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“Ah, Lan Zhan, you’re here,” Wei Ying says, tinged by rare embarrassment as he hurriedly tucks his dick back in his pants.
Lan Zhan stands in front of their door for a second too long, midway through taking his shoes off, and stares blankly at Wei Ying. Wei Ying knows what to expect from his roommate in most instances, but not when he’s been caught jerking off, which is even more terrifying when he phrases it together, and he wishes that Lan Zhan would offer any reaction. Wei Ying worked so hard for them to get along, and it’ll suck so bad if all that is undone in this one moment just because Wei Ying can’t keep it in his pants.
When another ten minutes—okay, maybe twenty seconds, but it feels eternal—goes by without Lan Zhan blinking, Wei Ying tries, “Lan Zhan? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here already, I thought… I thought you’d still be in class or at swim practice, I can’t remember which one, but this was totally an accident! I’ll try my hardest not to let it happen again!!! Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, say something, you’re making me think I murdered your pet or something,”
Lan Zhan finally blinks. “Video is still playing,” Lan Zhan says.
“What? Oh—oh my god,” Wei Ying says, and slams his laptop shut. The ringing from the porn is loud in his ears. “Ah…” He scratches behind his ear. “Ah, I’m sorry.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, but at least he is back in motion. Wei Ying watches him finish taking his shoes off and head for his own desk to place his backpack down.
“Are you mad?” Wei Ying asks. He feels kind of defensive. “I didn’t do it on purpose!! I wouldn’t if I knew you were coming back here.”
“It’s fine, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying loses the tension in his body. “Oh, okay. You’re not mad?”
Lan Zhan looks at him and shakes his head. Wei Ying grins.
“You know, Lan Zhan… do you masturbate? I’ve never even gotten any accidental porn website suggestions when I use your laptop. Are you celibate?”
“Good night, Wei Ying.”
“I’m serious! It’s okay if you are, you don’t even have any dating apps on your phone, and you only hang out with me and, like, what’s his name that I hate. Wait, Lan Zhan, hey, don’t put your headphones in, wait, I’ll go to the bathrooms with you, hold on—!”
-
Wei Ying is either a genius or insane. Both? Lan Zhan walked in on him again today, which makes it the second time in three weeks. Wei Ying doesn’t know what is wrong with him, but he’s just always horny lately, and it is near impossible to keep his hands out of his pants. It takes him a while to find porn that seems appealing, even though he’s not picky about genders even though he’s straight, convinced that all that really matters is video quality and sound. He doesn’t watch lesbian porn because he thinks those are almost always exploitative, and instead curates a careful watch history of consensual, usually amateur, straight videos, but sometimes he ends upon a video with two men, and a lot of the time he lets it play and lets the sounds of sex and the much better angles work him up.
When Lan Zhan caught him jerking off on his bed today, he was watching one of those videos, headphones in and panting so loudly that he didn’t notice at first. Lan Zhan had to pat him on the shoulder to get Wei Ying’s attention, and when Wei Ying jumped in surprise, his laptop almost fell and Lan Zhan had to catch it for him. Catching it meant that Lan Zhan saw the video, and Wei Ying could only pause the video and scratch his head, his neck hot.
It was difficult to look at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan was frozen again, and Wei Ying wondered if he broke him. Somehow—genius or insane—he found it in himself to ask Lan Zhan if he wanted to see, too, if he wanted to watch it with Wei Ying. He saw men talk about watching videos with their friends on forums before, and the replies usually just laughed or agreed instead of making it seem bad, so Wei Ying figured it is just… not a big deal. Maybe Lan Zhan knew this, too. Wei Ying did a lot of stupid shit to make Lan Zhan consider him a friend; this was not much different.
It must be normal if Lan Zhan only widened his eyes a little before slowly nodding, which was the single greatest shock of Wei Ying’s life, but he covered it up quickly by beaming and patting the space next to him on his bed.
They sit close, laptop balanced between both their knees on the bed, and Wei Ying leans his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder before pressing play again on the video. This is fine, Wei Ying thinks, but a few minutes in he’s fully hard again and Lan Zhan is so still that Wei Ying can’t hear him breathe. The video is fine, straightforward, just one man fingering another on a big bed. There are a lot of closeup shots of… the penetration, which makes Wei Ying blush and feel flustered, but nothing he can’t handle. Is Lan Zhan uncomfortable? Except then Lan Zhan shifts his legs, and Wei Ying’s eyes follow the slight movement, and he sees that Lan Zhan is hard. Lan Zhan!
Lan Zhan should never be uncomfortable. Wei Ying thinks he should do what he wants and not let guilt hold him back. “Lan Zhan, there’s really nothing to be ashamed about, plenty of people get turned on by porn.” Lan Zhan stiffens again next to him, so in an attempt to help him relax, to not feel so guilty for a totally natural response, Wei Ying says, “if you wanna jerk off, that’s okay!”
“I…“ Lan Zhan begins to say, but he seems to be at a loss for words. Which, to be fair, isn’t super out of the norm for Wei Ying’s roommate.
“Here,” Wei Ying says, and decides—hm, maybe if Wei Ying takes the first step, then Lan Zhan won’t think this is so weird or that he should be embarrassed?? “I’m gonna,” he says, and puts his right hand, the hand closest to Lan Zhan but whatever, that’s just his dominant hand, back into his sweatpants to grip his hard dick. His breath hitches—or maybe that’s Lan Zhan’s? Lan Zhan must be shocked, but Wei Ying doesn’t want him to get uncomfortable about being turned on, and it really is fine making himself take the first step and face embarrassment so that Lan Zhan doesn’t have to! “‘M gonna jerk off, and you should too, if that’s what will make you feel better!”
He’s been hard for a while, so the relief of touching himself is no hardship. He zones out for a bit because of it, mouth parted as he watches how the dude on the bottom takes the other guy’s cock into his mouth, in one smooth motion until it’s halfway in. Is it that easy? Wei Ying has always wondered how people deal with their teeth, how they keep it from scratching. He supposes he’ll ask a girl the next time he gets his cock sucked. He maybe—could try with his fingers? But he doesn’t think they’re big or long enough to be similar, especially not to a cock as big as the one on screen.
On screen, the guy has his lips wrapped just around the head now, and Wei Ying knows that porn angles are super predictable, he knows enough of this trade, but this one kind of hooks him. It seems like a natural angle, and his eyelashes and the wetness of his mouth are clear enough to make the quality good without that uncomfortable super 4K HD porno vibe that Wei Ying hates. This close up, Wei Ying can almost think that this is a girl, even though he thinks he knows he probably shouldn’t think that.
“Lan Zhan, this is seriously a good video, isn’t it,” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, but out of his periphery, Wei Ying catches movement, and when he pays a little more attention, it’s Lan Zhan with his hands in his sweats, too! Wei Ying was starting to think that Lan Zhan wouldn’t have the courage to face this fear! Wei Ying thinks Lan Zhan kind of looks like the guy getting sucked off, with the hooded eyes and jet black never-dyed hair, the deep voice and parted mouth. Wei Ying wonders if Lan Zhan sees the same similarities. Lan Zhan is way more attractive than the other guy, but for porn standards, the man onscreen is not bad. Wei Ying wonders if it’s just that the standards are higher for gay porn. He hasn’t seen all that much of it, but whenever he decides to random-click videos, most of the gay ones have tolerable men, better than the gross dudes in the straight porn Wei Ying obviously usually watches. Maybe it’s just a higher ratio probability.
He stops thinking with his brain for a few seconds when the guy onscreen takes the dick all the way into his mouth, so deep that he starts gagging on it. Wei Ying watches, transfixed, with his hand still working over his leaking dick, as the camera angles to show how it sinks into his throat, the apparent swell of skin, and can’t help from moaning out loud, hand loose and frantic on his dick. Wei Ying can’t imagine what it must feel like to be taken in that deep. Is the human throat even capable of that? Does it hurt, to be the one doing that?
He glances out the corner of his eye and sees Lan Zhan’s head thrown back to the wall and his hand hidden in his sweats still, yeah, but it’s much more visible what he’s doing now, for a… for a number of reasons.
Lan Zhan catches him staring, eyelids just as hooded as the one in the video. Wei Ying flushes and turns back to the screen, embarrassed at being caught staring, embarrassed that he was staring at all.
-
“Ah, it’s so good,” Wei Ying moans, his hips fucking up furiously into the fleshlight wrapped right around his cock. He holds it steady from the head with one hand, letting his body take control of how he sunk into it, and his other hand is distracted by his nipples, flicking and pulling on them until they’re so sore that it hurts, hurt good enough that he can’t stop whimpering as he plays with them, a little self-conscious at the pitch of his noises but too into it to stop. “Gege, I can’t believe you haven’t used one of these, it’s so good,” he says, lolling his head to the side to look at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan is palming his cock over his sweats, and Wei Ying is struck once more by how… how big it is, how it looked like Wei Ying—well, not Wei Ying specifically, but someone, and it’s not like Wei Ying has the smallest hands in the world, just in his friend group bar Jiang Cheng—would need both hands to handle it. Wei Ying got all his cock sheathed into the flesh light, but there’s no way Lan Zhan’s cock would fit. Too big. Wei Ying finds himself flushing as he thinks about—that. Where is this even going, why is he being so weird? He’s too old to be jealous of someone else’s size.
He squirms on his bed and turns back to his laptop screen and the… oh, he didn’t expect this to go here. Wei Ying has always wondered what the appeal of being eaten out is; for men that have that sweet spot, it’s not like a tongue could reach that deep. This one girl on a dating app liked to message him that she couldn’t wait to get her mouth on his ass, and it had made Wei Ying confused and a little red, but he deleted the app from unrelated anxiety before he could ask why. Some girls are just really bold. What did the person doing it get out of it, especially?
He knows it’s a long shot, since there’s no way Lan Zhan would share that information, if by a miracle he’s not a virgin, but Wei Ying wants to ask at least one person. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, “have you ever eaten, um, eaten someone out—ah, fuck, fuck.”
Wei Ying catches his breath and glances at him when he sees the peripheral movement stop. “Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying breathes.
“What?” Lan Zhan says.
“Have you e—“
“I heard. You. I heard you.” Lan Zhan clears his throat. He’s not always this awkward, Wei Ying wonders why. His question isn’t even bizarre. He asks Huaisang about his sex life all the time. Sure, he expects Lan Zhan to be a virgin, while it’s common knowledge that Huaisang is a slut, but these sorts of questions are fine between friends. Surely, by now, Lan Zhan considers them friends. Wei Ying even managed to remember his birthday on the day of, and he barely remembers his own. “I have.” Lan Zhan‘s palms are flat on his thighs.
Wei Ying heart rate picks up. Okay, not the answer he thought he’d get. “What? Really?” He does know the answer he’ll get for this, which is none, because Lan Zhan doesn’t like repeating himself, which is what made that blot of awkwardness just now even more awkward. “Whoa, Lan Zhan, you’re so cool. Was she someone I know?”
“Not she,” Lan Zhan says.
“Huh?”
“Not a girl,” Lan Zhan says.
“Oh,” Wei Ying says faintly. His cock pulses in the fleshlight, and he draws in a breath at the knowledge. “Uh.”
Lan Zhan is so stiff next to him now, like the statue most people think he is, and Wei Ying doesn’t like that. Was—should he not have asked? Lan Zhan could’ve ignored him, right? He ignores dumb questions all the time. He usually responds to Wei Ying, but Wei Ying is self-aware enough to know he’s smarter than most people Lan Zhan knows, fuck intellectual imposter syndrome, but if this was a moment of, like, social ineptitude, then Lan Zhan should’ve told him. “I have made you uncomfortable. I should go.” Lan Zhan shifts like he’s going to get off of Wei Ying’s bed.
“Wait, Lan Zhan, don’t!” Wei Ying’s hand rushes out to grab Lan Zhan’s thigh, right above his knee, nowhere weird, and Lan Zhan freezes again. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable! Come on, you had a really long day, we both know you’re just gonna go, like, angrily browse Weibo and bad movie reviews you disagree with, and that’s not the best way to relax! You’re always chill after you, like, accidentally watch porn, so let yourself be chill. You can even—really, I think you should use the fleshlight after I have. I’d offer it now, but, um, if I don’t come, I might die. So after I prevent my death!”
“After…Wei Ying has used it?” Lan Zhan says slowly, finally turning his head to look at Wei Ying with an unusual twitch in his jaw. Wei Ying has a good grasp of Lan Zhan’s tells, including his secrets, even though his only secret right now is the apartment he is looking for them to move into after Wei Ying complained about the dorm kitchen, but he’s still not sure what Lan Zhan’s face is saying here.
“We can wash it out, um, but I don’t have any water in here, and it might be weird to go outside with it to the bathrooms, I don’t really wanna run into anyone, haha. But if you’re uncomfortable, it would be worth the risk!”
“No need,” Lan Zhan says.
“Huh? Which part?”
“No need to wash it,” Lan Zhan says. “Am sure Wei Ying is clean.”
“I am! I promise I am, my test papers are here somewhere, if you wanna see.”
“No need,” Lan Zhan repeats. Wei Ying watches his eyes glance down to where Wei Ying’s cock is still pressing up into the fleshlight. “Focus on not dying,” he says, looking back up at Wei Ying’s eyes.
Wei Ying is confused for another moment until he remembers what he said earlier. Lan Zhan doesn’t often joke, and definitely not about something—like this, and Wei Ying doesn’t have the mental brain cells right now to come up with a witty response. He’s so hard he feels he might come any second now.
Back on Wei Ying’s laptop, they’re properly fucking now and he wonders in a haze if that actually feels so good for the guy on the bottom, with the way he’s moaning into the pillow and pressing his ass back while the other man plows into him hard, the noises of sex loud even in Wei Ying’s dorm. He thinks again to the girl on the app and all the other things she said she wanted to do to him, and he wonders if… if he might be able to find her again if he redownloads the app. She said a lot that she wanted to hold him down and fuck him on his belly, which made Wei Ying feel like a ridiculous blushing virgin every time he read her messages, made him so horny he could barely see straight, but he always figured that was just the hype of sex talk, the way almost anything can be arousing when he’s turned on. He doesn’t really think he thought so deeply about it, but with the reaction on screen, he’s curious, genuinely curious. He’s never even put fingers down there before, but he’s a little tempted to try, and he thinks it would be so much better if another person, if a girl helped him out the first time.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying gasps, and he swears he has a question, “Lan Zhan, do you think you—“ but he doesn’t get to finish it, whining high in his throat and pressing the fleshlight all the way down as he spurts come into it, legs wide apart and body writhing from the perfect tension and relaxation of coming. He’s still gasping when he comes back down from the high, his dick rapidly softening in the toy.
“Oh my god, Lan Zhan, that was so… wow, I seriously think you’re gonna like it,” he says, head falling to the side so he can look at his roommate. Lan Zhan’s eyes are so dark right now, like the pupil is fully dilated and taking over the gold.
“Did you like it?” Wei Ying asks, referring to the video.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “I liked it.” He’s still making eye contact with Wei Ying, but the volume of the video is loud enough, distracting. Wei Ying knows he’s talking about the video, so he doesn’t know why it feels more vulgar than even this situation calls for.
Wei Ying looks away. “Do you wanna try now?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying pulls the fleshlight off his sensitive dick with a deep inhale, kind of embarrassed by the opaque tackiness in the artificial flesh. He tries leaning over Lan Zhan to get the fleshlight over him, but it’s awkward like this, and it’ll make his hands cramp.
“Is it okay if I…” Wei Ying starts, and lets his actions finish speaking when he throws his left leg over Lan Zhan’s thigh and straddles his lap. “Is this okay? It’ll be more comfortable. For my, um, hands.” Lan Zhan nods, so Wei Ying beams. His smile falls off his face quickly when he realizes what he’s actually about to do, and he pulls Lan Zhan’s sweats off his cock with bated breath. It slaps up against Lan Zhan’s stomach, and Wei Ying loses track of the entire concept of time. Up close, this is ridiculous. He stares at it with wide eyes and a parted mouth, and then sneaks a look at the computer screen. It’s even bigger than that. Does this—could Lan Zhan even fit? In anyone? He said he ate someone out, so Wei Ying is tempted to think that they fucked, too, but he can’t imagine that this would work. This can’t be humanly possible. Wei Ying wonders if—he wonders if—
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, his honey soft voice pulling Wei Ying from his ruminations on, god, on Lan Zhan’s dick. “You do not have to.”
“I want to,” Wei Ying says, blinking rapidly a few times to make sure he is not dreaming this, if there was ever a reason for him to dream this, and then he fits the fleshlight over Lan Zhan’s dick. The slide isn’t super smooth, and he has to press it in increments, and even then it doesn’t go all the way down. Fuck, that’s really…
Wei Ying pokes his tongue out between his teeth when he begins working it on Lan Zhan. He looks up with surprise when Lan Zhan lets out a soft grunt. He doesn’t think he’s heard Lan Zhan make noise before, not the few times they’ve done this, but he doesn’t know what Lan Zhan is looking at when they make eye contact. Is he more audio than visual? Maybe the noise does it for him. Wei Ying always thought he himself liked visuals more, but the sounds in this video are good, and that explains why he’s getting hard again already.
He scoots a little forward on Lan Zhan’s lap, his hand still moving the fleshlight over Lan Zhan’s cock with increasingly faster movements. Lan Zhan has his eyes hooded, half shut and dark gold as he looks at Wei Ying and his hips flex up into the movement. Wei Ying has to force himself to break the gaze, and his eyes land on the steady motions of how he fucks down onto Lan Zhan’s cock. The noise it makes is embarrassing, the deafening squelch—God, even the word is terrible—caused by the remains of Wei Ying’s nut into the fleshlight. Lan Zhan is rubbing off into this fake pussy that Wei Ying already came in. The… that sentence is crazy, to think, to imagine saying.
“Is it good, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks, “does it feel good? It feels good, right?”
Lan Zhan nods, a short incline of his head, and then his eyes are back to boring into Wei Ying’s.
“Do you like the video?”
Lan Zhan hums. It’s not as clear a response as his hums often are, but he wouldn’t be this hard if the video sucked, so. Wei Ying chose a good one.
“Is it wet enough?” Wei Ying asks. He uses both his hands and tries bouncing it harder, to see if Lan Zhan likes that. He likes it. His ears are bright red and his hands are fisted into the bedsheets and his eyes are so pretty and so intent, pupils dilated wide with arousal. Wei Ying almost forgets the video is even playing when his dick fattens up and slaps his stomach. “Should I add lube? Do you like it wetter when you’re inside? Did I make it good for you, Lan Zhan? Is it good?”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “Make it wetter.”
“Okay,” Wei Ying said, “okay,” and pulls it off so he can add more lube. It’s… somewhere, is it by his laptop? He twists to reach over to grab it, but in the shuffling he forgets to keep balance and almost tips over off of Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan has great reflexes, though, and his hand reaches out to grab Wei Ying by the hip. His hands, his hands must slip, though, because his fingers accidentally dig into Wei Ying’s ass in the process of pulling Wei Ying uptight again, and, it is, it’s. Wei Ying likes his butt fine, he guesses, even though it won’t firm up and stays soft no matter how much he runs, but he’s never thought of it as a particularly erogenous area? But when Lan Zhan touches it, maybe because of the ever-present deep arousal, maybe because of some sort of hindbrain response to the heavy slaps on screen every time the guy on top shoves all the way into the other man’s ass, he doesn’t know, surely that must make his body more aware of a place he might otherwise not think about, he doesn’t know, but it’s like all the blood in his body rushes to his cock until he is all the way erect again, and a harsh moan escapes his mouth without any conscious decision to allow that. Then it’s worse, because the shock makes him freeze up and fall forward onto Lan Zhan’s chest, and god, Wei Ying never thought he might feel Lan Zhan’s cock pressed against his own in mistake, but it happens, and it feels so good when Lan Zhan’s hand on his ass tightens in surprise that Wei Ying whimpers and spurts precome onto Lan Zhan’s cock.
They sit there, frozen and caught off guard.
Then, Wei Ying comes back to himself and gets hot everywhere, a deep and heavy shame coursing through his body. He didn’t even know he could feel shame like this, but this, god this is too much. He sits up. “Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident!!” and he tries moving away from the contact, but his body is weighed by stone and Lan Zhan only tightens and pulls Wei Ying closer by the ass. Wei Ying’s mouth parts and he blinks at Lan Zhan, unsure what’s going on, if Lan Zhan is still in shock. “Lan Zhan? Zhan-ge, let me—ah, ah!” His mind whites out completely when Lan Zhan wraps a big hand around the both of them and strokes harshly once, aided by the tacky mess of Wei Ying’s come.
“Lan Zhan, what are you doing,” Wei Ying says, too wrought by pleasure to add the appropriate infection. He should move away, he doesn’t even like men, but whenever he thinks about doing it his limbs don’t work. “Lan Zhan, we shouldn’t, this is,” but when Lan Zhan strokes them together again, he cries out, falling forward again onto Lan Zhan’s solid chest and wondering how his body can react this way.
“You like this,” Lan Zhan says, almost like a discovery, almost like confirmation. He twists his wrist and it makes his cock drag against Wei Ying’s in the most insane way, and Wei Ying feels halfway to coming just from this. “Do I stop?”
Wei Ying closes his eyes and… shakes his head. Lan Zhan’s palm tightens and really moves now, fast and tight pulls from the start that make Wei Ying feel out of his mind, like he’s never experienced anything this good before. It’s still weird for maybe one more minute, but he’s horny and he’s hard and a hand is a hand no matter who it comes from, and Lan Zhan’s chest is so warm and broad, and he thinks he will come faster than ever before in all his years of masturbation. This isn’t even so much different than them jerking off together, and if that was so crazy and uncomfortable then it wouldn’t happen more than once.
“You get so wet,” Lan Zhan murmurs. Wei Ying whines and squirms on Lan Zhan’s lap, somehow more affected by the calm baritone of Lan Zhan’s voice, like he’s just sharing a fact with Wei Ying. Lan Zhan presses his mouth to Wei Ying’s neck and breathes heavily. Wei Ying can’t stop squirming, fires burning everywhere across his skin, the pleasure of Lan Zhan’s strokes too much, too overwhelming. “Stop moving.”
That’s not possible. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying moans. His hips try to fuck up into Lan Zhan’s grip, and he wants to come so, so bad. Lan Zhan makes a low disapproving noise and holds him still with the hand on his ass. He stops stroking, but Wei Ying’s hips twitch with displeasure and a desperate tension in his belly that only rises when Lan Zhan fucking—god, this is too much—
“Stop moving,” Lan Zhan repeats. He presses them together, too tight, almost to the point of pain, and gropes Wei Ying’s ass so hard that he yelps. “Be good,” he says, and Wei Ying keens deep in his throat and comes, long pulses of wet leaking from his cock and dirtying Lan Zhan’s hand and cock. Wei Ying feels out of body, floating above the nonstop noises wrenched from his mouth, the heady pleasure of Lan Zhan pulling him through his orgasm and pressing his mouth still to Wei Ying’s neck. The haze of his orgasm lasts forever, stronger than any he’s had in recent memory. He feels himself getting jostled, but his eyes are still closed and he is out of body with the high.
When he manages to open his eyes again, eyelashes sticky wet from the high of his orgasm, he’s on his back on his bed with his thighs loose and relaxed. Lan Zhan kneels between them, his upper body lowered over Wei Ying and held up by a hand near Wei Ying’s temple, and when Wei Ying looks down, he sees and hears the harsh movements of Lan Zhan jerking himself off, probably lubed up from Wei Ying’s release. He flushes and bites his bottom lip and looks up and away. But that just means that he catches Lan Zhan’s eyes, dark and insistent and heavy with arousal where they stare down at Wei Ying.
“Lan Zhan?” He shifts, and it makes him more aware of the way his legs are spread. This is—a compromising position. His head is closest to the computer, and this video is endless. It still hasn’t stopped, what the fuck, and it’s super embarrassing now, hearing the grainy voice of the guy that doesn’t look like Lan Zhan saying you like me inside your pussy? you like when I fuck your wet hole like this? with the other guy crying out affirmations and frantically jerking himself off, while the dual sound of Lan Zhan’s hand on his cock ring louder.
“Oh my god,” Wei Ying says, and brings a hand up to cover his face. He doesn’t move away, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s lost his mind. Maybe his brain came out with the orgasm. Onscreen, fuck, you want me to tell you again how good your pussy feels, baby, how you’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever had? Offscreen, his thigh twitches and he takes a shaky breath. No way he can get hard again, that is not humanly possible. No way can he come a third time before Lan Zhan even comes once. He hates this video’s dirty talk; this is so… so graphic. This guy is just putting words together like it makes sense.
“You like this?” Lan Zhan repeats. “The video dialogue.”
“No,” Wei Yings disagrees, shaking his head.
“You do,” Lan Zhan says, something like wonder in his voice. There’s nothing wondrous about Wei Ying’s humiliation, he’s the worst, Wei Ying will not speak to him for five hours when this ends. Maybe ten. “You’re getting hard again. Which part?”
“It’s just words,” Wei Ying protests. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“The praise or him saying… saying pussy?”
Wei Ying jolts. “Lan Zhan!! Don’t speak like that!!” He never thought Lan Zhan could be so… be so…
“You like it.” Wei Ying lowers his hands and braves eye contact to scowl at Lan Zhan.
“Shut up, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes are so intense. “Do you want to come again?”
“I can’t, I’m…” He means to say he’s worn out, but his cock is already halfway, and he feels insatiable. “Lan Zhan,” he says instead, trying to keep his voice firm and hoping that Lan Zhan will take the hint and drop the topic.
Wei Ying realizes he cannot anticipate anything Lan Zhan says or does, because his roommate has been possessed by a demon. “Earlier, you… are your nipples sensitive? Can you come from them?”
“Fuck,” Wei Ying swears, and feels his dick swell even more. Lan Zhan is still touching himself, but the strokes are less furious now, more paced. Wei Ying wishes he could say no, maybe quell this curiosity of Lan Zhan’s in the bud, but his ex once jokingly tried to test that herself, and Wei Ying ended up coming without even a hand on his dick. “Maybe, I don’t know.”
“Do you want me to try?”
“Um,” Wei Ying says. There isn’t a single thought in his head. He is going to turn off his brain. No images, no imagining, no physical or verbal reactions.
Unfortunately his neural system does not get the message. His dick slaps loudly against his pelvis, hard and needy, and it hurts, getting so hard again this soon, and he thinks his dick must be broken. Like, glitching.
“I will,” Lan Zhan says. He shifts to rest his weight on his elbow instead of his palm, and it brings him closer to Wei Ying’s body. Probably Wei Ying should tell him not to. Probably he should say no and move away, remind himself and Lan Zhan, mostly himself, that he is not into men. Lan Zhan’s weight isn't even on him, it would be so easy to push him off and get off the bed. But then Lan Zhan leans his head down and wraps his mouth around Wei Ying’s nipple and Wei Ying shakes with a full body shudder and leaks even more onto his belly.
“Lan Zh—ah! Oh my god, oh my god, hnnn,” mindless as he arches his chest up into Lan Zhan’s mouth and burns alive everywhere.
“Do you like that?” Lan Zhan murmurs. Even the movement of his speech makes Wei Ying feel torn apart by pleasure. Wei Ying pants around a broken moan, and when Lan Zhan tongues at his nipple, he wonders for a hysterical moment if he will actually come like this. Maybe not if; maybe how fast.
Lan Zhan’s mouth is insistent as he sucks on Wei Ying’s nipple, harsh when he bites, the way he drags his straight teeth across Wei Ying’s tight nipple, making it get even harder as it rises upwards for attention. Wei Ying is mortified at the high desperate noises that fall from his mouth, at how his cock won’t stop pooling precome into his navel, twitching wet onto his stomach every time Lan Zhan bites down and makes it burn. Wei Ying’s hands clench in his bedspread. He feels high-strung and sensitive everywhere, and he can't stop writhing under Lan Zhan and his cruel mouth.
“Wait, Lan Zhan, wait,” he gasps out, hit again by a wave of humiliation so deep it almost makes him come when he floats back into consciousness and hears I’m so deep in you, I’m gonna come so fucking hard and flood your hole with so much seed. No one speaks like that.
Lan Zhan removes his mouth and kneels up. “Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying is still shivering a little from pleasure that will not fade. He drags a hand to wrap around his dick, and moans again. It hurts, almost, but he can’t help the easy and impatient movement of his hand. He wants to come so bad. So bad.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again, his mouth shiny.
We Ying will just blame this on the aforementioned hysteria or maybe a bout of delirium. “Come on me,” he pleads, looking up to where Lan Zhan looms over his body, “wherever you want, do it, Lan Zhan, wherever—“ He whimpers in anticipation when Lan Zhan’s brow furrows, just a little, but Wei Ying is always watching Lan Zhan, so of course he notices. Lan Zhan goes back to jerking himself off again, and when Wei Ying can’t help looking down, he sees and hears the heavy slap of Lan Zhan’s fist hitting his balls, heavy and drawn up high with arousal. Wei Ying hazily wonders if that’s because of him, hands speeding up on his cock, but then he remembers the video. Which—after millennia, it finally stopped, but now that means that Wei Ying picks up on Lan Zhan’s heavy breathing, the slick sounds of their mutual masturbation, his own small sounds of pleasure.
Wei Ying reaches his free hand up to play with his swollen and wet nipple, still hard from the drying spit and constant desire. He rolls it between his thumb and index finger and groans as he arches up into the sensation. Lan Zhan’s hand is a blur on his cock by now, and he looks angry, somehow, so Wei Ying pinches his areola hard, hair falling onto his face when he shakes his head to keep from blurting out a thousand terrible things. Lan Zhan might be happy to know Wei Ying stumbled into self-restraint from the sheer mortification of this encounter.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, no good reason, just to hear himself say it. Lan Zhan lets out another soft grunt and then his cock releases hot spurts of come onto Wei Ying’s dick, his balls, the smooth and sensitive skin beneath, and just the feeling of that is enough to make Wei Ying let out a long and wanton moan, worse than the man in the video earlier, and come for a third time, almost painful from exertion. Lan Zhan is still shooting onto Wei Ying’s thighs when Wei Ying stops, and it makes Wei Ying’s eyes tear up as he shudders through the aftershocks.
“Fuck,” Lan Zhan says, maybe one of a handful of times Wei Ying has heard him curse. Wei Ying agrees.
-
Wei Ying doesn’t even have time to freak out about it. The next week traps him in a thirty-hour workweek on top of his four classes, and by the time he sneaks back into the dorm room late at night after a shift at the grocery store, Lan Zhan is sleeping. Wei Ying spends most of his free time at the library or the cafeteria, studying with his brother or Wen Ning. He is… very dedicated in increasing his knowledge.
Anyway, he reasons, there’s nothing to freak out about. It was just-- well, it wasn’t even sex! They just got off together, not for the first time, and sure, it was kinda weird that Wei Ying came so much or that Lan Zhan was possessed by a demon or that Wei Ying’s nipple was tender for a full day after, but Wei Ying is nothing if not incredibly talented at repression.
By day eight, though, he is tired and misses Lan Zhan and wants to get off. And he misses Lan Zhan. After his last class ends in the late afternoon, he finds himself back in their room in a familiar position, hands down his pants while a video plays on screen. It’s, yeah, it’s the same one from last time, but Wei Ying… there’s an excuse in there somewhere, he guesses, but really it just makes him so hard that the impending sexuality crisis doesn’t even matter.
Not ten minutes later, Lan Zhan walks into the room, his jacket slung over his forearm and his gym bag over his shoulder. Wei Ying’s eyes widen, hand stuck in his boxers, but Lan Zhan only gives him one narrowed gaze before turning away to unload his gym clothes and put them with the dirty laundry.
Wei Ying doesn’t pout, but he doesn’t not pout either. “Lan Zhan,” he says. He puts the volume of the video down, but not so much that Lan Zhan can’t hear it.
“You knew I’d be home,” Lan Zhan says mildly, still not looking at Wei Ying. That will not work.
“No, I didn’t,” Wei Ying lies, like a liar.
Wei Ying blacks out, then, or maybe he just cannot reconcile himself with how blatantly he goads Lan Zhan, because next thing he knows, smug and flustered in equal measure, Lan Zhan is holding Wei Ying’s legs apart and staring down at him while he jerks his own cock. Wei Ying’s laptop has been pushed to the end of the bed, but the video still plays, the loud and slick sounds of sex still reverberating through their dorm room.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying breathes, face flushed bright red as he tries closing his legs just a little, just so he doesn’t feel so exposed, but Lan Zhan forces his knees back apart, his light eyes fixed completely on Wei Ying’s—his—
Lan Zhan has his mouth open and his breathing louder than it ever is, and Wei Ying thinks he might die when Lan Zhan brings his thumb down to press around Wei Ying’s hole, soft drags down that make Wei Ying’s breath hitch, higher and higher when Lan Zhan starts rubbing around. Lan Zhan’s face is just so close to—there, and it makes Wei Ying feel hot and horrified all over, to know that Lan Zhan is staring so intently at that private and small part of Wei Ying as he loosens him up.
“Lan Zhan,” he says again, and spreads his knees a little wider when Lan Zhan dips his thumb inside, a reaction as automatic and out of his control as the soft breath that leaves his mouth. Lan Zhan leans in closer. “Lan Zhan, what are you—ah!“
He can’t finish his sentence before Lan Zhan’s mouth is—before it’s on him, down there, broad swipes of his tongue in a dirty kiss that makes Wei Ying cry out first in shock and then—ah, fuck, what the fuck, Wei Ying is so embarrassed, and yet this is still the most intense feeling he’s ever felt, ever, drawn to the edge every time Lan Zhan tries licking inside, his tongue catching on Wei Ying’s hole as his movements get intense. More intense.
“Lan—gege, this is—“ Wei Ying doesn’t often find himself at loss for words, but this is too much. All he hears in the room are his short gasps and the high desperate pacing of his breathing. “You, ah, ah, Lan Zhan, you shouldn’t, it’s… oh my god! Lan Zhan, that’s too dirty, you shouldn’t, you—“ but all he can manage is to tighten his thighs around Lan Zhan’s head, both hands gripping Lan Zhan’s hair and his back arched high from the insane sensation. He’s so loud, he didn’t think he would be this loud during this, which is probably poor oversight on his end, but fuck, hearing himself, hearing his ceaseless gasps and the unbearable way he breathes Lan Zhan’s name—
Lan Zhan pulls away soon, and Wei Ying is grateful, because he could not last another moment of this, but it is also the saddest moment of his entire life, a loss that he will never recover from. He closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing back in order while Lan Zhan goes back to just staring, probably, since he is actively trying to kill Wei Ying.
His eyes shoot open when he feels two long and wet fingers back at his hole. Lan Zhan traces a line down his crease until all of Wei Ying’s attempts at calming down are destroyed and he is once again biting back moans. He nods eagerly and his legs spread loose when Lan Zhan asks, “can I finger you?” The careful slide in of Lan Zhan’s finger isn’t so bad when Lan Zhan already got him wet.
Wei Ying understands very, very quickly that it does feel as good as even the most dramatic pornstars make it seem, especially when Lan Zhan works two fingers in him and uses his free hand to push Wei Ying’s thigh higher, into an angle that makes Lan Zhan’s fingers stroke over a raw and sensitive spot inside that makes Wei Ying’s body seize up and his cock jerk against his belly, only held in place by Lan Zhan’s strong hand. Oh, he thinks dreamily, hips squirming like his body is unsure whether it wants to move into it or away. He clenches tight around Lan Zhan’s fingers, overwhelmed by the sharp newness of this, and Lan Zhan shushes him and soothingly runs his palm over Wei Ying’s thigh until Wei Ying stops letting out these mortifying broken whines and relaxes enough that Lan Zhan can fit in a third finger.
Lan Zhan surges up to place a kiss over Wei Ying’s nipple, but Wei Ying cannot handle that right now, so he tugs on Lan Zhan’s hair until he moves further up and Wei Ying can look at his pretty eyes and feel less overwhelmed by the pressure inside his body. “Lan Zhan,” he says, unsure what he is even asking for.
“Can I kiss you?” Lan Zhan asks, leaning close until his mouth hovers over Wei Ying. Wei Ying nods and tilts his head up until their mouths brush, and Lan Zhan makes a rough noise in the back of his throat before pressing his lips down hard and drawing Wei Ying into a biting kiss.
Lan Zhan spends a long time fingering him. Wei Ying is distracted by the kiss, how demanding his quiet and considerate roommate is, so it comes as a shock when Lan Zhan rubs the fat head of his cock against Wei Ying’s hole. “Okay?” Lan Zhan asks. Wei Ying didn’t think this far, when he decided spur of the moment that he wanted Lan Zhan to touch him again, and he is kind of scared at all this now entails, but he finds that he wants it anyway, wants to test the limits of his body and let Lan Zhan use him for his pleasure. Lan Zhan must’ve shut the laptop at some point, because Wei Ying hears neither sound nor catches movement from the side, but he still remembers clearly how much the guy getting fucked seemed to enjoy it, and he wants to know. He says yes, nods into the kiss, and angles his hips down onto Lan Zhan’s cock.
Okay. He regrets this very quickly when Lan Zhan pushes the head in, all of the work he did to loosen Wei Ying up obviously pointless, because Wei Ying cannot do this, Wei Ying cannot take this, he knew it would be impossible, and it was false hubris to think he might fool his body into being capable of taking something as big as Lan Zhan inside. His breathing comes fast, and his body is on fire everywhere, but most of all where Lan Zhan splits him open, his hole stretched wide and squeezing hard around the intrusion, but that only makes it worse, makes him keen in discomfort.
“Wei Ying? Are you okay?”
Wei Ying has literal tears in his eyes, so no, he doesn’t think he’s okay. But when Lan Zhan makes a concerned face and tries to pull out, Wei Ying is also crazy, because he grasps at Lan Zhan’s midsection and shakes his head, tells him, “no, no, wait. Just… give me time.”
Lan Zhan kisses a tear track below his right eye, then below his left. “Talk,” he says.
“Huh?” Wei Ying asks. This is so much. Too much. He’s not even hard anymore, what the fuck, but he can’t help feeling like making Lan Zhan pull out will be defeat. He wants to know. There has to be more to it than this; he felt what Lan Zhan’s fingers can do to him, why wouldn’t his cock be even better?
“Talk. You will feel better.” He brushes his lips over Wei Ying’s. “How does it feel?”
“Too much,” Wei Ying says, laughing a little in disbelief. The laughter makes his body move, and he braces himself for the worst, but it doesn’t hurt as much now when he squeezes around Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan drifts a big hand down to Wei Ying’s soft dick and takes it in hand and, oh, that does feel good. Lan Zhan rubs his thumb in circles over the head of his dick, and it starts to swell again in Lan Zhan’s hand, confused by the conflicting pain and growing pleasure. “How does it feel for you?”
“Tight,” Lan Zhan says.
Wei Ying swallows. “Put it in a little more. Not a lot, but just more.” Lan Zhan kisses his upper lip and presses further in. Wei Ying inhales shakily and asks, “does it feel good for you?”
Lan Zhan trails his lips down Wei Ying’s jaw and digs his teeth into Wei Ying’s neck. It sends a shock of desire down Wei Ying’s spine, and he arches up into it with a low exhale. “Yes,” Lan Zhan says. He keeps stroking Wei Ying’s dick as he sucks a pattern of marks into Wei Ying’s skin, and minute by minute, Wei Ying’s body calms enough that he feels good again, hard in Lan Zhan’s grasp and gasping every time Lan Zhan’s mouth is most cruel.
“Lan Zhan, I can’t believe—wait, wait, there, fuck—I won’t be able to hide these! Never thought you’d be so mean and inconsiderate, this is really, oh, fuck, seriously, a major stain on your character.” Wei Ying can’t make up his mind, though, because he keeps making room for Lan Zhan to bruise him. It just feels so good; he doesn’t care if he looks like he had an orgy in the morning, he feels good now.
“Put it all the way in,” Wei Ying says. He thinks Lan Zhan might ask if he’s sure, which would be both sweet and patronizing, because of course Wei Ying isn’t sure, but he wants it all the way in anyway. Lan Zhan pushes inside to the hilt, matching grunts from them both as Wei Ying’s legs spread further apart to make room for Lan Zhan. He braces them at Lan Zhan’s sides and shuts his eyes tight. It’s easier to level his breathing now, and he stays hard with the sureness of Lan Zhan’s thumb digging into the tip of his cock, so it’s—not bad? There is something overwhelming about knowing someone is inside of him, like, a literal other human fucked deep inside and taking pleasure from the tight warmth of his body. It’s heady, dizzying, every time he squeezes around Lan Zhan and Lan Zhan’s hips tense with the effort to hold back, that he can make Lan Zhan feel this good in making a space inside for Lan Zhan to burrow into. He can’t say he knows how the guy in the video felt when he got fucked, singular experiences and all, but he knows how it feels for him, and he likes it. It is so nice.
“Okay,” he tells Lan Zhan, smiling dopily at the ceiling and then at Lan Zhan when he feels Lan Zhan’s eyes on him, “fuck me.”
It still hurts but he minds less now. His body moves across the sheets as Lan Zhan moves inside of him, the harshness of his mouth on Wei Ying’s neck, jaw, mouth, at odds with how gentle his movements are. Wei Ying sees the tension in his jaw, though, and he hates to think that Lan Zhan is holding back when Wei Ying is so warm and open for him to take. “You can go harder.” Lan Zhan pauses. “Really, Lan Zhan, harder.”
Lan Zhan hums and—pulls out? “That’s the opposite of what I said!” Wei Ying wails, scrabbling at Lan Zhan’s shoulders.
Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, but he works fast, and soon a pillow is under Wei Ying’s hips to hold him up, which is not fun when he’s open and clenching around the cold air, but a perfect fucking idea when Lan Zhan kneels between his legs again and shoves all the way in with one thrust.
“Oh, fuck,” Wei Ying gasps, ‘oh, fuck, you’re a genius, you’re, this is… oh, Lan Zhan, fuck.” Lan Zhan’s cock angles perfectly onto the most sensitive nerve inside Wei Ying, and when Lan Zhan pushes his thighs up by the soft underside and increases his speed with every push forward, Wei Ying cries out and throws his head far back as his body lights up everywhere, on fire in the best possible way now.
Lan Zhan’s movements are more insistent now, mouth parted just slightly as he looks down at Wei Ying and fucks him harder and harder, the slap of their connecting bodies louder with every push forward. Wei Ying’s thighs will be red for days, but none of that matters right now when all he can do is bite his wrist and try to keep his volume down. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow and he reaches out to slap Wei Ying’s hand away.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, “everyone will hear, I have to look—ah, hnnghh,” or whatever unintelligible noise escapes him when Lan Zhan shoves two fingers far into his mouth. Wei Ying gags, eyes watering, but his hands race up to grab Lan Zhan’s wrist and hold him there when it seems like he might pull out. From the soft light of Lan Zhan’s desk lamp, Wei Ying sees his pupils dilate even more, and his thrusts gain an added intensity that makes Wei Ying’s body pulse and his cock spurt precome onto his navel. He muffles a groan around Lan Zhan’s long and slender fingers and tightens around Lan Zhan’s cock until he huffs out a louder breath and rubs his fingers over Wei Ying’s tongue.
To Wei Ying’s despair, Lan Zhan pulls his fingers out, ignoring the pressure Wei Ying puts on his wrist to stay, which is, yeah, obscenely hot. “Lan Zhan, come on, give it back, you’re so, so mean, I want it, I want,” he forgets what he wants, eyes rolling far back into his head and body spasming outside of his control when Lan Zhan trails those same wet fingers down to Wei Ying’s nipple to tug on and play with it.
No way are these noises coming out of Wei Ying’s mouth. He knows he’s loud, like, in general, but this… this is too much, Lan Zhan is too much. Wei Ying needs to avoid their dorm neighbors for a month, maybe the rest of the year, which is difficult when they share a bathroom. He can’t shut himself up, though, not when Lan Zhan pushes his hand away every time he tries, and after the fourth frustrated whine he gives up and lets Lan Zhan hear how good he makes Wei Ying feel. Lan Zhan is still a formidable weight inside of him—formidable weight, ha, he sounds like an asshole, as if Lan Zhan’s dick is a sword or some other classical weapon, which, actually, doesn’t sound too far off—but it’s so good. The pleasure beats everything else.
“Do you like it?” Lan Zhan asks. This is the first thing he’s said in a long while, and the low gravel of his voice makes Wei Ying wish he never spoke. Lan Zhan uses his other hand to pull Wei Ying’s hips up. It pushes him deeper. Wei Ying bites his bottom lip and nods, eyes open wide to look up at Lan Zhan.
“Do you?” Wei Ying needs to know this is as good for Lan Zhan as it is for him.
Lan Zhan’s mouth curls up, and it sets Wei Ying’s entire body alight. Lan Zhan is… seriously so pretty. Wei Ying knew he was attractive, he has able eyes, but the joy that sparks in him at the physical sight of Lan Zhan’s contentment is both familiar and new. Huh. Wei Ying probably should’ve realized this when he let Lan Zhan put his cock in him, or maybe when he asked Lan Zhan to come on him, or maybe when he kept asking Lan Zhan to jerk off with him, or maybe far before that, with how happy he felt when Lan Zhan said he wanted to live with Wei Ying next year, maybe the way he hugged Lan Zhan when he admitted that Wei Ying was his friend—he doesn’t know when he should have, but he realizes now, with all the clarity of dawn and a rising morning, that he likes his roommate. That’s cool. He thinks Lan Zhan likes him, too.
“You know I do,” Lan Zhan says. He reangles them so that he can lean down and kiss Wei Ying, wet and persistent. He wraps his hand around Wei Ying’s dick again, and Wei Ying wriggles as he creeps closer to orgasm. “Do you keep asking because you want me to be more graphic?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” He sighs happily into the kiss and wraps an arm around Lan Zhan’s neck. He closes his eyes and ferments in the bliss of this moment.
“Last week, with the video. You liked the dialogue.”
Wei Ying pokes an eye open. “Lan Zhan?”
“Think I know which lines you liked.” He speeds up his hand on Wei Ying’s dick, but the anticipation of release is as high as the anticipation of Lan Zhan’s next words.
He opens both eyes. “Lan Zhan,” he says warningly. He wouldn’t. Lan Zhan wouldn’t.
“If you want me to elaborate how good it feels inside your pussy,” Lan Zhan murmurs into his mouth, he actually fucking says it, Wei Ying can’t believe he says it, “then you only have to ask.”
Wei Ying shudders through his orgasm, moans muffled by Lan Zhan’s mouth as Lan Zhan works him through it, hips ceaseless in pursuit of their own pleasure. He feels it with another shiver when Lan Zhan’s cock swells and pulses hot come inside, as much as last time, until Wei Ying’s hole is stuffed even fuller and it leaks out around Lan Zhan’s softening cock. Lan Zhan pants into their kiss and collapses onto Wei Ying with the force of it.
“You…” Wei Ying doesn’t know what to say. He needs another ten minutes to catch his breathing.
“Pulling out now,” Lan Zhan tells him. Even the warning is not enough to prepare Wei Ying for the terrible emptiness when Lan Zhan does. He whimpers and shifts on the bed, and only calms down when Lan Zhan kisses him soft, quiet.
Lan Zhan cleans them up with tissue dampened by his water bottle. After, he stands in front of Wei Ying’s bed and stares down at Wei Ying’s prone form, something like uncertainty in his eyes.
“Lan Zhan, if you don’t cuddle me, I will never forgive you,” Wei Ying says.
“Mn,” says Lan Zhan, eyes soft again. He turns off his lamp and crawls onto Wei Ying’s bed.
“Wait, actually, your bed, this is sticky and also gross.” When Wei Ying tries standing, a sharp ache stabs his spine and back, and he has to hold onto his bed frame to not fall. “This is not cool. I take back every nice thing I said.” Lan Zhan lifts him—lifts him!!!!!!!! He’s lifted Wei Ying before, yeah, but platonically, as bros, not as someone who just came inside Wei Ying. “Okay, I give them back.”
“Lan Zhan,” he says, half-asleep and curled up next to Lan Zhan on the cramped twin bed.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan mumbles around a soft yawn. Wei Ying doesn’t have anything to say. Maybe crisis next week, maybe crisis never. He smiles, breathes in Lan Zhan’s closeness, and falls asleep.