Archive of Our Own

"Alright, Wei Ying, how much?"

Wei Ying thinks for a second, then decides, "725."

Immediately, Xue Yang and a-Qing bet "Lower!" and Mianmian marks the respective boxes with a blue arrow. Wei Ying groans. A-Qing doesn’t have the top spot of the game for nothing.

At Golden Carp Tower Casino, a group of the staff play "Just the Tips" every night before their shifts. As of tonight, the rankings are: a-Qing, Luo Qingyang, Prishna, Hector, Xue Yang, Commie Dave, Thom, Wei Ying, Wen Ning, and Crypto Dave. The other dealers and bartenders act uninterested but Wei Ying is sure that Wen Qing and Meng Yao would be playing (and in the top three) if their positions as managers didn't prohibit their participation.

The rules were thus: each person would make a prediction for their tip total for the night; everyone else would bet on a higher or lower amount and make a bet with their game credits; at the end of the night, tips would be counted and if the focal person made within $50 of their predication, they would get everyone's credits; if they made less than the margin, the credits of those who had bet higher would be proportionally distributed to those who bet lower, and vice versa. There were a few ways to raise the stakes and situational gameplay, but that was the overall gist of it.

"Okay, a-Qing, Xue Yang, how much?" Mianmian asks, uncapping the black marker.

“250.” So Xue Yang was confident.

“500,” a-Qing gloated. Thom whistles and Wei Ying flips her off. A-Qing just shrugs because of course she doesn’t give a fuck. But this sealed Wei Ying’s fate for the night and everyone else places bets on ‘Lower.’ Even sweet Wen Ning, who almost exclusively bet ‘Higher,’ chose tonight to betray him.

Wei Ying whines and drapes himself dramatically over the table, lamenting the fact that “no one has any faith in me! Even Wen Ning, my most loyal and staunch supporter, has betrayed me!” Wen Ning nervously tries to reassure him as everyone laughs at his antics. Then he pops up and declares, “I’m defending myself!” This was one of the situations in the game – since everyone bet on one side of his claim, he can defend. “Put up 200 credits, Mianmian.”

A-Qing snorts dubiously and Hector and Commie Dave high-five each other. On the one hand, if Wei Ying’s tips are $675 or more, everyone will have to give him double their bets. On the other hand, if Wei Ying falls short on tips, he’ll be paying 200 credits to each person. Which will definitely put him in the negatives and have him handing out favors for the next few weeks. “You all doubt me too much! I’m gonna charm a rich, old man to fall in love with me tonight,” he says with his nose in the air, basking in the giggles. Ah, he’s so fucked but something something risk and reward or whatever.

Meng Yao sweeps into the breakroom to announce that the first of the Nie party had arrived, so the group hurries to finish their bets for Wen Ning and Crypto Dave while Meng Yao and Xue Yang glare at each other. (Wei Ying will not be touching whatever kind of tension between them with a 20-foot pole.) Then Wei Ying, a-Qing, Mianmian, and Xue Yang file through the game floor, as quiet as it ever gets at three in the afternoon.

The smallest private room is typically reserved for birthday parties and tonight’s is for Nie Huaisang, who had been one of Wei Ying's semi-frequent players even back at The Burial Mounds. There were already a few people talking near the short bar when they entered, none of them Nie Huaisang.

Mianmian immediately bustles over to take drink orders while Xue Yang and a-Qing check their tables. To warm up the crowd to his charm, Wei Ying sidles up next to Mianmian behind the bar to chat. After all, he’ll be dealing for these folks for 3 hours.

Mianmian is already setting down a drink for the woman, who looks very elegant in a flowing lilac dress. The man to her left looks stiff in his tailored tuxedo and gaudy gold watch while the man on her right is wearing an obnoxiously purple suit and has a scowl set on his face.

Angry Purple huffs and says, "of course Huaisang has to be fashionably late to his own party."

The woman gives a light laugh when Angry Purple takes an enraged shot as soon as Mianmian sets his drink in front of him. "A-Cheng," she scolds playfully, "wouldn't this be the one acceptable day to be fashionably late?" which just earned another huff.

Wei Ying leans into the bar, very much in Mianmian's space and very much ignoring her glare, to greet, "good afternoon xiansheng, jiejie, didi!" He receives his desired nod, giggle, and sputter, respectively. "My title is the Patriarch but most people call me Wuxian. But you, jiejie, you can call this one a-Xian," he says with a wink.

Angry Purple's face is flushed almost the same color as his suit. "What kind of name is Patriarch? And I'm not your didi!"

"Aww, but you give off such cute little didi vibes! Don't worry, you can call me gege."

"I'll do no such thing! You–" The woman is laughing too hard to say anything, but her hand on his arm is enough to stop the outburst. Before Wei Ying can further provoke their patrons, Mianmian hip checks him out of the way so she can ask the two men standing to the side for their drink orders.

And wow. They’re clearly brothers, with the same face shape and noses and chins and hair texture and in similar white suits that look excessively expensive. The one with a shoulder-length bob and horrendous ruler-straight bangs wears a pleasant smile while the one with long, luxurious hair has the bitchiest straight face Wei Ying has ever seen. Bitchy Face is also, unfortunately, the hottest man Wei Ying has ever seen. Ever.

"No, thank you, ma'am," says Smile Brother while Bitchy Face stares straight ahead and acknowledges no one. "We don't drink."

And at his core, Wei Ying is a smartass, so of course his mouth blurts out, "You don't drink anything? You must get so thirsty!" Ahh, he wants to smack his own forehead for that, just like Angry Purple is doing.

Bitchy Face cuts a glare right at Wei Ying and, wow, his eyes are so light they look gold – and not the shiny yellow paint on every single decoration at Golden Carp Tower, but the true deep earth metal. Smile Brother graciously forgives Wei Ying's rudeness with a small nod and asks Mianmian, "could we both have a water, then?"

Before Wei Ying can shove his foot further into his mouth, the door opens and it seems like the rest of the party has arrived. There's Nie Huaisang at the front: short, willowy, and fluttering an elaborate fan. Next to him is perhaps the most massive man to have ever visited the casino, all bulging muscles and more muscles and mustache. A few men Wei Ying maybe recognizes are laughing at something Nie Huaisang must've said as they step through the door and Meng Yao slithers in behind everyone. He shuts the door with a smile that is probably supposed to be polite but is really just threatening.

"Wuxian-xiong!" Nie Huaisang exclaims upon seeing him, waving his fan in the air as if there was not only a low table separating them.

"Sangsang! Happy birthday! You're growing up too fast, you must stop or this poor gege will get sick with heartache!" Obligatory 'Happy Birthday!'s echo his, and laughter follows his antics. Nie Huaisang swats at him with his fan as he orders some fruity cocktail from Mianmian.

"Ugh, you sound like da-ge," Nie Huaisang says, gesturing at Mr. Muscles, who had strong-armed Smile Brother into a one-armed-hug/backslap. Bitchy Face is back to staring into the distance with a tangible I'd rather be anywhere else right now vibe and radiating unbearable hotness.

"I've never said anything of the sort," Mr. Muscles says gruffly, "but I'm sure Huan-di cried those exact words at Lan Zhan's last birthday," as he claps Smile Brother on the shoulder.

With great delight, Wei Ying witnesses both brothers' ears blush pink. Ahh, too cute!

Meng Yao's polite throat clearing cuts through the friendly fire. When the room has quieted down, he says, "I'll just explain the set up briefly as our dealers prepare their tables." He shoots an expectant look at Wei Ying, still crammed behind the bar with Mianmian and oblivious because he's enraptured by Bitchy Face's ears – the pink is only deepening with every passing moment. A few seconds of awkward silence later, Meng Yao clears his throat again and Wei Ying finally gets the message to scramble over to his table.

While Meng Yao informs the party about the set-up, Wei Ying counts his starting chips. Three thousand points, even. Between the entire party, he estimates there’s close to seven thousand points in chips for tonight, so he sets his goal to five thousand points, even. Xue Yang and a-Qing are a little less exact in their collection values but a-Qing should be able to win over a thousand and Xue Yang in the very least doesn’t lose money. He has grossed as low as five points, though.

He eyes the guests with a critical eye as they listen to Meng Yao. The birthday boy should end up with double his bets when he’s finished with Wei Ying’s table, and so should Jiejie. Mr. Muscles seems good-natured enough to be fine with losing a considerable sum, and of course the Peacock needs to lose a lot of money and learn some humiliation. He’ll mess with Angry Purple into steadily losing his bets and then let him win enough to bring him back to exactly his starting point.

He considers Smile Brother and Bitchy Face. Everyone else has either been to the casino before or at least knows the basics of gambling. These two appear to be entirely green as they listen to Meng Yao explain the games. Smile Brother looks nervous and Wei Ying can already tell that Xue Yang and a-Qing will be trying to drain him dry. Bitchy Face looks like the type to have a strict budget, who will stop playing as soon as he loses the few coins he has. It’s bad vibes for someone to sit out because they’ve gone broke, so he resolves to give the man advantage.

If he has other reasons for wanting to give Bitchy Face advantage, well, sharing them would probably be a work-place violation and he’d rather not deal with the unpleasant sushi man in HR.

Meng Yao finally crawls back from whence he came, maybe to do managerial shit or maybe to compose demonic erotic art involving him and Xue Yang (a-Qing had found pages of the art in Xue Yang’s locker, drawn by two separate people), and the guests drift over to the playing tables. Wei Ying introduces himself again and asks after the names of his clients: Nie Hauisang, Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng, Jiang Yanli, Jin Zixuan, Lan Huan, and Lan Zhan.

“Okay, okay!” he says, tearing the plastic from the box of cards and pulling them out. “The Patriarch’s table is playing Blackjack tonight. Does anyone need more instruction?” It’s a pretty simple game but Meng Yao was sometimes (often) misleading. When no one speaks up, he smiles wide and shuffles, the familiar sounds of the cards riffling and bridging thrice grounding him into the game.

“Why don’t we have Jiejie start us off. Would you please cut the deck for a-Xian?” He present Jiang Yanli with the deck and she cuts it at 28 cards, gently pressing them into his other hand. “We’re playing 3:2, please place your bets,” he instructs as he deals out a first card face-down to each player and then himself. In the second round of cards, a quick and subtle move switches Lan Huan’s and Lan Zhan’s cards. His own second card, the nine of diamonds, lands face up in front of him.

The players look at their cards, then at his own, quietly appraising. After a moment, he challenges, “So who thinks their hand is better than the Patriarch’s?”

Nie Huaisang is first and asks for a hit, then stands at 20 points. He’ll win this round. Then Nie Mingjue, who decides to stand with 18, which will be a push. Jiang Cheng asks for a hit and he pulls the second-top card with a flourish that covers his sleight of hand, a two landing on the table. Jiang Cheng glares at the card and then asks for another hit and Wei Ying throws down the top card, the queen of clubs, forcing Jiang Cheng to bust with 22. Then Jiang Yanli stands with 19 points. Jin Zixuan asks for a hit and ends up busting at 24. Lan Huan asks for a hit and also ends up busting at 24.

Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan. He knows Lan Zhan has two face cards, a great deal and almost guaranteed to not lose the bet. But then Lan Zhan says “hit” with ill-advised confidence and Wei Ying has to use his most professional powers to keep a look of shock off his face as he presents a five of hearts. Lan Zhan then turns to his brother, flashing his cards–

Oh, he still doesn’t know how to play.

Lan Huan, of course, tells his brother that he’s busted. And then it’s Wei Ying’s turn and he flips over his other card, nine of of spades. He collects Jiang Cheng’s, Jin Zixuan’s, Lan Huan’s, and Lan Zhan’s bets and pays out Nie Huaisang and Jiang Yanli. All the while, he talks to Lan Zhan.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, did you already forget how to play? You’re trying to get as close to 21 as possible without going over. Your two cards here are each worth ten, as are these and of course the tens. The only exception is the ace, which can be worth one or eleven, depending on the rest.” He collects the cards and shuffles them again, well aware of the order of the deck. Then he presents the cards to Lan Zhan. “Since I was so generous to explain the rules again,” he said with a small pout, “could you cut the deck for your gege this time?”

Lan Zhan’s ears flush a delightful pink as he quickly separates the top 20 cards.

They play another round and he deals Lan Zhan an even 21 this time. And yet, when it’s his turn and Wei Ying looks him in the eyes, Lan Zhan says “hit” with all seriousness and Wei Ying has no choice but to bust him.

He can’t tell if Lan Zhan is doing it on purpose or he really can’t grasp the rules of the game. It’s a little infuriating and very cute.

By the end of the three hours, his table has five thousand fifty points, and he distributed points to all of the players as he had resolved to do. Lan Huan, who had indeed lost all his money at a-Qing’s table, congratulated Lan Zhan in his “beginner’s luck” to have made a profit. In reality, it was because Lan Zhan had been predictable, calling a single hit each time before standing or busting. And he had only played at Wei Ying’s table for the entire three hours, despite all the teasing.

As the party begins to shuffle out, Lan Zhan walks around the table with a three chips in his hand, which he hands over to Wei Ying.

“Ah? Lan Zhan, what?”

Lan Zhan won’t meet his eyes as he says, “it is good practice to tip someone who has provided you a service.”

Wei Ying raises his eyebrows at the wording. “But Lan Zhan, this is so much. It’s not like I provided you a certain special service, you can get that in a different private room.” Lan Zhan’s ears are so pink. “Ah, but really, Nie Huaisang or whoever paid for the room, the tip for us is included in that.”

But Lan Zhan refuses to take back the chips, fleeing from the room.

Wei Ying ends up winning his bet for “Just the Tip” that night.

🂡🂡🂡

Lan Zhan locks the door and drops his pants, underwear included. The air conditioner is on but the cool air does nothing to discourage his half-hard dick and bare, sensitive balls. He strokes himself with one hand while crawling onto the bed and dragging a pillow down beneath him. By the time it’s properly fluffed, he’s leaking and collapses on the bed and to start humping immediately.

All throughout dinner, he could only think of the dealer, the Patriarch, Wuxian, a-Xian. That flirtatious smile, salacious wink, his seductive voice. His hands; his long and strong fingers. They were so skilled handling cards and chips, they would be so skilled handling any part of Lan Zhan he would give–

Lan Zhan groans as he thrusts, delicious friction against his hard length by the dampened fabric. He wedges another pillow beneath his hips so he can lift his ass higher, a thrill traveling down his spine at the feeling of being exposed. He envisions the Patriarch walking into the room and seeing him face-down and moaning into the mattress, his ass up and hole winking as he furiously works his hips. Imagines that sultry voice saying, you want it so bad, couldn’t wait, ah? So desperate you didn’t even bother undressing, just want to be filled. He thinks of slick, slim fingers entering him from behind, forcing him to slide back on them, chasing his pleasure in front and behind.

He wants, desperately, something in his hole. He can feel himself twitching, clenching down on nothing. But he can’t slow down, can’t take the time to dig up lube, he needs, he’s so worked up, please, Patriarch, find me, see me, fill me, please, fuck me just like this–

The world bursts into static around him; he’s floating and falling and so, so hot. His whole being is reduced to pulsing.

Details filter in one at a time. He’s panting against the bedsheets, chest heaving, fabric wet on his face from his own saliva. His hips are twinging, overworked. There’s tingling in his toes and fingertips as his body works oxygen back through his system. His groin is still contracting sporadically with aftershocks, his softening cock smearing his release onto the pillows.

It’s sensitive but so, so good when he rocks his dick through his own cum. It’s pain and pleasure and his thighs shake with it. He spreads his legs farther, drops his weight on his hips; it changes the angle, rougher on his dick, his balls now rubbing through the drying spend, all so sensitive and good and hurts and he wants to stop and to never be done. He can feel his own eyes roll back as he forces himself to keep going, it could only be better if he was told to keep going, forced to keep moving, helpless—

It’s finally too much and he stills, panting and laying in his own mess.

—

Nie Huaisang’s plans never go awry, even if the event deviates from the agenda. Lan Zhan assumes the rest of the weekend is perfectly enjoyable – he’s too busy being horny, and trying to hide his horniness, to really notice.

At least he has the schedule memorized. The casino had been Thursday afternoon, then a fancy restaurant and he had skipped nighttime rooftop ziplining. Friday begins with brunch and then private tours through two prestigious museums. Then they board a train to Lotus Pier, eating a late dinner and sleeping overnight until they arrive in the early morning. The Jiang family owns the largest share of Lotus Pier, so they spend the day on a fancy private yacht, complete with a heated pool with a glass bottom to view the fish. Dinner and entertainment is provided by the bustling streets of Lotus Pier. Sunday is for traveling home and resting before work begins on Monday.

Luckily for Lan Zhan and his undying horniness, he has a reputation of aloofness and the rest of the party is perpetually intoxicated. Alcohol is readily available and consumed throughout the weekend. Only Lan Zhan refuses to drink; even Lan Huan indulges in small glasses of wine throughout the weekend.

So Lan Zhan follows the party, answers a few questions, and thinks of long, dexterous fingers on his body. He keeps his face straight and his hips out of sight as much as he can. Lan Huan occasionally throws him glances, likely when a particularly dirty image makes Lan Zhan’s ears blush, but no one else pays him much mind and he can daydream as much as he wants.

Unfortunately, he has absolutely no privacy on the train. On the other hand, he shares the room with Lan Huan and the Nie brothers, so his nosey brother doesn’t have an opportunity to try to interrogate him on what has him so distracted.

Saturday night, he is more than prepared for his individual room, the bottle of lube and his rabbit toy wrapped in a tea towel at the top of his suitcase. That night he cums twice: once with three fingers in his hole and the toy vibrating along the underside of his length, glans captured between the smooth ears; and again humping his pillows, toy buzzing in his ass, the ears firm against his taint and the backs of his balls.

The end of the weekend looms ever closer. The thought of going back to work has never been so difficult. He wouldn’t be able to zone out and think about everything he would be willing to let the Patriarch do to him, no, Lan Zhan would have to concentrate. He’s seriously considering taking a few sick days, he certainly has plenty of them. Perhaps wearing himself to the point of chafing would discourage masturbation enough that he can do his job during the day.

—

Balancing pleasure with life had been an issue for Lan Zhan since he first began to explore his own body. Uncle had been reticent and strict in his upbringing so he hadn’t known much more about sex beyond that it involves a woman, which hadn’t appealed to him at all. Innuendoes and lewdness from his classmates had often gone over his head.

And then one night, seventeen-year-old Lan Zhan lay awake in his dark bedroom without any hope of sleep. For the first time since he was a toddler, he had taken a nap (the house had been empty and quiet, the sunlight gentle on his face, his rabbits snuggled on his chest). It threw off his circadian rhythm and he was still rolling between his sheets late into the night, bored and frustrated. At least the sheets felt nice, cool and smooth against his bare skin.

He found himself squirming on his stomach. For a few minutes, the stimulation was calming. Until he noticed that his body was warm, very warm, and his dick felt more pronounced against his thigh, felt like it was tingling. Peeking down, he saw that his penis was bigger, thicker, longer. He’s been hard before, of course, but the feeling had always felt uncomfortable and heavy and would go away soon after he woke. This time it still felt heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable as it slowly plumped up.

Cautiously, he flipped onto his back again. His dick swung differently, gravity pulling stronger. With trepidation, he wrapped a hand around the half-hard shaft. The first thing he noticed was that he was more sensitive to the warmth of his hand. This felt so much better than when he put his hand down there to wash. He could feel it in both his dick and hand when his penis gave a small twitch as more blood pooled into it. The skin of his cock still felt soft, a bit squishy, hot, but it seemed as if there was a hard core in the center growing larger.

His dick in his hand felt right. It felt good.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand upward and no, wrong, ouch! The skin of his dick seemed to stick to his hand and it pulled and pinched and hurt. He pulled his hand off of himself.

Staring at his mostly erect penis, body warm and wanting, Lan Zhan considered the edge he found himself on. Submitting to temptation and continuing forward would change something, he just knew. Something that other people knew about and would talk around, that he never understood. But his uncle had also warned him against any feeling that made him stop thinking rationally. The feeling of pleasure like this was foreign and thrilling, while he was also terrified that he might never stop.

Just one time couldn’t hurt, right? After all, Lan Huan always wanted him to try new things. Whether this is what he had meant was up for interpretation.

Mind made up, he flipped himself onto his stomach once again. The friction of the sheets seemed tolerable before, so he would start there. He was harder now, the feeling completely different from anything he’d ever felt before. The pressure was delightful, dick caught between the bed and his stomach, cool on the underside and warm on top. It was novel to feel his own penis against the skin above his groin.

But now he was unsure what to do. Laying here felt wonderful and he was growing harder still. But he also felt restless, like there should be something else to do. He shifted and yes, okay, that was good. Movement.

Slowly, he began to move his body, cataloging which movements felt different in his state of… of arousal. That’s what this was: arousal. Moving his arms and hands and fingers were the same as any time, as well as his calves and feet and toes. Head movements also didn’t do much except relieve aching in his neck. His shoulders, however, rubbed his chest against the sheets and that felt more sensitive; he wasn’t sure if it was good, necessarily, but different.

Moving his hips or thighs, though, that was good. His dick pressed and rubbed against the sheets as he tested different movements and after a few minutes, he found himself pressing his hips into the bed as hard as he could. Every few moments he would relax the pressure so that it felt better as he pushed into the bed again. His dick was fully hard now and felt like it was straining into the mattress.

He needed more. Without thought, he was lifting his upper body off the bed, supporting himself on the flat of his palms. The strain in his wrists would get uncomfortable soon but the tension in his curved spine was absolutely divine. More weight pressed his dick further into the bed and that was also amazing. There were no thoughts in his head as his knees slid outwards. It allowed him to curve his back even more, to press down even harder. The strain of his hips was as delicious as that in his back.

His hips moved on their own, working him into the firm press of foam. He was barely aware of the little grunts he was making as he chased the inevitable, something good, he didn’t even know but it was something he needed.

Somehow, his stance widened even further and he found himself sitting almost straight up. The warmth of his stomach no longer covered his dick but now his balls were pressing into the mattress, forced down by the weight of his body. They’ve never felt like this before, the pressure overwhelmingly intense but with every grind of his hips, there was a drag against the underside of his cock, a squeeze of his balls, and-and–

His entire body tensed up; he felt hot and good and good and good.

His body was shaking and he couldn’t open his eyes. He let himself list to the side, abruptly exhausted. He managed to wiggle up to his pillow, pull his cover over his sweat-coated body, and promptly fall asleep.

When he woke in the morning, an off-white, flaky substance trailed up the sheets. He had enough sense to throw them in the wash before someone else accidently saw the evidence.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t get that night out of his mind throughout all of the school day. His brother asked if he was well during dinner, citing that he seemed distracted, and Lan Zhan’s best explanation on the spot was that he had a test coming up (he did, but he had actually forgotten until that moment, too busy thinking about his hard dick).

That night, he kept the light on when he got hard so he could see what it looked like. He humped his mattress again. The next day, he figured out how to tease himself with light strokes until a clear fluid ran from the head of his dick, which allowed him to use his hand without chafing. The day after that, he found that gently squeezing his balls with his other hand felt almost as good as the stroking.

For almost two weeks, anytime he was alone, he was touching himself and he couldn’t stop. Which was a problem in that he was very often alone; bar school and dinner, Lan Zhan typically studied or recreated in his room. He would try to settle to work on his homework and his free hand would start fondling his cock or balls and once he was hard, he couldn’t help himself from bringing himself to orgasm. Even after ejaculating thrice in a night, his poor dick red and inflamed and too sensitive to stroke anymore, he would hold himself and gently squeeze until exhaustion overtook him.

It was only after sitting through a test and unable to confidently answer half of the questions that Lan Zhan resolved to stop touching himself.

He was successful for about a week. The night he broke, he came five times between dinner and passing out.

Logically, Lan Zhan knew that such stringent restraint would only make his desperation worse, but he was unsure what else to do. So he fell into a cycle of strict celibacy and uncontrollable masturbation.

At the beginning of college, Lan Zhan was ready to start anew and focus solely on his academics. He lasted a month.

In fairness, he was not entirely at fault. One of his classmates had gotten in trouble watching porn during a lecture and was, of course, caught. But Lan Zhan, sheltered and repressed, had no idea what porn was.

Unfortunately, the first site was not Wikipedia. And soon Lan Zhan found himself very familiar with porn and his dick (again).

That fugue lasted almost a full month in which Lan Zhan also had his sexual awakening. Women’s bodies and faces were unappealing but he would practically salivate watching the men’s muscles as they thrust into bodies. He came several times with the image of sharp hipbones, a hard cock, and bare testicles filling his screen. In one weekend porn marathon, he managed to click his way to a gay porn site and came harder than he ever had before imagining a man thrusting into him.

And so the cycle of celibacy and masturbation continued. There was always something that pushed him over the edge: finding erotica, learning about sexual domination and submission, discovering kinks, ordering a sex toy. And after weeks of draining his balls and stripping his cock, so red and chafed that he felt like he was dying when he touched himself, he would make the same resolution of restraint. Then inevitably break it again.

—

Lan Zhan does end up taking a few days off from work, claiming he caught a cold during his travels. Lan Huan sounds skeptical over the phone but is too relieved that Lan Zhan is finally using some of his vacation hours that he doesn’t press very hard.

Lan Huan does, however, end up bringing over a pot of soup just in case his baby brother really is sick. Lan Zhan’s one relief from that encounter was that he was clothed when Lan Huan let himself in. Just moments before, he had cum fully clothed, grinding the plug in his ass against the arm of his sofa. And so he had to stand behind the sofa, the front of his pants wet and sticky, the plug still pressed against his prostate, as his brother took in his sweaty and flushed face and tried to baby him into eating soup.

Luckily the rest of his days are uninterrupted and he wrings orgasm after orgasm out of his exhausted body.

By Thursday, he had managed to chafe his cock to the point that his slacks were very uncomfortable but unfortunately, this did not have the effect he had hoped for. Instead of the discomfort encouraging him to ignore his body, every time he shifts the slightest bit, he’s reminded of why his dick is so raw and the thoughts spiral from there.

By Friday evening he’s tired and cranky. Masturbation is barely any pleasure, his dick and balls and hole and prostate protesting every time, but he just can’t help himself. Before he realizes it, he’s in his car, still dressed in his work clothes, navigating to Golden Carp Tower Casino.

Feeling daring, he pays for a thousand dollars worth of chips and then presses through the thick crowd to the dealing tables. The most crowded table is, of course, the Patriarch’s – and why wouldn’t it be? Wuxian was endlessly charming and amazingly skilled and Lan Zhan doubts he’s the only one to sit at the table and try to capture his attention.

He hesitates, suddenly nervous. There are quite a few handsome men and three beautiful women around the Patriarch’s table, extra chairs having been squeezed in to accommodate everyone. They’re all laughing at something Wuxian said and some are speaking very familiarly with him. He even hears one of the women call him a-Xian, and his blood runs hot with undeserved jealousy.

Then the Patriarch spots him and his grin morphs into a genuine, excited smile. “Lan Zhan!” he shouts, and everyone at the table turns to look at him. “Come on, come over, I’m dealing Blackjack again!” Most of the patrons turn away, back to their cards, but at least two are glaring at him as he approaches.

The Patriarch doesn’t seem to care and so neither will he. He’s dealt in and he glances at his cards but it doesn’t really matter. He didn’t come here to gamble on cards, but he will because this way he can get his eyes on the Patriarch, and the Patriarch’s eyes on him.

When his turn comes around, he waits until the Patriarch meets his eyes. “Hit,” he says, because that’s how the game is played. Then he lays down his two cards.

“Stand?” the Patriarch asks him. He nods – sometimes the Patriarch will say “Bust” but that’s just how the game goes.

The Patriarch moves on, then the round ends. The chips he put on the table are taken but that’s no issue. Then the Patriarch is shuffling again, the hands Lan Zhan has dreamed about right there, out on display for anyone to see how skillfully they handle cards.

“My lucky Lan Zhan,” the Patriarch says, turning to him and he can feel his ears heating up. My. “Be a good boy and cut for your gege, yeah?”

And so he cuts the deck. The cards are dealt and the game is played. Over and over again. Each time Wuxian looks at him, looks him in the eyes, he says “Hit” and that’s it. That’s the game.

Eventually, the noise wears him down too much. Even the Patriarch’s cheerful attention isn’t enough to soothe his nerves in the crowd growing increasingly drunk. So he places all but three of his chips on the table in the next round and, determined to catch the Patriarch’s attention one last time, he calls out “Hit” twice. The Patriarch tuts at him when he puts his cards down, letting him know he ‘busted’ or whatever that was. A strange feeling of pride washes over him as he watches the Patriarch collect the small pile of chips.

He steps around the table as the Patriarch collects cards again. When the Patriarch turns towards him, he drops his last three chips on the table with a quick, “Thank you,” and then turns away before the Patriarch can even try to argue with him this time.

—

It turns into a routine. Every Friday night, he finds himself at Golden Carp Tower Casino and playing at the Patriarch’s table. He watches the Patriarch’s hands, and says whatever the other players are saying, and tries not to get visibly hard whenever the Patriarch teases and flirts with him.

It’s both exhilarating and torture. He’s sure his interest is reflected in Wuxian’s eyes, but the man is also a professional and doing his job so it’s not appropriate to proposition him. Even so, from the fourth week on, he also books a room for the night in the inn above the casino, waiting for an opportunity to invite the Patriarch to his room.

And on the weekends, he fantasizes how everything the Patriarch has done or said can be translated into the bedroom.

It comes a few weeks later. The Patriarch had been dealing Baccarat when Lan Zhan arrived and brought him into the game with a, “Come to see your gege again?” After an hour of Lan Zhan simply moving cards around and losing chips, the Patriarch announces that he’s taking a short break and will be switching over to Seven-Card Stud. A few of the patrons groan and complain about the game and most disperse as the Patriarch collects the cards and secures his table.

Lan Zhan steps around the table and the Patriarch is already waiting for him. Before he can pull out his three chip tip, Wuxian waves his hands.

“Please, please, spare this one. No one can match me in cards and dice but you’ve defeated me with too much generosity.”

This man is absolutely ridiculous and if Lan Zhan weren’t so smitten, he’d be embarrassed to have fallen for the dramatics. But he can’t say that, so he says, “You deserve to be tipped for your skill.”

The man laughs, not at all mean, and says, “But you’re already losing so much money in the games! I can’t save you the same as I can in Blackjack.” So he was a dirty, dirty cheater and it was not at all a turn off. “My services are definitely not enough to earn such a high tip from you.”

His mind filled with images, the memory of Wuxian talking about special services, and his mouth ran in front of his mind. “Is there another service you could provide to earn it?”

The Patriarch’s face went delightfully pink and Lan Zhan breath caught. And then the Patriarch said, “I’m not going to do any of that for money,” and Lan Zhan’s heart sank, hope dying a quick and painful death. “But,” the Patriarch drew out the syllable, “I would be very willing to service you for free.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says immediately, heart beating a million miles a minute. “If you’d be willing, I’d-I’d like that. Your services. Umm.”

Wuxian stares at him with wide eyes and he realizes just how eager he had sounded. He was certainly not above begging but they were also standing in the middle of the casino floor, which was packed at the height of the night. At least it seemed as if no one was paying attention to their conversation.

The Patriarch tilts his head. “Very well,” he says, assessing all of Lan Zhan. Suddenly, Lan Zhan’s dick is stiffening and he is thankful that they are close enough that it won’t be too obvious to the Patriarch. It would be, unfortunately, very obvious to any onlookers. “I can help you out.”

And Lan Zhan is in serious danger of doing something like, humping the Patriarch’s thigh right here. He has to get out of here, now.

“427,” he blurts out, and then flushes. The Patriarch hadn’t said tonight but it was too late now. So he soldiers on. “I’m in 427, upstairs.”

“Bold,” the Patriarch notes with a smirk. “I guess I can visit you after my shift. Ah, but if we’re gonna have private lessons, you should know my name.” And he steps in close, their bodies almost touching, and Lan Zhan has to angle his hips away because he will not be introducing his cock by accident like this. The Patriarch leans in, breath warm in his ear, and says, “Call me Wei Ying.”

And then Lan Zhan has to flee, dick hard and head empty except for Wei Ying, Wei Ying.

🂡🂡🂡

The only thing that distinguishes the hallways of Golden Carp Tower Hotel from every other luxury hotel hallway is the excessive amount of gold paint on the walls, doors, ceilings, and somehow even in the threads of the carpet. Though Wei Ying has not been into the hotel above the casino before, he is too distracted to study the gold peony wall lamps and gold carp-shaped door plates. No, he’s thinking very hard about not getting his hopes up and being normal for Lan Zhan’s sake.

He probably wants help learning how to gamble; I’ve watched him lose over a thousand dollars in one game. Yeah, that sounds much more likely than whatever the hot thrum low in his body wants. Although their conversation on the casino floor definitely didn’t feel innocent. He’s hoping, and scared to get his hopes up.

Room 427 has the little (gold) “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging from the handle. Which is very reasonable considering it is … almost two hours past midnight. What if Lan Zhan is already asleep? He looks like the type to have a bedtime.

But it only takes a few seconds for curiosity to win over politeness, so Wei Ying gives three gentle taps at the door. Not two seconds pass before he hears the distinct slide of a chain and a lock turning from the other side of the door. He has only a moment to consider that Lan Zhan was waiting before all thoughts fly out of his head.

Because there is Lan Zhan, looking extremely beautiful, as always. But Lan Zhan is not wearing one of his tailored suits, no. Lan Zhan is wearing a silk white robe that is loose, showing off a long neck, delicate collarbones, and defined pecs. So defined that the dim hallway lights cast a shadow down his chest. Fuck, Lan Zhan has cleavage.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

They stare at each other for a moment before Wei Ying’s words seem to register. All of the blood that hadn’t begun to travel downwards rushes to his face. Wei Ying would have brought his hands to his cheeks in a fruitless effort to hide his blush except that he can’t move his hands with Lan Zhan’s fingers that now wrapped around his wrists. And then suddenly he’s inside the room and being pushed up against the door, the lock clicking shut.

“If-if I’m wrong–tell me,” Lan Zhan fumbles (fumbles!) and then his mouth (his mouth!) is on Wei Ying’s mouth and his body (his body!) is also on Wei Ying’s body and everything is heat and pressure and Wei Ying is being kissed (kissed!!) within an inch of his life.

The shock doesn’t last long and Wei Ying, competitive to the core, matches Lan Zhan's energy and more. A twist of the wrists and a quick pivot switches their positions, Lan Zhan's body now thumping against the door and the motion startles a gasp out of him. His mouth falls open and Wei Ying takes that chance to push his own tongue into heat and wet and good. At that, Lan Zhan moans, loud and deep; a shiver runs through his body and on his next exhale, he goes lax.

Wei Ying almost can't believe it – Lan Zhan, who started this aggressive make out, going boneless once pinned against the door. Another wave of arousal hits Wei Ying so fast he goes dizzy; he pushes his tongue further into Lan Zhan's mouth and tightens his grip around Lan Zhan's wrists.

He's hard and so is Lan Zhan. Even between two layers of clothing, Wei Ying can feel the firm line of Lan Zhan's dick rubbing against his hip. It's distracting, so much that he isn't paying attention to his mouth and bites down on Lan Zhan's lip. It earns him a whine and a thrust against his hips. He likes it.

Wei Ying rolls his own hips, letting his hard cock press against Lan Zhan, who goes limp once again. He trails his lips down the long column of Lan Zhan's throat, lightly nipping and sucking and drawing the sweetest noises. He slowly licks the length of one exposed collarbone and Lan Zhan keens.

"Were you trying to seduce me with these?"

"Yes," Lan Zhan says without hesitation and then, in a devastating move, drops to his knees. He stares up at Wei Ying, trapped against the wall, eyes dark and hungry. "Let me blow you."

"Shit." Wei Ying scrambles to open his jeans, and Lan Zhan's hands are there, making everything more difficult but both are too horny to care. Then the jeans are around Wei Ying's ankles and while Wei Ying is bracing against the wall to kick off his jeans, Lan Zhan's hands are still on him, pulling him out of his underwear. Without any warning, he dives onto Wei Ying's cock, letting it hit his throat and then pushing even further.

Wei Ying almost falls down as Lan Zhan sucks his cock like a pro. The tight ridges of Lan Zhan's throat squeeze the head of his cock as he bobs up and down, little moans enhancing the feeling. His face is red, eyes clenched shut, muscles tense, and hips thrusting against nothing to his own rhythm of taking Wei Ying deeper.

Wei Ying uses his foot to part Lan Zhan’s robe and expose his dick. It's large and leaking shiny pre, painfully hard if the slight purple tint and subtle pulsing is any indication. Every other thrust of his hips causes a bead of pre to form at the tip and roll down, following the clear trail already running down the underside.

"Fuck, Lan Zhan, I bet you could come just from sucking me off, couldn't you?" Baleful gold eyes stare up at him and the pace picks up. Definitely not a no. "Shit, that’s so hot, you’re so hot, can’t believe-” He breaks off with a gasp as Lan Zhan takes him all the way down and swallows hard, fingers lightly tugging on his sack and the other hand gripping his ass, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Wei Ying’s hands come forward, tangling into Lan Zhan’s hair. It takes a few tugs to pull him off, the first only encouraging the absolute god on his knees. “Wait, wait, wait,” Wei Ying pants and Lan Zhan looks so frustrated as if he’s waited his whole life to suck Wei Ying’s dick and now he’s being interrupted just as he’s reached his goal. The thought is so intoxicating that it takes Wei Ying a solid minute before he remembers what he was going to say.

“That’s good, so good,” he says, and Lan Zhan narrows his eyes as if to say, Then why’d you stop me? “No, really, I’m going out of my mind, you suck cock like you’re being paid for it, you're so good.” Lan Zhan’s ears flush, which, noted. “Just, I want to know what you want to do. I’m great, amazing, in heaven if you want to suck me off, but how do you want me to do you?” And now the flush is traveling down Lan Zhan’s neck, down into his robe, his eyes drifting away. He definitely wants something.

But when no answer is forthcoming, a sense of playfulness bubbles up in Wei Ying. The man obviously wants something but is too embarrassed to ask for it. Luckily, annoying tight lips into loosening is his specialty.

Lan Zhan’s robe had fallen over his lap with his eager rocking, so Wei Ying uses his foot to expose that impressive erection again. Almost shy, Lan Zhan’s knees slide together but it does nothing to hide him from Wei Ying’s leer. “You have no idea what you want me to do with this piece of perfection? I have so many plans already but you gotta tell me what you want.” Somehow, Lan Zhan squirms without moving a muscle. “I can put my hands on you. Or my tongue. Maybe both, inside of you. Or maybe you’d rather my cock, or my ass on yours.” At that last, Lan Zhan gives the barest nod. “Oh? You like one of those options?”

Lan Zhan, the stubborn man, just turns his face away, embarrassed. It’s impossibly cute and Wei Ying knows he’s smiling like a fool. Quick as a snake, he grabs Lan Zhan’s chin and leans down, ghosting his lips against Lan Zhan’s ear to whisper, “Be a good boy and use your words for me, hm?” Lan Zhan’s whole body shivers beneath him.

“I want-” Lan Zhan pauses to clear his throat because, fuck, his voice is hoarse from how hard he had been sucking Wei Ying’s dick. “I want you. In me.” Wei Ying feels as if his body is thrumming from the power this gorgeous man is handing him.

“But I was already in you,” he says, slipping a thumb into Lan Zhan’s panting mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Immediately, Lan Zhan’s lips close around him, tongue twitching, sucking on his thumb, even as he shakes his head. “No? I’m sure I was in you, in your throat,” his other hand gently wrapping around the long, smooth column of Lan Zhan’s throat, “and you were gagging for more, just like that. I suppose I could–”

Lan Zhan rips his head away from Wei Ying’s hands to gasp, raggedly, “Fuck-, my ass- please.”

Wei Ying hauls Lan Zhan to his feet so they can kiss while Wei Ying shuffles them out of the doorway and towards the massive bed in the middle of the room. It takes a few minutes as Lan Zhan is too busy trying to bury his tongue down Wei Ying’s throat and undoing Wei Ying’s shirt to pay attention to where he is going or even stand on his own feet. By the time they are at the edge of the bed, Wei Ying is just in his undershirt and Lan Zhan’s robe is hanging from his elbows and the loose tie around his waist.

“Lube and condoms,” Wei Ying says, using the brief moment Lan Zhan is distracted to pull his undershirt over his head. When Lan Zhan turns back around with the supplies, his intense gaze runs like hot hands down Wei Ying’s body, then is quickly replaced by actual hands as they crash back together. Wei Ying’s own hands scrabble against the tie of Lan Zhan’s robe, shaking with each sweet moan he draws from his hoarse throat. Finally, the robe falls free and then they’re chest to chest, legs entangled, hard cocks rubbing against each other’s thighs. Lan Zhan breaks free from their kissing to tilt his head back and give a heartfelt moan, the sound more intoxicating than an entire bottle of liquor.

Wei Ying latches onto the exposed line of Lan Zhan’s neck, tongue and teeth worrying at the thin, vibrating skin. He pushes a thigh between Lan Zhan’s legs, allowing the other man to hump with abandon, getting better friction for his own weeping cock against Lan Zhan’s hip. Lan Zhan is completely smooth and so hot. His hands squeeze down a, frankly ridiculously, sculpted back until he’s cupping one smooth, soft asscheek in each hand and kneading deep into the muscle. At this, Lan Zhan’s thrusting grows harder, faster, wetter, and Wei Ying pulls the cheeks apart and pushes them together so he can listen to his moans grow higher and breathier.

“Wei Ying, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan is chanting between his moans and Wei Ying’s mind, because his mouth is now latched onto those orgasm-inducing collarbones, is filled with Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. “Close, please, I’m close,” he says and Wei Ying knows they should stop if he wants to fuck Lan Zhan, and fuck, Lan Zhan wants him to fuck him, and he’s close too, and–

His wandering hands have pulled apart Lan Zhan’s cheeks again and fingertips quested to Lan Zhan’s hole. But instead of perfect, sensitive skin, he’s touching something smooth and hard and cool and is that–?

Without warning, Wei Ying pulls away and spins Lan Zhan around, bending him over the bed. The “ah!” of surprise and disappointment and excitement is lost to Wei Ying’s pounding heartbeat echoing in his ears when he sees the pale blue jewel nestled between Lan Zhan’s big, round buttcheeks.

Lan Zhan is wearing a plug.

Shit.

“Shit.”

And then the man has the absolute audacity to wave his ass at Wei Ying, to show off how hot and pink and stretched he is around a buttplug.

Wei Ying is going to die.

Except his heart is still beating, he can feel it – quite prominently – in his dick. Apparently he had been staring too long because Lan Zhan shifts again and whines.

Without any input from his brain, Wei Ying’s hands are once again on Lan Zhan’s perfect ass, shamelessly feeling him up while his thumbs trace around the plug. Lan Zhan squirms as his sensitive rim is played with, the defined muscles in his back flexing.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls, voice low and rough, “how long have you been wearing this?” A muffled noise from the bed. “Hmm? What was that?” accompanied by a slight tug on the gem.

Lan Zhan gasps and wiggles as Wei Ying pulls on the plug, shifting the weight but not stretching the rim. After a relentless minute, he seems to understand that Wei Ying is waiting for an answer, so he says, almost defiantly, “hours.”

Wei Ying gives a delighted, faux-scandalized gasp. He tugs on the plug to its widest point, Lan Zhan’s flushed hole stretched smooth as he keeps up his assault. The lube clinging to the toy is also tacky, obviously applied hours ago, and Wei Ying might have thought it would hurt but Lan Zhan’s moan holds no protest as he shoves it back in hard.

“Hours, huh? And how many times have you cum?” Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Oh? So you were just up here, on edge, waiting for me all this time?” The flush at Lan Zhan’s neck spreads down his back, likely even farther down his chest. “How dirty, playing with yourself instead of playing with me.” At that, the jewel twitches as Lan Zhan clenches down and Wei Ying can no longer stop himself.

In record time, he works a condom on himself with one hand, the other still twisting and wiggling and tugging on the plug. He slicks himself up, dripping lube onto the carpet in his haste, as Lan Zhan squirms and whines beneath him.

Without warning, he pulls the plug out in one swift motion. There’s only enough time to see Lan Zhan’s flushed hole twitch once before his cock is on it, in it, pushing into that tight, hot channel. They are both gasping, Lan Zhan’s hole squeezing him tighter than comfortable, but he pushes forward once more, past the depth of the plug, forcing Lan Zhan’s body to open up to him until his hips are resting on the hot flesh of Lan Zhan’s ass.

Beneath him, Lan Zhan shakes and whines, his body clenching in time with his quick, shallow breaths. Wei Ying holds his hips still, letting them both adjust, stroking his hands up and down Lan Zhan’s sides. “Good boy,” he murmurs, earning himself a particularly hard squeeze.

Once Lan Zhan seems to be breathing deeper, he starts rocking his hips slow and shallow, testing the give of Lan Zhan’s body. The grip is unimaginably tight, the heat scorching, the–

Lan Zhan grunts, “fuck me,” like it’s a challenge, and Wei Ying never was one to back down from a challenge. So he grabs Lan Zhan’s wrists and pins them against his back, drapes himself along his back and bites at a well-muscled shoulder, kicks Lan Zhan’s legs apart to bring his hips to the perfect height. Wei Ying pulls Lan Zhan’s cheeks apart and grinds in as deep as possible, savoring the loud moan, before gripping that slim waist and shuffling his own feet so his hips are aligned just right.

And then he fucks. He pulls out until just the head is inside, then buries himself all the way inside. Deep, hard thrusts, as fast as he can. A quick, steady rhythm to the sound of his hips slapping against Lan Zhan’s, the feeling of his balls tapping against Lan Zhan’s, the “ah, ah, ah” as they both moan.

Lan Zhan’s voice climbs quickly, filthy music that grows breathier with every bar, until every breath is a whine. It starts with his hole tightening into a vice grip, Wei Ying’s cock dragging rougher through the twitching tunnel. Then Lan Zhan’s voice cuts out completely as every muscle in his body contracts. And then Lan Zhan cums, untouched, his entire body spasming with each pulse of his orgasm.

Wei Ying doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, as Lan Zhan’s body tries to coax him to his peak, nor does he change his rhythm as Lan Zhan shakes and shivers beneath him, immediately overstimulated. He continues relentlessly fucking Lan Zhan as the man whines and squirms but, notably, does not try to move away.

Just to be sure, though, he says, “Tap the bed twice to get me to stop.” He sees Lan Zhan’s hands spasm where they are gripping the sheets but nothing else. Wei Ying smirks against Lan Zhan’s shoulder before biting down, earning a full-bodied spasm and a sweet, desperate whine. One hand moves from Lan Zhan’s hip to his crotch to feel up his still-mostly-hard dick, causing Lan Zhan to moan in the back of his throat.

Too worked up from Lan Zhan’s smell, his sounds, his feel, Wei Ying lets his mouth run while pawing at Lan Zhan’s body, still shaking from the continued stimulation. “Shit, you’re so hot, that felt good, didn’t it? You’re so good, so good taking it, you just love taking it, you were made for this. You can take more, can’t you, you can go again, I know you can, so good.” And Lan Zhan is nodding, still making those little moans, a sheen of sweat coating his entire body. It’s too much and not enough so Wei Ying buries himself all the way into Lan Zhan again, fingertips pressing bruises into his hips to bring him impossibly closer, and just grinds himself as deep as he can.

Lan Zhan, whose shaking had just subsided, practically vibrates. As intense as it is for Wei Ying, it must be doubly so for Lan Zhan, and Wei Ying can see the hairs on his body stand up as he continues to grind their hips together. He knows he is still talking but all he can hear is Lan Zhan whimpering. He knows the joints of his hips and knees are aching but all he can feel is the tight squeeze of the deepest part of Lan Zhan, the pulsing of the fully hard dick in his hand.

Suddenly, it’s all amazingly overwhelming and he can feel tingling in his scalp, in his fingertips, in his toes. Without warning, he pulls out – Lan Zhan cries out loudly in protest – mourning the loss while he tugs the condom off, and then he is jerking and spilling over Lan Zhan. When the pleasure fades enough that he can open his eyes, he sees his own translucent white fluid trailing along Lan Zhan’s spine, from his tailbone to between his shoulder blades.

Wei Ying stares at this beautifully debauched man as he comes down, breathing hard, until Lan Zhan shifts beneath his hands. He drags his eyes off of the primal claim he laid onto Lan Zhan to see that enticing ass lifting and wiggling, showing off the perfect red hole winking at him with need.

“Oh?” he asks, faux-innocent. “What do we have here?”

“Wei Ying,” and oh, Lan Zhan’s voice sounds absolutely wrecked. “Wei Ying, please.”

“What is it you want, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying traces a finger over the swollen rim, which has Lan Zhan bucking his hips into the touch. “You’re begging so nicely but I don’t even know what you’re begging for.”

“Wei Ying, please. Need,” is accompanied by another hip buck.

Wei Ying is strong, but not strong enough to resist a god begging twice in a row. Without further ado, he hikes up one of Lan Zhan’s feet to the bed – and holy shit, the flexibility – to fully expose his hole, his cute hanging sack, his dripping penis and Wei Ying drops to his knees to get an even better eyeful of the smooth skin of Lan Zhan’s ass and groin. Two slicked fingers plunge into his hole to find his prostate within moments and his thumb rubs against the gland from the outside.

Wei Ying doesn’t hold back, squeezing and rubbing on Lan Zhan’s prostate. Lan Zhan, for his part, goes absolutely feral for it, tossing his head back to moan like he’s being filmed to pay rent and trying to move his hips anywhere that could get him more. His stiff dick wobbles through the air with the movement, leaking pre everywhere. From his vantage point, Wei Ying watches as the foreskin creeps further back to expose the slick, flushed head and his balls pull closer and closer to his body.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan is whining between moans, “Wei Ying, ngh, Wei Ying, Wei Ying!”

And finally Wei Ying takes mercy, wraps his free hand around the head of Lan Zhan’s cock. He strokes once, squeezing as tight as he can, and that’s all it takes for Lan Zhan’s cock to kick in his hand, his hole clamping down on his fingers, his balls to pull up until they almost disappear into his body. Lan Zhan is cumming, hot semen squirting from the tip of his dick, his entire body seeming to pulse with the orgasm.

Lan Zhan’s knees give out and thunk onto the floor, but his chest is caught by the bed. However, this is too far from Wei Ying, lonely on the floor, so he pulls at Lan Zhan’s hips in an echo of their activities. Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying slide him off of the bed and down to lay across Wei Ying’s body like a human-shaped and human-weighted blanket. They both lay on the disgusting hotel floor catching their breaths for endless minutes.

“Fuck, that was good.” Good is such an inadequate word, but it’s the best Wei Ying’s fucked-out brain can come up with.

At least Lan Zhan seems to be in the same state half-mumbling, “mnn, good.”

Eventually, they do get up and wash up. Well, Wei Ying manages to drag Lan Zhan into the bathroom for a washcloth-wipedown, then back to lay in the bed properly.

Maybe it’s the tiredness from a long day and an intense fuck, but Wei Ying feels strangled by reluctance as he thinks of going back to his own bed. It would be twenty minutes of strangers’ voices and harsh lights and imagining a beautiful, sweet, warm man who seemed to want him blissfully fucked out in bed without even his number–

A hand around his wrist. He looks over to see Lan Zhan, one eye barely slit open to watch him. Without saying a word, the man rolls over, Wei Ying’s wrist still tight in his grasp so that Wei Ying has no choice but to follow, leaning awkwardly over the bed and the man.

“Okay,” he says with a soft laugh, “message received.” Apparently satisfied, Lan Zhan releases his wrist so he can turn off the lights and then crawl into the bed behind Lan Zhan. He wraps an arm around Lan Zhan’s chest and tucks his nose into the back of Lan Zhan’s neck and falls asleep to hope blossoming in his chest, as warm as the body in his arms.

—

Wei Ying wakes to heat. He’s curled around a warm body and the blanket atop their legs has him sweating slightly. But that’s not what had woken him – it was the heat around his cock, hard and tucked into the tight space between Lan Zhan’s muscular thighs. Lan Zhan is rhythmically squeezing around him and he can feel Lan Zhan’s shoulder moving against his chest as the other man jerks himself off. Wei Ying groans and tightens his arms around Lan Zhan, the image of them flashing before his eyes and the air heavy with the scent of Lan Zhan and sex. With Wei Ying awake, Lan Zhan’s hand on himself picks up speed while the other palms at the head of Wei Ying’s cock, peeking out from the front of his thighs and just underneath his balls.

Suddenly, Wei Ying can’t take it anymore. He rolls them over, draped across Lan Zhan’s back once again, and yanks his arms out from under them. Lan Zhan moans into the pillow and immediately moves his hips to hump the bed. Wei Ying is now fully awake, and he holds onto Lan Zhan’s strong, sexy forearms to hump between Lan Zhan’s thighs. His thighs are thick and muscular, hard beneath a thin layer of fat. The skin is soft and hot and slick with sweat. With each thrust, Wei Ying’s cockhead rubs against the sheets.

Wei Ying is panting in time with each spike of pleasure. Beneath him, Lan Zhan is also panting, letting out sweet little high-pitched moans on every exhale. It’s hot, it’s sexy. Lan Zhan sounds like he’s close already; how long must he have been jerking off to the feeling of Wei Ying’s erection between his thighs?

Wei Ying thrust harder. On either side of his head, Lan Zhan’s hands clench into fists. He’s so hot. Wei Ying licks up Lan Zhan’s neck, tastes the salty sweat. They’re sweating so much it feels wet between their bodies, it feels like Lan Zhan is wet in his most intimate areas. Like Lan Zhan is leaking for him.

He bites down on the straining muscle between Lan Zhan’s neck and shoulder. Beneath him, Lan Zhan whines high in his throat. He pants “Wei Ying” and “please” and “fuck.” He gasps “I’m, I’m gonna!”

And Wei Ying jerks his hips up, out and away from the welcoming, addicting squeeze of Lan Zhan’s thighs. They gasp in tandem, Wei Ying’s wanting and Lan Zhan’s desolate and desperate.

“Why?” Lan Zhan whines, grinding his hips against the bed. “Wei Ying!” he pleads when Wei Ying’s hands hike his hips up, preventing him from getting off.

“Lan Zhan, ah, wait for me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying teases as the man trembles beneath him. “You can do it, you’re so good, so hot, you’re so good for me.” Lan Zhan shivers and whimpers, still close. “So sweet, so beautiful, so good, fuck, you’re unbelievably hot, want you so bad,” and more in Lan Zhan’s ear for the minutes it takes for him to cool down from the edge.

The shaking subsides, Lan Zhan breathing so hard his whole body heaves with each breath.

“Good boy,” he murmurs in Lan Zhan’s flushed ear. “Ready?”

Lan Zhan nods into the bedding and shuffles their legs around, so that Lan Zhan’s knees are pressed between his own. He guides his erection back down, the head teasing at Lan Zhan’s sore hole, then at his smooth taint, before slipping into the apex of Lan Zhan’s sweaty thighs once more. He bumps against the back of Lan Zhan’s balls, drawing a soft moan from him. Slowly, he rocks his hips, the head of his dick traveling from Lan Zhan’s taint to his balls and back.

His senses are full of Lan Zhan. The smell of his skin, the taste as he kisses and licks and bites along Lan Zhan’s shoulders and both sides of his neck. Each bite earns him a sweet gasp and a delicious squeeze around his dick. The sounds of their slick bodies moving together and sweet moans fill the air.

Slowly, he picks up the speed and length of his thrusts until he’s back to pounding between Lan Zhan’s thighs. The position must be uncomfortable for him, with his back arched up and shaking legs pressed together, but the only words that fall from his lips are “yes” and “please” and “more.”

Wei Ying pushes up to get more power behind his thrusts and Lan Zhan’s hands fly to his ass, pulling and encouraging. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots motion. A mirror.

“Lan Zhan,” he grunts, “look.” Lan Zhan doesn’t respond, too lost in pleasure, so Wei Ying tangles one hand in his long hair and forces his head to turn. “Look.”

And what a sight they make. Lan Zhan, face flushed against the bed, one of Wei Ying’s hands in his hair and the other on his back, pinning him to the bed. His ass in the air, the impact of Wei Ying’s hips making the round cheeks jiggle. His hard cock beneath him, purple and leaking, dancing with their motion.

Wei Ying hears as Lan Zhan’s cries grow louder, feels Lan Zhan’s body tensing underneath his, and watches in the mirror as Lan Zhan cums from the sight of them. His mouth is open as his eyes roll back, his dick jumping once, twice, before squirting white onto his own chest and the sheets beneath them.

Helpless, Wei Ying follows Lan Zhan over the edge, the image of them seared into his brain.

—

They walk over to an upscale cafe on Wei Ying’s recommendation. He’s always wanted to try their sriracha egg and spinach breakfast sandwich and chili mango tarts but could never justify the prices – except now he had a date to impress and he wants Lan Zhan to associate him with good sex and great restaurant recommendations. Hopefully, by the time he has to show his abysmal cooking skills, Lan Zhan will be so enamored that he won’t even care.

Wei Ying likes to talk and Lan Zhan is quiet (outside of sex); Wei Ying loves attention and Lan Zhan keeps his intent focus on him. They’re really the perfect pair.

So he talks Lan Zhan’s ear off as they walk, as they’re seated, and as they wait for their food.

He tells Lan Zhan about his parents, both ‘independent contractors.’ His father has had eight completely different careers and his mother has had at least twelve. And they’ve passed it on to him – he paints, does carpentry, grows a little garden, can fix almost any household appliance, and a bunch of little other things.

“They bought land after I was born and built their own farm. Ah, they don’t come from money, there was some kind of settlement my mom was involved in. She also has a law degree, I think. But we’ve raised chickens and goats and grew our own vegetables and would even forage on the weekends. Ah, they probably also wanted to have wild swinger sex without the neighbors complaining.”

Lan Zhan chokes on his water, which is exactly the reaction he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan clears his throat, a flush on his cheeks. “Umm, that is… good for them.”

Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, don’t worry, they never told me about it. But sometimes they would send me to spend the night at the Wens – oh! I’ve known Wen Qing, my manager, and Wen Ning, one of the bartenders, since we were little kids. They lived with, like, fifty other relatives. But yeah, every few weeks or so, they’d send me to the Wens so they could have “adult parties.” I didn’t actually connect the dots until a few years ago, after I got into BDSM and noticed all of the heavy-duty eye-hooks in the central beams of the house.”

Lan Zhan licks his lips, not meeting Wei Ying’s eyes.

“Oh?” Wei Ying lowers his voice. “Have you ever been suspended, Lan Zhan? I think you would like that, hm?” The silence was very telling. “Ahh, I would install eye-hooks just for you but unfortunately I’m renting my apartment. It’s pretty inconvenient for everyone involved if I tore up the ceiling to get to the central beam. And I think Chenqing might try to haunt the other apartments if she had access between the walls.”

“Chenqing?” Lan Zhan asks, looking relieved to move away from discussion of suspension. Wei Ying lets it slide, this once.

“Yeah, she’s my little black void. Here, look,” and he pulls up a picture of his cat curled up on a black blanket, so dark that the only distinguishable features are her eyes and her little tongue sticking out. “I have a lot of dark furniture and she loves to blend in. The amount of times I’ve tripped over her or sat on her are insane.”

Lan Zhan hums and nods and takes another polite bite of his scrambled eggs.

“So what about you? What do you do, how did you grow up, do you have any pets?”

Lan Zhan is quiet for a moment before he says, “my mother died when I was young. My father was absent during my childhood and then also died. My uncle raised my brother and I since my mother fell ill. I’m grateful that he took us in but he wasn’t prepared to have children and we lived a very structured life. Pets weren’t allowed and I haven’t had the time to take care of one.”

Wei Ying reaches across the table to squeeze Lan Zhan’s hand. “I’m sorry for being so nosy. Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like.”

Lan Zhan squeezes his hand back. “It is alright. I have come to terms with it, I don’t mind sharing.”

“So what do you do for a living?”

“Office work,” Lan Zhan says, tone dry and face flat and Wei Ying has to laugh again. Lan Zhan is so funny.

It’s easy to imagine Lan Zhan in an office. He’s probably some big boss, with his own room and door that shuts, a sturdy hardwood desk and floor to ceiling walls behind him. Maybe he even has a secretary, fresh out of college, that he politely asks to make photocopies and block out time on his calendar.

He shares his thoughts with Lan Zhan and the other man nods along. Then he surprises Wei Ying by saying, “I do paperwork for a collection of non-profit agencies in the area.”

Wei Ying stares at Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan stares back, eyes challenging. He’s serious about his work, stands righteously behind it.

“Smart, sexy, and selfless? You’re the perfect package.” Lan Zhan’s eyes soften at that. Phew, he said the right thing. It wouldn’t have been the first time Wei Ying’s big mouth had gotten him into trouble but he definitely would have regretted it the most.

“I’m surprised but really glad, actually,” he admits.

Lan Zhan tilts his head and lets the question linger, unspoken.

“I mean, you bring a lot of money every week. You lose a lot of money every week. It wouldn’t have been a dealbreaker, but… well, I’m glad you’re not a politician or CEO or something.”

Lan Zhan nods very seriously. Being in the non-profit industry, he’s probably very aware of why Wei Ying feels so strongly.

“Old money,” he admits, then changes the subject. “And how did you end up at Golden Carp Tower? It’s a little… capitalist, I imagine.”

🂡🂡🂡

“I’m a jack of all trades, yeah? I wanted to try something new. I actually started dealing in Yiling, at the Burial Mounds Casino. It was ranked second most dangerous in the country, only topped by Ghost City.” Wei Ying looks terribly proud of this and Lan Zhan is unfortunately very fond of the fact. “But they went under, corporation and politicians and yada yada. I’m not high enough to care nor do I want to. Meng Yao recruited me, and I had him hire Wen Qing and Wen Ning as well. Burial Mounds was shut down the next year – ahh, I’m not sad about it, it was a pretty awful place to be, in hindsight. I just like playing games, and I have to do it in a professional setting because none of my friends will play more than a few rounds at a time. It’s not my fault! I’ve been counting and tracking cards for so long, I just do it automatically. Oh, but you know what they will play with me?” Wei Ying leans across the table and Lan Zhan meets him halfway. “Just the Tips,” Wei Ying breathes into his ear and Lan Zhan flushes down his entire body.

Lan Zhan is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or more accurately, he’s stuck between his libido and his hard dick. It’s all because of Wei Ying.

Before they left the hotel room, Wei Ying had run down to the casino to grab the extra change of clothes he kept in his locker. And these are far from the form-fitting, elegant (if a bit gaudy) dealer’s uniform of Golden Carp Tower Casino. His jeans are dark and skin-tight, hugging his ass in the most flattering way and entirely distressed. The soft skin of his inner thigh is visible and Lan Zhan’s mouth waters every time he gets a glimpse. The loose shirt isn’t much better, the v-neck showing off Wei Ying’s collarbones and the large armholes flashing ribs and pectoral muscles every time he waves his arms around. Which is a lot.

Wei Ying also has piercings. There are a couple through each of his ears, dark jewelry framing the shells of his ears. There is one threaded through the edge of his right eyebrow. And there’s a ball in the middle of his tongue.

The tongue piercing is unavoidable. It flashes every time Wei Ying opens his mouth. Wei Ying is also eating a sandwich, sauce catching on his mouth, and his tongue frequently darts out to lick his lips, the piercing catching the light and drawing his attention. As if he’s not already fixated on Wei Ying’s mouth; he can barely understand what Wei Ying is saying, he wants to know what the piercing feels like when they kiss, when Wei Ying puts his mouth on his skin, when Wei Ying licks his hole–

“Eh, Lan Zhan?” Lan Zhan’s eyes snap up to Wei Ying’s. He feels as if he’s been caught doing something naughty, Wei Ying’s eyes large and dark and calculating. “What’s got you so distracted? Do I have something in my teeth?” And Wei Ying runs his tongue along his bottom teeth, perfectly displaying the silver ball. “Did I get it?”

“Wei Ying,” is all he can say, and his voice sounds strained. He’s glad for the table between them, hiding the situation that his pants cannot.

“Hmm? What is it?” When no answer is forthcoming, Wei Ying perks up. “Oh! Is this distracting you?” and he sticks out his tongue. Lan Zhan swallows hard.

And Wei Ying, the menace, just laughs at him. “You weren’t expecting it, hm? Yeah, I have to be bare at work, Meng Yao thinks piercings are unprofessional.” He rolls his eyes when he says this. “What do you think?”

“It is very,” and Lan Zhan has to remember to breathe when Wei Ying flashes the piercing at him again, “distracting.”

“Interesting,” Wei Ying says and appraises him again, eyes slowly traveling down and up his body. Though he knows Wei Ying cannot possibly see how affected he is, the smirk wears lets him know that Wei Ying is very aware of his situation.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying purrs, leaning over the table again. “I really enjoyed last night.”

Lan Zhan can’t help but lean towards Wei Ying too, desperate to close the distance between them. “I did, too.”

“I would really like to do that again.”

“I would, too.”

“I would like to do even more.”

“What kind of more?”

“Well, Lan Zhan, how well do you know your kinks?”

Every dirty image he’s had of Wei Ying taking him in the last few months play through his mind. His mouth is dry as he says, “I know them very well.”

Wei Ying beams at him and leans back and Lan Zhan feels as if he can breathe again. He’s not sure if it’s relief or disappointment that floods his system as he sucks in a lungful of air, desperately trying not to be caught panting in a public restaurant from not even dirty talk.

“I like being in charge, most of the time,” Wei Ying says, sounding serious and business-like. “Well, during scenes. I won’t try to order you around outside of them. Is that okay with you?”

He nods. “I prefer that.”

“Can we exchange numbers now? I want to send you something.” Lan Zhan hands over his phone and it chimes a moment later. “This is a master list of kinks, all defined. You can highlight each of them green, yellow, or red. The link is already connected to my list, so once you submit it, it’ll compare ours and we can go from there.”

Immediately, Lan Zhan starts to go through the list and tick off the boxes. Wei Ying laughs, pleased, and orders them pastries as he goes through the list. It’s huge and there are some uncommon kinks he’s never heard of but after a half-hour, he’s finished.

Wei Ying pulls out his own phone and reads the comparisons. His lips tug up into heated smirk as he says, “I think we’ll get along very well together. Now, let’s set up some boundaries…”

—

Lan Zhan spends the two hour drive to his home reviewing the past twenty-four hours, alternating between half-hard and fully erect.

Wei Ying smirking at him, the cards flying between his hands. Dealing with sharp flicks of the wrist, long fingers flipping over each card in a single, quick motion.

Wei Ying laughing brightly, head tilted back to show off the long curve of his throat, light catching on the various earrings running down his ear.

Wei Ying’s searing gaze running up and down his body as Lan Zhan squeezed around his plug and willed his erection not to show.

Wei Ying’s husky voice, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Wei Ying’s mouth, his hands, pushing Lan Zhan against the wall and letting him hump his leg.

Wei Ying’s cock in his mouth.

Wei Ying’s cock in his ass.

Wei Ying biting his neck.

Wei Ying making him cum untouched.

Wei Ying fucking him as his overstimulated body protested.

Wei Ying’s hot cum painted along his back.

Wei Ying’s fingers on his prostate, brutally driving him towards a second orgasm.

Wei Ying’s hard cock nestled in the cleft of his ass when he woke.

Wei Ying’s soft, sleepy moans as Lan Zhan played with them both.

Wei Ying pinning him to the bed when he woke, in turn.

Wei Ying denying him, making him wait.

Wei Ying between his thighs, knocking against his perineum and balls.

Wei Ying forcing him to look at them in the mirror.

Wei Ying making him cum untouched, again, not even inside him.

Wei Ying’s face as he came.

Wei Ying wearing tight and torn street clothes.

Wei Ying with a barbell through his tongue.

Wei Ying talking about kinks across a cafe table.

Wei Ying’s knowing looks as Lan Zhan stumbled his way through his wants and needs.

Wei Ying pressing him against his car, leaning in.

Wei Ying promising to ruin him.

Wei Ying sending him off without even a kiss.

Wei Ying telling him to be good.

As soon as Lan Zhan is parked in the building’s garage, he’s out and rushing to his room. He doesn’t even wait for the elevator, afraid to run into someone with his obvious erection straining his pants, and takes the ten flights of stairs.

The door slams behind him as his hand reaches into his pants to grasp his hard length. Instinctively, he bucks up into the pressure. His underwear is damp against the back of his hand and drags unpleasantly as he gives himself a few strokes.

The vibration of his phone in his pocket manages to break through his haze. With his free hand, he pulls it out even as he continues to smear the fluids leaking from him into the head of his cock.

Wei Ying
(09:17) your wei ying!! 🥰
(09:17) [link]

(10:27) drvie safe! txt me too!!!
(10:27) when u get home!
(10:28) DONT TEXT AND DRIVE

(11:03) lan zhan 😭
(11:03) how d you do it
(11:03) its only 11
(11:03) hw is there so much time in the day

(11:14) im being productive gege 😍

(11:18) NVM
(11:18) productivity is a capitalist concept that we shuld strive to challenge and dismantle

(11:46) im tired 🥺
(11:46) you really got me up early
(11:47) for *strenuous activities*
(11:47) not that I mind 😜
(11:48) your moans are better thn caffeen
(11:48) cafiene
(11:48) CAFFEINE
(11:49) i need more coffee

(12:13) did you make it home yet lan zhan
(12:14) ohhh looks like ther was traffic
(12:16) what do you do in the car? listen to music? podcast? what kind?

(12:35) you strike me as a classical guy. look at this channel! they make pop songs into midevil style [link]

(12:42) im in love with bardcore now

(12:51) ITS CLL ME BY YOUR NMAE BY LIL NASX IN BARDCORE [link]

In a sudden flash of unhinged bravery, Lan Zhan opens the camera and points it down at his hand, still in his pants and wrapped around his dick. The shutter clicks damningly but he’s too horny to care.

Lan Zhan
(12:53) [image]

Wei Ying
(12:53) WAHT

The phone vibrates almost violently with an incoming call. Wei Ying’s name lights up the screen and Lan Zhan slides the green button, hand speeding up on his dick.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying sounds scandalized but there’s a clear undertone of amusement in his voice. “Bardcore got you that worked up?”

“Wei Ying,” he rasps.

“Oh shit. You poor thing, how long have you been like this?”

“The car ride.” Just hearing Wei Ying’s voice is working him up, he’s getting so close.

“The whole ride? You’re incredible. Lan Zhan, listen, listen. Are you listening?” Wei Ying seems very excited so Lan Zhan makes an affirmative noise. “You’re not allowed to cum,” Wei Ying says, voice deeper, demanding. Lan Zhan groans low in his throat, squeezing the base of his cock. Just hearing Wei Ying command him like that almost tips him over the edge.

“You’re not allowed to cum,” Wei Ying repeats. “You’re going to wait until next weekend when I can spend hours making you cum over and over again, I’ll fuck you until you cry and spank your round ass and–”

“Wei Ying,” he chokes out.

“Do you need to safeword?” He lets out a small, disgruntled sound. “So you’ll wait to cum until I see you again?” Another, even more disgruntled sound. “You’re so cute!” And Wei Ying laughs, laughs at Lan Zhan’s suffering, which is horribly hot.

Once Wei Ying releases Lan Zhan from the phone, he takes a cold shower and futilely tries to think of anything but how Wei Ying’s hot body would feel against his as he’s pressed to the cold wall of the shower. Eventually, he’s too cold to maintain an erection but his blood still thrums with arousal.

When he gets out of the shower, several messages are waiting for him.

Wei Ying
(13:43) you got me so hot 🥵
(13:43) just thinkig about you driving hard for 2 hours
(13:44) and you sounded so desperate
(13:44) im going to wreck you so hard when I get my hands on you

(13:52) [image]
(13:52) look what you made me do
(13:53) youre so naughty
(13:53) too bad you cant send me the same pictures

The image is Wei Ying’s cock, flushed and hard, his long fingers still wrapped around it. And his soft, trim stomach, splattered with his own release.

Lan Zhan’s moan echoes through his bathroom as his cock flushes so fast he becomes dizzy.

It’s going to be a long week.

—

He’s not sure why he’s surprised by Wei Ying’s texting habits. In the weeks he’s known the man, one of his most obvious traits is that he doesn’t shut up. But he’s also never had someone he texted more than once a week.

Wei Ying texts constantly, the first message often coming between 11:00 AM and 1:00 PM, always a cheery, gm lan zhan! 🖤. The last is usually sent between 2:00 and 3:00 AM; although once Lan Zhan sent a reply when he woke at 5 and received an instant WHY ARE YOU UPPPPPPP 😭😭😭.

Wei Ying will talk about anything and everything. He narrates his journey when he goes to the store, asks ridiculous questions about pigeon feelings, tells stories of childhood mischief, debates with himself over theories of quantum physics. Even when Wei Ying is working, he’ll sneak in a few texts to Lan Zhan about his pleasant regular clients and some of the more distasteful visitors.

On his part, Lan Zhan does nothing to discourage the constant barrage from Wei Ying. It is similar to the time in college, when he joined a club group chat under his brother’s insistence he make friends and his phone was not silent for more than half an hour. But where he had been irritated and uninterested in others’ discussions, he finds himself charmed and engaged with Wei Ying. He tries to answer every question sincerely – even the ones about pigeon feelings. And when he had finished a meeting to find thirty unread messages from Wei Ying, he’d done his best to answer each of them.

Wei Ying immediately called him to coo over how cute he was, until he had to hang up and stand in the bathroom for several long minutes to calm himself down.

Because inane conversation was only half of their chat content. The other half was Wei Ying driving Lan Zhan up the wall.

The weekend of their tryst, like the majority of his weekends, Lan Zhan had no plans. And neither, it seemed, did Wei Ying.

The entire weekend was an extreme test of his patience and restraint. Right before dinner on Saturday, Wei Ying video called with a challenge. Within half an hour, Lan Zhan was seated on his vibrating dildo at the table, hands shaking so bad he often dropped his food twice before getting it to his mouth, sweating profusely as he tried to shut out the filthy cadence of Wei Ying’s voice. It took him almost an hour to eat the small bowl and he had to completely stop the vibrations thrice to avoid spilling.

Wei Ying spoke to him in a soothing voice as he ran through his nightly routine early and lay down still hard and aching. He fell asleep to Wei Ying’s effusive praise.

Sunday morning he woke to several extremely detailed texts about the positions Wei Ying wanted to put him in, all of which would leave him helpless and exposed to the wicked creativity of his mind. He was left to stew in his horniness for hours, trying and failing to do simple chores. When Wei Ying finally rose close to noon, he demanded Lan Zhan send a picture using each of his dildos, plugs, and masturbators.

All through the week, Wei Ying interspersed dirty comments and titillating imagery into their messages. Lan Zhan suspected that his sanity only remained intact due to their opposite schedules: by the time Lan Zhan clocked out for the day, Wei Ying was working and often worked past when Lan Zhan went to bed. And Wei Ying was respectful in refraining from riling up Lan Zhan during work, usually sticking to teasing and tame conversation.

Until Thursday afternoon.

Wei Ying
(12:47) a-qing had something come up, im covering for her today
(12:47) which also means shes covering for me tomorrow
(12:48) which also also means that im not working tomorrow
(12:48) which also also also means that we have the whole night

Lan Zhan
(12:54) That is acceptable. I have room in my schedule to take off early. How does 3:30pm sound?

Wei Ying
(12:55) eager, are you?
(12:55) il be waiting for you
(12:56) i have a few ideas for you…

Needless to say, Lan Zhan was not much use for the rest of the afternoon.

—

Lan Zhan pulls up to a five storey brick apartment building, one of countless similar buildings lined up on both sides of the street. He was, inexplicably, nervous, despite the excitement and arousal thrumming through his veins. While they had met privately the week before, it had been impulsive and in the neutral space of his hotel room. Here, he would be seeing into the private life of Wei Ying, in his home.

He also had no idea what Wei Ying would be doing to him.

Sure, he had an idea. Multiple ideas, and multiple desires. And Wei Ying had checked in with him on many, many, many things yesterday and earlier today. He had no doubt that Wei Ying would respect his boundaries; he suspected that Wei Ying might even be more aware of them than Lan Zhan himself. But Wei Ying also said their scene would be a surprise each time Lan Zhan had asked, which thrilled and terrified him in equal measures.

He checked his phone once more to ensure he had the right address and saw that Wei Ying had texted him several times. His phone had been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for the duration of the drive, as it always was, but double-checked today since he hadn’t wanted to see a flash of Wei Ying’s message and be distracted off the road.

Lan Zhan
(13:07) Leaving soon. What is the address?

Wei Ying
(13:09) [address]
(13:09) ill be waiting for you bun 😘

Lan Zhan’s ears heat reading that again. The pet name had come from Wei Ying asking his favorite animal and his answer had been, reasonably, ‘Rabbit.’ And then the next day Wei Ying had slipped it in, called him ‘Bunny’ over the phone. He’s not entirely sure how Wei Ying had managed to read him so well in the sparse week they’ve been at this, but the endearment stuck when Lan Zhan could not truthfully deny he liked it.

Lan Zhan
(13:10) Thank you.
(13:12) Leaving now.

Wei Ying
(13:13) ohh you meant soon soon
(13:14) or coul you just not wait as soon as i sent oyu my address
(13:15) that ready to be good for your gege?

(13:28) ik your driving and being respnsible
(13:28) so that means i can tell you what ive been thinking of
(13:30) [redacted]
(13:30) i did indeed type redacted
(13:31) evrytime i think of something naughty to do to you ill let you know
(13:31) but i wont tell you whatt

(13:35) [redacted]
(13:36) oh! i could aslo [redacted]

(13:43) [redacted]

And it goes on like that for the whole time he was driving, a [redacted] sent every few minutes with the last vibrating his phone at this moment.

Wei Ying
(14:49) as soon as you get here im gonna [redacted] and [redacted] until you [redacted]

Lan Zhan is more than half-hard, sitting in his car as his imagination runs wild with all the things that Wei Ying could be thinking of doing to him. Which was probably exactly the plan.

Lan Zhan
(14:50) I’ve arrived early. Is it alright for me to come in?

Wei Ying
(14:50) !!!
(14:50) oh youll be coming in alright
(14:51) in what? well youll jst have to find out
(14:51) bu yea! outside door is open, im 4B

And that’s all Lan Zhan needs before he’s out of his car and up the stairs. Apartment 4B is the only door decorated, with silly magnets and cute paper cutouts and a garland of chili peppers tacked onto the frame. It is very much in line with what one might expect of Wei Ying’s door.

His knuckles rap against an exposed section of the door once before it flies open; he gets no more than a glimpse of the inside when a hand grips the front of his shirt and drags him inside. The breath is punched out of him as he’s shoved into the wall, hardly registering the slam of the door and rattling of picture frames as Wei Ying’s mouth lands squarely on his own. Without giving him any time to adjust, Wei Ying’s hand is on his jaw, opening him up for Wei Ying’s tongue to dive into his mouth.

It’s filthy, it’s hot, it’s rough, it’s everything he’s ever wanted. Wei Ying is everywhere, there’s nothing else but Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s tongue licking over his teeth, against the roof of his mouth; Wei Ying’s teeth biting at his bottom lip; Wei Ying’s lips bruising his own. Somehow, Wei Ying coaxes his tongue into Wei Ying’s own mouth to suck on it until the muscle strains. It hurts and it’s good.

There's something in Wei Ying's mouth, hard and round in between their tongues. It takes another sweep of Wei Ying's tongue, the ball running smoothly along the side of his tongue, before his sluggish brain figures it out. Wei Ying’s tongue piercing. Lan Zhan had somehow forgotten about it, despite starring in a couple of his fantasies this past week, and his mind reels as he finally feels it exploring his mouth.

Wei Ying’s thigh is also between Lan Zhans’, shoving him into the wall, pushing him onto his toes. He’s so hard he thinks he must be close now and the overwhelming pressure against his crotch is only driving him closer. He’s moaning into Wei Ying’s mouth, frantically trying to move his hips, trapped and at Wei Ying’s mercy, he’s going to, he’s goin–

Wei Ying bites down on his tongue, hard, and rips himself away. Lan Zhan cries out, frustrated and desperate, as cold air replaces everywhere that Wei Ying’s hot body had been covering. His hands shake as he reaches out for Wei Ying, fingers tingling from gripping at Wei Ying's shirt without him noticing.

Lan Zhan tilts his head back and breathes hard, held up only by the wall. He can hear Wei Ying panting, too. He’s so hard, he needs, he needs.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s voice is ragged, low and sexy. Lan Zhan needs.

‘Wei Ying,’ he tries to say, but it comes out as a breathy “hnr ing.”

“Lan Zhan,” and oh, Wei Ying is smirking. A stupid, sexy smirk that would probably compel Lan Zhan anything he asked. He feels as if his body has melted, his brain liquid inside his head. He’s just a hard cock, a body of nerve endings, his only will to please Wei Ying.

“– how does that sound?” Oh, Wei Ying asked him a question. Lan Zhan nods; there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Wei Ying right now.

A hand lands on his cheek and he opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized they closed. Wei Ying is grinning at him, looking smug and sexy. “Come back, Bun,” and Lan Zhan nods because he’s here, he’s here.

Wei Ying laughs and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. A hand in his, and then he’s led on shaky legs. He can’t take in his surroundings, just a swirl of color. Then hands on his shoulders, pushing him down onto a soft couch. Wei Ying’s face in his, as he crouches down in front of Lan Zhan.

“Hey, Bun, can you understand me?” Lan Zhan nods. He’s here. “Can you speak to me?” Wei Ying says in a sweet, soft voice.

“Gege,” is all Lan Zhan can think to murmur.

“You’re so cute,” Wei Ying says, sounding proud, and something warm blooms within Lan Zhan’s chest. “Do you need anything before we get started?”

Lan Zhan’s head has cleared somewhat as he cooled down, but it still takes him a moment to parse the meaning of the words. There’s nothing he wants, but maybe…

“Need gege to take care of me,” he says as pitifully as he can, which isn’t difficult with his desperation to have Wei Ying’s hands on him.

“Fuck.” Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying closes his eyes, curls his hands into fists, breathes deep. Lan Zhan feels powerful. He made Wei Ying like this with just a few words, brought this devastatingly handsome man to the edge of restraint."You're so much, Bun," Wei Ying says and before Lan Zhang can wonder if this is a good or bad thing, follows with, "just perfect, how much you are."

It feels sinful, the way his mind seems to melt in the praise. The world loses its edges and it's just Lan Zhan and Wei Ying, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan.

"You're so ready, hm?" Wei Ying considers him, stepping closer. Lan Zhan automatically parts his knees, making space for anything Wei Ying wants to do with him. "Let's take the edge off before we get started, yeah?" And Lan Zhan is nodding, nodding, nodding because, "you've waited so long, been so good for me."

A minute later, he's naked on his back, the worn cushions soft on his skin. Wei Ying is standing over him, also naked and beautiful and mouthwatering and hard and–

"Scoot down for me, Bun." So Lan Zhang wiggles across the sofa and it feels extremely unsexy but Wei Ying is smiling at him so he must be doing it right. He ends up with his feet dangling over one end, knees propped up by the arm.

And then Wei Ying is swinging a leg over his head, facing down the length of Lan Zhan’s body. His balls are hanging right above Lan Zhan’s face, hard dick right there and looking so much bigger from underneath. He can see the soft hairs and flexing muscles of Wei Ying’s inner thighs.
“Open up, baobao,” Wei Ying says and Lan Zhan obediently, hungrily opens his mouth. And then Wei Ying’s cock is filling him up, resting over his tongue, pressing to the restriction of his throat. Lan Zhan moans at the warmth and weight, the stretch of his jaw, the salty taste. Wei Ying’s strong thighs bracket his head and he’s unsure if the pounding of blood in his ears is his own or Wei Ying’s.

Wei Ying gives an emphatic “fuck” and his own dick twitches at the sound. His face floods with embarrassment as he realizes he's on full display like this, that Wei Ying can see his hard on clear as day. The embarrassment shoots down his body to make him twitch and leak, and he can feel the pre- beginning to pool on his stomach. This only serves to make him even more embarrassed, and then leak again, over and over, a positive feed-back loop.

And then his attention is diverted by Wei Ying begins tilting his hips, forcing his cock further into Lan Zhan's mouth. Lan Zhan arches his back so he can tilt his head back, trying to open his throat, trying to be so good for Wei Ying. The stretch makes his eyes flutter, the movement of Wei Ying's cock has his toes curling. It’s all he can do to time his breathing with the rhythm of Wei Ying and catching the strong musk of Wei Ying each time he inhales.

Wei Ying keeps up a cadence of encouragement as he works his cock further, thighs squeezing Lan Zhan's head, the head popping past in and out of his throat. He runs his mouth, words blending together as he talks about “you’re so good, feel so tight around me. Uh, the sounds you’re making, you love this, don’t you? You love having a cock in your mouth, down your throat. You’re opening up so good for me, doing so well. Ah, your dick is twitching so much, you’re ready to cum already, aren’t you?”

Then Wei Ying shifts and wet heat envelopes the head of Lan Zhan's cock. It's so startling and good that Lan Zhan messes up his breathing, chokes on Wei Ying's cock, his feet kicking the side of the sofa but not getting any traction. Wei Ying pulls out of his throat but keeps Lan Zhan’s mouth full as he tries to catch his breath. Wei Ying’s lips caress the head of his dick all the while, rubbing across the head and putting pressure beneath the flared tip.

When Lan Zhan finally control over his breathing, Wei Ying works his cock into Lan Zhan’s throat again. He keeps a slow back-and-forth pace, only the tip still playing dipping in and out of his throat. It's maddening how it is both too little and too much.

Wei Ying pulls off of Lan Zhan’s cock as he thrusts his own all the way down Lan Zhan's throat, balls resting heavy on Lan Zhan's nose and a throaty moan rippling through the air. Lan Zhan chokes even as he’s hit with a powerful surge of heat. Wei Ying is inside, all the way inside, sitting on his face, using him for his own pleasure. Wei Ying pulls back, until only the tip of his cock is left in Lan Zhan’s throat. He gets in a single breath before Wei Ying is thrusting in again, and then he sets a hard pace. His cock is sliding back and forth in Lan Zhan's throat, balls landing heavily on his face.

His hands fly up to Wei Ying's hips and he hears a breathy, "yeah, you can touch me, go on" and so he sinks his fingers into the muscles of Wei Ying's glorious ass and the thrusts get faster, harder. He realizes he’s closed his eyes and it takes monumental effort to open them but it's worth it once he can focus enough. He watches Wei Ying's cock, wet from his throat, emerging and disappearing, his tight balls bouncing, glimpses the tight dark hole shyly peeking between Wei Ying's cheeks spreading when he's fully buried. Lan Zhan grips Wei Ying's ass harder to spread those cheeks, to be able to see the hole winking as Wei Ying pumps his hips.

His orgasm takes him by surprise. He’s so caught up in watching and feeling Wei Ying fuck his face that it hits him out of nowhere. His whole body seizes up and then pleasure bursts in his groin and his heavenly image disappears as his vision blacks out.

When he comes to, Wei Ying has pulled out of his throat and is gently rocking in his mouth. He automatically starts sucking and Wei Ying takes his cue to thrust deeper. "Gonna fuck your throat until I cum, bunny," he grunts. Lan Zhan’s whole body is still tingling from his orgasm and he lets himself go lax on the sofa. Wei Ying has said that it takes him awhile with cum from oral which is good because he feels loose and fucked out and wants to be good for Wei Ying.

Wei Ying starts up his pace again and Lan Zhan is happy to watch and float and be used until he feels something soft suckling on the sensitive head of his cock. And then Wei Ying is swiping his tongue across the tip and the ball of his tongue piercing, which he had forgotten about until just now, glides along and lights up his nerves. It's too much sensation and distracts him from breathing; he's choking a little and his throat constricts around Wei Ying's thrusts. His hands, which had fallen limp when he came, shoot up to Wei Ying's ass again, gripping for mercy. Wei Ying groans sexily above him and keeps licking the head of his cock with that damned piercing.

Once Lan Zhan has finally adjusted his breathing, Wei Ying messes with him again, a hot hand wrapping around his still half-hard shaft and the tongue and piercing making small circles around the head. It's so good, too much, so good, and then the piercing catches on Lan Zhan's littlest hole, never before touched so intimately and still sensitive from cumming. He tries to ground himself by squirming, tries to find an outlet to all the sensation he is being forced to experience with Wei Ying's body on his, thighs around his head, hand on his cock. But he’s trapped and has no choice but to accept it all.

Wei Ying fucks his throat even harder as he struggles, forcing his piercing against Lan Zhan's urethral opening again and again. Lan Zhan knows the safe signal but he doesn't need it, this is perfect, it's everything, Wei Ying has him, has him–

Wei Ying's mouth descends on his cock again, pulling the entire sensitive, mostly soft penis into the wet warm pressure of his mouth as his cock buries itself as far as it can in Lan Zhan's throat. Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying's balls pull tight away from his nose, his length jumping in his throat as he cums and cums and cums.

His entire body goes warm with the satisfaction of making Wei Ying feel good, better even than cool air down his raw throat and into burning lungs as Wei Ying draws back just enough to let him breathe. They lay like that for a few minutes, Lan Zhan feeling safe and sated and held down as Wei Ying grows softer in his mouth and he grows harder in Wei Ying's.

He’s feeling calmer as Wei Ying pulls out, his body dead weight on the couch. Though the arousal still simmers low in his body, it is not as all-consuming, and he feels more lucid even through the hazy film of satisfaction over his mind. Wei Ying is moving around, murmuring to himself. Then Wei Ying’s hands are on his shoulder, helping him up, pressing a glass of water into his hands and helping him drink. Wei Ying praises him in a soft voice and soothing tone.

“Card are definitely not for you. Why don’t we play with dice tonight?” Lan Zhan looks over to see him pulling out 7 differently shaped dice. They’re beautiful, made of clear resin with an iridescent sheen. Wei Ying points them out, their names correlating with the number of sides they have: d4, d6, d8, d10, d12, d100 (which looks like the d10 but counts in tens), and a d20.

“Pick out three dice. One is for edges, one for ruined orgasms, and one for satisfactory orgasms. I’ll be choosing the order, though.” He picks up the triangular pyramid, the d4. “But this one is for me.”

Lan Zhan tries to breathe through the anticipation. He has to be careful, to not get too excited and overestimate what he can take. Arousal still thrums through his body but with one good orgasm out of the way, he isn’t quite as desperate. As much as he wants to reach for the largest die, his body would not appreciate being put through 20 orgasms on top of however many edges and ruins he would roll. The smallest dice available are 6, 10, and 12-sided, which are still quite a lot, if he rolls high. On the flip side, any of them could also roll a 1…

Making his decision, he points: d6 for orgasms, d10 for ruins, d12 for edges. His body can take the most edges and a ruined orgasm will usually allow him to stay hard. Wei Ying smirks, and the confidence sends shivers down Lan Zhan’s body, has his dick twitching between his legs.

“One last thing, Bunny,” says Wei Ying and he holds up a piece of silk. Lan Zhan’s heart pounds as the blindfold is wrapped around his head. Like this, he will not know what he rolls, will not be able to count or predict what comes next. “Hold out your hand,” Wei Ying commands and through the horny fear, he extends his hand. Wei Ying drops the three dice in his palm and they clack together with a satisfying sound. He rolls them around and between his fingers feeling the weight and the crisp edges.

“Stalling Bun?” There’s a challenge in Wei Ying’s voice and Lan Zhan swallows. He drops the dice. He hears them roll across the wooden table, stopping in less than a second, too soon. Wei Ying makes an appreciative noise that Lan Zhan has no idea how to read.

Suddenly there’s a hand wrapping around the back of his neck, pulling him to his feet. He stumbles, shin glancing off the coffee table, but Wei Ying doesn’t let up, just drags him forward. It’s disorienting, his body burning up with humiliation that turns into arousal. There’s a sweep of air and the sound of a door closing at his heels, and Wei Ying shuffles him around what must be his bedroom. The force on his neck increases as one of his legs is kicked to the side and he lands face-down onto the bed, hard. His ass is in the air, cock stiff and twitching between his spread thighs, a mirror of last week when Wei Ying had fucked him so good. He wiggles to bring his arms from uncomfortably trapped beneath him to above his head, stretching out and showing off. He wants Wei Ying to see him being good. Wei Ying tightens his grip on Lan Zhan’s neck and a moan escapes from low in his throat, answered by a chuckle behind him.

“Safeword?” Wei Ying asks as he sweeps a warm hand from the nape of Lan Zhan’s neck to his tailbone.

“Wangji,” he confirms and taps the bed twice for good measure.

“Good, Bun,” Wei Ying says and smoothes his hand up and down Lan Zhan’s back several times until most of the tension has seeped from Lan Zhan’s body and his breath has evened out. His head feels fuzzy and his body warm, and he is still extremely turned on.

Wei Ying’s hand moves down to rest on his asscheek. Lan Zhan squirms in excitement but Wei Ying only gives it a gentle squeeze. Then he feels something cool and hard on his back, bouncing along the curve to rest between his shoulder blades. “Four,” and oh, it’s a die, it’s the d4 Wei Ying had grabbed. Lan Zhan has no idea what this means and he doesn’t have time to try to figure it out as Wei Ying shifts behind him and then both hands are on his ass, holding him open and exposing him. Lan Zhan can’t help but clench as embarrassment and arousal shoot through his groin. “Your little hole is so pretty, winking at me,” Wei Ying murmurs and Lan Zhan involuntarily clenches again as his whole body flushes.

All embarrassment is wiped away as hotwetsoftslick brushes over his hole. It’s Wei Ying’s tongue, back again and firm on his rim. Lan Zhan’s mind is buzzing loudly but no thoughts can form, it’s all just white noise. Wei Ying’s tongue laps over his hole again and again and again, so good that Lan Zhan’s skin is tingling, whole body heaving with each breath. The little ball of Wei Ying’s tongue piercing catches on the rim every other pass, teasing and lighting up his nerves. His legs shake and then give out, knees knocking against the bedframe with a sting while Wei Ying’s hands on his ass keeping him upright. The new strain in his legs is uncomfortable with his back curled, but Wei Ying just keeps licking at him, pleasure and pain vying for his attention.

Unfortunately, his legs win out, starting to cramp, and he whines, helpless. Wei Ying, so good, seems to know and helps him pull first one knee, then the other onto the edge of the bed, somehow keeping his tongue between Lan Zhan’s cheeks the entire time. In no time at all, Lan Zhan has forgotten about his tired legs and is pushing back into Wei Ying’s face, needing more, more, as Wei Ying continues to just lick over his hole, the piercing now tugging at his rim with every swipe, cooling spit dripping down his taint and the back of his balls. It’s not enough, he needs more, and even Wei Ying’s hands rubbing and squeezing the outsides of his thighs can’t ground him.

Distantly, he hears breathy whimpers of “inside, inside, gege, inside.” He’d be mortified at himself for sounding so pornographic if it didn’t rile him up even more to know that this is what Wei Ying has turned him into. He’s desire incarnate, desperate and willing to be used. And Wei Ying seems to like it too, as he stops lapping at the puckered skin and wiggles the tip of his tongue at the center of Lan Zhan’s hole.

It’s maddening and so good and he wants it inside so bad. Even with how aroused he is, how ready he feels, he’s too tight, Wei Ying’s tongue just breaching him, it’s not enough. He spreads his knees further, arches his back, feels himself open up just the smallest bit but he needs, he needs–

Wei Ying’s hands slide back to his ass, cupping his cheeks firmly, and then his thumbs are tugging at Lan Zhan’s rim, holding him open, exposing him. Lan Zhan’s entire body is on fire, set ablaze with humiliation and desire. He wants more, even as Wei Ying’s wet, slick, sinfully good tongue finally pushes into him. He feels his cock jerking in the air, begging for stimulation, balls drawn up tight and ready to cum again.

Wei Ying seems determined to drive him out of his mind. He thrusts his tongue in and out, swirls it around his walls. It’s so good but it’s too shallow to hit that spot inside him. Lan Zhan is hit by the thought of Wei Ying’s tongue reaching farther in to rub his piercing against his prostate. He imagines the hard pressure of it, which he can occasionally feel swiping against his walls and past his rim, striking against his prostate. His dick twitches painfully as he imagines cumming from the first touch of the piercing against his prostate, running circles over the gland to draw out his orgasm, continuing even as he’s oversensitive and crying and in the best kind of pain.

The image is wiped out as lips seal over his hole and suck, Lan Zhan crying out and body jerking as the world narrows down to just the white hot feeling of pleasure, he’s so close, about to come the hardest he has in his life –

Abruptly, Wei Ying pulls away. There’s nothing. The heat and pressure of Wei Ying’s mouth is gone, his hands gone. Lan Zhan is distraught, the pain of denial physically lancing through his body, and instinctively moves a shaking hand down in jerky motions. Wei Ying catches him by the wrist, his long, strong fingers squeezing and the restraint should feel good, it does feel good, but he just wants to strangle the man, he needs to cum –

“Did you just growl at me?” and Wei Ying is laughing, shocked and smug. A million emotions flash through Lan Zhan’s head – embarrassment, desire, satisfaction, want, humiliation, need, arousal, frustration, an endless and confusing loop – as Lan Zhan weakly tries to shake off Wei Ying’s hand, his cock kicking against his stomach and leaving streaks of pre-come. “It’s alright, good, you’re so good for me, settle down” Wei Ying soothes, hands running along Lan Zhan’s body, bringing him down from the edge.

Lan Zhan sinks into the bed, arousal still coursing prominently through his body but frustration abating, making room for satisfaction to wind through his limbs. This is what Wei Ying wants, to push him and deny him and if it makes Wei Ying happy, it makes him happy to have been good for Wei Ying.

When Wei Ying deems him cooled down enough, he gives a last chuckle and “good Bunny,” then rakes his nails down Lan Zhan’s back in eight stinging lines. The sensation makes Lan Zhan shiver, arousal immediately ratcheting up several notches. Then one of Wei Ying’s hands is running through his hair pooled around his shoulders, withdrawing with a triumphant sound a moment later. Lan Zhan’s mind is too full to try to follow, Wei Ying will do what Wei Ying wants to do and Lan Zhan will let him, but then there’s something small rolling on his back and oh, yeah, the die.

“Another four,” and Lan Zhan still doesn’t explicitly know what this means but he can’t do that again, he can’t.

“Wei– gege,” he whines, he knows he’s whining but he can’t help it. “Gege, gege, please, I can’t, gege.” He’ll shake apart, he’ll come undone, he’ll be stuck as a creature of purely want, want, want.

“You can, Bunny, you will,” Wei Ying says and moves behind him, ignoring all other pleas and protests that fall from Lan Zhan’s lips. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you?” It’s hot, Wei Ying dismissing his words, Wei Ying knowing what’s best for him. “Look, you haven’t even moved your hands,” and he’s right, Lan Zhan’s hands are still stretched above his head. “Poor Bunny, saying one thing when you mean something else. Do you even know what you want?” And Lan Zhan doesn’t, he doesn’t, he always wants and he doesn’t even know what he wants, he needs Wei Ying to tell him, Wei Ying knows him even more than he knows himself.

“Is this what you need, Bunny?” and Wei Ying is sliding two slick fingers into him, the stretch sudden and almost too much. His body immediately clamps down around Wei Ying, protesting the lack of preparation, but Wei Ying doesn’t stop, forcing his fingers into the tight squeeze. A second later, his entire body seizes, clenching to the point of pain as Wei Ying’s fingertips jab roughly at his prostate. “Fuck, you’re so tight, you’re going to break my fingers,” Wei Ying says as his fingers pulse relentlessly up against that spot. “It’s going to feel amazing when I fuck you,” and Lan Zhan sobs, wanting it even though his body isn’t ready, is already hurting with the prep. Because his body isn’t ready, is already hurting with the prep.

“Close, close, please,” Lan Zhan cries out, he’s so ready to cum, “gege, let me, let me.”

Wei Ying’s voice is filled with mocking as he leers, “Begging already? It was just one edge, didn’t you say you could handle everything I would give you?” He tuts, fingers never slowing down, not a bit of pressure relieved. And Lan Zhan tries, tries to hold back, wants to be good and take what Wei Ying is doing but his body is clenching down on it’s own, trying to milk Wei Ying’s fingers, only increasing the pleasure and urgency. He’s going to cum with just Wei Ying’s fingers in his ass, dick twitching in the air underneath his body, a repeat of last week - the best sex he had ever had until tonight.

And then it stops, again. Lan Zhan can’t help the breathy, indignant whines that fill the air as he clenches down on nothing, thrusting his ass back in a vain attempt to get Wei Ying’s fingers back in him. This is even worse than the first edge, he was already so worked up from that and Wei Ying got him even closer this time. His cock spasms beneath him, pulsing as if it’s cumming but there’s no physical release, no fall of an orgasm. Just another edge.

Wei Ying gives him more time to breathe this time but his hands running over Lan Zhan’s body and the filthy words spilling from his mouth don’t allow Lan Zhan to cool down at all. He can feel the sheen of sweat covering him, smooth-rough friction from Wei Ying’s hands slipping through it.

Too soon, he hears a short clacking sound - the die, presumably on whatever side table. He’s not ready, and yet has never been more ready. It feels as if he’s still teetering on the edge, as if he could come at any moment if only Wei Ying told him to.

“Ahh, one. We usually call that a critical failure.”

Lan Zhan is given no time to attempt to parse that information as Wei Ying is suddenly there, sliding into him, thick cock pressing into his unexpecting hole. He’s big and hot with absolutely no warning and two fingers was not enough for this, the stretch burning. Lan Zhan isn’t sure if the abrupt penetration stole his breath away or punched it out of him, can’t process anything except Wei Ying half-buried in his ass after just one thrust. At least he’s slick, he had to have coated himself in lube while Lan Zhan was too distracted to notice.

Wei Ying shifts back a bare centimeter before shoving in even further, brutal and unforgiving. It burns, the strain of his body a candle in the face of the strain in his ass, but the pain immediately morphs into pleasure even as more pain lights up higher in him as Wei Ying pushes further into him. The dual sensations confuse his body, he can’t tell if he wants it to stop or if he wants more, more, more.

Wei Ying is so close after the second thrust, Lan Zhan can feel the heat from his thighs at his ass. One more thrust and he’s fully seated, the strength knocking Lan Zhan forward to collapse onto the bed. Lan Zhan takes great joy in the blissful sigh above him, inordinately proud of himself for taking Wei Ying so well and making Wei Ying feel good, even as he tries to draw air into his body.

Wei Ying doesn’t give him a chance to gather his bearings or even let him feel the pressure of the covers against his leaking length. Hands are hiking his hips up high, Wei Ying still all the way in him, and then the heavy weight of Wei Ying’s body is draping over his arched back, straining his body to its limits. Wei Ying’s head falls on his shoulder and his hands are covering Lan Zhan’s above their heads, linking their fingers together. Like this, he feels wrapped inside of Wei Ying, consumed by Wei Ying. It’s safe and beautiful and relaxing even as he’s panting with the exertion of still trying to adjust to the sudden and overwhelming fullness.

Wei Ying hums happily, seeming content enough with Lan Zhan’s state to forgo words, and the vibrations of his chest press against the whole of Lan Zhan’s back. Without withdrawing, Wei Ying grinds his hips forwards, and it feels like he’s reaching even deeper. It doesn’t matter that there’s no real friction. With how tight Lan Zhan is, he can feel every miniscule shift and twitch inside of him.

Wei Ying undulates his hips, grounding him inside his own body even as he sets him adrift on clouds of pleasure. Wei Ying is everywhere, everything, nothing exists except for how Wei Ying makes him feel, how he makes Wei Ying feel. He feels enveloped by Wei Ying’s presence. Wei Ying’s fingers around his own, breath hot on his ear, chest shifting on his back, hips cradling his, soft leg hair tickling his inner thighs. Wei Ying’s sweat drips onto his body, becoming his own, and he’s so lost in everything that he enjoys the feeling.

Raw, unrestrained noises fall from Lan Zhan’s lips as Wei Ying works himself impossibly further into his body. The feeling doesn’t make sense, there’s only the small grind of Wei Ying’s hips, but the hard heat of him sinks deeper and deeper without ever moving back. The burn of the penetration has almost completely faded; now it’s just waves and waves of pleasure endlessly lapping at his shore.

Despite how overwhelming it all is, he needs more. A visceral spear of distress lances through him at the realization, Wei Ying is so good, so good to him. But it’s not enough, he needs “more, ungh, need more–” Just a little more friction, that’s all he needs, a little more, he’s so close. He wants to cum, he wants to be good for Wei Ying, just like this, just a little more.

“Like this?” is accompanied by a rough, sudden thrust and Lan Zhan is only saved from sprawling out on the bed by Wei Ying’s body trapping him in this aching curve. But with that thrust, he craves the fast and hard friction that he knows Wei Ying can fuck him with, has fucked him with.
His voice is wet as he begs, “yes, please, more, more.”

“Not yet, Bun,” Wei Ying grunts, back to the steady, maddening grinding. “You’re gonna come just like this.” Lan Zhan sobs, he doesn’t know if he can, it’s so good but there’s nothing around his dick, nothing pressing directly on his prostate. He clenches as hard as he can, feels every intimate detail of Wei Ying’s cock and hears the harsh exhale in his ear, but Wei Ying isn’t moving enough to truly rub across the gland. All it is is just the teasing ghost of the sensation he desires. He wants with all that he is in this moment for Wei Ying to just fuck him, wants Wei Ying to bruise his prostate with the head of his cock, wants to feel the slick slide of his shaft through all of him. The harder he wants, the more insufficient their current coupling feels, his orgasm drifting farther and farther away.

No amount of “gege”s or “fuck me”s or “please”s could convince Wei Ying to give him more than an occasional true thrust. All he gets for his efforts are “you’re gonna cum just like this” and “you’re so cute when you beg” and “yeah, let me hear you whine, just like that” and “no” and “no” and “no.”

Pleasure mounts and increases like the sky lightening in dawn as the sun creeps ever nearer to the horizon. His orgasm approaches with the inevitability of a new day. So immersed in the steady grinding of Wei Ying inside him, Lan Zhan is barely aware of the signs, his balls rising flush to his body, hard cock aching, hole clenching sporadically. And then his entire body locks in tension, and Wei Ying is pulling out, he is pulling out. Lan Zhan wants to shout and rage, as his pleasure is snatched away just as he was tipping into his orgasm. His cock kicks and spurts, alone and neglected, hot fluid rushing out of him just a pathetic impression of true orgasm as his hole clenches down on nothing – cold, bereft, abandoned. He came but it didn’t feel good at all, only frustration and disappointment.

He barely even gets the tingling aftershocks, the ruined orgasm short and unsatisfactory. Instead, he’s just both wrung out and wired, unsure whether he is ready to quit or to go again. Wei Ying is still laying atop his slack body, his cock a hard line of heat down Lan Zhan’s thigh.

Wei Ying is humming and nuzzling at the back of his neck. He, at least, seems pleased even though his dick is still hard, gently rocking against Lan Zhan’s soft skin. Wei Ying’s contentness settles something in him, the last lingering resentment of withheld pleasure dissipating.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Wei Ying sits Lan Zhan up, making sure his knees stay spread beneath him, his angry erection filling the space between them. He sweetly asks Lan Zhan to close his eyes and takes the blindfold off, gently wiping the wetness from his face with a tissue, and replaces it with a dry one. Lan Zhan feels so warm, his heart now racing from arousal and affection. He hadn’t even noticed he had been crying until Wei Ying was taking the blindfold off; it would have bothered Lan Zhan so much once he noticed the wet fabric on his own, and it made him want to cry even more with the care being given. But he also didn’t want to already ruin the dry blindfold so he held it in until Wei Ying’s careful hand stroking through his hair and soft whispered praise let him float a bit more steadily. A glass with tepid water is held to his lips and the relief that slides down his aching throat feels almost as good as any time Wei Ying touches his skin.

The shape of words finally start to take form. “You were so good for me, Bunny. So sweet, you took it so well. You’re so gorgeous when you’re feeling good, you’re so hot when you’re all frustrated. Ahh, your moans and whines are so beautiful, you’re giving me everything I could ask for.” Pleased, Lan Zhan nuzzles against whatever part of Wei Ying he can reach. He thinks his nose might be pressed against his shoulder. “That’s it, sweetheart, so sweet. You’re so responsive to everything and you take it so well. I just can’t get enough of you, you’re so good.”

Lan Zhan squirms closer, mind tingling from the praise. “You were enjoying it so much, weren’t you? Even though you cried and begged, you asked me to stop and then you asked me for more.” Wei Ying pulls his hair around his shoulder, dragging his fingertips down Lan Zhan’s back and sending shivers down his body. “And you were gripping my fingers so hard, was it really that good? Did you really like my cock in your ass that much? It certainly sounded like it. You could star in a porno, you know, everyone would pay to hear you whine like that. So desperate to be fucked, to be held down. All you need is something in you to get you moaning. Would you just take anyone when you’re so desperate? Just bend down and ask anyone who walked by to fuck you? No? So it’s just me, hmm? You want me so bad you turn into a mess as soon as I get my hands on you.”

Once Lan Zhan is properly riled up again - really, the fires of arousal had barely been dampened - Wei Ying shifts them around the bed. Lan Zhan ends up between Wei Ying’s spread thighs, leaning back against him, Wei Ying’s hard cock pressed against his lower back. A hand on his forehead tips Lan Zhan’s head back onto Wei Ying’s shoulder and then his hands are guided between their thighs, angled so that they’re trapped beneath Wei Ying’s thighs. Lan Zhan gives an appreciative squeeze and the muscles jump against his fingertips.

Wei Ying shifts behind him and there’s the clack of the die on the night table again. Then a second time before Wei Ying is sits back again. “Ready Bunny?” his voice is low and full of mischief that makes Lan Zhan shiver.

“Wha-” Lan Zhan’s voice cracks and he has to swallow before he can try again. “What did you roll?” His voice sounds rough and wrecked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And then Wei Ying is spreading Lan Zhan’s thighs overtop of his own, exposing Lan Zhan even more. “You’re so smart, you’ll catch on too soon.” A hand wraps around the base of Lan Zhan’s erection, grip firm, and Lan Zhan shudders with the relief of it. “Yeah? That feel good sweetheart?” Wei Ying’s hand glides up Lan Zhan’s length, tight almost to the point of pain but slow enough to not be abrasive with the lack of lube. “You’re so sweet and easy like this.” Wei Ying’s hand envelops the sensitive head of his cock and squeezes, wringing a gasp from Lan Zhan’s mouth and his hands clench around Wei Ying’s thighs. “So sensitive for me, yeah?”

Wei Ying pulls the foreskin down from the swollen tip. “Oh, the head is so pretty and pink!” With the one hand holding him steady, fingertips of the other dance around the smooth surface, coaxing precum to drip from him. Wei Ying’s voice is cocky when he says, “I bet you’ll like this,” and then the rough palm is dragging across the head, fast and hard. Lan Zhan shouts, immediately overstimulated. He tries to wiggle away but he’s trapped, held down by his cock and his own hands and the weakness of his body at Wei Ying’s mercy. “Oh, you do like it,” and he really does, as awful as it feels, it’s also good, so good. “What if I did this right after you came, hmm? Would you still like it?” And Lan Zhan can hear himself when he whimpers, just thinking about the sweet torture almost enough to bring him to the edge. “Maybe later,” Wei Ying chuckles underneath him and stops palming him, returning to slowly stroking him, the way eased now with the amount of pre- Lan Zhan leaked.

Lan Zhan is almost disappointed but is distracted easily enough when Wei Ying’s free hand is then clutching at his balls. He tugs and squeezes, not at all gentle, and Lan Zhan’s body automatically jerks in an attempt to get away only cause more pain. The pain drives him closer, along with Wei Ying’s increased pace on his dick and filthy words in his ear.

His orgasm is rushing up and he tenses, because it can’t be that easy, Wei Ying wouldn’t let him cum from just a handjob and rough fondling, would he? Would he? He’s almost there, he can taste how good it will feel in the back of his throat, mind racing with anticipation even as he tries to prepare for the disappointment of an edge. But Wei Ying is still going, still going, and then he’s tipping over with a gasp, whole body locking up as—

Pain explodes in his groin, shocking, overwhelming, and again and again. It pulses through him, at the same rhythm of his orgasm, mocking him as it steals away any pleasure and relief.

Lan Zhan shakes and cries and is held together only by Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying. He can feel a hot ache in his groin because Wei Ying is fondling at his balls, which are hot and sensitive because Wei Ying had spanked them while he was cumming. Wei Ying rolls his them between his fingers, pinches the skin, tugs them away from his body, hurting him more and more and Lan Zhan can’t, he can’t–

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Wei Ying says, his hot cock leaving a smear of precum at Lan Zhan’s back as he shifts in the discomfort. He doesn’t stop playing with Lan Zhan’s balls as his other hand runs through the warm cum on Lan Zhan’s chest, wraps sticky fingers around Lan Zhan’s half-hard cock, and starts jerking him off at a startling pace.

It’s all so much, too much, it hurts so bad. He barely feels any pleasure, too oversensitive, from having just cum but Wei Ying is calling him “good, such a good Bunny” and so he takes it, takes everything Wei Ying will give him. His body still reacts, erection painful and balls sore, as Wei Ying jerks him off with his own cum as lube.

Abruptly, the pain turns into pleasure and a moment later he’s at his peak. Then he’s cumming again, it’s too soon, his entire body hurts as his orgasm is only minutes after.

He barely notices his body being moved, only protesting when he feels Wei Ying slip away from him. But Wei Ying keeps hands on his body as he swiftly shifts down the bed between Lan Zhan’s legs and then his mouth, his hotwettight mouth is around Lan Zhan’s cock, swallowing him down and the small satisfaction of his orgasm is swept away by the all-consuming too much of Wei Ying sucking him hard and fast.

Lan Zhan cries about the rough suction, about Wei Ying’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock - not because of the pain but because his oversensitivity is a denial of the pleasure he knows these sensations would usually have. Then he cries when he realizes his cock is softening in Wei Ying’s mouth, ashamed that he’s not able to stay hard for Wei Ying.
At least Wei Ying doesn’t seem mad. He sucks at Lan Zhan in softening, rhythmic pulls, tongue dipping under the foreskin to lap at his head. It’s still too much but the oversensitivity is losing its edge, pleasurable warmth beginning to well up inside him again. Wei Ying seems to sense this and hums, the vibrations at his cock making him squirm.

When Lan Zhan is fully soft, Wei Ying pulls off of him to clamber up his body, presence looming. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he coos as he pulls off the second wet blindfold, “you’re halfway through.” Lan Zhan can’t help the small, helpless gasp and his eyes fly open. The light is dimmed but blinding and it takes several moments of blinking to adjust, Wei Ying once again dabbing a tissue at the tears on his face. When he can see properly, it is to Wei Ying above him, smiling and looking so proud, proud of Lan Zhan. He’s filled with a desire to always get Wei Ying look at him like that.

“Now you’re going to make me cum,” Wei Ying says, one side of his mouth tugging into a smirk. Lan Zhan nods furiously in agreement, unable to speak but he wants to give everything to Wei Ying.

A pillow is pushed under his hips and Wei Ying pushes his knees up, almost to his chest. He takes a moment to just look at Lan Zhan as he spreads lube on his dick, and from this angle Lan Zhan can see his own soft cock and swollen balls, looking red and abused. He imagines his hole is in a similar state and clenches to watch Wei Ying’s pupils dilate.

“Insatiable,” Wei Ying says as his eyes flick up to meet Lan Zhan’s and then he’s pushing forward, length spearing into Lan Zhan, sliding all the way home in one smooth motion. They moan in tandem at the feeling, Lan Zhan’s legs wrapping around Wei Ying’s hips on instinct.

Wei Ying settles himself above Lan Zhan, hands on either side of his head and pinning him down with just his stare. It feels dangerous, Wei Ying silent and staring at him, and then Wei Ying is dragging his cock out of Lan Zhan’s hole and snapping his hips back in seemingly one move and Lan Zhan can no longer meet Wei Ying’s eyes, his own rolling as Wei Ying fucks him hard and fast.

Wei Ying pushes Lan Zhan up the bed with every hard thrust, Lan Zhan’s head thunking into the headboard and bringing him back to his body. He has to brace his shaking arms above him and Wei Ying doesn’t even seem to care, watching his face and panting as he finds pleasure in Lan Zhan, as he uses Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan isn’t even hard, his cock flopping with each thrust.

As hot as Lan Zhan feels being used by Wei Ying, he feels slightly unmoored. By what, he’s not sure, but somewhere along the way he drifted away from the floaty feeling of subspace, in a limbo of needing Wei Ying closer, more intimately. It seems like Wei Ying realizes at the same time he does because he lowers himself to blanket Lan Zhan, one arm wrapping around his back to hold him close and the other to brace them against the headboard. His hips slow, still hard and deep, and Lan Zhan brings his arms around Wei Ying’s warm body, held close.

Wei Ying’s mouth is on Lan Zhan’s neck, kissing and licking and dropping praises into his ear. Lan Zhan sinks blissfully because that’s what he had needed - Wei Ying’s voice, steady and illuminating like a lighthouse guiding a ship through dark waters. Lan Zhan’s breath comes easier and he can fully enjoy the hot friction of Wei Ying sliding in and out of his body.

A thought occurs to him - from the outside, they must look so vanilla in missionary style. It feels so absurd, with his head fill with endorphins and his soft cock and balls stinging at the brush of Wei Ying’s rough pubic hairs at every thrust, that he giggles, a low chuffing sound. Wei Ying pauses and lifts his head to look at Lan Zhan in shock, then gives him an indulgent smile and resumes his strokes to the insistence of Lan Zhan’s heels digging into his ass.

“Care to share?” And Lan Zhan means to tell him, he really does, that the thought of this being vanilla sex is the most hilarious thing at the moment but when he opens his mouth, what spills out is “Love you”

Wei Ying’s eyes widen and his jaw drops in shock but this time his hips don’t stop and Lan Zhan is so deep under that it takes him a moment to realize what he actually said. Then it catches up to him and he has only a moment to panic before Wei Ying’s mouth is covering his and kissing him roughly, tongue invading and stealing what breath he had left in his lungs. Wei Ying is consuming him, driving all thoughts from his head, pulling him back before he can spiral away.

He gets lost again in the pleasure of Wei Ying. The surge of Wei Ying inside him, around him, against him. Wei Ying’s mouth is now sucking and biting along his throat, cock hitting his prostate unerringly on every rough thrust. Lan Zhan is hard again between their bodies and he’s still sore but the pain only pushes him closer and closer.

Wei Ying is also getting closer, hips slapping a sharp staccato between them. He lifts his head to look into Lan Zhan’s eyes, growls “don’t cum,” and attacks the other side of his neck. Lan Zhan cries out, desperate to obey but the command only fuels the fire in him, pushes him closer to the edge.

Wei Ying’s thrust grow erratic and Lan Zhan is hanging on by a fucking thread. He tightens his arms and legs around Wei Ying’s undulating body, trying to focus on Wei Ying’s wet panting and praising words against his neck instead of the sweet slide of his cock. Then Wei Ying is deep, deep inside, body shuddering, gasping, and Lan Zhan desperately wants to see Wei Ying’s face in the throes of orgasm but Wei Ying is stronger and keeps his face buried in Lan Zhan’s neck as his cock pulses and releases hot in him.

They both lie still, Wei Ying basking in the afterglow with content little hums and “so good”s while Lan Zhan is afraid that any movement will send him over the edge. Every praise that drops from Wei Ying’s lips causes Lan Zhan to tighten around the softening length of Wei Ying still inside him, in turn drawing a groan and more praise. When Wei Ying is completely soft inside of him, he sits back, slips out of him, and Lan Zhan can see his pretty face flushed and sated, smiling gently.
“You’re so good for me, Bunny,” Wei Ying says, stroking the side of his face.

A wave of contentment washes over Lan Zhan and he falls completely limp onto the bed, surrendering all of himself to Wei Ying. He sinks further until he’s only aware of sensation and Wei Ying’s voice. Wei Ying tells him not to move, so he doesn’t. Wei Ying tells him he’s good, so he is.

Time stretches and condenses and Lan Zhan feels at the whim of Wei Ying. Wei Ying scratches his nails down every inch of skin he can reach, gentle and ticklish or hard and leaving streaks of white then red. Lan Zhan is brought to the edge again just by Wei Ying scratching at his inner thighs and pinching his sensitive nipples. Then Wei Ying repeats it all with his mouth, kissing and licking and biting along the same path. He denies Lan Zhan another orgasm with his mouth on Lan Zhan’s oversensitive balls.

“So good, sweetheart,” Wei Ying praises him. “My beautiful Bunny, just like that. Two more, you can do it, hm?” and Lan Zhan can, he can do it because Wei Ying asked him to do it.

And again, Wei Ying brings him to the edge, his fingers in Lan Zhan’s hole and mouth on Lan Zhan’s cock and it’s all, “Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.”

“That’s right, Lan Zhan, you’re so good for me. Are you ready?”

And then Wei Ying turns Lan Zhan onto his side, lifts his top leg until his knee is at his chest. His hard cock is once again slipping into Lan Zhan’s sore hole and he’s laying full on top of Lan Zhan, the ache that shoots through Lan Zhan’s hip inconsequential to the feeling of being full again. He’s tight again, his hole swollen from Wei Ying fucking into him earlier. It’s still somewhat slick, Wei Ying’s cum and lube kept warm and wet inside his body, but there’s also a lot of friction with each slide of his cock.

Wei Ying’s lips are on his shoulder, voice in his ear, hand cupping his leaking length. He fucks Lan Zhan steady and gentle, as if they were lovers and in love, and Lan Zhan is so gone for him.

Wei Ying praises him, tells him to wait, as he gently cups Lan Zhan’s balls and kisses his shoulder and speeds his hips. He works them both up and up and up and when his thrusts become erratic, his hand wraps around Lan Zhan to stroke in time with his thrusts as he says, “okay, Lan Zhan, you can cum, cum for me, good, you’ve been so good” and Lan Zhan is, he’s cumming, and loses himself to pleasure.

🂡🂡🂡

Wei Ying tries to catch his breath on top of Lan Zhan’s lax form. His cock twitches with each aftershock that runs through his body and every time he shifts Lan Zhan clenches down, still trying to be good for him even half-unconscious. He’s so good, so sweet, a perfect sub. Wei Ying only has one problem.

Lan Zhan had said love, with a capital L. Deep in subspace. And he hasn’t given indication of romantic attraction before now, not to this extent.

Well, Wei Ying has two problems. Because, at that moment, he realized that his major romantic attraction to Lan Zhan might, in fact, be love. With a capital L.

He had wanted to repeat the words to Lan Zhan so bad but Lan Zhan had gone tense immediately in a non-pleasurable way and Wei Ying had been consumed by terror for subdrop. Lan Zhan had been deep, obviously, and subdrop in that state would have been intense and traumatic. So Wei Ying had done his best to distract Lan Zhan and it seemed to work.

And then Lan Zhan had broken the scene, had chanted his name and Wei Ying had been helpless to repeat it. It had felt so good to hear his name on Lan Zhan’s lips as he cried out in pleasure, to speak Lan Zhan’s name when he was feeling so good. He had been tempted to throw out the rest of the edges but he couldn’t risk Lan Zhan’s disappointment - he knew that Lan Zhan would see himself as a failure if Wei Ying had gone easy on him and Wei Ying wouldn’t be able to lie if Lan Zhan asked him the numbers he rolled.

Lan Zhan’s breath is evening out under Wei Ying, their sweat cooling on their bodies. Wei Ying lets himself slip out of Lan Zhan, hissing in sensitivity as the hole tries to hold onto him and Lan Zhan whines softly beneath him. Wei Ying gentles him with a hand down his side, humming and shushing as Lan Zhan settles into the feeling of being empty. Now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should have had a plug ready, knew that some subs preferred to remain filled during aftercare, but he had wanted this scene and this night to be just their bodies, no toys. There was plenty they could do with toys but not tonight.

“Are you ready–” he hesitates a moment, “Lan Zhan?” It feels so right to use his name but they should probably talk about it first. Lan Zhan is out of it enough at the moment that he can get away with it a few times and he’ll switch back to the pet name when Lan Zhan is a bit more coherent. Lan Zhan mumbles against the sheets, eyes still closed, clearly only reacting to the question in Wei Ying’s voice.

Wei Ying shifts off of Lan Zhan and a hand flies back to grip his wrist with surprising strength considering Lan Zhan’s fucked out state. Lan Zhan whines and Wei Ying strokes his hair, “it’s alright, sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He stretches to reach for the bedside table on the far side, snagging a soft, light throw blanket. The next few minutes are spent guiding Lan Zhan to sitting, then standing, gentle encouragement the whole time. Once Lan Zhan is on his feet, albeit unsteadily, Wei Ying wraps the blanket snugly around Lan Zhan’s shoulders and then wraps his arms tight around Lan Zhan’s chest. His sweet bunny immediately leans back against him and turns his face into Wei Ying’s neck.
They shuffle awkwardly into the bathroom and Wei Ying sits Lan Zhan on the toilet lid before fumbling to turn on the electric candles since Lan Zhan won’t release one of his hands. Soft light diffuses through the bathroom and then the gurgle of water as the tub fills with hot water. While they wait, he stands next to Lan Zhan, letting him rest his face against his stomach and scratching through his hair. He keeps talking for both himself and Lan Zhan, who starts to get restless if he’s not talking.

“You were so good for me, hm? We’re gonna take a bath now, it’ll feel so nice, get you all cleaned up. You with me yet? No? That’s alright, take your time, you’re so sweet. Oh, it’s alright, give me just a second, I’m checking the temperature…”

Once the air is humid and warm, the tub mostly full, Wei Ying drops in a sandalwood-scented bathbomb he bought just for aftercare - he bought a pack of 24 which was pricey but he really hoped it would be a precursor of many scenes with this gorgeous man. Lan Zhan grumbles when Wei Ying pulled the blanket off his shoulders so Wei Ying gave him apology kisses on his forehead. That has Lan Zhan tipping his face up, eyes slitted and lips slightly pursed, a clear invitation for kisses and Wei Ying is helpless to spend a few moments softly pressing kisses to Lan Zhan’s begging mouth.

When he finally draws back, Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter and he pouts which is just so cute. But Wei Ying should get them in the water before it gets cold so with heroic effort he pulls back and wrangles Lan Zhan into the bath. This turns out to be a very tricky process - while Lan Zhan has gained movement in his limbs, it’s uncoordinated and jerky. Coupled with that he seems uninterested in the bath, trying to cling onto Wei Ying and have them touching as much as possible, Wei Ying has his work cut out for him making sure they don’t both fall and bleed out on his tiles. Chenqing would never forgive him and the landlord would probably reverse-haunt his dead ass.

A few moments of coaxing and many face kisses later, Lan Zhan is leaned back against Wei Ying’s chest and squeezed in the vee of his legs. The tub is small, individually either of them would not be able to straighten their legs; they must make a comical sight, knees far above the waterline and limbs awkwardly bent to avoid the cold tiles. Lan Zhan at least doesn’t seem to mind, twisting so he can once again nuzzle into the crook of Wei Ying’s neck. The upside to the small tub is that Wei Ying barely has to shift to reach his softest washcloth over the lip of the tub.

With soft words and steady pressure, Wei Ying lets both himself and Lan Zhan drift as he washes Lan Zhan. His body wash is lotus scented and the mix of lotus and sandalwood is unexplainably comforting. With how they’re sitting, he can’t actually wash much of Lan Zhan, but he can reach the areas that actually need attention after their scene. He rubs the washcloth in large circles over Lan Zhan’s chest and stomach and feels Lan Zhan sink heavier onto him. He moves the cloth lower and Lan Zhan opens his legs as much as he can, exposing his soft cock and balls, so sweet and vulnerable. Swiping between Lan Zhan’s cheeks a few times has Lan Zhan softly mumbling against his skin but when WY tries to get him to repeat himself, he just nips at Wei Ying’s collarbones and hums. Wei Ying giggles because Lan Zhan is just. So cute. So fucking cute.

When the water has cooled too much to be comfortable, Wei Ying reaches around to pull the plug and grab the showerhead. Lan Zhan grumbles about his hair getting wet but takes Wei Ying’s explanation that he won’t like to feel sweaty in stride. The water pressure seems satisfactory against his body and Lan Zhan practically purrs at the warm water rinsing him off.

Getting out of the tub is another struggle of which Lan Zhan is still no help. WY finally gets him wrapped in a towel and sat on the toilet lid, then lets Lan Zhan rest his head on his chest as he wrings out Lan Zhan’s hair and gently dries the edges of his face and ears. Then he kneads soft foam earplugs into Lan Zhan’s ears and uses his hairdryer to blow dry Lan Zhan’s hair, combing through with his fingers.

Once Lan Zhan’s hair is dry, the rest of his body is too, so Wei Ying tilts his face up, takes out the earplugs, and kisses Lan Zhan on the forehead. Lan Zhan blinks sleepily at him as he asks, “are you hungry, sweetheart?” An answering shrug. So Wei Ying moves them both back to the bedroom, strips the top sheet and mattress cover off (he likes to put them on top of his usual sheets so there’s no unnecessary changing required), and bundles Lan Zhan under the covers. Even though Wei Ying tells him “I’m getting food, I’ll be right back,” Lan Zhan makes a sad sound when he moves away from the bed.

In his haste, he half-trips over Chenqing, the little void had been waiting at the closed door. She follows him into the kitchen, demanding penance for being locked out of the bedroom, so Wei Ying his to take a moment to put down some wet food for her as well.

Broken from the meditative peace of aftercare, Wei Ying’s focuses back to His Problem. And only his, not Lan Zhan’s, Lan Zhan had done nothing wrong deep in subspace. He thought back to the moment. He had caught onto Lan Zhan’s uneasiness being fucked hard, Wei Ying above him and just staring.

He had even known that Lan Zhan didn’t like quiet scenes, that he needed constant feedback when he was so vulnerable. Lan Zhan had said it himself during one of their calls, voice soft and embarrassed, as if he thought his needs would be a burden to Wei Ying. Of course, Wei Ying had assured him that it wouldn’t be a problem, he had the verification from plenty of people and plenty of karmic situations that he never shut up.

It wasn’t really his fault he had finally lost his words! Lan Zhan had looked like desire incarnate with his hair fanned across the pillow, his legs spread beneath, his face and chest flushed pink and shining with sweat, his eyes wide and wet and so trusting. And the sounds, broken moans and high-pitched whimpers – if Wei Ying would never be able to hear anything but Lan Zhan’s sex noises for the rest of his life, he’d be perfectly happy. He had been so distracted, so caught up in Lan Zhan, he forgot to speak to Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan had gotten uncomfortable.

To make up for his transgressions, Wei Ying had held Lan Zhan close and kissed his neck and whispered praise. Like a lover. And Lan Zhan’s discomfort had melted away. Then he had giggled. Just a small sound and shaking shoulders, but it had definitely been a giggle. And when Wei Ying looked at his face, Lan Zhan’s expression was so adoring.

And then. “Love you.”

Lan Zhan had probably been even more surprised than Wei Ying. And while Wei Ying was trying to distract him, all he could think was, I think I love you too.

Chenqing jumps onto the counter, breaking him from his daze. He swears, not knowing how long he’s left Lan Zhan alone, and hurriedly plates a large slice of cake and a pile of strawberries. A bottle of water under each arm, he scurries back to the bedroom, Chenqing at his heels. Outside the door, he pauses to take a deep breath.

He nudges the door open with one foot and all thoughts of endorphins can be mistaken for love fly from his head. Because in this moment there’s not the feeling of being wrapped in each other, not the rush of chemicals from power exchange. It’s only Lan Zhan, sitting in his bed and snuggled tightly in a blanket, expression open and hopeful, voice immeasurably grateful when he says, “Wei Ying.”

For the second time this evening, Wei Ying is bowled over by the thought, I really do love you.

But that is definitely not something he can tell LZ right now, not when he’s so vulnerable and impressionable. It’s time for Wei Ying to be Lan Zhan’s caring, responsible dominant and cuddle the fuck out of him without letting messy feelings fill the air with confusion.

“Sorry for taking so long, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down awkwardly to put the plate and water on his nightstand. Lan Zhan hums in the back of his throat, and when Wei Ying looks, his eyes are a bit unfocused. He’s not entirely grounded but also not upset, which is good, very good. “Chenqing was very insistent this humble servant make her dinner. Alas, but I am forever just a pair of hands and a warm lap to her! My sovereign will never appreciate me for my brilliant mind!” Lan Zhan’s lips curve up at his antics and Wei Ying’s heart is overfilling with affection at the sight. “Oh, do you mind if she comes in? Don’t worry, she doesn’t sleep in the bed, she prefers the bookshelf.” Lan Zhan hums again, so sweet and accommodating for a cat he hasn’t even properly met and Wei Ying has to turn away before he says something like, I think I love you, too.

So he turns and lets Chenqing in quickly because Lan Zhan has already been waiting for the cuddling of a lifetime. Then he bounces onto the bed, landing hard enough that the mattress sways Lan Zhan. It earns him the sweetest smile, and everything is right with the world.

He settles against the headboard and opens his arms with a, “well come here, then, Bun,” and Lan Zhan scoots into him, presses their bare hips together, an arm wrapping around him to share the blanket. It’s a little awkward, so he tries not to think too hard about the fact that they are both still very naked. Lan Zhan’s body is warm and pliant and Wei Ying drags Lan Zhan over one leg and into the cradle of his hips. Lan Zhan immediately sinks back into his chest and an image of their earlier scene flashes through his mind. He ignores it in favor of grabbing one of the waters, uncapping it and holding it up to Lan Zhan’s lips himself.

Lan Zhan lets himself be coddled, sipping at the water without even attempting to bring his hands up. Wei Ying is enraptured by what he can see of the side of Lan Zhan’s face, his half-lidded eyes, the gentle bobbing of his throat. Once he’s drunk half the water, Lan Zhan tilts his face away and WY obediently caps the bottle, switching it out for the plate. There’s only one fork, three-pronged and wrapped in silicone, perfect to feed Lan Zhan small bites of cake and strawberry without clacking loudly against his teeth.

All the while, Wei Ying’s other hand travels soothingly over Lan Zhan’s body: across his chest, around his stomach, up-and-down a thigh. He’s humming softly and murmuring praise, all variations of “you’re so good,” sweet nothings that are sweet everythings because he’s never said anything truer or with such strong affection.

After a few bites, Lan Zhan tilts his face away again. Wei Ying hums and jostles Lan Zhan’s shoulder gently to get his attention. When Lan Zhan looks at him, his eyes are clearer. Now they droop from sleepiness and exhaustion from their scene.

“Are you done? Do you want some water?” he asks, raising his voice to a regular speaking volume and drawing Lan Zhan a little further back into the physical world.

Lan Zhan gives the tiniest shake of his head. “You,” he says and he’s pouting, he’s petulant, and Wei Ying just wants to pinch his cheeks and tease until his bottom lip juts out and his eyes shine wetly. When Wei Ying just stares at him, Lan Zhan pouts a little harder and clarifies, “I want you to eat.”

And Wei Ying is just a man, ah, a simple man who is maybe in love with his sub and has only really met him outside of work twice and scened with him once and – this is so fast, it’s too fast. Wei Ying, simple man extraordinaire, does the simple man thing and shoves a bite of cake into his mouth as he shoves all his complex feelings to the back of his mind.

Lan Zhan looks pleased to be able to take care of Wei Ying, eyes shining and lips soft. And Wei Ying can keep a lid on things, can wait until they’ve both fully come out of their headspaces. For now, he’ll focus on their aftercare.

They take turns – well Wei Ying alternates who he feeds – with the bites of cake and strawberries. The room is quiet, Wei Ying content to just eat every other bite and Lan Zhan awake enough that he isn’t so dependent on constant praise. Wei Ying’s other hand had fallen into Lan Zhan’s lap and Lan Zhan plays with it delicately, brushing across each small joint and tracing the veins.

Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying’s hand and turns it around to cup it over his groin. Wei Ying can feel Lan Zhan’s soft cock beneath his palm, so spent it doesn’t even twitch, and he gently curls his fingers behind Lan Zhan’s balls, the skin warmer even than the heat of his thighs. He holds Lan Zhan, where he’s most vulnerable, and Lan Zhan just sighs and sinks back into him. Wei Ying sets the empty plate aside and brings his now-free hand to rest firmly against Lan Zhan’s stomach.

They sit still for a stretch of time until Wei Ying, of course, ruins it. The feeling of a naked Lan Zhan pressed against his front, the feeling of Lan Zhan’s most intimate parts under his hand. The absolute trust that Lan Zhan has in him, to have Wei Ying hold him so. Wei Ying’s dick kicks against Lan Zhan’s back and he pays it no mind but the second time Lan Zhan stirs and wiggles even closer.

“Okay, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” because Lan Zhan is too soft right now, too vulnerable for Wei Ying to do anything without feeling like he’d be taking advantage.

“’M good,” Lan Zhan slurs and oh, that’s so cute, he’s so sleepy.

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" he asks, bringing his hand up to cup Lan Zhan’s cheek.

Lan Zhan leans into his hand, eyes fluttering shut. Wei Ying has to call to him again, gently swaying their bodies, and when Lan Zhan opens his eyes and looks at him as if he’s the only person in the world, the words die in his throat. He has to blink rapidly to get his eyes to stop watering.

Luckily, Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to notice. He snuggles closer with a, “Wei Ying?”

“Yes, Lan Zhan?” he croaks.

“How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many did I do?”

It takes Wei Ying a long moment to figure out what Lan Zhan is asking. And then he realizes. “You rolled for six edges, three ruins, and one orgasm. You did them all, you were so good for me.”

A small smile lifts the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth. Wei Ying absolutely has to turn off the lights.

“How about we go to sleep,” he asks again and Lan Zhan nods against the palm still cradling his cheek.

So Wei Ying squirms and wiggles them down the bed, an awkward affair with too many tangled limbs. When they’re properly horizontal, chest to chest and legs entwined, Wei Ying turns off the light and they settle under the covers. Within moments, Lan Zhan’s breathing evens out. Wei Ying lays in the dark and listens to the steady rhythm and when his eyelids get too heavy to stay open, he kisses Lan Zhan on the forehead, on the nose, on his slack lips.

“Good night, Lan Zhan,” he whispers, closing his eyes and letting the world wash away.
—

When Wei Ying wakes to the feeling of Lan Zhan in his arms for the second time, it feels familiar. It feels right. It feels like something he wants everyday.

Once again he was woken from the press of his erection against Lan Zhan with the added bonus of feeling Lan Zhan’s length against his hip. They were both gently rocking against each other, and Lan Zhan’s mouth is latched onto his collarbone even though he still seems to be asleep.

He takes Lan Zhan’s gorgeous, generous ass into both hands and grinds into Lan Zhan’s groin hard, appreciating the soft warmth of Lan Zhan’s skin against the underside of his cock and the solid weight of Lan Zhan’s dick in turn being forced through his own coarse pubic hair.

Lan Zhan’s eyes fly open as he gasps awake. He twists his hips, disoriented from waking so suddenly and unsure whether to chase the sensations. He must still be sore from last night.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Wei Ying says and his voice is rough and raspy from sleep. Lan Zhan seems to like it, staring at Wei Ying with wide eyes and choosing to angle his hips closer, cock hardening further. He’s so pretty with his hair mussed and a slight pink flush across his cheeks. Wei Ying tugs on Lan Zhan so that with the next thrust, he’s grinding their lengths together. Lan Zhan groans low in his throat, ignoring any pain to grind right back.

Wei Ying gives himself two minutes to enjoy the uncoordinated frotting, the wet streaks the tip of Lan Zhan’s cock leaves whenever it brushes low on Wei Ying’s stomach. Then, without warning, he shoves himself away and literally rolls out of the bed.

Lan Zhan looks so shocked by the turn of events, frozen for a moment as his sleep-addled brain tries to process what just happened. Then he looks up at Wei Ying standing next to the bed and oh, he looks absolutely heartbroken. He whines, “Wei Ying.”

With a grin, Wei Ying cocks a hip, his erection swinging and drawing Lan Zhan’s attention down. He can practically see Lan Zhan’s mind switching gears, very on board with Wei Ying’s crotch right in his face, unconsciously swallowing in anticipation.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he says, and can’t help the twitch of his dick at Lan Zhan’s hungry look. “I’m afraid we’ve got to get up now. If we go another round, I won’t be able to eat before I go to work.” And that catches Lan Zhan’s attention, has him glaring up at Wei Ying. He knows that Wei Ying’s shift doesn’t start until two and that it is currently ass-o’clock in the morning, the sunlight peeking through the curtains still a purple hue. “Besides, Her Highness Chenqing will soon be screaming at the door, we must prepare to entertain her.” This is another bald-faced lie and Lan Zhan pointedly looks at the dark mound on top of the bookshelf where Chenqing hasn’t stirred once in her bed.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan hedges, inching closer, the blanket slipping down his body. “Let me–”

With a laugh, Wei Ying dashes out of the room, lingering next to the door just long enough to hear Lan Zhan’s grunt of frustration. From the guest bathroom, he calls out loudly, “and don’t jerk yourself off!” wishing he could see the blush that is likely stealing across Lan Zhan’s face now.

He pees and rinses his mouth with mouthwash. His toothbrush is in his own bathroom but hopefully this eliminates his morning breath enough to get some kisses. He left the door cracked open and can hear Lan Zhan moving around. It’s fascinating that Lan Zhan prefers not to laze in bed until he’s needed, as Wei Ying does.

The next part of his plan involves the bottle of lube beneath the sink, tucked far into the back. The strong scent of artificial strawberry fills the bathroom as he slicks up his hand. He gently tugs on his half-hard dick, and when it fills out again, the sound of his steady stroking and loud panting echo in the small space.

He’s only at it for a moment before Lan Zhan appears. He’s standing to the side of the door, facing the mirror and on full display. Lan Zhan stops outside the bathroom, just watching through the crack and the mirror as Wei Ying shows off. It only lasts a few minutes, Lan Zhan’s attention hot and intense, and then he’s cumming up across his own stomach and chest.

Lan Zhan is panting almost as hard as he is when he throws open the door. His hands are behind his back, cock tenting the sweatpants he had thrown on, a wet spot highlighting the head. Wei Ying puts his clean hand on his shoulder and Lan Zhan falls to his knees without needing to be told.

“Clean me up,” he says and luxuriates in the warmth of Lan Zhan’s mouth as his softening cock is fully enveloped. Lan Zhan groans at the taste of the strawberry lube and tries to suck him harder, but a firm tug and a “gentle, gentle, good,” has him loosen his mouth. Wei Ying has many plans for Lan Zhan to hold him in his mouth like this in the future.

Once he’s mostly soft and the embers of arousal are threatening to alight again, he pulls Lan Zhan off of him. He looks absolutely debauched, face and chest pink, mouth lax, eyes unfocused. The wet spot is much larger, the clinging fabric revealing the flare of his head. With a smirk, Wei Ying waves his dirty hand and watches as Lan Zhan’s eyes track his fingers scooping the sticky cum from his own chest, then dip down into Lan Zhan’s pants. Lan Zhan’s eyes flutter and his breath catches as Wei Ying gives him a single proprietary stroke, spreading himself up the swollen length of him.

Without a word, he walks away to clean up and get dressed.

I think I love you, too.

He allows himself a moment to brush over Chenqing’s still sleeping form. He hasn’t heard movement from the hallway and would bet money that Lan Zhan is still kneeling on the floor, hands clenched behind his back as he tries to reign in his arousal.

I think I love you, too.

With a clearer head, he knows he did the right thing in not telling Lan Zhan last night. The probability that Lan Zhan even remembers what he said last night is so slim and they’re not quite ready yet. Wei Ying wants to know so much more about Lan Zhan so that he can say the words with complete confidence and hopefully accompanied by a gift he made himself, something that will make Lan Zhan cry with happiness.

I think I love you, too.

In just a moment, he’ll go out there and heat up the specialty breakfast sandwiches he bought yesterday since they – oops – only shared a slice of cake and strawberries for dinner last night. He’ll ply Lan Zhan with more food than they could possibly eat, give him kisses until his lips are sore, take him apart at least twice more before he actually has to get ready for work. He’ll make sure Lan Zhan is steady and content before sending him home. Then when Lan Zhan has his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ like the responsible driving adult he is, Wei Ying will text him about the app-controlled vibrator he slipped in Lan Zhan’s bag just to let him stew on it while Wei Ying is busy at work.

I think I love him, too.

In the coming weeks and months, he’ll learn Lan Zhan’s body and mind as well as his own. He’ll bring little gifts like a grateful crow, appreciative of all that Lan Zhan will give to him. He’ll nurture this spark between them, with honest words and loving touches. And someday, he’ll tell Lan Zhan everything he feels.

I think I love him, too.