R O R R I M - Chapter 9 - Bgtea - 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī (2024)

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng hears his brother’s footsteps before he feels the arm slung over his shoulder in a friendly hug.

“Jiang Cheng! What have you been up to this whole weekend? I couldn’t get a hold of you at all—huh?” Wei Wuxian steps back and frowns. “Hey, A-Cheng, you’re not looking so hot. Are you okay?”

Jiang Cheng feels his waist being squeezed by the invisible something wrapped around his body but he manages to stop himself from flinching. “I-I’m fine,” he rasps out and takes another step back until he feels the thing relax its hold on him.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t buy it for a second. “You look the opposite of fine. You’re too pale. I don’t think you should be in the office.”

His brother reaches out and pokes his cheek.

A second warning squeeze. Harder. This time around his co*ck—

“I said I’m fine!”

It takes a second for him to realize just how loud he is. f*ck, they’re standing in the lobby of their office out in public. People—workers for Jiang Corp—are looking. He needs to…he needs to do better. Be more normal.

(He can’t have anyone else know what Zewu-Jun has done.)

“S-sorry,” he stutters, keeping his voice low. “I’m…uh…feeling a bit under the weather is all but I don’t want to take a day off. Too much to do.”

Wei Wuxian draws back, his lips pressed in a thin line. “I know you’re nervous about your project but still, Madam Yu will understand if you take a day off.” But he doesn’t push any further, probably because he knows just how unlikely it is for Yu Ziyuan to be understanding.

The conversation comes to an end as they squeeze into the elevator together with a throng of office workers. By the time they get out of the elevator and head down the hallway to their respective offices, Jiang Cheng feels his nerves quiet slightly. At least he doesn’t feel like he’s about to hyperventilate anymore.

The friendly clap on his shoulder undoes everything.

“Try to take it easy today, okay? I’ll see you later at lunch.”

He thinks he squeaks out some sort of goodbye before rushing inside his office and closing the door behind him. He locks the door, rushes to the window to close the blinds, and beelines for the en-suite bathroom—the one luxury he will truly be grateful towards Jiang Fengmian for—and locks that door behind him too. Only when he knows he’s truly safe from prying eyes and ears does his hands fly to unzip his pants.

He bites back a miserable moan as his co*ck springs free, hard and leaking as he feels Zewu-Jun’s ribbon constrict and hums with power. Under the washroom florescent light, however, the ribbon cannot be seen.

“Z-zewu-Jun, p-please—ngh!”

Another ribbon, this time, the one wrapped around his upper right thigh, tightens. A warning for Jiang Cheng to take his punishment.

“I wish I can trust you to comport yourself, but your actions have demonstrated otherwise,” Zewu-Jun had whispered in his ear last night during slow, languid thrusts into his loose wet hole. It’s been hours since he has Jiang Cheng pressed face first in the mattress, his hands gripping his bruised waist to drag him into every hungry buck of his hips. Making sure that Jiang Cheng was f*cked on the full length of his co*ck with every stroke as if he hasn’t molded his insides to his shape already. “We will need to implement some clear rules to make sure you do not stray. I know just where to start.”

Another deep stroke and Jiang Cheng barely heard the monster’s next set of words over his sobs.

“Rule number 1: you are no longer allowed to touch yourself without my permission. Rule number 2: you are not allowed to let anyone touch you.”

The vibrations on his co*ck grow stronger and Jiang Cheng presses his hand against his mouth to muffle his lewd moans. F-f*ck. His body has gotten so sensitive, made even more sensitive by the soft silk crisscrossing his skin. He can feel the delicate strip across his nipples, skirting down to wrap around his waist, around each thigh, then ending in a delicate bow tied to the base of his co*ck. He shifts and he—he feels a second ribbon that’s tucked between his ass, stretching over his hole, his taint and under his balls like—like a pair of too tight panties that bite into skin.

“Rule number 3: you will wear this chastity belt at all times. I don’t trust you to control yourself around that boy although with how loose and sloppy your puss* has gotten, I can’t imagine how he’d still be interested.”

In the bathroom, Jiang Cheng is biting down on his hand. His co*ck is drooling with strings of white running down his length, some of it dripping on the floor. He’s going to come. Oh god—!

As if reading his mind, the vibrations stop.

“Rule number 4: you are only allowed to come with my co*ck inside of you.”

He squeezes his eyes tight and grapples desperately for control as wild heat sings through his veins. It takes a few minutes before he can open his eyes.

The mirror in front of him shows a pathetic, dishevelled figure with flushed cheeks, red, swollen lips from how he’s been chewing on them, and messy hair plastered on his sweaty forehead. His co*ck is out, thankfully softening slowly now that—that Zewu-Jun has stopped, but it’s still glistening form the pre coating his skin.

He looks away, feeling his cheeks flushed in shame. He doesn’t look at his reflection as he goes to clean himself up, making sure to keep his touches short and clinical.

The mirror in front of him glints. He thinks he can smell the faintest scent of sandalwood.

His workday doesn’t get easier and his focus is basically shot. He gets punished four more times; once from an innocent worker accidentally bumping against his shoulder and the rest from Wei Wuxian’s affectionate touches after he barges into his office with lunch in hand. Throughout their meal, Jiang Cheng has to fight to stop himself squirming from those strips of ribbons rub slowly over his nipples and co*ck. Zewu-Jun is clearly displeased with his lunch companion.

And then, just as he’s on his way out of the office, Wei Wuxian, barges into his office again. He complains about how cold Jiang Cheng’s office is, but cuts himself off when he sees the other’s non-response. Before Jiang Cheng can react, he leans over and presses a hand on his forehead to check for a fever and—

Jiang Cheng cries as tingling electricity zaps his nipples and co*ck. Wei Wuxian jerks back, eyes wide in alarm.

“sh*t, A-Cheng, what was that? Did I hurt you?”

Jiang Cheng is hunched over, hands over his chest, body clenched and muscles shaking. He can feel his nipples harden from the sudden stimulus and his co*ck is quickly filling up, threatening to tent the front of his pants and f*ck. He does not need to add mortification on top of everything he has to deal with.

He spins around and rushes to his desk, sinking into his chair and crossing his legs. His eyes are shut, covered by his hands while those ribbons begin to move in slow, teasing, sensual strokes.

F-f*ck! f*ck f*ck f*ck!

“You’re not feeling well at all,” he hears Wei Wuxian say. Although he tries to be calm, there’s panic lacing his words. “You’re burning up, A-Cheng! I’m taking you to Emergency.”

Jiang Cheng shudders. Horror is mounting his throat, pushing aside his arousal and sending a cold chill down his back. “N-no! I’m fine! I don’t need to see a doctor!”

“Rule number 5: you will be home every day by the time the sun sets or there will be severe consequences.”

“Like hell you don’t need to see the doctor! You can’t even stand up!”

“I—” He takes a couple of deep breaths trying to calm his body. “I just want to go home—back to the hotel. I’ll sleep early.”

“Well, I’m giving you a ride back. You’re not travelling by yourself.”

There’s no fighting Wei Wuxian. It’s that or it’s the hospital, so Jiang Cheng does his best to bite the bullet. The fear helps with curbing back the lust as with keeping his breathing nice and steady even as those damnable ribbons wouldn’t stop rubbing throughout the entire drive home. However, his hard-won mask of serenity almost crack when Wei Wuxian insists on following him up to his unit.

“I want to make sure you’ll get inside safely,” Wei Wuxian says. “Since you wouldn’t let me drive you to the hospital.”

The ribbon on his thigh squeezes. Jiang Cheng swallows and nods brusquely, not trusting his voice.

It’s by some miracle that he gets to his room without further incident and, more importantly, Wei Wuxian does not attempt to talk to him, let alone touch him. He unlocks the door and turns around, glaring at his brother.

“There, I got to my door safely. Would you stop following me now?”

Please go away. Please go away.

Wei Wuxian narrows his eyes. “Fine. Take some meds and go to sleep. If you’re feeling worse, I want you to call me. I mean it.”

Jiang Cheng nods and quickly bolts inside, practically slamming the door behind him. Just in time too because the moment he steps foot inside the suite, breathing in the ice-cold air, the ribbons on his body constrict tightly, sending a mix of pain-pleasure jolting up his spine.

He stumbles but manages to catch himself, biting back his whimpers. Those ribbons—they’re playing with him. They’ve been teasing him all day and he can’t…he needs…

A cold shower. He needs a cold shower.

He chucks his work bag to the ground, toes his shoes off, and strips off his clothes with shaking hands, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor without a care. He catches his reflection on the big mirror in the hallway.

If he looked a mess before, he looks downright indecent now. His skin is flushed and littered with bruises and bite marks—Zewu-Jun’s gifts from the night before. His eyes are watery with tears, his hair a dishevelled mess while his…tit* look swollen. They’re…not as big as the form Zewu-Jun had him in last night, but his nipples are clearly sticking out as if…as if they’re ready to be sucked and teased.

His gaze trails down to the patch of pale skin on his navel. He can see all too clearly in his mind where the mark of a dark swirling cloud would sit below his belly button. He remembers how it stretches over his big belly when Zewu-Jun used his magic to…to give him a c*nt. Zewu-Jun loved to make his stomach look big like he was far into his…his pregnancy. He likes to watch it jiggle every time he f*cks into him.

His co*ck twitches, letting more white drool from the purpling head. He’s—he’s so hard. He can’t be hard thinking about Zewu-Jun playing with his body like he’s molding clay, changing his form as he sees fit while he uses Jiang Cheng until he can no longer cry out. f*ck. Jiang Cheng h-hates how he’s so powerless and weak against the monster. Hates how the monster can just keep bending him over and taking him no matter how much he begs and tries to fight but at the same time…

He…his insides feel so empty. Zewu-Jun pounds him so good with his thick co*ck and…and…he knows all the spots that make Jiang Cheng’s body light up in pleasure. He touches him in places he doesn’t even know could bring pleasure, stretches him out so good that the phantom ache in his body sends shameful, hot yearning in his gut. And when that monster comes inside of him, floods his guts and…and his womb so good, Jiang Cheng feels…he can’t help but want.

His co*ck twitches again and more of his seed drips from his co*ckhead. His mouth feels dry and he feels hot. f*ck. He can’t—maybe just one stroke. One touch to relieve some of that damned pressure and cure himself of this insanity…

He doesn’t even manage to wrap his hand around his aching length when his feels strong fingers circle his wrist, its grip as tight as a steel manacle.

“My little darling is being bad,” a low voice hisses into his ear. The scent of sandalwood and smoke is so strong, Jiang Cheng is choking on it, mixed with the heady lust and growing, icy fear clenched around his heart. “You’ve broken my rules so often today and you’re ready to break another?”

Jiang Cheng shakes. “I-I didn’t—I didn’t mean—”

Zewu-Jun tsks and presses himself so that he’s flushed against his back. “You let that boy touch you,” he growls. In the mirror, his features turn monstrous, the colour on his skin quickly bleeding into paper white and his mouth is splitting wider and wider to reveal gleaming sharp fangs. “You let that boy follow you up to our lair. And just now, you’re going to touch yourself when you’ve clearly not been given permission.”

“Zewu-Jun! Please! Pl—hmph!”

He’s spun around and his lips are devoured. A long, thick tongue pries them open and forces inside, deepening the kiss into something harsh, hungry and possessive. He backs up until he’s against the cool mirror. Hands flit to cup his ass and then, there’s a second of weightlessness from being lifted in the air. His legs automatically wrap around Zewu-Jun’s strong waist, the new position letting his hardness press against Zewu-Jun’s.

He moans at the jolt of pleasure, moans again when he feels the other press close grind against him in a sensual roll of his hips, his sensitive nipples rubbing against the monster’s hard chest.

“Zewu-Jun,” he can’t help but mewl against his lips. “Please—please—a-ah!”

Zewu-Jun breaks away with a growl. His eyes have gone completely black. “Naughty. My dear heart is such a needy whor*.” He biting down on Jiang Cheng’s neck, gnawing at the pale flesh, as he ruts against him harder, faster, making him cry out even more. “Though I suppose it’s partly my fault. I spoiled you. Made you insatiable.”

Two fingers push away the ribbon tucked between Jiang Cheng’s ass to stroke at the soft furl. Those finger tips circle the little ring once, twice, and then, long fingers sink inside all the way to the third knuckle. The ease in which they enter him makes him toss his head back against the mirror with a needy sob. Those fingers thrust inside of him slowly, almost lazily while the Zewu-Jun continues: “Hm. I remember you were so tight but look how loose and open I’ve made you. Look at how I’ve f*cked you nice and open on my co*ck, and not only this little hole here but your pretty little puss* as well.”

Those damnable fingers are stroking his walls, pressing against where it makes him sees stars, and desperate moans are dragged from Jiang Cheng’s throat. Zewu-Jun plays with his body like a professional musician on their beloved instrument while rutting against his too hard co*ck and it leaves Jiang Cheng weak and shaking, unable to think, unable to process anything aside from pleasure and overwhelming shame.

The man is playing with his body like he owns him. The man is treating him like a toy. The man is breaking him apart piece by pleasurable piece, making him addicted to the filthy, filthy pleasure and Jiang Cheng wants—he wants more. He wants more of those fingers, he wants that man’s co*ck. Yes, yes, yes, yes—

“Zewu-Jun! Zewu-Jun! A-ah!”

The fingers thrust up, sending a sharp burst of pure liquid pleasure and he feels like he’s teetering at the cusp but before that pressure breaks, the ribbon on his co*ck tightens.

He wails and desperately claws at the other’s clothes while his legs, his arms, his everything shakes and shakes and shakes. “N-no, no! Please—Zewu-Jun, so close! I’m so close!”

His mind is going numb and floaty and he feels the way his pathetic loose hole is attempting to tighten around Zewu-Jun’s fingers, urging him to thrust harder, to press and stroke that spot deep inside him that will get him there, but Zewu-Jun continues his languid thrusts, slow and steady. Maddening.

Zewu-Jun presses a kiss against his ear and murmurs. “Don’t you remember, love? Rule number 4. You’re only allowed to come with my co*ck inside of you. Consider this further punishment for today’s poor performance.”

Dread hits him and Jiang Cheng scrambles to prop himself up, but his limbs feel weak and those—those fingers wouldn’t stop touching him. “W-what? No. No, no, no. Zew—ah! Ah! Ah!”

Zewu-Jun chuckles darkly. “That’s one. Four more to go, one for every rule infraction. Let’s see if you can do better tomorrow, hm?”

Jiang Cheng wakes up the next morning so hard that he feels like he’s ready to burst, but the ribbon around his co*ck tightens in warning. With shaking limbs, he gets out of bed and drags his clothes over his sensitive body, pausing when the cloth brushing over his bruised nipples sends a burst of pleasure so intense that he feels like he’s about to come.

It’s…going to be a long miserable day.

“Rule number 1: you are no longer allowed to touch yourself without my permission.”

“Rule number 2: you are not allowed to let anyone touch you.”

“Rule number 3: you will wear this chastity belt at all times.”

“Rule number 4: you are only allowed to come with my co*ck inside of you.”

“Rule number 5: you will be home every day before the sun sets or there will be severe consequences .”

He tries. He tries to follow the rules for the day as he feels the ribbon around his body, waiting to punish him if he f*cks up. To do that, he has to adapt quickly; he shows up to work an hour earlier to avoid Wei Wuxian, keeps himself locked in his office for the day so that he won’t accidentally touch anymore people, and rebuffs Wei Wuxian’s attempts to catch him or have lunch with him. He replies to the other’s worried messages with: “I’m fine. Feeling a lot better after sleeping early. Gotta focus on the project.” And then, he goes back to work.

Or at least, he tries, but his attention span is gone. A simple document is taking him twice as long to read and process, let alone writing anything, and he’s making mistakes to the point where Yu Ziyuan marches into his office to berate him loudly.

“You do not have the luxury to be this sloppy!” she reprimands with a fierce scowl. “I’ve put in far too much work to get the board of directors’ vote of confidence in your project for you to harpoon your own reputation like this, especially since your father has not given his signature for approval!”

“I’m sorry, mother.”

“Did you know that Wei Wuxian has been meeting with your father for the past few days? They’ve been talking extensively about his project! It’s clear that your father is doing everything in his power to get his work board-approved and yet you’re squandering your potential! Do you want Wei Wuxian to win? Is that it?”

The reminder of his father’s blatant favouritism leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He curls into himself a looks away from her, ashamed. “I-I’ll try to do better.”

“I don’t need you to try! I need you to be better! Trying is useless when you don’t succeed!”

She calms herself with a few deep breaths. When she speaks again, she’s cold and all business-like. “You have a presentation scheduled for the board, the industry leaders, our largest clients, and your father at the end of this quarter. This is your big break. You need to be perfect. Failure is not an option.”

“Yes, mother.”

“I want you to finish those financial and progress reports. You need to know everything about this project perfectly. I’ve also scheduled your first update presentation to present in front of the board. It’ll take place at the end of next week. This will be the first of a series of updates you will be giving to build up your reputation with them. I don’t care if it means you have to stay late to finish everything. Get those things done and don’t embarrass yourself or me, understood?”

A chill runs up his spine. Jiang Cheng nods. “Y-yes, mother.”

She gives him another long, scrutinizing look. Finally, she sniffs and heads for the door, her high heels making delicate clacks on the floor with every step. Before she’s completely out of the office, she says, “And do something about your thermostat. Your office is freezing. What is this, a morgue?”

The door to his office closes. Jiang Cheng slumps in his chair and rubs the bridge of his nose.

His mother’s scathing criticism and the reminder of his father’s favouritism act like a shock to Jiang Cheng’s system, jolting him back to real life, and whatever desperate lust mixed with fear towards Zewu-Jun are washed away, at least temporarily. Right. Despite this paranormal bullsh*t that’s going on, he still has this other big, lingering, pile of bullsh*t to deal with.

He uses his shame and bitterness to sharpen his focus and maintains his concentration for the rest of the work day. As he turns off his laptop, he stares at the machine, thinking. He…he should work on the presentation but what’s going to happen when he’s back in the hotel? Will Zewu-Jun even let him work?

The threads of uncertainty and fear come back.

Zewu-Jun. What is he going to do with that monster? The creature has shown himself and demonstrated the lengths he will take to control Jiang Cheng and if he continues, can Jiang Cheng even withstand it?

But what can he even do? He’s being monitored.

He shakes his head. Whether he likes it or not, there’s nothing he can do, at least not now. He’ll have to keep his head down and…keep to his day-to-day and hope that the monster will leave him alone after having his fun. Maybe he can even try to explain his work situation to the monster and hope for clemency especially considering…

His eyes drop to his stomach.

The monster said he’s pregnant. He’s certainly made Jiang Cheng believe it if just a little whenever he—they—the monster has his fun with him. But in the cold light of day, Jiang Cheng always looks so normal (or mostly normal with the addition of bruises and certain parts of his body red and sore). There are no signs of…of his swollen tit*, his big, pregnant belly, his leaking c*nt. No signs of the ribbons tied around his body either (even if he can feel them).

How much of what he’s experienced even is real or is it all just a mind game? Is he really even pregnant? Zewu-Jun clearly likes to f*ck with his mind a lot and this latest stint with the ribbons clearly shows this.

Gods, he can already feel the anxiety mounting already alongside more shame. He’s a man. Common sense dictates that he can’t get pregnant.

(But common sense dictates that Zewu-Jun shouldn’t exist either.)

There’s a knock on his door. It swings open before he can answer and Jiang Cheng tenses. There’s only one other person besides his mother who is brazen enough to do that and who actually visits him.

Wei Wuxian pokes his head through the doorway. “Um, hey, A-Cheng. Just wanted to check on you to see if you’re feeling better. I…um…heard about Madam Yu’s visit.”

He’s the last person Jiang Cheng wants to see for many reasons and a well of familiar bitterness rise to his throat. Jiang Cheng shoves his laptop in his workbag so that he won’t have to make eye contact.

“I’m fine, Wei Wuxian. It’s not like I didn’t get anything I didn’t deserve, anyway.”

The last part is said in a quiet mutter but Wei Wuxian catches it. “A-Cheng, we all know how hard you work. Your project is going to be great. Everyone’s going to love it. Uncle Jiang is—”

“Busy helping you with your project,” Jiang Cheng cuts in and a wave of tiredness crashes into him. He’s tired. He’s tired of his f*cked up family dynamic, tired of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan’s bullsh*t, and by proxy, Wei Wuxian’s presence. And now, he’s tired of living in a state of constant terror. He’s tired that despite the paranormal bullsh*t he has to deal with, he doesn’t get a break from the messiness that is his family and his life. But he also knows that it’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault for this mess, so, he gentles his voice and says: “I’m going to go home and work on that presentation. You should go home too, okay? Don’t worry too much, I’m feeling a lot better today.”

Wei Wuxian looks even guiltier. “Let me at least drive you home.”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “I can use the longer travel time to think. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wei Wuxian leaves with a subdued, “Good night, A-Cheng. Call me if you need anything,” and Jiang Cheng finishes packing. On his way out to the elevators, he passes by Wei Wuxian’s office. Jiang Fengmian is inside and he sounds excited in ways Jiang Cheng has never heard directed at him.

“This project is going to be phenomenal, A-Xian. I’ve been talking to the board members on its implementation and they agree there’s a lot of potential. We’ll need to make a formal presentation on this to garner more support and I’ll work on getting this done as soon as possible. It’s important to strike while the iron is hot.”

“Thank you, Uncle Jiang. But, um, what about A-Cheng’s project? I know he’s working on something right now too. Shouldn’t we wait a bit until his project becomes live?”

“Don’t worry about A-Cheng. Just focus on executing your own work.”

The acrid bitterness comes back. Jiang Cheng tightens his grip on the handle of his work bag and continues on home.

--

He’s not sure what to expect when he arrives to the hotel room with rising dread bubbling in his body, but when he opens the door to see peace and quiet, he blinks.

“Z-zewu-Jun?” he calls the moment he closes the door behind him.

He gets no answer, not even the scent of sandalwood.

The knot in his stomach unclenches ever so slightly. He strips off his clothes to change into loungewear, startling again when he catches his reflection in the mirror.

There’s nothing. No white ribbons, no mark over his stomach. Just his normal male body.

He quickly inspects himself to make sure. There’s really nothing.

A quick shower and another inspection later, everything still looks and feels normal. He gives up, orders some food, and gets to work. His evening is surprisingly productive and he ends up going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Despite the lingering fear that Zewu-Jun is lurking around, he falls asleep quickly.

Sometime during the night, the heady scent of sandalwood fills Jiang Cheng’s breath and drifts into his unconscious mind. A hand cards through his hair, petting him like a beloved pet.

Jiang Cheng sinks into the mattress as he luxuriates in the touch. The pampering feels nice.

“Hmm, my sweet little darling. You’ve been so good today. Did you enjoy your little reward? You get an evening to yourself. A nice reprieve to recover.”

The mattress dips and Jiang Cheng feels himself being rolled to his side. A pair of arms wrap around him and his head is resting on something cool and silky with a bit of give. The scent of sandalwood is much thicker.

“This Zewu-Jun can be generous too. If you continue to be on such good behaviour then I will grant you more freedom although…”

A hand skirts down to stroke at his belly.

“Not too much freedom. Not when our dear children need us both to thrive. And speaking of which…”

A warm tingling feeling trickles through his skin and into his body. Jiang Cheng grumbles sleepily but sinks back into calm peace when the sensation fades. The hand goes back to his head to continue those even, soothing strokes as the speaker sighs, almost lovingly.

“Good boy. You’ve taken my essence so well. Our children will grow quickly. I can’t wait to meet them.”

There is a gleeful eagerness in that voice. Had Jiang Cheng been awake, he would know to be afraid.

When he wakes up feeling refreshed, doubt begins to set in once more about whether it’s just mind games that Zewu-Jun has put him through. The monster is clearly a master of illusory magic. Why else would Jiang Cheng look so normal when he wakes up?

He still can’t let his guard down though even if the knowledge helps lessen his panic and fear. Those illusions are dangerous given how real they appear so he’ll need to find a way to fight back. Maybe give it some time when Zewu-Jun’s monitoring relaxes a little.

He’ll also need to figure out how far Zewu-Jun’s power reach. The ribbons seem to be able to sense when someone touches him, but is that it? Does that mean Zewu-Jun isn’t an omnipotent creature with the power to see or hear everything that Jiang Cheng does?

He gets the chance to test his luck after three days of peace and tranquility when he gets a message from the psychic when he’s outside of the office to grab some coffee.

“Mr. Jiang, I hope you’ve been well. I’ve been looking into the mark you said that you have on your skin. Would you be available for a chat?”

He freezes and waits.

The ribbons don’t react.

He clicks on the message.

No reaction.

After waiting for a few more minutes, he still doesn’t get a reaction.

Jiang Cheng begins to think. What should he tell the psychic? Her attempts to help him have not worked; if anything, they only made Zewu-Jun angry, but at the same time, she’s the only one who not only believes him, but is taking his case seriously. Even now, she’s continuing to help.

He starts typing. “Talking is inconvenient for me at the moment. Is it possible to communicate by email?”

The message is sent. No reaction from the ribbons.

He gets an email from the psychic. From the subject line, it appears to contain some research material but he doesn’t have the courage to check it that day. He only opens the email the next day after spending another peaceful evening with perfect sleep and no Zewu-Jun. Just to be safe, he opens his email outside at a coffee shop while on his caffeine run.

“The cloud mark is a special emblem from an ancient and noble clan of demons: the Lan Clan from the mountains of Gusu,” the psychic writes. “They’re a secretive bunch but they’ve been mentioned in stories throughout history, especially with regards to offerings made at the Gusu mountainside to appease their hunger.”

Jiang Cheng looks at his phone, confused. The mountains of Gusu? That’s nowhere near where he lives.

He continues reading. “However, at some point, the stories about offerings in Gusu dry up. I’m unsure if it’s because these stories are lost in time or if it’s due to another reason. In any case, the last reported sighting of a Gusu Lan demon in that region was a hundred years ago. It’s possible that the demon clan moved to the land on which your home sits, but Mr. Jiang, I’m not finding any reports of paranormal activity where you live either. I’m inclined to believe that the demon is, for some reason, attached to your unit specifically.”

That does not make him feel good. Why the f*ck is Zewu-Jun (and maybe his clan) living in his apartment? How did they get there?

The report continues. “I also looked up the name Zewu-Jun. It’s a title that belongs to one of the highest ranking members of the clan. He’s a crown prince—from my research, I’m seeing the name Lan Zhan, brother to the king of the clan, Lan Xichen. I’m not certain, however, since the research is spotty and in pieces so I may get the real name wrong. What I’m more certain about is that Zewu-Jun is very old and powerful. Mr. Jiang, if the demon did not lie to you about being Zewu-Jun, it is imperative that you remove his attachment from you as soon as possible. I cannot stress how incredibly dangerous he is.”

Okay, but how? he thinks, clutching to his phone so tightly that his knuckles have become white.

“I heard that you reached out to my Taoist colleague and that you agreed to hire him for this case,” the psychic writes. “He apologizes again for not being able to meet up sooner since his current case is taking longer than he would like. Given how dire your situation is, he’s going to look into what protective measures you can use. Have you experienced Zewu-Jun’s presence since our last update, by the way? If you have, then please advise on your current situation so that we’ll know how to escalate.”

Jiang Cheng pauses. He…he doesn’t want to tell them the degree in which Zewu-Jun has f*cked with his head and his body, nor the strange yearning he’s starting to feel again as if he’s missing that monster’s co*ck inside of him. He doesn’t even want to explore why he feels that way, the shame that accompanies those thoughts is too much to bear, So, he responds with: “He’s back and he’s angry. Please help me.”

He’s not sure if it’s the nerves but the very next day after sending that email (and after yet another evening of peace), Jiang Cheng wakes up feeling his stomach roiling uncomfortably.

“Oh, god.”

He sprints to the bathroom and retches into the toilet, but with his stomach being empty, the only thing he throws up is water and stomach acid.

Please, he thinks as he gags through teary eyes, please don’t let me be sick. Not now.

Not when he still has so much left to do before his presentation. He’s only just able to find his stride again from the Zewu-Jun’s miraculous absence and he’s been avoiding breaching any of the rules to give the monster no excuse to punish him. He’s reduced his contact with Wei Wuxian, though the latter is also giving him some space, only chatting with him through texts, thank god. He’s even avoiding…touching himself that way in the shower no matter how much his body is begging for it. The only thing he’s done was that email message which he wasn’t punished for, so it appears he’s gotten away with it. Why now, then? Why can’t he get a break?

The moment his nausea dies, he grabs his phone and does a quick search to see what could have been the cause. Food poisoning? Maybe. He hasn’t been eating the healthiest given how busy he’s been. Stomach ulcer? Actually…that’s very possible since he’s been so stressed.

He groans and rubs the bridge of his nose. Well, f*ck him. Of course he’s been stressed. How can he relax given everything?

He gets up, holding onto the wall to stabilize his body, and shuffles to the kitchen. He feels a little better after taking some antacid and sipping on some warm water. He’ll just have to adapt. Cut down on the coffee, cut down on the fried and spicy food, and stick to porridge, congee, and soda crackers. He’ll have to keep this up for a little while until that final presentation. It should be fine. This is just another thing he has to endure and it will pass.

His change in diet helps a little. His nausea only occurs in the morning and goes away after sipping on some ginger tea. Otherwise, his stomach is fine during work hours, which is one less thing for him to worry about. The lack of caffeine, however, is really hurting his energy level, and he’s been having to schedule ten-minute power naps at his desk just to function, and that’s not accounting for the growing number of times he’s been nodding off, mid-work.

It's by some miracle, or possibly his own stubbornness, that he gets everything done on time. It’s the afternoon before his very first update presentation and he’s running through his slides and material one last time, making tweaks and assembling the binders he will hand out to the attendees the next day. He checks the time on his laptop—4 pm. Great, still got some time left—and goes back to reviewing the numbers in his financial reports for the umpteenth time.

The feeling of a familiar hand carding through his hair jolts him awake. He jerks up, blinking his blurred eyes, disoriented. What? What’s going on? Why is it so cold in this room? It wasn’t that cold just a second ago.

It takes a second for the fog in his brain to dissipate. His laptop is open, there’s paper everywhere on his desk and he feels an uncomfortable strain on his back from being hunched over too long. sh*t. Did he fall asleep? When did he fall asleep?

“Hm, my poor darling. You’ve been doing so well.”

Jiang Cheng freezes. Then, the thick scent of sandalwood hits him.

Zewu-Jun?!

A pale hand with long, elegant fingers cups his cheek, guiding him to turn to his left. Zewu-Jun is peering down at him with pitch-black eyes as he strokes his face with his thumb. His long white robes shimmer in the light, highlighting the broadness of his frame (but underneath all that exquisite fabric is a body with muscles chiselled like a Greek statue. Jiang Cheng knows that intimately). The pure white fabric also highlights the lovely paleness of his skin, his perfect, beautiful face, and the pristine ribbon tied across his forehead, contrasting with his long dark hair cascading over his shoulders like spun silk.

Zewu-Jun remains the most gorgeous creature Jiang Cheng has ever seen, but not even his breathtaking beauty is enough to stifle the icy fear that’s quickly making him break out into sweat. It also doesn’t help that despite the gentle tone the monster used, his expression is neutral. He’s watching Jiang Cheng like a scientist scrutinizing at something under his microscope.

“T-this is my office. It’s still daytime, so how—?”

Zewu-Jun co*cks his head. “Daytime. Are you so sure?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes slide to the clock on his laptop.

7:35 p.m.

His eyes go wide and he turns to his window.

It’s completely dark outside. Not even a sliver of sun can be seen on the horizon.

Ribbons tighten around his chest, his waist, his thighs and his co*ck and they begin to pulse. Desperate cries are wrenched out of him before he can stop himself.

“Zewu-Jun! Hnh—Zewu—AH!”

“Rule number five, sweet darling,” Zewu-Jun says. His voice has gone cold as with his gaze. “And you’ve been so good lately too. How disappointing.”

Jiang Cheng is tossing his head back, whimpering at the onslaught. Oh—oh, he’s gone so hard, so fast. He hasn’t touched himself in forever, he’s been trying his best to be good and the spike of pleasure feels almost unbearable. It’s licking up his spine, hot like wildfire, eating up the breath in his lungs while that damnable squeezing wouldn’t stop. His nipples, they feel extra sensitive, and they’re sticking out in the cold, begging to be rubbed and played with while his hole—

He clenches around nothing and whines at the disappointment. F-f*ck. He wants. He’s so empty and he wants so badly to be filled.

“Pl-please,” he begs. “Zewu-Jun, please. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to. I’ve just been so tired cause I’ve been feeling so sick. Please.”

He shudders when Zewu-Jun bends down and presses a loving kiss on his temple. He whines again at the second pale hand pressing against his chest over his heart before trailing down to rest on his navel below his belly button.

“Hmm. You’re not lying.”

The ribbons stop, leaving Jiang Cheng shivering weakly. His pants are tented at the front with a patch of wetness slowly growing by the second from how much he’s leaking. He can smell the scent of sex in the air, mingled with more of that heady perfume of sandalwood.

He still doesn’t know how Zewu-Jun is in his office. That’s the second place he’s jumped after Jiang Cheng outside of the apartment. How is he travelling outside of his den?

The monster sighs, the warmth of his breath washes over the side of Jiang Cheng’s face. He places a few more kisses, this time slower and more lingering. “I may have been too hasty with my judgment,” he says with more noticeable warmth. He pulls back and Jiang Cheng can see how his eyes have gone honey-gold once more.

“At least, I have been too quick to judge that you intended to break the rule. I see that it had been a complete accident. However.”

His head is yanked back, exposing his neck. Jiang Cheng moans at the trail of hot wetness dragging across his skin. Zewu-Jun is lapping, nipping, like he’s savouring the most delicious treat.

“However,” he growls into his pulse, “a rule is still broken. So, punishment is required.”

He’s pulled off his chair before he can register what’s going on, and in the next second, he’s bent over his desk, his chest and head pressed over his paperwork as the hand at the back of his neck keeps him in place. His belt is torn off, then his pants, his underwear, and he shivers at the cold on his newly exposed skin.

“W-wait! Zewu-Jun!” He tries to struggle but that grip feels like steel. “Zewu-Jun! This is—not here! Not in the office!”

Although it’s past seven in the evening, there are still people working. People can—oh god, they can hear him. Anybody can open his door and see.

“Then you better take your punishment quickly.”

Fingers push between his ass cheeks to rub over his hole. They sink into him without hesitation, three fingers and shamefully easy. They pull back and drive inside as deep as they can go, wringing out more pathetic cries from Jiang Cheng.

“N-no, no, no, Zewu-Jun, don’t—don’t!”

Gods, he can barely swallow the shame. He’s getting finger f*cked in his own office. His co*ck is twitching, rubbing against the desk with every jostling movement that sends more fierce sparks of wild heat and spine-tingling pleasure up his body. At the same time, his nipples are getting teased by the rough friction of the table, adding to the fire in his belly. But no matter how much he squirms and thrashes, Zewu-Jun continues to f*ck him on his finger, his strokes quick and hard, pumping and twisting his fingers, spreading them so that even his loose hole can feel the delicious strain from being full. Everything—the pleasure, the dirtiness of being helpless while getting his sloppy hole f*cked in his own office, ass in the air while he gets finger f*cked on the paperwork he’ll need to deliver to his mother and the board of directors—is making Jiang Cheng feel lightheaded. His breathing grows harsh save for the tiny whimpers as his hands clench at the paper, crumpling them.

He has no control. He can’t do anything under Zewu-Jun’s firm hand. The only thing he can do is lie there, reduced to a-a hole for the demon to tease and f*ck and take his pleasure. He can’t—he's humping at his desk while trying to rub his own nipples using his table like…like an animal and anybody can walk in. Anybody can open the door and see just how slu*tty he is, how easily his whor* hole can take that man’s fingers like he was born to be his co*cksleeve. Anyone can see Jiang Cheng’s surrender.

Pleasure spikes wildly and f*ck, f*ck, he’s going to come. He’s going to come.

The ribbon tightens around his co*ck, stopping his pleasure from peaking. He shakes and sobs, desperately trying to wriggle to—to hump at the desk for his completion. But the grip on the back of his head tightens in warning, stopping him, and he’s left to flop bonelessly, defeated tears trailing down his cheeks as he shudders from the fading pleasure and the sensation of his hole being toyed with.

“There. You did so good. My dearest love. How perfect you are.”

The fingers slip out of him and Jiang Cheng is lifted off the desk. He’s gently guided to the floor where he sinks on his knees by Zewu-Jun’s feet, his limbs still weak. Zewu-Jun is lounging in his office chair looking very much like a king on his throne. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure and a satisfied smile spreads across his face.

“A punishment is warranted, but so is a solution to help your condition,” he murmurs. He unties his robes and tugs his hard co*ck from his pants. He leans over and caresses Jiang Cheng’s lips.

“Take from me what you need. My energy to sustain yours …” he purrs. “Let me have that pretty little mouth of yours, and I promise you’ll feel a lot better. Hmm?”

Jiang Cheng bites his lips and draws back as fresh humiliation fills his heart along with fear and trepidation. Zewu-Jun is huge and long and Jiang Cheng is…inexperienced with this sort of thing. He doesn’t know how it’ll fit and Zewu-Jun just expects him to go along and suck his co*ck? Willingly at that?

Zewu-Jun clearly senses his thoughts. He coos. “Rule number 4, my dearest darling. What does it say?”

Jiang Cheng licks his dry lips. “I-I’m only allowed to come with your co*ck inside me,” he stutters, cheeks flushing even more with shame. f*ck, there are more tears in his eyes. He can’t stop crying for some reason. Overwhelmed. He just wants. He wants to come so badly.

Zewu-Jun nods. “Perfect, my sweetheart. You can come with my co*ck inside of you.” He draws Jiang Cheng’s head close until the seam between his lips brushes against that twitching co*ckhead. The scent of male musk is intoxicating and a trail of sticky white catches on his bottom lip. Jiang Cheng automatically licks the residue from his skin.

Salty. Musky. So very dirty and addictive. Jiang Cheng feels himself salivating.

He can come if Zewu-Jun’s co*ck is inside him. If he—if he lets him f*ck his mouth then…

Moaning a little, he rocks forward and gives the co*ckhead a tentative little lick. The skin feels warm and smooth and more of that salty, musky taste fills his tongue along with a tinge of bitterness. He ignores Zewu-Jun’s shuddering breath and laps at the co*ck again and again like a popsicle, slowly, getting used to the velvety skin of the bulbous head.

Hmm, this is…not bad. The act is degrading but the smell and taste of Zewu-Jun make his head feel fuzzy like he’s drunk. Zewu-Jun clearly likes his clumsiness too. Pearls of cum gather at his tip and Jiang Cheng catches with his tongue, making that co*ck twitch and drool even more.

“Sweetheart,” Zewu-Jun growls in warning. “Do not make me use the ribbons.”

Jiang Cheng breaks away, flinching. “I-I don’t know how to, um…I’ve never…”

The growling-purr the demon makes is pure hunger. “Open your lips and take me in gently. Mind the teeth. Use your hand to help.”

A hand caresses his face and a thumb presses against his chin to tease open his mouth. Jiang Cheng lets hot co*ckhead push inside, trembling, but trying to keep himself still while the thick shaft slowly sinks into his wet mouth. He flinches when he feels Zewu-Jun bump into the roof of his mouth, tasting a fresh burst of hot, salty musk, and draws back with a wet pop.

“Relax, darling. You’re doing so well. Now, let’s try again.”

He nods and reaches the base of the co*ck to steady it. The second time is easier. He bobs his head and takes Zewu-Jun, feeling that girth stretch his lips and jaw as it glides past the spot that made him pull back. The hand on his head is stroking his hair and his ear as the co*ckhead slips further inside, this time, hitting him in the back of his throat.

He opens his watering eyes in surprise—when had he closed them?—and tenses, tries to jerk back, but the hand holding the back of his head is keeping him locked in place. He feels a hot spurt—musk and salt and viscous—land at the back of his tongue, and he’s forced to swallow.

O-oh. It’s…it’s so much stronger than what he had lapped up. Pungent and thick and addictive in a way he can’t explain.

“Hm, such a tiny little mouth,” Zewu-Jun praises. “It barely took half of me.”

He-he’s right. There’s a lot of Zewu-Jun left and there’s no way he can fit.

The demon sighs. “Everything about you is precious. Untouched. Perfect for me to mold and shape to my liking. Perfect for me to train.”

The grip on his head tightens and his head is forced down slowly. Jiang Cheng makes a noise of distress as the fat co*ckhead goes in further. It feels—it feels like the glide is endless. Deeper and deeper it goes, down his throat, stretching it out to the point where it hurts from the strain. He’s starting to see spots, feeling light-headed, his eyes watering even more from the ache and fullness. When he feels like it’s almost getting to be too much, the hand tugs his hair and yanks his head back up.

He gasps for breath and coughs, his whole body shaking. Zewu-Jun is watching him with pitch-black eyes. He licks his lips.

“You are a gift that keeps on giving. No gag reflex. It’s like the heavens have crafted you exactly for me. My perfect toy for me to use as I see fit.”

There’s no gentleness when his mouth is pried open and Zewu-Jun f*cks into his mouth this time. Jiang Cheng gurgles as he feels that throbbing co*ck burrow deep into the folds of his throat, pushing his muscles wide apart. It—it’s pushing down, so deep that he can feel it in his Adam’s apple before drawing back slightly to thrust forward again. The hand on his head is forcing him to take Zewu-Jun’s length no matter his whines or the way his hand is beating against the demon’s strong thighs. Forcing him to take until Jiang Cheng feels wiry pubes press against his nose while that co*ckhead twitches somewhere deep in his esophagus.

Zewu-Jun groans. He slides back and ruts forward, leaving no space for Jiang Cheng to think, to do anything except let that fat co*ck plug him full. He can’t do anything except let the man f*ck his face until he is satisfied.

“Yes. Yes. I’m going to, hmm, carve this hole open to fit my co*ck too,” Zewu-Jun rasps, “just like how I made your ass and puss* fit me so perfectly. Made it nice and loose for me to slip in whenever and wherever I desire. Just like how I molded that womb in your body for me to f*ck and fill with my children. I’ll make you completely mine so that you will never be rid of the taste of me. Isn’t that right, dear wife?”

Jiang Cheng’s lungs are burning. His jaw hurts. His everything hurts. His eyes are rolling at the back of his head and he’s starting to see spots in his vision.

He’s never been so hard in his life.

Every filthy word Zewu-Jun spouts sends a rush of liquid arousal into his co*ck. Yes, yes, Zewu-Jun was the one who took his virginity. He was the one who stretched his ass open on his co*ck, made him addicted to being f*cked, and then, he had done the same with his—his puss*, his womb, filled him despite his desperate pleas, and now, he’s going to do the same with his throat. He’s going to make Jiang Cheng desperate for his co*ck in a new way. Make him an absolute addict.

Oh god, oh god, oh god—

Zewu-Jun laughs. “Go on, my little whor*. Touch yourself. Make yourself come as you choke on my co*ck.”

He reaches a shaky hand and strokes his leaking hardness once, twice—

Pleasure slams into him, finally cresting after being denied for so long and he moans a shameless, whorish, needy sound. He c*ms. His body is shaking and his eyes are rolled to the back of his head as he feels like his soul is leaving through his co*ck from how good it is. There’s a low growl, one last buck that makes him choke, and a gush of salty thick cum washes down his throat all the way to his stomach. The taste and feel of it only makes him shake harder and cum again.

His head is yanked back and the hard co*ck leaves his throat, past his swollen red lips. Streaks of sem*n spew across his lips, his nose, his face, making him moan from how filthy it all is, how filthy Zewu-Jun is making him. But he’s not given any reprieve; Zewu-Jun grabs him and slams him on the desk on his back. His legs are pried open and then, he feels the other’s hot, thick co*ck hilts balls deep into his soft hole.

“You have only yourself to blame,” Zewu-Jun says, his voice dark, low and so very dangerous. He’s pumping into him as if he’s using Jiang Cheng like his cum rag while digging fresh bruises into his hips. “Your delicious body, so perfect for me. Everything about you is perfect. Everything I’ve ever desired. My love. My little wife. I’ll never let you go.”

He can only hope, as his eyes slip shut from exhaustion, that this will sate Zewu-Jun’s hunger for the next few days.