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The first time it happens, Wei Ying is leaning over the sink in Lan Zhan’s bathroom, wearing nothing but the top half of one of Lan Zhan’s button-up silk pajama sets, and is pouting at his reflection in the mirror.

His face is flushed and messy from crying, and his cheek is tender and hot where he’d asked Lan Zhan to slap him. His lips are red and swollen, and viciously bruised in one spot. In short, he looks like he’s been thoroughly fucked.

Wei Ying bites back the smile tugging at his lips when he sees Lan Zhan step into the frame of the mirror behind him, silk pajama pants riding low on his hips, chest bare. There are faint scratches along his biceps, where Wei Ying had frantically dug his fingers in. The stylish and neat cut of his hair is mussed up, giving the impression of fingers raking through it roughly. All in all, the image of Lan Zhan in this state is impossibly sexy.

Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying pouts, keeping his expression carefully serious. “Look what you’ve done to me. Look at my face!”

Lan Zhan slides up behind Wei Ying and smirks. He presses his big, warm body against the back of Wei Ying’s and settles one of his big, warm hands on Wei Ying’s waist, rubbing his fingers along Wei Ying’s sensitive hipbone. His smirk only grows when Wei Ying shivers in response.

“Lan Zhan, don’t distract me! Look at my face. Look at what you did to me! My lip is bleeding. Everyone will look at me tomorrow and know I was ravaged...” Wei Ying laments, putting on his best distressed face.

Lan Zhan hums in response.

“I’m looking,” he whispers, nuzzling his face into Wei Ying’s loose hair as his fingers continue to stroke at Wei Ying’s hip through the soft silk of his pajama top. It’s loose enough on Wei Ying that it falls to his upper thighs, just barely covering him where it counts.

Wei Ying sucks at his bruised lip, attempting to muffle the whimper that’s caught in his throat at the sensation of Lan Zhan’s firm grasp on him, his big, talented fingers relentlessly stroking such a sensitive area.

It isn’t until Lan Zhan halts his ministrations, letting his hand drift up Wei Ying’s side to squeeze at his waist, that Wei Ying whimpers audibly, a familiar docile feeling blanketing his mind.

Lan Zhan huffs a small laugh into Wei Ying’s hair. In the mirror, he gazes at Wei Ying with a fond expression as he brings his hands to gather up Wei Ying’s long, loose hair, carding his fingers through it and gathering it at the base of his neck.

“Wash your face, Wei Ying,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against the sensitive skin behind Wei Ying’s ear.

Wei Ying swallows, nodding mindlessly in response. In the mirror, his reflection looks dazed.

Lan Zhan twists his hair up to bare his neck, and holds it there gently but firmly as Wei Ying washes his face and applies toner and moisturizer. Lan Zhan’s thumb traces along the edge of Wei Ying’s hairline, making him shiver, before dropping down to caress the tender, freshly bitten skin along his nape.

As Wei Ying is twisting the lid back on his moisturizer, Lan Zhan dips his face down and presses his lips tenderly against the sore, wounded skin. He glances up and pins Wei Ying with a piercing gaze in the mirror. “Such a pretty omega,” he whispers, breathing softly against Wei Ying’s neck.

What.

Wei Ying’s mouth falls open in shock. His eyes are wide and he is gaping, literally gaping, at Lan Zhan in the mirror.

“What… what did you just call me?” His voice feels small and far away.

Lan Zhan smirks and presses another gentle kiss against the stinging bite mark on his neck. “Pretty,” he whispers, as one of his hands creeps down to caress Wei Ying’s hip once more. “My beautiful omega.”

Wei Ying swallows roughly, feeling rather frozen.

He can’t… how did he… why did he… where did that even come from. Wei Ying’s mind is frantically running through the possibilities, when it dawns on him.

“You… you did read over my shoulder the other day. Oh my god! Lan Zhan, I’m going to kill you!” Wei Ying gasps, heat creeping up in his face and down his neck. “You are… so ridiculous! That was just… just, fanfiction, you know, something random, it wasn’t… I didn’t…”

But Lan Zhan only smirks at him, kissing along his neck and nuzzling against his hair, as though he’s enjoying Wei Ying’s reaction.

“Lan Zhan! You are being so mean to me right now, I can’t believe you.” Wei Ying pouts, trying to distract from the embarrassed flush that’s deepening on his skin, the fragile, prickly feeling in his chest.

“I’m not being mean.” Lan Zhan says it like a promise, soft and steady and sincere. His big, warm hand tightens its grasp on Wei Ying’s hip. “Wei Ying is mine. My omega. Are you not?”

Wei Ying swallows, searching Lan Zhan’s expression in the mirror. “I’m yours,” he whispers. “I’m yours, but I’m not… I’m not… that didn’t mean anything, it was just…”

It’s true, it hadn’t meant anything. Wei Ying has read a lot of fanfiction, mostly out of curiosity, but it’s never meant anything. He’s never considered it meaning anything. Not like this.

But Lan Zhan is unrelenting. He smiles at Wei Ying, soft and fond, and rubs little soothing circles against Wei Ying’s back with his thumb. “You’re not what, Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying whines, soft and sweet, and drops his gaze, unwilling to entertain this further. But Lan Zhan kisses his neck again, and strokes at his hair, still twisted up against the back of Wei Ying’s head, held in place by his fist.

“You’re not my omega?” he whispers, tightening his grasp on Wei Ying’s hair, directing Wei Ying to look up and meet his gaze in the mirror. “But you submit to me like you’re my omega.”

Oh.

Wei Ying’s eyes widen in shock. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, frantic and rabbit-quick.

“You get wet for me like you’re my omega.” Lan Zhan whispers, and trails his fingers along Wei Ying’s waist, stirring up a dizzying warmth between his legs.

Lan Zhan presses his lips once more against the back of Wei Ying’s neck, and lightly digs his teeth into the fresh bite mark there. Wei Ying seizes up in his arms and makes a startled, choked noise in response.

After a moment of holding this position, Lan Zhan pulls back and presses a soothing kiss to the wound. He guides Wei Ying’s head to the side, letting his gaze fall consideringly to the nape of Wei Ying’s neck.

“You’re marked up like you’re my omega.” He observes, his expression serious, like he’s giving real thought to this. “Like you belong to me.” He strokes his thumb along the bite mark once more, and Wei Ying keens, feeling as if he is melting into Lan Zhan’s arms.

Lan Zhan lowers his voice and whispers against his ear, “Like you were made to take my cock.”

Wei Ying whimpers like he’s in agony, like he’s in pain. If not for the sink in front of him, the warmth of Lan Zhan’s body pressed against his, he is certain he would slump to the ground.

Lan Zhan slides his hand up Wei Ying’s side, feeling up his chest through the silk of his pajamas, tracing his neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He gently strokes his fingertips along Wei Ying’s jaw, traces the contours of Wei Ying’s sensitive, abused lips. “So pretty, baby.”

Wei Ying’s lips part easily as Lan Zhan’s fingers press against them, as Lan Zhan pushes two of them into his mouth to trace the edges of his teeth, to press down on his tongue. This is familiar, comfortable yet incredibly heady. Wei Ying moans wetly around Lan Zhan’s fingers, watching in the mirror as his eyes flutter to half-mast and Lan Zhan slowly fucks his fingers into his mouth, slick and messy.

“My pretty baby. So beautiful, made to take my cock.”

Wei Ying nods blissfully, sucking and licking at Lan Zhan’s fingers as Lan Zhan kisses his neck, and then his cheek.

“Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” Lan Zhan whispers, pulling his fingers from Wei Ying’s mouth and bringing his hand, his wet fingers to hold Wei Ying firmly by the throat.

Wei Ying whimpers, swallowing roughly against Lan Zhan’s big, warm hand, the pressure of it wrapped around such a sensitive, vulnerable part of his body. His mind feels dizzy and floaty, and a little fissure of pleasure jolts through him.

Lan Zhan hums and shifts the hand that’s fisted in Wei Ying’s hair, adjusts his grip on Wei Ying’s neck, guiding Wei Ying to turn his head to the side, away from the mirror, and meet his gaze. Wei Ying’s breathing is wet and ragged, his body feels utterly restrained with Lan Zhan holding and maneuvering him in such a manner, like he’s being held in place by a predator. Lan Zhan is strong, his arm feels strong where it’s wrapped around Wei Ying, holding him close against his chest as his wet fingers dig into Wei Ying’s throat.

“Haven’t I deflowered you?” Lan Zhan whispers, pressing his forehead against Wei Ying’s, breathing softly against Wei Ying’s spit-slick, swollen lips. Lan Zhan’s eyes are celestial - dark, deep pools of black eclipsing gold - and his fist tightens in Wei Ying’s hair. “Don’t you belong to me, now that I’ve claimed your pretty body again and again? Ever since I’ve taken your virginity?”

Wei Ying nods softly, transfixed by Lan Zhan’s serious expression, his exhausted body tingling with heady, primal pleasure. “You. I belong to you. Yours.” The words feel thick in his mouth, and he’s almost panting into the warmth of their mingling breath. “Your omega.”

Lan Zhan’s hand loosens in his hair, letting it unfurl and cascade down, and he digs his fingers into the mess of it, cradling Wei Ying’s head and tilting it back as he captures his lips in a firm, gentle kiss.

Wei Ying moans into it, soft and muffled and wet, and lets his mouth fall open slightly, asking, begging for more. Lan Zhan understands immediately and wraps an arm around Wei Ying’s waist, pulling him flush against him, and tightens his hand in Wei Ying’s hair, tugging him into the position he wants as he sucks on his lips and licks into his pliant mouth.

Wei Ying whimpers and whines into it, making soft, pitiful sounds. His mouth is still sticky with traces of cum, and Lan Zhan groans as he seems to realize this, as the musky taste mingles in the sloppy, wet exchange of their spit.

If they hadn’t already gone three rounds, this would be the point where Lan Zhan would hoist Wei Ying up on the counter, or press him up against the wall and hold him there, hike up his silk pajama shirt and force his cock inside the soft, sweet spot he’s claimed, the tender warmth between Wei Ying’s legs.

As it is, Lan Zhan strokes Wei Ying’s back soothingly and tugs his head back further. Wei Ying obediently lets his mouth fall open, and Lan Zhan grabs him by throat, leans forward and gathers his cum-laced saliva, and spits decisively into Wei Ying’s pliant mouth.

Wei Ying shivers and makes a sound like a hurt animal, digging his fingers into Lan Zhan’s shoulder and bicep. The world softens around him, as though he’s floating, adrift in the ocean, anchored only by Lan Zhan’s touch, by the sensation of Lan Zhan tracing his thumb along the edge of Wei Ying’s lip, wiping away the wetness there. He’s floated in and out of this state all night, but now he falls into it fully, deeply, mindless in the exquisite, blissful relief of it.

“So beautiful, baby. So sensitive. So good for me.” Lan Zhan’s voice is soft and soothing. He presses his lips against Wei Ying’s hair, his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. He holds Wei Ying up as he falls against him, helplessly, utterly limp. “So good, Wei Ying. Perfect boy. Pretty omega.”

Lan Zhan lifts Wei Ying up into his arms, and Wei Ying drops his head against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, his breathing coming out in slow, sharp pants. His eyes feel wet and heavy, and he can’t remember how to make his voice work, how to move his fingers, his hands. But he doesn’t need to, he doesn’t need to do anything, because Lan Zhan lays him down in bed, tucks him in amongst fresh, clean sheets, and curls up alongside him, pulling Wei Ying into his arms and caressing his hair as he drifts, gradually coming back to himself, like waves waxing and waning on the shore.

After some time, Wei Ying finds that he can move his fingers, that he can shift his body, that he can use his mouth to make sounds.

Lan Zhan...” Wei Ying tries, and it comes out breathy and slurred.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is smooth and steady and fond. He caresses the side of Wei Ying’s face like he’s touching something precious. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Wei Ying breathes slowly. He can feel a lazy, giddy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good. So good.”

Lan Zhan hums and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you, baby.”

“Mm, Lan Zhan. I love you, too. Love you so much.”

The second time it happens, Wei Ying is on his knees, wrists bound behind his back, gazing up at Lan Zhan with big, innocent eyes while Lan Zhan rubs his hard, leaking cock on Wei Ying’s face.

“Nggh, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, please-”

Lan Zhan breathes sharply out his nose and tightens his grip in Wei Ying’s hair, tilting Wei Ying’s head to the side and slapping his cock against Wei Ying’s wet cheek.

Slut.” Lan Zhan spits out, low and cutting. “You’re so impatient for cock, even tied up like this.”

Wei Ying nods frantically, rubbing his face against Lan Zhan’s cock and whining in frustration when he pulls it away, pulls Wei Ying away by his hair.

“Please, please, I need it-”

Lan Zhan yanks Wei Ying’s head further back and rubs the dripping head of his cock along Wei Ying’s cheek, before resting the heavy length of it across Wei Ying’s face. He likes to do this sometimes, to see how the length of it spans Wei Ying’s face, before he shoves it down Wei Ying’s throat.

“You want this? You need it?”

“Yeah, please, please…” Wei Ying whines as Lan Zhan directs him to rub his face against it. It’s so huge, so heavy, and it makes Wei Ying feel so small.

“It’s too big for you, baby.” Lan Zhan muses as he presses the tip against Wei Ying’s messy lips, smearing them with fresh precum. “You’re such a pretty whore, but you’re too small to take it.”

Wei Ying makes a strangled, frustrated sound, and Lan Zhan releases his hair, bringing his hand to grab Wei Ying by the chin, to thumb at Wei Ying’s bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me, slut.”

Wei Ying obeys instantly, letting his mouth fall open, soft and pliant, as Lan Zhan hooks his index and middle finger inside, tugging at the side of Wei Ying’s mouth and peering inside clinically. Wei Ying moans pathetically and opens his mouth, wide and submissive and desperate.

Lan Zhan hums consideringly and presses two more fingers into Wei Ying’s mouth, sliding them in deep and pressing down on his tongue until Wei Ying is gagging and his eyes are wet. He makes little wet, choked sounds as Lan Zhan spreads his fingers, testing the limits of how far he can stretch his mouth open.

After some consideration, Lan Zhan pulls his wet fingers out and wipes them on Wei Ying’s cheek. His expression is unimpressed.

“Such a tiny mouth.” He remarks, grabbing Wei Ying by the chin once more, tilting his face from side to side assessingly. “But you’re so pretty, baby. Your mouth is so pretty. It would look so good stretched open around my cock.”

“Gege, please…” Wei Ying moans, low and primal, and shifts on the floor, tugging at his restraints. Lan Zhan digs his fingers back into Wei Ying’s hair, holding Wei Ying in place as he slowly strokes his cock above Wei Ying’s face, just inches away. His expression is hard and stern.

“Behave, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying whines in frustration and stills his movements, looking up at Lan Zhan with big, hurt eyes. “Lan Zhan, gege, please, please. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll make you feel so good. Please, gege. I want your cock, I need it, I really need it-!”

“Shhh.”

Wei Ying whimpers as Lan Zhan tugs at his hair once more, humming in consideration as he gazes at Wei Ying’s features. Wei Ying’s face feels wet and sticky with precum and saliva, and he can only imagine what a debauched mess he must look like, kneeling in front of Lan Zhan in this state. The thought makes his cock twitch pathetically.

“Do you really want it, sweetheart?” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and almost patronizing as Wei Ying nods along immediately, not trusting himself to speak through the fog in his mind. “You’re a good boy. So sweet. Let’s see if you can take it. Open your mouth, baby.”

Wei Ying opens his mouth, feeling utterly blissful as Lan Zhan holds his head in place and rubs the tip of his cock along his open lips before finally guiding it inside.

It’s big, so big and wide, and as always, it makes Wei Ying’s mouth feel incredibly full and stretched open from girth alone. He immediately moans around it, letting his eyes fall closed and sucking devoutly the instant the tip is pushed into his mouth.

Lan Zhan holds it there, holds Wei Ying’s head firmly in place with nothing but the leaking head of his cock inside his mouth, like he’s teasing him. Like Wei Ying is truly so small he couldn’t take more than this.

Wei Ying breathes through his nose, sucking steadily and licking at the tip, as he gazes heavily up at Lan Zhan through wet eyelashes, feeling utterly drunk on cock and hungry for more. Lan Zhan watches this with a heavy, unfaltering focus, like he’s transfixed.

“You look so good like this, baby. With your little mouth stuffed full and your face all messy. Pretty little slut. Do you want more? Want me to fuck your face?”

Wei Ying makes a choked, muffled sound and nods immediately, looking up at Lan Zhan with an expression that feels desperate, trying to convey how much he wants - needs - with just his watery eyes.

Lan Zhan inhales sharply and pushes in further, until his cock is filling Wei Ying’s mouth and brushing at the back of his throat.

Wei Ying has long ago trained himself out of a gag reflex when sucking Lan Zhan’s cock. Despite its size, he’s more than capable of properly deepthroating it. But sometimes Lan Zhan likes to tease the back of Wei Ying’s throat with his cock, just enough to see him gag on it and struggle to take it, just enough to work Wei Ying up until he’s in that blissful, mindless state that feels transcendent.

As it is, Wei Ying can already feel the fogginess dampening his mind, the wild, almost primal ecstasy dancing under his skin, the ache to soften and submit, to let himself be easy and used. He lets himself gag on it, lets Lan Zhan control it and choose when to pull back and push forward as Wei Ying looks up at him and makes wet, muffled gurgling sounds, breathes through his nose, forces his spasming body into stillness and softness as involuntary tears begin to stream down his cheeks. The sensation of giving up control like this, of trusting Lan Zhan to push his body to its limits, is agonizing and exquisite, unparalleled pleasure.

“So beautiful.” Lan Zhan breathes out as he pulls Wei Ying off of his cock, leaving a shiny trail of spit connected to Wei Ying’s messy lips. “What do you think, sweetheart? Should I jerk off and cum on your pretty face?”

Wei Ying makes a choked sound as Lan Zhan rubs the head of his cock on his cheek once more, directing the trail of spit to fall there, wet against his skin. “No-! No, Lan Zhan, gege, Lan-er-gege, please, more,” he slurs, feeling rather dizzy as Lan Zhan looks down at him impassively. “Please fuck my face, I can take it, I want it, I need it, all of it, please.”

Lan Zhan looks unimpressed, and Wei Ying feels his cock twitch violently under the weight of his gaze. “Please, please. Lan-er-gege. Daddy. Alpha.”

It comes out almost involuntarily, without a conscious thought. After the first time, when Lan Zhan called him an omega - his omega - Wei Ying has taken to occasionally teasing Lan Zhan. Once and a while, when Lan Zhan is least expecting it, when he’s cooking or reading emails, Wei Ying will press his lips against Lan Zhan’s ear and whisper, “My alpha,” and then pull away, smiling mischievously.

Lan Zhan, of course, has risen to the challenge. He bites at Wei Ying’s neck more often now, like he’s refreshing a claim, and sometimes he’ll trace his fingers over it, or kiss the nape of Wei Ying’s neck unexpectedly. Sometimes, when they’re out in public, Lan Zhan will adjust the collar of Wei Ying’s sweater, or rearrange his scarf, as if he’s covering up the nape of his neck, like it’s something private.

However, these actions have been soft and playful. After the first time, Lan Zhan hasn’t called Wei Ying an omega - his omega - again, and it's never come up during sex, not like this. But Wei Ying says it, and before he even registers what he’s said, something changes in Lan Zhan’s expression. There’s a brief flash of surprise, and then Lan Zhan’s eyes are dark and alive, and there’s a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Be mean to me, Lan Zhan. I want you to be really, really mean to me.

Wei Ying swallows roughly, remembering his words leading up to this. Lan Zhan has that look in his eyes. The look that makes Wei Ying want to do unspeakable, humiliating things, to prostrate himself before Lan Zhan in the filthiest ways. The look that makes him feel reckless and unhinged.

Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and whisper-soft, and it makes Wei Ying shiver, makes him feel blissfully, ecstatically stupid. “You poor, sweet thing.” Lan Zhan releases his hair and crouches down before him, cradling Wei Ying’s face in his big hands. He presses his lips against Wei Ying’s forehead softly, like he’s soothing a wound, and whispers, “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t play with you like this. Not when you need it so bad.”

What.

Wei Ying’s breath catches in his throat and he feels his eyes widen slightly in shock. Lan Zhan pulls back slightly, looking Wei Ying steadily in the eyes as he tenderly strokes his face. “It’s not your fault you’re such a slut. You can’t help that you were born like this.”

Oh.

Oh. This is...

Lan Zhan rises to his feet, tilting Wei Ying’s face up towards him with a finger under his chin. Wei Ying looks up at him, hazy and utterly entranced as the world starts to slip away, to condense in on the sensation of Lan Zhan’s touch, firm and directing, of Wei Ying’s wrists, soft and limp, bound together behind his back.

Lan Zhan is watching him carefully, almost analytically. After a moment of contemplation, something hardens in his expression. He looks down at Wei Ying with something akin to pity.

“It’s no wonder you’re behaving like such a whore. You were made for sex. Made to take cock, to need it.”

Wei Ying feels himself make a strange, choked sound at that. He’s going under, falling fast, breathless and giddy.

“Even your pretty little mouth was made for it, wasn’t it? Made to be fucked and used.”

Wei Ying whimpers, nodding minutely in agreement. Lan Zhan hums, stroking his cock again, holding it just above Wei Ying’s face.

“Such a sweet, needy thing. Such a pretty omega.” Lan Zhan digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s hair once more and pulls him into position, presses his cock against Wei Ying’s lips. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll give you what you need.”

With no further warning, Lan Zhan pushes his cock into Wei Ying’s mouth, steady and relentless as he tilts Wei Ying’s head back and sinks the thick, heavy length down his spasming throat. It’s huge, so impossibly huge, and Wei Ying feels a surge of ecstatic tears rush down his face as Lan Zhan forces it inside of him, forces him to use every ounce of focus he has to relax around it, to open his body up to take it. It’s physically exhausting, it hurts, it makes his jaw feel hot and sore, but those sensations are secondary to the white-hot pleasure of being used like this, of living out this private, lewd desire.

Wei Ying had never thought such a thing would be possible, before he met Lan Zhan. He had never imagined being able to explore this, let himself go like this, be so depraved and vulnerable with another person. But Lan Zhan always indulges him, always catches him, never judges him. Lan Zhan wants this too, he revels in it, wants it just as badly as Wei Ying.

Even now, as Lan Zhan looks down at Wei Ying, stern and impassive, Wei Ying can see it in his gaze. The underlying hunger, the single-minded focus, the attentiveness, the openness and release.

Lan Zhan wants this just as badly as Wei Ying, but he would stop if Wei Ying needed him to. It’s happened before. Wei Ying hadn’t even needed to signal for it the way they had practiced. Lan Zhan had just known. He had sensed it somehow, before it had even hit Wei Ying fully that something was wrong.

Lan Zhan knows him so well, he loves him so well.

Wei Ying gazes hazily up at Lan Zhan’s focused expression as he swallows devoutly around his cock, letting the tears stream down his face, not even bothering to make an effort to hold them back. They had started out as physical tears, when Lan Zhan was making him gag on it, but they’re different now, like something has burst forth inside of him. There’s a warmth swelling in his chest, and he can barely breathe as Lan Zhan begins to rock his hips, slowly fucking his cock down Wei Ying’s throat with obscene wet squelches.

Fuck me.

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.

Lan Zhan sucks in a sharp intake of breath as he looks down at Wei Ying. “Beautiful. You take it so well. Your mouth feels so good, baby. Your pretty face was made for sex.”

Wei Ying whines pathetically, wet and muffled. He wants to drown on it, wants to drown on Lan Zhan’s cock, on the obscene feeling of it violating his mouth and throat, forcing him into such a helpless, vulgar position.

“Such a good omega.” Lan Zhan whispers, low and sincere. He stops rocking his hips and instead fists Wei Ying’s hair, working him leisurely on his cock like he’s nothing more than a toy, a cocksleeve. “Does it feel good, baby? Is your pussy wet?”

Wei Ying chokes, actually chokes, gasping for air, and Lan Zhan pulls his cock out, pressing it against Wei Ying’s cheek as he catches his breath.

“Is it wet, Wei Ying? Tell me. Is your pussy wet?”

Wei Ying swallows roughly, panting and rubbing his cheek against Lan Zhan’s wet cock. The words feel far away and his throat feels so, so sore. “Hnnn. Y-yeah. Wet. It’s. It’s wet.”

“What’s wet, Wei Ying?”

“Uhhgghh. Pussy. My pussy. It’s wet. So. So wet.”

Lan Zhan hums approvingly and slides his dick back into Wei Ying’s mouth, guiding it back down this throat. Wei Ying moans wantonly around it, reveling in the feeling of it being forced deep inside him, stuffing him silent once more.

“Good boy.” Lan Zhan praises as he grinds his cock in, so deep, all the way to the root. “I’m going to fuck your face now, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying nods faintly, as much as he can manage with his face stuffed full of cock, and Lan Zhan begins. It’s immediately clear that he is serious now, done with playing. He sets a brutal pace, snapping his hips viciously and tugging Wei Ying by the hair to meet his punishingly fast and deep thrusts. He’s almost entirely silent, expression focused and breathing heavy, with the exception of a few low groans of pleasure.

Wei Ying, meanwhile, is not quiet. He whimpers and moans pitifully, long and drawn out sounds that are punched out of him, made choppy by the constant thrusting. Combined with the obscene wetness of each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and Lan Zhan’s heavy breathing, it’s quite a vulgar symphony.

Wei Ying lets his eyes slip closed, lets himself float in the obscene sounds, the agonizing pleasure of enduring such an extreme intrusion, of being used so thoroughly. His untouched cock is incredibly hard, hot and dripping wet underneath the tiny silk negligee he’s wearing, and there’s a bright, warm sensation building inside him. His mind feels hazy and soft, like he’s drifting in a vast sea of mindless pleasure.

Eventually, Lan Zhan’s thrusting changes slightly, becoming more sharp and shallow, like he’s on the verge of release. Wei Ying’s eyes flutter open at the realization, and he gazes up at Lan Zhan like a sweet and obedient house pet, patiently waiting for a command from its master.

Lan Zhan groans, eyebrows drawn together and lips parted slightly like he’s lost in pleasure. Then, his gaze focuses in on Wei Ying, sharpens, and he breathes out, “You look like you’re about to come from this. It's all you need, isn’t it? A cock stuffed in you? It doesn’t even matter where.”

Wei Ying trembles, feels his body convulse with jolts of pleasure, like he’s on the verge of being shocked apart.

Lan Zhan grips him more firmly by the hair, forcing him to make eye contact, and shoves his cock all the way into his throat, until Wei Ying’s face is buried in his silky pubic hair, pressed firmly against the sensitive skin of his groin. He holds him there, and whispers:

“That’s right. You’re just a bitch in heat.”

Wei Ying shrieks as the pleasure explodes inside him, rips through his body, white-hot like a current of electricity. He seizes up and convulses with it, straining against the bindings around his wrists, as warm cum spills against his stomach, soaking into the silk and making it cling to his sticky skin. The orgasm is so intense that his vision goes white and his mind is wiped utterly blank. He’s only vaguely aware of Lan Zhan pulling him off of his cock, of his body coughing, gasping and heaving to catch his breath.

Eventually, the sharp pleasure wracking his body recedes, leaving him blissful and floaty and mindlessly, ecstatically docile. His body feels warm and sensitive and limp, held together by the bindings around his wrists, the feeling of wet, sticky silk against his skin, the ribbon straps of the dress that are snug against his bare shoulders, the warm blanket of loose hair against his back and neck. His breathing feels shallow and ragged.

There’s a familiar, slick, wet sound, and Wei Ying lazily opens his eyes, barely able to focus in on Lan Zhan before there’s a big, warm hard blanketing his vision.

Wei Ying flinches in surprise as a splash of warm cum strikes his face, and then another, another, but his mouth falls open automatically, without a thought, and he tips his head back to catch as much as he can, blindly feeling in gather on his tongue and in the back of his mouth, warm and musky and sticky. He keens in delight at the sensation of it, the taste of it, the feeling of Lan Zhan’s hand, touching him so firmly and protectively as he spills his seed across Wei Ying’s face.

Lan Zhan’s grip tenses slightly, and he groans deeply as the last spurts of cum land across Wei Ying’s cheek. He remains still like that for a moment, breathing roughly as he comes down from the surge of his orgasm, and then he carefully removes his hand from where it’s shielding Wei Ying’s eyes.

Wei Ying looks up at him from under wet eyelashes, feeling rather hazy under the weight of Lan Zhan’s darkened gaze as it drifts across his features, lingering on the cum pooling in his open mouth. Lan Zhan loves seeing him like this, and Wei Ying loves the feeling of it, of being so messy for Lan Zhan, so messed up by Lan Zhan. It’s thrilling and heady and almost dizzying, and it makes him want more, so much more, filthy and perverse beyond what he can describe with words.

In the haze that follows, Lan Zhan runs his fingers leisurely through the sticky mess of his spilled seed and feeds it to Wei Ying, making him lick and suck it off his fingers. Wei Ying latches on hungrily each time, sucking Lan Zhan’s fingers clean and moaning softly around them.

“You like that, baby? Does it taste good?”

Wei Ying nods, gazing at Lan Zhan from under his lowered eyelashes as he leans forward, taking Lan Zhan’s fingers into his mouth as far as he can.

Lan Zhan inhales sharply at the sight. “Such a greedy boy.”

Wei Ying whimpers, luxuriating in the feeling of obediently, mindlessly sucking at Lan Zhan’s fingers, tasting Lan Zhan’s cum, the feeling of being such a debauched mess, of letting Lan Zhan see how desperate and lewd he can be, how much he loves belonging to him in this way.

After several minutes of this, Lan Zhan’s breathing becomes deep and ragged, and he leans forward to lick the last of the cum from Wei Ying’s cheek, before grabbing Wei Ying by the hair and tugging his head back. Wei Ying softens into it and lets his mouth drop open, mind hazy in anticipation, as Lan Zhan leans forward and spits it into his mouth, making him shiver against his restraints.

“Swallow it.” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and cutting, and Wei Ying obeys, swallowing the sticky cum as best he can, and opens his mouth for Lan Zhan, who makes a show of inspecting it before humming in approval.

Based on past experience, Wei Ying knows what is coming next. Lan Zhan will loosen his hold on his hair. He will lift Wei Ying up into his arms, making it seem easy, like Wei Ying weighs nothing at all, and carry him to bed or to the couch or wherever it is that Lan Zhan sees fit to fuck him properly.

But for some reason, Lan Zhan isn’t letting go of Wei Ying’s hair. He isn’t scooping him up into his arms and whispering filth into his ear.

No, Lan Zhan only grips his hair tighter. His pupils are blown dark and wide, and he looks down at Wei Ying with an expression that is hungry and analytical, almost predatory. And then, as if he’s come to a decision, he adjusts his hold on Wei Ying’s hair, tightens it, and pulls hard.

It hurts, it stings and it hurts, and Wei Ying cries out in shock as Lan Zhan wrenches him upwards until he’s straining to remain on his knees, trembling with effort and tensing against his restraints. “L-Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan, ahhh, g-gege-!”

But Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, he simply stares down at Wei Ying, carefully, assessingly. And then, in one smooth movement, he wraps his free hand firmly around Wei Ying’s upper arm and jerks him up further, until he’s scrambling for footing, bent over somewhere between kneeling and standing. Without a word, without any warning, Lan Zhan pulls him along like this, dragging him firmly by his hair as he stumbles and cries out in protest.

It’s a messy affair, but they make it to the bed, where Lan Zhan tosses him roughly.

“Lan Zhan-!”

“Be quiet.” Lan Zhan’s voice is low and dangerous. He manhandles Wei Ying into his lap, where he unties his wrists and kisses the tender, rope-burned skin, nuzzling his face against each wrist before lightly digging his teeth into the sore flesh.

Mine,” he whispers, looking at Wei Ying with an expression that is dark and serious, as he kisses the tender bite marks. “My omega. My pretty whore.”

Wei Ying whimpers and nods along, choking out “yours, yours, yours-“ as Lan Zhan picks him up by the waist and lays him out across his lap, ass up, the side of his face pressed against the bedding, and rucks his tiny silk dress up to his waist.

“Spread your legs, slut,” Lan Zhan murmurs as he guides Wei Ying’s thighs apart, as he rubs a cold, slick finger against the sensitive flesh of Wei Ying’s rim. “Let me play with your pussy.”

Wei Ying slurs incoherently into the bedsheets as Lan Zhan works his fingers inside him, making obscene, wet sounds with each thrust. His movements are forceful and measured, and soon he presses down on Wei Ying’s prostate, rubbing at it until there are little shivery sensations in Wei Ying’s pelvis.

“Uhhgghh…” Wei Ying moans pathetically, biting at his lip, clenching and unclenching his fingers into the bedsheets. “Too. Uhh. Too much.” Wei Ying forces the words out, but they feel garbled and incomplete.

However, Lan Zhan seems to make sense of them, because he abruptly pulls his fingers out and brings his hand down on the fat of Wei Ying’s ass with a sharp crack, making Wei Ying squeal and bury his face in the bedsheets as the shock and embarrassment radiates through his body.

“N-no, don’t…”

“You’ll take what your alpha gives you.” Lan Zhan reprimands, his voice low and mean as he squeezes the warm, tender flesh of Wei Ying’s ass. “Your mouth took this cock so well, and now your pussy is leaking for it.”

Wei Ying whimpers as a hot, embarrassed flush overtakes him. He can feel Lan Zhan’s cock fattening under him, against the cum-drenched silk that feels damp and sticky between his belly and the soft cotton of Lan Zhan’s sweatpants.

“Your hole is so small and tight, but I know your body can do it. Show me how well you can take it, A-Ying.”

“Ahhh, y-yeah… I can… nggh...” Wei Ying pants softly against the bedsheets as Lan Zhan works his fingers back inside him, continuing the steady assault on his prostate. “Take it. Lan Zhan, gege... Make me. Make me take it.”

Be quiet.” Lan Zhan’s breathing is deep and heavy. He presses the fingers of his free hand against Wei Ying’s lips, letting him suck and drool on them as he works him into a shivering, teary-eyed mess.

The orgasm strikes Wei Ying like the crest of an impossibly large wave - the shivery sensations deep in his pelvis become impossibly intense, like physical contractions, and his body tenses and squirms, but Lan Zhan’s fingers are firm and deep inside him, keeping him pinned down against his lap as he wrings the orgasm out of him, as cum spills against his belly in little surges, again and again, and then finally, finally, the pleasure crests and explodes throughout him in a bone-deep rapture that has him seizing in Lan Zhan’s hold, crying out like he’s wounded.

When he comes to, his face is wet with tears and he’s panting against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, drooling on the soft cotton of Lan Zhan’s t-shirt. Lan Zhan is holding him against his chest, rubbing his back and pressing gentle kisses against his hair. “So good, Wei Ying.”

“Nnghh…”

“Shhh.” Lan Zhan lowers him to the bed, cradling Wei Ying’s head in his hand and resting him on a pillow. Wei Ying can feel his hair spilling out around him, loose and messy. He’s still panting, struggling to catch his breath, and his vision feels hazy and unfocused, unable to keep his eyes open more than half-mast.

Lan Zhan tugs off his shirt, pulling it over his head with an easy, simple grace, and braces himself above Wei Ying like some big, sleek predator. He presses his lips against Wei Ying’s neck, and then against his ear, and whispers, “I’m going to fuck you, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying whimpers as Lan Zhan strips off his pants and situates himself in between his legs. He traces his big, warm hands along Wei Ying’s thighs, making him squirm, and then slides his hand under to grip the back of one of his thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he presses it up and situates himself closer. Wei Ying’s little dress is rucked up, messy with cum, and he can feel the lube dripping from his hole, wet and slick between his legs, as Lan Zhan presses the head of his cock against the sensitive flesh there and pushes.

Ahhggghh-! Hahh, uhh…”

It’s big, it’s so big, and Lan Zhan pushes forward relentlessly, sinking the hard, hot length of it into Wei Ying as he holds him in place with a firm hand on the back of his thigh. It takes a number of thrusts before he can fit the entire length inside, but Lan Zhan doesn’t do anything halfway. With each thrust, Wei Ying lets out a little choked cry, digging his fingers into the bedsheets and tossing his head from side to side.

“Y-yeah… yeah, yeah, gege, Daddy…”

Lan Zhan growls as he finally slams in all the way, burying his cock all the way to the root, and Wei Ying wails like he’s in pain, seizing up as another orgasm hits him like a wave, casting him into a current and knocking him senseless.

He can feel his body coming down from it - everything is so, so sensitive, his muscles are hot and aching from tensing and trembling, shocky as Lan Zhan fucks him through it with steady, deep thrusts, holding him in place like a doll - but his mind remains blank and hazy, under, so deep under that he can’t find the surface. He thinks he might be making some sound, he can feel it, in his throat, like he’s whining and crying. His vision is blurry with tears, but he can make out Lan Zhan above him, his beautiful, serious face, his golden eyes shadowed by dark lashes, his shiny black pupils blown wide, like some dark angel, like an otherworldly predator.

Lan Zhan pulls at the ribbon straps on his dress, tugging them loose and yanking at the silk material until it’s gathered just below Wei Ying’s nipples. He brushes his fingers against them, pinches them, paying particular attention to the left one, to the tiny gold barbell embedded in the soft pink nub. Wei Ying can feel his body flinching at the sensation, hypersensitive, like he’s being touched with a live current. It feels good, it feels so good, he thinks he might be saying something, but it doesn’t feel like words, it feels nonsensical and ecstatic, forced out of him in little jolts with each brutal thrust.

Lan Zhan’s fingers are digging into the soft fat of his thigh as he turns his attention to his right nipple, pinching violently at the soft and unpierced flesh, and then leans forward and spits on it. Wei Ying jolts at the sensation, and Lan Zhan groans, lips shiny with spit, panting raggedly as he takes in the sight of Wei Ying under him. He rubs his spit against Wei Ying’s nipple, and then brings his hand down to slap it sharply, making Wei Ying seize up and choke on a fresh wave of tears.

“I’m going to cum in you, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan spits out, his voice low and rough. “Cum in your pussy.”

Wei Ying whimpers, feeling the tremors in his body as the wave of another orgasm creeps up in him. “L-La… La… Zhan…” he chokes out, between thrusts. “You’re… you’re gonna… ahhhhh! Hahh, uhhh... make. Make me pregnant.”

Lan Zhan freezes, his eyes wide in an expression of shock, like he’s been struck dumb. And then his expression changes, settles into something dark and heavy, almost scary. Wei Ying can feel the weight of it like a physical sensation pinning him down.

Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is shaky and he digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s thigh with an impossibly tight grip, as he pulls back and slams into him, deep and hard. “Wei Ying...” Lan Zhan gasps his name with desperation, like a prayer. His gaze wanders across Wei Ying’s features, reverent and hungry, almost like he’s in disbelief, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He seems almost frustrated as he pounds into him, fingers digging into his flesh, like he doesn’t know what to do with Wei Ying, like he wants to squeeze him, break him apart.

Wei Ying gasps and cries through it, digging his fingers into Lan Zhan’s forearms as the pleasure wells up inside him, unbearably intense. It’s so good, so good, being taken apart like this, forced to take it, subjected to such reckless passion. Lan Zhan is looking at him with desperate, single-minded focus, like nothing else exists in the world, like nothing else matters, like he would do anything for this.

It makes Wei Ying feel unhinged, insane, to see his own desire reflected back at him in Lan Zhan’s eyes, to see the ceaseless depth of it, the unquenchable want, how equally, perfectly matched they are. He wants to lose himself in it, wants to mold himself into the shape of Lan Zhan’s whims, of their shared desire.

Lan Zhan fumbles with the hem of his dress, rucking it up further to expose the soft flesh of his trembling stomach, the pale skin glazed with smeared cum. He changes the angle of his thrusts, pushing up, until he can see the bulge of it, the way his cock penetrates Wei Ying so impossibly deeply, so fully. He grabs Wei Ying’s wrist and guides Wei Ying to lay his hand over it, dipping his palm into the sticky cum, making him feel the rise and fall of each thrust in his belly as Lan Zhan pants above him, eyes wild.

Wei Ying feels an absurd surge of warmth in his heart as his body starts to convulse apart, as contractions rip through the core of him and his vision whites out. It’s so good, so impossibly good, doing this with Lan Zhan, feeling the way Lan Zhan comes apart inside him, the way he latches on to Wei Ying like a starving animal desperate for sustenance, like he desperately needs this, needs the vulgar intimacy of it, needs Wei Ying to belong to him in this way.

No one else sees this side of Lan Zhan, the deep, primal part of him that finds release in this. This part of him belongs to Wei Ying, calls out to Wei Ying like a deeply resonant melody, like an answer to a question he hadn’t known to ask.

The orgasm leaves Wei Ying utterly boneless and limp, oversensitive and mindless, deep, deep under. Lan Zhan wraps his arms around him and pulls him into his lap, holding him posessively against his chest as he thrusts into him, chasing his release. He fists Wei Ying’s hair, tilting his head to the side, and sinks his teeth into the nape of Wei Ying’s neck as he comes, spilling his seed deep inside him with a long, low groan.

Wei Ying whimpers as Lan Zhan lays him back on the bed and leans over him, as he kisses him, slow and wet and messy. He moans into it, soft and pliant as Lan Zhan licks and spits into his mouth. Lan Zhan pants softly against his lips and places a chaste kiss against his forehead before he sits up, slowly easing his softening cock out of Wei Ying. He watches as a trail of cum spills out in his wake, seeming entranced at the sight.

“So beautiful, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan whispers, voice rough, gazing at Wei Ying with an expression that feels soft and reverent. Something stirs in Wei Ying’s chest and he whimpers in response, watching hazily as Lan Zhan brings a soft towel from the bedside table to wipe the mess from his belly, from in between his legs.

Lan Zhan carefully slides the silk dress off of him. He scoops him up in his arms and carries him to the bathroom, where he holds him in his lap as he draws a bath. Wei Ying nuzzles against his neck, panting and letting his eyes slip closed.

Wei Ying doesn’t like to be left alone when he’s like this, even for a minute. When he’s alone, he has a tendency to drop badly, to get lost in a headspace where all he can feel is illogical abandonment that makes it hard to breathe. Lan Zhan knows this, they discovered it early on, and ever since, he has never left Wei Ying alone, not once.

The truth is, Lan Zhan likes it, he likes caring for Wei Ying like this, catering to him when he’s so vulnerable. He likes that Wei Ying trusts him enough to soften into this state where he needs him, where he’ll fall apart without him. It took Wei Ying a long time to understand it, to accept it, to view this as a shared pleasure rather than something selfish. But now he relaxes into it, luxuriating in the way Lan Zhan carefully submerges them in hot water, holding him close and whispering praises as he cleans him attentively, his big hands firm and gentle, guiding Wei Ying to hold onto him, to dip his head back in the water so he can wash his hair, to spread his legs so he can clean the most sensitive, tender parts of him.

Lan Zhan lifts him from the bath and carefully towels him off. He wraps him in a plush white robe and settles him on the soft, fluffy rug in front of the bathtub, where he guides him to drink water, to brush his teeth. Lan Zhan brings everything to him, holds a cup to his lips for him to spit in when he rinses out his mouth. He dabs toner and moisturizer on his face. He carefully sections out his damp hair and combs through it, working through the sections with his fancy, expensive blow dryer and a big, round brush that leaves Wei Ying’s hair smooth and silky.

It’s soothing, so soothing, being cared for like this, and it makes Wei Ying feel spoiled beyond belief, loved beyond reason. After they’re done in the bathroom, Lan Zhan carries him to the bedroom and situates him on the soft rug next to the bed while he changes the sheets. Wei Ying watches him with dazed, single-minded focus, watches his movements, the way he swaps out the sheets with practiced ease.

When Lan Zhan comes to collect him from his position on the floor, he feels a giddy smile tugging at his lips, and he leans into Lan Zhan’s touch like an exceptionally affectionate cat. Lan Zhan presses a kiss against his forehead and carries him to bed, where he deposits him with a light toss and a playful smirk. Wei Ying lets out a breathy giggle and smiles up at him, feeling quite literally like he’s floating in the clouds.

Lan Zhan cups his face in his big, wonderful hands and rubs lightly at his temples, his expression unbelievably fond.

“Look at you. So beautiful, A-Ying.”

Wei Ying feels himself make a funny little high-pitched sound at that, almost like a whimper. His eyes are lowering to half-mast as Lan Zhan caresses the sides of his face, his touch so gentle and yet so firm.

Lan Zhan gently unwraps the fluffy robe and presses soft, sweet kisses against his skin. He carefully massages him, rubbing lotion into his smooth skin, the delicate contours of his body, the tender flesh where he had gripped him tightly enough to leave bruises.

Wei Ying luxuriates in it, smiling dizzily at Lan Zhan as he melts into the bed, into Lan Zhan’s firm, warm touch soothing his exhausted, pleasure-razed body. Lan Zhan caresses him reverently, like an act of worship, like Wei Ying is so, so precious. He whispers praises to him and dresses him carefully for bed, sharing a soft cotton pajama set between the two of them - the top half for Wei Ying, and the bottom half for himself. He wraps himself around Wei Ying and tucks them under the clean sheets before flicking off the lamp on the bedside table.

Wei Ying whines softly, pushing back against Lan Zhan like he’s trying to nestle as closely as possible into the warm intimacy of their bodies, pressed flush together under the blankets. Lan Zhan responds in kind, pulling Wei Ying snug against him and wrapping his arms around him, holding him impossibly close. He cradles Wei Ying’s hands in his own, tracing his fingers, the soft contours of his palms. Wei Ying giggles, soft and euphoric, as Lan Zhan kisses his neck, nuzzles at the bite mark there, and whispers, “My sweet omega. My beautiful A-Ying. I love you so much, baby.”

“... love you… love you, love you…” Wei Ying slurs out, like it takes everything he has to put the words together. “Lan Zhan... My Lan Zhan.”

“Mn. Yours. Always yours, Wei Ying.”

--

Several weeks later, the topic comes up when Wei Ying is sprawled out on the floor of Mo Xuanyu’s studio apartment, draped over a cushion with an array of watercolor painting supplies spread out before him.

He’s working on a composition for class - Mo Xuanyu is doing the same, but with even less success than Wei Ying. He sighs dejectedly, poking at his messy bun with the end of his paintbrush, and presses his toes absentmindedly against Wei Ying’s ankle, like he’s trying to entwine their legs together.

“What if I just gave this guy a massive dick. Like you know, an incredibly huge cock. Just absolutely monstrous. You know?”

“Do I?” Wei Ying muses, feigning obliviousness as he sets down his paintbrush, absently contemplating the landscape he’s been working on.

It takes Mo Xuanyu a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs out loud. “Wei Ying, you lucky slut! Don’t brag like that!” He abandons his paintbrush, shifting closer and curling up against Wei Ying’s side, clinging to his arm like a koala. “You’re starting to sound just like Lan Zhan with this deadpan humor.”

Wei Ying bites back a smile at that. “A-Yu, please! I’m nowhere near as funny as Lan Zhan. He’s honestly the funniest person on earth.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes, shifting to contemplate his painting once again. “But seriously, what do you think everyone would say during critique?”

“Hmm.” Wei Ying presses a finger to his lips, tilting his head to the side in mock consideration as he attempts to conceal a sly smile. “Probably that you need to get laid.”

“Wei Ying!” Mo Xuanyu wails, hiding his face in his hands. “What has Lan Zhan done to you! So lethal.”

Wei Ying bursts out laughing, done trying to hide the smile that’s been tugging at his lips.

“I’m seriously going to do it, I’m going to paint the biggest, fattest, alpha cock.” Mo Xuanyu declares, squinting at his painting with a critical eye.

Wei Ying sputters at that. “A-Yu!”

“What?! It’s hot, you know it’s hot. You always read the fanfics I send you.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s not-!”

“I’m going to give this guy a fat knot. This is art, Wei Ying! Art!”

“I’m done with you. I’m so done with you. Let me paint my cottage scene in peace!”

“Hey! I’m not the one who always has hickies on my neck. You and Lan Zhan practically invented omegaverse, I swear.”

Wei Ying freezes at that, caught off guard and feeling rather speechless as a highly inopportune warm flush overtakes his cheeks. He buries his face in his arms as he can feel the flush deepening, like it’s red hot.

“Wei Ying...?” Mo Xuanyu pokes at him tentatively, until he peeks up at him from where his face is buried in his arms. “Wei Ying! Your face is so red! Oh my gosh, look at me, why are you so embarrassed?”

“I’m not! I’m not, I’m just-”

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Mo Xuanyu’s eyes widen comically, as if in sudden understanding. “No way. Wei Ying!” Mo Xuanyu gasps, reaching forward to slide Wei Ying’s hair out of the way so that he has a clear view of the back of his neck. Wei Ying whimpers at the touch, closing his eyes in resignation as Mo Xuanyu stares at the bite mark there like it’s the missing piece to a puzzle.

“A-Ying. A-Ying! Don’t tell me. No!” Mo Xuanyu wails, like he’s in despair. “I can’t believe this. You are the luckiest bitch on earth. What the fuck!”

Wei Ying only whimpers, burying his face further into his arms.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, shhh, look at me, don’t be shy.” Mo Xuanyu murmurs soothingly, curling up against Wei Ying’s side and rubbing his shoulder.

Wei Ying peeks up at him hesitantly. His face still feels flushed and hot.

“I’m not shy,” he murmurs, surprised at how petulant his voice sounds, like a pouty child.

“You are so cute! Stop being so cute!”

Wei Ying bites his lip. “Stop teasing me so nicely, or I’m going to go under and then you’ll have to take care of me.”

He’s only half joking. Wei Ying goes under easily and sometimes unexpectedly around people he trusts. It’s happened before, when they were watching a movie and Mo Xuanyu was playing with his hair a little more firmly than usual. Or the time that Mo Xuanyu tackled him when they were fighting over who got to wear which black top for a night out.

“Okay, okay. No teasing. Here, look at me properly. If you go under, I’ll take care of you, okay? We’ll text Lan Zhan and I’ll take care of you.”

Wei Ying nods softly and allows Mo Xuanyu to pull him up into a sitting position, threading their fingers together.

“Want some coffee? Here, come with me, let me make you some.”

Mo Xuanyu pulls him to his feet and guides him to the breakfast bar. He busies himself with setting up to make a pourover, and passes Wei Ying a bag of coffee. “Have you tried this yet? It’s from Yunnan.”

Wei Ying shakes his head and inspects the coffee beans while Mo Xuanyu boils water. Soon enough, Mo Xuanyu is distributing coffee between two mugs and tugging Wei Ying to the sofa.

Wei Ying sits, curled up in a little ball as he nurses the warm mug. Mo Xuanyu settles beside him and loops his ankle under Wei Ying’s, softly blowing on his own coffee to cool it down.

“It’s just… it’s mostly like… a dirty talk thing. You know?” Wei Ying begins, biting his lip as he feels his face heating up once more. “God, this is so embarrassing!”

“It’s not embarrassing! It’s so hot, A-Ying. I’m jealous, God, I’m so jealous of you. Your sex life is ridiculous.” Mo Xuanyu sighs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Dirty talk, hmm? Like what, he calls you an omega?”

“...yeah…” Wei Ying whispers into his coffee. “I don’t know, he just… said it one day. Like, he just called me an omega. His omega. And it just… I don’t know, it’s so ridiculous, it should be funny, and sometimes it is, but it feels… nice. Belonging to Lan Zhan like that.”

Mo Xuanyu hums thoughtfully and offers Wei Ying a coy smile. “Don’t you already belong to Lan Zhan?”

Hey! You said no more teasing!”

“Okay, okay! My bad, my bad!”

“If you must know, it’s... different. I don’t know, it’s just… it feels like... more.”

Mo Xuanyu sighs wistfully. “I bet. Honestly, like I said, so hot.”

“I mean, it’s not just a sex thing. Like, it is. It is a sex thing. But sometimes it’s domestic things, too. Or like, funny things Lan Zhan will say. He’s so clever.” Wei Ying takes a sip of his coffee, contemplating how best to explain it. “Like, for example, Lan Zhan knows I like lavender - you know, like that pillow mist Jiejie got me - and so he’s been buying me lavender-scented things recently. And he always uses this sandalwood incense. Kind of like, you know... scenting. And he bought me this really nice perfume the other day when we were out shopping…”

“That is so cute, what the fuck.”

“I know, I know! And I always liked borrowing his clothes, that hasn’t changed, but it’s kind of different now. Like he always gives me his scarf or his shirt or something that smells like him, and it’s just… really nice. Even if we don’t say anything about it in the moment, it’s like, we both know. Like this secret thing.”

“Aghhhh, you’re literally killing me!” Mo Xuanyu wails, clasping a hand against his heart. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me Lan Zhan found some way to knock you up. Wei Ying, please, promise me you’ll keep me in mind when you’re looking for a babysitter. I would kill to see a baby from the two of you. God, they would be so cute.”

“A-Yu!!!! Stop!” Wei Ying gasps, heat creeping up in his cheeks as he plasters his hand across Mo Xuanyu’s mouth, sealing it shut. “That’s- ugh, that’s so crazy! You’re crazy.”

Mo Xuanyu mumbles something against his palm, but Wei Ying keeps his hand firmly in place.

“No more nonsense!” Wei Ying declares, looking Mo Xuanyu firmly in the eye. “Lan Zhan is not knocking me up, that’s impossible. Stop thinking crazy thoughts.”

--

Wei Ying does not stop thinking crazy thoughts.

The idea has invaded his mind, ever since he mentioned it to Lan Zhan - ever since he mentioned being pregnant - and he can’t seem to unthink it. It’s just there now, a part of him that lights up whenever Lan Zhan wraps a protective arm around his waist in public, whenever Lan Zhan fucks into him and whispers “I’m going to cum in you, Wei Ying,” before he spills deep inside him. It’s there when he sees a young couple at the park with their baby, when he and Lan Zhan walk past the baby food aisle at the grocery store.

Lan Zhan wouldn’t buy commercially-produced baby food, Wei Ying thinks to himself, on one such occasion. Lan Zhan would be one of those dads who makes baby food with fresh ingredients using a food processor.

Lan Zhan would be such a good dad.

It’s a dangerous idea, an idea that makes Wei Ying feel hot and tingly and embarrassed.

It’s an idea that creeps up ironically when Wei Ying cries out “Daddy-!” as Lan Zhan folds him over the kitchen counter and holds him in place as he eats him out, as he fucks him, as he spanks him.

It’s an idea that creeps up when Lan Zhan cooks for him, when Lan Zhan insists that he eat more vegetables, when Lan Zhan makes sure that he’s wearing a warm jacket, when Lan Zhan carefully ushers him to the side and wraps an arm around him when they pass someone who is walking a dog.

It’s an idea that reverberates in his mind when he thinks about the way Lan Zhan’s gaze darkened with lust, the way Lan Zhan’s fingers dug into him, impossibly tight, when he had mentioned it, when he had warned Lan Zhan that he would make him pregnant.

It’s an idea that’s present all evening, when Lan Zhan makes them dinner - hot pot split down the middle, with mushroom broth on one side and spicy broth on the other. It’s present when Lan Zhan continually refills the spicy side with thin cuts of beef, marbled in a way that looks and tastes expensive, and carefully refills Wei Ying’s bowl, again and again.

Wei Ying, in turn, takes to replenishing the tofu and vegetables in the mushroom broth, fishing them out and placing them into Lan Zhan’s bowl when they’re perfectly tender.

It’s an idea that manifests in a playful smile, tugging at Wei Ying’s lips as he tosses back another glass of wine, as Lan Zhan refills it with an overly generous pour and a curious gaze, the barest hint of a smirk, like he knows that Wei Ying is up to something, like he’s indulging him, challenging him, waiting to see what game Wei Ying is playing.

By the time they’re finished with dinner, Wei Ying has finished over half a bottle of wine, with Lan Zhan having a small pour, just enough to taste it throughout the meal. For Lan Zhan, a small glass of wine is enough to provoke a slight flush, to lower his inhibitions. A drink or two further, and he would be notably intoxicated.

For Wei Ying, even an entire bottle of wine over the course of an evening is more than manageable - enough that he’s pleasantly drunk, giggly and relaxed, but generally coherent. This startling level of tolerance has been the case as long as Wei Ying can remember, since the very first time he drank. It was a source of commentary during family dinners with the Jiang’s, when family friends and business partners would praise his tolerance and challenge him in toasts as a source of entertainment.

Despite his tolerance, and despite the fact that Wei Ying enjoys drinking, it isn’t often that he drinks so indulgently. That, in and of itself, has Lan Zhan watching him curiously as they finish off the last of their meal, as Wei Ying swallows down his final glass of wine in big, easy mouthfuls.

“Let’s do a shot together, Lan Zhan,” he suggests, leaning forward and smiling playfully. His lips are surely stained red - he can feel Lan Zhan’s gaze lingering there as he takes in Wei Ying’s steady expression, the challenge in it, the promise of something more to come.

After a moment of contemplation, Lan Zhan hums and rises from the table, seeming to come to a decision.

“Drink water first,” he instructs Wei Ying as he pours him a glass and sets it squarely in front of him on the table. “I’ll clean up from dinner.”

“But, gege-

“Shhh. Finish that glass.”

Wei Ying huffs but does as he’s told, trying to hold back a smile throughout.

Lan Zhan gathers the dishes and cleans up from dinner with easy efficiency. When he’s finished, he returns to the table with a bottle of Moutai and two small glasses.

Lan Zhan glances at the remaining water in Wei Ying’s glass and quirks a brow in question, waiting until Wei Ying swallows it down before he distributes a generous pour of baijiu to each glass.

“Cheers, gege~” Wei Ying bites back a smile as they clink glasses. He tosses his shot back with practiced ease, feeling his ponytail dip and sway as he tilts his head back and swallows. Lan Zhan swallows half of his own shot, and then refills Wei Ying’s glass with another generous pour.

“Another? Ah, my alpha is so generous!” Wei Ying cannot hold back the smile that has overtaken his features. He swallows down the shot, licking his lips as he sets the glass back on the table. “Are you trying to get me drunk, gege?”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan smirks and swallows the rest of his shot. He sets his glass off to the side, and picks up the bottle of Moutai once more, weighing it in his hand consideringly. They both know it’s almost empty - they’ve had this bottle open for a while now.

After a moment of playful contemplation, Lan Zhan seems to make up his mind. He moves Wei Ying’s shot glass to the side, and instead empties the bottle of baijiu into Wei Ying’s empty water glass.

“My omega knows how to take it.”

Wei Ying bites his lip, muffling a delighted squeal that’s bubbling up in his throat as Lan Zhan sets the glass squarely in front of him. There’s close to two shots worth of baijiu in the glass. Wei Ying may have high tolerance, but even he has limits. He can already feel the warmth creeping up in him from all the wine he drank during dinner, from the two shots he had just taken in quick succession. This is going to push him past a moderate level of tipsiness, towards proper, full-blown intoxication.

Fortunately, that’s exactly where Wei Ying wants to be tonight.

Wei Ying delicately picks up the glass, eyeing its contents before glancing at Lan Zhan, who is watching him carefully. He’s not sure if Lan Zhan has already guessed where he’s headed with this, but he offers him a sultry smile nonetheless. “Your omega needs it, gege.”

Wei Ying swallows down the contents of the glass in one quick, neat gulp. It’s a significant feat, even for Wei Ying, who is accustomed to swallowing large offerings. He sets the glass back on the table, panting slightly. His mouth feels wet and tingly and his throat burns.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan is staring at him with an expression that seems almost entranced. His eyes are dark and intense, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. “Water. You should-”

But before Lan Zhan can rise from his seat, Wei Ying leans forward and presses a finger against Lan Zhan’s lips. They feel soft and wet. “Bring it to the bedroom, gege. I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Before Lan Zhan has a chance to protest, Wei Ying scampers away, grabbing a few items on the way to the bathroom. Once inside, he bites back a giddy smile as he changes out of his clothes, stumbling slightly as he tugs off his pants. The alcohol is starting to hit him, hard and fast, and he clings to the edge of the bathroom counter for support.

When he’s finished changing, Wei Ying makes his way to the full length mirror, where he tugs his ponytail loose, letting his hair spill down in big, loose, waves. He’s wearing one of Lan Zhan’s shirts - a big, long-sleeved one that looks especially oversized on him, with nothing but a pair of small, soft blue panties underneath.

Wei Ying turns in front of the mirror, watching the way the shirt rides up to expose his panties and the swell of his ass as he bends forward to shake his hair out properly. He nearly loses his balance while doing so, and has to fight back an audible giggle as he braces himself against the bathroom counter once more when he rights himself. The room is spinning slightly. He takes slow, deep breaths, and focuses on his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

Wei Ying’s face is flushed, and his eyes are glassy. His lips are stained red from the wine, and his hair looks mussed up and inviting, a little wild. There’s a pleased smile tugging at his lips as he sweeps his hair out of the way and carefully mists the sides of his neck with the perfume Lan Zhan bought him. It smells like soft white florals, and combined with the lavender shampoo and body wash he’s been using, the effect is sweet and feminine, a little musky and heady. He presses his wrists against the perfume that’s drying down on his neck, bites his lip coyly as he watches his reflection in the mirror.

He looks soft and cozy, and a little debauched. Perfect.

With that settled, Wei Ying sinks down onto the soft bathroom rug and slides his panties down to his knees. He’s already getting hard, anticipation buzzing under his skin as he carefully removes the plug he’s been wearing, wincing slightly at the girth of it. He unscrews the cap from a bottle of lube, feeling rather clumsy and lightheaded, and bends forward to rest the side of his face against the rug as he reaches behind himself, between his legs.

It’s an incredibly erotic sight to witness in the full-length mirror - kneeling with his ass in the air, his flushed face on the ground like he’s presenting, Lan Zhan’s shirt sliding down to reveal his waist, the panties bunched up around his knees as he holds himself open and carefully inserts the tip of the open bottle of lube.

You’re just a bitch in heat.

Wei Ying whimpers, panting softly as the room spins, as the cold, slick sensation makes its way deeper and deeper inside him. He squeezes the bottle slightly, to make it come out faster, and is rewarded with a shocking surge of cold wetness, fullness. He half wishes for Lan Zhan to come into the bathroom, to find him like this, prostrating himself on the ground as he empties a bottle of lube into himself like a depraved slut, like he’s nothing more than a toy being slicked up.

Like you’re made to take my cock.

Wei Ying bites at his lip. A shiver of pleasure courses through him at the thought of it, of being nothing more than a toy for Lan Zhan to use, a hole for Lan Zhan to play with and fuck.

A body for Lan Zhan to spill his cum in, to make use of as he sees fit, to fuck his seed into, regardless of the consequences.

Wei Ying bites back a moan, shifting slightly and relaxing his muscles to allow the lube to settle inside him. The bottle feels light and empty, and he removes it with clumsy fingers, letting the last few drops spill on his skin, cold and wet around his hole.

After taking a few deep, shaky breaths to collect himself, Wei Ying carefully slides the panties up his thighs and stumbles to his feet. He straightens out Lan Zhan’s shirt and looks over his appearance once more in the mirror, before taking a deep breath and heading for the bedroom, drifting and stumbling slightly on the way there. He stills at the entrance, leaning against the doorframe shyly and fiddling with a lock of his hair.

Gege, I feel funny…” Wei Ying’s voice comes out soft and slurred. He leans his weight more heavily against the doorframe as a wave of lightheadedness strikes him.

Lan Zhan rises from where he’s seated on the bed with striking fluidity, and is in front of Wei Ying in an instant, settling a big, steadying hand on Wei Ying’s hip as he takes in the sight of him with a heavy gaze, with his full attention. “Is that so?”

Wei Ying nods demurely, and Lan Zhan hums, bringing his hand up to cradle the side of Wei Ying’s face. “What feels funny? Use your words, baby.”

Wei Ying leans into his touch and sighs, nuzzling softly at his hand. “Lan Zhaan... I feel… ahh, so hot. So, so hot. It hurts, gege.”

Lan Zhan strokes his cheek. “Is that all?”

Wei Ying shakes his head and lowers his gaze, like he’s hesitant to say more.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan whispers, sliding his hand to cradle the back of Wei Ying’s neck, to trace the bite mark there. “What else?”

Wei Ying bites his lip, gazing up at Lan Zhan shyly from under his eyelashes. He gently wraps his hand around Lan Zhan’s, guiding it down his bare neck, down his chest, the contours of his body, until he’s holding Lan Zhan’s hand against the back of his bare thigh.

Lan Zhan maintains eye contact the entire time, his gaze dark and heavy as he lets Wei Ying lead, lets him guide his big hand up under the loose material of his shirt, rucking it up as he cants his hips and leans into Lan Zhan’s body, presses his arousal against Lan Zhan’s thigh, as he settles Lan Zhan’s hand against the curve of his ass, letting him feel the little panties he’s wearing, the slick wetness that is soaking into the material as it slowly leaks out of him.

Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan breathes into his hair, digging his fingers firmly into the fat of his ass and pulling him flush against him. “Wei Ying, sweetheart. Have you been taking your heat suppressants?”

Wei Ying whimpers and rocks softly against him, burying his face in Lan Zhan’s neck and digging his finger’s into Lan Zhan’s shirt. He wants to melt into Lan Zhan, wants Lan Zhan to take him apart. “Gege... I forgot…”

Lan Zhan breathes heavily, squeezing Wei Ying’s ass and caressing his loose hair before pulling back, guiding Wei Ying into the bedroom with a firm grip on his upper arm. “Get on the bed, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying nods obediently, feeling both dizzy and delighted as he stumbles to the bed, kneeling on the bedsheets with his legs parted slightly as he looks up at Lan Zhan with big, glassy eyes.

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

“Show me.” Lan Zhan whispers, settling onto the bed and guiding Wei Ying to turn around, to bend over. Wei Ying whimpers and leans into it, pressing the side of his face into the bedsheets and arching his back, spreading his legs to expose himself to Lan Zhan as completely as he can.

“Like this, gege?” he slurs, shivering slightly as more lube drips out of his hole, dripping down the soft swell of his balls and pooling in his wet panties. “You wanna see my pussy?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply. Instead, he runs his hands up and down the back of Wei Ying’s thighs, making him shiver even further, and grabs at his ass, squeezing and playing with his cheeks, pulling them apart and releasing them to make them bounce and jiggle, running his finger along the wetness and pressing the fabric in, making the panties bunch up in between the fatness of Wei Ying’s cheeks.

“Gege, alpha…” Wei Ying whines, gazing hazily back at Lan Zhan. “Please…”

But Lan Zhan pays him no mind. He plays with Wei Ying slowly, leisurely, rubbing him through the fabric, spreading the wetness and working the messy panties further in between his cheeks until there are little trails of lube dripping down his thighs.

“Sloppy.” Lan Zhan remarks, tracing his finger along one of the trails of lube, gathering it up with his finger and rubbing it onto the flesh of Wei Ying’s ass. “Your pussy needs to be fucked.”

Wei Ying moans, shifting and presenting his ass as obscenely as he can as the room spins about him. “Yeah... alpha, please, I need it, my pussy needs it…”

Lan Zhan hums, gentle and soothing as he pulls the panties loose from where they’re wedged in between Wei Ying’s cheeks, dragging them over the fat of his ass and down his thighs.

“Show me, A-Ying.” Lan Zhan murmurs, guiding his legs further apart. “Show me where you need it.”

Wei Ying makes a needy little sound into the bedsheets as he reaches back, clumsily spreading himself open, holding his cheeks apart for Lan Zhan’s view. His hole is open and relaxed from the plug he was wearing, he’s sure it must be visible to Lan Zhan just how ready he is, how much he wants it. He tightens and relaxes his muscles, hearing Lan Zhan suck in a sharp intake of breath as he does so, as the action forces a little surge of lube out of him.

Lan Zhan dips his finger into the dripping lube, rubbing it around the edge of Wei Ying’s hole like he’s entranced. “So wet, baby.” He slowly presses his finger into Wei Ying’s hole, making a loud, wet noise and forcing more lube to gush out. “Your little pussy is in heat.”

Yes, yes, yes.

Wei Ying nods in agreement, rubbing the side of his face against the bedsheets. His hair is in utter disarray, spilled out around him with loose strands hanging in his face, stuck to his lips, but he can’t do anything about it, because he’s busy presenting his ass to Lan Zhan like an obedient slut.

“Even your little cock is hard,” Lan Zhan whispers as he slides a hand between Wei Ying’s legs, palming him gently in his big, warm hand. “Cute.”

Wei Ying whimpers, fingers trembling, as Lan Zhan presses a kiss against his ass, against the spot where he had rubbed the lube. He pauses, as if noticing the flavor of it, and then licks it, slow and deliberate.

Wei Ying whines, loud and uninhibited, as Lan Zhan pushes his hands away, taking over the job of spreading him open. He pauses for a moment, watching as Wei Ying tightens and relaxes his hole for him, before dipping down to press a wet kiss between his cheeks, right on the tender flesh of his hole.

“Ohhh-! Ahh, Lan… L-Lan Zhan...” Wei Ying gasps, clenching his fingers into the bedsheets as Lan Zhan begins to lick at his hole, to lave his tongue over it, to trace around the rim. It’s hot and wet and Wei Ying can feel his cock leaking and twitching from the onslaught of sensation. His head is spinning, swimming from the alcohol, and his body feels strangely distant, loose-limbed and beyond his control.

Lan Zhan licks and sucks at his hole with vigor, with devotion. He presses his face in between Wei Ying’s cheeks as he massages and squeezes them, and he pushes his tongue inside, licking and slurping obscenely, only pulling back to spit on it, to smack Wei Ying’s ass and make him cry out helplessly in distress.

Gege… don’t do that…” he slurs mindlessly. The words feel thick in his mouth.

Lan Zhan, of course, ignores his plea, and slaps his ass once more, palming it roughly with his big hand. “Why not? Your pussy likes it.” Lan Zhan presses a finger inside him, immediately seeking out his prostate and pressing down on it, rubbing insistently.

Wei Ying jolts at the sensation, tensing up and squirming. “Ahghh… gege, alpha, be… be nice to me.”

Lan Zhan hums thoughtfully before removing his finger, wiping it on the back of Wei Ying’s thigh. “I am being nice to you.” He leans forward then, blanketing Wei Ying’s body with his own, and wraps his hand around the back of Wei Ying’s neck, pressing him firmly into the bedding. Wei Ying stills and whimpers, feeling the resistance drain out of him, as Lan Zhan leans down to whisper in his ear, “What would you prefer? Should I give you my cock?”

Wei Ying digs his fingers into the sheets, panting softly as Lan Zhan presses a light kiss against the shell of his ear, as he sucks and bites at the tender lobe. “Your slick is so sweet, baby. Your pussy is ripe and fertile. If I fuck you like this, do you know what will happen?”

Lan Zhan releases his grip on Wei Ying’s neck and instead plunges his hand up into Wei Ying’s hair, fisting it and pulling slightly, like he wants Wei Ying to focus. “Tell me, Wei Ying. Tell me what will happen.”

“Ahhh, gege, you… you’ll make me... make me pregnant.” Wei Ying whimpers, feeling a warm flush creep up in his cheeks.

Lan Zhan hums, tracing his free hand along Wei Ying’s side, sliding it under his shirt to rub and pinch his nipples. “Do you want it that bad, Wei Ying? You need this cock so bad you’re willing to get pregnant for it?” Lan Zhan twists his nipples roughly, tugs at the little gold barbell, making Wei Ying flinch and whimper, before trailing his hand down Wei Ying’s chest to rub at his belly, to spread his big, warm hand flat against it. “Or is it that you want to get pregnant, Wei Ying? That you want to feel your belly swell up with my seed, with my child?”

“I- I… I don’t...” Wei Ying stammers, but the words float away from him. His face feels incredibly hot.

“Don’t what, Wei Ying? Don’t want me to fuck a baby into you?” Lan Zhan rubs at his belly, soft and gentle and soothing. “Don’t want me to breed you?”

Wei Ying gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and shivering at the visceral feeling in Lan Zhan’s words.

In an instant, Lan Zhan’s hands are moving, pulling him up, flipping him around, laying him flat on the bed with his knees bent up, panties tangled around them. Lan Zhan slides the panties down his legs, letting them hang from one of his ankles as he kneels between Wei Ying’s legs, looking down at him with a heavy gaze.

Gege…” Wei Ying whispers, trying to prop himself up, but Lan Zhan presses a hand against his chest, pushing him back, flat onto the bed. He slides his big, loose shirt up Wei Ying’s flat chest and rubs his fingers over Wei Ying’s nipples, tugging at them slightly, making Wei Ying whine, and then his hand finds its way to Wei Ying’s mouth, where he leisurely traces the contours of his parted lips.

“Pretty omega.” Lan Zhan murmurs as he presses his big fingers into Wei Ying’s wet mouth, letting him suck on them, pressing on his tongue, tracing the edges of his teeth. “You would look so good pregnant, carrying my child in your womb.”

Wei Ying gurgles around his fingers, digs his fingers into the bedsheets as tears gather in his eyes.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You were made for it, baby. It’s okay to want it.”

Wei Ying keens, tensing up as his cock pulses, precum leaking from the tip.

Lan Zhan pulls his fingers out of his mouth, wiping them on Wei Ying’s cheek. “Tell me, Wei Ying. Tell me what you want.”

But Wei Ying only whimpers, closing his eyes as the room spins about him, as his cock twitches embarrassingly, spilling precum on his belly. Lan Zhan is going to have to drag it out of him, fuck it out of him.

“Hmm.” Lan Zhan pulls away for a moment, and then he’s back, big hands settling on Wei Ying’s hips. “Why don’t you show me then?”

Lan Zhan lifts him up and manhandles him until he’s straddling Lan Zhan’s lap, lube leaking steadily out of his hole, dripping onto Lan Zhan’s belly. Lan Zhan is naked now - his body is a warm expanse of bare skin, rippling muscle - and his big, hard cock is pressed against Wei Ying’s ass. Lan Zhan holds Wei Ying by the waist and lifts him, guiding him into position as Wei Ying grabs at his arms for balance.

“L-Lan Zhaan… ahh- ahhhh!” Wei Ying cries out and tosses his head back as Lan Zhan sinks him down on his cock with a long, wet squelch, tugging at his hips relentlessly until he is fully impaled, until he’s panting and twitching, digging his fingers into Lan Zhan’s arms, thighs trembling weakly from the strain. Even having been prepared for it with the plug, with the lube, even with how regularly they do this, it is always a significant effort to take Lan Zhan’s cock, to make space for it so deeply inside of him.

Lan Zhan runs his hands along Wei Ying’s thighs, his hips, his ass, in long, soothing strokes, as Wei Ying shivers and pants, eyes wet with tears that are beginning to run down his cheeks. He lets it happen, lets the tears run freely as he grabs at Lan Zhan’s arms, as his body trembles in Lan Zhan’s hold.

Lan Zhan likes to see it, likes to see Wei Ying crying on his cock, and it feels good, so good, to let it out, to let himself come undone from the strain of it, to soften in the vulgarity of it.

“Nggh, Daddy…”

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Lan Zhan murmurs, sliding his hands up under his shirt, along Wei Ying’s hips and waist, stroking at his sensitive skin with his thumbs, holding him firmly in place. “You look so pretty like this. You’re doing so good, baby. Does it hurt?”

Wei Ying whines pathetically and nods his head, biting at his lip as tears stream dramatically down his cheeks. “Yeah… it hurts, gege. Of course it hurts. Your cock is too big. It hurts my pussy so much.”

Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan tightens his grip on Wei Ying’s hips and his expression darkens. Wei Ying can feel the already huge cock swelling inside him, becoming unbelievably hard. He shifts his hips experimentally, rocking forward and back ever so slightly. His breath hitches at the sudden pressure on his prostate and he hiccups, soft and wet.

“You like that, baby? You like hurting your pussy?” Lan Zhan whispers, soft and sweet and condescending, like he’s fully engrossed in the fantasy, spitting Wei Ying’s own words back at him. “I can feel how small and tight you are. If you keep going, I’ll be fucking your womb.”

Lan Zhan breathes out his nose as Wei Ying deliberately ignores this comment, rocking his hips slowly, like he’s getting a feel for it, like he’s only paying attention to his own pleasure, each movement punctuated with a little wet hitch in his breathing.

Finally, Lan Zhan digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s hips, holding him still. “Baby, look at me. You’re going to make yourself pregnant. Do you want that? Do you want to get knocked up?”

Wei Ying whines deep in his throat, struggling against Lan Zhan’s stern grip. “I want your cock, gege, I want you to fuck me up, I need it, I need it, I need it-!”

“Wei Ying. Do you want me to make a baby in you? Yes or no.”

Wei Ying stills and drops his gaze, biting at his lip. He hesitantly nods, keeping his posture and expression shy and demure.

“Then ride it properly. Show me what you want.”

“Yes, gege.” Wei Ying whispers, nodding obediently as he digs clumsy fingers into Lan Zhan’s arm, as he braces his free hand against Lan Zhan’s chest. The sleeves of Lan Zhan’s shirt are so long on him that his hand is almost entirely covered, that only his fingertips are visible.

Wei Ying lifts himself on shaky thighs and sinks back down on Lan Zhan’s cock, slowly at first, and then picking up momentum. He watches Lan Zhan all the while, watches the way he stares back at Wei Ying, his expression hungry and entranced as Wei Ying moans and whines and hiccups, fucking himself on his cock again and again.

It’s hard work, especially given Wei Ying’s state of intoxication, and he quickly runs out of stamina, panting raggedly and slowing down as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tremble and his head spins. Still, Wei Ying puts up his best effort, and continues to rock back and forth, to lift himself as much as he can with each movement. He bites his lip and seethes in frustration as his body refuses to obey him, and then suddenly he loses his balance, his arm giving out on him as he falls forward against Lan Zhan’s chest.

“Ahh- Lan Zhan...” he whimpers miserably, hiding his face in Lan Zhan’s chest. “Alpha. I want it. I really want it, I do…”

“I know you do, baby.” Lan Zhan murmurs as he strokes his thigh, caresses his long, loose hair. “I can feel how wet you are.”

Wei Ying moans softly against Lan Zhan’s chest and grinds his hips back, luxuriating in the feeling of Lan Zhan’s slick cock sinking deeper inside him.

Lan Zhan hums thoughtfully. “Poor thing. Can’t even fuck yourself properly when you’re in heat. I suppose I’ll have to do it for you,” he muses, threading his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair. “How does that sound, princess?”

Wei Ying gasps, eyes wide with shock, as Lan Zhan yanks him up by the hair, forcing him to scramble for balance as he is pulled into a sitting position once more, fully impaled on the absurd mass of Lan Zhan’s cock. “A-aaaah, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan slaps his thigh in response, making Wei Ying seize up and choke. “Put your fingers in your mouth.”

Wei Ying whimpers and complies under the force of Lan Zhan’s gaze. It’s near impossible for him to go under fully when he’s been drinking, but he can feel traces of it, the spacey feeling mingling with the looseness of his intoxication as he idly sucks at his fingers.

“Good boy.” Lan Zhan praises as he rubs and squeezes the tender spot on Wei Ying’s thigh, roughly pulling him into position. Wei Ying jolts at the sensation, feeling almost giddy as his eyes water with tears. “So obedient.”

Lan Zhan grabs him firmly by the hips and lifts him up with a wet squelch until his cock is barely inside, until Wei Ying can only feel the tip of it. “Are all omegas this obedient? I wonder.”

Wei Ying whines pitifully around his fingers as Lan Zhan sinks him down on his cock in one swift movement, and then lifts him again, again, guiding him up and down on his cock with messy wet squelches, with obscene, slick smacks of skin against skin.

The pace is fast enough that Wei Ying cannot keep up enough to tense his muscles, to contribute in any way. He can only let himself be limp in Lan Zhan’s hold, like a doll, like a sex toy for Lan Zhan to use. He moans and whines and drools around his fingers, hiccuping when a particularly rough thrust knocks the breath out of him, and chokes out little garbled cries of “gege, alpha, Lan Zhan-!” as Lan Zhan slams him down on his cock again and again, angling sharply against his prostate until there are little tremors wracking the deepest parts of his body and cum is spilling out steadily from his cock, dripping down onto the tense muscles of Lan Zhan’s stomach.

The pleasure finally crests and Wei Ying shakes apart, tossing his head back and crying out, clinging to Lan Zhan’s arms as Lan Zhan fucks him through it, working him on his dick until his body is quivering with exhaustion, jolting in shock at each thrust. “L-Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan Lan Zhan, it hurts, it hurts-!

Lan Zhan grinds him down on his dick with relentless force, all the way, until Wei Ying can feel the silky tickle of Lan Zhan’s pubic hair firmly against his sensitive skin. Lan Zhan holds him there, pinning him down on his cock, and he gathers his breath, as his dark gaze wanders across Wei Ying’s face. He looks starved.

“Gege… why… why did you stop…” Wei Ying slurs, letting his fingers fall from his lips with a messy trail of saliva. “Don’t you… don’t you wanna fuck me?”

At this, Lan Zhan’s expression hardens. He lifts Wei Ying off his dick and maneuvers him around until he’s straddling Lan Zhan in reverse, kneeling over his cock, bracing himself with his hands planted in between Lan Zhan’s legs as his head swims with dizziness at the suddenness of it all.

“Let me see your ass.” Lan Zhan’s voice is stern and rough as he guides Wei Ying into position, as he gathers up a fistful of Wei Ying’s hair. He rubs the head of his cock against Wei Ying’s hole, presses at it slightly as if he’s going to push in, but then pulls back, tapping the head of it teasingly against Wei Ying’s rim. “What do you want, Wei Ying? Want me to cum in you? Fill your little omega pussy with cum?”

Wei Ying swallows roughly, digging his fingers into the bedsheets like he’s trying to ground himself. “Y-yeah… yeah, I want… want you to cum in me. Please… please cum inside me…”

“You want me to knock you up?” Lan Zhan rubs his dick between the fatness of Wei Ying’s cheeks, smearing lube around as it drips out of his hole. “I want to hear it, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying takes a deep, shaky breath and lets his eyes slip closed. He feels like he’s on the edge of something, like he’s about to topple over into the void. Lan Zhan pulls at his hair slightly, like a reminder. Wei Ying shivers and swallows, clenching his fingers into the bedsheets.

This is Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan who never judges him, who loves how depraved he is, who loves him, who fucks him and takes him apart and gives him exactly what he needs, who knows him more deeply than anyone, who accepts him and loves him, loves him. Wei Ying shivers as a warm feeling blossoms in his chest, as fresh tears start to drip from his eyelashes, to fall on the bedsheets below.

“Ahh. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… I want… I really want you to do it. To knock me up. I want you to knock me up. I want you to fuck me until I’m fucking pregnant, I want you to use my body and make a baby in me and fucking breed me, Lan Zhan. You’ve already taken my virginity, you said I belong to you, so you need to take responsibility, Lan Zhan! Have mercy and fucking cum in me, please-!”

Wei Ying is abruptly cut off by the sensation of Lan Zhan surging up behind him, of Lan Zhan’s teeth sinking into the nape of his neck, hard enough that it hurts. The pain is shocking and Wei Ying feels his mind go blank with it, feels his body soften in submission, like a prey animal. Lan Zhan holds him there like that, very still, until Wei Ying becomes acutely aware of the throb of his pulse, the raggedness of Lan Zhan’s breath against his skin - and then, Lan Zhan pushes his dick up into him with a single, piercing thrust, forcing it in all the way. Wei Ying feels himself jolt at the new angle, at the way it puts pressure his prostate, and then Lan Zhan rolls his hips, fucking into his oversensitive body with firm, indulgent motions, slow and forceful. Wei Ying is vaguely aware that cum is leaking steadily from his cock, that he’s making a mess of himself, that Lan Zhan is milking it from him, and then suddenly he’s seizing up as another orgasm crashes through him, as his mind whites out with agonizing pleasure.

When he comes to his senses, Lan Zhan has released him, and is kissing and licking at the wound he’s made, like he’s savoring it. Wei Ying can feel himself panting, can feel Lan Zhan petting and stroking him everywhere, Lan Zhan’s cock twitching inside him as he holds him securely on his lap.

Lan Zhan doesn’t say a word as he slides a big hand under his shirt, running his palm across Wei Ying’s stomach, through the absolute mess of cum that’s spilled there. His breathing is low and ragged as he drags his hand through it, rubbing at Wei Ying’s sensitive belly.

Wei Ying whimpers and keens in his hold, letting himself be soft and pliant against Lan Zhan’s touch as his mind drifts. Lan Zhan kisses along his neck, licks and sucks and bites at the tender lobe of his ear, as he palms Wei Ying’s belly, spreading his hand across it like he’s imagining what it would be like to have his seed take root there, to claim Wei Ying’s womb and make it his.

“I’m going to put a baby in you, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan murmurs, like he’s come to a decision. His voice is low and husky against Wei Ying’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you and fill you up until it takes.” Lan Zhan digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s belly, rubs his thumb in a soothing motion, and then pulls his hand away, covered with cum, and lays it flat against Wei Ying’s cheek.

Wei Ying’s breath hitches in shock and he lets out a little strangled moan as Lan Zhan drags his big hand across his face, smearing cum across his cheeks, his nose, his parted lips. He lets his eyes fall closed, panting softly, licking and mouthing at Lan Zhan’s hand as it passes over his lips, leaving them wet and messy. His neck is throbbing where Lan Zhan bit him, his body is shivering as Lan Zhan runs a possessive hand along the bare skin of his inner thigh.

“How could I not, when you’re so sweet, when you’re so needy for it.” Lan Zhan whispers, kissing the wound on his nape. “Sensitive.” Another kiss, along the side of his neck. “Greedy.” A roll of his hips, a thrust of his cock. “Perfect.” An arm wrapping around his waist, hoisting him up and tilting him forward until his sticky cheek is pressed against the bedsheets and his ass is in the air, Lan Zhan’s cock buried deep inside him.

“Pretty bitch.” Lan Zhan gathers up his hair, winding it around his fist and giving it a firm tug as he lays a big hand against the small of Wei Ying’s back, pushing down and forcing him to arch deeply, to present his ass like an absolute whore. “You take it so well.”

“Hahh, hahh, ahhh-!” Wei Ying gasps and chokes as Lan Zhan begins to thrust into him with fast, sharp snaps of his hips, as his body quivers and jolts helplessly with overstimulation that is impossibly intense. “Ahh, ahghh, Lan Zhaa- ahhh, alpha, f-fuck, fuck, fuck-!”

Lan Zhan yanks at his hair. “Such a filthy mouth for such a pretty omega. Watch your language.”

“Ngggh, fuck, I- I can’t …”

Lan Zhan smacks his ass with a sharp crack. “Suck on your fingers, then. Keep your mouth busy.”

Wei Ying stills, eyes wide and glazed over at Lan Zhan’s command. He presses clumsy fingers against his lips, feeling how sticky and messy his mouth is, smeared with cum, as he latches onto them, sucking and panting as his body seizes with each thrust. His face feels messy and wet against the bedsheets, soaking them with a mix of tears and semen.

“F-fu...fnnn… ahhhh… hnn… fuuck, fu- uhh…” Wei Ying chokes out, wet and muffled around his fingers. It feels involuntary, punched out of him with each brutal thrust.

Lan Zhan stills mid-thrust and brings his hand down on Wei Ying’s ass once more, making Wei Ying choke and cry pitifully as the shock surges through him. “Is that not enough for you? You need something more in your mouth?”

Lan Zhan tugs at his hair and grabs his wrist, pulling his fingers from his mouth. Wei Ying drools onto the bedsheets in their absence, whining pathetically as tears continue to drip down and across his face.

A moment later, Lan Zhan is back, fingering his mouth open and stuffing the wet cotton of his discarded panties inside.

Wei Ying seizes up in shock, instinctually pulling back to resist. Lan Zhan has never done something like this before, gagging him with fabric in his mouth - with dirty panties in his mouth - and it’s surprisingly uncomfortable, having his mouth stuffed full in this way. The fabric tickles at the back of his throat, making him gag, and he can taste the sweet, fruity flavor of the lube that had dripped out of him, mixed with the cum from his fingers. It’s absolutely filthy and degrading, and Lan Zhan holds him by the hair and makes him take it.

Wei Ying sobs and breathes through his nose as his mind floats apart, as the room spins and spins and spins. He squirms against Lan Zhan’s dick as a soothing hand runs along his thigh, along his hip, and then cracks against his ass, shocking and painful.

“You like that?” Lan Zhan asks, squeezing the hot, tender flesh of his ass.

Wei Ying tries to cry out, to deny it, but it’s muffled, absolutely unintelligible thanks to the panties gagging him. He clenches his fingers into the bedsheets, yanking at the fabric in frustration. His hands are free - in some distant part of his mind, he knows he could pull the panties out of his mouth, he knows he could snap his fingers, and make it stop instantly, but he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t want it to stop. He wants Lan Zhan to push him further. So he continues to cry out, loud and muffled, in a token show of resistance.

“You like it.” Lan Zhan affirms, bringing his hand down on Wei Ying’s ass once more, hard and sharp like he means it, right on the stinging heat of the previous strikes. Wei Ying jolts at the sensation as giddy and ecstatic tears flood his eyes.

“Gorgeous boy.” Lan Zhan praises as he fucks his hips forward, resuming the relentless pace. “Your little cunt is taking this alpha cock so well.” Lan Zhan settles a hand on his hip, holding him in place as he pounds into him furiously, fingers clenching and unclenching like he’s nearing his own release. “So fucking wet. I’m going to spill in your fertile pussy, use your pretty body to make a baby. Make you carry my fucking baby, Wei Ying, make you the mother to my children.”

Wei Ying breaks apart at that, seizing and convulsing as painfully hot pleasure rips through him, whiting out all other sensation. His body, his very being, feels boundless, born anew, light as a feather. It takes him a long time to process what has happened, to recognize the shape and feeling of his body, to realize that he’s actually crying, sobbing, that he’s yanked the fitted sheet clear off the corner of the bed. His gaze drifts, focuses in on the messy panties, discarded off to the side, and he realizes that Lan Zhan must have removed them from his mouth at some point.

Wei Ying is struck by a sudden feeling of panic, a terrible rush of bone-deep loneliness as he realizes that he doesn’t know where Lan Zhan is, that he can’t see him or feel him or hear him, and he’s so broken open he can barely tell up from down. But then there are hands on him, Lan Zhan’s hands, and Lan Zhan is lifting him, pulling him into his lap, into the warmth of his body, tucking him against his chest, stroking his back and his hair with shaky hands.

It’s an exquisite relief, being held like this, being held by Lan Zhan, and Wei Ying’s frantic breathing slowly evens out as Lan Zhan caresses him, as awareness and sensation begins to come back to him.

And then Wei Ying realizes that Lan Zhan hasn’t said anything, that Lan Zhan’s hands are shaking, that Lan Zhan’s breathing is tight and choked. Wei Ying forces his body to shift so he can tilt his head up, and his heart sinks as he realizes Lan Zhan is crying.

Lan Zhan does not cry often. He has never cried after sex. But Lan Zhan is crying now, quiet and faint like he’s trying to hold it back, hide it.

Lan Zhan’s hands are shaking. His hands are shaking, and he gently tucks Wei Ying back into his chest, like he wants to hide him there, like he’s trying to protect him, keep him safe.

I’m sorry.” Lan Zhan chokes, his voice rough and wet. “I’m so sorry, Wei Ying.”

Oh.

Lan Zhan thinks he hurt him.

Wei Ying came so hard he blacked out, and when he came to, he was crying, really crying. He came so hard he tore the fitted sheet off the edge of the bed. He can’t remember it, he can’t remember how it happened, but it must have scared Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is scared.

Lan Zhan thinks he hurt him.

The realization settles in his stomach like a heavy sort of panic, like dread.

Wei Ying parts his lips, but he can’t find the words, can’t make his mouth form the words. He pants roughly against Lan Zhan’s neck, frustrated and desperate, and then a thought comes to him, adrenaline-fueled and instinctual, and he shifts in Lan Zhan’s arms, tilts his head, and uses every ounce of energy at his disposal to sink his teeth into the side of Lan Zhan’s neck.

Lan Zhan jolts at the sensation and digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s back. He holds himself completely still, almost frozen, like he’s in shock. Wei Ying moans against his neck, pressing his teeth adamantly into his skin. It’s not quite hard enough to draw blood, but it feels hard enough to bruise.

Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan whispers. His voice sounds very careful.

Wei Ying whines against his neck, soft and airy, and shifts slightly, clenching and unclenching his fingers to draw sensation and movement back into his arms, and then he wraps his arms carefully around Lan Zhan’s waist and chest, hugging him tightly against him, with everything he has.

Lan Zhan softens at this, like the tension is bleeding out of him. He brings a hand to the back of Wei Ying’s head, digging his fingers into his hair and caressing him tenderly.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s voice is cracked, broken open. “Wei Ying...” He cradles the back of Wei Ying’s head, directing him softly to pull back, like he’s asking for Wei Ying’s attention.

Wei Ying releases his teeth from Lan Zhan’s neck, and he presses a gentle kiss against it, and then another, before he lets himself fall back into Lan Zhan’s hands, lets Lan Zhan tilt his face up to look at him.

Lan Zhan’s eyes are wet from crying, and he regards Wei Ying carefully, thoroughly, with real importance.

“Wei Ying, sweetheart, are you okay?” Lan Zhan’s voice is tender, unbelievably tender, and Wei Ying cannot help but smile up at him, cannot hold back the radiant warmth that is blossoming in his chest. He nods softly, eagerly, bringing a hand to cradle the side of Lan Zhan’s face, to wipe away the tear tracks there.

Fuck.” Lan Zhan whispers, and he pulls Wei Ying into his chest once more, squeezing him tightly against him, like he cannot bear to be apart from him. “Wei Ying. Baby. I’ve never seen you cry like that. I’ve never seen you come like that.” Lan Zhan’s voice is ragged, and the words are spilling out of him like rushing water. “You drank a lot. I made you drink a lot. It was irresponsible. I thought…” Lan Zhan breathes heavily into his hair, like he’s trying to gather himself. “I thought I hurt you. I thought I pushed you too far.”

Wei Ying shakes his head adamantly against Lan Zhan’s neck, and he kisses and licks at the bite mark there, panting softly, clinging to Lan Zhan like his life depends on it. He desperately wants to convey how good it was, to make Lan Zhan understand how deeply it resonated, how rapturous it was to have those desires drawn out from the core of him, to be nurtured and guided through it.

Wei Ying’s body is too sensitive, too wrung out to be fucked again, but he wants and wants and wants. So he mouths at Lan Zhan’s neck and wraps a hand around Lan Zhan’s cock, slowly stroking it, coaxing it into hardness.

“Wei Ying…” Lan Zhan whispers, seeming almost uncertain. But Wei Ying is adamant, and he pants softly against Lan Zhan’s neck, trying to get a sense of how to use his tongue, how to make words with his mouth.

“Lan… Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying whispers, and it comes out soft but surprisingly steady.

“Lan Zhan.” He breathes it, sweet and airy against Lan Zhan’s neck. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan’s cock is hardening, thickening in his hand. His blood sings with delight at the feeling of it, big and hard and responsive to his touch.

“Lan Zhan. I liked it.” He whispers, like a joyous confession. “I liked it so much.”

Lan Zhan groans and digs his fingers into Wei Ying, holding him, squeezing him everywhere.

“Wei Ying…” he whispers, soft with disbelief, reverent like a prayer. “Fuck. Baby, I…”

“Watch your language.” Wei Ying whispers in Lan Zhan’s ear as elation surges through him, as Lan Zhan’s cock pulses against his palm. “We have a little one to think about, now.”

Lan Zhan comes undone at that. He surges into action, burying his fingers in Wei Ying’s hair and pulling him into a fierce, messy kiss. Wei Ying strokes him through it, working him closer and closer to the edge, and then Lan Zhan spills between them, dripping all over Wei Ying’s hand as he digs his fingers into Wei Ying’s flesh hard enough to leave bruises, as they pant raggedly into each other’s mouths.

“I love you.” Wei Ying gasps, bringing his messy hand to the side of Lan Zhan’s face, to smear cum against his pristine cheek. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Lan Zhan surges forward to kiss him again, like he wants to steal his breath away, like he wants to eat him alive, like he can’t find the words.

--

Wei Ying wakes up early - well, earlier than usual.

He’s alone in Lan Zhan’s bed, curled up under the warm sheets, hugging a pillow. His hair is unexpectedly neat and tidy, like it’s been recently caressed and tucked back away from his face. There’s a soft aroma of sandalwood incense in the air, and there are pillows tucked all around him, like he’s cradled in a soft nest.

Wei Ying lets his eyes slip closed once more and he nuzzles his face into a pillow, basking in the scent of lavender pillow mist as awareness returns to him, soft and slow, and a silly smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

His heart feels warm and full as he draws himself up into a sitting position, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. On impulse, he reaches out a hand to feel Lan Zhan’s side of the bed, finding it slightly warm, with a faint impression of Lan Zhan’s presence.

The warmth in Wei Ying’s chest blossoms, making him feel giddy and light as a feather. His body is tired and achy, and the world hasn’t quite lost the surreal quality of waking, but the impulse strikes him to leave the bedroom, to explore further, and so he slides to the edge of the bed and drops his bare feet to the floor, flinching slightly at the cold sensation.

Wei Ying floats along to the door, clad in nothing but Lan Zhan’s big pajama shirt and a pair of small black boxers. His movements are soft and quiet, like he’s in a liminal space between the sleeping and waking worlds, hesitant to disturb the serenity of it.

He eases the door open and meanders softly down the hall. There are voices coming from the kitchen - Lan Zhan, with his uncle on the phone. The sweet, fluttering tones of Suzhou dialect are familiar to Wei Ying now, and he can distinguish basic words and phrases.

He asks Lan Zhan to speak it to him sometimes, in bed, when they’re playing. The first time they did it, Lan Zhan had whispered filthy translations in his ear, like he was reaffirming consent, but Wei Ying had quickly stopped him, pressed a hand over his mouth and shook his head no. He kissed away any further attempts at translations, swallowed any protests, until Lan Zhan held him down and railed into him, spewing incomprehensible, filthy promises until ecstasy surged between them.

Wei Ying bites back a smile as he rounds the corner, gaze landing on Lan Zhan in the kitchen. He’s wearing pajama pants and a soft t-shirt, coaxing glossy red seeds from a neatly quartered pomegranate. There’s a small steamer on the stove, and Lan Zhan’s phone is laying on the counter, presumably with facetime on, ambiently pointed up at the ceiling.

Wei Ying pauses for a moment, heart swelling with fondness as he watches Lan Zhan deftly spill pomegranate seeds into a glass dish, responding to his uncle with little affirming sounds, with concise answers. Lan Zhan calls his uncle almost everyday, sometimes for just a few moments to check in. It’s a habit he’s carried with him ever since he moved away from home for university.

They’re usually quick phone calls - Wei Ying has overheard a few, in the past, and he can follow along as Lan Zhan’s uncle asks about his classes and his health, as he talks with him about internship prospects. Today seems to be no different, but then Lan Zhan’s uncle asks, “And how is Wei Ying?”

Lan Zhan hasn’t noticed Wei Ying’s presence yet, but he seems to be expecting the question, like this is normal, like his uncle asks about Wei Ying regularly.

“Good. He’s been working hard on a big coding project.”

Lan Zhan’s uncle hums thoughtfully. “His art showcase is coming up soon, as well.”

“Mn.”

“Make sure he’s getting enough rest. And make sure you’re cooking enough food for both of you.”

Lan Zhan’s gaze catches on Wei Ying as he discards the remains from the final wedge of pomegranate. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, and a soft smile graces his features.

“Mn. I will.” Lan Zhan affirms as he presses a small pod into the automatic espresso machine on his counter, as he sets it up to froth milk and dispense espresso with a quiet, fancy hum.

“Good. Take care.”

“Mn. Take care.”

Lan Zhan ends the call with a tap of his finger as the espresso machine hums softly in the background, and he turns his attention to Wei Ying, steady and fond, like something from a soft, sweet dream.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying realizes suddenly that there is a single, solitary tear running down his cheek, that he’s smiling in rapturous disbelief. He takes a shaky breath, wiping at the tear with his sleeve. His heart feels cracked open. It shouldn’t be possible to feel like this, to be loved so deeply.

Wei Ying wasn’t able to understand every word in the conversation, but he could understand enough to fill in the blanks, to hear the care and love that Lan Zhan’s uncle holds for his nephew also directed at him. Like he’s an important part of Lan Zhan’s life. Like he’s worthwhile. Like he’s family.

Wei Ying had been nervous the first time he met Lan Zhan’s family, though he tried his best to hide it. Lan Zhan’s uncle gave the impression of being stern and traditional, hard to read, but he seemed to warm up to Wei Ying over time, or at least grudgingly accept him. However, Wei Ying had no idea Lan Zhan’s uncle asked about him when he talked with Lan Zhan, that he spoke about him with such interest and concern.

Wei Ying sniffles slightly, swallowing roughly. “Ah, Lan Zhan…”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan whispers his name, sweet and tender, like a heartfelt caress, like he’s holding something fragile. He settles a warm mug into Wei Ying’s hands, and the scent of coffee and warm milk wafts around them as he presses a kiss against Wei Ying’s forehead, as he tucks back a loose strand of Wei Ying’s hair.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying murmurs, heart in his throat as he lifts the coffee, cradling the mug in his hands.

“It’s decaf.” Lan Zhan remarks, like he’s mentioning an important detail.

He’s lying, of course. Lan Zhan doesn’t own decaf coffee.

Wei Ying bites back a delighted smile.

“For the baby?”

Lan Zhan smirks at him and threads his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair, soft and possessive.

“For the baby.”