Lan Zhan is sitting in his office, looking ever the dutiful, hardworking employee with his perfect posture, organized desk and eyes focused on his computer monitor. And Lan Zhan is a dutiful, hardworking employee. He’s a man who prides himself on his work ethic. But today, on the inside, he’s going through nothing short of a complete panic and his attention to the minutia of corporate overspending is gone.
Lan Zhan never had that oh moment, the figurative lightbulb that flared to life when he realized he was gay. He just always was. So there was never any need to panic over that. And every time he’s admired another man, toyed with the idea of testing the waters to see if they were compatible, it was with a realistic outlook that bordered on methodical, reason over emotion. Lan Zhan expected it to always be that way.
Then came Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan hadn’t been prepared for Wei Ying, but in his defense, no one can truly be prepared for a natural disaster. And while Wei Ying may not have destroyed Lan Zhan with his infectiously bright smiles and inability to keep his mouth shut, the structural damage to Lan Zhan’s carefully built foundations was permanent. Lan Zhan’s casual ease in regard to his love life was left in absolute ruins.
After months of turmoil, months of parading around the building like he wasn’t completely taken with Wei Ying and the chaos that accompanied him, Lan Zhan had - well, he’d like to say he’d asked Wei Ying out, but it was Wei Ying who asked first. Lan Zhan had been stressed, scurrying between individual meetings with the marketing heads, when Wei Ying had reached an arm out from nowhere (not nowhere, he was in the break area but Lan Zhan had been too distracted to notice) and dragged Lan Zhan inside.
He’d offered Lan Zhan a cup of tea, luring him in with a smile that was soft around the edges. Lan Zhan hadn’t been able to say no to the tea, or the offer to grab dinner later.
“You need to get away from all this bullshit,” Wei Ying had said, waving a hand in the general direction of the meeting room Lan Zhan had been cooped up inside for the last hour and a half. “And focus on something better.”
Better had meant Wei Ying. Lan Zhan knew that even when he accepted. It took until he got back to his office, tea still in hand, to realize what just happened.
Enter said panic.
Lan Zhan has been on dates before. He’s taken men out, and those dates have been nice. But nice and Wei Ying are not things Lan Zhan necessarily wants to combine. Nothing about his desire for Wei Ying is nice. Lan Zhan, on his best days, only thinks of taking Wei Ying apart against his desk half a dozen times. He doesn’t want to be nice to Wei Ying. He wants to ruin him the way Wei Ying has done to him.
Lan Zhan takes in a deep, steadying breath.
He has half a thought to call it off, but his phone lights up with a notification. Wei Ying has texted him a string of emojis - hearts and blushing faces and even more hearts. i can’t wait, it reads.
Lan Zhan swallows, fingers clutched to his disposable cup of tea to keep from reaching for his phone. He has to come at this logically. He needs to maintain his control. It wouldn’t do to let it slip and scare Wei Ying off. He doesn’t know what he’d do if that happened. He’s been rejected before, but never by someone he so viscerally wants.
Lan Zhan finishes his tea, the cup crumpling in his fingers before he places it in the recycling.
He never manages to figure out the right way to answer Wei Ying’s text, but Wei Ying is still waiting for him outside the building, his head tilted and a mirthful smile spread over his beautiful mouth. Lan Zhan wants to kiss him. He wants to brand his name on that gorgeous, loud mouth so the world knows Wei Ying is his.
Instead, Lan Zhan stops an appropriate distance from Wei Ying, and steadfastly does not relinquish the control he has over his limbs when Wei Ying laughs at him, seeing Lan Zhan’s distance from him as something to resolve. Wei Ying hooks his arm through Lan Zhan’s and pulls him forward.
Lan Zhan does not trip. He adjusts his stride to match Wei Ying’s.
“I still can’t believe I have you here,” Wei Ying says, his words floating on the air like a daydream.
Lan Zhan can’t believe it either. His tongue is now stuck to the roof of his mouth, so all he manages is a sound that can be interpreted many ways.
“Don’t worry, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, looking over at him with that damn smile again - the one that’s soft and understanding, the one that Lan Zhan wants to keep tucked close to his heart. “I’ll take care of you. I know those corporate assholes are probably driving you insane by now. I mean, fuck, they’re driving me insane and I don’t have to deal with them directly.”
Lan Zhan knows. He’s been trying to handle the excuses of one department head after another as they all attempt to justify the last six months of spending they’ve put on their company cards. Wei Ying works in the accounting department - thankfully not a department Lan Zhan has enough authority over to make this outing inappropriate (he’s thought it over enough to have accepted this as fact) - and is probably dealing with the fallout of funding coming up short for the next quarter. But that’s a problem for another day.
“They are,” Lan Zhan answers, if only because he doesn’t want Wei Ying to think he isn’t enjoying his company.
Wei Ying beams at him. Lan Zhan thinks he might be turning gayer. He wants this man so much.
Wei Ying has managed to lead them down several blocks, away from the skyscrapers and onto a street filled with restaurants, bakeries and coffee shops. Wei Ying veers them toward a place and Lan Zhan follows.
“Ah, have you been here before?” Wei Ying asks once they’re inside.
The place is narrow, but long, a hum of low conversation filling the air. It smells good, appetizing. “I have not.”
“Oh, well I hope you’ll like it. I’ve been here plenty, and the food is great. They have a great vegetarian menu, too.”
There’d been an event, almost three months ago, where someone else had mentioned Lan Zhan’s dietary restrictions to Wei Ying in passing, Lan Zhan’s ears burning hot from the weight of Wei Ying’s eyes on his back. He can’t believe Wei Ying remembered.
Lan Zhan is two seconds from pushing Wei Ying against the nearest wall and ravishing him. His fingers tingle with the desire, and his mouth actually waters. Wei Ying is only saved when the hostess tells them a table is ready. Wei Ying - tactile, warm, too good for the thoughts running through Lan Zhan’s head Wei Ying - slides his hand down Lan Zhan’s arm to take his hand, weaving around tables and dragging Lan Zhan behind like the besotted fool he is.
It’s a booth for two, and their knees knock as they slide into either side. Lan Zhan does his best to arrange himself away from the touch. Wei Ying leans over the table, and the proximity alarm in Lan Zhan’s brain blares loud and annoying.
“Here,” Wei Ying says, his head tilted down so all Lan Zhan sees is the curve of his cheeks and the strands of his hair that have fallen to cover his eyes. When Lan Zhan looks down, Wei Ying has turned his menu to the vegetarian selections.
“You remembered,” is what Lan Zhan says. He swallows, looking up at Wei Ying to see that Wei Ying is now back in his own space, reading through his own menu. “Thank you.”
Wei Ying is charming. Lan Zhan’s known that since the day they met - even as Wei Ying was unabashedly pushing napkins to Lan Zhan’s chest where he’d spilled his coffee only moments earlier. Wei Ying’s mouth had been speaking faster than Lan Zhan was used to, and the rest of the people in the room were watching with ever growing horror, and Lan Zhan had had to make an abrupt exit to keep from losing his cool.
It wasn’t that Lan Zhan was angry with Wei Ying; he wasn’t that far up his own ass. Accidents happen, and there was no way Wei Ying could have known Lan Zhan was walking up behind him. But Lan Zhan had been flustered, a feeling he was wholly unacclimated to. Wei Ying had looked at him with such surprise, a flush filling his cheeks as he’d scrambled to clean the coffee from Lan Zhan’s shirt. Lan Zhan had been captivated by his mouth - Wei Ying’s finest weapon. Later, the rest of Wei Ying proved to be quite disarming too, just in gentler ways.
Wei Ying’s mouth, Lan Zhan knows, will always be what hooks him in.
Wei Ying speaks as though he’s never learned to keep his thoughts in his head. It should be an annoying quality, but Lan Zhan finds he likes knowing everything Wei Ying thinks - even if it’s Wei Ying debating the spiciness chart on the menu because he’s not sure if five chilis are enough heat. The very idea of it makes Lan Zhan reach for his water.
The waitress recognizes Wei Ying, and the ease in which they converse makes Lan Zhan feel like an outsider, but only for a moment. Wei Ying drags him into the conversation, a sweet tilt to his mouth and his hand reaching across the table to tap across Lan Zhan’s knuckles before drawing back.
“I had to bring him to my favorite place,” Wei Ying is saying to her. “I mean, my favorite person and my favorite food? Aaah, I’m spoiling myself today, aren’t I, Lan Zhan?”
“Mn,” is what Lan Zhan manages to say, which isn’t even a word. It’s a sound - a fall back when he either has to acknowledge something or means to agree. This time, it’s because he just doesn’t know how to respond. Wei Ying can’t be saying Lan Zhan is his favorite person. Wei Ying knows so many people. He’s probably surrounded by friends, all of them candidates for the favorite position. Lan Zhan can only dream of taking up such a place in Wei Ying’s opinion.
Wei Ying laughs again, sharp and bright and beautiful.
They finally order, their menus swept away and now Wei Ying is really looking at him, his forearms braced on the table and his hands clasped as he leans forward.
“I still can’t believe you said yes,” Wei Ying laughs, rocking back a little. “I thought you hated me.”
“I have never hated you,” Lan Zhan corrects. “You have many charms.”
Wei Ying laughs again, less nervous and more open. Lan Zhan swallows, fingers curling in his lap to keep from reaching out and dragging Wei Ying over the table to kiss him.
“I’ve heard my charm is too much for most people,” Wei Ying comments with a shrug. “And you seem the type to enjoy quiet in your life.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan answers, because Wei Ying isn’t wrong. Lan Zhan has lived almost thirty years and for all of them, he’s preferred a peaceful, more subdued atmosphere. He’d expected it to stay that way, but Wei Ying’s existence has taken that preference and turned it sideways. He’d thought Wei Ying had exposed a new side of him, but after putting it to the test, that hypothesis was proven incorrect. Lan Zhan does not enjoy loud people. Just Wei Ying and his specific brand of loud.
“You are an exception,” Lan Zhan finally says.
Wei Ying’s eyes widen, his shoulders coming up as he leans into his seat. “Lan Zhaaaan, you can’t say that with such a straight face, or I’ll think you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
The way Wei Ying rolls his eyes isn’t cruel. It’s just Wei Ying and his inability to take a sincere compliment. Lan Zhan would push, but he doesn’t want to overstep. It makes something flare to life inside Lan Zhan, a desire to flood Wei Ying with compliments until he finally understands that he is amazing, and that he’s driving Lan Zhan absolutely crazy. He tables the desire for later, when he has the confidence to open up that much to Wei Ying without the rest of his feelings spilling out between them and running Wei Ying off.
“I hope you weren’t stuck with anymore assholes - sorry, department managers - after you left.”
“Mn, a few,” Lan Zhan answers, amused at Wei Ying’s slip of the tongue.
“Is that a smile?” Wei Ying asks, reaching across the table to poke at Lan Zhan’s cheek.
Lan Zhan goes stiff, eyes wide as he blinks up at Wei Ying who appears entirely unconcerned about touching Lan Zhan whenever he pleases. No one else has ever dared.
“No,” Lan Zhan states.
Wei Ying snorts, a wholly unattractive thing to do. “Your lips twitched, I saw it,” Wei Ying says. “It was a smile.”
“It was not.”
“I can’t believe,” Wei Ying gasps, waving his hand over his chest. “Half an hour and I’ve already corrupted you. What will the company think?” The look on Wei Ying’s face is gorgeous as he bats his eyelashes and rests back on the wall like a swooning maiden. “What will your uncle think? He runs the company! I’m going to get fired!”
Wei Ying laughs, arms folded over his belly and Lan Zhan’s ears are warm, his chest is full and he does smile. Just not where Wei Ying can see. It feels like too much.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Wei Ying apologizes, righting himself so he’s sitting somewhat normally - well, normally for Wei Ying. “I’m not making fun of you, I promise. I like you just the way you are.”
Oh it’s definitely too much. Too much. Too much.
Lan Zhan is saved with the arrival of their food. He thinks he’s safe, but eating does not stop Wei Ying from talking. At the very least he isn’t talking about Lan Zhan anymore. He’s complaining about his job, which is fair. The accounting teams have had their hands full, and Lan Zhan has been trying to make it easier on them, but an internal audit is coming which means Wei Ying and his department will be busier regardless of Lan Zhan’s intervention.
The restaurant fills with people by the time they’re finished eating. Wei Ying is flagging down the waitress, and Lan Zhan has slipped out his card already, just in case.
“Lan Zhan, I asked you,” Wei Ying whines, a pout on his pretty lips. “It’s only fair that I pay.”
Lan Zhan nearly blanks out, but he narrows his eyes and hands over his credit card anyway.
“You’re going to spoil me,” Wei Ying teases.
Lan Zhan would like to. He wants to tell Wei Ying that, but he doesn’t. Don’t push too far.
It’s disappointing that Wei Ying doesn’t take his arm when they leave; his presence beside Lan Zhan, however, is still very much felt. Wei Ying is a wellspring of life and Lan Zhan gets drunk on it until they make it to the parking deck.
“Thank you for indulging me today,” Wei Ying tells him, turning to walk backwards into the depths of the parking deck. “I know you have more important things to do than spend time with this mere humble employee, so thank you.” He waves at Lan Zhan with a smile.
“We should do it again,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying trips over his own feet, barely recovering and standing to his full height, one hand over his heart and the other scraping through his hair. There’s surprise on his face, similar to the day they met, and Lan Zhan wants to gather him in his arms and steal him away so no one else can see him.
“We-we should,” Wei Ying manages to get out. “Yes, we should.”
“Text me when you are available and I will make time.”
Wei Ying pushes out a laugh, one that sounds like disbelief. “Lan Zhan, you make it sound like it’s a date, and then what will I do with my heart when you break it.”
“It is a date.” Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying, hoping Wei Ying will understand, because he doesn’t know if he can say it again. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he can feel the heat rising in his face already.
“Oh.” Wei Ying stands there, uncharacteristically quiet as his eyes trail over Lan Zhan like he’s waiting for the punchline. “Yeah,” he finally breathes out, “it’s a date. I’ll text you.”
Lan Zhan nods. “Goodnight, Wei Ying.” He turns toward the elevator, walking away from Wei Ying, which is a lot harder to do than he thought.
“Goodnight, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying yells behind him. His voice echoes. “Dream of me!” he tacks on, which would have made Lan Zhan walk right into the elevator doors if they hadn’t just opened. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Goodnight!”
Lan Zhan is aware, despite the company rules on such things, that the employees gossip. He’s not one to condone such behavior, and it seems as if every employee has at least learned not to gossip when Lan Zhan is near.
Which is why Lan Zhan finds himself stopped dead in his tracks, several long strides away from an open office only two doors down from his own, at the mention of his name. If it was said in regard to something work related, he would brush it off, but it was not. There’s office gossip about his upcoming date with Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan is torn. On one side, gossip is a productivity killer and there is no time for it, especially when they still have so much work to do to get the audit started. On the other side, there’s something very satisfying in knowing that everyone knows Wei Ying is spoken for.
Lan Zhan isn’t primitive. He is aware he has no actual claim over Wei Ying. No one could ever claim Wei Ying; he’s too free a spirit. But having their names connected, people whispering about them together tastes sweet on his tongue. He takes a moment to file that response away so he can dissect it later, clears his throat, and continues down the hall to his own office.
Three days. That’s how long he has until his date with Wei Ying.
The time will be good for him. Lan Zhan will be able to compose himself by then, so he doesn’t do something rash like press Wei Ying to the nearest surface and finally taste that mouth of his.
The problem that arises is unpredicted. With the office gossip comes meddlers.
Lan Zhan spends the next three days seeing more of Wei Ying than he has the entire nine months Wei Ying has worked for the company. Every errand from the accounting department that needs to come up to Lan Zhan’s floor ends up in Wei Ying’s hands - more times than not, it means Wei Ying ends up in Lan Zhan’s office with his breathtaking smile and another apology for interrupting, because they said these files were really important.
The breaking point is when Lan Zhan’s own brother sends Wei Ying to his office.
“Brother,” Lan Huan greets pleasantly, his smile a little too wide. “I was not expecting to see you.”
“My office is three doors down from yours,” Lan Zhan begins, and Lan Huan’s smile grows wider.
“Ah,” he says, pleased with himself. “Wei Ying looked well today. Happy.” Lan Huan flicks his eyes over to where Lan Zhan is still hovering near the door.
“You summoned him up sixteen floors to bring a copy of an email from your office to mine,” Lan Zhan accuses.
“I had no use for the copy,” Lan Zhan tells him, and he can feel himself frowning.
“I know.” Lan Huan leans back in his chair, legs crossed and fingers steepled.
“The accounting department already sends him up here several times a day,” Lan Zhan argues weakly.
“Yes,” Lan Huan replies, that smile growing on his mouth again, “I just wanted to get a look at him.”
“Now, now, Lan Zhan. I said nothing to him about you, or your date this evening. I just wanted to see who finally caught my brother’s eye.”
Lan Zhan exhales, some of the fight leaving his posture even if he’s still feeling riled up about this whole thing.
“Your happiness means a lot to me,” Lan Huan comments, his smile gone but his ever present fondness is still shining through. “I wish you two well.”
“Thank you, brother.”
Lan Zhan leaves feeling oddly light. While he isn’t someone who likes when people intrude in his life, his brother is an exception. Lan Huan knows Lan Zhan more than anyone else; of course he’d been able to read Lan Zhan well enough to see how much he likes Wei Ying. He should have spoken with him sooner.
He returns to his office to find several new texts on his phone.
i took the bus to work today
i thought since you’re driving us to the restaurant, you can just drive me home after
now we don’t have to come back to the office
is that okay
Lan Zhan pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.
That is fine.
The reply gets a series of hearts in various colors of the rainbow, including one actual rainbow heart, and Lan Zhan thinks his own heart has just stopped. He wants to run down sixteen flights of stairs just to see if Wei Ying is smiling as he floods Lan Zhan’s texts with hearts.
Remarkably, Lan Zhan manages to stay in his office for the rest of the work day, getting actual work done. It’s not uncommon for Lan Zhan to work past everyone else, but he has plans tonight. He’d made sure to clear anything that could keep him from those plans.
Wei Ying is waiting for him.
He looks gorgeous today. Lan Zhan had seen him a few hours ago, and he’d been smiling then too, even if more disheveled than he appears now. Wei Ying has re-tied his hair, and the wrinkles in his top - a black button down that Lan Zhan very much appreciates - now smooth.
Wei Ying slides up to Lan Zhan, bumping against him as his teeth scrape against his lower lip. Lan Zhan is fixated on it, watching the shine of Wei Ying’s plump, wet lip as it slips from Wei Ying’s teeth.
“I’m all yours now, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying teases, tilting his head up just enough to make eye contact.
The difference in their height isn’t much and Lan Zhan really likes that. His fingers itch to settle on the curve of Wei Ying’s waist, to draw him closer, but this is their first date. Or is it second? He will have to ask later if their previous dinner counted, or if it really was Wei Ying just wanting to be nice.
Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying to a restaurant further away, a place he’d had to pull a string for to get a reservation so soon. And it’s not out of some desire to one-up Wei Ying, but because Lan Zhan wants to spoil him. And this seems the safest way without being obvious.
Wei Ying whistles low under his breath when they reach the door. “Lan Zhan, are you sure they’ll even let me in here?”
Lan Zhan merely holds the door open for him, sweeping in after with a hard look on his face just in case anyone would dare. He needn’t have worried, though, and the pair are led to their table as soon as he tells the host his name.
It’s very much like their first dinner together. The setting is different, as is the audience and the food, but Wei Ying is still Wei Ying. He talks. He nurses a glass of red wine while they wait for their food - Lan Zhan’s attention torn between Wei Ying’s face and the finger he keeps running along the lip of his wine glass.
Wei Ying is speaking about his brother and their last argument. “And really, Lan Zhan, I wasn’t trying to piss him off, but it’s so easy. He’s a livewire. I think he likes being angry all the time. Jiang Cheng would probably be happier working as a dom in one of those high class sex clubs hidden downtown.”
First off, how Wei Ying knows about those clubs is certainly a question Lan Zhan would like to ask. But -
“Your brother is Jiang Cheng? Of Lotus Pier?” Lan Zhan knew Wei Ying had a connection with the Jiang family; The Lan Corp headhunters had been instructed to go after him specifically when he was working at Lotus Pier, by order of Lan Zhan’s brother. Lan Zhan hadn’t known the relationship was deeper than that.
Wei Ying laughs, but it’s subdued, like he needed the buffer before speaking. “Yes, that Jiang Cheng,” Wei Ying answers. “And brother is, aaah, generous. The Jiangs were good to me when I lost my parents.” Wei Ying pauses, taking a sip of wine. A droplet lingers on the corner of his mouth and he licks it away.
Lan Zhan burns.
“Why would you leave Lotus Pier?” The question, Lan Zhan realizes the moment it’s out of his mouth, is probably overstepping.
Wei Ying just waves a hand at him. “Creative differences,” he says. “I was going to leave anyway, when a rep from Lan Corp contacted me. Working with family can be . . . exhausting, you know.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t know. Not really. His brother has always been kind, even if that kindness has to be firm. And their uncle, who raised them, was strict, but never cruel. “Mn,” Lan Zhan hums, and Wei Ying tilts his head, his eyes settled on Lan Zhan’s face.
“Have you ever thought about it?” Wei Ying questions moments later. “Leaving the family business and setting out on your own?”
Their food arrives, and Lan Zhan sits back, letting the question roll around in his head as they wait for the waitress to leave. When she does, Lan Zhan considers not answering - at least until he’s finished eating. Instead, he keeps his hands in his lap and looks up at Wei Ying.
“I was always aware I would work for the company,” he begins. “I never gave thought to anything else. Why would I?”
“Never?” The look Wei Ying gives him is incredulous.
Lan Zhan thinks about his upbringing. He thinks about his assigned tutors and his uncle’s insistence that Lan Zhan dedicate his time to bettering himself for the family, for the company. It used to be a comforting thing, to know he was needed to help the family. It was good to know there was a place for him there because he never felt like he belonged anywhere else.
Now - now it feels like maybe his choice had been taken from him as he was groomed to be where he is today.
“I never had time to think of anything else,” Lan Zhan finally answers.
Wei Ying sighs, shaking his head, and the downturn of his lips is foreign. Lan Zhan doesn’t like it.
“One day,” Wei Ying announces, three bites into his meal, “one day I’ll pull you out of that office and show you everything you’re missing.”
Lan Zhan hopes that’s a promise.
All of Lan Zhan’s previous dates had been quiet affairs. With Wei Ying there is no quiet. Even when they are both eating, Wei Ying is moving, shuffling, running the toe of his shoe up Lan Zhan’s calf until Lan Zhan glares at him. He gets a shameless smile in return.
They split a dessert. It’s something Lan Zhan hasn’t done before, and he finds himself endeared at the way Wei Ying pouts to get the last piece, that lush bottom lip pushed out, his eyelids lowered, as if Lan Zhan could deny him anything. Wei Ying makes a triumphant noise when he pops his fork in his mouth, and Lan Zhan grabs the edges of his seat to keep from upturning the entire table to get at him.
The sun is setting when they leave. Wei Ying holds out his arms, spinning on the sidewalk before tilting his head up to watch the color flooding the sky. It’s a beautiful sky, but Wei Ying is more beautiful, and Lan Zhan doesn’t look away even when Wei Ying catches him watching. It feels good.
Wei Ying is quieter in the car, his hands to himself this time; when Lan Zhan was driving to the restaurant, Wei Ying had decided the programmed stations on Lan Zhan’s radio were important to know, like they were the window to Lan Zhan’s soul. Lan Zhan wonders if it takes a full belly to finally quiet him.
Wei Ying’s apartment isn’t too far from where they are. Lan Zhan walks Wei Ying to his door, his skin prickling and stomach fluttering.
“Dinner was amazing,” Wei Ying says, turning to walk backwards until he gets to his apartment door. “Lan Zhan’s company was amazing too.”
Lan Zhan can’t help it. His lips move of their own accord, and he gives Wei Ying a smile as fond as he dares.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps, reaching out to grab Lan Zhan’s arm and haul him closer. “You can’t look at me like that and not kiss me.”
Lan Zhan inhales sharply, fingers curling at his sides.
“Unless you don’t want to,” Wei Ying quickly adds on, stepping back and dropping his grip. There’s uncertainty on his face now, and Lan Zhan won’t stand for it.
“Wei Ying,” he calls, closing the distance between them. It puts Wei Ying’s back to the door.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, blinking up at Lan Zhan like he’s startled he’s there and not leaving.
He has to steel himself, leaning close, but not enough for their bodies to touch. Lan Zhan swallows, his eyes drifting down to Wei Ying’s mouth. He’s right there and Lan Zhan wants to take him apart.
Lan Zhan holds his breath, pulls on all that control he possesses and puts it to use. He’s careful, cautious as he drops a soft, barely there kiss on the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth. Before he can straighten to his full height again, Wei Ying’s breathless laughter catches him in its net.
His attention scatters. Wei Ying has fingers circled loosely around Lan Zhan’s wrist, his other hand pressed lightly to Lan Zhan’s chest. A moment later, Wei Ying has also raised enough to push a brief kiss - soft, a little dry, and perfect - to Lan Zhan’s lips.
“I’ll text you,” Wei Ying whispers, and then the heat of him is gone.
Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying’s back, at the pull of his shirt over his shoulders, and the way it drapes down to his waist. Wei Ying gets his door open and disappears inside before Lan Zhan’s eyes can travel down further.
Lan Zhan almost lets out an embarrassing noise. He turns on his heel and leaves, his lips tingling and his heart singing.
Things are going well. Lan Zhan has managed to not spontaneously combust, which is mostly a miracle. And he’s also secured another date with Wei Ying. It will be their second. Or third. He really needs to ask about that first dinner already.
He’s made a reservation at another restaurant for Friday, which gives him the rest of the week to neatly tuck away all the parts of himself he doesn’t want Wei Ying to see. Slow and steady is the right approach. That way he doesn’t risk scaring Wei Ying away.
Lan Zhan is still neck deep in meetings with department heads who are now scrambling to come up with meeting schedules that match receipts because Lan Zhan will not back down on this. It’s exhausting, and there’s a stress headache crawling through his skull. The break area on his floor is out of tea. Lan Zhan heads down to the lounge, planning to grab a few boxes to bring back up.
He’s nearly there, about to round the corner, two fingers massaging his temple, when he hears familiar laughter drifting through the air. Wei Ying. He isn’t prepared for it, and he comes to a stuttering halt, hand dropping to his side. Wei Ying isn’t the only one in the lounge; Lan Zhan hears lowered voices, the sounds of close conversation, and he doesn’t want to intrude. People are open with Wei Ying, but Lan Zhan’s presence alone makes people fall silent. He doesn’t want to interrupt.
There’s giggling, and the sound of spoons tinkling along mugs, and Lan Zhan’s never really disliked the way he commands a room before. He does now. For once he wishes he could be another faceless employee so he could just brush into the lounge without attention. Except Wei Ying’s attention. He always wants that.
“You’re seeing him again?” someone asks, their voice loud enough that the rest go quiet. Lan Zhan turns to leave; he feels like an intruder even if they’re having a conversation in a public area. It’s not meant for him.
“Of course I am!” Wei Ying answers, and suddenly Lan Zhan is frozen in place, feet glued to the floor.
“But he’s so . . . “
Lan Zhan closes his eyes, letting a soft sigh slip into the air.
“I like him,” is Wei Ying’s answer, and Lan Zhan can hear the smile in his voice. He imagines it’s the soft one, and maybe Wei Ying is blushing. “I like, really like him. Like . . . want to invent a way to physically carry his fucking babies like him.”
Lan Zhan’s stomach hits the floor, his heart right after, and he leans against the wall to keep the rest of his body from joining them. The words are like a cool balm over a burn, chipping away at his worries. Wei Ying likes him.
“There’s a but,” someone says.
“But,” Wei Ying says less than a second after.
Lan Zhan should leave. He doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want his heart broken out in the open where people can see. It’s better to do it on Friday, after he’s had the chance to spoil Wei Ying just a little more.
“It’s not Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying continues. Someone makes a noise. “It’s not. It’s - I’m just greedy, I guess. I’ve gone on so many nice dates with nice people. And it’s all so - so - “
“It is! They’re nice and they’re polite and complete gentlemen, but that’s not what I want. I want passion. I want touching.”
“Gross,” comes a reply.
“Oh shut up, you know what I mean. I’m always touching people. I want someone who touches me back.”
“I didn’t want to hear that.”
“I want to be desired,” Wei Ying whines. “Is that so much to ask? I want to be railed out of my god damn mind because the guy can’t control how much he wants me.”
Oh. Oh, oh.
“Pretty sure you’re going to have to choose between a good railing and having Lan Zhan’s kids cause the guy seems pretty vanilla.”
This time Lan Zhan leaves. He doesn’t run to the elevator - that’s against company policy - but he does have a quicker pace than usual. His heart is pounding against his ribs, and his head is spinning at this new information. He’s been going about it all wrong. Wei Ying doesn’t want control.
Lan Zhan could laugh.
He makes it to his office, tea forgotten, before pulling out his phone. He sends Wei Ying a text.
I must cancel our date for Friday evening. I apologize.
It isn’t long before Wei Ying replies. It’s another line of emojis - sad faces, something that looks like tears and a broken heart.
If you are available Saturday, I would like to make you lunch.
A moment later his phone is vibrating. Wei Ying is calling him.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Wei Ying asks. “I mean, you wouldn’t be texting me if you were in a meeting, right?”
“I am not busy right now.”
“Good, good, cause I am definitely available Saturday. Are you going to cook for me?”
“Lan Zhaaaaan,” Wei Ying calls out, “you’re so good to me. I won’t be late. Just give me a time and an address and I’ll be there.”
“It’s a date.”
Wei Ying laughs, and it fills Lan Zhan with something light. It feels like he can finally breathe. “I’ll see you then.”
Wei Ying arrives at Lan Zhan’s doorstep right on time. He rocks back on his heels when Lan Zhan opens the door, and then Lan Zhan is basking in the warmth of his smile, while trying to hold back just a little longer because Wei Ying looks delicious. He’s in black today - skinny jeans, boots and shirt. The boots are left at the door.
“I can’t believe I’m in your apartment,” Wei Ying announces as he shuffles inside. His attention is everywhere all at once, and Lan Zhan watches. He watches the sway of Wei Ying’s hair, the pull of fabric across his shoulder blades, the flex of his thighs because his jeans are tight.
Lan Zhan barely gets his eyes back up to an appropriate level when Wei Ying turns to pierce him with a cheeky grin. “Can I explore?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan replies, a rush of pleasure climbing his ribs at the thought of Wei Ying in his home, learning about him as Lan Zhan cooks for him. “I will be in the kitchen.”
“Wait, really? I can just . . . invade?” Wei Ying is staring at him, wide-eyed, and Lan Zhan nods at him. His mouth drops open, but he snaps it shut before darting off into the living room.
Lan Zhan had spent ages figuring out the right thing to make. He wanted a meal that would energize, but not feel heavy after eating. He’s resolved to not let Wei Ying leave until he properly shows him just how much he wants him. It sits in his chest, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s simply a reminder that he’s close to revealing more about himself than he’s ever done to anyone outside his family and it’s because he wants to.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying calls, barreling into the kitchen and sliding toward Lan Zhan at a dangerous speed.
Lan Zhan tucks himself between the hot stove and Wei Ying, only needing the lightest of touches to ensure Wei Ying doesn’t fall.
“Nice save.” Wei Ying looks pleased about it, and Lan Zhan finds himself not removing the hand he’d placed at Wei Ying’s waist as he normally would. He presses his thumb a little harder, stroking down the line of Wei Ying’s hip bone before turning back to his cooking.
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying pops into his field of view, just off to the side. He has that same hip propped against the counter now. He keeps saying Lan Zhan’s name and every time it’s like someone has brushed a finger down his spine. “You have bunny cacti.” Wei Ying is clearly excited about it.
“They are a type of succulent shrub.” Lan Zhan has them lined up along the windowsill in his living room. The pots are small enough to fit five in a row, and he’s quite fond of them.
“They’re adorable,” Wei Ying gushes.
“Mn.” He keeps his attention on not burning their meal as Wei Ying seems to edge even closer.
“Can I help?” Wei Ying offers.
“You may set the table.”
Wei Ying doesn’t ask where the dishes are. He simply goes to find them. Lan Zhan listens to cabinets opening and shutting, to the soft exhale of victory when Wei Ying finds the right one, followed by the slide of ceramic as he takes the plates out. He finds the silverware in a similar fashion, even once reaching around Lan Zhan - completely unnecessary - to check the drawer immediately beside him.
“Is it almost done? It smells amazing. What is it?”
“Tofu stir fry.”
Lan Zhan looks up in time to see Wei Ying’s nose wrinkle. He sighs softly.
“I have hot sauce to go with it.”
Wei Ying’s wrinkle disappears, and his eyes light up. “You are the best, Lan Zhan. My favorite. No one is better.”
Lan Zhan turns off the heat and Wei Ying darts out of the way, following after the food at a safe distance. It’s probably best. Wei Ying folds himself into the chair, waiting until Lan Zhan serves him. It’s nice to do this; it’s nice to keep it simple, keep it small while still doting on Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan makes a second trip into the kitchen for their drinks and the hot sauce. Wei Ying’s gasp is loud when Lan Zhan hands it to him. It’s a testament to how strong his attraction to Wei Ying is when Lan Zhan witnesses the flood of hot sauce over his food.
“Your apartment is nice,” Wei Ying comments. “A lot bigger than mine, but I wouldn’t know what to do with this much space if I had it.”
“You would fill it out,” Lan Zhan answers. Lan Zhan owns very little; he hasn’t found many things he has use for and if it doesn’t have a use, he doesn’t buy it.
“I’d trash it, is what you mean,” Wei Ying laughs. Lan Zhan gives him a frown that Wei Ying waves off. “Seriously, Lan Zhan. You should see my desk at work. It’s a mess. I get in trouble for it all the time. But I know where everything is, and I get my work done so they can’t complain too much. I walk a fine line, Lan Zhan.”
“You have your method,” Lan Zhan says. “Just as I have mine. Neither is better than the other.”
Wei Ying’s foot hits against Lan Zhan’s leg under the table, and the appraising look Wei Ying gives him is like fire licking over his nerve endings. Lan Zhan wants.
Wei Ying talks while he eats. Lan Zhan listens patiently, occasionally breaking his silence to comment, but mostly enjoying the way Wei Ying’s voice fills the room. His apartment has always been a quiet place. This, he thinks, is better.
“Do you want help?” Wei Ying inquires after they’ve finished.
“I will not be long,” Lan Zhan answers, gathering the dirty plates from the table and taking them into the kitchen. He works methodically, habitually. The leftovers are put into a reusable container and tucked inside the refrigerator. He pulls on a pair of gloves and begins rinsing the dishes he’d dirtied while cooking.
As he works, he’s aware of Wei Ying’s presence. He’s not loud, not this time, but he’s very present. It isn’t long before Lan Zhan feels the heat of Wei Ying against his back, and the plate in his hand nearly slips as Wei Ying rests his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan warns, trying to ignore the thundering of his heart, the twisting in his stomach. “I will be finished soon.”
“But Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, the pout clear in his voice. “I’m greedy and I want your attention.”
Lan Zhan lets out a shaky breath, reaching to turn off the water. The gloves come off with a snap and when Lan Zhan turns to face him, Wei Ying has taken several steps back. There’s an uncertainty on Wei Ying’s face, and he holds up his hands in front of himself in defense when Lan Zhan advances on him.
Wei Ying backs away until he hits against the counter. Lan Zhan crowds against him, Wei Ying’s hands on his chest. This close, Lan Zhan can see every fleck of color in Wei Ying’s eyes, count every eyelash, feel every warm puff of air that escapes his lips.
“You have always had my attention,” Lan Zhan confesses.
Wei Ying sucks in a sharp breath, eyes even wider. “Lan Zhan you can’t just say something like that without warning me.”
Lan Zhan leans in slowly, giving Wei Ying the chance to slip away if he wanted. Wei Ying watches him with his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. There’s a blush dusted over his cheeks, and Lan Zhan aches with how much he wants him in every way.
They stand this way for moments, breathing each other in. For the first time since meeting Wei Ying, Lan Zhan allows his control to waver. When Lan Zhan finally kisses Wei Ying, it’s not a tiny step-up from their previous kiss; it’s Lan Zhan’s tongue pushing against Wei Ying’s lips. It’s Wei Ying moaning into Lan Zhan’s mouth, his hands now fisted in the front of Lan Zhan’s shirt to haul him closer as Lan Zhan fits his hands around Wei Ying’s waist.
Wei Ying presses the length of his body to Lan Zhan’s, his head tilted to the side as Lan Zhan takes and takes and takes. He holds tight to Wei Ying’s waist, appreciates the give beneath his fingertips. He uses his hold to draw Wei Ying in, sliding his thigh between Wei Ying’s to pin him against the counter.
Wei Ying pulls off Lan Zhan’s mouth with a moan, head tipping back as he jerks forward on Lan Zhan’s thigh. Lan Zhan watches the way the pleasure plays over Wei Ying’s face, the pinch between his eyebrows, the way his throat works as he swallows. Lan Zhan is drawn to the motion, drawn to the expanse of Wei Ying’s neck. He wants to mark it up.
Lan Zhan drags his wet lips along Wei Ying’s jawline and up to his ear. He leaves behind a teasing lick that has Wei Ying gasping before moving down. He dots kisses down the column of Wei Ying’s neck, each one firmer than the last until he can’t resist. He sucks, he bites, he savors the punched out moan that floats in the air above them as Wei Ying grabs at Lan Zhan’s hair, fingers tight against his scalp.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying moans, and the sound of his name dripping decadently off Wei Ying’s lips goes straight to Lan Zhan’s dick. “Lan Zhan, feels so good. Don’t stop,” he orders breathlessly.
Lan Zhan sucks a mark high enough on Wei Ying’s neck that he won’t be able to cover it. Come Monday, everyone at work will know. They’ll know and that satisfaction burns hot and bright through Lan Zhan’s veins. He draws away long enough to look at it, pressing his thumb to the sensitive skin just to hear the way Wei Ying hisses.
Wei Ying uses his grip on Lan Zhan’s hair to guide their mouths back together, a rumbling moan lost between them as they kiss. It’s a hot, wet slide of tongues, the bitter sting of teeth catching on lips. It’s Lan Zhan staking a claim and Wei Ying staking one right back.
He’d hoped, wished, needed so much for Wei Ying to want him just as much, and the way Wei Ying clings to him, whines when they break apart for the smallest breath, feels like validation.
Wei Ying rocks against him, shameless, and Lan Zhan finally pries himself away. Wei Ying looks dazed, flushed, his breathing heavy as he stares at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan drops to his knees. The moment he goes for the button on Wei Ying’s jeans, Wei Ying’s hands are there too, helping with the zipper and then shimmying both denim and his boxer briefs down his hips. Wei Ying is hard, leaking, and Lan Zhan wants to taste. He circles his fingers around the base of Wei Ying’s cock to steady it before leaning in to lick from base to tip.
“Fuck,” Wei Ying moans, his legs slipping forward until he catches his weight on the counter with his elbows. He’s a disheveled mess, gorgeous, perfect.
Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying, pleased at the way his breath stutters, his throat bobbing as he swallows when Lan Zhan fits his mouth to Wei Ying’s cock and sinks down.
Wei Ying calls out his name, his voice cracking. His hand finds Lan Zhan’s hair again, the pull on his scalp harsher than before. Lan Zhan moans at the pressure, moans at how hot and heavy Wei Ying’s cock is on his tongue. There’s no finesse to the way Lan Zhan sucks Wei Ying off. It’s all greedy, all wet and sloppy. He grabs hold of Wei Ying’s thigh to steady him, taking him down over and over just to feel the way he trembles.
“Ah, fuck,” Wei Ying cries, tugging at Lan Zhan’s hair. “If you don’t stop I’m gonna come.”
Lan Zhan takes him all the way down, then slowly drags his mouth back up before pulling off. He licks over his lips, pleased with the way Wei Ying is looking at him - like he wants to eat him. “Come,” Lan Zhan tells him. “I will make you do it again.”
The next words Wei Ying tries to say die in his throat as Lan Zhan sucks him down again. Wei Ying whimpers, a desperate little noise that settles in Lan Zhan’s gut. His hips push forward and Lan Zhan lets him chase his own end. Lan Zhan sucks around him, moans at the bitter taste of precome that blossoms over his tongue.
Wei Ying comes with a shout of Lan Zhan’s name.
The sound of it echoes in Lan Zhan’s ears, and he chases it, wants to hear it a thousand more times. He swallows down every drop before he pulls away. Wei Ying is already grabbing at him, pulling Lan Zhan to his feet.
Their mouths come together, Wei Ying’s tongue licking along the seam of Lan Zhan’s lips. It’s easy to focus on Wei Ying, and Lan Zhan has been indulging himself in it. But now Wei Ying’s hands are everywhere, leaving burning paths in their wake. He cups his palm around Lan Zhan’s cock, squeezing around it and Lan Zhan moans, jerking forward.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chants. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Wanted you,” is what Lan Zhan manages to say. It’s so honest it almost makes him want to hide. He has to remind himself he’s allowed to have this. Being open and honest is the entire point of today. He needs Wei Ying to know.
Wei Ying kicks off his pants and Lan Zhan bends to lift him from the floor. His knees ache a little; he makes a mental note to maybe not drop so hard onto the kitchen floor next time. It’s tempting to keep Wei Ying here, splayed over the counter, but the bed is more forgiving. He carries Wei Ying down to his bedroom, very much aware of the way Wei Ying is clinging to him, his mouth hot on Lan Zhan’s neck, his hands already snaked beneath Lan Zhan’s shirt.
“Wanna touch you,” Wei Ying mumbles the moment Lan Zhan lays him on his bed. “Wanna see you.” And his hands are tugging at Lan Zhan’s shirt. Lan Zhan lets him take it off him; then he lets Wei Ying go for his pants, Lan Zhan lifting enough to get them down his legs. Lan Zhan has to reach down to pull his feet free, but once they’re off, he crawls back over Wei Ying, settling himself between his open legs.
“I really need you to fuck me,” Wei Ying demands.
“I will,” he promises, gripping the bottom of Wei Ying’s shirt to get rid of the last scrap of fabric between them.
Wei Ying falls against the mattress, hair a mess and cheeks still pleasantly flushed. Lan Zhan kisses him again, addicted to the feel of him, the taste of him. Wei Ying’s arms snake around his chest, hands hot on his back.
Lan Zhan lets out a soft groan as his cock - very much neglected until now - slides against Wei Ying’s hip. Wei Ying wraps his legs around Lan Zhan’s waist, dragging him down further, and the pressure from it has Lan Zhan rocking forward, seeking more.
But Wei Ying’s mouth is a delight and Lan Zhan lets himself indulge in it, kissing him again and again. He brings his hand to Wei Ying’s face, thumb pushing against the hinge of his jaw so his mouth opens further. Wei Ying whines, nails digging into Lan Zhan’s back. He won’t hold still, and Lan Zhan loves it.
Lan Zhan kisses Wei Ying until he feels the swell of Wei Ying’s cock beginning to harden again. The moment he stops kissing him, Wei Ying is talking, babbling.
“Where are you going,” he whines, hands trying to tug Lan Zhan back as he extricates himself from Wei Ying’s hold. “Look what you’ve done to me. Come back and take responsibility.” A pause. “Oh, yeah, okay, come on, Lan Zhan. Need you.”
Lan Zhan had left the cage of Wei Ying’s embrace long enough to get the lube. When he turns back to Wei Ying, he’s got his face pushed to Lan Zhan’s pillow and his ass is in the air. Lan Zhan takes a moment to drink in the sight of him.
Wei Ying is beautiful. His body is meant to be adored, worshiped. His skin is already stained pink in areas from Lan Zhan’s greedy hands. He wants to stain it more.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying huffs, impatient. And who is Lan Zhan to deny him?
Wei Ying is warm, welcoming, a burst of scattering light that Lan Zhan is inexorably drawn to. He takes his place between Wei Ying’s legs again, tapping twice on the inside of his thigh. They slide open further, and Lan Zhan pinches him there, pleased. He drapes over Wei Ying enough to kiss the top of his spine. Wei Ying groans, pushing his ass back against Lan Zhan’s cock.
“Don’t tease me,” Wei Ying breathes out. “Don’t be mean.”
“I am not mean,” Lan Zhan answers, dropping another kiss lower, then another.
Wei Ying huffs. “You are,” he asserts. “I want you in me and you aren’t.”
Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying’s hips to hold him still. Wei Ying is about to complain again, but Lan Zhan pushes forward, his cock rubbing along the inside of Wei Ying’s thigh, brushing against his balls. Wei Ying’s words come out garbled, and he tries to fight Lan Zhan’s grip on him.
Lan Zhan releases him and Wei Ying seems to sag even more toward the bed. Lan Zhan caresses down his back to his ass, thumbs spreading Wei Ying’s cheeks open. Wei Ying shifts into it with a low moan.
The lube has rolled against Wei Ying’s calf, and Lan Zhan grabs it now; the pop of the cap sends a shiver through Wei Ying that Lan Zhan can see. It’s cool on his fingers, and he rubs them together to warm it, even if he’s certain Wei YIng wouldn’t mind the cold. He uses his free hand to hold Wei Ying’s cheek open, and Wei Ying wiggles his ass at him invitingly.
Lan Zhan wets Wei Ying’s hole first, with a light, teasing touch. Wei Ying allows it without complaint, but his shoulders tense, and he raises his hips just a little more. He’s so good for Lan Zhan, so ready, and Lan Zhan wants to savor this.
He opens Wei Ying up slowly, makes it wet. He works a finger in, then two, and a third sliding slick into the heat of Wei Ying’s body when Wei Ying demands it. Wei Ying is fucking himself back on Lan Zhan’s fingers, most of his moans muffled in the pillow.
“Fuck, Lan Zhan, I knew you’d be good with your hands,” Wei Ying says.
Lan Zhan spreads his fingers and Wei Ying lets out a whimper, hitching his hips higher.
“Just like that,” Wei Ying coaches. “I could come like this. I don’t want to right now, but I could. Later, okay, fuck want your fingers in me again later.” Wei Ying’s back dips, his hips working faster to take Lan Zhan’s fingers deeper.
Lan Zhan almost wants to make Wei Ying come this way anyway. If not for how hard Lan Zhan is, how long he’s been hard, he might. But Wei Ying has been really good for him, and it would be a shame to deny him anything.
Lan Zhan takes hold of himself, slicking his cock with as loose a grip as he can. Wei Ying is looking over his shoulder at him and the intensity has Lan Zhan’s cock throbbing. Wei Ying straightens his arms in front of him, pillowing his head on one to keep his eyes on Lan Zhan as he puts himself on display.
Lan Zhan drinks him in like a man parched, and he hopes Wei Ying can see how much he wants, how much he desires. Lan Zhan doesn’t express well, and it’s easy to use as a shield. But he wants Wei Ying to see him. He needs him to.
Wei Ying keens, eyes slipping closed only for a moment when Lan Zhan begins to press into him. Even with three fingers working him open, it’s a squeeze. Lan Zhan has to go slow, feeding his cock into Wei Ying’s ass with short thrusts, his hand braced on Wei Ying’s hip both to keep Wei Ying upright and to steady himself.
“Lan Zhaahhh -” Wei Ying cries, his words trailing into a breathy moan. He jerks back with another moan, his hands now grabbing at Lan Zhan’s headboard, palms flat against it so he can use it to push back. Lan Zhan lets him, he lets Wei Ying take.
Lan Zhan keeps still, breathing heavily, sweat tickling his brow as he adjusts to the wet heat clinging to his cock. Wei Ying either doesn’t notice Lan Zhan isn’t moving, or he doesn’t care. He works himself on Lan Zhan’s cock, face buried in the pillow to muffle his noises.
Lan Zhan is burning up from the inside, watching as his cock slides wet into Wei Ying, then out as Wei Ying fucks himself. He watches and he burns, and when Wei Ying calls his name - breathless and needy - Lan Zhan takes over. His hands curl around Wei Ying’s hips, drawing him back. He buries his cock deep inside Wei Ying, letting it sit there for moments. Wei Ying clenches around him, grinding against him as he whines.
Lan Zhan does not ease into it. Wei Ying is open and wet enough that he doesn’t have to. It’s a smooth glide, hips pushing forward as he pulls Wei Ying back, burying himself inside him over and over.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying moans, pleads, screams.
His thighs spread wider, knees slipping in the blanket. Lan Zhan just hauls him back up, pleased at the choked off noise he gets in return. Wei Ying claws at the sheets, at the pillow, then sends the pillow flying, nearly taking out the lamp on the bedside table. His moans are louder now, and he’s chanting Lan Zhan’s name between every breath.
Wei Ying takes him so well. He clenches around him when Lan Zhan is buried inside him, and his entire body moves back when Lan Zhan slides out, like he needs Lan Zhan’s cock in him. Their skin smacks together, and lube is now sticky around Lan Zhan’s cock, smeared over Wei Ying’s ass.
It’s Wei Ying who picks up speed; he’s gone quiet save for his breathing, and his knuckles are white where he’s gripped the headboard again. Lan Zhan feels him go tense, and he braces himself for it just as Wei Ying comes. He hears the way it rips through Wei Ying, the crack of his voice when he screams, the torturous way his body pulses around Lan Zhan’s cock.
Lan Zhan fucks him through it, fucks him until Wei Ying goes limp beneath him. He’s gentle, careful as he pulls out. Wei Ying makes a noise that sounds thoroughly offended. And he’s already grabbing for Lan Zhan when Lan Zhan helps to roll Wei Ying onto his back, careful to avoid the wet puddle of come.
“Don’t stop,” Wei Ying begs, one hand gripped tight around Lan Zhan’s arm and the other sliding up into Lan Zhan’s hair.
It’s an easy slide, Wei Ying nice and open for Lan Zhan’s cock to fill him again. Wei Ying hums, lips parted and eyes half-lidded as he stares up at Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan kisses him; he can’t help it. He nips at Wei Ying’s perfect mouth, licks along his lips until Wei Ying pulls him in for more. This time he fucks into Wei Ying slow and indulgent. He makes sure to push in as far as he can, holding there for a moment before dragging back out. Wei Ying trembles, locking his thighs around Lan Zhan’s waist, the heels of his feet on Lan Zhan’s lower back to guide him.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, raising to rest his weight on his forearms.
Wei Ying is a vision; he looks fucked out, satisfied in a bone-deep kind of way. He’s flushed and shining with sweat, and smiling. “Lan Zhan,” he answers with a whisper.
“Wei Ying,” he repeats. The rest of what he wants to say gets caught in his throat, trapped inside a cage of his own creation.
“I know,” Wei Ying tells him, dragging Lan Zhan down to kiss him. “I know,” he says against Lan Zhan’s lips. I know, he shows in the way he kisses Lan Zhan endlessly, breathlessly.
Lan Zhan rocks in and out of Wei Ying almost lazily, not chasing anything, but luxuriating in the feel of him, the emotion that comes with having him, with Wei Ying letting him have him. Lan Zhan feels full to bursting, like Wei Ying is the only thing holding him together.
They spend long minutes rocking together, kissing until their lips sting. Lan Zhan sucks new marks on Wei Ying’s chest, panting over wet skin as Wei Ying begins tightening around him. Wei Ying is hard again.
Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying’s hands to the bed, fingers threaded, and fucks Wei Ying in earnest. Wei Ying tips his hips off the bed a little higher, and Lan Zhan slides in deeper. Wei Ying is shaking, eyes closed and lower lip trapped in his teeth. He squeezes their linked hands, urging Lan Zhan to go faster with his feet, with the way he keeps bearing down.
Wei Ying comes with a sob. Lan Zhan doesn’t stop, the blood rushing in his ears and the pleasure mounting fast. He feels Wei Ying’s mouth on his neck, teeth digging into skin, and Lan Zhan comes. It rushes through him in pulsing waves, each one better than the last. He grinds his cock into Wei Ying, pushing even when there’s no room to push, his orgasm clawing its way out of him still.
Wei Ying is there when Lan Zhan can finally open his eyes. He looks rather smug, even as exhausted as he appears. He’s managed to free one of his hands and his fingers are running through Lan Zhan’s hair, scratching along the back of his neck.
Lan Zhan slides his knees up, folding his legs beneath him so he can stay like this, curled over Wei Ying, without Wei Ying having to take his weight. Wei Ying’s legs fall to the bed, but he doesn’t stop touching, doesn’t try to make Lan Zhan move.
Lan Zhan takes the moment to kiss along Wei Ying’s jaw and up to his mouth.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls weakly. “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
Lan Zhan nips at Wei Ying’s lip. “Good.”
“You have to take responsibility, you know. You have to keep me.”
Beneath him, Wei Ying goes tense, his gaze darting away from Lan Zhan’s face. Lan Zhan draws his attention with a hand in his hair, pushing until his head tips back and Wei Ying is looking at him again. “I want to keep you.”
“Oh good,” Wei Ying breathes out. “Cause there’s so much I want to do with you now that I know how compatible we are.”
Lan Zhan hums. “What do you want?”
Wei Ying wiggles, grinning as he curves his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, content to keep them both pressed together despite the sweat and come and lube drying on their skin. “I want you to eat me out next time.”
Lan Zhan sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I will.”
Wei Ying’s grin is brighter. “Maybe you can tie me up, or blindfold me - just not both at the same time.”
“And I want to ride you,” Wei Ying continues, oblivious to the images now running through Lan Zhan’s head.
“Mark your words,” Lan Zhan tells him, hiding his face in Wei Ying’s neck, biting him a moment later when Wei Ying pokes his side.
“Aah!” Wei Ying cries, even as he tilts his head to give Lan Zhan more skin to mark. “How could you treat your poor boyfriend this way,” he says, and Lan Zhan’s next bite is harder. Boyfriend.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls, and Lan Zhan lifts enough to look down at him. “You want to know something funny?” Wei Ying asks as he takes Lan Zhan’s hand in his, dropping a kiss on his knuckle. “I was worried you were dating me because you were too polite to turn me down.”
“Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan huffs. He pauses, shaking his head a little. “I am not good at expressing how I feel.”
“I think you did a pretty good job,” Wei Ying replies with a smirk. “I’ll be feeling your expression for days.”
Wei Ying laughs and Lan Zhan sighs, head dropping to Wei Ying’s shoulder.
There’s a list on Lan Zhan’s kitchen counter. Lan Zhan recognizes it as the one Wei Ying started last night, although at the time he’d refused to let Lan Zhan see what it was.
It’s a list of things he wants them to do in bed. It begins with the same things Wei Ying told him - eating him out, tying him up or blindfolding him, Wei Ying riding him. There are additions they hadn’t spoken about - Lan Zhan fingering him into an orgasm, getting Lan Zhan’s gorgeous long legs (Wei Ying’s words) around his waist. Lan Zhan is pleased to know their desires align so well. But there’s a final addition to the list that makes him shake his head.
He drops the list on the counter and walks down to his bathroom where Wei Ying is still drying off after his shower.
“Wei Ying,” he says when he finds him.
Wei Ying breaks out into a smile. “Lan Zhan, I know I told you last night, but your shower is amazing. I’m going to invade your place every day just for this shower.”
Lan Zhan finds himself moving toward Wei Ying, caught in his gravitational pull. He’s too alluring, too gorgeous, too loud to resist. He’s still slightly pink from the shower, his damp hair tied up and one of Lan Zhan’s shirts slipping off his shoulder. He looks delicious.
Wei Ying drops the towel that had been in his hand when Lan Zhan backs him against the doorway.
“Lan Zhaaaan,” he says, raising to his toes so they’re eye to eye. “Was there something you wanted to say?”
Lan Zhan kisses him, head tilting and mouth greedy as he sucks Wei Ying’s tongue into his mouth. Wei Ying whines, hands hot on Lan Zhan’s neck, on his back. He takes his fill, drinks in the feel of Wei Ying’s body pressed to his own. When he pulls away, it’s only just enough for him to speak.
“We are not having sex in my office,” he says sternly. At least he thinks he’s stern, but he’s also out of breath and Wei Ying is shining and vibrant in his arms.
Wei Ying has the audacity to pout. “You have such a nice desk, though,” he teases. “Not like the rickety one I’m using. Yours looks expensive. Sturdy. Like you could spread me over it, and then, aaaah, then every time you sit at it you’ll remember the way you took me on it.”
Lan Zhan has to kiss Wei Ying just to shut him up. Wei Ying wiggles against him, hiking a leg to hook his foot around Lan Zhan’s calf.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, rolling his hips forward just to hear the way Wei Ying whimpers. “We are only having sex in my office once.”