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Fengqing Gotcha for Gaza
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Published:
2024-08-26
Words:
2,048
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
25
Kudos:
197
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26
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1,796

Mirage

Summary:

Feng Xin decides to taste an unknown silver powder he finds in the guest room of Paradise Manor. It ends well. Especially for Mu Qing.

Notes:

This was a really fun prompt:
- A fanfic based off this fanart https://x.com/shuiwanzhinei/status/1806907178592403560
- one mu qing and four (4) feng xin's (manhua nan feng and feng xin and donghua nan feng and feng xin)
- preference to bott! MQ
- body worshipping

@juyangism, I hope you like it!

And thank you MelTheD1saster for helping me figure out if this makes sense (and if all the arms/legs/lips were accounted for :D)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

It starts like this: a silvery powder in a jar, next to the bed in the guest room of Paradise Manor. Mu Qing and Feng Xin in disguise, staying there for the night after a difficult mission. Feng Xin, brave and curious and careless, dipping a finger in the jar and fucking licking it!

And now, about half a shichen later, there are two men standing in front of Mu Qing. More precisely, it’s the two different forms of the same man.

“What the fuck did you do?” Mu Qing yells at them.

In a bizarre display of synchronized movements, Nan Feng and Feng Xin simultaneously frown and look down at their own hands.

“Huh? I didn’t—” Two voices start talking at the same time, then stop. Finally, Feng Xin squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, it is he alone that speaks.

“I didn’t do anything! I just tried to change into my true form and then this happened,” he says as he waves his hand between himself and his supposed junior official. “Let me try again.”

“Don’t!” Mu Qing grabs him by the forearm. “Don’t do it. We don’t know what caused this and what will happen if you do.” In reality, he thinks he has a pretty good idea, but if he is wrong…

“How…” he begins, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “How do you feel? Should I call Xie Lian?”

“No! I feel fine, I just…” 

Feng Xin closes his eyes again, and Nan Feng continues talking instead. “If I focus, I can control both of… us. Independently. It feels really weird, but it’s fine.”

“Are you sure? You’re really alright?”

A small smile spreads on Feng Xin’s face and he nods. Behind him, Nan Feng looks fascinated by the movements of his own fingers. 

Mu Qing shakes his head and allows himself a short moment to feel the relief that washes over him. Then he punches Feng Xin in the shoulder. 

“You idiot! I told you not to touch whatever was in that jar!” The bite in his voice is not as sharp as he hoped it would be.

 

* * * 

 

Feng Xin doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger, so they decide to go to sleep and ask for help in the morning. 

They have tried to keep it secret, this new intimacy, this young and fragile thing between them. Mu Qing decides not to think too hard about the reason Hua Cheng offered them a room with a single bed. It’s likely that the crimson brat knows about them. It’s just as likely that he did it to annoy them.

At least the bed is large enough for three. Nan Feng and Feng Xin slide under the covers with Mu Qing like it is normal, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And it is, really. After all the centuries of shared pain, resentment, tentative friendship, and finally, affection, falling asleep with his back pressed to Feng Xin’s chest feels like coming home.

Warm arms wrap themselves around Mu Qing’s waist, as they always do when they share a bed. Feng Xin’s lips find his neck, and, as if sensing the unsaid complaint, he whispers, “I know you’re tired. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Mu Qing drifts between sleep and wakefulness. He doesn’t know for how long. The only sign of time passing is the slide of lips down his neck. A gentle stroke of fingertips on his cheek makes him open his eyes. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbles.

Nan Feng has a strange look in his eyes, filled with heat and awe and something else as well. “I never get to see how you look in my arms. I never get to see your face when I hold you like this.” He inches closer and presses a kiss at the same place his fingers were caressing. 

There are two pairs of lips on Mu Qing’s skin now, both of them offering the softest kisses. In the rare instances of the past when Mu Qing had allowed himself to imagine what having sex with Feng Xin would be like, he always thought it would have the same frantic, unrestrained energy of their fighting. But Feng Xin is surprisingly slow and gentle. Somehow, this always shatters Mu Qing’s barriers.

His body begins to wake. Heat prickles his skin. Mu Qing presses further in the familiar firmness of Feng Xin’s body behind him, and grabs Nan Feng’s robe by the collar, joining their lips together.

He feels the vibration of a hum on his back. The fingers on his waist slide down to his hips and tighten.

“You’re so beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you look?” Feng Xin says. Then he curls his fingers under Mu Qing’s chin and turns his head to the side, separating his lips from Nan Feng’s and taking them for himself.

It feels exquisite and decadent to do this. To be surrounded by the heat of Feng Xin and Nan Feng at the same time. To trade kisses with one, then the other, again and again. As desire builds in Mu Qing’s body, dangerous and fast, he finds his breath begins to stutter. Soft moans escape his lips.

“Is it alright, Qing-er?” Feng Xin asks, always careful. “Is it too much?”

Nan Feng pulls away to look at his face. There is nowhere Mu Qing can turn to try and hide his blush. 

“Just… stop talking,” he says, and closes his eyes.

“Oh.” Feng Xin’s lips spread into a smile, even as they still press kisses to the nape of his neck. “Oh. You like this.”

Mu Qing wants to scoff, but he is too distracted by the hunger in Nan Feng’s gaze. Nan Feng begins to kiss his throat, then moves lower, to his collarbone, and then his chest. His fingers fumble with the belt of Mu Qing’s inner robe, managing only to part it further. When he takes Mu Qing’s nipple in his mouth, it is him who moans, as if it’s him who is taken apart by Mu Qing’s lips.

Feng Xin’s voice is breathy in his ear. “I missed you. I missed this.”

This time Mu Qing manages to scoff. “It was only two weeks,” he says, but the effect is ruined by how breathy and shaky his own voice sounds.

It was only a two week mission, but it was difficult and perilous. They barely had time to sleep, never having the energy for anything more than a few chaste kisses before bed. 

Feng Xin chuckles. “I missed you,” he repeats, and it amazes Mu Qing that he isn’t embarrassed to admit it. 

He must have said this aloud, because Nan Feng answers him this time, “Why would I be embarrassed? I really missed you, Mu Qing. Let me show you how much.” 

He pulls Mu Qing towards his side, pressing on his shoulder so he’s laying on his back. Lowering himself to the foot of the bed, he takes Mu Qing’s ankle in hand. He begins to kiss there, slowly, slowly, the touch of his lips as soft as the wings of a butterfly. Once in a while, his tongue brushes Mu Qing’s skin, making it feel charged, like the air before a storm.

“If I built you a temple,” Feng Xin murmurs, while Nan Feng licks the sensitive skin behind Mu Qing’s knee, “would you understand then how much I liked you?”

Mu Qing gasps. “S-stop talking nonsense!” 

As if in answer, Nan Feng nips Mu Qing’s inner thigh.

“If I light you a thousand lanterns, would you understand it then?”

Desire burns inside Mu Qing like wildfire, threatening to overcome any semblance of control. His fist is clenching in the soft silks of Feng Xin’s shirt. His hips begin to cant helplessly, as Nan Feng’s lips slide higher, closer to where Mu Qing desperately wants them. He feels dangerously close to begging.

“Or should I worship you, as if I was one of your believers?”

Consumed by pleasure as he is, Mu Qing can’t be blamed for not noticing what happens before it’s too late. With a sigh, Feng Xin closes his eyes, and the air begins to ripple and shimmer, the way it always does when they shift between their forms. The mattress dips. Two more figures are on the bed next to them.

“Idiot! N-no!” Mu Qing says.

Others may think that Feng Xin isn’t concerned with the way his believers portray him. But Mu Qing knows of a statue in one of the temples of Nan Yang, beautiful and refined and striking, which Feng Xin always regards with a small smile. The face is Feng Xin’s, only slightly more intimidating. Mu Qing recognizes it in the man that looms over him now.

He watches in wordless wonder as the man parts his robes further and then hums in delight when he finds Mu Qing twitching and leaking and painfully hard. He is Feng Xin, unmistakably, but his shoulders are a little broader, his hair more honey than brown. Amber eyes that remind Mu Qing of a tiger on the prowl never leave his face as the Martial God of the Southeast parts his lips and takes Mu Qing in his mouth.

It’s too much. This much pleasure wasn’t meant for one man to take. There are lips on Mu Qing’s ankle again, lips on one of his wrists. He gets completely lost in it, in the kisses and licks and gentle bites. He is vaguely aware that a fourth pair of arms wrap around him, when the fourth man, yet another form that Feng Xin sometimes takes, lays Mu Qing in his lap.

It’s too much sensation and it’s everywhere. Feng Xin’s voice, deep and low, almost a rumble, continues to spill sweet and embarrassing things. Two sets of fingers are teasing both his nipples. All the while Feng Xin’s mouth is on him, slow and wet and insistent. 

“I want you so much,” the voice in his ear whispers. “Let me take care of you like this, always.”

At the feeling of an oiled finger sliding easily into him, Mu Qing keens. He feels like he is floating. He doesn’t know how he deserves this. How he deserves this honest and ridiculous and beautiful man who doesn’t even care for his own pleasure, only wants to bring Mu Qing to the brink.

Suddenly, he can’t stand it. He needs to touch Feng Xin too.

“Feng Xin,” he moans. “I need you. I need to taste you.”

He feels four bodies shudder at once. Hands and lips slow, as Feng Xin lets out a punched out breath next to him and asks, “How do you want me?”

“Please,” Mu Qing tugs at the laces on his trousers, unable to put into words this sudden need. Feng Xin swears under his breath and unties the laces quickly, and then —

Feng Xin’s lips are on his ankle. Feng Xin’s fingertips on his nipples. Feng Xin’s tongue on his cock. Feng Xin’s voice in his ear. Feng Xin’s fingers inside of him. He would be chanting the name like a prayer, if it wasn’t for the hot, heavy length of Feng Xin inside his mouth.

A hot flash of pleasure that unexpectedly crests. Mu Qing writhes on the bed and feels himself spill, before everything goes white.

 

* * *

 

When he opens his eyes again, four other pairs watch him, all of them having the same stupidly lovestruck look.

“Are you okay? Was that good?” Feng Xin asks, and Mu Qing would think he was fishing for compliments if it wasn’t for the earnest and concerned look on his face.

He rolls his eyes. He begins to explain that the answer should have been obvious, when the air ripples around them again, and three of the figures disperse in a shimmering cloud.

“Oh,” Feng Xin — the one remaining Feng Xin — says. “They’re… gone.” He sounds surprised and mildly disappointed. Silly, beautiful, ridiculous man.

“At least we don’t have to explain to Hua Cheng how you ended up with four clones!” Mu Qing snorts, and pulls Feng Xin on top of him. “Come now. I want you to fuck me.”

 

 

 

Notes:

EXTRA:

(the next morning)

Hua Cheng: Did you two have fun last night?
Feng Xin: *blushing and stammering*
Mu Qing: *blushing and glaring*
Xie Lian: San Lang, what do you mean? Why are you asking them?
Hua Cheng: No reason, gege! ^_^

 

I hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. I love any and all thoughts and comments <3

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