Wei Ying’s been looking forward to this day all week. Possibly all month. He and his friends (and his boyfriend, which shouldn’t feel new anymore considering it’s been nearly a year, but still sometimes feels new) are going to a gay club tonight, and he hasn’t been dancing in ages. Swamped with grad school work and trying to stay in his parents’ good books are one thing, but Huaisang had suggested it a while back, especially since tonight is drag night, and Wei Ying has the perfect outfit for it.
It’s simple, just trying something new, something he’s never brought out in public or even to Lan Zhan in the bedroom. He had his sister help him pick out the clothing, and overall it’s plain—a simple red mini skirt, and black sheer thigh-highs, laced with a complicated design at the top. When he puts them on tonight, he shivers, runs his hand down his legs he had just shaved fresh out of the shower. They make him feel sexy, which he had fully expected, but not for the sensation to hit him so strongly. He just wants to wiggle his ass in Lan Zhan’s face right now, tease him to maybe rimming him before they go out.
They don’t live together though, so Wei Ying pulls on the skirt, admires himself in his full-length mirror, along with his favorite worn black hoodie (which is a little too big around the arms because it might’ve been Lan Zhan’s originally) and black converse. He’s feeling cute, so he takes a selfie and posts it on Instagram before heading out. He thinks about sending one to Lan Zhan, too, but then decides it can be a surprise.
Humming to himself, he makes his way to the bar. They’ve agreed to meet at the front; when he arrives, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen are already there. Wei Ying waves at them cheerfully. They blink at him.
“This is…” Song Zichen looks Wei Ying up and down. “New.”
“Yeah, do you like it? I’m fitting in with the theme!” Wei Ying gestures up at where the neon sign of DRAG NIGHT TONIGHT in the window of the club is glowing. He and Huaisang have been a few times, but he’s never come with Lan Zhan. It’s probably Lan Zhan’s first time, actually; Wei Ying had been surprised when he agreed. Lan Zhan probably doesn’t even like dancing.
“You sure are,” Song Zichen says drily.
Xiao Xingchen clears his throat and smiles at Wei Ying. “Does Lan Zhan know you were wearing this tonight?”
“Nope!” Wei Ying says happily. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“He’ll be surprised, alright,” Song Zichen says.
Huaisang and Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan all arrive, eventually, Lan Zhan last, even though he brings his car. “Wow, it’s unlike you to arrive so late,” Wei Ying says cheekily, as they begin to make their way inside.
Lan Zhan’s ears are pink. “I did not know what to wear,” he admits, then looks down at Wei Ying. His expression freezes.
Wei Ying laughs. “Well, I think you look sexy, so don’t worry about it,” he says; Lan Zhan is in his usual get-up, crisp white button-up and dark blue trousers, thin belt around his waist. Wei Ying sticks his butt out and does a little pose with a peace sign. “What does Lan Zhan think of my look?”
Lan Zhan says nothing. They’re in the dark entrance of the club now, in the queue to get ID’d. They’re quickly interrupted when Jiang Cheng is finished getting checked in front of him, and the woman at the podium calls, “Next!”
It’s still late afternoon and the drag show, which Huaisang is absolutely ecstatic for, doesn’t start for another few hours. There are a number of empty booths, though, so Wei Ying joins them clambering into one, Lan Zhan behind him. Wei Ying’s pretty sure his skirt is way too short for him to bend over like this, but he doesn’t mind giving anyone who glances over a good view. Especially Lan Zhan, climbing in after him, who has the best view of all.
Lan Zhan’s gaze is fixed on him as they make themselves comfortable around the table. Wei Ying startles when he notices that Lan Zhan’s usually golden eyes are now intensely dark, almost all pupil. “Lan Zhan, are you okay?”
Lan Zhan does not stop staring at him. His hand goes to Wei Ying’s leg. The seam of his thigh-high. The smooth skin, under his skirt.
“Wei Ying,” he says. “Are you wearing… women’s lingerie?”
“Oh! Haha.” Wei Ying’s cheeks feel hot. Humiliation wracks through his body, a thrill. “Um. Yeah?”
“Why.” Lan Zhan does not sound like he’s phrasing a question.
Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”
“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”
“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve. Heat is coiling under his belly, at the base of his dick, at them just having this discussion in public. Oh, he is so not making it in time for the drag show. Unless Lan Zhan wants to take him in the bathroom right now. He doesn’t mind, because this was the other thing he was looking forward to tonight—if Lan Zhan was so inclined towards his outfit, they could skip the music, the dancing, and go straight to the dirty fucking. Wei Ying’s not picky.
It seems like Lan Zhan is inclined towards his outfit.
Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow at the sight of the hoodie Wei Ying’s paired with the skirt and thigh highs like he’s noticing it for the first time. “Why would Wei Ying choose to wear this clothing in public?”
“Well, it is drag night—”
“It is not appropriate.” Lan Zhan’s voice lowers, possessive. Wei Ying’s cock is straining through the panties. “I do not want others to see Wei Ying like this.”
“What are you going to do about it, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying teases.
With a growl, Lan Zhan has lifted him into his big, strong arms, bridal style, and out of the booth. The rest of their friends look alarmed, but Wei Ying laughs and waves at them.
“Don’t mind us!” he calls over. “Have fun tonight, guys!” Jiang Cheng seems appropriately unimpressed, while Song Zichen and Xiao Xingchen are amused and Huaisang says, “You guys have fun too!” Wei Ying laughs as Lan Zhan carries him outside, and deposits him into his car.
“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you barely lasted at all,” Wei Ying says as he fastens his seatbelt. “I was going to have more fun, you know, playing footsie with you, teasing you under the booth, dancing—”
“You have never worn such clothes in front of me before,” Lan Zhan says, through his teeth. His fingers are tight around the steering wheel, knuckles white. Wei Ying grins. “I did not want us to fornicate in public.”
“Fornicate!” Wei Ying laughs. “Lan Zhan, why not say something more natural, suitable to our age group? You didn’t want to fuck me in public? You didn’t want to take me in public? You didn’t want to claim me—”
The noise that Lan Zhan lets out is violent. “Be quiet, Wei Ying,” he says, with steel in his voice.
Wei Ying’s insides feel shivered and tense, and a soft hazy part of his mind locks onto Lan Zhan’s words immediately and obeys. He is quiet for the rest of the ride to Lan Zhan’s apartment, cock still leaking in his panties.
The panties he had picked are white and lacy, certainly not built for comfort, but Wei Ying’s not wearing them for comfort. Combined with the thigh highs and skirt, it makes the skin around his thighs and ass feel bare, the most sensitive spots exposed, ready for Lan Zhan to take. And if Wei Ying had jerked himself off once while putting his clothes on before they left, that’s no one’s business (except for how he’d rode on his dildo, too, all lubed up, then put the rest of his clothing on while his rim was still leaking.)
When they pull into Lan Zhan’s place and Lan Zhan has parked, Lan Zhan says, “Out.” Wei Ying follows him into the building, marble floors past the automatic doors. They make their way into the elevator, both of them ignoring the clerks who greet them; lust wracks Wei Ying’s bones when the elevator doors close.
They’re alone; Lan Zhan’s mouth is on his immediately. Wei Ying moans at his taste, his thick tongue, Lan Zhan’s hands going to his thighs, where the bare skin is. Lan Zhan’s fingers ride up to the back of his panties, up to his ass, squeezing his cheeks. Wei Ying makes another dirty sound and grinds himself into Lan Zhan’s body, needing to feel him everywhere.
They break apart when the elevator doors ding, Lan Zhan’s huge fingers around Wei Ying’s wrist as he drags them down the hall, into his apartment. It’s barely a moment after Lan Zhan gets them inside, before hoisting Wei Ying’s legs around his waist and pressing him against the closed door, kissing him here.
God, Lan Zhan’s so strong it’s unbelievably hot. Wei Ying’s cock is leaking against his skirt and panties now, legs dangling around Lan Zhan’s large torso as Lan Zhan slides his tongue into Wei Ying’s mouth. He kisses him like he fucks him, long and slow, licking deep inside of him like he’s trying to be a part of him. Wei Ying is drooling, mouth hanging open as he takes all of Lan Zhan, making indecipherable noises as Lan Zhan grinds his hips, the wood hard behind Wei Ying's back.
“Fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps. “Lan Zhan, Lan-gege, fuck me, need gege’s cock—”
Lan Zhan lets out another strangled groan. Wei Ying moves his hands from where they’re tangled around Lan Zhan’s neck, one snaking down near Lan Zhan’s crotch. He moans when he feels the erection there, massive beneath the cloth.
“God, you’re so big, gege,” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan keeps trying to kiss him to shut him up, but falls off-center, hips twisting erratically. Wei Ying can’t stop talking. “Can’t wait to feel it, feel your big cock in me, opening me up, splitting me up—”
“You’re already,” and Lan Zhan’s fingers are on Wei Ying’s panties, pressing at his wet hole through the lace. Wei Ying squirms. “Open, wet,” Lan Zhan breathes into Wei Ying’s face. “Loose.”
The muscles in Wei Ying’s thighs tighten as he struggles to help Lan Zhan get his panties off. He’s needed Lan Zhan’s cock in him since yesterday, even though they did just see each other yesterday for a perfect G-rated lunch date. And it certainly hasn’t been that long since they last fucked, but with all the lust swirling around them, Wei Ying is suddenly gagging for it, hole clenching around nothing. That is, until Lan Zhan gets his fingers beneath the lace, fingertips nudging at Wei Ying’s entrance. “Open up for me, baobei,” Lan Zhan hisses.
Wei Ying’s mind feels light, hazy, as Lan Zhan slips two fingers in, squelching in the remainder of the lube. He pushes in steadily, massaging at Wei Ying’s walls, brushing against his prostate however briefly, making Wei Ying’s thighs shiver on either side of his body. “You’ve gotten wet for me,” Lan Zhan says, and the words make Wei Ying’s brain white out, not quite an orgasm, but drifting, plummeting fast, with the only the desire to be taken.
Lan Zhan’s other hand is stroking gently at the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs, straightening them where they’ve tried to bunch down his legs, keeping them tight at his thighs. “Do you want me to eat you out?” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying nods rapidly, not quite knowing what Lan Zhan intends, but wanting his mouth, his anything on him.
Lan Zhan braces Wei Ying even higher against the door, ducks under between his skirt, drapes Wei Ying's legs over his shoulders, and mouths at Wei Ying’s cock through the lace. Wei Ying cries out as Lan Zhan’s mouth is sloppy over the head of his cock, taking in the shape, the precome that has soaked through the panties. “Messy,” says Lan Zhan against the lace, and the vibration of his lips sends Wei Ying over the edge, over-sensitized and aching and wanting more.
Lan Zhan continues mouthing at him while Wei Ying comes, sucking, cleaning his come off the lace like he is trying to get as much of Wei Ying’s semen into his mouth as possible. “Dirty,” Lan Zhan says, pulling back, letting Wei Ying’s legs like jelly collapse further down his shoulders. His mouth is red and wet and filthy, and Wei Ying sinks down to the floor in front of him, kisses his lips, his taste out of Lan Zhan’s mouth. He’s well aware of the come on his skirt, Lan Zhan’s erection straining through his trousers. Wei Ying palms at it, and Lan Zhan bucks against him, turning the kiss more into teeth, biting at Wei Ying’s lower lip.
“Gonna wreck you,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying whimpers. “Gonna fuck you hard enough that you don’t remember how to speak.” His words are slurring, red high in his cheeks, and Wei Ying imagines he looks just as drunk from the lust, perhaps even more.
“God, yes,” Wei Ying says. He squeezes at Lan Zhan’s cock, can feel the wet staining through his trousers. “Fuck me until I can’t remember my name anymore, gege, please—”
Lan Zhan drags him back up, hands on his thighs so that his feet are off the floor. Wei Ying yelps and has to lock his arms around his shoulders; but Lan Zhan places him on the kitchen counter, a short walk away, and kisses him again. His hips are impatiently thrusting, and Wei Ying says, “Just bend me over and fuck me, gege, come on, you know I can take it.”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan grunts. Wei Ying wriggles down so his feet are back on the ground, and leans over, stomach resting on the counter, ass sticking out. He feels Lan Zhan make room for him, and shakes his skirt, his ass. He still feels the delicious drag of the stockings at the top of his bare thighs, shocked by the cool air.
“Come on, Lan-gege,” Wei Ying says. He wiggles his ass again. “You can even hit me if you want. You know I don’t mind.”
Correction: Wei Ying not only doesn’t mind, he loves it. Lan Zhan has his own hang-ups with understanding pleasure connotated with pain, which Wei Ying is pretty sure is a guilt thing, because last time he pulled Wei Ying’s hair so hard while he was fucking him that Wei Ying screamed, he apologized profusely. Wei Ying kept trying to tell him that he screamed because he came so hard untouched, but Lan Zhan can only take so much at face value.
They haven’t really done the hitting aspect of their sex life before, but Wei Ying knows he likes it. He hopes Lan Zhan likes it, too, because Lan Zhan likes teasing and making Wei Ying beg for it. Wei Ying thinks he might like the look of his palmprint on Wei Ying’s ass.
It takes a moment for Lan Zhan to properly react. When Wei Ying looks back, his eyes are darker than before.
“You want me to—spank you?” Lan Zhan asks.
Wei Ying wiggles his butt once more. “If Lan Zhan wants to.”
He feels it when Lan Zhan pulls his skirt up. Lan Zhan’s huge fingers go to the elastic waistband of the panties underneath, calloused pads against Wei Ying’s skin. Slowly, he slides the panties down Wei Ying’s thighs, knees, calves, Wei Ying stepping out when they get to his feet. Then Lan Zhan rests his palms on Wei Ying’s cheeks. Wei Ying feels his thumbs dig into his plush globes.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, what are you looking at?” Heat creeps up his neck. His cheeks are being spread, filthy with his thigh highs still riding up his leg. His hole still feels slightly wet, and he imagines the picture he makes, pink pucker dribbling out lube. He thinks of what it would look like oozing with Lan Zhan’s come and has to hold back a moan.
“Looking at Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying can feel his hot breath at his hole. “Wei Ying is so pink and pretty for me, giving me his juices.”
“Oh my god, the mouth on you—ah!”
Lan Zhan’s hand lands hard on Wei Ying’s ass. Arousal shoots through Wei Ying so quickly that he’s on the verge of coming again. His skin still stings even though the surprising hit is still ringing in his body, making his brain feel fuzzy around the edges.
“Wei Ying looks so slutty like this,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying can’t even reply because then Lan Zhan spanks his other cheek three more times, with the flat of his palm. He presses his fingers into the hot part of Wei Ying’s skin that he slapped and squeezes; Wei Ying can only imagine the stark impressions his fingers make on Wei Ying’s red cheek. Wei Ying can only imagine what he looks like, bent over, skirt up, panties off, black stockings crawling up to his thighs, only to meet with his bright red butt cheeks. He tries to moan, but mostly really drools on the counter.
Lan Zhan rubs his hands over Wei Ying’s ass again, kneads his cheeks, a tease of the real pain he’s going to give Wei Ying. Then another hit comes, hard and direct, and Wei Ying bucks, cock gushing out precome beneath him. His ass is burning and Lan Zhan spanks him again, like he’s enjoying it, like he gets a rush at the sight of Wei Ying like this, like he can play Wei Ying like his guqin, with his long fingers and big hands. He clutches at Wei Ying’s cheeks again, licks at his hole, and Wei Ying’s legs are shaking and shaking. Lan Zhan smacks him with his whole hand, his fingers, and Wei Ying wants to be owned.
He feels the brush of Lan Zhan’s trousers against his sensitive cheeks and whimpers. “I am going to fuck you, now,” Lan Zhan says in a low voice, and Wei Ying’s body is shivering with anticipation, wracked with lust. He hears him stripping off his belt, feels the coldness of Lan Zhan’s zipper slide down against his pink cheek, rubbing his cockhead against his slippery, loose hole.
Lan Zhan slides into him in full right away, thick and long, all nine inches that Wei Ying feels like he’s being split apart. His mind goes hazy at the stretch, the size, feeling just like he’s just a toy, a hole for Lan Zhan to use. He babbles, not words: noises, sounds, mewls as Lan Zhan clutches his burning cheeks and fucks into him ruthlessly. Lan Zhan’s thrusts are relentless and he’s squeezing and spreading Wei Ying’s cheeks apart, touching at Wei Ying’s rim where they’re joined, where Wei Ying is wrapped around his cock. Wei Ying can’t keep his mouth closed, can’t stop the sounds coming from his throat as he’s taken so brutally, and then Lan Zhan spanks him while he fucks into him and Wei Ying is on the edge of coming again, brain turned to mush.
Lan Zhan’s thumb opens Wei Ying’s ass again. “Look at you,” Lan Zhan says. “Tight around me, greedy for my cock. Your hole is trying to swallow around me, Wei Ying, do you know how slutty that looks?”
Wei Ying’s brain doesn’t know how to respond, and it feels like his thigh highs are slipping down.
Lan Zhan drags them back up. “How could you wear this in front of others? I’m the only one who gets to do this to you.” He lets his cock sink deep inside Wei Ying, hot against his walls. “Can you come for me, baobei? Just on my cock? That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”
Wei Ying moves his head, thinks he nods, and Lan Zhan says, “I’m going to come inside of you, and you’re going to come after that, and then I’ll take you again, only using my come as lube, until you’re so full of me you can feel it in your throat. How would you like that?”
Wei Ying whimpers and Lan Wangji thrusts faster, cock plunging harder, ruining Wei Ying. The crisp of his trousers and the cold metal of his belt slide and sting Wei Ying’s ass and Wei Ying loves it, powerless and small as Lan Wangji fucks him, hands under his skirt, over the thigh highs.
He feels it when Lan Zhan begins to lose control, huge cock twitching and pulsing, come gushing inside of him, thick and white and heavy. Wei Ying moans at the wetness, at the fullness, and then his orgasm hits him like a truck, mind whiting out as his body trembles with pleasure. His legs are shaking in his stockings, sweat sliding off his temple and down his collarbone as he rides it out. When he’s done, Lan Zhan has leaned over to him, kissing the back of his neck, palms tenderly clutching his face as he stays soft inside of him.
It’s oversensitive, but Wei Ying’s entire body is too oversensitive to care. “Oh my god,” he says, as his mind falls down a little. “Oh my god. Lan Zhan.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says against his skin, still kissing his neck.
“What the fuck.” It’s all Wei Ying can think of to say. Just—“What the fuck.”
“I meant what I said,” Lan Zhan says. His cock slips out, but then his thumb presses against Wei Ying’s hole, keeping all his come in. Wei Ying’s hips involuntarily thrust. “I am going to wait until we have recovered, and then I will fuck you again. Do you think you can keep me inside of you?”
“Who let you use words?” Wei Ying moans. He clenches his hole as requested, though, but it’s not much of a request—he loves having Lan Zhan inside of him, the feeling of Lan Zhan owning him. He wants to keep a part of him in his body.
Lan Zhan pulls his thumb away, seemingly satisfied. When Wei Ying glances at him, he’s looking down at Wei Ying’s ass, admiring the sight.
“I am merely taking a page out of Wei Ying’s book,” Lan Zhan says.
“Oh, god.” Wei Ying laughs, burying his face in his arms. He clenches his hole tighter, moans a little at Lan Zhan’s come sliding back in him.
“What a hungry hole,” Lan Zhan says.
“Stop, I—” Wei Ying paws around for the underwear he was wearing earlier. “Where are the panties? Let’s go to bed.”
Lan Zhan retrieves the lacy underwear as requested, and they trot to Lan Zhan’s bedroom, which Wei Ying has seen plenty of times before but can never get enough of. Lan Zhan seems like the type of person to have the perfunctory navy-blue bedsheets, white walls, clean desk—but on top of that, Lan Zhan also has a squat table for his guqin, tidy scores on a music stand, his violin case against the wall, and a dedicated corner for his music composition setup. His white walls are decorated mostly with things Wei Ying has drawn for him in his spare time, almost all of them framed; Wei Ying insists to him that he doesn't need to, but Lan Zhan treats anything Wei Ying makes for him like a treasure.
Lan Zhan is also kind of rich, so his apartment is massive. There’s a room just for his bunnies, plus an upright piano in the living room—but none of that matters right now, when Wei Ying collapses onto his queen-sized bed and gives Lan Zhan his best come hither look. Lan Zhan merely joins him after discarding his trousers and underwear. Still in his shirt, he runs his palms over Wei Ying’s legs, his thigh highs. Wei Ying giggles.
“You sure do like these, huh?” he says. “I’m glad, I like them too.”
“I like all parts of Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says.
“Yeah, but you seem pretty fond of these stockings.” Wei Ying gasps out when Lan Zhan snaps the elastic of the top against his thighs. “Ah, Lan Zhan! Marking me again.” He has to lie on his stomach, so he doesn’t hurt his sore ass.
“Mn.” Lan Zhan’s big palm moves to his cheeks again. “I did not hurt you too much?”
“You didn’t hurt me at all. Well,” Wei Ying amends. “You hurt me quite a bit. But that’s the fun part of it!”
He watches as Lan Zhan plays with the end of his skirt, red cloth fluttering over his red butt cheeks. Lan Zhan’s hand moves up to stroke along his small of his back, then upward, between his shoulder blades. Wei Ying hums happily.
“Hey, Lan Zhan,” he says. “When we go again, can I ask you to try something else?”
Lan Zhan rubs circles with his thumb into Wei Ying’s back. “Mn. What is it?”
“Can we…” Wei Ying chews on his lip. It’s something he’s thought about, seen in porn, and is really into hypothetically, but has never tried with Lan Zhan before. “Can you put your hand or arm or something around my neck? And, um. Choke me?”
Lan Zhan’s hand stills.
Wei Ying looks up at him. Lan Zhan’s gaze is heavy, so predatory that Wei Ying involuntarily shivers.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. His voice is tight. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah! I mean—well, I want to make sure that we do it right so that you don’t hurt me.” Wei Ying frowns. “I heard that was a thing. But I’ve always really wanted to try it, so before we go again, we can do some research—”
“I have done it before,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying is surprised. “Really?”
“Yes.” Lan Zhan hesitates. “With… past partners.”
“Oh.” Even though Wei Ying knows they’re pretty serious right now, he can’t help the flare of jealousy that burns in his belly that Lan Zhan has been with anyone else before. Wei Ying hasn’t, which makes no difference to either of them, but still. It’s the thought.
Lan Zhan seems to detect this. “I am glad Wei Ying brought it up,” he says. “I would have liked to try it, but I was unsure when to bring it up. I have been thinking about mentioning it, only… later.”
“Christ,” Wei Ying laughs. Lan Zhan looks alarmed for a second, but then Wei Ying says, “How are you the perfect man? The perfect man for me, specifically.” He crawls up into his lap, wincing a bit at the brush against his back, and kisses Lan Zhan sweetly. Lan Zhan kisses back, heady and warm and comfortable, like home. His hands wrap around Wei Ying’s backside, and Wei Ying giggles, gasps as his fingers run along his tender ass.
They make out softly on Lan Zhan’s bed, less like they’re trying to get going and more like they can’t get enough of each other, need to be joined together for as long as possible. That is until Wei Ying feels arousal tickling the bottom of his belly, and feels the beginnings of Lan Zhan’s erection stirring against his stomach. “Mm,” Wei Ying says, rubbing the back of his hand against it. “Looks like it’s time again, Lan Zhan. Time for you to take me.”
“I will not hold back,” Lan Zhan says, which makes Wei Ying groan out a desperate noise in his throat. “Is Wei Ying ready?”
“Wei Ying is so ready,” Wei Ying says.
He thinks Lan Zhan is going to go right into it, take his hole again. But instead, Lan Zhan puts his hand at the back of Wei Ying’s head and shoves him down towards his cock. The back of Wei Ying’s brain numbs at the pressure, at the feeling of being forced to do this. Wei Ying gets the hint and wraps his lips around the tip of Lan Zhan’s cock, sliding down the foreskin. He moans when Lan Zhan tangles a hand into his hair, pushes him down more. Wei Ying loving the fullness in his mouth, the hot sweat of his scent, the strain against his bruised lips.
“You will get me hard.” Lan Zhan’s cock is only half-hard, and Wei Ying loves feeling it getting bigger inside him. “Then I will enter you.”
Wei Ying hums happily. His brain screams, use me, use me! He manages out, around Lan Zhan’s cock, “Yes, gege.”
Lan Zhan groans. “No speaking.”
Wei Ying’s throat is pliant, getting his cock slick, trying to get him deeper and deeper. One day he’ll have to talk to Lan Zhan about getting a dildo in his size so that the full girth of Lan Zhan’s cock can penetrate him from both ends. Wei Ying is on his way to deepthroating Lan Zhan fully, but then Lan Zhan pulls him off by his hair.
“Desperate,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying whines.
Lan Zhan pulls him onto his lap, unconcerned about Wei Ying crying out at the pain against his sore ass. The hair of his thighs tickling Wei Ying’s smooth ones. They still haven’t taken the thigh highs or skirt off, and Wei Ying doubts they will; he’s still in the hoodie, too, sweltering. But Lan Zhan seems to like that look on Wei Ying as well. Wei Ying chews at the end of the thick sleeve as Lan Zhan’s cock nudges between his stinging cheeks, brushing against his hole. Wei Ying feels hot all over as Lan Zhan’s thick cock breaches him again, inch by inch.
Lan Zhan’s come is still inside him, easing the way, sloppy, wet. Wei Ying can’t stop the noises coming out from his chest as Lan Zhan’s cock slots into him easily, deeply, and Wei Ying’s hole tightens. “Guniang, you still have my seed in you,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying’s mouth goes dry at the honorific—and then he has no time to recover, because then Lan Zhan fucks into him fast and hard, moving Wei Ying’s long black hair out of the way. The other hand snakes up Wei Ying’s leg, clutches at his knees, stockings, thighs, holding him in place so that Wei Ying can’t even grind down to meet Lan Zhan’s thrusts. Lan Zhan keeps him up with both hands, large on Wei Ying's waist, watching Wei Ying’s face as he bucks his hips up, rocking the bed beneath them.
The slap of his thighs against Wei Ying’s ass will not stop stinging, but Wei Ying’s insides feel too full of Lan Zhan to care. Lan Zhan bounces Wei Ying on his cock, and Wei Ying goes, “Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan-gege—”
He gets popped off Lan Zhan’s cock and lifted up from the bed. Lan Zhan shoves his back against the wall and pulls Wei Ying's legs around his waist, and pushes his cock back into his hole, and begins fucking him against the wall. Wei Ying squeaks as Lan Zhan screws into him, full and thick and squelching, his own come leaking from inside of Wei Ying, around his cock. Wei Ying feels it as Lan Zhan’s previous spend slicks down his thighs, to the fabric of his stockings, and can’t do anything about it—not with Lan Zhan using him, fucking him like this, like he’s just a doll. Wei Ying can barely grind back into him, the cloth of his skirt in the way as he gets ruined against the plaster.
And then Lan Zhan grabs him by the throat, throws him onto his stomach back on the bed, and sheathes his cock into him again, beneath the skirt. Wei Ying must be loose and swollen now, but it’s not a match for Lan Zhan’s fat cock, breeching him and breeding him, using him like a bitch. Wei Ying squeals with each thrust, barely up on his elbows and knees, face hot and mind lost as Lan Zhan alternates between the rough thrusts and the filthy grind of his hips, his old come dribbling out. “Gege,” Wei Ying cries because he knows it gets Lan Zhan going. Lan Zhan growls from behind him, heavy balls slapping against Wei Ying’s thighs, stockings, in a perverse sound.
Lan Zhan’s arm loops around Wei Ying’s neck, up close against his throat, dragging his back upward to Lan Zhan’s chest. “Come on, baobei,” Lan Zhan says into his ear. His grip is tight and Wei Ying can barely move, feeling small and useless. “Is this what you need?” Wei Ying arches his back as Lan Zhan drives his cock into him, alighting every nerve ending, making his hole deeper. The hold against his windpipe gets tighter, and Wei Ying’s body feels loose, weightless as Lan Zhan presses their bodies together, Wei Ying’s ass having turned numb.
Lan Zhan moves his free hand and spanks him anyway. Wei Ying gasps—except he can’t, barely, with his oxygen getting cut off. “Wei Ying, baobei,” Lan Zhan coos in his ear, so tenderly, a contrast to his merciless cock pounding into him. “Love you like this, letting me use you, so sweet and tiny.” His palm slaps the back of Wei Ying’s thigh again, and it’s too much—but not enough, with the dizziness, the lightheadedness, bliss burning through every inch of Wei Ying’s body. He is bare and raw, noises barely escaping his throat as he struggles to moan, speak. Lan Zhan is all over him, inside and out, making him bruised and open and used. The come they've used as lube leaks out, Lan Zhan's large cock brushing against his prostate, and as Wei Ying's body continues to relax from slowly draining air supply, Lan Zhan suddenly lets go.
Oxygen slams back into him the same time his orgasm hits, untouched. Wei Ying’s hips thrust erratically, his whole body trembling, moaning and coming all over the bedspread, so insanely hard that it feels like his body is barely there. Faintly, he feels Lan Zhan's fingers at the top lace of his thigh highs, and Wei Ying is still shaking when Lan Wangji comes with a deep noise in his chest, cock lurching into him, fingers tightening around Wei Ying’s ass. He fills Wei Ying again, stuffing him to the brim with his spunk, white smearing his insides. Wei Ying feels all of it, too much of it as he still rides out his own orgasm, the top of his bare thighs clenching and unclenching, mouthing at the bedsheets and making small incoherent noises, overfilled with Lan Zhan—yet, somehow, not enough.
Wei Ying is face down on the bed again, everything wet beneath his stomach. He can’t bring himself to care, mind still hazy. He doesn't know how much time has passed when Lan Zhan rolls him over and looks him in the eyes; he is shirtless and has a towel in his hand now,. It’s cold and wet and makes Wei Ying shiver, but is not an altogether unpleasant feeling.
“How are you, baobei?” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying smiles dopily at him. “Keep looking at me like that and I might need you to fuck me again,” he slurs out.
Lan Zhan smiles back. Wei Ying will never get enough of the sight. “I think we are done for now,” he says.
“Mm.” Wei Ying watches as Lan Zhan cleans him up, around him, and the space where Wei Ying had come. He knows that Lan Zhan will want to change the sheets tomorrow, but if he stays this loose-limbed for the rest of the night—which is likely possible—he can lay here until he falls asleep.
Lan Zhan cleans between his thighs, too. “Tickles,” Wei Ying says, giggling sleepily.
Lan Zhan is looking beneath his skirt, frown on his face. Wei Ying puts a finger beneath Lan Zhan’s chin and tilts his face up. “Baobei,” he says, and likes the way it comes out of his mouth, too. “What’s wrong?”
“Tore your stockings a little,” Lan Zhan says regretfully.
“Ah, it’s okay,” Wei Ying says. “I’ll buy another pair. Or you could buy me another pair.” Despite his body feeling muggy and slow, his brain still gives him great ideas. “Or you could buy me multiple pairs.”
“Mn.” Lan Zhan lights up at that. “I would like that.” With the cold, wet towel still in his hands, he leans up and kisses Wei Ying softly on the lips.
Wei Ying holds his face between his hands. He likes this face, likes Lan Zhan so much.
“Love you, Lan-gege,” he says, and Lan Zhan ducks his head, ears pink, and says, “Love you too.”