carry me when i’m weary

Lan Zhan only allowed himself to come to the club once a month, the only form of stress relief that gave him any actual relief, eased any of the tension in his body that seemed to gather itself up into a knot within him. He’d tried other things: meditation, massage. He took up music as a hobby and stuck with it because he enjoyed it, kept meditation because he found it useful for other reasons. Massage, no. It was far, far too awkward and he didn’t particularly like people touching him, some weird middle ground between professional and intimate. That was on him, he was certain. Most people probably managed to walk that line with ease, but Lan Zhan knew himself and knew what he was comfortable with and after giving it as much of a shot as he could manage, he gave that up, too.

The club, as it turned out, truly was the only thing that helped. Even just presenting his card to security at the door drained some of his fatigue, replacing it with something that might have been termed excitement by anyone else. And as he stepped inside, his muscles loosened up further.

He’d come here for years and felt sometimes as though he knew the floor plan better than he knew himself. He forewent active participation, which many of the regulars found strange, but this month he could feel he needed something more than watching someone else’s play. It was just he didn’t know what he wanted or how he was going to get it.

Once he was inside, he hoped he’d figure it out.

Until he reached the main room, he knew he wouldn’t see or hear anything salacious, but though the knot in his stomach eased in one way, it twisted up, warm and anticipatory, in another.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he swung left rather than go right. It was his way. He always hit the bar first, though he never drank. Anyone who intended to participate would not be allowed if they did so and the bartenders were always very strict about the policy.

Drinking didn’t solve his problem. He’d tried it, once, hoping that might help him. Alone, at home, he’d thrown back a shot and woke up in the morning with an aching back having wasted the night rearranging the furniture in his apartment.

So. No drinks. Not of the alcoholic variety anyway.

Stepping into the bar, he strode immediately to the counter. It was still a little early and so not yet as busy as Lan Zhan knew it could get. Therefore, it was easy to get the bartender’s attention.

Lan Zhan hated a little bit that he liked that fact.

Wei Ying was always on shift when he came and though it had been slow going—seeing a person once a month wasn’t very conductive to any sort of familiarity, especially when one of the parties involved was Lan Zhan—between them had grown a sort of gentle understanding, a friendship of sorts. Or maybe it was just Lan Zhan projecting. Nothing else in Lan Zhan’s life was gentle after all and he wasn’t really interested in gentle anyway. Not as far as he knew. Friendships, he cared even less for in general.

Once Lan Zhan was close enough, Wei Ying smiled at him, slipping down the length of the bar to reach the stool Lan Zhan was already hooking his ankle through. His hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, longer than Lan Zhan remembered and starting to curl at the ends in a rather becoming way.

“Lan Zhan,” he said quietly, his name spoken intimately, like a secret kept between them, and in a way it was. This club was known for its discretion and some people took that very seriously. The fact that Lan Zhan chose to flaunt that safety just to hear his name in Wei Ying’s mouth was neither here nor there. “It’s always good to see you.”

He flipped a coaster onto the bar top and didn’t bother to ask what Lan Zhan wanted, already plinking one of the smooth, perfectly transparent ice cubes they used here into one of the glasses they used for the drinks Lan Zhan never ordered: unfamiliar whiskeys and bourbons splashed in every shade of amber imaginable. Instead, Wei Ying unscrewed a bottle of sparkling water and then squeezed a wedge of lime into the bubbling clear liquid.

He watched Lan Zhan avidly as he took a sip and smiled more widely when Lan Zhan deigned to look at him. He asked, not because it was courteous, but because he was genuinely interested, “How have you been?”

“Good,” Wei Ying answered. His gaze flicked to the others in the room, none of whom seemed to be paying either of them any attention. His eyes glinted with simple pleasure. “Better now.”

“Oh?”

“Ah, we’re fishing tonight, I see.” Wei Ying wagged his finger in Lan Zhan’s face. It was not Wei Ying’s fault that Lan Zhan wanted to take hold of the hand it belonged to, palm pressing against palm. “But that’s okay. I’ll tell you why anyway.”

Wei Ying waited for Lan Zhan’s acknowledgment and received a nod before going on.

“I’ve always been fond of the first Thursday of the month.”

Otherwise known as the day Lan Zhan always showed up.

He didn’t realize he’d drained the last of the water until Wei Ying was topping him up, still smiling, still fond. Nobody in Lan Zhan’s life showed any degree of fondness for him except his brother. Nobody smiled at him like this.

As always, Lan Zhan wanted more and as always Lan Zhan stopped himself from asking for it. Hitting on the bartender was a bad cliché for a reason and deeply inappropriate, especially here. Not only was it disallowed but the rules, but even the thought of doing so made Lan Zhan feel grimy.

That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate the sweetly innocent way Wei Ying signaled to him that he enjoyed Lan Zhan’s company. It wasn’t skeevy in the slightest and so honest and without ulterior motives that Lan Zhan couldn’t help but be charmed that Wei Ying liked him in such an innocently teasing fashion.

It was a testament to Wei Ying’s persistence; he’d been kind and mischievous since the start and never failed no matter how cranky or indifferent Lan Zhan behaved toward him.

And now Lan Zhan couldn’t get by without it, needed Wei Ying’s eyes on him almost as much as he needed what he would find in the other room, encouraged him even because he did want more and he didn’t dare say as much, not until or unless he was willing to give the rest of this up and that wasn’t something he could do.

He drank this glass a little more slowly, giving himself an excuse to remain seated here as Wei Ying nattered about his day, innocuous recitations about the bus, some cats he saw, the corner shop, and occasionally got a drink for another patron, checking and rechecking stamps on wrists, placing some of his own, long, delicate fingers touching other people the way Lan Zhan wanted to be touched.

They always accepted his answer, which made Lan Zhan think that at least some of them were only doing it for attention.

By the time Lan Zhan felt able to move on with the rest of his evening, Wei Ying looked as though he was flagging a bit, only perking up when he came back to check on Lan Zhan and take his glass and the coaster. “Have a—”

Before Wei Ying could finish wishing him farewell or allow Lan Zhan to do the same in return, someone else was stepping behind the bar, approaching Wei Ying with not a small degree of concern in her gaze. Lan Zhan didn’t recognize her and this was unusual enough that, though Lan Zhan should have moved on, he remained rooted to his place on the stool.

“She’s requesting you specifically,” the woman said to Wei Ying.

“I don’t do that anymore.”

“That’s what I told her. She wanted me to ask anyway, though she said she understood if you didn’t want to and doesn’t want you to feel pressured.”

Requesting? Who was requesting him? Who could request him? What was there to request? Somehow Lan Zhan knew this wasn’t a conversation he should be overhearing and so he finally peeled himself from his seat, not even bothering to say goodbye. There was a slightly frustrated look on Wei Ying’s face and the last thing Lan Zhan heard was him saying, “Okay, okay. I’m not. Let her know I’ll do it, okay? Get someone in here to cover for me.”

Do what, Lan Zhan thought, world tilting wildly on its axis, like he’d discovered an entirely new vista on accident, one that had always been there right in front of him this whole time. Who is she?

For a sex club—and for one that encouraged and catered to those with a desire to see and be seen—there was sometimes not a lot in the way of sex happening in the open. Fondling, giggling groups of people, a handful of individuals on the various stages that dotted the room, sure, but the actual act was often obscured or taken elsewhere. Or maybe Lan Zhan didn’t stay long enough.

He kept to his habits, even on these nights, which meant he didn’t stay late.

The noise, though, was often enough to drip arousal within Lan Zhan’s body. It pooled in his groin, tugging him out of the mundane parade of thoughts that never, ever stopped. He watched as others flushed and felt himself flush in turn, watched others writhe and moan and wished it could be him doing those things, enjoying those things.

Tonight it felt different. There was a spark of something in the air and he couldn’t tell if it was his own reaction to what he’d seen at the bar or whether there truly was an energy here that was out of the ordinary.

Nothing looked strange to his eyes or sounded odd to his ears. But it still felt different.

But the only difference was Wei Ying.

His attention snagged on a woman who was disrobing in the center of the room, lifting herself onto a platform that few people used. Black hair spilled over pale shoulders as she tugged silk fabric from her body. It was a fit body with ideal proportions, but the thing that Lan Zhan most noted was the careful way she carried herself. It seemed to Lan Zhan that she was this close to shattering, kept upright only by self-control and determination.

Lan Zhan could sympathize and though his tastes ran well away from the swell of breasts and delicately rounded features, he found himself riveted by her all the same.

And then a murmur went up through the various individuals in the room, attention dragging to a door on the far side. From Lan Zhan’s vantage, he couldn’t tell immediately who it was, that corner being shadowed, but it was only a short time that his curiosity went unsatisfied.

As soon as he saw who it was, he wished he could turn away, wished he’d never come tonight, because it was Wei Ying and he’d changed into a fresh shirt from the looks of it, the collar slightly different, but just as white as the one he’d worn moments ago. There was a complicated expression on his face, not quite a frown, not quite a smile, but when his attention shifted to the woman, he softened. Very briefly, his attention flicked to the crowd and Lan Zhan was both relieved and mortified when Wei Ying’s attention skipped right over him.

Did he realize Lan Zhan was here? Would he be okay with Lan Zhan seeing whatever… whatever it was he and this woman were going to do? It didn’t seem right that he should witness it except one of the rules of the club meant that anyone who didn’t consent should not step inside.

He—he definitely should still go.

Before he could make a decision, Wei Ying was taking the robe from the woman and handing it off to someone else, an assistant or a friend or something, who took it away. The woman was completely exposed now and Wei Ying’s hands were brushing her shoulders, skimming across her cheek to tilt her head.

Now, Lan Zhan’s attention was not riveted by the woman, but by Wei Ying himself. He leaned in and spoke directly into the woman’s ear, confirming something with her maybe, as he lifted several long lengths of fabric, rougher than the silk she’d been wearing and far too small to be anything other than blindfolds or—

He did wrap one around her eyes, tying it expertly before manipulating her arms behind her back. When she widened her legs, he nudged them back together with his hip against her flank. With quick, efficient motions, he’d managed a latticework up from her wrist to her elbows, cinching them every step of the way. His mouth formed another request and then she was wiggling her fingers for him. He said something else and she nodded.

There were a few more murmurs from the crowd, anticipatory whispers rippling through the air, almost a presence all on their own. Lan Zhan attempted to ignore them, but each one reminded him that maybe he didn’t know Wei Ying as well as he thought he did. I don’t do that anymore, he’d said, meaning this was something he used to do and enough people around here understood what was happening to be excited about it, very different from their usual response to someone taking center stage.

Lan Zhan breathed deeply and closed his eyes, doing well in avoiding prying into Wei Ying’s dubious privacy, but he wasn’t strong enough to leave. As a child, he’d often clasped his hands over his ears when he was seeing or hearing something he was dissatisfied with and his palms itched now to protect himself in that manner.

Except.

Except he wanted to see. He wanted to hear. He—

He wanted to be in that woman’s place.

Never in all his time here had he actually participated in anything. Though he’d had more than his fair share of offers—before word got around that he didn’t, of course—he never felt he needed to be right in the middle of it, a spotlight shone on his body, his reactions, his needs and wants.

He opened his eyes again and this time, he didn’t have the tenacity to look away and there was no chance he would leave. And for his loyalty, he was rewarded with the image of Wei Ying’s finger tracing down the woman’s body, like skimming the surface of a calm pool, adjusting her in just the way he wanted her to go, forcing her to contort her body in ways that weren’t totally unnatural, but still looked a little trying. At first, she seemed comfortable with it, one leg bent this way, the other stretched that way, her balance and posture clean, if not particularly impressive, and all the while, Wei Ying touched her, palm across the swell of her buttocks, knuckles climbing her spine, fingertips dragging over her shoulders. He walked around and around her. Through all of this—and the minutes dripped and dragged, pulled along by Wei Ying’s will alone—he did not touch her with any eye toward the sexual, not beyond the juxtaposition of a naked body on display in a sex club might on its own generate.

She might as well have been a puzzle for him, a lock to be picked, a knot to be pulled apart. His gaze was cool and clinical and somehow these two things combined, the heat of her need against the lack in Wei Ying, only made it…

Lan Zhan shifted, realizing for the first time tonight that he was already half-hard.

It usually took longer than that.

Biting back a sigh, he crossed his legs, one ankle braced on the opposite knee, until the taut pressure of his trousers pressed against his cock. The fabric tightened across his crotch as he hardened further, as light and teasing as Wei Ying’s touch.

His hand tightened on his kneecap, nails digging into the skin.

It wasn’t quite like anything he’d seen before in the club. It was too gentle. Too… subtle for much of this crowd and yet every single person was eating it up, leaning forward to watch, touching one another, trying to emulate Wei Ying’s touch. Even Lan Zhan tried, brushing his thumb across his fly once when he saw Wei Ying tease the woman with his thumb across her side and over her ribs.

At first, she didn’t make any sounds, but as Wei Ying did these things, slow and methodical, Lan Zhan could see first the way her breathing went labored. Then her muscles shook. And then Wei Ying must have done something to her, because she gasped. The entire room might as well have the ones who were under Wei Ying’s spell, because they all gasped, too.

Not Lan Zhan, though he had to bite his lip almost to bleeding to stop even an exhale from escaping.

Her balance slipped, but Wei Ying grabbed her arm and yanked her back upright as she sobbed, head bowing forward. From the way she shifted, Lan Zhan could see the gleam of her arousal in her neatly trimmed pubic hair and collected in the creases where her thighs met.

“You’ll fall next time,” Wei Ying said, placid, bland, a delicate warning to her of the consequences if she disobeyed.

Lan Zhan hadn’t even realized until this moment that this was what they were doing, that Wei Ying was exerting this much control over her. Not that Lan Zhan was an expert, but he followed none of the expected scripts, at least not among the people who frequented this club. He did not berate her, did not order her around, and yet Lan Zhan knew that the last thing she wanted to do was make a mistake.

He continued to touch her here and there and Lan Zhan couldn’t figure out how he decided to touch her where he touched her. It seemed too purposeful, too effective, to be random, but he couldn’t sense any sort of pattern. One moment, her ankle, the next, her clavicle, elbow, navel.

Lan Zhan shifted again. His hand pressed hard against his now full erection and he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, stop himself from gasping, too, this time. As though that alone could draw Wei Ying’s attention, quiet as it was, Wei Ying’s eyes were on him, boring into him. Though he touched the woman, his focus was entirely on Lan Zhan.

Before, Wei Ying hadn’t seemed like he was a part of what was happening, so much as an outside instigator, hardly moved, not at all affected in return, but even in the dim light, Lan Zhan saw the way his gaze sharpened, darkened, deepened. Both the woman and Wei Ying were faced Lan Zhan’s way, her head bowed, his held high.

For reasons that Lan Zhan didn’t understand, he turned her around, pulled her head to press against his shoulder, slid one hand between her legs and let the other sweep up and down her back.

His eyes though… they still didn’t leave Lan Zhan’s face and Lan Zhan found himself drawn by the rhythm Wei Ying set. One sweep up. One sweep down. Slow. Methodical.

Just as he was playing this woman’s body, he was directing Lan Zhan, too. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he did.

The woman shuddered and cried out, but Wei Ying didn’t stop what he was doing to her, not even when the shudders turned to wracking sobs, her whole body jerking, held up by Wei Ying’s will alone. He did not deviate at all from what he was doing to her.

Lan Zhan was so close even without ever actually touching himself, body alight with sensations he didn’t even know could be drawn from it, like Wei Ying had managed to trap lightning beneath his skin and it was only Wei Ying could release it again.

He wanted to be the one pressed against Wei Ying’s body, toyed with until the only means of communication left to him were inarticulate shouts.

His orgasm caught him by surprise, hips snapping up from the chair, groin pressed hard one final time against the base of his palm, and Wei Ying’s mouth fell open in surprise as Lan Zhan could only stare back, bereft, needful.

An embarrassing mess.

The woman cried out again, this time a word that Lan Zhan didn’t recognize, possibly in another language, and Wei Ying immediately stopped, his attention peeled violently from Lan Zhan and directed back toward her as he removed his hand from between her legs, wiped it quickly on a handkerchief tucked through his belt loop that Lan Zhan hadn’t even noticed this whole time before both his arms braced her shoulders, one catching under her elbow as he turned her carefully to remove the restraints from her arms, chafing them between his hands before helping her down from the platform, letting her lean all of her weight against him.

He did not remove the blindfold and she didn’t seem at all inclined to remove it herself. His features were sweetly concerned as he leaned close to speak with her.

Though they then turned the other way, heading toward the door they’d come in through, Wei Ying delayed long enough to look back at Lan Zhan.

That was—Lan Zhan didn’t—they shouldn’t have—

Reality dumped ice water down his spine as he shoved himself to his feet and ungracefully strode toward the exit.

After cleaning himself up in the restrooms, thankfully very numerous and very private, Lan Zhan stepped outside. A breeze kicked up around him, the evening brisk and bracing, forcing focus on a situation that entirely lacked it. His thoughts were still in disarray even though his body felt like he might float away at any moment. Though he usually didn’t linger here—the chances of anyone he knew seeing or caring were slim, but not nonexistent—he couldn’t bring himself to head back to his car.

He was an idiot, but he felt incredible and—

There was the scuffling of feet a little further down the block and then a very familiar figure turning onto the street from the cramped alley alongside the building. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and his shoulders were hunched forward. His eyes remained downcast as he strode with purpose toward Lan Zhan.

For one wild, panicked moment, Lan Zhan almost ducked back inside to avoid—

Then Wei Ying lifted his head, his eyes wide, glittering under the nearby streetlamp’s harsh white cone of light. “Lan Zhan!”

He sounded as surprised and off-kilter as Lan Zhan felt, tying their experiences together in a way that made Lan Zhan feel like he wasn’t alone in this.

Wei Ying strode more quickly, ate the handful of steps between them with long, slim, beautiful legs. “Lan Zhan, I’m—I can’t even begin to apologize for—that was so inappropriate.” He made as though to grab for Lan Zhan’s arm and Lan Zhan’s heart fluttered at the possibility of touch, but at the last second he pulled his hand back as though scalded and Lan Zhan flinched in sympathetic response. “God, and now I’m… are you okay?”

Trying to stand in Wei Ying’s presence now without wanting more was like trying to withstand a hurricane. It was impossible. His desires thrashed within him and he could only weather them, batten down the metaphorical hatches. “I’m okay.”

Wei Ying inspected him thoroughly, as though trying to catch him out in a lie. But he was okay truly. A little embarrassed maybe, still a lot turned on and only growing more so as Wei Ying continued to scrutinize him. The cataclysmic shift in their relationship only registered as though at a distance. Lan Zhan was certain that piece would smash back into the earth soon enough. “I don’t know why I… that doesn’t normally…” Wei Ying ruined his carefully arranged ponytail as he scrubbed his hand over his head and down the back of his neck. “If you want, I can rearrange my shifts. Or you can file a complaint. I won’t—”

“Wei Ying!” Lan Zhan said, adopting the tone of voice he only ever used at work, sharp and displeasing to himself and everyone who was forced to listen to it. His ears were flushed and would no doubt be hot to the touch and he couldn’t stand up to Wei Ying’s awkward kindness and concern. “It’s fine.”

The longer they stood there, though, the less fine it got. If this was just some accident, some spur of the moment thing, he would just as soon forget it. He didn’t want Wei Ying to feel bad about it if it was nothing. He didn’t want Wei Ying to feel bad even if it wasn’t nothing.

He didn’t want Wei Ying to feel bad about it at all.

More than that, he wanted it to happen again, but he knew himself well enough to realize that wasn’t likely to happen and he wasn’t the sort of person who could just ask or come up with a smooth way to suggest it.

“I liked it,” he said, less because he was trying to get more from Wei Ying than to assure Wei Ying it was okay. Lan Zhan wouldn’t file a complaint over it.

Wei Ying’s gaze was—and Lan Zhan really hated to think of it in these terms, but he couldn’t help it when it was the truth—penetrating, searching. A complicated array of emotions crossed his features, none of which Lan Zhan was truly capable of untangling. They landed finally on something quiet, too quiet for a personality like Wei Ying’s. Lan Zhan wasn’t certain what it meant. “Oh.”

He ground his shoe into the pavement and stared down at Lan Zhan’s feet for a moment, chewing on his lip before he lifted his head again.

Lan Zhan was again painfully cognizant of the fact that they were technically in public. Anyone might step outside the door and see them or hear this conversation. Though it bothered him a little, he didn’t want to send Wei Ying running if he pointed it out.

He didn’t understand why Wei Ying—who’d always been composed with Lan Zhan and had been composed for the majority of tonight—suddenly seemed more like a rabbit moments from bolting than the man Lan Zhan had come to know. His mind raced through possible explanations, reached the only one that made sense. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

Of course Lan Zhan had stepped out of line somehow.

“No! No, I…” Wei Ying bit his lip again. “Lan Zhan, I don’t think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried.” His fingers fidgeted up and down his exposed, goose-pimpled forearms. It made Lan Zhan want to unroll Wei Ying’s sleeves and button them back up or—or give Wei Ying his coat, warm from his own body heat. “If…” He made an impatient noise in the back of his throat and looked away, like he was weighing up his options or trying to make a decision. “I can… if you want to do something like that, I could…”

Lan Zhan’s heart slammed against his rib cage when Wei Ying’s words registered and a cold sweat broke out along the back of his neck. “When I’m in there, I don’t—” There was a clause in the rules for the employees never to mention what happened in that room should any of them happen to find themselves there. He couldn’t know Lan Zhan didn’t actively participate.

“I didn’t mean—it doesn’t have to be there or anywhere. Sorry, I’m not trying to hit on you. I just…” He took one step closer and lowered his voice, looking around to ensure there was no one else nearby to hear him. “I… do that. For people. I’ve kind of gotten a sixth sense for… if I’ve misinterpreted, that’s—! I can help you is what I’m trying to say. If—I hope I don’t offend you. It’s not even really my business, but… ignore me.” His mouth pulled in a grimace. “Please. Sometimes I run my mouth and don’t think it through.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “That was totally irresponsible of me again. I’m doing well tonight. I’ll just… leave you alone.” Then he reached into his pocket and fished out a card and thrust it at Lan Zhan. “Will you promise to call or text if anything is wrong or you need anything?”

Lan Zhan took the card carefully. It was bent around the edges, the thick paper soft with age. It only contained a phone number. Wei Ying’s presumably. It felt illicit in a way that Wei Ying offering a QR code wouldn’t have. “It’s against the rules.”

This kind of casual contact could get dangerous, Lan Zhan understood, for both patron and employee.

“Fuck, I know,” Wei Ying said, a note of despair in his voice. “I promise I won’t make things weird—weirder?—again. I just—wanted you to know I’m here if you need. I like you. Not like—I mean. You’re a good person. I can tell. Seriously, just ignore me. Except for the part about how sorry I am. And that you’re a good person. In fact—” He reached in and attempted to take the card back, but Lan Zhan was quicker than him and more prepared, paying far, far too much attention to Wei Ying than was appropriate. It was easy to snatch it out of the way. “Lan Zhan!”

This was stupid and Lan Zhan shouldn’t even be considering the offer Wei Ying was making, but there was a warm tug behind his navel that was impossible to ignore, a need inside of him that Wei Ying had unlocked far too easily and Wei Ying was handing everything he might never have known he wanted over to him on a silver platter.

He tried very, very hard to say no, to give Wei Ying’s card back to him and put this night back to rights.

As he stared down at it, he realized he could not do it.

“When and where do you want me?” Lan Zhan asked.

Wei Ying laughed, a little sharp. “It’s more like when and where would you want me, Lan Zhan.”

Anywhere was not an answer. Any time wasn’t much of one either.

“I don’t know your schedule. You choose.” Lan Zhan could rearrange his own at a whim for the low cost of a vague conversation with his brother.

Wei Ying’s mouth opened and closed and then he thought about it for far longer than was strictly necessary. “How about Saturday morning, around ten?”

Saturday morning? So soon?

But there was nothing he was doing in the morning that couldn’t be rescheduled for another time. The fact that it was the weekend made it even easier. He nodded, nerves getting the better of his speech.

“Do you want me to come to your place or shall we…?” He flushed slightly, obvious as he yet again stepped into the fiercest cast of light from the harsh street lamp. “What would be comfortable for you?”

“My home is fine,” he answered. Probably he shouldn’t be inviting anyone back, let alone anyone from here, but he trusted Wei Ying implicitly and knew that even if this blew up in his face, it wouldn’t be because of Wei Ying. Before Wei Ying could complain, Lan Zhan pulled out his phone and texted his address to the number on the card.

Wei Ying smiled slightly after a moment, melancholic, too pretty for words.

“I’ll see you, Lan Zhan.”

Wei Ying then shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching again as though he was remembering anew how cool it was out, and strode away. Perhaps his world had shifted a little, too; from behind, he looked a little unsteady on his feet.

Lan Zhan, not often given to outbursts of any sort, couldn’t help calling after him. “Wei Ying?” When Wei Ying turned to acknowledge him, he added, “Take care.”

At that, something so simple, Wei Ying’s formerly subdued smile turned into a blinding grin as he walked—more like, bounced—backwards a few steps. “You, too, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan wished for more opportunities to make him smile that way. It shouldn’t be so simple to do.

He glanced down again at the card. Now that he had Wei Ying’s number in his phone, he didn’t really need it any longer.

He tucked it into his coat anyway.

Wei Ying had given it to him after all.

In truth, Lan Zhan had no idea what to expect and as the minutes crept by on Saturday morning—much, much too slowly for him when he’d been up even before his usual time, unable to sleep through the night—and it wasn’t something he could ask anyone else about.

He suspected trying to look it up on the internet would be less than helpful.

All he could do was sit and wait, he supposed, nervous the entire time, barely able to drink the tea he kept brewing and failing to drink let alone do anything else. Even the congee he made for breakfast—not what he usually chose to eat, but it was time-consuming and required little thought to accomplish and that was all he wanted at this moment—wasn’t particularly appealing to him when he sat down with it.

By eight, he was searching out every corner of his apartment for signs of dirt and dust and even succumbed to the urge to scrub the grout in the bathroom even though it was as immaculate as it always was.

By nine, he was staring at the wall, counting his every inhalation and exhalation, imagining his worries as a tangled ball of yarn in his stomach. Each breath was meant to untangle it a little more, but all he succeeded in doing was winding himself up even more once he realized he was just trying to match his breathing to the memorable sweep of Wei Ying’s hand up a spine that wasn’t his.

At nine-thirty, he picked up his phone and tapped out a plea to beg off, thumb hovering over the option to send.

He couldn’t do it.

When Wei Ying got here, they’d talk about it and he could decline this… whatever this was. It was entirely probable that Wei Ying was already on his way. It would be rude to cancel so late in the day.

Maybe Wei Ying would cancel and solve the problem for both of them.

Maybe Lan Zhan should have had something prepared for Wei Ying just in case he didn’t. Tea or—or snacks. He could offer them, say, thank you, but no thank you. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. Except Lan Zhan didn’t keep snacks and he wouldn’t have known what Wei Ying liked anyway. Perhaps next time, he’d be able to prepare better, though that merely had him wondering why he hadn’t prepared already and what point there would be when he was going to turn Wei Ying down.

Why hadn’t he asked Wei Ying what he expected and wanted out of this morning anyway? What was he even thinking? Why was he thinking about next times when he was planning on saying no?

He might have begun panicking at 9:58, after deciding three times over to both make tea and then not make tea, erring on the side of caution finally because it would be rude to do anything else. The water in the electric kettle bubbled in readiness at two after and there was no sign of Wei Ying, no text, nothing.

Other people, people who were not Lan Zhan, did not consider this late, but Lan Zhan couldn’t help but breathe in relief, thinking perhaps Wei Ying had thought better of this nonsense and was just going to ghost on him. That would—that would be ideal. Then Lan Zhan could avoid the club until the end of time and he’d never have to think about Wei Ying again.

Good, yes. That was…

He was just going to pour some tea for himself and call it a day, happy to have dodged a bullet. That would settle him.

At 10:04, there was a knock on the door and Lan Zhan sloshed hot water across the back of his hand in reaction to the noise.

Wei Ying looked harried as Lan Zhan let him in, hair in a complete disarray, cheeks red from exertion. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathless, shifting on his feet as Lan Zhan stared at him. He was beautiful, eyes gray and gleaming. In the light of day, they almost seemed to glow. “Good first impression, huh?”

Did Wei Ying often do this? Be so self-deprecating? He’d always seemed so assured before. He’d certainly been assured with that woman. Now he just looked… he looked like Wei Ying. He looked like Wei Ying if he was shy and uncertain. He wrung his hands in front of him and shifted his bag, slung over his shoulder. It hit his hip with a heavy thunk and he winced slightly.

“Come in,” Lan Zhan said, trying to be assured enough for both of them. It did make him feel a little better that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous today, again like he wasn’t alone in it. With Wei Ying, he couldn’t imagine feeling alone. “Would you like some tea?”

“Tea?” Wei Ying asked, distracted as he scanned the room, eyes wide. “Oh, yes. Tea would be nice. Thank you.”

Lan Zhan frowned. He was used to Wei Ying being charming and effusive. He wasn’t used to earnest politeness from him. You hardly know him, Lan Zhan tried to remind himself, brutally efficient and cutting. You don’t even know what sort of tea he likes. “I have green, white, oolong, a few herbal varieties…” he said as he made his way back to the kitchen, Wei Ying trailing behind him. He gestured at the couch, a soft, boring dove gray, nowhere near as compelling as the color of Wei Ying’s eyes, a far superior shade of the color. “You can sit if you want.” He was going about this all wrong surely. “Which would you like?”

“Hm?” Wei Ying was still looking around, eyes lingering on the oddest details: the long, silvery pale drapes, the corner of the coffee table, the empty stretch of floor that would one day, if Lan Zhan ever stopped working long enough, hold the rabbit hutch he was hoping to find a reason to buy. “Whatever you want is fine.”

Lan Zhan gritted his teeth. Was Wei Ying being circumspect on purpose or merely being polite? “I want you to have whatever you want.”

Wei Ying looked at him and blinked a few times. “Oh,” he said. “Um. Green is fine?”

When Lan Zhan returned to the living room with the cup, Wei Ying was smoothing his hands down his thighs and responded just a little bit too slowly to Lan Zhan’s arrival, taking the tea after an odd delay. “Thank you,” he said, staring down at it as though it might have answers to questions Lan Zhan couldn’t begin to fathom or anticipate.

Whatever it was they were walking into, Lan Zhan was beginning to think it was a bad idea. If Wei Ying was this uncertain about it, what did that make Lan Zhan?

“Sorry,” Wei Ying said, as though sensing Lan Zhan’s concern. “This is always the most awkward part and it’s been a while since I’ve had to give the spiel and you’re…” He favored Lan Zhan finally with a smile, a little more certain, lifting Lan Zhan’s spirits, sparking off anticipation within him, transmuting his nervousness into something far more pleasant. “Well. You’re you.”

And though that might have sounded like an insult from anyone else, from Wei Ying it sounded like it might be a point in his favor.

Wei Ying sipped the tea and, off-hand, complimented it, too, telling Lan Zhan that it was the best he’d ever had, which may or may not have been a fabrication of the truth. “There are a few things we should discuss,” he said, no less awkward than before, but apparently willing to trudge through it anyway. “It’s not always easy. I’ve never been a fan myself, but it’s important—”

“You can say whatever you need to.”

He grimaced. “It’s more what I need you to say. I’ve had practice going over my piece after all. I suspect this is new for you?”

Well. Wei Ying wasn’t wrong. He nodded. It was difficult to say more.

Wei Ying’s huffing breath wasn’t amused, but it wasn’t not amused either. Lan Zhan didn’t know what it meant, but he figured if Wei Ying was relaxing, then it would be okay. “Why don’t I do the talking first then and we can come back to you? I’ll lay my cards on the table?”

Lan Zhan nodded again, heating all over, ears burning. He wondered if Wei Ying noticed and wished he could be as unprepossessingly brave as Wei Ying was. There was nothing in the world as difficult as exposing oneself to another person and here Wei Ying was offering to do just that to put Lan Zhan at ease.

“I see my role here as ensuring you get what you need and want,” he started. If it was a script, it didn’t sound like it, the words too earnest in Wei Ying’s mouth. “I am… very flexible in the means used to reach that end.”

Arousal plucked at Lan Zhan’s nerves, setting him alight again. Already his body stirred and they hadn’t even done anything.

“I’m sorry for getting so explicit so early in the day, but that means I’m… sometimes it’s about sex. Sometimes it’s not. I’m okay with either,” Wei Ying said. “I’m happy to fuck or be fucked or get just you off or get nobody off or get myself off in front of you.” Here, a slight tinge finally bloomed in his cheeks. “Anyway. I don’t submit if that’s how you want this to go. That’s typically not… not what people come to me for anyway. I would, but…” His gaze was keen and calculating, though underneath it was some other, deeper emotion as he shrugged, seemingly indifferent except for how it didn’t look casual in the slightest. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem here?”

Lan Zhan shook his head. He definitely wasn’t interested in ordering Wei Ying around. He didn’t think anyway. He hadn’t really considered the possibility.

“I don’t take payment,” Wei Ying said, a little frosty. “That’s not what it’s about for me. Some people do and that works for them, but I don’t see this as that sort of transaction. I don’t want money coming into it. That’s what my job’s for. You don’t have to reciprocate or provide gifts or do anything like that. Some people have thought of it like a friends with benefits situation. If that’s useful for you…” He waved his hand through the air. Be my guest, it said without saying it. “I’ve never felt the need to ascribe a label to it beyond two people providing something to one another.” He ticked off his fingers. “Comfort, companionship, relaxation, a good time. Whatever.”

Lan Zhan could understand that. As much as he did prefer to have everything in his life neatly categorized, he couldn’t imagine finding a neat little box to shove this into. He tried to let the desire go and chose to take Wei Ying’s cue. It could be what it was. Lan Zhan could abide by Wei Ying’s requests.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Why? If you ask for nothing and won’t accept anything,” Lan Zhan asked. “Why do this?”

Wei Ying’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I take satisfaction from it. When I’m with a person this way, what I’m doing matters. That’s… that’s what I get out of it. Please don’t think too hard about it.” A tinge of sadness mingled with the upturned corner of his lips. “I’ve never really understood it either, but it’s good. I enjoy it. And, you know, orgasms are nice when those are on the table. When they’re not, it’s still gratifying.”

Orgasms were nice. Lan Zhan could concur with that.

“Why did you agree to that woman’s request even though you said you’d stopped?”

The blush deepened. “You heard that, huh? Of course you did. There are people I’ll make exceptions for. She’s one of them, but there won’t be anyone else while we…” That hand again, smoothing the way without words.

“So you get off on being nice to people? Doing what they want you to do?”

“I take the decision out of their hands. Nicely. Sometimes not so nicely. It is ultimately what they want.” Wei Ying’s gaze found his, trapping him. “It would be what you want.”

“Why me?”

Wei Ying shifted a little bit closer to him, one hand hovering over his knee before he reeled it back in. “Lan Zhan, I know the club doesn’t really… I consider you my friend. I know we maybe don’t actually know one another well, but I feel I’m a good judge of character and I can see you’re a good man. I don’t know if you know this, but your eyes give you away, that’s all. I think I can help you. I’d like to help you. If it’s weird or too much or… or anything at all, we don’t have to. I’d still like to be your friend. And it’s not some kind of pity thing or—or me feeling like I can save you from something. You’re a beautiful man, Lan Zhan, I wouldn’t be getting nothing out of it. Really, I just think we could be good for one another.”

No one in his life had ever called him beautiful and nobody had ever told him that his eyes gave him away. Nobody thought he could be good for them.

What truth did they speak that Wei Ying connected these dots together and came up with this solution and then offered it right in his lap?

“Wei Ying, I want to,” was all he could say in response. There was no other option when faced with the choice of this or letting Wei Ying walk out the door now. Hell, it would probably blow up in his face, but before it did…

This much of Wei Ying was better than none of him. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to the club and sit across the bar from Wei Ying while he flirted and teased in that distant, frothy way of his, not when he’d seen so much of the genuine person deeper inside of Lan Zhan.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said, breathing out, possibly in relief, though Lan Zhan really couldn’t say. “That’s… I’m glad.” He cleared his throat and then shifted back, giving Lan Zhan more space that he didn’t want. “There’s really only one thing I’m not interested in doing. It’s been a deal breaker a couple of times, but—I don’t give or receive blowjobs. That’s—I know it’s pretty tame by a lot of people’s standards, but…”

Lan Zhan didn’t know why he was so disappointed by this discovery when he’d never really thought about Wei Ying in the context of oral sex before, but now that he was thinking about it, his mind filling itself with images of Lan Zhan on his knees for Wei Ying, Wei Ying between his splayed thighs on his bed, the both of them… He found himself wishing that they could do just that. “Of course,” he said instead. “Of course, I don’t mind.”

Wei Ying’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Is there anything you don’t want to do? Anything you particularly do?” He must have seen something on Lan Zhan’s face because he laughed lightly. “You can write it down if that would be easier. Sometimes it is. I’m up for most things.”

That… wasn’t the problem here he was coming to realize very, very quickly. “I… don’t know.” What would he write down if he had no clue?

“You don’t know what you don’t want?”

Lan Zhan’s thoughts were a whirl as he tried to recall everything he’d seen in the club or, or on the internet and… “Latex seems uncomfortable?”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened and then his mouth broke into a smile and he laughed delightedly as though caught by surprise. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re the best. Okay, latex is out. Anything else?”

Lan Zhan didn’t often shrug, but he truly had no idea what he did and didn’t want. Wei Ying’s gaze softened and his smile, though dimmed, was just as blinding. “Well,” he said, no-nonsense, “we can figure it out together?”

Nodding in relief, Lan Zhan agreed. Except… “What you were doing,” he said, mouth suddenly dry, tongue uncooperative, “with that woman?”

“Yes?”

“I liked that.”

“Was it the blindfold or being tied up or…?”

In truth, it was all of those things, but mostly it was the way he’d touched her. This didn’t seem like the right time to obfuscate his feelings, so he chose to be candid, Wei Ying shifting slightly toward him as he made the admission.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said, inhaling deeply. “Anything else?”

“Is there anything you like?”

Wei Ying’s eyebrow climbed his forehead, but something about the question made him go a little distant. Lan Zhan didn’t understand, but before he could rescind the question, Wei Ying answered, unsatisfactory in Lan Zhan’s mind, “This isn’t about what I like.”

“Why not?” Perhaps it was rude to push back this way, but he’d always been a little too stubborn for his own good.

“The point for me is to do what you like. If I do what I… that defeats the purpose. This is what I like.” He gestured at himself and at Lan Zhan. “Trust me when I say that anything you like is something I’ll like. Let me take care of the rest.”

Except for blowjobs, Lan Zhan thought, mournful, which was ridiculous because he’d never before longed to do that with or to anyone and yet…

“So I guess the last question is when and where,” Wei Ying said, upbeat. “That’s technically two questions. I was also wondering if we might spend some time together today doing something you enjoy doing. Not—not related to this. Just… in general. To get to know one another. What do you like to do to relax or unwind?”

Lan Zhan said nothing. There was no good answer to that question. And then something like understanding dawned clear on Wei Ying’s features.

“Is it the club?”

Lan Zhan nodded his head fractionally, damning.

“The club you only go to once a month?”

Lan Zhan nodded again, worse.

“You don’t go anywhere else, by chance?”

Lan Zhan shook his head, impossible.

When Lan Zhan looked up, he feared that he would see pity or disdain on Wei Ying’s face, but there was only thoughtful determination. “How busy are you today?”

Though it was difficult, he just barely managed to keep a grimace from stealing across his mouth. His inbox would make its fury known if he avoided it for too long. The thought of doing this was one thing, but the thought of going out, doing something else, it felt a little like a waste. Not that he would tell Wei Ying that. “My day is clear.”

Tomorrow, who could say what he’d have to do to make up for it, but that was a problem he wasn’t going to worry about right now, not when Wei Ying’s entire focus was on him like this.

“Do you trust me?” Wei Ying asked. The question was somehow both light and terribly loaded.

The answer, at least, was very easy. “Yes.”

If Lan Zhan knew to expect anything from Wei Ying, he might have imagined him picking something more energetic and loud than a museum.

A museum, in point of fact, that Lan Zhan had been meaning to check out for years now.

A museum that he had not actually checked out since the thought first crossed his mind back before he got himself stuck in the mire of his life, this grind that allowed for nothing except a few hours once a month in a club, dinner with his brother, maybe an evening spent at home not working even though that was when he got the most work done with the least amount of stress or interruption.

How Wei Ying might have guessed this was something Lan Zhan would enjoy was entirely beyond Lan Zhan’s understanding. They’d never talked about art when he sat across from Wei Ying at his bar, but he couldn’t deny that he was momentarily struck by the experience of standing here, feeling known in some small way.

No, correction: he was struck by the experience of Wei Ying bringing him to a museum. That was all.

At the entrance, he hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked from the top of the short flight of stairs leading into the building. Wei Ying’s mouth turned down. “Do you not want to?” His teeth flashed white as he chewed on his lower lip, looking back at the glass doors behind him, perhaps pondering a sudden change in plans.

“I do,” he said, though his feet remained rooted to the spot.

“Come on, then,” Wei Ying said and on the surface it was no different than friendly cajoling, but beneath the words themselves, there was something else. Or perhaps it was only the intensity of Wei Ying’s gaze boring into him that lent an air of more to the language he used. “Let’s have this together, hmm?”

How could Lan Zhan say no to that?

It was smaller than many of the ones Lan Zhan had been to in the past, back when he was in school still and eked out time for such things, thinking perhaps one day he’d have even more time, but it was well-curated and thoughtfully laid out. The true surprise, the thing Lan Zhan enjoyed the most, was listening to Wei Ying talk about the art—and it didn’t matter what style, medium, or time period it represented, he had an opinion, insightful and enthusiastic. He was the sort who happily read each and every card next to the displays, soaking up the information as though he was starving for it, and charmed the nearest docent and would sometimes stop to take an artfully framed shot to post online with a witty caption and a string of emoji.

“Tell me when you get bored, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said to him as he led Lan Zhan toward another room, the lights dimmer for the sake of an exhibit on… something. Lan Zhan maybe wasn’t paying as much attention as he could have been. Why would he when the most moving piece of art on display was before him. “Or if you’d like to go somewhere else.”

Lan Zhan wanted to be wherever made Wei Ying happy and this seemed to make him happy. It was also a good change of pace from his usual activities and that seemed to be Wei Ying’s goal in doing this. He could appreciate art even if he didn’t get to live and breathe it or cheerfully consume it the way Wei Ying did. “This is good.”

And then Wei Ying grinned at him, brilliant from so few words, so little effort, and that kind of power was seductive. It made Lan Zhan want to know how else he could make Wei Ying smile.

As Wei Ying stepped into the room, the lights lifted, as though in reaction to Wei Ying’s presence. Sounds, too, began to fill the room: low hums when Wei Ying or he took a step, a lighter, sharper sound when Wei Ying’s arms moved. For a handful of breaths, Wei Ying danced, an odd little combination of tap and ballroom, sending the room into a frenzy of light and a cacophony of sound as he twirled.

Laughing, he stopped and held out his hand. “Want to try?”

Lan Zhan did, but—he couldn’t, couldn’t bring himself to take Wei Ying’s hand, but Wei Ying only smiled and dropped his, skipping a little toward the other side of the room, waiting for Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan crossed alone, each step punctuated by sounds that fell flatter than when Wei Ying passed. By the time he reached Wei Ying, he couldn’t help but wave a little, just enough to send a ripple of light and a trilling thrum back toward the opposite door. Wei Ying’s smile turned proud and he nodded in pleasure.

It took another hour before they got through the rest of the museum, bypassing the shop entirely as they made their way back out into the bright afternoon sun, Wei Ying blowing it off with a shrug despite Lan Zhan’s belief that he might have wanted some kind of knickknack to commemorate the day.

Or perhaps it was just Lan Zhan who found the thought compelling. Wei Ying already had a whole phone full of ways to remember the day. Then he realized Wei Ying wasn’t the only one with the ability to document the event. “Wei Ying,” he said, quickly pulling his phone from his pocket, pulling Wei Ying’s attention from the sky outside, like he was only now realizing that it existed, thoughts still back in the museum as they walked down the street at a meandering pace.

Lan Zhan had never meandered in his life and he wasn’t entirely certain he liked it, but since he was with Wei Ying, he would happily continue at the pace he set. If he was right, he’d be giving up even more control soon enough. It wouldn’t hurt to get used to it.

“What are you—?” Wei Ying asked, but too late, Lan Zhan had already gotten a shot of him, just as a breeze kicked up and blew a few strands of his hair that had worked themselves loose from his ponytail. Even though Wei Ying’s lips were parted, a wicked little curl at the corner of his mouth as he asked his question, it was still a lovely picture. “Lan Zhan, did you just—!”

He lunged for Lan Zhan’s phone and managed to grab it and one of Lan Zhan’s hands. He didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but Lan Zhan was sure his heart was going to skip right out of his chest. Wei Ying’s hands were so warm and soft and larger than Lan Zhan might have expected from his slighter stature.

“I didn’t know you were such a cheat,” he said, pouting, but he didn’t delete the picture or complain further, giving the phone back without another word.

Lan Zhan inspected the photo a second time, appreciating it even more now than he did before, having gained Wei Ying’s approval. He closed out the camera app and tucked his phone away. “Where to now?”

“We did what I wanted to do,” Wei Ying said. “What would you like to do?”

Take you home. “Would you allow me to take you to dinner?”

Wei Ying hesitated long enough that Lan Zhan almost took the request back. It was late enough in the day that he could plausibly feign remembrance of an errand that needed to be done before it got too late. He didn’t want to make Wei Ying uncomfortable at all, not after they’d managed to turn their time together into a relaxed affair. Well, he didn’t really have anything to do with it, so even thinking of it as a joint effort was inaccurate. It was entirely Wei Ying’s doing. His willingness to plow through discomfort, to remain cheerful in spite of it, that was what had done it. Lan Zhan had little to do with it.

And Lan Zhan had threatened to knock it all down with a handful of words.

Did other people have this issue, this inability to navigate social cues in a useful, productive way? What Wei Ying was offering to him, it was out of the usual scope, so he liked to think he wasn’t the only one who might stumble a little along the way, but he didn’t know for certain. What could he do? Track down one of Wei Ying’s former lovers and ask? No.

“As friends?” Wei Ying asked, hesitant, his voice straining to remain light as froth.

An ice-sharp prick of disappointment stabbed into Lan Zhan’s heart. “Of course.”

Though Wei Ying had better manners than to sigh in relief, thus making it perfectly clear what he thought of the possibility of dating Lan Zhan, he did stride forward with looser limbs, now chattering about their options. He knew the area well, much better than Lan Zhan, throwing out suggestion after suggestion, prodding at Lan Zhan’s preferences or lack thereof until Wei Ying settled them on one that hopefully wouldn’t burn Lan Zhan’s tongue right out of his mouth. The way Wei Ying talked about spicy flavors made Lan Zhan worry a bit.

It was nice, dinner, though not as nice as the museum had been and Lan Zhan couldn’t quite pinpoint where the difference was. Both activities seemed like they could have been dates on the surface if that truly was Wei Ying’s concern. Then again, Lan Zhan was the one who’d suggested a meal. Perhaps Wei Ying truly did like to be the one to make the decision when it came down to it. Maybe that was why he was so good at the rest of what he did.

If Wei Ying even noticed, he didn’t suggest as much by the way he ate. His enthusiasm might have been infectious if Lan Zhan wasn’t quite so worried about stepping on the delicate eggshells scattered around them. For all that they were only metaphors, Lan Zhan felt they were a very real danger at present. Metaphors, he decided, could still hurt.

“Should we have gone somewhere else?” Wei Ying asked suddenly, pointing at Lan Zhan’s full bowl with his chopsticks. A handful of dishes sat scattered between them and Lan Zhan had taken a few pieces from each one that didn’t look too much as though it was tailor-made to give a person a runny nose.

“No,” Lan Zhan said, plucking up a green bean between his own pair of chopsticks. Fragrant and crisp, they were perfectly adequate, delicious even. “Wei Ying, this is fine.”

Wei Ying’s mouth pulled in a frown for a brief moment before he resumed eating his own food, leaving Lan Zhan to ponder his circumstances. He still had the power to call the whole thing off. If he never knew what it was like to have everything with Wei Ying, it might be easier than having it and then letting it go one day.

The trouble was, he already knew enough of what it was like to be with Wei Ying, to feel the muscles in his body let go of the stress of the day simply because Wei Ying was wonderful and could slip through the cracks of Lan Zhan’s ordered life and show him the way forward. His mind now knew what it was like to focus on something other than his work and not just any old something—the errands which served as his only usual reprieve: meal preparation, shopping, cleaning, laundry—but a pleasant, lovely something. A pleasant, lovely someone.

He hadn’t known what it was like to spend a day without nursing some manner of headache, neck ache, or even the occasional tooth and jaw ache until it had happened.

He owed Wei Ying his gratitude for that if nothing else.

When they were finished, they argued over the check in a way that warmed something just behind Lan Zhan’s heart, and when he won, he couldn’t help feeling just a little bit smug and happy, Wei Ying rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet and led Lan Zhan back onto the street. By now, the light outside was dipping toward twilight, late enough that the cars had begun to turn on their headlamps. On a weeknight, the roads would have been clogged by now and Lan Zhan would have been one of the people trapped in it.

If this were any other weekend, he would be one of the people driving home a little later, faced with slow, creeping traffic and honking horns as right of way turned over to crowds and crowds of people taking leisurely walks on the sidewalk, stepping into the various shops or going somewhere to eat and crossing the road wherever they pleased. He might have rolled his eyes just a little bit at the particularly sappy couple buying overpriced trinkets from a nearby street vendor if he caught sight of him outside of his window, too busy trying to get home to think it was sweet.

As he passed that couple from this perspective, Wei Ying’s elbow bumping his occasionally as they walked a little too close to one another, his eyes cataloging those same trinkets with vague curiosity, Lan Zhan found he wanted to be that couple.

His step faltered for a moment, but it was more than enough of an alteration in his gait for Wei Ying to notice and comment. “Lan Zhan?”

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Misstep.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Wei Ying said, teasing, “clearly.”

This was going to go wrong in so, so many ways, but as Wei Ying returned him to his empty, quiet, lonely apartment, he realized that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from going forward with it, the both of them deciding that next Saturday… next Saturday they could give it a try.

Next Saturday was a long way away.

But somehow, between one blink of the eye and the next, it was Saturday again.

“Look, no latex,” Wei Ying said as soon as the door shut behind him. He only carried his usual bag and he was dressed casually, nice jeans, a lightweight sweater. If Lan Zhan were to try imagining someone doing anything like what they’d discussed, he wouldn’t have imagined a man as unassuming as Wei Ying. No, unassuming wasn’t the right word for Wei Ying. His bearing fluctuated too quickly for that to be an accurate summation of him. But he didn’t give off any of the, for lack of a better word, vibes Lan Zhan might have expected.

His eyes gleamed and Lan Zhan couldn’t decide if it was with excitement or nervousness.

It was possible that Lan Zhan was projecting. The stress from his workweek had built itself back up inside of him and somehow it was both worse and better. Better because he’d had a chance to actually relax and worse for the exact same reason. He should have seen that coming. He felt a variation on it every Friday after he’d been to the club, like that small degree of relief made the whole of it harder to bear until he rebuilt his resistance.

“I thought we’d keep it simple today,” Wei Ying was already saying, launching into it without any preamble. “Start with what you told me last time and go from there.”

Lan Zhan swallowed dryly. “Okay.”

Wei Ying smiled sweetly at him and brushed at the wisps of hair that had fallen from his ponytail. It was still so strange to see when his hair was always so precisely pulled back at the club. It was Lan Zhan who wanted to be the one brushing the strands back.

“Where do you think you’ll be most comfortable?” Wei Ying asked.

Lan Zhan wasn’t sure if the answer was supposed to be obvious or not and that made him wonder where others might have chosen to take Wei Ying instead, but he led Wei Ying to the bedroom anyway. It was the largest room in the apartment and the one with the most floor space. Though he’d chosen a large bed, there was still plenty of room to maneuver, giving Wei Ying more options; little else cluttered it up.

Looking at it now, it felt ridiculously ascetic, beyond even Lan Zhan’s natural disinclination toward clutter. If Wei Ying was thinking anything about it, he gave nothing away, merely placing his bag just inside the door, rifling around inside briefly before straightening back up. Lan Zhan’s eyes caught on the strip of fabric in his hands; he couldn’t look away from it.

“If we do anything you don’t like, tell me to stop, okay? Or if there’s anything you’d rather I do instead, tell me that, too,” he said, somber, like it was important for him to convey how seriously he took this.

“Do I need a—” He thought about the woman, the word she’d said, the way it had maybe served as a signal for Wei Ying. He found the possibility a strange one, couldn’t imagine a situation where he wouldn’t trust Wei Ying to guide him through it, but he wasn’t well-versed in the intricacies either. Maybe it was a courtesy thing or an immersion thing. Lan Zhan still didn’t know. Nobody really used them in the club though he was aware at least some of them had them. “—safeword?”

Wei Ying’s eyebrow twitched. “Would it be helpful to you?”

Lan Zhan thought about it, shook his head.

“Then tell me to stop if you need or want me to.” He looked up at Lan Zhan. “We can revisit the idea later if you’d like.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t either.

“Things do get muddy sometimes,” Wei Ying admitted. “Stop doesn’t always mean stop, you know? But I’m only planning on blindfolds. Stop, take it off, if you say anything like that, I’ll take you at your word and do so immediately. You can yank it off if you want to, too. If you’d like to start playing with such things or you think saying, I don’t know, crabapple will be easier than saying stop, sometimes that’s the case as well, we can talk about that, too.” He paused, giving that a moment to sink in. “Would it be?”

It would definitely be easier to say stop than crabapple. “No.”

“Okay. Then may I put this on you?” Wei Ying asked, lifting the blindfold in illustration. One end slithered free of Wei Ying’s palm and spooled toward the floor until Wei Ying tightened his grip around it.

Lan Zhan’s heart slammed so hard against his chest that he was sure it would crack his ribs, burst forth from behind his sternum, splatter against the floor. He nodded jerkily and took a step toward Wei Ying. Though Lan Zhan was a little bit taller than him, he was able to tie the blindfold with ease. The fabric was soft and cool, silky. As Wei Ying drew it across his eyes, his breath caught.

Without his sight, his other senses clamored for information in its stead. The air felt cooler, his steps more awkwardly amplified. He strained to hear everything and Wei Ying’s touch on his arm had him flinching in surprise.

“Is this okay?” Wei Ying asked, stroking lightly up his clothed forearm.

“Yes.”

“I’m going to guide you to the bed. We’re just going to sit for a little while, okay?”

Lan Zhan nodded. He was glad for once that his room was so empty. Though Wei Ying kept his hand on his arm, it was easy to approach the bed and sit without embarrassing himself. The bed dipped slightly as Wei Ying sat, too. Wei Ying shifted slightly, his clothes and the duvet rustling. “Up on the bed,” Wei Ying said, patting the space just behind Lan Zhan. “Turn so your back is facing the headboard.”

Lan Zhan pushed himself up as requested and crossed his legs, knees jostling lightly against Wei Ying’s. When he tried to pull away, Wei Ying held him in place. He pulled his legs up, too, twisted his body until their knees knocked together. “Here is good.”

Lan Zhan stilled. If Wei Ying wasn’t going to mind being so close, then Lan Zhan wouldn’t either.

Wei Ying took Lan Zhan’s hand in his, cradling it. “Some of my questions are going to seem really inane to you probably,” he said. “I apologize for that. I won’t have to keep asking in the future.” Before Lan Zhan could ask what he meant, he was speaking again. “Is it okay if I touch you like this?”

Lan Zhan gave a nod of assent.

“I want you to tell me.”

Lan Zhan had to clear his throat. “Yes.”

Wei Ying squeezed his fingers together tightly before relaxing his hold again. His thumbs pressed lightly into Lan Zhan’s palm, swept over his wrist, traced the dips and hills of his knuckles. His nails scraped lightly across his skin. Even this sent a shiver down Lan Zhan’s spine, arousal pooling, sticky and warm, in his stomach.

“You have beautiful hands, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, his voice seeming sticky and warm in a way, too, which seemed impossible to Lan Zhan. There was no way Wei Ying felt anything like what Lan Zhan was feeling here, fumbling through a new experience and trying not to be overwhelmed by it.

He was probably used to people reacting this way to him. Lan Zhan wasn’t anything special as a result. But he really wished he was.

Chewing at his bottom lip, he held back a noise as Wei Ying played with the hem of his shirtsleeve. Slowly, he pulled the cuff links, set them on the bed stand with a slight clink of metal against wood, and rolled up his sleeve, skimming his hand up the inside of Lan Zhan’s forearm. He hesitated for a moment, as though waiting for Lan Zhan to complain.

He would not, not when it felt so good, even this small amount of contact. All he could do was shiver and nod, hoping Wei Ying would understand. After one more moment’s hesitation, he continued sweeping his fingers over Lan Zhan’s skin, focusing especially on the inside of his wrist and then up to his elbow until he felt certain he’d explode, his skin too tight, his body wired and taut. Already half hard, he hardened even further, even though that was ridiculous.

Wei Ying hadn’t really done anything yet.

He wondered if Wei Ying had noticed it, if he saw it. He couldn’t see himself right now and had no idea what he looked like or how Wei Ying was looking at him in turn. Wei Ying’s breathing was still normal as far as he could tell, his touch firm and even, his voice perfect.

With Lan Zhan’s other hand, he did the same, and just as slowly and methodically, so different from the carefree, quick man that Lan Zhan thought he knew. Wei Ying seemed intent to take him apart by inexorable millimeters.

“I’d like to take off your shirt now,” Wei Ying said into the silence. Lan Zhan couldn’t claim that it was clinical or disinterested, but it was a little perfunctory and professional. Lan Zhan could only cling to the fact that Wei Ying had said that anything Lan Zhan wanted, he wanted, too.

“Please,” he said, keenly aware of the breathlessness in his voice.

Wei Ying worked quickly, his fingers skimming down Lan Zhan’s bare biceps and over the back of his arms, this time down to his elbows and then to his wrists again from the other direction. Before, he never would have known how much he could be made to feel this way. Now, he knew better.

Before, he would have thought the temperature of his room was comfortable, but right now, he shivered as the cool air caressed his flushed skin with each centimeter of it that was exposed by Wei Ying’s careful removal of his shirt. Once it was free, Wei Ying’s hands lingering again on his arms as he tugged it from his body, the bed dipped and Wei Ying was climbing off, retreating.

Lan Zhan was certain that he didn’t whimper audibly, but then Wei Ying made a comforting, shushing sound, leaving him to wonder what sound did manage to escape. There was a clatter over by Lan Zhan’s closet and then another decisive click followed by the brief scratch of metal against metal, like hangers clacking together. “I don’t want to wrinkle your shirt,” Wei Ying said, sounding closer.

If Lan Zhan was more aware, he might have wondered if Wei Ying was doing it on purpose, withholding his touch in this way for a reason.

Because when Wei Ying came back—when his hand skimmed over his shoulder, he swayed into it, reduced to feeling alone, acting based only on that feeling. The tense ache in his chest eased with Wei Ying’s hand on him, how could he not press himself more closely into it?

Wei Ying’s palm slid across his shoulder and drifted lightly down his spine and dragged itself back up. He did it again and again until Lan Zhan was timing his breathing to the motion, in as Wei Ying’s hand skimmed down, out as it came back up, in, out, in, out.

He didn’t even realize he was doing it until Wei Ying’s hand was suddenly pressed against his chest, palm splayed across his sternum. “Breathe,” he said, lips brushing against the burning shell of his ear. At his request, Lan Zhan gasped, dragging air into his aching lungs. “Perfect.”

Wei Ying continued touching and stroking him in this way for a few more moments, until Lan Zhan was sure his body couldn’t contain the light, flickering arousal blazing through him. His cock, fully hard, brushed against his trousers, straining against the seam.

He didn’t think to ask Wei Ying to touch him there though. Wei Ying would do as he willed.

As he willed shortly involved the sussurant sound of fabric moving followed by Wei Ying climbing back onto the bed, this time behind Lan Zhan, and pulling Lan Zhan into his arms, back to chest. A moment’s disappointment stabbed into his heart as he felt Wei Ying’s body heat through his sweater. Soft as the material was, it wasn’t what he wanted when his own back was bare.

He didn’t realize he’d made another noise until Wei Ying shushed him gently again, fingers sweeping down his temple to his cheek to his jaw, guiding Lan Zhan until all of his weight was pressed against Wei Ying’s body, his neck supported on Wei Ying’s shoulder.

But he wanted Wei Ying’s skin pressed against his own.

If he turned his head, he felt certain he could have that skin to skin contact and so he did, mouth brushing Wei Ying’s throat. His pulse jumped against Lan Zhan’s lips, pressed perfectly against his carotid, and Wei Ying’s previously languid touches abruptly stilled. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, toneless, hands on Lan Zhan’s sides as he guided Lan Zhan into a more comfortable position. Though one remained on Lan Zhan’s hip, the other came back up to brush across his forehead, turning his head back, pulling him away from the soft, smooth column of Wei Ying’s neck. “Stretch out your legs.”

Lan Zhan supposed, in the corner of his mind that could still process anything beyond how incredible he felt, that was that.

He didn’t try to touch Wei Ying again, would rather suffer than make Wei Ying uncomfortable. Instead, he did as Wei Ying asked, willing his disappointment and hurt into a box so he could focus on what Wei Ying was doing to him, could make him feel without more than a few strokes of his hands.

Wei Ying shifted minutely and Lan Zhan’s body slipped a little further down. His hips were bracketed by Wei Ying’s legs. His feet brushed the back of Lan Zhan’s calves before he stretched out, too.

If asked, Lan Zhan would not have been able to state how much time had passed between the start of this and when Wei Ying’s fingers finally slipping into his trousers, but by the time it did, Lan Zhan was—lost to the sensation, bucked up into the slight shift in pressure. Drifting on the slow, tender sweeps Wei Ying had been making, this was like suddenly being dumped into water, a shock to the system no matter how soft the change.

Wei Ying mumbled encouragement into Lan Zhan’s temple as he unhooked and unzipped him. Finally free after so long, Lan Zhan nearly lost it then and there, Wei Ying’s hand only centimeters from him, the fabric of his boxer-briefs dragging nearly frictionless against him as Wei Ying teased beneath the waistband.

“Wei Ying,” he said, voice as hoarse as though he’d been screaming this whole time instead of nearly silent. Just that invocation undammed a deluge of pleas, so uncharacteristic that he tried to restrain himself and found he couldn’t. Even if he bit his lip bloody, he couldn’t have stopped the sounds, each one more embarrassing and needy than the last. “Wei Ying, please. I need—”

“I should get a gag for you,” Wei Ying mused, as though testing the waters. “I didn’t think you’d be so loud. Would you like that?” He brought his free hand up to cover Lan Zhan’s mouth briefly, a tease. Lan Zhan’s lips followed, searching. “To be muffled?”

Lan Zhan thought perhaps he would like a gag, but he was certain he would prefer to be quieted by Wei Ying’s palm instead. He nodded and groaned and Wei Ying’s fingers tightened on his jaw.

His fists tightened in the comforter beneath him, pulling it taut, and his heels dug in, finding no purchase, only slipping against the fabric.

“I’ll remember,” Wei Ying promised, freeing Lan Zhan, wrapping his hand around Lan Zhan’s length. “We’d need to talk about that.”

It was over between one stroke of Wei Ying’s hand down his shaft and the next, his orgasm ripped from within him, so ruthless despite Wei Ying’s gentleness that Lan Zhan sobbed in frustration as he pulsed in Wei Ying’s hand, unprepared for the violence of it, the quick, bright, fireworks flare of pleasure, there and gone in a matter of moments.

His hips jerked one more time before he slumped back against Wei Ying, exhausted.

The scented tang of his release spiked the air.

Wei Ying must have been better prepared, palm cupping him as he softened before letting him go. He shifted again slightly and then settled back, his hands covering Lan Zhan’s, loosening their hold on the bedding before lacing their fingers together, pulling his hands and arms up so they could rest against his own stomach, Wei Ying’s palms covering the back of his hands. Wei Ying must have wiped his release on something, because he couldn’t feel any sign of it on his skin.

He drifted for a time, uncertain that he would have cared even if Wei Ying hadn’t cleaned it up.

“Was that okay?” Wei Ying asked after who knew how long, breathing the question into Lan Zhan’s hair. “How do you feel?”

He was sprawled, limp and loose, in the arms of a beautiful man who knew exactly what he was doing and apparently cared enough about Lan Zhan in particular to do it to him. With the blindfold still in place, it was easier to be honest. “That was—” His throat clicked, dry. He wet his lips as best he could. He could be a little bit honest. “You have to know.”

Wei Ying huffed lightly. “Just wanted to make sure.”

When he tried to shift, to turn, to pull the blindfold free, to assure Wei Ying further, Wei Ying’s arms only tightened around him. “Stay with me like this,” he said, “for a little while longer. Unless you’re ready.”

Relief coursed through him; he wasn’t ready to let this go.

It felt nice to drift, to feel as though he wasn’t expected to do anything other than remain here. Wei Ying’s touch was gentle, coaxing, ever-present, like the sea kissing the shoreline on a calm day. It was nothing like what he might have imagined Wei Ying to be like based on their time together in the bar or even when they’d gone to the museum, but that was Wei Ying: always a surprise.

Perhaps he needed space to be soft and quiet, too.

Hours, days, minutes could have passed before he had to give this up.

But of course he had to, had to let Wei Ying disentangle himself eventually, had to feel Wei Ying remove the blindfold from his eyes, had to open them eventually and blink his way back to reality, had to watch in agony as Wei Ying cleaned up before murmuring that he was going to raid his kitchen. He brought Lan Zhan a bowl of stir-fried vegetables and a glass of water, too, and watched him closely for signs of—of something as he handed over both.

Lan Zhan had never eaten in his bed before.

“Do you do this every time?” Lan Zhan asked as he stared at the bowl, filled high with rice leftover from earlier and snap peas, peppers, baby corn, gleaming with a light sheen of oil. As loose-limbed and free as he’d ever felt, with Wei Ying feeding him, all he could think about was how he wanted to have this, this right here always. The rest of it didn’t even matter. He just.

Wanted.

So much. Too much. Everything.

“Depends,” Wei Ying answered, hesitant.

“On?”

“We were at it for a long time, Lan Zhan,” he said. Clearing his throat, he gave an awkward laugh. “I just want to make sure you’re okay before I go. These things can get intense sometimes. Aiya, let me fuss, okay? Yes, I do this sometimes for the people who want or need it.”

He’d… done some reading, so he didn’t have to make Wei Ying explain it to him. Aftercare. He just didn’t see how it applied to them or their situation. Wei Ying wasn’t pushing him around or forcing him to do anything, didn’t make any real demand of Lan Zhan, didn’t even order Lan Zhan to do anything. It wasn’t as hard as ninety percent of the things Lan Zhan saw in the club. “Do you think I need it?”

Did he need to be fussed and doted upon? It was… nice, he supposed. Nice enough to sit here with Wei Ying perched on the edge of the bed. But what they’d done before was nicer, wrapping himself in Wei Ying was…

“I thought so by the end,” Wei Ying answered. “I think maybe I needed it, too. It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed, feeling very much as though he was missing something important or like Wei Ying was trying to leave him with a little face by insisting he needed the contact, too. “Thank you.”

Wei Ying ducked his head and smiled shyly, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Anyway. Next time you should consider dressing more comfortably. No matter how fetching it might look, it couldn’t have been enjoyable to be stuck in those trousers of yours.”

Lan Zhan’s heart climbed his throat, clawing through on hope alone. “Next time?”

“Ah ha…” Wei Ying said, as though he’d been caught at something. “If you want to, of course.”

He wanted to. Of course he wanted to. If he had his way, he wouldn’t let Wei Ying go home ever again. He’d—they’d…

But that wasn’t what this was or could be. This was a transaction, of sorts, and Wei Ying called the shots. “Was it good? Do you want to?”

Wei Ying nodded.

“Why?” And Lan Zhan must have been more affected by what had happened than he realized because even he was shocked by the rudeness of the question. What business was it of his that Wei Ying did this as long as he wanted to? Whatever Wei Ying got out of it, Lan Zhan would be happy to provide it. If he didn’t want to say, why should Lan Zhan push? He was just lucky that Wei Ying wanted to do it at all.

“Lan Zhan…” Before Lan Zhan could speak, Wei Ying added, “It was good and I want to. I told you I like doing this. Saturdays are good for me,” Wei Ying said, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m not sure how soon you’d like to do this again, but if you could let me know by the Wednesday before, that would be good.” He glanced away and then back again. “Will I see you at the club?”

He hadn’t thought about that and his impulse was to say no outright. What was the point if they were going to do this here? But he thought about the joy he’d derived from sitting at the bar with Wei Ying, trading conversation on slow Thursdays, just about the only time Lan Zhan got out of the house during the week outside of going to work. Maybe he didn’t need the club, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy drinking sodas throughout the evening. “Would you want to see me there?”

Wei Ying’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “The Thursdays you show up are my favorites, Lan Zhan.”

It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. He’d have to consider it. If he did, though, it wouldn’t be with the intent to visit the club’s main attraction. He supposed it wouldn’t be cheating even if he did, but having experienced this one day with Wei Ying, he already knew he was lost, that nothing he found there would ever measure up again.

It would have been the same even if he’d only ever seen Wei Ying with that woman.

If he wanted to, he could have a drink as well, let Wei Ying run that stupid pen over the inside of his wrist like Lan Zhan had seen him do with countless others.

“I’ll message you,” Lan Zhan said. “And… you’re free to message me as well. If there’s anything I can do. Or if you want to.”

It was awkward to force such forward words out of his mouth, but the slight shift in Wei Ying’s gaze was worth the admission. There was still a skeptical cast to his gaze, but there was a liveliness, too, that Lan Zhan was only now noticing had been missing before.

“You might regret that offer one day, Lan Zhan,” he said, teasing.

“I can’t imagine it.”

Wei Ying went deathly still, features going blank. There was an odd note in his voice when he spoke. “Lan Zhan, has anyone ever told you you’re far too kind?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day then: Lan Zhan, you’re far too kind for this one’s humble heart.” To complete the entirely overwrought image, he held his fist tight to his chest and bowed his head for dramatic effect. When he lifted it, he looked as effervescently collected as he normally did when they saw one another. “I’ll see you later.” He took a handful of steps backward toward the door, like he didn’t quite want to let Lan Zhan out of his sight yet, which didn’t make sense, because he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to. “I’ll text you.”

If that was the only concession he could wring from Wei Ying, he’d take it, and he wouldn’t feel overly bad about it either.

He liked to believe he was a strong man in some ways, but in others…

At least in this, he was weak.

In the normal course of things, Lan Zhan and his brother often saw one another throughout the course of the day. It was a hazard of working together, sharing a business with one another, and on most days, Lan Zhan was perfectly okay with that fact. In truth, he preferred it that way, because otherwise, he’d have to deal with his other colleagues and that was worse.

With Lan Huan, he didn’t have to explain anything and that was a boon.

Not today though. Not this Monday.

Because with Lan Huan, he didn’t have to explain anything and that was a curse.

“You’re looking very well today. Too good to have spent all day avoiding me and yet,” Lan Huan said as he caught Lan Zhan in the elevator as he was leaving for the night, which was unusual because Lan Huan usually left earlier. There was a slight smile on his mouth, one that might have been teasing if Lan Huan didn’t exude quiet dignity without even trying, not like Lan Zhan, who had to try so damned hard to exude anything better than cold, utter blandness. “Did you have a good weekend?”

Lan Zhan gritted his teeth and closed his eyes briefly and knew he was caught. He could make an admission or he could further condemn himself. There were no alternatives available to him.

He held his tongue anyway. His private affairs were private and Wei Ying’s relationship with him was a fragile thing. Lan Huan wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it if he knew, but Lan Zhan also didn’t want to disappoint him by telling him that no, the man he was seeing wouldn’t be coming over for dinner with him when the inevitable congratulatory offer arrived.

They weren’t in the habit of discussing his life in this manner, not beyond oblique probes to ensure Lan Zhan was as happy as he was capable of being, though Lan Huan couldn’t know this was what they were talking about. Usually, that was fine because there was nothing to withhold.

“I noticed you didn’t send me one of your usual emails on Saturday,” he added, when Lan Zhan chose silence as his form of condemnation. “And you included double the usual work in the one you sent on Sunday. For the second weekend in a row. I’d rather hoped…”

Tilting his head back very slightly, he glanced heavenward and prayed for lightning to strike him down. “You’d rather hoped what?”

“That you had plans or simply chose to relax for once.” He looked Lan Zhan over again. “You haven’t been sick, have you?”

“Didn’t you just say I looked well? How could I have been sick?”

“I did and you do. It would perhaps make any older brother curious why you’re being so circumspect though.”

“Mn.”

This had to be the longest, slowest elevator ride since the invention of the elevator. What was there to say? I had an assignation with a bartender I met in a sex club and I’m already a little bit in love with him, but he wouldn’t even let me kiss him. Of the two of them, Lan Huan was the more flexible individual, but this would strain even his credulity. “I wasn’t sick. I did decide to take a few Saturdays for myself.”

There. That wasn’t too damning.

“Oh? I’m so glad for you!” The worst part of it, other than the part where it felt like a massive lie, was that his brother was practically twinkling in delight, like he couldn’t imagine that Lan Zhan might be obfuscating the truth at all. His mouth twitched as he nudged Lan Zhan’s arm. “Was it very terrible for you?”

“Brother,” he said, despairing internally. Nobody else would have known, but because this was his brother, he knew immediately and laughed lightly at Lan Zhan’s suffering. “It was fine.”

“Well, I hope you give it another shot. The company will survive without your input for one day as you’ve now proven multiple times.”

Lan Zhan willed his ears not to burn with embarrassment, but it was a dream and one that would be unfulfilled as he felt them heat under his brother’s scrutiny. The last thing Lan Zhan should have been thinking about already was taking another shot, but it was also the only thing he could think about. Either way, he ought to have realized Lan Huan would notice the e-mails. Maybe he could get more work done on Friday night, prepare the e-mail for Saturday, and then schedule it for when he usually sent it on Saturdays. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

Finally the doors slid open into the parking garage and they were forced to go their separate ways and he pretended he wasn’t relieved.

By the time he got home, he was staring openly down at his phone, tapping it occasionally to bring the brightness back up as he kept it open on a blank message to Wei Ying. He managed to stay the urge to message him again already, dropping the phone on the couch as he went about his usual chores for the evening.

Wei Ying didn’t message him either.

He didn’t read anything at all into it.

By the time Wednesday came around, Lan Zhan’s ability to concentrate on anything other than seeing Wei Ying again was the thing that was shot. Already. So soon. By rights, by norms, by his usual standard of behavior, he should have waited at least a few weeks, but doing so seemed impossible. And because it seemed impossible, then so did it seem impossible to wait those few weeks, and from there, what was the point in waiting even another moment to ask?

Still, he hesitated each and every time he made up his mind to do so. Maybe Wei Ying didn’t want to see him again so soon. Maybe he’d been lying when he said he got something out of this arrangement, though Lan Zhan still couldn’t quite fathom what that might be. It seemed like every hour he was checking his phone, though there was nothing to see there and he knew in his heart there’d be nothing regardless.

It was foolishness that stayed his hand, he knew. Wei Ying was a grown man and could easily tell Lan Zhan to buzz off if he wanted to. If Wei Ying thought Lan Zhan was pathetic for messaging him so soon, then that was Wei Ying’s business, too. What was the worst that would happen other than a bruise to Lan Zhan’s ego?

When compared with what he could have—more time with Wei Ying—wasn’t it worth it?

That was what finally had him sending a message, quick and unobtrusive. It only took him until 2:46 in the afternoon to work up the courage.

Are you free on Saturday?

He didn’t look at his phone the rest of the day and kept his notifications on silent, heart rate higher than his normal the whole time. Every time his hand strayed toward it where it rested screen down, he pulled it back as though burned.

By the time he finally left the office at 7:30, his nerves were in tatters and he couldn’t delay looking any longer.

I am. 10AM still okay?

The time stamp was about ten minutes after Lan Zhan had originally messaged him and now he felt bad for making Wei Ying wait so long for an answer when Lan Zhan had been the one to ask in the first place.

He shot off a response and ignored his phone for the rest of the night anyway.

He wasn’t disappointed when there was no response when he checked in the morning. How could he be? Their agreement didn’t include guaranteed conversations outside of their meetings, did it?

This time when Wei Ying arrived, he was a few minutes early, though not conspicuously so, and looked far more put together than his windswept appearance of the first time around. There was nothing wrong with how he looked, of course, he always looked good, but there was something especially charming about him when he was running late. “Lan Zhan, hi,” he said, practically vibrating as he waited for Lan Zhan to step back and let him inside. It was such a stark change from the spare conversation they had via message during the week that Lan Zhan didn’t quite know how to feel.

He smiled sweetly at Lan Zhan and hiked his bag higher up his shoulders, a bag that was larger than the one he’d brought last time.

Lan Zhan’s throat went a little dry as he wondered why that might be.

Wei Ying caught him looking and quirked a slightly more lascivious smile his way. “I thought we could try something. Wouldn’t want you to get bored.”

Lan Zhan opened his mouth to tell Wei Ying that he found that unlikely, that whatever Wei Ying did or didn’t want to do was enough for him, but then he thought better of it. What did he know about how this was supposed to work? If Wei Ying wanted or needed to make sure it wasn’t boring, then who was Lan Zhan to decline it?

Wei Ying had already said he could put a stop to anything at any time; he might as well see this through and then decide. After all, Wei Ying hadn’t led him astray yet.

Regardless of his thoughts, the rest of him was very interested in whatever Wei Ying had in mind and didn’t fail to let him know. Brushing his hands down the—and he loathed the very fact he was wearing them, but Wei Ying did say dress comfortably—sweatpants he’d dragged up out of the depths of his winter gear, lightweight given the general mildness of winter, bearable to wear now at least, he adjusted himself as surreptitiously as possible, feeling almost more exposed than if he’d been naked and Wei Ying had been looking instead of busily leading himself down the hall to his bedroom as though he owned the place.

“Can I get you some tea first?” Lan Zhan asked, catching Wei Ying in the doorway with just his words.

Wei Ying turned to him, brows slightly furrowed, a little line forming between his eyes, his mouth set in a small, thoughtful pout. “That’s… not necessary.”

“Of course it’s not,” Lan Zhan agreed. Most things in life weren’t. Like what they were doing. And yet here they were. “But would you like some anyway?”

“Lan Zhan is too much a gentleman,” Wei Ying said, placing his bag on the floor outside the bedroom door. “Let’s have tea.”

Though Lan Zhan was gratified, he found himself confused when Wei Ying fidgeted at the table, his fingers slipping up and down the side of his mug. “Is everything all right?”

Wei Ying lifted his head and offered him another smile. “It’s great. This is nice.” He lifted the mug in illustration and then took a long, slow sip. “The tea is good.”

That wasn’t what Lan Zhan meant, but he couldn’t find the words to try again without feeling like he was prying in ways he hadn’t earned the right to. Not that he ever felt he should pry into another person’s life at all, but…

“How was your week?” Wei Ying asked, keen, as though he’d never worried about prying in his life. His scrutiny seemed to straddle the line between professional interest and personal curiosity. To Wei Ying, he felt he could be honest. In this, he was the only one for whom he could be fully honest.

“Easier,” Lan Zhan admitted, because he couldn’t imagine not being candid about this, no matter how much his ears heated. “Thank you.”

Wei Ying released a breath and shook his head slightly. “Oh, Lan Zhan. It was my pleasure.”

It sounded truthful, but Lan Zhan still felt as though he was missing something important here, something he couldn’t get at. It was like trying to see through to the bottom of a silty river. No matter how much you tried to push the muck aside, it did no good, only stirred up more, obscured more.

He had to make a choice: push or let it go.

It wasn’t his place to push.

So he didn’t.

After cleaning up the tea and mugs, they returned to his bedroom. Wei Ying scooped up his bag and then gestured for Lan Zhan to sit, all gentle brusqueness as he said, “I see you took my advice.” His gaze flicked to Lan Zhan’s lap, where he was beginning to harden again. Visibly even. “That’s good.”

Arousal pulsed inside of him, both at the praise and the way Wei Ying’s eye lingered though he was also busy yanking open the drawstring on this bag.

He extracted a long rod, smooth and weighted if the way he held it was any indication. A thrill of concern traced its cold way up Lan Zhan’s spine as he tried to imagine its purpose. Wei Ying looked up before Lan Zhan could school his features into blankness.

Wei Ying then balanced the rod on the back of his wrists and held both his arms out straight in demonstration. The rod rolled slightly and Lan Zhan could see that it was meant to be a test of endurance. If Wei Ying’s arms fell even slightly, the rod would roll off and hit the floor.

“I thought we might see how you react to discomfort,” Wei Ying said. “If you’d rather not, that’s perfectly okay with me.”

Now that he knew he wasn’t going to be struck with the thing, he found himself intrigued. “I don’t think I want to be hit,” he said, as a courtesy. Better not to waste anyone’s time.

Wei Ying’s mouth twitched. “I figured that out. You’re not quite as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are.” Turning his hands, he allowed the rod to fall smoothly into his palms. “Thank you for telling me, though. Do you want to try?”

Lan Zhan nodded and came to kneel at Wei Ying’s side. Before Lan Zhan could lift his own arms, Wei Ying was doing it for him, adjusting slightly, fingers pressing lightly against his elbows, the inside of his forearms, his wrists.

When Wei Ying placed the rod, he was expecting it to be heavy, but it still caught him by surprise and it took all of his concentration to keep his arms from dipping. “I won’t do anything if it slips,” Wei Ying said, pushing himself to his feet. “Unless you want me to. Make modifications to the plan.”

Wei Ying came around in front of him and squatted down to eye level again. There was an intensity in the gray that Lan Zhan found compelling as he inspected his handiwork. “Modifications?” Lan Zhan asked, uncertain if he should speak or not. What plan?

“Mmhmm,” Wei Ying agreed distantly. “Blindfolds, consequences for failure, me trying to make you fail.” He rested his chin on his fist. “Nudity. Dirty talk. All sorts of things.”

Lan Zhan swallowed and did not look away, though he was desperate to get out from under Wei Ying’s gaze this way.

Perhaps… perhaps he did want the blindfold, but he also… Wei Ying was so beautiful and he wanted to see. Though he wanted to squirm, he felt pinned by the twin pressures of Wei Ying’s regard and the rod. It felt important to keep this… prop still.

Though he often worked out, he could already feel the tension in his shoulders and down his biceps. It was the sort of burn from a good bout of exercise, but he could already tell it would soon push its way into something else entirely.

Though he tried to anticipate what it might be, he kept his focus on Wei Ying. A question popped into his head and so he asked, because it somehow became important for him to know, “Do you like watching?”

“I’ve always enjoyed watching you, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying answered. “You look incredible in a t-shirt and sweats, did you know?”

Lan Zhan scoffed, which only made Wei Ying laugh, his eyes crinkling with happiness.

Lan Zhan suddenly found it was becoming equally important that he make Wei Ying laugh. Impossible. Lan Zhan wasn’t funny and couldn’t make himself be so just because he wanted to be. Without really thinking about it, he said, “I do not,” which was true, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pleased that Wei Ying thought otherwise.

Wei Ying scrubbed his palms over his kneecaps. “Perhaps I’ll add a mirror to the list and stick you in front of it.”

With so much of his attention devoted to keeping the rod steady, it was somehow easier to speak. “You have a list?”

“There’s a list. And notes.”

Lan Zhan thought about the possibility of Wei Ying sitting down and taking notes about him and just—that shouldn’t have been hot. It wasn’t hot, right? But though Wei Ying was saying he thought about what they were doing in a systematic way; he cared enough to keep track.

There wasn’t another person in the world who’d given him this much attention, not in this way, not with an eye toward making Lan Zhan feel good. It was humbling.

“Eh, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying snapped his fingers in front of Lan Zhan’s face. “I see that look. You’re into it, huh? Want me to paint a picture for you? I’m usually sitting in bed with a notebook, balancing it across my knees while I try to figure out what I think you’d like.” He sat on his ass and pulled his knees up like so, arms curved around them, one hand miming writing. “I’ve got pages of ideas. Enough to keep us occupied for—”

Wei Ying’s features slipped before he brought the smile back onto his mouth, frozen and awkward.

“Well,” Wei Ying said, brusque in a friendly manner. “There are plenty of options anyway if you decide you want to pursue them.”

“Why do you—” The start of the question was out of his mouth before he’d thought it through and now he had to come up with the rest as delicately as he knew how. “You like to make other people happy. That’s why you do this?”

That frozen smile remained frozen, warmed only slightly by curiosity. “Yes. We discussed this already.”

“What if someone wanted to make you happy?”

That frozen smile splintered and shattered, falling away before Lan Zhan could take the question back. He had no right to interrogate Wei Ying this way and it was clear that he was uncomfortable now, muscles so tense that he looked like he might snap.

The rod faltered as Lan Zhan’s strength started to fail. He hadn’t even realized his arms were shaking.

“Keep it up,” Wei Ying said, sharp. It wasn’t sharp in the way Lan Zhan had sometimes heard in the club; there was no edge of danger or violence in it. “We’re not done yet.”

“What would make you happy?” And fuck, Lan Zhan did not know why he was pushing or why Wei Ying was allowing himself to be pushed at all when it was clear that Lan Zhan was hitting center mass in ways he didn’t understand. What was wrong with him? If not for Wei Ying’s request, he would have shoved this whole stupid experiment aside, thrown the rod across the room and kissed the breath out of Wei Ying until they were both panting with it. He’d have fucked Wei Ying until he was pleased and pliant or let Wei Ying fuck him. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

An irritated frown pulled at Wei Ying’s mouth. “Being here with you like this. Lan Zhan, this is what I want. Trust me.”

I can’t, he thought, feeling his energy flagging again, spine curving gently forward until he forced himself upright again. He bit his lip nearly bloody to stop himself from saying, I want more from you. Don’t settle for less from me.

Such words shouldn’t have wanted to fall so easily from his mouth; he wasn’t this sort of man. He didn’t say things like this, didn’t want anyone as much as he wanted Wei Ying. It was too soon to feel so much.

He tipped his head down, shoulders curling slightly, arms tingling.

Wei Ying lifted his chin with one finger, bringing him back to the perfect posture he usually affected as a matter of course. “That’s better, right?”

Though Lan Zhan’s erection had flagged somewhere in all this, he was now fully hard again, staining his sweats with the precome he could feel gathering at the tip. His muscles burned by now, protesting the weight, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out like this.

It should have been embarrassing. When he glanced down at the mess he was making of himself, he knew it ought to have been, that if it had been anyone else, he might have judged them for such shamelessness, but with Wei Ying here, with the task he’d set for Lan Zhan, with the need gnawing away inside of him, he could only inhale sharply and close his eyes as arousal unfurled within him, clamoring, demanding arousal.

“Lan Zhan?”

Wei Ying’s hand pressed gently against his face again, thumb stroking over his cheek as he crouched behind him.

“It’s good,” he choked out, barely, before he gasped, head tilting of its own volition into Wei Ying’s hand. After a moment, Wei Ying’s touch drifted down his neck, across the expanse of his shoulder and down his trembling bicep.

“You’re doing well,” Wei Ying said, continuing to trace his way down Lan Zhan’s body, fingers pressing lightly against his ribs, rucking the soft fabric of his t-shirt up to press his splayed palm against his abdomen. It was an almost perfect repeat of last time, except Lan Zhan could look down and see the way Wei Ying teased at the waistband of his sweats, could see his own reaction, could turn his head and find his face close enough to Wei Ying’s that he could count Wei Ying’s eyelashes if he wanted to, skim his lips over Wei Ying’s temple, or bend just a little more to bite lightly at the elegant arc of his cheekbone.

He turned his head away so violently that the rod rocked in the subtle dip between his wrist and the back of his hand.

Wei Ying stilled, hand fisting around the fabric of his sweats for a moment before he resumed, slipping his palm over Lan Zhan’s clothed crotch, sweeping back and forth.

His concentration cratered and he was forced to tip the rod to the side so it didn’t falling across his lap. It clattered to the carpet with a dull, ringing thud. The sudden loss of the weight left him feeling unmoored. The need for more contact overwhelmed him and though he wasn’t certain how Wei Ying would feel about it, he slid his palm over the back of Wei Ying’s hand, threading their fingers together.

His grip was weak, shaky from the exertion of holding up the rod, but Wei Ying took it in stride, remained steady and rhythmic.

“Can I touch you?”

Wei Ying shifted slightly and lifted his gaze. “If you want.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but if it was what he could get, he’d take it. Twisting around, he pushed at Wei Ying’s shoulder until he was awkwardly adjusting so he’d be splayed on the carpet, Lan Zhan straddling him.

Though his arms ached, he held himself up, hands bracketing Wei Ying’s head as he blinked up at Lan Zhan.

“Tell me,” Lan Zhan said. “Tell me what’s okay.”

Wei Ying’s gaze skittered away. “You already know.”

Lan Zhan drew in a deep breath and released it, pushing away his annoyance at the situation, how hard it was to just—

“Tell me what to do,” he asked.

All he wanted to do was give something back to Wei Ying, something as good as what Wei Ying had already done for him. He didn’t understand why it had to be so difficult. Something must have shown on his face, because after a moment, Wei Ying’s features softened. That did nothing to prepare Lan Zhan for the way he hooked his leg around Lan Zhan’s and flipped them.

He hiked his knee between Lan Zhan’s thighs, adjusting until Lan Zhan was pressed against him and Wei Ying was riding his thigh in turn, erection trapped between his leg and Wei Ying’s abdomen as Wei Ying pressed to his chest, hands holding Lan Zhan by each wrist.

His forehead found the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck where it met his shoulder.

Each time Wei Ying ground against him, sparks skittered up Lan Zhan’s spine. His breath was warm against Lan Zhan’s skin, a pleasant counterpoint to the coolness of the room.

“This isn’t what I had in mind for today, Lan Zhan,” he said, a little breathless.

Lan Zhan bit down on a gasp, wished away the desire to kiss Wei Ying again. “What did you have in mind?”

“I—I don’t remember,” he admitted, a helpless laugh in his voice. “You always throw me for a loop.” He groaned as Lan Zhan bucked up against him and Lan Zhan liked that so much that he did it again, his own pleasure spiking. “Fuck, Lan Zhan. This can’t be good for you.”

“Shut up,” Lan Zhan said. “What do you know about it?” This was the best Lan Zhan had felt in ages with Wei Ying pressed against him this way. Who was Wei Ying to tell him otherwise? Who was Wei Ying to feel otherwise?

“I guess… oh,” he answered, muffling a moan in Lan Zhan’s neck. “Hang on, let me—I should have followed my own advice. Fuck.”

He squirmed against Lan Zhan, which only brought him closer to the edge, his hand wiggling between them as he kept up the rhythm he’d set, managing to open his fly without disrupting it, and if Lan Zhan had thought dry humping like teens—not that he’d ever done that as a teen, of course not—felt incredible, the slide of Wei Ying hot against him, especially once Wei Ying shoved his sweats down his legs, was even better.

Now that Wei Ying was distracted, one hand holding him up and the other pressed against Lan Zhan’s hip, he took the chance to grab hold of Wei Ying, fingers pressing hard into his waist, sliding across his lower back to pull him closer.

“Lan Zhan, this isn’t exactly elegant,” Wei Ying complained. “Don’t you want me to—”

“I want this,” Lan Zhan said, a little sharp.

“Oh,” Wei Ying answered, quiet. “Are you—”

“Wei Ying!” And because he was out of his mind with desire, with need, wanting to be close to Wei Ying in as many ways as possible, he tugged Wei Ying down, fingers tangling in his hair, loosening it from its ponytail. The strands, he noted somewhere in the back of his mind, were startlingly soft, and his lips, when he brought their mouths together, were even softer.

Lan Zhan swallowed his gasp, held him as he bucked against Lan Zhan’s half-exposed body, his release hot against Lan Zhan’s abdomen as he moaned brokenly.

Lan Zhan couldn’t hold back after that either and only afterward realized what he’d done, pulling back and staring up at Wei Ying with wide eyes that matched Wei Ying’s own.

Wei Ying’s lips were red where he’d bitten them, glistening with saliva that he licked away. Lan Zhan wasn’t good at reading other people, but he thought Wei Ying looked vulnerable, fragile, until he finally lowered his gaze and pulled back on his haunches to tuck himself away.

That wasn’t one of the things Wei Ying said he didn’t want to do, so Lan Zhan felt certain that he hadn’t—or he hoped he hadn’t, Wei Ying hadn’t said no to kissing, he just said Lan Zhan didn’t have to, those weren’t the same at all—crossed any sort of line, but…

He swiped the t-shirt over his stomach and pulled up his sweats before pushing himself upright. Another time, he might have wondered when and how he’d become the sort of man who used the corner of his t-shirt to clean himself, but right now all he wanted to do was make sure everything was okay. “Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying’s thumb brushed over his lip, wiping away the sheen.

Lan Zhan wanted to put it back with his tongue.

He didn’t dare do so.

“Lan Zhan is so bold,” Wei Ying said. It was teasing, but there was still an edge to it that Lan Zhan couldn’t quite parse. “Was that okay?”

Shouldn’t Lan Zhan have been the one asking that question? “Wei Ying.” He lifted his hand and then pulled it back, uncertain if he should touch Wei Ying now, if he even wanted it or he only really liked to be the one doing the touching. “It was okay.”

Wei Ying smiled slightly, soft, maybe fond, maybe Lan Zhan didn’t know what it was. For one moment, one lonely, painful moment, he felt certain that he didn’t understand Wei Ying at all, but perhaps that Wei Ying understood too much of him. And then the next, Wei Ying was pulling him up, kicking aside that stupid rod, and was sitting him on the edge of the bed. “Did it get rid of the tension though?”

Tension?

Lan Zhan had somewhere along the way forgotten that they were here together for a reason beyond exchanging pleasure.

“No, see,” Wei Ying said, tsking. “Not good at all.”

He had to be joking; there was no way he could—but he was reaching out to stroke at Lan Zhan’s shoulder, considering. Lan Zhan’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “Wei Ying, stop. It was good.” He stared openly at Wei Ying, begged without words for Wei Ying to let this go, to not remind him again what this was about. “You don’t have to—“

Wei Ying reached for him anyway, pushed through Lan Zhan’s hold. “I want to.” His smile was determined, fixed. “Let me take care of this.”

Take care of what, Lan Zhan thought, because he wasn’t getting it up again any time soon, but Wei Ying was pulling him purposefully to his feet while his arms ached in complaint and he was deposited on the edge of the bed while Wei Ying retreated to the bathroom only to return with a cloth to clean him up. He was quick, efficient, and Lan Zhan was beginning to wonder if he was lying to himself when he thought he wasn’t interested, because he, uh, was.

“On your stomach and ditch the t-shirt,” Wei Ying said, reaching past him to pat the bed before he adjusted Lan Zhan’s sweats for him. “These still look okay enough unless you really want to change. Did you know I was a practicing massage therapist for a while? I’ve kept up with my license and everything.”

Massage. Wei Ying wanted to give him a massage. That thought… did not make him cringe the way it ought to have.

Wei Ying asked, “Do you have any lotion or massage oil by chance?”

“Lotion’s in the bathroom.”

“Have to get rid of the washcloth anyway.” With a nod, Wei Ying disappeared again and then came back with said lotion and a fresh towel.

Lan Zhan did as directed once Wei Ying returned, lying on the bed. It was easier to talk with his face mashed into the pillow. He’d never known that about himself. “Why?”

“It was kinda damp and full of come?”

Lan Zhan refused to flush. “Why keep your license?”

“Oh.” Wei Ying’s laugh was a little strange, but he answered pleasantly enough. “It’s sexy when it’s not for work, Lan Zhan. And fun. Going to a class every so often is cool? It’s nice to do things for other people. It feels good. I like having options when it comes to work. Why not?”

Those explanations all made a lot of sense, but with Lan Zhan beneath Wei Ying, Wei Ying’s legs bracketing Lan Zhan’s flank, his weight against Lan Zhan’s thighs and his ass, he felt like he was being specifically and sweetly punished as Wei Ying’s hands pressed expertly into his back. If anyone else had tried this, he would’ve scoffed and said no. It would not have been pleasant or relaxing and Lan Zhan wouldn’t have liked it in any respect, not just within the context of their relationship, which was a lot sexier than your standard massage therapist’s office.

Though it was sexy, it was also just—really fantastic. Honestly. He might not have needed to resort to playing voyeur at a sex club for stress relief if all massages felt like this. Tension he was exquisitely aware he carried in his neck and shoulders released, sometimes a little painfully, as though putting up a fight, and sometimes easily, relief flooding through him from the softest ministrations.

By the time Wei Ying was done, wiping his hands on the towel and pressing it lightly to Lan Zhan’s back, he wasn’t sure he’d ever move again. “Good?” he asked.

Squirming beneath Wei Ying, he turned over, reached for Wei Ying, wanted to pull him into a hug as sheer, innocent, easy pleasure bubbled inside of him.

“Oh,” Wei Ying laughed. “Your cheeks are pink. That’s really cute.” He patted Lan Zhan’s neck, palm warm against Lan Zhan’s skin. “I can do your front if you like. Your shoulders are kind of shot to hell and back even with your perfect posture. Might help?”

“I…” Lan Zhan didn’t have any fight in him. Wei Ying could do as he willed. “Be my guest.”

That was all the invitation he needed to squirt a bit more lotion into his palm.

This was about the point when he’d booked it the last time he’d tried this. Facing upright had proved then to be too much for him, even with his eyes closed. For Wei Ying, of course it was different. He didn’t think it was possible to run from Wei Ying.

He lingered over Lan Zhan’s arms, pulling his lotion-slicked hands over Lan Zhan’s muscles in soothing, repetitive sweeps. Lan Zhan might have fallen asleep with how quiet it was in the room.

Wei Ying roused him with a gentle touch to his cheek, the scent of sandalwood tickling at his nose. “Hey, how is it?”

“It was good,” Lan Zhan said. “You’re—you’re so good.”

Apparently he was happy enough to just open his mouth and say anything that came to mind.

Wei Ying stilled above him, eyes going wide, mouth falling open for a moment. Dusting his hands lightly over the towel again, he said, brisk, “I’m going to get you water and a snack. I’ll be right back.” Brushing Lan Zhan’s hair back from his forehead, he smiled. “You enjoy yourself, Lan Zhan.”

“Mn.” Settling back onto the bed, arms winding behind his head, he thought about how good Wei Ying was, how nice he was to Lan Zhan, how little he deserved the treatment he was receiving. He thought about the look Wei Ying gave him when he said it aloud and wondered what it meant, but before Lan Zhan could reach any sort of conclusion, Wei Ying was returning with water, tea, and an array of fruits he’d sliced himself and piled high on a small plate.

He pushed himself up against the headboard and downed half the glass of water in one go before attacking the slices of strawberry and kiwi, a wedge of orange.

Though Wei Ying fussed for a little while, watching him, he finally brushed his hand over Lan Zhan’s knee and squeezed. “I should probably go.”

“You don’t have to.” His mouth again. It was going to cause him trouble.

Wei Ying blinked, let his gaze slide to the door and back up to Lan Zhan’s face. “I think I know that,” he said, “but it would be for the best.”

Of course it was. Wei Ying had no reason to want to stick around.

Wei Ying looked one more time toward the door, bit his lip, sighed while scrubbing his hand across his face. “You really want me to stay?”

Lan Zhan nodded.

Plucking a piece of kiwi from the plate, Wei Ying chewed and swallowed it, nodding. “Okay.” His smile was gratifying. “Tell me when I’ve overstayed my welcome, then.”

That would never happen, Lan Zhan was sure.

Later, when Wei Ying did actually have to go, apologetic and lingering in the doorway, smelling of Lan Zhan’s soap, hair damp from his shower, Lan Zhan thought, maybe.

Maybe he’d actually find some way to tell Wei Ying how he felt even though it was so new, nothing like what he’d ever felt before. In the meantime, he tugged a wrinkle out of Wei Ying’s shirt when they reached the front door and said, “That was nice,” instead of kissing him and he took courage in the odd little quirk of Wei Ying’s mouth and the way he nodded his head and replied, “It was, wasn’t it,” as he squeezed Lan Zhan’s hand in return.

He walked backward into the hallway, walked backward down the hallway, and kept his eyes on Lan Zhan until the elevator at the end dinged and even then he stepped through backward, waving at Lan Zhan, eye contact severed only once the elevator doors closed.

Lan Zhan hated elevators. This might be the quickest elevator trip he’d ever witnessed.

Maybe, he thought again, once it was too late to do anything about it. No, he definitely would find a way to tell him.

Though Lan Zhan again tried to hold off from texting Wei Ying again, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, and found himself with Wei Ying in his home for a third Saturday in a row, enthusiastically touching him everywhere he could reach, like perhaps he was eager, too. And maybe he was. He certainly didn’t seem opposed as he disrobed himself and then Lan Zhan.

“Lan Zhan, tell me about your week,” Wei Ying said as he sat Lan Zhan on the edge of the bed. Standing between Lan Zhan’s legs, naked, naked, so very naked, he smiled down just before he tied a length of silk over his eyes. Whether it was merely an artifact of his lack of vision or not, it suddenly felt very much like Wei Ying’s hands weren’t just everywhere, but that they were warmer, too, and softer as they curled around his shoulders and chafed lightly over his biceps.

And Lan Zhan’s tongue was once again loosened, because Wei Ying made it easy for him to speak.

“It was boring,” he answered, obliging, not needing to fear the possibility of judgment when he couldn’t see it and knew Wei Ying wouldn’t judge him regardless. “Frustrating. Work is the same every day. I can’t complain to my brother about it, because he doesn’t understand why it’s…” But though Wei Ying had asked, he didn’t require a novel’s worth of petty woes in response. Sometimes, the full truth was too much even for this loose tongue of his. “It was boring.”

Wei Ying murmured sympathetically and maneuvered him onto his stomach with a few taps of his hand on his shoulder, a nudge down one flank. His fingers skimmed over the back of his knee and calf, arranging Lan Zhan the way he wanted Lan Zhan arranged. “How do you feel about having your wrists tied?”

His heart climbed his throat and lodged itself in the back of his mouth. He felt good about it; he felt good about anything Wei Ying thought to do to him. At this point, he’d probably be willing to go along with whatever Wei Ying suggested. Even if it involved latex. “Mn.”

“Any special requests?” His voice was intimately close to his ear, lips brushing the side of his head.

Loose tongue. He could ask for what he wanted. “Would you…”

He squirmed as Wei Ying wrapped what felt like silk, sleek and cool, around and around his wrists in such a way that it was comfortable, but nearly impossible to get out of until Wei Ying tied it and said, “Hold this end. If you decide you want out, just pull. Or tell me,” which apparently meant it wasn’t at all impossible to get out of if he wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

“What would you like?” Wei Ying asked, touch blazing fire down Lan Zhan’s thighs, his back, his buttocks. Wei Ying’s hands swept everywhere, overwhelming and not enough all at once.

“Will you—I’d like it…” Why was this so hard to say when everything else happily fell from his lips whether he intended it or not? “Will you fuck me?”

Wei Ying inhaled sharply and rubbed Lan Zhan’s hip gently. “It wouldn’t even be a hardship, Lan Zhan.”

And then he was gone, rifling through his bag while Lan Zhan counted down the seconds, agonizing, of Wei Ying’s absence.

“Okay, I’m back,” Wei Ying said, cheerful, the bed dipping slightly under his weight. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you look so nice like this. There’s a little flush working its way down your neck.” He leaned across the expanse of Lan Zhan’s back, paused for a long, charged moment, and then pressed a kiss to his spine just between his shoulder blades. He shivered at the contact, wanted Wei Ying to mark him with his teeth, wanted him to keep kissing until he’d tasted every centimeter of his body and left a trail of evidence behind. “Your skin is warm. Are you comfortable?”

“Mn,” he said, feeling foolish.

Wei Ying’s fingers dragged, even hotter, down his back. “You’re beautiful. Have you done this before?”

It should have been an invasive, embarrassing question at this stage in Lan Zhan’s life, but the way Wei Ying asked him made him feel less awkward about it than he perhaps might otherwise have. Whatever else Lan Zhan was to Wei Ying, he never felt like a curiosity or an oddity. “No.”

“If you don’t—“ He cut himself off with a laugh. “You already know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“If I don’t like it, tell you?”

Wei Ying laughed again, easing the tension. Maybe that was the purpose. It worked anyway.

“Relax for me,” Wei Ying said, and though it was phrased like a suggestion, a request, Lan Zhan knew Wei Ying wouldn’t proceed until he did. His touch helped and Lan Zhan couldn’t stop himself from trying to push himself into it, twisting his hip when Wei Ying’s hand drifted up and down his side. “You’re that eager?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan breathed, fighting the flush that threatened to burn the tips of his ears. By some miracle, he managed to keep it locked behind his teeth that he’d woken up more than once this week having thought of it, wondering what it might be like. “Please.”

“And if I want to make you wait?” Wei Ying asked as a courtesy, a formality, because his fingers were already exploring the curves of Lan Zhan’s buttocks, smoothing lightly over the skin there. His thumb pulled once or twice, exposing the cleft as cool air drifted over his skin.

“Then I wait.” He didn’t want to wait; he just wanted Wei Ying.

“Will you?” His touch retreated and there was the sound of a cap releasing. “How long will you wait?”

“As long as you want me to.”

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. There was a slightly obscene squelching sound, the clap of skin against skin, a rubbing noise. One finger slid between his cheeks, warm, slick, and… and he wasn’t sure whether he had told the truth or not about waiting because even this drove him up the wall, had him grinding down again against the bed for more friction. It felt incredible.

“We can’t have that,” Wei Ying said, pulling him up onto his knees. “This is a better position anyway. More access.”

Lan Zhan bit off a moan, sure he’d die if Wei Ying teased him like this. It didn’t help that his face got shoved into the pillow this way, his chest pressed awkwardly into the bed, too. He had to turn his head and put most of his weight on his shoulder to manage. He couldn’t move very well, pinned and yet not pinned. He probably could have held himself more upright if asked, but he hoped Wei Ying didn’t ask.

“Do you want to stay like this?”

“Mn.”

“Spread your legs so I have room.”

Only able to imagine how obscene he looked, shimmying until his legs were as wide as Wei Ying wanted, he felt that flush work its way all over, leaving him hot and clammy with anticipation. Then Wei Ying was kneeling behind him, his own legs pressed against Lan Zhan’s calves, grounding him.

“Do you know what one of my favorite things to do is?”

“No,” he answered. Wei Ying liked so many things, there were probably any number of answers Lan Zhan could have given and Lan Zhan was excited by all of them.

“Wanna guess for me?”

“I, ah—” Lan Zhan gasped as one of Wei Ying’s fingers swirled around his entrance, deft, light. “I don’t know.”

“Shall I tell you then?”

“Please, please…” He’d always thought the way people talked in the club sounded a little stupid, performative, the dialogue stilted and meaninglessly trite, but Wei Ying was doing almost the same thing here and now and it was—it was not stupid or meaningless.

How could Lan Zhan already feel so much just from Wei Ying doing this? From acting like this and saying these things?

Wei Ying’s voice was a caress of velvet down his back. “What if I showed you?”

“Show me,” he whispered, pushing his face into the pillow, as though that might stop the sudden blush he felt from flooding his cheeks.

Wei Ying’s finger breached his body easily, the single digit sliding in deeper than even Lan Zhan could have imagined. His breath punched out of his chest at this gentle invasion. “I wish you could see yourself, Lan Zhan,” he said, pushing in and out, almost lazy. “From this angle?” He whistled lightly. “You are stunning. You’re stunning anyway, but…”

Lan Zhan groaned, muffled the noise as he tried to bite at the pillow, face hot now from the humidity of his own breath as it caught in the fabric of the pillowcase. That was what he’d blame it on anyway.

“You can’t hide from me,” Wei Ying said. “I know you like being told you’re beautiful.” He curled his finger slightly inside of him, dragged it out again slowly. “You haven’t had enough people in your life admire you. I hope my admiration is enough.”

His voice wavered there at the end, cracked on the word enough, as though…

As though maybe it was a genuine question in his mind.

Wei Ying didn’t have a clue how little Lan Zhan gave a shit about other people’s admiration. He turned his head again, hair caught awkwardly between his face and the pillow, and enunciated carefully, “Only yours.”

“Only mine?”

Lan Zhan drew in a deep breath, gathered the wreck of his thoughts, mentally pushed aside the fear of speaking because if he couldn’t do this now, then he might never manage it. Wei Ying was in control here, but he held Lan Zhan softly, cared for him. He’d take Lan Zhan’s words and care for them, too, the way he’d done every time they’ve been together. It couldn’t possibly be anything Wei Ying hasn’t heard before. He was so good. Of course, he would know.

They were friends or—or something like it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t give back, too, offer his own praises. “Only your admiration matters to me.”

Wei Ying stilled, finger only half as deep as Lan Zhan wanted it. So he pushed himself back onto it, the act hampered by his shoulder being his only leverage. “Lan Zhan, I thought I was in charge,” he said, a laugh in his voice, free hand locking around his hip. “I’m taking care of this. You’re in charge of sweet talking me. I didn’t even know you had it in you.”

He didn’t was the thing. He couldn’t sweet talk. He wasn’t a talker at all. And none of his words were sweet.

Wei Ying let go and a second snap of the bottle of lubrication startled Lan Zhan. His mind skittered through what he could have said to Wei Ying, but none of them would fall from his mouth now despite how many ways Wei Ying mattered to him. This time, Wei Ying didn’t stop to warm the thin, slippery substance. The shock of its temperature pulled a gasp from within Lan Zhan, another sensation that he couldn’t fully process beyond good, good, so fucking good.

“Like that?” Wei Ying asked, curious, as Lan Zhan hissed and squirmed beneath him.

The fact that Wei Ying wanted him to think about what was happening to him was, in its way, a cruelty. He was already feeling too much. Having to think about it, too, articulate it to Wei Ying…

He did was the thing. He did enjoy it. The suddenness of it, the shock, and then the slow sinking warmth that followed as Wei Ying pressed a second finger into him. Wei Ying worked into him so slowly that he almost didn’t even feel the fresh stretch of it.

“Lan Zhan?” His voice was like birdsong, tripping up and down the syllables of his name.

“I do,” he managed. Barely.

“Another thing from the list, temperature,” Wei Ying teased. “I’ll remember. I never said what I liked, did I?”

He waited, as though expecting Lan Zhan to answer properly before he continued, like Lan Zhan didn’t know he could talk at the speed of light if and when he wanted to. Through gritted teeth, he said, “No.”

“I like this part,” he offered, like a gift. “The preparation and anticipation, dragging it out as long as possible.”

Lan Zhan didn’t choke. Nobody could know that he choked.

“I’m pretty impatient in so many parts of my life, but this? I could do this all day.” He spoke so casually that Lan Zhan was sure he would combust. “It’s almost meditative if you think about it.”

Lan Zhan could only clench his jaw in response. There was nothing meditative about how he was feeling right now.

“Relax for me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, as though he was psychic. Then he stretched across Lan Zhan’s back, changing the angle of his fingers inside of Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan was sure he would—

But then Wei Ying’s hand, still so gentle, caressed his cheek and chin, turned his head so he could bite lightly along his neck. He couldn’t help but unwind at Wei Ying’s request, muscles slackening.

“You’re—you’re teasing me,” Lan Zhan said, shaky.

“Only a little,” Wei Ying assured him. “And maybe myself a bit, hmm?”

Without the use of his hands, it was nearly impossible for him to maneuver closer to Wei Ying without embarrassing himself, but that didn’t stop him from trying anyway, putting his weight on one and then the other shoulder.

“Fuck, Lan Zhan, you’re amazing,” Wei Ying said, awed, as he patted his cheek. “You look so good like this.”

That—that couldn’t be the case because it was Wei Ying who was good, amazing. He’d done so much for Lan Zhan and had been nothing but wonderful to him, sexy and exciting and kind and—

Wei Ying’s fingers were magic.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, laughing as though he was delighted, charmed. By Lan Zhan, who’d never delighted or charmed another person in his life. “What did you say that for?”

He hadn’t—oh. He’d said that aloud. “Fuck.”

“Lan Zhan!” His voice was more happy squeal than a recitation of his name. In his excitement, he pressed into Lan Zhan more vigorously. “Oh, you’re trying to break my concentration with flattery. That’s so naughty. Magic, Lan Zhan, really? I didn’t take you for a liar.”

No, he wasn’t, but if it got him to get a move on with this, then he’d—fuck, that felt incredible—he could maybe, maybe not die of embarrassment for having spoken so much of the truth.

“Not a lie,” he managed through a gasp.

After a moment, Wei Ying resumed his more leisurely pace, but it was more purposeful. It was going somewhere now. No more teasing. Lan Zhan was so hard he wasn’t sure how he was going to manage to hold off before Wei Ying got his dick in him, but he tried, focusing only on how much he liked Wei Ying and what Wei Ying was doing to him.

In truth, Lan Zhan hadn’t known what to expect when he started this, though Wei Ying seemed confident enough that Lan Zhan didn’t have to worry about anything in this moment if he didn’t want to. He could just… let this happen, whatever happened, because he wanted it and he felt secure in Wei Ying’s hands, no expectations beyond telling Wei Ying if he got uncomfortable.

He didn’t even really have the option to move, everything except the essentials taken from him.

It was… it was really nice. Freeing. Relieving.

Okay, this… wasn’t going to last long if he didn’t focus on something else.

How much better might it be without the option to speak nonsense?

“Do you like using gags?” Lan Zhan asked between one press of Wei Ying’s fingers and the next. Which. Once the words were out of his mouth, they were out and uh. Uh, he lost the thread of the thought. And then the sudden shift in Wei Ying’s rhythm, just enough to add another layer to the sensation? Not helping. But he couldn’t bring himself to take back the question or qualify it or—

He remembered back to the first time they were together, the thought of Wei Ying’s palm covering his mouth.

“Are you talking dirty now, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying, apparently some sort of devil, chose this moment to add another finger. Were they up to three? He hoped—he hoped so, because he wanted Wei Ying in him and more fingers had to mean it would be soon, right?

“No, I—“ A hiss, a hiss from him. He felt so full; he wasn’t sure how Wei Ying was supposed to fit, but… “No, I was…”

Wei Ying made a noise, an understanding exhalation. “Ah. Do you want a gag?”

“I…” But that wasn’t what he meant either. Or maybe he did. But that wasn’t his question. “Do you like them?”

“We shouldn’t discuss this right now,” Wei Ying said, a sharp edge in his voice, not mean or cruel, just a boundary drawn, but Lan Zhan, through the haze of new sensations, thought he knew the answer anyway: Wei Ying didn’t. Otherwise, he would have deflected the way he usually did. I like what you like, he would have said.

Or maybe he liked them too much and didn’t want to influence Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying did something then, twisted his hand slightly, knuckles brushing inside of him, stretching him impossibly wide. “Gags are involved,” he continued, unaffected or seeming so. It was somehow incredibly hot that he could continue on like this, focus so much on what he was doing when Lan Zhan’s mind no longer wanted to line up properly. “It’s harder to check in, but if you want that, we could do it. I did bring it up, didn’t I? If you think it’ll help you…” He leaned in again, pressing himself even deeper. “You’d look quite fetching I would imagine.”

“Wei Ying, I—“

“You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, Lan Zhan. What’s going on that you’re hung up on this?” He laughed, so much laughter over the last few minutes, but he didn’t like this one very much. “I must be doing something wrong.” He did that thing again and pleasure shot up Lan Zhan’s spine in recognition of his effort, almost startling in how intense it was. Then he pressed down and, oh, that was cruel. His knees slipped, driving Wei Ying’s fingers deeper into him.

He groaned, frustrated, stubborn, so turned on. He was going to embarrass himself.

“Wei Ying.”

“You get mouthy with a blindfold on when we do this, did you know?”

“I want your palm,” he blurted, because he did know. Words spilled from his mouth when he was around Wei Ying. It happened. He accepted it even if it was mortifying, even if Wei Ying went still as a statue behind him. “Over—over my mouth.”

Wei Ying swore. Vehemently.

“If I was any good at this, I’d tell you no,” Wei Ying groused, but he shifted again, driving his fingers in even deeper and Lan Zhan was—sparks danced up his spine. “Let me just… fuck, okay, hold on.” He muttered under his breath, but Lan Zhan couldn’t hear what he said. Maybe something about being insatiable, but—but he wasn’t, was he? He hadn’t—

A groan fell from his mouth as he turned his face back into the pillow to better smother the sounds he was making. But it wasn’t his fault. The things Wei Ying was doing to him… they were indecent. He could barely think, let alone…

Another finger stretched him open, the burn of it sharp and perfect.

“Lan Zhan, do you know what I was planning to do to you?” Wei Ying asked, aggrieved, whining, nothing at all like Lan Zhan would have imagined someone doing this to him could be like. If he’d known… hell, but if he’d only known. He’d always loved Wei Ying’s voice, even when he was speaking inanities that would have annoyed him coming from anyone else. This was… somehow even more than that. “Are you going to answer me when I ask you a question?”

Maybe if he could coordinate his thoughts and his mouth he would. His tongue just… didn’t want to comply. He clenched and relaxed his hands, certain that Wei Ying could see what he was doing, glad for it, and embarrassed anyway. “What… what were you planning to do?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Wei Ying said and though it could have come across as snide or condescending or flighty, but he heard the waver in his tone. He wasn’t having the easiest time holding it together either. “I thought I’d keep you on my fingers until I made you come and then I was going to keep you on me until I come.” He pressed the entirety of his weight against Lan Zhan’s back. “I can last a long time when I want to. I really want to, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan didn’t choke. He didn’t. He wasn’t going to choke. And then Wei Ying was driving all of those fingers into him as far as they would go.

“I was going to take it nice and slow,” he continued, like a bastard, “until you weren’t thinking about anything at all except me inside of you. Would you like that?”

“Whatever you want.”

Wei Ying huffed. “You’re so much better at this than me,” he said, teasing. “So pliant. Anyone would love to have you.”

Wei Ying was—Wei Ying was an utter moron.

There was no one else who could do to Lan Zhan what Wei Ying was doing to him; he was certain, without a single shred of doubt, that there was no one else. He wriggled again, tried to turn—maybe he wasn’t supposed to do that, but Wei Ying wouldn’t care—but Wei Ying pressed his hand to Lan Zhan’s shoulder, slid it up his neck.

His thumb pressed at the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth.

“There’s only you,” Lan Zhan said, turning out of the touch, the first and only time he thought he’d do that, but it was important. Wei Ying’s glorious palm could wait. He pressed his face back into the pillow, face heating again at the acknowledgment, his whole body heating because of what Wei Ying could do to him.

“Wei Ying, you’re—” That flush he felt was working down his shoulders anew and sweat prickled in his hairline. What must he look like to Wei Ying?

“You don’t have to say anything,” Wei Ying replied. “I thought you wanted me to shut you up?”

His arousal grew at Wei Ying’s words.

“Then fuck me already,” he said instead of acknowledging what Wei Ying had said, much to Wei Ying’s awkward amusement, soft and warm and disbelieving. “Shut me up that way. Please.”

“So impatient.” He patted Lan Zhan’s side and then rubbed in soothing circles. But Wei Ying’s fingers withdrew, leaving Lan Zhan feeling empty and open and vulnerable, and he was shifting away, which Lan Zhan didn’t like at all, but when Lan Zhan turned to look, still hampered, this whole time hampered, always hampered, drawing the silk around his wrist a little tighter, all he could hear was Wei Ying wiping his hands off on something, the subtle brush of skin against cloth, the crinkle of foil opening. “What?”

He’d forgotten he was wearing a blindfold, too. What was he trying to look Wei Ying’s way for?

“Ah, Lan Zhan, your cheeks. How can you be like this, huh?” His hand suddenly touched his face, startling him with the unexpectedness of it, the gentleness of it. His thumb brushed his temple through the blindfold. Lan Zhan wanted to feel his touch on his skin. As though Wei Ying knew exactly what he wanted and needed, he slipped his fingers beneath it, tugging lightly at the fabric, teasing a little at the corner of his eye. He pulled the blindfold free and was smiling down at Lan Zhan as he did so.

And then he crawled up, lips so close to the side of Lan Zhan’s head, as though he was about to kiss him before he stopped again, eyes wide. His muscles went tense enough that even Lan Zhan could see the stress he carried, the thin strain of fear as he leaned back.

“Wei Ying?”

He suddenly felt helpless and vulnerable in a way he didn’t like. It was like he’d forgotten he’d already kissed Lan Zhan today, but Lan Zhan could still feel it like a brand against his spine.

Was it only because of the blindfold that he could do so? He should put it back in that case.

“Lan Zhan…”

Lan Zhan’s thoughts were still sluggish, pleasure still pulling at him, but this felt… important. It was important that they—he wanted to be kissed. “You never said no kissing,” he managed, feeling cowardly and brave all at once. “Wei Ying—” He wished he wasn’t bound up, too, so he could be the one touching Wei Ying. “Do you not want it?” Even friends with benefits kissed, right? There were no unwritten rules here with Wei Ying, which made it ideal for Lan Zhan in a lot of ways. Wei Ying would have made it clear if needed. He’d had no problem taking blowjobs off the table.

“I...”

The longer Wei Ying hesitated, the more foolish Lan Zhan felt. He obviously wasn’t interested even if it wasn’t a hard no. Why he kept pushing for it was—he didn’t really know to be honest why he kept pushing, except that he felt like he would burst without Wei Ying’s mouth on his. He wanted to learn the shape of his lips, the curve of his tongue.

And then Wei Ying smiled at him, sweet and sad all at once. “Let me think about it?”

It wasn’t a no. Lan Zhan wasn’t being rejected. And yet… he was disappointed, saddened by Wei Ying’s reticence, both for himself and Wei Ying. “Do you not kiss your…?” He didn’t know how to think of them. “Friends?”

“It’s…” Wei Ying’s attention drifted to his hands, which crumpled the blindfold. “It hasn’t come up in a while.” His cheeks stained themselves pink.

“Oh.” He didn’t know what that meant, but didn’t feel certain that it was right to pry. “You can think about it.” He could only show Wei Ying the respect of nodding and watched as Wei Ying’s shoulders relaxed in response to the fact that Lan Zhan was willing to let it go. He perked up, too, which didn’t feel particularly complimentary, but then he was holding up the blindfold again and Lan Zhan was viscerally reminded of what they were in the middle of doing and how kissing didn’t have to have anything to do with it.

“I’ll make it good,” Wei Ying promised, like that was necessary at this late date. Wei Ying made everything good.

After replacing the blindfold, Lan Zhan felt better and even didn’t mind so much that Wei Ying didn’t want to kiss him. Probably there was a good reason for it. Possibly Lan Zhan was in over his head, but as Wei Ying held him open, pressed against him, blunt and thick and warm even through the slicked-up condom, he didn’t care anymore. It was so different than having Wei Ying’s fingers in him, more intimate as he rocked slowly against Lan Zhan, one hand wrapped around the bindings on Lan Zhan’s wrists to press his hands more firmly into his own lower back.

“Lan Zhan, you should see how you look,” Wei Ying said, keeping his rhythm slow and even as Lan Zhan accustomed himself to the intrusion. As incredible as it felt—and it did feel incredible—it was still odd, still foreign to him. A few more minutes and he was sure he’d be done for. “You took me so well.”

Wei Ying thrust a little harder, forcing a gust of air from Lan Zhan’s lungs, returning to the original pace once Lan Zhan groaned in acknowledgment.

He was as good as his word. Nobody could complain about his stamina. He was patience incarnate as he worked Lan Zhan over, shocking him anew because he had to be feeling this, too. It wasn’t just Lan Zhan. And every once in a while, Lan Zhan would hear Wei Ying groan slightly or shift, shuddering, lose his rhythm for one moment before finding it again.

It was too slow to get Lan Zhan off without assistance that Wei Ying wasn’t yet willing to give.

“Lan Zhan, am I going too slow for you?” As though to punctuate his question, he thrust in deeply, driving Lan Zhan’s face into the pillow, shocking him with the intensity of it. “I can hear you thinking from all the way back here.”

Lan Zhan shook his head or tried to, the fabric of the blindfold slipping on his pillowcase.

It was apparently enough for Wei Ying. He sped up incrementally, moved both hands so that they were grasping his hips. Each drag of Wei Ying’s cock stoked a fire in him, building now far too quickly for Lan Zhan to keep up with.

Wei Ying must have been going too slow because this? This was perfect. This was—

“Lan Zhan, how is it?”

“Nngh,” Lan Zhan said, practically eating the pillow as he tried to answer.

“Lan Zhan, I want you to tell me,” he continued, voice firm, though not commanding. If he was checking in, he was doing a good job of making it seem otherwise. “I want to hear you.”

“Good,” he said, earning himself a particularly vigorous thrust. “You’re—you’re good. It’s good.”

“What else?”

I thought you were going to shut me up, he didn’t say. He wanted to. He was practically salivating at the thought of Wei Ying’s hand covering his mouth, but if—if Wei Ying wanted him to talk?

He could try to do so.

“You’re—I’ve watched you,” he said, unsure what else to say, what Wei Ying might like to hear. His mind was a scramble of thoughts, but not the usual ones, not the ones that gave him tension headaches and left him feeling drained and empty, unhappy and lonely and—and sad in ways he couldn’t articulate. It was… it was almost nice to speak these words, nerve wracking, but exciting. “Ever since I first saw you. I thought you were beautiful from the start.”

Wei Ying released a shuddering breath against his back, let go of his bound hands, dug his fingers in more deeply into his hips.

He didn’t know why it was easier to talk about Wei Ying to Wei Ying instead of about what Wei Ying was doing to him, but it was and so he did. “You were… I could see how unfailingly nice you were to everyone.”

Wei Ying stilled again, only for a moment, in the silence that followed, like he’d forgotten what they were doing here. It interrupted Lan Zhan’s thoughts and when he thrust again, it ripped a gasp from Lan Zhan’s throat.

“You gave so much of your energy to everyone, but you—you always seemed to reserve some for me. I noticed. I appreciated it.” Heavens, fuck, how could he be saying these things? Flaying his heart open in this way? Wei Ying didn’t want to hear this, hear about how he’d touched a lonely, pathetic mess of a man who couldn’t even relax properly on his own. And now Wei Ying was doing this for him, too, like there was no end to the lengths he would go to for Lan Zhan. Why would he want to know when all he probably wanted was for Lan Zhan to tell him how incredible it felt, how big he was, how much harder, faster, more Lan Zhan wanted.

“Your mineral water always tasted better than other mineral water,” Lan Zhan said, half out of his mind because Wei Ying was relentless, was pushing him toward something he never knew to want, couldn’t have anticipated needing just from watching others in that club. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down his neck, gathered under his arms. His body thrummed. “And you—I would look at your hands when you cut limes or lemons, when you unscrewed bottles and—and touched other people. You cut limes better than other people, did you know? The way you touch people, it’s—nice. Your hands are gorgeous.”

Wei Ying wasn’t saying anything and though Lan Zhan strained to hear, he couldn’t catch anything beyond the very minute creaking of the bed, his own panting breaths, the faint slap of their skin connecting.

Wei Ying shifted again, pulled almost all the way out, slammed back in, proof that Wei Ying played fair. As long as Lan Zhan kept talking, then he’d keep doing this. That was the agreement. That was—

“I wanted to wind my fingers in your ponytail. It was always so sleek as it swayed behind you when you moved. I thought it would be soft.”

There was a huff from behind him, pulling him back to reality, and then Wei Ying was moving again, shifting forward, his forehead suddenly resting between his shoulder blades as his strokes went shallow again, wild, uncoordinated. There was a sniffing sound and then Wei Ying was turning his head, his cheek pillowed against the back of Lan Zhan’s neck and then—

“You’re funny and sweet and before you I didn’t know that could be a turn on for me.” Lan Zhan whispered, “You make me feel less alone. You’re the only one who can do that. Wei Ying, I—”

“Lan Zhan, stop,” Wei Ying said, voice utterly eviscerated, unrecognizable to Lan Zhan’s ears. It was so small and sad and—and Lan Zhan had surely said too much or said the wrong things or—why couldn’t Wei Ying have just gagged him or put his hand over his mouth as Lan Zhan wanted instead of asking him to speak if he was going to sound so ruined? How was that fair?

Lan Zhan wasn’t a talker, though he could turn a phrase when necessary, but he was always disinclined toward it in personal situations. Talking was not and would never be his strong point and now he’d—he’d said so many things, things he’d kept hoarded within his chest for years. Stupid things. Important things. Just. Dumped them on their unsuspecting source.

As though Wei Ying’s command was a command for himself, too, he stilled. Though he was hard, though Lan Zhan was—he couldn’t even describe what he was, barely able to function, his body an extension of Wei Ying’s will only, no matter how gentle it was, how accommodating.

He was, at least, able to stop.

“What are you saying?” Wei Ying asked. “Are you—? Do you… you meant that?” His voice almost couldn’t be heard now with how low it was. Each word was accompanied by an exhalation. Something, sweat maybe, dripped onto his shoulder blade.

As embarrassing as it was, he didn’t want to lie to Wei Ying. If that meant Wei Ying never wanted to see him again, then so be it. “Yes.”

He made a sound halfway between a gasp and a groan and his hands tightened on Lan Zhan’s hips, ten painful points of contact that Lan Zhan still cherished. And then he pulled Lan Zhan up and onto his lap, changing the angle of his dick so quickly that Lan Zhan couldn’t—

Sometimes, you weren’t supposed to come. He wasn’t sure if that was the case here, but it didn’t matter, because he felt it build within him too quickly to stop, too quickly to do more than cry out as Wei Ying slammed into him, his hands coming up to cover his chest and snake around his arms, until the fingers of one hand did play at the corner of his mouth, teasing between his teeth until Lan Zhan wanted to bite down, and the other, the other curled around his neck, resting lightly over the column of his throat.

It was as though Wei Ying had him completely surrounded, protected, and Lan Zhan, for maybe the first time in his entire life, stopped thinking entirely and felt everything instead. Each second belonged only to itself and what Wei Ying did to him, did with him, because right at this moment, he knew somehow that they were on an even footing, one as lost as the other, together.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chanted, broken, into his hair as he came. His lips curved over the shell of his ear, pressed firmly in something that was undeniably a kiss.

That was, it turned out, Lan Zhan’s very own final straw.

Wei Ying breathed against the side of his neck in warm little pants. His hair, soft, tickled Lan Zhan’s skin. He bore his own weight and Lan Zhan’s as neither moved from their kneeling position in the middle of the bed. His hands, still bound, brushed Wei Ying’s lower abdomen as they clenched and unclenched, needing even this much more contact.

“Wei—” But Lan Zhan’s throat was dry. His voice came out harsher than intended. He tried again. “Wei Ying.”

“No, shh. I need—just give me a minute, okay?” He swore under his breath and then he tensed up. “Wait. Are you uncomfortable like this? Fuck, I—” When Wei Ying made to wriggle out from beneath him, Lan Zhan couldn’t do more than skim Wei Ying’s stomach with his fingers. “I should—hang on.”

“Wei Ying, please stay,” Lan Zhan pled, leaning fully against Wei Ying, shameless. Shameless.

Wei Ying stopped, said suspiciously, “You’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m untying you at least,” Wei Ying said, stubborn, and before Lan Zhan could complain, he was forcing his hands between their bodies, carefully unwinding the fabric. He was behaving so strangely, abrupt where he was normally warm. Despite it, his touch was soft when he rubbed Lan Zhan’s wrists.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Lan Zhan asked. He had to be, right? He was still inside of Lan Zhan. Surely—

“I’m fine,” he said, stiff. Lacing their hands together, Wei Ying brought them out from behind Lan Zhan’s back, placed them against his abdomen, pressing him fully back into his chest. He inhaled deeply as Lan Zhan’s weight shifted on his lap. Though Lan Zhan’s dick made a valiant effort, he was spent thoroughly, exhausted, muscles trembling. He wasn’t going to get it up again anytime soon.

But when they were done and Wei Ying was content that Lan Zhan had gotten what he needed, that was when Wei Ying usually left. He didn’t want that.

Lan Zhan wasn’t ready to let go again, not after—not after all of this. Lan Zhan would never have everything he needed until Wei Ying stayed.

“What about the blindfold?” Wei Ying asked after a time, tugging it lightly as he teased at the ends.

“Leave it,” he said, though he didn’t truly require it now and because he did want to see Wei Ying. Shameless again, another way to make Wei Ying stay.

“Okay,” Wei Ying said, almost a whisper, dragging their joined hands up and down Lan Zhan’s stomach, soothingly rhythmic.

They remained like that, unmoving, until Lan Zhan’s calves were numb and his thighs ached and Wei Ying stifled huffy little sounds on every breath as though his lungs were catching on something. Discomfort, probably. It was selfish of Lan Zhan, but he hesitated another few moments before he said, “I’m ready.”

Wei Ying carefully pulled free, joints cracking audibly as he clamored toward the edge of the bed, got up, disposed of the condom, came back. His voice carried that odd tone still. “Where do you keep your extra bedding?”

“What?” Lan Zhan asked, feeling vulnerable without Wei Ying kneeling behind him.

“Come on, you’ve gotta be more put together than the rest of us. Surely you have—” There was a note of desperation in his voice.

“There’s a small closet by the washing machine.”

“Don’t move,” Wei Ying warned, “unless you want to kneel in your own come.”

In truth, Lan Zhan didn’t want to do that, but Wei Ying’s words jolted him anyway and he thought… he thought very, very hard about it, about how filthy it might feel, cold and sticky. “Do you… want that?”

If Wei Ying wanted it… he was pretty sure he could see the appeal?

“No! No. I mean…” Wei Ying was still sounding strange to Lan Zhan’s ears. Perhaps he did want that? Lan Zhan wouldn’t have minded. He could even think of other ways it might be better. He didn’t have to kneel. He could—

“Lan Zhan, we can talk about it later. I’m going to…” And then he retreated, bare feet treading loud across the floor. And then he was returning, moments, minutes, hours later, urging Lan Zhan to stand, holding him up because his knees didn’t want to keep him upright, and there was lube slipping, still lukewarm, from within him, a little gross. “Oh. I… Lan Zhan, the things you do to a man.” And then he was swiping the warm fabric of a towel between his legs and down his thighs. “I’m doing this all wrong.”

Lan Zhan’s mind was still focused on the warmth, the gentleness of Wei Ying’s hands on him, the way he was pulling more fabric over him, this time his robe. He fiddled and fussed at the collar and then tied the sash. “You’re what?”

“Shh. Just—here.” And then he was being guided to his desk chair, urged to sit by Wei Ying’s hands on his shoulder. “Relax for a minute.”

The sound of the sheets being pulled from the bed and replaced filled the air. Wei Ying hummed to himself and Lan Zhan wasn’t certain he was aware he was doing it, but Lan Zhan liked the sound of it anyway. He didn’t like listening to the sound of Wei Ying walking away when it happened yet again, but he returned quickly, steadying Lan Zhan by his elbows as he drew him back toward the bed. “No come-stained knees for you.”

Lan Zhan huffed in amusement at the pride Wei Ying seemed to take in that statement, breaking the tension by small degrees. This was more like Wei Ying.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he replied, because it felt like the kind of thing that needed acknowledgment, and because he liked the way Wei Ying was arranging him on the bed, one hand beneath his neck as he laid him down.

“Yeah, you’re probably feeling like everything would be awesome right about now,” Wei Ying said, chuckling too lightly, sniffing a little. “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Lan Zhan frowned. He was feeling more and more like a fool by the minute for how loose his tongue was. “You’re… unhappy?” Was that what Wei Ying sounded like when he was unhappy? Lan Zhan didn’t like it very much at all. “Did you not enjoy that?”

With the blindfold on, he couldn’t quite tell where Wei Ying was except that at least one of his knees was pressed into the bed by Lan Zhan’s hip. When he tried to slap out and find where Wei Ying was, his hand was caught. “I enjoyed it, Lan Zhan, very much.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” A kiss was pressed to his knuckles and then to the inside of his wrist. “You should rest. Do you want the blindfold off yet?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he agreed peaceably. “Then let’s rest for a bit, hmm?”

Rest, rest. All Wei Ying wanted him to do was rest and all he wanted to do was—

“You don’t believe me,” he realized, only as he said the words again. When he tried to push himself upright again, he felt the robe slip down his arm and then Wei Ying’s hand was on his shoulder, pulling it back up before he slid that hand down his chest to curl around his side.

The rest of him followed. In short order, Wei Ying’s head was tucked under Lan Zhan’s neck. It was nice. Being with Wei Ying was nice. He didn’t know why Wei Ying didn’t seem to want to know it. “Did I—”

“Lan Zhan, it’s fine.”

How could he say that?

Was now the right time to have an argument? Probably not. Was Lan Zhan going to have one? Yes, he was, because he wouldn’t allow himself to hide behind the smokescreen of disbelief Wei Ying was throwing in their way. “I know you do this for other people,” he said, careful, trying to organize an argument that would make his wishes known without pressuring him. “Do they say things like this to you?”

Wei Ying went still. “No.”

On the one hand, he was glad for that. On the other, Wei Ying deserved to be told these things.

When he tried to touch Wei Ying back, Wei Ying tangled their fingers together, brought them together onto Lan Zhan’s stomach again, always.

“Lan Zhan, you’re tensing up for no good reason,” Wei Ying chastised, sounding annoyed.

He didn’t think he was though. This was a perfectly good reason. There was the shape of something between them that Lan Zhan wanted to tug free. It might have just been his naïveté regarding this world that Wei Ying occupied, the one that Lan Zhan captured glimpses of, but he felt—

“Lan Zhan, you really are thinking too hard.” Their joined hands skimmed up and down Lan Zhan’s abdomen, pacing warm from sternum to navel. “How am I supposed to keep up with you if you won’t relax like I asked you to?”

“You don’t have to—” This was… he was beginning to think he should never have started this, because understanding kept building inside of him into a picture that he didn’t particularly like, especially not his part in it. But he’d brought it on himself, hadn’t he, allowing himself to take what Wei Ying was offering, allowing him up to—what? Play sex doll for Lan Zhan?

No, that didn’t sound right. Wei Ying was smarter than that and he did seem to enjoy it. That wasn’t all a lie. But… it was maybe the slightest bit closer to the truth than Lan Zhan was interested in pursuing. Except that he had to, because Wei Ying was acting strange and it was because of Lan Zhan’s unexpectedly big mouth probably.

“I can make it an order,” Wei Ying sing-songed, but even though it was teasing, Lan Zhan felt no doubt that he could try. “If that’ll help.”

It would not. A direct order would make him stubborn unless Wei Ying wanted to commit, he felt. It wasn’t something he wanted to try right now for fear of breaking them further. “What will help you?”

“Help me what?”

Lan Zhan gritted his teeth. They may not have been doing this for long, but this whole thing was predicated on speaking to one another. Wei Ying had done a lot of the heavy lifting there and even though… even if Lan Zhan worried he’d overstepped, he couldn’t—he had to honor that, too, right?

Pulling the blindfold off, he flung it aside, pushed himself up and dislodged Wei Ying. Wei Ying, shocked, didn’t have time to school his features. Red ran roughshod across his cheeks and his eyes were a little glassy and—

“Were you crying?”

Wei Ying startled, scrubbed his palm over his eyes and looked away, scrambling up, only to be held down by Lan Zhan before he could try to leave. “I wasn’t.”

“Wei Ying?”

“You’re beautiful, Lan Zhan. Anyone would have an excuse to tear up.”

Lan Zhan frowned down at him. “No.”

“You say such nice things. Anyone would tear up.”

“No.”

“It’s just a physiological reaction to good sex. Read up about it,” Wei Ying replied, bullshit.

“I don’t think so.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. Seriously, all that shit you said? That was—”

“It’s the truth,” he said, desperate because he didn’t know how else to say it to make Wei Ying believe him. Should he have waited until they weren’t mid-fuck? Maybe. But he couldn’t take it back now and didn’t want to. “If you don’t want—it doesn’t matter. It’s the truth.”

Wei Ying wouldn’t look at him.

“Wei Ying, at least tell me if I’ve…” He couldn’t even get the words out. “You’re the one who keeps saying talking about it is important.”

Laughing bitterly, Wei Ying shook his head. “Fuck, I know, okay? I know. It’s just—you’re telling me things I’ve wanted…” Finally, Wei Ying looked at him and a small, very selfish part of him wished Wei Ying would look away again. It was too horrible to see that defeated expression on his face. “You’re too good to be true.” And then he was slipping out from beneath Lan Zhan’s touch and rushing to gather up his things. “I need some time, okay? Will you—is that okay?”

Time. Wei Ying needed time.

That was—was it a bad sign? It wasn’t a good one to be sure. But.

Wei Ying thought he was too good to be true. And he needed time. That had to mean he wasn’t…

“You’re not—” Words, words. He could use words even without the blindfold or the distraction of Wei Ying putting him on his knees or touching him. He felt, in this moment, like he had to or he’d lose Wei Ying entirely. “You feel the same?”

Wei Ying favored him with a sad smile. “I…” Another laugh. It made Lan Zhan want to shake him. Why should he laugh like that when Lan Zhan only wanted him to be happy? “Yes, Lan Zhan. You make me feel less lonely, too. I like you a lot.”

“You like me?” He would cling to that. “But you need time?”

Wei Ying, now dressed, clutched his bag to his chest. “I know I’m throwing out a lot of mixed signals. I’m sorry about that. I wish—well, I wish perhaps I’d asked you out like a normal person might have.”

“But the club—”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying agreed. “The club.”

“You couldn’t ask me out.”

“Yeah, well. I probably shouldn’t have offered what I offered either,” Wei Ying pointed out. Maybe it was the truth, but Lan Zhan was grateful that he had. He wouldn’t have traded this away for anything, not even the hurt threatening to open his rib cage now. “So if I was willing to do that, then why couldn’t I have done this instead?” Drawing in a deep breath, he groaned and stared up at the ceiling. “If—if you… can you wait for me? Just for a little while?”

Lan Zhan wanted to say that he’d be willing to wait forever for Wei Ying, but that seemed a little weird even to him.

“Honestly, Lan Zhan, I wasn’t expecting any of this. It’s so… I don’t want to mess up by impatiently throwing myself in headfirst.”

Wei Ying, for all of his exuberance, had turned out to be one of the most patient people he’d ever known, in some ways, even more patient than himself. Lan Zhan could return that grace to him now.

He nodded.

Wei Ying slumped in relief. “I’ll… I’ll call you, okay?”

He heard it when Wei Ying reached the door, opened it, and closed it again and wished he knew how to make Wei Ying believe him.

He didn’t call, but he didn’t give Lan Zhan a timeframe either and Lan Zhan hadn’t thought to ask for one.

Lan Zhan didn’t go to the club.

It was fine.

He trusted that Wei Ying would reach out to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t. But he did—he did wonder a bit whether he should do something to help. If there was anything he could do to help. But this was new territory to him and Wei Ying hadn’t left any guideposts behind. Maybe there weren’t any guideposts for Wei Ying to leave because Wei Ying didn’t know either.

Waiting for Wei Ying would have to be enough. Waiting was the only thing Wei Ying had asked for him to do that was for Wei Ying alone.

Of course he would wait.

And maybe in the meantime, he’d do something for himself, too, the first thing he should have done probably instead of the last.

Lan Huan smiled up at him as he knocked on the open door of his office—his office, he liked to say, was always open, quite literally, if it was anyone else doing that, Lan Zhan would have thought them obnoxious—and gestured him inside. “A-Zhan, how are you doing today?” He tilted his head slightly. “I feel like I haven’t seen you much. Are you eating okay? You look a little pale.”

He moved to stand, but Lan Zhan waved him down.

He thought about the way he’d used the club as a crutch and then Wei Ying as a crutch, and never once considered how to actually fix the problem at one of the sources.

He didn’t know if this would fix anything, but it was worth a shot. If it didn’t work, he could always return things to the way they were before and he wouldn’t be any worse off.

“Brother,” Lan Zhan said, taking the offered seat with as much grace as he could summon. It felt… a little like quitting to be honest, to ask for this, but he didn’t know what else to do other than try.

“There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Oh?” His eyes twinkled a bit and he shifted forward, curious, no doubt thinking back to the three weekends in a row that Lan Zhan hadn’t bothered to send his usual Saturday e-mail.

“My work schedule.”

“By all means,” Lan Huan said agreeably. “How would you like it changed?”

Why did Lan Huan have to know immediately that he wanted it changed?

He could do the bulk of his work remotely and said as much; he explained that he accomplished more from there than he ever managed here. His suggestion was conservative: he’d like to spend his mornings working from home and then come in for a few hours in the early afternoon for those things he couldn’t accomplish from there and then complete the day at home. “If it’s too much trouble I can—”

Lan Huan raised his hand, stopped him with a short, huffing laugh. “A-Zhan, yes. You can do this.”

Lan Zhan, opening his mouth to make further arguments, stopped, said, “Oh.”

“How about a two-week trial basis?” Lan Huan suggested. “If it works for you and is as non-disruptive as I suspect it will be, we can make it permanent.”

“Oh, um. Yes.” A little in a daze, Lan Zhan pushed himself to his feet. “That would be—appropriate.”

It was shocking, in the end, just how easy it was, how little pushback he got from his team, from his brother. He didn’t even receive a stern e-mail from his uncle about it.

He wondered if maybe he could have solved this much sooner.

And he waited.

Jinji Lake, Lan Zhan had to admit, really was rather pretty now that he allowed himself to come here—another one of those things he promised he’d do more often when he had time. Now he did have time. It was especially lovely as the afternoon edged into evening, sun low and dusting the sky in shades of orange and pink in one direction, purplish blues in the other. Lights twinkled in the windows of myriad skyscrapers, the same sort he worked in and dreaded stepping into. From here, though, it all seemed so distant. Lan Zhan wasn’t needed there. In fact, life carried on without him right in the center of it.

Living on the periphery of it, that was fine with him. And it worked well for his team. Despite a few bumps in the road that first week, better than well in truth. They needed him less, completed their tasks competently enough that Lan Zhan didn’t feel the need to endlessly correct them. He could spend more time on the duties most important to him.

He didn’t have to work silent overtime just to make up the difference.

He still didn’t know what he wanted to do with himself with all the extra time. The first few days, he’d gone for tea at the tea shop he never had a chance to stop at; he’d read through a few of the novels and nonfiction books he’d told himself he’d pick up one day. A week out, he was realizing perhaps he’d placed too much importance on himself and his place in the world. He was one man, maybe a smart, capable one, but the world was full of such people and they could be trusted apparently.

He was surprised, too.

As he strolled along the concrete pathway that lined the water, his thoughts turned to Wei Ying; they always did eventually. Before, he’d had work to occupy him. Now he had work and whatever leisure activity he’d put off for work and those weren’t quite as good at providing the needed degree of distraction that Lan Zhan was looking for. At first it made him uncomfortable, the shame he felt for having… hurt Wei Ying? Overwhelmed him? But as he sat with his emotions, he realized that he could, once he found the right words, apologize if and when needed.

He still trusted that Wei Ying would come back, but… he’d clearly pushed against something volatile. It needed to be rectified. Much longer and perhaps he would reach out. He didn’t want his respect for Wei Ying’s wishes to come across as complete indifference and he felt he was reaching the point past which it would appear that Lan Zhan didn’t care if Wei Ying came back or not.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, stopping in the pathway as he stared down at it. There weren’t a lot of people around, but he still sidestepped to keep out of the way. Opening the note app, he began tapping out… he wasn’t even sure yet, the words he needed to say, but he became so engrossed in it that he didn’t notice the presence looming ahead of him, just a dark blob in his peripheral vision that eventually resolved in a pair of boot-clad feet.

“Lan Zhan?”

Wei Ying. The sound of his voice startled him from his thoughts and though he didn’t fumble his phone, he felt very much like he’d been caught wrong-footed.

When he lifted his gaze, he wasn’t ready to see Wei Ying, beautiful as always, looking back at him with that much guarded curiosity in his gaze, like he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be.

Lan Zhan didn’t deserve that much kindness from him, especially when he looked so sallow, eyes tired even with the vibrant lights of the city around them.

“You’re looking well,” Wei Ying offered, a polite opening that Lan Zhan was going to take as soon as he knew what to say.

“I made some changes,” he blurted, not at all what he wanted to say. Utter nonsense. What did Wei Ying care about such things when there were more important words that needed to be spoken?

But he just smiled that calm, warm, welcoming smile of his. “They seem to be working out for you.”

“Mn. I work from home more, fewer hours.” I don’t need to go to the club any longer, he didn’t have to say. You don’t have to feel like I’m only in this for what you do to me, he probably did.

Wei Ying’s mouth rounded in an ‘o’ shape until he seemed to gather his thoughts up and smiled softly. “It suits you.”

“It turns out I’m not the glue holding the place together.”

Wei Ying laughed lightly, charming, joyful. He’d missed that about Wei Ying, missed feeling funny at least to one person.

He felt now like he’d waited a lifetime for Wei Ying. Just this much of him was enough.

He could wait even longer if necessary. He hadn’t given up hope. But… confirmation that he wasn’t waiting in vain? It might be nice.

Wei Ying scuffed his boots on the pavement and stared down at his hands for a moment before drawing in a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Lan Zhan, there’s something I should tell you. I…” His brow furrowed and he bit his lip. “I wasn’t very fair to you the last time we saw one another. I overreacted and—that wasn’t how I would have wanted to conduct myself when…”

Lan Zhan had no idea where Wei Ying was going with this, but he got the feeling that it would be better if they were sitting. He gestured vaguely at one of the nearby benches, glad that the park wasn’t so very crowded at the moment. “Why don’t we…?”

But Wei Ying shook his head violently, as though he wouldn’t have the courage to speak if he didn’t do so now.

“I like you so much. I know I said that,” he said, words spoken so quickly that they nearly melted together. “I’ve liked you almost from the beginning. And when I—when you… I thought I could deal with just…” He made an open-handed gesture. “It wouldn’t be the first time I liked someone who didn’t like me in that way. I wanted to make you feel good so it was easy to cling only to that.” He scuffed his boot again. “I’m not so good at being made to feel good in return. So that was why… you make me feel really good, Lan Zhan, but I know that’s not…”

Wei Ying looked up at Lan Zhan, something unreadable in his gaze.

“You know it’s not what?” Lan Zhan dared to ask as hope bloomed cruelly in his chest.

“I know that wasn’t what we agreed to. I know what you said I was to you, but…”

That hope twisted into frustration at himself for not making it clearer and pain on behalf of Wei Ying for being truly unable to believe him. “What are you to me?”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, scolding, despairing. “You’re not really going to make me say it. I know you care, but…” This time, there was nothing vague about the gesture he made and managed to look vulgar, sad, and self-deprecating at the same time. “I know what this was and I know I started it. I like that I could do those things for you. You have no idea how much. It was just. It was too hard when you were giving me what I wanted in return and I should have apologized sooner for the way I…”

“Wei Ying—“

But Wei Ying held up his hand, stopped Lan Zhan from speaking. “You gave me a lot of time to get my shit together, Lan Zhan. I spent most of that that time trying to accept that you like me, too. Let me just… get this out. You should have known how I felt before we did this.”

Though he’d been happy that the park was so empty, he was now thoroughly upset that it wasn’t empty enough, that he couldn’t do exactly as he wished without risking embarrassing them both or putting Wei Ying on the spot. Why did it have to be so hard to convey his feelings to Wei Ying when Wei Ying had managed to say exactly what he meant to Lan Zhan with, if not ease, then honesty? “Wei Ying,” he tried again, dragging in a calming breath as Wei Ying stared up at him, wide-eyed, like he heard everything in his own name that Lan Zhan wasn’t allowed to say aloud. “Wei Ying, I’m glad for that.” Relieved, actually. “I didn’t tell you either.”

The tension in Wei Ying’s body eased and he laughed, almost a hiccup. “See, I was stupid to walk away. Even just seeing you makes me feel better and you’re still saying such nice things.”

“You weren’t stupid.” Though he didn’t have all of the pieces, he could see the shape of the thing that drove Wei Ying from his side. It was not Lan Zhan’s fault, so it wasn’t anything that Lan Zhan could fix.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to text you for over a week, Lan Zhan. I was being dumb. It was dumb that it took me a month to realize what I should have known immediately.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth twitched slightly. Wei Ying silenced him again with the subtle shift of his hand.

And then he released a pent-up breath.

“So, okay. I’m going to be entirely honest right now because only being half as honest as I should have been didn’t work.” He shook out his hands and bounced on his toes once. “It can’t be any worse than making you wait, right? Okay, so. I want to take you out on dates, as many of them as you’ll let me take you on. Like when we went to the museum. I want that. All the time. Except anywhere you want to go. I don't care. I… I want you to kiss me. I think about blowing you all the time and…” He flushed and couldn’t quite meet Lan Zhan’s eye. “And I’d like you to blow me. I don’t want to be your stress relief and I don’t want to hide behind the fact that I’m just serving as stress relief, but I like taking care of you and… I like being told that I cut limes well.” His brow furrowed. “I liked that you would think I needed to hear something like that.”

Lan Zhan worked through each thing Wei Ying said one by one, mentally rifling through them for signs that it wasn’t real.

“I thought you—“ Heat flooded through Lan Zhan’s body, so quick and warm that for a moment he was startled by his own reaction just to those words. They were in public; he shouldn’t have been… it was just shy of indecent, reminding him so much of that encounter outside of the club except so much better because… because Wei Ying was talking about what he wanted, not what he could do. “Blowjobs?”

The rest was… he could tell Wei Ying nice things about himself all day.

Wei Ying waved him off. “The one thing I won’t do with just anyone because I like it too much. I’ve always liked the thought of having that one thing be mine. For me and my… well, it hasn’t really been an issue before on that end, but for myself. I preferred to save it for myself once I realized.”

He still didn’t understand. “What hasn’t been an issue?”

“I’ve never dated anyone seriously,” Wei Ying admitted. “There’s never been anyone I’ve cared about in this way before. Just—I care about my friends, the people I’ve… but I never wanted more than what I got when we were together. There were a few who I thought could have been, but it never quite worked out long-term.” He smiled slightly, a little sad, longing, lonely. “You’ve always been different. I should have known this would be different, too.”

Lan Zhan’s eyes prickled and he wished he could blame it on allergies or something, but he knew it wasn’t the truth. At least the sensation was easy to blink away. “Can we do those things?”

“What?” Wei Ying’s eyes widened in innocence. “Here? Lan Zhan.” He made a tsking sound with his tongue. “That’s scandalous.”

“I thought we could try a date first,” Lan Zhan said. “I haven’t eaten yet. I don’t know if you have or not, but—”

“I haven’t.”

They weren’t too far from a few decent restaurants, almost like the world was conspiring to do something nice for them. “If you’re free, would you like to have dinner with me?”

It felt so awkward to ask like this, so unromantic, but Wei Ying was looking up at him with shining, joyful eyes, so he couldn’t bemoan the inelegance of it. It clearly didn’t take much to make Wei Ying happy and that left a bittersweet taste in the back of Lan Zhan’s throat.

He decided that he would do everything in his power to make sure Wei Ying didn’t find himself so bowled over by Lan Zhan’s desire to be with him. He hoped one day that Wei Ying would take it for granted.

“I would,” Wei Ying said.

“Let’s walk together, then,” he said and then he held out his palm. He wasn’t certain whether Wei Ying would want to hold hands, if it was too soon for such things or if Wei Ying even cared, but then Wei Ying did more than that, wrapping himself around Lan Zhan’s entire arm and that was somehow even better.

“Is this okay?” Wei Ying asked, cheek pressed against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. It wasn’t anything like the way he’d checked in before, like he was somehow concerned his touch alone wouldn’t be welcomed otherwise, when Lan Zhan had always welcomed it before.

A simple yes wouldn’t cut it.

“I like it,” Lan Zhan said, even though it was not instinctive to say such a thing, but the smile Wei Ying favored him with was worth it.

He liked having dinner even more, Wei Ying sitting across from him, opening up by small degrees with every moment that passed. It showed first in his eyes, then his smile. Toward the end of dinner, he was even slipping the toe of his boot up beneath Lan Zhan’s trousers to scrape lightly at his calf as Lan Zhan clung to his composure.

It felt good to be teased this way, similar but different to the way Wei Ying had teased him before. It made promises. And Lan Zhan wanted to offer some promises in return.

When Wei Ying’s hand got within range, his arm stretching steal some of the fried tofu on Lan Zhan’s side of the table, Lan Zhan grabbed hold of his wrist to stop the motion. Wei Ying’s eyes went wide as Lan Zhan pulled his arm all the way across, fingers wrapping around Wei Ying’s hand, thumb nearly brushing Wei Ying’s knuckles as he brought Wei Ying’s hand close, closer, until he could press a kiss to the back of it.

“Oh,” Wei Ying said, gaze slipping away from Lan Zhan’s as he flushed bright red, visible even in the low light of the restaurant. When he tried to pull away, Lan Zhan only tightened his grip, stroking the spot he’d just touched with his mouth. “Lan Zhan.”

“What?” he asked, feigning an innocence he didn’t feel. “You said you wanted me to kiss you.”

“I—I did say that, yes.” Wei Ying still wouldn’t meet his eyes, suddenly so shy in such an endearing way. “But you don’t—”

Have to do that. The words that Wei Ying had already said once to Lan Zhan, ones he’d apparently entirely misconstrued already, came back to mind. Lan Zhan wasn’t going to make that mistake again. “Have to,” he said, cutting Wei Ying’s line of thought off as viciously as he could. “Yes, I do.”

And so he did it again before finally letting Wei Ying slump back against his side of the booth. Every time Lan Zhan managed to catch his eye, his attention skittered to something else: the table, the wall, his chopsticks, other guests. He picked at the remnants of his meal and cleared his throat a few times and fidgeted.

Lan Zhan thought he liked this Wei Ying just as much if not more than the one who bent himself over backwards trying to do what Lan Zhan needed him to do, what they’d agreed Wei Ying would do for him.

After they fought over the check—Lan Zhan finally won by flat out ignoring Wei Ying’s complaints—and were preparing to leave, Lan Zhan asked, heart in his throat, “Will you come home with me?”

For one long, agonizing moment, Lan Zhan thought perhaps he was going to say no, but then he blew out a breath and nodded, a smile crossing his mouth, plastering himself again to Lan Zhan’s side, where he belonged.

Once the door to Lan Zhan’s apartment shut behind them, Lan Zhan hesitated. He was used to Wei Ying taking the lead at this point, but as Wei Ying twisted and wrung his fingers together, Lan Zhan wasn’t certain he was in any position to ask him what they should do. Except he surprised Lan Zhan the way he always surprised Lan Zhan and turned, saying, “Take me to bed. Or let me take you to bed. Someone should be bedded here and I’m not sure I care who.”

This was the first request of this sort that Wei Ying had ever made of him that wasn’t entirely about him and though it wasn’t particularly specific, Lan Zhan thought he could work with it. He was already half-hard from dinner, the way Wei Ying had teased and taunted and gotten all shy. It shouldn’t be so hard to bed Wei Ying.

So Lan Zhan grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him back to the bedroom, Wei Ying laughing delightedly behind him. “Oh, Lan Zhan, so domineering,” he said.

“If you want me to be,” Lan Zhan said, emboldened, not quite feeling stupid despite the audacity of his words, not least of all because of the way Wei Ying’s eyes darkened and filled with a need that Lan Zhan recognized in himself.

Truthfully, Lan Zhan didn’t know what he was doing, but he figured he could be brave for Wei Ying. He searched Wei Ying’s gaze, asking without really being able to ask: what do you like, what do you want? But Wei Ying was looking at him with such openness and trust that it felt like there was a whole, wide vista opening before him. Wei Ying liked everything and wanted everything as long as it was with Lan Zhan. That was what Lan Zhan saw.

He reached for the hem of Wei Ying’s shirt, eyes never leaving Wei Ying’s face, taking in everything that Wei Ying was willing to give him. Wei Ying stood still for him, so lovely that Lan Zhan had a hard time drawing breath.

By now, Wei Ying was flushed down to his chest, skin pink and warm, and he was going shy again and that was okay, because he let Lan Zhan prod him toward the bed and sat on the edge as Lan Zhan knelt on the floor between his knees.

“God, Lan Zhan,” he said, breathless, wondering, wonderful.

Lan Zhan pulled Wei Ying’s boots off his feet, reached for his jeans, exposing Wei Ying’s skin centimeter by tantalizing centimeter. “What do you want tonight?”

“Anything,” he answered.

“No,” Lan Zhan replied, determined. “What do you want?” He could probably guess and the thought was tantalizing, but that wasn’t the point.

“I…”

Tossing aside the jeans and shoving the boots out of the way, heedless of the fact that the boots belonged by the front door, uncaring that they both probably tracked dirt across the pale carpet, he surged upward and pulled Wei Ying into a kiss, one hand wrapped around the back of Wei Ying’s neck.

Wei Ying gasped into his mouth and clutched at his shirt, pushed his way beneath it with warm palms. “This is good. Let’s—let’s do this for a while.”

If he thought Wei Ying was taking it easy on him by suggesting this, he didn’t realize what a truly exquisite hell it would be as they rearranged themselves until Wei Ying was pressed into the bed beneath him and they were trading heated and lazy kisses. Wei Ying’s mouth could do wicked things without ever seeming so, each press of his lips searing no matter which patch of skin he found.

He kissed Lan Zhan anywhere he could reach. When he looked up at Lan Zhan, mouth visible, his lips were as red as Lan Zhan had ever seen them. Lan Zhan’s mouth throbbed, too, and marks marred Wei Ying’s skin just under his jaw and down his throat from Lan Zhan’s efforts.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, voice rasping. “Come back here.”

He was insatiable, reeling Lan Zhan in, pressing all of himself against Lan Zhan as though, if he tried hard enough, he’d be able to meld them together into one.

He just—wanted Lan Zhan that close to him. That was the entirety of what he wanted it seemed. So simple. And yet it might have doubled Lan Zhan over if he wasn’t already safely on the bed, braced on his elbows over Wei Ying, his hands cradling the back of Wei Ying’s head.

How could anyone have denied Wei Ying this? When he pulled back a bit, Wei Ying blinked up at him, heavy lidded, gaze so warm. “Did anyone ever touch you?”

“Obviously,” Wei Ying answered, pushing himself up onto his own elbows.

“For you. Did they touch you specifically to make you feel good?”

Drawing in a deep breath, Wei Ying looked over his shoulder, toward the ceiling. “It always felt good, Lan Zhan.”

“Wei Ying, I have an idea,” he whispered against Wei Ying’s cheek, biting at his earlobe, sucking at his throat, scraping his teeth over the jut of bone behind his ear as he shuddered against Lan Zhan because even though Lan Zhan had an idea, he couldn’t get enough of what they were doing already and just wanted to keep doing it. Maybe Wei Ying knew what he was talking about when he wanted to do this for a while. It was incredible.

But.

He pushed himself upright and quickly got rid of his own clothes, heart twisting at Wei Ying’s whine, before he nudged Wei Ying over onto his stomach.

“Lan Zhan, I—”

Before Wei Ying could voice any further complaint, Lan Zhan straddled his thighs and pressed his hands against Wei Ying’s back, stroking down his spine and splaying over his shoulder blades. Wei Ying bit off a gasp and ground down into the bed.

“I haven’t touched you here yet,” Lan Zhan said, curling forward to kiss the back of Wei Ying’s neck.

It was a little bit easier to focus on Wei Ying this way, his own arousal put on the back burner. He worried that he wasn’t fulfilling the domineering part of the proceedings, but Wei Ying didn’t seem to mind all that much, writhing beneath him, breathing heavily.

“Are you going to do this until I come?” Wei Ying asked, groaning, pushing himself back against Lan Zhan, proving Lan Zhan wrong because it was entirely impossible to focus like this. “Because it feels like that’s what you’re doing.”

Lan Zhan swallowed a gasp. “Can you? Just from this?”

Wei Ying laughed brokenly and shuddered again as Lan Zhan slipped his hands down Wei Ying’s sides, each touch chased by his mouth. “I don’t want to sound like a complete loser, but—oh, god—but you’re kind of in a whole different realm, Lan Zhan. Nobody’s ever…”

Lan Zhan stilled, hands braced against Wei Ying’s lower back. He was aching from the tension of keeping himself still, was devastatingly aware of just how he was positioned, how much he wanted.

“Nobody’s ever what?” he managed.

“Lan Zhan, it’s not important.” He bucked as though in illustration, perfectly aware of what he was doing. “This is important.”

Everything to do with Wei Ying was important to Lan Zhan and Wei Ying needed to know that. “Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying sighed in disgust and flipped over, flank dragging against Lan Zhan’s inner thighs in a way that felt targeted, but Lan Zhan wasn’t going to be dissuaded. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex with someone where it wasn’t me focusing on them except for you, okay? It’s a little weird that you’re—it feels good, Lan Zhan. You’re the best. You’re wonderful. It’s just. Yeah, I’m pretty close already. You nailed me: nobody’s ever touched me to touch me. Congats.”

Lan Zhan’s brow furrowed.

“Ugh, don’t look at me like that. It’s not some great tragedy. I just—it used to be fun, okay? Figuring other people out and making them feel good? Ego boost for sure and really fucking sexy? But I got a reputation for it and sex is sex, right? Sex is good and nice and fun? I really liked what I was doing and no-strings was the right move for me for a long time. But then it got boring and then I couldn’t actually manage to date anyone when I was ready, which was not an ego boost at all, let me tell you, and the fun part became not so much fun, so I stopped mostly. Cool sob story about my lack of love life. Don’t mess this up with—”

Lan Zhan pulled him close and pressed their mouths together to stop the flow of words for a moment, overwhelmed with affection and sadness for Wei Ying, how lonely it must have been, so close to what he wanted and so far away from it.

No more, not if Lan Zhan could help it.

No wonder he turned away when Lan Zhan tried to reach out to him. He probably thought it meant nothing to Lan Zhan.

“You’re more than fun to me,” he said, gathering as much courage as he could. “And I like that you’re close. I’m sorry you felt—”

Wei Ying groaned and dragged his hand down his face and then slapped his hand over Lan Zhan’s mouth, smiling so widely at Lan Zhan that Lan Zhan wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand it. “You’re really sweet, but I need you to stop talking.”

Nobody had ever accused Lan Zhan of being sweet before and he found that he wanted to be sweet for Wei Ying, wanted to be the kind of person who could be openly affectionate and warm with Wei Ying.

So he did. He was. He pressed a soft kiss to Wei Ying’s mouth and then followed the long line of his throat down to his chest, trailing more and more kisses. His abdomen trembled under Lan Zhan’s lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. His eyes skimmed upward and Wei Ying was staring at him, mouth open.

If he wasn’t certain before, this would have confirmed it: he wasn’t just a little bit in love with Wei Ying. “May I?”

“This really isn’t going to last long, Lan Zhan,” he answered, strangled. “But, uh, do your worst?”

Lan Zhan patted his thigh. Wei Ying’s cock was flushed, precome beading on the tip, erect and brushing against his abdomen.

In theory, Lan Zhan knew what he was doing, but in practice, he was sure he was somehow going to disappoint Wei Ying with a lack of finesse or technique.

“You might, uh, want to hold me down,” Wei Ying said, coughing lightly. His hands were already curled into the comforter and he was biting at his bottom lip so hard that the skin around it paled almost to white.

Lan Zhan did as requested, hands cupping Wei Ying’s hips as he situated himself between Wei Ying’s thighs. His thumbs brushed lightly over the protrusions of bone beneath them. They were very lovely protrusions. Lan Zhan had never had opinions about such things before, but now that he did—

Well, he was very pleased.

As he wrapped his lips around the head, he figured out why Wei Ying told him to hold him down. His whole body seemed to jerk in reaction and because he wasn’t quite prepared, his teeth managed to scrape slightly down the length, which only earned him a wild, high-pitched whine as Wei Ying shook beneath him.

It was maybe the hottest thing Lan Zhan had ever witnessed or participated in and though the angle was terrible for looking up at Wei Ying, he did so anyway, ridiculously glad that his hair hadn’t fallen into his eyes to obstruct what little view he could get.

Wei Ying’s head was thrown back, muscles in his neck bunching and tensing. His chest rose and fell with abandon as he gasped.

Lan Zhan tore his gaze away, needing to focus, and swiped his tongue over the slit, using his hand to stroke the rest of Wei Ying’s length, hoping one arm would be enough to keep Wei Ying pinned in place. After a moment, Wei Ying apparently realized that he didn’t need to hold back, because he gave up trying to be quiet, though he retained enough of his senses to keep himself as still as possible.

That wouldn’t do at all.

Lan Zhan thought about what he’d seen others do, the way they could hollow their mouths, take the entire length of the person before them. Lan Zhan couldn’t do that, but as he swallowed Wei Ying down experimentally, he thought maybe he could get there one day.

His arousal spread through him, leaving him almost lightheaded for a moment as he thought about it, thought about driving him wild with it, burying his nose in the curls nestled against his body.

It was strange, having this weight against his tongue, so warm and responsive.

He liked Wei Ying so much this way.

He loved Wei Ying always.

Lan Zhan sucked lightly once and earned a whimper from Wei Ying, his thighs tensing against the outside of Lan Zhan’s legs, clamping against Lan Zhan’s body. He skimmed his teeth over the underside again and pressed his tongue flat immediately after, switching back and forth because Wei Ying seemed to like it.

“Oh, fuck. Lan Zhan, I’m gonna—” He tried to move, tried to buck away, hand reaching out to push or pull, but before he could grab hold of himself or shove at Lan Zhan, he spurted hot and bitter in Lan Zhan’s mouth and over his lips. “Shit. I’m—”

Groaning, Wei Ying flopped backward for a moment, chest heaving.

Lan Zhan thumbed Wei Ying’s release from his lips and ran his tongue over the pad and swallowed. He couldn’t have called it pleasant, but it was definitely worth it for the way Wei Ying pulled himself upright and stared at Lan Zhan with wide eyes. “Holy shit. Lan Zhan, that was—”

He didn’t have to say what it was, because Wei Ying was pulling him into a sloppy, eager kiss, his hand trailing down to wrap about Lan Zhan’s length. If Wei Ying was quick to come, then Lan Zhan was even faster. Wei Ying barely touched him before he was spilling into Wei Ying’s palm, gasping against Wei Ying’s mouth, heart pounding furiously against his sternum.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, awed. “That was… thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he answered, hoarse, and somehow that was incredible, too, knowing why he was hoarse, knowing that he’d touched Wei Ying in this way when almost nobody else had.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have affected him so deeply, but he—people didn’t trust him the way Wei Ying was trusting him. They didn’t see anything in him that was worth delving more deeply into. He frightened them or bored them. Who could care for a thing as cold as him? Someone who’d believed the only way he could relax was by sitting in a room while other people enjoyed themselves? Who would have thought to love anything about him when he always looked on the verge of snapping at them?

But with the way Wei Ying looked at him, he felt…

He felt like he was worth it. Like there was something worthwhile in him.

“Don’t thank me,” he repeated. “I just want you to enjoy it.”

Wei Ying offered him the softest smile he’d ever seen. After so long without it, he didn’t have any resistance to it. He didn’t want to be resistant to it. He only wanted Wei Ying to keep looking at him like that.

Wei Ying poked him in the shoulder and tsked. “Next time, it’s going to be me,” he declared. “And we’ll both be the ones enjoying it. And then we’re going to go through that whole list I made and it’s going to be awesome, I promise. You’ll be boneless by the time I’m done with you.”

“Wei Ying.”

But Wei Ying was smitten with his own ideas and didn’t care that Lan Zhan didn’t care about that. He just wiped his hand off—on Lan Zhan’s bedding, somehow appealing because it was so much less polite than he’d been—and pulled himself into Lan Zhan’s lap, still chattering away as he used Lan Zhan as a body pillow.

“I’m going to spoil the shit out of you, Lan Zhan,” he said. “We’re going to have so much sex even if you don’t need it to relax. Do you want me to tell you what else is on that list of mine?”

“Why don’t you surprise me?” Lan Zhan asked, earning the exact grin he’d hoped to extract from Wei Ying by saying such a provocative thing.

“What’s this?” Lan Zhan asked, stepping into the living room to find Wei Ying lounging on a bench? Recliner? Weird kinky chair? He was sprawled on it, whatever it was, one leg crossing the other. Headphones wrapped around his head. Maybe he hadn’t heard Lan Zhan as he wiggled along with the music. Approaching, Lan Zhan swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat and wrapped his hand around Wei Ying’s ankle, startling him. “Wei Ying?”

Scrambling upright, Wei Ying grinned and yanked Lan Zhan forward, forcing him to widen his stance as he was walked closer, legs on either side of the bottom half of the bench that as it turned out wasn’t actually a bench, just a sleek leather recliner. He wasn’t disappointed by this. “Lan Zhan, hi.” He pulled the headphones off and let them curve around his neck. Only the thrumming bass of whatever Wei Ying was listening to was audible. “You’re back. How was the conference?”

In the past, he would have had a lot of unpleasant answers to that question, but this time, there was only one and it wasn’t so much unpleasant as it was a fact of life. Whenever he wasn’t with Wei Ying, he felt this way, but Wei Ying took satisfaction in making it up to him so it wasn’t so bad really on those rare occasions when he had to bend to the will of the outside world for a few days. “I missed you.”

Wei Ying’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he held out his hand for Lan Zhan to take before he pulled himself up. “Let’s take a shower. I have something for you.”

He allowed himself to be guided to the bathroom, stood there as Wei Ying took great pains to divest him of his suit, each piece more horrible than the last now that he’s grown used to soft sweaters and loose-fitting pants. Wei Ying inspected him thoroughly, like he could see the strain of the weekend spent away painted across his skin. His fingers unerringly found the tight spots along his shoulders, pinched away the pain in his neck, massaged the tension from his jaw with his thumbs. Under the warm spray of the shower, he scrubbed Lan Zhan’s skin with his own body wash and gazed fondly at him as he rubbed shampoo into his hair, careful always to avoid getting suds into his eyes. “Ah, Lan Zhan. I missed you more.”

Though they could have argued until the heat death of the universe over who missed whom most, Lan Zhan chose to indulge the fact that there was someone to miss him at all.

Once Lan Zhan was clean, intimately so, Wei Ying wrapped him in a robe and then himself in only a towel before leading him back out to that recliner. “Lie down.”

As soon as Lan Zhan did, Wei Ying adjusted it until Lan Zhan was tilted back, nearly supine, legs elevated. As far as chairs went, it was incredibly comfortable.

“Cool, huh?” Wei Ying asked, prideful from his crouched position next to Lan Zhan.

“I… yes? Should I be dripping all over it?” When Lan Zhan moved to sit up, Wei Ying pushed him back down.

“It’s fine.” Wei Ying pulled at the sash wrapped around Lan Zhan’s waist, exposing… all of him, and then bent down to retrieve something from beneath the chair. “I just about drove myself mad being here all by myself. What was there to do except think about you?”

A lot of things, he thought, because Wei Ying’s mind never stopped working, but he liked to pretend that Lan Zhan was the only thing he thought about whenever they’d been apart for an extended amount of time. It was part of what made this good for him and Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan didn’t mind. “So you bought a recliner?”

Wei Ying rolled his eyes fondly. “It’s a nice recliner, but it’s what we’re going to do on the recliner that’s the important thing.”

Lan Zhan couldn’t formulate a smart response to that even if he wanted to.

“And what we’re going to do,” Wei Ying said, holding out his hand, “is this.”

This was, apparently, a plug and Wei Ying’s cell phone and a small bottle of lube balanced precariously on the screen. It was… fairly obvious where Wei Ying thought this was going. And Lan Zhan definitely took notice.

“You up for it?” Wei Ying asked, laughing lightly as Lan Zhan nodded.

Once the plug was in, the work of only a handful of moments drawn out to a good ten because Wei Ying was a bastard who wanted to make a mess of all his hard work he’d done in the shower as slowly and comprehensively as possible, Wei Ying wiped his hands off and then walked away to wash them, whistling as Lan Zhan accustomed himself to the feeling of fullness. It wasn’t the largest Wei Ying had ever put into him, nor did it touch the size of Wei Ying himself, but it had been a little while and the ache was noticeable, pleasant.

Overwhelming in a good way.

He drew in a few deep breaths, staring at the ceiling as he waited for Wei Ying to return. He hardened further, just imagining what Wei Ying would do with him.

Wei Ying returned, stalled out as he looked his fill. “I don’t know why I let you go anywhere when you look like this,” he said, stalking forward. “What if I just kept you on this recliner, plugged except for when I decide I want inside of you, hmm?”

“Don’t tease,” Lan Zhan replied, breathy at the thought, earning a smirk and a pat on the knee before Wei Ying sat and then wriggled onto what little space there was still available. Even when Lan Zhan shifted, gasping at the way the plug hit just right inside of him, there wasn’t much room. Wei Ying merely plastered himself to his side, still half-covered by his towel, erection poking Lan Zhan’s hip. He reached across Lan Zhan’s body and picked up his phone from where he’d abandoned it on the other side of him.

“Oh, I’ll tease,” Wei Ying warned. “So, this plug comes with an app by the way. Didn’t know if you knew.”

An app.

Oh.

An app.

Wei Ying waved the phone around, showing off a slider bar. “Do you want to know what the app does?”

Lan Zhan could guess, but he still wasn’t ready for the sudden vibration of it within him, the damn near obscene sound of the hum of it. Arching up, he found himself with Wei Ying’s chest pressed against his chest, one arm pinned by Wei Ying’s body, the other by Wei Ying’s hand.

Wei Ying looked up at him, paying neither his own nor his erection the slightest bit of mind. The phone sat, equally abandoned, on his abdomen. “I thought a lot about you holding me, Lan Zhan.”

“And—and the plug?”

“I couldn’t decide what I wanted more: that or keeping you on that thing until I let you come,” Wei Ying admitted. “So why not multitask?”

He spoke so casually that the words didn’t register for a moment, but when they did…

His pulse jumped. Blood rushed to his face. His heart pounded against his breastbone, the same breastbone that Wei Ying was now resting his head against. “Ah, there we are,” he said. “I love it when that happens.”

“Wei Ying,” he said, heart rate spiking yet again.

“So here’s how it’s going to go,” Wei Ying said, grip tightening on Lan Zhan’s wrist. “I’m going to hold you here and you’re going to take it. I might rub one out against this very lovely leg of yours if I’m feeling frisky because you were gone an annoyingly long time and there’s gotta be some perk for me.” He spoke these words teasingly, warm with affection as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. “You, though? You’re there for the long haul, but I’ll take care of you in the end, okay?”

He always said that these days, ever since they got together whenever they were like this together. I’ll take care of you. He never used to say that before they were truly together. Lan Zhan liked that he said it now and he told Wei Ying as much, whispering the words into his hair while Wei Ying nuzzled his chest and bit playfully at his collarbone, eliciting a hiss from Lan Zhan and a throb of arousal that he felt down to his toes.

True to his word, Wei Ying cared for every piece of Lan Zhan that he pulled free as Lan Zhan writhed and cried out from beneath him, until time lost meaning and he was reduced to chanting pleas that Wei Ying ignored and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat instead of water from the shower and Wei Ying’s release coated Lan Zhan’s lower abdomen and cock, not once, but twice over, and he still wouldn’t let Lan Zhan come until he did, finally, almost as an afterthought, say, “Lan Zhan, let’s see it.”

True to his word, Wei Ying pressed kisses into his skin after, cleaned the sweat from his skin, curled back up next to Lan Zhan as he dozed, brought water and food when he was ready and sat across his legs as they ate and drank, only setting the bowl aside once Lan Zhan had taken his fill.

“You’re so good to me,” Lan Zhan said, once he was capable of speech and coordination, because he knew Wei Ying needed to hear it as much as he needed Lan Zhan to touch him, too, which he did, grasping Wei Ying’s hands between his own while Wei Ying ducked his head and blushed, pleased.

Later, he would show Wei Ying how good he was, returning all the care Wei Ying gave to him and then some. For now, he grabbed Wei Ying by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug before pulling him back down, plastering himself to Wei Ying and tangling his fingers in Wei Ying’s hair.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, an idea suddenly coming to mind, one he’d harbored off and on. Wei Ying might have a physical list, but Lan Zhan had a mental one of his own. Every once in a while, he got to check something off of it. Maybe it was time again.

“Yeah?”

“I let my membership lapse at the club.”

“I know. A long time ago even.”

“Mn.” Lan Zhan stilled, uncertain, but Wei Ying didn’t seem to notice. “I was wondering…”

Wei Ying hummed, encouraging.

“I always regretted that I never got to flirt with you at your bar,” he said in a rush, “and that you never got to check the stamp on my hand or use your pen on me.”

“Oh?” Wei Ying answered, wicked, drawing figure-eights into his skin. “Does Lan Zhan want me to make him a drink? I have it on good authority I slice limes particularly well.”

“I do want you to make me a drink,” he said, “and then I’d like to go home with you.” Though he didn’t hold his liquor well and would probably only manage a sip or two, it was the realization of a fantasy that mattered. Silly as it was, Lan Zhan wanted it.

“Mm, okay, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said, fond. “I’ll get a pass for you. You can flirt with the pretty bartender to your heart’s content until he can no longer stand it and takes you home. Why don’t you come by next Thursday? It can be a nice little hurrah for what used to be my favorite day of the month.”

“It’s a date,” Lan Zhan said, smiling into Wei Ying’s forehead as Wei Ying clutched him closer.

If Lan Zhan wound up reupping his membership solely to occasionally pester Wei Ying for drinks he barely touched, that was their business.