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lan zhan

i just parked outside. are you ready to leave?

 

me

YES ill be right down

 

me

Ok actually give me like 5 mins the elevator is fucked again

 

lan zhan

🐰👍

 

me

You are so cute I'm going to strangle you

 

lan zhan

noted.

 

lan zhan

do you need a hand carrying your suitcase?

 

me

No I'm good thank u! B right down

 

lan zhan

🐰👍✨



Wei Ying finally tumbles out of his apartment building and into the street ten minutes later, just like he said he would, and finds Lan Zhan leaning against a UHaul van wedged neatly between two different patchwork sedans. He looks like a model, with his long glossy hair and his fancy wool cloak. "Hey," Wei Ying says, trotting up to him, letting his suitcase bump and jolt behind him on the icy sidewalk. "Thanks for waiting."

 

Lan Zhan pushes himself up from the van and opens the side door so Wei Ying can sling his suitcase in between Lan Zhan's suitcase and the baby grand he’s taking to his brother. "It was no trouble," Lan Zhan says. "You have everything? Chargers, wallet, keys?"

 

Wei Ying pats his various pockets theatrically. "Yep, yep, yep. Stove's off, heating's turned down, I peed like fifteen minutes ago, I should be good."

 

Lan Zhan nods in agreement and slams the side doors shut, then opens the passenger side door. "So far the heat has been slow," he says. "I imagine once we hit the interstate it'll warm up. I would take your coat off but keep your flannel on," he advises.

 

"Sounds good," Wei Ying says. He shrugs out of his poofy jacket and throws it over the back of the passenger seat, then climbs into the van after it. Lan Zhan makes sure all his fingers and feet are inside before closing his door and crossing in front of the van to the driver's side, unhooking the clasp at the collar of his cloak and sweeping it from his shoulders as he goes.

 

"Fuck me," Wei Ying mutters into the empty cab, just before Lan Zhan wrenches the driver's side door open. Lan Zhan is so. He’s so. He’s Wei Ying’s best friend and also Wei Ying is in love with him and also he is just so incredibly, unbelievably hot. Wei Ying can’t stand it sometimes, and in particular he can’t stand it when it seems like Lan Zhan might —

 

Like, he gets the vibe, sometimes, that Lan Zhan —

 

Lan Zhan climbs in and places his somehow already neatly-folded cloak on the center seat, accompanied by a breath of some sort of musky perfume. He's wearing fine black leather driving gloves. Wei Ying closes his eyes. Lan Zhan starts the van.

 

Wei Ying stays quiet as Lan Zhan peels the van out of his impeccable parallel parking job, and then he keeps quiet as Lan Zhan navigates out of the neighborhood, thinking about Yu-ayi snapping at the three kids in the backseat to shut their mouths until they got to the freeway and she didn't need to think. He's certain Lan Zhan wouldn't mind it if he talked, but — it's polite. And they're about to be stuck in this van for six or more hours, and Lan Zhan is doing him a favor. So.

 

As they cross the Hudson Lan Zhan says, "You're quiet," and Wei Ying laughs to himself.

 

"Ah, just thinkin’. Been a while since I've gone anywhere using anything other than the subway or my feet," he jokes.

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. "Me too. I had to make sure my license was still valid."

 

"And yet the driving gloves," Wei Ying observes. "What, you just happen to have them? They were just sitting around?"

 

"Yes," Lan Zhan says. "They were a birthday gift from my uncle."

 

"Wow," says Wei Ying. "Lan Qiren has a sense of style??"

 

Lan Zhan changes lanes to pass a truck with a donut decal on the side. "Driving gloves are old fashioned," he points out. "He's very conscientious about sunburn."

 

"I see," says Wei Ying.

 

"Also I suspect my brother helped advise," Lan Zhan admits.

 

"That makes more sense," Wei Ying agrees. "I would have bet your uncle would get you those like. Chinese mom oven mitt gloves. Those are real protection, I tell you!"

 

"They may have been on the table," Lan Zhan agrees, then, "Have you eaten?"

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying says, which is not technically a lie.

 

"Have you eaten in the last four hours?" Lan Zhan amends.

 

"Uhhhh," Wei Ying says.

 

"I'm hungry," Lan Zhan decides. "We'll stop before we hit 80."

 

"Fine, but I'm paying," Wei Ying says.

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says. "How was work?"

 

"Work was fine. No one needed a sub today so it was just the gas station and the bodega," Wei Ying says. "Adalina came by with baby Nene, they say hi."

 

"Hi Adalina," Lan Zhan says obediently. "Hi baby Rene." He is so fucking cute.

 

"You had class today?"

 

"Mn. Music theory for non-majors. I have a student who insists that there should be no such thing as an augmented unison," Lan Zhan sighs.

 

"Like, they're right," Wei Ying says.

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan pleads, and Wei Ying cackles. "What would you call it then."

 

"Hm? Oh, an augmented unison? I dunno, Lan Zhan, I'd call it an almost-unison, or something. Augmented almost-unison. Augmented whatever. Augmented good boy. No, augmented bad boy," Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan sighs. "But the whole idea of unisons is that they're exactly the same note. Lan Zhan! Once you kick one of them up a semitone, it's not the same note anymore! Come on, man!"

 

"Weren't you going to strangle me?" Lan Zhan asks. "That would be less painful than this."

 

Wei Ying throws his head back and laughs. Lan Zhan's gaze flickers to him and back to the road again. "Lan Zhan ah, strangulation is your punishment for being cute. Your punishment for being funny is I torture you with bad music theory opinions," Wei Ying informs him.

 

"Mmm," Lan Zhan says. "I see." 

 

Then he reaches over and, without taking his eyes off the road, cups one gloved hand around the back of Wei Ying's neck under his scarf.

 

When he doesn't do anything else, Wei Ying asks, "So, like, what are you doing right now? Just wondering."

 

"I'm strangling you," Lan Zhan says. He gives Wei Ying's nape a firm squeeze like a masseuse. "Is it not obvious?"

 

"Hhhhuh," Wei Ying says, as he feels his brain start melting out his ears. Lan Zhan swipes his thumb along Wei Ying's hairline, then withdraws his hand and places it back on the steering wheel again.

 

Like, vibes.



*



"Hey, Lan Zhan, look at me."

 

Lan Zhan looks up at him and Wei Ying snaps a picture on his phone: Lan Zhan, unimpressed and glorious, sitting in a sticky booth at a washed-out McDonalds with a pre-packaged apple slice sticking out of his mouth. His driving gloves are tucked away into a pocket somewhere, leaving the fine lines of his hands exposed. "Very handsome," Wei Ying tells him, putting his phone away.

 

Lan Zhan bites down on his apple slice, chews, swallows, and says, "Hmm. Eat your chicken nuggets."

 

"Yeah, sure, mister I'm Hungry, Let's Pull Over Soon," Wei Ying says. "I can't believe you only got apple slices. Isn't lying bad?"

 

"I was hungry for apple slices," Lan Zhan says, as if that's a reasonable thing to say. Then he reaches over and steals a french fry from Wei Ying's pile.

 

"I feel like it should be two am," Wei Ying observes. "Why isn't it two am? That's the best time to go to McDicks." Lan Zhan mouths McDicks to himself, which Wei Ying ignores. "Hey, is it supposed to snow while we're on the road, do you think?"

 

"It's supposed to be mostly clear," Lan Zhan says. "There'll be snow on the ground, but the most we should expect is some flurries."

 

"Nice," Wei Ying says. He kicks his feet and shoves his last chicken nugget into his mouth. Fuck, he can't wait to see his sister. He wishes he'd been able to fly out earlier, but Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan live in Silicon Valley, and he'd only had five days free around Christmas, and he didn't have eight hundred dollars to drop on flights anyway. So he'd gritted his teeth and demanded a steady rate of Jin Ling Pics on WeChat, and that had been enough.

 

Until now. Now Jiang Yanli and baby A-Ling (and Jin Zixuan, but, whatever) are touching down in O'Hare — maybe at this very moment — to spend Chinese New Year with the Jiangs, and Lan Zhan was driving out there anyway to deliver a piano (?) to his brother, and Wei Ying —

 

"Wei Ying."

 

"Huh?"

 

"You zoned out," Lan Zhan tells him. "Long day?"

 

Wei Ying finishes chewing his chicken nugget. "Yeah," he says, and slurps at his Hi-C. "Just thinkin'."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan agrees. "If you want to sleep now while I drive, you should. I'll want you to keep me up tonight."

 

Wei Ying stares into his empty box of chicken nuggets. I'll want you to keep me up tonight. I'll want you to keep me up tonight. I'll want you to keep me up tonight. "Yeah, sure. Good idea." He stuffs half a dozen fries into his mouth, then offers a single fry to Lan Zhan when he grimaces delicately.

 

Lan Zhan leans forward and eats it right from his fingers. 

 

Wei Ying says through his mouthful of fries, "Dude."

 

Lan Zhan's pink tongue darts out as he pulls the fry all the way into his mouth. "What," he says when he's eaten it.

 

Wei Ying swallows and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Nothing. I'm good to go if you are."

 

Lan Zhan places his empty apple slice bag onto Wei Ying's tray, then slides out of the booth and stands up. Wei Ying stands too and clears the tray while Lan Zhan wanders over to wait for him by the door, and then they're pushing back out into the frigid afternoon, squinting into the sunlight. Lan Zhan produces sunglasses from somewhere and perches them on his nose. Wei Ying takes another picture, then shrugs at Lan Zhan's minutely raised eyebrow.

 

Lan Zhan waits again while Wei Ying takes a minute to stretch outside before getting into the van again: rolling his ankles, cracking his back, flinging his fists into the air and arching his spine to make himself as long as possible.

 

He's halfway through a satisfied groan from trying to make his elbows touch behind his back when a hand appears low on his belly, two fingers and a thumb warm through his shirt and two fingers searingly hot against his bare skin where his shirt rode up. He opens his eyes to find Lan Zhan very close, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses. Wei Ying looks at him in surprise for a taut moment, until Lan Zhan finally takes the hem of Wei Ying's henley between his fingers, tugs it down to cover his skin, and says, "Let's go."

 

Wei Ying relaxes out of his stretch and watches in bafflement as Lan Zhan unlocks the van and climbs in. It only lasts a moment, though, and then he's trotting around to his side to haul himself in as well. The interior of the van has actually warmed up in the clear winter sun, despite the way their breaths cloud, and the grey pleather seat is pleasantly toasty. Wei Ying hangs out the door of the van to kick any snow off the bottoms of his shoes, then twists around to find Lan Zhan pulling the driving gloves back on.

 

"God, like, given the circumstances, I hate how sexy those gloves are," Wei Ying observes.

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says, snapping the wrist bits closed. "I try not to think about it. Their origins, not how sexy they are."

 

Wei Ying slides in the rest of the way, slams his door shut. He slumps against the window, lets the cold glass sink its fingers into his hair. So Lan Zhan does think they're sexy.

 

Wei Ying is still Thinking About That when they pull out of the McDonalds parking lot, and then Lan Zhan reaches over and taps his knee and says, "There's an aux cord. If you want it."

 

"Do I want it, he asks me," Wei Ying says, lurching forward to grab the cord. He wrestles the bottom half of his case off so the plug can fit all the way, then sits back to scroll through his music to find something they'll both like. He imagines Lan Zhan quietly tolerating mid-2000s American pop music. He imagines Lan Zhan humming along to weird instrumentals. He imagines Lan Zhan putting his hand on his knee again.

 

In the end he goes for weird. He selects an artist he knows he's sent to Lan Zhan, a mostly-instrumental Japanese album that he used to listen to while he studied. Sure enough, Lan Zhan gives a little grunt of recognition as the music starts, knows exactly how to tap the steering wheel with the meandering rhythm.

 

Once they've merged onto the freeway, Wei Ying shifts around to sit sideways with one foot up on the seat. Lan Zhan lets him have it for a beat, then says, "Sit properly."

 

Wei Ying groans. "Aiyoh, Lan Zhan. We're on the road for the next six hours, you can't expect me to sit properly the whole time."

 

"If you need to stretch, I'll pull over at a rest stop," Lan Zhan tells him. "When I'm driving I make the rules. You sit properly."

 

Wei Ying scoffs cheerfully and doesn't uncurl. "Yeah, what're you gonna do about it if I don't?"

 

Lan Zhan sucks on his teeth, then reaches over without taking his eyes off the road and puts his whole hand over Wei Ying's bent knee. He pushes slowly and firmly until Wei Ying's foot skids off the edge of the seat and drops into the footwell.

 

"Well," Wei Ying says.

 

Lan Zhan brings his hand back to the wheel.

 

Wei Ying watches him for a long moment. Then he pulls his knee back up, and makes it approximately two inches before Lan Zhan's hand shoots out and pushes it back down again. This time his hand stays there, not pushing anymore, just resting warm and solid just above Wei Ying's knee.

 

Wei Ying valiantly ignores his growing interest in Lan Zhan's hand on his thigh in favor of sitting up straight. He pats Lan Zhan's hand. "Ah, you. Alright, I'll sit nicely."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. "Thank you." He doesn't withdraw his hand, so Wei Ying steels himself and doesn't withdraw his, either.



*



Wei Ying doesn't really remember falling asleep, but when he wakes up it's to Lan Zhan squeezing his knee and saying, "Wei Ying."

 

"Mgmggmghgnrhrh," he manages.

 

Another squeeze. "You don't have to wake up all the way. Just look."

 

Wei Ying wills his bones to become solid again. He's so… warm… and so certain, in the way of the incredibly cozy, that if he moves now he will never be this comfortable again. Still, Lan Zhan is asking him to wake up, at least a little, so he does. "Mmm. 'm awake. Wassit?"

 

"Are you looking?" Lan Zhan asks him.

 

Oh. He is not looking. He pries his eyes open and peers in Lan Zhan's direction.

 

Lan Zhan is squinting at the road in front of them, his skin flushed orange and his hair burnished copper by the setting sun. His sunglasses are tilted up onto the crown of his head. "Oh," says Wei Ying, straightening from his slouch. This was worth waking up for after all.

 

Lan Zhan glances at him. His eyes are so brown. "Did you look?"

 

"Uh," Wei Ying says. "Maybe? What am I looking at?"

 

Lan Zhan gestures forwards with the hand that isn't still (!) on Wei Ying's thigh (!). "That."

 

Wei Ying wrenches his gaze from Lan Zhan and looks at the road, which is no longer asphalt. Instead it is paved with a million-million glittering citrine crystals. Instead of snow on the ground there are honey drifts; instead of trees there are fine black sculptures. Instead of a sky there is that orange-pink feeling of looking at Lan Zhan across a classroom, from the passenger seat of a car, across a greasy table at McDonalds. The sun is a flat red eye that stares at Wei Ying and says, Yeah, you're fucked.

 

Wei Ying looks back at Lan Zhan. "I like it," he croaks.

 

Lan Zhan sweeps his thumb absently across the outside of Wei Ying's knee. "Mn," he says, in a way that suggests he approves.

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says.

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says again.

 

Wei Ying fumbles around until he finds his phone wedged under one thigh. He takes a picture of the road in front of them, mostly just to keep up appearances, and then he turns his camera to Lan Zhan. Snap: Lan Zhan in profile, his eyes narrowed against the molten sun. Snap: Lan Zhan with his face just barely turned to Wei Ying, looking at him from the corner of his eye. Snap: Lan Zhan's gloved hand shiny-black on Wei Ying's matte-black joggers. Lan Zhan's fingers flex.

 

"Where are we?" Wei Ying asks.

 

"Pennsylvania still," says Lan Zhan. "We'll be in Pennsylvania for most of today."

 

"Hmm. The ol' PA," Wei Ying mumbles. He squirms around in his seat to crack his back in one direction, then the other, and dislodges Lan Zhan's hand in the process. When he finishes rolling his ankles out, he settles back into the seat and waits patiently for Lan Zhan to put his hand back on his knee, but it remains stubbornly at 2 o'clock on the wheel. He says, "Hm," again.

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan echoes. "Alright?"

 

"Mmmmnnn. Yeah, I'm good," Wei Ying sighs. Then, bravely, he adds: "I was a little better a couple minutes ago."

 

Lan Zhan… droops. Just a little bit. A loosening of his shoulders; a softening around his mouth. After a moment he says stiffly, "I apologize."

 

"Hah?"

 

"It was silly to wake you," Lan Zhan says without looking at him. 

 

"What — oh my god, Lan Zhan, no, that's not what I meant at all," Wei Ying tells him desperately. "I was — I'm glad you woke me up, it's really beautiful. I meant. Like." Wow! This is so embarrassing! This is the worst! "Oh my god. Give me your hand."

 

Lan Zhan glances over at him and offers his hand. Wei Ying grabs it with both hands and places it firmly on his thigh, a couple inches up from his knee. "There," he says. His face and throat are so hot. He pulls one hand up to his mouth and stares resolutely out the window. "That's what I meant."

 

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

 

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

 

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying chokes. "That's good. That's perfect."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan agrees. Wei Ying sneaks a glance at him; his ears are visibly pink even in the golden light of sunset. Wei Ying's heart thuds heavily. He looks away again.

 

"How do you feel about Jopping? I'm gonna put on Jopping," he says weakly. Then he puts on Jopping. Lan Zhan lasts almost a whole minute before he starts tapping Wei Ying's knee to the beat. Wei Ying mumbles, "This song slaps so fucking hard," because it does.

 

Lan Zhan makes a skeptical sound.

 

Wei Ying swings his head around to look at him and crows, "That is such a fucking lie!"

 

"I literally did not say anything," Lan Zhan says.

 

"You went mn in that way you have," Wei Ying dismisses. "The judgmental way. Anyway, I know you think Jopping slaps because you told me so yourself."

 

"Did I," Lan Zhan says mildly.

 

"Uh, yeah," Wei Ying says. "Remember last year when you went to that mixer with your cohort and White Ryan gave you a hard kombucha quote-quote-quote by accident unquote-unquote-unquote —" Wei Ying fucking hates White Ryan. "— and Anjali ended up calling me on your phone because I was the only contact with emojis in my name, so I came and got you?"

 

"I recall," Lan Zhan says wretchedly.

 

"We had a very enlightening subway ride home," Wei Ying says. "You were like, I don't even like kombucha. It was so sad."

 

"I don't like kombucha," Lan Zhan agrees.

 

"I know, baby. Anyway, we were on the W and I was like, physically holding you up, and you started mumbling the Jopping rap to yourself," Wei Ying tells him. "You were totally straight faced. It was the best thing that's ever happened to me. It was so cute I wanted to cry."

 

Lan Zhan's ears are dark again. "I see."

 

"I was like, Lan Zhan, is that Jopping? And you were like Yeeaahhhhh and I was like First of all —"

 

Wei Ying stops abruptly, because the true first of all of that day and also every single other day is I am in love with you. Then, as now, he had to quickly think of some other thing to say. He clears his throat and says, "Uh, First of all, I can't believe you know the Korean parts, and second of all, you like Jopping? And you just said, It's catchy. And I was like, Word."

 

"It wouldn't be hard for you to memorize the Korean parts phonetically," Lan Zhan says, as if he might not be speaking from personal experience. 

 

"That is so incredibly not the point," Wei Ying tells him, right as the song in question ends. Wei Ying quickly opens his phone and starts it over from the beginning, earning a nobly put-upon look from Lan Zhan. "Also obviously I know the Korean parts too. I was just surprised you did."

 

"Mmmn," Lan Zhan says.

 

"CAUSE WHEN WE JUMPING AND POPPING WE JOPPING," Wei Ying yells, instead of unbuckling his seatbelt and crawling into Lan Zhan's lap and kissing his throat the way that Mmmn warranted.

 

He sings along loudly to the rest of the song, and then he switches to an album Lan Zhan has actually admitted to liking, and he ends up singing along to that too — not because he's trying to be annoying, but because Lan Zhan had sent him the link to this album in junior year with no commentary, and Wei Ying had immediately spent the next three weeks listening to it on loop.

 

It takes less than half the album for the sun to duck below the horizon, and the burning orange of the sky turns into a soft glow of purple. By the time Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan to pump his fists in enthusiasm and exclaim, "Listen to that key change! Shit!," the inside of the van is all washed in blue, and the slight soft answering curve of Lan Zhan's mouth is only just visible. 

 

With the sun down and the heat having been turned off earlier, it doesn't take long for the cab to cool down, so Wei Ying twists around to try to grab his coat from the back — but the bench seat prevents him from being able to reach the floor behind him, and his coat remains treacherously out of reach.

 

"Are you cold?" Lan Zhan asks.

 

"I'm fine," Wei Ying sighs, turning back around. "Do you mind if I turn the heat on?"

 

"It is on," Lan Zhan says.

 

Wei Ying leans closer to the dash to fiddle with the dials. "... Ah," he says. "So it is."

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says, sounding concerned. He removes his hand from Wei Ying's leg and finds his folded-up cloak on the middle seat between them, pulls it half onto Wei Ying's lap. "You could use my cloak as a blanket."

 

"You don't mind?" Wei Ying checks, although he is already unfolding the cloak. Lan Zhan doesn't say things he doesn't mean.

 

"Please," Lan Zhan says, so Wei Ying wraps the cloak around himself like a zongzi and gets snuggly. The cloak is fine wool dyed a soft dove gray, and at the collar it smells like Lan Zhan's perfume. Wei Ying tucks his nose into it and inhales once, twice.

 

"You can have your hand back now," he says into the cloak, so that Lan Zhan will stop hovering his hand uncertainly over the obscured lump of Wei Ying's lap. "Thanks for indulging me."

 

"Mm," says Lan Zhan, sounding a little disappointed. He returns his right hand to the steering wheel. 

 

Wei Ying sinks deeper into the cloak and feels it gradually warm up around him. It smells so good. "D'you think I have time to take another nap? Before you need me awake again," he wonders.

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. "It's not late yet. I'll wake you again if I need to."

 

"Okay," Wei Ying says, and closes his eyes,



*



Wei Ying begins the journey to wakefulness with the slowing of the van, and then the shift into parking gets him the rest of the way there. He keeps his eyes closed and listens to Lan Zhan unbuckle his seatbelt, then open the door, slide out, and close it. A moment of silence, then the muffled sound of the gas tank cover being opened, the cap unscrewed. A gas station, then. Wei Ying blinks his eyes open, then winces at the buzzing, too-bright fluorescent lights and pulls the cloak up over his head.

 

That's better, he thinks. Funny how warm a cloak can keep you. And here he's been wasting his time with a stupid poofy jacket that doesn't even have any panache at all. Lan Zhan is so smart. Lan Zhan is so stylish. Lan Zhan is so...

 

Wei Ying emerges from the cloak like a turtle to peer across the interior of the van and out the window. All he can see of Lan Zhan is the sort of middle segment of his body, starting halfway down his upper arm and ending around his waist. Today he's wearing an oversized light blue sweater over a black turtleneck, which Wei Ying personally thinks is ingenious; he watches Lan Zhan's doubled sleeves move as he removes the gas nozzle from the station and feels incredibly fond.

 

Lan Zhan shoves the gas nozzle into the side of the car, and then, in his most devastating move yet, he holds himself a little around the waist. Because it's below freezing, and he's only wearing his day clothes, because Wei Ying is wearing his cloak. Wei Ying, who is inside the stupid van and doesn't need it, not really, and he's got a coat in the back anyway, he was just lazy.

 

Wei Ying unbuckles his seatbelt, kicks the door open, and slides out of the van on jellied legs. Fuck, it's cold out.

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, looking up as Wei Ying comes around the front of the van. "We needed gas. Did I wake you?"

 

Wei Ying ignores him for now in favor of reaching up to wrap the cloak around his shoulders so they're wrapped up together. "Sorry," he croaks, leaning into Lan Zhan's shoulder. "You must be freezing."

 

Lan Zhan is surprise-stiff against him for a moment, but then he relaxes and curls his free arm around Wei Ying's back and pulls him closer. "I was fine," he says. "I'm wearing a sweater. And gloves."

 

"A sweater is not enough in this hellscape," Wei Ying grumbles. "Also, please believe that I am so, so aware that you are wearing gloves, and I am also aware that your gloves are for being sexy and not getting sunburned. They provide absolutely no cold weather help at all. So don't start with me."

 

"Hmmmm," Lan Zhan says into Wei Ying's hair. "Wei Ying is right once again."

 

"Mhm," Wei Ying agrees, pressing closer sleepily. "Crazy how I'm always right."

 

"Mmmn," Lan Zhan says. "Always?"

 

"Yeah, like, literally every time," Wei Ying says. He squeezes Lan Zhan's chest and rocks him back and forth a little. "This is better, right? It's warmer?"

 

"Mn. Much better," Lan Zhan says, and then, "The tank is full."

 

"Hm," Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan carefully disengages or pulls out or whatever you do with gas nozzles. They coordinate without speaking: Wei Ying frees one hand from his embrace of Lan Zhan and sticks it out into the cold to screw the cap back onto the tank and close the cover while Lan Zhan puts the nozzle back and pays. Wei Ying tucks his face into Lan Zhan's neck and smiles, smiles.

 

"What are you smiling about," Lan Zhan murmurs.

 

"I don't know why you think I'm smiling," Wei Ying tells the collar of his turtleneck. "Who's smiling? Not me."

 

"I see," Lan Zhan says. "I must have been mistaken. I thought I heard your lips part."

 

Okay!!! "Is that so," Wei Ying says, as he feels his entire face flush. "I didn't realize that was the sort of thing one could hear."

 

"It is. It sounds like this," Lan Zhan says, and then he tilts his face so that his mouth is next to Wei Ying's ear, and then, yes: the smallest sound imaginable, a tiny kiss of a mouth sound.

 

There is no way Lan Zhan cannot feel how hard Wei Ying's heart is beating in his chest. He makes a helpless sound through his nose, a little ngh that he immediately feels embarrassed about, and realizes that if he doesn't step away from Lan Zhan soon he'll really embarrass himself. But he doesn't want to step away; he wants to cling and share breath and be subject to Lan Zhan's sly eroticism until his knees give out. He wants Lan Zhan to press him back against the side of the van and kiss him under the too-bright lights of the gas station. He wants Lan Zhan's hands on the back of his head, his hips, his —

 

Lan Zhan's mouth, open and soft and hot at the curve of his ear: too aimless, too imprecise to be called a kiss. Wei Ying really does shiver against him. "It's cold," Lan Zhan says, so quiet. "We should keep going."

 

You should keep going, Wei Ying valiantly does not say. Instead he breathes, "Yeah," and steps away after all, pulls the cloak back from where it's draped over Lan Zhan's shoulders. Lan Zhan's hand sweeps across his waist as they separate.

 

Wei Ying, of course, has to walk back around the front of the van to reach his door, so Lan Zhan is already seated and buckled in by the time he's sliding into the passenger seat. His posture is always excellent, but he's holding his arms a little closer to his sides than normal now, his knees drawn together. Their breaths fog between them in the severe half-light, half-dark of the van.

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying says, "Do you want —?"

 

And what he means is, Do you want your cloak back, and I'll grab my puffy coat from the back, but what Lan Zhan says is, "Please," before reaching up to the ceiling and drawing down the retractable seat belt for the center seat. He clicks the first part into place and looks up at Wei Ying expectantly.

 

Wei Ying smiles slow and big, then scoots across the bench seat to press their shoulders together as he buckles in. He has to tilt his legs to the side to get them to fit against the inwards bulge of the dash and the main footwells, but that just means he has to lean farther into Lan Zhan's space. Once satisfied he reaches over and drapes one side of the cloak around Lan Zhan's far shoulder, hyperaware of how close they are, of Lan Zhan's breath on his face, the crush of their shoulders. "There," he whispers, tucking the cloak in between Lan Zhan's body and the seat. "Now you'll be nice and cozy."

 

Lan Zhan is still and quiet underneath him. Leaned across him like this, Wei Ying is about eye level with his mouth. He sees it — hears it, again — when Lan Zhan's lips part. He grips Lan Zhan's shoulder, breathes in. Says, "Lan Zhan."

 

Lan Zhan's eyes are so dark. He says, "Wei —"

 

Somebody honks their horn behind them, shockingly loud in the crystal quiet of the night, and the moment shatters. They both jolt in their seats, and Wei Ying falls back into the middle seat with a shaky laugh, and Lan Zhan shrugs his hands out from under the cloak — oh, yeah, he couldn't have driven like that anyway, could he? — and shoves the key into the ignition, pulls away from the pump.

 

"Shit," Wei Ying creaks. "Gave me a heart attack."

 

"We were blocking the pump," Lan Zhan says, too calm, as he pulls into a parking space in front of the gas station. "I'm going to get tea. Do you want anything?"

 

"Ah ah ah, let me buy, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying protests. "You just paid for gas."

 

"No, I have," Lan Zhan starts, but Wei Ying shushes him and unbuckles his seatbelt again.

 

"Sweetheart, it's two dollars, I can spare two dollars for you," he insists. "You want any snacks? I can see if they have pretzels or something. You can't only eat apple slices."

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says. His ears are pink again. "Please. Whatever looks good."

 

"Okay," Wei Ying says, and goes.



*



Cloak: re-tucked carefully around their waists. Premade sandwiches: mediocre, but edible. Gas station tea: steeped, bag discarded, deemed acceptable, placed carefully in the cupholder. Gatorade: blue, the kind with the nipple top (superior). 

 

"It's not a nipple," Lan Zhan tells him as he pulls out of the parking lot.

 

"It's a nipple," Wei Ying insists. "You put it in your mouth and suck on it. Like a baby bottle. Obviously it's a nipple."

 

"Wo de tian," Lan Zhan mutters.

 

"Weren't you just saying I was always right?" Wei Ying wonders. "I think you were."

 

"That was you," Lan Zhan says. "I said you were right once."

 

"Well I'm right again. Like, what else would you call it, if not a nipple?"

 

Lan Zhan is silent the entire time it takes to get to the onramp and then merge onto the freeway.

 

"There's nothing else. There's no better way to call it," Wei Ying says. "It's a nipple, Lan Zhan."

 

"Twist top," Lan Zhan suggests.

 

"All bottle caps twist off, that's a terrible name," Wei Ying dismisses.

 

"Sucker," says Lan Zhan.

 

"Excuse me?" says Wei Ying.

 

"Another name for it," Lan Zhan clarifies. "Because you suck on it."

 

"Yeah, and you suck on nipples too," Wei Ying says.

 

"I see," Lan Zhan says. Then, incredibly casually, "Do I?"

 

Wei Ying covers his face with his hands. He asked for this! He started it! "It was a rhetorical you," he says uselessly, and then because he can't not take Lan Zhan's bait every fucking time, he cries, "I don't know, do you???" 

 

Lan Zhan makes a considering sound. Merges left to pass an eighteen wheeler. Merges right again. "The opportunity has not presented itself," he says at last. "But I would not be opposed." Another long, excruciating pause. A snowflake hits their windshield and skims off. "Hm. Not opposed at all."

 

Wei Ying is abruptly much too hot. He clears his throat. "Cool. Great. I love that." He is thinking about putting his mouth on Lan Zhan's chest. About Lan Zhan putting his mouth on Wei Ying's chest. "Great weather we're having."

 

Lan Zhan huffs a tiny laugh. "Mn," he agrees, and he reaches down and tentatively puts his hand back on Wei Ying's thigh. It isn't quite the same with the added layer of the cloak between them, but it's still enough to set Wei Ying's entire head on fire.

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying says, pressing up into his palm so he knows it's allowed.

 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Lan Zhan says, "What if I," and then he draws his gloved fingers lightly up the inside of Wei Ying's thigh, almost to his crotch, and then back down towards his knee. With the cloak in the way Wei Ying can really barely feel it, but the visual — Lan Zhan's hand pressing a groove into the cloak over Wei Ying's lap, outlining exactly where his legs part —

 

"Huh," Wei Ying says into his fist, which is pretty articulate given that his entire brain just narrowed down to the points of contact between them. Lan Zhan strokes him again. "Hhhhhuuuhhh." His fucking gloves. 

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says in satisfaction, and replaces his hand where it was.

 

"You're a menace," Wei Ying tells him when he can breathe again. "Wo de fucking tian."

 

"I can stop," Lan Zhan offers.

 

"Like, you could," Wei Ying agrees hysterically. "Or. Fuck. We have another two hours on the road."

 

"Probably more like three," Lan Zhan says. His grip on the wheel is pulling his glove tight across his knuckles. Wei Ying feels wild, uncontrollable.

 

"Shit," he says. "Shit. Lan Zhan, let's —" Lan Zhan's fingers tighten on his leg. "I can't believe I'm saying this. Let's table this for now, okay? Let's just make it to Cleveland."

 

Lan Zhan inhales. "Cleveland," he agrees. He withdraws his hand, which is really too bad but also certainly the wise choice. Then, just once, a little ragged: "Wei Ying."

 

What a fucking gutpunch. "Yeah?" Wei Ying says, screwing his eyes shut. "What's up, Lan Zhan."

 

"Could you play a podcast," Lan Zhan says. "About insects or stars or something."

 

Wei Ying finally looks over at him. Lan Zhan is staring resolutely at the road. "You're cute," Wei Ying laughs breathlessly, "You're so cute, I like you so much. Holy shit. Yeah, I'll put on a podcast for you."

 

Lan Zhan puts the knuckles of one hand to his mouth. Wei Ying wants to fucking kiss him. Instead he tears his eyes away and puts on a podcast about pelicans.



*



One hour later it's snowing lightly, the freeway has narrowed to single lanes going both directions, and the van has slowed to a crawl in the dark. Also, Wei Ying knows marginally more about pelicans than he did when the evening began, and a lot more about what it's like to be pressed against Lan Zhan knowing they're both sitting there broiling in desire and unable to do anything about it at all. Lan Zhan's hand is heavy on his leg, and warm after all, given the time to seep through the cloak. When the podcast outro music fades, Wei Ying pauses it and slumps against Lan Zhan's shoulder with a huff. Lan Zhan untangles his hand from between them and reaches up to rub his back, grip his shoulder.

 

"Good boy," Wei Ying sighs. "That's nice." Lan Zhan hums in agreement and scritches his back. Wei Ying nuzzles his shoulder and wishes, not for the first time, that they were not actively in a car.

 

"What time is it," Lan Zhan asks.

 

Wei Ying tips his phone up to look at it. "Almost ten. Poor Lan Zhan, it's past your bedtime."

 

"Mn. Keep me awake?" Lan Zhan murmurs.

 

Wei Ying stills against him. 

 

"... Ah?" he says. His heart is in his cheeks again, is pounding in his ears. "Like, um…" His mouth has gone dry. He licks his lips. "What do you have in mind?"

 

It's not too late for Lan Zhan to say something like, Play twenty questions with me? Or maybe, Tell me a story. It's not too late for that.

 

Lan Zhan does not say those things. Lan Zhan pulls his fingers up through the hair at the base of Wei Ying's skull and breathes, "Give me something to listen to."

 

Wei Ying stiffens and shudders and rubs his face into Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Do you mean that," he says, "Lan Zhan, baobei, do you mean it like I think you mean it?"

 

"Yes," Lan Zhan says. "Wei Ying. I mean it." He tugs on Wei Ying's hair. "If you want to. I'd like that."

 

"Do I want to," Wei Ying mutters, as he shoves his hands under the cloak to furiously untie the drawstring of his joggers. "You are so. You make me so. I've been fucking half hard since I saw your fucking gloves."

 

"I wore them for you," Lan Zhan admits, and Wei Ying keens into his sweater. Lan Zhan brings his hand down again to squeeze the back of Wei Ying's neck, which makes his vision blur with how good it is, and then he carefully extricates himself again and places his hand on the wheel for once. 

 

Wei Ying makes a sound of complaint. That hand was doing so well where it was.

 

Lan Zhan clears his throat and says, "I can drive one-handed, or I can listen. But not both."

 

"Okay," Wei Ying says, "Okay, yeah," and he finally — finally! — slips his hand under his briefs. "This is a new one for me," he informs Lan Zhan as he curls his fingers around his rapidly hardening cock. "I just want you to know that."

 

"You don't fuck yourself in cars all the time?" Lan Zhan wonders, and Wei Ying shudders again. Fuck yourself.

 

"Wash your mouth out," Wei Ying says weakly.

 

"Wait until we've parked," Lan Zhan says.

 

"What, to scold you for your language?"

 

Lan Zhan clears his throat and says, very low, "To wash my mouth out."

 

Wei Ying's cock jumps in his hand. "What the fuck," he breathes. "What the fuck. Lan Zhan. Are you, like, horny?"

 

Wei Ying can hear it when Lan Zhan's hands tighten on the steering wheel; the leather squeaks against the plastic grip. He can't stop staring at Lan Zhan's face, how his jaw keeps working. "Was that not clear?" Lan Zhan asks.

 

"No I mean I know you're. Oh my god. I know you're horny right now, but like, as a person?"

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says.

 

Snowflakes sweep across the windshield, visible so briefly in the dark. The closest vehicle is a pair of tail lights in the distance. Wei Ying wants Lan Zhan to say his name again. He says, "Lan Zhan."

 

Lan Zhan says again, "Wei Ying," in his quiet voice. A little frayed at the edges.

 

Wei Ying grips himself tighter, pulls up slowly. Breathes out shaky and careful. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he exhales, and "Mnh," and then he sort of giggles and says, "I've lost the thread. Lan Zhan, what was I saying?"

 

Lan Zhan hums, too casual. "You were expressing surprise at my language," he says, which is such a euphemism that Wei Ying can't help but to laugh breathlessly.

 

"It's all your dirty one-liners. So slick, Lan Zhan." He shifts in his seat, widens his legs a little. "Do you come up with them on the spot or do you have a few sitting on your tongue waiting to be used?"

 

"On the spot," Lan Zhan says easily. "You leave yourself wide open."

 

Wei Ying's hand stutters on his cock. He swallows. "I… uh…"

 

"Give me your hand?" Lan Zhan requests. Wei Ying offers him his left hand, which is the one not currently wrapped around his cock. Lan Zhan waves it away. "Other hand."

 

"Uhhhhh," Wei Ying says, but he figures Lan Zhan knows what he's getting into, so he offers his right hand.

 

Lan Zhan takes his hand off the wheel briefly to wrap his fingers around Wei Ying's wrist. "May I," he says.

 

Wei Ying does not really know what he's asking permission to do, but at this point Lan Zhan could do whatever he fucking wanted and Wei Ying would be down for it, so he says, "Sure."

 

Lan Zhan brings Wei Ying's palm to his mouth and presses a kiss to it, breathes in through his nose. Wei Ying shuts his eyes, bites his lip. Lan Zhan kisses his palm again, and then — and then —

 

His tongue is impossibly hot against the cup of Wei Ying's palm, and wet, and softer than Wei Ying would have thought. Lan Zhan licks him once, twice, makes a little sound into his hand, kisses it again. All while watching the fucking road. Then he purses his lips and licks Wei Ying's palm again, and this time he leaves hot spit pooling in the curve of his hand before releasing his wrist. Lan Zhan says roughly, "There," and puts his own hand back on the steering wheel.

 

"Hhhuuh," Wei Ying wheezes, taking his hand back. He stares at his slick palm, curls his fingers down to drag them through the saliva. "That's revolting," he says dimly. "That's so gross. I want you to do that in my mouth." Lan Zhan's spit. 

 

Lan Zhan makes a sound. Wei Ying lowers his hand and wraps it again, hot and spit-slick, around his cock. "Fuck," he gasps, dragging his hand up. "Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan. You're so fucking smart. Good boy." Lan Zhan makes another noise, and Wei Ying laughs and leans over to kiss his shoulder. "I wish," he starts, and then he gets distracted in the hot glide of his hand, how the wet sounds are so unmistakable in the chamber of the van. He smothers a moan in Lan Zhan's sweater, his cheeks heating uncontrollably.

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says quietly. "You can be loud. If you want to."

 

That's right — he did ask for something to listen to. Wei Ying turns his face back forward but remains slumped against Lan Zhan, grips himself tighter until he can feel his own pulse against his palm before loosening his grip again with a punched-out noise. "Can't believe you," he murmurs. "Nnh. Lan Zhan, Zhanzhan, you're getting off on this, right?" Lan Zhan sucks in a breath through his teeth. Wei Ying throws his head back and lets himself pant the way he wants to.

 

"What are you thinking about?" Lan Zhan asks.

 

"You!" Wei Ying half-wails. "Is that not fucking obvious? Ah, ah, Lan Zhan, you think I could sit here using your spit to, to jerk off next to you, and think about anything else?" He twists his hand and shudders. "Fuck. Ugh, fuck, Lan Zhan, I — I wish I could, I want to get my mouth on you," he whispers desperately. "I want — hah — I wanna crawl into your lap and, and suck on your neck, like, under your ear, and — mn, mn — I want your tongue in my mouth and your fingers in my mouth and — ah, Lan Zhan, I wanna blow you, I wanna —" 

 

Lan Zhan is breathing heavily now too, his breaths coming in short, tight puffs. Wei Ying squirms in his seat and fucks up into his hand. He's on a roll now. "I want you to like. Put your hhhands in my hair, and guide me down to your cock, and then I — oh, fuck, Lan Zhan, I wanna just press my face into your pants, I wanna smell you  — nnh, I bet you smell so good — and I want you to f-fuck my mouth," he gasps. "I've never — hah — blown anyone but I bet I would be so good at it, Lan Zhan, I would be so good for you —"

 

Lan Zhan tenses in the dark next to him, and for a split second Wei Ying thinks I've crossed a line, and then Lan Zhan inhales sharply and breathes out a low nnh, and his hips give a tiny upwards jerk, once, twice, three times, and his fists go so tight on the steering wheel that the leather creaks.

 

Wei Ying stares at him. Lan Zhan shudders once more, and after a long moment his posture relaxes into something boneless and new, and his mouth is dark and open. He flicks his eyes over at Wei Ying.

 

Wei Ying comes with a cry, and only just barely has the forethought to catch it in his hand.

 

There's a long slow mile during which Wei Ying thunks his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes and thinks about nothing at all, just works on regaining the ability to breathe and maybe, if he's very lucky, form words. Just when he thinks he might be able to say, Did you just come from that? Did you just come in your pants from nothing but my big dumb mouth?, Lan Zhan reaches over and wraps shaky fingers around Wei Ying's wrist. Wei Ying opens his eyes; Lan Zhan's gaze is still on the fucking road. He gently guides Wei Ying's cum-wet hand off himself.

 

"Oh, shit," Wei Ying mumbles. "Oh, you're right, I should — I don't wanna get cum on your…"

 

Lan Zhan brings Wei Ying's hand to his mouth and starts licking it. Again. Wei Ying presses his hand closer to Lan Zhan's mouth, like, I've got this, you can let go, and Lan Zhan releases his wrist, grips the steering wheel again as Wei Ying opens his hand for his mouth. This time Lan Zhan keeps making these soft little noises into Wei Ying's palm, little wanting sounds kissed and sucked into his skin. Wei Ying turns his hand, spreads his fingers so Lan Zhan can lick him clean.

 

"For the record," Wei Ying says, as he watches Lan Zhan curl his tongue between his index and middle fingers, "if I were driving I would have run us off the damn road about forty-five minutes ago."

 

"Mmmnn," Lan Zhan says. "I'm paying attention." He kisses Wei Ying's palm again. "You taste good."

 

Wei Ying closes his eyes and shivers. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. He opens his eyes again and strokes the tips of his fingers across Lan Zhan's jaw where they're resting. "Wish I could kiss you," he mumbles. "I wanna taste myself in your mouth." Lan Zhan shivers against him, presses a humming moan into his hand. Wei Ying shifts his hand to press his thumb slowly into Lan Zhan's open mouth, and Lan Zhan takes it easily, runs his tongue against the pad of it. "You really came just like that, huh?" Wei Ying curls his fingers around Lan Zhan's jaw to hold his chin, fucks his thumb gently against his tongue. "Lan Zhan, can I see?"

 

He removes his thumb from Lan Zhan's mouth so he can answer. Lan Zhan purses his lips to suck a kiss onto his thumb anyway, and Wei Ying laughs. "Is that a yes? I really wanna, Lan Zhan, you have no idea."

 

"I do," Lan Zhan tells him, "have an idea," which — — — 

 

Fuck.

 

Wei Ying draws his wet hand down Lan Zhan's throat, strokes his fingers down his chest. He can feel Lan Zhan breathing, can feel the muscles of his abdomen tensing in anticipation. He spends a moment just petting him — okay, feeling him up — before ducking his hand under the hem of Lan Zhan's sweater to feel his way down. His turtleneck is tucked into the high waist of his — whatever he's wearing, Wei Ying hasn't figured out whether it's a skirt or really wide-legged trousers. There's about equal chance of both, with Lan Zhan — and runs his fingers along the waist of it, whatever it is. "Okay?" he asks.

 

Lan Zhan shifts in his seat, hitches his hips up into Wei Ying's hand, says, "Mn. There's a tie on your side."

 

Wei Ying finds the tie and picks it loose, then slips his fingers below his waistband, and then below a second softer waistband that feels too thick to be underwear. It might be leggings, he doesn't know. When he reaches the lower hem of Lan Zhan's turtleneck, he slides his fingers under that, too, presses his palm flat against the soft heat of Lan Zhan's belly; when he spreads his fingers, he finds his thumb over the dip of Lan Zhan's naval, his little finger brushing coarse hair that's wet with sweat and cum. Lan Zhan exhales carefully. Wei Ying smears a kiss into his shoulder again and pushes down, and —

 

"Oh," he says, and then, "You're still hard," and then, "Wait, holy shit, your dick is so big. Wait, what the fuck."

 

Bemused: "Wei Ying."

"No, wait, give me a minute to process this. You like. You feel so good in my hand. Wow." Wei Ying gives him an admiring squeeze, and Lan Zhan grunts in surprise. Or something. Wei Ying doesn't even mind that his hand is getting covered in cum again, he's so pleased by this discovery. "I can't believe you've been packing this this whole time and you didn't even tell me!"

 

"Was I supposed to have told you?"

 

"Uh, yeah. Nie Huaisang certainly would have told me if his dick was this big, are you kidding? It would be like the only thing we'd ever talk about," Wei Ying tells him. "I'd be like, Hey Nie-xiong, how's it hanging? and he'd be like Hey Wei-xiong, just about nine inches!"

 

"Don't talk about Nie Huaisang with your hand down my skirt," Lan Zhan says. Then, skeptically, "Nine inches?"

 

"So it is a skirt," Wei Ying says to himself.

 

"Hm?"

 

"Nothing! Nothing." Wei Ying strokes him soothingly, running his knuckles through the cum soaking into the front of Lan Zhan's underwear in the process. It would be gross except for the part where it's unbelievably, searingly hot. Lan Zhan's cock moves a little in his hand.

 

"There's an exit coming up," Lan Zhan tells him. "With a hotel." His voice has gone a little strained again.

 

"Mmmmmn. I see," Wei Ying says. He rubs his fingers up and down the warm, sticky underside of Lan Zhan's cock, admiring the shape, the weight of it. "We're still about an hour out from Cleveland, right?"

 

"Yes," Lan Zhan says. "We can leave early tomorrow."

 

"Hm," Wei Ying says. He withdraws his hand, careful not to get cum on the outside of Lan Zhan's clothing. "Take the exit," he decides, and sticks his fingers in his mouth. Lan Zhan makes a sound like he's been kicked in the chest. Wei Ying watches his gloved fingers spasm on the steering wheel and gives a pleased hum. "Lan Zhan?"

 

"Yes," Lan Zhan manages. He reaches down and flicks the turn signal on viciously.

 

Wei Ying relaxes into his seat and licks his fingers clean again. "You taste good, too."

 

"Ngh," Lan Zhan says, and then they're silent as he takes the exit and follows the signs to the hotel, just off the crossroad. They pull into the dark parking lot of the hotel; they park; Wei Ying goes to unbuckle his seatbelt.

 

"Wow, we're really gonna have to hit every inch of this van with Lysol wipes, huh," he starts, and then he looks up, and Lan Zhan kisses him. 

 

"Oh," Wei Ying says against his mouth before pressing forward and kissing him back. Lan Zhan's mouth still tastes like cum, like Wei Ying's cum, which sets him on fucking fire.

 

The angle isn't great, so Wei Ying does his best to climb into Lan Zhan's lap without breaking the kiss or honking the horn with his ass, and then he does in fact honk the horn with his ass and Lan Zhan startles below him. "Oh shit," Wei Ying mumbles, "Oops, maybe we should rearrange," and then Lan Zhan is putting his hands on Wei Ying's chest and pushing, guiding him back down onto the bench seat before leaning up over him. Wei Ying is pretty flexible, he likes to think, so he flings one leg up over the back of the driver's seat and lets his other leg drape over Lan Zhan's lap into the footwell. The crown of his head is mere centimeters away from the passenger side door. Lan Zhan looms over him with big dark eyes, his gloved hands splayed over Wei Ying's waist.

 

"Hey," Wei Ying says, "hey, what are you still doing up there? Come down here and kiss me," and Lan Zhan does. 

 

Wei Ying is not what you might call an experienced kisser, but he has some practice kissing his hand (shut up) and it's basically the same concept, except for how absolutely everything is different. First of all, his hands don't have tongues or teeth, which Lan Zhan seems more than happy to put to use; second of all, his hands can't pant or make little seeking sounds against him; third of all, most of Lan Zhan's body is now draped over his, pressing him into the pleather bench seat with one hand in his hair and the other exploring the lower hem of his shirt, and that's new, too.

 

"We're gonna steam up the windows," Wei Ying mumbles into Lan Zhan's mouth. "Like. Mmnnnnn, like Titanic."

 

Lan Zhan kisses down his throat. "I haven't seen Titanic," he admits, before sucking a circle of skin into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth.

 

"Hhuuuhhhh," Wei Ying says, reaching up to clutch Lan Zhan's head to himself. "Well there's — ummm — there's a scene where they, like, fuck in a car? And the windows steam up, and her hand hits the window and then like drags down sexily — anyway, it's hot," he concludes. Lan Zhan releases his bite and licks the skin there, and then Wei Ying tugs on his hair and pulls him back up to kiss more. Lan Zhan licks his lower lip, sucks on it without teeth at first and then with teeth. Wei Ying shudders, squeezes his eyes shut, grabs at Lan Zhan's shoulders, opens his mouth for more and gets it: Lan Zhan's tongue, hot and slick in his mouth, pressing insistently against his own tongue until Wei Ying starts sucking on it. Lan Zhan makes a strangled sound into him and slips a hand under his henley, presses his fingers — he's still wearing those fucking gloves, heavens above — against Wei Ying's bare skin.

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying pants, "yeah, yeah, you can," and Lan Zhan breaks the kiss and pushes his flannel open, shoves his shirt up almost to his chin. Wei Ying gasps at the cold air and then he gasps at Lan Zhan's fucking mouth, wet and searing around his —

 

"Oh my god," Wei Ying laughs, "Oh my god, you fucking — I can't believe you," as Lan Zhan sucks at his nipple, his hands firm and hot at his naked waist. Lan Zhan hums into his chest, bares his teeth and sets them against Wei Ying's pec, open-mouth licks him until he shivers and then bites him again, harder, until Wei Ying laughs again. "Fuck, maybe I can believe you." 

 

"Mmmmn," Lan Zhan says. "I don't say things I don't mean." He kisses his way over to the center of Wei Ying's chest, where his heart is going about a mile a minute.

 

"What if you," Wei Ying starts, and then he sort of chickens out. 

 

Lan Zhan looks up at him expectantly, gives his waist a thoughtful stroke with his thumbs. "Yes," he prompts.

 

"What if you, like." Wei Ying nervously brings his knuckles to his mouth. Lan Zhan gives his chest a very encouraging lick. Wei Ying clears his throat. "Uhhhh. What if you jerked off, like, onto my chest. Right here, like this."

 

Lan Zhan's hands tighten on his waist. He blinks once, twice, barely visible in the dark. "... We're in a hotel parking lot," he says at last, his voice very low. "Anyone could see."

 

Wei Ying's spine sort of liquefies. "Yeah," he agrees hoarsely. It's not quite true; they're parked facing away from the hotel, into some trees. Lan Zhan knows this. Wei Ying shifts on his back, draws lines up and down Lan Zhan's shoulders with his fingers.

 

After a moment Lan Zhan eases back up to kiss Wei Ying again, once, open and wet, and then he props himself up on one arm, caging Wei Ying in against the back of the seat. He brings his right hand to his mouth and meets Wei Ying's eyes in the dark, and then undoes the snap at the wrist of his glove with his teeth.

 

"Huh," Wei Ying says dimly. Lan Zhan bites the tip of his middle finger daintily, black leather between his white teeth, and pulls his glove off. Then he reaches down below the waist of his skirt, and Wei Ying watches, mesmerized and dry-mouthed, as he frees his cock. It's just as pretty as he thought it would be, even obscured by shadows: flushed dark against the pale circle of his hand. It's only Wei Ying's duty as Lan Zhan's best friend to tell him so, so he says, "Pretty," in a voice that's not at all wrecked, and, "Good boy, just like that," and, "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan."

 

Lan Zhan tucks his face against Wei Ying's temple and stays there, panting, as his hand moves between them. Wei Ying squirms a little underneath him, tries to pull himself down the bench seat so that the backs of his thighs are as tight against the front of Lan Zhan's as possible. He kind of wants to see if he can maybe wrap a leg around Lan Zhan's waist, but he's not sure there's room, so he just settles in to pet Lan Zhan's hair and sides. 

 

He keeps up a running commentary too, of course, because that seems to be something Lan Zhan is into: whatever crosses his mind, whatever he thinks Lan Zhan might like. "You're so hot like this, Lan Zhan, I really can't believe it. I'm going to think about this forever, I've wanted to get underneath you for so fucking long."

 

Lan Zhan gasps into his hair. The pumping of his hand accelerates, wet and loud in the quiet van. "Wei Ying," he breathes, "Wei Ying, Wei Ying."

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying answers, "I can't believe you're still hard. You're gonna come for me again, right?"

 

He is not really expecting an answer, but Lan Zhan shudders around him and chokes, "Yes," so. So.

 

So Wei Ying tips his face up and says, "Hey, kiss me?" And Lan Zhan obeys, sweet and loose and messy. Wei Ying makes a pleased sound into his mouth, sucks on his lip, slides their tongues together. Lan Zhan makes a noise. Wei Ying drags his hands up Lan Zhan's sides, palms his shoulders, pulls him closer, closer. Lan Zhan's knuckles brush the front of his pants now, just so. Wei Ying sucks his tongue into his mouth, tries to match his sucking with the movement of Lan Zhan's fist, and Lan Zhan groans into him when he realizes what Wei Ying is doing. Wei Ying just sucks harder, strokes the tip of his tongue along the slick underside of Lan Zhan's.

 

Lan Zhan breaks the kiss to messily make his way to Wei Ying's jaw, where he pants wet and hot into his skin. "Wei Ying," he says hoarsely, "I'll," and then he breaks off into a shaking moan.

 

"Are you close?" Wei Ying asks, and Lan Zhan nods into him. Wei Ying holds him tighter. "On me, okay?" he requests breathlessly. "Don't catch it in your hand or anything, I want it, I want you." Lan Zhan nods jerkily. "Good boy," Wei Ying tells him, "You're so good, I want you all over me, holy shit. Want you to. Fuck, I want you to mark me up, I wanna be yours."

 

Lan Zhan makes a choking sound. Wei Ying's view has been obscured for a while now, but the shuffling, skin-on-skin sound of his hand on his cock changes, draws out. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, and then he lifts his head to fit their mouths together again, barely a kiss, more just sharing air as his hips stutter, jerk forwards. Wei Ying's eyes are closed when he feels cum hit his chest, a series of small hot splashes on his bare skin.

 

They rest there braced against each other for a long moment as Lan Zhan comes down, eyes shut, breathing into Wei Ying's mouth. Wei Ying pets his hair and murmurs, "Yeah. Yeah, Lan Zhan, you're so perfect. That's just what I wanted, sweetheart, my Lan Zhan, thank you."

 

Lan Zhan kisses him again, his lips slack and gentle against Wei Ying's mouth, and then against his cheek, his temple, just under the arch of his eyebrow. Wei Ying sighs in contentment, lets himself be kissed. "You're amazing," he says softly, and Lan Zhan presses a kiss into the hollow of his cheek, awfully, achingly tender, before sliding down to collapse sideways against him, tucked in half on top of him so he won't fall off the edge of the seat. Wei Ying squeezes as close to the back of the seat as possible to give him more room, and Lan Zhan pushes closer in turn, nuzzles his temple again.

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says at last, leaning away to look at him.

 

"Mnnn?"

 

"You are so good," Lan Zhan tells him, slow and deliberate.

 

"Uh," Wei Ying says, caught in Lan Zhan's gaze. "I, um. I really didn't do anything, I just laid here."

 

Lan Zhan makes a doubtful sound in his throat. Then he reaches up with his bare right hand and strokes Wei Ying's naked side, traces his fingertips up across his belly, runs them through the cum pooled on his skin. Wei Ying shivers; they both look down to watch him do it. Lan Zhan collects some cum on the pads of his fingers, leaves a sticky string between his fingers and Wei Ying's chest when he lifts them. 

 

Wei Ying does not whimper. He says, "Lan Zhan," in a totally normal and not at all plaintive voice, because he isn't a freak about cum or hands and he definitely isn't a freak about Lan Zhan.

 

Lan Zhan kisses the hinge of his jaw and says, "Open your mouth," which Wei Ying is into a normal amount. He obeys, and Lan Zhan brings his hand to Wei Ying's mouth, sets his thumb against Wei Ying's jaw. Rests his wet fingers against Wei Ying's open lips.

 

"Hah," Wei Ying says helplessly. Lan Zhan slides his fingers into his mouth. Wei Ying keens and thrusts his tongue against them, between them, sucks hard.

 

Lan Zhan strokes his jaw with his thumb. "Wei Ying," he says quietly. "You like this?"

 

Wei Ying shuts his eyes and slurs, "Yeah," around his fingers, "Yeah, ah, nnnnh."

 

"Good," Lan Zhan tells him. "Wei Ying, you are good. You are so good for me."

 

Wei Ying whines a protest into his hand. He thinks of himself as charming and useful, but not particularly good. Like a pony that's also a butler. He certainly doesn't think he's good for Lan Zhan, the best person he knows. The best person anyone knows. But Lan Zhan never lies, and he is seldom wrong; and he's never wrong about the things that matter, not really.

 

Lan Zhan leans into him, spreads his fingers in Wei Ying's mouth, presses his fingertips firmly down against Wei Ying's lower premolars. He ducks close to kiss Wei Ying's lower lip where it's stretched stickily between his own fingers. "You do not have to believe me immediately," he says quietly. "But you do have to hear me say it." He licks Wei Ying's lower lip, and his upper lip, and then withdraws his fingers to kiss him properly, sweet and wet and warm. Wei Ying kisses him back helplessly, feeling winded, until Lan Zhan pulls back and murmurs into his mouth, "Alright?"

 

Wei Ying means to say, "Okay," and think, I'm in love with you. He really does.

 

Wei Ying thinks, Okay, and says, "I'm in love with you."

 

Lan Zhan blinks at him. 

 

"Oh fuck," says Wei Ying, "That wasn't what I," and Lan Zhan kisses him, wet and open. Wei Ying whines into him, gasps his air.

 

"That wasn't what you what," Lan Zhan mumbles into his mouth.

 

"Um," Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan licks his lower lip. Then bites it. Wei Ying wants Lan Zhan to roll over and lie fully on top of him, press him down into the seat. "It wasn't. I meant to say, ah..."

 

Lan Zhan leans over him and kisses the hollow of his throat, starts kissing his way up. "Go on."

 

"I just. Lan Zhan ah, distracting me! You really — don't you know?" he begs. "Are you really going to make me say it again?"

 

"Yes," Lan Zhan says, kissing under his ear. Wei Ying hears himself make a frankly horrible sound. Lan Zhan mouths at his earlobe, then murmurs, "Wei Ying. Say it again."

 

Wei Ying makes another awful sound, throws his head back into the pleather seat to bare his throat to the soft heat of Lan Zhan's mouth. "You're so cruel," he tells Lan Zhan, "so mean to me, Lan Zhan ah, you — oh, fuck —" Lan Zhan bites him, and immediately soothes it with the hot plush of his tongue. Wei Ying twists his hands into Lan Zhan's hair, pulls him closer. "Ah Lan Zhan, you brute! Don't you know I love you? I love you."

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan begs into his skin, then tilts his face up to Wei Ying's mouth to kiss him again, deep and desperate. They're both shaking, Wei Ying realizes dimly, and when he opens his eyes he can see tears gathering under the sweep of Lan Zhan's eyelashes.

 

He breaks the kiss to whisper, "Hey, hey, Lan Zhan. Why are you crying? Was my confession that bad?"

 

Lan Zhan tips his forehead against Wei Ying's. "It was good," he says hoarsely. "It was perfect." Wei Ying tips his head up to kiss his chin, because it's there, and Lan Zhan kisses him back, nuzzles into him, smears his tears against Wei Ying's cheeks. Wei Ying huffs a laugh and smooches him, holds on tight. Lan Zhan hides his face in Wei Ying's hair, between his head and the seat back, and he says, "I love you."

 

Wei Ying closes his eyes. Okay, maybe Lan Zhan had the right idea with the whole crying thing.

 

"I love you," Lan Zhan says again, and then, charmingly, "I want to blow you."

 

"I'm obsessed with you," Wei Ying informs him seriously. "I don't know if there's room for you to manage that in here but I am willing to try."

 

Lan Zhan hums. "We should check into the hotel at some point," he points out.

 

"Comfy clean pajamas...." Wei Ying says consideringly. "Central heating that works…"

 

"A shower," Lan Zhan agrees. "... A bed."

 

Wei Ying meets his gaze in the dark. "... Yeah," he says, and bats at Lan Zhan's chest. "Yeah. Yeah, oh my god, let's get out of this stupid van, come on, come on."



*



A blur: Lan Zhan finding a tissue, somewhere, and wiping away the rest of his own cum from Wei Ying's chest; Lan Zhan kneeling primly between his spread legs, pulling Wei Ying's flannel back closed around him; Wei Ying catching him in a kiss, one last kiss before they leave the relative warmth of the van for the decidedly frigid darkness outside. (Well — one more kiss after that. Wait, I missed that time, come back. No, again, you pulled away too soon.) Wei Ying laughing as he points out the windows, which have indeed steamed up. Then the dark, the yellow light of the hotel lobby, the electric hum of the elevator, the keycard, the door.

 

Wei Ying is already a little sweaty from the central heating when he yanks his boots off and stretches, swinging his arms up over his head and arching his back with an audible series of pops. "Wow, I really ain't seventeen anymore," he starts, and then Lan Zhan's hands appear at his waist.

 

"No," Lan Zhan agrees, hooking his chin over Wei Ying's shoulder. "You are not." 

 

Even after everything they did in the car, Wei Ying still tenses instinctively at Lan Zhan's closeness, a split second of Don't make this weird, idiot, don't make this weird! But then Lan Zhan turns his head and brushes his mouth along Wei Ying's ear, and Wei Ying remembers that they pitched over the edge of weird an hour ago, and he lets himself lean back into Lan Zhan's chest with a pleased hum. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," he says.

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. He is in the process of snaking his hands under Wei Ying's poofy jacket, which he had thrown on outside the van in the hopes that it would make him look a little less fucked out. 

 

Wei Ying turns around in Lan Zhan's arms and lets him peel the poofy jacket off. Once Wei Ying's hands are free he slides them up under Lan Zhan's cloak and lifts it off his shoulders, tosses it onto a chair, and then the two of them fall into each other, since they're conveniently positioned for the best hug of Wei Ying's life. 

 

"Hey," Wei Ying says into Lan Zhan's hair.

 

"Hi," says Lan Zhan, as he slides his hands across Wei Ying's back.

 

"I have a crush on you," says Wei Ying. "I can say that now. So I'm gonna, I've just decided, I'm gonna say it whenever it occurs to me to do so. I have a crush on you."

 

Lan Zhan holds him closer. Exhales softly. Turns his head to brush a kiss against Wei Ying's ear, the edge of his eyebrow, the end of his nose when Wei Ying turns his head too; then a real kiss, their mouths crushing slow and warm against each other. Wei Ying slides his hands into Lan Zhan's hair and marvels at how silky-soft it is, how warm it gets near the scalp. Lan Zhan presses into him, walks him backwards until his shoulders bump into the wall and Wei Ying laughs a little. Lan Zhan leans his weight into Wei Ying, breaks their kiss to just look at him. Wei Ying lets his arms hang off Lan Zhan's shoulders and looks back. "You are so… crazy handsome," he tells Lan Zhan.

 

"Fifty steps," Lan Zhan murmurs into his mouth, which takes Wei Ying a second before he gets it — Wushi bu xiao bai bu, recalled perfectly in the voice of his Chinese school teacher and he can't help but to laugh again, helplessly charmed.

 

"You are so," he starts, and then Lan Zhan's face goes very soft and a little expectant, which is very distracting.

 

He ducks in and kisses Wei Ying's lower lip. "Hm?" he says, still holding Wei Ying's gaze. Their faces are so close together that Wei Ying has to fight not to cross his eyes. "I'm what?"

 

"You," Wei Ying says, "uhh," as Lan Zhan pulls his hands slowly across the dip of Wei Ying's back around to his waist. "Huh." Lan Zhan's hands settle at his hips, his thumbs stroking along the crests of his pelvis. Suddenly it seems obviously, unforgivably unreasonable that they're both still clothed. What are they thinking?? They've been inside for at least two minutes! "Hey," he says urgently. "Hey, hey, you wanna," and then words fail him. What's he supposed to say? You wanna take my pants off? God.

 

Lan Zhan hums and slides his fingers over to the middle of Wei Ying's waistband, where he had hastily re-tied the drawstring for the brisk trot across the parking lot, and watches Wei Ying's face as he slowly pulls the bow loose again. The only thing more painful than meeting his gaze is not meeting his gaze, so Wei Ying subjects himself to Lan Zhan's observation, watches back as Lan Zhan shifts to hold his hip in one hand, press the flat of his other palm to Wei Ying's lower belly with the other. Wei Ying is hard again, has been since they were making out in the van; but Lan Zhan doesn't shift his hand down, just keeps it there, petting the trail of hair that leads to Wei Ying's navel. Wei Ying lets his head fall back against the wall, his eyes half-open to watch Lan Zhan's expression.

 

"I'm not above begging," he warns Lan Zhan, whose eyes darken at once. Wei Ying brings one hand up to finger-comb through Lan Zhan's hair again. "I'll beg, I really will. What are you planning? Hm?"

 

"I don't know," Lan Zhan admits lowly. "I want to look at you." He leans in a little again, lets their mouths brush together. Almost casual, except for the weight of his gaze, the heat. His palm gets heavier on Wei Ying's hip, the pressure strange and delicious. "What if I," Lan Zhan says slowly, before bringing his other hand up and curving his palm back around the other crest of Wei Ying's pelvis, holding him in place against the wall. Wei Ying licks his lips. He really isn't sure where Lan Zhan is going with this, but that's fine. Lan Zhan is a genius, he'll figure it out.

 

Lan Zhan presses his palms into Wei Ying's hips, angles them in a way that encourages Wei Ying to rolls his hips into his hands. The two of them make twinned sounds of interest, and they do it again: Lan Zhan's hands, Wei Ying's hips fucking up into nothing. His joggers, trapped half under Lan Zhan's palms, are growing tighter. "Fuck," he breathes.

 

"Mn," agrees Lan Zhan. He pushes again, his eyes dark and searching. "You could come like this," he observes. "Am I right?"

 

Wei Ying shudders and thrusts into his hands, lets his eyes fall shut. He feels wild, storm-tossed, some kind of febrile energy shattering inside him. Lan Zhan brushes another kiss against his slack mouth. Wei Ying thinks about it: Lan Zhan's hands firm on him. Lan Zhan's attention focused only on him. Wei Ying thinks he would probably end up begging. "Maybe," he says. "I think so. Probably."

 

He thinks about Lan Zhan's low voice telling him, Wei Ying, come. 

 

Wei Ying opens his eyes halfway to look at him as he says, "If you told me to. I could."

 

"Nnh," Lan Zhan says, and then he ducks forward to kiss Wei Ying properly, his mouth open and insistent, shocking and good after the few moments of reprieve. He sucks Wei Ying's tongue into his mouth and holds it there, pants short breaths through his nose as they crush together. Wei Ying can't help but to make helpless little sounds into the kiss: his mouth is open, so noises come out, and Lan Zhan swallows them, swallows them, and at last pulls away. It takes a moment for Wei Ying to pull his tongue back behind his teeth, and Lan Zhan darts in to lick his open mouth. "I'm pinning that," he pants.

 

"Huh?" Wei Ying says stupidly.

 

"Later, I'll hold you down," Lan Zhan decides. "I'll make you come untouched. Like this. If you want," he adds, and Wei Ying nods rapidly: uh, fuck yeah. "First I want my mouth on you."

 

"Go right ahead," Wei Ying manages, winded swagger. "I'm all yours, baby."

 

"Ngh," Lan Zhan says, and kisses him once more, and then he sinks to his knees.

 

Wei Ying's hands end up in the warm silk of Lan Zhan's hair with absolutely no direction from Wei Ying, and they spend a moment like that: Lan Zhan on his knees with his face pressed to Wei Ying's belly, his hands still on Wei Ying's hips, and Wei Ying holding him there, the both of them breathing hard. Lan Zhan nuzzles into him. His breath is warm and humid through his shirt, and his chin keeps threatening to brush against the tent at the front of Wei Ying's pants, and his hands are flexing on Wei Ying's hips, or maybe trembling. Wei Ying brushes Lan Zhan's hair back from his forehead and doesn't ask.

 

Lan Zhan presses a shapeless kiss to Wei Ying's stomach, and then his fingers are hooking delicately around the waistband of the joggers and pulling down, somehow graceful even as he helps Wei Ying step out of one pant leg and then the other. And then: only the thin grey cotton of Wei Ying's briefs between his cock and Lan Zhan's mouth.

 

Lan Zhan stares at the shape of him in his briefs. His hands are lost somewhere near Wei Ying's knees. He sways forward and presses his face into the side of Wei Ying's cock, breathes open-mouthed and hot into the fabric before mouthing at him.

 

"You're holding your breath," he murmurs into Wei Ying's briefs, then mouths at him again. The dark wet spot already visible at the top of the briefs grows. 

 

Wei Ying takes a breath, then another. "Yeah," he agrees helplessly. 

 

Lan Zhan draws his hands up his thighs to slip Wei Ying's briefs down too.

 

Wei Ying can't find it in himself to feel all that embarrassed when his cock bounces free, mostly because Lan Zhan inhales sharply and ducks forward at once to kiss it. "Wei Ying," he breathes.

 

"Uh huh," Wei Ying manages.

 

Lan Zhan looks up at him, then turns his face in and kisses the underside of Wei Ying's cock. His mouth is… so soft, Wei Ying is thinking, and then Lan Zhan gives him a little lick and he gasps in what he's really hoping sounds like scandalized shock. It's not scandalized shock; it's more like if cum were an emotion.

 

Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow and licks him again. Wei Ying tightens his hands in his hair on reflex, and then realizes and releases him, panting, "Sorry, sorry." He pets Lan Zhan's hair soothingly.

 

"Mmn," Lan Zhan says into him. "You can pull."

 

"Hhnngh," says Wei Ying.

 

Lan Zhan licks him a third time, and this time he really goes for it; the first two licks were little dragonfly-dips, almost polite, but this is — definitely not polite. Lan Zhan's eyes have fallen closed, and his lips are curled to reveal the slickest inside parts of him, and his tongue is so — he's so —

 

Wei Ying gives his hair an experimental tug, and Lan Zhan's eyelids flutter, and when he goes unh Wei Ying feels it against his skin. "Wei Ying," he groans, and Wei Ying's cock jerks against his mouth. Lan Zhan shudders and reaches up to press his thumbs into the dip of Wei Ying's hips again, pushes him back against the wall. "I'm gonna," he says, and then he pulls back and opens his mouth, slides his tongue out over his bottom teeth, and then he sucks the head of Wei Ying's cock into his mouth.

 

Wei Ying swears, in English and then in Mandarin, and then in English again. Lan Zhan's eyebrows draw together, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. He pulls off after just a moment to say breathlessly, "You're so wet," which is perhaps a reasonable complaint, Wei Ying decides, as he watches precum drip from Lan Zhan's extended tongue onto his skirt.

 

"Sorry," he says again.

 

"Not a complaint," Lan Zhan tells him firmly, before leaning back in. He licks precum onto the length of Wei Ying's cock, spreads it like paint with his tongue, pushes harder against Wei Ying's hips before moving to kiss Wei Ying's balls. Wei Ying knocks his head back against the wall. He can feel Lan Zhan's nose against him, how he's gotten precum on his face. When Wei Ying looks down again, he can see it glistening in slick smears across Lan Zhan's skin. His cock jerks.

 

Lan Zhan exhales shortly, then wraps one hand around Wei Ying and gives him a firm tug, and then another, and then he opens his mouth and slips the head of Wei Ying's cock back inside, holds it there on top of his tongue as Wei Ying gasps above him. Lan Zhan adjusts his grip on Wei Ying's cock and sucks again, his mouth hot and wet and soft around him, his hand tight and firm. 

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathes when Lan Zhan starts moving his hand, "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan." He pushes Lan Zhan's hair back from his forehead, combs his fingers through it over and over. Lan Zhan hums appreciatively, pulls back just to kiss the head of his cock before easing it back inside. The hand he still had on Wei Ying's hip strokes down along the crease of Wei Ying's leg, petting his thigh before coming to hold his balls. Lan Zhan looks so — he should look filthy, shouldn't he, or debauched, or whatever? But he just looks happy, with his messy hair, his sticky face, his wet mouth stretched around Wei Ying's cock. His eyes are closed, his expression relaxed as he bobs his head.

 

Wei Ying pets his hair again and says, "Good boy, good boy, Lan Zhan. You feel so good." Lan Zhan makes a sound in his throat. "Love you," Wei Ying tells him helplessly, "you're so — I wish I could taste you right now, I bet you taste so good — is sixty-nining something people do in real life? I wanna try, I bet we could figure it out, I want my fucking — oh my god, I want my mouth on you." Lan Zhan makes a sound again, grips him tighter. His tongue is so…

 

Lan Zhan pulls off his cock just long enough to pant, "Wei Ying," and then he returns with a groan, like he couldn't stand having his mouth away from Wei Ying's cock even that long.

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasps. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I'm gonna," and Lan Zhan makes a pleased sound around him, and Wei Ying feels his eyes fall shut and his fingers twist into Lan Zhan's hair as orgasm flushes through him. Lan Zhan takes it and takes it when Wei Ying comes, strokes him through it and doesn't pull away until he's finished. Then he's guiding Wei Ying's collapsing slide down the wall as his knees give out, which is a new one for him.

 

Wei Ying catches his breath in the crook of Lan Zhan's neck. Lan Zhan tucks him back into his briefs, gives his cock an incongruously cute little pat before sliding his hands up Wei Ying's back to hold him. Wei Ying makes a sound that's not a whimper, but not really anything else either. "This doesn't usually happen to me," he mumbles. "I really don't think I could stand up right now. Christ alive, Lan Zhan."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. He kisses next to Wei Ying's ear, his mouth wet and sticky. "It was good?"

 

Wei Ying laughs breathlessly in disbelief. "Oh, what, you think I'm on the floor right now because it was just mediocre?? Yes, Lan Zhan, it was good. Holy shit. Holy fuck. Hey, come kiss me?"

 

Lan Zhan obeys. His mouth is so soft now, the purse of his lips somehow looser, and he tastes like sex. They kiss open-mouthed and languid on the floor while Wei Ying focuses on regrowing his bones, which turns out to be a terrible strategy because there's no way he can focus on anything at all when he's got Lan Zhan's tongue in his mouth.

 

"Zhanzhan, sweetheart, we gotta stop," he whines at last, even as he starts sneaking his fingers under Lan Zhan's sweater. "I can't — nnh, no, what? Come back," he adds when Lan Zhan draws away, his face serious. "What? What's wrong?"

 

"You said we had to stop," Lan Zhan tells him, looking puzzled.

 

"Baby," Wei Ying says, "baby, baby, I just won't ever leave the floor if we keep kissing. You have to take me to bed and then we can keep going."

 

Lan Zhan makes a noise of assent, then slides his hands under Wei Ying's thighs to grab his butt, which makes Wei Ying start cackling until Lan Zhan just fucking stands up like that, just scoops Wei Ying right up off the floor, and that makes Wei Ying gasp and whoop and then cackle again, clinging to Lan Zhan's shoulders. Lan Zhan presses a dry smooch to his chest through his henley and walks them over to the bed, drops Wei Ying like a sack of rice and then crawls on top of him once he's done bouncing. 

 

"You are so cute," Wei Ying laughs, "You're so cute, what the fuck," mumbled into Lan Zhan's mouth as he's kissed, kissed again.



*



They make out on the bed for what must be hours, their hands lazy against each other's bodies, their palms catching on cloth and then, after Wei Ying has A Moment in which he jolts upright and yells, "This is so stupid! Take your shirt off!", just bare skin. They get off again just from grinding, and then Wei Ying passes out for at least half an hour because he just came three times and he isn't fucking seventeen anymore. When he comes to, Lan Zhan is kneeling on the bed next to him wearing only his leggings (leggings after all!) and is wiping his bare chest with a warm wet washcloth.

 

"Mm," Wei Ying says, holding his eyelids open with effort. Lan Zhan is lovely to look at, so at least it's worth it; his bare skin is smooth and warm-looking in the yellow light of the bedside lamp, and the occasional glimpse of his armpit hair as his hands move is kind of weirdly appealing. Wei Ying has never seen his armpit hair before; Lan Zhan seems like the kind of person who might shave, or just naturally have none at all. But it's there, dark and soft-looking, and Wei Ying decides he loves it.

 

He doesn't realize he's smiling until Lan Zhan catches his eye, his gaze soft, and says, "Feels good?"

 

"Mmhmmm," Wei Ying purrs, snuggling back into the duvet. "'ve got… no bones. None at all. What do you have to say for yourself, you — you miscreant."

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says. "I'm a miscreant now?"

 

"Yeah, you fuckin' stole all my bones," Wei Ying mumbles, his eyes drifting shut again. "Come down here 'n' snuggle with me. You criminal."

 

"Mn. In a moment. May I take your briefs off?" Lan Zhan asks.

 

"Yes," Wei Ying says automatically. Then, with cautious interest, "Are you planning on sucking me off again?" 

 

He opens one eye to peek up at Lan Zhan again, who looks back at him with an equal amount of cautious interest. "I was planning on just cleaning you up," he admits. "But I could if you'd like."

 

Wei Ying shuts his eye again. "Give me like an hour to recover and I'm yours."

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says. Between his ingenuity and Wei Ying's floppy enthusiasm they're able to wriggle him back out of his briefs, and then Lan Zhan's wet washcloth appears at his crotch to stroke him soothingly clean as Wei Ying dozes off again. Lan Zhan kisses his lower belly before he disappears into the bathroom again.

 

After a while the solitude wakes him up a little; he wants more kisses, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should brush his teeth. Maybe take a shower?? That might be pushing it.

 

He rolls off the bed and oozes his way over to his poor abandoned suitcase, sits naked on the floor to unzip the front pocket where he'd stashed his toothbrush. Then he rocks to his feet and knocks on the bathroom door, which opens at once to reveal Lan Zhan in a soft-looking cotton bathrobe with his hair in a scrunchied ponytail, his face gleaming with some sort of mysterious elixir.

 

They stare at each other for a moment; Lan Zhan very conspicuously does not look below his chin. Then Lan Zhan steps away to let Wei Ying in, and Wei Ying wiggles his toothbrush at him as he enters. "Teeth," he says in explanation.

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan grunts, taking his own toothbrush in hand. He applies toothpaste, then offers the tube to Wei Ying, his eyes still respectfully averted.

 

"Thanks. You can look at me if you want," Wei Ying decides, squeezing toothpaste onto his brush.

 

Lan Zhan meets his eyes in the mirror, then very slowly lowers his gaze down Wei Ying's body. His expression shifts minutely as he goes; his eyes narrow, his lips part. Wei Ying very abruptly regrets offering — how's he supposed to brush his teeth when Lan Zhan is looking at him like that???

 

He clears his throat. "Anyway. Teeth," he repeats helplessly, and shoves his toothbrush in his mouth.

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says after a moment, and then they spend a couple minutes brushing their teeth side by side like — like boyfriends, or something. Wei Ying is trying to avoid thinking about it; the thought is like a hot stovetop, except when he touches it, it doesn't hurt. It does the opposite of hurt, except for the part where the pleasure of thinking like boyfriends? is also deeply, horrendously embarrassing. It involves, like, fantasizing about Lan Zhan kissing him good morning and h*lding his h*nd and continuing to look at him with that soft expression he gets. You know, mortifying shit. Wei Ying can't stop touching that fucking stove.

 

They finish up with teeth brushing; Wei Ying, feeling self-conscious because of Lan Zhan's face goop, goes ahead and splashes water on his face, which he manages to do maybe a quarter of the time normally. Lan Zhan washes his face too, then squirts some of his fancy lotion onto his palm and reaches up to — pat it onto Wei Ying's face, which takes him by surprise. Wei Ying blinks at him, and Lan Zhan pauses in his gentle patting to lean in and kiss him neatly on the mouth, and then he leans back out and pats the rest of the lotion into Wei Ying's skin. Wei Ying just watches as he does his own, feeling — something he doesn't even have words for.

 

"I'm obsessed with you," he says when Lan Zhan finishes.

 

Lan Zhan meets his gaze. "The feeling is mutual," he says, his mouth quirking up just so. Wei Ying is dizzy with it. "Bed?"

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying agrees.

 

He reaches the bed first and slides under the covers, shivering a little at how cool they are outside of the places where his and Lan Zhan's bodies warmed them all the way through the duvet. Lan Zhan follows him out of the bathroom only a moment later, and then Wei Ying hastily looks away as he stops next to the bed and shrugs out of his bathrobe.

 

"You can look too," Lan Zhan tells him, sounding amused.

 

"Are you not wearing underwear??" Wei Ying demands, looking at him through his fingers.

 

"I am not," Lan Zhan says, folding the bathrobe over his arm. He lays it over his suitcase, then turns to sit neatly on the bed. "I was under the impression," he continues, like someone who wasn't openly eyeing Wei Ying's naked dick two minutes ago, "that you were not either."

 

At this angle Wei Ying can see the long length of his near thigh, the smooth expanse of his torso, the lean muscular sweep of his arm. His dark nipples. The obscured vee of his groin disappearing coyly behind the join of his hip and leg, only an inch or so of fine dark hair visible there.

 

"You're so fucking hot," Wei Ying groans, screwing his eyes shut and collapsing back against the pillow. "What the fuck. Come here, I have to hold you right now or I'll — I don't know, I'll turn to dust. Just crumble away. I'll be such a pain to clean up," he insists when he peeks an eye open to see Lan Zhan smiling at him. "I'm serious, the sheets will be unsalvageable." 

 

Lan Zhan slides himself under the covers. "That was already going to be the case," he says, scooting closer until his knees are touching Wei Ying's thigh. Then Wei Ying is rolling onto his side to face him, and Lan Zhan is pushing closer, and then all at once there's nothing but skin and skin and skin, warm and smooth, a feast, a flood. It feels so good. Just to touch him. To be touched by him. Lan Zhan's mouth has landed somewhere behind Wei Ying's ear; Wei Ying's face is hidden in his hair. Wei Ying sweeps his open palms across Lan Zhan's back over and over, reveling in the sensation. Lan Zhan hums and tangles his legs with Wei Ying's, and their leg hair rasps softly together, which is not an aspect of the sexy cuddling experience fifteen-year-old Wei Ying would have predicted, but he likes it; it feels intimate and normal and sweet.

 

"This is great," Wei Ying mumbles into Lan Zhan's hair. "You're very good for holding. Ten out of ten, exceedingly holdable."

 

"Thank you," Lan Zhan whispers back. "We fit well together."

 

"Yeah," Wei Ying agrees, and squeezes him tight. Lan Zhan squeezes him in return. "Hey — I like you."

 

"I like you too," Lan Zhan says, his smile audible in his voice.

 

"Can you turn off the lights?"

 

"Mn."

 

Lan Zhan has to pull away again in order to reach the lamp, which makes Wei Ying whine piteously, but he quickly returns and snuggles back in. It's strange and nice to feel the soft jumble of Lan Zhan against his thigh, now that they're not both out of their minds with horniness; it's cute, somehow, like his leg hair had been. There's a future, there, in the idea of touching Lan Zhan's cock simply because it's there against him, because it will be there for hours, because it needs no particular attention.

 

Wei Ying groans again, pushes at Lan Zhan's shoulder so that he'll lie flatter on the mattress. "Are you uncomfortable?" Lan Zhan asks.

 

"No," Wei Ying says, snuggling up closer to drape himself over Lan Zhan's chest. "I just really —" Oh fuck, he can tell his voice is about to crack. He swallows and continues, "really, really like you. I want this… all the time. ALL the time, it's awful."

 

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, his voice low. "It's not awful. My love. I want this too." Wei Ying makes a pathetic sound. My love, holy shit. Lan Zhan strokes his hair and asks, "You want to know something?" 

 

"What?"

 

"We can have this."

 

Wei Ying shudders on top of him. "Hey, we have to go to bed right now or else I'll cry," he says.

 

"All right," Lan Zhan says, and kisses his hair. "Goodnight, Wei Ying. I love you."

 

"Oh my god," Wei Ying mumbles. "I love you too. What the fuck. Goodnight. I love you."

 

"You already said that."

 

"OKAY, GOODNIGHT."



*



Wei Ying wakes up once in the night to go to the bathroom, only to find that he's been drooling on Lan Zhan's chest. Which, like, yes, Lan Zhan's chest pretty much exists to be drooled over, but — gross! And — it's been however many hours, and Wei Ying has been on top of him this whole time… He might be feeling crowded, or overheated. Wei Ying gently wipes his spit away, oozes off of Lan Zhan, and stumbles to the bathroom.

 

While there he checks his phone, which has gone essentially untouched since like four pm the day before. Obviously the first task is to send Nie Huaisang a selfie: a picture angled to capture just his forehead and the cabinet above the toilet, captioned, Pooping <3 thinking of u. That responsibility filled, he swipes through his phone to see what he missed. He has a handful of emails that can wait; a text from Jiang Cheng asking, When are u arriving; and, inexcusably ignored, a really top-tier Jin Ling Pic in which he's wearing a teddy bear snowsuit. Wei Ying replies to that one even though it's 3:04 am: !!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U CUTIE PIE DONT WORRY DAJIU IS ON HIS WAY TO SMOOCH YOUR CHEEKIES ASAP!!!!!!!!

 

When he returns, he crawls back into the bed and tucks his back against Lan Zhan's sleeping form. He shuffles around a little until he's comfortable, and then he closes his eyes and times his breathing with the expansion and contraction of Lan Zhan's ribcage against his back.

 

He's drifting when he feels Lan Zhan sigh, soft and sleepy in the dark. Then Lan Zhan shifts, turns onto his side, and his hand slides around Wei Ying's waist and up his chest, his knees tuck up behind Wei Ying's, his chest presses warm against Wei Ying's bare back. Lan Zhan sighs again and snuffles into his hair, mumbles, "Wei Ying."

 

"Lan Zhan?" Wei Ying whispers, but there's no response. Lan Zhan is already asleep again, or he never woke.

 

Wei Ying shuts his eyes and relaxes back into Lan Zhan's embrace. He's asleep within minutes.



*



It's dark still when Lan Zhan kisses him awake, his lips soft but insistent on Wei Ying's cheek and neck, but it's February, so that doesn't mean much. It could be 8am and still dark out, if it's cloudy.

 

"Morning," Lan Zhan tells him, his voice scratchy with sleep. "Mmn. Wei Ying, time to wake up."

 

"Nooo," Wei Ying sighs into his pillow. 

 

"Yes."

 

"No, I'm so cozy, Lan Zhan, we don't have to get up yet. Stay here and snuggle me."

 

"We do," Lan Zhan insists. "Early start today. We stopped early last night, remember?"

 

"Haha, yeah we did," Wei Ying mumbles smugly. 

 

Lan Zhan huffs against his cheek and kisses him again, but he also pushes his thighs against the backs of Wei Ying's thighs until their feet are dangling off the side of the bed, and then he wraps his arms around Wei Ying's waist and heaves him into a slumped but technically upright position. "Shower," Lan Zhan tells him.

 

"Uughghhgh." Wei Ying tries to fall back down onto the bed, and when that doesn't work he cracks his eyes open after all and clambers clumsily into Lan Zhan's lap, where he immediately loses all structural integrity in favor of melting into his chest. Lan Zhan wraps his arms around him. "Zhanzhan, you wouldn't make me get up, would you? I'm too sleepy and warm," Wei Ying tries.

 

"You can be sleepy and warm in the shower," Lan Zhan offers. 

 

Wei Ying opens his mouth and chomps Lan Zhan's trapezius in revenge. Lan Zhan's arms spasm around him, which makes him feel a little bad about it, so he licks at it in apology.

 

"Sorry," he sighs, nuzzling Lan Zhan's neck. 

 

Lan Zhan strokes his back, his hands light and warm. Then he leans down and gives Wei Ying's trapezius a bite, no harder but longer, and all at once Wei Ying is entirely fucking online. "Shit," he gasps, rocking forward. Lan Zhan's hands slide firmly down his back to clutch at his ass, pull him closer. Between Lan Zhan's teeth and his hands, Wei Ying is pinned. He scrabbles at Lan Zhan's back, trying to get the leverage to press himself closer. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I'm awake! You've got me, oh, shit."

 

Lan Zhan finally releases him from the bite and, like Wei Ying, licks the bite mark soothingly. Wei Ying shudders against him, clings tighter. He can feel Lan Zhan's heart in his chest, the steady thud of it. He's getting hard already, has to shift in Lan Zhan's lap to accommodate himself, and he can feel Lan Zhan responding in kind underneath him. "Good morning," Wei Ying laughs. 

 

Lan Zhan squeezes his ass cheeks, kneads at him, kisses his neck. "Good morning, Wei Ying. Shower?"

 

Wei Ying sighs gustily. "I suppose."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says, pleased, and then he picks Wei Ying up and carries him over to the bathroom, where he carefully puts him down and they both let their boners wilt as they brush their teeth. There's that feeling again: boyfriendliness. They woke up together and everything. They're going to take showers and get dressed together and then go about their day together, and there'll be kissing involved, like, all day.

 

That's a — an expeditious way of getting rid of too-early dry eyes, Wei Ying supposes, blinking rapidly at himself in the mirror.

 

"Wei Ying?" Lan Zhan says in concern, when he emerges from rinsing his mouth and notices Wei Ying staring at him with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and tears in his eyes. 

 

"Sorry," Wei Ying says. He spits toothpaste foam into the sink and says, "Too early in the morning for gay thoughts, I got overwhelmed." He gives his teeth one last scrub and spits, rinses, splashes cold water on his face. When he straightens again, Lan Zhan has a towel already unfolded and waiting for him. Wei Ying lets his face be patted dry. "Mm. I'm good."

 

Lan Zhan drops the towel on the floor, cups Wei Ying's face in his hands, and kisses him all over. "You're cute," he says, when he has kissed every square inch of Wei Ying's face.

 

"You're cute," Wei Ying retorts helplessly. "Let's take a shower."

 

"Mn."

 

They kiss while the water heats up, which unfortunately doesn't take very long, and then they climb into the tub and kiss under the spray, their breaths coming humid and minty between them. They do actually manage to shampoo and condition each others' hair between kisses, which is already more than Wei Ying would have predicted; he spends a long time leaning into Lan Zhan's chest, zoning out to the feeling of Lan Zhan's hands in his hair, the water on his back, and then they trade positions and he gets to feel Lan Zhan relaxing under his hands. Then soap: the un-stickying of bellies and pubic hair. They touch each other lazily, explore their foreign topographies, make loose fists around each other's cocks. There is no urgency in the kisses they trade, open-mouthed and soft-tongued. Wei Ying pushes his free hand around Lan Zhan's hair, keeps him close and kissable, and in turn Lan Zhan trails his own hand down Wei Ying's back, strokes his waist and hips and the curves of his ass.

 

Wei Ying opens his eyes when he feels Lan Zhan's fingers slide between his asscheeks. Lan Zhan is looking back at him, looking sleepy and curious. Wei Ying quirks an eyebrow: Oh yeah? Lan Zhan raises both of his eyebrows minutely: Yeah. Wei Ying closes his eyes again, breaks their kiss to lean all his weight into Lan Zhan's chest. Squeezes Lan Zhan's cock, which hardens further in his hand.

 

Lan Zhan grips his asscheek, massages it. Wei Ying can feel soap suds dripping down his asscrack towards his balls; Lan Zhan must have lathered it a little with his hand when Wei Ying wasn't paying attention. "You are so funny," Wei Ying murmurs. "Pristine Lan Zhan likes such dirty things, huh?"

 

"It's not dirty," Lan Zhan tells him, and he draws a finger up the length of Wei Ying's ass crack like he's making a point. Wei Ying shudders against him, so he does it again with four fingers in a line, hot and sure against him, before pressing one fingertip against Wei Ying's asshole. This is something Wei Ying has never actually done to himself, and had not entirely seen the appeal of before recently; now, if he were to be asked whether he would prefer Lan Zhan's fingers inside him or a month off work, he would be hard-pressed to decide.

 

Pun intended.

 

"You gonna put it in me?" Wei Ying wonders into his throat. "I'd let you."

 

Lan Zhan makes a considering sound and presses against him — not far at all, probably not actually inside Wei Ying at all, just pushing at him. Seeing what it might take for his body to give. "Not like this," he decides. "Later. We'll need lube."

 

"I have lube," Wei Ying offers. "In my suitcase."

 

"So do I," Lan Zhan admits. He circles his finger around Wei Ying's asshole thoughtfully. Wei Ying sort of nudges his butt into it in encouragement. 

 

"Really! Lan Zhan, how presumptuous of you," Wei Ying teases. Lan Zhan's other hand tightens around him, which he considers an invitation to fuck sweetly into it. "You really… Mnn. You thought I was such a sure thing, huh?" The thought thrills through him, makes him close his eyes again in pleasure.

 

"It's good to be prepared," Lan Zhan tells him primly, and Wei Ying laughs into his shoulder. More seriously, Lan Zhan adds, "I wasn't certain. But I hoped."

 

"I see," Wei Ying says. "Good thing all you have to do to make me spread my legs for you is say — ah, say the word," he gasps, distracted mid-sentence by the way Lan Zhan dug his fingertips into his perineum when he said legs. "Fuck! Ah — ah, Lan Zhan, can we, I want to —"

 

Lan Zhan bites the side of his neck and then advises, "Use your words," because he is an asshole.

 

"I wanna blow you," Wei Ying breathes. "Let's — fuck, let's get out, it would be really bad if we slipped. Can I?"

 

Lan Zhan shuts the water off abruptly. Wei Ying pulls away to raise his eyebrows at him. "Baobei, no rinse?"

 

Lan Zhan sheepishly turns the water back on, his ears dark pink. He is so fucking cute.



*



Anyway, Wei Ying kneels naked on the fluffy white bathmat and blows him. He's delighted to learn that he really is good at it; he doesn't have much of a gag reflex, and he does have an oral fixation and a mouth that doesn't tire easily. And he's great at looking up at Lan Zhan's face through his eyelashes, and at making the sort of sweet little noises that make Lan Zhan twist his fingers into his hair. After, he's good at swallowing. When Lan Zhan slides off the edge of the tub to curl bodily around him, he's good at clinging and talking dirty and letting himself get jerked off while Lan Zhan kisses his neck, soft and a little messy.

 

They stay curled together on the bathmat for a long quiet moment after Wei Ying comes, catching their breaths. Wei Ying's head rocks with the movement of Lan Zhan's chest as he breathes. At last Lan Zhan heaves a sigh, kisses Wei Ying's wet temple, and unfolds himself to grab and moisten a washcloth. He cleans them both up again, then wraps Wei Ying up in a towel like a dumpling and sits him on the side of the tub again to blow-dry his hair.

 

"I don't think anyone's blow-dried my hair since I was, like, eight," Wei Ying tells him. He feels incomparably sleepy and warm; white noise, heated air, Lan Zhan's gentle hands in his hair, and general post-orgasmic coziness make a devastating combination.

 

"Not even a hairdresser?" Lan Zhan wonders.

 

"Oh. Okay yeah, but they don't count," Wei Ying decides. "Totally different vibe."

 

"Mn." A dry kiss pressed to his cheek. "I like doing it. I'll blow-dry your hair whenever you like."

 

"Yeah, okay," Wei Ying says in a very small voice. He clears his throat. "Get ready for that to be, like, all the time. I'll be so annoying. I shower so late usually, it'll be one am and I'll text you like 'baby come over my hair needs drying.'"

 

Lan Zhan pulls his hair to one side and kisses the skin behind his ear. "I'll come over."

 

Wei Ying makes a pathetic little whining sound and shuts up. He just. He likes Lan Zhan so fucking much.

 

Lan Zhan finishes blow-drying Wei Ying's hair in silence, and then he unwraps Wei Ying from the towel and smooths light, fragrant lotion all over his body, and then he ushers Wei Ying back into the bedroom to doze while Lan Zhan dries his own hair. Wei Ying goes easily enough; he's sleepy, and it must be earlier than he'd thought, if they've spent all this time just getting ready. (""""Getting ready."""") He crawls onto the bed and collapses face-down in the middle, feeling clean and brand-new, aware of his nakedness but lazily, lovingly unconcerned about it. He closes his eyes and listens to the hum of the hair dryer.

 

He loses track of time, not quite asleep but definitely not awake either, and only comes up for air when the mattress dips near his thrown-out hand. He makes an inquiring sound into the pillow as Lan Zhan climbs onto the bed next to him, and then his big warm hands appear on Wei Ying's shoulders.

 

"Massage?" Wei Ying mumbles hopefully, and then, waking up further, "Oh, Lan Zhan, you don't have to. We should get going, right? Gotta… Mmmnnnn," he trails off, as Lan Zhan drapes himself over his back. He's naked still, or at least shirtless; his chest is warm and smooth against Wei Ying's bare back.

 

"We have time still," Lan Zhan murmurs into his skin. He squeezes his hands around Wei Ying's biceps. Drops kisses along his spine. Kneads at the muscles of his back and shoulders. Wei Ying liquefies underneath him with a sigh, luxuriates in the feeling of Lan Zhan's soft warm breaths against his skin.

 

"You'll spoil me," he warns, his words slurred with contentedness.

 

"Good," Lan Zhan says, and kisses his shoulder blade. "My Wei Ying should get what he wants."

 

Wei Ying laughs at that. "Mark your words, Lan Zhan. Your Wei Ying wants a lot of things."

 

Lan Zhan kisses him again, pushes his palms into Wei Ying's back, alternating from one hand to the other like a cat. "Name them."

 

"Mmmm. A house made of marshmallows," Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan huffs a laugh into his skin. "A monkey to sit on my shoulder and we feed each other chips."

 

"I could feed you chips," Lan Zhan suggests.

 

Wei Ying laughs himself into a sigh, arches his back encouragingly up into Lan Zhan's hands. "I want…" he starts. Lan Zhan presses close, nuzzles into the side of Wei Ying's neck to kiss him there. Wei Ying sighs again, warm and content. "I want Lan Zhan in my bed," he decides. "Every day. Waking up too early and kissing me awake on his way out…"

 

Lan Zhan makes a sound into his skin. "I think our desires are compatible," he says, his voice soft and smug in Wei Ying's ear.

 

Wei Ying curls his shoulders up around his ears and cries, "Lan Zhan ah, you can't just say that!" Lan Zhan gives his little breath of a laugh again and squeezes Wei Ying's waist. "You're incorrigible. Who even are you."

 

"Mmn." Lan Zhan kisses his trapezius again, then begins kissing his way softly over to Wei Ying's spine. "I'm not so special. I just like you."

 

"God knows why." Wei Ying can't stop smiling. Lan Zhan scrapes his teeth against his skin in what is probably meant to be mild reproach; it just makes Wei Ying shudder underneath him. Lan Zhan makes an interested sound and does it again, his teeth neat and precise on Wei Ying's back. It itches in a way that makes Wei Ying want him to do it harder, really dig his teeth in. He clears his throat and says, "You can do that more. If you'd like."

 

Lan Zhan bites him properly, still carefully measured but less gentle this time, and drags his fingernails down his body, digs his thumbs into the small of Wei Ying's back at the bottom of his stroke.

 

"Ah," Wei Ying gasps, and rocks his hips into the bed. Lan Zhan releases his bite and licks him there to soothe it, exhales hotly onto the wet skin. "Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying breathes.

 

"Good?" Lan Zhan asks. Wei Ying feels him straighten beside him back into a kneeling position, followed by a shuffling as he climbs over Wei Ying's nearer leg to kneel between his spread knees, and then he pushes his hands up Wei Ying's back, rakes his fingers down again.

 

Wei Ying whines, "Yeah, it's good. Nnh, Lan Zhan, we just got clean…"

 

"We have time," Lan Zhan repeats. He kisses Wei Ying's spine, works his way down and down until he's gripping Wei Ying's hips, and his mouth is — his mouth is —

 

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying pants, and stops squirming for a second. "Ah Lan Zhan, what are you — you don't have to, sweet boy, it's dirty and I haven't — I haven't shaved, or waxed, or," he giggles sort of hysterically, "whatever it is people do to their assholes, I don't know."

 

"It's not dirty," Lan Zhan says again, directly into Wei Ying's asscrack. "I washed you myself." He kisses the skin above the cleft, nuzzles sweetly into the soft swell of his muscle. "And I don't mind your hair. I like your body." 

 

Wei Ying shivers again. Closes his eyes. "I like your you."

 

"I like your you too," Lan Zhan tells him, his smile audible in his voice. He brushes another kiss into his skin. "May I?"

 

Wei Ying swallows and says, "Yes. Please. If you really want to."

 

Lan Zhan hums into him. "I really want to."

 

"Okay," Wei Ying breathes, and Lan Zhan opens his mouth and presses his soft wet tongue to the sensitive valley of his skin. He licks and sucks his way down, the quiet kissing sounds crowding out all other information in Wei Ying's head.

 

Lan Zhan's hands appear on the angles of Wei Ying's pelvis. "Up," Lan Zhan requests, and then he just gently pulls Wei Ying's hips up like it's nothing. Wei Ying slides his knees up to support himself, and starts lifting himself on his hands as well, but Lan Zhan puts one hand gentle but firm between his shoulder blades and holds him down. "Like this," he says.

 

Wei Ying gets dizzy with how fast all the blood leaves his brain, even like this, working against gravity. "Shit. All right. Well I'm into that," he says breathlessly.

 

Lan Zhan sweeps his hand back down his back, then moves to grasp with both hands the meat at the top of Wei Ying's thighs. His thumbs are strong and warm against soft flesh, almost brushing Wei Ying's balls. Like this he manipulates Wei Ying's body, kneads him and squeezes him and spreads him open. When they kiss Lan Zhan is happy to use his teeth; now he's all soft lips and broad insistent tongue, his breaths coming short and hot against Wei Ying's skin. 

 

Wei Ying rubs his face into the pillow in pleasure. How's he supposed to summon the face to look at Lan Zhan, now that he's been kissed there so thoroughly? It's frankly a miracle that his ears haven't just melted off his head from how hot they are, listening to the sweet yearning sounds Lan Zhan makes against him. He twists his fingers into the sheets, pushes back against Lan Zhan's face. Lan Zhan goes, "Mn," and lifts one hand to push his knuckles into Wei Ying's perineum.

 

"Ah," Wei Ying gasps into the pillow. He can feel his cock jerk where it hangs heavy and full below him. He can barely breathe as Lan Zhan strokes his knuckles firmly down Wei Ying's perineum to the root of his balls, then back again. "Ah, ah, Lan Zhan, oh, shit."

 

"Someday," Lan Zhan murmurs into him, "Lube." As if that's a full sentence.

 

"You're cute," Wei Ying pants, "you're too cute, too cute, Lan — ahhh," as Lan Zhan gives a particularly solid lick. 

 

It's strange, this sex: it feels good, of course, especially the way Lan Zhan is using his fingers, but more than that it's the idea of it that's getting Wei Ying off. How helpless he feels, and how adored. Whenever he thinks about how they must look, a shudder rolls through him that starts at the base of his spine and ends in his ears: himself naked, face ground into the pillows, his back arched so that his belly almost brushes his thighs; Lan Zhan naked too, kneeling behind him, holding him up, holding him open. The wet sound of Lan Zhan's mouth; the creaking of the bed below them. Is Lan Zhan hard? He — he must be, with the sounds he's making. Sweet little satisfied noises.

 

Wei Ying loses himself in the wet insistence of Lan Zhan's tongue, in his hand below it; he feels overstimulated and understimulated at once, awash with new pleasure, his cock aching and leaking without Lan Zhan's having even touched it. He's stopped talking, started just whining incoherently into the pillows when something feels good, which is frequently; he can feel drool forming a wet spot under his face, one of multiple he's been responsible for so far.

 

At last Lan Zhan takes pity on him; he swirls his tongue around once more before withdrawing to lay the side of his face against the roundness of Wei Ying's ass, his panting clearly audible. He reaches up with the hand he was using to hold Wei Ying open, and cups Wei Ying's balls in his palm, giving them a squeeze before reaching farther to wrap his hand around Wei Ying's heavy cock. Wei Ying shivers and moans and can't even bring himself to fuck into it, just lets Lan Zhan tug him once, twice, three times before he gasps and comes, desperately loud breaths ripping their way from his throat without his permission.

 

"Good," Lan Zhan tells him breathlessly, stroking Wei Ying's cock through its jerking. "Good boy, Wei Ying."

 

Wei Ying shudders again, and then Lan Zhan slides his hands to either side of Wei Ying's hips and helps to control his boneless collapse onto his side, away from the mess he's just made. Then Lan Zhan wriggles elegantly under one of Wei Ying's knees to rest his face against Wei Ying's lower belly, all tangled up in his legs. Wei Ying closes his eyes and focuses on breathing: his own, Lan Zhan's. He can feel his heartbeat in his balls, his fingertips, his face.

 

"Fuck," he wheezes.

 

"You're very beautiful," Lan Zhan tells him, his voice ragged. Wei Ying is only able to groan wordlessly in response. He flings a hand down to pat limply at Lan Zhan's head twice before just keeping it there, fingers hooked half heartedly into his sleek hair.

 

"Get up here 'n' let me take care of you?" Wei Ying manages eventually.

 

Lan Zhan clears his throat. "No need."

 

"What? No, I know I'm pathetic right now but I can manage a handy, c'mon," Wei Ying insists.

 

Lan Zhan pets his upper belly, where his abs give way to his ribcage. "No need," he repeats, with emphasis. 

 

Wei Ying opens his eyes again to stare at the ceiling. "Did you already."

 

"Mn."

 

"Oh my god, dude. — But I thought I knew where both your hands were the whole time??"

 

"You did."

 

"Holy shit," Wei Ying mumbles. "That wasn't just a fluke earlier?"

 

"I like you," Lan Zhan sighs into Wei Ying's belly, as if that's relevant. Maybe it is. He's such a weirdo.

 

"I like you too," Wei Ying tells him. "I like you so much. Tian ah. We've made such a mess of these sheets, Lan Zhan, we gotta… Ah, we gotta leave the biggest tip."

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan agrees. He pats Wei Ying's chest, then heaves himself up and leaves Wei Ying naked and fucked-out on the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a minute before coming out with a freshly washed face, sharp mouthwash-minty breath.

 

Wei Ying slides his gaze over to him, watches him move about the room. "Next time you should just come inside me," he decides. 

 

Lan Zhan trips over nothing. He catches himself, then kneels anyway to pull fresh clothing from his suitcase. "Please elaborate," he says after a moment. His visible ear is so cute and pink.

 

"To avoid the mess," Wei Ying clarifies, looking back up at the ceiling.

 

Lan Zhan is silent for a moment. Then he clears his throat and says, "Wei Ying is full of good ideas," and Wei Ying grins to himself.



*



They do get dressed eventually. Wei Ying feels warm and content, just about ready for the mid-morning nap he likes to take at ten on the weekends, and then when he's squatting to zip up his suitcase he happens to glance at Lan Zhan's watch. He squawks, "It's only fucking seven?"

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan says. "What time did you think it was?"

 

"I thought we woke up at seven! I thought it must be like nine-thirty! I thought we must be running late and you just hadn't mentioned!"

 

"I woke you at five," Lan Zhan informs him, two hours late. "We should be on the road by quarter of eight."

 

"Five… I woke up at five… Tian ah, what would my mother say…" He touches his index finger to his temple in shock. He has this running fiction with Lan Zhan where his mother is still alive and is just like him, but More So; he gets the vibe that Lan Zhan thinks it's cute but also something he should probably disapprove of.

 

Sure enough, Lan Zhan chucks his chin with his index finger. "Are you packed?" 

 

Wei Ying tries half heartedly to bite him, then says, "Yeah, I'm all set. D'you think this place has breakfast?"

 

"Mn. There was a sign in the lobby for continental breakfast," Lan Zhan confirms. He draws his fingers through Wei Ying's bangs. "Do you really mind that I woke you early?"

 

This time Wei Ying succeeds in biting his fingers, because Lan Zhan doesn't pull away at all when he lunges, just holds still and lets Wei Ying gnaw on him a little. He chomps a couple times, then releases him. "No it's fine," he says, standing. "You paid the orgasm tax, it's all fair. And anyway that just means I got to look at handsome Lan Zhan for an extra couple hours." He grins at Lan Zhan, then throws his arms out behind him and goes up on his tiptoes in a back-cracking stretch. 

 

Lan Zhan steps closer and slips his arms around Wei Ying's waist. When he's finished stretching, Wei Ying is perfectly positioned to loop his own arms over Lan Zhan's shoulders, at which point he leans forward and gives him a smooch. "You're cute. You can wake me up whenever you like," he says.

 

"Hm," Lan Zhan says, and kisses him.

 

They stand there kissing softly for a long moment, before Wei Ying has to break away with a nervous laugh to hide his face against Lan Zhan's shoulder. "Sorry," he giggles, "sorry, I'll be good in a second, I just. Wow. Holy shit. Haha."

 

Lan Zhan strokes his back patiently. "All right?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan's sweater. "I'm just uhh. I just have a fat fucking crush on you."

 

"Oh, if that's all," Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying cracks up. He straightens again for a kiss which is duly given; maybe in another hundred years he'll stop being surprised by it, by how readily Lan Zhan kisses him and how sweetly. Lan Zhan pulls him closer, softens the kiss before pulling away and licking Wei Ying's lower lip like a weirdo. 

 

"Fuck, you're cute," Wei Ying mumbles into him.

 

"I like you too," Lan Zhan tells him, and presses one more kiss to his mouth before stepping away. "Breakfast?"

 

"Breakfast," Wei Ying agrees. "But — let's strip the bed first. Oh my god."

 

They strip the bed. Lan Zhan leaves a giant tip, which is good and fair, because really it's because of him that they made a mess instead of doing what they have historically done when alone together, which is pine and jerk off furiously when the other leaves the room. Wei Ying tells him so and Lan Zhan says nothing to defend himself, just looks very smug.

 

They eat breakfast in the hotel breakfast nook with their knees knocking together under the little table, and Wei Ying gives Lan Zhan all the pineapple chunks in his fruit salad (he's allergic) in exchange for all Lan Zhan's fruit salad's grapes (he has a thing about grapes that someone else has plucked from the bunch). They drink bad black tea and orange juice. Wei Ying eats a breakfast sausage; Lan Zhan chokes down a raspberry cup yogurt.

 

They keep looking at each other, making eye contact over bites of fruit, sips of juice; Lan Zhan is just so handsome, and he looks quietly, luminously happy, even here in the sickly fluorescent light of the hotel lobby. It feels good to look at him in public; to be looked at by him; to be seen with him, together, in public. Some not insignificant part of Wei Ying wants everyone in this Comfort Inn to know what they've done here, a part which Wei Ying is more than happy to indulge by leaning down to drop a kiss on the top of Lan Zhan's head as he returns from throwing their trash away. Lan Zhan makes a little pleased sound when he does it, then says, "Ready?"

 

Wei Ying says, "Ready," and they stand together. Outer layers are donned, their collars straightened by each other's hands; Wei Ying trades his room key for the van keys; Lan Zhan goes to check them out of their room while Wei Ying tugs the two suitcases outside. The weather is clear and bright after yesterday evening's snowfall, and the parking lot hasn't been ploughed, but there's little enough snow on the ground that it doesn't really matter. It just cakes up around the leading edge of the suitcases. There are cardinals fooling around in the trees at the edge of the parking lot, and in the sky crows are reeling around and calling to each other; and in the morning sun they aren't omens at all, just animals enjoying being alive. 

 

Wei Ying beeps the van unlocked and yanks the frosted sliding door until it opens, then heaves the suitcases in, stacking them carefully under the piano. The snow crunches under his boots as he moves; when he ducks out again, it's just in time for a chill breeze to lift his hair, and he hears snow falling off branches with soft paffs. He climbs into the cab, which is just beginning to warm with the risen sun, and settles in to wait. He checks his phone: he has a text waiting from Nie Huaisang.



nie huaisang

wtf wei yingothy are u NAKEY in that pic

 

me

Why did u reply to this at 4am

 

me

Wait how tf can u tell I was nakey. Literally its a pic of my forehead and NOTHING ELSE???

 

nie huaisang

i have my ways 🥰

 

nie huaisang

by which i mean i took a guess LMAOOOOOO U DOG THANKS FOR CONFIRMING!!!!!!!!

 

me

Don't call me a dog what is wrong with you!!!!!!!!!!!! I am a normal slut tyvm

 

nie huaisang

ya a slut who was a virgin until yesterday and will presumably never fuck another human being in his life

 

me

God I fucking hope so

 

nie huaisang

👀

 

nie huaisang

like, say more

 

me

Idk what to say dude I just like

 

me

Really really really like him. A lot

 

nie huaisang

oh :/

 

me

???

 

nie huaisang

i was just hoping for like

 

nie huaisang

lan zhan cock testimonials

 

nie huaisang

like "his dick is so great hes ruined me for anyone else" that sort of thing

 

nie huaisang

u kno, juicy fucking deets

 

me

Oh my god

 

me

Ok yes also dick too bomb. Not only am I in love with him but also he made me cum more in like 18 hrs than I have since I was 17 and just moved into baby's first single

 

nie huaisang

omfg

 

me

Literally I didn't even know I could still do that

 

nie huaisang

ok tmi ❤️

 

me

You LITERALLY asked for juicy fucking deets

 

nie huaisang

yes but not about ur like CUM life

 

me

Coward



The driver's side door opens with a rush of air and Lan Zhan slides in. Wei Ying tucks his phone away, and when he looks up, it's to Lan Zhan leaning across the seats, cupping his face in his hands, and kissing him.

 

Wei Ying kisses him back with a startled sound. "Hi," he says when Lan Zhan withdraws, and then he rolls his lips into his mouth and releases them with a pop. "You're minty," he observes. "Chapstick?"

 

"Mn," Lan Zhan confirms. He pulls the door closed behind him. "Now your lips won't chap."

 

"How thoughtful," Wei Ying manages. Lan Zhan hums in agreement and starts the engine, then leans back over again to — to tuck his cloak around Wei Ying's shoulders like a blanket. He straightens and smooths it with gentle hands, then kisses Wei Ying's cheek and draws back. Already Wei Ying feels the coziness creeping in like an autumn fog. "No," he protests, "oh my god, you devious bastard."

 

"Hm?" says Lan Zhan as if he doesn't know exactly what the fuck he is doing.

 

"This was all a ploy!" Wei Ying cries. "A scheme! A plot! You wake me up so early and then wring all my energy out through my dick and now this? This — this — this tender cozy warmth?? You monster."

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lan Zhan says primly.

 

"You're putting me to sleep!" Wei Ying howls. "You're sedating me so I won't distract you!"

 

"I am not sedating you," Lan Zhan tells him, like a liar.

 

"Yeah? Yeah? I can barely move," Wei Ying says. "Look at me, I'm useless." He kicks his feet feebly. "I can't even fasten my seatbelt, Lan Zhan."

 

"Hmmm," Lan Zhan says. He gives Wei Ying a once-over. "That is a problem."

 

"Your poor Wei Ying is too weak to resist your evil ways," Wei Ying complains with a pout, snuggling deeper into the cloak. It smells so good in there; he lets his eyelids fall to half mast, and watches Lan Zhan stiffen next to him.

 

It takes about five seconds before Lan Zhan gives in and reaches over to buckle him in. "This is pathetic," he mutters, clicking the seatbelt into place before leaning in to nuzzle Wei Ying's ears. "Wuliao." Wei Ying scrunches up his nose in pleasure; Lan Zhan kisses his cheeks and ears and dimples and then, when Wei Ying offers his pursed lips for kisses, his mouth. "Unbelievable that that works on me," Lan Zhan sighs into Wei Ying's hair.

 

Wei Ying laughs and kisses him again. "If I fall for your tricks, you have to fall for mine," he declares. "It's only equal."

 

"Mmmmn," Lan Zhan says consideringly.

 

Wei Ying smooches him one last time, then gives a half hearted wriggle. "Go away, go away," he says, "it's nap time for A-Ying. I expect to wake up in Illinois, master chauffeur."

 

"Hm. I'll do my best."

 

Wei Ying closes his eyes and listens to Lan Zhan settling back behind the wheel. Buckling himself in. "Have a good nap, Wei Ying," in a low, gentle voice.

 

Wei Ying yawns and mumbles, "Thanks, Zhanzhan. Love you."

 

An intake of breath, although it's not the first time they've said it. "Love you too, Wei Ying."

 

Wei Ying falls asleep.