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Lan Zhan has long been accustomed to frequent power outages during the windy season. He has candles, an emergency kit, a generator with a hand-operated choke, and a fireplace to get through the worst of them. They barely factor into his future plans. What’s one disadvantage weighed against the numerous benefits of living rural?
His best friend Wei Ying, on the other hand, apparently comes from a mysterious, far-off land with these fantastical things known as underground power lines. He has never known the ordeal of waiting three days for emergency crews to make it all the way out and remove a downed tree from the wires.
The first time the power goes out after Wei Ying moves in, he cuts off mid-sentence with an excited gasp. “It’s so dark!” he says. “I’ve never—wow. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.”
“I will light a candle,” Lan Zhan says, moving to get up from his spot across the living room.
“Wait! Can we keep it like this for a while? It’s kinda nice, actually.”
Lan Zhan pauses, but settles back into his armchair. “If you wish.”
Wei Ying picks up the story he’d been telling almost where he left off.
It has never been difficult, listening to Wei Ying speak. He could describe paint drying, and Lan Zhan would listen with rapt attention to the lilting ups and downs of Wei Ying’s city accent, the breathy way he chuckles at his own jokes. How he says Lan Zhan’s name every so often to keep him included in the nearly-one-sided conversation. He’ll go, “Isn’t that right, Lan Zhan?” or “Lan Zhan, ah, what do you think?” and then he’ll hang on every word Lan Zhan says in response. Nobody else has ever paid Lan Zhan this kind of attention. Maybe it’s permissible that he has fallen a little bit in love with his best friend because of it.
Shortly before the power went out, Wei Ying had draped one leg over the back of the couch while the other hung off the side, nestling himself among the cushions in a perfect sprawl. Lan Zhan can picture it easily; he’s spent long hours covertly studying the shape of Wei Ying at rest. It’s no fault of his that his roommate slash best friend slash secret crush often sleeps in the living room instead of his own room, all spread out for Lan Zhan to gawk at when he gets up early in the morning. Definitely no fault of his for looking when Wei Ying insists on doing so shirtless and, on one memorable occasion, pantsless as well.
That time, Lan Zhan had exited his room to find Wei Ying’s partial hard-on tenting his boxers and lifting the fabric off his legs almost enough to see up them, to see Wei Ying’s cock and balls. Lan Zhan had turned right back around, barely letting the door click shut behind him before shoving his hand down his pajama pants and taking his cock into his fist. He’d jerked himself quick and rough, coming all over his hand and the carpet, staring in a daze at the mess.
So, draped thusly over the couch, Wei Ying chatters on in the darkness. Lan Zhan imagines his beautiful hands gesturing wildly as he recounts the time he’d gone spelunking without telling anyone, and when he re-emerged three hours later, his brother had been about ready to call a search party. Somehow, this segues into him going on about visiting his friend Wen Qing’s family on their farm and how “they didn’t even have a washing machine, Lan Zhan! They had to wash all their clothes by hand and let them air dry!”
Somewhere in between Wei Ying expounding upon his dreams of doing some farming of his own one day and his desire to travel more often, Lan Zhan undoes the ties at the front of his pants, pulling his cock out through the fly of his underwear. Already rising to the occasion, it rests thick and heavy in his hand. Wei Ying says Lan Zhan’s name thoughtfully—making Lan Zhan’s cock twitch—and asks his reasons for moving back out here after graduating.
Keeping his voice as even as he can, Lan Zhan lists the cleaner air, calmer atmosphere, and quiet joy that comes from working with his hands. He holds his cock all the while, the wrongness of it all doing nothing to deter him—Wei Ying remains none the wiser, so what true harm is there? It’s not like he’ll come over and put his hand on Lan Zhan’s lap and wonder why his cock is exposed. (And it really is—if the power were to come back on, there would be no hiding his actions.) Remembering to ask a question in return, he queries about Wei Ying’s own change of scenery and listens attentively to the response, sliding the ring of his finger and thumb up and down his shaft. He pulls on it, lets it harden in his grip before giving in to the urge to thrust upward.
Wei Ying talks about escaping stress and trying new things. He says, “Plus, now I don’t have to drive an hour just to see you!”
“Me?” Lan Zhan breathes, gripping the head of his cock and thumbing his slit—still dry, but not for long.
“Yeah! Also, driving out here every weekend was wreaking havoc on my fuel budget,” Wei Ying replies as Lan Zhan resumes his stroking. “And I can find everything I need out here. There was really no reason to stay in the city.”
Everything he needs. Lan Zhan stares into the darkness in Wei Ying’s direction, mouth hanging slack. What exactly does he mean by everything?
Before moving in, Wei Ying had visited weekly, claiming he needed a break. To exist away from other people for a while. He’d said once, “You don’t count as people, Lan Zhan. Thanks for letting me come over.”
Lan Zhan had ridden the emotional high of that simple statement for an entire week. Had imagined Wei Ying on his knees, proving with his mouth just how thankful he really was. Had imagined showing Wei Ying exactly how well he could care for him, bending him over the very couch he’s now lying across and spreading him open wide. One time, when Wei Ying stayed the whole weekend, Lan Zhan had emerged from his room at five in the morning to find him asleep on the couch again, palming his crotch and muttering nonsense under his breath. Lan Zhan had wanted to kneel in front of him, to take him in his mouth and wake him up like that. “I would do this for you every day,” he’d thought. It still holds true.
“I was really glad when you asked if I wanted to move out here.”
“Is that so,” Lan Zhan says. He gasps sharply on his next downstroke before he can stop himself, thumb twitching over his frenulum. He freezes.
“Uhh,” says Wei Ying. His throat clicks as he swallows. “Um, yeah. I didn’t want to, like, be presumptuous and ask. You know? But I really wanted to. I love it out here. With you. And, um. The fresh air.”
A silent moment hangs in the air, inside of which Lan Zhan resumes stroking himself, the slide of skin on skin quietly rasping into the darkness. Can Wei Ying hear him? Has he figured out what Lan Zhan is doing? The thought makes Lan Zhan’s cock jump in his grip, offering up a bead of precum at the slit. “Mn,” he agrees at length. “I am glad you wanted to.”
Wei Ying shifts on the couch. “Hah, well, that’s good,” he says. “Wow! It sure is dark in here, huh? You don’t realize how bright the city is until you can’t see anything at all.”
“Mm. New moon last night.”
“It’s, uh, nice. Not seeing anything.” Wei Ying sucks in a breath. “Good thing I’m not scared of the dark, ha.” He shifts again, letting out a tiny whine—only audible in the empty silence of an outage-induced electronics blackout—no running fridge, no whirring of computer fans.
The sound goes straight to Lan Zhan’s dick. He traces the veins, the thick ridge on the underside. “Indeed.”
“What would you do if I were? If—if your generator stopped working for some reason?” Next comes the obvious sound of a hand sliding under a waistband—ask Lan Zhan how he knows—and Wei Ying’s hitching breath.
First pausing to lick a wet stripe down the length of his palm, Lan Zhan speeds up his rhythm. “And if we didn’t have our phones?”
“Yeah, and—and if you ran out of candles. So it’s totally dark in the house. And no heat because—because I forgot to bring in firewood, and it’s also too dark to see outside.” Wei Ying’s heavy breathing gets faster, accompanied by the obvious sounds of him seeking his own pleasure.
“Hm. How scared are you in this scenario?”
“Trembling, Lan Zhan. Breathing really—hhh—hard. Whimpering?” His voice rises in pitch at the end as though asking a question before cutting off with a series of panting breaths.
Lan Zhan closes his eyes and imagines Wei Ying tugging at his own cock, imagines him biting his own bottom lip cherry-red, trying to hold back said whimpering. Imagines Wei Ying seeking him out for comfort, sitting in Lan Zhan’s lap, feeling how hard he is. He imagines Wei Ying whispering in his ear all the things he wants Lan Zhan to do to him, how he wants Lan Zhan to distract him from the darkness.
Lan Zhan has never given voice to such fantasies before. But fantasies are what Wei Ying wants, and anything Wei Ying wants, he gets.
“I would pull you close to me,” Lan Zhan says, “to keep you warm. So you would know you weren’t alone.”
A wet, rhythmic click accompanies Wei Ying’s stroking now—precum making his cock slick for his fist. Lan Zhan wants to taste it. Wants to lap all of it up, pleasure Wei Ying with his tongue until he begs for mercy. Wei Ying asks, “How close?”
“I’d pull your body right up against mine.” Lan Zhan takes a steadying breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth—keeping a tight rein on his control. “Put one hand on your waist to ground you, the other on your lower back to hold you close.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying breathes. Lets out a series of quiet, whimpering moans. “What if. What if I. What if I got hard against you? They say adrenaline can do that. That it can cause, um, involuntary reactions.”
“We would be wise to take advantage of the distraction. I’d push my thigh between your legs.”
Swallowing audibly, Wei Ying takes a few breaths. “What if my knees were too weak to stand?”
“Then I would pull you down on top of me on the couch. Wrap my arms around you.” Lan Zhan grunts, fucking into his fist, cock soaked by the steady flow of precum. “I’d grab your ass. Pull you to me. Show you how to grind against my cock.”
“Are you big, Er-gege?”
“Mnn,” Lan Zhan moans, slowing his hand to quell the tide of his arousal. Not time for that yet. He has to hold out, has to let Wei Ying guide this fantasy to completion on his own.
“Would you—would you kiss me?”
“Yes.”
For a few seconds, only the distinct, slick sounds of their jerking off fill the room. Obscene. And then Wei Ying whispers Lan Zhan’s name. Lan Zhan waits a few beats, and Wei Ying says it again, louder: “Lan Zhan, I’m—” He cuts himself off with a whine. “I have a secret.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m... I’m scared of the dark.”
Lan Zhan crosses the room in a stride and a half and picks Wei Ying up, ignoring his yelp as he spins them around and falls back onto the couch, bringing Wei Ying down on top of him. His hands slide under into his pants to grip his fat ass, grinding their cocks together just like he promised.
Squirming his knees into position, Wei Ying straddles Lan Zhan’s lap and thrusts wildly against him, hips matching his pace beat for beat. He pushes Lan Zhan’s shirt up, touches all over his bared stomach and abdomen.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan grunts when Wei Ying passes over a nipple, scrapes his nails over a clavicle. One hand slides up Wei Ying’s back and tugs him close; their mouths crash together in a war of tongues and teeth and desperate, breathy moans. Lan Zhan licks into Wei Ying’s mouth. Plunders him, greedily lapping up all of the noises he makes, every thrust of his hips. He could do this for hours. Days. The rest of his life.
“Do you know,” Lan Zhan says, voice rough when they finally separate, “how crazy you make me?”
“L-Lan Zhan?”
With a particularly powerful thrust, Lan Zhan knocks Wei Ying off his balance, but holds him in place, both hands spread over his body. “Sleeping shirtless. Sleeping with no pants. Touching yourself in full view of my bedroom door.”
“I-I was? You saw? Annh!” Wei Ying falls forward and braces himself on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, hips rolling at a feverish pace.
If only Lan Zhan could see his face, see how red he must be, how tightly his eyes have closed. The image spurs him on. “Were you thinking about me, Wei Ying?”
Wei Ying’s voice breaks over his next cry. Every panting breath comes with a whine, needy, insatiable.
Lan Zhan’s cock has never been so hard; he could split Wei Ying in half, could break him with it. His other hand slides back down to Wei Ying’s ass, pulls him open, dips a finger into the separation. “Were you,” he repeats with a grunt, digging into Wei Ying’s backside as he punctuates every word with a thrust, “thinking—about—me?”
“Yes!” Something brushes the tops of Lan Zhan’s thighs—Wei Ying’s hair, his head thrown back as he wails at the ceiling. “Yes, Lan Zhan, I—I—ahhhn.” His pace frenetic, he lets out a long, keening whine and spills hot cum all over Lan Zhan’s stomach. He sobs Lan Zhan’s name over and over until Lan Zhan finally allows him to slow down. To stop.
He doesn’t give Wei Ying any time to breathe. Flipping them over, he slams Wei Ying’s back into the couch cushions and holds him down by one shoulder.
“Gonna—hahhh—gonna have your way with me, Er-gege?”
Lan Zhan grits his teeth and wraps his hand around his wet cock. “Later,” he promises, bringing himself to the edge of orgasm with ruthless efficiency. “Going to come on you first. Make you mine.”
“Fuck,” Wei Ying whimpers.
Lan Zhan’s release fires through him like a live round. He pays no heed to where it splatters, just fucks his fist over Wei Ying’s body. Let it get on the couch, let it get on Wei Ying’s clothing. On Wei Ying.
“You’re so hot, holy shit. I didn’t think—ahh!” Wei Ying cries out.
Lan Zhan bites into the side of his neck, dropping his body and thrusting into the warm divide between Wei Ying’s legs. It smears cum over their bellies, but it doesn’t matter. He kisses Wei Ying’s neck right below his ear, drags the point of his tongue over the sensitive flesh and induces a shiver. Sighs, “Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighs back. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan’s waist, an arm around Lan Zhan’s neck. Rubs up and down his back. Slides down to his ass and pats it twice. “We’re making a mess.”
With a huff of laughter, Lan Zhan nips Wei Ying’s ear lobe. “Good,” he says. Let them be messes together. He nuzzles against Wei Ying’s cheek, trailing kisses along it and over his nose before dropping down to his mouth.
“I can’t believe,” Wei Ying says during one of the brief respites Lan Zhan gives him to breathe, “you started jerking off while I was right there, you horny beast.”
“Mm.” Lan Zhan resumes kissing him, tasting the shape of his mouth.
“You are so fucking hot,” Wei Ying mumbles against his lips. He pulls away. “Next time the power goes out, I want you to shut me up by shoving your cock into my mouth, mmkay?”
“Do I have to wait until then?”
Wei Ying’s body shakes with his laughter. “Horny. Beast,” he says, smacking Lan Zhan’s ass in time with each word. “Er-gege can feed me his cock any time he wants. No need to wait. I want to—every day, Lan Zhan, I wanna suck you off every day, okay? Multiple times, even. Whenever you want. Just... just pull it out and give it to me and I’ll suck you so good, you’ll never want anyone else’s mouth on you.”
Lan Zhan rolls his hips in a lazy thrust. “I already don’t.”
“Oh,” Wei Ying squeaks. “Oh, good. Okay. Good. Um. Yeah, I don’t either. Want to suck anyone else. Um.”
“Mn.”
“Holy fuck, Lan Zhan, I like you so much. Now take me to bed and have your way with me like you promised.”
Lan Zhan kisses him again. “As you wish,” he says and scoops Wei Ying off the couch. Finding his way through the darkness to his bedroom door, he whispers in Wei Ying’s ear, “I also like you very much. There’s one more good thing about living here.”
“What’s that?” Wei Ying whispers back, squirming in his grip until Lan Zhan squeezes his ass.
“There’s nobody around to hear me discover how loud I can make you scream.”