Every so often, he and Lan Zhan passed some club or other on their way home or to dinner or wherever—after work entertainment, Wei Ying joked—and Wei Ying would have had to be stupid or unobservant if he failed to notice the way Lan Zhan sometimes slowed down, studying the darkened windows, head tilted at a curious angle, especially on the nights when it was clear people were there to be tied up or wanted to tie others up. Wei Ying usually looked the other way, exuding disinterest as he tugged on Lan Zhan’s hand, fighting the urge to give Lan Zhan an out he’d get pissed off at Wei Ying for even offering, something like: Lan Zhan, if you want to do that, you can go. I won’t stop you. It was harder tonight than usual to keep the words behind his teeth.
Like most things on Meridian Station, the clubs catered primarily to humans, which, well. Wei Ying forced himself to walk around on two legs seventy, eighty percent of the time anyway. Unless Lan Zhan was in the mood to fuck him or Wei Ying was in the mood to get fucked in that particular manner, Wei Ying didn’t like spending his free hours making sure he held human form while Lan Zhan railed him, not even when Lan Zhan could theoretically wrap him up in ropes that were almost, almost enough, almost, but not quite, right, never would be quite right.
If he wasn’t willing to cut Lan Zhan loose, better to dissuade Lan Zhan entirely. It would only end in heartache and embarrassment otherwise.
“I think I’ve been banned from most of these places, Lan Zhan,” he said, “or they’ll charge extra because I’m—”
Lan Zhan’s eyes flashed. The full weight of his regard bore down upon Wei Ying as he stopped right in the middle of the promenade and made Wei Ying stop, too. Wei Ying felt pinned and he very much liked being pinned. “You’ve done this before?”
Oops. Wei Ying rolled one shoulder. “Tried to.”
“Did you not like it?”
Wei Ying froze.
“Wei Ying?”
“It’s a lot of trouble to go through. Even the softest rope here give me welts or burns. A guy was going to do it once.” He gently patted his sides, hips smooth and bony beneath his palm. Yeah, not subjecting himself to that again. “It’s too hard with my limbs the way they are. I think he was disappointed.” Besides, it was a mess. “Nobody wants—” Here, he said the name of his own planet, pretty much impossible to render with his clumsy human tongue alone, but Lan Zhan insisted it sounded beautiful anyway even though Wei Ying knew gargling water would sound more pleasant to his ears. “—knotwork.”
“There’s knotwork on your planet?”
“Uh, yes? Ocean planet, Lan Zhan. The abovegrounders have a lot of boats. You know what that means.”
Lan Zhan’s spent his whole life on Meridian Station. Maybe he didn’t know what it meant.
“Lots of rope.” Searching the scuffed, sealed cement of the ground for a hole that might open before him, he laughed. He missed this about home: lots of underwater caves in which he could peacefully and privately lick his wounds. So many holes inside of which he could curl up and die of the shame he pretended he couldn’t feel. “Lots of…”
“Knots.”
“Lots of wandering limbs interested in ropes,” Wei Ying said, “and knots. Eventually we started making our own rope.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes darkened with something Wei Ying hoped wasn’t a desire to figure it out for himself. That would definitely end in heartbreak and embarrassment. The last thing he wanted was for Lan Zhan to be disappointed. “I see.”
Wei Ying wasn’t sure he did, but if Lan Zhan was going to let it go—they did have dinner reservations to get to and then a date with Lan Zhan’s bed, where they could focus on all the nice things they were capable of doing to one another—he wasn’t going to argue.
“What are they made out of?” Lan Zhan asked, mouth hovering over Wei Ying’s chest as he rudely interrupted the very important thing he was doing to Wei Ying’s sternum which maybe involved leaving behind so many marks that Wei Ying’s skin would never fully recover.
Flailing one tentacle in displeasure, Wei Ying asked, “What’s what made out of?”
Lan Zhan caught it and squeezed until thick fluid exuded from the tip and everywhere else. “The rope, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying thunked his head back against the headboard. “Not this again.”
“Yes, this again,” Lan Zhan said, crawling across the tangle of limbs until both of his legs were between them. Of their own volition, they wrapped themselves around Lan Zhan’s thighs. “I want to know.”
“It’s just kelp.” Wait, no. Lan Zhan would feel obligated to do something about it if Wei Ying made it seem easy. “Very rare kelp from back home. Processed to remain soft and flexible. Super annoying.” Dissuade him. “It’s not worth it.”
Lan Zhan stared down at him. He was often quiet, but rarely was he speechless. He and Wei Ying had been together so long now that Wei Ying knew the difference. Great. Rendering Lan Zhan speechless wasn’t actually a great thing to do. Slowly, Lan Zhan’s stony expression faded. The one that replaced it was thoughtful and recalcitrant, a bad combination for Wei Ying’s heart. “Would I be allowed to procure it?”
Silence, then:
Wei Ying couldn’t help laughing himself sick. Here he was, just very innocently trying to get off and Lan Zhan was asking about the homegrown rope supply chain. “Yeah, Lan Zhan. There’s a whole niche bondage industry on the station I neglected to tell you about.”
“Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan, it would cost so much money to import it. There are better ways to spend it and that’s even assuming it would survive shipping. Why don’t we focus on things that are feasible?” Wei Ying grinned rather winsomely if he said so himself and let one of his limbs tug playfully at Lan Zhan’s hair. “Please, ge.”
Lan Zhan’s eyebrows rose and his mouth twisted into an unpleasant frown. Feasible, he mouthed, like the word was utterly distasteful to him. Wei Ying would not win here. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t he keep this shit to himself where it belonged? They were doing just fine without Lan Zhan getting ideas about ropes into his pretty head.
“Fine.” He stared at Wei Ying until Wei Ying’s cheeks flamed, hot to the touch as Wei Ying covered his face with his palm. “Fine. I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, but fine. Figure it out, Lan Zhan. Surprise me.”
Smug in his victory, Lan Zhan rewarded him in the filthiest way imaginable. Surely this was some kind of dastardly behavior modification. Wei Ying does what Lan Zhan wants, Wei Ying gets off beautifully, Wei Ying remembers this in the future, Wei Ying spills all his darkest wishes across the bed between them.
When they were done, Wei Ying’s chest heaving, Lan Zhan’s fingers still dancing over the sensitive stretch of gills beneath his ribs, Wei Ying pretended he’d gotten away with something.
On an otherwise normal evening a few months later, ropes long forgotten by Wei Ying, they sprawled in Lan Zhan’s tub, lights dimmed. “We should probably get up,” Wei Ying said, regretful, as he pressed kisses to Lan Zhan’s wrinkled fingertips. It was even bigger and better than Wei Ying’s, this tub, giving him room to really maneuver when he fully transformed. Lan Zhan had gone through so much trouble to procure it. Wei Ying still got embarrassed sometimes, knowing he only needed it for Wei Ying’s enjoyment.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, nuzzling his neck. “Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?” Wei Ying asked, half distracted by the miraculous touch of Lan Zhan’s lips on his throat.
Lan Zhan’s palms skimmed over the smooth skin above his pelvis, sensitive even though he’d only exposed a few of his limbs, choosing to indulge a rare half-human-style fuck. “Would you transform fully for me?”
At one time, so long ago Wei Ying almost didn’t remember what it was like, Wei Ying had been nervous to share this part of himself with Lan Zhan. A lot of people found it disgusting and some found it sexual in a way that left Wei Ying feeling disgusted with himself instead. But Lan Zhan was respectful when it called for it and delightfully disrespectful when the situation called for that instead.
With the gleam visible in his eyes right now, Wei Ying could tell exactly what he was going to get tonight. Though Lan Zhan wouldn’t have been able to wring another orgasm from him in this form, there was nothing to say he couldn’t pleasure Wei Ying in other ways.
Within seconds, he was fully himself as he was on his home planet, lower body a complete tangle of limbs and only those limbs, save for the small, vestigial cavity where his hip would be in humanoid form. Had he a partner like himself, they might have had children by now, a clutch of them, but though sensitive, Wei Ying had jokingly promised that Lan Zhan wouldn’t make him pregnant if he, you know, touched him there. More’s the pity, Lan Zhan had joked in return. Or perhaps he wasn’t joking, the way he sometimes looked at it, touched it, fucked it.
His thumb raked over the cavity, closed currently, and slipped between the seams, pushing against the tightened muscles. All of his tentacles now free, he stretched them, content. Each flickered with gentle, sparking light that rippled and glinted off the water. One wrapped around Lan Zhan’s ankle. Another wrapped itself around Lan Zhan’s waist.
“Not tonight,” Lan Zhan said, prying them free. Though his words were direct, they carried the same warmth as they always did. His touch, too, was sweet. Wei Ying couldn’t be upset when Lan Zhan smiled at him and patted one in consolation.
As Wei Ying pouted, Lan Zhan stepped out of the tub, dripping and strode to the cabinet in the corner of the room. The muscles of his back flexed as he crouched and pulled a box from the lowest shelf. Water slid down his body and pooled around his feet.
Draping his arms on the edge of the tub, Wei Ying rested his chin against his crossed forearms. “What have you gotten me?”
“Who says it’s for you?”
Water sloshed around inside the closed container, muffled by the lid. A thought came to mind, one Wei Ying didn’t want to consider. The smile slid from his mouth. “Lan Zhan?”
Lan Zhan conveniently ignored him, snapping open each of the locks holding the lid in place. Wei Ying half pulled himself out of the tub to see better. Inside, there were at least ten lengths of rope made of kelp, all neatly looped and separated. He would recognize those shades of blue, green, and purple anywhere, beautiful and illicit all at the same time, dredging sweet memories from the depths of Wei Ying’s psyche. Even the scent was achingly familiar, astringent and a little salty. Wei Ying’s hearts pumped hard, one pushing against his sternum, the other two pulsing on either side of his abdomen, small and fluttering, but so very obvious to Wei Ying. “What did you do?”
“These are the right sort of ropes,” Lan Zhan said, lifting his head to better study Wei Ying’s face, “aren’t they? I was told…”
He didn’t. There was no way.“You were told?”
For once, it was Lan Zhan’s turn to flush. Wei Ying was surprised and charmed by the display. “It was remarkably difficult to convince anyone I was serious about what I wanted.”
“We’re pretty private about it,” Wei Ying admitted. “I would have…” But he wouldn’t have, would he? He’d shut Lan Zhan down instead, thinking the effort worthless. Lan Zhan’s idea of worthwhile, though, had always been more expansive than Wei Ying’s.
“I wanted to prove to you I meant well,” Lan Zhan said, sharp. Quieter, “I didn’t want to disappoint you if you were right. And… I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Wei Ying swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ve always known that, Lan Zhan. You don’t have to prove anything to me.” But now he knew it a little better. Now, he knew that Lan Zhan had somehow convinced another of his kind of his sincerity. Now, he had proof that Lan Zhan would go through an exorbitant amount of trouble just to ensure Wei Ying might enjoy something he’d never thought to have here with Lan Zhan or anyone else.
It wasn’t even such an important thing, not really, not when so much of what they did was already incredible, and still Lan Zhan had done it.
Hearts still pounding, Wei Ying prepared to explain to Lan Zhan the simplest of the designs that could be made with these ropes and Wei Ying’s limbs, but as Lan Zhan expertly unwound one of the lengths, Wei Ying wondered if that was going to be necessary.
The thought of Lan Zhan practicing on someone else made something unpleasant curl in Wei Ying’s stomach. There weren’t many of his kind here, but maybe he’d found one who was willing. Maybe even the same one who’d procured these ropes for him. But then Lan Zhan looked at him, nervousness glinting in his gaze, and he knew that there’d been no one else. Maybe someone had given him a few tips, but nothing on par with the image haunting Wei Ying’s thoughts.
“The woman I got these from gave me a… document.”
“Document?”
“Images.” Lan Zhan’s gaze skittered aside. There was no hiding the heavy arousal hanging between his legs, precome leaking down the length of his growing erection.
“Can I see?”
Lan Zhan nodded jerkily and handed the rope over to Wei Ying. He hurried into the bedroom as Wei Ying stroked the soft, supple rope. It had just the right amount of glide to it, but remained secure when Wei Ying knotted it. The quality was good, better than he could have hoped for.
When Lan Zhan returned, he carried a small holoprojector in the cradle of his palm. It was already lit up with a simple, stylized image of one of his kind, bound prettily, the instructions for constructing the rig beside it.
It was one of the more difficult designs Lan Zhan could have chosen, but it was the one Wei Ying would have picked for himself if given the option. Laced up in it, Wei Ying would be fully constricted in a way he hadn’t experienced in years, unable to move or transform back into a fully humanoid shape. He would be truly trapped until Lan Zhan saw fit to let him go.
“If you will help me,” Lan Zhan said. “I’ve figured out most of the knots myself, but…”
“You did this to yourself?”
“What parts of it I could,” Lan Zhan admitted.
“And?”
“And I want to do it to you.” Lan Zhan hooked the holoprojector to the edge of the tub. “I’ve often thought of what it might be like to have you fully at my mercy. Your limbs wander so often. This is my chance to find out.”
Said limbs throbbed. An oil slick of arousal squirted into the water. At Lan Zhan’s mercy was the only place Wei Ying wanted to be.
“This would be easier for you on your bed,” Wei Ying said, “if you’re willing to make a mess of it.” They’d need an entire enclosure to do this the way it was done home, a breathing apparatus for Lan Zhan, too, but they could make do.
Lan Zhan nodded and swallowed and said, “Wei Ying, I would be willing to allow far more than that.”
Yeah, maybe, but Wei Ying had to ignore that fact on the regular or lose his composure. It didn’t bear thinking about all the things Lan Zhan would do for him if given free rein.
Lan Zhan lifted him from the tub, holding him in a firefighter’s carry as Wei Ying’s tentacles wrapped around Lan Zhan’s waist and his arms wrapped around Lan Zhan’s neck. He carried Wei Ying effortlessly, like he had always done. As Wei Ying arranged himself on the bed, he told Lan Zhan to bring the entire container with him.
“You still have a bottle of slip?” Wei Ying asked.
Lan Zhan leveled a glare at him.
“What am I asking? You always have a bottle of slip. Alright, Lan Zhan, add some to the water. It’s easier if the rope is wet with it, too.”
Lan Zhan’s cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, but he did as he was told.
Again, Wei Ying pulsed with arousal. Each of his limbs were already sleek with need, soaking the bedspread and most of what was beneath it save the thoroughly waterproof mattress Lan Zhan had bought even before they’d brought their activities back here for the first time. An investment, he’d called it, like he knew Wei Ying would be his long-term. Forever, if Wei Ying had his way. Maybe forever if Lan Zhan had his way, too.
Once he was ready, Lan Zhan took back the rope. Palms covered in slip, he ran it down the length, coating it thoroughly. He was confident as he wrapped it around the tentacle nearest to him and wove it together with the next one. Wei Ying watched, fascinated by the play of Lan Zhan’s pale fingers over the deep purpling flush of Wei Ying’s limbs as Lan Zhan worked the rope around and around, all the way down to the tips.
He did the same with the next length of rope, laddering it down the next pair of tentacles. With the next set, Wei Ying was forced to shift onto his side, unable to watch Lan Zhan any longer, forced only to feel it. Another two sets and he was mostly constricted, each limb tied to another.
The next part would be harder. Lan Zhan would have to take each pair and hook it to the next, forming a helix-like spiral until they formed a twist that could be tied off. They called it a mermaid’s tail back home and in some respects it did resemble those creatures from Earth’s ancient tales. Wei Ying had always considered it beautiful. Under Lan Zhan’s skilled, deliberate hands, it was even more gorgeous than he’d have expected. His work was even, the tension perfect. Even the color progression he’d chosen was pretty. Did he figure out that part of it for himself or did the woman who’d procured the ropes tell him that Wei Ying’s kind liked it when someone put thought into which color of rope was used where?
“Here,” Wei Ying pointed out, as Lan Zhan began working a rope between the knots that were already tied, more complex than the ones in the first step, a little hesitant.
Lan Zhan stopped frequently to press kisses to Wei Ying’s skin, stretching the time it took from maybe an hour to two. Though Wei Ying was covered with slip and his own fluids, it took long enough that Wei Ying started to feel as though he would dry out. When Lan Zhan noticed, he dripped cool water and more slip over his tentacles. Lan Zhan’s skin gleamed with it, too, filthy and pretty in its own way.
By the time Lan Zhan was finished, Wei Ying was trembling, on the verge of release even with so little direct stimulation, his cavity opening and closing around nothing. Lan Zhan had to notice — he’d always been fascinated by it—but he chose to leave it be, hoping maybe to torment Wei Ying a little while longer. Lan Zhan could be ruthless that way, able to hold himself back so comprehensively while Wei Ying fell apart under his hands. He would have declared it entirely unfair if he didn’t know Lan Zhan enjoyed doing this to him just as much, maybe preferred it to abandoning himself to the pleasure Wei Ying liked to offer him in return.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispered, voice thick with need. His hands stroked over the careful weave of ropes that bound him. When his fingers drifted over to his swollen, neglected cavity, Lan Zhan pulled them away, telling him no, not yet, not yet, Wei Ying. “Lan Zhan, please.”
No matter how much he might have begged, Lan Zhan wouldn’t be moved.
Lan Zhan studied his wrist, kneading Wei Ying’s skin and stroking over his knuckles. He looked into the container where a single length of rope remained. His expression grew thoughtful.
“Lan Zhan?”
No answer.
Preoccupied, he plucked up that length of rope and wrapped it around Wei Ying’s wrist. He stretched across Wei Ying’s lap to take hold of his other wrist and wrapped it, too. When Wei Ying tested the bonds, there was only the slightest give, enough to remain comfortable.
“Will it hold?” Lan Zhan asked, thumb rubbing over his work.
“If I’m careful.” Though it was strong, he could break it if he wanted to.
“You should be careful then,” Lan Zhan answered, taking what remained of the rope and knotting it to the headboard, stretching Wei Ying’s arms above his head. “You won’t want to break it.”
Wei Ying arched an eyebrow, tested his bonds again. Stretched like this, a few intense tugs would be enough. I’ll be careful, he promised. “Won’t I? What happens if I do?”
“Punishment.”
Wei Ying’s three hearts threatened to give out.
“You will not like the punishment you’ll receive if you break it on purpose.”
Sighing, Wei Ying slumped. “You’re no fun.”
Lan Zhan adjusted the pillows beneath Wei Ying’s back. “Your words are empty. You wouldn’t be with me if you didn’t think I was fun.”
“But you really are a killjoy tonight.”
Lan Zhan leveled an unimpressed look at him, holding Wei Ying’s gaze until he finally reached down and groped Wei Ying’s chest, thumb flicking back and forth over one nipple until it peaked, then the other. “Is that so?”
“Until you fuck me you are,” Wei Ying said, despite knowing Lan Zhan cared little about whether he was a killjoy or not. When he had a vision to manifest, he couldn’t be moved to do anything else. And his design today was apparently to drive Wei Ying to madness. “Lan Zhan, you’d really do this to me?”
“Yes.”
Wei Ying wriggled, doing what he could to move closer to Lan Zhan or otherwise entice him with the struggle. “Your own lover? You’d treat him this way? He needs you so much and you’re this unwilling to help him?”
“Yes.” Lan Zhan’s eyes danced with suppressed amusement, a cruel edge to it that made Wei Ying shiver. He did so like to tease Wei Ying. “Shall I bind your mouth, too? We wouldn’t want careless words to fall from it.”
Groaning, Wei Ying looked toward the opposite wall, unable to distract himself from what was happening to him. Lan Zhan’s hands felt like they were everywhere except where Wei Ying needed them the most. How could he be anything other than careless? “I’ll be quiet,” he said, begrudging and uncertain.
“You’ll try.”
“Lan Zhan, why are you—?” But he stopped himself. “I see what you’re doing.”
Lan Zhan huffed, still amused, and resumed his exploration, adding his mouth to the mix, lips warm and wet against his skin, teeth sharp as they dragged across his chest, tongue slick as it swirled over his muscles and the jut of his rib cage. His breath teased over Wei Ying’s stomach as he neared the spot Wei Ying needed him to go. His lips, gentle, skimmed over Wei Ying’s useless gills. “What am I doing?”
Wei Ying bit back a response. In retaliation, Lan Zhan’s fingertips branded the shape of an arc into his side, mere centimeters from his cavity. Still he refused to make a sound, no matter that the pressure rubbed the sensitive ridge of cartilage within him, indirect. It was what Lan Zhan wanted, his silence.
Lan Zhan’s mouth followed, tongue laving over the edge of the cavity.
Wei Ying trembled. Still, he didn’t say a word, didn’t beg as he so wanted to beg, didn’t cry like he wanted to cry. No matter how hot and wet Lan Zhan’s mouth was, it wasn’t enough. Even fingers—
Fingers. Fuck.
Lan Zhan thrust two within him, stretching it unbearably. His fingers slid again over the warm, soft, dark inner space of the cavity, reaching, reaching until it almost found that ridge and then retreated. No matter what he put there, fingers, toys, Lan Zhan’s dick, it drove him to madness when something stroked over it. Lan Zhan knew how much loved to have it penetrated as he rocked his fingers against it. When he wasn’t being a complete bastard like tonight, avoiding it as he took Wei Ying only shallowly, he could spend hours buried in it, taking orgasm after orgasm from Wei Ying’s body with very little effort. Wei Ying shouted in surprise, lower body twisting in its bonds. To stop him, Lan Zhan bore down, pinning his limbs in place. Wei Ying’s arousal coated Lan Zhan’s skin.
Wei Ying turned his face, biting at his own bicep to keep from crying out.
“Is everything alright?” Lan Zhan asked, innocently circling the rim.
Wei Ying said nothing.
“Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying nodded.
“That isn’t an answer.”
You want me to talk all of a sudden, Wei Ying thought, keeping his mouth closed. It was a trap, a delightful trap, but a trap. He offered a defiant glare. If Lan Zhan didn’t want to give him what he wanted, then Wei Ying didn’t have to do the same. He was stronger than his basest urges and Lan Zhan liked it when he was fiery and demanding.
Lan Zhan didn’t have to say: I have more patience than you.
He didn’t have to say: you’ll break for me eventually.
Lan Zhan breached him with a third finger, thrusting lightly as the aching muscles in Wei Ying’s abdomen tightened and relaxed and tightened again. Wei Ying drew in a shuddering breath as pleasure rippled through him, wave upon wave building from which he might never find a proper crest if Lan Zhan kept teasing this way.
Lan Zhan diligently worked him with those three fingers, endlessly in and out, following a rhythm only he could guess.
Wei Ying let out a rasping breath, only catching himself at the last second. Surely Lan Zhan was hard and wanting, too. Surely he needed to get off. What a monster he was, being able to hold back.
“Now that I know you can keep quiet when the spirit moves you, I’ll demand it more often,” Lan Zhan said. “Too bad you couldn’t follow the directions I wanted you to follow. Maybe we’ll work on that next.”
The urge to loosen his tongue threatened to overwhelm him.
“No comment?”
No answer.
Lan Zhan pulled his fingers free and stood, retreating to the other side of the room.
Wei Ying opened his mouth, closed it, almost opened it again as Lan Zhan sat on the other side of the room and stroked himself. Hard, wet, he looked close to going off, too.
He didn’t seem all that disappointed if Wei Ying was being honest, but Wei Ying was. He didn’t want Lan Zhan to lose that erection before he had a chance to feel it for himself. Lan Zhan’s eyebrow rose, daring.
Wei Ying cracked. Before Lan Zhan, he cracked like he always did. Struggling, he honestly cried out. “Lan Zhan, please. Fuck me. I need it.” The headboard rattled and the rope stretched so much he thought it would snap. It held. Barely. He didn’t care. “I need you. Lan Zhan, don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t tease me like this. You’ve made your point. Lan Zhan, please.”
Lan Zhan’s lip curled. He stroked himself slowly, dick glistening with precome and slip and Wei Ying’s fluids. Lan Zhan smeared all of it over the head and down the shaft. He was flushed all over and his chest’s quick rise and fall betrayed the superficially calm expression he wore.
“You frequently tease me,” Lan Zhan said. “Why shouldn’t I get to do the same to you?”
Wei Ying dared not yank on the ropes wrapped around his wrists. If it snapped, Lan Zhan might not let him come tonight. This would become a nice memory they shared, never to be repeated quite like this. The only thing that stopped him was his self-control, what little of it he could summon.
Wei Ying forced each of his muscles to relax in turn. “Lan Zhan, I’ll talk. I’ll do whatever you want. All I need is—”
“My dick.”
Wei Ying shuddered. His limbs throbbed and pulsed with need. The ropes that bound them grew tighter, not tight enough to constrict him uncomfortably, but close to it, deliciously close, as they filled. “I need your dick, Lan Zhan,” he said, voice half cracking on a laugh, half on genuine need. “I really do. Please, just—”
“Stick it in you.”
Wei Ying nodded frantically. Lan Zhan rarely spoke so coarsely about such things; Wei Ying was going to develop a fetish for it if he wasn’t careful.
Lan Zhan rose to his feet. He strode forward. Wei Ying’s heart soared as the bed dipped beneath Lan Zhan’s knee. He scarcely allowed himself to breath, afraid that Lan Zhan might take this closeness away from him again.
“You’ve been good,” Lan Zhan admitted, stroking Wei Ying’s side, fingers dragging down each rib one by one. A single finger teased the cavity, wet and stretched. “You’re ready for me.”
“I’m ready,” Wei Ying whispered. “Lan Zhan, I’m so ready. I’ve been good. I’ll be good. I just need—”
Stroking back Wei Ying’s hair, he nodded. “I know what you need.” Before Wei Ying could speak, Lan Zhan shifted him onto his side. He straddled Wei Ying’s bound limbs. His fingers spread the cavity until the strain of it ached.
When Lan Zhan was close enough, he lowered himself over Wei Ying. The blunt head of his dick breached him. Even with all his preparations, it was nearly overwhelming. Before Lan Zhan was fully sheathed, he’d come and this would be over and Wei Ying would never have this moment again.
“Wait,” Wei Ying said, gasping. “Wait, wait. Slow, please. I—”
Lan Zhan sheathed himself fully in one smooth, quick thrust. He pushed over the ridge that drove Wei Ying wild. Somehow Wei Ying didn’t come, but the drag of Lan Zhan’s shaft drove unhinged cries from Wei Ying’s lips. Any rational thought he still had fell away as Lan Zhan thrust again and again into the cavity, brutal, quick.
“Lan Zhan, slow down.” Wei Ying’s hands clenched into fists over his head. “I lied. I don’t want to come yet. I’m not ready. “
“When has that ever stopped me?” Lan Zhan said, breathless already. “You can come whenever you want. That doesn’t mean we’re through here.” Lan Zhan’s hips snapped. Wei Ying was sure he was crying and was equally sure he was babbling. Of course they’d do it again. Lan Zhan was good. He indulged Wei Ying so frequently. But even so, he wasn’t ready.
It was just that he didn’t want this time to end. He clung to his composure, what little of it he could summon.
Lan Zhan leaned forward. Into Wei Ying’s ear, he whispered, “This won’t be the only time we do this. Wei Ying, you can have this.” His hand stroked over Wei Ying’s wet cheek and settled against Wei Ying’s throat. “If I’d realized sooner…”
His pace slowed, gentled. His breath rattled against Wei Ying’s skin. He was so hard and scalding hot inside of Wei Ying. Wei Ying wanted him to stay there forever.
“I want you to have this,” Lan Zhan said. “Wei Ying, you can come. I’ll just make you come again. I want to see it. Let go for me.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re thinking too much. You can.” His hand drifted down and pressed hard against Wei Ying’s sternum. “You will.” Each stroke struck Wei Ying with the force of a tempest-driven wave and dragged him back out to sea, lost. “You don’t have a choice.”
Sobbing, Wei Ying’s body tensed, as though what Lan Zhan said was true and he did simply have to obey Lan Zhan, his body betraying his mind to the only man he would ever, ever trust to do such a thing to him.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, demanding.
The rope tying him to the headboard finally gave. His body seized, curling toward Lan Zhan. His hands, half free of the rope, grappled for Lan Zhan, his touch needed desperately as Wei Ying splayed them across Lan Zhan’s abdomen, muscles clenching and unclenching beneath his palms. His orgasm tore through him, fluid spilling from the cavity, from his limbs, coating himself, Lan Zhan, the bed.
“Lan Zhan,” he cried, broken, as Lan Zhan ruthlessly shifted the angle, rubbing over the most sensitive spot within him even more slickly than before.
“Wei Ying, you are—” He stilled, the muscles in his arms trembling as he held himself up, moving only in slow, piercing circles within Wei Ying’s body. He spilled on a gasp, pumping deep into Wei Ying, his spend mixing with a fresh wave of Wei Ying’s release. As he withdrew, his cavity closed around it, hoarding it.
Lan Zhan worked his fingers inside, shivering with the aftershocks of pleasure and scooped it out, rubbing it between his fingertips, their mingled scent, sweet and salt-tinged and sour from their exertions coating his skin.
Were circumstances different, Wei Ying might have held it within him and hoped for more. Unless Wei Ying returned home and found a mate from his own species, his body couldn’t develop the clutch of eggs that would be necessary to make such a thing to be possible. “One day you’re going to succeed in impregnating me,” he said, gasping, bringing Lan Zhan’s hand to his mouth to lick it clean. “Lan Zhan, that was…”
“I will,” Lan Zhan said, ferocious. In their hearts, they could play such a game. His hand drifted over Wei Ying’s abdomen and down over his limbs until he reached the tips, tugging the lengths of rope free one by one. Though they were a mess, Lan Zhan didn’t hesitate to stroke and massage each one. “It was good?”
Wei Ying barked a laugh, stretching each limb as far as it could go and then wrapping as many of them around Lan Zhan’s body as would accommodate him. “You have to know.”
Offering Wei Ying a small, smug smile, he rose to his feet. He retreated to the bathroom and returned with several cloths. He wiped away as much of the grime of their exertions as he could and allowed himself to be pulled again into Wei Ying’s embrace. In a while, Wei Ying might let Lan Zhan change the bedding. Or if he was able to, he’d shift and do it himself. Lan Zhan deserved a break.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Lan Zhan quieted him with a kiss, promising more with each stroke of his tongue in Wei Ying’s mouth, promising without words everything he could possibly give and then some.