Archive of Our Own ^beta

It all begins on a lazy Saturday afternoon when Wei Ying rolls over on Lan Zhan’s bed, her head dangling off the edge, and she complains, “Sex is weird.”

Lan Zhan, who is in the middle of peeling tangerines at her desk, pauses to consider. Sex, in her opinion, is fine — nothing that particularly noteworthy about it. The men she fucks seem to have a good time though.

“How so?” she asks anyway.

Lan Zhan enjoys listening to Wei Ying ramble, fascinated by how one innocuous thought snowballs into another and then another, leading her to a completely unforeseen conclusion. Despite their history, Wei Ying always makes it impossible for Lan Zhan to predict what’s coming next. Lan Zhan loves it, though, loves the way Wei Ying’s mind always seems to delight her each time she thinks she can’t be surprised any longer.

“Well, sex. It’s a weird concept. People just—” Wei Ying flails her arms a little above her in the air, animating her hands as she speaks. “—like, you’re supposed to just smash your bodies together, or something. And it’s supposed to feel good, right?” Wei Ying pauses, leaving the question hanging in the air. Lan Zhan waits for Wei Ying to continue; silence is the surest way to keep Wei Ying talking to the point of revealing what she’s actually thinking. Wei Ying’s still lying on her back, but she’s wringing her hands and after a few moments of silence, Wei Ying does begin speaking again. “It’s just so... I dunno? It’s like, strange and kinda eh, I guess. But, everyone makes it seem so easy and good and they talk about sex like it’s the best thing since sliced bread. From my personal experiences, I would rather just have bread. I've never even come with someone before. But I don’t know, maybe I’m doing it wrong. Or I guess — maybe you just have to wait until you find the right person. But, what, are you doomed to having mediocre sex forever, testing it out, until you find someone?”

Wei Ying’s eyes are fixed on the vintage Star Trek poster on Lan Zhan’s wall as she rambles despite the fact that she’s seen the image of the USS Enterprise a million times before — displayed in every space that Lan Zhan has called her own, from her childhood bedroom to her dorm to her room in the apartment they now share together. Consequently, Wei Ying doesn’t see the way the tangerine slips from Lan Zhan’s hands and falls into her lap, leaving a dark streak on her grey sweats.

Wei Ying’s never—?

“What,” Lan Zhan says, after a beat. She slowly picks the tangerine up from her lap and places it on the plate on her desk.

Wei Ying rolls over further so that she’s lying on her side and props her head up on her arms to look in Lan Zhan’s direction, but doesn’t seem to notice that Lan Zhan has gone still in her chair. “I mean, Google says that it can be hard for women to orgasm during sex, so I know it’s not abnormal or anything, but I’m a lesbian, Lan Zhan! A lesbian!” Wei Ying waits until Lan Zhan nods, like Lan Zhan doesn’t remember, before continuing, “It just feels like, I’m failing the whole wuh-luh-wuh community by not having hot marathon lesbian sex constantly. I think I’m a decent catch, Lan Zhan! But, nobody’s trying to wife me up, trying to help a girl out. Maybe, I don’t radiate enough big lesbian energy. God, am I a fraud?” Wei Ying’s whole face scrunches up and she lets out a groan, letting her head fall from her hands so that her face is buried into Lan Zhan’s sheets.

Lan Zhan considers Wei Ying, trying to figure out where Wei Ying is going with this, what’s led her to bring this up, but more importantly, what it is that she’s seeking out from Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying turns her face to the side so that she’s looking at Lan Zhan again and before Lan Zhan can speak, Wei Ying asks, “What about you, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow.

Wei Ying flushes. “I — I just mean, do you, ah, feel good when you have sex? Those studies that were saying that women have a hard time orgasming were mostly talking about penetrative sex, so I was just wondering if you were, I dunno, also having a hard time?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Lan Zhan says.

“What do you mean?” Wei Ying asks, brows furrowing. “Last week, you… had Jin Zixuan over.”

Lan Zhan did have Jin Zixuan over last week. They had run into each other at one of those twice-yearly Chinese family gatherings. Lan Zhan had looked at Jin Zixuan, the kind of man whose demeanour simply screamed peg me, had thought you’ll do and brought him home.

But, contrary to Wei Ying’s assumption, Lan Zhan had not fucked Jin Zixuan. By the time they’d gotten to the apartment Lan Zhan shared with Wei Ying, Jin Zixuan had seemed antsy, hands shaking while he unbuttoned his shirt, before ultimately breaking down and confessing that he was actually saving himself for Jiang Yanli. Lan Zhan had been sorely unimpressed but offered him a simple pat on the back and had escorted him out before he could start crying. It was pure chance that Wei Ying then happened to arrive home early from her shift at the lab to pass by Jin Zixuan at the door. Before then, Lan Zhan had always made sure that she never had men over when Wei Ying was around or to go over to their place. It seemed the courteous thing to do. And Lan Qiren had raised her to be polite.

Wei Ying had quickly put two and two together.

“Ah, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying had wrinkled her nose. “Jin Zixuan? The peacock, really?”

Lan Zhan had simply shrugged and went to the kitchen to make dinner — she was thinking scallion pancakes, Wei Ying always likes rolling out the dough.

Looking back, Lan Zhan chastises herself for not having noticed that Wei Ying had been uncomfortable. They’d never discussed a guest policy before; it makes sense that Wei Ying felt uneasy about having someone over in their space.

“I did not with Jin Zixuan,” she says. It feels too complicated to explain that he is pining away for Wei Ying’s older sister. It’s not like Wei Ying will be seeing Jin Zixuan any time soon, anyway, given her estrangement from the Jiangs. “But, I wouldn’t know about orgasming during penetrative sex. I peg men.”

“What?” Wei Ying pushes herself all the way up the bed abruptly.

Lan Zhan cocks her head to the side slightly. Wei Ying’s reaction feels unwarranted.

“You mean, like, exclusively?” Wei Ying asks, eyes looking frantic.

“Yes.” Lan Zhan has no interest in sex otherwise; the idea of letting a man penetrate her feels… distasteful.

Wei Ying sits there, frozen for what feels the longest stretch of time Lan Zhan has witnessed. It’s odd: Wei Ying is always moving even when still, constantly fidgeting her fingers or toying with a strand of hair. It seems like she may not be breathing either.

“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan asks, leaning forward in her chair ready to get up to help if Wei Ying doesn’t respond.

Wei Ying sucks in a breath of air and Lan Zhan feels herself relax. “Oh, okay, yeah, cool. Wow, Lan Zhan. That’s really, wow.” Wei Ying is looking in Lan Zhan’s direction but won’t meet her gaze. “I bet that’s really — Uh. Good. Wait, no, I mean, like good job, good for you. Very feminist of you, or something, I guess. But! I’m not saying that it’s not — I’m sure it’s good for you, pleasure-wise, too, and your, ah, partners also, I guess. I’m not really sure how, uh, that all works. I mean, I’ve only had sex with like one and a half people, and maybe there’s just something wrong with me. But I’m sure you know what you’re doing, Lan Zhan. You always do.” Wei Ying’s voice gets more and more shrill as she speaks and by the end, it sounds a little hysterical.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, meaning look at me.

Wei Ying’s eyes snap up to meet Lan Zhan’s and she gulps, audibly. Wei Ying looks like a deer in headlights, trapped, and Lan Zhan can feel the way her nails dig into her palms, wanting nothing more than to swallow down whatever it is that’s making Wei Ying unsettled. Perhaps it’s insecurity? Self-doubt? Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow. Wei Ying should know that there’s nothing wrong with her.

It’s shocking for Lan Zhan to think about it now, but even though she has known Wei Ying for as long as she can remember, Lan Zhan had despised Wei Ying initially. Something about the way Wei Ying seemed to have no regard for the rules, even as a child — disrupting the silence during reading time, breaking curfew to sneak out during summer camp — while always slinging an arm around Lan Zhan and acting like they were close was so… disruptive. Lan Zhan wanted so badly to — to do something and stop Wei Ying, like tie her down and just make her behave. It had been distracting. Lan Zhan had clamped down the feeling, shoving it down and doing her best to ignore Wei Ying, adamant on avoiding giving her the satisfaction of being pulled into the disarray she created. But then, in their first year of high school, after weeks of ignoring Wei Ying’s prodding during detention — Lan Zhan was class monitor — she snapped.

“Sit,” she said, almost a snarl.

Wei Ying, who was standing over Lan Zhan’s desk and pleading for the reputable Lan-er-jiejie to please turn a blind eye and let her skip out on detention, had almost immediately fallen to the floor, legs crossed beneath her.

Lan Zhan blinked.

Wei Ying seemed similarly surprised, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. She was sputtering, trying to speak.

Before Wei Ying recovered though, Lan Zhan tilted her head toward Wei Ying’s desk and said, “Work. Quietly.”

Wei Ying scrambled up, sat herself properly at her desk, and to Lan Zhan’s shock, actually began working. After fifteen minutes when Wei Ying began to fidget, getting antsy, Lan Zhan shot her a glare, which seemed to subdue Wei Ying back into silence.

And through detention, Lan Zhan learned that if she reacted to Wei Ying’s goading in some small way — a glance, a scoff, a smirk — Wei Ying would respond accordingly: either mollified into obedience or more determined to egg Lan Zhan on until Lan Zhan rewarded her with the reaction she was seeking. Lan Zhan found it immensely gratifying when she was able to anticipate and elicit the response she wanted from Wei Ying and they soon settled into a kind of push and pull relationship, which seemed to delight Wei Ying.

After that first year, Wei Ying shaped up and stopped getting in trouble as frequently, and Lan Zhan found that she missed being distracted by Wei Ying, missed the kick of pleasure in her stomach she felt whenever she managed to make Wei Ying speechless in return, missed… Wei Ying.

They’d not actually become proper friends though until halfway through their second year of high school when Wei Ying got into a fierce dispute with their history teacher for assigning the topic of whether or not Britain’s colonization of India was justified for the class debate. After class, Lan Zhan approached Wei Ying and the two of them wound up launching a campaign to revise the curriculum for their world history course. They’d spent hours together strategizing and found they made an effective team: Wei Ying’s charisma able to charm the most apathetic of students into signing their petition to boycott the debate and Lan Zhan’s savvy in communicating with the school board and parents so that they weren’t dismissed simply as slackers had resulted in success. (Lan Zhan is still very proud of the binder that she compiled on educational curriculum bias.)

When they’d received the news that they’d won, Wei Ying threw her arms around Lan Zhan right there in the library and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We did it, Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan startled. Unfamiliar with physical affection of this kind, Lan Zhan’s hand had hovered above Wei Ying’s waist, uncertain if she should or could place it there.

Wei Ying had pushed back before Lan Zhan could decide and said, hands clasped on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, “This absolutely wouldn’t have been possible without you. You’re such a good friend, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s smile suddenly turned shy as she said, carefully, “The best I’ve got, even.”

And at those words, a warmth filled Lan Zhan. She nodded and couldn’t help beaming back at Wei Ying.

Friends. That label helped Lan Zhan finally place a name to all the feelings that bubbled up when she thought of Wei Ying: the admiration she felt when Wei Ying stood up for her convictions, the exasperation she felt when Wei Ying needled her way into mischief, the impulse to reach out to tweak Wei Ying’s nose when she crinkled it at an unpleasant thought. Now, they were tethered to each other, Lan Zhan’s place and relation to Wei Ying properly defined.

Wei Ying is her friend, her first friend, her best friend.

And over the years, Lan Zhan has only grown in her love and care of Wei Ying. She knows how good Wei Ying is. Has seen Wei Ying risk her own safety to help Luo Qingyang when Wen Chao was harassing her. Knows that Wei Ying went out of her way to make sure her college friend, Wen Ning, received the appropriate testing accommodations he needed. Understands Wei Ying’s mischievousness as a propensity for seeking out more, constantly exploring, and her questioning of authority as her refusal to settle for anything less than righteous.

Wei Ying, who’d become Lan Zhan’s roommate shortly after graduation when they’d decided to move to the city together, who deserves every good thing in this world, who deserves to feel good because she is good. Wei Ying, who’s currently on Lan Zhan’s bed moaning about how nobody’s ever made her feel good.

The fact that anyone could let Wei Ying go unsatisfied in bed is egregious, frankly.

And Lan Zhan is now well-versed in the way that Wei Ying tries to hide what’s bothering her, covering herself up by laughing harder than necessary or quickly shifting the topic away from herself as if she’s an inconvenience, as if she’s too much. Lan Zhan knows that no matter how casually Wei Ying may try to bring it up, it means something for Wei Ying to mention an insecurity to Lan Zhan, to divulge about something bothering her, especially something as intimate and personal as this. So, Lan Zhan will reward Wei Ying for her vulnerability and help her deal with this problem to the best of her abilities. Wei Ying could never be too much, after all.

“You were left dissatisfied, previously?” Lan Zhan says, now, getting straight to the point.

Wei Ying blinks. She looks taken aback by Lan Zhan’s question. “Well, I wouldn't say that, but it wasn't like, great. No.”

Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying well enough to know that this means it was bad.

Lan Zhan tsks. Whoever Wei Ying’s been with does not deserve her time or attention. “We should correct that.”

“Correct that?” Wei Ying says. “How? I'm not exactly floating in suitors, Lan Zhan. Wait, is that term gendered? Um. I’m not exactly surrounded by prospects.”

The fact that Wei Ying doesn't have people falling at her feet constantly is something of a mystery to Lan Zhan. It’s pretty clear to her how lucky and fortunate anyone would be to date her friend. However, it should be obvious what Lan Zhan’s currently suggesting.

“I mean myself,” Lan Zhan says, looking Wei Ying directly in the eye.

“Lan Zhan?!” Wei Ying squeaks. “You? Lan Zhan, you’re — unless things have changed recently, you’re straight?”

“Yes, and?” Nothing has changed recently. Also, Lan Zhan does not see how that has anything to do with making Wei Ying feel good, gender being a construct and all.

“And!?” Wei Ying shrills. “Um? Lan Zhan, what? Are you serious?”

Lan Zhan stares at Wei Ying. She should know by now when Lan Zhan is joking.

Wei Ying registers Lan Zhan’s look and chuckles nervously. “Ahaha, Lan Zhan, I guess you’re just trying to help a friend out. Gal pals and all that, amiright?”

Lan Zhan does not understand Wei Ying’s question. They are gals and they are pals.

“Do you not want to?” she says instead.

“No! I just — I’m not, like, opposed, or anything, I guess, but,” Wei Ying sputters, “you mean — what, like, right now?” Wei Ying looks nervous. She’s wringing her hands again.

Lan Zhan sends her a look that says, When else? A problem has presented itself and they should fix it. Lan Zhan has never been one to dawdle when she decides on something. And Lan Zhan has decided that she will make Wei Ying come. The question is less if, but how? Lan Zhan may never have been with a woman before, but she knows Wei Ying, can read her well enough to know if she’s faking it or not; she’s confident that she can make Wei Ying feel better than all those unworthy people that came before.

Wei Ying's jaw keeps opening and closing to say something, but no sound comes from her mouth.

Lan Zhan pushes her chair back, shifting so she properly faces Wei Ying.

“Wei Ying,” she says, voice low. “Come here.”

It’s like Lan Zhan’s voice switches something on inside Wei Ying. She gets up off the bed, across the rug until she stands before Lan Zhan without any pushback, as if reeled in by those simple words. Lan Zhan looks up at Wei Ying from where she’s seated. There’s already a glimmer of sweat across Wei Ying’s forehead.

Lan Zhan pats one of her thighs.

Wei Ying swallows.

Lan Zhan looks at her, tilting her head down toward her lap, a little impatient.

Wei Ying tentatively crawls onto Lan Zhan so she’s straddling her in the chair, her knees bracketing Lan Zhan’s thighs. Lan Zhan can feel the heat of Wei Ying’s skin as she rests her weight on Lan Zhan. Wei Ying is only wearing an oversized t-shirt — Lan Zhan is pretty sure it used to be hers at some point, ages ago — as a dress; it slides up Wei Ying’s legs as she settles onto Lan Zhan’s lap. Lan Zhan is pleased that Wei Ying hasn’t bothered with pants today; it will save them the time.

Wei Ying’s hands tentatively rest on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and Lan Zhan lets out a low hum, approving. For all they’ve touched, they’ve never sat like this before with Wei Ying on her lap. She keeps her hands on the chair’s armrests for now, as she takes Wei Ying in. Lan Zhan’s always known, always been aware of how pretty Wei Ying is, but she flicks her eyes downward and drags a slow, appreciative gaze back across Wei Ying’s body, up her slender thighs, over her chest, along the line of her neck, until she reaches Wei Ying’s face, thinking of all the ways and places she can make Wei Ying feel good.

“Ahaha, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, chewing her bottom lip. “Are, are you sure? Do you really want to — ?”

“I want to make Wei Ying come,” Lan Zhan says, simply.

Wei Ying, honest to God, yelps. Lan Zhan sits, waiting for Wei Ying to recover.

“Will you let me?” she says after a moment.

Wei Ying nods her head, jerkily, and swallows. Lan Zhan watches the movement in her neck and resists the urge to lean forward and bite against the skin there.

“So, I guess we’re really doing this,” Wei Ying says, eventually. “Practice. Ah, sex practice. You’re a — a really good friend. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan brings a hand to Wei Ying’s narrow waist, her long hands making Wei Ying look smaller, and squeezes, not lightly.

“Um, right, you’re right. Where should — I mean, how should we start?” Wei Ying asks.

“Where does Wei Ying think we should start?” Lan Zhan asks, casually despite her oddly erratic heartbeat. Now that this is actually happening, Wei Ying seated on her, agreeing to sex, the reality of the situation is starting to sink in. Lan Zhan’s feeling jittery, on edge somehow. Even though she’s had sex before, had a pleasant time herself, this feels… different. She’s never felt nervous at the idea of sleeping with someone, but, then again, she’s never had sex with someone she cares about, who matters as much to her as Wei Ying does. Lan Zhan wants it to be good, wants Wei Ying to feel comfortable, so even though normally Lan Zhan would take the initiative, she lets Wei Ying choose how to start this process.

“Um, I guess, we could — Or, I should kiss you?” Wei Ying suggests, eyes darting from Lan Zhan’s to her mouth. Wei Ying licks her lips and even though Lan Zhan has seen her do this before and should be used to it, the sight is distracting as it's always been. A thrill shoots through Lan Zhan at the thought of Wei Ying’s tongue on her skin, on her mouth, on her… dick.

Lan Zhan breathes slowly through her nose, maintaining her impassive demeanour, and tilts her head up, lazily, giving Wei Ying permission to kiss her.

Wei Ying ducks her head down hesitantly and presses her mouth against Lan Zhan’s. Wei Ying's lips are soft, but she is stiff and awkward, pulling away almost immediately.

“Was that — was that okay?” Wei Ying won’t look Lan Zhan in the eyes again. She’s lifted her hands so that they’re hovering over Lan Zhan’s shoulder as if she’s trying to minimize contact with Lan Zhan — as much as is possible while literally sitting on Lan Zhan’s lap.

Lan Zhan gazes at Wei Ying, whose anxious energy rolls off her body, palpable. Lan Zhan wants Wei Ying to relax, to be comfortable and enjoy herself. Sex should be pleasurable for Wei Ying. That is the point of all this.

Lan Zhan snaps her fingers in front of Wei Ying’s face to capture her attention. Wei Ying’s eyes flicker towards Lan Zhan’s immediately, glassy, a little wet. Her mouth has fallen open without her seeming to realize it.

“Wei Ying, stop thinking,” Lan Zhan says before she snakes a hand behind Wei Ying’s neck and pulls her down into another kiss, threading her fingers through Wei Ying’s hair. Their mouths slot together and Lan Zhan kisses Wei Ying leisurely, slow and languid even though her entire world feels like it’s being reset now that she knows the soft press of Wei Ying’s lips on hers. Lan Zhan’s other hand is resting on Wei Ying’s hip, thumb brushing over her hip bone, and she feels Wei Ying softening, sighing into the kiss and melting against Lan Zhan’s body. Wei Ying rests her arms on Lan Zhan’s shoulders again, looping them so that she’s drawn herself against Lan Zhan.

The kiss feels good, but it’s somehow not nearly enough.

Lan Zhan grazes her teeth over Wei Ying’s lower lip, and Wei Ying groans in the kiss. At the sound, Lan Zhan’s unable to stop herself from tightening her clasp against Wei Ying’s nape and biting down more firmly against Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s lips part and Lan Zhan is suddenly taking advantage of Wei Ying’s mouth, working her tongue inside, thorough and insistent, not gentle at all. To her immense pleasure, Wei Ying is making tiny whimpering noises from the back of her throat.

When Lan Zhan pulls away, Wei Ying’s pupils are blown and there’s a line of spit that connects their mouths. She’s panting and breathless. Lan Zhan’s surprised to find that she herself is not unaffected either, her own chest rising and falling visibly.

“Did you like that?” Lan Zhan says, knowing Wei Ying did.

“We — we should do that again. Practice makes perfect,” Wei Ying says, sounding dazed before she leans forward again, but she doesn’t make it to Lan Zhan’s mouth because Lan Zhan holds her back with the hand that’s still at the base of Wei Ying’s skull, tugging at her hair slightly.

“Answer me,” Lan Zhan says. Then, she lets go of her grip on Wei Ying, soothing the hair at the back of her neck, before leaning back into the chair as far as she can, hands returning to the arm rests, pointedly not touching Wei Ying. Wei Ying lets out a soft whine and she looks down at Lan Zhan a little helplessly, confused.

Wei Ying blinks slowly as if remembering what Lan Zhan said. “Oh,” Wei Ying breathes. “Yes, yeah, that was — good.”

Lan Zhan feels the corner of her eyes crinkle slightly in satisfaction and amusement at having made Wei Ying like this, undone with just a kiss.

“Hm, and you want to do it again?” Lan Zhan asks, mildly, keeping the teasing out of her voice.

Wei Ying nods her head vigorously.

“Can you ask?” Lan Zhan says, casually, leaning her head on one of her arms, looking up at Wei Ying from the side.

“Wha—?”

“Ask nicely,” Lan Zhan prompts. “If you want me to touch you again.”

“Please, please, please, Lan Zhan, can you, get your hands on me and just kiss me?” Wei Ying pants, fingers curling into grip tightly at the fabric of Lan Zhan’s shirt. “Touch me everywhere, anywhere you want. Please.” Lan Zhan feels a fire light up in the pit of her stomach at the desperation in Wei Ying’s voice, the need, the want.

Lan Zhan lets out a deep noise in her throat and surges forward to Wei Ying, whispering, “Good girl,” against Wei Ying’s lip. Wei Ying inhales sharply. And then Lan Zhan is capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Lan Zhan devours Wei Ying, messy and rough, teeth grazing her lip, licking into her mouth. Wei Ying’s nails dig into flesh slightly as she grips Lan Zhan’s elbow, twisting in Lan Zhan’s lap, kissing back with similar fervor.

Lan Zhan dips down to mouth her way along Wei Ying’s jaw, the skin beneath her ear, down her neck, biting and sucking, soothing her tongue over the marks she’s leaving. “Oh my God—” Wei Ying says, hand curling in Lan Zhan’s hair as she squirms against Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan’s own hands are groping Wei Ying; now that she’s touching Wei Ying like this, she can’t seem to get enough. There’s so much of Wei Ying that she hasn’t explored, hasn’t learned of yet. One hand is squeezing Wei Ying’s ass cheek, hard enough that it’ll leave a red imprint of her hand. The other travels under the thin fabric of Wei Ying’s shirt, scraping her nails up. Wei Ying’s not wearing a bra because she never does. Normally, Lan Zhan hates it, but it is very convenient for this occasion. Lan Zhan’s thumb brushes experimentally against Wei Ying’s nipple, which is already hard.

(One day in their third year of high school, in the locker room after gym class, Wei Ying had shoved her chest into Lan Zhan’s face, asking if they looked strange while complaining about how small they were. Lan Zhan had counted to three in her head, noting that Wei Ying’s chest was smaller than hers, before looking away, saying, “They look nice,” as calmly as she could.

Wei Ying hadn’t let the issue drop and insisted that Lan Zhan show her her boobs so they could compare. That way Wei Ying would know for sure that she was ‘normal’ because Lan Zhan was perfect, she’d argued, batting her eyelashes at Lan Zhan, which was ridiculous and illogical. And even though Lan Zhan knew she was doing it only as a joke, for some reason she unclasped her bra.

Wei Ying's jaw fell slightly at the sight of Lan Zhan’s tits, which to Lan Zhan seemed rather unremarkable. “Can I touch them?” Wei Ying asked, sounding a little hoarse, then blinked. “For, uh, science. To compare, I mean.”

“Wei Ying can do whatever she wants,” Lan Zhan swallowed.

Wei Ying had flexed her hand and palmed at Lan Zhan’s chest. “Oh, they’re. Nice.” Wei Ying said, eyes wide.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan said, strangled, hoping that Wei Ying couldn’t feel the way her heart thudded in her chest. “Yours are too,” she said before walking away and locking herself in a bathroom stall until she could breathe again. She spent the rest of the week wondering if she should have offered to touch Wei Ying’s chest back, if a good friend would do that, and spent even longer wondering what they’d felt like.

Anyway, now she knows.)

Wei Ying moans when Lan Zhan touches her nipple, loud and wanton. She immediately pushes back and claps a hand over her mouth, looking somewhat mortified.

The noise makes Lan Zhan feel wild, insane. She wants to hear it again.

Lan Zhan curiously pinches the nipple under her hand again, more insistently this time. Wei Ying’s eyes snap shut and her whole body shudders, but she keeps her hand over her mouth, muffling her own sound.

Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow.

“Wei Ying.” A rebuke.

Wei Ying’s eyes flutter open to look at Lan Zhan. “Sorry, Lan Zhan,” she says, perhaps instinctively.

“Do not apologize. Let me hear you.”

“No,” Wei Ying says from behind her hand, shaking her head. “I can’t, Lan Zhan. It’s too embarrassing. It’s too much. I’m too — ” She cuts herself off, like she’s said more than she’d meant to.

Lan Zhan reaches up and tugs at Wei Ying’s wrist, pulling her hand away. Lan Zhan bites the inside of Wei Ying’s palm before pressing a kiss on the same spot.

“I like it,” Lan Zhan says, turning back to gaze up at Wei Ying.

“Oh.” Wei Ying’s whole face turns pink.

“Want to know I made Wei Ying feel good,” Lan Zhan says. How else will Lan Zhan know that she’s succeeded in what she’s set out to do? “Let me hear.”

“Is that — would that be good?” Wei Ying asks. “Will I be good if I was loud?”

“Wei Ying, do not pretend,” Lan Zhan says, stern. “You’re good, regardless.”

Wei Ying shivers. “Okay. That’s — Okay. Then, can you, um.” She waves her hands vaguely.

“Wei Ying needs to ask for what she wants,” Lan Zhan reminds her, pinching the skin of Wei Ying’s thigh.

“Can you say it again? Call me, ah, good?” Wei Ying says, pink flush slowly turning red. “If that’s not too weird. Or like, only if you want to, Lan Zhan.”

“Good,” Lan Zhan breathes.

And they’re kissing again, mouths against each other, a perfect fit, like they were meant for this. Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying forward by her hips so that their bodies are pressed together. Wei Ying hitches her hips urgently against Lan Zhan’s, noisy ah ah ahs spilling from her freely now, already so worked up even though they’re barely getting started.

Briefly, Lan Zhan wonders why they hadn’t kissed before today. Doesn’t remember what held them back. It feels like a shame. All that time, wasted without her tongue in Wei Ying’s mouth. Well, she’ll just need to make up for that.

Her hands tugs at the shirt that Wei Ying is somehow still wearing for some reason.

Wei Ying fumbles, scrambling to unclothe herself. In her eagerness, her arms seem to fail her and she gets stuck with the shirt over her head. Lan Zhan can’t help the small smile that plays on her mouth, feeling hopelessly endeared. She reaches to help free Wei Ying of the shirt before tossing it over her own shoulder, letting it fall to the floor somewhere behind them.

Wei Ying catches sight of Lan Zhan’s expression and gasps, shoving her shoulder.

“Lan Zhan, you’re laughing at me, you fucker,” Wei Ying says, indignant.

“Mn, I will.” Lan Zhan says, distracted: Wei Ying is sitting on her lap, naked except for her underwear. She’s seen Wei Ying’s body before over the course of the years of their friendship — Wei Ying having never been too modest with her body — but never like this. Never been allowed to touch. Lan Zhan’s mouth ghosts over Wei Ying’s nipples, which are dark and hard. But just in case she wasn’t clear, she adds to clarify, “Fuck Wei Ying,” her teeth grazing skin as she speaks. “With my dick.” Wei Ying shivers at her words, hand tangling in Lan Zhan’s hair.

Then, Lan Zhan latches her mouth properly onto Wei Ying’s nipple, sucking and biting, as Wei Ying tips her head back and groans. Lan Zhan’s hands are everywhere on Wei Ying, kneading and pinching her other breast, before roaming down to cup the front of Wei Ying’s pussy. Wei Ying’s underwear is damp and Lan Zhan almost can’t believe it, almost can’t believe how slick Wei Ying is already.

“So wet,” she murmurs into Wei Ying’s skin, voice almost reverent. She pushes Wei Ying’s underwear to the side and brushes her fingers up and down against the folds of Wei Ying’s pussy, like she would do for herself, purposefully avoiding her clit. She unceremoniously slides two fingers into Wei Ying’s tight heat as Wei Ying jolts, crying out.

“Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan, more, please.”

Lan Zhan pumps in and out, slowly in a steady rhythm until Wei Ying is dripping onto her fingers. The angle isn’t great, seated like this, yet Wei Ying grinds her hips back onto Lan Zhan’s fingers, needy and desperate.

Wei Ying whines, a little bratty, but it turns into a high-pitched anguished noise when Lan Zhan removes her fingers.

“Lan Zha—? Oh my god, fuck.” Wei Ying groans. Because Lan Zhan is lifting Wei Ying up, standing from the chair. She scrambles to maintain her hold on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, but it doesn’t matter. Lan Zhan’s hands are secure under Wei Ying’s thighs.

She won’t let Wei Ying fall.

Lan Zhan deposits Wei Ying onto her mattress, which bounces a little under Wei Ying’s weight. Lan Zhan can feel her forehead is damp with sweat, the tendrils of her hair stuck to her skin. She brushes them aside quickly, eager to get back to business.

Wei Ying’s legs dangle off the edge of the bed as she looks up at Lan Zhan. Under Lan Zhan’s hooded gaze, Wei Ying gets self-conscious, moving to cover her chest, which is silly since Lan Zhan has been looking, just had her mouth all over her tits.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, voice low, a warning.

Wei Ying’s arms drop to her sides and Lan Zhan takes her time, surveying her handiwork.

Lan Zhan’s never thought much of the men she’s slept with in the past, never really paused to consider if their bodies were handsome or attractive or appealing. A body is a body and Lan Zhan’s never felt picky about what her partners looked like. She was just there to get them and herself off.

But Wei Ying is captivating, gorgeous and almost unreal. Her hair is tousled beyond belief and her lips are red and spit-slick. There’s a smattering of marks, bite imprints and bruised red skin, across Wei Ying’s neck and chest. Lan Zhan steps forward to trace each mark with her fingers. At a dark bruise along Wei Ying’s collarbone, Lan Zhan presses down on the tender skin.

Wei Ying gasps, clamping her legs together, and the motion makes a wet, filthy sound.

It’s satisfying to hear, but Lan Zhan thinks the sound will be even more satisfying if she recreates it by fucking Wei Ying properly.

Lan Zhan taps one of Wei Ying’s thighs and Wei Ying parts for her instantly. She nudges one knee up onto the mattress and in between Wei Ying’s legs and Wei Ying tries to grind forward onto Lan Zhan’s thigh, gasping, “Ahhh, Lan Zhan, hnnn.”

Impatient, Lan Zhan thinks. Then because nothing is stopping her, says it aloud.

Lan Zhan pulls the waistband of Wei Ying’s underwear and releases it so that it snaps back onto her skin. “Off,” Lan Zhan says, roughly.

Wei Ying awkwardly lifts her hips up to take off her underwear, which is soaked through to the point of making the fabric see-through. “Lan Zhan, this isn’t fair,” she complains when she’s got them off. “You’ve still got your clothes on.”

Lan Zhan’s brain is short-circuiting from the sight of Wei Ying’s cunt — Lan Zhan didn’t know pussy could look like that — so she indulges Wei Ying, shedding the t-shirt that she’s been wearing and shucking off her sweatpants and boxer briefs, which are just as soaked as Wei Ying’s, if not more. She folds each article of clothing and places them on her chair. She’s shivering, she realizes, almost vibrating from anticipation, from — want. She recognizes the feeling because she’s always felt this way around Wei Ying, always wanted to be with Wei Ying, to have Wei Ying any way that she was allowed; she’s just never experienced it during sex before. But now it’s like she’s been set ablaze, engulfed by the ache of her desire, racked with arousal and lust.

“Yeah, that’s — you’re so hot.” Wei Ying, who’s been taking her in, eyes hazy and heated, says, breathless. She reaches up to touch Lan Zhan, fingers about to stroke her hip, but Lan Zhan takes them and places her hands to the side.

“No,” she commands. “Hands to yourself.”

While Lan Zhan thinks it would be… nice for Wei Ying to touch her, she also thinks that something in her might break if that happens, but she can’t name it or place it yet and right now there are more pressing matters to attend to.

Instead, Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying further up the bed and settles herself between Wei Ying. She presses long kisses along the inside of Wei Ying’s legs, suckling the inside of her thighs, already drenched with her slick. Wei Ying, to her credit, keeps her hands to her sides, curling them into the sheets underneath her as she begs, “Lan Zhan, yes, yes, yes.”

Lan Zhan feels herself smirk into Wei Ying’s skin. She’s always liked to be in control, but she especially likes the way Wei Ying trusts her enough to give herself up fully and willingly to Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan pauses before Wei Ying’s cunt, gazes at her entrance, feeling mesmerized at the sight of Wei Ying’s folds, so pink and shiny under the light from how wet Wei Ying is. She blinks slowly before looking up at Wei Ying. “Do you want,” she says, puffing a breath against her heat. Wei Ying’s hips buck up, but Lan Zhan holds them down with one hand across her hip, squeezing, too tight, at the rush that overcomes her at the realization of exactly how sensitive Wei Ying is.

“Oh my fucking god, Lan Zhan, yes. Just do whatever you want. I want —,” Wei Ying pants, sounding almost frustrated, “I want you, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan hums, feels her toes curl at Wei Ying’s words because Lan Zhan wants this too, wants to taste Wei Ying. She leans down, diving into Wei Ying’s heat with enthusiasm and begins to eat her out, messy and sloppy. Wei Ying is musky and sweet and sour in the best way and Lan Zhan can’t get enough; nothing has tasted better.

Lan Zhan’s eyes slip close and she breathes in Wei Ying’s scent as she listens for Wei Ying’s responses: learns what makes her twitch, and best yet, what makes her moan. Lan Zhan laps at Wei Ying’s folds, open-mouthed, tongue flicking up and down. The sound of Wei Ying’s groans get louder as Lan Zhan circles her entrance, before Lan Zhan fucks her tongue in, licking deep into Wei Ying, one hand still clamped over Wei Ying’s hip bone while the other plays with her ass, kneading the fat there. Wei Ying twitches and pants, a litany of desperate yeses and fucks and Lan Zhans spilling out of her that overlaps with the wet noises Lan Zhan’s drawing out from her as she tongues in and out of Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan moves up and fastens her mouth onto Wei Ying’s clit in a rough kiss, sucking hard. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I’m —” Wei Ying says, clenching her thighs. Her whole body trembles and Lan Zhan feels it, feels how close Wei Ying is.

And suddenly, Lan Zhan realizes that this will be over when Wei Ying comes and she finds that she doesn’t want that. Not one bit. Something greedy inside her wants this to last forever, demands for more even though she’s doing this for Wei Ying, not herself. So she panics and pulls away right before the orgasm hits Wei Ying. Her chin is dripping wet and feels slightly cold now that she’s no longer nestled between Wei Ying’s warmth.

“Lan Zhan?!” Wei Ying wheezes, shocked and aghast. She props herself up on her elbows and looks down at Lan Zhan. “Is — is something wrong?” she asks even as she wriggles her hips forward to try and find purchase and relief against Lan Zhan’s mouth.

Lan Zhan pinches one of her ass cheeks and Wei Ying gasps.

“Wei Ying comes when I say she can,” Lan Zhan says the first thing that comes to her mind, voice raspy.

“But, but, you said,” Wei Ying sputters, “you want me to feel good?”

“You will when I say,” Lan Zhan promises. She crawls up and cups Wei Ying’s face in her hand. “Okay?”

“I —” Wei Ying closes her eyes, catching her breath and steadying herself.

Lan Zhan dips down to kiss Wei Ying’s eyelids, nose, and then mouth quickly. “You can take it, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying’s whole body shudders and she opens her eyes and gives Lan Zhan a small nod.

Lan Zhan shifts back down the bed to settle between Wei Ying’s thighs again. She lifts one of Wei Ying’s legs over her shoulder before ducking her head down again to lap at Wei Ying’s pussy again. Lan Zhan teases Wei Ying’s entrance with two fingers before pressing them into Wei Ying. Wei Ying throws her head back and groans, chest heaving as she parts her legs further.

Lan Zhan watches in fascination at how her fingers disappear up into Wei Ying, into her dark folds. It’s different to see, to watch the way her fingers slide in easily, the way the skin of her fingers begins to glisten with Wei Ying’s slick as she pumps in quick and shallow. Lan Zhan bites her lip, heart hammering in her chest at the feeling of Wei Ying’s walls throbbing around her, clenching in need.

Lan Zhan fucks her fingers deep into Wei Ying, curling them up to sink into her and she must hit the right spot because Wei Ying bucks up and grinds down onto Lan Zhan, panting, “Oh, fuck, Lan Zhan.” So Lan Zhan strokes in again, deeper, pressing firmly as she scissors her fingers. She’s determined to make this moment last as long as she can, so she gauges Wei Ying’s reactions carefully and methodically as she builds momentum with her fingers and then slows down each time Wei Ying gets close. After the second time she staves off Wei Ying’s climax, she adds a third finger, maintaining a steady pressure, and lowers her mouth to tease Wei Ying’s clit, enjoying the sensation of Wei Ying spasming around her.

Lan Zhan loses track of how many times she brings Wei Ying to the edge as she lets herself get lost in Wei Ying’s heat. Wei Ying is a blubbering mess beneath her, body writhing, incoherent noises pouring from her. She’s saying words, but Lan Zhan is so under that they blur together, sounds that seem almost distant.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Lan Zhan feels a tugging sensation against her scalp amidst her fazy brain fog and realizes that Wei Ying has fisted her hands into her hair. She’s gripping Lan Zhan so urgently that it stings a little, sending sparks all through Lan Zhan, down her spine and to her own cunt. Lan Zhan becomes aware of Wei Ying sobbing, begging, “Lan Zhan, please,” her body hitching, shaking with the readiness to come.

Lan Zhan lifts her head, looks up at Wei Ying, fingers still pumping in and out of her. Wei Ying, who she’s never been able to deny for very long, who has been so good for her, keeping her hands to herself like Lan Zhan’d said to until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Come for me, Wei Ying,” she says, voice filled with devotion and awe.

Lan Zhan’s thumb reaches up to circle Wei Ying’s clit and when she presses on it, Wei Ying’s back arches as she finally climaxes, loud and unrepentant, her pussy convulsing around Lan Zhan’s fingers. Wei Ying’s blabbering, speaking nonsense, but she says Lan Zhan over and over again amidst her words and it sounds like a prayer as Lan Zhan mercilessly fucks Wei Ying through orgasm.

Wei Ying shudders as she slowly comes down from her high, hiccuping softly as her body goes lax and loose. Lan Zhan pulls out her fingers and licks up Wei Ying’s pussy, murmuring, “Good Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan maneuvers herself onto one elbow and brings her other hand down to her own pussy and finds that she’s wetter than she’s ever been. Usually, she needs to build herself up to orgasm with lube, but after a few quick flicks of her clit, she comes to the noise, taste, and smell of Wei Ying. It crests over her so sharply that her head feels dizzy, unable to stop herself from digging her nails deep into Wei Ying’s flesh and letting out a throaty groan against Wei Ying. Wei Ying’s hips buck up and she comes again, sharply and all of a sudden, gasping softly in pleasure from the overstimulation.

It’s the best orgasm Lan Zhan’s ever had.

When Lan Zhan’s able, she sucks her own hands — pruney beyond belief — clean and crawls up the bed. Wei Ying is wrecked, sweaty and wrung out, tears in the corner of her eyes, and she’s never looked better, absolutely perfect and transcendent. Lan Zhan wants to cherish and worship Wei Ying like she is something holy, finds that her heart squeezes in her chest when she lets herself look at Wei Ying’s content expression.

(At Lan Zhan’s university graduation, Lan Zhan had stood with her family by the field, waiting for Wei Ying to find them. Her eyes combed through the crowd until she’d seen Wei Ying, pushing her way toward them with a bouquet of flowers, her hair up in a red velvet scrunchie. Pleasure had unfurled in her chest and she’d been unable to stop the corners of her mouth from tilting upward. Lan Huan, who’d been standing by her, had considered Lan Zhan and said, “You really love Wei Ying, don't you?”

Lan Zhan hadn't understood why her brother had felt the need to state the most obvious thing in the world. Of course, Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying. Lan Zhan doesn’t think that there’s anything she wouldn’t do for Wei Ying. They’re best friends after all.)

The same feeling washes over Lan Zhan now, and she reaches out and wipes the tears away, tenderly. Wei Ying catches her gaze, sees the way Lan Zhan’s eyes linger on her face. She lets out a distraught, choked sound and is suddenly reaching up, urgently, arms open for Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan’s unable to resist, lowering herself and answering Wei Ying with slow, exploratory kisses, a soothing hand drawing circles on her back.

Eventually, Lan Zhan gets up. Ignoring Wei Ying’s mewls of protest, she drops a quick, placating kiss to Wei Ying’s temple and makes quick work of snagging a towel and bringing some water over to the bed, as well as the tangerines that she’d forgotten about from earlier. She wipes Wei Ying down and makes her drink the water, tipping her head up and bringing the glass to her lips. She kisses away the droplets that dribble down Wei Ying’s chin and slowly feeds her tangerine slices.

“S’good, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying slurs, drowsy and fuzzy as she licks the juice off of Lan Zhan’s fingers.

When Lan Zhan is satisfied that Wei Ying has eaten enough, she crawls back into bed. Lan Zhan tucks Wei Ying into her body, sliding an arm around her waist so that they’re spooned together, her chest pressed against Wei Ying’s back. She kisses the back of Wei Ying’s neck and says, almost drowsily, against her skin, “Wei Ying did so well. Love you.”

As Lan Zhan closes her eyes, a wave of exhaustion hits her. She’s more tired than she usually is after a fuck. Wei Ying is so still under her arm that Lan Zhan thinks she’s asleep. After what feels like a long stretch of silence, Lan Zhan is drifting off herself when she hears Wei Ying whisper, like it’s a secret, “Yeah, I love you, too.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan murmurs and tightens her arm around Wei Ying.

~

Two days later, Lan Zhan realizes, belatedly, that she failed to fuck Wei Ying with one of her dicks.

It’s a rather unfortunate realization to have at one’s job, and even more unfortunate that it happens in the middle of delivering a workshop for elementary school children at the museum she works at.

Lan Zhan feels the way her ears begin to burn, and she has to grip her hands tightly so that her nails dig into her skin in order to focus again. Lan Zhan cannot bring herself to look at any of the children in the eye for the rest of the workshop; she is lucky that the thought struck her near the end of her presentation, meaning that the children are antsy and distracted, attention drifting off as the promise of being freed from the classroom draws closer.

Lan Zhan knows that she has been… off for the last few days. She could barely keep up a conversation with Lan Huan during their regular Sunday brunches he insists on. Nothing has technically changed since Saturday — Lan Zhan and Wei Ying have made plans to go hiking next weekend, Lan Zhan has been cooking them dinner while Wei Ying asks her questions about the latest exhibit Lan Zhan is curating, and in the evenings Wei Ying pulls up the street dance reality show she’s obsessed with. All indicators that their friendship is the same as it’s always been — but Lan Zhan has been unable to stop thinking about Wei Ying in her bed. That, upon reflection, is not unusual, given the way Wei Ying often sneaks into her room and bundles herself under Lan Zhan’s covers when something is on her mind after her therapy sessions or if she’s missing Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.

And even though Lan Zhan scolds Wei Ying for entering her room without permission, she likes that Wei Ying does it anyway, likes it when she comes home and finds Wei Ying lying in her bed, knowing that she feels comfortable and safe there.

She just hadn’t realized how much she likes it, that what she likes about it now includes the image of Wei Ying naked and blissed-out, smiling lazily and luxurious under the soft rays of sunlight beaming in through Lan Zhan’s window — just as she’d smiled when she’d blinked awake that morning they’d woken up together, legs tangled, the smell of sex in the room. It did stupid things to Lan Zhan’s heart for reasons she couldn’t quite place.

Wei Ying had then said, once she was properly awake, “Haha, thanks for doing me a favor, Lan Zhan. I hope that wasn’t too unbearable for you,” and that also did stupid, less nice things to Lan Zhan’s heart at the reminder that this had been a one time thing: that it wouldn’t happen again, now that Wei Ying had had her orgasm, ready to take on the lesbian community.

Wei Ying had come out to Lan Zhan in their first year of college. They’d attended different universities that were an hour apart and it was the first time they’d been apart, having always existed in each other’s spheres since childhood. It had been an adjustment to not see Wei Ying every day, but they’d made the effort to stay in touch and see each other, alternating weekends to visit.

One weekend, Lan Zhan, frustrated by how her hair got in her way during soccer practice, had decided to chop her long locks. She enjoyed the new way her hair settled above her shoulders; the short hair had felt freeing and it made her look good. Lan Zhan felt no shame in admitting it and her teammates had been rather incessant with their compliments. But Wei Ying must not have liked the short hair because when she visited for Lan Zhan’s game, she wouldn’t even look Lan Zhan in the eye. Perhaps she’d been unsettled by the drastic change or something else was bothering her because Wei Ying was constantly on edge and changing the topic, stammering on about something incoherent, each time Lan Zhan tried to ask her what was wrong. Lan Zhan had decided to give Wei Ying the space to let her grapple with whatever it was that was bothering her. She’d only deflect if Lan Zhan pressed any further and Lan Zhan trusted Wei Ying to come to her when she was ready.

It turned out that Wei Ying had only needed a week because when Lan Zhan turned up at Wei Ying’s dorm that next weekend, she flung open the door to her room and announced, quite loudly and without prompting, “I’m gay.”

Lan Zhan was startled by the unusual welcome, but simply nodded. “Okay.”

Wei Ying’s face, which had been one of apprehension, morphed quickly into shock and indignation. Wei Ying was bristling to say more, Lan Zhan could tell, and not wanting to continue the conversation in the midst of the crowded dorm hallway, Lan Zhan walked past Wei Ying into her room.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaimed, sounding exasperated as she trailed behind Lan Zhan. “What kind of response is that! I am making an announcement here. There should be a little bit more fanfare to your reaction. This is a pivotal moment for me!”

Lan Zhan turned toward Wei Ying, who was standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, scowling a little. This was not necessarily an unusual posture for Wei Ying to make when she was upset with Lan Zhan for denying her something, whether it be because of Lan Zhan’s respect for the rules in back in high school or her unwillingness to stay up to and accompany Wei Ying for whatever it was she wanted to do at night now that they were in college. There was, however, something off about the way Wei Ying shoulders were set today: tight and filled with tension.

Lan Zhan considered Wei Ying. While the news was, perhaps, abrupt, Lan Zhan didn’t think this changed much for their relationship. Wei Ying was still her Wei Ying.

So, Lan Zhan said without much inflection, “Congratulations.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying smacked her on the arm, hard, but she was biting back a grin and the tension dissipated from her shoulders.

Lan Zhan smirked slightly at Wei Ying, but contentment unfurled in her chest at the way Wei Ying’s whole body seemed to settle, relaxing into an easiness that Lan Zhan prided herself in being able to provide for Wei Ying, especially after bad days with Madam Yu.

After a pause, Lan Zhan said, seriously, “Thank you for telling me.”

Only then had Wei Ying smiled fully, beaming up at Lan Zhan and looking radiant like the sun. And that had been that.

Lan Zhan herself was not completely ignorant about the LGBT community or unknowledgeable with regard to queerness. Her own brother has a situation going on with his two boyfriends or something. But she had never been too interested in learning the details about his sexual affairs — it’s her brother.

So when she’d gone home after the weekend was over, Lan Zhan, who valued her friendship with Wei Ying, looked up various educational articles about lesbian-ism, which she did find, but not before clicking through some, ah, unfortunate results from various porn sites. Lan Zhan felt that the articles weren’t expansive enough though, severely lacking in sensitivity and understanding to queer issues, so she also decided to sign up for a SafeZones educational training at her university to make sure she was well-equipped to talk about sexuality with Wei Ying. If it was relevant to Wei Ying, it was important for Lan Zhan to know about; she always wants to be a safe person for Wei Ying.

And it’s not like Lan Zhan has never thought about her own sexuality, about the possibility of queerness, but she’d just never met a girl who’s mattered more to her than her best friend. Never been particularly interested in holding someone down and fucking them the way she’s always thought it’d be nice for someone to do to Wei Ying. Regardless of gender, Wei Ying seems very fuckable, in an unbiased, completely non-objectifying way. She is, ultimately, objectively very pretty with her objectively cute tits and objectively great ass. As her friend, Lan Zhan also has it on good authority that Wei Ying has a charming personality to boot.

Now that Lan Zhan knows that she was correct in her assessment though, she has been unable to stop thinking about having sex with Wei Ying in her bed. Although the bed part feels more or less optional — Lan Zhan thinks, knows, she’d not be opposed to taking Wei Ying anywhere, any time — but now her sheets smell of Wei Ying, of her pussy and spit. And perhaps she’d broken her routine and put off laundry that weekend to try and make the scent last just a few days longer.

In the past, sex hadn’t ever meant much to Lan Zhan. Every so often, she’ll open up an app, find a guy who didn’t seem like he’d throw too much of a fuss at the concept of being pegged — the only bit of sex she’s even remotely liked in her previous encounters with men — and they’d meet up and that’d be that. Lan Zhan would get along with her life until the urge to fuck came up again. It’s always felt like scratching an itch, fulfilling a bodily need. And so the concept of dating itself had always seemed a bit pointless. She already has what she needs in life: a job that she enjoys, her family, her soccer teammates who still hit her up for pick-up games each month, and Wei Ying.

But now, the thought of sex is constant. Sex with Wei Ying. Unable to get the urge out of her head, Lan Zhan’s been constantly horny and wet, getting herself off each night since to the memory of Wei Ying’s body writhing under hers or a new fantasy of what she’d do differently if given the opportunity.

It’s not that Lan Zhan wants to forget and move on, certainly the opposite of that, but it is hard for her to do anything when her mind keeps wandering back to the feel of Wei Ying’s skin on hers, the taste of her slick, and — It’s distracting, as Wei Ying always is, but more so because Lan Zhan keeps thinking about how else she could make Wei Ying feel good, what things she did not have the opportunity try out in her eagerness to please Wei Ying that day. She wonders what Wei Ying’s cunt would look like, stretched out, as she slid her cock in, how loudly Wei Ying would scream if Lan Zhan edged her for a full day before finally letting Wei Ying sit on her face, how long the imprints would last if she were able to tie Wei Ying’s hands up while Lan Zhan made her come repeatedly until she was numb with the overstimulation of it.

Lan Zhan is aware that these are not thoughts or desires that would technically be categorized as straight, but objectively, anyone would want, right? Wei Ying, she means. Lan Zhan finds it hard to fathom a world where anyone would not. Is that even possible?

And when she considers her feelings for Wei Ying, nothing has changed. Lan Zhan still loves her the same as she always has.

Wei Ying has always been special, so maybe it’s simply that. She deserves sexual pleasure; deserves all the pleasures in the world. If Lan Zhan can help give it to her, why shouldn't she as someone who loves her?

And Lan Zhan’s pleased to say that she was successful, accomplishing what she’d set out to, but this also means there’s no reason for a repeat. Nothing that makes sense within the realm of their friendship, so, even though Lan Zhan didn’t get to use her dick, she’s determined to place it out of her mind as much as possible in order to preserve their relationship and her sanity.

It was a one time thing and that’s okay, she reminds herself.

(If presented the opportunity, who would she be to give up the chance to do it again, though?)

But Wei Ying has not been making things easy. She’s been driving Lan Zhan up the wall, making no attempt to cover up the smattering of violet hickeys that Lan Zhan has left on her. For some reason, she’s felt the need to wear a series of low-cut shirts despite the fact that it is perfectly acceptable weather for her to throw on a turtleneck or scarf. How anyone is getting anything done in Wei Ying’s lab is beyond Lan Zhan, especially considering the way that Wei Ying absentmindedly traces the bruises with her fingers, hissing and gasping out when she presses down onto her tender skin.

On Thursday morning, as they’re getting ready for the day together in the bathroom, Wei Ying looks at herself in the mirror, head angled to show off the line of her throat. She pokes at a mark under her ear and says, “Hmm, it’s fading.”

Lan Zhan nearly chokes brushing her teeth.

Because the way Wei Ying says it, voice tinged with disappointment and regret, makes it sound like she’s… upset, and sorry that this piece of evidence of their time together is disappearing; like she’d really appreciate it if Lan Zhan flipped her over and slammed her into the sink to suck the skin behind her ear and make the bruise shiny and new again.

Lan Zhan steps up behind Wei Ying and places a hand on Wei Ying’s arm, feels a spark shoot through both of them, too strong to pass it off as static electricity. For a second Lan Zhan thinks she will, she’ll actually do it; toothbrush in her mouth be damned.

But then she makes eye contact with Wei Ying in the mirror and Lan Zhan can see her own gaze. Her eyes are wide, pupils so dark that her amber eyes look black. She looks hungry, feral, unhinged, like she’s some kind of animal stalking her prey.

Lan Zhan knows that she has a tendency to get… possessive, territorial even. Once, when she was ten, Lan Huan, who was in high school, had brought home his first boyfriend, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Zhan had thrown what could politely be called a fit, if you were being incredibly generous. She refused to talk to him, upset at this new figure suddenly in their lives. Lan Huan was her brother and she did not like to share. (Nie Mingjue laughing even after Lan Zhan had bit his arm is one of the reasons she does actually like him, but it took her several years to admit that. Not that that stopped Lan Huan from being able to tell, eyes twinkling in amusement whenever Nie Mingjue came over and Lan Zhan pretended to sulk.)

She’d learned, slowly and begrudgingly, through Lan Huan, and eventually Wei Ying, that it was okay to let other people in, even if it changed things, even if you might lose them. That trying to hoard the people you loved close to you might make them unhappy, might make them feel trapped. And then you would also be unhappy at the fact that you weren’t enough, at who’d you had become to keep them there, at the fact that you’d lost them even though they were still there in your life, just like she vaguely remembers her parents had been.

So despite being aware of the way her skin prickles each time she sees Wei Ying slide up to other people, hang over them, affectionate and casual with her touch, Lan Zhan pushes the discomfort away and reminds herself that Wei Ying is allowed to do what she wants, that it is good for Wei Ying to be so loved by everyone around her, that she is lucky to share in some of Wei Ying’s love, to know that Wei Ying would do almost anything for her and likewise.

(Once, Wei Ying had drunkenly made out with Wen Qing at a college party she’d invited Lan Zhan to. When Lan Zhan had mentioned it the following week, as casually as she could manage, under the assumption that they were dating, Wei Ying had laughed at her and said, “What’s a bit of platonic kissing between friends, Lan Zhan?” before turning bright red after a moment.

Lan Zhan, who’d been too awash in the relief of the news, hadn’t made note of it at the time.)

Whatever Lan Zhan’s working through, whatever it is she doesn’t know or doesn’t understand, what she does know is she wants to tie Wei Ying down so badly that it hurts, burns with the want of Wei Ying in her life. But more than that, she doesn’t ever want Wei Ying to ever feel obligated to her. Wei Ying, who’d do her best to accommodate Lan Zhan if she knew the intensity of Lan Zhan’s want when Lan Zhan doesn’t even know what it is she wants, to the point of eschewing her own comfort because that’s just who Wei Ying is.

Lan Zhan refuses. She refuses to be a burden to Wei Ying.

And that’s why instead of pressing Wei Ying into the sink, Lan Zhan simply moves her to the side, so that Lan Zhan can lean forward and spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“Shame,” she says, because it is not a lie, technically. Wei Ying does, in fact, look so pretty with those marks.

Lan Zhan reminds herself that Wei Ying might want to be bruised again, but not necessarily because she put them there. The whole point of Saturday was to help Wei Ying out — what was it Wei Ying had said? Gal pals and all that.

Lan Zhan gives Wei Ying’s shoulder a light squeeze, to express sympathy for her plight, and forces herself out of the bathroom.

~

With renewed zeal, effort, and numerous ten-minute meditation sessions, Lan Zhan manages to successfully get through the next thirty-six hours without thinking about dicking Wei Ying down (much) until Wei Ying says, over dinner that Friday evening, “You didn’t fuck me, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan coughs on her hand-pulled noodles.

Wei Ying is poking her noodles with her chopsticks, staring at her plate. “You said you would.” It almost sounds… petulant?

“You’ve been thinking about my dick,” Lan Zhan states.

Wei Ying’s head snaps up, her cheeks are dusted pink. “It just seems rude! Inconsiderate to make such big promises to a girl. And then — and then, just leave her hanging?!” Wei Ying continues, “I thought you were a woman of your word, Lan Zhan.”

“You want me to make up for it,” Lan Zhan says to clarify. She wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Well, I think that would be the proper thing to do,” Wei Ying huffs.

There’s a roaring of blood in Lan Zhan’s ears.

“Okay,” she hears herself saying before continuing to finish her noodles. She chews slowly, like she’s not having an aneurysm, trying to get the frenetic energy bristling under her skin and the beating thud of her heart under control. She’s maybe added a bit too much sesame oil.

Wei Ying sits there, rocking back and forth in her seat, waiting expectantly. She keeps darting her eyes from Lan Zhan’s mouth to her ears, which Lan Zhan knows have gone bright red. In this moment, Lan Zhan feels that it is regrettable that Wei Ying knows all her tells.

“After dinner,” Lan Zhan clarifies. “Eat.” And Wei Ying does.

When they’ve finished, Lan Zhan takes their plates and washes them before setting them to dry in their dishwasher. Wei Ying follows her and boosts herself up to sit on the kitchen counter, kicking her feet out and humming. It all feels so mundane as if Wei Ying is not waiting for Lan Zhan to — for Lan Zhan to —

Lan Zhan wonders if Wei Ying planned this. If when she’d texted Lan Zhan at her lunch break earlier that day, asking if they could have hand-pulled noodles for dinner, she’d been thinking about bringing this up, knowing that Lan Zhan likes it when they make meals together. If she’d imagined Lan Zhan swiping open her phone with a small smile on her face at the sight of the wallpaper of them on a hike they’d taken during their roadtrip to Colorado that past summer. If she’d been trying to get Lan Zhan in a good mood, hoping that would make her say yes.

And the thought that Wei Ying thought about this, worked for this, thrills Lan Zhan.

It’s like all Lan Zhan needed to know was that Wei Ying wanted this; it’s all she ever needs to know. Because her mind shuts off and the anxieties, the uncertainties, the unknowns become hazy and unimportant. She acquiesces to the want and leans into the impulse of Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan washes her hands and wipes them off with a towel before approaching Wei Ying. Without having to prompt, Wei Ying’s legs shift, making space for Lan Zhan, and she stands in between them, placing her hands on the counter outside of Wei Ying’s thighs.

“So, um, should we move to — uhhhh?” Wei Ying stops talking because Lan Zhan has lifted a hand to sweep her thumb across Wei Ying’s bottom lip and brush away a sesame seed that lingers at the corner of her mouth. Wei Ying shudders at the contact, mouth falling open, almost as if instinctively. Her mouth is so red inside.

Lan Zhan watches the way Wei Ying’s eyes follow her hands as she brings them to her own mouth and licks the seed away. Wei Ying licks her own lips as if in trance, mesmerized.

Lan Zhan hums, unable to hide the exhilaration she feels shooting through her at the hold she has over Wei Ying.

She thumbs Wei Ying’s bottom lip again, more firmly, before slotting it into her still open mouth. Wei Ying immediately begins to suck, tongue flicking out to lick the silver metal ring that Lan Zhan wears.

“Greedy,” Lan Zhan says, feeling amused at Wei Ying’s enthusiasm.

“Mean,” Wei Ying says, but she sounds thrilled and content.

Lan Zhan pushes further in so that the ring enters Wei Ying’s mouth and presses the flat of her thumb against Wei Ying’s tongue. Lan Zhan watches, enthralled, by the way a lovely deep red flush is blossoming down Wei Ying’s throat. But she’s uncertain how much is too much so she pulls her thumb away at the feeling of drool pooling in Wei Ying’s mouth. Wei Ying, however, emits a whine, which stirs something deep in Lan Zhan’s belly. Wei Ying tugs Lan Zhan’s hand back up to her mouth. Intrigued, Lan Zhan pushes two fingers into Wei Ying’s mouth, who begins licking them up and down.

Lan Zhan’s other hand begins stroking up and down Wei Ying’s thigh. Wei Ying is so… eager.

Lan Zhan marvels at the way Wei Yings sucks, her eyes fluttering close, as if she can’t get enough. She says, “Good?” to be sure though, wanting to hear Wei Ying say it aloud.

“Mm,” Wei Ying says around Lan Zhan’s fingers. “Tastes good.”

And suddenly, two fingers isn’t enough, not when Lan Zhan can give her more.

“Wei Ying, I want you to suck my cock,” Lan Zhan tells her, thinking about Wei Ying’s mouth full, lips wrapped around Lan Zhan.

Wei Ying’s jaw goes, impossibly, even more slack, but she nods, a jerky movement. “Yeah,” she breathes.

Lan Zhan lifts Wei Ying off the counter and Wei Ying wraps herself around her and they’re kissing. How Lan Zhan has made it six days, four hours, and however many minutes without this is beyond her. She licks into Wei Ying’s mouth, tasting the nutty sesame oil on her tongue, even more delicious than their meal. Lan Zhan doesn’t want to break off their kiss as she walks them to her room, so it takes them a little longer than would typically because Lan Zhan keeps walking into furniture even though she knows the layout of their apartment like the back of her hand.

In her room, Lan Zhan fingers tremble as she straps on her harness, heat coiling in her belly. She doesn’t think Wei Ying, who she’s instructed to strip before waiting patiently on the bed, has noticed, too fixated by the way the leather stretches over the ink etched onto her thigh. She’s chosen the dildo that she’s been imagining making Wei Ying cry with, thick and curved. It’s purple, Wei Ying’s favorite color.

The sight of Wei Ying’s cheeks hollowed around Lan Zhan’s cock as she swallows it down is obscene. Lan Zhan’s never done this before, never saw the point of someone going down on her, lube being a far more efficient way of prepping her dick. But now, even though Lan Zhan can’t feel how hot and wet Wei Ying is around her as she sucks her strap, Lan Zhan gets the appeal, feels herself growing wet, arousal wracking her body. Wei Ying doesn’t even take more than half of it into her mouth before she gags, but she makes up for her lack of finesse with her enthusiasm. Lan Zhan places a hand at the base of her head, gripping her hair, and guides Wei Ying down, a little roughly, setting a rhythm as she thrusts into Wei Ying’s mouth.

Lan Zhan slides into Wei Ying over and over again as she does her best to take it all. Wei Ying’s brows are furrowed and her nostrils flare as she breathes through her nose. It’s almost like she’s concentrating on how to be as pliant and open for whatever Lan Zhan wants from her and it’s maddening because Wei Ying is so willing for Lan Zhan, submitting to her, until she remembers that this is just pretend –– because Lan Zhan is straight and Wei Ying is waiting on some lucky girl she’ll meet and fall in love with one day.

Lan Zhan loosens her grip and tugs at Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying pulls off with a slick pop noise, drool all over her chin. “Ah, jiejie, you’re so big,” she says, batting her eyes up at Lan Zhan.

And Lan Zhan feels –– feels so much, too much that she doesn’t think she can keep her face impassive anymore, can’t hide herself from Wei Ying anymore. So she all but flips Wei Ying around and fucks her face first into the mattress, plunging into her all the way. She’s harsh and fast, hips slapping loudly against Wei Ying’s ass as she drives her cock into Wei Ying again and again. And Wei Ying sounds like she’s being split apart, but she takes it so well, wet and hot and malleable; her pussy clenching around Lan Zhan in want.

Lan Zhan thinks that people have no idea what they’re missing out on. They don’t know how precious Wei Ying is. She wants to show Wei Ying off to the world, show them what a good girl Wei Ying can be, and yet a part of her wants to keep it secret, delighted to be the only one to see Wei Ying like this, undone and writhing under her. And she doesn’t know what that means, doesn’t know what it means to want Wei Ying this way, doesn’t know what it means that she’s not sorry at all for the noises spilling out of Wei Ying, doesn’t know what to do with that desire except to snap her hips and thrust up into Wei Ying, sharper and harder.

“Uhn, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, muffled into the pillows. “I can, uhn, I can feel you.”

And that’s all that matters, the feeling of Wei Ying, grinding back into her. Lan Zhan leans forward and wraps her arms around Wei Ying, one hand reaching to grip her neck. Wei Ying turns her head and captures Lan Zhan’s mouth in a clumsy, sloppy kiss. It’s dirty and messy, Lan Zhan sucking on her tongue as she continues to drive into Wei Ying relentlessly. Lan Zhan can feel the way her thighs are covered in slick — hers and Wei Ying’s — as the shaft hits her clit just right, heat and pressure building.

Wei Ying’s shaking and sweating and Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying’s close, knows that she’s close herself too. Lan Zhan squeezes her hand around Wei Ying’s neck, tight enough to leave an imprint, but one that will likely fade within the hour, and Wei Ying comes, body sagging under hers, almost silently, choked off. Lan Zhan jerks her hips, rutting up deep into Wei Ying’s heat, and comes almost immediately afterwards. The build of orgasm suddenly sweeping over her like a tidal wave so that her mind whites out and her whole body stutters and trembles and she’s unable to stop the way she slumps over Wei Ying’s body.

“Fuck,” Lan Zhan grunts out.

There’s silence in the room for a moment, just the sound of their heavy breathing mingling together as Lan Zhan pulls out and reaches for Wei Ying. She doesn’t have the wherewithal to take off her harness, can only just hold Wei Ying close, heart thudding in her chest, and words that she doesn’t even register begin spilling from her, “So good, so pretty, my Wei Ying.” And Wei Ying snuggles into Lan Zhan’s chest and sighs, contentedly, and that feels more than enough.

~

They don’t make it to their hike on Saturday.

They sleep in instead, which throws off Lan Zhan’s entire plans for the day. Despite the soreness she feels in her body, she decides to take her morning run, though it’s more like a late-morning run. Running is simple for Lan Zhan, one foot in front of the other, nothing else to consider –– it clears her head. But the path is far more crowded than she is used to and the river, which is usually still at dawn, ripples with the activity of the tourist boats zipping by, and everything feels off.

The burning in her lungs and the feel of sweat on her back as the sun beats down on her skin is helpful though, frees her of thinking about how somehow Wei Ying whining and saying, “Come back home soon,” when she’d extracted herself from the bed that morning was worse than the first time they’d slept together — worse because previously she’d only marveled at how stunning Wei Ying was while this time feels like a reminder that she’s going to lose something she can’t even name yet.

Lan Zhan repeats her regular route twice, but still feels high strung and tense. She swings by the grocery store on her way back, determined to channel this energy into making something complicated for lunch, or dinner, or lunch-dinner? Lan Zhan doesn’t know anymore.

By the time Lan Zhan comes home, Wei Ying is up, but she’s too sore to move and demands that Lan Zhan carry her to the couch in the living room so she can watch Lan Zhan cook. Wei Ying complains about how Lan Zhan has broken her, ruined her forever; it’s like she’s not even reading the Ursula Le Guin book that she’s got in her hands, like she’s come all the way out here just to rile Lan Zhan up.

Lan Zhan focuses on the tahdig she’s decided to make, rolling up her sleeves to wash the rice. She very much does not think about what Wei Ying’s words mean, the way her throat goes dry, and reminds herself that sometimes Wei Ying just says things to get a reaction out of her.

And her concentration is rewarded when she lifts the pan and the tahdig stays together. She’s feeling unreasonably proud, which is enough of a high to continue to distract her from her thoughts. The tahdig tastes fluffy and buttery and comforting. She trods over to the couch to deliver Wei Ying a plate along with a glass of beer, and the way Wei Ying smiles up at her undoes all the work Lan Zhan has done this morning because all she can think about again is Wei Ying, Wei Ying satisfied, Wei Ying happy.

Lan Zhan’s still feeling like a mess when she has brunch with Lan Huan the next day. It’s the place Lan Huan particularly enjoys because of how cheap their bottomless mimosas are, but that morning Lan Huan forgoes his typical order of champagne for tea. Lan Zhan’s heart sinks; she should have known that being distracted for two brunches in a row is not something Lan Huan will let slide.

Lan Huan looks at her expectantly and he doesn’t even have to prompt for Lan Zhan to ask, “How did you know?”

Lan Huan raises a brow, asking Lan Zhan to elaborate.

Lan Zhan hesitates, thinks about how Wei Ying had looked at her and said, “Everyone is at least a little gay,” meaningfully while they soaked in the bathtub together after Friday night when they had come to and Lan Zhan had forced the both of them to the bathroom. Lan Zhan had hummed noncommittally and continued to shampoo Wei Ying’s hair, careful to not get the suds in her eyes.

She can’t speak for everyone else, but a second time means something, right? Lan Zhan doesn’t fuck around, has never been patient enough to wait for a third time for something to happen and call it a pattern.

“That you were gay,” Lan Zhan adds, seriously.

Lan Huan stirs his tea and hums for what seems like an unnecessarily long amount of time to Lan Zhan. Her brother has been out for over a decade, surely, the explanation should come more easily? “Hmm, I don’t know how to explain it, A-Zhan. I just knew. It’s something I’ve always known about myself.”

Well, that’s not helpful at all.

Lan Zhan doesn’t know. That’s why she’s asking, the whole point. If she doesn’t know, does that mean she’s not?

Lan Huan reads Lan Zhan’s expression and continues, “It’s different for each person though.”

“But then how...?” Lan Zhan trails off, feeling a little helpless and more lost than before.

“It’s okay to not know now,” Lan Huan says kindly. “There’s no rush. It’s something that can unfold as you go.”

The thing is, if Lan Zhan sets her feelings aside and follows the facts, she probably isn’t straight, logically. At this point, it’s clear she can and does enjoy being with women, or at least a woman: Wei Ying.

And that’s part of the problem, every time Lan Zhan’s tried to picture sex with a woman, the image of Wei Ying enters the fantasy somehow: pulling her lush black hair, squeezing her hands tightly into her thick hips, causing her grey eyes to crinkle as she smiles.

But Wei Ying is Wei Ying, Lan Zhan’s best friend.

Having a fixation on the possibility of when, where, and how you could have sex with your friend certainly doesn’t fall within the bounds of friendship. And the parameters of her and Wei Ying’s relationship have been so established — almost ten years of history between them — that this hunger and greed for more is terrifying. Things between her and Wei Ying are solid and stable and good the way they are. And Lan Zhan doesn’t want to ruin what they have, for things to change over something as silly as her unresolved sexuality crisis. She’s not going to lose Wei Ying over that.

So Lan Zhan simply tightens her fingers around her cup, nods, and resolves to deal with this on her own.

~

This should be less of a surprise at this point, but Lan Zhan doesn’t have as much restraint as she thinks she does.

But when she comes home the next Saturday from her pick-up soccer game and finds Wei Ying — Wei Ying who never bothers to wear a bra — clad in a lacy red matching lingerie set, what is she meant to do? Not slam her into the wall when Wei Ying gives her a small wave and says, “Uh, hi, you’re back early, surprise?” like Wei Ying hadn’t broken her brain in half? Lan Zhan is only human.

Lan Zhan holds Wei Ying’s hands above her head with one hand and whispers into Wei Ying’s ear, “You bought these?”

“Uhn, where, ah, else would I have gotten them from, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying pants, out of breath already, even though all Lan Zhan has done is trace a finger along the lace of her bra. “I thought, ah,” Wei Ying swallows, “you might like them. I was even thinking about getting this garter set, but those were a little out of my budget.”

“You bought these thinking about me touching you in them,” Lan Zhan states, palming at her breast.

Wei Ying's moans before sticking her chin out and saying, “Why else would I?” as if daring Lan Zhan to challenge her on it.

“Shameless,” Lan Zhan says, pleased. She feels the way the corners of her mouth threaten to tip up at the idea that Wei Ying might find her just as desirable. Lan Zhan wants to burst at the thought and can’t resist nuzzling her head against Wei Ying so that her cheek rests against Wei Ying’s temple.

Wei Ying squirms but rather than trying to get away, it is as she wants to be closer to Lan Zhan. Almost as if she wants to be enfolded into Lan Zhan’s hold, as if she relishes the way that Lan Zhan’s grip around Wei Ying’s wrist tightens in response. Wei Ying’s hands seem so small under Lan Zhan’s.

Lan Zhan pinches one of Wei Ying’s nipples and twists them through the fabric, giving Wei Ying what she wants as she slots a knee between her thighs. “Hey — Lan Zhan, uhn, careful, these were expensive,” Wei Ying protests despite the fact that she leans into the touch, nipples hard and tight and visible through the fabric, and does her best to grind against Lan Zhan’s thigh.

“I can buy you more,” Lan Zhan says, “for next time,” before she leans in to kiss Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan thinks Wei Ying might have sighed contentedly into the kiss, mollified into silence.

But it's not the kind of fucked-out, delirious silence that Lan Zhan likes — for now, Lan Zhan wants to hear her. Lan Zhan flips Wei Ying around, bends her over so that Wei Ying’s hands brace the wall. Lan Zhan takes in the contrast of the scarlet against Wei Ying’s pale skin, framing her round cheeks beautifully. She’s always loved seeing Wei Ying in red.

Wei Ying wiggles her ass, “What are you going to do to me, huh, jiejie?”

Lan Zhan slaps one cheek before squeezing the fat of Wei Ying’s ass, fixated by how a red imprint blossoms along the surface, a few shades lighter than her underwear. Wei Ying moans, hands slipping a little from the wall, but manages to stay upright.

Lan Zhan kneels down behind Wei Ying, pushes her underwear down to her thighs and begins to eat her out. She is relentless with her tongue even as Wei Ying cries out, her legs starting to shake. Lan Zhan digs her hands harder into Wei Ying’s ass, nails leaving crescent shapes into the fat of her cheeks.

Wei Ying comes so quick and hard that her legs buckle, but Lan Zhan’s firm grip keeps her from falling. Lan Zhan steers them toward the couch with the intention of letting Wei Ying rest. Instead Wei Ying begs to have a taste of Lan Zhan as well, saying it simply wasn’t fair for Lan Zhan to have all the fun. Lan Zhan’s only been eaten out once before and she didn’t get off then, not having enjoyed the rough sensation of tongue on her. But Lan Zhan acquiesces as she always does for Wei Ying and pulls down her athletic shorts so that they are out of the way, spreads her legs, and pushes Wei Ying’s head down to her soaked pussy, hand tangled in her hair.

This time, Lan Zhan’s head hits the couch as she comes with Wei Ying’s tongue on her clit.

“You tasted so good, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, licking her lips as she looks up from where she’s knelt between Lan Zhan’s legs. Her lips are glossy with Lan Zhan’s slick.

The sight makes Lan Zhan feel crazy and she pulls Wei Ying back up by the hair to kiss her pretty, wrecked mouth, settling Wei Ying on her lap so that she’s straddling Lan Zhan’s waist. Lan Zhan licks into Wei Ying’s mouth slowly and thoroughly, tasting herself on Wei Ying’s lips.

When Lan Zhan pulls back, they look at each other, breathless, their noses nearly touching. Lan Zhan’s hand strokes her fingertips gently up Wei Ying’s side, along the line of skin above her hip.

Wei Ying whimpers with need.

Lan Zhan can’t help the soft scoff that leaves her mouth. “So eager still.”

Wei Ying’s whole body shudders under her hands at the words and she buries her head into the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck. “Lan Zhan! Can you blame me? Not my fault that I can’t resist you.” She pokes Lan Zhan’s arm. “Um, but, was that good, did you feel good?”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan can’t help the rush of affection she feels and says, “Wei Ying is always good. My good girl.”

Wei Ying stills. She pushes back up away from Lan Zhan and asks, chewing at the inside of her cheeks, “I — Lan Zhan, I think you said that last time and, uh,” she pauses and takes a deep breath, “what do you want? Like, from me?”

Lan Zhan’s brow furrows. She doesn’t want Wei Ying to feel the need to become something for her.

“I want Wei Ying as she is,” Lan Zhan says, the simplest truth in the world.

Wei Ying makes a strangled noise. “Lan Zhan, you mean you want me like you wanna be with me? You want me like you love me?”

“Of course, I always want to be with Wei Ying.” This should be obvious to Wei Ying by now.

Lan Zhan has always imagined her life with Wei Ying, pictured the two of them growing old together with their vague, nebulous partners somewhere off in the background. (Maybe they are as good of friends as her and Wei Ying.) Lan Zhan would continue cooking dinners for Wei Ying, listen to her go on about her day, and perhaps they could adopt a few rabbits and even co-parent their future children.

“No! Like,” Wei Ying seems to readjust course and asks, swallowing, “Lan Zhan, if this is uncomfortable for you, you don’t have to answer, but do you think you might… like women?”

It’s Lan Zhan’s turn to swallow.

“I mean, like. Like-like. Sexually-like. Romantically-like women,” Wei Ying continues, clarifying as if unsure if Lan Zhan understood her initial question.

“I… have come to the conclusion that I may not be straight,” Lan Zhan chokes out. The thing Lan Zhan still can’t figure out is that when she thinks about women, they are, in all respects, fine. She tells Wei Ying as such.

“What about me? Am I fine?” Wei Ying says, expression unreadable.

Lan Zhan’s hands tighten around the curve of Wei Ying’s ass and she instinctively pulls Wei Ying closer to her on her lap so that Lan Zhan has to tilt her head up to look at Wei Ying, her face practically buried in her chest.

“Wei Ying is perfect,” Lan Zhan says, voice low. Wei Ying should know that. Fine would never cut it.

Wei Ying nods slowly. “Do you want to fuck your other friends like you do with me?”

Lan Zhan thinks about her friends: Luo Qingyang and Wen Qing, who are on her soccer team, and reluctantly, Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue’s younger sister.

“Not interested.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying hesitates, before setting her jaw and asking, very quickly, like she’s got to get the words out, “Are you in love with me? Cause, like, I think I’m getting these, uh, signals from you, but then I’m worried that this is all in my head and I would like to know so I can properly get over you and, like, not ruin our relationship.”

Lan Zhan blinks, slowly.

Wei Ying needs to get over her?

But that would mean — ?

But Lan Zhan doesn’t see how that’s an issue?

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m… in love with Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, horrified. It comes out sounding incredulous, but that’s not what she means at all.

Wei Ying’s face, which she’d been doing her best to keep neutral, falls.

Lan Zhan makes a choked sound. “No, Wei Ying. That’s not what I mean. I — I have always felt this way about you.” How could she not have known?

Because the revelation doesn’t feel earth shattering like Lan Zhan feared it’d be, instead it makes Lan Zhan’s world make more sense. Lan Zhan feels the confusion and uncertainty washing away by a flood of immense relief. It’s like the pieces are finally slotting into the correct place, bringing clarity and understanding to everything Lan Zhan thought she knew about herself and Wei Ying.

It makes sense: She loves Wei Ying. She’s in love with Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan takes in Wei Ying, who’s looking at Lan Zhan quizzically, waiting for her to continue. And now that the world seems clearer and she feels more settled with this understanding of herself, it’s like seeing Wei Ying in a new light. A Wei Ying who she’s in love with.

Lan Zhan is suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to bite Wei Ying. So she does, teeth clamping down hard onto her shoulder.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying yelps, trying to sound affronted, but Lan Zhan knows her too well to miss that twinge of hope in her tone. “Did I break you? What are you doing?”

Lan Zhan runs her tongue over the mark that she’s made.

“I’m in love with Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, more firmly, testing the words in her mouth. They feel right. Correct.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, breathlessly, “yeah, me too, Lan Zhan. I’m your Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying wants her, Lan Zhan realizes in awe. All this worrying Lan Zhan had done, about wanting to consume her, to be consumed by her… It’s okay. Because she wants it too, wants to be devastated and engulfed by Lan Zhan.

“Yeah,” Lan Zhan says, possessed by the need to have Wei Ying under her, to mark every inch of her skin as hers now that Lan Zhan knows. “My Wei Ying.”

She still has to get the rest of the lingerie off of Wei Ying anyway.

And Wei Ying winds her arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, leaning in, letting Lan Zhan kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.