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“Oh, none for me tonight, thanks,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan stopped mid-movement, hand still holding the bottle of white wine from the fridge. He rarely drank alcohol, but Xiao Xingchen usually had a glass with dinner. “But I made fish,” he said dumbly, looking back at the kitchen table.
“I know,” Xiao Xingchen said, smiling. He was already seated in front of his plate. He had taken off his shoes when he had come home, but was otherwise still dressed from work. The sleeves of his white silk shirt were slightly sheer, catching in the bright kitchen light. “Come have dinner.”
Song Lan returned the wine to the fridge and took out the bottle of seltzer instead. He poured two glasses and went to the table.
Xiao Xingchen brushed his fingers when he accepted the glass, still smiling.
Song Lan faltered. He cleared his throat and sat down beside Xiao Xingchen. The table was a simple square, but they tended to ignore the other two chairs. Their elbows occasionally knocked this way, but was easier for Song Lan to stretch out his long legs without Xiao Xingchen across from him—and there was an undeniable intimacy in the extra closeness.
Song Lan was very aware of that closeness tonight.
Xiao Xingchen chatted idly while he ate, but he kept reaching over between bites to pet the back of Song Lan’s hand, or brush a strand of hair behind Song Lan’s ear, or drag a finger thoughtfully along Song Lan’s jaw.
It was not a subtle seduction, but it was very effective. He had been with Xiao Xingchen for so many years that there was little chance or need for subtlety left between them.
They had had sex that morning before work, exchanging blowjobs in the shower. If Xiao Xingchen was deliberately seducing Song Lan, if he was choosing not to even a glass of wine with dinner, he must have a plan. Anticipation made Song Lan itch under his skin.
Song Lan lost track of the conversation, eyes on Xiao Xingchen’s long fingers. They were so slender, so clever, so deliberate.
“…Zichen?”
“Hm?” he asked.
Xiao Xingchen gave him a knowing look. “I was thanking you for dinner.”
As though Song Lan didn’t cook nearly every night of the week. He disliked restaurants—they were too heavy on the salt and oil, and never clean enough for his comfort—so they spent most evenings at home together. “You’re welcome,” Song Lan said anyway.
“You’ve been so quiet, more than usual. Are you all right?”
“Of course,” Song Lan said.
With a skeptical hum, Xiao Xingchen ghosted a finger down the front of Song Lan’s throat. Song Lan gasped, a quick, broken sound before he could catch himself. “Are you sure? You seem a little flushed.”
“Xingchen,” Song Lan said, half-desperate, half-scolding. “Don’t tease.”
“You like it when I tease you,” Xiao Xingchen reminded him. He reached toward Song Lan’s throat again, but didn’t touch. Song Lan would have sworn he could feel the heat from Xiao Xingchen’s fingers from an inch away. “You’re so sensitive. It’s easy to make you pay attention.” He tilted his head, smile conspiratorial. “I like when you pay attention to me.”
“Always,” Song Lan said.
Xiao Xingchen pulled his hand away. “Clean up for us, if you don’t mind. Properly. Then come to the bedroom.”
“What…” Song Lan let the question die on his lips. If Xiao Xingchen wanted to share his plans, he would. He rarely did; he enjoyed leaving Song Lan wondering.
Song Lan, who had been regularly called ‘obsessive’ by his family and a ‘control freak’ by his peers, let him. He trusted Xiao Xingchen. So far, he hadn’t been let down.
Xiao Xingchen left the kitchen and Song Lan took another moment at the kitchen table to catch his breath before he picked up the plates and glasses and took them to the sink. They had a dishwasher, but Song Lan knew what Xiao Xingchen had meant. He wanted time for…whatever it was he was doing in their bedroom.
Song Lan put on his rubber gloves and handwashed each dish and utensil, focusing on the lather of the soap against the bright yellow rubber.
He tried not to think too hard about what Xiao Xingchen might be planning. He could rarely predict the spiraling, clever way his boyfriend’s mind worked, even after so long together.
Xiao Xingchen knew him. There was a notebook in the bottom of their closet with a handwritten list of kinks and limits and curiosities that they occasionally updated together, curled on the couch with a four-color pen in Xiao Xingchen’s hand. It should not have been so seductive to see Xiao Xingchen click his way through a pen that could have belonged to an accountant from the nineties, but Song Lan had long-since resigned himself to being attracted to everything Xiao Xingchen did.
Those negotiating conversations were relentless. Xiao Xingchen could be stubborn when he wanted, prying past Song Lan’s natural reticence to make him discuss his desires out loud. It was a painful process, but there was always a nice reward at the end. A very nice reward.
Song Lan scowled down at the plate he had been scrubbing for the last two minutes. This line of thought was not helping distract him.
He finished washing and drying the dishes, moved the condiments back into the pantry and fridge, and then, trying to keep his footsteps even, finally went into the bedroom.
Xiao Xingchen was calmly waiting for him at the foot of the bed. He’d changed into a silky white robe tied loosely at his waist.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. If he was wearing pants or underwear, it was hidden by the fall of the robe.
What he was wearing was an unfamiliar pair of knee-high white leather boots.
Song Lan stopped like he’d run into a wall.
Xiao Xingchen smiled at him easily. He crossed his legs, showing off the pristine leather. He flicked his ankle, showing off the boot’s untouched soles. Where his robes split, Song Lan could see a sliver of his pale thighs.
It was getting difficult to breathe.
Boots had been on Song Lan’s list of vague fantasies, though he’d admitted that the practicality of it seemed beyond him. He could hardly go out to eat at restaurants most days. The thought of touching shoes that had been out in the grime of streets and public buildings made his stomach turn.
If his stomach was turning tonight, it was not with revulsion.
Xiao Xingchen waited patiently, but Song Lan didn’t move or speak.
Finally, Xiao Xingchen said, “Strip for me, Zichen.”
Another man could have made the action seductive, but Song Lan could only fumble with his buttons and zippers under Xiao Xingchen’s watchful gaze until he was bare in the middle of their bedroom.
Song Lan was already getting hard. Xiao Xingchen would be able to tell even from across the room. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to cover himself.
“Come here,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Kneel for me.”
A thin floor pillow was at Xiao Xingchen’s feet waiting for him. Song Lan walked on unsteady legs across the bedroom and then dropped carefully to his knees.
“There you go,” Xiao Xingchen said.
His hand carded confidently through Song Lan’s hair, the sure firmness a blessing after the extended teasing during dinner. Song Lan was still alert, aroused, even slightly unnerved, but the touch was grounding. Xiao Xingchen always knew what he needed. Xiao Xingchen’s hand fisted in the hair near his ear, tilting Song Lan’s head. Song Lan leaned with the touch, though it seemed more idle than directing.
“I went to the store to pick these out last week. I wanted to feel them before I bought them. To test them out,” Xiao Xingchen told him. Song Lan imagined him strolling through a store, casually groping the shoes on display. “I was thinking about this the whole time. About you. About how you would do anything for me. About your mouth.”
His hand dragged over Song Lan’s head before he tugged him firmly in the other direction. Song Lan went, hypnotized.
“I cleaned them yesterday while you were still at work and let them dry overnight,” he continued. “I tasted them while I was cleaning them. I was curious. They don’t taste like much. But you don’t care about that, do you?”
“Xingchen,” Song Lan breathed.
Xiao Xingchen released his hair and thumbed his lower lip. Song Lan’s mouth parted automatically, and Xiao Xingchen slid his thumb inside to press against Song Lan’s tongue.
“Look at you,” Xiao Xingchen said approvingly. “I knew you’d like this. You’re already desperate for it.”
Song Lan keened quietly, but didn’t fight the pressure keeping his tongue still.
“Can you ask for what you want?”
Blinking, Song Lan still kept his mouth obediently parted. Xiao Xingchen examined his face, and then removed his thumb. He swiped it over Song Lan’s cheek, the warm spit quickly turning cold in the open air.
Song Lan swallowed, eyes flicking down to the boots before meeting Xiao Xingchen’s gaze again. His brain felt hazy and slow. He didn’t know how to make his throat work. He just wanted.
“No, talking isn’t easy for you,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You can show me instead.”
He uncrossed his legs and grabbed Song Lan’s hair again to nudge him forward. Song Lan followed, unsure what he meant but always willing to find out.
The toe of one of the boots nudged between his knees, and he obediently spread them. The boot kept nudging, and Song Lan ended up kneeling so widely his ass nearly touched the floor. He could feel the air cool against his exposed hole.
Then, the boot returned to the center to press deliberately beneath Song Lan’s crotch.
Song Lan blinked up at Xiao Xingchen, startled and deeply aroused.
“Go on,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Show me you want this.”
With a bitten-off whine, Song Lan ground down against the boot tip. It was awkward, uneven. He pressed closer to Xiao Xingchen’s leg so he could reach his leather-covered shin as well. His breath hitched as the pressure on his neglected cock sent a thrum of arousal through him.
His hips bucked forward out of his control, rubbing against the cool leather. It wasn’t enough, and it was too much. He felt electrified.
He was too tall to reach the top of the boot with his mouth, so he laid open-mouthed kisses against Xiao Xingchen’s bare thigh instead.
“You do want this,” Xiao Xingchen said. “Kneeling for me. Desperate. You’re breathing so hard. Are you already close? You know better than to come yet.”
Song Lan pressed his forehead against Xiao Xingchen’s thigh, panting as he continued to grind against his leg.
Xiao Xingchen’s hair fisted in his hair and lifted his head. Song Lan met his eyes blearily.
“Look at you,” Xiao Xingchen said fondly. Song Lan let his hips keep rocking, knowing what Xiao Xingchen wanted. “I like seeing you like this. You look good when you’re out of your mind. You look good all the time, but this is just for me. Thank you for trusting me with this.” It was so formal, so earnest. Xiao Xingchen never flinched from sincerity.
Song Lan stared up at him adoringly.
Xiao Xingchen smiled at him. “You’re doing so well. I love to see you like this. Desperate. And all mine.”
Song Lan was swamped with a sudden spike of arousal. Orgasm threatened at the corners of his vision, the promise of a sharp release. With a hitched breath, he pressed closer into Xiao Xingchen’s leg.
Xiao Xingchen shook him lightly by the hair, grabbing his attention. “Don’t come yet,” he reminded him.
Song Lan nodded the best he could despite the hold on his hair, then admitted, “I’m close.” His voice was hoarse. He made his hips still, trying to hold himself in check.
“I didn’t say to stop,” Xiao Xingchen said.
With a whimper, Song Lan let his hips move again. He tried to keep the motion light, fighting against the urge to come, but his body felt out of his control. He wanted to wrap his arms around Xiao Xingchen’s legs, let release overtake him, come across the white leather. He gritted his teeth and held back, slowing his hips again.
Xiao Xingchen petted his hair. “Do you need help?”
“Yes,” Song Lan gasped.
“Ask.”
“Please,” Song Lan said. “I’m close. Don’t let me come yet. I want to be good.”
“I know you do.” His voice was impossibly fond. “You always do.”
Though Song Lan could have guessed it was coming if he’d been less distracted, he whined when Xiao Xingchen pulled his leg away. Song Lan stilled, feeling aching and desperate at the ground at Xiao Xingchen’s feet.
Xiao Xingchen stood up, ending up nearly flush with Song Lan’s torso. The untouched boot came up and pressed gently against Song Lan’s chest.
Song Lan shifted back, but the boot’s pressure didn’t let up.
Movements uncoordinated, Song Lan let Xiao Xingchen press him all the way down to the ground. Xiao Xingchen stood over him, his boot kept gentle but unrelenting just below his collarbone.
Song Lan panted on the floor, hips still moving abortively against the air as though he might find something to grind against if he only kept trying.
“Be still,” Xiao Xingchen said, leaning on him with slightly more weight.
It was grounding and dizzying at once. Song Lan forced his lower back into the floor, stilling his hips. Xiao Xingchen examined him from head to toe with warm, assessing eyes. He couldn’t see past Xiao Xingchen’s leg, but he could imagine his cock was red and leaking.
“I’m glad you asked for help,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You really were close, weren’t you? You would have come against my foot if I let you.”
Song Lan swallowed, all his attention on staying still.
“Answer, darling,” Xiao Xingchen said.
“Yes,” Song Lan croaked. “I would.”
“But you know that I’m in control of when you come,” Xiao Xingchen continued. “That’s the rule.”
“Yes, yes,” Song Lan said.
“I’m sure you’re grateful that I helped you not break the rules,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You can thank me.”
“Thank you,” Song Lan said immediately.
Xiao Xingchen smiled, small and wicked. “Oh, I’m sure you can find a better way to say it than that. I’m not mean. I won’t make you keep using your words.”
Song Lan’s gaze flicked to the part in Xiao Xingchen’s robe. With his current stance, he could see even more bare thigh. He thought Xiao Xingchen might not be wearing underwear.
He tried to push up onto his elbows, but Xiao Xingchen pressed down again. Song Lan could have stood up anyway—Xiao Xingchen was strong in his own way, but could never beat Song Lan in a fight—but Song Lan only let himself be pushed flat on the floor again.
Instead, he raised a hand toward Xiao Xingchen’s thigh, only for a quick look to tell him to put it down again.
He frowned slightly, trying to figure out what Xiao Xingchen was asking from him.
The boot on his chest nudged forward.
He craned his neck to look at it. It was not the foot he’d been grinding on before. The leather was still pristine.
Song Lan let out a shocked, aroused sound and looked back up at Xiao Xingchen.
Xiao Xingchen was still watching him, patient as ever. He didn’t give any indication he knew where Song Lan’s mind had gone. Was this what he wanted? Or would he be surprised? Confused? Repelled?
Song Lan pushed away the last thought. He had never horrified Xiao Xingchen before, no matter what he had done or asked for. This was on their list of mutual interests, though they had never acted on it before.
Carefully, slowly, Song Lan bent his neck to brush his lips against the edge of Xiao Xingchen’s boot.
“Good boy,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Relieved he’d gotten it right, Song Lan craned his neck further, peppering kisses on the leather and edge of the sole.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan’s blood was boiling inside him. Xiao Xingchen was standing still, keeping him in place, holding him down, praising him, watching him. Song Lan belonged to him.
Carefully, he licked the edge of the boot.
Xiao Xingchen had been right. It didn’t taste interesting.
He had also been right that it didn’t matter.
He whimpered, licking again.
“You look gorgeous,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I want to see you fall apart.”
Song Lan blinked when the boot pulled away. He started to chase it, but then fell back to the floor. Xiao Xingchen would tell him what he wanted.
He watched in awe as the robe spilled to the floor, leaving Xiao Xingchen naked above him. He was hard too, and Song Lan hoped he would be allowed to taste it.
Instead, Xiao Xingchen knelt over Song Lan’s hips, the white boots pressed against the floor. He held Song Lan’s cock with one hand, and before Song Lan could process what was happening, started to sink down onto it.
“Xingchen,” Song Lan gasped.
Xiao Xingchen gave him a smug look. He must have prepped himself while Song Lan was in the kitchen. The smug look faded as he sank lower. He closed his eyes, moving his hips carefully to take more of Song Lan inside him.
Song Lan held still beneath him, letting him take his time. It was difficult—Xiao Xingchen was slick and hot around him, and Song Lan wanted to move. But he could be good for his lover. He had to be.
Finally, Xiao Xingchen settled on Song Lan’s thighs, fully encasing him. For a long moment, they sat there together. Xiao Xingchen’s breathing had finally changed too, panting with pleasure. He clenched down on Song Lan, and Song Lan gasped.
“You feel so good,” Xiao Xingchen told him, expression focused inward as he began to slowly fuck himself. “So big.”
Song Lan couldn’t hold back his whimper.
“Stay still,” Xiao Xingchen said, putting a palm in the center of Song Lan’s chest. He smiled sweetly. “Just feel it, Zichen.”
Song Lan stayed flat on the floor as Xiao Xingchen fucked down on him, using his cock with a joyous abandon that made Song Lan fall in love all over again.
Xiao Xingchen had no shame, no hesitation. He took his pleasure from Song Lan, closing his eyes to enjoy the stretch. He moved the hand from Song Lan’s chest to touch his own neck, his chest, his nipples, and then down to grasp his own cock. He moaned prettily at the touch, and began to stroke himself firmly.
“Xingchen,” Song Lan said, then bit his lip.
“Soon,” Xiao Xingchen promised. “Just give me…” He trailed off, focusing on jerking himself off in time to his bouncing.
Song Lan kept himself from the edge of orgasm through sheer force of will, tamping down on the desperate pleasure that built in the back of his mind.
“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen breathed. “That’s it. Okay. Come for me now. Do it, Zichen, I need to feel you inside me. I want to be full of you.”
“Fuck,” Song Lan breathed.
Xiao Xingchen dropped fully onto his lap and ground down, relentless.
Song Lan came. It tore through him like a thunderclap, rolling and undeniable. He could feel himself pulsing inside Xiao Xingchen.
“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen breathed, clenching down on him. He stripped his cock harder and then, with a lovely sigh, came across Song Lan’s chest.
Xiao Xingchen stayed sitting on him for a long moment, hands pressed to the floor on either wide of Song Lan’s waist as he caught his breath. He was still clenching down in pulses on Song Lan’s cock. Song Lan was oversensitive, but he was too worn out to protest.
Finally, Xiao Xingchen lifted himself off and sat on the floor beside Song Lan, a tired but bright smile on his face.
“Help me?” he asked, kicking his feet toward Song Lan with charming laziness.
Song Lan obediently sat up and unzipped Xiao Xingchen’s boots, unable to resist kissing the revealed skin as he went. Xiao Xingchen was slightly sweaty, salty, real beneath his lips. He felt sticky and raw from the scene, and extending it with small touches kept him tethered.
“Did you have a nice time?” Xiao Xingchen asked.
“Yes,” Song Lan breathed, setting the first boot aside and kissing the vulnerable curve of Xiao Xingchen’s knee. “Thank you.”
Xiao Xingchen idly petted his hair until he was barefoot, and then he helped pull Song Lan to the bed. Song Lan was unsteady on his feet, but Xiao Xingchen guided him forward. “Come here,” he said. “I want to hold you before we clean up. You were so good for me, love.”
As always, Song Lan went where Xiao Xingchen led.