“Another harsh spike from Number 33 to Yunmeng’s libero. This is the third spike aimed toward Number 13 in a row! That has got to hurt—it almost seems personal at this point,” the announcer jokes through the mic.
“Hhah,” Wei Ying pants, arms stinging after another deep receive of one of Lan Zhan’s cruel spikes. The ball bounces off her arms and straight toward their setter, again, and Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan’s harsh glare with a cheeky smile. “You’re gonna need to hit harder than that, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan tears her eyes away from Wei Ying’s taunting to jump to block Yunmeng’s spiker, and then the ball is back on Gusu’s side and Lan Zhan is leaping in a show of grace of power—spiking down with a quick snap of her wrist directly toward Wei Ying again.
Her thighs burn with the strain of the deep squat she’s in; her body poised and ready to move. Wei Ying screams when she receives—something feral and adrenaline filled. Lan Zhan’s attention gravitates back to her and she must be watching Wei Ying because that’s where the ball is; Lan Zhan’s gaze must be that dark because of the heat of the competition and her desire to triumph over Yunmeng’s team.
It’s the third match. Gusu had won the first, and Yunmeng the second. Score’s locked at 24 to 24; two points to go until the winner is decided. Gusu and Yunmeng have always been matched in athletic excellence, and all of their games end up this close. Wei Ying always turns it into a personal match between herself and Lan Zhan. A battle to make the other falter. There’s no one else who can challenge her the way Lan Zhan does.
Yunmeng wins a point. 25 to Gusu’s 24. Breath heavy, Wei Ying continues receiving, arms stinging with every harsh slap of the ball, and chest heaving from the exertion. Lan Zhan is equally affected: Wei Ying can tell even from all the way across the court that Lan Zhan’s hands are clenched into fists at her side and the little escaped hairs from her ponytail are stuck to her forehead and nape.
Wei Ying smirks—Yunmeng needs one final point and it’s her serve. She doesn’t like to brag (she does) but her jump serves are something to be feared. People are always surprised that such a tiny frame holds so much strength within, and Wei Ying loves to shock the audience. She bounces the ball three times, an old superstition for good luck, then tosses it, runs forward, leaps and sends the ball hurling over to Gusu’s court in a brutally fast arc. Gusu’s receivers are no joke either, and they take it with grace and send the ball back into play.
Rallying her team, Wei Ying’s voice is loud and audible to the other side of the court. And when Lan Zhan leaps to smack down another spike, Wei Ying calls, “Come on jiejie! Give it to your A-Ying!” Lan Zhan grunts as she spikes and it makes Wei Ying shiver at how deep it comes from within her. Wei Ying’s goading works, and Lan Zhan—too worked up by Wei Ying’s comments—spikes down the ball just shy of the court boundaries. Wei Ying watches with a smirk.
The referee’s whistle blows and she calls, “Out! 26 Yunmeng. Game Yunmeng!”
Wei Ying’s team cheers, rushing to the center of the court to crash together in a sweaty hug while Gusu consoles themselves on the other side. When the teams line up to shake hands, Wei Ying is already prepared for the deep scowl on Lan Zhan’s face and wastes no opportunity to rile her up further by dragging her fingers up Lan Zhan’s damp arm and whispering, “Nice try, Lan-er-jejie, maybe you can win next time, hm?”
Lan Zhan’s hand clamps around Wei Ying’s wrist so tightly that Wei Ying gasps. “Watch yourself,” she warns and then continues down the line, shoulders set tense and hackled like an offended cat.
Wei Ying licks her lips and smiles.
In the locker room, Wei Ying strips out of her sweaty jersey and tosses her abused knee pads into her bag. No one can see her sports bras but she always wears the sexy ones to games anyway; they make her feel powerful. This one is her favorite: red with lacey crisscrossing straps that frame her tiny chest in a very flattering way, if she says so herself.
“That was unsportsmanlike.” Lan Zhan’s voice startles Wei Ying and she jumps with a yelp, hand over her thundering heart.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying squeaks. “What the hell. Don’t sneak up like that!”
“It is not proper etiquette to goad the other team,” Lan Zhan continues, despite Wei Ying’s protests.
Frowning, Wei Ying tosses her bag into her locker and grabs her shower supplies. “Lighten up, Lan Zhan, it’s not that serious.” She moves toward the showers, which are behind Lan Zhan, but her way is blocked by Lan Zhan’s imposing figure.
“It is serious,” Lan Zhan replies.
Wei Ying tilts her head up to look at Lan Zhan’s golden eyes, lost there for a second with how the light catches the flecks of green in them. Wei Ying shrugs her shoulders and attempts to push past Lan Zhan, but she doesn’t get very far.
“Apologize,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying’s eyes widen in incredulity as she scoffs.
“Hah! You’ve got to be kidding me, Lan Zhan. No offense, but you’re being a sore loser. Perhaps don’t get so affected by your A-Ying next time, hm?”
Lan Zhan’s eyes darken and her lips part slightly. “You will apologize,” she repeats and Wei Ying shifts awkwardly on her feet.
“You’re being so uptight it’s ridiculous. Would you let me pass so I can shower? You’re just gonna have to learn how to take my teasing better, jie, unless you want to keep losing to Yunmeng.”
Lan Zhan levels her with a stare that has Wei Ying shifting her thighs closer together, heat pricking up her spine.
“You should not tease,” Lan Zhan says finally, after a weighted pause.
And Wei Ying can’t help it, something in her gut tells her to push Lan Zhan further; make her snap. “Why, jiejie? Can’t handle it? Am I too much for your delicate, sensitive disposition? Do I make you want to hit the lockers in frustration? Maybe—maybe you want to hit your poor A-Ying in frustration? Jie, that’s not very nice.” Wei Ying tsks mockingly.
Lan Zhan’s fists are trembling, held into such tight balls at her side that her knuckles are white. “I will make you regret your words,” Lan Zhan bites out, and then her large hand is clamped around Wei Ying’s wrist and dragging her towards the showers.
Wei Ying squeaks, digging her heels into the ground in protest, but Lan Zhan is larger than her, and stronger than her, and hauls her all the way to the furthest shower before spinning and shoving her against the wall.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying shouts and Lan Zhan fits a hand over Wei Ying’s mouth to silence her.
“Shut up,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying tries to bite her hand but Lan Zhan’s grip is too tight against her face. Silenced. Wei Ying can feel her heartbeat in her throat. “No one has ever disciplined you, it seems,” she continues and Wei Ying kicks out at her in defiance. “Did you want my attention so badly, A-Ying?”
Wei Ying blinks up at Lan Zhan, face heating at the pet name, and stomach dropping all the way to her toes in a freefall. She wiggles her tongue free to lick Lan Zhan’s palm in another escape attempt but all it does is get Lan Zhan to shift her hand and shove two fingers between Wei Ying’s lips instead. She lets out an alarmed sound at the intrusion—muffled with how Lan Zhan fills her mouth. How are Lan Zhan’s fingers so big? The way Wei Ying has to gasp around them and how they make her jaw ache makes her wonder how they would feel stretching out her pussy—
“—an Zhan!” Wei Ying moans futilely around the digits and Lan Zhan stares her down again, her gaze challenging, dark, and full of heat. Wei Ying has to press her thighs together again against the rush of arousal she feels; so strong it makes her legs wobble beneath her.
The motion doesn’t escape Lan Zhan’s gaze, and when her eyes track back up to Wei Ying’s flushed face, it’s with grave understanding.
“Oh,” Lan Zhan comments, sounding pleased, “you like this.”
Weakly, Wei Ying tries to push against Lan Zhan’s chest, tell her she doesn’t like it, but she can’t stop herself from licking Lan Zhan’s fingers long enough to voice her feelings. Despite the insanity of the situation, understanding trickles molasses-slow through Wei Ying. She needs this. Needs Lan Zhan’s touch. Needs Lan Zhan having her way with her; making her do things she could never ask for herself.
Lan Zhan traps both of Wei Ying’s wrists and slams them against the tiled wall above her head. “This is what you wanted all along,” Lan Zhan continues, and Wei Ying squirms at the accusation.
“N-no,” Wei Ying tries, but it sounds weak even to her own ears and she knows that Lan Zhan knows it’s bullshit.
Lan Zhan begins pumping her fingers in and out of Wei Ying’s mouth, pushing down at her tongue, watching with rapt attention as the saliva pools.
“Nnng,” Wei Ying moans around Lan Zhan’s fingers when they slip a little too far back and brush against the back of her throat.
Lan Zhan’s eyes darken further, iris eaten up by the breadth of her pupil; her breath grows ragged and Wei Ying can’t help but knock her head back against the wall with a groan, stomach fluttering with arousal. Knowing that she’s affecting the stoic and cold Number 33 is thrilling. Seeing Lan Zhan lose her carefully kept together composure because of Wei Ying makes Wei Ying’s toes curl.
The game is up. Wei Ying is helpless against her body’s instinctual desire for Lan Zhan. With just one buck of Wei Ying’s hips, she knows she’s doomed: Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying search for friction against her throbbing cunt and smirks—actually smirks—about it.
Wei Ying can’t help pouting when Lan Zhan finally removes her drenched fingers from Wei Ying’s mouth, dragging across her bottom lip as she does so. “Lan Zhan. So mean,” Wei Ying says, and blushes when she hears the breathiness of her voice, a dead giveaway that Lan Zhan being so rough to her is driving her out of her mind.
Lan Zhan stares at her pushed out lips for a second before dipping in to kiss her. Shocked, Wei Ying parts her lips and Lan Zhan pushes her tongue inside to lick into Wei Ying’s mouth. When Wei Ying’s knees begin to tremble from the onslaught, Lan Zhan slots a strong, inviting thigh in between her legs. She tries to resist for as long as she can, but Lan Zhan’s so close to the heat of Wei Ying’s soaking wet pussy and it’s dizzying how much she wants it. Just the slightest pressure against Wei Ying’s cunt makes her whimper until Lan Zhan tuts in admonishment.
“Be quiet,” Lan Zhan warns, but Wei Ying can’t help it, she’s never been quiet in her life. She looks up at Lan Zhan through teary lashes and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth in an attempt to be a good girl, but when Lan Zhan moves one hand down to her hips to guide her in a harsh grind, Wei Ying lets out another too-loud moan.
Reaching behind them, Lan Zhan flicks the shower on, and the sound of the water splashing fills the room. It’s cold and Wei Ying jumps away from it, right into Lan Zhan’s waiting grasp, where she buries her face against Lan Zhan’s salty neck and breathes her in with a weak, “Lan Zhan...”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan hums, hands coming up to squeeze at Wei Ying’s ass through her damp shorts. “What does A-Ying need?”
Wei Ying shudders and mouths mindlessly at Lan Zhan’s neck. “Need jiejie,” she says. “Need jiejie’s fingers.”
Something like a growl comes from Lan Zhan’s throat and Wei Ying’s stomach flips in anticipation. Wei Ying’s back is pressed against the tiles again and Lan Zhan is hastily plunging her fingers underneath Wei Ying’s sport bra and pulling it up and over her head, tossing it to the ground in a wet splat. Not wanting to be topless alone, Wei Ying grabs for Lan Zhan’s. Knowing how much Lan Zhan likes to embarrass her, she doesn’t expect her to comply with Wei Ying’s neediness, but, surprisingly, Lan Zhan lets her pull it over her head. Her long ponytail flops down against her shoulder, and Wei Ying has a startling vision of playing with Lan Zhan’s hair until she falls asleep pillowed on Wei Ying’s thighs. She shakes the romantic feelings out of her head and focuses on the feeling of Lan Zhan’s mouth biting at her sensitive nipples instead.
“Ah!” Wei Ying yelps when Lan Zhan closes her mouth against the quickly reddening bud and sucks it harshly into her mouth. “Ah! Can’t you do anything gently?”
Lan Zhan lifts her head to look at Wei Ying from between her breasts and bites harshly into the soft flesh there followed by a casual, “Wei Ying does not want me to do it gently.” And Wei Ying doesn’t know what to do with that but she doesn’t have much time to think about it because Lan Zhan’s hands are on the move again and brushing against the soft, ticklish skin of her belly until they reach the waistband of her shorts.
Lan Zhan teases the fabric there, picking it up and letting it smack back against Wei Ying’s skin until Wei Ying is squirming for it and chanting an incoherent, “Inside. Inside.” Then Lan Zhan dips one hand beneath Wei Ying’s shorts and panties and slides all the way down to cup Wei Ying’s warm mound, which is drenched, and she just knows Lan Zhan is going to be mean about it.
Right on cue, Lan Zhan leans in to bite at Wei Ying’s earlobe, scraping her teeth harshly down the lobe before saying, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re this wet for me?”
Wei Ying shudders and bucks against Lan Zhan’s hand, which cruelly is not touching her properly, just dipping her fingers into the folds of Wei Ying’s pussy and studiously ignoring her clit or her hole.
“Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying mumbles, head fuzzy with need, and Lan Zhan moves down to mouth at Wei Ying’s neck.
“Lan Zhan, please,” Wei Ying begs, and Lan Zhan bites firmly into the tender meat of Wei Ying’s shoulder.
“Please what?” Lan Zhan asks, and Wei Ying is going to lose it.
Wei Ying shakes her head fitfully and tears well in her eyes. Lan Zhan is so mean. “I already said it, Lan Zhan!”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan agrees. “You have my fingers.”
“Lan Zhan! You demon! You absolute bully! Why’re you torturing your A-Ying like this? Who taught you to be like this! You know what I want!”
“Do I? Wei Ying hasn’t told me exactly what she needs yet.”
Wei Ying is never going to talk to Lan Zhan again after this. Wei Ying is absolutely going to jerk herself off to this for the next three weeks straight, and then taunt Lan Zhan into doing it all over again.
“Inside me,” Wei Ying begs. “I want your fingers inside me!” She’s breaking. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen when Lan Zhan finally touches her properly, but her head is foggy and she knows she needs Lan Zhan to fill her up and fuck her properly before she loses her god damn mind.
Wei Ying can feel Lan Zhan’s smile pressed into the skin of her neck and butterflies flit around in her stomach and she doesn’t quite know what to do with those either.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, please, put your fingers in me. I want jiejie’s strong fingers fucking me open. Want you inside. Want to come on your fingers. Give it to me,” Wei Ying pleads and Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan might actually break the skin with how hard she’s biting at Wei Ying’s neck. “Nnng!”
“Since Wei Ying asked so nicely,” Lan Zhan says and Wei Ying wants to bite her back in retaliation for that but then Lan Zhan is finally circling Wei Ying’s clit with her calloused fingers and Wei Ying comes just like that. Tremors shaking her small frame and tears streaking down her face from the force of it. It’s nothing like she’s ever felt before in her life. Her own fingers do not feel like this. Lan Zhan’s hands must be magic.
“You came already?” Lan Zhan asks and Wei Ying has to blink back into existence to weakly nod at her. “I didn’t say that you could, yet.”
Wei Ying does not understand what Lan Zhan is saying. She already came… so…
Wei Ying squeaks when Lan Zhan dips two fingers swiftly into her pussy and then scrambles away from them. “Lan Zhan! It’s too much, I just came!”
Lan Zhan frowns at her. “You will come again,” she says, and gives Wei Ying a kiss that could almost be considered sweet if it didn’t end in a bite to Wei Ying’s bottom lip. “And this time you will come when I tell you, like a good girl.”
Wei Ying moans at the promise—she can be Lan Zhan’s good girl; she can come when Lan Zhan tells her to. Wei Ying clenches around Lan Zhan’s fingers which earns her a shaky breath from Lan Zhan. She wants to affect Lan Zhan too! She doesn’t want to be the only mewling mess shaking apart on Lan Zhan’s skilled fingers.
Lan Zan continues the assault of Wei Ying’s pussy with harsh thrusts until she twists her hand and finds Wei Ying’s g-spot and then Wei Ying’s knees do actually give out and she stumbles against Lan Zhan. From this angle Lan Zhan’s fingers slips free and Wei Ying whines, “Empty,” once, before Lan Zhan is sliding her hands back inside Wei Ying’s shorts, over the curve of her ass, and slipping them into her pussy again. In this position Wei Ying can mouth lazily at Lan Zhan’s neck and collarbones while Lan Zhan continues fingering her to within an inch of her life.
Wei Ying’s pleasure is like rippling waves, and before long she starts trembling again, clenching around Lan Zhan’s fingers. “Lan Zhaaaan,” she warns and Lan Zhan tuts again. Mean!
“Do you think you deserve to come?”
“Lan Zhan! Of course!” Wei Ying’s voice is pitchy and whiny and she blushes at how she sounds.
Lan Zhan hums noncommittally, which, what does that mean. But before Wei Ying can figure it out Lan Zhan is releasing Wei Ying and dropping to her knees to pull Wei Ying’s shorts and panties off completely.
Embarrassed, Wei Ying moves to cover her exposed cunt, but Lan Zhan is spreading her legs and then parting the folds of Wei Ying’s pussy with a reverent gaze that makes Wei Ying want to melt into a puddle right here.
“Pretty,” Lan Zhan comments, then wastes no time dipping her face in between Wei Ying’s thighs and lapping and sucking her clit into her mouth with an expert swirl of her tongue. Wei Ying cries out at the intensity of the feeling. Lan Zhan’s mouth is wet and hot against her, and she doesn’t think she can take more pleasure. But then Lan Zhan thrusts two fingers back inside of Wei Ying’s pussy and presses insistently against Wei Ying’s g-spot.
On trembling legs, Wei Ying pulls against Lan Zhan’s hair, fingers grazing against Lan Zhan’s undercut and says far too loudly, “Lan Zhan, I’ll come! Please, let me come, jiejie. Want to be good for you; want to come when you tell me to, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Zhan only pulls away for a moment to bite a warning into the tender flesh of Wei Ying’s thick thighs before saying, “Then come on my tongue, A-Ying,” and dipping back down to remover her fingers, replacing them with her tongue, thrusting roughly into Wei Ying’s hole and thumbing at Wei Ying’s clit until Wei Ying is coming with a shout, hands fisted into Lan Zhan’s hair and doubling over from the force of it, vision spotty and body alight.
Lan Zhan fucks her through it. Very unkindly. Mouthing against Wei Ying’s pussy like she’s the best dessert in the world and not stopping despite Wei Ying’s protests and pushing against Lan Zhan’s head, hands twisting into Lan Zhan’s hair in desperation. Lan Zhan grinds herself down against the heel of her foot, and Wei Ying’s vision is getting spotty, but she thinks she might see Lan Zhan shaking apart with her. The thought of Lan Zhan getting off by eating Wei Ying out only makes Wei Ying shake harder through her orgasm.
“Lan Zhan, oh my god, please—too much! Too much!” Wei Ying moans, sliding down the tile wall and Lan Zhan follows with her mouth until Wei Ying thinks she really might pass out. Once Wei Ying hits the floor with a whoosh of the last of her air in her lungs pushed out, Lan Zhan pulls away and leans forward to lick into Wei Ying’s mouth inside. Still hungry. Wei Ying whines at the taste of herself on Lan Zhan’s tongue, trying to press her thighs together despite how oversensitive she is, still trembling. It’s like Lan Zhan cannot get enough; does she even need to breathe? Lan Zhan’s desire is infectious and Wei Ying’s mind goes happily blank as she kisses back. No thoughts but Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan’s lips on hers.
When Lan Zhan pulls away with a smug smile, Wei Ying’s stomach flips again. “Lan Zhan,” she says weakly, “who knew you were such a beast?” She bats at Lan Zhan’s chest, and Lan Zhan catches her wrist in her hand and brings it to her mouth to place a far-too-sweet kiss against the pulse point there. More butterflies: Wei Ying is getting seriously concerned she may be sick. “Do you? Can I—” Wei Ying starts, then shyly finishes, “can I make you come too?”
Lan Zhan shakes her head and Wei Ying deflates. “No need.”
Wei Ying blinks at her confused. “But. . .”
Then, somehow sheepish, ears pink under the fluorescent lights, despite everything they’ve just done, and Lan Zhan eating her out until she saw the heavens, Lan Zhan says, “I came from eating you out.”
Wei Ying gapes at her. So she didn’t imagine it. . .Lan Zhan really. . .
She doesn’t know what to do with all of these emotions swirling inside of her chest, but she’ll have to politely ignore them like she does with all of her emotional turmoil until it becomes an actual life-altering problem.
“It’s not my fault,” Lan Zhan replies and Wei Ying barks out a laugh.
“Oh yeah, and whose exactly is it, jiejie?”
Wei Ying wants to laugh again but the look of heat Lan Zhan gives her shuts her right up. Voice low and gravelly when she whispers into her ear, “I could tell you wanted me,” Lan Zhan says, then pauses. “You think I haven’t noticed how you stare at me when we change after games?”
Wei Ying’s entire body flushes, somehow more embarrassed by the fact that Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying is kind of obsessed with her, than by anything else they’ve just done. Wei Ying swears her flaming cheeks serve only to urge Lan Zhan on.
“I knew you’d look gorgeous stretched around my fingers. Coming on my tongue. Wanted to eat you out till you cried,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying has to bury her face in her hands to survive Lan Zhan’s dirty talk. Then after a thoughtful pause, “I think you could take my cock, princess, would you like that?”
And Wei Ying might come again on the spot just hearing that. “Lan Zhaaaaaan,” Wei Ying whines and Lan Zhan kisses her again, softer this time. “Insatiable.” Her mind whirls at the thought of taking Lan Zhan’s strap inside of her; of Lan Zhan spreading her open impossibly wide around her thick cock until Wei Ying is a crying, blubbering mess. Perhaps on her stomach, face pressed into the sheets as Lan Zhan fucks into her from behind. Growling and telling Wei Ying how pretty her pussy looks stretched around Lan Zhan’s fat cock until they’re both coming. And maybe Lan Zhan will fuck her through her orgasm again and right into a second one until Wei Ying passes out right there, fucked into oblivion, and knowing she’ll spend the next few days sore, thinking of Lan Zhan’s cock every time her pussy aches.
Wei Ying shudders and Lan Zhan must know what’s on her mind because she presses a tiny smile against Wei Ying’s in a kiss again and again with promise, and says, “Next time you want me to fuck you, Wei Ying, just ask.”