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Fuck.

Fuck.

This is bad. Like really bad. Like he most certainly pissed off the wrong guy bad. But really, how was he supposed to know that the dude whose wallet he fleeced at the fucking strip bar was an honest-to-god wizard? And it’s not like he didn’t offer to give the wallet back—after he already downed at least three shots of top-shelf whisky on his dime. But, no, that wasn’t good enough. The motherfucker scowled at him, snatched his wallet back, and started muttering in some dead language. It could’ve been Latin but fuck if Xue Yang knew.

It’s not like you can attend a regular school, let alone college when you’re literally part cat. Everything he learned was in the school of hard knocks, in the big, bad world, in the seedy underbelly of—

Right. Bigger problems. Because now he’s all cat. Like, a real cat. With fur everywhere and a tail that’s shorter than his old one but much more functional. And he’s way fucking smaller than he used to be.

Also, he can’t talk, so he couldn’t even ask the motherfucker if this was permanent or not.

He did manage to run away, slinking out the front door of the club when another dude was coming in. Hit up the alley, because he realized really fucking fast just how vulnerable he is like this. More so than a guy who looks like he’s dressed for Halloween every day of the year. Then he’s just a freak, at best. And when people think you’re a freak it’s easy to dismiss them. Write them off. Say you don’t need anyone else.

But now he’s gonna have to rely on people to keep him alive.

Which means he needs to find a better neighborhood than where this sleazy dive is located. Fortunately, he knows of one, and it’s not that far away.

Which is good, because his legs are much, much shorter now.

#

This whole being a cat business isn’t that bad. He gets to sleep for like eighteen hours a day without anyone calling him a lazy asshole. And because he’s a ‘stray’ most of those are during the day. In the evening, when most humans are home from work, he sets off, hitting up a few of his favorite houses, the ones he knows are willing to provide.

It’s so easy. All he has to do is meow, all nice and pretty. Make his eyes really wide and pitiful. Roll over onto his side and knead his paws.

“Oh!” one neighbor exclaims—her name is Sad Single Lady in his head. Because she is. She looks like a librarian, and not the hot kind. “Look at your cute little pink toe beans! I could just eat them up.” And then she puts out a little plate of kibble.

“You poor thing!” another says, rubbing under his chin. He’ll never tell a single living soul ever that it feels good. Really good. “Here, I went grocery shopping today, and thought of your sweet face.” He’s called Sad Closeted Dude. Because he’s clearly married—to a very nice woman who leaves Xue Yang kitty treats and a bowl of fresh water every day. But the guy is just so very obviously gay. The few times Xue Yang caught him looking across the street, to the couple in the apartment across from him, it was with a wistful longing in his eyes. But he sets down a small bowl of canned food. The good stuff. Not that one-hundred-percent nutritionally complete crap from the specialty store, but the motherfucking Fancy Feast.

It’s junk food for cats and Xue Yang fucking loves it. There’s real pieces of fish in it—probably the stuff not fit for human consumption, but at least it looks like it was an animal once.

Which leaves the last stop on his regular route—the couple who live in the building across from Sad Closeted Dude. Sure, there are some outliers, a few places between his regulars who stop to dote on him, cooing at how sleek and shiny he is. He might be all-black, might be bad luck personified, but fuck if he isn’t pretty as fuck in this form. And those motherfuckers always give him the best food because they aren’t prepared ahead of time. They give him real tuna, the kind they buy for themselves, or little bits of meat from the dinner they’re preparing. One woman, who looked more than a little harried—and he got why when he glanced in the window of the sliding glass door to see three kids who all looked to be not-yet school aged—gave him half a hamburger, cut into tiny, bite-sized pieces. It was heaven—until one of the brats came out and pulled his tail and he decided no amount of real meat was worth that bullshit.

Oh, right. His last regular. He shouldn’t stop here so often, because they do feed him the over-processed mush from the pet shops. Although sometimes it’s mixed with a whole egg, which makes it slightly more palatable.

But that’s not why he comes here nearly every night.

It’s because the one guy, the soft-hearted one, the one who’s more likely to add an egg—for a shinier coat, he says, as he runs his slender hand down Xue Yang’s back—is hot. Fucking. Smoking. If Xue Yang were back to normal he would absolutely, positively try to tap that. He’d hit on that pretty boy so hard his poor head would spin. Even though his boyfriend looks like he could fuck Xue Yang up good.

He’s huge and Xue Yang swears the universe would fucking implode if that guy so much as cracked a smile. He looks so serious and somber and menacing. He doesn’t even look like a cat person, so Xue Yang is…thrown every time he leaves him food. Like he wonders why he bothers at all.

He finds out a few nights later, when both of them are sitting on their balcony, sipping wine while Xue Yang picks at the high-priced stuff artfully arranged in a cut-glass crystal bowl. “Xingchen, we can’t just keep him. He’s a stray. He’s not used to being indoors. He’ll probably escape the first chance he gets.”

Oh, shit. They’re talking about him. He’s sure of it. And Grumpy Fucker’s absolutely right. He’s never been one to tie himself down. He sure as shit isn’t about to start now. Not when he’s got a good thing going on. Jesus fucking Christ the food here isn’t even that good, even if the eye candy is. But he’s not about to let his head be turned by a pretty face. Not when it means his freedom—

“But Zichen, look at him! He’s not safe out there in the world!”

What the fuck? He’s fine, please and thank you. He’s got fangs and claws and a very scary growl—

“There are other outdoor cats. Territorial ones.”

And Xue Yang’s not? This neighborhood is his motherfucking turf. He’s already chased off the other strays and street cats. As for the domestic ones? They know their fucking place. He won’t mess with them as long as they stay in their yard. And he doesn’t go in theirs.

He has to follow some sort of code. He’s not an absolute heathen.

“And the racoons here are vicious, Zichen. They tore open the garbage just the other night. And it was locked down.”

Fuck. Oh fuck. Xue Yang forgot about the raccoons. He only encountered one, but it was enough to make it memorable. He was just fast enough to escape, and learned, very quickly, that his nocturnal activities needed to be curbed by the time most humans shut off their lights and turned in for the night.

Xue Yang probably could take one on if he wasn’t caught unawares, as he was that one time. Xue Yang’s scrappy, used to fighting. And winning.

But raccoons are a whole other level. Those motherfuckers are vicious and Xue Yang would be happy to live the rest of his life—whether cat or catboy—and never encounter another one ever again.

“Xingchen. You have a soft heart, and you know I love you for it, but we’re not taking in a stray. He might be perfectly pleasant when you put out food for him, but that doesn’t mean he would make a good pet. Plus, the vet bill. He’d need to have all his shots. He probably has some disease from being a street cat for so long. Like feline leukemia.”

Excuse me, what? Xue Yang did not hear that right. Grumpy Fucker did not just accuse him of being diseased. With feline fucking leukemia of all things. Oh, that motherfucker is going down.

The nerve of him. Xue Yang hisses his displeasure.

“Besides,” Grumpy Fucker continues, because apparently he does not enjoy living, “he’s probably not even fixed. He’ll probably spray the walls and carpet, even if we do get him neutered right away.”

Oh, that’s the last motherfucking straw. Xue Yang might be a lot of things but he’s not—

Wait. He’s not fixed. And there is no fucking way that’s gonna change. He’s very attached to both testicles in any and all forms. And normally after he eats he weaves between Grumpy Fucker and his hot boyfriend, marking them, just a bit. Letting them, mostly Hot Boyfriend, stroke his fur. Croon about what a good boy he is. He usually even purrs a bit when Hot Boyfriend scratches behind his ears.

But fuck no, not tonight. He jumps up onto the table where their wineglasses rest—making sure to knock them over—then over to the balcony fence. He’s out of here if they’re planning—

“Gotcha.” Hot Boyfriend captures him. Holds him against his chest. “Look at his adorable little kitty face, Zichen. Tell me, can you really refuse this face? He’s just so cute.” And Xue Yang would be fighting to be set free, really he would, but Hot Boyfriend starts stroking his chin, rubbing it just right. Xue Yang finds himself leaning into the touch. And then he starts to fucking purr.

If he was himself, and not a literal goddamned cat—

“Fine. Fine. You can keep him, Xingchen, but you should probably make sure he really doesn’t belong to someone else. Then the responsibility is all yours. I’m not shoveling his shit out of a box filled with sand.”

Hot Boyfriend—no, Xue Yang knows his name now—Xingchen. Xingchen presses Xue Yang tighter to his chest, then kisses Xue Yang on the top of his head. “I knew he’d cave,” he confesses. “Well make a cat person out of him yet.”

It’s a good thing Hot Boyfriend—Xingchen—thinks so. Because Xue Yang isn’t really convinced.

#

Xingchen takes him to the vet the very next day. First to look for a chip, which of course he doesn’t have. But because he doesn’t have one, he gets one, officially ‘belonging’ to Xingchen and Zichen. And no, he does not have feline leukemia or any other disease, thank you very much. He does have tapeworms, which would be mortifying as fuck if he was human, but Xingchen just nods and holds Xue Yang down while the vet tucks a pill into the side of his cheek and then strokes his throat until he swallows it.

Not that they needed to do that—he doesn’t want fucking tapeworms any more than they do—but he won’t tell. He doesn’t want anyone to think they can just force stuff into his mouth whenever they want. He even made a half-hearted swipe with his front paw to make his point known. “Oh, Vardy, you’re being such a good boy. We’re almost done,” Xingchen says, scritching the base of Xue Yang’s neck.

Vardy? VARDY? What the fuck name is that? It doesn’t even sound like a real word.

“Is that his name? We’ll add it to his record.” The vet has her back turned as she talks, but once she turns around she has needles in her hand. Plural. “Ok, you’ll just need to hold Vardy down for another minute so I can give him these shots. Because he was a stray, I’m going to give him the same series I would for an unvaccinated kitten, so you’ll need to bring him back in two or three weeks for a booster.”

“Oh, that’s perfect,” says Xingchen, his voice pleasant because the vet isn’t about to shove those things in his flank. “We can schedule his neutering for the same time.”

The fucking what? He forgot all about that part of last night’s discussion—or blotted it from his mind. There is no fucking way that is happening. Xue Yang was considering sticking around for a bit, but not now. The second this bullshit is over—mostly because Xingchen is holding him too firmly for him to bolt—he’s out of here.

The shots aren’t really painful, and even if they were, he would have stayed cooperative just to put them off their guard. He lets himself go limp, even purrs a bit. “That’s it, Vardy, you’re being so good. You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” This would be hot as fuck under any other circumstance, with a guy this pretty crooning into his ear. But Xue Yang just stays still, until Xingchen releases him. And then Xue Yang leaps up, prancing around the counter with his tail curled. The very picture of a good kitty.

“He really is nice looking, considering he was a stray,” the vet says, rubbing his cheek, and fuck if it doesn’t make him purr louder. She chuckles as she switches to the other cheek. “Something tells me he was enough of a charmer that he didn’t go hungry very often.”

“I think he had the entire neighborhood in his thrall,” Xingchen replies, with a little huff of a laugh. He bends down to open the brand-new cat carrier, complete with a cushioned bottom that actually looks half-decent, only Xue Yang will never know.

He keeps his eyes on the vet as she tidies up. “Okay, we’re all done here.” She puts the needles in the sharps container and throws the packaging in the trash. “Colleen can help you set up Vardy’s next appointment before you go.” She turns back, giving Xue Yang a little pat over his head on her way to the door.

Now. It’s his chance.

“It was very nice to meet you both. See you in a couple weeks, Vardy!”

Fuck that name. Good thing he’s not gonna be around to be called that anymore.

The vet opens the door just as Xingchen reaches for Xue Yang, probably to keep him from running, but he’s too slow. Xue Yang’s out the door like a shot and he’s in the best luck because the front door’s open as some other chump comes in with a carrier in her hand and Xue Yang should be able to get out before the door closes—

“Oho, an attempted escapee,” the other owner says, with eye-rolling condescension as she darts inside and leans back to push the door shut.

Xue Yang changes direction, heading right for the small aisle of super specialty pet food, looking for somewhere, anywhere to hide. Only to be scooped up by some human in scrubs with cats wearing stethoscopes on them.

“Well aren’t you—” She releases Xue Yang with a yelp, rubbing at her arm where he just scratched her. He lands—on his feet, of course—and—he has no idea where to go. Not that he has any time to consider it before Xingchen has him by the scruff of his neck, and to Xue Yang’s utter humiliation he immediately goes limp. The woman in the scrubs—Colleen, by her nametag—has the carrier, which she lowers so Xingchen can herd him inside.

He protests, loudly, when Xingchen swings the barred door shut and seals it. Continues to protest with the most obnoxious yowls. Even he doesn’t like them, but he needs to make his rage known somehow. He keeps it up while Xingchen pays and makes the next appointment. Even while Xingchen lifts the carrier and walks out the door. “Come on, Vardy, you were such a good boy—well, except for when you got spooked. Look, I got you treats.” He places the carrier in the passenger seat, then opens a foil bag and shakes something that’s supposed to be ‘treats’ between the bars of the carrier door.

They look fucking weird. Because they’re this dark, forest green color. But they smell okay, so he gives one a shot.

And—okay. They’re okay. Not Fancy Feast, but they’ll do. He eats the rest in the time it takes for Xingchen to get in, buckle up, and start the engine.

“Let’s go home, Vardy, so I can tell Zichen how good you were today.”

#

Xue Yang is not adjusting to being a house cat. No, not him. He bolts for the door every single time it opens, darting down the hall, hoping that one day he’ll get lucky and the building door will be open—but it never fucking is before he’s caught and hauled back inside. If Xingchen catches Xue Yang, he chides him, the disappointment in his voice almost enough to get Xue Yang to consider not trying to escape again. Until he remembers they’re going to literally cut his balls off if he doesn’t get the fuck away.

When Zichen gets him, he calls Xue Yang an asshole and dumps him unceremoniously on the floor as soon as they’re back inside. And they have both sliding doors to the balcony closed and sealed unless they’re out there too and then—the sheer indignity—they put Xue Yang on a fucking lead.

Because now he’s wearing a collar, with a fucking bell. He can’t even have any fun by terrorizing the stupid little songbirds he can hear in the trees just over the fence. But he can look at them out the window—and how did he never notice such a stupid shit of a dog in the building next to that townhouse complex across the street? It’s one of those ones that can fit in a purse, what the fuck are they called?

Right. It’s a goddamned Pomeranian and it loses its shit every time it spots Xue Yang in the window. So Xue Yang spends a lot of time in the window. It’s a great place to nap really, because it’s sunny in the afternoon. In fact, Xingchen seems to notice Xue Yang likes it there enough that he moves the kitchen table so its right underneath it. Places the newly-purchased cat bed—everything for him is newly purchased—there so Xue Yang has a cozy place to cause that fucking dog a coronary.

“Xingchen,” says Zichen, when he sees what Xingchen’s doing, “if you put his cat bed there, where are we supposed to eat?”

Xingchen turns and kisses him and Xue Yang doesn’t even bother pretending not to watch. One of the perks of being a cat is being able to be a complete, unapologetic voyeur. He can’t wait until they fuck in front of him. “We hardly ever eat here, anyway. Usually we have our coffee and toast to go and we have dinner on the couch.” He gives Zichen another, more chaste kiss and then heads to the kitchen to start dinner.

“We might want to eat here,” Zichen mumbles, but he—oh shit, is he smiling? Is it even possible? “You’re lucky you’re cute and Xingchen likes you so much already,” he says, but there’s not much heat to it. Especially since he rubs his fingers over the fur on Xue Yang’s chest, and goddamn if that doesn’t feel nice. He plunks down on his bed, rolling to the side.

Zichen better appreciate this fucking gift or Xue Yang will claw his eyes out.

He does because he rubs Xue Yang’s belly, stroking the fur down, not up. Using just the right amount of pressure and Xue Yang closes his eyes with how good it feels—

“Fuck is Vardy the stupidest goddamn name,” Zichen murmurs, continuing to rub Xue Yang’s belly, and he starts purring. Embarrassingly loud. “Xingchen and his obsession with football. I’m not calling you that. How about Xiaomao, do you like that better?”

Not really. It’s way too fucking cutesy, especially coming from a tank like Zichen. But it’s not like he can say anything. And really, Zichen can call him whatever he wants if he keeps petting his belly like this. He rolls completely over onto his back, his paws kneading all on their own. When Zichen finishes petting him, he stretches out, yawning.

“Okay, fine. You’re cute or whatever. I guess we’ll keep you.”

#

“Xingchen, he’s doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Xingchen ducks around the wall of their galley kitchen. “Sleeping on the back of the couch and looking cute?” He smiles over at Xue Yang and then starts to go back to cooking whatever he’s making. It smells so much better than the food Xue Yang’s sure to get. Luckily, he’s learned that Zichen will sneak him tiny morsels of whatever they have from his own plate when Xingchen’s not looking.

When he does notice, he gives Zichen a displeased look and says, “You’re just encouraging that behavior, you know.” Xue Yang understands the weight of that look far too well. It’s what finally got him to stop running into the hallway every chance he got. Mostly. He still does it here and there, just to keep his humans sharp. On their toes.

“No, he’s doing that thing with his tongue.” Huh, what now? What is Xue Yang doing with his tongue? Literally nothing. He’s just dozing in the little dip between the back of the couch and the cushion propped against it, minding his own business, until Zichen had to call out at Xingchen and wake him so rudely—

And then he pulls out his phone and takes a photo, the utter asshole. “You know, that thing? What did you call it, a bleb?”

Xingchen comes back out, just to roll his eyes and look fond. “It’s a blep. Google it.” And the second he goes back to the kitchen, Xue Yang hears the sound of a can being opened. Not by a can opener, but by one of those attached rings. “Vardy, it’s dinner,” he calls and when Xue Yang stands, stretches, and takes his fucking time going into the kitchen—

No. It’s not possible. It’s the motherfucking Fancy Feast.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have time to go the pet store,” Xingchen says, sounding deeply apologetic. “This will have to do for tonight.”

He put the entire can in the bowl. Xue Yang glances at it, then up at Xingchen. Makes a little “brr-up” to show how happy he is. So that maybe Xingchen will get the fucking hint. And then goes to fucking town. He eats it all before Xingchen’s even finished cooking his and Zichen’s dinner, but that means he’s contented enough that he doesn’t bother to beg. Instead, he goes into their bedroom and cleans himself. Thoroughly. And then takes an evening nap.

He’s woken up when Zichen flicks on the light. It’s late, even by Xue Yang’s estimation. He opens his eyes, lazily, but they get wide really fucking fast because Xingchen and Zichen are kissing, and like they fucking mean it. Xingchen makes this little noise in the back of his throat just before he grabs Zichen by the belt loops of his chinos and tugs him closer to the bed. And then it gets downright dirty.

They’re not so much kissing as pretty much fucking each other’s mouths, Xingchen making the most obscene noises, Zichen nearly silent, except for how fast and hard he’s breathing.

It’s fucking hot and if only Xue Yang were in his own body—

“You are wearing far, far too much, Zichen.” Xingchen pulls back first, tugging the hem of Zichen’s sweater up and over his chest, then over his head. And Xue Yang’s seen him shirtless a couple of times but he can appreciate it again. It’s very nice. He angles his head, but neither of them pay him any mind.

“So are you.” Zichen doesn’t bother with Xingchen’s button front—at first. He goes right for his jeans, which are clearly designer, tugging the button free, then pulling down the fly, continuing to kiss him the entire time. He places both hands at the waistband, pulling them down as much as he can without breaking the kiss, Xingchen sliding his hands from Zichen’s ass to pull them the rest of the way down, kicking them off.

Followed immediately by his very tasteful, very silk boxers.

Zichen palms Xingchen’s already flushed and hard cock. Gives it a few semi-rough strokes, which makes Xingchen moan. “Always ready for me, aren’t you Xingchen? You’re just such a slut.”

Xingchen whines. Ruts into Zichen’s hand. His head is thrown back, so Zichen gets to work on his neck.

Xue Yang doesn’t even feign boredom. He is here for this. He watches as Zichen presses hot, open mouthed kisses all along the column of Xingchen’s throat, watches as Xingchen melts into them, his knees buckling until Zichen’s the only one holding him upright. Watches as Zichen strokes Xingchen’s cock with featherlight touches that have Xingchen’s hips going, clearly chasing more friction

“Zichen please,” he pleads and the sound would go right to Xue Yang’s dick if he—well, he does have one, but it doesn’t work quite the same way.

Unfortunately.

But watching them still does…something for him, so he doesn’t look away. And they pay him absolutely no attention as Zichen falls to his knees and takes Xingchen’s cock into his mouth. He takes his fucking time sinking down over it, Xingchen clearly trying to keep himself still. Trying not to fuck into Zichen’s mouth. But it doesn’t take long until he breaks and starts to move, immediately hitting his stride.

They’ve clearly done this many times before. Enough that Xingchen knows exactly how far he can thrust, how fast, how much Zichen can take without gagging.

It’s impressive because it’s pretty much the whole length. Zichen braces his hands on Xingchen’s ass as he—Xue Yang gets up and moves to the other foot of the bed to see and yup—Zichen’s not just kneading Xingchen’s butt cheeks but he’s easing them apart, running one finger along the cleft.

“Please, Zichen.” Xingchen’s voice is broken, cracked. “Please, baby. Please.”

Xue Yang has never wanted human anatomy more than he does now. That begging goes right through him. He wishes he could touch himself to it, jack himself to it, could—

“I’ve got you sweetheart.” Xue Yang has never heard Zichen sound so tender, not even when he lets himself go soft around Xue Yang. He turns Xingchen, pulling his cheeks apart, and then—Xue Yang has to move again to see what Zichen’s doing.

Yes. That filthy motherfucker is eating Xingchen out. Xue Yang can’t see clearly from this angle but he knows exactly what it sounds like. Zichen moaning, his face buried between Xingchen’s ass cheeks, the lewd, wet noise as he tongues at him, Xingchen’s broken open cries. He flings out a hand, bracing himself against the wall as his knees give a bit, as he leans forward to give Zichen better access.

“Fuck. Zichen.” Xingchen legs are shaking so much it looks like the only thing holding him up is his hand and Zichen. “That’s good, so good, so—”

“Don’t you dare.” Zichen pulls back to speak, and Xue Yang can see he’s replaced his tongue with a single finger. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

“Can we move to the bed then? My legs are too shaky.”

Zichen bolts up. “Of course.” He scoops Xingchen up, as if he weighs nothing. “I have no preference for where I take you apart.”

Xingchen giggles, even when Zichen flings him on the bed. Xue Yang darts out of the way, but once they’re positioned—Xingchen, completely naked now, on his belly in the center of the bed, his head on a pillow, his ass in the air, with Zichen—also naked—kneeling between his legs—Xue Yang maneuvers himself into a prime viewing position. Zichen notices, and is clearly deciding whether he’s going to toss Xue Yang out or not.

He opts for yes, rising from the bed, but Xue Yang leaps underneath. Taking a chance that pays off because Zichen doesn’t take the time to chase him out. And doesn’t seem to notice when Xue Yang re-emerges, to see Xingchen, face down, ass up, as Zichen licks over and into him like it’s his only job in the world.

Xue Yang perches at one side of the bed just as Zichen, who clearly paused to get lube, starts slicking his fingers and slowly drives one in alongside his tongue. And then just uses his finger, fucking into Xingchen while he teases over his rim. Delves deeper, Xingchen angling his hips up so Zichen can lick at his balls. He doesn’t even notice how close Xue Yang is. How much he can see.  It’s like watching porn, only so much more intimate—

“More. Zichen, please. More.” The plea is muffled, pressed into the pillow. Zichen adds a second finger—and increases his pace. Xue Yang has a vague sense of how this would feel, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

He wants his old body back. Wishes for it, harder than he’s ever wished for anything in his life. Prays to any god who might listen. And even to those who won’t.

When he looks again, Zichen’s added a third finger and Xingchen’s hips are bucking, incoherent pleas spilling from his mouth into the pillow.

“No,” Zichen says, answering some question Xue Yang missed. “If you want to come, it’ll have to be on my fingers alone.”

Xingchen whines, high and long and desperate. He moves even more, fucking himself into Zichen’s fingers, and when Xue Yang changes the angle of his vision—

Yup. Xingchen is thrusting into nothing but air, so obviously desperate for any kind of friction that Xue Yang wishes he could help him out. He can’t; can only watch as he keens and moves faster—

“Now,” Zichen orders, his fingers closing over Xingchen’s cock. “Come now.” And damn if Xingchen doesn't come on command, his entire body shuddering, his thighs trembling, an almost inhuman sound seemingly wrenched from his throat.

Xue Yang has never wanted to be himself more in his fucking life.

#

Xue Yang gets his wish two days later. Sometime when he’s napping on the couch while Xingchen and Zichen are at work.

Does he know what they do? No. Does he give a fuck? Also no.

He twitches a paw when he hears the deadbolt turn, but doesn’t bother to crack open an eye. Until he hears a strange noise somewhere between a squeal and a screech. He opens his eyes to see Xingchen standing there in apparent shock, a grocery bag wobbling at his feet, Song Lan strongly resembling the snow-white wall behind him.

“What’s your problem? You look like you saw—” Wait.

Wait.

Is he saying this shit out loud? He looks down and—yup, it’s his body all right. And he’s naked. Oops.

“Hey, you wanna get me something to wear?” he asks. Zichen’s the first to recover so he turns and heads to the bedroom. “If you bring me one of your shirts, it’ll cover everything!”

“You—you’re—Vardy?” Poor Xingchen looks like his one good braincell went offline. He opens and closes his pretty mouth a couple more times, rooted to the spot.

“I’m am not Vardy, and for the record, Xingchen, that is a terrible name for a cat. Or anything, really.”

“It’s the last name of my favorite football player,” Xingchen mutters, but he doesn’t seem to realize he even spoke. His eyes are still fixed on Xue Yang, not even blinking. For once, he’d win a staring contest between them.

Zichen comes back in, red-faced, looking everywhere but at Xue Yang. He hands him one of the t-shirts he only wears around the house and it’s probably a bit big for him because when Xue Yang puts it on, the hem nearly reaches his knees. He’s also handed him a pair of boxers but those have to be Xingchen’s. Only he can’t wear them because—he shows Zichen why, curling his very nice long tail up over his back with a smirk.

“I doubt you want me cutting a hole in anything this expensive.” He tosses them back and Zichen turns even redder when he catches them.

“Who are you?” Xingchen blurts, too loud. Guess he’s recovered. “How did—why did—why were you a cat?”

“Hooboy. Okay.” He points to himself. “Xue Yang. Not Vardy. I got turned into a cat when I—actually that part’s not important.”

“Not important,” Zichen echoes, narrowing his eyes. “You were transformed into a cat and the how and why isn’t important.”

“Nope.” Xue Yang dares Zichen to push him. When he doesn’t, “Even though you didn’t ask, I am like this normally. This isn’t some weird aftereffect or anything.”

Xingchen finally looks at him, really looks at him, taking in the ears and the tail and—the paws. Well, not paws exactly. But not human hands, either. He has opposable thumbs, thank fuck, but his fingers are shorter and rounder than humans’. And instead of a palm, he has pads. His feet are like that too, only bigger, so he can actually walk.

And he has very sharp claws.

Zichen looks like he’s gonna say something more but he doesn’t; he just turns and leaves the room again.

“How much of you is cat? Exactly?” Xingchen goes a bit pink when he asks, which makes Xue Yang laugh. Xingchen should be remembering that Xue Yang saw him getting railed by Zichen the last two nights if he really wants to be embarrassed. But instead of bringing that up, he just smiles and stands and walks toward him. Lets his smile widen, showing off his nice, sharp canines, which he flicks with his tongue. When he’s only about a foot away he pauses, but Xingchen doesn’t recoil or step back, so Xue Yang gets closer. He’s now right in Xingchen’s personal space, able to hear his breathing get faster, able to see the pulse in his throat bounding.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” Xue Yang says, making his voice just a bit sultry. He watches until—there it is. Xingchen’s flush spreads down his neck, his pupils blowing wide. Xue Yang brings his mouth to that racing pulse, giving the skin just a tiny lick with his rough, raspy tongue.

Xingchen gasps. And again when Xue Yang extends his claw and scratches lightly at the exposed bit of his collarbone.

“I won’t hurt you, Xingchen, unless you ask me to.”

Xingchen’s eyes slam shut on a moan. Just as Xue Yang feels a not-at-all gentle tap on his shoulder. He whirls to see Zichen, looking—not pissed, exactly. But not pleased.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a bunch of black material at Xue Yang. When he shakes it out, it’s a pair of what are clearly Xingchen’s gym shorts, with a hole cut out in the back. Xue Yang winks at him before he turns his back on them both to put them on. And instead of turning around again, he heads back to the couch and plops down.

“I guess we need to have a little chitchat about where we go from here,” he says, cocking his head. Xingchen and Zichen come in, Xingchen sitting in the antique chair across from him, Zichen standing over him like an avenging angel. Xingchen still looks a bit dazed but also a bit horny and Xue Yang can’t help but give him his most “fuck me” smile. Zichen glares at him, but somehow doesn’t look completely disinterested.

Huh.

“Well, I guess you’ll go back to—wherever you came from,” Zichen says. “Do you have a home?”

Xue Yang shrugs. “Yeah, I have a studio not far from here.” He leans back, tucking his paws behind his head. “Well, actually it’s a…friend’s place. I was mooching off him for the last couple of months before—he was probably happy to be rid of me, to be honest.” Oops, that was a bit more real than he meant to get. “I mean, I’m not helpless. I can just find another—”

“You can stay here,” Xingchen interrupts. “I mean, you’ve been staying here for the last two weeks and,” he bites his lip. “It was nice.”

“Because he was a cat, Xingchen,” Zichen points out. “It’ll be different with a human.”

“He’s not completely human, though, is he? And we accepted a responsibility when we took him in. We can’t just toss him into the street because he didn’t meet our expectations.”

“Not meet our expectations? He’s a person, Xingchen, not a naughty pet who scratched up the furniture.”

“I could scratch up your furniture, if that’s what you’re into.” Xue Yang crosses one leg over his knee. And that’s more effective than pointing out they’re talking about him like he’s not even in the room. Both of them look a bit sheepish.

“Do you want to stay here?” Zichen asks, and Xue Yang can’t tell what Zichen wants the answer to be. Based on the side he took, he wants to say Zichen’s firmly on Team No, but there’s something in his expression—

“Well,” he drawls, uncrossing his leg, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, licking his canine once more. “I do already have a chip with your address on it.” He lets the smile drop, staring Zichen in the eye. “But I don’t want to stay where I’m not wanted.”

An entire battle plays out on Zichen’s face before he turns to Xingchen. “Bedroom. Now.”

“What, are you guys gonna fuck?” Xue Yang laughs at the scandalized expressions on both their faces. “Can I at least join you this time?”

Xingchen’s jaw drops. Zichen looks like he’s contemplating homicide. “You—you saw us?” Xingchen’s voice is high and thin. But even now, he doesn’t look pissed, he looks—intrigued.

“Well, you didn’t lock Vardy out, did you? And cats tend to be…curious.”

Zichen takes a step toward him and Xue Yang bolts up from the couch, putting some space between them, holding up his paws. With his claws retracted to show he’s not looking for a fight.

“Look, it was hot. Hotter than any porn I’ve ever seen. You two, God. So gorgeous. I would be the happiest cat on the block if I could get in on that.” Might as well be honest. What’s the worst that could happen? They kick him out? Zichen roughs him up a bit first? A lot?

He could try. Xue Yang’s scrappier than he looks.

Xue Yang lets his tail swish back and forth. Slowly, sinuously, showing he’s not a threat. That he doesn’t think of Zichen as a threat. He grins again, then brings one paw up and runs his tongue over it, shifting his gaze from Zichen to Xingchen, watching his lips part, his eyes going a bit glassy again.

Zichen turns and grabs Xingchen by the elbow, towing him away. “We need to talk about a few things. You stay here.”

Xue Yang plunks himself back down on the couch, lifting his legs up onto it, then curling up like he’s gonna nap. “Wake me when you’ve decided what to do with me.” He yawns and shuts his eyes. Hears them leave. And only once they’re gone does he actually let himself hope that he might finally find a place where he’s wanted.

#

“Xingchen, he’s a person, not a cat. We can’t just keep him.”

“But he said he wanted to stay. We’re not forcing him.” Xingchen gives Song Lan the smile. The one he knows will get him his way. Song Lan has never been able to say no to that smile. He doesn’t know how anyone else can.

“We don’t have an extra bedroom.”

“He can sleep on the couch.” Xingchen drapes himself over Song Lan, kissing the side of his neck. “Or, our bed is big enough.” He kisses Song Lan’s neck again, open-mouthed this time, sucking at the sensitive skin. “It’s not like we haven’t had a third before. And you do like to watch me go down on others.” He runs his hands down Song Lan’s spine.

He’s not playing fair and he knows it.

“You just want to fuck him,” Song Lan growls. Like he doesn’t. Even though it makes him uncomfortable that the creature—person, napping on their couch right now, who was their pet—is hot. Their housecat is hot and that’s the thought that keeps screaming through Song Lan’s head and it makes him feel dirty and not exactly in a good way.

“And you don’t?” Xingchen pulls back. “I saw how you looked at him. You think I don’t know that look by now?”

“But we can’t.” Song Lan tries to keep his voice even but he fails. “He’s our pet, Xingchen. Was our pet, whatever. You know how messed up this is?”

“So, he’s not our pet anymore. He’s our roommate. Who just happens to be part cat. We’ll make him pay rent and contribute to the groceries, how’s that?”

Song Lan gives Xingchen his own look. Of exasperation. “You really think catboy out there has a job? He said himself that he was staying at that friend’s place for free.”

“So we’ll have him help out around the house. I’m sure even catboys can manage to load the dishwasher and do laundry.” And then Xingchen bites his lip and—oh fuck. He’s fighting back tears.

Fuck.

“What? You want him to stay that bad?”

Xingchen’s mouth tightens and he blinks a couple of times. “I don’t—I don’t think he has anyone else, Zichen. I think he really is a stray. We could take care of him.”

Fuck.

“Fuck. Fine.” Xingchen flings his arms around him. “He can stay. On the couch. And no, he’s not allowed to watch us have sex anymore.”

Xingchen pulls away, giving Song Lan a kiss. “Whatever you say, Zichen.” Then he laughs, pulling out his phone as he opens the bedroom door to tell Xue Yang their decision. “I have an appointment to cancel.”

“Which one?”

Xingchen laughs harder. “The one to get him fixed.”

Song Lan’s mouth twitches. And he tries to hold back his own laughter, but he can’t. He chuckles as he follows Xingchen back to the living room. And when he sees Xue Yang, not actually napping but watching some weird nature documentary on Netflix, he laughs even harder.

Xue Yang glances up. “What’s so funny? I didn’t even think you knew how to laugh, Zichen.”

Song Lan shakes his head, heading into the kitchen. He doesn’t know if catboys drink but he sure as hell needs one.

#

Xue Yang jumps up when he hears the deadbolt turn. Heads over to greet Xingchen and—just Xingchen. He’s carrying the usual takeout bag—it’s Taco Tuesday, after all. But he and Zichen always get home together because Zichen always picks Xingchen up once he’s done—whatever it is he does for a living. He told Xue Yang but he didn’t care enough to remember.

He thinks he’s some sort of accountant. Xingchen works for a non-profit that helps immigrants get their citizenship. Because of course he fucking does.

“Where’s Grumpy Fucker?” Xue Yang asks, snatching at the bag. He’s not a total slob, though, so he takes a detour through the kitchen to grab a couple of plates. And they could sit at the table—Xue Yang’s cat bed is stored with the rest of the stuff in a closet—but he just takes the stuff to the coffee table, plopping down on the couch before he starts unloading the food.

“Xue Yang, I’ve asked you before not to call him that.”

“To his face.” Xue Yang glances up but he already knows he’s going to get Disappointed Xingchen Face. “Fine, fine. Where’s Zichen, then?”

“He said he needed to pick something up, but knew you’d be waiting for us so he sent me home first.” Xingchen joins him on the couch, picking up one of the spicy fish tacos and feeding it to Xue Yang, his hand cradling underneath to catch anything. Then he takes a bite and a tiny bit of the sauce gets on the side of his mouth and without thinking, Xue Yang leans forward and licks it off.

Xingchen makes a noise that should be against the fucking law. “Your tongue, it’s just so—rough.” And just like that, the taco’s forgotten and they’re kissing and Xue Yang is as gentle as he can be, but Xingchen’s tongue is just so smooth. They’re both breathless when they break apart, and Xingchen already looks a bit wrecked around the edges. Like how he looks when he’s making out with Zichen.

So Xue Yang knows just what to say to him. He hasn’t had a chance to fuck either of them yet—or even watch anymore, because Zichen always gives him that Grumpy Fucker look when they go to bed. And then pointedly closes the door. But they’re not exactly quiet, and if he touched himself a couple of times—okay just about every time—that’s just between him and his well-lubed paw.

Xue Yang leans into him, licking at his neck with his tongue until he moans. “God, you’re such a slut, Xingchen.” Xingchen makes that crime of a noise again, angling his throat and Xue Yang gives him what he clearly wants. He scrapes his teeth against where he can feel his pulse racing, where he could see it if he pulled back. Bites just hard enough to make the skin sensitive, then scrapes his tongue over it again.

“Oh my god.” Xingchen melts into him. “Do that again. Please.” Who’s Xue Yang to refuse? He does it again, and then he does move back to admire his handiwork. Xingchen’s normally pale skin is red and a bit raw, but he doesn’t seem to care. He turns and surges into Xue Yang, kissing him greedily. Hungrily. Like he’ll never get enough.

And then his hand comes up to stroke at Xue Yang’s collarbone, hanging out of one of Zichen’s old shirts. He digs his nails in and it’s not really sharp enough but it’s fucking Hot Boyfriend doing it so it’s enough. Xue Yang growls a bit, unbuttoning Xingchen’s shirt so he can scrape his claws against his clavicle. That move earns him a sharp gasp, and Xingchen gets more urgent with his kisses. Messier.

Xue Yang undoes the rest of the buttons, untucking his Xingchen’s shirt from his pants, and then he breaks off to kiss the corner of his mouth again, then the space where his jaw angles back, down that side of his neck, marking the skin with his tongue as he works down to where it meets his shoulder. Continues down, sucking at the hollow behind that collarbone and down his chest until he manages to capture a nipple, drawing it into his mouth.

Xingchen is making the lewdest noises the whole time, each one going straight to Xue Yang’s dick which is straining against his borrowed sweats.

He needs to remember to go to his old place and pick up his goddamned stuff. Especially the custom-made cover he has because—his dick is anatomically correct, for a cat.

Which means the head is covered in small but sharp barbs, and yeah there’s some people who are into that kind of pain, but there are a lot more who aren’t and Xue Yang isn’t really sure which type Xingchen is and—

The front door opens and Xingchen flies away. Not that Zichen wouldn’t take one look at him and know exactly what was going on. He’s flushed and his mouth is dark and kiss-swollen and his pupils are fucking huge.

And his shirt is only half on, with a very distinct bulge in his pants.

For his part, Zichen doesn’t look exactly surprised when he walks in, although he does look a bit displeased. “Xingchen, you started without me.”

Wait, what? He’s not pissed? If he didn’t walk in when he did, who knows what would have happened? Xue Yang could have been sucking him off—or the other way around.

Xingchen could’ve learned how to avoid the barbs.

Zichen lifts his hand, a small gift bag dangling from it. “Perhaps one of you would like to do the honors.” Xingchen bolts up, leaning into Zichen for a slow, deep kiss as he takes the bag. Zichen’s hand comes around to Xingchen’s lower back before it drifts lower, cupping his ass.

“Zichen, if you’re gonna go there, at least take his pants off,” Xue Yang says, just to get one of them to pay attention to him. And it works. Zichen breaks the kiss, giving Xue Yang a look over Xingchen’s shoulder as he peels Xingchen’s shirt over his shoulders. Then must unbutton his pants because he pulls those down, too. He helps Xingchen step out of them, then turns him and gently shoves him in the direction of the couch. Whispers something in his ear Xue Yang can’t hear, but judging by the expression on Xingchen’s face, he can guess is pretty r-rated.

Xingchen makes his way over, pulling out whatever’s in that bag on the way. And Xue Yang can’t tell by the box because it’s generic. Xingchen perches next to him and opens it up and—

It’s a box of condoms—only different. He can see though the clear packaging that the tip is thicker, meant to not rip—no, it’s silicone. With more flexible barbs on the outside. The rest looks normal from where it’s rolled up.

Xue Yang looks up. “Where’d you get these?”

“I had them made.”

“But how did you—”

Zichen gives him one of his Grumpy Fucker looks. “I did some research. And—”

And fuck if he doesn’t blush. Because he’s absolutely been checking Xue Yang out. Which is hot because Xue Yang didn’t notice and didn’t even think Zichen was really interested—

“Fuck.” He can’t get his shirt off fast enough before he leans back, pulling down his pants. And no, he didn’t fucking bother with underwear today, thank you very much.

Xingchen kneels in front of him, then reaches back, sliding open a hidden drawer Xue Yang didn’t even know about, pulling out a small bottle of lube. He slicks the inside of the condom, then fits it over Xue Yang’s now very hard dick. Adds more lube, giving the whole get-up a few experimental strokes, which makes Xue Yang fall back, sinking into the cushions with a moan.

And then Xingchen takes him into his mouth.

“Fuck.” This thing is so much better than what he has because it doesn’t take away nearly as much sensitivity. And goddamn if Xingchen isn’t a fucking pro at giving head. He’s practically humming as he goes deeper, fucking dragging his mouth back up. Then he does this thing with his tongue, and—

Fuck.” Xue Yang falls back, going boneless. Only to have Zichen suddenly beside him.

“He’s good at this, isn’t he?” His voice is so low and quiet in Xue Yang’s ear. And then Zichen, the absolute fucker, tickles the tiny hairs right in front of Xue Yang’s ear, making it twitch.

Before Xue Yang can tell him to go fuck himself, he scratches behind it, right at the base. Xue Yang makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a growl and falls into him, rubbing his cheek against Zichen’s shoulder. Zichen chuckles at bit, but continues to pet there before moving on to the other ear. Meanwhile, Xingchen reaches back to fondle Xue Yang’s balls as he does that motherfucking tongue thing again—until he suddenly pulls off.

“Oh, Zichen,” he says. “They have fur!”

That pulls Xue Yang out of his sex daze. More or less. “What did you expect? I’m not letting any manscaper near those bad boys.”

Xingchen giggles. Then peers closer. “Oh, that’s adorable! Your treasure trail’s fur too!”

“It’s not adorable,” Xue Yang grumbles. “It’s—

He’s cut off, because Xingchen starts fucking petting it and he’d swat him away if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Instead, he makes this low sound that sounds a lot like purring and fuck if Zichen doesn’t start rubbing his ears again and goddamn it—

“You know what else he’s good at?” Zichen murmurs as he digs in his fingers. “You didn’t see when you were a cat, but he’s very very good at fucking.” He nips at Xue Yang’s exposed neck. “Would you like to find out just how good?”

“God.” Xue Yang can’t even think right now. Between the ears and Xingchen continuing to pet him as his sinks his mouth over his cock again, he’s barely coherent. And when Zichen starts sucking at his throat hard enough to leave marks, reaching back to stroke his tail—

“Motherfucker.” He’s out of his damn mind. It’s all he can do not to come, and that’s only because he wants Xingchen to fuck him. “Goddamn it, please.” He manages to sit up, prying his eyes open. Everything is hazy; he feels drunk but it’s just because he’s so fucking horny. “Xingchen—”

“He’s not the one you need to ask,” Zichen breathes into his ear. “So, tell me, sweetheart, how badly do you want him to fuck you?”

“You want me to beg?” A small part of Xue Yang pushes back. “I don’t do that.”

“Oh, darling, you do now.” He’s not playing fucking fair because he strokes Xue Yang’s cheek even as he continues to leave little love bites all along his neck. And Xue Yang would totally scratch him but he’s helplessly clenching and unclenching his paws. Into thin air until he moves one over Zichen’s thigh.

He makes sure not to dig in enough to hurt, just grazing over his still-clothed leg, not even shredding the fabric. “Fuck. Fine. Please.” He’s trying not to but he’s rutting into Xingchen’s mouth. “Let him fuck me. Please. Zichen.” He hates how his voice sounds when he says his name.

Like Zichen has his fucking number.

“Hmm, what do you think, Xingchen? Should I let you fuck him?”

Xingchen comes off, and Xue Yang can’t stop staring at his mouth. “Yes. He’s being so good for us, isn’t he Zichen?”

“I suppose.” Xue Yang hates how he reacts to that hint of reticence. How much he wants to be good for both of them. He’s never been in this position—he’s usually the one in charge and surrender is hard. But the very idea of beautiful Xingchen fucking into him—

“Fuck. Please. Before I lose my fucking mind.”

Xingchen chuckles. “We don’t want that, do we Zichen? Nothing worse than a sex-crazed catboy.”

“I don’t know,” Zichen muses, sucking Xue Yang’s collarbone as one hand drifts to his waist, then along his ribcage until he reaches one nipple and he’s so fucking gentle with his fingertips—

Xue Yang whines and arches his back chasing the touch. Zichen, the absolute motherfucker, goes even gentler, barely brushing his skin. “You two are fucking awful. This is animal abuse, I’m gonna report you to PETA—”

“Shhh.” One of them presses a finger to his lips only he’s not sure which one because his eyes are closed again. He doesn’t fucking care, just opens his mouth and sucks that finger like his life depends on it. There’s a moan before another finger joins it and—

It’s Xingchen, he’s the one fucking Xue Yang’s mouth with his fingers. Zichen’s body heat vanishes but a moment later there’s a slicked finger at his ass and it just teases there for a bit.

Xue Yang’s going to fucking die. These two are the absolute worst.

“God, I hate you both.” And funnily that works. Zichen’s finger breaches him—and he knows it’s him because Xingchen has way more slender hands—and it burns in the most delicious way and he just splays his legs open, scooting himself right to the edge of the couch, not able to stop the rocking of his hips, going to fucking town on Xingchen’s fingers in his mouth.

He’s making the most obscene moans, putting what he heard Xingchen do to shame, but he doesn’t fucking care. He loses himself in it, sucking Xingchen’s fingers like he wants Zichen to fuck into him.

And then he gets his wish.

He’s rocking against those fingers, practically fucking himself on them, mewling around the ones in his mouth. This feels so goddamned good and if he lets himself go—

No. He doesn’t want to come like this.

He forces himself to still his body. To pull Xingchen’s fingers out of his mouth, dragging the pads against his tongue one last time. “Fuck. Xingchen. Fuck me. I’m fucking ready.” He’s not even sure if it’s true. But he doesn’t care. It can hurt six ways to Sunday and he still fucking wants it.

“Zichen?” Xingchen’s voice is soft, deferential.

“Yes.” One stupid word but Xue Yang feels himself unravel at it. Every part of his body goes loose. So he lets the two of them manhandle him off the couch and onto the floor—someone must have pushed the coffee table aside. He lets one of them push up his hips, placing a pillow there. Lets one of them push their fingers back inside, spreading them to open him further, curling against that one spot each fucking time on the way out—

He’s going to fucking explode. If Xingchen doesn’t fuck into him soon he’ll come untouched anyway and then they’ll—

There it is. The unmistakable blunt pressure of Xingchen’s cock, nudging him.

Just as another hand closes over his cock, then slips away.

“Not until I say you can.” Zichen breathes into his ear. “If you come before I tell you to, you will be punished and you will not like it.”

Fuck.” Xue Yang doesn’t even get to think too much about that threat before Xingchen is pushing into him and it’s so fucking good. There’s just the hint of a burn but it’s so welcome—and his head is lifted and settled into a lap and he turns his head to nuzzle at the now-naked cock there just as two much larger fingers part his lips.

He fucks those fingers exactly as he’s being taken apart, his body moving all on its own. His mind has gone offline, and he just lets his body take over, and fuck if this isn’t just so so good—

“Not yet.” Zichen kisses his forehead. Then pushes his fingers past his soft palate just as Xingchen starts slamming into him. It’s like they share a brain and Xue Yang is powerless under the onslaught. It’s by sheer force of will that he doesn’t come completely untouched, his tail coming around to curl around Zichen’s cock now pressing into his lower spine—

“You play dirty,” Zichen says, on a huff of laugh that ends with a small gasp.

Xue Yang pulls Zichen’s fingers out to speak.

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” Finally he has some leverage. He winds his tail around Zichen’s cock in a coil, contracting each part in succession. Relishing in the forced-out moan he hears.

Take that, asshole.

Only Xingchen slows down, drawing everything out. And then he starts trailing his fingers over Xue Yang’s fur again, alternating that with feather-light strokes to his cock—

“Not yet.” Zichen’s soft voice is overwhelming in its denial. “Soon. So soon. Open your eyes.”

Xue Yang does.

“Watch Xingchen as he fucks you. How he slows down. He wants to come so badly but I didn’t say he can. So here’s the choice I’m giving you. Which one of you gets to go first?”

“Him.” Xue Yang doesn’t even hesitate. Xingchen’s beautiful, the diminishing light of the setting sun through the balcony casting an otherworldly glow over him, reflecting the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s biting his lip and Xue Yang wants, more than anything, to be doing the biting—

“Xingchen. Now.” And fuck if Xingchen doesn’t thrust deep and hard once and shudders as he orgasms, continuing to fuck Xue Yang through the tremors. It very nearly pushes Xue Yang over the edge only Zichen hasn’t said he could—

“Not yet.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” Xue Yang whines. He’s dying. Everything feels hot and tight and stretched too thin.

And then Zichen’s weight vanishes, and Xue Yang would grouse about it until he realizes Zichen has replaced Xingchen, pushing his considerably larger cock into him, all the way in.

Xue Yang opens further, his legs falling completely open. And it only takes a couple stokes form Zichen before he’s coming, completely untouched, without a single command, harder than he has in his entire fucking life—

He has no idea how long it takes to come back online. When he does, he’s laying in one lap while another body is curled into his. “You’re the fucking worst,” he says rubbing his cheek against Zichen’s thigh with his cheek.

“Get used to it,” Zichen says, without a single shred of remorse.

And Xue Yang hears the unspoken implication. That they intend to let him stick around. That they want him to stay.

That they want him.

He’ll deal with how much that means later. For now, he’s content enough to make himself at home in Zichen’s lap while Xingchen moves over to press little teasing kisses over his chest, making his way up to his throat and then over his mouth. He’s too spent to do more than allow it, feeling Xingchen smile against his skin.

And if Xingchen reaches one hand to lazily stroke at the fur of his ears, making the cutest contented sound as he does—

Xue Yang will never confess that he echoes the same amount of satisfaction in his heart. In his bones. In the very center of him.

He’ll never tell them how good it feels to be home.