“Holy fuck, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying drags in a breath and releases it, repeats, and almost starts crying because he’s never had an orgasm this good in his life. His soul has maybe detached from his body and is currently floating around in the ether, but that’s okay, because his bones have melted. All of them. His soul’s better off until Wei Ying learns how to be a human again because he’s not sure what he’d do with it until he gets his senses back. “Holy fuck.”
Lan Zhan nudges at him a little, arranges himself on his side. Petting Wei Ying’s abdomen, gentle, he smiles a little, the smug, amazing prick. Wei Ying’s not sure how they got here, but he’s sure glad they did. “Good?”
If Wei Ying hadn’t nearly been fucked into oblivion not two minutes ago, he might have flailed around and slapped at Lan Zhan’s face playfully for his arrogance. “Yeah,” he says instead, meek. Then, coming to his senses: “Yeah, you fucker. God. God. You withheld that from me for so long. You knew what you could do and you just—kept it from me.” He’s got feeling back in his arms, so he kind of wafts them around in the air as he stares up at the ceiling just to remind himself they belong to him. Wow. “I thought we were friends.”
Lan Zhan captures one of them and presses a kiss into the back of it because he’s a bastard, but a really sweet one. “We are.”
“Friends don’t let other friends go solo, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replies, aggrieved. “You could’ve been sharing that golden dick with me this whole time. I’ve been deprived. I’m deprived. How am I supposed to survive out there with this knowledge? Do you know how many mediocre dicks I’ve ridden? It’s tragic. My life is a tragedy.”
Lan Zhan’s beautiful fucking mouth twitches. He’s laughing at Wei Ying somewhere on the inside. “Perhaps I merely wished to protect you from this knowledge.”
“Aiyaaaaaa, Lan Zhan. Take responsibility!”
“Mn. I will.”
He’s kind of not really listening to Lan Zhan anymore because there’s his soul and it’s returning to his body and it’s still screaming to him about how good a lay Lan Zhan is and how lucky he’s been to experience this at all, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he hangs onto Lan Zhan’s words.
They go out for lunch like usual. They text like usual. Nothing at all has changed except now Wei Ying’s ruined. There’s not a better dick in this city and it’s not even worth trying for another and it’s never more apparent than when he’s in bed with himself. Even his own dick sucks in comparison and he’s always been rather fond of it. Whenever he looks at how shoddy a job his own hand’s been doing—including right this minute, the evidence of a terrible orgasm cupped in his palm—without knowing it, he’s disappointed with that, too. All this time, he’s considered himself an expert when, in fact, he is nothing but a clown.
He stares down at himself, betrayed, as he absorbs that he’s now one of those mediocre dicks he’d complained to Lan Zhan about.
Maybe Lan Zhan’s not interested in dating, but perhaps he could at least be annoyed into occasionally giving Wei Ying another taste. Best bro to best bro. That’s gotta be worth another orgasm at least, maybe a third if Wei Ying steps up his game and delivers a better showing.
He sighs, grabs his phone from its stand by the bed, scrubs his hand over his t-shirt so he doesn’t get come on the case again. Nut up or shut up, he always says. Or maybe it’s from a movie. Regardless: words to live by.
Lan Zhan, he types. I want a round two.
Though it’s fairly late even by Lan Zhan’s standards, the reply is instantaneous. It’s yours.
Lan Zhan’s just as good the second time.
Wei Ying’s gotta buy him a fruit basket or something.
The third is an accident or a product of boredom as they sit in Lan Zhan’s apartment eating takeout that Wei Ying brought so Lan Zhan couldn’t complain about getting takeout again. Anyway, Lan Zhan’s still a god and Wei Ying’s gotta make it up to him somehow before he winds up in some kind of sex ledger, known only as the guy who got to fuck Lan Zhan three whole times without being any good at what he’s doing. It’s a travesty. Clearly it’s Lan Zhan’s life that’s tragic. Wei Ying’s brain just short-circuits before he can think to do something more competent than crying out while Lan Zhan shoves his fingers into Wei Ying’s mouth and tells Wei Ying not to come yet despite the thorough railing that’s being given to him.
Wei Ying comes immediately, of course, because Lan Zhan’s hot and Wei Ying’s fallen from mediocre straight into bad, bad, bad lay land. His only redeeming quality at this point is the fact that he takes Lan Zhan’s cock like a champ for the ten heavenly minutes that follow.
“Lan Zhan, I’mma clean us up,” he says, slurring, when they’re done. He rubs at Lan Zhan’s hair and climbs over him, presses a kiss to his forehead midway through, and finally trips out and only stumbles a little bit on shaky legs. It’s the least he can do.
“Mn. I’ll supervise.” Lan Zhan climbs out of bed after him and trails him, naked, into the bathroom. His hands find Wei Ying’s hips and he kisses the back of Wei Ying’s neck as Wei Ying draws out a washcloth from the cubby next to the sink.
And that’s when Wei Ying’s brain reengages and his attention snaps to the bathtub, the giant, ridiculous, improbably large bathtub that Wei Ying’s always wanted to use, but has never been quite shameless enough to ask about.
It’s the same bathtub that made Lan Zhan buy this apartment instead of any of the more reasonable options available to him.
Lan Zhan likes baths. Wei Ying likes baths and doesn’t get to have them because his apartment only has a shower. He’s reasonably certain he can at least spin something good off of these two concepts. Doing one nice thing for Lan Zhan? Entirely possible. And they’ve both come already, so the pressure’s off there.
“Lan Zhan.” Elbowing Lan Zhan lightly, Wei Ying turns around and pokes Lan Zhan in the chest. “Lan Zhan, let’s take a bath.”
Lan Zhan blinks. “Okay.”
Because he doesn’t know everything about this bathroom, he lets Lan Zhan gather the supplies he prefers, which apparently includes bath oil, bath salts, bubble bath, and a pillow. Wei Ying’s in love. Honestly. Wei Ying charges himself with bringing towels and Lan Zhan’s robe so he’s not totally useless in this endeavor right out of the gate. He’s gotta stay vigilant. What if Lan Zhan’s a god-tier bather, too, or some kind of bathing hedonist and Wei Ying can’t compare?
He bides his time, allows Lan Zhan to kneel and fill the tub, refuses to consider something as ridiculous as that.
“No wonder your skin’s so soft and lovely,” Wei Ying says, admiring the way the muscles in his back bunch and stretch as he moves. He creeps in closer, peers over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “Do you take baths often?”
“Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?” With this many accoutrements? “There’s a pillow, Lan Zhan.”
“It should be good now.” Lan Zhan’s knuckle taps lightly along the rim of the tub. Steam rises through a fluffy mountain of bubbles. It’s so charming. There’s even a little fancy-looking bucket in the corner. It’s difficult not to imagine Lan Zhan pouring water over his chest with it as befits the relaxation time for a god. “Go ahead.”
Smiling, Wei Ying steps in and sinks down. It’s just a shade hotter than comfortable, which means it’s perfect and he groans theatrically as he leans back against the bath’s gentle incline. Lan Zhan’s smiling a bit, too, eyes tracing down Wei Ying’s neck and chest. When he stretches to grab one of the washcloths Wei Ying brought over, he whines. “Lan Zhan, aren’t you going to come in, too? Didn’t I say I was going to clean us up?”
“You mean…?”
Wei Ying nods, offers his best come hither stare, crooks a finger dramatically.
Lan Zhan only hesitates for a moment before he steps in. The water laps pleasantly at his beautiful legs. It’s big enough that he could sit facing Wei Ying if he wants to, but that’s not what Wei Ying wants. “You’re my little spoon, Lan Zhan. Come here.”
“Wei Ying?”
“Come on,” Wei Ying cajoles, tapping his own chest. “Please?”
Though Lan Zhan hesitates for a moment, he turns and cedes, sinking gracefully in. He gingerly leans back, holding himself a little tense. His hands touch the sides of the tub, then skim over the water, before settling on his knees, which poke out of the bubbles, a little bony.
Wei Ying is pleased for once that he’s taller, longer limbed, because it’s not so very hard for him to stretch forward and grab the washcloth Lan Zhan had intended to use on him. “You don’t have to be nervous, Lan Zhan,” he says, jostling Lan Zhan’s knee with his own. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t make you do all the work after all. You’re amazing.”
Expecting another smug smile or at least a slight tease, Wei Ying’s surprised instead when Lan Zhan just nods, somehow quieter than usual. Wei Ying’s pleased that the washcloth is so soft. Dipping it into the water, he strokes it over Lan Zhan’s chest.
Lan Zhan’s throat bobs as Wei Ying brings the washcloth up to his neck. Because Wei Ying is greedy, he lets his thumb skim over the skin behind Lan Zhan’s neck. His pulse pounds beneath the touch, steady, if quick. “Seriously, Lan Zhan, is it so bad to be in here with me?”
Maybe he’s made a mistake and Lan Zhan doesn’t like this? It won’t hurt Wei Ying’s feelings if he doesn’t want it—lie, that’s a lie, it will hurt, because Wei Ying likes it so much—and he wants Lan Zhan happy rather than here if that’s what’s necessary.
When he shifts, Lan Zhan startles and reaches up. His hand covers Wei Ying’s entirely and squeezes lightly, presses their joined fingers harder into Lan Zhan’s neck. His pulse rate flutters even more. “Stay. It’s good.”
“Okay,” Wei Ying says, because Lan Zhan doesn’t lie to him even if he’s clearly not telling the whole truth. “You’ll tell me if you… don’t like it?”
“I like it.”
“Aiya, so stubborn. Okay, okay.” But though Lan Zhan is stubborn, it only makes Wei Ying feel more fond toward him. Reaching for the bucket, he huffs. “Tilt your head back.”
He expects Lan Zhan to comply, but he doesn’t expect him to comply by resting against Wei Ying’s shoulder. Even though it’s awkward as hell, he’s sure as fuck not going to ask Lan Zhan to move, holy shit. Picking up the bucket, trying his hardest to avoid jostling Lan Zhan too much, he scoops up water and then lifts the bucket up. Wei Ying probably looks ridiculous like this, contorting his arm every which way, but as long as he’s able to wet Lan Zhan’s hair like he wants to, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.
He can, so ha.
Lan Zhan’s face from this angle is a thing of beauty and bonus: Wei Ying’s probably never seen him look this calm and content. If not for the way his heart had pounded before, Wei Ying might have accused him of being entirely relaxed and happy.
Now it’s Wei Ying’s heart that stammers in his chest.
“I need you to lean forward,” Wei Ying says, keeping his voice low to match the gentle quality of the moment. It’s not natural for him, but he tries. “And grab the shampoo for me?”
Lan Zhan attempts to turn around, but Wei Ying presses his hand against his shoulder.
“Shampoo,” Wei Ying insists.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shampoo.” Leaning forward himself because Lan Zhan’s too slow, he bends them both and snatches his prize. This position just makes Wei Ying want to curl more fully around Lan Zhan, but he refrains. He’s got plans.
Water splashes around, disruptive, as Lan Zhan’s legs jerk. “Sorry,” he says, pulling them in. “My foot slipped.”
Wriggling a little, Wei Ying pretends this isn’t suddenly the worst idea he’s ever had because, haaaa, Lan Zhan’s gorgeous ass is pressed right up against him and his neck is within kissing distance and his back is rising and falling like he’s just gone for a jog.
His arms curl around his knees.
Wei Ying brings the little bucket up one more time to pour over the back of his head before squeezing shampoo into his hand, some fancy fucking lemongrass scent, brisk without being overwhelming. The scent of it must not linger for long, because Wei Ying’s never smelled it before. Or maybe Lan Zhan’s trying something new. What does Wei Ying know? Not a lot.
Whatever it is, Wei Ying likes it.
Even more than that, he enjoys the first touch of his hand in Lan Zhan’s dark, gleaming hair. It’s somehow even silkier while wet and his fingers glide easily through it. The shampoo doesn’t suds up much, which is a little disappointing as he slicks his hair back down, but the little sound Lan Zhan makes when Wei Ying digs his thumbs into the base of his skull make up for it.
“Tilt your head back again,” Wei Ying asks, hoping a little bit that Lan Zhan will forego reasonable behavior and do what he did before even though they’re sitting more upright now.
“Mm, no,” he says, unexpected. He’s such a fucking weirdo and is clearly the best. “Keep going?”
“Is Lan Zhan extorting a scalp massage from me?”
“Is Wei Ying opposed? He’s the one who started it.” He’s being teased. This is Lan Zhan teasing him certainly. He likes Lan Zhan so much.
He. Likes. Lan Zhan.
He likes Lan Zhan a totally normal and mostly platonic amount with maybe a little bit of sexual and romantic desire to keep it exciting. It’s not a big deal. What they have already is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to Wei Ying.
“Wei Ying is not opposed,” he replies, charmed beyond what he’d have thought possible. “Wei Ying will gladly give Lan Zhan the best scalp massage of all time.”
“I’m sure it will at least be the best one I’ve ever had,” Lan Zhan replies, soft. “I‘ve never had one.”
Wei Ying goes still at hearing that and then righteous indignation works its way through him. “You’re telling me none of your other lovers have done this for you? When you’re you? That’s criminal, Lan Zhan. Clearly you need a better class of date.”
“Mn, perhaps.”
Hell, even Wei Ying, who’s had a good time with a lot of people casually has done intimate shit like this.
Even though Lan Zhan’s hair is already soaped up, he squeezes more into his palm. “To truly appreciate a good scalp massage, you need bubbly shampoo. None of this conditioning shampoo nonsense.” This time, he scratches lightly as he works the shampoo in, thrilling as a shiver wracks Lan Zhan’s perfect body. He deserves nice things! Someone should give them to him!
The person doing it does not need to be Wei Ying, not in the slightest.
“Noted,” Lan Zhan manages, conveniently reminding Wei Ying that, oh yeah, they’re doing this now and Wei Ying does get to be the one offering this. Lan Zhan’s voice is almost as warm and comforting as the water. He’s relaxed a bit from whatever weirdness he was experiencing before maybe.
“Next time, I’ll bring mine.” It might smell like fake strawberries, but it’s fun.
He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Lan Zhan stiffens and perhaps not in the fun way. “Next time?”
“Aha, that is to say…” Clenching his jaw, he bows his head and takes a deep breath that he hopes isn’t audible. Lan Zhan is close enough that Wei Ying’s forehead brushes the crown of Lan Zhan’s head. What if he just commits to his complete disregard for discretion or the sanctity of brain to mouth filters? But because he’s a coward, he doesn’t. “Let’s just keep enjoying this scalp massage, huh?”
He scratches at Lan Zhan’s temples as though to make a point and then smooths his palm over his hair again before dragging his fingers through. It’s nice, meditative almost. He can nearly forget he’s stuck his foot in his mouth for one whole, glorious minute.
“Wei Ying.”
Ah, hell. Might as well accept the consequences of his mouth running away from him. At least he can make this one time special before Lan Zhan realizes that Wei Ying’s really in it now. “Yeah, Lan Zhan?”
“I would like for there to be a next time,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying scratches down the back of his neck again and he whimpers unexpectedly. “I didn’t expect there to be a first time.”
Wei Ying doesn’t think he means the bath, though that, too, is nice. Swallowing, he allows, “You have to know how I feel about you, Lan Zhan. You’ve always been the greatest. I’ve always…”
“You’ve always?”
“Oh, hell. Lan Zhan!” He makes a fake groaning sound of frustration and scrubs hard at Lan Zhan’s hair until he’s laughing lightly under Wei Ying’s touch. “Lan Zhan, you’re fucking amazing and you’re amazing at fucking and I’ve always liked you.”
“You like me?”
“I like you a lot. Whether you want to be casual or never do this again or if you want me to wash your hair for you every night, I like you. I would like to do nice things for you as often as you’d let me.”
The most frantically devastating pause follows.
“My choices are casual, never, or having my hair washed every night? And independent of that, you want to do nice things for me?”
Wei Ying bites back a grin. Said like that, it doesn’t seem all that great, but Wei Ying has a few suspicions right now and he’s willing to indulge. Or, if not suspicions, then hopes. If Wei Ying had no chance, Lan Zhan wouldn’t play with him. He wouldn’t be cruel. “Your only choices, Lan Zhan. I’m a grueling taskmaster.”
“Mn, so it would seem.” Carefully, he leans back, presses all of his weight against Wei Ying’s chest. Wei Ying would keep him there until the end of time if he could—or at least until they’re pruny and waterlogged. Eyes closed, he’s smiling a little. “I would like it if you would continue scrubbing my hair. It’s very nice.”
“I can do that,” Wei Ying says agreeably.
“I do have a counteroffer,” Lan Zhan says, voice all smooth and lovely, “if you’re willing to negotiate.”
Wei Ying lets one soapy hand drift down Lan Zhan’s chest and over his abdomen. It’s lovely to feel Lan Zhan’s body go so relaxed against him only to tense up again for entirely different and enjoyable reasons. “I do like a good negotiation. Hit me.”
“What if we dated?”
It’s not actually that unexpected at this moment. Anything feels possible with Lan Zhan here between his legs. Lan Zhan asking him that? In some way, it feels inevitable. Wonderful. The long culmination of something that’s always existed between them. Instead of a revelation, it feels a little like coming home and Wei Ying prefers it. “Hmm. That’s a hard bargain you’re driving, Lan Zhan. What’s in it for me?”
He knows what he hopes Lan Zhan will say, but it’s another thing to hear it.
“Twenty-four hour access to this golden dick of mine?” Lan Zhan’s voice is so droll and deliberately bored sounding that one might mistake him for reciting a textbook if they don’t pay attention to the words themselves.
“Mmm, tempting. What else?”
“My oral technique is also quite comprehensive on multiple axes.”
Oh, fuck. They haven’t—he’s always just gone straight at riding Lan Zhan’s dick. The thought of his mouth… It takes all of his self-control not to squirm against Lan Zhan and demand that he make good on that promise right this minute. “Multiple… axes.”
“Mmhmm.”
What does that mean?! He’s desperate to find out. “All of this just so you can go steady with me?”
“Is it not enough?” His fingers curl around Wei Ying’s hand, the hand that’s still wandering across his hip and abdomen. He guides it between his legs, back further, until Wei Ying has to stretch a little to reach. His chin hooks over Lan Zhan’s shoulder and it’s barely any work at all to turn and press a kiss to Lan Zhan’s jaw as his finger skims over Lan Zhan’s entrance. Though Lan Zhan gasps, he lets go, but Wei Ying’s not ready to finish exploring yet. He presses in, enjoys the way Lan Zhan’s dick hardens slightly against his forearm. He can’t see much through the bubbles that remain, but it’s enough to imagine it.
“Lan Zhan is a generous negotiator,” Wei Ying says, admiring. “So very thoughtful. Too thoughtful for me.”
“The prize is worthwhile,” Lan Zhan says, whispery. “It demands a commensu—commensurate payment.”
“What’s the prize?”
“You. Dating you. Making, nngh, making love to you,” Lan Zhan says, panting as Wei Ying’s finger slides into him. His body jerks, disrupting the water. This man is going to be the death of him and he doesn’t even care. What did Wei Ying do to deserve this? He’s done nothing and Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan’s choosing to give him everything. As much as he’d like to keep fingering Lan Zhan, he wants even more to jerk him off and keep scrubbing his hair. Prodding him a few more times, stretching him a little, little, very tiny bit with a second finger, a tease for later, he retreats. Lan Zhan whimpers a little, head falling back again again. Maybe Wei Ying’s not so terrible at this sex thing either. Lan Zhan’s certainly making him feel like the sex god now. “Wei Ying…”
Lan Zhan’s dick, warm, already hard, stiffens further beneath Wei Ying’s palm. This is another thing they haven’t really done yet. There’s so much to do. And Wei Ying already loves it, enjoys trying to figure out what Lan Zhan likes best, even though it seems like everything all of a sudden. His hands grab at Wei Ying’s flanks, nails digging into his thighs even from so simple a touch. It’s humbling and sexy and if he leaves shampoo suds along Lan Zhan’s cheek as he turns his head to kiss him some more, swallow his gasp as Wei Ying strokes up his length, Lan Zhan doesn’t complain.
It takes nearly nothing to make Lan Zhan come for a second time tonight, a few strokes, a deep, sustained kiss, Wei Ying pulling away just long enough to say, “You have me. I’m yours, Lan Zhan.” He nuzzles Lan Zhan’s cheek. The suds are slimy and cold where Wei Ying’s nose touches his hairline. “I’m going to take you on so many dates.”
“Mark your words.”
“They’re marked. They’re so marked. I’ll make a list if I need to. We’re going to do everything together. Lan Zhan, you’re the best. I promise it’s not even just your dick.”
Lan Zhan’s huff is an amused one and then, catching Wei Ying off guard, he flips over and presses Wei Ying into the tub, grinds down against him. He looks ridiculous, his hair in complete disarray around his head, but this is the most beautiful he’s ever been to Wei Ying. “Not casual?”
Wei Ying shakes his head. “Not casual. You’re the only one I want to fuck.”
“Me, too.” Lan Zhan eyes him. “And I can assume not never?”
“Definitely not never.”
“And you’ll wash my hair?”
“Every night! After I take you on all these dates!” He nods vigorously. “You’ll never have to wash your hair again.”
“Mn, good.” He leans in close, their noses brushing. “I think I come out ahead in this agreement.”
He doesn’t—Wei Ying’s definitely the winner in this—but it’s an argument Wei Ying’s happy to have again and again and again, as often as Lan Zhan wants to have it.