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“And now, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying whispers right by his ear, "You’ll just have to restrain yourself from moving. Can you do that for me?” he asks as he straddles him, arms circled around Lan Zhan's neck, holding him there as Wei Ying does slow rolls of his hips on his lap.
Lan Zhan swallows dryly at the request before nodding. He closes his eyes. It’s a promise alright.
Wei Ying’s hand plays with the ends of the forehead ribbon at the back, the sacred thing still tied around Lan Zhan’s head. He puts little effort to opening it with one simple tug. Lan Zhan always ties it in such a way.
It falls free and lands in Wei Ying’s palm. Wei Ying stops moving his hips and looks at it, at him, at Lan Zhan with his eyes closed, mouth parted, as he is bared underneath him, pliant and breathless, a beautiful dusty pink decorating his ears, cheeks and chest.
Wei Ying teasingly guides his right hand from the back of Lan Zhan’s neck to his chest, thumbs the right nipple along the way a few times and makes sure Lan Zhan feels that.
“Lan Zhan.. You’re so gorgeous, especially like this. Your chest is so broad. Just look at you,” he praises him as he cups the tight muscle of the right side of his breast. Lan Zhan lets out a very faint mnn, whatever that means. He’s trying to not think.
Wei Ying carefully takes the forehead ribbon and guides Lan Zhan’s hands from Wei Ying’s waist to the space between them, arms bent at the elbows. He looks at Lan Zhan’s eyes, which open as the curiosity catches him, and which look down at their hands as Wei Ying ties Lan Zhan’s wrists together with a messy knot.
Neither of them think it’s as neat as those cat tails made by Lan Zhan, but Wei Ying does a few test tugs on it and thinks it’s alright. He can also see Lan Zhan testing it out with a flex of the muscles of his arms.
“Is it alright?” Wei Ying asks. He cups the side of Lan Zhan’s face and gently caresses his cheek. His jaw is still wet from spit and lubrication, the same one that coats Wei Ying's hole.
Lan Zhan nods.
“Not too tight? Not too loose?”
“In between. Good.”
“Alright. Lay down for me,” tells Wei Ying to him sweetly, keeping himself pressed against Lan Zhan’s hard cock.
Lan Zhan swallows out of nervous habit and does as told. He recalls how some hours earlier he had voiced out his wish for Wei Ying to take control. His heart thrums out of the excitement that Wei Ying has worked hard to build up.
Wei Ying has taken control, and he’s been working on emptying Lan Zhan’s mind. It’s working. Somehow Lan Zhan has become hyperaware of the surface of the sheets that he feels against the scarred skin of his back, and even the softest gush of air that land on him.
“Now,” Wei Ying smiles as he drops his voice low, “raise your arms and close your eyes.” He seems to have a plan, and Lan Zhan doesn’t know what it is, but now he can guess, and that’s exactly what thrills him. It makes his cock jerk.
Lan Zhan obeys, breathless from the commands and the need to follow them, the need to please. Wei Ying reaches his hand underneath the pillow where he has placed a silk ribbon before.
He slides it out, movement sensual as he leans their chests together, kissing Lan Zhan as he lowers the wide silk onto his eyes. “Raise your head for me,” he prompts gently, and Lan Zhan does so Wei Ying can tie the knot.
When he’s ready, Wei Ying sits up and starts grinding again. “How does it feel, Lan Zhan? Do you like it?”
Lan Zhan exhales, trembling. He knows he has to be honest. He lets out a strained yes and a nod. Wei Ying smiles although there is no one left to see it.
There’s a lot of wetness between their groins, and it makes a filthy sound as Wei Ying moves against him. He brings his hips back a bit and takes a hold of Lan Zhan’s cock with his hands, so he can grind against it with his own length.
He notices Lan Zhan is trying to hold back on his sounds, so he bends down to kiss him once on the lips. “Don’t hold back on the sounds, okay? Let them go. I’ll make you feel so very good,” he tells him, and Lan Zhan nods again.
So many rules, so many commands masked as requests. Lan Zhan wants to follow them all, and if he fails, he feels like he might not survive.
Wei Ying works with both of his hands on their lengths. It feels good, the wetted slide of it with the added lubricant, and the way Wei Ying keeps rubbing his own cockhead at the sensitive spot on Lan Zhan’s.
Wei Ying leans down once more and makes sure to breathe right next to Lan Zhan’s ear.
“You’re so big, so big, my Lan er-gege, do you even realize that?” he whispers as he thumbs right below Lan Zhan’s cockhead, which earns him a flex of Lan Zhan’s abdominal muscles and a very silent grunt.
He decides to do it repeatedly a few times. “You try to be so casual about it, like you don’t know, but in reality… I think your nonchalance is just an act, Lan er-gege.”
When Lan Zhan flushes absolutely red at that, Wei Ying knows he’s right.
Wei Ying continues working with his hands. With both of his palms he makes a tight ring that he uses to stroke on both of them simultaneously. That manages to work Lan Zhan up so that he starts doing vague thrusts with his hips, not really aiming for any specific direction, but more to instinctively show his enthusiasm.
That’s a no no. Wei Ying quickly notices and stops, leaving Lan Zhan’s wet cock to stand on its own, reddened and hard.
Wei Ying moves to straddle Lan Zhan’s ankles, aiming to restrict the movements of his legs. When Lan Zhan has stopped moving his hips, Wei Ying lowers his head as he holds the base of Lan Zhan’s dick and reaches down to lick it without a warning.
He keeps looking at Lan Zhan’s reactions, the furrow of his brows whenever he pushes his tongue at his slit and brushes his lower lip against the underside. Wei Ying’s breaths land on the most sensitive skin, needy and inviting, and that causes twitching in Lan Zhan’s abdomen. Lan Zhan’s hips buck at the desperation to feel more, movement uncontrolled.
Again, Wei Ying stops. He makes a tch sound with a click of his tongue. He holds the cock in his hand, feeling the heaviness of it while resting the side of his palm against Lan Zhan’s crotch. The hair there tickles his skin.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, voice low and threatening, “if you don’t act nice now.. I’ll just have to lock you in place.”
To Lan Zhan it feels like all air has been punched out of him.
Wei Ying gives the cock a tentative squeeze to further emphasize his point. It’s hot to the touch, skin cleaned from the lubrication from the spots he has licked. He likes it, very much, and the thought that he could be sucking it kind of causes a small tug at his own gut. He considers it.
He resists the urge to have it in his mouth, and instead speaks. “Be a good boy and try not to move,” he says while bringing his thumb to again brush at the underside
Lan Zhan’s breath shudders. He’s fighting against the instinct to thrust up into Wei Ying’s hand.
“Nod if you understand,” continues Wei Ying, painfully casual.
Lan Zhan exhales. He forces himself to calm down, and that allows him to give in with a slow nod.
“Good.”
Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan is still not used to just simply letting go. He’s stubborn, even when he doesn’t want to be, because it is in his nature, but it has been made clear that he has asked for this with a reason. Wei Ying knows it’s Lan Zhan’s mind which won’t let him be, won’t let him to just be and not think. He wants to give him an escape from that.
Lan Zhan struggles to breathe evenly. Wei Ying waits before he decides to tease him some more.
With a purpose, Wei Ying lays down on his belly in the space between Lan Zhan’s legs. That way Lan Zhan’s thighs are on the sides of his chest, warm and firm, and his own inner thighs press down on Lan Zhan’s ankles. With his elbows leaning on the mattress at the sides, he opens his mouth wide to welcome the head of Lan Zhan’s cock against his flat tongue. He drags it back and forth while letting out a pleased hum.
In this position he also steals himself a chance to rub himself against the mattress. He knows Lan Zhan will sense that movement, so he does it again and again, while taking Lan Zhan deeper into his mouth, to show him just how he’s getting off from sucking his cock.
That works wonders.
Right as Lan Zhan starts trembling again and the rise and fall of his chest gets quicker, the sensation of getting close to the edge almost tangible, Wei Ying does what he’s been doing many times before and stops. He removes his mouth and squeezes Lan Zhan’s erection again.
With the way he’s being edged, Lan Zhan tries to tug on the restraints he has around his wrists, but he still keeps them placed above his head. Follow the rules, follow the rules. It’s a mantra inside his head that he can’t turn off, and if there’s someone who’s good at following rules, it’s definitely him.
Wei Ying takes pride in that.
After another moment of silence and Wei Ying looking up at Lan Zhan’s face for reactions, he lets go of his cock. He looks at it, standing tall and hard right in front of his face. He lets it be, an unforgiving expression on his face until he can be certain Lan Zhan doesn’t feel the edge anymore.
Without a word Wei Ying then pushes the cock to the side and lets it go so it bounces back up straight. He repeats the motion a few times, looking intently, always making sure to add a casual brush of his skin against the most sensitive spot.
“You like that?” he asks.
He then presses the middle of his palm against the tip, moving it in small circles and rubbing it in a way that’s for sure not enough. “Me, playing with your cock. Does it feel good to be so close, but never quite there?”
Then, he changes the palm into just his index finger at the slit, and carefully bends the cock up with his finger. He keeps it there, against Lan Zhan’s stomach while leaning in to kiss the underside of his cock. He gives it a wet lick, and then blows cool air gently on the wetted area.
He notices Lan Zhan shiver, but his hips stay in place. Wei Ying pushes his own hips down without meaning to.
“Good boy,” he tells him.
With Wei Ying’s face up close, he lets the dick go in the same fashion as before and lets it hit him in the face. As if that isn’t enough to Lan Zhan’s already worked up brain—that Wei Ying is playing with his hardness like this—Wei Ying then nuzzles his face into it.
He does it all on purpose, the movements of his head resembling a cat’s way to rub their head in. Lastly, he stops to give kitten licks to a throbbing vein. He feels the shape of it with his tongue, the way it tickles his lips as he kisses it, and he can’t help but to let out a small moan.
He wants it inside.
With the way he’s been getting into it, he hasn’t even noticed the way he’s been languidly rubbing his dick on the mattress. He has to stop only for the sake of his own sanity.
He keeps holding Lan Zhan’s cock as he lowers his head to sink his face into the skin of his thigh. He trembles a bit as he waits it out.
He carefully gets up and sits himself on top of Lan Zhan’s thighs. He figures he could give him a small warning.
“Lan Zhan, I’m going to get more lubrication.”
With the bottle that’s been resting on the bed, Wei Ying pours a generous amount on Lan Zhan’s erection and into his own hand. He has his gaze locked on it while keeping his movements slow and steady as he slicks him up. He strokes his cock up and down, eventually with both of his hands, lubricating it from base to tip. The sounds of it are wet and explicit in the silence of the room.
Lan Zhan breathes heavily when the strokes manage to stimulate the feeling of thrusting into something. It feels delicious, almost like something sweet and edible that causes his mouth to water, but this kind of arousal only makes his mouth dry, has him gape for air because he’s so very close, feeling like he’s gonna be tipped over any second now.
Wei Ying’s hands retreat.
Lan Zhan whines in frustration.
He’s been taking it all so well and for so long that he could almost curse, and actually, why not. He does curse. “Fuck.”
Wei Ying smiles, knowing Lan Zhan is being forced to focus on his sensations and other heightened senses when one has been taken away. His thighs keep twitching for a while after, and Wei Ying waits for them to stop.
“We are nowhere near done,” he warns him, and with a slight change of position he goes up on all fours and lines himself up.
He reaches a hand behind him, grabs Lan Zhan’s dick with his fingers while shifting so that Lan Zhan’s tip drags against his wetted hole. He repeats this a few times, letting the cockhead rub all along the crack of his ass, and then presses it a bit deeper so it catches on the dent of his hole.
“I’m going to ride you, Lan Zhan, but remember what we discussed. I will do the moving. You just lay still.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t even have the coherence to nod.
Wei Ying is already slick from behind, thanks to Lan Zhan’s desperate pleas to get Wei Ying sit on his face when they had started. The cock slides in easy when Wei Ying takes a few deep breaths to relax.
When Lan Zhan feels the tightness around him, his face scrunches up. Wei Ying lowers himself down while still holding the base of his cock, and does a bit of back and forth rocking to get it in all the way.
“H-aah… Aah..”
It feels exactly like one would think—stretched so open it almost feels unnatural. It’s been a while since the last time he’s done this. The feeling is incomparable to anything else. While it’s a struggle at first, Wei Ying feels powerful with the way Lan Zhan is trying so hard to be still underneath him, and he tells himself that he just has to take it very, very slowly.
When he bottoms out, he stills. He takes in the sensation of being so full, of Lan Zhan being so hard, edged so much that he’s on the verge of losing it.
“How is it?” asks Wei Ying, slightly breathless, but desperate for the knowledge. “Am I tight? Do you like it like this, inside me, when you can’t do a thing?”
Wei Ying starts rocking again, supporting himself against Lan Zhan’s abdomen with his hands.
A very small noise makes it out of Lan Zhan’s mouth.
“What was that?” Wei Ying asks as he moves his hips languidly.
“Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan’s voice is dripping with restraint, the very thing that Wei Ying is trying to break him free of.
“Yes, Lan Zhan. You can say my name.” Another careful roll of hips, and another, and another.
“Wei Ying... Wei Ying—”
Lan Zhan’s hands curl into fists above his head. He throws his head back and subtly tries to push his hips up by tensing his core muscles. Sweat gathers at his forehead and Wei Ying notices this, smiling from the knowledge that he’s able to do that to him.
“Yeah.. I’m here, Lan Zhan,” he tells him as he circles his hips around. It feels so fucking good, because the constant teasing he’s done to Lan Zhan has obviously also affected him, too.
With the hard cock buried up in his ass, he also gives himself a small break to get lost in it, closing his eyes and riding Lan Zhan gently. Every brush feels like delicious torture, one that he’s inflicting upon himself, but it’s even better when he hears Lan Zhan slowly starting to lose himself.
During this, when he’s picking up pace, suddenly Lan Zhan’s hips do an unrestrained buck up. That draws out an abrupt gasp from Wei Ying, who then braces himself against Lan Zhan and stops.
Fuck, he swears to himself. He trembles for a while. That was fucking close.
With the writhing Lan Zhan’s doing, his usually neat and tidy hair now tousled and damp, he’s getting closer and closer to fucking Wei Ying without the intention of meaning to. The blindfold is still there, and his mouth is parted as he repeats Wei Ying’s name once more.
“Stay still,” orders Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan’s brain shuts down.
For a while they both stay absolutely still. Lan Zhan is unable to speak, unable to move a single muscle because he knows the very next thrust will make him come. Follow the rules, follow the rules, follow the rules—
“You’re that close, huh?”
No, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking—
“Then we’ll wait."
No, let’s no wait, let me come, let me come, let me—
It’s almost as if Wei Ying can hear his desperation. His tone turns softer.
“It’s alright, Lan Zhan,” he says gently. “We’ll do something else.”
This has been his goal all along, to get Lan Zhan where he is now. Now he just has to make him lose it, to forget about reality.
“I’m going to touch you. Focus on my fingers and the places you feel me touch you. Follow it as closely as you can.”
Yes, rules, more rules—that’s good, that’s good.
With his right hand, Wei Ying starts with his fingertips placed on Lan Zhan’s sternum. They’re still wet from the lubrication, but as he drags his fingers down, the liquid gets wiped off and it leaves a trail in the middle of Lan Zhan’s chest. Wei Ying brings his fingers down to his abdomen and then back up.
Their hips stay still. For Lan Zhan, the tight heat becomes nothing more than a constant, secure pressure at his cock. The patterns of Wei Ying’s fingertips against his skin are easy to follow.
Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan’s breathing even out as he touches the side of his waist. He drags the fingers up across his ribs, following the bumps and dents, all the way up to the side of his armpits. He goes up the underside of the arm and sees Lan Zhan purse his lips.
Pleased about that, he then brings them into the dip above the collarbone. He follows the anatomy easily, to the dent between his clavicles and forward on top of the other.
Wei Ying has his fingers on the left side now. He trails a path up along Lan Zhan’s jugular, followed by the underside of his jaw back to the right side, and decides to stop there. He finds the right spot to press two fingers down to feel the pulse.
It’s quite calm now, quickening only a bit when Lan Zhan breathes in, and slowing down when he breathes out. It matches with the one Wei Ying feels inside him, and fuck, that’s hot.
“Good,” says Wei Ying, approving. He removes his hand and then takes a moment to just look.
He looks relaxed. The tension of his muscles is gone now, the expression on his face from before completely vanished. He is not flexing his jaw anymore, not frowning his eyebrows anymore. His mouth is still parted, face and chest still flushed, skin coming down from the goosebumps caused by Wei Ying’s touching earlier. He is beautiful.
Wei Ying smiles. “That’s it,” he whispers softly.
Lan Zhan doesn’t respond.
Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan is long gone, his mind floating somewhere where he’s allowed to just be. Wei Ying aims to give him the gentlest release possible.
He whispers again, “I’m going to let you come now,” and starts with a gentle forward roll of his hips.
Lan Zhan doesn’t react at first. Wei Ying continues to ride him, keeping his pace slow, and it’s maybe on the fifth roll when Lan Zhan gets pushed back in that there’s a small gasp from him.
Wei Ying chases that, for him, repeats the motion as many times as he needs to, seeing how Lan Zhan’s body, all pliant and loose underneath him, comes to life with the way he’s breathing faster and letting his voice come out. There are tiny little moans, very sweet noises that Wei Ying doesn’t often get to hear.
He drinks them in, all of what he’s seeing and hearing, hoping it’ll stay with him forever. It’s so hot, Lan Zhan sounds and looks and feels so hot, and it makes his own cock ache out of the flutters right in his lower belly. It’s so good, and he hopes so much that he can let Lan Zhan come first.
“Let it go, Lan Zhan,” he tells him sweetly, voice like honey, and lastly, “come.”
Suddenly Lan Zhan tenses all over. Wei Ying stops moving his hips, but brings a hand to stroke his own cock lazily.
Lan Zhan can’t help the way his head raises from the pillow and the way the flex of his abdomen makes his whole body curl. His hips push up, slowly but strong, so that he manages to push himself as deep as possible, and his body trembles as he feels his orgasm wash over him like a tide.
He releases everything that has been building up, rocking his hips in waves, pushing inside Wei Ying along with the twitches of his lower body, and it’s hot, it’s so fucking good, it’s everything he has been chasing for.
Wei Ying doesn’t ride him through it. He lets it happen on its own, lets Lan Zhan focus on the feeling of that alone.
When Lan Zhan is done, head back resting on the pillow and all of his muscles loose, the pace of Wei Ying’s hand picks up. He jerks himself off then, makes Lan Zhan focus in the way Wei Ying tightens around him when Wei Ying comes on top of his abdomen with Lan Zhan’s softening cock still inside him.
Lan Zhan makes a whine out of oversensitivity and at the way Wei Ying’s tight hole pushes him out. The aftermath of it is slippery, his own come most likely following. Then he feels a weight on top of him, which is Wei Ying, letting the semen between them get smeared on both of their chests, and he finds that grounding when Wei Ying stays like that and leans in to kiss him. It’s a lazy kiss, coated with the feeling of swimming in syrup, and Lan Zhan lets himself sigh into his mouth.
The blindfold soon comes off, but Lan Zhan’s eyes stay closed, and he lets himself melt into the floaty feeling caused by his lightheadedness.
None of his earlier thoughts seem to bother him then. It's like they have all flown away, for once.
The emptiness caused by that feels wonderful. He kisses Wei Ying back, and brings his tied hands down to keep him there.
Stay, he whispers his plea against his lips, and Wei Ying does.