Luo Binghe likes going to the gym for several reasons. Staying in shape is important to her and she’s put a lot of effort into her well-defined muscles and ability to toss a man several metres; it’d be a shame to let it waste away. It’s also relaxing to set aside an hour or two for a workout, focusing purely on following her routine and on the days like today, having Mobei Jun with her for mutual spot-checking and low-key competition.
But she likes going to this particular gym, at this day and time, for one reason only.
Said reason is currently jogging on a treadmill, and from her place by the weights, Luo Binghe has a great view of the most perfect pair of (sadly covered) breasts she’s ever seen.
Not as big as Luo Binghe’s (which are honestly just inconvenient most of the time. It’s a bitch to get a bra that fits properly while actually supporting them, and if she’s in a rush up or down some stairs without a really good bra she has to hold onto them so they don’t hurt) but definitely not small - no, it’d be blasphemous to call those tits small, and Luo Binghe has clearly been blessed by the gods for the honour of witnessing them in motion, so she can’t afford any casual blasphemy.
Glorious, glorious motion.
Bouncing up and down in time with the woman’s strides, the tank top just thin enough that the shape of them is unmissable where they push against the fabric. A low neckline reveals enough cleavage to get lost in, and each rise shows off a little more before they sink back beneath the green cloth, only to make a reappearance of pale, glistening skin after a second or two passes.
It’s hypnotising. Luo Binghe wipes away drool without any shame at all. Maybe a teensy bit of guilt, because half the benefit of a female-only gym is the lack of being leered at, but Luo Binghe is leering respectfully. And subtly, which is what’s important.
“Shut up,” Luo Binghe says absentmindedly. She belatedly remembers she’s supposed to be doing bicep curls rather than just holding the dumbbell halfway through the motion, and gets back to it.
She doesn’t take her eyes off of the goddess who’s slowed down on the treadmill, facing the woman on the one beside her. The other woman clearly isn’t used to it, her steps too heavy and she keeps slowing down after only a minute of jogging. Luo Binghe can’t hear what they say from where she is, but the woman is definitely complaining at the goddess, so ungrateful for the attention bestowed on her and-
And handing the goddess a bottle of water.
The goddess’s long fingers curl around the plastic, removing the cap in a deft twist before she brings it up to her mouth. Her head tilts back slightly, haughty pink lips closing around the bottle as she pushes strands of shiny black hair back from her face.
She swallows, the graceful column of her neck glistening with a slight sheen of sweat. A small droplet of water escapes her lips to slide down her chin and then- and then lower, briefly pausing at her collarbone before finishing its journey in the valley of those gorgeous, enticing breasts.
Luo Binghe wants to lick the trail of that drop of water, tracing its path from lips to tits.
She wants to be that drop of water. She’s never been so intensely jealous in her life.
(That’s a lie. There was last week when the goddess wiped her face with a towel, and the week before when she had a really form-fitting shirt on, and the week before with the yoga pants (oh god, the yoga pants), and-)
“Stop glaring before they notice,” grumbles Mobei Jun, the least supportive friend in the world.
“I’m not glaring,” Luo Binghe says once she remembers how to breathe again. She forgets practically every time the goddess shows up at the gym, so it’s no biggie to re-learn.
She winces a bit as she relaxes her grip on the dumbbell, setting it aside and stretching her aching arm. Ow. Not the first time she’s gotten stiff over staying in one position with a heavy weight in hand, either, but she still glares at Mobei Jun for not saying anything.
Mobei Jun stares back impassively. It’s her default expression so Luo Binghe doesn’t take offence. Instead, she makes a mental note to overdo the spice in Mobei Jun’s portion during the Flaming Hot Bitch’s Night In (Sha Hualing’s name for it, not hers) on Friday.
Luo Binghe scowls. “Don’t act all innocent. I’ve seen you staring at her friend.”
Mobei Jun blinks slowly. Ha, all but an admittance of guilt! Luo Binghe doesn’t see the appeal of the goddess’s short friend (she seethes a bit over labelling the girl as a ‘friend’, but they do keep coming here together these past few weeks) but as long as it means Mobei Jun has no interest in Luo Binghe’s goddess, she doesn’t care what gets Mobei Jun off.
She’ll of course have to badger her about it if she ever actually makes a move though. It would be a great method of getting introduced to the goddess because no way can Luo Binghe just approach her. Not when she’s still working on the perfect plan to woo the insanely hot woman, take her on the best date of her life, and marry her within a maximum of six months.
It’ll feel very spur of the moment at the time, obviously, but Luo Binghe has the first eighty-three steps figured out and she’s barely gotten past the dessert during the first date. Never mind the wedding itself!
(Oh fuck, wedding dress, the goddess in a wedding dress. Or a suit, either would destroy Luo Binghe utterly in one glance. She would die, and die happily, and then revive herself because no way is she missing out on her own wedding. Particularly the wedding night.)
Mobei Jun scoffs quietly, dragging Luo Binghe back to the reality where she isn’t married to the woman of her dreams (many dreams. So many dreams). What a bitch. Luo Binghe doesn’t know why she’s friends with her.
“I hope you die alone.” Luo Binghe stretches her arms out above her head as she moves over to the pull-up bar close by. “Pickled in your own misery.”
“I won’t be alone. You’ll be there.”
Luo Binghe sends her a wide, blatantly fake smile. “I’ll be retired with my beloved wife in a cottage out in the country, with a flourishing garden-” Last week she overheard the goddess giving some (scathing) tips on keeping flowers alive to her friend “-and bi-weekly visits from our many grandchildren.”
She’ll be the best grandmother. She already knows how to make amazing cookies, and she really hopes the goddess has a sweet tooth, because Mama says her baking skills surpass even hers.
(Add that to the plan - seduction via baked goods.)
Movement in the corner of her eye makes her look over mid-pull up. She freezes.
The goddess is only a couple of metres away and she’s looking right at Luo Binghe. Green eyes are slightly narrowed, lips pursed in a frown which eases out once she comes to a halt. She glances briefly back over her shoulder (Luo Binghe distantly notes the goddess’s short friend giving an enthusiastic thumbs up) before sighing and turning back to them.
To Luo Binghe. Who she’s looking at.
Looking directly at as she crosses her arms and god, it does amazing things to her chest, pushing her boobs up and drawing attention to her slim waist. If she held that waist, Luo Binghe is pretty sure her fingers would touch.
It’s all Luo Binghe can do to drag her eyes up so she doesn’t get caught staring like a pervert. She tries to think of something to say - a greeting would be great! - but her head is filled with hysterical blubbering so she probably shouldn’t open her mouth right now, just in case it all comes spilling out.
“My friend thinks you can bench press me. Can you?” the goddess asks in a voice so velvety smooth that the words themselves don’t register straight away.
Instead, Luo Binghe is trying not to fall apart over the fact that her (hopeful) wife-to-be is talking to her, Luo Binghe, for the first time ever. Unprompted!
Luo Binghe isn’t prepared! She hasn’t practised what to say in this kind of impossible scenario! Sha Hualing let her run through possible date conversations (even if she kept breaking character to mock her because Sha Hualing is just as terrible as Mobei Jun and Luo Binghe hates them both) but those were all on the basis of Luo Binghe doing the chasing. Only in Luo Binghe’s fantasies did she imagine being the one seduced.
Not that the goddess is seducing her now, of course not, she’s just come over to ask…a…
“Could you repeat that?” she tries to ask, but it comes out in a mess of syllables that might, generously, be seen as vaguely questioning.
The goddess arches her perfectly shaped eyebrows and makes a sharp gesture to Luo Binghe. Or her arms, maybe? She’s still clinging onto the metal bar above her head and she’s starting to feel the strain from holding her weight this long in an unsteady position, but she’s fucked if she wants to try letting go when her entire body is in shock.
There’s a hint of impatience in the goddess’s voice (she found out her name is Shen Jiu from Liu Mingyan months ago - the perks of being friends with the receptionist’s girlfriend - but it feels kind of stalkerish to actually use it before they’d even, y’know, officially met) when she speaks. “Do you think you’re capable of bench pressing me?”
Yes, that’s what Luo Binghe thought she said.
This can’t actually be happening, right? She’s definitely imagined Shen Jiu (it’s probably worse to keep calling her ‘goddess’ now that she thinks about it) saying that to her in a few of her fantasies. Maybe more than a few, because- look, it’s a very appealing fantasy and Luo Binghe is weak.
“Uh.” Her face is burning. She’s burning, and her mouth is probably open, and she must look like a complete idiot but she can’t stop gaping at Shen Jiu - the real Shen Jiu who just asked if Luo Binghe is capable of bench pressing her!!
The blubbering has transitioned to internal screaming. It isn’t any more dignified.
Her unexpected saviour from increasing embarrassment comes in the form of Mobei Jun.
“She can,” Mobei Jun says simply, then walks off and Luo Binghe loves her, she’ll never say a bad word about her again. Luo Binghe will make her favourite meal for the next five- no, ten hangouts without complaint. She’ll even stop stealing Mobei Jun’s blue lipstick and eyeliner because she’s jealous that Mobei Jun can pull it off but Luo Binghe can’t.
Luo Binghe finally convinces her hands to let go of the bar, feet hitting the ground…kind of loudly, and she winces. Wow, graceful much?
Wait, how does she look right now?!
Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch at her sides as she barely keeps herself from checking her hair. Hopefully it’s still in the (artfully messy) ponytail she put it in? Her shirt is one of the nice ones and she knows it looks good when it clings to her tits and abs, but she’s definitely been sweating today and who knows if Shen Jiu is into that, what if she finds sweaty buff girls gross?! What if she prefers the delicate type?!
Luo Binghe isn’t delicate! She’s taller than any woman she knows except Mobei Jun and has broader shoulders than most too, and it’s kinda hard to miss her biceps when she’s in a tank top (or any top that isn’t incredibly loose). Luo Binghe has always been confident in how attractive she is, the kind of beautiful that very few people won’t at least give a second glance, but Shen Jiu is-
She’s so refined and graceful, and for the first time in years, Luo Binghe feels awkward and uncertain of herself. It isn’t helped by the barrel of butterflies swooping around in her stomach, or the lightheadedness acting as a good reminder to breathe once in a while if she doesn’t plan on fainting.
(Wait. If she fainted, would Shen Jiu catch her and try to-
No. No, bad idea.)
“Would you-” She clears her throat to get rid of the rough edge, face flushing harder when it brings Shen Jiu’s gaze back to her. It’s- intense. “I can…you, bench press? Now?”
She’s an idiot. An incoherent idiot and her tongue feels like it’s turned to lead, too heavy to be anything except clumsy. She’s making such a terrible impression, and Shen Jiu will think she’s all muscle and no brains, and also ridiculously awkward, and Luo Binghe really will die alone. And probably die early just to put herself out of her misery.
The corners of Shen Jiu’s lips twitch up into a tiny, brief smile, and Luo Binghe’s heart skips a beat.
She’s never seen Shen Jiu smile before. Not from this close, and definitely not directed at her.
It, her smile is…She’s really pretty.
“Now is fine,” Shen Jiu says as she considers Luo Binghe closely. Her gaze pauses noticeably on Luo Binghe’s shoulders, then her biceps, and the quiet hum Shen Jiu makes has Luo Binghe feeling like she’s going to explode.
She hurries over to the weight bench before she does something stupid (like propose). Is this really happening? Is she actually going to bench press Shen Jiu? She’s confident she can do it, obviously, but she’s just a little hysterical at the idea of putting her hands on Shen Jiu. At being allowed to do it, all before she’s even had a chance to enact any of her meticulous plans!
Maybe she dropped a dumbbell on her head and is now passed out. That’d make more sense than the reality of laying back on the bench while Shen Jiu walks over to stand beside her.
“How do we do this?” Shen Jiu asks.
Words. Luo Binghe needs them. Please.
She bench pressed Sha Hualing a year ago on a night out, so at least she’s done it before.
“You, uh. Lean over me. Sideways.” Her face feels like it’s going to be permanently bright red. Those are terrible instructions! They don’t even make sense! Shen Jiu will lose patience with her and walk away and this is Luo Binghe’s only chance to make a good impression and she’s screwing it up and-
And Shen Jiu is coming closer, is kneeling on the side of the bench and leaning across Luo Binghe to brace herself with her left palm by Luo Binghe’s shoulder.
“Like this?” she asks, and Luo Binghe can feel the warmth coming off her, the scent of sweat and some flowery deodorant that's never smelled so good before. Shen Jiu’s hair slips over her shoulder to brush over Luo Binghe’s chest, and Luo Binghe’s hand is on Shen Jiu’s hip before she even thinks to move. It’s all she can do not to hold tight and drag Shen Jiu down against her.
Don’t look at her tits! she screams in her head. If her gaze drops to where Shen Jiu’s neckline must’ve dipped even further, she’ll be able to see everything. It would break her. It would destroy her. Any thread of self-control would snap and she wouldn’t be able to keep from shoving her face in there and she really, really doesn’t want Shen Jiu to get a restraining order against her.
“Yeah,” she whispers, low and rough and painfully aware that she’s slipped into her Sex Voice. Shen Jiu doesn’t seem to notice, her beautiful face impassive. “Yeah, just move forward a bit more.”
After a moment, Shen Jiu does. “Sideways doesn’t seem the most stable,” she comments. Her voice is so steady, it’s unfair.
Luo Binghe is reasonably sure if she tried to speak right now, she’d choke on her tongue because when Shen Jiu leans further across her? It pushes Shen Jiu’s perky ass in the air. Even from an angle like this, she can see the generous, round globes, the juicy peach she composed a drunken poem about sinking her teeth into during last month’s night out.
If Shen Jiu was naked-
No. Stop. Bad brain.
She takes a (hopefully unnoticed) shaky breath in. Shen Jiu said something, right? So Luo Binghe should respond, like a normal person. A sane one. A person not dying from horniness.
(Her hand!!! Is on!!! Shen Jiu’s hip!!
“Stable or not, it doesn’t matter,” Luo Binghe manages to say, and she could cry, she actually sounds sort of like her usual self? Confident to the point of arrogance, but the kind of arrogance that people, generally, find super hot. “I’ll be able to lift you either way.”
Shen Jiu exhales a soft, amused huff, and Luo Binghe is smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. Does Shen Jiu find her funny? She made her (almost, sorta) laugh?
“We’ll see.” Shen Jiu definitely sounds amused. Luo Binghe catches sight of a small smile before Shen Jiu leans too far over the edge of the bench - leaving her braced parallel over Luo Binghe’s chest, knees nudging at Luo Binghe’s side - for her face to be visible.
Marry me marry me marry me marry me-
Luo Binghe clears her throat. Twice. She still sounds hoarse when she speaks. “I’m, I’m going to lift you from under your armpit and thigh. When I do that, just, uh, lean back into it? I’ll keep you stable, so don’t worry about balance.”
Sha Hualing made sure to squirm around like crazy when Luo Binghe lifted her, all while yelling her lungs out at the asshole who doubted Luo Binghe could do it. A bit of wobbling won’t throw Luo Binghe off.
Great. Cool. Just…have to touch her now. Touch her more, and Luo Binghe’s been trying really hard to ignore how her fingers are tingling where she’s been helping hold Shen Jiu up by her hip. Deep breaths, don’t pass out, not during the best moment of her entire life.
Slowly, she moves her hands into position and hopes Shen Jiu doesn’t notice her fingers trembling. Shen Jiu only has shorts on today so Luo Binghe is touching bare skin - soft, warm, bare skin.
Shen Jiu is slim but she’s got curves and her thighs are glorious. Luo Binghe wants them wrapped around her head, she’d suffocate between them and thank Shen Jiu for the honour. She wants to lick and kiss and suck at creamy skin until it turns pink, to leave a trail from Shen Jiu’s ankle to her crotch until Shen Jiu grabs Luo Binghe’s head and shoves her face against Shen Jiu’s-
Lifting! Lift. She is. Lifting, now. Yes. Do that. For the love of god, do that.
Jaw firming in determination, Luo Binghe cups an inch below Shen Jiu’s armpit with the resolve of a woman going to war. She does not have a sobbing internal breakdown when Shen Jiu trusts her enough to lean back like Luo Binghe told her to until her weight is firmly on Luo Binghe’s hands, only Shen Jiu’s right arm still touching the bench at all while she’s straightened her legs out.
(She also doesn’t obsess over the slight dampness of the shirt beneath her palm. No thinking about licking the sweat off Shen Jiu’s skin, not now.
Later. Save it for later.)
“Ready?” she asks, keeping her eyes closed because she knows exactly where she’ll look if given the option.
Huh. Shen Jiu doesn’t weigh much, does she? Now that Luo Binghe isn’t so focused on Shen Jiu herself, she’s actually paying attention to the weight she’s holding. Like, it’s a decent weight but considering Shen Jiu is taller than Sha Hualing, Luo Binghe thought she’d weigh more.
Is she not eating properly? Luo Binghe has gotten the impression Shen Jiu has a pretty stressful job from some of the passing complaints she’s overheard. Maybe she doesn’t have the time to cook for herself or make sure she eats every meal.
Maybe she needs a girlfriend (wife) who happens to be very skilled at cooking and would love to make her food, would learn all her favourites and- and Luo Binghe could be cooking while Shen Jiu is coming in from work, and Shen Jiu will come up behind her and wrap her arms around her waist and kiss her neck and Luo Binghe will say “Welcome home.” and feel Shen Jiu smile against her skin and-
“Get on with it.”
Luo Binghe’s eyes snap open. Then go very wide.
Shen Jiu has, at some point, settled on a position where she has one hand under her cheek while her other hand - the one on the opposite side of her body, mostly out of Luo Binghe’s view - is laying against her side. Since she’s now being held where Luo Binghe would position a bar, Luo Binghe’s eye line is. Uh.
Boob. Side boob.
Very, very visible side boob, oh god, it’s so close. It’s a tank top day which means Luo Binghe can see right into the gap beneath Shen Jiu’s armpit, can see the black bra (lace! Is it laundry day to explain the lack of sports bra? Who cares!!), can see the plump curve escaping the edge of the bra because gravity and suboptimal bras are Luo Binghe’s new best friends.
If she died right now, Luo Binghe would have zero regrets.
In what’s clearly the greatest showing of mental strength the world has ever seen, Luo Binghe’s brain reboots in time to remember she needs to push Shen Jiu up away from her.
Physically, it isn’t hard. Emotionally, Luo Binghe feels as if she’s waving at her beloved from the train taking her away to war, never knowing if they’ll be reunited, as she bids farewell to the side boob she’d had so little time to truly appreciate it.
She holds Shen Jiu steady for a beat, absently adjusting to the differences between an immobile (non-lust inducing) pole and a person.
She gets to bring Shen Jiu close again.
Gets to watch the sway of her breasts with the movement, feel the tension in Shen Jiu’s thigh ease out as a few reps go by. Gets to hold Shen Jiu, the woman she’s had an embarrassingly huge crush on for months, in her arms and savour every second of being allowed to touch her.
Luo Binghe swallows a groan when Shen Jiu’s shirt slides up a few centimetres by her hip, exposing the curve of it, the edge of dark panties that Luo Binghe wants to rip off with her teeth.
She’s never been this turned on in her life. She’d be squirming if she wasn’t so focused on doing this properly, on impressing Shen Jiu, on not fucking up her chance to show off to her future wife. It might also help that she’s so fixated on watching Shen Jiu’s body that even the thought of messing up that rhythm (titties. Bounce. Hahaaa) is immediately rejected.
She loses count sometime after thirty. It doesn’t matter anyway - she’ll keep going until she either collapses or Shen Jiu tells her to stop, and Luo Binghe can’t currently feel her arms past a hazy awareness of all-encompassing horniness, so she’s probably capable of continuing forever.
Just. Mmh. Keep watching those beautiful, gorgeous, godly tits, forever. That sounds great. Luo Binghe is happy with doing this for the rest of her life. She was obviously put on this earth for one reason only; to bench press Shen Jiu. It would be terrible and immoral of her not to fulfil that sacred duty.
So when she eventually hears the word “Stop”, Luo Binghe is so very, very tempted to pretend she didn’t hear it.
Would it be believable to claim she went deaf sometime in the past few minutes? No, Shen Jiu is obviously very smart, she’d see right through Luo Binghe.
Barely holding back a mournful whine, Luo Binghe is forced to return to cold, hard reality, where she can’t just bench press the woman of her dreams for the rest of eternity. Instead, she helps Shen Jiu out of her hold so she can set on the edge of the bench.
The first thing Shen Jiu does is adjust her shirt while Luo Binghe takes the opportunity to check her own shorts, y’know, just in case. Yay for lacking a dick, because otherwise, she’d be so incredibly obvious.
Then she looks at Shen Jiu’s face and. Oh. Oh wow. Pink? Slight, pink flush to Shen Jiu’s cheeks, oh god, it’s so cute, she’s so cute and beautiful and Luo Binghe is dying, she’s dead, this is hell or heaven and she doesn’t care because she gets to see Shen Jiu blushing.
Shen Jiu shoves herself onto her feet by the bench. This is good too, since she’s now looking down on Luo Binghe with her arms crossed again. Very good, yes, Luo Binghe didn’t fully appreciate it earlier but she does now. Shen Jiu can look down on her all she wants, please and thank you.
She should probably say something, though.
“How was it?” she blurts out, and wants to punch herself. How was it?? Really?! What a dumb question! She’s an idiot!
Shen Jiu rolls her eyes, the blush gone but Luo Binghe has the memory of it now. It exists in her mind forever.
Walks away. Without a word.
Luo Binghe makes a quiet, plaintive little sound and reaches out after her.
Luckily, the gym music probably means Shen Jiu doesn’t hear her being pathetic. She lowers her hand and her eyes are stinging when she looks down at the floor.
Ahh, what is she doing?! She should be happy! She got to talk to and touch (and get several fantasies worth of material for) her crush! She shouldn’t be upset because Shen Jiu just left all of a sudden, and will likely never look at Luo Binghe or think about her ever again. She’s a grown woman, she isn’t going to cry over the love of her life, her goddess, the woman she wants to marry-
Her hand is grabbed and Luo Binghe jumps.
Her eyes snap up and Shen Jiu is there, she’s right in front of Luo Binghe again. She looks exasperated as she presses a cold bottle of water into her grasp, along with a piece of paper ripped off the corner of a magazine.
Luo Binghe stares uncomprehendingly at the string of digits written on the paper. Some part of her knows they mean something. Sadly, that part of her is stuck in a queue behind a train of She’s back! She’s back! She’s back!
“Pick a nice restaurant and send me the details.”
Shen Jiu’s lips curve into a smirk. She nudges Luo Binghe’s mouth shut, fingertips light against her chin. “Saturday night works best for me. Is that fine with you?”
Mutely, Luo Binghe nods.
“Good. See you then.”
This time when Shen Jiu walks away, Luo Binghe is struggling not to cry for an entirely different reason.
She clutches the water bottle to her chest, the piece of paper (Shen Jiu’s!! Number!!!) held just as securely, careful not to crumple it. She’s going to keep this water bottle forever. It can go in their box of mementoes of their time together pre-marriage, alongside the paper once she’s added the number to her phone.
With frantic speed, she does just that. She might start giggling while putting it in but it isn’t like she cares if anyone notices.
Best. Day. Ever.