Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wei Ying dresses like Britney Spears from the … Baby One More Time video for Halloween because he can. Because it’s his birthday. Because the pleated skirt makes his ass look incredible. Because it feels fun and flirty. And because It’s Britney, Bitch. 

He searched for a cropped white button down for ages. Nothing fit his shoulders. Eventually, he cut up one of his own shirts. The sacrifice was well worth it. It doesn’t even look low-budget after he knots it cutely and tops it with a cropped grey cardigan. Finding a short, pleated black skirt to fit his narrow hips was a lot easier. He’s got it pulled up to just above his navel. Wearing his tightest black boxer briefs underneath the skirt keeps everything PG-13. 

The result? Waist: snatched. Ass: well, not really fat by objective standards, but still looking pretty grabbable.

It’s kind of a perfect costume. He didn’t even have to shave anything - the high-waisted skirt covers his happy trail, and he’s wearing knee-high black socks. 

He’d winked at himself in the mirror three times before he left his apartment. No shame, okay. He looks banging tonight and he knows it.

The only real inaccuracy is that he’s wearing his own hair in pigtail braids. He does have the correct fluffy scrunchies and tiny pink ribbons, at least. A blonde wig would’ve been way too warm. Nie Huaisang’s Halloween party is always a loud, fun, and completely sweltering mass of people. 

When they were fun young things, Nie Huaisang used to throw tons of ragers; game nights (cute, fun, intimate) and dinner parties (slightly less silly and more sexy) supplanted them as they grew up. Wei Ying wonders how long it will be before Halloween is a dinner party occasion, too. Maybe when someone finally has a kid. 

For now, at least, Halloween at Nie Huaisang’s is still a can’t-miss event. In fact, over the years, Nie Huaisang has inadvertently become the patron saint of queer nerd Halloween in the gayborhood of lower northwest New Caiyi Town. 

There are three major contributing factors to this reputation. First, they’re in New Caiyi Town, meaning Washington state, meaning a lot of queer people (because it’s the Pacific Northwest) and not a lot of raucous clubs to hit up (for the same reason). People are hungry for a good time, and Nie Huaisang provides. A corollary to this is that they’re in a university town, and the real adults are thrilled to hang out somewhere relatively student-free.

Second, Nie Huaisang makes Jell-O shots for Halloween, even though nearly everyone there is on the wrong side of thirty. 

Third - most importantly - there was an extremely popular IG post from his Halloween party a few years ago depicting two elegantly rope-belted Sasuke Uchihas making out. They hadn’t even come together, although Wei Ying is fairly certain that they, you know, came together. 

It all adds up to a powerful rep for throwing a raucous Halloween bacchanal. Nie Huaisang, the kind of bi who intentionally cultivates a low-key Bowie-esque sexual ambiguity, is deeply honored by this legacy. In truth, part of his party-throwing genius is that he manages the evening perfectly. It starts early, it gets wilder up to a point, and then it mellows out again. Dancing and shots eventually give way to board games or Mario Party and - well, and shots, still. But in the latter half of the night, they’re not Jell-O based.

For now, they’re in the phase of wobbly, solid-at-room-temperature, technicolor non-drinks. Nie Huaisang’s place is packed full of chattering, dancing, excited people. Everyone there is from a circle that overlaps somewhat with Wei Ying’s. He wants to meet them all. 

“The crowd is even bigger this year,” Wei Ying tells Nie Huaisang, knowing that Nie Huaisang considers objective facts to be the greatest compliments of all.

“Right?” he glows. “I had to move furniture around to make room, as you see,” Nie Huaisang says. “Er, my brother moved furniture around.” 

Nie Huaisang is a Witcher tonight. His brother, attending a different party entirely, is also a Witcher. They made their costumes together. Wei Ying is only a little bit searingly jealous of that kind of sibling relationship.

“SangSang, I’m sure you put your back into it when it really counts,” Wei Ying says, tossing his hair a bit. The braids aren’t great for tossing, but he makes it work.

“You really dial the flirting up to eleven like this,” Nie Huaisang says. He sounds pleased. He widely acknowledges that his life goal is to surround himself with beautiful people and things. 

“It’s the lip gloss,” Wei Ying tells him. 

He has a lot of fun. It’s a great night. He dances with a tiny lesbian Ariana Grande. He does shots. He talks with a ton of friends. He makes new friends. He loses the feather-tipped pen he brought as a prop. He makes a very adorable new friend, a youth (read: twenty two-year-old) named Sizhui who finds the pen and hands it back to him with extreme gravity. He flirts with all of the beautiful girls and boys, including a guy he’s slept with before (an old hookup from college who just moved to town - Wei Ying’s world can be so small) and a woman he would dearly love to sleep with (she’s definitely Wen Ning’s ex-coworker; she might also be tiny lesbian Ariana Grande’s girlfriend). 

Oh, and to top off the night, he hits on noted heterosexual Lan Zhan. Successfully.

—

Lan Zhan is sort of an enigma to Wei Ying. 

He’s in the ever-changing and expanding group of people who come over to Nie Huaisang’s once or twice a month to play board games. They haven’t hung out one on one. 

Wei Ying had asked if his family was in cultivation the first time Lan Zhan joined their game night. It was a reasonable question, as Lan Zhan has waist-length hair and a vibe like he can really, uh, use a sword. 

Without speaking or noticeably moving a single facial muscle, Lan Zhan conveyed to Wei Ying that this was an overly personal question. That offended Wei Ying. He’d heard of the Gusu Lans, of course; he works for the city, after all, and they practically run the university. They’re like the Jiangs of this area. But still, there are a lot of them! A lot of Lans. Like fifteen separate families of Lans. Wei Ying wasn’t asking for the hot Lan gossip. He was just talking. And anyway, he could’ve asked way more personal questions than that, such as What’s your workout routine? and Can you tell me about your cock? 

“My family keeps to tradition. Some still cultivate. I do not,” Lan Zhan had finally replied.

“Oh, yeah, cool, man,” Wei Ying had said in his most obnoxious straight dude voice. 

Nie Huaisang shot a glare at Wei Ying that meant Be nice.

Wei Ying rolled his eyes, so as to say Fuck off, but also, okay, fine. 

“He’s quiet,” Wei Ying had said to Nie Huaisang later that evening. 

“I know. He’s good to play with, he’s guaranteed not to say anything rude, ever, and he bumps our attractiveness average way up. It’s a dream,” Nie Huaisang had said.

Lan Zhan is an adjunct professor of music theory. Or something like that. Wei Ying’s been cultivating for the city for almost ten years, and his degree (singular) was in communications. Most of what he knows about working in academia is that the benefits suck (or are nonexistent) compared to his. 

The point is that Lan Zhan is smart. He plays strategically and thinks several moves ahead. He’ll quietly point out mutually beneficial moves to other players, or nod approvingly when someone makes a strong play. 

He generally sides against anyone trying to play the game instead of the players. At one point Wei Ying worked out a perfect system for Spy and ran it for three rounds before anyone caught on. The ensuing... spirited discussion derailed them all for a while. 

“It’s not cheating! It’s in the rules! I checked,” Wei Ying had said. 

“It is not against the rules. However, it lessens the game’s entertainment value for other players,” Lan Zhan had responded, which is an incredibly courteous way to say fuck off, cheater. 

Ultimately, Nie Huaisang had been right. Lan Zhan is kind of a fuddy-duddy - he lays out his cards and game pieces with painstaking care and eyes Wei Ying’s chaotic piles with plain desire to organize them - but he’s also very quiet and very polite. So, despite Lan Zhan’s initial coldness, Wei Ying came to enjoy playing with him. Everyone else likes him, too. He and MianMian, who teaches some kind of physics, are professor buddies now.

Sometimes, when Lan Zhan is looking elsewhere, Wei Ying will gawk at his beauty in amazement. He’s only human. Lan Zhan is hot: tall as fuck, with a face like an elegant statue and ridiculous upper body strength. 

Unfortunately, despite his natural gifts, he’s the kind of obviously-straight man who’s never seen Clueless and wears khakis or slacks and white or light blue button downs. Exclusively. If it’s cold out, Lan Zhan gets wild and wears heavier grey slacks. He never, ever deviates from restrained, sophisticated earth tones. 

(Wei Ying isn’t exactly a riot of color himself - he mostly wears black t-shirts and black jeans - but that’s largely to hide stains from corpse blood. Lan Zhan, not a cultivator, has no such excuse.)

Worse, Lan Zhan’s clothes are always well-tailored, which speaks to either taste or money. Wei Ying’s not sure which. He’s betting on taste, though, because again, Lan Zhan is an adjunct professor of the arts. So even though Lan Zhan dresses like the world’s most boring office drone, he wears it incredibly well. Grey slacks shouldn’t be crash-your-car eye-catching. It’s not fair. 

Also unfair: the fact that Lan Zhan leaves his blazers at his office. Wei Ying has never seen him in one. Ever. It’s so rude of Lan Zhan to deprive him of such a sight. He’s sure it’s wasted on Lan Zhan’s coworkers. 

On the upshot, sometimes Lan Zhan rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing forearms. Such forearms. If the sight of them devastates Wei Ying on a personal level, that’s his business.

—

Now, people who aren’t usually into guys have checked Wei Ying out all night. Few people can help themselves against Britney’s powerful allure. 

So sad for them. So fun for Wei Ying. It’s flattering and fun to fuck with them.

He’d been keeping an eye out for him since he arrived. He runs into Lan Zhan coming down the hallway. Another few people are nearby, but no one who Wei Ying knows. No one’s paying attention to them.  

Lan Zhan’s costume is… nothing. 

“You didn’t even dress up?” Wei Ying asks incredulously, without even saying hello to him first. The saving grace of their interactions is that Lan Zhan is too polite to take obvious offense.

“I’m myself as a secret agent,” Lan Zhan says, looking down at himself.

Wei Ying tries to keep his face straight. He tries so hard. But that’s just so stupid that he can’t help bursting into surprised laughter. “What, do you - do you do that every year?” he asks. “For every party?”

Lan Zhan inclines his head slightly. “I’m not normally one for costume parties,” he says. 

“Yeah, I can believe that,” Wei Ying says ruefully. “Don’t most of the University folks get really into it?”

Lan Zhan inclines his head again. “At work I carried a large green coffee mug and introduced myself as Professor Sanderson.”

Wei Ying blinks. “Is that - from a movie, or…”

“Colleague,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Lan Zhan. You cannot. Cannot. Wear your inside joke work costume to a party.” Wei Ying says. “You look exactly like yourself. This is ridiculous.” 

“One of my TAs laughed so hard that he fell down,” Lan Zhan says.

“Still!” Wei Ying says. 

“MianMian approved.”

“MianMian works there, too! Ugh, Lan Zhan.”

“I will try again next year,” Lan Zhan says seriously.

“You better,” Wei Ying says. He’s smiling despite himself. He tugs on one of his braids and smears his lips together. They’re all smooth and slick-feeling from his lip gloss.

Incredibly, he would swear that he catches Lan Zhan doing the helpless up-and-down eyefuck that he gets from all sorts of straight boys when he’s in drag. Huh. He really didn’t think Lan Zhan of all people would be the type.

“Do you like my skirt, Lan Zhan?” he asks.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, and swallows. 

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” He advances and delights in the fact that Lan Zhan doesn’t back up at all. “Want me to be your girl?”

“... not tonight.” His voice is low.

“Not tonight?” he asks, teasing. Lan Zhan should know better than to try to let him down easy. 

“You are drunk,” Lan Zhan says. His tone is politely non-judgemental. 

(Wei Ying is not, in fact, drunk. He’s just high on being Britney, bitch. But he can’t fault fuddy-duddy Lan Zhan for not knowing that.)

Wrong-footed, Wei Ying asks, “Is that the only reason?” 

Lan Zhan looks - well, like he wants to eat Wei Ying, and also a little bit confused. He nods.

Uh. “Wait, so do you mean - tonight no, later yes?” Wei Ying asks. 

Lan Zhan pauses for just a second too long and says “Yes.” He stares some more at Wei Ying’s waist before dragging his eyes up to his face. 

Fuck. What. “Okay. Yes. I have your number,” Wei Ying says. He means it literally and figuratively. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Lan Zhan nods again. 

They’re interrupted by a couple blatantly walking past them into the bathroom together. Nie Huaisang’s parties rule. 

Wei Ying remembers to close his mouth. 

“Later,” he says, before he can fuck this up, and flees.

—

Texting Lan Zhan about coming over is nerve-wracking, but Wei Ying does it. Seducing a straight guy - it’s a fantasy. Emphasis on seducing - not just sleeping with any straight guy, but with one who actually wants him. Wei Ying has never had any interest in a mouth is a mouth, bro. What turns him on about this is the idea of being actually, actively wanted by a straight man. Someone who doesn’t fully want to want him, but - because Wei Ying is so hot - can’t really stop himself. 

He doesn’t want to freak Lan Zhan out. If he doesn’t freak him out, then he might get to fuck a straight man through pure sexual magnetism. He really fucking wants that. 

Ideally he’d come over to Lan Zhan’s, because that doesn’t require him to clean his place, and because it would keep this on Lan Zhan’s turf. But he’s not going to walk around in full Britney getup in the first week of November, so. Wei Ying’s place it is. 

Lan Zhan is way too cool about it. 

> WY: Come over on Sunday?

The complete lack of any suggestive emojis shows true restraint on Wei Ying’s part, he thinks.

> LZ: What time?

> WY: 2? I have somewhere to be at 5

> LZ: Yes.

> WY: Nice! K, see you then

—

Lan Zhan has a clean-bordering-on-germophobic vibe, so Wei Ying cleans his place top to bottom and re-organizes a bunch of shit. Then he dolls himself up while listening to Blackout to get the vibe going. What can he say? He’s a loyalist.

He’s feeling excited, not nervous, by the time that Lan Zhan shows up in his usual office drone gear. He has a bag of hot Cheetos for Wei Ying. So cute. Wei Ying immediately opens them, takes a handful, and asks if Lan Zhan wants any. Lan Zhan declines with a polite head shake, which makes Wei Ying rethink whether or not it was a good call to delve into them. But he shrugs it off. He’s Britney fucking Spears right now, and Lan Zhan is looking at his braids like he wants to tug on them. 

Wei Ying sets the bag down and brushes his fingers off with a Britney-fueled confidence that even he would struggle to muster in everyday circumstances.

“Hey,” he says, putting his arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders but not pressing his body up against him at all. “What do you want?”

To his delight, Lan Zhan puts his hands on Wei Ying’s waist and slides his right hand down Wei Ying’s thigh. 

“This,” Lan Zhan says, and kisses him, which is so fucking smooth. 

“Bedroom,” Wei Ying says. 

They make out for a little while, sitting on his bed. It is unexpected and cute as hell. Lan Zhan is a good kisser, slow and not sloppy. When it starts getting handsier, Wei Ying puts Lan Wanji’s hands on his ass - the one soft area he has for Lan Zhan to grab. Wei Ying’s doing a lot of touching of his own, but he’s trying not to be too aggressive, trying not to freak Lan Zhan out.

Eventually, when he can’t really stand it anymore, he whispers, “Can I blow you?” against Lan Zhan’s lips. 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, “Please.”

He makes Lan Zhan take off his shirt and then he gets on his knees and it is. Listen. It is so hot. 

“Of fucking course you’re hung,” Wei Ying says. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, but his (big) (!) cock twitches. Cute.

You are going to jerk off to this later, Lan Zhan, Wei Ying thinks, taking Lan Zhan into his mouth. You are going to come thinking about my lips and my tongue. When you meet some perfect girl you are going to think about this blowjob at least one time when she goes down on you and I will not feel sorry. 

Every time his mouth meets his hand, it leaves behind a glittery lip gloss sheen. 

He jerks off frantically, hand hidden under his skirt, fully aware that he has no reasonable hope of Lan Zhan doing anything to help Wei Ying out after this. He moans when he comes even though he’s trying to be quiet; Lan Zhan bucks his hips at the sound. 

When Lan Zhan is about to come, he tries to push at Wei Ying’s shoulder and move him away. Wei Ying moans again, as girlishly as he can manage given the circumstances, and takes him in deep. When Lan Zhan comes, it feels like a victory; Wei Ying is smug as he pulls him through it. 

After, Lan Zhan urges him up onto the bed and makes a haphazard grab for Wei Ying’s waistband. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine, you don’t need to - to touch me. I already got it. You’re such a gentleman,” he says, and kisses Lan Zhan, partly to distract him and partly to indulge himself. He’s not sure if it’s smart to kiss a straight man right after blowing him, but he wants to. Lan Zhan likes kissing, which is surprising and sweet. Wei Ying is excited to learn that he still likes it after getting his rocks off. It’s really, really hot that he has to taste his own come on Wei Ying’s tongue. That he wants Wei Ying’s mouth on his mouth even though Wei Ying is a guy. Even though he just blew him. 

The idea that Lan Zhan will feel conflicted about this - that he might feel reluctantly, helplessly turned on by it, is - look. Wei Ying knows he’s playing with fire. That’s the point: it’s hot. 

—

Wei Ying doesn’t actually have anywhere to be that evening. He just said so because he needed to be armed with a reason to kick Lan Zhan out. He really doesn’t want to - wants to ask if he can blow him again, right now - but he won’t push his luck like that. Even if Lan Zhan stares, stupefied, at his mouth as they say goodbye. 

—

The next weekend, Wei Ying asks Lan Zhan if he wants a repeat. Lan Zhan says yes, and arrives with Takis. Wei Ying stares longingly at them for a moment before setting the bag aside. He has plans. Plans which, if he’s being responsible, preclude the ingestion of spicy foods. 

“Such a gentleman,” Wei Ying mumbles into Lan Wangi’s mouth when he kisses him. He knows he shouldn’t be saying shit like that, making Lan Zhan think he’s going to be this clingy queer, but he’s just so easy and fun to tease. Wei Ying can’t help it.

Lan Zhan fiddles with the knot in Wei Ying’s Britney shirt, but doesn’t try to actually untie it. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Wei Ying asks, close to Lan Zhan’s mouth, trying to sound indifferent. Not too eager. 

He thinks his chances are good. Many longsuffering women he’s friends with have told him that straight guys love anal. And they never mean pegging. It’s tragic, honestly. Wei Ying loves pegging.

Lan Zhan stills for a moment, nods, and says, “Yes.”

Oh, shit, Wei Ying is really doing this. 

Like last time, they make out first instead of getting right to it. Lan Zhan’s hands dig into his waist, sometimes trailing up to stroke at his neck, until Wei Ying moves one down to his ass. He can’t tell which of them, exactly, is hesitant to make it too gay by actually pressing their bodies together. Probably both, to some degree. Wei Ying doesn’t want to scare him off before getting railed. He’d really love to get railed.

When he’s starting to blue ball, he asks Lan Zhan to take his clothes off. 

“You want to stay like this?” Lan Zhan asks while he unbuttons his tasteful shirt, nodding towards Wei Ying’s whole ensemble. 

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says reassuringly. “I’m Britney all night long.”

Lan Zhan visibly swallows. 

He’d worn his heavy grey slacks today, since the weather’s turning. They’re more sophisticated-sexy than the (already excellently tailored) lightweight grey slacks. Once he’s actually naked, it’s just - unfair doesn’t begin to cover how good he looks. 

If Wei Ying hadn’t strategized for this already, then he’d be useless, stymied by Lan Zhan. 

Wei Ying takes off his boxer briefs stealthily and, more stealthily, squeezes his legs together, and then arranges himself stomach-down on the bed. The hem of his skirt just reveals the crease where his ass meets his thigh. 

His hair is half-down today, softening his face. He turns to Lan Zhan, who’s standing, looking at him, having no business looking strong and capable and unselfconscious when he’s in the nude and Wei Ying is fully dressed (ish).

“Do you,” Lan Zhan starts, then seems to lose his train of thought. He’s trying to look at Wei Ying’s face but his eyes keep flicking over to his ass.

“I’m already wet for you,” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan’s eyes snap to his face. “You can just slide in. Get a condom, though.” He waves to the box underneath his bed.

Lan Zhan fishes the box out from under the bed and puts one on with minimal judgement for someone with neat freak tendencies. He doesn’t even question why Wei Ying is making him use one, when he straight up swallowed his cock last week. The truth is that it’s mostly an emotional distance measure on Wei Ying’s part; he doesn’t want someone’s come in his ass if he hasn’t so much as held their hand. 

What can he say? He’s a romantic. 

When Lan Zhan is ready, Wei Ying wiggles his ass a little. 

Lan Zhan makes a sound deep in his throat and climbs over him, puts a hand on his shoulder. 

Wei Ying can feel each of his individual fingertips digging in. 

He lifts Wei Ying’s skirt, dragging his fingers along Wei Ying’s ass before spreading him open. It’s a more lewd move than Wei Ying would have expected. He loves it. 

Lan Zhan brushes a fingertip over his asshole.

“Don’t bother,” Wei Ying says. “Just fuck me, please, please.”

It’s not the absolute easiest slide. He got ready a while ago, and Lan Zhan’s cock is big, blood-hot. 

He lets out a very unintentional gasp, more ouch than yes. 

Lan Zhan stills instantly. He shifts, as though he might pull out, which is the opposite of what Wei Ying wants. 

“Give me a second,” Wei Ying says. “Stay in me, don’t leave.”

He grabs his own flank and pulls, readjusting. 

Lan Zhan’s cock moves inside of him. 

Abruptly, he doesn’t really care that he’s uncomfortable. “Go,” he says. “Fuck me.”

Lan Zhan does.

It would be easier if Wei Ying could move, get leverage, but he’s fine with this tradeoff. As long as he keeps his thighs together, Lan Zhan doesn’t have to see his balls and get all freaked out. He also bites his lip hard to remind himself not to run his mouth like he usually does in bed.

And oh, oh, that effort pays off. Lan Zhan had been surprisingly cool about the blowjob. Wei Ying thought that actually fucking a man might be a step too far, might make him weird and hesitant. It doesn’t; Lan Zhan is surprisingly tactile. His hands rove from Wei Ying’s shoulders to his waist to his ass. He keeps spreading Wei Ying open, like he’s watching himself get it in. 

When Lan Zhan hits his prostate dead-on, things go from hazy and warm to bright and hot. 

He makes a dumb, high sound. Lan Zhan takes that as a sign and keeps doing that, firm and sure. 

Wei Ying honestly wasn’t sure how this would play out but this, this is - he is definitely going to come from this. It’s a really good fuck and it just keeps going. 

And going. 

Eventually, it occurs to Wei Ying - “Are you trying to make me come first?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, in a low, sexy voice, more strained than Wei Ying has ever heard him. 

“Oh, you’re so cute, okay,” Wei Ying says, and dares to move back into it more. 

He wants Lan Zhan to keep talking. The loss of composure is really hot. “Tell me I’m pretty,” he demands, because he knows for a fact that he is right now and he wants to hear it.

Lan Zhan might gasp quietly. Exertion or surprise? Hard to say. “You are so pretty,” Lan Zhan says, no pretense, as though it’s easy for him to say so. 

Just like that, Wei Ying comes against the sheets, probably messing up his skirt, absolutely refusing to care. Lan Zhan thinks he’s pretty. The thought sends a hot bolt through his lower belly. 

Lan Zhan comes only moments later, possibly also messing up Wei Ying’s skirt. 

“Fuck, that was good. I needed that. Wow,” Wei Ying says. He laughs. “Are you going to think I’m horribly rude if I just, like, fall asleep right now?” 

“No,” Lan Zhan says, almost softly. “Do you want -” he seems unsure. 

Wei Ying doesn’t know what Lan Zhan thinks he might want. “You just did more than enough. That was excellent. You can totally just go home,” he says. 

“Okay,” Lan Zhan says in the same quiet tone. He runs a hand up and down Wei Ying’s back a couple of times before he climbs off of the bed. It’s odd and affectionate. Wei Ying has to restrain himself from demanding that Lan Zhan keep doing it until he falls asleep.

—

Weirdly, game night at Nie Huaisang’s in November isn’t different at all. 

Wei Ying always arrives after Lan Zhan does. Lan Zhan is impressively punctual. Wei Ying, on the other hand, is queer, and that means that he’s chronically late. 

His stomach swoops for a split second when he sees Lan Zhan’s shoes carefully set by the door. He always knows when Lan Zhan is there by his shoes. He wears beautiful dark brown Blundstones all year long.

Shaking himself, Wei Ying kicks off his ratty black high-tops in roughly the same direction. If Lan Zhan is weird tonight, that’s a Lan Zhan problem. 

He’s ready for Lan Zhan to stiffen up, to act defensive or derisive or something when they’re around other people. Instead he’s the same dorky, beautiful neat freak he’s always been, lining up his game tiles in precise, careful piles. 

Despite himself, Wei Ying is impressed.

—

The holidays are tough on everyone, but Wei Ying thinks that they’re particularly hard for orphans who have rocky and complicated relationships with their adopted families. Not that he thinks that with anyone in particular in mind. 

It’s not even Thanksgiving yet and Wei Ying is exhausted from trying to negotiate everything: Jiang Fengmian’s attention, Jiang Cheng’s hurt feelings, Jiang Yanli’s people pleasing, Madam Yu’s enduring suspicion of Wei Ying’s everything. 

I know this would make it three times in a month and I swear I am not trying to be clingy but if you wanted to come over I’d be happy to see you, he sends to Lan Zhan. 

Clingy is fine, Lan Zhan sends back. When?

—

Lan Zhan shows up on time, wasabi peas in hand, and fucks Wei Ying (still doing Britney) face-down on his bed, fast and hard and firm. 

If you give Wei Ying an inch, he will take a mile. When he clenches around him, Lan Zhan groans.  

“You like that?” he asks. He does it again. 

Lan Zhan huffs something that might - just might - be a swear word. 

Wei Ying arches his back. “Tell me I’m pretty,” he says. 

“You’re pretty,” Lan Zhan says, somehow finding the focus to smooth a hand up from Wei Ying’s shoulder to his scalp. 

“No, you’re supposed to not say anything, and then I tell you I’ll tighten up on you again if you say it,” Wei Ying says, faking annoyance.

“You’re pretty, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, like he can just say that.

“Again,” Wei Ying says.

“You are pretty.” Lan Zhan is so strong, and he’s lighting Wei Ying up from the inside. 

“Don’t stop, don’t -”

“You’re pretty, Wei Ying. I think you’re very pretty.” 

Wei Ying comes all over his skirt and the bed, Lan Zhan’s fingers biting into his ribs. 

Even though his voice is as calm as always, when Lan Zhan calls him pretty, it sounds like he really means it. 

—

“Gods, thank you,” Wei Ying says after. “I really needed - the holidays suck, sometimes, you know?”

“Mn,” says Lan Zhan, but with feeling. 

Wei Ying doesn’t know what family shit the ever-calm Lan Zhan has to deal with, but hey, for all he knows Lan Zhan is like this because he comes from a whole family of Jiang Chengs. 

“Let’s do this again sometime,” Wei Ying says, as though this is the first time and not already a threepeat.

“I would like that,” Lan Zhan says. 

—

So, it’s officially December. The Halloween costume window has closed. And he’s a little bit afraid that he’ll wear out Britney’s power if he keeps this up. 

He’s been passively mulling this problem for some time when he sees someone in the building across the way putting Christmas lights up on their balcony and has.... an epiphany. As it were. 

—

He considers the merits of a red vinyl skirt for half a minute before accepting that velvet is probably better. It’s definitely less likely to produce uncomfortable sounds and sensations when wet. 

Otherwise, he pretty much goes with the Mean Girls Christmas look: a too-short red velvet skirt and a tight red tank top, both trimmed in white fuzz. 

He debates adding sexy boots or possibly lucite heels for all of ten seconds before snapping back to reality. He’s not going to buy or wear Pleasers for a straight man. Britney’s knee-high socks can be reused. Lan Zhan hasn’t had any complaints about them so far.

—

Actually sending a pic to Lan Zhan is embarrassing, but in his defense, he always feels very bold and cute and flirty when he gets dressed up.

So far, he’s been careful to send non-specific messages to Lan Zhan. He doesn’t want him to feel like there’s any evidence he has to hide or whatever. Wei Ying is really aware that this whole situation could blow up in his face if he isn’t careful. 

But they were texting about board game shit. (Nie Huaisang is talking about playing Risk at the next game night. About half of the group is ecstatic; the other half is trying to figure out if it’s rude not to come just because Risk fucking sucks.) Somehow, that makes it feel like it will be fine if he crosses that boundary. 

getting into the Xmas spirit a la Mariah Carey, he sends to Lan Zhan, along with the cutest photo he could manage by himself. 

(He originally types Mariah but like, what if Lan Zhan doesn’t know who he means? He has an ambiguous grip on pop culture. And also a vibe like he wasn’t allowed secular TV or music as a kid.)

come over if u want, he adds. 

I do. When? Lan Zhan responds. 

—

Wei Ying only lets himself play All I Want for Christmas is You once, just to get it out of his system, before Lan Zhan comes over. 

He showers and shaves his armpits, since he doesn’t have sleeves this time. He hasn’t done that in a couple of years at least, though he used to pretty often. It’s a bigger challenge than the one time he shaved his legs, but he mostly manages. 

He opens himself up and eases in his plug right out of the shower, and then buffs his nails while they’re still soft. For a minute, he wonders if that’s a worrying show of his priorities. Then he shrugs and carries on. 

His Britney lip gloss makes a reappearance. He balances it out with a smokey eye. It’s extra sultry-looking when he’s wearing red. (Also, it’s the only eye makeup he can reliably get right.)

When Lan Zhan arrives, some kind of weird spicy chip in hand, Wei Ying is wearing his Christmas outfit plus a loose black sweater that Jiang Yanli got as a gift several years ago and handed off to him because of its bizarrely long sleeves. 

“Cold out,” Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan when he shows up.

Lan Zhan nods seriously. He had arrived in a long, grey, weather-appropriate peacoat. “You look very pretty,” he says. Wei Ying knows this; red is his color. His breath catches anyway. 

—

They make out a little bit, sitting side-by-side on Wei Ying’s bed like they have before. He makes sweater paws with his overly-long sleeves. He feels cute.

When he’s too warm, he breaks away to pull off the sweater. Lan Zhan watches him. It’s intense and sexy. 

“What?” he asks, teasing. 

Lan Zhan looks down. “Could we do this on your hands and knees?” It’s maybe the longest sentence he’s ever said in Wei Ying’s apartment. It figures that he would get verbose only in an effort to avoid saying doggy style. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, surprised. He didn’t see this coming.

“If you’re not - comfortable -” Lan Zhan says. 

“Shut up, yes,” Wei Ying says, already getting to all fours. “I mean - you’re sure that’s okay with you?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, sounding like he doesn’t know what Wei Ying could possibly mean. 

That’s also a little unexpected, but he’s happy to roll with it. “Then yes, please,” Wei Ying tells him. He dips his back, cow pose style. 

Lan Zhan gets undressed quickly. He leaves his beautiful, utterly flavorless slacks and shirt pooled on the ground. 

He skates a hand along Wei Ying’s back and strokes his hair before getting into bed with him. 

Then he runs a hand down Wei Ying’s inner thigh and says, “This will be easier if you spread your legs.”

Wei Ying nearly dies on the spot. 

When he parts his thighs, there’s a sharp intake of breath. 

Wei Ying doesn’t get it at first. He tenses up, thinking that Lan Zhan is freaked out by having to confront the fact that Wei Ying has balls - in which case, Lan Zhan really brought it on himself by asking for this - until Lan Zhan brushes his fingers against - oh, the little plug he put in earlier. 

He’d meant to take it out. Kind of.

“Sorry,” he says. 

Lan Zhan actually clears his throat. “I like this... very much,” he says, voice strained.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says. “Want to take it out?”

Lan Zhan does, and then he pushes it back into him a couple of times while Wei Ying complains lightly. 

This is fun. He’s really having fun. “Put your cock in me,” he says, meaning it.

Lan Zhan puts on a condom and does. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying moans when Lan Zhan bottoms out. 

It’s different when Lan Zhan has more leverage. It’s intense and unyielding. Wei Ying knows that he can come just from this. That’s good, because in this position Lan Zhan is definitely more aware of his cock than he was before, and Wei Ying doesn’t want to make it any more difficult on him. 

Sooner rather than later, Lan Zhan says, “I’m close. Should I -”

“No, no, don’t, I’m almost there, just keep going,” Wei Ying tells him hurriedly.

Lan Zhan almost growls. It is really fucking hot. 

“Bet you’ve got a great view,” Wei Ying says. Hey, Lan Zhan hasn’t nixed dirty talk yet. “You’re stretching me out. Forcing me open around you -” and then he comes. Lan Zhan follows a beat later. 

—

Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave, probably because Wei Ying’s ass rocked his world. “I’m kind of surprised you don’t get mobbed by screaming queers every time you come over here,” Wei Ying says to him. 

“I live in this neighborhood,” Lan Zhan says. “I am around gay people all of the time.” Which is true. Lower northwest New Caiyi Town - Wei Ying refuses to call it LoNo, no matter how badly Nie Huaisang wants that to become a thing - is a pretty queer area. 

Still. “Yeah, but you live in the rich part, right? This is the really gay part. You’re kind of gay catnip, you know?” Wei Ying asks. It’s not exactly correct - Lan Zhan is too straight-looking to outshine the thirst-trapping gym gays on Wei Ying’s block - but it just feels true to Wei Ying. He’s catnip for Wei Ying, who is queer; ergo, gay catnip. 

“I am not,” Lan Zhan says, eyes downcast, almost bashful. 

Wei Ying asks, teasingly, “How would you know?”

Lan Zhan hesitates instead of flirting back. Not that Wei Ying really expected him to.

Wei Ying huffs. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I need you to concentrate your efforts on better things, anyway.”

“Like what?” Lan Zhan asks, communicating absolutely no sense of anticipation, like Wei Ying could ask for help re-hanging a door and Lan Zhan wouldn’t be surprised or taken aback. 

“Me,” Wei Ying says, with a head toss that adds, Of course. Is this pushing his luck? He doesn’t know.

“Ah,” Lan Zhan says. He looks Wei Ying over once and clamps a hand to Wei Ying’s side, at his waist. “Yes,” he says, so evidently Wei Ying isn’t pushing it too much.

—

There’s a slow moment where they talk about work. Lan Zhan clearly loves his job, and he’s able to ask intelligent questions about Wei Ying’s. Of course he is; he’s from a big cultivation family. A little exorcism isn’t going to scare him. It’s nice to talk about his job without having to ease the other person into the idea. Lan Zhan just acts like it’s normal, which it is. 

—

Right before he leaves, two feet from Wei Ying’s front door, Lan Zhan pulls him forward, and forward, until they’re pressed together, chest to hip. It’s not a particularly remarkable embrace, but they’ve never done this before. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, wondering. Lan Zhan kisses him softly, deeply, pressed against him like that’s the exact place he wants them both to be. 

It is unexpectedly romantic. Wei Ying likes it a lot. 

—

They hang out again the next weekend, Lan Zhan fucking into him unrelentingly, Wei Ying running his mouth a little more. 

Lan Zhan holds Wei Ying open with just the tip of his cock until Wei Ying loses all composure - not that he had much to begin with - and chants, “Put it in me, put it in me, put it in me.”

“Patience,” Lan Zhan says, an amused admonishment that would make much stronger men than Wei Ying beg. 

So Wei Ying begs. Going by Lan Zhan’s reaction, Wei Ying doesn’t need to worry any more that dirty talk will send him away. 

—

“You can initiate things, you know?” Wei Ying says before Lan Zhan leaves.

He’s pretty sure Lan Zhan’s answering look is a request for elaboration. He’s guessing.

“Not - not like I’m expecting things. But if you want to some time. You can. Just - hit me up if you want to come over, is all I’m saying.”

“I will,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Good,” Wei Ying says. He hopes Lan Zhan actually does. He’s glad the offer is out there, at least. 

Lan Zhan appears to think about this for another moment. Or he zoned out again on Wei Ying’s mouth. No way of knowing. “You can expect that,” Lan Zhan finally says. He may or may not very slightly emphasize expect. 

“Aha, okay, cool,” Wei Ying says. Cool. Totally cool.

—

Game night in December has a few less people than normal because of the holidays, so the usual seating arrangements get messed up. He ends up sitting next to Lan Zhan.

He doesn’t try to play footsie with him, but it’s a near thing.

(It’s mostly because of the awkward angle that he doesn’t. He might have gone for it if they were sitting across from one another.)

They make perfectly civil, normal conversation all night. They talk about Wei Ying’s ongoing exorcisms and Lan Zhan’s students. Wei Ying pokes holes in his Cataan strategy and hopes that he doesn’t light up too obviously when Lan Zhan verbally tears down Wei Ying’s gameplay. 

He catches a look from Wen Ning at one point, but he’s a bro and would never say a thing. 

—

Then the holidays fully take over. Municipal cultivation gets busy during this time of year. The short days and simmering stress of the holidays create optimal conditions for resentful spirits to wreak havoc. The ghost of Christmas past and all of that. Needless to say, Wei Ying doesn’t get much mileage out of his Christmas outfit.

When the year rolls over, he buys a cute, short, spangly black dress. It’s cheap, clearly intended for New Year’s Eve and put on sale immediately afterwards.

“So I don’t mind if it gets wrecked,” he tells Lan Zhan. 

(He’s never actually worn tights, but they look terribly uncomfortable. So he wears the same black knee-high socks. They’re supposed to be over-the-knee socks, but they don’t go up that high on him. 

He’s put his hair up in a high bun, with little tendrils falling around his face. He opts for his usual smokey eye and lip gloss combination. The dress begs for heels but he reminds himself firmly that he’s still just really fucking not going to buy and wear a pair of Pleasers for a straight man. Anyway, Lan Zhan probably wouldn’t properly appreciate the effect, since it would make Wei Ying taller than him. He’s new to all of this, but it seems likely that straight boys want to be taller than the queer boys they’re railing. Even when those boys are being girls.

The dress also begs for sparkly nails, but alas, the down-and-dirty life of a cultivator allows for no such thing. He just buffs them out like he does most nights.)

Lan Zhan hands Wei Ying hot Cheetos.

“Ohh,” Wei Ying says, making grabby hands. 

“I wasn’t sure if you still had them,” Lan Zhan says.

“Like, from when you brought them over last time?” Wei Ying asks. “Dude, no, they were gone in like two days. I’m a slut for spicy food.” Then, because he looks cute and fuckable and he knows it, he adds, “And for you.”

Lan Zhan kisses him. 

“You don’t have to - pay me tribute, you know,” Wei Ying says, laughing a little, slightly nervous for no good reason. 

“I like to,” Lan Zhan replies. 

They make out for a little while, and then just - keep making out. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to have anywhere to be. Wei Ying ends up underneath him in his bed. They stay like that for a long time. Lan Zhan kisses him more softly whenever he starts to get worked up. His hands are firm on Wei Ying. They move from his waist to his hips to his ass and back again. Their hips are still barely touching, Lan Zhan practically doing a plank to avoid it, which makes Wei Ying appreciate his abs even more. 

It feels like the better part of an hour has passed when Wei Ying pushes Lan Zhan a scant inch away to say, “I have an idea.”

Lan Zhan looks at him. 

“Let me ride you,” Wei Ying whispers.

Lan Zhan looks at him some more, mouth slightly open, a little kiss-drunk. He is either confused or overcome with passion. Hard to say.

“... Reverse cowgirl?” Wei Ying says, trying to translate it into straight people terms. He’s not really clear on what the heterosexuals are doing these days. Nie Huaisang claims that they’re even eating ass now, but he has his doubts.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says momentarily, so that one must be in their repertoire. 

 —

Lan Zhan’s cock is long, and hard, and all the fucking way inside of Wei Ying. He needs a moment to breathe. 

“I think you’ve been holding out on me,” he says faintly. He’s glad Lan Zhan can’t see his face. Even if it means he’s deprived of the sight of Lan Zhan laid out under him. 

Lan Zhan just smooths his hands up Wei Ying’s thighs. 

Wei Ying intends to put on a show for Lan Zhan. He does. But Lan Zhan feels good inside of him, so good, and soon he’s too caught up in the heat building in his stomach to be self-conscious. Lan Zhan seems perfectly happy to let him gently rock his hips, gasping, taking what he wants. 

Looking at Lan Zhan’s wiry, hair-dusted shins and long feet shouldn’t do anything for him. He’s annoyed that it does anyway. He lets his eyes fall shut. 

As Wei Ying’s movements increase in intensity, Lan Zhan palms Wei Ying’s inner thighs. His hands creep up and up, in and in. Wei Ying wants, but he knows Lan Zhan doesn’t really, so he puts his hands over Lan Zhan’s and moves them to his hips. 

Lan Zhan makes a quiet, frustrated sound, grabbing Wei Ying’s hips tightly. He takes to pushing and pulling Wei Ying forward and backward as Wei Ying moves. 

It feels so good. Wei Ying hopes it’s just as good for Lan Zhan. If it isn’t, he could just - move Wei Ying on his cock. However he wants. 

He tells Lan Zhan as much. 

Lan Zhan responds by holding him completely still, which is just. So not what Wei Ying meant. He takes one hand off of Wei Ying’s hip (still keeping Wei Ying pinned to his body with just the one hand) (!) to push his dress up to the small of his back. 

“Are you checking out my ass?” Wei Ying asks, delighted. 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, pretending to be scandalized.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying repeats in a slow, flirty tone. Despite how hard it is, he can feel Lan Zhan’s cock twitch inside of him. “Do you like my ass? Is it cute?”

Underneath him, Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying’s hips hard enough to bruise and does something with his own hips in the same moment that sets a hard, fast pace, basically putting him in charge. It’s an answer, if not a verbal one. Flattering, even though Wei Ying already knows his ass is pretty excellent. 

He plants his hands in front of himself on Lan Zhan’s thighs and moves further into it. 

Wei Ying hangs on for as long as he can. He’s not going to come just from getting fucked this way, because he’s not actually a sex god. He can’t do that every time in every position. When he can’t really bear it any more, he moves one hand up under his dress. 

He comes as soon as he touches his own cock, which at this point hasn’t gotten any attention the last few times he’s been fucked. He doesn’t even jerk it, just grabs tightly, and it’s all over. 

“Oh, Lan Zhan,” he says, throaty, when he’s finished and oversensitive. It’s partly a tease and partly entirely genuine: that was good. Entirely good.

Lan Zhan groans and comes inside of Wei Ying. So it’s probably good for him too.  

—

“Wait, so - are you an ass man?” Wei Ying can’t resist asking when they catch their breath. Sometimes he gets chatty after a good fuck.

Lan Zhan stares reprovingly. A few months ago, Wei Ying would have called it a glare. He’s learning Lan Zhan, slowly. Lan Zhan isn’t pissed at him. He’s just being a hardass for the sake of it. 

Wei Ying is into it. He kind of thinks that Lan Zhan is, too.

“What?” he asks. “I mean, I’m down for - everything, all things, obviously. Maybe I’m a tits person? But butts are great. Cock is great. Hard to choose, is what I’m saying.”

Lan Zhan tilts his head. It is, Wei Ying thinks, Lan Zhan’s body language for bewildered. 

“I’m bi?” Wei Ying says. He’s a little surprised to be disclosing that now, and not like, several months ago. 

Lan Zhan blinks. “I know that,” he says.

Hm. “Yeah,” Wei Ying says, sensing an opportunity. “You can like both.”

“I know that,” Lan Zhan says again. “Of course I know that.” 

He smooths a lock of Wei Ying’s hair into place. 

Wei Ying’s heart squeezes inside of his chest in a brand new way. But do you know it about you? he wants to ask. He doesn’t.

—

It’s a work night, but Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, so they indulge in some work-related pillow talk. Lan Zhan’s job doesn’t result in as many stories about Wei Ying’s, but he doesn’t seem to mind that Wei Ying talks more. He’s impressed when Wei Ying mentions the wifi-enabled spirit lures he’s been toying with. 

“Yeah, it’s cool. They’re super finicky right now, but I think they could work out eventually.”

“You made them entirely on your own?”

“Well, they’re not finished.”

“But you made them.”

“Yeah.” He looks at Lan Zhan curiously. 

“You should patent it,” Lan Zhan says. “Nie Huaisang should know someone.”

“I don’t want money off of them,” Wei Ying says, wrinkling his nose. “I just want to bring us into the twenty-first century. Cultivation can be so behind the times. That’s why I found this job instead of joining up with a sect. Uh. No offense.”

Lan Zhan nods. “Lan practices are antiquated. Even so, you should patent it. So it cannot be stolen by private industry.”

“All right,” Wei Ying says, shrugging. “When you put it like that. It will take years, though. I might never get them fully working.”

“Remember it when the time comes,” Lan Zhan says, apparently completely confident that Wei Ying’s little project will come to fruition. 

—

Wen Ning proves ultimate bro status - in a cool, chill way, not a shitty, chauvinistic way - two weeks later. 

Wei Ying and Wen Ning have plans to go to the art theater. Meaning that they have plans to drink and then go to the art theater. It’s a surprise John Waters double feature; Wei Ying is crossing his fingers for Female Trouble. 

Because of his regrettably - expensively - high alcohol tolerance, Wei Ying solo pregames before the pregaming. He’s halfway through a pint glass of baiju-and-ginger ale - it gets the job done - when Lan Zhan messages him. 

> LZ: Are you free tonight? I realize this is late notice.

> WY: [...]

He messages Wen Ning. 

> WY: I am about to be so rude to you 💔🙇

> WN: ???

> WY: A booty call is hitting me up for the first time instead of me hitting him up and I really need to reward his initiative. Can we reschedule for tomorrow? They’re doing a Sunday feature too. PLEASE. I will pay for everything and we can break into my good whiskey

> WN: Lol okay

> WY: You’re the real MVP, my moon and stars, never forget it 💫💖💫💖

But wait, fuck. He’s just on the edge of tipsy. Lan Zhan deferred incredibly hot public sex when Wei Ying first propositioned him on account of Wei Ying’s supposed inebriation.

> WY: Yes!!! I’ve been drinking tho is that okay? 

> LZ: That is fine.

> WY: 💃

—

Since drinking is okayed, Wei Ying takes the opportunity to get actually a teeny bit soused while he gets ready for Lan Zhan. He wears the same dress from last time and experiments with a braided half-updo. This is a success. He also experiments with winged eyeliner, which is less of a success. (He was, at one point, fully capable of it. Nie Huaisang would be so disappointed in him for letting such an important skill set atrophy.) But he smudges it until it’s no different from the smokey eye he usually does. He’s feeling cute and buzzy and warm when Lan Zhan arrives. 

This is the only excuse he has for sort of pooling into Lan Zhan’s arms, forcing Lan Zhan to hold him up. “You know, I’m not a small person, exactly, Lan Zhan. You are so strong,” he tells him. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says. Perhaps an agreement.

“Wait, Lan Zhan. You never have the social cushion of alcohol,” Wei Ying states, coming to a realization. 

Lan Zhan says, “Mn.”

“And yet, when I came on to you, you were just like, ‘Yeah, cool, I’ll put my dick in you, no problem,’” Wei Ying recounts.

Lan Zhan coughs. “That’s not precisely -”

Wei Ying waves a hand. “No, yeah, you’re a gentleman, and you thought I was messy drunk instead of just my usual, you know, messy.”

“Wouldn’t say messy,” Lan Zhan says, almost-frowning.

Wei Ying huffs. “We’re getting off topic. My point is that you still took me up on it. Even if we didn’t fuck right then at Nie Huaisang’s, you said yes then and there.”

Lan Zhan’s faces does something at fuck at Nie Huaisang’s, which Wei Ying certainly intends to explore at a later date. “Mn.”

“You said you’d be down and then you followed through on it. Several times. And at no point have you partaken in any liquid courage at all. You’re doing these things fully sober, start to finish.”

“… Yes,” Lan Zhan says. 

Still marveling, Wei Ying says, “I said ‘Hey, give me that dick,’ and you just said ‘Okay.’ No convincing needed.”

Lan Zhan waits for him to go on.

“Lan Zhan, are you horny?” Wei Ying asks.

Lan Zhan looks at him, stony-faced, but (to Wei Ying) obviously bewildered.

“Like not as a current state, but as a person?” Wei Ying clarifies. 

Lan Zhan clears his throat and does not respond otherwise. 

Holy shit. “Are you stealth horny on main all the time?” Wei Ying asks incredulously.

Lan Zhan stares him down. The tips of his ears are bright red.

“You are. Holy shit,” Wei Ying says, gleeful with discovery. “Holy shit.”

Lan Zhan looks out into the distance - one of his killer poker face maneuvers - and says, “No one will ever believe you.”

Wei Ying puts his face in his hands and goes, “Aaaaaah,” for a long moment before rejoining their conversation. 

“Why would I tell anyone?” Wei Ying asks. “I am going to hoard this delicious secret all to myself. Except. Maybe you can buy my silence if you fuck me good enough.”

“That makes no sense,” Lan Zhan says, looking at Wei Ying with dark eyes. 

“Is that going to stop you?” Wei Ying asks.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, and follows him to his bedroom.

—

“What do you want?” Lan Zhan asks after their obligatory fifteen minutes minimum makeout session.

“What we did last time,” Wei Ying says without having to think about it. “I want to ride you.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan rumbles.

“Yeah?” Wei Ying asks.

“Would you face me this time?” Lan Zhan asks. 

“What, really?” Wei Ying asks.

“Yes.”

“You might - okay,” Wei Ying says, because he’s not stupid enough to try to talk Lan Zhan out of this. “Okay, cool.”

So he gets to watch Lan Zhan lie down on his bed, completely naked, nonchalant. He stays propped up on his elbows to look at Wei Ying. His cock is flushed and pink - pretty much the only part of him, other than the tips of his ears, that ever colors. 

Wei Ying gets on all fours, hovering over Lan Zhan, and says, “Pull it out of me. The plug.”

Lan Zhan does, dropping it next to them on the bed. He slides one long finger into Wei Ying automatically, soothing the empty feeling. His mouth looks soft, so soft that Wei Ying has to kiss him while he slides a hand backwards. His fingertips meet Lan Zhan’s hand. He’s propping his cock up for Wei Ying.

“Ready, huh?” Wei Ying asks. “You want it?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says.

“No, hey, I’m all for it. Me too,” he says.

Sinking onto Lan Zhan is as surprising as it was last time. He’s big, the angle is different, and gravity - gravity is definitely in play, here. 

When Lan Zhan puts his hands on Wei Ying’s hips, he almost seems to sigh in relief. 

Things are hot and heavy in no time. Wei Ying chases his orgasm a little mindlessly and lets himself say some of the stuff he’s been holding back, weird romantic dirty talk like “Your hands are so big - so gentle” and “I want your come dripping down my thighs.” 

“Can I -” Lan Zhan asks, hand sliding along Wei Ying’s inner thigh towards his cock.

Wei Ying wants. Oh, how he wants. But he whispers, “No,” and puts Lan Zhan’s hands back on his hipbones. 

“Hold me,” Wei Ying says. “Hold on tight. Please.”

Lan Zhan’s hands are so fucking big. It’s ridiculous. He basically clamps them around the whole side of Wei Ying’s body. 

It was partly a distraction measure, but now that it’s happening, he really likes having Lan Zhan hold onto him like this. It makes him feel safely present in his own skin. So secure. To have Lan Zhan’s hands holding him up, holding him against his cock. To know that if he slumps or squirms or comes, Lan Zhan will keep him where he needs to be. 

He realizes he’s gotten lost in it and flutters his eyelashes open. Takes in the sight of Lan Zhan’s long, built torso. His hair, fanned out against the bed. His face, staring like he wants to remember this. 

His strong arms are really all that’s holding Wei Ying up. Holding him together. 

Wei Ying wants this to last, but he can’t stand it any longer. He slides a hand up under his dress and jerks himself off, slowly, with small motions. His cock was already wrecking the lines of the dress, so it would probably be okay to just hike it up to his waist. But he likes this. He likes touching himself almost shyly, feeling Lan Zhan’s heavy gaze on him. 

Lan Zhan looks hungry. He looks like he wants to touch Wei Ying. Like in this moment he’d be very open to learning all that Wei Ying can teach him about the art of jerking someone off.

Wei Ying’s body comes alive, his cock becoming hypersensitive to compensate for the tentative, limited movements of his own hand. He moans and closes his eyes again, biting his lip.

“So pretty,” Lan Zhan says.  “Can’t believe I get to -”

“Always. Any time,” Wei Ying interrupts him, out of his mind enough to cut Lan Zhan off even though all he wants him to do is keep talking. “Yes, fuck, there, there, don’t stop, please. Oh, would you - call me -”

“Pretty. You’re - the prettiest. Prettiest girl.”

And that’s - that’s it, that’s perfect. He relaxes and comes, because that’s all he has to be right now. A pretty girl. Lan Zhan’s pretty girl. 

Lan Zhan pushes up into him and pulls him down onto his cock three or four times and comes too, drawing out the end of Wei Ying’s orgasm. 

It makes him groan, low and deep, masculine, which is fine. Lan Zhan thinks he’s pretty. He can be uncoordinated and messy and it doesn’t matter because Lan Zhan thinks he’s pretty and Lan Zhan is guaranteed to do him so fucking right. 

—

“Ugh, now I’m hungry,” Wei Ying bitches mindlessly when he comes back to life. 

Lan Zhan sits up, climbs over Wei Ying and off of the bed, and pads out of the room. He returns with a full thing of wasabi peas.

“Nice,” Wei Ying says, making grabby hands.

“Do you want to order something? I haven’t eaten,” Lan Zhan asks. 

Huh. “Like, for dinner?” Wei Ying confirms. “Yeah, sure.” Dinner with Lan Zhan. Okay.

Lan Zhan grabs his phone off of Wei Ying’s night stand, pulls up Yelp, and hands it over. “You know the area,” he says.

“Vegetarian, flavorless, any other dietary requirements?” Wei Ying asks.

Lan Zhan says, “That is all.” Wei Ying cracks up. It’s the way he says it. Or - not really, because he’s speaking in his usual soft monotone, but - anyway, Wei Ying knows it’s a joke. Lan Zhan is playing along with his teasing, pretending to imperiously insist on tasteless food. It’s funny. Or Wei Ying is just becoming dangerously fond of him. One or the other. 

Maybe both, he thinks as he drifts a bit, Lan Zhan’s fingers carding through Wei Ying’s hair.

—

Lan Zhan’s phone rings, startling Wei Ying awake.

“Better be work and not some other girl,” Wei Ying says crabbily. His stomach swoops immediately. He keeps forgetting that he’s trying not to freak Lan Zhan out. He narrowly saves it from being too real with an exaggerated warning expression and a pointed index finger. 

Lan Zhan looks at him kind of funnily, like he wants to say something, but then he has to take the call, so the moment is smoothed over. 

Wei Ying hears something that sounds like “academic standards” and stops bothering to try to process any more. Lan Zhan’s phone voice is extremely mild and businesslike and boring. It makes Wei Ying realize how long it’s been since he heard Lan Zhan sound so reserved and placid. 

Lan Zhan isn’t stroking his hair any more, which is a criminal offense, in Wei Ying’s opinion. But it does feel kind of sexy to lie in bed, luxuriously naked, while Lan Zhan sits up and talks shop. 

“Work,” Lan Zhan says when he hangs up. He looks less relaxed than he was before. 

“Something going on?” Wei Ying asks carefully. If Lan Zhan is tense because he doesn’t want this thing they do to come into any kind of contact with his professional life, Wei Ying can’t do a lot about that.

“A committee problem,” Lan Zhan states. “I volunteered, and now must take tedious after-hours calls for the remainder of this term. It has been… trying.”

“Can you get out of it?” Wei Ying asks. 

“I volunteered,” Lan Zhan repeats.

“So yes?”

“No. I volunteered, so I must fulfill my promise and serve on the committee for this term.”

“Do they really need you? Do you get something out of it?”

“No.”

“Neither?”

“The committee would not greatly suffer for my absence, and I will not receive any reward for my involvement.”

“You’re just going to do it because you said you would? Even though no one needs you or anything?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. 

They stare at each other. Lan Zhan is such a weirdo. A cute one.

“Weird,” Wei Ying says. He takes Lan Zhan’s phone out of his hand, sets it back on the nightstand, and places Lan Zhan’s hand back in his hair. “Better.”

“Much,” Lan Zhan agrees, and keeps finger-combing him.

—

When food arrives, Wei Ying makes Lan Zhan go get it. “I’m in no condition to be answering the door, Lan Zhan,” he says. “You ruined me.”

Lan Zhan looks extra regretful leaving the bed.

They eat on the small couch in Wei Ying’s living room. 

Lan Zhan shakes his head when Wei Ying asks for his Venmo.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says.

“Please, let me,” Lan Zhan says. He sounds - well, again, softly monotone, but it sounds like this matters to him.

“Hey, yeah, it’s fine. Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Wei Ying watches Lan Zhan’s face and considers things. “You probably don’t do casual much, huh?” he asks.

Lan Zhan replies, “I do not. This has been good.”

“I know,” Wei Ying says. “Me, too. I mean. I’ve been having a good time, too.”

After a quiet moment, unable to take the pregnant silence, Wei Ying says, “Okay, I have to ask, how is your hair so long? Does it just run in your family? I’ve been rocking the cultivator no-cut haircut since I was a teenager and it still won’t grow past my shoulders.”

“Horse conditioner,” Lan Zhan says nonchalantly.

Wei Ying snickers, but Lan Zhan appears entirely serious. “For real?” he asks.

Lan Zhan nods. “Also none of those,” he says, gesturing to the jar of elastics on Wei Ying’s nightstand. 

“Huh,” Wei Ying says. “Look at you, grooming expert. Do you know how I can make my nails less nasty after dealing with corpse blood? Right now I just attack them with a brush. I wish I could play with nail polish, but it would chip so much. I like to at least buff them to death, so they’re shiny.”

“I notice,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying, a definite genius, deduces that Lan Zhan notices his hands and preens. 

Lan Zhan doesn’t have a solution for Wei Ying. He explains that being a string musician requires very short fingernails. He’s not grossed out by Wei Ying bringing up corpses, though, which is cool. Some people are really weird about Wei Ying’s job. 

Conversation bounces from fingernail-related occupational hazards to their jobs to their apartments. It’s light and easy and way less awkward than any conversation Wei Ying usually has post-casual fuck. It’s actually just - it’s nice.

When Lan Zhan gets up to head out, Wei Ying says, “I - if you wanted to - there’s room -”

He’d swear - absolutely swear - that even though Lan Zhan isn’t looking him in the eyes, he’s smiling when he says, “Ask again next time?”

Wei Ying really thinks he might.

—

They end up in Nie Huaisang’s kitchen together, alone, in late January. 

“How’s it going?” Wei Ying asks. He’s kind of curious if this is when things will finally get weird: one on one, no sex to distract, their friends just in the next room.

“Well,” Lan Zhan says. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Wei Ying says. 

There is a pause, during which Wei Ying has an out-of-body vision of the both of them standing in front of an office water cooler wearing button-downs and tan slacks. 

He shakes himself, disturbed. “You want a La Croix?” he asks, beelining to the fridge to fetch himself a drink. Any drink. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan says.

“Looks like we got mango and coconut,” Wei Ying tells him, bending down and reaching way into the back to get the mixers he brought for this interesting, overly trendy indie gin that Nie Huaisang has been stocking. 

“Coconut,” Lan Zhan says. His voice is rough. 

Wei Ying knows that tone.

He grabs a can and hands it to him, but doesn’t let go when Lan Zhan takes it. Lan Zhan’s eyes widen minutely. His hands are so big.

“Coconut,” Wei Ying says quietly, stepping closer to him. “You’re one of those people.”

“It’s the best flavor,” Lan Zhan says. His voice is also quiet, challenging. 

“It is not. It’s the worst,” Wei Ying says. He’s already in Lan Zhan’s space, but he gets in closer, about six inches away from him. “It tastes like sunscreen,” he says.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “I like it.” He’s making really intense eye contact. His right foot is almost between Wei Ying’s feet on the floor. They’re both wearing black socks, which is equalizing. Although Lan Zhan’s have that yellow dress sock stitching at the toes, and Wei Ying’s came in a pack of twelve. 

“Of course -” Wei Ying is saying, stepping closer again, chin up, leaning in dangerously, when Xiao Xingchen walks into the kitchen. 

Xiao Xingchen looks at them with complete incomprehension for a moment. Then his eyebrows go up and he looks deliberately to the side, eyebrows up. “Okay,” he says, emphasis on the oh. “Don’t mind me, boys.” He does a little flourish with his hand, grabs a bottle of white, and walks out without saying a word. 

Incredibly, Lan Zhan doesn’t even look embarrassed. He just smirks at Wei Ying, like he thinks interruption counts as victory-by-default, and pops the top of his coconut La Croix with one hand before strolling out of the kitchen after Xiao Xingchen. 

—

Wei Ying would like to be able to say that wearing a dark red, high-necked satin dress for a straight guy when it isn’t even actually Chinese New Year is a low point for him. He really would. 

It’s not. He looks fucking hot. Red is totally his color. Or it would be, if black wasn’t. 

He half-asses his invitation to Lan Zhan, because he doesn’t even care, he’s too excited about how cute he is right now. 

> WY: Something something Chinese new year 🥮

> LZ: Yes?

> WY: Lan Zhan!! 

> WY: I didn’t expect you to answer after 10

> WY: Come over if you want

> WY: I mean, not tonight

> WY: Tomorrow? Next week?

> LZ: Tomorrow I have an unavoidable meeting. Next Saturday I am available. 

> WY: Aw you! 5? 

> LZ: I look forward to it, Wei Ying.

—

They make out on his bed, yet again. Lan Zhan really likes kissing. It’s so cute.

Wei Ying’s dress has a tulip hem. Lan Zhan’s fingertips creep up underneath it, along his inner thigh.

“Wait, you don’t have to,” Wei Ying tells him, stopping him with a hand on his wrist.

“I don’t have to or you don’t want me to?” Lan Zhan asks. 

“I - you don’t have to,” Wei Ying says, heart beating quickly. 

Lan Zhan kisses him and asks, “You want it?”

Wei Ying should say no. He is playing with fire. But no one has touched his cock in months, and Lan Zhan has been trying to. So instead, he breathes, “Yes.”

It feels surprisingly embarrassing to admit that he wants Lan Zhan’s hand on his cock, given everything else that they’ve done already. 

He’s straddling Lan Zhan’s thigh and he has a plug in his ass. This is already pretty heavy for him. 

Lan Zhan puts one hand on his ass and sinks the other into Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying is momentarily put out that he’s not touching his cock, since that is apparently on the table, but he gets distracted by the way that Lan Zhan carefully angles Wei Ying’s head. And how he sometimes pulls away to kiss his neck. And the almost-restless movement of the hand on his ass. 

He’s distracted enough, in fact, that he’s almost mad when Lan Zhan pulls that hand away. But then it’s moving up his thigh, under his skirt, and Wei Ying softly chants, “Yes, yes, yes.” Lan Zhan pulls down the waistband of Wei Ying’s boxer-briefs and takes hold of his cock.

Wei Ying breaks away from the kiss to bury his face in Lan Zhan’s neck as his hesitant grasp becomes more confident. “Please, please,” he says. “Please, Lan Zhan, feels - yes, please, yes.” He should be afraid of scaring Lan Zhan off by sounding completely fucking desperate. He’s not. Now that he’s found a rhythm, Lan Zhan’s hand is surprisingly sure and steady. He has an arm around Wei Ying’s back, pulling him in. It feels like Lan Zhan likes this, too.

He hasn’t been touched like this since literally last year. It’s firm and strong and, crucially, not his own hand. He just barely stops himself from fucking into Lan Zhan’s fist. Or - he just barely stops himself until the last possible minute, when he does, and it feels so good. He comes on a breathy litany of “Lan Zhan,” and “Oh, fuck,” and “ Please .” 

He keeps his face turned into Lan Zhan’s shoulder after it’s over, catching his breath, feeling shy for no good reason. He’s been trading handjobs for closer to two decades than one. Lan Zhan shouldn’t be able to make it into a new, bashful thing.

“Should I -” Lan Zhan asks, voice tight. He bumps his forearm against Wei Ying’s thigh. 

“Oh, right,” Wei Ying says, laughing in embarrassment. Right, the handful of my come you did not expect to deal with today. 

“Here,” he says. He grabs Lan Zhan’s wrist and smears his palm up under Wei Ying’s dress to his stomach - or thereabouts, since this dress is too tight to allow for much - and back down across his hip and thigh. He risks kitten-licking Lan Zhan’s palm for good measure, and Lan Zhan breathes in sharply. 

“You want my mouth, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks. 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, as grave as ever. He’s cute, Wei Ying thinks, despairing. He’s really cute. 

Fortunately, he’s not too cute to fuck Wei Ying’s mouth a little bit. He mumbles “Wei Ying” when he comes. It gives Wei Ying butterflies.

He kisses Wei Ying again when he’s done, nearly chuckling when Wei Ying whines about his lips feeling bruised. He presses his thumb to the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth and drags it to the center, pushing it in a little bit. Wei Ying hums, helpless, loving it. Lan Zhan pulls his thumb away and kisses him again.

“Keep doing that and I’ll start asking you to stay the night,” Wei Ying says, laughing it off, a joking warning. 

Lan Zhan grabs him before he can dart away and, making very significant eye contact, says, “Yes.”

So Lan Zhan stays the night. 

—

“So I guess you - really liked the dress, huh?” Wei Ying asks when he wakes up in the morning to find Lan Zhan still in his bed.

“The best part of the New Year,” Lan Zhan says. His expression suggests remote distaste. 

“You don’t like Chinese New Year?” Wei Ying asks, kind of amazed. It’s such an inoffensive holiday. A dumb partying holiday like New Year’s Eve, he can see Lan Zhan hating. But the chill holidays seem like his thing.

Lan Zhan shrugs. “My family.” Oh, well, there’s that. 

Wei Ying says, “Yeah, I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other. Like, that kind of thing.”

Where any normal person would use this as an opening to talk about themselves, Lan Zhan just nods. 

“Tell me about your family,” Wei Ying says.

“It’s just my brother and my uncle,” Lan Zhan says.

“Like actually only them?” Wei Ying asks. “That’s even smaller than mine.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “I have a large but distant extended family.”

Wei Ying is entranced by this lore drop. Who describes their own family as distant? Is that code for super fucked up?

“Are they all like you?”

Lan Zhan looks at him.

“You know,” Wei Ying says. He waves a hand. “Beautiful... ice kings. Whatever. It’s the morning.”

Lan Zhan huffs a bit. It is kind of, almost, a laugh. 

“Many Lans are older. Traditional. Very set in their ways, very… OCD runs in the family.”

“Oh, no way,” Wei Ying says mildly.

Lan Zhan nods. “Germophobia and such. I am on an SSRI. That is why I cannot drink.”

Wei Ying thinks, Lore drop! “I tried one of those for like two days and hated it,” he contributes. “But yeah, they’re like, a miracle for some people, right?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan agrees firmly. “The elder Lans have not embraced medication,” he says, almost ruefully.

“Wait. Lan Zhan. Are you, like, a renegade?” Wei Ying asks, delighted.

Lan Zhan looks down in a way that feels like a shrug even though his shoulders don’t move at all. “They want me to bring a woman home very badly.” The amount he’s talking makes it clear that he’s frustrated, even if he looks and sounds as placid as ever.

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, deflated. He’s not bitter. He’s not.

“There is a great deal of dodging the issue.” Lan Zhan nods definitively, like that’s self-explanatory, like it closes the topic for now. Which it absolutely does not. Explain why you dodge the issue, Wei Ying thinks at him very hard. Lan Zhan does not seem to hear him. 

“And you?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Oh, I skipped out on my family stuff this year,” Wei Ying says. Then he remembers that he got laid last night because of an outfit that was supposed to be associated with a celebration he didn’t attend. Although even if he had gone, he wouldn’t have worn it at home. This is getting confusing. 

He covers by saying, “Ah, the dress was for - with friends. I celebrated with friends.” It sounds stupid even to him.

Lan Zhan looks away and says quietly, “Do you think that I need it to be a costume?”

“Ah,” Wei Ying says nervously.

“I don’t,” Lan Zhan says, looking back to him. His expression is immobile but kind. “If you simply want to wear it, you should.”

Wei Ying takes a slow breath. “I just look cute in it,” he admits. “I look hot. I feel hot.”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says earnestly.

“Fuck, Madam Yu would have murdered me if I went to the Jiang house in this,” Wei Ying says. He can hear the glee in his own voice. 

Seeing Lan Zhan’s confusion, he rambles on. “Oh, I’m adopted. My adoptive mother makes me call her Madam Yu? She’s - phew. But my adoptive dad is nice, if kind of emotionally inept. My brother got his emotional ineptitude and Madam Yu’s short fuse. I love him to death, but - yeah. Also, he’s a homophobe. My sister is a saint, though. Like, too good for her own good. You know?” Family stuff can suck, but sometimes it’s still safer conversational territory than I just want to dress up all cute for you. You, specifically.

Lan Zhan nods thoughtfully, though there’s still a crease between his brows. 

“Anyway, breakfast,” Wei Ying says, before he gives in to the urge to interrogate Lan Zhan about all of this dodging the issue that he says he does with his own family.

—

Wei Ying has a chintzy black satin robe. The vibe is more budget wrestler than high femme, but throwing it on over his black boxer briefs and keeping his hair down suffices long enough for breakfast that morning. 

Lan Zhan kisses him, makes him French toast, eats with him in bed, and excuses himself at the perfect time, right before Wei Ying can get antsy, like he knows he needs some space. 

He does. 

When he’s sure that Lan Zhan is out of his building, Wei Ying screeches to himself a little bit.

Then he calls Nie Huaisang. 

“Wei Ying,” Nie Huaisang answers on the second ring. 

“Hey, what does it mean if the straight guy you’ve been fucking starts jerking you off and sleeping over at your place?” Wei Ying asks. 

There’s no reply. 

“I’m asking for a friend,” Wei Ying tries. 

“Come over at three and tell me everything,” Nie Huaisang orders. 

—

“So I don’t think he’s straight,” Nie Huaisang says after Wei Ying concludes his hastily-edited-for-Lan-Zhan’s-anonymity story.

“Me either, right? Like - straight people can be wild, but -”

“I wasn’t finished,” Nie Huaisang says. “Have you considered that he might be straight and a chaser?”

“I- oh,” Wei Ying says, a little crestfallen. “I didn’t think of that.”

Nie Huaisang briefly closes his eyes, looking pained. “Regardless, it does sound like he likes you,” Nie Huaisang says. 

“Maybe I’m just like, his single gay exception?”

Nie Huaisang looks at him, assessing. Wei Ying doesn’t kid himself: he’s wearing black on black with more black, three different, non-compatible shades of it, and his hair is a mess. There’s some uneven grey smudging along his lashline where he didn’t get off all of his eye makeup from last night.

“... Unlikely, I think,” Nie Huaisang says gently. “I love you, but like… yeah.”

Wei Ying nods sadly in acquiescence. 

“Shit, though,” Nie Huaisang says. “You did it. It might end in tears, but you’re living it.”

“I know,” Wei Ying says, agonized and smug. 

—

At February game night, Wei Ying doesn’t catch anyone looking at him or at Lan Zhan, so Xiao Xingchen must not have spread shit around. 

He’s impressed. He wouldn’t expect them to be looking askance, necessarily, but it’s pretty big gossip as far as interpersonal stuff in this group of nerds goes. 

Last year, when Wen Ning turned one game night into a surprise birthday party for Wen Qing, he only told Nie Huaisang, and only because he had to since it was happening at his place. Word would have gotten around immediately otherwise. 

It must have looked like Wei Ying was coming on to Lan Zhan, at least. He sure doesn’t get up in MianMian’s face to flirtily whisper-fight about carbonated beverages. It’s impressive that Xiao Xingchen resisted the powerful pull of that sort of gossip. Wei Ying couldn’t have totally blamed him for telling people. 

He’s glad that he didn’t. Like, would it be a rush, for people to know that Lan Zhan wants him? That Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying touch him? Yes. It would be very exciting. But like. Yeah. He’s glad that Xiao Xingchen didn’t, he tells himself firmly, ignoring his disappointment. He’s glad.

—

Wei Ying resolves not to worry about clarifying things with Lan Zhan just yet. He’s getting laid. And how laid. 

One problem: it’s late February. There are no holidays on the immediate horizon, but he wants to get laid now. And not in the last dress, because it doesn’t allow for a lot of access up top, and he has plans. If general frontal touching is on the table - well.

He finds another pleated skirt, grey and red plaid this time, and a black v-neck cardigan. It’s basically a... sexy goth librarian outfit? Wei Ying just thinks it’s cute. He puts his hair up halfway and adds a red ribbon. 

(Okay, it’s a red shoelace that he painstakingly de-threaded from one of his shittier pairs of sneakers. It looks nice, though. It might become a signature look.)

It begs for a red lip - seriously, really begs for it - but with the amount of kissing Lan Zhan likes, it wouldn’t last ten minutes. Anyway, Lan Zhan has never complained about the lip gloss. He does his two-minute smokey eye and winks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror: perfect.

—

“What’s this for, this time?” Lan Zhan asks. He has the hem of Wei Ying’s skirt between his fingers. 

“It’s -” Wei Ying says. “It’s, uh, I just like it?”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says. 

They’re basically the same height, but it’s so much fun to slump against the wall a little bit and look up at Lan Zhan through his lashes, hanging his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. 

He’s not going to ask. He’s not going to ask. He’s not desperate.

“What do you think?” he asks. Fuck. 

“I like it,” Lan Zhan says. “Very pretty.” He doesn’t even blink. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says. “You have to warn me, fuck.”

“You look very pretty, Wei Ying,” he says. There’s a two-degree tilt to his usually flat mouth that suggests that he might know exactly what he’s doing to Wei Ying when he says that. 

“Stop,” Wei Ying says. He kisses him. “No, don’t, don’t stop.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says. “Mixed signals.” Then he picks Wei Ying up by his thighs and carries him to bed. 

—

“So, wait, okay, so,” Wei Ying says, when he’s pressed underneath Lan Zhan. 

Lan Zhan is wearing boxers, which is more clothed than he’s ever been in Wei Ying’s bed. It puts them on more even ground, since Wei Ying is always dressed up for their encounters. Being on even ground feels pretty nice. Wei Ying likes it.

Lan Zhan’s been lazily rutting against Wei Ying while they kiss. He shows no apparent concern about Wei Ying’s semi pressing into his thigh. That in and of itself is so sexy that Wei Ying knows he could lose the thread of this evening in just a moment.

He really does have plans. But they get derailed from there because Lan Zhan is looking at him. Wei Ying has to pull him down and kiss him more, and more, tentatively hooking a leg around his back. Lan Zhan responds by holding the leg there, which is both highly sexy and highly romantic. Which very few things are. 

It’s really looking like Lan Zhan might be perfectly happy to have them rut against each other until they come. They’re all hot and heavy and a little sweaty when Wei Ying finally remembers.

“Wait, wait.” He hastily unbuttons his sweater partway. He’s not wearing anything underneath it. “Play with my tits.”

Lan Zhan stops moving and stares at him again. His mouth is slightly parted, lips flushed. 

Wei Ying grabs one of his hands and presses it to his exposed pec, which is very sweetly framed by the barely-buttoned v-neck of his cardigan. In his own humble opinion. 

Lan Zhan gives it a tentative squeeze. Wei Ying pushes up into his hand. “Yeah, you know what you’re doing,” he assures Lan Zhan.

“I do not,” Lan Zhan says, and leans down to kiss him again. 

That round, Wei Ying comes pushing his hips up into Lan Zhan’s thigh, conscious of the plug in his ass, relishing the feel of Lan Zhan clumsily squeezing Wei Ying’s pecs, brushing over his nipples, occasionally scratching or pinching them. 

“Yeah, play with my cute little titties, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan doesn’t even roll his eyes or giggle at his tacky porn dialogue. He just kneads and palms and pinches while Wei Ying arches and gasps. 

Then there’s a moment where Lan Zhan looks down at Wei Ying’s chest consideringly before leaning down to take one of Wei Ying’s nipples in his mouth. Wei Ying’s never had strong opinions about nipple play in one direction or another, but when Lan Zhan starts to suck softly, it feels like something in him warms up and loosens. He likes that. He spreads his legs wider and says, “Harder, Lan Zhan. More. Harder.” Obligingly, Lan Zhan ruts against him harder. Wei Ying comes quite suddenly, without even a chance to get his underwear off first. 

After, Lan Zhan pulls out his own cock and pulls on it frantically, like he can’t wait long enough for Wei Ying to get it together and help him out. 

“You wanna come on my tits or my - skirt?” he asks, not quite daring to say ‘my cock’ to Lan Zhan’s face. “Maybe my ass?”

Lan Zhan groans and comes in his own hand instead. A little bit gets on Wei Ying’s thighs. 

“Nice,” he says, trailing a hand through it. 

“Could not decide,” Lan Zhan says. His eyes are slightly downcast. And shit, oh, shit, on anyone else that would be a totally flat expression, but Wei Ying can tell that he’s almost smiling, and it does things to his stomach. Such things. 

—

They go for two more rounds that night.

Wei Ying tells him not to bother with condoms when Lan Zhan goes to pull them out from under the bed. Somewhere between pulling Wei Ying in for a full-body hug and jerking him off, Lan Zhan passed Wei Ying’s hand-holding threshold for barebacking.

In the morning, Lan Zhan makes him French toast and talks about his teaching assistants’ antics (reading between the lines, they worship him and he thinks they’re adorable; they’ve taken to calling him Hanguang Jun, what even is that). He kisses him silly in the kitchen. 

—

“I’m really into him,” he tells Nie Huaisang. 

Nie Huaisang purses his lips and narrows his eyes like Wei Ying just insulted his mother. 

“Wei. Ying,” he says, two complete sentences. “I need to brag about a threesome and I cannot do that if you are bragging about how you turned a straight man.”

“I’m not,” Wei Ying whines. “I mean, I will later, but do tell.”

After a beautiful, vividly rendered recounting of said threesome and necessary accolades given on Wei Ying’s part, the conversation circles back to the straight man predicament. 

“Know who we could ask about this? My brother’s boyfriend.”

“Does Meng Yao sleep with a lot of straight guys?”

“No, the other one. Lan Xichen. Lan Zhan’s brother. He’s done everything twice, he’ll definitely have some insight.”

Wei Ying does not screech at the mention of Lan Zhan. 

Wait. “Lan Zhan has a gay brother?”

Nie Huaisang’s ever-present fan may or may not twitch very slightly at Wei Ying’s voice when he says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying carefully ensures that his expression doesn’t change, so Nie Huaisang doesn’t smell blood in the water. Two can play at this game. It would be totally normal for them to be friends by now. Fuck, they are friends by now. He thinks.

“Like, queer, but yeah,” Nie Huaisang says.

“Huh,” Wei Ying says. 

That’s weird. 

Does Lan Zhan feel like he has to shoulder the burden of heterosexuality for his family since his brother isn’t? Or is he just comfortable enough with queer people that fucking a guy he’s not attracted to at all doesn’t phase him? He is very comfortable with queer people. There’s not a single cishet person in Nie Huaisang’s game night group, and Lan Zhan never gets weird about it. Though - he’s so deeply polite in his way. He could be courteous to anyone, probably. 

“So why aren’t you telling me anything about your guy?” Nie Huaisang asks.

Shit. “Like what?” 

“His name? Who he is? Usually this far into one of your things I’ve at least gotten a thorough description of his cock, maybe a lovingly-rendered sketch.”

Okay, okay. Act cool. He prepared for this. Wei Ying says smoothly, “He’s a mutual acquaintance. And if I tell you who it is, then you’ll tell me every girl he’s ever hooked up with, and I will cry.” It’s even true. He will totally cry. 

“Ah,” Nie Huaisang says, doing the you’ve got me there nod. 

“So, what, are you going to tell him?” Nie Huaisang asks, breaking Wei Ying’s train of thought. “That the whole thing is like, really queer?”

“I guess,” Wei Ying says, shrugging. “Or I could just… keep fucking him this way indefinitely without ever talking about it?” he asks. “That could be a good plan, right?”

Nie Huaisang takes a deep breath. “I mean, I really don’t know,” he says. “But also no, you dummy, that’s so stupid.”

Fair enough. 

—

Lan Zhan invites himself over in March and presses Wei Ying into the bed, kissing him, until Wei Ying is nearly drowsy but also too turned on to relax. 

Wei Ying squirms. “Remember, um - remember when you called me a pretty girl?”

“I do.” Lan Zhan is staring at him evenly. 

“Could you - do it again?” Wei Ying asks, voice high.

Lan Zhan smiles a tiny, tiny bit and tucks Wei Ying’s hair behind his ear and says, “Pretty girl.”

Wei Ying’s breath catches. 

Lan Zhan leans in and kisses him. “Pretty,” he whispers.

Wei Ying shivers. “Yes,” he says. “That’s me.” He swallows. “Pretty girl, right?”

He shouldn’t feel good about that. He should feel embarrassed. He should roll his eyes at how stupid this is, being fully in his thirties and pretending for his hookup’s sake that everything here is totally straight, yes, sir. Maybe this is even demeaning? But.

But. 

He wants it so badly. And the whole thing was his idea. 

So when Lan Zhan quietly agrees with him, mumbling “pretty girl” into his mouth, he gives in to how good it is and falls back on the bed.

They make out and feel each other up, unhurried. Lan Zhan pinches Wei Ying’s ass a couple of times, which somewhat sets Wei Ying on fire. Wei Ying gets to mouth at Lan Zhan’s stupidly cut shoulders. 

Lan Zhan kisses Wei Ying’s neck and says softly, shyly, “I’ve heard that... pretty girls like it when you eat them out.”

Oh, fuck. “Yes,” Wei Ying gasps. 

Lan Zhan turns him over and spreads him open, exposing him. It’s too much even before Lan Zhan laves his tongue flat against Wei Ying’s asshole. His hole? He’s avoided this particular issue of vocabulary with Lan Zhan thus far, but - 

Lan Zhan sucks against his rim, and suddenly Wei Ying doesn’t care that much about anything. Certainly not about names for - yeah. 

“Your mouth,” he says. “Lick me open, please, I’ll be good.”

Lan Zhan complies, licking evenly against him several times before starting to press gently into Wei Ying with his tongue. 

Wei Ying needs to seriously rethink his strategy of opening himself up before Lan Zhan arrives if this is what he gets when he doesn’t. 

“Get me ready, yes, please. Please. Lick me open, get me ready to take you,” he whines. Slowly, painstakingly, Lan Zhan does. It fucking figures that perfect gentleman Lan Zhan is good at eating out. 

Either he’s basically a savant at this, or he’s eaten ass before, specifically. How adventurous for such a buttoned-up guy. 

He’s so dedicated that Wei Ying thinks that he doesn’t need lube. Would it be responsible to use it anyway? Yes. Would it be hot to go without? Also yes. 

He says so, trying to urge Lan Zhan to get in him already. 

Evidently, Lan Zhan does not agree. He snatches the lube up off of Wei Ying’s night stand, slicks a finger up, and presses it into Wei Ying alongside his tongue. 

Wei Ying can’t complain about the fact that it’s not his cock when it’s so overwhelmingly good. The soft-hard sensation is brand new. No one’s ever done that for him, which in itself is impressive. Although Wei Ying has toned it down as the years have gone on, he’s gotten around, okay. He’s lived his best ho years already. There’s not that much he hasn’t tried once. Somehow, though, this specific box never got checked off. A terrible oversight, he thinks. He’s very glad it’s being corrected. 

In other words, as he says to Lan Zhan, “fucking yes, please, fuck, please, please, fuck me, your fucking mouth, fuck.” It makes him feel like he did when Lan Zhan sucked on his nipples - something in him warming up and loosening, relaxing. He wants to tense up around Lan Zhan’s finger - fingers, now, because he added a second one - but his tongue forces Wei Ying to stay slack and soft. Ready. Waiting for Lan Zhan to do whatever he wants.

“Fuck, I wanna come like this first, can I come like this first?” he pleads. “You can do whatever you want to me afterwards, I just wanna feel you like this, please, please say yes, please.”

Lan Zhan hums in general approval. It takes maybe thirty seconds of pushing back to chase whatever the hell Lan Zhan is doing with his fingers - Wei Ying doesn’t know, but it feels incredible - before he’s coming into his own hand, nearly crying. 

Lan Zhan gently fucks him from behind while Wei Ying stifles his own cries of oversensitivity. A few whines slip out right at the very end and seem to tip Lan Zhan over the edge. 

“Do you want me to clean you up?” Lan Zhan asks when he’s caught his breath and pulled out. 

“Ah?” Wei Ying asks intelligently.

“I’d like to clean you up. With my mouth,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Ah,” Wei Ying says. “Ahaha, yes. Yes.”

He whimpers, sensitive, while Lan Zhan slowly, carefully - or, Wei Ying can’t see him, but it feels slow and careful - licks his own come out of Wei Ying. It is, in a word, nasty. Wei Ying is a big fan. 

He shakes apart against Lan Zhan’s tongue, literally shakes, all the way down to his fingers. He’s teary when he’s finished. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says. It’s really all he can say. 

Lan Zhan appears to get it. He combs his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair, pulls Wei Ying to him, and whispers back, “Wei Ying.”

—

Work gets real the next week. It’s a total nightmare. He loves it. He sleeps in his office two nights in a row, just curls up on the floor with a sleeping bag and a pillow. This is what municipal cultivation means. Most of the time, he has a totally normal nine-to-five job - albeit one with a lot more exorcisms - and sometimes he has a batshit insane ‘be ready to leave from city hall at three a.m. with twenty minutes’ notice’ job. 

The issue at hand is an infestation of these little non-native poltergeists. They’re no big deal in European forests, where the dryads curtail the population, but North American dryads have no idea what to do with them. They’re basically an invasive species. New Caiyi Town needs to get rid of them before it’s overwhelmed.

The poltergeists were discovered at the city limits by a guy who works for the county. Meaning that Wei Ying has to spend a full day proving that they’re not New Caiyi Town’s (and, by extension, his) fault. 

Once he does that, he’s granted the immense privilege of being forced to work with the county and the Sheriff’s office. Even though nine tenths of the infestation is within New Caiyi Town borders and there’s no rule against him crossing city lines to deal with the remainder of them. Sometimes, officials like that look at Wei Ying and just decide he’s not up to the task. That they need to get involved. Even though this is his trade, and even though they have no idea what they’re doing. And they have the right to, because it’s their jurisdiction, and he’s just the helpful cultivator from the next town over. 

He tries to remind himself that the people from the Sheriff’s office are basically cops, and they’re predisposed to be shitty to everyone. It’s not Wei Ying’s fault. Yeah, it goes slower than it would have if they’d trusted him to do his work, but that’s on them. Not him.

It still pisses him the fuck off. 

Needless to say, collaborating with those types is inefficient and frustrating. What should take him a day ends up taking five, because they slow him down at every turn, and the infestation gets more out of control the slower it goes.  

Eventually, he does get it all handled. He even gets a little goodbye wave from one of the poltergeists, which breaks his heart in a good way. He sniffles and giggles and waves back as she flits out of this existence. 

When they verify that the area is poltergeist-free, he also gets firm handshakes and impressed nods from the good old boys he’s working with, as though that’s supposed to mean something. As though he cares what they think. 

Before he dips, he tells them that they have to leave offerings for the dryads to smooth things over, and also that they should probably not break up any couples they find canoodling in the forest for the next few weeks, because that will help rebalance the forest’s yin energy. 

These are both lies. They don’t need to leave offerings at all; he just thinks the dryads deserve a little pick-me-up after basically having lice for ten days. The thing about letting people fuck in the forest is because Wei Ying thinks it’s funny to tell the cops that it’s their civic duty to let people cruise.

So, naturally, that weekend he cracks open a bottle of wine, summons Lan Zhan, and jumps his bones. His outfit this time is a navy blue pleated skirt and a light blue dress shirt under a navy blue sweater vest that nips in at the waist. It may or may not be inspired by an outfit Cordelia Chase wears in that Buffy episode with the swimmers. 

He puts his hair in a ponytail and then takes it down and puts it up again - not out of nervousness, just because it feels good to luxuriate and vamp a little bit. 

“Hi,” he says when Lan Zhan arrives. He’s not wearing any makeup. Well, lip gloss, but that’s all. After this week, he just can’t deal with the rest of it. 

“You look nice,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Thanks,” Wei Ying says, feeling a goofy smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, listen, I’ve had most of a bottle of wine in about an hour, so. I’m cute, come kiss me.”

Lan Zhan, who is also cute, follows him to his bedroom and does so.

When he slides his hands around Wei Ying’s waist, a bruise flares in pain. Wei Ying gasps. 

Lan Zhan makes a wordless worried noise. 

Wei Ying tries to wave him off, but he asks “What’s wrong?” so sincerely that Wei Ying crumbles.

“Just… work. You know,” he says. 

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “You can tell me about it.”

“Ugh, Lan Zhan, we haven’t even done any under-the-pants stuff yet.”

“We can,” Lan Zhan says, and kisses him softly on the mouth before moving to his neck. “Tell me about your day.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, a little thrown. In a good way. “Um, my day was fine, it was the last day of this whole thing with - with French poltergeists and working with the county.”

Lan Zhan nibbles gently a few inches below his ear.

“I love my job, I’m just sick of it right now,” Wei Ying states for the record. 

Lan Zhan presses him backwards until Wei Ying is on his back, Lan Zhan on all fours above him. There’s a moment of silence where they just stare at each other: Lan Zhan waiting for Wei Ying to keep talking, and Wei Ying way too overpowered by Lan Zhan’s eyes to remember words. 

When he continues, he says, “I was stuck on a team with all straight guys. It was the worst.” Wait. Fuck. He shouldn’t be judging straight guys when in bed with a guy who is ostensibly straight. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to take offense, though; his hands wander over Wei Ying’s body.

“They were draining my life force, okay,” Wei Ying says. 

Lan Zhan softly grumbles disapproval into Wei Ying’s neck, sympathizing. His hand trails along the hem of Wei Ying’s skirt and dips underneath it, stroking his inner thigh.

“I just want it to be easy tonight,” Wei Ying says.

Case in point: he’s not wearing anything under the skirt. 

Lan Zhan’s wandering hand brushes Wei Ying’s balls and stops. “You’re not,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Nope,” Wei Ying says. His skirt’s not super thin or super short, so it’s not totally obscene, but his erection is definitely wrecking its lines. 

Apparently, Lan Zhan is into that. He surges up to kiss Wei Ying deeply, firmly. In contrast, his hand doesn’t press or grab. He just strokes Wei Ying’s thigh over and over and over until he’s hard and leaking and wanting. “Please,” he whines. 

“What do you want?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Your fingers,” Wei Ying says honestly. He could have said your cock. He’d like that, too. But fingers have a different intimacy to them. He wants Lan Zhan to keep touching him. “They’re so good. And I’m tired.” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying takes a moment to wonder if, in fact, they have that kind of relationship. Could he just ask Lan Zhan to come over and hang out and touch him? Without sex getting involved? 

Well, in any case, sex would get involved, so maybe it doesn’t matter. Wei Ying is kind of a slut, and Lan Zhan is secretly horny. They’re a perfect match. 

And also, he definitely does want sex. He demonstrates this by rolling his hips up into Lan Zhan’s. Lan Zhan bites off a gasp. 

“That’s sweet, but I definitely want you to do something,” Wei Ying says. “Do me. Draw me like one of your French girls.”

“I have no French girls,” Lan Zhan says.

“I was joking! Lan Zhan, have you not seen Titanic?”

“I have. I was also joking,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying huffs, fake-mad. “Play me like an instrument, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says against his mouth, and then he does. 

He tries to start with two fingers, because Wei Ying usually loves a little stretch. Wei Ying stiffens up. “Can we just - just start with one?” he asks. 

“Are you sure?” Lan Zhan asks, taking in Wei Ying’s weird vibe. 

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, rolling his eyes briefly heavenward in exasperation. “I didn’t get all dolled up for you to stay home.”

“I can be here with you without sex,” Lan Zhan says. “If you just want company.”

“Ugh. Lan Zhan. Honestly, that sounds amazing. I really don’t want to be alone right now.” Wei Ying swallows and closes his eyes. He has no idea where that came from; that’s not the kind of thing he sincerely says. That’s the kind of plea he makes in a fake-cute voice so people don’t know that he’s dead serious. “But please, for the love of the gods, finger me. I’m up for it, I’m just tired. I - I get that you haven’t seen me in this mood before, I don’t get like this a lot, but I just want you to fuck me. Gentle. Nice. I’m too worn out for anything else, okay?”

Lan Zhan hesitates again, like a complete monster. 

“Do you need me to beg?” Wei Ying says, legitimately wondering if it’s a game. “Lan Zhan. Please. Please, I’m so horny, but I’m so tired. Please be gentle. Please have mercy on this pretty girl and put your fingers inside of her one at a time, smooth, gentle, please -”

He’d thought he was too tired for anything weird, but this is starting to do it for him, actually. 

Lan Zhan has a weird, complicated look in his eyes. He leans in and captures Wei Ying’s lips for a sweet little kiss. He whispers “Not necessary,” and slides a single finger into Wei Ying slowly. Wei Ying sighs, relieved and content.

It’s a slow, comfortable drag. When Lan Zhan does add a second finger, Wei Ying shudders. 

“Yes, good boy,” he says, mouth moving entirely independently of his brain. “Please, yes.”

“You do not need to beg,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Oh, thank you,” Wei Ying says, genuinely relieved. “I’m just so - I just want to feel you, fuck.”

Lan Zhan’s fingers are incredible. They’re so strong, so tireless. He is, after all, a doctor of music. Or whatever his actual degree is. 

Lan Zhan watches him avidly while Wei Ying just - just lies there. Getting fingerbanged. 

It’s so good that he gives up on trying to perform at all, even though that’s like, his favorite thing to do in bed. He sighs and goes slack, letting himself shake a little bit. 

With a quiet groan, Lan Zhan says, “Next time, I want you in my lap.”

All Wei Ying can say to that is, “Fuck, I - fuck,” because the alternative is to say Fuck, I love you, and he can’t, can’t say that, he’s not allowed. 

Lan Zhan’s careful, clever fingers might be enough to push him over the edge, but it would take time, and he’s focused on just feeling good right now. He pulls on his own cock until he comes, trembling apart on Lan Zhan’s fingertips.

“You like that I’m not wearing underwear, right?” Wei Ying asks. “Wanna creampie me?”

A sound of disapproval. “That is an intensely unappealing term,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Oh, Lan Zhan disapproves of my vocabulary,” Wei Ying says. “So Lan Zhan doesn’t want me to turn over and let him flip up my skirt and -”

Lan Zhan turns him over and flips up his skirt. He spreads Wei Ying open a little bit. 

“Can I help?” Wei Ying asks, intending to do no such thing. 

“You are helping,” Lan Zhan says. There are slick jerk-off sounds happening somewhere behind Wei Ying. 

“But how could I possibly be helping?” Wei Ying asks. “I’m just lying here, being so, so lazy, Lan Zhan.”

“You know what you look like,” Lan Zhan retorts, voice taut. 

“Yeah, I do,” Wei Ying says. He wiggles his ass a little bit before deciding that it’s too much work. 

Quickly enough, Lan Zhan gives a short groan and comes. He leans down to kiss Wei Ying, who drags him in closer. 

“You’ll get messy,” Lan Zhan says. 

“They’re just clothes,” Wei Ying huffs, but he lets Lan Zhan pad off to the bathroom and come back to clean him up. 

“Thank you, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says after he’s finished. “Now please drop the towel on the floor and -” he makes grabby fingers at him. 

Lan Zhan does so, miracle of miracles, and obligingly slides into bed alongside him. 

“Good boy, so sweet to me,” Wei Ying says. Lan Zhan kisses his hair and allows Wei Ying to snuggle up to him. 

You might break my heart, Wei Ying thinks blearily. Right now, he can’t make himself worry about it. 

—

Game night in March involves a lot of Guinness and several nail-biting rounds of Sushi Go! plus expansion packs. Everyone has a lot of fun, Wei Ying included.

At one point, Lan Zhan catches him staring. He hadn’t even realized that he was doing it until Lan Zhan was looking back. 

Lan Zhan quirks a non-smile.

Wei Ying grins. 

He lets himself think, for a moment, about what it would be like to just take Lan Zhan home at the end of the night, without anyone caring at all. 

He thinks that even if it didn’t cause a stir, even if no one was surprised, it would feel really good to be able to wave goodbye to their friends, head held high, and head home with Lan Zhan. 

—

And yet.

All good things must come to an end, as it turns out. 

He repeats his last outfit for what ends up being their final hookup. He spreads his legs and stretches out and has Lan Zhan fuck him in in the missionary position in low light. It’s hot and sweet and fast. Lan Zhan looks him in the eye and kisses his mouth and touches his cock under his skirt. 

He calls Wei Ying pretty girl. He makes sure that Wei Ying comes first. 

When they’re done, he delicately licks his thumb and rubs a trace of eyeliner off of Wei Ying’s temple so gently that Wei Ying wants to cry.

—

Before Lan Zhan leaves the next morning, Wei Ying talks to him. “I think you’re - I need to be with someone who isn’t going to see gender as this like, thing between us,” Wei Ying says. “Between me and the person I’m with. I think you’re perfect, if you just - if you can see a way to - rethink - but if you can’t, then. I might have to. Say goodbye,” he finishes. 

“I see,” Lan Zhan says. Then, horribly, “I’m sorry.” Crushingly, he seems to mean it. He looks - his mouth is fully turned down, his eyes are ever so slightly too bright, and his posture is pulled inwards. “I hope you can,” he begins, and then he can’t even fucking finish what he was saying, even though it’s Lan Zhan and he always finishes what he starts. “Find that person soon,” he concludes. He’s almost, almost spitting it out. Not like he’s angry. But like it tastes bad in his mouth. 

Wei Ying nods, not trusting himself to say anything. 

Lan Zhan moves a hand towards him, like he’s going to reel him in, and then snatches it back like something burned him. 

“I must leave,” Lan Zhan says quietly, woodenly, and it’s awful. It’s suddenly, just, so awful. 

Wei Ying nods. He walks with him to the door. He lets him out without a fucking word, without looking at him, even when he does the hand thing a second time. He looks over his shoulder at nothing as Lan Zhan walks past him out the door, and then he closes it too loudly and sits on the floor and tears up where no one can see him. 

—

Wei Ying also tears up when he tells Nie Huaisang. He sighs sympathetically and watches old Bravo series with him all night. Nie Huaisang is one of the few people he knows who pays for actual TV in some way, and he does it exclusively for Bravo access. 

“I feel so dumb,” Wei Ying says. “I haven’t gone on any dates in. A long time. I haven’t even tried to hook up with anyone. And for what? Nothing.”

“Shh,” Nie Huaisang says. “You’re not dumb. You were hopeful.”

“Thanks,” Wei Ying says miserably.

He must look pathetic, because Nie Huaisang doesn’t remind him that he said it might end this way. He must look beyond pathetic, actually, because Nie Huaisang sighs sympathetically when they’re both two bottles of wine in (ah, the pain of being a heavyweight) and propositions him. “You want to fuck?” 

They’ve slept together after a few of their breakups, always at the height of the tops aren’t shit stage of relationship grief. Once, they did it to give Nie Huaisang next-level hickies that he could flash at his ex at the gym.

Wei Ying considers it for a moment. “Nah,” he says.

“Wow,” Nie Huaisang says, sounding impressed. “You’re bummed out.”

“I am,” Wei Ying admits. “Ask me again next month, though.”

“That’s rough, buddy,” Nie Huaisang says. He pats Wei Ying’s head. 

“Thanks,” Wei Ying says. 

“Any time,” Nie Huaisang says. “How about Vanderpump?”

“Fuck Vanderpump,” Wei Ying says. “Below Deck or bust.”

“You’re a madman,” Nie Huaisang says fondly, and puts it on.

—

He skips their next game night, texting Nie Huaisang the day before that he’s just super slammed at work, which is a lie. 

> NHS: Small crowd this time!

> NHS: Lan Zhan can’t come either

—

Now that there are no boundaries left to cross other than those of self-respect, Wei Ying jerks off thinking about Lan Zhan. About Lan Zhan blowing him. About Lan Zhan letting Wei Ying finger him. All of the stuff they never got to do. 

More pathetically, he jerks off thinking about Lan Zhan wanting him in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Or in work clothes, or basketball shorts. Jeans, swim trunks, what-fucking-ever. He thinks about Lan Zhan wanting the normal, everyday Wei Ying. It’s just as much of a fantasy as anything they did together was.

—

Seeing Lan Zhan at game night in May doesn’t hurt as much as Wei Ying thought it would. If he feels anything beyond the nonspecific embarrassment caused by kind rejection, it’s relief. He’s glad that he didn’t push Lan Zhan away from this. And he’s also pathetically glad that Lan Zhan still, like, exists. Hasn’t vanished like a mirage. 

—

He makes a little bit of progress on his wifi-enabled spirit lures and fully types out a message to Lan Zhan about it, then deletes it and throws his phone onto his office couch. 

—

Months pass. They keep seeing each other in group contexts. It keeps being okay. 

Lan Zhan is distressingly un-awkward around Wei Ying. He’s his same courteous, quiet self. Just once, in June, Wei Ying catches Lan Zhan looking at him. It’s not his normal stare. Maybe it’s more searching? Wei Ying can’t tell what it’s about. He looks down at his cards as soon as Wei Ying spots him doing it. 

Wei Ying knew that hooking up with a straight guy was risky. Getting railed, getting his feelings hurt, and getting to keep everything else the same is probably the best he could have hoped for. 

Life goes on. 

—

In June, at another game night, they’re playing a game with stupidly involved math.  

Lan Zhan and Wen Qing are sitting next to one another across from Wei Ying. They’ve been trading quiet asides back and forth. He’s not keeping tabs on Lan Zhan. It’s more embarrassing. He just likes seeing him. 

On his next turn, Lan Zhan gestures to Wen Qing and says softly to the table, “We’re both too gay to calculate our points.” Wen Qing nods solemnly.

Wei Ying chokes on his drink. Lan Zhan snaps to him. 

“What?” Wei Ying asks raspily when his throat clears. 

Lan Zhan looks at him blankly, then becomes pinker, chagrined in a split-second, like he realized something. “The math is too hard,” he says. 

MianMian kindly starts totalling up Lan Zhan’s points for him. 

“Wh - what do you mean, you’re gay?” Wei Ying asks, at a total loss.

Lan Zhan is, for a moment, apparently speechless. Wen Qing is looking between them with some concern. 

Xiao Xingchen, on the other hand, looks like Christmas came early. 

“I am a Kinsey s - five point nine seven five,” Lan Zhan says, sounding pained. 

“Oh,” Wei Ying says faintly.

MianMian moves on to Wen Qing’s points. 

“What did you think?” Nie Huaisang asks, apparently amazed, as though Wei Ying should have known this, as though this is something that people know. 

“I - I thought you were straight,” Wei Ying says, speaking directly to Lan Zhan. He feels terribly off-balance. 

Lan Zhan glances to the ceiling. 

Wen Ning looks like he would like to melt into the floor.

Wen Qing scoffs and says, “Wei Ying.” It has the cadence of oh, you. 

“How about I keep score for everyone next round?” MianMian asks the table. 

It suffices to move the game forward, even though absolutely nothing is resolved to Wei Ying’s satisfaction. 

That night, the ever-timely and regulated Lan Zhan leaves Nie Huaisang’s an hour earlier than usual. 

—

Nie Huaisang lets Wei Ying go at the end of the night without asking questions. He messages him an hour later, though. 

> NHS: Hey what the fuck

> WY: I know but let me get my shit figured out first

> NHS: Love that journey for you

—

The next day, Wei Ying forces himself to reach out to Lan Zhan. 

> WY: You busy? Home?

> LZ: Not busy. At home.

> WY: Cool. Could I come over? I just want to talk. 

> LZ: Yes. 

—

Lan Zhan’s building is huge and fancy. It does not escape Wei Ying that he also lives in the gayborhood of lower northwest New Caiyi Town. 

“Huh,” Wei Ying says when Lan Zhan lets him in. “You’ve been to mine so many times and I - I’ve never seen where you live.” 

Lan Zhan moves aside to give Wei Ying a complete view. His apartment is sparse, but not totally impersonal. It’s all blue and grey and white and dark wood and huge windows.

“How can you even afford this?” Wei Ying asks. “You’re an adjunct professor.”

“Ah, the Lans have... family money,” Lan Zhan admits, looking slightly uncomfortable or embarrassed to say so. He never looked like that when he was saying nasty shit in bed with Wei Ying.

“Family money?” Wei Ying asks, head still on a swivel. “Wait. Like. Crazy Rich Asians family money?”

Lan Zhan looks carefully blank. “I don’t know what that is,” he says. Wei Ying studies him. 

“You’re totally lying,” he says, amused despite himself. 

Lan Zhan pauses and then says, “Not money like that.”

“That’s probably good. I think they were all oil magnates or something. Here.”

He hands Lan Zhan the twelve pack of coconut La Croix he picked up on the way over. He’s only realizing now that he nearly pushed his thigh against Lan Zhan’s cock the last time they talked about this particular beverage. “Uh, I just wanted to - it’s not like, a weird thing, I just - you know, I - wanted to do something nice. Bring stuff. Because. Yeah.”

Lan Zhan opens his mouth, then appears to catch himself. “Thank you,” he says. He seems roundly unsure of how to respond to such fractured speech. “Please,” he says, gesturing towards a sitting area. “Water? Tea? La Croix? I have berry right now. And, ah, room temperature coconut.” 

It is, for Lan Zhan, nearly a ramble.  

Wei Ying shakes his head and sits in an armchair, folding his legs underneath himself. 

Lan Zhan sits at the end of a sofa. It’s the seat closest to Wei Ying. He proceeds to say absolutely nothing. 

To be fair, Wei Ying also says nothing at first. He can’t come up with an intro. How have you been since we stopped doing the do? What are your weekend plans? No. 

He gives up. 

“So you’re gay,” Wei Ying says.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says gravely. He does not say anything more helpful. 

Suddenly, Wei Ying is a little pissed off. “I think I deserve an explanation,” he says, all false-casual bravado.

“I do not understand,” Lan Zhan says, with a facial expression that Wei Ying doesn’t understand. Wei Ying barely resists rolling his eyes.

“Why - is this some sort of masc4masc thing? I’m good enough to fuck but you wouldn’t want a relationship with someone who - what? I’d get it if you were straight, that’s unavoidable, but if you’re gay, like, did you just - not like me like that?” Wei Ying asks.

Lan Zhan listens to him with a face like he’s trying to calculate points. Wei Ying knows it well. “I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan says after a pause. He reaches out to touch Wei Ying’s arm. 

Wei Ying gently bats him away. “No, really, what the fuck?”

A minute cringe backwards, there and gone. “I think I misunderstood,” Lan Zhan says after a pause. “You said. You need to be with someone who does not see gender,” he says, which is absolutely not true. “Who won’t see gender as a barrier,” Lan Zhan clarifies. Still incorrectly.

Wei Ying tells him this, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I said I need someone who doesn’t see the fact that I’m a man as a barrier to us being together,” he says. “Which it should not be, if you are gay.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “I apologize. I misunderstood.”

“What?” Wei Ying asks dumbly. 

“To be fair,” Lan Zhan says, looking him in the eye for the first time. His eyes are glassy, but his mouth might have the faintest uptick. “I assumed, when you propositioned me in a skirt at a gay Halloween party, that you knew I was gay.”

“What… did you mean… when you said you were sorry and left?” Wei Ying asks slowly.

“I thought you meant that I was too gay to keep sleeping with you,” Lan Zhan says, with all apparent seriousness. 

What. “That makes no sense,” Wei Ying says faintly. 

Lan Zhan looks down at his hands. “It became - it seemed apparent, when you kept... dressing up for our time together, that... for you, sex was also... a rather complicated matter... of gender.” He looks almost winded by that long speech, blinking uncertainly. “I thought... you had found that I was... not the correct person with whom to share that.” 

Oh, no. What? No. “... You thought I was too much of a woman to keep hooking up with.”

“I thought that you said so,” Lan Zhan agrees. 

Wei Ying is dumbfounded for a moment. He puts his head in his hands. He takes a breath. Two breaths.

“Lan Zhaaan,” he says. “Is that cute? I think that might be really cute. Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan, you’re gay.” 

Lan Zhan nods. 

“There’s... a lot we need to figure out here,” Wei Ying says. “Would you still…” He trails off, hoping he doesn’t have to finish. 

No luck. Lan Zhan is listening, all respectful and patient. It’s awful. 

“Would you still be into me when I’m just,” he gestures at himself. 

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. He’s staring again. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, unfolding his legs. “Good.”

Lan Zhan is looking at him. “Good?” he asks. 

Wei Ying nods and leans forward. Lan Zhan reaches out again. Wei Ying takes his hand and pulls them both up. 

They look at each other for a moment, and then Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying gently into his arms and kisses the top of his head. Wei Ying melts straight into it, fisting his hands in Lan Zhan’s button-down, which he is wearing even though it’s a Saturday and he’s at home.

Lan Zhan runs a thumb underneath Wei Ying’s jaw, tipping his face up, and kisses him.

It’s warm and a little bit breathless. They’re pressed fully together, nothing but clothes between them. 

“I think we need to talk more about this. In like thirty minutes,” he says against Lan Zhan’s lips when he pulls away. He puts his arms on Lan Zhan’s shoulders. 

“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees, and lifts him up by the thighs. 

—

Lan Zhan dumps him onto his bed. It’s softer than Wei Ying’s. His bedroom is full of dull blues and greys. It’s less cheerful than Wei Ying’s bedroom, but more soothing. 

“Take this off,” Wei Ying whines, pawing at Lan Zhan’s button-up. “I can’t believe you wear your office drone clothes around your house on a weekend. Who even are you?”

Lan Zhan quickly unbuttons and pulls it off, then his undershirt. He drops them on the floor. 

“You,” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying laughs. “I thought about you fucking me while I was wearing normal clothes,” he admits, taking off his jacket. 

Lan Zhan pauses while undoing his belt, which is a hell of a picture. There’s a familiar look on his face, cautious and guarded, that Wei Ying hadn’t realized was missing until this moment. “If you - need to be wearing clothes during sex. That is fine with me,” he says. 

Wei Ying stares at him, yanks his own t-shirt off, and stares at him some more. Then he stands and starts working on his stupidly tight pants. “You’re too nice, Lan Zhan,” he says. “I can’t believe I ever thought that you were - it would be fucking weird, Lan Zhan, I’m not a never nude, what the fuck.” He punctuates this statement by freeing himself from his denim-viscose blend prison. Then he sheds his underwear and collapses back on Lan Zhan’s bed.

“You are always clothed when we do this,” Lan Zhan says. The guarded look is at least half gone. 

“Yes, because someone was - why the fuck are we talking, take off your pants,” Wei Ying says, exasperated. 

Lan Zhan almost, almost smirks and does so. 

They make out pressed together chest-to-hip, their soft and then not-so-soft cocks brushing against each others’ thighs. 

“Do you have lube?” Wei Ying asks. He does actually feel way more exposed than he has with Lan Zhan in the past. 

Lan Zhan leans over him and digs some out of his nightstand. “What do you want?” he asks, like asking for lube isn’t self-explanatory. 

“What do you want?” Wei Ying challenges. 

Lan Zhan hesitates. “Can I - is oral -?”

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, resolving to be extremely clear and verbal about his desires in bed for the foreseeable future. 

He reaches up and brushes Lan Zhan’s mouth with his thumb. Lan Zhan kisses it and then goes straight down to Wei Ying’s inner thigh and sucks a hickey there for what feels like several minutes, occasionally pulling off and looking at him with lidded eyes. 

“Finger me,” Wei Ying says. 

Lan Zhan bites him, almost certainly by accident. Then he gamely slicks up his fingers and goes for it. They’re long and elegant and sure inside of him, petting and carefully prodding. He’s opened Wei Ying up before, but never with just his hands. It’s not as efficient, but it’s nice. Being on his back feels more intimate. 

Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying into his mouth when Wei Ying whines about it. 

And fuck, he’s good at this. Way better than Wei Ying had ever thought he would be. Because he’s gay, Wei Ying remembers, still amazed. And has done this before. It takes very little time for Wei Ying to come down Lan Zhan’s throat, and even less for Lan Zhan to lean over him and kiss him while he strips his cock until he comes on Wei Ying’s stomach, Wei Ying chanting, “Yes, yes, yes.”

—

Lounging in bed, waiting for delivery that Lan Zhan ordered, because he’s rich, they chat.

“This mistake has happened before,” Lan Zhan says. 

Wei Ying feels his eyes bug out. 

Lan Zhan shakes his head rapidly. “Not this,” he says, gesturing between them. “The misunderstanding. People can’t always tell that I’m gay,” he says, and the way he says it - quieter still, and hesitant - means something. “I don’t understand why.”

“I guess I thought that you - you wear khakis? And button downs?” Wei Ying says, feeling bad. “When I put it like that, it’s not really conclusive, huh.”

“... Lesbians wear khaki,” Lan Zhan says to himself, softly, almost surly, like he has delivered this argument before. 

Wei Ying snorts out a giggle before he can stop himself. “Oh, shit, no, I’m sorry, you’re just really cute,” he says. 

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says seriously.

It sets Wei Ying off again.

“I think that you are cute,” Lan Zhan says in the same tone. 

“Oh, you can’t just say things like that,” Wei Ying says, hiding his face in his hands. “Haven’t I told you by now that you have to warn me?”

Lan Zhan pulls his hands away and kisses his cheek, and then his mouth, and then they lose a little more time.

—

When their food actually arrives and they have something to occupy their mouths and hands that isn’t each other, conversation resumes. 

(After an interlude where Lan Zhan insists on putting on actual, real pajama pants- so he does own some comfortable clothing - and that Wei Ying does, too. It was on the grounds that if they were naked, they would get distracted. Wei Ying readily agreed. He borrows a pair of Lan Zhan’s pajama pants, because it takes like ten minutes for him to put his jeans back on. And it turns out that wearing Lan Zhan’s clothing isn’t distraction-free either. His life, so hard.)

“When you singled me out and flirted with me,” Lan Zhan says, “I was excited. That you wanted me.”

“Aw,” Wei Ying says. 

“I thought - you must not have paid me any mind at the monthly get-togethers because that wasn’t the right context.”

“You weren’t wrong,” Wei Ying says. “I wouldn’t have like, asked for your cock in the middle of a round of Tortuga.”

Lan Zhan nods. 

Sensing something there, Wei Ying asks, “What else?”

“Nothing else,” Lan Zhan says. “I was excited. I thought you had... seen me,” he says.

“I saw you check me out that night,” Wei Ying agrees.

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Seen me,” he reiterates. “Who I was.” He swallows. 

Oh. “Oh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “You - oh, I really like you,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t get it. You know, I pay a ton of attention to you on game nights. That’s how I know you were lying about Crazy Rich Asians.”

Lan Zhan exhales in amusement at the dig. “My brother made me see it with him,” he says. 

“I like everything I hear about him,” Wei Ying muses. “But no, okay, when we play team games I always tell Nie Huaisang to put me on your team. But I say the name of a different member of your team so it isn’t weird that I’m singling you out even though we don’t really hang out,” Wei Ying tells him. 

“No need,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Well, not now that I know you’re - wait, were you even trying to keep this a secret at all?”

“Of course. It seemed private. For you,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Oh, hell, you were like, fully protecting my identity, weren’t you?”

Lan Zhan shrugs stiffly. 

“No, Lan Zhan, it’s just - that’s so sweet. I mean, I’m the one who did the bulk of the embarrassing stuff, here, don’t be embarrassed.”

“Not embarrassing,” Lan Zhan says to him, seriously, the way he gets sometimes. 

“I liked it, too,” Wei Ying says. “Did you - wow, were the last six-ish months just wildly confusing for you?”

He opens and closes his mouth. “Yes.” 

“What was confusing?”

Lan Zhan hesitates. 

“C’mon, there was a lot of like - oh, shit,” Wei Ying snorts. “You’re gay, and I was all, like, ‘Play with my tits, this is in your comfort zone.’”

Lan Zhan nods. “Yes. Confusing.”

“Yeah? It was just hot for me.”

“Exactly.”

“Ah?”

“I have never wanted to play with tits, as you say,” Lan Zhan says. 

After letting out an involuntary snort at Lan Zhan saying tits, Wei Ying asks, “Never? Really?” It’s hard to imagine. 

Lan Zhan shakes his head definitively.

“Like, not even once? I believe you, but you did a great job of convincing me otherwise.”

“I liked it with you.”

“I’m too bi to fully grasp that, I think,” Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan looks at him, waiting.

“Grasp,” Wei Ying says softly. It was obligatory. “Pun not intended.”

“Does that qualify as a pun?” Lan Zhan asks. It is rhetorical, bitchy, delightful. 

“Nope, sorry, you were telling me how my tits rocked your world,” Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as some sort of acknowledgement to himself. “It was good,” he says when his usual calm expression is back, “but strange.”

Wei Ying nods. That’s understandable. 

“I had never contemplated such a thing,” Lan Zhan says. 

“I’m sorry that you had to like, question things,” Wei Ying says. “That sounds kind of unsettling.”

“Strange, yes. Not… distressing.”

“Oh, shit,” Wei Ying says, realizing something. “You’ve never wanted to play with tits before, like, at all? Right?”

Lan Zhan nods. 

“Wow, okay, so is that - is it a thing for you? Crossdressing stuff?”

“I don’t understand,” Lan Zhan says earnestly.

“Just, have you been into it before? Is it your go-to kink, or is it in the rotation, or?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. “I appreciate… delicacy… but this was new to me.”

“Okay, cool, that’s - just, I asked Nie Huaisang what he thought was going on a few months ago - not with your name or anything! I can be sneaky - and he wondered if you were a chaser.”

Lan Zhan chokes on a mouthful of tofu gyoza. “I am definitely not.” He swallows and pats his mouth with a napkin. “You spoke about me?”

“I could have bragged,” Wei Ying realizes. “Lan Zhan, I missed out on so much bragging. If only I hadn’t underestimated your queer bona fides.”

“People do. It is fine,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Well, if you just take me everywhere, then people will get the message, probably,” Wei Ying says. He looks at his nails, allowing himself a moment of shyness. “And I’ll have new chances to brag.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. His voice is very serious, as though he is responding to a question, not just agreeing with a statement. 

“Okay,” Wei Ying says. He smiles. 

—

Wei Ying’s belly is full. His head is newly free of several ongoing anxieties. Lan Zhan, too, looks relieved. They happily fall into a nap in Lan Zhan’s bed after they eat.

Wei Ying wakes up when Lan Zhan sits straight up in bed, a caricature of realization. 

“You thought I was straight,” Lan Zhan says. 

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says.

Lan Zhan passes a hand over his face. “Last summer. You told me about how much you like sleeping with straight men.”

“Huh,” Wei Ying says, squinting like it’ll help him put it together. “I kind of vaguely remember that?” Running his mouth, mostly, in the kitchen. Where all great one-on-one conversations take place during group hangs. 

“Were you hitting on me?” Lan Zhan asks. Wei Ying thinks that his expression might be the Lan Zhan equivalent of the exploding brain meme. 

“I’m sure I was,” Wei Ying says. “I don’t think I expected you to take me up on it, but I tried it with you on Halloween and it worked, so you can’t say it’s a totally broken system.”

“You were hitting on me,” Lan Zhan says to himself. “I thought you were - trying to give me advice.”

“On fucking straight guys? I hadn’t ever fucked a straight guy. Still haven’t, as it turns out.”

“You strongly implied that you had,” Lan Zhan says. His jaw is very firm.

Wei Ying gasps. “Do I detect a bitter edge? Lan Zhan, I don’t remember it but I’m sure I was coming on to you. When a queer person tells a straight person how much they like to fuck straight people, they’re hitting on them.”

Lan Zhan’s expression smooths out. 

“Ooh, hey, could we roleplay you as a straight guy, though, some time?” Wei Ying asks. “I get that I’ve been doing that one-sided for like… several months, but what if you were the straight guy and I was the high femme you picked up, and you were like, ‘Oh, fuck, baby, I’ve never had a girl this good.’ You know? And oh, wow, you’d be wearing a watch. A big, expensive watch. You could finger me while wearing the watch.”

“... I would like for us to be only ourselves for some time,” Lan Zhan says.

“Yeah, that’s pretty good too,” Wei Ying says, looking at Lan Zhan’s chiseled shoulders.

Lan Zhan concedes, “But eventually, yes.”

Score.

—

Now that they’re both awake, Wei Ying sees no reason to snooze. He sees one very good reason (Lan Zhan’s everything) to mess around some more. 

They make out, hot and heavy. 

“You’ll still call me pretty sometimes, right?” Wei Ying whispers into Lan Zhan’s mouth.

“Whenever you want,” Lan Zhan says. He kisses Wei Ying’s neck. “Pretty,” he says. He moves up to Wei Ying’s ear, kisses him again, and repeats, “Pretty.”

Wei Ying pulls off his borrowed pants, lest Lan Zhan think he wants either of them to be anything other than entirely naked. 

His hand drifts to Lan Zhan’s erection when it leaks onto his thigh. Lan Zhan grabs Wei Ying’s in kind. They jerk each other off breathlessly, still trying to make out. Mostly biting one another’s lips. 

“You first this time,” Wei Ying says. He rubs his thumb under the head of Lan Zhan’s cock. “I want to feel you in my hands.”

Lan Zhan comes easily, fucking Wei Ying’s fist. His hand tightens unconsciously on Wei Ying’s cock. Wei Ying wraps a hand around Lan Zhan’s and uses it to jerk himself slowly until Lan Zhan has it together enough to finish him off. 

When Wei Ying comes, Lan Zhan still whispers, “Very pretty.”

—

They break back into the food that they hadn’t finished before.Wei Ying has the distinct impression that this is the most eating in bed Lan Zhan has ever done in his life. He’s thrilled to be breaking this boundary with him. Lan Zhan needs to get inured to the idea if he’s going to keep Wei Ying around.

Lan Zhan clears his throat. “What we do together did not come up in my past” - Wei Ying is convinced that he’s about to say dalliances - “relationships.”

“I thought you were going to call them dalliances,” Wei Ying says.

“My past dalliances, if you like,” Lan Zhan says with a sly straight face. “They did not involve - sex was not creative.”

“Really? But you came to bed with ideas,” Wei Ying says. “Good ones.”

“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says, because he is stupidly polte. “I do not qualify for the, as you say, masc4masc thing, but I attract somewhat conservative types. It does not allow for much in the way of - talking in bed, and fun, and variety.” This is so much talking for Lan Zhan. 

Wei Ying swallows a bite of food hurriedly. “Do you like to switch?”

“No, but I’m open to it,” Lan Zhan says. “I’d like to have the option.”

“My brain is like, overheating right now.”

Lan Zhan swallows and looks a little embarrassed. “Playing with gender was exciting. Overtly queer. I... wondered. You seemed, ah, uncomfortable talking about it. Or not ready.”

“That is so fucking sweet. Ugh. Stop being cute. I just spent a lot of time worrying that I would scare you off with my dick.”

Lan Zhan’s smiling a little. “So far in life, I have not been scared off by anyone’s genitals. I’ll admit greater familiarity with cocks, though.” 

A joke. That was totally, absolutely a joke.

A strange look comes over Lan Zhan’s face. “Is that why I wasn’t allowed to touch you?”

“What, like - oh, totally, yeah. I just didn’t want to freak you out. You know, I really thought I’d seduced a straight guy? Which is such a porn fantasy.”

Lan Zhan nods, guarded. 

“And then I spent like the whole time wishing you would just accept that there was a tiny gay corner of your heart for me.” He makes a heart with his hands to demonstrate.

“I think my whole heart is gay,” Lan Zhan says.

“Fuck, why are you funny? Why didn’t I know you were funny for so long?”

Lan Zhan shrugs, looking pleased. Then his phone goes off.

“Bunnies,” Lan Zhan says nonsensically. 

Wei Ying nods in agreement, catches himself, and tilts his head. “What?”

“It is time to socialize the bunnies,” Lan Zhan says solemnly, then tacks on, “I have bunnies.”

“You have… like, animal bunnies?” Wei Ying asks. 

Lan Zhan nods, puts his pajama pants back on and gestures for Wei Ying to do the same. Then he leads Wei Ying to a room with a large carpeted cage and nothing else, like he cleared it just for this. In the cage are two bunnies, one black and one white. “Ah,” Wei Ying says. “Ah? When - I didn’t know you had bunnies?” he says. His chest is doing something weird. Like his feelings are hurt. But that’s dumb.

“I wanted to tell you,” Lan Zhan says. “They’re new. I got them after we stopped.”

“Okay,” Wei Ying says, relieved. They weren’t secret bunnies. “Are they just yours? Not fostering or anything?” he asks. 

“Foster-to-adopt,” Lan Zhan says. “If they can be separated, they will be easier for the rescue group to adopt out. Otherwise, I will keep them.” He kneels and opens up the cage, but doesn’t reach inside. The black one scurries up to him. 

“Separated?” Wei Ying asks. 

“They are probably a bonded pair,” Lan Zhan says. “After they are settled here, I will separate them for two days. If they exhibit signs of distress, then they will stay together.”

“Aw, is that how bunny marriage happens?” Wei Ying asks, sitting beside him. “Are you gonna miss your bunny wife, little guy?” he asks, reaching out toward the black one, which is now curled up in Lan Zhan’s arms. The bunny shrinks back. 

“They are both boys. Slow,” Lan Zhan says. “Let them come to you.”

Wei Ying tries to be very still and not move or breathe. 

“We can still speak,” Lan Zhan says, totally flat. 

“Lan Zhan,” he squeaks. “You have gay rabbits? What are their names?” 

“Mr. Pickles is a sable,” Lan Zhan says, stroking the black bunny. He points to the white one with his elbow and says, “Sunshine is an American mix.”

Seeing a shirtless Lan Zhan carefully, gently hold and pet a bunny is… a lot. The bunny looks content in his arms, almost sleepy. 

Sunshine edges out of the cage while Wei Ying ogles Lan Zhan. She hangs out by his knee.

“Those are… names,” Wei Ying says.

“They bonded at the rescue,” Lan Zhan says. “They were not named together.”

Sunshine puts his little paws on Wei Ying’s knee and wiggles his nose like a cartoon. “Ah. I love them,” Wei Ying announces. “They are babies and they are perfect.”

“They are adults,” Lan Zhan says.

“Yes, and they are babies, and they are perfect,” Wei Ying says. “Honestly, it’s like no one ever taught you baby talk. I’m excited, okay. I couldn’t have pets when I was a kid.” Jiang Cheng wouldn’t have taken it well, given the dogs he had to give up.

“Neither could I,” Lan Zhan says. That doesn’t surprise Wei Ying. 

He holds still while Sunshine scrambles up onto his knee. Lan Zhan shows him how to pick him up and hold him. He zones out for a while, petting Sunshine’s ears carefully and enjoying the weight of him. 

Breaking the comfortable, bunny-occupied silence, Wei Ying asks, “Wait, so. You thought I knew you were gay when I hit on you. Which makes perfect sense, and I’m very sorry. When did you start thinking that I was like, doing gender exploration?”

“I think drag counts as gender exploration,” Lan Zhan says thoughtfully, and then visibly walks it back. “Not that I would presume to call it -”

“No, drag is the right word,” Wei Ying says, nodding. “And yeah, I guess that’s true. I do feel like I’m, y’know, a girl when I’m in drag. That’s the whole point. But not... like. I mean, it seems like you thought I was…” he searches for a euphemism. “Uh, on a journey.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “Drag seemed fundamental to your comfort. And you have a whole seasonal array of costumes.”

Wei Ying coughs. “Ah. I may have. Gotten some of them. For our - you.”

“Which?” Lan Zhan asks. 

“Is it important?” Wei Ying asks. 

“No,” Lan Zhan says simply. Like he’s totally good with Wei Ying cultivating an air of mystery. Which makes sense, because it turns out that Wei Ying’s been accidentally doing exactly that for over six months. 

“You begged me to call you a pretty girl,” he says. Wei Ying’s cock twitches. A betrayal. 

Ignoring it, Wei Ying says, “You said girl before I did.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “And then you begged for it.”

“Fuck off,” Wei Ying says, face burning. 

Lan Zhan goes on. “You wouldn’t let me touch you. Or see you. It obviously made you uncomfortable. There could be many reasons for that, but given the circumstances…”

“It made perfect sense for it to be a whole gender thing, yeah. Gods, this is embarrassing. I honestly just thought you might leave if you remembered that I had a dick.”

Lan Zhan levels a look at him.

Wei Ying looks back.

“Who did you sleep with who fled when they remembered that you had genitals?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying cracks up. “I don’t know the rules for fucking straight guys, okay? I was making it up as I went.”

They smile at each other. It’s cute.

The bunnies nose at one another, which is also extremely cute.

“I was honored when you let me touch you,” Lan Zhan says, as though that’s a normal and fine thing to say while making actual eye contact with someone. 

Wei Ying shuts his eyes tight and holds his breath for ten seconds before letting it out in a huff. “Warn me. Lan Zhan. Have mercy. Warn me before you say something like that.”

Lan Zhan clears his throat. “I must warn you, Wei Ying,” he says. “That I was honored when you let me touch you. I took that as a show of trust.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying stage whispers sharply. “More warning than that. Phew. Okay. I did trust you, even if it wasn’t about that? I am fully aware that fucking a straight guy could go really badly. But you kept being nice. So like, I trusted that you wouldn’t hold it against me afterwards.”

“Thank you.” Lan Zhan says. He puts his hand on Wei Ying’s wrist. “If you were - not a man. Any number of other things. I still wanted you. I don’t think I could date a woman, but I might have tried. If you told me that you were, and you wanted me. If you were fine with me being unsure.”

“Ugh, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, embarrassed by this show of sincerity. He bumps his forehead against Lan Zhan’s shoulder affectionately, trying not to jostle Sunshine or Mr. Pickles. “Gay.”

Lan Zhan looks at him fondly.

Wei Ying continues, “I guess you weren’t wholly wrong? Like. When I’m in drag I am a girl. For sure. But unless I’m actively doing drag, I am entirely a man, no rewriting of orientation required.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth quirks up at one corner, just the tiniest bit. 

“Wait, here, okay. Listen. Lan Zhan. Hello,” Wei Ying says. 

“Hello,” Lan Zhan replies, amused.

“My name is Wei Ying. I am a man. I want to date you. I want you to be my boyfriend, and I am hoping, if all goes well, to move you into ambiguous ‘partner’ territory pretty quickly, because I’m in my mid-thirties and that’s what you do. Do you want to date me?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, very seriously, just like when Wei Ying joked about him staying over and Lan Zhan told him he would. 

“Cool,” Wei Ying says. Leaning over Sunshine and Mr. Pickles, he puts a hand under Lan Zhan’s jaw and kisses him. 

—

By the end of July, everyone knows that they’re a couple. Well, their friends, anyway; Wei Ying’s not in the habit of talking to the Jiangs about stuff like this. Telling their friends is Wei Ying’s favorite thing, even if it’s not as excitingly scandalous as Wei Ying had thought it would be back when he believed that Lan Zhan was straight. 

Everyone is nice about it, which gives Wei Ying the warm fuzzies. 

Wen Ning goes, “Oh, awesome, that’s so cool. Hey, is he the one you blew me off for? I’m glad it was him. He’s very nice. You should be with someone nice. You deserve that.”

Wei Ying has to clench his jaw hard and quickly change the subject. He should have known better than to let his guard down; they’ve been very close friends since high school, and he’s seen Wen Ning’s characteristic kindness devastate lesser men. 

Wen Qing, on the other hand, seems at first to think it might be a prank. At the gym one day, he explains that it’s not, but he does it sort of backwards, and says that he realizes she might feel suspicious because of how he originally referred to Lan Zhan as a booty call when he and Wen Ning first spoke about it. It turns out that she didn’t know about him blowing off Wen Ning. He’s so dumb. Wen Ning is a sweetie and a bro. Of course he wouldn’t go around reporting on Wei Ying’s sex life. So then she’s no longer suspicious that Wei Ying is playing a prank on her, but she’s newly suspicious that Lan Zhan is leading Wei Ying on. 

Wei Ying acts annoyed, but he secretly kind of likes it. She’s always been protective of him, especially in queer situations, sort of taking over big sister-style in spaces where Jiang Yanli couldn’t follow. 

She only stops looking at Lan Zhan askance after the first game night where they visibly hold hands in what Wei Ying is sure is a very obnoxiously cute way. It feels cute, anyway. He tries to hold his cards one-handed all night for more hand holding. Actually, it might be annoying for everyone else, because it definitely makes him a slower player? But at least Wen Qing no longer seems to think that Lan Zhan’s going to drop Wei Ying if he doesn’t put out before the spring dance or whatever. She even advises Lan Zhan on a favorable game strategy that night, even though they’re playing Dominion. And she plays Dominion with a very strong emphasis on dominate. 

(“It is nice that she looks out for you,” Lan Zhan says of the whole thing, perfectly sincere. All of these stupidly nice people are surrounding Wei Ying. It’s so terrible.)

Xiao Xingchen catches him in the kitchen that same night and tells him, “Good work.”

“Thanks!” Wei Ying says, quite proud of himself. 

He doesn’t even deflate when Xiao Xingchen says that, thanks to Wei Ying, Song Lan now owes him a bottle of tequila. He might actually be kind of into it. 

Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that, at lunch the next week, MianMian said he’d “Done a nice thing putting Wei Ying out of his misery.”

Of course, before Wei Ying tells any of their other friends, he tells Nie Huaisang. They’re at Nie Huaisang’s place, instead of brunch, even though it’s a weekend at noon and Nie Huaisang does two brunches per weekend. Minimum.

“It’s okay, I was at Eggslut earlier,” Nie Huaisang assures him. “Mimosa?”

Wei Ying accepts happily, and asks, “So. Remember the guy?”

“The straight boy you were fucking who turned out to be known gay man Lan Zhan?”

“Ahaha. Yeah,” Wei Ying says sheepishly. 

“This is on me, you know,” Nie Huaisang muses. “It’s my fault for not pushing you. Da-ge’s always saying A-Sang, let people live their own lives, stop interfering, you’re like the girl from Clueless. And the one time I listen to him and let you have your secrets, it turns out that you desperately need my knowledge and insight.”

“I, too, have learned my lesson,” Wei Ying promises. “I will not keep things from you ever again. My life is an open book, full of many, many dumb mistakes. But a romantic kind of one. Like a romance novel. Full of mistakes.”

“Does he treat you right?” Nie Huaisang asks, in a tone that clearly asks about one very specific kind of treatment. 

“Absolutely,” Wei Ying says, nodding. 

Nie Huaisang nods in approval. Then he tilts his head and says, “Hold up, no, you’re a slut. Does that mean - does Lan Zhan fuck?”

“Like a stallion,” Wei Ying says with perfect sincerity. 

“Wow. Very good,” Nie Huaisang says, eyes wide. “You know I’ve always approved of him.”

“Even before I did,” Wei Ying says. 

“Holy shit, you’re right, I introduced you,” Nie Huaisang says. “I put you in the path of true love. I showed you your future.”

“You’re… not wrong,” Wei Ying says. “Hey, want to be my best man?”

Nie Huaisang gives him a Look. 

“Ah. I - I mean,” Wei Ying backtracks. 

“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this,” Nie Huaisang says. “Yes. I accept. You have to break the news to Wen Ning. Or, ooh, can we co-chair it? I’ll do the bachelor party and he’ll do the other stuff? When we did Wen Qing’s surprise birthday party, he was an excellent accomplice.”

“Speaking of parties,” Wei Ying, partly out of genuine interest and partly to avoid having a heart attack. “Have you started planning yet for Halloween?” 

—

Fast forward to October:

Wei Ying agonized over their Halloween costumes. 

Especially because of how, when he first said he was thinking about it, Lan Zhan asked, “What are we doing?” without missing a beat. 

We. We! A couple’s costume. It’s very exciting.

After much internal debate and some half-hearted double-checking with Lan Zhan (who consistently said “Whatever you want,” which he knows does things to Wei Ying) he settled on something perfect.

He’s wearing a sparkly purple figure skating outfit. It’s all one piece, with an incredibly short skirt (he’s wearing tight black shorts underneath) and a high waist. It flaunts his ass and gives him legs for days.

He has a silver medal and a bouquet of roses.

Lan Zhan is dressed in a wildly beautiful black suit with a conservative shirt and tie. He carries a sign that reads “10.”

The moment of truth was describing it and asking what Lan Zhan thought. “A skater and an… Olympics judge?” he’d asked. He got it, so it was perfect. 

“Michelle Kwan, I guess, because people are going to think Michelle Kwan anyway, and it’s not like she wasn’t fabulous,” Wei Ying says. “Though this isn’t a perfect replica of any of her costumes. What do you think?” 

He poses a little.

Lan Zhan swallows.

Yeah, Wei Ying made the right call with this one.

—

The crowd at this year’s Halloween party is a little bigger than last year’s crowd. Nie Huaisang has set up some batch cocktails, including one with mango and jalapeño slices labeled “Baby’s 35th.” It tastes like lunch. Wei Ying is obsessed.

(Nie Huaisang is wearing full Aloy getup. There’s no wig, but his braids are even more involved than usual, and the costume is seriously elaborate, so he’s unmistakeable anyway.)

Wei Ying doesn’t try to make Halloween all about him, but if people make cocktails about it and squeal “Happy birthday!” when they see him, he can’t stop them. 

Case in point, the Wen siblings, who both hug him and exclaim over his costume. 

Wei Ying runs into the youth from last year, Sizhui, who is twenty three now. He’s wearing a yellow t-shirt and pikachu ears. Wen Qing and Wen Ning are, respectively, Misty and Ash. Turns out that Sizhui is the babiest Wen cousin. 

“We’re so excited that he moved to the city last year,” Wen Qing says. “Most of the Wens are a nightmare, so we try to keep the good ones close.”

Sizhui nods in solemn approval of Wei Ying’s costume and tells him that he loved his performance at the 1998 Olympics.

—

Lan Zhan looks perfectly mortified when Wei Ying asks if he wants to dance, and then squares his shoulders and clenches his jaw and says, “Okay.”

Wei Ying snorts. “You are so sweet, so cute. How about I go dance with strangers and you stand around and watch me?”

Lan Zhan nods, looking deeply relieved. “Have fun,” he says. He brushes a kiss against Wei Ying’s cheek. 

He does have fun. He grinds on people and jumps around and keeps catching Lan Zhan watching him, appraising, approving. 

When he comes back to Lan Zhan, there’s a heat between them. 

They chat with the Wen siblings and a bunch of other people, steadily making their way from the main room to the kitchen to the tiny balcony off of the kitchen. No one else is there. It’s too cold outside. 

Lan Zhan slides an arm around Wei Ying’s waist and kisses him. Wei Ying holds on to Lan Zhan’s lapels and thinks that next year, he might have to find a costume that gets Lan Zhan in a suit with the sleeves rolled up. Hot. 

“Take me home,” Wei Ying says. He loves Halloween but like, who the fuck cares.

Lan Zhan nods eagerly. He makes them stand in the cold for another couple of minutes before they go back indoors. A figure skating outfit hides an erection better than a beautiful suit does, turns out. 

They find Nie Huaisang and start saying their goodbyes. They claim that they’re tired, but Wei Ying guesses that it’s pretty obvious why they’re leaving. That’s okay. He knows Nie Huaisang; he’ll consider it an honor that they left because they wanted to fuck.

Nie Huaisang looks them up and down, then looks around furtively. “I’m only doing this because I want to hang out with you guys and don’t want you to leave yet and it’s your birthday.” He grabs Wei Ying’s palm and puts something in it. “Lock it again when you leave and give me the key back immediately and so help me, if I find come anywhere you are replacing whatever it’s on and your privileges are revoked.”

“SangSang,” Wei Ying says, touched. And then, after thinking about it for a moment, adds, “It’s super weird that your bedroom door has a lock with a key and everything, you know that, right?”

“Da-ge insisted after I broke up with what’s-his-face. I bargained him down from a whole stupid Nie Security fingerprint sensor setup. Fucking go now before someone sees you and thinks it’s a free-for-all,” he urges them. 

Wei Ying taps his nose and grabs Lan Zhan by the wrist, leading him away. 

—

They slide into Nie Huaisang’s bedroom without anyone seeming to really notice. 

Wei Ying locks the door.

He looks up at Lan Zhan, who is bright pink. 

“I think we have to finish in each others’ mouths if we’re playing by Nie Huaisang’s rules,” Wei Ying says, faking a pout.

Lan Zhan kisses him, hard and fast and clumsy. It’s sweet and harsh. He likes Wei Ying’s mouth. Wei Ying likes his mouth. It all works out. 

“What do you want?” Wei Ying asks. 

Lan Zhan pulls away and looks at him. “What did you mean, that first night?”

“When?”

“When you said - last Halloween.”

“Uh, pretty much what we did. Eventually. Uh.” Lan Zhan delicately bites his earlobe. He shivers. “What - I mean, whatever I could get away with.”

It might be too honest. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem put off, though. He never is. It’s amazing. 

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying starts, biting his lip coyly. He looks at Lan Zhan’s semi appraisingly. “I know something I can do with that.”

“Mm,” Lan Zhan says, waiting. 

“Can I - will you let me suck you off? I promise it will be good,” Wei Ying asks, widening his eyes, channelling the version of himself who propositioned Lan Zhan on nothing more than a wild hope and a strong will to tease. The version of himself who mistakenly thinks Lan Zhan is straight and has no expectations. Who thinks anything more than getting his mouth fucked and then jerking himself off in the bathroom is off-limits. Better yet, he channels the version of himself who’s not mistaken and is about to sleep with an actually-straight version of Lan Zhan. A version of Lan Zhan who’s straight but has taken an inexplicable shine to Wei Ying anyway. 

They have an excellent and complicated set of mutual sexual fantasies. There’s a whole multiverse.

He can see Lan Zhan picking up on the fact that Wei Ying is playacting. “Yes,” Lan Zhan says. He’s emoting as much as usual, which is to say not at all, but Wei Ying can tell that he’s acting, too. Normally, he would have pulled Wei Ying in for a kiss already.

“Unbutton your shirt first?” Wei Ying asks, already feeling breathless. “But don’t take off the jacket.”

“... did you plan this?” Lan Zhan asks, breaking character while he unbuttons. “Is this why you told me not to wear an undershirt?”

“I told you not to wear an undershirt because I wanted to do this,” Wei Ying says. He slips two fingers through the gap between two buttons low on Lan Zhan’s stomach. “But shh.”

When Lan Zhan’s shirt is pushed open, his hands go to his belt. 

“No,” Wei Ying says. “Let me, let me.” He gets on his knees and undoes Lan Zhan’s belt much more slowly than he needs to. He stops to look up at Lan Zhan through his lashes three times. Lan Zhan looks back. Looks between Wei Ying - Wei Ying’s mouth - and his own groin. 

He pulls down Lan Zhan’s pants and his boxers just as slowly. His cock pops free, hard and a little wet. 

Wei Ying grabs it at the base. He licks his lips showily. “Push me down on it,” he says. 

Lan Zhan bites out something that might be a swear. His hand lands on Wei Ying’s shoulder and he does, in fact, push him down achingly slowly onto his cock. Wei Ying makes heated eye contact as he sinks his mouth down onto him. When he bumps into his fist, he closes his eyes, fluttering his lashes more than strictly necessary. 

He hums.

Lan Zhan keeps his hand on Wei Ying’s shoulder until Wei Ying can practically taste that he’s close. Wei Ying pulls off, then. 

He licks the tip of Lan Zhan’s cock. Then he kisses it, because it’s there. Because Lan Zhan’s watching. 

He grabs Lan Zhan’s hand and puts on the back of Wei Ying’s head. “For real, you can fuck my mouth,” he says. “I’m good at it.”

Lan Zhan shudders. He pushes Wei Ying’s head down onto his cock. He fucks his mouth gently. Shallowly. And he doesn’t let up. 

Wei Ying shuts his eyes and just takes it. He tears up a little bit. He can feel his lip gloss leaving sticky traces on Lan Zhan’s cock. 

When he moans, Lan Zhan gasps. He looks up at Lan Zhan through his eyelashes. His head is thrown back. 

Yeah, straight boy, he thinks. Feel me around you. Live with the fact that this, right here, is the best head you’ve ever had. That you’re always going to compare your little girlfriends to this, and they’ll never measure up. 

Wei Ying makes another sound so that Lan Zhan will look at him. He sees Lan Zhan register how wrecked Wei Ying is. Then, he closes his eyes and relaxes into it until Lan Zhan pushes in just a little deeper - once, twice, three times - and comes.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying whispers raspily when he pulls off of him. 

Lan Zhan’s eyes are full of a dark heat. He stares at Wei Ying for a silent pause. 

Wei Ying shifts away from him, uncomfortably hard. He can’t do anything about it, because he wouldn’t touch himself in front of a straight guy. 

“I’m not done,” Lan Zhan says. He pulls his pants back on and reaches down, grabbing Wei Ying’s wrist. He hauls him up and pushes him to Nie Huaisang’s bed. 

Wei Ying giggle-shrieks in surprise before remembering himself - that they’re pretending, and that they’re in public. 

He hopes people heard.

“Um, I don’t really - on SangSang’s bed?” he asks. 

“Yes.” Lan Zhan crawls on top of him, slides a hand under Wei Ying’s ass, up his shorts. “If we - take these off,” he Zhan says.

Wei Ying does, and then he lies back on the bed. 

Lan Zhan slides a hand up under his skirt. 

“I don’t think we can - I don’t have anything for, um,” Wei Ying says, wondering if he’s really going to try to fuck without lube right now in Nie Huaisang’s bed. Potentially injurious, but really hot.  

The hand up Wei Ying’s skirt grazes his thigh and touches his cock. 

“Oh. Oh, that’s… oh,” he says, letting his eyes fall closed, his chin tip back. 

Lan Zhan’s hand wraps around him. 

Wei Ying says, “You don’t have to, I promise, I - I -”

Lan Zhan’s mouth quirks, and he growls, “I want to.” 

“Oh, that’s - but, um, you don’t have to.” Wei Ying says, only half pretending to get lost in the feeling of Lan Zhan’s thumb on the tip of his cock. “Oh, Lan Zhan, what a gentleman.”

He keeps it up while Lan Zhan leans down, sucks on the head of his cock, and jerks him off: “Please, please,” and “You don’t have to,” and “Oh, fuck.”

Lan Zhan’s fake-unpracticed blowjob is - it’s both not enough and so much. He keeps his mouth on just the head of Wei Ying’s cock the whole time and forces his hips flat down on the bed. His tongue flicks over Wei Ying, dipping into the slit, like he’s used to eating girls out. 

Wei Ying knows perfectly well that a straight guy can have experience with a lot of genital configurations, but in the fantasy, Lan Zhan is uninitiated. He’s never thought about guys before, let alone gender. He has sex with girls, so he’s treating Wei Ying like he’s a girl. And to him, that means treating Wei Ying’s cock like it’s a clit. 

In the game they’re playing, Wei Ying expected Lan Zhan to fuck his face and walk straight out of the room. To leave him on the floor. If Wei Ying gets pushy, he still might. So he has to take what he can get.

It’s hot to think about Lan Zhan just - just disregarding him like that. Why would he learn how to make Wei Ying feel good? He doesn’t need to pick up a whole new technique. He can just treat Wei Ying like he treats every girl he sleeps with. And Wei Ying will like it.

He licks his cock - his clit - insistently until Wei Ying sighs and goes momentarily limp, forced to give over to how good his tongue feels. Teasing and overwhelming at the same time. 

Lan Zhan slides his hand under Wei Ying’s ass and grabs a palm full. He spreads him open. 

Wei Ying spreads his legs wider. “Please,” he says, quieter, writhing a bit, faking some small amount of shame. 

He doesn’t have to fake the writhing when Lan Zhan’s spit-slick middle finger breaches him. It feels pretty dry, just this side of harsh. Wei Ying loves it. 

“Please,” he whines. “You’re - embarrassing me. Fuck, yes, yes.”

He gets close. Lan Zhan hums. “Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says. “You have to pull off. You have to - you have to pull off.”

Lan Zhan hums again.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, acting apprehensive. “You have to stop. You have to stop - I’ll - I’ll come, Lan Zhan, you feel too good, please, please don’t.”

It’s not the kind of game they should play here, but Wei Ying can’t help himself. This fantasy of Lan Zhan’s came to light after a lot of prodding. He would never do it, he’d said. It was phrased as an assurance to Wei Ying, but it seemed like it was actually more of an affirmation for Lan Zhan himself. He’d said that he thought about just powering through Wei Ying’s resistance until Wei Ying felt so good that he’d have to give in and let Lan Zhan work over his cock. He doesn’t know what Lan Zhan was so worried about; it’s stupid hot.

“Please,” Wei Ying whispers. “Please stop, don’t let me, I’ll come in your mouth if you don’t stop, I’ll -”

He pulls off.

Wei Ying keens. 

“So you do want it,” Lan Zhan says.

“It’s - it’s not like with - you’ll be - mad and grossed out, please -” Wei Ying pleads, breaking off in a gasp when Lan Zhan traces the lightest, gentlest, meanest touch over the very tip of his cock, right at the slit. “Oh, you feel so good, but -”

“Pretty girl,” Lan Zhan says. “You’ll come when I want you to. And I want you to.” He takes Wei Ying’s cock back into his mouth.

They’re well-practiced at this point. When Wei Ying comes, keening again, saying, “Please, please, I’m going to come, you’re going to make me come, I can’t stop it, please don’t,” Lan Zhan sinks down further and swallows around him just in time. 

—

There’s a beat after the rush is over where he really, truly thinks about asking Lan Zhan to fuck him there on the floor, nothing to ease the way. He looks at Lan Zhan and knows that Lan Zhan is thinking about it too. 

Instead, they clean themselves up in Nie Huaisang’s attached bath and go back to the party. 

Wei Ying may or may not think about next year as they walk down the hallway. Maybe he can convince Lan Zhan to fuck him. Maybe he can wear heels and tell Lan Zhan that the wobble in his step will give them away, will let everyone know that Lan Zhan just took him hard.

He doesn’t think Lan Zhan will have any objections to that.

—

Pretty much everyone’s still there.

Song Lan (wearing all white, plus a halo and wings) looks at them and goes, “All right,” which makes Xiao Xingchen (all black, with black horns and a pitchfork) turn. Xiao Xingchen says, “Okay, boys,” in the same tone that he said it that night in April when he found Wei Ying trying to climb Lan Zhan like a tree in the kitchen. 

Wei Ying casually hands Nie Huaisang’s key back to him without a word. They share a speaking look that, on Wei Ying’s end, translates to I will tell you all about the dicking that just went down later, and on Nie Huaisang’s end communicates You better, bitch. 

—

They stay for another three hours. Nie Huaisang’s parties can run until two a.m. or so. It’s nuts. 

Around midnight, Nie Huaisang comes tearing towards him from across the room, calling, “Wei Ying. Wei Ying. WEI YING.” When he catches up to them, he says, “I posted the pic of you and Lan Zhan’s costume - the hot one, obviously, you saw - and guess who liked it.”

“Who?” Wei Ying asks. 

“Ho. Mo. Xuanyu,” Nie Huaisang says with flair and reverence.

Wei Ying gasps, bowled over. “No. Really? No!”

“Yes!” Nie Huaisang says. 

Wei Ying turns to Lan Zhan, bounces on his toes, and kisses his cheek. He doesn’t need to bounce up to reach him. He just likes the feeling. He takes Lan Zhan’s hand. Then, after consideration, he also takes Nie Huaisang’s hand. “This is an incredibly proud day for all of us,” he says.

“What?” Lan Zhan asks, clearly lost.

“Shit, shit,” Nie Huaisang mutters excitedly. “Mo Xuanyu. Ho Mo Xuanyu on most social platforms? He rules the gay community over in Mo Village. He’s… incredible.”

“A star,” Wei Ying breathes. “He’s one of Jin Guangshan’s many extra children. So my… half-brother in law?”

“You’re so lucky,” Nie Huaisang grouses. “He’s amazing.” He pulls up a couple of Mo Xuanyu’s profiles and shows them to Lan Zhan. 

“Do you actually... know him?” Lan Zhan asks.

“Not as such,” Nie Huaisang says. “But someday. Someday.”

“We’ve all been very blessed tonight,” Wei Ying says. “Truly. SangSang. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he says. “It’s my post, you were just tagged in it.”

“Lan Zhan, we’ve been approved,” Wei Ying says, putting a hand to Lan Zhan’s cheek. “By the reigning queen of Mo Village.”

“Good,” Lan Zhan says, because he is kind enough to respect and echo Wei Ying’s enthusiasm even when it makes no sense to him. 

Wei Ying says, “Ah, let’s rent a car next month and drive out there. Or take the train? Catch that drag show he does-”

“Heaux Mos, featuring Ho Mo Xuanyu, performed by Mo Xuanyu, Heaux,” Nie Huaisang says automatically. “That’s the full title,” he clarifies after a pause.

“You too, Lan Zhan, you’ll like it, really. There’s a part where he just reads old folk tales to the audience, but like, magnetically. And the looks! Maybe it will give you ideas for me,” Wei Ying says, tossing his hair.

“Mm,” Lan Zhan agrees.

“I don’t get the sense that Lan Zhan needs ideas for you,” Nie Huaisang says. 

“Do not,” Lan Zhan says, which is essentially Lan Zhan-speak for a loud declaration that they fuck. Wei Ying is having the best night. A truly excellent birthday.

“But yes, totally, I’m in,” Nie Huaisang says. “I’m going to make it actually happen, though, watch. You’re gonna be pissed about getting up before noon on a weekend. Oh, shit, MianMian’s finally here! I have to say hi, but, yes, it’s happening.” He weaves through the crowd towards the front door. 

“Happy birthday to me,” Wei Ying says to Lan Zhan, turning to face him fully.

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “Happy birthday, Wei Ying.” He reaches out and pulls Wei Ying towards him, softly kissing the top of his head. His body is warm, and his forearms are so strong where he’s rolled back his cuffs and pushed up the arms of his suit (at Wei Ying’s urging). It feels like his big hands span Wei Ying’s ribs.  

Wei Ying doesn’t try to go get Nie Huaisang’s weird bedroom door key back, but it’s a near thing.

—

A big group breaks off for board games, bickering for thirty minutes before deciding on Cards Against Humanity, because Nie Huaisang has a ton of the expansion packs. Some of the regulars are there - among them Wen Ning, Wen Qing, Song Lan, Xiao Xingchen - and some people who have never come to game nights play, too. Several people ask how the rabbits are doing. Wei Ying supplies footage of Sunshine and Mr. Pickles industriously munching on fennel during treat time.

By all rights, Lan Zhan should be terrible at Cards Against Humanity, but he does sometimes pull out these sort of absurdly on-the-nose card combinations that crack up everyone in the room. Wei Ying had only played this with him once before they got together. At the time, he thought that Lan Zhan might have been just too much of a stick-in-the-mud to actually try making jokes. Now, he knows that for Lan Zhan, matching I drink to forget with Repression is entirely funny, bless his weird little heart. 

—

At board game nights, Wei Ying and Lan Zhan don’t usually sit together. This is a special occasion, though. (The occasion being that they look really hot together.) So Wei Ying pulls Lan Zhan down next to him. That puts Lan Zhan at the corner of the table.

Sizhui settles down catty-corner to Lan Zhan, nods a hello, and then double-takes from Lan Zhan to Wei Ying, and then triple-takes, and then sort of does an individual take of each of them before looking at the ceiling. “Hanguang-Jun,” he says. 

“Sizhui, are you Lan Zhan’s student?” Wei Ying asks, delighted. “You’re way too little, what the hell.”

“His TA,” Sizhui says. “I took a bunch of IB classes, skipped a couple of grades.” It sounds like he’s used to explaining away his accomplishments. 

“Wait, you’re Sizhui!” Wei Ying exclaims. “That Sizhui!” He turns fully toward Sizhui, crossing his legs over Lan Zhan’s thighs.

“I - I am a Sizhui, yes,” Sizhui says. 

“I know about TA Sizhui,” Wei Ying says, looking at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan nods in placid, agreeable encouragement. “I heard your thing with the oboes! That was great.”

“You did?” Sizhui asks, seeming dazed.

“Yeah, Lan Zhan plays me some of your guys’ class work when I bother him enough,” Wei Ying says. He tosses his hair casually.

Lan Zhan looks up from his cards long enough to say, “Never a bother.” 

Stop it, Wei Ying mouths at him, fluttering his eyelashes coyly.

“Um. So you are, uh,” Sizhui says.

“Lan Zhan’s,” Wei Ying says helpfully. 

Sizhui rallies quickly. “My apologies,” he says. “Last year you introduced yourself as Britney Spears. I do not know your… how to address you.”

Cute. “Wei Ying,” he says. “But tonight I’m only answering to Michelle.” To show that he’s not serious, he places his hand in Sizui’s general vicinity, palm down, like he’s expecting a kiss. 

Lan Zhan’s ears still go pink. Sizhui, taking Wei Ying’s hand and shaking it, looks caught between deep embarrassment and something that might be true admiration. 

—

They play several rounds. Just when it’s getting slow, Wen Ning proposes an augmented set of rules that boil down to “drink when the winning card has adjectives,” and that gets things going again. 

—

“Try me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, slamming cards on the table.

“Yes, Michelle,” Lan Zhan says, in the quiet I-will-destroy-you voice he uses when he’s feeling really competitive, which is so dumb and funny because it’s not a competitive game. Except that he and Lan Zhan have the same number of cards, so it is totally a competitive game for them. 

When Lan Zhan gets one more card than him, he makes eye contact, grabs Wei Ying’s silver medal, and bites it. In front of everyone. With the top three buttons of his shirt still undone. This is... a great night for Wei Ying. A great night for Michelle Kwan. 

—

He volunteers to fetch drinks for everyone. In part, he is motivated by generosity. He also wants everyone to watch him be cute and elegant as he shimmers in and out of the room. Seriously, his ass looks amazing right now. And his thighs. He is, he reflects, the whole package. So really, putting himself on display in itself is generous, and therefore his motives are one hundred percent pure. 

Xiao Xingchen accompanies him. In the kitchen, he raises an eyebrow and says, “Okay, you’re dying for someone to ask, so I’ll bite: how is it?”

Wei Ying is, in fact, so excited to be asked about it that he might burst. He is also, as some might say, feeling himself. 

His mouth leapfrogs his empty, empty brain and says, “Xiao Xingchen, it’s... big.” 

Xiao Xingchen snorts. 

Wei Ying buries his face in his hands. He usually has some composure, if not a ton of shame. “It’s so good, you would not believe.”

Xiao Xingchen raises an eyebrow again. 

“Okay,” Wei Ying says. It is largely acknowledged among the group that Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen’s sex life borders on the ecstatic. “I mean. It’s just. It’s big and he is - he says people wouldn’t believe me if I told them, but - Lan Zhan is horny.”

“I have no trouble believing that,” Xiao Xingchen says dryly. “At all. For one thing, he’s Lan Xichen’s brother.”

“Yeah, I have got to meet that guy,” Wei Ying says. 

“I’m sure you will,” Xiao Xingchen says conspiratorially. “Holidays coming up, meeting the family -” 

“Oh, shit,” Wei Ying says, because he genuinely had not thought of it until this moment.

Xiao Xingchen nods serenely and says again, with casual surety, “You will.” 

Wei Ying beams. 

He could talk about the possibility of meeting Lan Zhan’s family for ages, but someone in the next room shouts “Sudden death!” 

This is worrying. The last time that this group tried for a sudden death match of any game, ended with a three a.m. draw. And Wen Qing wouldn’t speak to Nie Huaisang for a week.

“That’s my fiancé,” Xiao Xingchen sighs dreamily, and leads the way out of the kitchen.

—

It really is that good, he reflects when they get back to the group. 

Nie Huaisang is already making noises about people being able to stay the night. He acts like it’s because he doesn’t want them driving home drunk, which is true. But he also just loves having his friends over, in his space, with him. 

Wei Ying gets that. He spent a lot of time over the last year wishing that he could have Lan Zhan in his home. Unremarkably. Honestly. Without pretense. 

Maybe he and Lan Zhan will stay over at Nie Huaisang’s soon, he thinks, just because it’s so nice to wake up in the morning and see your friends, first thing. To know that you’re fine being early-morning gross in front of one another. 

He grabs Lan Zhan’s hand.

Lan Zhan looks up, almost-smiles, and squeezes his hand. A reassuring hello. 

Tonight, he’s taking Lan Zhan home. Or - Lan Zhan is taking him home, he guesses, because Lan Zhan has a bigger bed. 

No one will be surprised. Their friends care in the sense that they’re happy for them, but they don’t care. In a way, that’s much better than causing a stir. It’s going to feel really good to be able to wave goodbye to their friends, head held high, and head home with Lan Zhan.