“You remember your scenes for the next few days, right? Reception is poor in these parts, but the van is scheduled to pick you both up every morning at 5 a.m.”
The production director, Yang Xia, debriefs them in the lobby of the rustic hotel they have just been dropped off at, rattling off a list of things to note even as she gestures for the crew to prepare to move out.
Wang Yibo has long tuned out of the conversation, a stoic expression on his face as he and Xiao Zhan both nod at the instructions given. To the side, he spots Liu Haikuan and Zhu Zanjin exchanging looks as their eyes wander across the lush shrubbery in the front yard, notably beautiful even surrounded by the rural wilderness of Guizhou.
“Your rooms are on the same floor.” PD Yang hands them worn-looking acrylic keyrings with their room numbers scribbled on them in faded permanent marker.
318 | 328
Yibo glances at the numbers then squints up at the three-storey building and its floor-to-ceiling windows, trying to decide if it meant their rooms would have windows facing each other.
He straightens when Xiao Zhan starts to bid PD Yang and the crew a cheerful goodbye, following suit and dipping his head in thanks, sending them off with a wave.
When they are finally left to their own devices, with Haikuan and Zanjin bidding them a good evening as they go off to their respective rooms, Xiao Zhan turns to Yibo, the corners of his smile an enticing curve. “Are you ready to get wrecked?”
Yibo scoffs and pretends to crack his knuckles, always game for a challenge. “Mark your words – I don’t lose at Zelda that easily.”
Xiao Zhan’s responding laughter is wild and unrestrained, echoing so similarly to Wei Wuxian’s from when they were filming earlier in the day that Yibo has to blink twice to clear his vision of Wei Ying’s smile and the flutter of a red ribbon.
It doesn’t help when Xiao Zhan teases, “Someone is starting to sound more and more like our Lan-er-gege.” He goes so far as to affect a pout, eyes shining with Wei Wuxian’s brand of mischief and the innate knowledge that his Lan-er will never turn him down. “Ah, Lan Zhan, how could you bully this weak, fragile man?”
“Ridiculous,” Yibo bites out, frowning when he realises how that had sounded even more like something Lan Wangji would say.
In the past three months of filming, Yibo has had a fraught relationship with his character, finding himself both nothing and everything like Lan Wangji.
Part of the conflict stems from the affection he feels for Xiao Zhan and by extension, Wei Wuxian – it thrums like a wild thing in his chest, so closely entwined that he can barely tell where his feelings end and Lan Wangji’s begin. And the further Xiao Zhan slips into his role, the further Yibo follows, fitting Lan Wangji’s character around him like a well-worn coat.
Yibo is shaken out of his thoughts when Xiao Zhan starts walking towards the stairs, leaning in to nudge at his shoulder with his own as he passes. “All right, come on, let’s settle in and get some rest. it’s rare that we have this much time off before a shoot.”
Suppressing a small grin at the gentle nagging, Yibo picks up his bags and follows along, all the while teasing him. “I see Zhan-ge’s getting old and can’t keep up with the rest of us anymore.” He dodges a poorly aimed swipe from Xiao Zhan and continues. “What a pity, I guess looking young doesn’t necessarily mean having youthful stamina…”
He makes a run for the stairs when Xiao Zhan tries to swipe at him again.
“Wang Yibo, you brat! Haven’t you said enough?” The outraged cry from behind him makes him snicker as he takes the stairs two at a time, turning back to pull a face at Xiao Zhan in smug triumph once he reaches the top.
When Yibo sees that Xiao Zhan is still struggling with his bags at the foot of the stairs, he smirks and calls out, “Take your time, there’s no rush.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he continues in a loud whisper, “Stairs are dangerous for the elderly.”
Xiao Zhan’s squawk of indignation follows him all the way to his door, echoing through the hallway. “You– Wang Yibo, are you even human? Get back here!”
He’s laughing so hard he nearly drops the keys to his room, fumbling with the small plastic key ring a couple of times before he manages to get the door open.
When he gets into his room, he drops his bags by the dresser, nudging the door shut with his foot and locking it before taking a quick tour round the room. The decor is quaint, if a little too dated, but the bathroom lights and television are functional and that’s all he needs to get a good night’s rest.
Pausing by the floor-to-ceiling window in his room, Yibo takes a moment to admire the endless greenery of rural Guizhou, stretching as far as the eye can see. He’s looking at the distant glow of the setting sun when he notices a light come on in the room across his, illuminating Xiao Zhan’s figure as he nudges the door open with his hips and backs into the room with his bags, tossing them on the sofa.
He sees Xiao Zhan arching his back in a full-bodied stretch and a delicate yawn before he takes a little running leap and sprawls face first into the bed, arms spread wide like a starfish. Yibo watches, amused, as Xiao Zhan rolls a little in bed, kicking his legs up in lazy, sporadic strokes.
Pulling out his phone, Yibo quickly taps out a few messages.
| I’m getting dinner.
| Hurry up and get over here!
| But don’t slip while showering.
| ‘91-liners need to be more careful.
Although Xiao Zhan’s face is not visible from this angle, he can already see the frown scrunching his brows when he reads the message.
Chuckling to himself, he takes one last look at Xiao Zhan before turning and making his way to the sofa, settling down in a comfortable sprawl. He pulls up Meituan on his phone and scrolls through the application, looking for the best restaurants nearby.
To his bemusement, there is a grand total of three places still open for delivery at this hour, alongside a long list of less than reputable shops open for business.
Who would’ve thought that there’d be more of these kinds of shops than restaurants this far out in Guizhou? Yibo muses, putting in an order for rice noodles with beef and an assortment of side dishes catering to Xiao Zhan’s preference for flavour and spice.
After he checks out, he pauses for a bit before going back to browse the list of specialty shops in the area.
He can feel his brows rising as he scrolls down the page. The list of items graduates from common essentials like condoms and lubricant all the way to more exotic merchandise like nipple clamps and bondage ropes.
Yibo thinks back to when this thing with Xiao Zhan had first started, beginning with an accidental first kiss while they were running through their scripts in private and blossoming into something close to a mutually satisfying relationship, although Xiao Zhan still avoids putting a label to what they are doing.
Well, he did say it’s rare for us to get this much time to ourselves between shoots, he rationalises, putting an assortment of items into his cart before checking out again.
If there was one thing that had surprised him at the start of everything, it was how demanding Xiao Zhan was. For all his bright smiles, crinkled eyes, and generally sweet demeanour, he was incredibly opinionated in bed, the constant push and pull of the tension between them only intensifying between the sheets.
As he’s getting ready to shower, Yibo notices movement from the corner of his eye. When he turns to look, he’s faced with an eyeful of Xiao Zhan’s naked curves, peeking out from behind his half-drawn curtains.
He struggles with the instinct to avert his eyes politely, unable to stop himself from drinking in the sight of all that bare skin and feeling vaguely abashed by it.
Yibo is so caught up in admiring Xiao Zhan’s graceful nudity that he almost misses the coy flicker of almond-shaped eyes looking back at him, and the deliberate sashay of hips as Xiao Zhan makes his way to his bathroom.
He affects obliviousness so well that it takes Yibo the span of two slow, dazed blinks to realise that he’s just been had.
When he finally catches on, his glare turns sharp enough to cut through the two layers of observatory glass that separate their rooms.
Two can play at this game.
Taking the quickest shower of his life, Yibo makes sure he’s the perfect combination of attractively rumpled and damp before he takes up position in Xiao Zhan’s direct line of sight.
When Xiao Zhan emerges from his shower, Yibo has his towel swung around his neck, hanging above the cut of his hips and framing his cock nicely – he should know, he checked the aesthetic in the bathroom mirror several times before getting into position.
He makes a production out of slathering body lotion over his biceps, the lean muscles flexing as he twists to reach the back of his arms.
Once he’s sure he has his audience of one riveted, he tilts his head back in a purposeful stretch, fingertips trailing over the prominent bump of his Adam’s apple as he rubs the same lotion into his skin with painstaking slowness.
Glancing surreptitiously at the next room, Yibo suppresses the urge to grin at the sight of Xiao Zhan grasping at his towel like a maiden in distress, taking a perverse pleasure in the wide-eyed look of panic on Xiao Zhan’s face.
To drive the point home, he trails his hands down his body until his thumb rests at the base of his sizeable cock, as though reaching to take it in hand. He lingers there for a long moment, before he sees the curtains in the next room close with a waspish snap and finally lets himself grin, triumphant.
Yibo: 1 | Xiao Zhan: 0
Once he’s sure that Xiao Zhan is no longer peeking at him from behind the curtains, he closes his own curtains and pulls on the clothes he’d laid out for this occasion, waiting for him to come over.
He half-expects it to be their dinner arriving when his doorbell rings, but isn’t surprised to find that it’s his order of condoms and lubricant that have arrived instead.
Just as he’s thanking the delivery man, Xiao Zhan walks over with a bag and his phone in hand, a secretive grin playing at the corners of his lips.
“Wow, Lao Wang.” Xiao Zhan glances at the black plastic bag in his hands and arches his brows cheekily with a knowing look in his eyes. “We only just got here and Kuaidi has redirected your parcels already?”
Yibo shrugs even as he feels his ears burn, trying desperately to play it off. “Speak for yourself, Xiao-laoshi.” He points to the similar-looking bag in Xiao Zhan’s hand. “What did you have sent all the way out here, anyway?”
Xiao Zhan tilts his head to the side, lips curving into a slight smile as he glances down at the bag before looking back up at Yibo with a slow blink. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teases, the cheekiness in his voice making Yibo chub in his shorts, almost a Pavlovian response by now.
Yibo doesn’t manage to respond before Xiao Zhan, still leaning against the doorframe, drawls, “Are you going to let me in or not, Lao Wang?” He watches Xiao Zhan’s eyes trail down the length of his body like a physical caress and sees the moment Xiao Zhan notices the blatant outline of his cock in his cotton shorts, eyes darkening in desire.
“Your wish is my command,” he says, gesturing towards the interior of the room in invitation, snarky even as he moves aside to let Xiao Zhan in.
Scoffing, Xiao Zhan walks in, shoving at Yibo’s towel-clad chest. “What are you wearing? I can’t believe you opened the door dressed like this.”
“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Yibo shrugs, running his fingers through his hair pointedly, pushing the damp strands back. “My hair’s still wet.”
Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes and indicates his own damp hair and shirt, pinching the collar and pulling the snug material away from his body before letting it fall back to plaster against his chest in emphasis. “So is mine. It’s called being decent, Lao Wang.”
This time, it’s Yibo that gets distracted as his eyes fixate on Xiao Zhan’s nipples, visible through the damp white shirt clinging to his chest.
The blush-pink areolas and pebbled nipples look like a sweet mouthful, and he can almost remember the way they feel in his mouth, the little nubs pushing stubbornly against the press of his tongue.
“As if you know what that means,” Yibo murmurs, voice rumbling in his chest as he cups the back of Xiao Zhan’s neck with one hand and leans in to slant a hard kiss across Xiao Zhan’s pliant lips. He blindly reaches out and fondles Xiao Zhan’s chest, his clever fingers finding and tugging at the pouty nipples.
Unable to resist, Yibo catches a sensitive nub between his fingers and pinches it hard, grinning into the kiss as Xiao Zhan yelps and punches at his shoulder. He did not miss the way Xiao Zhan’s breath had hitched in his throat at the small bite of pain.
Refusing to break the kiss, Yibo holds Xiao Zhan by the waist and backs him up until the back of his knees hit the bed. Xiao Zhan clutches tightly at his shoulders, chest heaving as he struggles to draw breath through the ferocious kiss.
Yibo slides a leg between Xiao Zhan’s, his thigh sliding high and nudging them wide open to rub against the visible bulge in his pants. He barely registers his bag slipping from his wrist when the movement unbalances Xiao Zhan enough that he falls back onto the bed, bringing Yibo with him. For a moment, Yibo’s weight is pressing fully on him, the impact drawing a breathy moan that’s muffled between their lips.
Pulling back a little, wanting to keep Xiao Zhan in sight yet reluctant to part any more than he had to do so, Yibo looks down in satisfaction at Xiao Zhan’s kiss-reddened pout.
Without looking, Yibo pulls his bag that had fallen by the wayside closer and is just about to present it to Xiao Zhan when the latter upends his own on the bed with a flourish and a heavier-than-expected rustle.
Coils of dark red hemp rope, a pair of silver clips, and a plain strip of cloth spill from it.
“Do your worst, Lan-er-gege,” Xiao Zhan says, a little breathless even as he tilts his chin challengingly.
Yibo feels like he’s missing something.
He looks from the items on the bed to Xiao Zhan’s expectant face and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “What?”
Xiao Zhan’s nose crinkles up as he pushes his lips into a pout. “Don’t tell me Wang-laoshi’s shibari skills aren’t on par with Lan-er-gongzi’s?” Xiao Zhan teases, a daring glint in his eyes as he looks up at Yibo from under long lashes.
Although Yibo has little to no clue what on earth is going on, he seethes at Xiao Zhan’s repeated, blatant comparisons between him and Lan Wangji. But it’s the insolent curve at the very corner of his lips that makes Yibo snap.
“If that’s how you want to play it,” Yibo hears himself say, almost like an out-of-body experience, “then get on the bed and face the wall, no looking back.”
Yibo hopes to hell that Xiao Zhan knows what he means by that, because he sure doesn’t. He just said the first logical thing that came to his mind, leaving enough room for Xiao Zhan to take the lead on creative direction as he’s wont to do.
Yibo fights back the urge to swallow when Xiao Zhan starts to squirm out from under him. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes.” He makes a show of getting off the bed and turning around to give Xiao Zhan his back. “You better be ready by the time I come back.”
Yibo isn’t sure how, but he even manages to come across stern, a hint of warning in his tone.
He watches from the corners of his eyes as Xiao Zhan bites down on his lower lip, an enticing flush spreading across his cheeks as he hesitates for a moment before turning to crawl further onto the bed, doing exactly as he’s told.
Still clutching his bag of condoms and lubricant, Yibo takes the opportunity to escape to his bathroom, pulling out his phone and frantically asking Baidu what exactly he’s supposed to be doing with all that rope and the strangely small clamps that Xiao Zhan had upended on the bed.
He has never been more grateful for his decision to splurge on a subscription to one of the best VPNs money can buy when he started his side Weibo accounts to follow CP fans and their latest works.
The silver clips are the first thing he searches Baidu for, and he almost breathes out a soft “ohh” of understanding when he realises their purpose. Aside from the odd chain dangling between them, they seem straightforward enough to use.
The ropes, on the other hand, are a different story.
When he searches “shibari for beginners” on Baidu, the basic knots that show up on the results page make him groan. As much as they look sufficiently complicated on their own, Yibo knows they just won’t cut it, not when Xiao Zhan is comparing his skills to Lan Wangji’s.
Making the split-second decision, Yibo searches Baidu for the simplest shibari arrangement and comes across a chest harness pattern that doesn’t seem too difficult, even for a beginner like him. Keeping the page open, he peers out of his bathroom to spy on Xiao Zhan’s progress and, oh—
Xiao Zhan did exactly what he was told and even more than what Yibo had expected, kneeling naked in bed with his arms held high above his head, crossed demurely at the wrists.
Yibo’s eyes trace his curves with a raw hunger despite the surreal situation he finds himself in, the arch of his back, the slim dip of his waist and the flare of his lusciously rounded bottom all drawing his eye.
He can see the blindfold tied securely in a neat bow around the back of Xiao Zhan’s head and feels the urge to unravel it –to unravel him– with his teeth.
“Yibo…?” Xiao Zhan sounds out, a thread of uncertainty in his voice. “If you don’t want to—”
“—Did I say you could speak?” Yibo’s voice comes out like gravel, harsher than he means for it to in his panic and the completely unexpected spike of desire seeing Xiao Zhan in such a submissive position.
The way Xiao Zhan’s breath stutters at the command as he falls silent, a slight tremor running through his body, is… interesting.
His desire to overpower Xiao Zhan in all things when they are playing games or wrestling with each other is not new to him, but he never expected such a strong bodily reaction to whatever this is. It goes beyond visceral to a more physical satisfaction that he has never experienced before.
Who knew that seeing Xiao Zhan so subservient could be such a turn-on?
Yibo makes his way slowly to the bed, quietly putting his phone down face up so he can reference the instructions for how to tie a shibari chest harness.
Picking up the longer coil of dark red hemp rope, he makes quick work of it, looping the rope almost expertly around Xiao Zhan’s bare chest and twisting it around his shoulders to form the sturdy structure of the harness.
At the first touch of the rope on skin, Xiao Zhan inhales audibly, shifting on his knees. Yibo strokes at his trembling flank, still damp from his earlier shower, petting him soothingly.
He lays gentle kisses on the jut of his shoulder blade as he continues to loop the rope around Xiao Zhan’s bare chest, hoping the constant touch would help reassure Xiao Zhan of his presence.
When he flattens the rope over Xiao Zhan’s shoulder to the front of his chest so he can connect the parallel lines of rope with a twisted v-shaped tie, Yibo can feel the fluttering beat of his heart under his hand. He rubs soothingly at the spot, fingers trailing down every so often to flick teasingly at a stiffening nipple.
As he works, Yibo can’t help but notice anew how puffy Xiao Zhan’s nipples are, and he lets himself get distracted by them, leaning in to lip at the stiff little nubs every time they come into range, making Xiao Zhan squirm with the inability to predict his movements.
Referencing the open page on his phone every so often, Yibo figures that the art of shibari is really not that different from figuring out how to build his collectible Lego sets, just a lot sexier.
As aroused as he is, his cock stiffening in low-level arousal from the inherent eroticism of tying his lover up as a prelude to sex, Yibo finds the concept of shibari an interesting one, the satisfaction he derives from a job well done very similar to when he’s solving Lego puzzles.
Once done, he sits back and admires the lines of rope sitting right under Xiao Zhan’s arms and below his pectorals, the front and back held tight by v-shaped ties – almost textbook perfect, if he could say so himself.
Noting what the instructions had said about ensuring that the ties aren’t tight enough to affect circulation, Yibo slides two fingers under the lines of the harness, tracing the shape of the shibari arrangement once more, just to make sure there’s enough give in the rope for Xiao Zhan’s comfort.
When he ties it off at the end, he tucks it in as neatly as he can before moving on to pick up the second, shorter coil of dark red hemp rope.
Typing in another quick search into Baidu, Yibo figures that the shorter rope should be for restraining the wrists, though when he looks up at Xiao Zhan’s arms, starting to tremble from how high and how long he’s been holding them up, Yibo’s mouth twists into a wry smile at how he should’ve been able to guess from Xiao Zhan’s body language alone, had he been more experienced at this as Xiao Zhan seems to think he is.
“Hands down,” he murmurs, guiding Xiao Zhan’s hands to rest against his lower belly, still crossed at the wrists.
Yibo kneels behind Xiao Zhan, bracketing him between his thighs as he leans in to nestle into the curve of Xiao Zhan’s neck, avoiding the line of rope striping his shoulder.
Arms around Xiao Zhan’s waist, Yibo regulates his breathing to match Xiao Zhan’s as he ties the ropes swiftly around Xiao Zhan’s wrists, again running two fingers underneath to ensure enough give. He ties the long end of the rope to the chest harness, restricting Xiao Zhan’s movement comfortably.
“Baobao,” the endearment comes unbidden to his lips, “everything good?”
Yibo can see a red flush of arousal spread down Xiao Zhan’s neck at the feel of his breath against the sensitive spot behind his ear, his nod slow and dreamy. For a moment, Yibo is worried he might’ve somehow broken him.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Xiao Zhan’s bound hands lift Yibo’s hand to his chest, pressing it there firmly, and Yibo is reminded of the silver clips still lying at their knees.
When Yibo takes a little too long to move, Xiao Zhan keens softly, “Ge… Yibo-ge.” He presses Yibo’s hand more firmly to his chest, gasping when the rigid little nub of his nipple rubs harder against Yibo’s palm.
“Hush,” Yibo soothes, even as he feels himself biting back a groan at how erotic Xiao Zhan is, all trussed up and monosyllabic, only capable of calling out his name, lost in his own hazy headspace of pleasure. “I’ve got you, baobao, shh.”
Caught up in Xiao Zhan’s honey-slow pace, Yibo shifts so that his chest is within reach, leaning close to lave at a small nub, drawing the entire areola into his mouth for a suckle.
Nursing softly at the nipple, Yibo suddenly thinks back to a fanwork he’d stumbled across a while back, where Xiao Zhan was somehow capable of producing milk, and the entire story had Yibo suckling at Xiao Zhan’s pouty nipples, swallowing mouthfuls of sweet, warm milk as he fucked Xiao Zhan six ways to Sunday.
His cock goes from a chub to full hardness so quickly that he has to blink away the dizziness from the sudden rush of blood down south.
He swallows to rid his tastebuds of the imagined memory of sweet milk resting heavy on his tongue, switching to nurse at the other before gently attaching the rubber clamps to Xiao Zhan’s flushed nipples. At the light pinch, Xiao Zhan arches his back and moans, teeth biting into his lower lip to muffle the sound.
Just as Yibo is about to let the chain connecting the two clamps drop, Xiao Zhan’s mouth falls open, tongue curling outwards expectantly.
Yibo looks at the chain he’s holding and back at Xiao Zhan again, hoping to receive some sort of enlightenment as to what he’s supposed to be doing. The dual sensation of arousal and confusion is not one that he’s used to but appears to be here to stay, if he and Xiao Zhan continue their adventurous sexcapades.
Running his fingers along the chain until he gets to the silicone portion in the middle, Yibo takes a stab in the dark and guesses that it’s meant to serve as a bit, judging by Xiao Zhan’s reaction, and tentatively puts it on his tongue.
When Xiao Zhan rolls it and takes it between his teeth, biting down on the silicone, Yibo stifles a sigh of relief that his wild guess had been correct.
The chain has enough give that Xiao Zhan still has room to arch back, forcing the clamps to tug heavily at his already swelling nipples.
“Careful,” Yibo admonishes, cradling Xiao Zhan’s beloved face with a broad palm, stroking firmly down the length of his neck before sliding it back to give his nape a warning squeeze. “Drop it if it starts to hurt.”
Xiao Zhan immediately shakes his head, earning a firmer squeeze to the back of his neck.
“I said drop the bit if it hurts,” Yibo orders. When Xiao Zhan hesitates once more, he adds a caveat. “If it hurts more than you can bear.”
At that, Xiao Zhan nods, trilling softly at the back of his throat.
Yibo frowns slightly and makes a note to keep a closer eye on Xiao Zhan’s comfort.
Sliding his hands over Xiao Zhan’s neck, shoulder, and waist in a long, unbroken caress, Yibo feels Xiao Zhan shudder under his hands. He moves behind him, reaching toward the curve of his ass and pulling open the halved peaches of his cheeks to reveal his glistening hole.
His moans are muffled by the silicone bit, almost too quiet to be heard under Yibo’s visceral groan of desire. Yibo leans forward and places an open-mouthed kiss to the slick rim of his anus, licking deep into the barely-open gape of his ass and making Xiao Zhan’s hips stutter as he cries out from behind the gag.
“Such a good baobao,” Yibo hums, gripping tight to still his hips when Xiao Zhan tries to thrash under the onslaught of sensation skittering across his nerves. “You’re doing so well.”
His words only serve to ramp up Xiao Zhan’s pleasure, though Yibo suspects it’s more from the pleasure of the rumbling vibration rather than the praise itself.
“Made yourself all wet for me,” he murmurs, pushing the escaping slick back into Xiao Zhan’s ass with his tongue, “You taste so good, baobao.”
Xiao Zhan squirms at the praise, his moans starting to sound a little damp around the edges, rosy pucker tightening in sporadic bursts around Yibo’s venturing tongue.
Trailing gentle fingers across the thin skin of his scrotum, damp with perspiration and some run-off from the lubricant in his ass, light enough to almost tickle, Yibo wraps a hand around his cock, thumb coming up to rub at the copious amounts of pre-cum dribbling from his cockhead, slipping in the slick to dip into the puffy moue of his slit.
At that, Xiao Zhan’s hips jerk so far that he almost dislodges Yibo’s hold on him, earning him a punishing strike on the ass, hard enough to leave the faintest imprint of a broad palm outlined in red.
Xiao Zhan stills, whimpering even as Yibo presses apologetic, open-mouthed kisses to the abused curve of his ass, biting and suckling gently to distract him from the stinging pain, leaving strawberries in his wake.
Sensing Xiao Zhan’s growing impatience, coupled with his own, Yibo leaves one last kiss on the reddened skin of his ass before moving Xiao Zhan onto his hands and knees, covering Xiao Zhan with his body and fitting the head of his aching cock into the licked-open gape of his ass. The difference in size is painfully obvious.
Despite only having done this a handful of times, Yibo knows that the only way for him to fit comfortably into Xiao Zhan is to fuck slowly into him when he’s semi-hard, only growing to full hardness once he’s deep inside of Xiao Zhan.
Regardless of how prepared Xiao Zhan is –and he’s far from that, only having quickly shoved a few fingers in to coat himself with slick, judging by how tight he had been around his tongue when Yibo had tasted him earlier– it will still hurt. And with the way he is now, it would hurt them both for him to fuck into Xiao Zhan.
He grits his teeth and tries to force his cock to soften a little, thinking of how miserable the filming conditions for The Untamed have been, despite the great crew and cast. He tries to think of the itch of mosquito bites in summer, the raw heat almost hot enough to cause sunstroke.
But try as he might to focus on anything but how goddamn much he wants to shove his way into Xiao Zhan’s body right that second, his cock refuses to soften even the slightest bit, making him growl low in frustration.
It doesn’t help that the whole time he’s trying to get his wild desire under control, Xiao Zhan is pushing back at him, trying to fuck himself on Yibo’s cock, making these infuriatingly demanding pleas that only serve to wreck further havoc on Yibo’s control. It’s only Yibo’s tight grip on his hips that prevents him from succeeding.
“Stop, please. Baobao, be good,” Yibo groans, yanking at the back of the chest harness to try and stop Xiao Zhan from relentlessly inching back onto his cock. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Sensing a weakening in his resolve, Xiao Zhan shoves backwards hard and bears down on Yibo’s cock, the wide head finally sliding in with an obscene squelch.
Yibo swears his vision whites out for a moment, hips involuntarily stuttering and forcing more of his cock into Xiao Zhan’s tightness.
When he comes back to his senses, it’s to the sound of Xiao Zhan’s mewling moans, half-delirious with pleasure as he squirms, every movement scraping Yibo’s cock against the tight clutch of his inner walls.
“I said, stop,” he grits out, patience lost as he leans in close to shove more of his cock into Xiao Zhan with short, heavy thrusts of his hips, taking advantage of the leverage he has to tug punishingly hard at the silver chains connecting the nipple clamps, leaving Xiao Zhan no choice but to take the assault on both ends, balancing on the razor-sharp edge between pain and pleasure.
Xiao Zhan sobs as Yibo lifts him by the harness, forcing him to balance precariously on his knees and leaving him completely vulnerable to the unrelenting press of Yibo’s cock, tunnelling deep inside of him.
Merciless, Yibo fucks in so deep that his heavy balls slap the underside of Xiao Zhan’s ass with every thrust, cockhead pushed deep enough that Yibo swears he can almost feel it from where he’s holding Xiao Zhan up with one broad palm pressed tight to his belly.
The thought of seeing Xiao Zhan’s flat belly distended with his cock, as unrealistic as it is, makes him shudder and swell even more, eliciting a cry from Xiao Zhan who’s already stretched to his limits. The loud, open-mouthed sob causes the silicone bit to drop from his mouth.
Jerking to a sudden stop, Yibo pulls out slowly, drawing another cry from Xiao Zhan.
“Shh, you did good, baobao,” he soothes, running a reassuring hand down his sides, shoving the heavy ache in his balls aside. “Where does it hurt?” He hurriedly moves to unclip the nipple clamps and runs gentle fingers over Xiao Zhan’s swollen nubs, kneading at the tender area around his areolas to soothe the discomfort.
Shaking his head, Xiao Zhan tries to push at Yibo so he can turn around. When he tries to speak, he stumbles over his words, interrupted by his own sobs. “I-I want to see your face,” his voice quivers, “Yibo, p-please.”
Shushing him, Yibo pulls him into his lap, undoing his blindfold with a simple tug before putting their foreheads together and cupping his face tenderly. “I’m here, baobao,” he croons, low and soft, so close that he’s all Xiao Zhan can see when he opens his eyes, blurry with tears.
On legs as unsteady as a fawn’s, Xiao Zhan gets on his knees, swaying and leaning his weight heavily on Yibo’s broad shoulders. With a faint sigh, he slides back down on Yibo’s still-hard cock, arms looped around Yibo’s neck to keep him close.
Yibo groans, leaning forward and giving into the urge to suckle at Xiao Zhan’s reddened nipples, laving at them gently as he controls the pace, rocking them slowly without any urgency even as Xiao Zhan tries to use his leverage to make Yibo move faster.
“Stop rushing,” Yibo says quietly, burying his face into the crook of Xiao Zhan’s neck. “I’m here, shhh.” At his words, Xiao Zhan wraps his arms tight around Yibo and presses his face into Yibo’s hair.
The more sedate pace ignites a slow-simmering desire in his belly, the new position seating Yibo so deeply inside of Xiao Zhan that he can barely tell where he ends and the other begins. In this strangely intimate place where only the two of them exist, Yibo finds himself unusually eloquent, the desire to give Xiao Zhan whatever he needs an urgent thrum in his chest.
“You’re so good for me, baobao,” Yibo whispers, as if sharing a secret that no one but Xiao Zhan will ever be privy to. “You’re everything I could’ve possibly dreamed of and more.”
He presses kisses to the line of his clavicle, scraping his teeth lightly along the jut of bone and relishing the quiver that elicits. “Baobei,” he sighs, almost prayerful, like a devotee at the feet of his chosen deity.
Yibo runs his nose down the side of Xiao Zhan’s neck, muffling the confession he had never meant to show the light of day into the damp skin there. “I could not have dreamed a better you.” His voice is so low that even he can barely hear himself.
The only warning he gets is the tightening of arms around him before Xiao Zhan comes with a hitched breath, the sudden orgasm taking him by surprise and drawing a quiet, high-pitched moan from him. His cock jumps between them, spurting tendrils of come between their bellies.
The swollen rim of Xiao Zhan’s ass gives a slight flutter before clamping down on his cock, the already tight fit becoming borderline painful, wrenching a low, desperate groan from Yibo as he follows right behind Xiao Zhan and comes, cock jerking hard as he spurts what feels like a week’s worth of spend into him.
They spent a few moments recovering from the quiet intensity of their mutual orgasm, their heavy breaths the only sound in the otherwise silent room.
Once Yibo is certain his hands will no longer shake if he stops clutching so tightly at Xiao Zhan, he makes quick work of untying Xiao Zhan, letting him rest heavily on him as he does so. Xiao Zhan is pliant in his arms, eyes closed and an oddly vulnerable and raw expression on his face.
Overwhelmed by the urge to care for this strangely docile version of Xiao Zhan, Yibo takes the still-damp towel he had used earlier to dry his hair —abandoned at the side of the bed, within easy reach— and uses it to rub Xiao Zhan down thoroughly, making sure he’s clean of bodily fluids before efficiently wiping himself down.
Xiao Zhan keeps his eyes shut, having only opened them when he requested to see Yibo’s face earlier. It’s only when Yibo reaches over to turn off the lights in the room that he lets his eyes slide open into the smallest sliver, just enough that he can slip directly into Yibo’s open arms and slot neatly into his embrace.
Holding him close, Yibo lets Xiao Zhan burrow into his chest, stroking and petting at his hair, neck, waist, and back, keeping up a constant stream of near-incoherent praise, feeling Xiao Zhan melting into his hold with every word.
“Baobao, you did so well,” he hums into his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple, “I’m so proud of you, you felt so good…” Yibo only trails off when he feels Xiao Zhan slipping into deeper slumber, the sounds of him snuffling into his shoulder growing softer until they fade into quiet, slumbering breaths.
Yibo doesn’t fall asleep for a long time, not knowing exactly what has changed, but knowing in his gut that Xiao Zhan will no longer be able to deny their relationship and keep their boundaries vague as he’s been doing.
He has half a mind to text his UNIQ brothers to ask for advice — in all the years they’ve been family, he has never felt the need to keep secrets from them. But something about what happened tonight feels sacred, a precious moment that he should share only with Xiao Zhan and that no others should ever be privy to.
Whatever it was that Xiao Zhan had started tonight, it would stay with them for the rest of their lives.
In the meantime, Yibo takes out his phone and settles in for a long search on the categories of sex play that shibari falls under, and figures he should probably also take the opportunity to research other categories, just in case.
There is no way he will let himself appear less knowledgeable than Lan Wangji about this… whatever this is.