Fic: Acts of Worship

[soc_puppet]

Fandom: SVSSS
Summary: Some time ago, Mobei-Jun began constructing a shrine in the Northern Kingdom; today, Shang Qinghua is about to find out who and what it's for.
Mirrors: Crossposted here on summerofthe69, and here on AO3
Wordcount: About 3k
Ships: MoShang
Notes: Partly inspired by this prompt by sunderwight; written for Body Worship 69 on summerofthe69.
Fic: Acts of Worship


Shang Qinghua was freezing. This wasn't unusual when he was taking a stint in the Northern Kingdom; while his own chambers had been upgraded to be as comfortable for human needs as possible, the office he retreated to whenever he wanted to get a bit of work done had to strike more of a balance between his own physical limitations and those of the demons who sometimes assisted him. Thus, it was warmer than most of the rest of the Northern Palace, but still pretty damn cold, even for a cultivator. Shang Qinghua usually just wore a few extra layers in his office, and circulated his qi through his hands to keep them from cramping up in the cold.

Unfortunately, one of the office's heating crystals had broken a week ago, and the replacement hadn't come in yet. Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to lounge around in his rooms instead of doing anything productive, but sometimes the writing bug bit hard, and he'd learned that he needed to seize whatever chance he could if he wanted to actually get anything written.

So here he was, in his office, trying not to exhaust his qi while he rushed to finish the rest of the scene that had come to him that morning. He set his brush aside and shook his hands out, rubbing them together and then blowing into them to try and warm them up. "I'm going to lose a fucking finger at this rate," he groused, tucking the digits into his armpits to heat them up faster. "My king better figure out the Cold Hands, Warm Heart technique soon, because I am freezing my ass off!"

A large hand landed abruptly on his shoulder. Shang Qinghua had a moment to be terrified for his life before blessed warmth flowed through his body. He sighed in bliss and slumped forward on his desk, careful not to land on any of his papers and their still-damp ink. Though the hand slipped off his shoulder at the action, the warmth remained, and Shang Qinghua hummed happily.

"As expected," a familiar voice came from behind him, making Shang Qinghua shoot straight up in his chair. "Shang Qinghua was already familiar with Cold Hands, Warm Heart. May this king ask why he didn't share his knowledge?"

Shang Qinghua turned slowly in his chair to see Mobei-Jun looming behind him. "Ahahaha, well, you see," he said, fumbling for an explanation, "it's better for people to learn these things for themselves! Better for, uh, personal growth and stuff." He nodded, attempting to reinforce that this was definitely a good explanation, and not at all total bullshit he'd just pulled out of thin air.

"Hn." Mobei-Jun digested this. "I see. So, you have kept silent to keep others from becoming overly dependent on you and neglecting their own strengths?"

"Uh, yes?" Shang Qinghua tried. "Yes," he said more firmly. "That is exactly what I've been doing. If people came to rely on me too much, they wouldn't be strong on their own!" Also, he added silently, if I don't tell anyone anything, I can't misremember something or give someone the wrong information and get killed for it!

Mobei-Jun nodded imperceptibly. "Understood. Rest assured, this king will not cause you such a problem. Now, come." He turned around and walked out the door.

Shang Qinghua struggled to his feet and hurried to catch up to Mobei-Jun, who was already half way down the hallway. "My king?" he asked. "Where are we going?"

"You will see," was Mobei-Jun's only response.

Shang Qinghua wished briefly that he'd made Luo Binge's right-hand man slightly less taciturn; not having to come up with lots of extra dialogue had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he was certainly paying for it now! These thoughts soon deserted him, however, as he began to suspect where Mobei-Jun was leading him.

Around eight months ago, Mobei-Jun had begun the construction of a small temple, hidden in the depths of the Northern Palace. The way to it was long and arduous, and the temple itself was very secure, spelled for protection from everything from floods to earthquakes to sound escaping. (Shang Qinghua found this last one particularly suspicious.)

Unfortunately, for all that Mobei-Jun had been willing to waste at least a year of the Northern Palace's budget on that project alone, he had been entirely unwilling to name the god he'd had the temple built for. Shang Qinghua hadn't come up with a lot of gods for demons to worship, and he didn't like any of the possibilities he could name. While demons could, and in some cases did, worship human deities, most either chose to put their lot in with one of the few demon gods, whose non-godly descendants had become the Heavenly Demons, or to simply direct their worship to whichever demon was in charge.

Aside from occasionally helping source some material or other for the project, Shang Qinghua had done his best to stay entirely out of it. If he couldn't figure out which god the temple was for, he'd just as soon not risk his safety. Sadly, for all of his efforts in avoidance, whenever the topic did come up, Mobei-Jun would invariably make some especially ominous comment about worship and sacrifice while making intense eye contact with him.

Now, it seemed, his time was up. Shang Qinghua fought back tremors as he followed Mobei-Jun into the temple, flinching as the heavy doors slammed shut behind them. The temple being soundproofed to hell and back (almost literally) was clearly justified; the acoustics were incredible, and he could hear both his and Mobei-Jun's breathing echoing around them. His heavy swallow sounded particularly loud as his king lead him to the altar.

The altar itself was made of ice, which Shang Qinghua supposed made sense; it was cheap, abundant, and, in the northern climate, particularly sturdy. Mobei-Jun could also summon and manipulate it himself to a certain extent, making the altar almost certainly entirely his own work—a special touch from a particularly devout follower.

There were some random items scattered at the base of the altar, but none of the bloody sacrifices that Shang Qinghua had been expecting. He assumed this was because of the dark blue moss growing over the altar and at its base: Northern Tundra Blood Moss. Shang Qinghua had been inspired when researching carnivorous plants for various traps and monsters in PIDW; while he'd included plenty of the typical pitcher-plant and Venus flytrap inspired flora and fauna, this moss stuck slightly closer to its Earth counterparts: Since it grew in places that were starved for nutrients, it was able to absorb blood and other biomatter from creatures that died near or on it. Thus, it could frequently be found on former battlefields, and had been used more than a few times to track an enemy or a missing love interest.

Shang Qinghua did not like what its presence on the altar implied.

Unfortunately, it seemed he'd run out of time to observe. Mobei-Jun unceremoniously picked him up and deposited him, sitting, atop the altar. "My, my king, wait!" Shang Qinghua protested desperately as Mobei-Jun summoned an ice knife, drawing it through the air in front of him with intent. Shang Qinghua clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to watch as his ideal man cut him to ribbons. "I'm sure this isn't, this isn't necessary!" he continued in vain. "We can come up with some other—"

Riiiiiiiip—!

Shang Qinghua fell silent as chilled air met his skin, only for his body temperature to quickly adjust, thanks to Cold Hands, Warm Heart. He opened his eyes cautiously to find that, rather than using the blade on him, Mobei-Jun was slicing open his robes, leaving him naked on the altar. "M-my king...?" he stammered, then clammed up completely as Mobei-Jun banished the knife and started removing his own robes.

Damn! Shang Qinghua's eyes roamed over every inch of exposed flesh, his mouth watering and cock beginning to fill even in these dire circumstances; if he were honest, he'd have to admit that he'd been aroused in much weirder situations. And if he had to die like this, at least he could appreciate the view on the way out! Though, why had Mobei-Jun done that? Had Shang Qinghua's complaints about the cost of removing blood stains finally gotten through to him? And how was he planning to sacrifice Shang Qinghua, anyway, if he wasn't using an ice kni—

Shang Qinghua's thoughts cut off abruptly as a pair of lips descended on his own. Okay, yeah, he really didn't need to be worrying about that right now. There are much worse ways to die than "after kissing your dream man"; he'd written a lot of them himself! And if the way he pressed up against the altar and crowded in between Shang Qinghua's legs was anything to go by, fingers digging into the flesh of his hips, it seemed like Mobei-Jun wasn't going to stop at just kissing.

Shang Qinghua made several embarrassing high-pitched noises that echoed around the shrine before moaning and melting against Mobei-Jun, wrapping his arms around the demon's shoulders. Mobei-Jun responded by growling and licking against Shang Qinghua's lips; Shang Qinghua gasped into the kiss and opened his mouth, then whined as Mobei-Jun's tongue flickered inside to taste. He whimpered as the hands on his hips gripped tighter, imagining the bruises that would be left there, so close to his growing erection.

With one last, lingering sweep of his tongue, Mobei-Jun pulled away from the kiss, leaving Shang Qinghua gasping for breath. What little he could see of his king's expression seemed to be pleased, but quickly became obscured as he kissed along Shang Qinghua's jawline to nip a mark right under his ear. Shang Qinghua whimpered, his fingers digging into Mobei-Jun's shoulders.

Mobei-Jun's own hands had migrated upwards, stroking Shang Qinghua's sides almost reverently, before stopping to rub his nipples with his thumbs. "Hnnghk—?!" Shang Qinghua choked out as Mobei-Jun sucked another mark into his neck while pinching his nipples at the same time. His hips flexed forward involuntarily, and he gasped in shock when his straining cock met his king's own hardness. Whining louder, Shang Qinghua pressed his torso as close to Mobei-Jun's as he could, rubbing his erection against his king's abs and feeling a trail of wetness left against his stomach.

With another growl, Mobei-Jun pulled away from Shang Qinghua's neck and brought their mouths together again in a ferocious kiss. His tongue swept inside and stroked along Shang Qinghua's, who took the opportunity to do some tentative exploring of his own. He ran the tip of his tongue along Mobei-Jun's teeth and the ridges of his soft palate, more than a little pleased when licking a particular spot had Mobei-Jun pressing closer and grinding against him.

Mobei-Jun pulled back sharply and glared at him; embarrassingly, that had the effect of making Shang Qinghua spurt a bit of precum. "You're distracting me," Mobei-Jun said plainly.

"But, my king—" Shang Qinghua whined.

Mobei-Jun cut him off with a harsh kiss before pulling back again. "Enough," he said. "Let me continue."

Shang Qinghua opened his mouth to protest again, only for words to desert him completely when Mobei-Jun dropped to his knees and buried his face between Shang Qinghua's legs. He made a sound that was the verbal equivalent of keysmashing, which Mobei-Jun graciously ignored in favor of stroking his hands slowly up Shang Qinghua's thighs. He made a similar sound when Mobei-Jun licked just under his navel, following the trail of hair down to his painfully hard cock. Was his king actually going to—?!

The answer, it seemed, was yes. With a pleased noise, Mobei-Jun first rubbed his cheek along Shang Qinghua's erection, seeming either not to notice or not to mind the streak of precum it left in its wake. Shang Qinghua almost choked on his tongue when Mobei-Jun nuzzled against the base and breathed in. He had barely gotten his breath back when Mobei-Jun started licking long, wet stripes up to the crown. He laved the vein on the underside with particular attention before taking the head in his mouth and humming in seeming contentment.

Shang Qinghua didn't often think about his own strength. Intellectually, he knew he was stronger than the average mortal; as a Peak Lord past mid-core formation, he knew he was stronger than most other cultivators, even. He didn't have a lot of opportunities to use said strength, though, so he often forgot the extent of it. Which is why, when Mobei-Jun pulled off to lap at the tip of his cock, his attempt to pull his king up onto the altar and kiss him again went awry: Rather than face-to-face, as Shang Qinghua had envisioned, his pull was off-balance, and he ended up face-to-dick with Mobei-Jun.

Okay, Shang Qinghua thought, mouth watering at the sight before him, he could work with this. Licking his lips, he leaned forward and closed them around the head of Mobei-Jun's cock.

This seemed to snap Mobei-Jun out of whatever stupor he'd been thrown in by Shang Qinghua's surprise martial maneuver. Luckily, it also seemed like this wasn't the sort of distraction that would have him reprimanding Shang Qinghua. Instead, moments after Shang Qinghua got his mouth on him, Mobei-Jun returned his attention to Shang Qinghua's cock with a vengeance.

Mobei-Jun licked, sucked, and kissed his way up Shang Qinghua's shaft, then swirled his tongue around the tip. Shang Qinghua whimpered around Mobei-Jun's cock as his king sank farther down. He tried a quick bob of his own, but quickly became too lost in sensation as Mobei-Jun's hands came back into play. Talented fingers rolled his balls gently, squeezing lightly in time with sucks to the head of his cock, then pressed against the space just behind them.

Shang Qinghua almost chocked on his king's dick when a finger slipped into Mobei-Jun's mouth beside his own cock, tracing up and down with his tongue. He was finally forced to spit it out when a particularly devastating suck coincided with Mobei-Jun's finger massaging his frenulum, lest he either actually choke or accidentally bite down. Mobei-Jun was in no way deterred, however, and Shang Qinghua soon felt his king's finger retreat from his mouth, only to slide down past his balls and trail back, back, back.

Shang Qinghua garbled something unintelligible when it reached his chrysanthemum and started running around the rim. Sounding pleased, Mobei-Jun hummed around his cock again and pressed the tip of his finger just slightly in. And that was it: Shang Qinghua was done. He screamed hoarsely as he came undone, his hips jerking up as Mobei-Jun swallowed him down, barely aware of the room around him. He finally collapsed back onto the surprisingly soft moss, breathless.

Mobei-Jun's mouth left his cock with a wet sound, and Shang Qinghua watched as he reached a hand down to fist himself. Shang Qinghua whimpered, "Let me, let me, please let me," trying valiantly to sit up and get his own mouth in on the process. He managed to lean up far enough to lick at Mobei-Jun's stones, prompting his king to come with a shudder and a low groan, releasing all over Shang Qinghua's chest. His own cock twitched hopefully, but Shang Qinghua ignored it; he was well past feeling like he had bones at the moment. Whatever was going to happen next, he thought, he was pretty okay with it after that.

Mobei-Jun heaved himself around so he was face-to-face with Shang Qinghua again, and Shang Qinghua instantly froze. Had he just thought he was fine with whatever happened next? Because he very much wasn't fine with it, if what happened next was being sacrificed. He opened his mouth to try and say something to stall the inevitable ...whatever, when Mobei-Jun spoke. "This king hopes that his god found this first act of worship to be satisfactory."

Shang Qinghua's mouth flopped open. He closed it, opened it again, then closed it once more, imitating the fish out of water he suddenly felt very much like. "I, you, what?" he eventually managed to say, intelligently.

"This Mobei-Jun cares not why you left heaven, only that you are happy to remain here with him, and that you trusted him enough to allow him to discern your true nature," Mobei-Jun continued. "It could not have been an accident that you were musing about the Cold Hands, Warm Heart technique where you knew I would overhear and take it upon myself to learn more; you have often dropped such hints. Know that this Mobei-Jun will not press for more of your infinite knowledge than you are willing to give."

Shang Qinghua stared at him, flabbergasted. He took another look around the shrine, finally paying attention to the items he'd overlooked before: In places of honor, where offerings would usually be left, he saw stacks of paper and brushes with ink stones, noodle bowls and packets of spiced melon seeds, worn yellow books and what looked like some of his discarded notes. This was a shrine to him?

Apparently, Mobei-Jun thought he was a god. One who left heaven, or maybe got kicked out, but a god nonetheless. And, well, wasn't he, after a fashion? Shang Qinghua reasoned. He did create this world, after all, and he'd been called "Great God" Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for it in his old world...

Deciding not to argue, Shang Qinghua cleared his throat. "As your god, I have to say that I am entirely on board with this form of worship. A-plus, full marks all around," he couldn't resist adding, knowing that Mobei-Jun was used to his seemingly nonsensical turns of phrase; he might even have decided it was some sort of godly jargon. He licked his lips and looked back up through his eyelashes. "But you said it was only the first? Does this mean you have more planned...?"

With what Shang Qinghua could only categorize as a smug glint in his eyes, Mobei-Jun rolled over and pressed him back into the moss.

If this was what worship involved, Shang Qinghua thought that he could get used to being a god.

—Fin—

Extras

Having "figured out" that SQH is a god, MBJ is convinced that the place SQH could return to that he would be unable to follow is the heavens. For this fic, it's technically possible for demons to cultivate to the level of ascension, but they've been blocked from heaven, and are so technically unable to actually ascend. It also takes a hell of a lot of work, so not many have managed it. Where any would-be ascended demons are now is anyone's guess, as is whether they'll spawn any more Heavenly Demons.

The Northern Tundra Blood Moss is partly on the shrine because it's a nice cushion that won't scrape the hell out of SQH's delicate human skin, and partly because, in addition to being able to consume blood, it can also do so with semen and other sexual fluids. Makes cleanup a breeze!

Airplane originally came up with Cold Hands, Warm Heart as a way for Bing-ge to keep a more temperature sensitive future wife from freezing while they were on a quest in the Northern Kingdom for some miracle plant that would heal a dying relative. It's most effective with skin-to-skin contact and needs to be reapplied regularly. Cucumber absolutely roasted him in the comments for the creatively bankrupt name.

Comments are loved, but not required; I hope you enjoyed!