There was only one rule to the game Lan Zhan played with Wei Ying behind the doors of this club: as soon as he stepped inside, feigning disinterest, Wei Ying found his way underfoot and forced his way through Lan Zhan’s pretenses with all the elegance of a demolition crew eager to fell a building. It took different shapes each time—looks, touches, exuberant shouts from across the room—and it didn’t take much, but it always happened and it always turned them into the center of attention and Lan Zhan liked it that way, knowing he was wanted.
In short, Wei Ying teased and they fucked. Or he teased and they didn’t fuck. Lan Zhan always made the final call, belligerently pleased to know that even when Wei Ying found someone else to play with, it was only because Lan Zhan declined his attentions first.
This was the game. Though Lan Zhan would have liked never to let Wei Ying swan off into the arms of another, he knew better than to let himself think this was anything more than what it was. Turning Wei Ying down gave Lan Zhan a veneer of plausible deniability.
It was simple, if not easy, and Lan Zhan was very much looking forward, as he signed in with security, to making Wei Ying sit on his cock and beg. Nothing else would do, not with the desire that burned within him, tailor-made for the particular quality of Wei Ying’s give, hard to earn, but a joy to receive.
Only it was immediately apparent that something was different tonight. When Lan Zhan stepped into the wide lobby where most gathered before going off to play, Wei Ying had wrested control over at least half of the bar, holding court with a handful of men and women with tastes comparable to Lan Zhan’s, people Lan Zhan didn’t loathe precisely, but were beneath Wei Ying’s notice when his attention should have been on Lan Zhan instead.
Though a few of them looked Lan Zhan’s way, alternately nervous or haughty depending on how afraid of Lan Zhan’s glare they were, Wei Ying paid him no mind. He continued to gesticulate as he spoke to Su She, a man who couldn’t dominate a wet paper bag as far as Lan Zhan could see, though enough others seemed to enjoy him that he wasn’t deterred. Not Wei Ying as far as Lan Zhan knew.
Lan Zhan found himself perplexed, disappointed, annoyed. Though he might insinuate himself into the fray, smash this bizarre little party to pieces, and claim Wei Ying’s time for his own where everyone could witness it—Wei Ying would like such a thing very much, he thought—he hesitated.
He hesitated too long.
A woman about his age approached. Though nervous, she spoke clearly and appropriately when she asked him if she could get him a drink, pointing out correctly that he kept looking at the bar. He didn’t recognize her, but there was a telling spread of red around her neck, a mark she couldn’t stop herself from touching, exposing the band of clinking, colored tokens strung around her wrist, shorthand for what she was interested in pursuing. Service submission (obvious), collaring (obvious), impact play (less obvious, but understandable given her willingness to approach him), partner of any gender.
Lan Zhan glanced once at Wei Ying, visible in profile. He showed no sign he’d noticed Lan Zhan’s arrival, an impossibility according to the rule. The woman waited patiently for an answer, eyes lowered to the floor. If she were Wei Ying, she would have used her very slight height advantage to drape herself across his back and poke his cheek. Lan Zhan, do you want anything to drink or are you thirsty for me instead? You can admit it.
Depending on what they wanted from him and what he was interested in giving in return, he sometimes worked with women. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as Wei Ying and it never involved sexual contact, but he wasn’t opposed in theory.
Theory and practice existed so far from one another tonight. He appreciated her willingness to approach him, but that was all he could give to her.
“Not today, thank you,” he replied. Pointing at one of the women hanging around Wei Ying, he added, “Might I suggest Wen Qing? She’s very skilled.”
She inclined her head, too dainty in Lan Zhan’s opinion, too elegant, and made her way to the bar, drawing even Wei Ying’s attention, Wei Ying, who sometimes got the idea to play with other subs. With Wei Ying’s head finally turned this way, Lan Zhan would be perfectly visible to him if only Wei Ying would lift his eyes from the hem of this woman’s skirt.
Look at me, he ordered silently, ineffectively.
Wei Ying’s gaze dragged up her body and finally found sanctuary in the delicate curves of her face. Blushing, a little coy, he squeezed close to one of the men behind him so she had room to step in. He took a look at her wrist and beckoned Wen Qing forward.
Lan Zhan’s hands tightened into fists against his flanks.
This rejection of their game couldn’t be understood as anything other than a total rejection of Lan Zhan. It happened. Wei Ying wasn’t obligated to enjoy his company every time he came, but the feeling of betrayal at this turn of events, childish as it was, stung, like Wei Ying had taken his toys and decided to show them off in front of others without a word of explanation.
Without Wei Ying, he wouldn’t find what he wanted here tonight. As such, there was no point in staying.
The air outside the club was brisk, cool the way evenings tended to be when they edged toward full dark. No amount of air conditioning could entirely master the humidity of the bodies inside its rooms, but somehow, the difference always caught him by surprise, bracing as it was. The sidewalk was largely empty at this time of the evening, everyone having already arrived and no one quite ready to leave yet, the location chosen long ago for how off the beaten path it was. A few passersby eyed him curiously, perhaps surprised to see anyone coming out of the unassuming building, but otherwise paid him little mind. Lan Zhan acknowledged them with a nod and walked away.
Leather-soled shoes struck the pavement with several short, sharp thwacks. It would be Wei Ying, of course. Few people could match his stride. That was gratifying.
“Lan Zhan!” His wandering hands wrapped around Lan Zhan’s waist as he tucked himself under Lan Zhan’s arm. His muscles tensed at the contact, an involuntary and unwelcome reaction. Of course Wei Ying noticed the unnatural change in his demeanor, and of course, he leaned more heavily against him in response. “Oh, did gege make you mad? You usually welcome me with a little more—”
There was an alley a few shops down from the club. Lan Zhan shoved him, stumbling, into it and pressed him to the crumbling brick wall of the tiny restaurant that made its place on this particular corner. Though Wei Ying had height and a little breadth on Lan Zhan, he went along with this happily enough, tipping his chin to accommodate the press of Lan Zhan’s forearm against his neck.
“—affection than this.” His gaze dipped and rose again, a smirk forming on his mouth as he clocked the erection threatening to make itself known between them, not his own, of course, but Lan Zhan’s. “Hello.”
“Wei Ying.”
A few with Lan Zhan’s tastes and predilections refused to have anything to do with Wei Ying because he was mercurial, temperamental, and couldn’t always be punished with an eye toward ensuring the behavior they wanted. What worked in one scene didn’t work in another. He was unreliable and frivolous. He was perfectly willing to mock people he didn’t respect.
They didn’t like that Wei Ying would always have one thing over on them: he just didn’t need it the way anyone else did.
He knew this because he used to be like them.
He’d once asked Wei Ying why he did what he did if he wanted to be, in Wei Ying’s words, a ball buster about it. There was a place for bratty doms after all. He would have had an easier time of the settling-in process if he’d gone that route instead of fighting for the reputation he enjoyed now. At the time, Wei Ying couldn’t provide a satisfying answer. These days, Lan Zhan didn’t need one. Most people, having now seen what Wei Ying could do, were willing to trip over themselves for time with Wei Ying, not needing one either.
“Did you want my attention terribly, Lan Zhan.”
“You shouldn’t mess around.”
Wei Ying sniffed disdainfully, squirming against Lan Zhan’s hold on him. At any point, he could get out of it, but he always chose not to. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I stopped.”
That was true. There was no reason to say it.
He let go, allowing Wei Ying to drop from his toes. “Have fun tonight, Wei Ying.”
“I certainly intend to,” Wei Ying said, matching Lan Zhan’s stride as he turned back onto the sidewalk. “Only… my intended will have to agree to it, of course. You see, he needs to be finessed, wooed.” He spun on his heels and walked backward in front of Lan Zhan, tapping Lan Zhan’s chest with the gun he made of his fingers. Clicking his tongue, he flicked his thumb to indicate a shot, center mass. “Seduced, maybe. He’s a little vain, this guy. I’m sure you’d know nothing about that.”
“Enough.”
“Gege.” Wei Ying shook his head, tsking mournfully. “Gege, please. I was too mean to him tonight. How do I convince him I’m serious?”
“Enough.”
“Maybe if he takes me home?” Wei Ying’s eyes, always such a pretty, light-catching shade of brown, could barely be seen through the coquettish fan of his lashes. “Will he take me home, do you think? Let me make it up to him?”
Lan Zhan stopped, studied Wei Ying’s face. There was, maybe, a hint of regret there.
“I didn’t realize,” Wei Ying said, just serious enough that Lan Zhan couldn’t bring himself to tell Wei Ying off. “There were so many people around. I didn’t notice at first. Then I did and I wanted to see what would happen. I really figured you’d be relieved to be rid of me for a night, but you looked like I kicked your pet.”
Sweat gathered in Lan Zhan’s hairline. The implication that Wei Ying knew Lan Zhan well enough to make an educated guess about his mood was mortifying.
“You’re always good to me. I don’t like being bad to you,” Wei Ying insisted. “So tell me.”
“What would you have me say?”
“Yes. That’s all.” Wei Ying grinned brilliantly, as though yes was such an easy thing to say. “Take me home, Lan Zhan. I won’t even make you tell me you missed my harassment campaign. I’ll beg if you want me to. You could film it and show it to everyone in the club. I’ll—”
“Quiet,” Lan Zhan said.
“I’ll even be quiet.”
Lan Zhan stared. Hard. “Come home with me then.”
Later, Wei Ying plastered himself against Lan Zhan’s chest and played with the stained, frayed blue silk ribbon Lan Zhan had used on him. Teasing it across Lan Zhan’s skin, the fabric sleek and cool, Wei Ying finally draped it over his eyes before pillowing his arms on Lan Zhan’s sternum. “What are your plans for tomorrow, Lan Zhan? Surely this isn’t all you wanted from me?”
It wasn’t. For reasons that wouldn’t bear the weight of scrutiny, he’d needed to hold back tonight, play it safe. Maybe this was why, this probing question, this potential for more. A night was one thing. An entire day with which to pull Wei Ying apart was another. It was within his grasp and he ached at the thought of taking it.
“I have no plans.” Lan Zhan’s fingers dug into Wei Ying’s back and shoulders as he pulled him more securely across Lan Zhan’s torso, their legs tangling, as much of Wei Ying’s body brushing against his as he could mastermind on such short notice. “You may stay the night.”
“Oh, I may, may I? That’s so kind of you, my lord.” He tapped his fingers against Lan Zhan’s clavicle. “Wanna play then?”
He wanted nothing more. “Mn.”
“Wanna play more tonight?”
“Mn.”
“Lan Zhan, if I knew you’d be this easy, I’d have made you work for it sooner.”
Just for that, he made Wei Ying work for it this time; afterward, he slept better than he had in years, Wei Ying’s body solid and secure beneath his chest as Lan Zhan curled around him and pressed him into the bed, holding him there through the night.
Lan Zhan woke to find Wei Ying perched on the edge of his bed with a tray in his hands and another one of his brilliant grins on his mouth. He said, too chirpy, “Good morning.”
“I didn’t know you realized it was possible to wake up early,” Lan Zhan replied as he pushed himself upright. “What is this?”
Pushing the tray onto Lan Zhan’s lap, he said, “Poison, obviously.”
It did not look like poison. In fact, it looked rather like Wei Ying knew something about cooking. A glass of soy milk sat in one corner as did a pot of tea and Lan Zhan’s favorite cup. Meticulously cubed pieces of mango and perfect sections of oranges sparkled on one plate while a thin, jewel-like vegetable broth filled a large bowl in the center. The surface gleamed with the tiniest hint of oil, only slightly obscuring the spinach, mushrooms, and noodles beneath.
Wei Ying watched him keenly, one leg hiked up onto the bed, his knee barely skimming Lan Zhan’s flank.
“So what’s the plan for today?” Wei Ying asked as Lan Zhan drank the tea, perfectly brewed. In truth, he didn’t usually eat such a large breakfast. It was difficult to pretend he was hungry while Wei Ying expected an answer.
“Did you sleep well?” Lan Zhan asked.
“Better than normal.”
He held out a piece of the orange. Wei Ying bent forward and took it between his teeth. “What do you want to do?” Lan Zhan asked, a question for a question.
Wei Ying chewed, head tilting to one side. In retaliation, he picked up a cube of mango and pressed it to Lan Zhan’s lips. Though he could have avoided it easily, he chose to bite at Wei Ying’s fingertip as he sucked it into his mouth. “All day?”
Lan Zhan nodded.
“I should be punished, shouldn’t I?”
“How would you like to be punished?” Back when they still negotiated scenes into the ground, Wei Ying wrinkled his nose at this question. These days, he knew Lan Zhan wouldn’t spoil him despite knowing in advance what Wei Ying wanted.
“Turnabout is fair play, isn’t it?”
Wei Ying wasn’t a big fan of being ignored. So punishing him with what he’d done to Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan could work with that. “Usual rules or special?”
“They’re good rules, our special rules.”
“Same safe word?”
“There’s nothing I want to say less during sex, Lan Zhan. We’re still good. You?”
Lan Zhan nodded.
“Yeah.” Content, Wei Ying patted Lan Zhan on the top of the head. No one else would have done such a thing. “Yeah, we’re still good. Eat up, huh?”
So Wei Ying could sprawl next to him, Lan Zhan shifted aside, keeping a careful hold on the tray as he did. “Sit. You should eat, too.” A little worried, he dragged the ceramic spoon through the broth and picked up the pair of chopsticks. “Where did you learn to cook?”
“Used to role play with a professional chef. Biggest workaholic I ever met. I didn’t cook well enough for her tastes, so we pretended I was her incompetent new hire. Everything was too spicy. Not enough nuance or care taken. You keep doing it wrong, Wei Ying, she always said. I was lazy, she told me, so she’d make the most viciously spicy concoctions she could imagine and have me eat them.” He nudged Lan Zhan’s shoulder and winked. “Took her a while to figure out I was pretending to suck that badly on purpose, but what can I say? She was very creative. I couldn’t look at chocolate cake for about a month after she taught me how to make dessert.”
“I would have known you were lying from the beginning.” He probably would have allowed it to continue, too, enjoying the lie between them for what it was, dragging it out as long as possible for the pleasure of it.
Wei Ying kicked at his ankle through the quilt, like he couldn’t get enough of touching Lan Zhan in every possible spot, even one still hidden away. “That’s what makes you my favorite.”
As Lan Zhan ate, occasionally forcing Wei Ying to take a few bites as well, he considered his options. A full day with Wei Ying was a gift, one he didn’t want to squander. With special rules at play, he might do anything, even things Wei Ying didn’t like—hitting, humiliation, other acts Wei Ying always nixed because they were boring to him—whatever he wanted to do as long as he didn’t tell Wei Ying how he truly felt, Wei Ying’s only line not to be crossed ever: I know you’re a soft touch deep down inside, don’t tell me how good I am, Lan Zhan, I don’t want to hear it.
Despite invoking special rules, Lan Zhan didn’t intend to hit or humiliate Wei Ying even though they would have been fittingly unpleasant to him. It wasn’t in his nature and besides, there were better ways to punish Wei Ying’s recent inattentiveness.
When Lan Zhan stripped him down to nothing today, skin still a little damp and warm from a shower, he tied his arms securely behind his back, forearms folded together, bunching his shoulders beautifully before putting him over the arm of the plush leather couch that just so happened to be at the perfect height as long as he shoved Wei Ying’s face into the cushions, baring his ass beautifully while leaving him almost incapable of getting his own relief.
“Wait!” Wei Ying said, as Lan Zhan fished a condom from the pack in his pajama pocket. The wrapper crinkled in his palm. “Can we…”
“What?”
“No condoms?”
Lan Zhan hesitated, thoughts stopped in their entirety as he considered the mere possibility, just long enough for Wei Ying to start fussing, bending his knees so he could get enough leverage to push himself up without bracing himself. Lan Zhan pressed his hand between Wei Ying’s shoulder blades, pinning him in place.
“We don’t have to. I mean, you can use them. But I have tests from last week and I haven’t actually been with anyone since taking them. I know you’re careful. Just throwing it out there. As an option. If it’s too messy or you don’t like it, it’s fine.”
“I don’t distrust you,” Lan Zhan replied. There was nothing they could do together that Lan Zhan would consider too messy. “You’re sure?”
“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s voice was a scolding drawl, each vowel dragging itself down Lan Zhan’s spine.
“Very well.” As he mentally rearranged his plans for Wei Ying, he tossed the condom and the box onto the table. “One moment.”
Wei Ying merely smirked and wriggled on the couch. “I’ll just get comfortable, shall I?”
Wei Ying wasn’t smirking once Lan Zhan was done with him, the mingled gleam of lubricant and come spilling from within him far more compelling than it had any right being. In fact, he whined rather piteously as Lan Zhan dragged a plug through the mess, coating it just enough that it slid in easily, holding the rest inside Wei Ying’s body. Wei Ying trembled around the flared base of it, making it impossible for Lan Zhan to stop himself from stroking the hot, soft ring of skin beneath it.
“Lan Zhan, you’re a real tease, did you know?” Wei Ying said breathlessly. “You planning on getting me off anytime soon?”
“No.” Lan Zhan enjoyed the way Wei Ying wailed, a little too theatrical to be real yet, but fun enough to hear as he wiped himself up and pulled his pajama pants back on. “I have work to do.”
“What?”
He did not, nothing that couldn’t wait.
“Lan Zhan, did you lie to me?”
In a manner of speaking, but it didn’t signify. He pulled Wei Ying upright and delighted in the way he groaned and stumbled into Lan Zhan’s side, no doubt adjusting to the feel of the plug. Carefully, Lan Zhan removed the rope wrapped around his arms and placed the length of it on the table along with the abandoned condoms.
“If you can behave yourself for an hour, I will let you come.”
Wei Ying barely refrained from rolling his eyes. It was only the respect he held for Lan Zhan that stayed the urge, Lan Zhan was sure.
“Sit,” Lan Zhan said.
“This poor couch,” Wei Ying said, fond.
“It’s easy to clean for a reason. Sit.”
Wei Ying sat and gestured grandiosely to indicate how well he listened. For a man about to receive punishment, he was exceedingly cavalier.
Again, Lan Zhan retreated, finding it harder to do this time than before, and returned with his laptop and cooling pad. Lan Zhan sat next to him again, his weight bringing them toward one another. He put the laptop aside for the moment, massaging Wei Ying’s arms first, maybe admiring the red marks the rope left behind, too.
“Lan Zhan’s gonna be the first man on this planet to bore me to orgasm. He is a peerless beauty and merciless in his pursuit of excellence. We would all do well to learn from his ex—”
Lan Zhan tangled his fingers in the soft, barely dry strands of hair at the nape of Wei Ying’s neck, luxuriating for a moment in the touch before yanking Wei Ying over his lap, settling him until he was satisfied with the angle of his back. He petted the length of Wei Ying’s spine, stopping just short of truly being the tease Wei Ying accused him of being. “Don’t move. Don’t squirm. Don’t try to rub one out when you think I’m not paying attention.”
“Ah, would I do that?”
“Yes.”
“Not to you though.”
“You absolutely would.”
Wei Ying slumped, only belatedly remembering Lan Zhan’s order to stay put. After that, his spine straightened beautifully, his balance mostly on his elbows. “Will you spank me if I don’t?”
He would if he thought that was what Wei Ying wanted. “Be still. Be quiet.” He picked up the laptop and the cooling pad and balanced it on Wei Ying’s back. “Be good.”
To his credit, Wei Ying was very good. Lan Zhan expected nothing less from him when he wanted to play ball. If Lan Zhan refused to dignify Wei Ying’s correct behavior with fair play, that was another thing. He picked up his phone, swiped through to the app that paired with the plug, made sure he had a good hold on the laptop, and—
Wei Ying jolted against the sudden vibration within him. “Lan Zhan!” he shouted, kicking his long, gorgeous, delightfully hairy legs against the arm rest in surprise. “You fucker.”
“What do you think would happen if anyone else said that to me?”
“I suppose I deserve this,” he said, going almost preternaturally still. “Do your worst, Lan Zhan.” The silence that followed was so pointed and challenging that Lan Zhan couldn’t quite bit back the smile that began to form on his mouth. He hadn’t even powered up the laptop yet and could see the amused pull of his mouth reflected back at him from the dark screen, far, far softer than he was comfortable admitting to.
Swiping his finger across his phone a few times, he changed the plug’s setting to random. The gentle hum of the device within Wei Ying’s body stopped. Wei Ying didn’t move or make a sound, proving his good behavior. He even refrained from making a snide comment about how groping him factored into Lan Zhan’s indomitable work ethic when Lan Zhan cupped his hand over the rounded curve of his ass.
Good, he couldn’t say. To satisfy himself, he patted Wei Ying’s hip lightly and turned on the laptop and pretty much stared blankly at it, hands poised a bit awkwardly over the keyboard as he tapped listlessly at the track pad, more interested in when the plug was going to switch back on than anything he might find here. The whole time, he kept an eye on the clock; he might have been willing to bend unspoken or assumed rules, but he refused to break the explicit ones. If Wei Ying lasted an hour, he’d get to come. It was only right.
Time seemed to stretch as he waited for each random burst, anticipation building low in his gut while Wei Ying trembled in his lap. Precome leaked into the thin fabric of Lan Zhan’s pajamas. One moment passed in a slow eternity and the next raced at breakneck speeds, vacillating back and forth like so many waves crashing against the shore. His growing erection poked against Wei Ying’s stomach, no doubt as obvious to Wei Ying as Wei Ying’s was to Lan Zhan.
Wei Ying did well for a time, genuinely so, but the deck was always stacked against him. He was always going to crack, it was just a matter of when. Even so, he muffled each moan until they were barely audible, held his body so still there was hardly any motion at all. Lan Zhan could actually have worked if necessary. Though Lan Zhan admired the show of restraint, he admired even more those moments where he failed, a tiny jerk of his hips here, a high-pitched whine there. Admired most of all the fact that Wei Ying was willing to keep playing even after he lost.
His gaze flicked to the clock again. Forty minutes to go. Even Lan Zhan was starting to feel a desperate pull for this to all be over, sure he was making as much of a mess of Wei Ying as Wei Ying was making of him. He flexed his thighs once, pulling a moan out of Wei Ying as Wei Ying was shifted only the tiniest of amounts by the action.
“Are you alright?” Lan Zhan asked, fighting the urge to sweep his hand down the bit of Wei Ying’s spine he could reach without removing the laptop from his back. It felt like a transgression of some sort, the possibility too tantalizing. If he touched Wei Ying now, he feared he would be the one to end their game early. Wei Ying would never take him seriously again if that happened and he would be right not to. “You won’t be punished for answering.”
Lan Zhan expected a torrent of words. What he got instead was a bitten-off cry and a ragged, “’m good, Lan Zhan.” For that, Lan Zhan abandoned all pretense as he picked up his phone and took the device off its random setting. He gave Wei Ying a moment’s gasping reprieve before turning it on again.
Though he’d never used this particular toy on Wei Ying before, he’d be entirely deficient as a partner if he didn’t know the sort of patterns Wei Ying preferred. Sometimes, often, he refused to give them to him, forcing Wei Ying to suffer through continuous vibrations that only actually frustrated him or left him feeling, as he said, so fucking numb, Lan Zhan, it’s unfair. But today wasn’t about depriving Wei Ying of what he wanted.
It was about giving him too much of it for as long as possible. The last thing he wanted was Wei Ying checking out, desensitized by constant stimulation.
Wei Ying mumbled into his forearms. It might have been a curse.
“What was that?” he asked, sliding the intensity bar nearly all the way to the top.
No answer.
He brought the bar back down. “Wei Ying. You can answer.”
Wei Ying breathed, pushed himself back onto his knees, nearly tipping the laptop before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to move.
“I can’t. You—” He pushed his face into the couch cushion, groaning as his hips rocked against Lan Zhan. “I can’t. Lan Zhan, come on. I already know you’re not gonna let me come, you might as well fuck me now. I know where this is heading.”
“We’ve agreed to the rules.”
Wei Ying, wet, panting, begging by his standards, resumed the position he’d been put in at the beginning, muscles tight. When Lan Zhan touched his shoulder, a gentle stroke that followed the line of his bicep, he flinched.
He pretended yet again to look at the laptop. It was even less interesting now than it had been at the start.
There was still twenty minutes to go. Twenty long minutes.
Usually he enjoyed this sort of thing, playing the distant, disinterested figure. He’d have to remember that it didn’t work with Wei Ying, his patience wearing too thin too quickly to truly enjoy it. Watching him squirm and moan for an entire hour would have been more enjoyable than pretending he didn’t care.
Wei Ying would laugh at him if he knew.
Time dragged.
Ten minutes.
Lan Zhan fussed again with the app. Growing annoyed by the regular pulsing buzz of the toy, he switched it to a more irregular beat, one that rose and fell and made Wei Ying yelp at the sudden switch. Though he began to speak, he stifled himself at the last second, palm pressed over his mouth, contorting the half-spoken word into a muddled groan.
Nine. Eight. Seven, six, five. Endless torture.
Four.
Wei Ying gave up all pretense of playing as he dragged himself back and forth over Lan Zhan’s lap, making tiny noises with every uncoordinated thrust. If he kept doing that, they wouldn’t make it; Lan Zhan had half a mind to let him go and punish him worse after, maybe in a way that wasn’t also a punishment to Lan Zhan.
Three.
Lan Zhan squeezed the meat of Wei Ying’s thigh, hand spanning the whole width, stilling him. Wei Ying cried out, pained. The laptop almost toppled from Wei Ying’s back as he wriggled.
Two.
Two was close enough to an hour. While they’d been getting themselves situated at the start, that was probably two minutes in total. Probably. It counted. Wei Ying made a muffled sound low in his throat. It might have been Lan Zhan’s name. It definitely wasn’t his safe word. Two minutes was nothing. His fingers dug into Wei Ying’s leg until the skin around it was pale. There would be bruises. Wei Ying wouldn’t know they didn’t make it the whole time.
Just a minute. One minute. Only one.
Even Lan Zhan couldn’t quite stop himself from using Wei Ying’s body. It made him feel like a teen, sitting here like this, uncontrolled and unskilled, rutting away with no thought to technique and no care for anything other than release. This was close enough. Next time, he’d do better.
The timer rang out just as Lan Zhan shoved the laptop aside and pulled the still vibrating plug from Wei Ying’s body, tossing it to the floor where it bounced, rolled, and settled halfway across the hardwood, buzzing loudly. It was miraculous that Wei Ying didn’t come, keening, as it was tugged free.
Frankly, it was even more miraculous that Lan Zhan didn’t come from the sound of Wei Ying’s voice crying out so beautifully for him.
He slid his fingers into Wei Ying, skin soft and hot around him, still slick, still loose and ready, still perfect. He shoved his pajamas down his legs with his free hand, fighting the fabric and Wei Ying’s weight across his thighs, not wanting to stop touching Wei Ying to make it easier. “Wei Ying, on my lap.”
Wei Ying kept wriggling, not hearing him.
“Wei Ying.”
Groaning, Wei Ying lifted himself up, careful, and slid one shaky leg across Lan Zhan’s, behaving to the best of his ability. When he didn’t move quickly enough, Lan Zhan pulled him down and lined himself up. “Gege, you’re making me work, too?”
Grabbing Wei Ying’s hips, he held him tightly in place as he drove himself into Wei Ying’s body. It was safe to say he didn’t intend to make Wei Ying work, no, but this position wasn’t going to do it. At the first whine Wei Ying gave up to him, Lan Zhan twisted them both, pinning Wei Ying to the couch. Wei Ying definitely wouldn’t have to work for the suffering he received.
“Lan Zhan,” he cried as Lan Zhan hiked his legs up, pleased when Wei Ying hooked his ankles together behind his back, pulling him in, like being this close wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough for him. Lan Zhan felt it, too, that dragging desire to take up residence within Wei Ying and never come back out.
Wei Ying leaked against his own stomach as Lan Zhan thrust into him, bringing him to the precipice with flattering speed. It was only long acquaintance that kept Lan Zhan from making a mistake. Another mistake. The laptop had been a mistake, nearly a mistake, not quite a mistake, too close to being a mistake. Mistake enough. They piled up in the back of his mind, these almost mistakes, the way he was so close to throwing over their agreement entirely and just fucking him into oblivion, satisfying, but not in the way Wei Ying had asked for or wanted.
With anyone else, he would never have abandoned his control like this. Wei Ying deserved no less than what he gave to others.
“Lan Zhan, no,” Wei Ying wailed as he pulled out and stripped himself viciously, coming within seconds all over Wei Ying’s abdomen and thighs. Pleasure lanced through him, sharp, and cleared his head.
“You were informed of the rules,” he said, pleased he sounded even remotely normal as he swiped up his spend. “You’re lucky I didn’t decide to leave you alone today, uselessly shackled to the bed with nothing to do. Turn over. On your knees.”
“What are you—”
Wei Ying was not moving quickly enough. Lan Zhan grabbed hold and flipped him. “We are taking advantage of your request.”
“You—” He lurched forward as Lan Zhan pressed his fingers into Wei Ying, forcing his release into him. A little of it spilled out. His hands shook as he pushed it back inside. The urge to tease was almost impossible to ignore. If he was careful, he could fingerfuck Wei Ying for at least a minute or two.
“Clench.”
“Lan Zhan.”
“Clench. I don’t want a mess all over my floor.”
“Your fl—”
As Lan Zhan pulled his fingers out, deliberately slow, he said, “Clench.”
Wei Ying obeyed, shuddering. He didn’t deserve to be fingerfucked, no matter what Lan Zhan might have wanted.
As Lan Zhan abruptly pulled him upright, he held his body rigidly, drawing in a sharp breath as he adjusted. His hair stuck to his temples in chaotic whirls. Lan Zhan fought the urge to brush it out of his face and failed. Wei Ying swayed into his touch, another thrill. “Lan Zhan, this sucks.”
“I know.”
“You have a plug right there.”
“I do.”
“You could even use it on me.”
“I could.”
“But now I have to hold it?”
“Mn.”
“I…” He breathed again, heavy, through his nose. His words carried a sharp edge of frustration to them. “Okay. Okay, okay. Floor, then?”
Lan Zhan pulled his pajama pants off entirely and tossed them aside, tapping his foot against the spot between his legs. “Here.”
Wei Ying looked at it, looked at Lan Zhan, looked at it again. “No pillow for your Wei Ying?”
Lan Zhan shook his head.
“Gege, I promise I’ll never ignore you again.” With a great deal less fluidity and grace than he usually showed when going to his knees, Wei Ying got down, joints thunking against the hardwood. Lan Zhan towered over him from this angle, a feeling he relished as often as he was able to. Meanwhile, Wei Ying stroked his fingers over his calves and ringed his ankles. Usually, Wei Ying teased him about their slim delicacy, sometimes going so overboard that he pressed kisses to the bones. Today, he wasn’t teasing, too busy trying to hold it together, Lan Zhan hoped.
Fighting another smile, Lan Zhan touched the crown of Wei Ying’s head. “Remain there. I will return in a moment. Don’t touch yourself.”
“What do you take me for?” Wei Ying said, quiet, biting back a noise of complaint. His fingers tightened around Lan Zhan’s ankles once before letting go.
Lan Zhan stopped only long enough on the way to the bathroom to scoop up the abandoned toy. He tossed it over his shoulder, pleased when it landed, still vibrating, near Wei Ying’s knee.
Though Lan Zhan washed up quickly enough, eager to return to Wei Ying’s side—there was, it turned out, one downside to barebacking after all—he hesitated in the hallway. Wei Ying couldn’t see him from this angle, but Lan Zhan had a perfect view of his back and bowed head, low enough that it must be pressed against the couch, his legs spread awkwardly, the muscles of his body held tense. He put up a beautiful front where others were concerned, but like this… like this, Lan Zhan could see the toll that was being taken from him. Without anyone to perform for, he was letting himself feel how difficult it was.
Lan Zhan’s heart raced. Though he’d come twice already and had come well, his dick made a valiant attempt at a third go of it.
The thought was tantalizing, surprising, came to him unbidden, accompanied by a rush of elation at having made this discovery: Wei Ying could be his own undoing. If he left Wei Ying there long enough, he’d break himself. It would even have fit the theme. Wei Ying ignored him. He ignored Wei Ying to his ruin. But as it turned out, there were things Lan Zhan couldn’t do. They apparently included letting Wei Ying be his own undoing.
He returned, lifting Wei Ying’s head. His cheeks were warm to Lan Zhan’s touch and his throat clicked, dry, when Lan Zhan swept his fingers under Wei Ying’s chin. He was quite beautiful, but the special rules wouldn’t save him: Lan Zhan couldn’t praise him for it. It wasn’t something he’d known to want until Wei Ying took it from him.
After all, there was little reason to praise most people. He’d had to make peace with it, uneasy though it was; if he’d known then what he knew now, he might have fought more for it.
As Lan Zhan sat, one leg on either side of Wei Ying’s body, Wei Ying got a hunted little look on his face. Not fearful exactly, but a bit worried. Lan Zhan didn’t mind it so much.
Wei Ying shuffled as close to the couch cushion as he could get, lips within centimeters of his shaft without being told to put it there. No tantalizing little eyebrow arch was forthcoming, no suggestive gleam in his eyes, just hunger and want as he opened his mouth. Another dom might have punished him for the presumption, but Lan Zhan liked the initiative, the tacit understanding of what was expected of him.
Clever, he wanted to say, as Wei Ying held Lan Zhan on his tongue, jaw relaxed and loose. Wei Ying might be uncomfortable after a while, but that was his problem to deal with.
The laptop, shoved between the couch’s cushion and the backrest, caught Lan Zhan’s eye. A thought came to mind as he reached for it. He wasn’t the most adaptable man in this room, but sometimes he found a little spontaneity within him.
He swept his forefinger over the track pad and navigated to a folder of videos they’d taken together. “Can you see from there?”
Wei Ying looked toward the laptop screen from the corner of his eyes and hummed.
They didn’t film often. It was usually too much trouble when there were much better things to spend their time doing, but every once in a while, Wei Ying got the itch to document their escapades.
Scrolling through them, it wasn’t so hard to make a decision about which one to revisit.
Wei Ying had particularly enjoyed this encounter, about a year back, one that he sometimes still brought up when they got together. It started with a close-up of Wei Ying, sleeping on Lan Zhan’s bed, hair a lawless halo around his head, mouth slightly parted. At Wei Ying’s behest, he’d fucked Wei Ying pretty intensely earlier that night, the both of them hoping he’d sleep more heavily than normal later on.
Lan Zhan had shifted away at this point, camera angle widening to expose Wei Ying’s bare chest and torso. Lan Zhan’s hand came into frame, large, touching Wei Ying’s jaw and then trailing down his neck. His thumb circled the dark, tight nub of Wei Ying’s nipple, playing lightly over it. Wei Ying’s brow furrowed. Lan Zhan’s hand stilled. When Lan Zhan thought he was safe, he resumed touching Wei Ying, a little more careful, furtive, creeping. Illicit.
At the time, he’d barely managed to refrain from waking Wei Ying immediately. Though the camera hadn’t picked it up, not yet anyway, he was hard and leaking against his thigh. He’d wanted to touch himself so badly. When Wei Ying had brought it up during an otherwise entirely civilized meal at Lan Zhan’s dining table—Lan Zhan, touch me while I sleep, do whatever you want with me—he’d thought Wei Ying was out of his mind. There was zero appeal in feeling someone up when they weren’t moving. What was the point without a little struggle?
Wei Ying had patted Lan Zhan’s knee from his place on the floor, waiting to be hand fed his dinner. If you aren’t liking it inside of three minutes of starting, wake me up, okay? I’ll make it worth your while. The joke was ultimately on him: he knew with that first furrow of Wei Ying’s brow that he liked it. The trust Wei Ying placed in him by allowing him to do it was heady, weighed down on him in a way that left him almost breathless. He could have laughed at himself. Yes, he liked it.
Afterward, Wei Ying had crowed at him, hand down Lan Zhan’s pants as he’d stroked him to completion while they watched the playback, Wei Ying’s eyes never once leaving the laptop screen as he soaked up the vision of himself, lax with sleep and entirely at Lan Zhan’s mercy. Lan Zhan, you’re so dirty. You really would touch me without permission, wouldn’t you? What if you groped me in public like that? I fall asleep on trains sometimes, maybe there?
He did, in fact, sometimes grope Wei Ying in public, though only within the safe confines of the club on nights when he wore skirts for this precise reason, crowding him randomly against various surfaces of it, unable to stop himself once Wei Ying tossed a come hither look his way. Sometimes, he talked about it like Wei Ying was asleep, like they were on a train somewhere, dozens of slimy men watching, with Lan Zhan the only thing standing between him and them, taking advantage of the predicament Wei Ying found therein to push for favors. Lan Zhan would protect him for a price, though of course Wei Ying couldn’t actually stop him if he was determined. What do you say, Wei Ying, one rapist or many? How many men do you want to service?
Afterward, Wei Ying always scolded him for making him ruin the perfectly innocent pair of panties he’d worn, but was demonstratively pleased when Lan Zhan handed over an even nicer pair for him to wear home.
Sometimes, Wei Ying asked him why he never passed Wei Ying around this weird little fucktrain—Wei Ying’s words again—he whispered into existence every few months for Wei Ying’s pleasure. The answer didn’t bear repeating.
In the video as it was playing now, Lan Zhan’s hand wandered down Wei Ying’s stomach, fingers skimming over the trail of hair between his legs. His attention now, like Lan Zhan’s attention then, was transfixed by Wei Ying. Both of them. Split. Between his legs, Wei Ying was still, rapt. Wei Ying in the video slept peacefully, cock soft against his thigh, even after Lan Zhan skimmed one fingertip down its length, testing. The tiniest twitch of muscle, almost unable to be caught on video. That was all.
Wei Ying didn’t move, not on the screen anyway, but Wei Ying here and now whimpered, throat working around Lan Zhan’s slowly hardening dick.
Lan Zhan continued his exploration of Wei Ying’s loose body, taking advantage of what time he had. Wei Ying had mentioned he’d get maybe ten, fifteen minutes out of him if he was careful. Lan Zhan was rarely careful, but he took up the challenge and managed twenty, exploring every centimeter of his body from head to foot, sticking his fingers into Wei Ying’s wet, willing mouth and then between his legs, anything he could think of that might stimulate him without waking him.
By the time he was done, Wei Ying was twitching, hips working in useless little circles, and making small, mewling noises, so different from the sort of sounds he usually made. He was leaking all over himself, a little harder, but not quite there yet.
He’d all but heard, at the time, Wei Ying’s voice in the back of his head. Well, are you going to give it to me, Lan Zhan?
He’d taken a handful of seconds to put the phone on a stand Wei Ying had bought that hooked to the wall, giving them a decent overhead angle.
Lan Zhan in the video struck quick, taking hold of Wei Ying’s wrists as Wei Ying’s eyes finally fluttered open, near perfect timing. Lan Zhan gave it to him.
The confusion and fear in his eyes looked real. If not for the subtle nod Wei Ying gave, the tiniest hint of a smile that faded around a fearful, “Lan Zhan, what are you doing,” it might have given him true pause. “Lan Zhan, you were filming me?”
Wei Ying kicked out at him as Lan Zhan held tight to his wrists, dragging them above his head and pinning them to the bed. His wrists were slim, easy to hold between the wide breadth of Lan Zhan’s grip, the length of his fingers ample enough to secure them. Wei Ying narrated the entire event, questioning Lan Zhan about everything he did, insinuating that he was a pervert, disgusting for touching Wei Ying this way, crying out about how much he didn’t want to be taken like this. “Lan Zhan, it hurts,” he called out, a relentless refrain as he fought physically every step of the way, twisting and yanking and kicking. “You’re hurting me. Stop. I don’t want it.”
Lan Zhan said nothing in response. With every complaint Wei Ying gave, he merely fucked him more roughly until even Lan Zhan had been a little worried it would be too much, that Wei Ying might shatter under the onslaught. Of course Wei Ying didn’t, no matter how pretty he looked with swollen eyes and pink-bitten lips.
Wei Ying managed to get away only once. Rather, Lan Zhan purposefully loosened his grasp, remembering how Wei Ying had mentioned once how much he liked getting caught, and Wei Ying had taken perfect advantage of the opportunity to roll aside. Lan Zhan gave him a few seconds to think he’d won something before dragging him back by the ankle and spreading his legs again, this time putting Wei Ying on his knees as he pushed Wei Ying’s face into the bed, turned toward the camera, skin red and shining with sweat and tears and snot.
Wei Ying’s body jolted with every vicious thrust. For a time, he shouted raggedly, but before long, he went quiet, giving in, accepting what was happening to him.
Lan Zhan’s free hand wrapped around Wei Ying’s length, drawing a painful gasp from him and a weak protest. “I don’t want it,” he said again, voice a pleasure-tinged slur.
Lan Zhan stripped him ruthlessly. There was no need to say what they both knew. You’re hard.
“I don’t want it. Don’t touch me there. Lan Zhan…” He cried more piteously, hips rolling in search of stimulation. “Lan Zhan, not like this, please. Please.”
Lan Zhan came at the same time Wei Ying did, Wei Ying tightening around him so deliciously that he himself saw a few stars in the process. But he wasn’t quite done with Wei Ying yet, turning him over and jerking him off through his orgasm until he squirmed in discomfort, panting through the pain he was likely feeling, eyes tightly closed. Keeping his rhythm as steady as possible, he rolled the condom off his softening length and dropped it onto Wei Ying’s unsuspecting chest, Lan Zhan’s come leaking all over his sternum. Wei Ying pulsed over Lan Zhan’s hand a second time.
The video ended very soon after that, Wei Ying offering a dopey grin at the phone. In honesty, that was Lan Zhan’s favorite part, the smug satisfaction radiating off of him in that moment.
Once Lan Zhan had cleaned him up, Wei Ying had curled around him in a way he normally didn’t, satiated and sweet-tempered and chatty as Lan Zhan listened. Fuck me, Lan Zhan, where’d the idea with the condom come from? That was fucking filthy. You were perfect. How are you so perfect?
No matter how much he disliked it for himself, Wei Ying had never had a problem praising Lan Zhan for his efforts.
Between his legs, Wei Ying made a gagging sound, drawing Lan Zhan’s attention from the computer screen, paused on Wei Ying’s smile. He discovered his hand was in Wei Ying’s hair, holding him close, his nose buried in Lan Zhan’s pubic hair, mouth stretched around his now fully erect dick, large enough that Lan Zhan felt Wei Ying’s throat spasm around the tip. Startled, Lan Zhan relaxed his hold and pulled free. Wei Ying rasped loudly as he rubbed at his neck.
“Wei Ying?”
“Good, Lan Zhan. I’m…” But there were tears gathered on his eyelashes and his body was trembling and he wouldn’t meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. For the first time ever, Lan Zhan wasn’t sure it was true.
His heart hammered in his chest and his erection flagged in the face of his fear. He’d never lost control of a scene like this, not even when he was new to the responsibility inherent in this role. It was an absolute betrayal of the trust that existed between them. Strained, he said, “I’m asking you directly.”
Wei Ying lifted his chin, returned Lan Zhan’s gaze. His cheeks were so red. Even his neck was flushed. There was no challenge to be found there, only a desperate plea for something. If Lan Zhan chose incorrectly, he might ruin everything between them. Worse, he might hurt or have already hurt Wei Ying. It didn’t matter that Wei Ying could theoretically have tapped out at any time. This was Lan Zhan’s mistake.
A stampede of terrified horses let loose across the wasteland of his mind, trampling every thought to dust.
Lan Zhan shifted, breathed, looked down, down into the shadowy area where Wei Ying knelt. The floor and Wei Ying’s thighs were a mess of fluids and he was soft.
This was meant to be for Wei Ying. He should have been monitoring. How did he fix this? What would Wei Ying want?
“You weren’t supposed to come,” he said, neutral, probing, hopeful, so hopeful that this was what Wei Ying wanted the most. See it through to the end, that was all he needed to do.
He almost put an end to it anyway; he, too, knew how. Just a single word would do it.
Wei Ying lowered his head again, brushed his knuckles gently down the stretch of Lan Zhan’s leg from knee to ankle, a kind, comforting gesture. “I’m sorry.”
They didn’t use titles with one another, but Lan Zhan heard the deference, the heat in Wei Ying’s voice. Forgiveness. Or, the utter lack of need for forgiveness. He could continue.
It came unbidden to him, the thought that Wei Ying truly was perfect in every particular. He wished Wei Ying would allow him to say as much, but was equally glad he wouldn’t. If he said it once, he might never stop.
“You weren’t supposed to spill my release all over my floor either.”
“Yes,” he answered, breathless.
“I should make you lick it up.”
Wei Ying hummed in obedient agreement. Special rules, he remembered.
“I don’t want to kiss the mouth of someone willing to taste my floorboards. Rub your face in it.”
Wei Ying didn’t stop for even a second to think about whether he wanted to follow the order or not, coating his cheek and jaw until only a few smears remained on the hardwood. It sat on his skin in thick, probably cold streaks. Lan Zhan took hold of his chin and spread it more evenly over his jaw and lower lip.
“You’ve not done very well today, Wei Ying,” he lied. Knowing he had at least a few minute’s window with which to touch Wei Ying, he pulled Wei Ying to his feet and grabbed him by the dick, squeezing hard. If he hadn’t lost control already, Lan Zhan knew this would have ended it for him. As it was, even this looked to be almost too much. Gasping, he weaved and slumped against Lan Zhan, body twitching. Lan Zhan fought the desire to wrap his arms around Wei Ying and hold him close. “Moving without permission. Coming without permission. Leaving a mess behind without permission. Why am I here if you’re going to do as you wish regardless?”
Wei Ying swayed, barely responsive.
“You asked me earlier if I was going to strike you.” Wei Ying didn’t like to be hit, but. But. He was the one who brought it up. Sometimes, he liked to leave a trail of clues behind, not quite permission, but hints. Special rules. “I think it may be necessary. To ensure you understand that I don’t like having my time wasted this way.”
He waited for Wei Ying’s answer. None was forthcoming. He jostled his shoulder, a nudge, Wei Ying’s head turned, face hidden against Lan Zhan’s neck, a neck Wei Ying often said was devastating to him.
“Do you believe it’s a fitting punishment?” he pressed, instead of asking if he was okay.
If Wei Ying said no, he would put this plan aside. Still, he said nothing. It was not purposeful, Lan Zhan understood. Sometimes, Wei Ying just needed time. Sometimes, he needed cajoling.
“I will not ask again,” he said, the threat implicit, but non-functional. Let them both pretend Lan Zhan would do this without Wei Ying’s acknowledgment.
Wei Ying drew in a wet, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to be hit,” he said, quiet, the words breathed into Lan Zhan’s skin, lips skimming the furiously bounding pulse of his heart as it climbed his throat, “but I was wrong.”
The thing about being with Wei Ying was, no matter the many little games he played and how much he pretended, when Lan Zhan succeeded, he knew it. When the obedience was real, it was earned. He wasn’t sure whether anyone else could tell the difference or cared as long as they got what they wanted from him. It didn’t really matter if they did. Though Wei Ying handed out good or good-enough behavior like candy eventually, enough to satisfy most of the people he played with, this was what Lan Zhan craved from him the most.
With Wei Ying little more than dead weight in his arms, it was difficult to maneuver him to the bedroom, but they found their way, Wei Ying pliant as Lan Zhan arranged him on his elbows and knees in the center of the bed, ass raised.
For someone who behaved so shamelessly so much of the time, his skin turned red at the slightest sign of true humiliation. “You’re flushed. Are you embarrassed, Wei Ying?”
His voice was muffled, head bowed forward. “Yes.” Barely a whisper. The truth. Wei Ying rarely failed unless he wanted to. This didn’t seem like purposeful misbehavior. It must have hurt to admit. He turned an even deeper shade of red.
“Are you truly sorry for it?”
Wei Ying’s back rose and fell as he drew in a deep, lingering breath. “No.”
Wei Ying’s body seized as Lan Zhan’s palm struck Wei Ying across the curve of his ass. The sound of skin hitting skin swallowed Wei Ying’s gasp. Before Wei Ying could adjust, he spanked him a second time on the other cheek, getting both out of the way before Wei Ying could tense up and make it harder on himself. His skin was already reddening up here, too. Lan Zhan stroked it gently as he squirmed. He only intended to hit Wei Ying a few times at full strength, nothing like what he did with those who truly enjoyed it, but he wanted Wei Ying warmed up first, the hardest part when it was probably already untenable to him.
Another handful of strokes, a little harder, the only sound in the room except for the rasp of Wei Ying’s breath.
Normally, he wouldn’t set a specific number with someone he’d never done this to, but he knew Wei Ying well enough to believe it would agonize him more if he didn’t have a goal to work toward, a specific end.
Once Lan Zhan was sure Wei Ying was as ready as he would get, he said, “Five will be enough.”
There was an art to doing this that was lost on Wei Ying, a sense of timing and anticipation that would only make it more difficult for him if Lan Zhan indulged in it. Lan Zhan might have taunted anyone else, drawn it out, taken more out of them than he was willing to pry from Wei Ying. He did not set any requirements for Wei Ying other than he get through them in whatever manner he needed to. He wouldn’t conveniently miscount or invent reasons to start over.
One. Two. Wei Ying stifled agonized cries, quicker to reach this point than anyone Lan Zhan had ever worked with. Three. Wei Ying sobbed piteously, back heaving with each rasping breath. Four. Wei Ying canted his hips, hid his face behind his forearms, sobbed even harder. Voice in shambles, he said, “No, Lan Zhan, please. I can’t.”
He wasn’t hard, but Lan Zhan was. Already. Again. An impossible thing to imagine.
He hesitated over the fifth, knowing how good it would be to witness Wei Ying crumbling before him fully, knowing, too, that Wei Ying maybe truly meant this no. “You know how to stop this,” he said, the only concession he could make when he wouldn’t disrespect the relationship they shared with one another.
Nothing. No denial, no confirmation. Fair game.
Lan Zhan would never look like the strongest man in any room, but he had a lot of practice with this. The last stroke, dropped across Wei Ying’s bright red right cheek, the more abused of the two, cracked across his skin, welting immediately as Wei Ying curled into himself, knees tucking against his chest.
He’d done so well. So well. Lan Zhan couldn’t be prouder, couldn’t admire Wei Ying more for his determination, but when Lan Zhan tried to touch him gently, fingers petting over his back, he shied away, face hidden. Even this much acceptance from Lan Zhan, he wouldn’t endure.
Lan Zhan thought. For a long time, he wondered what he might do next, how to end this well for Wei Ying.
Considering, he brought his knuckles down, pressing hard against the knobs of his vertebrae, stopped just short of his tail bone.
Wei Ying sighed, his cries subsiding, body relaxing at this more familiar sort of touch.
Lan Zhan spread his cheeks, exposing his hole, well used and glimmering still, though flaky streaks of come and lube where beginning to dry where they’d dripped down the inside of his thighs.
Wei Ying moaned as Lan Zhan groped between his legs, reacting sluggishly, slow to firm up even when Lan Zhan pressed a kiss to Wei Ying’s lower back and then licked a stripe over Wei Ying’s entrance, skin searing hot against Lan Zhan’s jaw.
Shuddering, Wei Ying began to cry again, even harder this time, mouth pressed to the inside of his elbow to muffle the sound. When Wei Ying was as wet as Lan Zhan wanted him to be, he lined himself up and slid in. Wei Ying felt impossibly warm and soft around him, yielding in a way he’d never been before. Lan Zhan often took him roughly, but he was even rougher than normal, each stroke brutal in its intensity, chasing his release with violent efficiency as he continued to jerk Wei Ying off.
Wei Ying, normally goading by this point, was silent except for the hiccuping gasps that punctuated every thrust.
It wasn’t enough to have this. Lan Zhan wanted to crawl inside of him and take up residence. He could do the next best thing, folding himself over Wei Ying’s back to bite and suck at his ear, his neck, his jaw, lapping at the tears that followed the curve of his cheek. Wei Ying clenched around him, muscles shaking as he moaned and collapsed forward, spilling into Lan Zhan’s hand, the sound as curled up and small as he was. As he rubbed his face against the duvet, his hips twitching weakly, Lan Zhan worked him ruthlessly, soft and slick in his palm. “You have been inattentive. One more time, Wei Ying. Your debt will be paid.”
Wei Ying gave up a gorgeously pained, inhuman wailing sound. Lan Zhan kissed his temple, damp with sweat, and shushed him. “Wei Ying, you can do this. I know you don’t think you can, but I know otherwise.” He kissed Wei Ying again because he was there and because he could and because Wei Ying was beautiful and he wanted to. “You’re incredible. Nobody else comes close.”
He struggled against Lan Zhan’s hold, voice ruined, “Lan Zhan…”
“It’s only ever been you,” he admitted, nosing at Wei Ying’s hairline as Wei Ying’s body locked up. “Wei Ying, you’re so good. You’re perfect. You’re everything I could want. You took my hand beautifully, but I need you to be good for me one more time.”
Wei Ying whispered something so low Lan Zhan couldn’t hear.
“Say that again?” he asked.
Wei Ying’s voice wavered, but Lan Zhan was the one who splintered at the sound of it. “Dog bite.”
Lan Zhan stilled, gathered what composure he could find from the shards, and said, as he eased his way from Wei Ying’s body, “What do you need?” His erection wilted and his heart rate spiked with fear instead of arousal. With shaking hands, he rolled Wei Ying onto his side and pressed his hands to Wei Ying’s face, still covered in drying come and tears. “Wei Ying, I’m sorry. What can I do?” He studied Wei Ying’s body for signs of injury, agonized and guilty, hands fluttering. He shouldn’t have pushed Wei Ying. “It won’t happen again. I won’t hit you.”
It took a truly painful amount of time for Wei Ying to pull himself together. Wei Ying scrubbed at his face, grimacing, and hissed as he lurched upright, Lan Zhan’s hands supporting his elbow. Choking on a laugh, Wei Ying slipped out of Lan Zhan’s hold and backed himself up to the headboard. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sighed. “I don’t care about the hitting.”
Lan Zhan took a moment to rifle around the drawer of his bed stand for the box of cleansing face wipes, peeling one free before reaching out for Wei Ying again.
Though he jumped when Lan Zhan touched him, he didn’t shy away.
He took Wei Ying’s face in his hands, gently pushing Wei Ying’s aside, and wiped away the mess as Wei Ying did everything in his power to avoid eye contact. “Wei Ying, please. I don’t understand. I…” But as he sifted through his memory of the last few minutes, he knew exactly what he’d done. “I was swept into the moment. I said… I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” He’d never understood why praise was a line Wei Ying didn’t want to cross, but he’d always respected it. “How can I make you feel more comfortable?”
“Fuck, Lan Zhan, I’m not uncomfortable with you. I just… I don’t know. It shouldn’t even be a big deal. I let other people—”
Lan Zhan’s heart sank. There were others out there that Wei Ying trusted with such a thing? They rarely discussed their various partners in detail. He’d thought…
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying shook his shoulder. “Lan Zhan, what are you…?”
His face grew warm, eyes prickling. Even as he blinked the moisture from them, more gathered. He told himself it was just a side effect of what they had just been doing and the sudden whiplash from ending it, but…
“Lan Zhan, come on, you’re—”
“I want to be able to say these things to you,” he blurted. “I didn’t know I was the only one who couldn’t. My apologies. You’re within your right, of course, to draw whatever lines you need or want to draw.” His words sounded stiff and formal even by his own standards. He’d never felt this stupid. To think that he’d believed he alone understood Wei Ying’s desires. “I’m sorry. I’ve clearly been deficient. I will reflect on it.”
Wei Ying swore under his breath and plastered himself across Lan Zhan’s lap.
“It’s not you, Lan Zhan. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s…” He wrung his hands, reaching for Lan Zhan and then pulling back again. “It hurts when it’s you saying it. That’s all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want it to mean something,” Wei Ying said, words spit out like shards of glass, “when it’s you. More than just indulging a kink or a fantasy. Not that that’s not enough. That’s fine. But when it’s you? I want you to think I’m good. Just good. I want to be good if it’s for you.”
“I do think you’re good. You are good, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying shook his head, vehement, a scowl contorting his expression. Lan Zhan wanted to wipe it away with his thumb. “I mean that I want you to like me, okay? Me. Not how well I perform my role here, not how attractive I am to you when you’re fucking me. I want you to like me. And hearing you say those things in the moment is close enough to things I want to hear outside of them that it. It hurts. I can’t want it with you when it’s only here and not there, too. So I don’t let you do it. I’m sorry. We should have stopped when I realized how much it mattered to me. Hell, you turn me away half the time anyway. That alone should have stopped me.”
A knife slid itself between Lan Zhan’s ribs, hitting vital organs, leaving him to bleed out with the knowledge that he’d so fundamentally misunderstood Wei Ying. “Wei Ying,” he said, gathering every bit of courage at his disposal, the least of what he could do for Wei Ying now that he’d exposed himself so fully to Lan Zhan. “Do you want to know why I turn you away?”
Wei Ying nodded.
“Because if I didn’t remind myself that you’re not mine occasionally,” he said, “I fear I would not ever give you room to breathe.”
“Lan Zhan?”
“We would be more than casual partners if I had my way, but as long as it was your decision to come to me, as long as I still had enough control to turn you down, I could keep myself in check.”
“You want to be exclusive?”
“I want to date you,” he clarified, imagining the things Wei Ying might have been thinking instead: that it was only this he wanted or that he might continue to see others while Wei Ying couldn’t or that it wasn’t as important to him as it was to Wei Ying. He took Wei Ying’s hands in his, turned them carefully, and wiped them clean, too, before pressing kisses to the inside of each wrist. “I want to be with you as your partner. I like you.” Such a simple thing to say, I like you, and still so difficult. He choked on the words, pushed them out because they were important, and said something easier instead. “Will you let me pursue you?”
Wei Ying understood him anyway.
“I promise I will deny you nothing.”
Historically, Wei Ying didn’t take to aftercare well. More often than not, he fussed, and only ever really settled when Lan Zhan trotted out his greatest ammunition: what if it is what I need. Tonight, he let himself be quiet while Lan Zhan tended to his body, ducking his head shyly as Lan Zhan wiped him down and fed him and insisted on icing the injuries Lan Zhan had inflicted on him. It was comfortable, caring for Wei Ying like this, the only time he would let Lan Zhan do it. It wasn’t a lie either, though even less of a stretch than usual. It was precisely what Lan Zhan needed, too.
“Was it alright?” Lan Zhan asked as Wei Ying drowsed over his lap, still whining about how much it hurt and how an ice pack was undignified and didn’t even help, ouch, Lan Zhan, you’re a monster.
Wei Ying hesitated, his fingers tapping against Lan Zhan’s thigh. “It’s not my favorite experience, no.” Lan Zhan heard what Wei Ying didn’t say: he hadn’t suddenly seen the light and wanted to add it to their regular repertoire.
“That isn’t what I asked,” Lan Zhan said, not disappointed in the least. He could never be disappointed in Wei Ying. “I would not request you to do that again for my enjoyment.”
“You didn’t even request it this time.” He shifted, hissing theatrically. “Lan Zhan, you should kiss it better, hmm?”
“Wei Ying.”
“I felt bad about hurting your feelings, okay? I wanted you to enjoy it. Trust me, you were in peak form today, Lan Zhan. I got everything I could have wanted and then some. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that far outside of my head before. You’re the one who got left high and dry.”
“I came twice and was awarded the opportunity to perform corporal punishment on you. I would not consider myself deprived.”
Wei Ying pushed himself upright and straddled Lan Zhan’s thighs, tossing aside the ice pack. He kissed Lan Zhan deeply, his hands cradling Lan Zhan’s neck, fingernails scratching lightly at the back of his head. “I know we play fast and loose with things sometimes,” he said, “but you know I want to be challenged and subdued. Doing that challenged and subdued me. It’s not fun or sexy or gratifying to me, but I got what I wanted out of it. I hope you got something out of it, too?”
Lan Zhan’s ears reddened, the tips going warm. “Mn.”
Wei Ying tweaked his nose, silly and affectionate. “Was it hot for you?”
It didn’t need to be said.
Wei Ying smiled. “Maybe… maybe sometimes, okay?”
“Wei Yi—”
Wei Ying’s hand covered his mouth. “I don’t think I could handle what you do with some of your regulars, but a few recreational swats from time to time would be okay. If you’d like to meet up with others for that, too, it’s fine with me. I know how much you like it. It might be nice if I could watch.” He smiled. “I like watching you.”
He hadn’t considered what they would do about the club or the others they sometimes played with. Leave it to Wei Ying to always be a few steps ahead of him, encouraging him to take what he wanted even now. It had always been Wei Ying’s way to do so. He’d always been generous with Lan Zhan. He was allowed to say as much and did so, pleased by the smile Wei Ying gifted to him.
But they could worry about it later. Right now, all Lan Zhan wanted to do was focus on Wei Ying.
When Lan Zhan arrived, Wei Ying was sitting at the bar just as he promised he would be. Like always, more than a few interested parties were chatting him up, hopeful and desirous of Wei Ying’s company, company that wouldn’t be theirs any longer, just as Lan Zhan chose to remain exclusive in every respect save one. He paid Lan Zhan no heed, just as he’d threatened to do, attention fully on the people around him. Lan Zhan, you owe me. All those times you wanted to bother me and you made me work for it instead. You brute, you absolute menace. Make it up to me.
A man approached before him before he could make his move, someone he didn’t recognize but looked very like Wei Ying, enough so that it caught Lan Zhan by surprise, made him sit up and take notice. The tokens tied to his wrist told Lan Zhan he wanted to be hit and anything went with regard to implements, but he wasn’t interested in sex or any other sort of physical intimacy, male partners only. Lan Zhan asked him his name—Mo Xuanyu—and told him that he was busy tonight, but would be happy to discuss arrangements in the future. He grinned brightly at Lan Zhan and thanked him when he sent him on his way.
When he pointed Mo Xuanyu out to Wei Ying as a potential partner, would Wei Ying would appreciate the resemblance between them?
Drawing a nervous breath, he approached the bar, slipped between Wei Ying and the man he was flirting with. “So forward,” Wei Ying said, leaning into his space, dragging a finger up the neat row of buttons on Lan Zhan’s shirt as he smiled with distant politeness at the man now behind him. He and the others dispersed easily enough, perhaps knowing a lost cause when they saw one. “Who might this handsome stranger be? He’s never once approached me in my life. He must be new here. I’m sure his taste is too exquisite to have left me wanting so long.”
Mischief glinted cheerfully in Wei Ying’s eyes, even merrier than he usually was when they played together here. He stroked the bracelet around Lan Zhan’s wrist, carrying only a few tokens. Impact play, humiliation, no interest in sex, partner of any gender. “No sex? How disappointing. Maybe I can force this handsome stranger to change his mind?” He parted his legs, wrapped one around the back of Lan Zhan’s. “Surely there must be something I can do to convince him?”
He could very easily have allowed himself to consider how much time he’d wasted worrying about caging Wei Ying, never once considering the possibility that Wei Ying might have wanted to be with him just as desperately as he wanted to be with Wei Ying, that it wasn’t Lan Zhan caging him at all by being forward with him, but another expression of the trust they’d built up with one another.
Wei Ying’s fingers took hold of his chin, pulled him down until they were nose to nose, until he turned his head just so and spoke directly into Lan Zhan’s ear, cheek pressed to Lan Zhan’s rapidly warming cheek. “Wanna put me in my place, Lan Zhan? Show everyone what they’re missing tonight? Make them wish they were you?”
Lan Zhan did want that. He wanted everything Wei Ying wanted to give him and more.
Most importantly, he knew Wei Ying wanted the same from him. As they found their own space in the play area, plenty of room around which others might stand to watch, Lan Zhan made good on Wei Ying’s request. As he praised Wei Ying’s performance afterward, he promised himself he always would.