.
So, a long journey home for Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu with only each other for company. If unexpected wings are the only noteworthy event on the journey, Shang Qinghua will be surprised.
---
“I wish Binghe were here,” Shen Qingqiu says mournfully. He’s looking at the sad collection of snack food unearthed from his and Shang Qinghua’s qiankun pouches. Mostly Shang Qinghua’s.
If it weren’t for the rain downing them unexpectedly, the two would be cozily ensconced in a proper inn, whiling away the afternoon with a host to provide them hot tea and a good meal. As it is, they’re just lucky to have found somewhere dry to wait it out.
“Bro,” says Shang Qinghua, pityingly. “You’re an immortal. You can’t be incapable of inedia, even if you’re used to Bingbing doting on you.”
“Oh, and do you practise inedia so regularly yourself?”
Shang Qinghua feels no need to answer that.
The hut is small, only one room, with no furnishings or supplies. The door doesn’t latch properly. Two peak lords are sitting on bare wood flooring in the middle of the room, hair occasionally fluttering (elegantly!) in the whispers of wind coming in around the door.
Shang Qinghua’s wings dominate the space, unfolded behind him. They’re a shocking white even in the dim light of the hut, except for the patch of feathers in the bottom middle of each wing. Shang Qinghua has already forgotten what Shen Qingqiu called those feathers when he was monologuing about bird wings.
“I can’t believe you won’t share your melon seeds,” Shen Qingqiu says accusingly.
“They’re my seeds,” Shang Qinghua protests, not for the first time. He likes to travel with personal snacks. You never know when you’re going to end up somewhere unexpected for longer than you want. Following someone like his king will teach this lesson quickly. Shen Qingqiu, by comparison, is used to having Luo Binghe anticipate his every need.
Some time passes. Shen Qingqiu gives up attempting to look like a peerless immortal and lies flat on the floor, staring up at the underside of the tile roof. Shang Qinghua finishes his melon seeds. He thinks regretfully of the winter’s supply of milk-frost walnuts they left behind them, as he absently preens the feathers on his wings. They don't feel right until he gets them all lying smoothly against one another.
“Why didn't I get wings too?” Shen Qingqiu asks suddenly. “We both spent time meditating here after we landed. You grew wings, I didn't."
Shang Qinghua coughs.
Shen Qingqiu groans. “I’m not going to like the answer, am I.”
Well. Probably not. Shang Qinghua hadn't planned out PIDW based on what would make Peerless Cucumber happy. He needed to write chapters with broad appeal, and one rich nerd couldn't make up for all those lost subscriptions.
To be fair, these days Shang Qinghua doesn't like the answer either. When he came up with the idea, he never expected it would be applied to him.
Shang Qinghua has tried to not be a virgin! He’s been ready to give it up to anyone offering, ever since he was a miserable outer disciple trying to survive being a spy while working to get the An Ding peak lord to notice him enough to bring him in as an inner disciple. He had a lot going on. Some nice uncomplicated physical release sounded great.
But the rest of Cang Qiong looks down on An Ding, and within An Ding, Shang Qinghua’s peers regarded him as merely a potential rival. Not even the sexy nemesis kind of rival. Now, as peak lord, he has even fewer options.
And in the demon realm, nobody is willing to touch Mobei-Jun’s property.
Shang Qinghua is used to making his own fun, is the unfortunate conclusion.
“So, spill,” Shen Qingqiu says irritably from where he's lying on the floor. His hair is working itself loose from his guan and his collars are distinctly rumpled, to say nothing of the general aura of sogginess left by the rain. Luo Binghe would die from shock, or perhaps from lust, if he saw his beloved shizun behaving so casually, Shang Qinghua is pretty sure.
Shang Qinghua flexes his wings meditatively. There isn't room in the hut to stretch them out to their fullest extent, but he can flap them a little. Shen Qingqiu’s hair and robes become even more mussed in the sudden breeze. Instead of complaining further, Shen Qingqiu releases a gusty sigh and lets it happen. He doesn't even try to keep his hair out of his face.
Is Shen Qingqiu moping so hard in order to manipulate Shang Qinghua into something? Shang Qinghua's suspicious. This isn't like Shen Qingqiu. “You can't be that upset just about not getting wings, bro,” Shang Qinghua says.
“Ugh,” says Shen Qingqiu. “I hate you. This is ridiculous.”
Shang Qinghua closes his wings with a quick and silent snap. Wow, these wings are so cool! He opens and then closes them again, just because he can. He wants to take the wings out to try flying. It’s criminal that he’s stuck inside until the rain passes.
“Don’t hate me, hate this weather,” Shang Qinghua says.
“I can hate multiple things at once.” Shen Qingqiu’s eyes are closed and his face is scrunched up in a very inelegant manner. Shang Qinghua flops down onto his back on the floor next to Shen Qingqiu. Hmm, the wings aren't as pillowy as Shang Qinghua had been anticipating.
They both lie there for a while, in nearly-companionable silence. Shen Qingqiu breaks first. “No, but really,” he says. “How come you have wings and I don't? It doesn’t make sense!”
“I think the rain might be letting up a little, what do you think?”
"Aha! It’s something embarrassing, isn't it!” Shen Qingqiu retorts, triumphant. “Given what book we live in, something sexually embarrassing! Admit it, you've done something weird! What is it, have you given someone a foot job? Or are you into -” Here Shen Qingqiu blushes brightly red, but he manfully forges on. “Into, like, getting pegged?”
Shang Qinghua can't help bursting into a cackle of laughter. Poor Cucumber, doomed to be unable to talk reasonably about sex no matter how much of it he’s read in detail.
Then he stops laughing abruptly. If Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have wings, then that must mean he’s had sex. OOC! OOC! How could that have happened?
“What?” Shen Qingqiu says. He sounds self-conscious. “Is it just that you’ve, uh, had sex? And I haven’t? It’s not my fault I’m still a virgin! Practically all the women I know here are future wives for Binghe, they’re off limits!”
Damn, Shang Qinghua marvels. What a funny little brain Shen Qingqiu has.
“They’re not his wives yet. And women aren’t the only option, you know,” Shang Qinghua says. He lets his voice drip with all the condescension Shen Qingqiu deserves.
Shen Qingqiu stiffens perceptibly on the floor next to him.
“Are you saying you think I’m gay? What the fuck, bro. I’m normal.”
Wow, there’s the kind of Cucumber-ass comment Shang Qinghua knows and loves. That guy is not normal or straight. He’s seen Shen Qingqiu drooling over Liu Qingge’s pretty face and pretty muscles enough times to know what a lie that is. And the comments Peerless Cucumber used to write about Bing-ge make it obvious he’s always been more interested in being a wife than fucking one.
What guy managed to convince Shen Qingqiu it isn’t gay to have sex? Shang Qinghua owes him a drink.
“Anyway,” Shen Qingqiu continues into the silence, unable to let go of defending himself. “Gay sex is gross. What kind of man would let someone stick anything up his ass?”
Noted! Shen Qingqiu has never experienced prostate stimulation! “What about handjobs?” Shang Qinghua asks out of dreadful curiosity. “Or blowjobs? Are those gross?”
“That’s not really sex, though, come on.”
“Oh, bro.” Shang Qinghua elbows Shen Qingqiu in the side. Not sex! Comedy gold. “Anything can be sex if you do it with the right attitude,” Shang Qinghua says. “If I licked your ear right now, if I did it sexy enough that you got off on it, that would be sex.”
Rain continues to clatter on the roof above them. Underneath it, there’s the quiet shushing noise of silk on silk as Shen Qingqiu adjusts his position, stretching out and wriggling a bit. Shen Qingqiu slowly says, “Okay, but stuff can just be giving a friend a hand, that kind of thing happens all the time, it doesn’t make it gay. You know how it is!”
Shang Qinghua absolutely does not. He doesn’t have the kinds of erotically charged friendships between men that Shen Qingqiu seems to collect without even trying. How many of them has Shen Qingqiu had sex with? Shang Qinghua is starting to think it’s more than just one.
“So,” Shang Qinghua says. “If I sexily licked your ear right now, and you got turned on because of it, that wouldn’t be gay?”
“You cannot lick an ear sexily!” Shen Qingqiu protests. His voice is higher than usual; his breathing has become audible. How embarrassing for Shen Qingqiu, Shang Qinghua thinks with satisfaction; Shen Qingqiu is turned on just by the thought of Shang Qinghua licking his ear.
Shang Qinghua rolls over onto his front, towards Shen Qingqiu. His wings, freed from being lain on, relax and flex a bit. Shang Qinghua watches as Shen Qingqiu's eyes track up to Shang Qinghua's face and then beyond, to the huge wings hanging over them both. Eyes wide, Shen Qingqiu's mouth drops open just a bit, and then his tongue dips out to lick his lips. Hell yeah. Shang Qinghua is winning here without having to do a thing!
Leaning in closer, Shang Qinghua brings his face near to Shen Qingqiu's ear, lets out a warm gentle breath, and pauses there to see what will happen. Shen Qingqiu seems frozen, pinned to the floor by his own dazed reaction to this mild bit of attention.
One arm over Shen Qingqiu's chest, the other supporting himself. Shang Qinghua tilts his head the rest of the way down, opens his mouth, lets his teeth lightly graze the upper curve of Shen Qingqiu's ear. Shang Qinghua can feel how fast Shen Qingqiu's heart is beating. Can feel how Shen Qingqiu's breath seems caught in his throat. It’s an amazing feeling of power, what he can do to Shen Qingqiu. Is Shang Qinghua's heart beating a touch faster than usual as well? He’s not going to admit anything.
Shang Qinghua is holding his own breath as he opens his mouth further to curl his tongue along the same path his teeth already took, and Shen Qingqiu gasps audibly. It sounds so good that Shang Qinghua can't stop himself from continuing, applying teeth and tongue again to ear, then the tender hidden skin behind the ear, then down to the neck. The whole time, Shen Qingqiu stays completely still, as if he’s afraid that anything he does might interrupt and stop what Shang Qinghua's doing.
It’s a baseless fear. Shang Qinghua is obsessed with the feel of Shen Qingqiu's tender skin, with the way Shen Qingqiu lets out tiny little shocked noises that are barely audible beneath the sound of the rain. There’s no way Shang Qinghua is going to stop. He’s half on top of Shen Qingqiu at this point, one hand in Shen Qingqiu’s messy hair, probably leaving hickeys at the base of Shen Qingqiu’s neck. Shang Qinghua’s head is spinning with how turned on he is, more than he thinks he’s ever been, growing hard against Shen Qingqiu's leg. An answering hardness is rising from Shen Qingqiu.
“So is this sexy?” Shang Qinghua asks, a little breathless. He can feel Shen Qingqiu’s pattering heartbeat beneath his own. Shen Qingqiu's chest rises with an expanding breath, then catches at the top, like he’s about to answer but can’t get the first word out.
Shang Qinghua tightens his hand a bit in Shen Qingqiu's hair. “Tell me it’s sexy, you know it is.”
In this life and the last, Shen Qingqiu is a stubborn person. He keeps his lips firmly clamped together on any answer. Well, Shen Qingqiu hasn’t called chicken yet! That’s as good as an invitation, from him.
Time to move on to the next angle of attack. Shang Qinghua pulls himself the rest of the way on top of Shen Qingqiu, straddling Shen Qingqiu and putting himself in line to kiss the stubbornness off Shen Qingqiu's lips. Shen Qingqiu melts as soon as their lips touch, open and panting for Shang Qinghua's attentions.
Yes. This is so good. This is so good! Why has Shang Qinghua never made out with anyone before? The heat and pressure and slick wetness of Shen Qingqiu's mouth against his own leave Shang Qinghua tingling and desperate. He wants to consume Shen Qingqiu whole, wants to encompass and devour until this feverish energy is all he’s made of.
Shen Qingqiu has given up on his attempt to imitate a dakimakura and is finally responding, matching Shang Qinghua kiss for kiss. Their dicks are grinding together, their breaths are intermingled, their hands are clutching each other close.
This is the hottest thing Shang Qinghua has ever experienced.
When Shen Qingqiu's hands reach Shang Qinghua's wings, the experience abruptly goes next-level. Wow, his wings are sensitive! Shen Qingqiu's fingers explore them gently, sending tingling shivers spreading throughout all of Shang Qinghua. His skin is on fire and his brain is filled with static and he feels amazing, like he could live forever, like he isn’t doomed by the plot at all.
Shang Qinghua can hardly bear to do it but he pulls his mouth free for just long enough to say, “Is this sexy yet?”
“Shut up,” Shen Qingqiu groans. "You're the worst. Why are you like this?” But he can’t really mean it, because he yanks Shang Qinghua's head back down into kissing range and bites Shang Qinghua's top lip, gently, not even like he’s trying to hurt Shang Qinghua. Hot. Shang Qinghua goes with it.
Back when Shang Qinghua was still a desperate webnovel writer churning out chapters of nonsense for just enough money to get by, he didn’t bother doing any research into how to write realistic sex. That wasn’t what his audience was looking for. What they wanted was to hear about how Luo Binghe’s enormous masculinity had overwhelmed yet another meimei, and Shang Qinghua didn’t have an enormous masculinity or access to eager meimeis who wanted him to push them down.
So Shang Qinghua borrowed from what he saw in other webnovels and called that appropriate market research and was done with it.
If he occasionally ventured into reading danmei, well, his personal time was his own, right? And sometimes details from the sex scenes or the ideas about masculinity were transferable to Bing-ge, even if the text of PIDW was purely heterosexual.
It was the danmei scenes that Shang Qinghua used to fantasise about. Danmei was what inspired him when creating a lot of his favourite characters. Hell, he’s practically living in one since transmigrating, minus the happy ending: “I’m In Love With My Cold-Hearted King But He’ll Kill Me!” Hahaha, Shang Qinghua would totally have read that one if he’d come across it on JJWC in his old life. He’d have jacked off about it for sure.
Shang Qinghua never read any danmei like this, though. Wings and platonic friendship/antagonism/kissing...it’s distinctive. It’s outside anything he’d ever considered for himself. This stupid gay chicken make-out is going to feature in so many of his fantasies, and he can never let Cucumber bro know just how effectively he’s blowing Shang Qinghua’s mind.
Can Shang Qinghua convince Shen Qingqiu to blow more than just his mind, though? Shang Qinghua absolutely needs to have his dick blown, is the thing. Shen Qingqiu needs to take responsibility for what he’s doing to Shang Qinghua.
Shen Qingqiu is going to be an easy mark, Shang Qinghua's sure. Fairly sure. Mostly sure. There's no way that man hasn't done blowjobs before, if he’s this ready to do gay shit with anyone who looks at him right.
Possibly Shang Qinghua is a little over-invested in the thought of blowjobs.
“Hey – bro,” Shang Qinghua says after he eventually manages to surface again from making out. His dick continues to grind down against Shen Qingqiu's through all their combined layers of fancy silk, because stopping is unthinkable.
Shen Qingqiu looks adorably cross at having been prevented from continuing to make out with Shang Qinghua. “Come on, Airplane,” he says with impatience. “What now?”
“Have you ever touched someone’s dick?” Shang Qinghua asks. A simple starting place. Shen Qingqiu makes a dismissive noise, as if it’s a pointless question to even ask. Okay, fine, maybe if you're Shen Qingqiu and everyone falls in love with you all the time, the question is pointless. Shen Qingqiu probably has to make special effort to not be touching dicks constantly. It’s ridiculous.
“If you want me to touch your dick you can just say so, you know,” Shen Qingqiu says. Shang Qinghua can practically hear him roll his eyes.
"Alright, yes, come on and touch me, you asshole.”
“Rude!” But Shen Qingqiu begins to locate the ties on Shang Qinghua's clothing, efficiently working to get him as stripped as possible as soon as possible. Shang Qinghua works to return the favour. Messy drifts and waves of fabric collect around the two of them, and Shang Qinghua is feeling great about how things are going, when Shen Qingqiu abruptly pauses.
“What is it now, bro?” Shang Qinghua says, aware that his voice sounds whiny but completely fine with it. The situation calls for whining.
Shen Qingqiu’s hands, instead of doing anything useful, are on Shang Qinghua’s shoulders. Right where the fancy new wings sprouted. And he’s feeling out the fabric around them.
Ohhhh, Cucumber bro is mad about things being nonsense again, Shang Qinghua thinks with a suppressed giggle. The interaction of his clothing and wings doesn’t make sense, it’s true! His robes were not designed to accommodate the musculature that supports effective wings, and they certainly weren’t designed to have holes for the wings to extend through. And yet Shang Qinghua’s clothing fits as perfectly as it did when he dressed this morning.
Shang Qinghua suffers a little more tailoring investigation from Shen Qingqiu, but when Shen Qingqiu's fingers wander up from fabric to feather and stall out just petting Shang Qinghua's wings repeatedly, something has to be done. It feels good, but wings aren’t everything! “You’re getting distracted,” he points out. “I thought you wanted to touch my dick.”
“You were the one who wanted my hands on your dick,” Shen Qingqiu retorts, but he lets go of the wings and refocuses.
They're both pretty close to naked at this point. The supple skin of Shen Qingqiu's strong body feels amazingly soft against Shang Qinghua's own. Shang Qinghua spreads his hands on the sides on Shen Qingqiu's ass and lets his fingers dimple the rounded form of muscle and fat. Delicious.
Shang Qinghua’s thinking of exploring Shen Qingqiu's dick next, just so someone’s hand is on someone's dick, at least. But it turns out it’s naked make-out time instead, and Shang Qinghua is obsessed. Somehow the experience is even better than when they were still clothed. Mouth on mouth, desperate and messy, gasping for breath and clinging to each other until Shang Qinghua can no longer tell where his body ends and Shen Qingqiu's begins. Sweat-dampened skin slides on skin and limbs tangle together – and over them both, massive wings are spread open and fluttering in time with each movement of the human bodies below.
---
The strangeness of being alone in his own dogblood webnovel lasted decades for Shang Qinghua, after he left his old life behind. He's still not over this new strangeness of not being alone anymore, of having a compatriot, another transmigrator who understands what it means to be in the world of PIDW.
Having Shen Qingqiu track you down after a peak lord meeting to threaten you with a fan because he overheard you mutter something to yourself in chinglish is not the kind of experience Shang Qinghua would wish on anyone. Shen Qingqiu might not be the original flavour but he still knows how to exude an aura of quiet menace when he wants to.
Everything worked out in the end, at least! Shang Qinghua didn’t get murdered by an angry cucumber, nobody betrayed anyone to anyone, and Shang Qinghua finally had an explanation for the weird plot deviations he’d been noticing in the last few years. Also, Shen Qingqiu kind of became a friend, or whatever. Not that Shen Qingqiu would ever admit it.
Shang Qinghua’s suspicious, though. His System is on his ass all the time about plot markers and points and the chance of dying. Shen Qingqiu must have the most permissive System in the world to get away with everything he does. What’s the endgame for the Shen Qingqiu character role? There's no way this little Bingbing will grow up to murder his Shizun: he’s caught on to what a sucker Shen Qingqiu is, and is well into a campaign to lock down Shen Qingqiu as a supportive ally. Not that Shen Qingqiu needs much encouragement to dote on this cute young version of Luo Binghe. Peerless Cucumber was always hopelessly obsessed.
A clash between the human and demonic realms, centred on Luo Binghe, is inevitable. Shang Qinghua wonders occasionally if, in this version of PIDW, Shen Qingqiu will have to die by another hand in order for the plot to get back on track. Shang Qinghua's System has made some ominous hints over the years; he just hopes he won’t have to be the one to deal the final blow. He’s got his own death to dodge, and that’s more important than anything else.
It’ll be lonely, if Shang Qinghua manages to survive the plot and Shen Qingqiu doesn't. But Shang Qinghua can handle it. He’s done it before.
---
Shang Qinghua shudders, the intensity of pleasure too much to hold inside himself. Shen Qingqiu somehow got their bodies flipped so that Shang Qinghua is the one being pressed into the floor, wings spread out to each side. Of his own inspiration, Shen Qingqiu is mouthing his way down Shang Qinghua's body. Right now he's on a scenic detour in the vicinity of nipples, and Shang Qinghua is perfectly willing to let Shen Qingqiu do absolutely anything he wants. Shang Qinghua has always vaguely assumed that nipple play is something written into sex scenes because straight men like to perv on boobs and want to be able to pretend it’s for the woman’s pleasure. Now he's discovering what a powerful erogenous zone a nipple can be.
Shen Qingqiu licks at Shen Qingqiu's right nipple with an adorable expression of furrowed concentration, while his dexterous fingers play with the left one. “More,” Shang Qinghua demands. He’s not sure what kind of more he wants, but it feels absolutely necessary.
An abrupt, firm pinch isn’t what Shang Qinghua expects, but it’s probably what he deserves. And also, as sharp bright sensation radiates out in the aftermath of the pinch, it turns out that's exactly the more he was wanting.
Before Shang Qinghua can decide how to react, Shen Qingqiu is moving again, nibbling at a fold of skin across Shang Qinghua's belly.
The sensation tickles, almost. Shang Qinghua writhes under this fresh assault, not sure what he’s feeling but into it anyway. “More!” he demands again. Shen Qingqiu lifts his head slightly, brow furrowed, lips curled in disdain. His lips are moist, pink, flushed; mesmerised by this vision, Shang Qinghua stares.
“You’re being awfully demanding,” Shen Qingqiu informs Shang Qinghua. His breath ghosts over the sensitized skin of Shang Qinghua's belly. “Is this what you're always like? Maybe your next girl ought to tie you up.” The words are confident but the rising colour on Shen Qingqiu's cheeks gives away his discomposure.
Shang Qinghua is helplessly fond of this incomparable idiot.
And also – he’s so desperately turned on he doesn’t know what to do with it. There's no chance Shang Qinghua will beg Shen Qingqiu for anything. In lieu of saying anything at all, Shang Qinghua pulls Shen Qingqiu's head back down, pressing his face into the curve of his own belly. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t have the face to back up his words with actions, giving in to where Shang Qinghua puts him with no resistance. He even starts the nibbling back up again, with bonus licking and sucking.
God, it’s hot, what Shang Qinghua can get Shen Qingqiu to do.
Experimentally, Shang Qinghua pushes Shen Qingqiu's head further down. He goes easily, eagerly, like it's what he wants anyway, and then his mouth is on Shang Qinghua's dick.
It’s perfect. It’s everything. Shen Qingqiu’s mouth is deft, eager, and practiced. That nerd has an impressive ability to lose himself in whatever he’s focusing on, and what he’s currently focusing on with intense dedication is Shang Qinghua's dick. Almost immediately, Shang Qinghua is on the edge of nutting.
Shen Qingqiu sucks dick with the same blissed out expression of pleasure he gets whenever he eats a particularly delicious new snack Luo Binghe cooked for him – as if sucking dick is a special treat made just for him. Moans and gasps and the wet sounds of sex fill the air. So does a stream of embarrassing words spilling from Shang Qinghua’s mouth.
“Yes! God, yes! You’re so – I can’t – please, please, please –” and then he’s coming.
Shen Qingqiu swallows. Of course he does.
Spent and shivery with pleasure, filled with a warm hazy glow of well-being, Shang Qinghua relaxes into the wooden floor, the layers of clothing beneath them doing little to soften the experience. Shang Qinghua doesn’t mind. He had sex! Sex is amazing! A dopey smile has invaded his face, he’s sure. He doesn’t think it's possible to oust it.
Long moments pass, probably, before Shang Qinghua refocuses his thoughts enough to remember that sex involves two people and maybe it would be polite to give Shen Qingqiu a hand. When Shang Qinghua focuses his sleepy eyes, he sees with relief that Shen Qingqiu is already on top of things. All that’s required of Shang Qinghua is to lie back and enjoy the show. No problem!
Shen Qingqiu has a gorgeous dick, displayed in a private performance as he kneels over Shang Qinghua's prone body, Shang Qinghua's thighs between his knees. Both of Shen Qingqiu's hands are busily involved in rubbing his shapely piece of flesh, which results in the muscles of his torso flexing as a perfectly mesmerising backdrop to the display as Shang Qinghua watches.
The days when Shang Qinghua wrote about the original Shen Qingqiu are decades behind him; he can no longer recall whether he gave Shen Qingqiu that dick, or if was never relevant in the narrative of PIDW. Either way, he hopes Shen Qingqiu is grateful.
The pecs are definitely courtesy of Shang Qinghua.
If it wouldn’t require effort, Shang Qinghua would be a little tempted to lick those pecs.
“Fuck, yeah, you’re so hot,” Shang Qinghua says encouragingly. Shen Qingqiu’s eyelids flutter and his breathing picks up speed. Fuck yeah. Winning at dirty talk is easy!
Abruptly, Shen Qingqiu stops. His eyes narrow – not in the sexy way. “Airplane,” he says. The vibe is distinctly menacing. Shang Qinghua feels menaced.
He also feels confused. Literally nothing happened that should change the vibe so suddenly.
“Get on with it,” Shang Qinghua says with a sigh. “What’s your problem now?”
“Airplane,” Shen Qingqiu says again. He gestures sharply towards Shang Qinghua with his hands. His dick bobs between his legs, abandoned. “Your wings.”
What? Wings? Oh right, the wings. Shang Qinghua tries to curl them forward around himself so he can inspect them, and realises the problem.
The wings. The virginity wings. The virginity wings which Shang Qinghua no longer has, because he no longer has his virginity, because he just had sex with Shen Qingqiu. Those wings. Shang Qinghua begins to laugh.
“It’s not funny!” Shen Qingqiu says with a high, strident voice. He’s so wrong, though. It’s amazingly funny, and Shang Qinghua can’t stop laughing, loudly and unflatteringly, completely overcome.
By the time Shang Qinghua’s spasms of laughter have mostly calmed down, Shen Qingqiu is leaning back on his heels, arms crossed, his icy stare impaling Shang Qinghua as he waits. A blush high on Shen Qingqiu’s cheekbones undermines his attempt at being stern. The sight, so perfectly Shen Qingqiu, sets Shang Qinghua going on another round of laughter.
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Shang Qinghua asks eventually, wheezing a little. He’s never going to let Shen Qingqiu live this down.
“Figured what out?” Suspicion lurks in Shen Qingqiu's tone.
“You got it backwards! I’m the one who’d never had sex before – but now we've had sex and...goodbye wings!” Shang Qinghua wipes his eyes, wet from all his laughing. “You deflowered me, bro!”
In the silence that follows, Shang Qinghua realises that he can no longer hear the rain. All he hears through the crooked door is the rustling of wind through still-damp leaves and the endless drone of cicadas. The wind blowing in smells fresh and clean.
Shen Qingqiu sits down with a thump beside Shang Qinghua on the disordered layers of their clothing. He’s still naked, still somehow hard, but his vibe has changed. He looks small. Vulnerable.
Oh, hell.
“It’s – that wasn't really sex, though. It doesn’t count? It didn’t involve. Um. You know.” Shen Qingqiu sounds quietly miserable. “Penetration.”
Shang Qinghua deserves to be drunk if he’s going to have this kind of conversation “Bro,” he says, as gently as he can manage. “It did.”
“But I’m not gay!”
Shang Qinghua wishes he could blame that attempt at logic on drunkenness too. Why aren’t both of them drunk right now? With a sigh, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. Afterglow thoroughly ruined. “The sex sure was, though. And you seemed pretty into it.”
Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Well, sure, you might not be able to write sex scenes worth reading, but you’re like....” He gestures vaguely. “Of course it was a good time, with you.”
What’s Shang Qinghua even supposed to do with that? This whole conversation is absurd. He's abdicating from it.
“Look, believe what you want about yourself. You can keep telling yourself you're not gay if that makes you happy. But – we were having a good time there, and you didn't get to finish. You want a hand with that?”
Shen Qingqiu’s dick looks incongruously jaunty, in contrast with the rest of Shen Qingqiu. He clearly does want, but instead of accepting, he says, “Is that gay too?” His gaze is downcast, like he can't bear to look at Shang Qinghua. Ugh. How rude of Shen Qingqiu, refusing to accept the out. What’s the king of repression doing, intentionally continuing to talk about it like this? No, thank you!
“What else is gay?” Shen Qingqiu says with a vicious, controlled quietness. “Is kissing gay? Jacking off? Hugging? Is it gay to have lots of single guys as your friends? Tell me, how much has everyone been laughing at me behind their backs?”
“Aww, bro, it’s not like that!” Well, it is like that, a little, but laughing out of – fondness, Shang Qinghua guesses. Other people respect Shen Qingqiu too much to be mean-spirited. And anyway, most of the harem of hot men who trail hopefully after Shen Qingqiu are too serious-minded to laugh about much.
Shang Qinghua can’t say any of this to Shen Qingqiu.
Why did fate make Shang Qinghua the only person available to talk someone through a gay identity crisis? Shang Qinghua might be gay, but he has no other qualifications! He just wanted a bit of mutual fun!
Beside Shang Qinghua, drooping like the weight of his woe is dragging him down, Shen Qingqiu is silent. A single finger traces its way through the clothes beneath them, fiddling with the cloth in a desultory way. His hair, messy after their earlier activities, obscures his face.
“Look,” Shang Qinghua says desperately. “I kind of always thought of Bing-ge as gay, you know. You were right that he wasn’t fulfilled with papapa with all those random women.”
Shen Qingqiu's head jerks up. “Airplane!” he snaps.
Hah! Talking about Bing-ge is a sure way to redirect Cucumber-bro's attention!
“Why did you write all that meaningless crap, then, if you knew I was right? Subjecting Bing-ge to wife after wife, and making your readers sit through it all, when it wasn’t even what he wanted? Bing-ge was cool, bro! You were just dragging him down!”
“Should I have given him a harem of husbands instead?” Shang Qinghua asks. Half because he’s curious what Shen Qingqiu will say, and half because it’s too much fun to tweak Shen Qingqiu's nose.
“Absolutely not! You would have written the same pointless papapa, the same brainless love interests who get forgotten about as soon as they’re added to the harem. You still wouldn’t have focused on what was actually good.” Shen Qingqiu’s passion is fully roused at this point. He punctuates his points with sharply emphatic gestures, leaning in towards Shang Qinghua once again. Engaged and eager.
Ah, it’s like old times again, except that Shang Qinghua gets the benefit of hearing a Peerless Cucumber comment straight from Shen Qingqiu's pretty mouth. “How about just one husband?"
“Just one?” Shen Qingqiu pauses, actually surprised by the suggestion. “Well! It would depend on what he was like, of course. Luo Binghe deserves a wife – well, a husband – who appreciates him properly! Who understands him and loves him, instead of being overpowered by lust or wanting to use him. The...the husband should be smart and capable. Kind-hearted! Loyal!” He stabs a finger towards Shang Qinghua's still-naked chest. “Did you have a husband in mind?”
There’s no good way to answer the question. He didn’t, actually. In all the changes the PIDW narrative saw, from the first brainstorming Shang Qinghua did to the final version that was written and posted online, Shang Qinghua never considered writing a version of the story where Luo Binghe got to have a truly happy ending. That wasn’t the kind of story Luo Binghe was meant for.
PIDW was a story of striving: an endless hunger for more power, more sex, more revenge, more affirmation. For nothing more than a meagre survival wage for himself, Shang Qinghua doomed Bing-ge to a life of meaningless and superficial success. Poor guy.
Shang Qinghua has been quiet for too long. Shen Qingqiu's eyes begin to narrow. “You didn’t, did you,” he says, accusing. “Bing-ge deserved better than everything you subjected him to! With his power and skills, his protagonist IQ, he could do anything he wanted, but you wouldn’t let him!” Shen Qingqiu’s voice rises in volume as he speaks. “You trapped him! You didn’t even allow him to think about a life that could look different than the one you made for him! Fuck you, Airplane!”
This tirade from Shen Qingqiu could almost be considered a compliment. Caring so much about a character Shang Qinghua created, a character he put so many of his own frustrations into! Shang Qinghua is entirely justified in feeling smug about the effects he can have on Shen Qingqiu.
“Fuck me?” Shang Qinghua repeats with relish. “Isn’t that what I’ve been offering?” He licks his lips, slowly and deliberately.
Shen Qingqiu swallows, then swallows again. After a pause, during which Shang Qinghua does his best to look fuckable, Shen Qingqiu opens his mouth again. “You can't distract me,” he says hotly. “We were talking about your shitty writing. You let down Binghe and all of your readers – and you couldn’t even bother to make wings make sense!”
Even as Shen Qingqiu speaks, his inexhaustible passion for the topic of PIDW motivating him, his eyes betray distraction. He can’t stop looking Shang Qinghua up and down, gaze unable to linger – jumping between Shang Qinghua’s dick, his abs, his fingers, his thighs, and on and on. Even his ears.
Shang Qinghua might not be to everyone’s taste, but he’s got Shen Qingqiu hooked. He grins; Shen Qingqiu's eyes lock onto his mouth. Hell yeah. Shang Qinghua puts his hands onto Shen Qingqiu's still-bare thighs and is pleased to hear Shen Qingqiu's rant about wing design stutter and trail off.
“You want it?” Shang Qinghua asks. Well, states, really. Asserts. Every signal Shen Qingqiu is giving off is shouting how much he wants it. When Shang Qinghua grasps Shen Qingqiu's dick in his hands, Shen Qingqiu gives a full body shudder and goes totally silent.
Gay crisis successfully averted, for today at least! Shen Qingqiu can deal with his emotions on his own time.
Shang Qinghua has a dick in his hands and a blissed out Shen Qingqiu unable to say anything cutting. His wing design might be nonsense but his influence over Cucumber bro continues!
When Shen Qingqiu eventually realises he never got to see Shang Qinghua fly with his temporary wings, he's going to be so mad. Shang Qinghua looks forward to it.
Comments:
I don't yet have commenting set up on my site so if you want to leave a comment, please go to the AO3 version of this fic.