Work Text:
He wasn’t proud of it, but Feng Xin was a hot-blooded young man, and sometimes he needed a little extra inspiration to deposit into his spank bank. So sue him. He was in a mood, and his roommate wasn’t home, and so he could indulge himself, and pull up his “material” on his computer instead of his phone.
He liked forums where girls posted nudes of themselves best. It seemed much more respectful than porn, to look at pictures that people had posted themselves, and it was much less daunting than trying to go on a date, or talk to someone on Tinder. He probably should have known better, after the whole Lan Chang debacle, but he was going to be smart about it this time. He had no plans to form any emotional attachments, this time around: he was going to jerk off, close the page, and move on with his evening.
The first few pictures were pretty run-of-the-mill, but good—it was always the same kind of girl that was really popular on this page. Naturally Feng Xin, as a hot-blooded young man, had nothing against that kind of girl. He absently jerked himself off as he clicked between them. None of them had particularly piqued his interest, but maybe he’d come back and give them another look when he was a bit more torqued.
The fourth most upvoted post of the day was titled Horny, taking pics and playing with (m)yself—who wants to join me? Feng Xin hadn’t read the whole thing before he clicked on it, and so it took him a moment to process that he was looking at a man.
The picture itself wasn’t, objectively, anything too far out of the ordinary: the man in it had his back to the camera, kneeling and arching his back, reaching back to tease at his rim with his fingers. He had a long, dark ponytail tossed over his shoulder. Without the shadow of his balls hanging between his legs, Feng Xin probably would have believed that he was a woman. He almost did—he had to check twice to make sure that the man in the picture didn’t have a pussy. His ass crack glimmered with a wetness that Feng Xin had only ever associated with pussy.
It made sense that it was so ambiguous, when he thought about it. The photo couldn’t have made it to the top of the page, if the men who used it couldn’t imagine that its subject was a woman. It wasn’t the first time that Feng Xin had seen a man make it to the front page, but it had been a while. Still, for some reason, he was drawn to the picture, in a way that he hadn’t been with the pictures of women. He didn’t really consider himself to be gay, with a few exceptions, but the evidence was undeniable: whoever this man was, he was hot enough to make Feng Xin question some things about himself. His mouth felt dry. He looked at the finger at the man’s rim. Did this man fuck himself? Would he have posted pictures of it?
He clicked into the user’s profile, and sorted for the most popular. The user’s most popular post was another one on r/gonewild: a comparison, with two photos put next to each other. In the first he was wearing a simple outfit, a solid white button-up and black slacks, and then, in the second, standing in the same pose, he was wearing nothing but a black garter belt and stockings.
In both photos, the subject was standing with his phone held over his shoulder by one hand, the other hand grabbing his own ass. It was an objectively nice ass; maybe it wasn’t anything to write home about, but then Feng Xin didn’t really consider himself an ass man anyway. In the garter belt photo, however, the action tugged the man’s ass cheek out of the way, allowing the viewer to see the base of the toy nestled in his hole.
“Fuck me,” Feng Xin muttered to himself. His hand on his dick sped up as he looked at the picture. He imagined eating the anonymous man out. He had seen plenty of this kind of post before, and normally he didn’t spare them much thought, but this one bothered him for some reason. The longer he looked at it, the more he felt that something was strange about it. His hand on his dick slowed again.
He stared at the two photos. They were both carefully anonymous; all you could see of the man’s surroundings was the plain white wall behind, and the mirror that the man was photographing himself in. It could have been any wall and any mirror in the world.
But Feng Xin knew that mirror. He had carried that mirror up the stairs to Mu Qing’s new apartment, and Mu Qing had yelled at him because he had dropped it, and almost broken it. Feng Xin knew the chip in the bottom corner of the frame, which Mu Qing had carefully colored back over in Sharpie to hide the exposed particleboard, because he had made it.
He closed the image. The caption stared him in the face: Do you think (m)y coworkers know what a slut I am?
“Fuck me,” Feng Xin repeated, passionately. He squeezed his dick in his hand, hard, to calm himself down, and then clicked back to scroll through what was definitely Mu Qing’s profile.
He had expected it to be self-consciously devoid of anything personal—and it was—but he had known Mu Qing for so long that he could recognize the little shadows of Mu Qing’s personality around the edges. He responded to comments in the same way that he texted: drily, with perfect punctuation; no smiley faces, no emojis, no funny business. Feng Xin had always found it annoying over text, but it was oddly charming here. Mu Qing could be so cutely awkward, when he couldn’t immediately cover it up by being harsh.
He recognized Mu Qing’s body. There was the shape of his legs, his ass, his hips. There was the gorgeous fall of his hair. There was the mole on the top of his right shoulder, the one on the back of his neck. There was the scar on his arm, something that Feng Xin had given him when they were teenagers. Now that he was looking, he didn’t know how he hadn’t known from the start.
He didn’t want to seem like a creep who had been looking through Mu Qing’s profile, so he went back to the first picture. Rubbing his cock with one hand and typing with the other, he wasn’t sure what to say other than So beautiful.
He didn’t comment on any other posts, but he looked. Of course he did. How could he have helped himself?
The next day, he checked Reddit on his phone as he drank his coffee, like it was the morning paper. Some dumb Star Wars meme; the Hawks lost to the Nets, nice; a cute sloth video that he sent to Xie Lian and, predictably, received a keysmash back. A bit guiltily, he pulled up Mu Qing’s profile, to take a look with the clear-headedness of the daytime. It was blank.
“What the fuck,” he said aloud. He opened his browser, where he wasn’t logged in, and searched for Mu Qing’s username. His profile showed up there, so– his account had been blocked, Feng Xin realized. Why would Mu Qing have done that? It wasn’t like he said anything that weird. It bugged him the whole time he got ready for work, and his whole subway ride too.
He and Mu Qing’s relationship was normal enough now. They had known each other for long enough that they had no choice, and it wasn’t like either of them had many other friends. Their relationship with Xie Lian was still healing. The wound had scabbed over, but the skin was still tender and pink and new. The less said about Xie Lian’s elopement and his gross new husband, the better. But he and Mu Qing were… friendly, Feng Xin thought. Maybe not friends, but they were friendly. Still, Feng Xin didn’t lie to himself and say that he understood Mu Qing’s Gordian knot of a mind.
It was Mu Qing’s day off, but when Feng Xin casually texted him doing anything fun today? all that Mu Qing had to say in reply was We need to talk.
sure, Feng Xin responded, confused. coffee tomorrow?
Fine.
Feng Xin arrived early at the coffee shop closest to Mu Qing’s apartment the next day, ordered him a drink, and waited for Mu Qing to show up.
He heard Mu Qing before he saw him. He slammed the door open and shut, and stormed in, a deep frown creasing his thundercloud face. Feng Xin instinctively winced, a habit born of long experience. He pushed the cappuccino that he got for Mu Qing across the table when he slammed into the seat across from him.
“You fucking asshole,” Mu Qing snarled. “You use the same username everywhere. How could I have not known it was you?”
“Hi Mu Qing, it’s good to see you too. You’re welcome for the coffee, by the way, how good of you to thank me. I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.”
Mu Qing poked aggressively at his phone a few times, and then slammed it down on the table. “I’m talking about this,” he said, finally seeming to realize that they were in a public place, and that they had both better lower their voices. He gritted his teeth, and shoved his phone under Feng Xin’s nose.
He looked down. Mu Qing had pulled up u/nanyang’s comment, So beautiful—which, now that he wasn’t catastrophically horny, Feng Xin could acknowledge was a little corny, but certainly not offensive enough to merit this kind of a response.
“What? I don’t get it. So that was you?” Feng Xin asked, lying.
Mu Qing jabbed his finger in Feng Xin’s face. “Stop playing stupid. I don’t know how you tracked down my account, and I don’t know what I did to you to merit being the butt of whatever joke this is, but I don’t appreciate it. So stop.”
Feng Xin threw his hands up. “It was a top fucking post of the day, you asshole! You know, when you post your pictures on a public forum, anyone can look at them. That’s kinda the point?”
“I’m posting them on a public forum for people who will appreciate them. Not make shitty sarcastic comments.”
Feng Xin prepared himself to argue, and then stopped. “You thought I was being sarcastic?”
Mu Qing scowled. “I know you’re-“ he waved his hand, indicating something that Feng Xin didn’t know how to interpret. “Anyway, no one actually leaves comments like that.”
“Like what?”
“Not… gross.”
Feng Xin had been confused why Mu Qing, one of the most stalwart, handsome, tight-assed people he had ever met, was posting pictures of himself online for strangers to say lewd things about. Now he understood the situation perfectly.
“You post pictures of yourself because you want people to say nice things about you,” he realized. “But everyone is just weird and nasty instead.”
“Fuck you,” Mu Qing said, lowly. He was so angry that he was grinding his teeth together, something that Feng Xin hadn’t witnessed him doing for nearly a decade. “You really think I’m that pathetic? God, fuck you. At least I’m not the creep who’s looking for pictures of girls to perv on online.”
“Can you calm down for once in your fucking life? You’re not a girl, are you? I think you’re hot, that’s all there is to it.”
Mu Qing opened his mouth, and then closed it again, looking distinctly fishlike. “What,” he said, finally.
“I find you sexually attractive, Mu Qing,” Feng Xin said. “There you go. Do I need to be clearer than that?”
Mu Qing angrily picked up his coffee, angrily chugged it, and then angrily set the mug back down. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s hook up.”
“Huh?” Feng Xin stared at Mu Qing, dumbfounded. He had it on good authority that Mu Qing was still, at twenty-six, a virgin—not that there was anything wrong with that, obviously! It just seemed odd that he was willing to give over something that he had guarded so ferociously, to his- what? Rival? Acquaintance? Coworker? Feng Xin knew how he defined his relationship with Mu Qing, but he never had any idea what Mu Qing thought of him.
“It’s just sex,” Mu Qing said flippantly. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I figured that you, of all people, would understand that. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing, I guess. Mu Qing, are you for real?”
“I’m for real,” Mu Qing said, indeed, very seriously. “Come over in the morning. Maybe 9 or 10. I need time to get ready.” He looked at his watch, and sighed. “I've got to dash now. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. My treat,” Feng Xin said. In a misguided attempt at a joke, he added, “What kind of date would I be if I didn’t pay for you?”
Mu Qing gave him a withering look. “Don’t do that.”
“Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow.”
Mu Qing nodded, and then he was gone, his long ponytail swinging down the street. Feng Xin sipped his coffee, which he hadn’t touched for a while. Unsurprisingly, it had gone cold.
Feng Xin didn’t really know how to prepare to mutually lose your gay virginity to your… well. Whatever Mu Qing was to him. He stopped by a drugstore on his way back to his apartment to grab an enema, though this embarrassed him so severely that he also ended up buying an assortment of other drugstore items to obfuscate what he was doing—a bag of store brand chips, a new stick of deodorant, a jumbo-sized bottle of ibuprofen, a candy bar.
Pei Ming was poking around in the kitchen when he got home, and Feng Xin unsubtly put the bag from the drugstore behind his back.
“Hey,” Pei Ming said. “What’s up? Hot date?”
“Yeah, you know. Just coffee with Mu Qing,” Feng Xin said, and then winced. Luckily, Pei Ming had his back to him. “What are you up to tomorrow?”
“Work early, can you believe it?”
Feng Xin made a sympathetic sound, mentally thanking the stars and Pei Ming’s work schedule for all aligning in his favor. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then Feng Xin managed to escape to his room. He threw himself onto his bed and tossed his arm over his face.
“What the fuck was that,” he said to himself, a bit frantically.
Sex with Mu Qing was something he had never even imagined, at least not as an adult. Even when he had found Mu Qing’s account where he fucked himself for strangers to watch, he hadn’t considered it possible. But now he thought about Mu Qing’s body, the physical weight of it: what it would feel like to hold him, to touch him. He had never cared about asses—he still didn’t, probably—but he couldn’t stop thinking about Mu Qing’s. Mu Qing was narrow and muscular all over, and his butt was probably just as bony as his elbows. Still, Feng Xin imagined squeezing it while they made out, smacking it and watching it turn red. He imagined brushing Mu Qing’s hair out of the way to kiss his long, elegant neck. He imagined digging his teeth into the meat of Mu Qing’s shoulder until Mu Qing squirmed and made a sound. He hadn’t even touched himself yet, and he was so hard that the muscles in his legs were twitching.
He yanked his pants down, and immediately fucked into his fist, panting. Mu Qing sitting in his lap and looking condescendingly down at him. Mu Qing’s clever little fingers tugging his hair, pushing against his gag reflex, filling his ass. Mu Qing’s cock in his mouth, Mu Qing’s cock slapping him on the cheek, Mu Qing coming all over his face. Mu Qing wrinkling his nose the way he did when he was trying not to laugh, Mu Qing giving one of his rare smiles that showed his teeth, Mu Qing, Mu Qing-
Feng Xin came so hard that he was pretty sure he blacked out for a second. He stared blankly at the ceiling, panting, for a long time afterwards, and then finally weakly lifted his hand to his t-shirt to wipe away his palmful of come.
So, huh. He would probably have to deal with that eventually.
He woke nice and early the next morning. He went for a run, came home, and used the enema. He showered afterwards, and then, standing in the center of the bathroom with the towel dropped to pool around his feet, fucked himself with his fingers, consciously avoiding his prostate and reciting a sutra so as to not get too excited.
Mu Qing’s apartment was kind of a shithole, but at least he didn’t have a roommate. “Hey,” he said, when Feng Xin came to his door. He was dressed for a lazy day around the house, just a loose t-shirt and joggers and his Rilakkuma house slippers, his high work ponytail lowered to a long braid down his back. Oh my God, Feng Xin realized, looking at him. He’s not just hot. He’s cute.
“You look good,” he said.
Mu Qing smacked his shoulder. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “You’re so insincere.” He was blushing. “I already said I’d fuck you, you don’t have to flatter me into it.”
“Uh-huh,” Feng Xin said. He almost leaned in for a kiss, and then realized he wasn’t sure what the circumstances of their arrangement were. It’s just sex, the Mu Qing in his memory said. “Well? Shall we?”
“Sure.”
Mu Qing’s bedroom was as neat as ever. Feng Xin almost laughed looking at the stretch of wall across from the mirror—there was a gap in the framed pictures of his siblings hung on the wall. “It looks nice,” he said.
“What?” Mu Qing asked, shaking his head like he was shooing away an errant thought.
“Your room. I haven’t seen it in a while. I like this picture of Mu Lian. Has she graduated yet?”
“Oh my God. Don’t talk about my sister when we’re about to have sex, you freak.”
“Sorry.” Feng Xin sat down on the edge of the bed, and shrugged off his hoodie. “I know you’re picky about clothes on your bed, should I-?“
“There’s going to be much worse stuff on my bed than clothes that were on the subway, soon. Don’t worry about it.”
“Right,” Feng Xin agreed. He blinked up at Mu Qing, feeling something that he hadn’t felt since he was in high school: the awkward tension between two people who want to kiss, but aren’t yet.
Mu Qing sighed, and straddled Feng Xin’s lap. “I have to do everything, don’t I?” he said. He took his hair tie out, and began to pick out his braid, letting his hair fall down around his face.
“Mu Qing,” Feng Xin breathed.
“What?”
Feng Xin slowly lifted his hand and, when Mu Qing didn’t stop him, he stroked his hair. Mu Qing didn’t stop him, and so he ran his fingers through his hair too, tucking it behind his ear. “You drive me crazy,” he said. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. So handsome. I’ve always loved you hair, did you know that?”
“Alright, you don’t have to overdo it,” Mu Qing grumbled.
“I’m not. I mean every fucking word, Mu Qing, please.”
“Do you now?” Mu Qing tucked his chin into his shoulder, and smiled a sweet, smug little smile. His eyes flicked between the general vicinity of Feng Xin’s dick, and his face.
“Do you want me to undress?”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. What’s it to you?”
Feng Xin rolled his eyes. “Fine. Only if you do it too, okay?”
“Oh, sure. Nothing you haven’t seen before, right?”
“Whatever.” Feng Xin pulled his shirt over his head. By the time he had finally freed himself from its armholes, Mu Qing had stripped down to just his boxer briefs and a pair of fuzzy socks, his arms crossed over his chest like he was cold. “Get back up here.”
Mu Qing climbed back into his lap, and Feng Xin tugged him close, pressing their bare chests together.
“Oh,” Mu Qing said softly. “That’s nice. You’re warm.”
“Mm,” Feng Xin agreed. He ran his hands up and down Mu Qing’s back. He ducked his head and, as he had imagined the day before, kissed a line up Mu Qing’s neck. “You’re so sensitive.”
“Shut up,” Mu Qing gasped, but it was true. After only a few kisses, he was trembling in Feng Xin’s lap, making soft little noises and breathing quickly through his nose. Feng Xin nipped at his earlobe, and Mu Qing jerked forward, wrapping his arms around Feng Xin’s shoulders to keep himself up. He didn’t try to reciprocate at first, which was fine with Feng Xin. He was happy to simply have Mu Qing in his arms, squirming and panting like a virgin—which he was, Feng Xin supposed. Somehow along the way, he had forgotten why he was here in the first place.
Mu Qing shifted and their cocks rubbed together, both very hard. They moaned in unison. Mu Qing’s eyes jumped up to Feng Xin’s face, and he said, “What should we-?”
“What do you want me to-?” Feng Xin asked at the same time. They both huffed a little laugh. “Okay. Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Of course that’s what I want,” Mu Qing said, drily.
“Of course?”
“How else would you get to pretend that I’m a girl?”
“That’s not-“ Feng Xin said. He trailed off.
“What? You don’t want to pretend you’re fucking a girl? Please.”
“Come on, Mu Qing.”
“What?”
Feng Xin paused, searching for the words. “I’ve done a lot of soul-searching recently,” he said slowly. “Obviously Xie Lian getting married made me think about it a lot. But generally I’m looking back on a lot of the things I’ve done and felt, and…” He trailed off.
“Huh,” Mu Qing said. “So you want me to fuck you, then?”
“Maybe.” Feng Xin shifted. “I, um… I cleaned myself before I came over. Just in case you wanted to-“
Mu Qing snorted. “Oh, I get it. You wanted me to do all the work, huh?”
Feng Xin could not imagine living with the convoluted maze of possible offenses that Mu Qing had instead of a normal brain. It seemed exhausting. “No, Mu Qing,” he said, patiently. “I filed my fingernails down too, see? What I want to do is whatever makes you feel good.”
“Gross. Weird,” Mu Qing said. “Well, it seems a waste of your time to not fuck you, since you spent so much time cleaning yourself out.”
“Only if you want to,” Feng Xin said. There was the other thing too. He scratched the back of his head. “But just in case, if do you want me to fuck you, I feel like I should let you know… um. My dick is really big.”
“I’m sure,” Mu Qing said sarcastically.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what it sounds like. It’s been a problem before, though. Girls don’t really like it.”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re so full of yourself.” Mu Qing started speaking in an exaggeratedly rough, deep voice with a soft southern accent: “Ohh, girls don’t like me because my dick is too big, that’s why I can’t get a girlfriend, it’s not because of my personality.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Feng Xin muttered, without heat. “Listen, just… look at it before you make any decisions.”
Mu Qing got off of his lap, and he unbuttoned and unzipped Feng Xin’s jeans, but Feng Xin pulled them down himself. His dick sprang unselfconsciously free, unaware that it should have been deeply embarrassed by itself.
Mu Qing stared at it, wide-eyed, for a moment. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, and then started to laugh helplessly. “No, you’re right, I don’t want that thing anywhere near my ass.”
“Yeah, well.”
Mu Qing leaned behind him, and began to rummage through his bedside table. He tossed a strip of condoms onto the bed, and took out a bottle of lube. “I don’t think my condoms would even fit you,” he said. He shook a little lube into his palm, nibbling on his lower lip, and then glanced up at Feng Xin and grabbed his cock.
“Fuck!” Feng Xin yelped at the first touch of Mu Qing’s hands.
Mu Qing pulled his hands away like Feng Xin’s dick had burned him. “Jesus! You scared me. What’s the problem?”
“Sorry. It’s good. Just cold.”
“You’re such a baby,” Mu Qing said, but he put his hand back.
“Sorry,” Feng Xin said again, sheepishly. Mu Qing’s hands were still freezing, but at least he was prepared for them this time.
“It’s fine.” Mu Qing absently stroked Feng Xin’s dick as he talked to him. The indifference with which he did made Feng Xin bite the inside of his cheek so as to not moan loudly, or do something similarly embarrassing. “So how well do you think you fingered yourself? Have you done it before?”
“Yeah. I’ve had a few girlfriends who, you know.”
“Right. Because God forbid that you put that disgusting thing inside of them.”
“Be nice,” Feng Xin protested weakly.
“I’m being very nice,” Mu Qing said, and took his hand away, putting more lube into his palm. “You’d know if I was trying to be mean.”
Feng Xin made a sound that was not a whimper, thank you very much, but was close. He managed to bite back the next sound that he almost made, when Mu Qing pushed his legs up and rubbed into his hole with a wet finger.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“You actually did a good job. I can hardly believe it.”
Mu Qing withdrew his finger, and pushed back in with two, stealing the words from Feng Xin’s mouth—probably a good thing, since they weren’t likely to be anything more thoughtful than “fuck off.”
“You’re such a slut,” Mu Qing said. “It’s… cute.”
Feng Xin’s hips jerked, completely involuntarily.
“Oh? You like that?”
Feng Xin nodded.
“What? Me calling you cute, or me calling you a slut?”
“Both,” Feng Xin gasped. “Mu Qing, baby. Please, inside of me?”
Mu Qing withdrew his fingers, looking pleased with himself, and summarily shucked off his briefs. He put on a condom, with an ease that Feng Xin found a bit humiliating, thinking back on his own clumsy attempts in the past. Leave it to Mu Qing to make everything look easy, even things that he had never done before.
“How do you want to do this?” Feng Xin asked. He had kind of expected that Mu Qing would put him face down, ass up, so he could forget that it was Feng Xin who he was losing his coveted virginity with.
“Like this is fine,” Mu Qing said, and then, with sweet, awkward hesitation, grabbed a pillow and put it beneath Feng Xin’s hips. “Here. This might make it more comfortable for you.”
Feng Xin didn’t say anything, feeling acutely aware that anything he could have said would have been insufficient. He planted his feet on the bed, his legs wide open, and reached down to help Mu Qing guide his cock into his hole.
Mu Qing’s face ran the gamut of emotions as he went inside: his brow furrowing deeper and deeper, from focus, to frustration, to something that was almost pain. Once he had bottomed out, his forehead smoothed over, and Feng Xin was treated to the slight softening of his mouth that came with pure pleasure.
“How’s that?” Feng Xin asked, feeling a bit smug.
“Tight,” Mu Qing managed. He pulled out and thrust back in, taking a slightly different angle every time. They weren’t at an angle for him to really nail Feng Xin in the prostate, Feng Xin could tell—but Mu Qing, he realized, probably didn’t know that. When Mu Qing brushed against it, he deliberately moaned loudly.
Mu Qing’s eyes flew up to his face. “There?”
Feng Xin nodded. Mu Qing frowned with concentration, breathing quickly, and fucked Feng Xin fastidiously: an even rhythm, an even depth, an even force to his thrusts. Feng Xin wrapped his hand around Mu Qing’s ass to draw him closer and, when his fingers teased the edge of Mu Qing’s crack, he realized that his hole was wet. He slipped the tip of one finger inside, and it went easily.
“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and then realized, “Hey, wait a goddamn second!”
“What?”
“You made fun of me for prepping myself, but you did the same thing.”
“In my defense,” Mu Qing said, panting, “I think most people looking at our situation would have assumed that you’d be the one fucking me.”
“But you’re so good at this. You fuck me better than I could ever fuck you.”
“I know,” Mu Qing agreed smugly.
Feng Xin imagined that he was probably right, but he nipped at Mu Qing’s neck in retaliation anyway. Whatever. “Since you like it so much,” he suggested, “maybe someday you can fuck me while you’re wearing one of your toys.”
Mu Qing’s eyes widened. “Feng Xin,” he said, hoarsely, and ducked his head to bring their mouths together.
Feng Xin made a sound of surprise into Mu Qing’s mouth. Thankfully Mu Qing didn’t pull away. Mu Qing was a good kisser, Feng Xin thought. His lips were thin, but he made up for it by softening them, allowing Feng Xin to lick into his mouth. He didn’t break his rhythm as they kissed, to the point that Feng Xin found himself unable to kiss him back, with how well he was being fucked.
“If I touch myself, I think I’m going to come,” he realized. “Are you close?”
“I don’t know. But do it anyway. I want to see.”
Feng Xin immediately reached down to jerk himself off. His dick was a little tacky from the lube that Mu Qing had jacked him off with earlier, but it was still good. “Please, Mu Qing, please,” he begged.
“Fuck,” Mu Qing muttered. He bit his lip, and put his head down, with the expression of a star player who had just been told that he needed to score a goal to win the game. He fucked Feng Xin like that too—determined. Feng Xin felt his mouth falling open as he looked at Mu Qing’s face, at how hard he was trying to make it good for Feng Xin, and he came.
Mu Qing stilled while he came. Feng Xin had let his head fall back, and his eyes were closed, but he still felt Mu Qing watch him. It had to have hurt, Feng Xin though, how hard he was clenching down on Mu Qing’s cock, but Mu Qing held stoically still through it all.
Feng Xin managed to prop himself back up onto his elbows after a while. Mu Qing was trembling with the effort of holding still.
“Fuck, Feng Xin,” he said, lowly. “That was- that was really hot.” His hips shifted, making Feng Xin tighten up involuntarily, and Mu Qing gasped and fucked into him a few more times.
Feng Xin winced. “Careful!”
“What should I do now? I- I think I’m close.”
“It’s too sensitive, but take it out and come on me, come on.”
Mu Qing eased his dick out, and then tugged the condom off. It only took a few pulls of his hand before he was coming all over Feng Xin’s torso, adding to the mess already there. He braced himself above Feng Xin for a moment, his chest heaving, looking at the puddle of come beneath him.
“Let me go get something to clean you up,” he said.
“Uh-huh,” Feng Xin managed. He lifted his hips for long enough to pull the pillow out from under himself, and then flopped back down on the bed, panting.
Mu Qing was back a moment later with a warm, damp washcloth, and he watched as Feng Xin wiped the excess lube from his hole, and then the globs of come up off of his abs. The dirty washcloth, held at arm's length between two fingers, was delicately deposited into his laundry hamper, and then Mu Qing stood with his arms crossed in the middle of the room, staring at Feng Xin, still proudly naked with the exception of a single fuzzy sock, the other one lost somewhere along the way.
“Come here, come on,” Feng Xin said, holding his arms open.
Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to, Mu Qing slowly lowered himself into them, hesitantly resting with his head on Feng Xin’s chest. Feng Xin immediately pulled him close, dragging the comforter over the both of them, and felt the tension slowly ebb out of Mu Qing’s body.
“That’s good,” Feng Xin said. He stroked Mu Qing’s hair, his eyes falling closed, and Mu Qing let him for a while. After some amount of time, of course, he cleared his throat, and swatted Feng Xin’s hand away, tucking his hair behind his ear himself.
“So,” he said. “Are we going to… talk about this?”
Feng Xin was very tired, a combination of emotional whiplash and the sexual overindulgence that he had allowed himself over the past couple of days. “Do we have to?”
“I guess not.”
Mu Qing sounded slightly off himself, maybe tired or maybe something else, and Feng Xin lifted his head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Mu Qing mumbled, and shoved his face into Feng Xin’s chest. A moment later, he lifted his head, and cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, before trailing off.
“What?” Feng Xin asked, when he didn’t continue.
Mu Qing nibbled on his lip. “When I was younger, I thought you would be so… so macho and good at sex, and sex with you would be so cool.”
Feng Xin didn’t even know where to start with that, so he didn’t. “Uh-huh.”
“I was so stupid.” Mu Qing shook his head self-deprecatingly. “Obviously it’s just like everything else with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Feng Xin asked, not sure whether he should be offended or not. Mu Qing smiled at him, and Feng Xin involuntarily bit the inside of his cheek. A loop of so cute-so hot-so handsome was running in his head.
“It’s just you,” Mu Qing said simply. “I don’t know how to describe it. I guess I just feel silly for being so worried about this.”
“You were worried?” Feng Xin asked, his heart feeling very tender. He had never known Mu Qing to worry about anything so insignificant as his own feelings. “Baby.”
“Gross, don’t call me that,” Mu Qing mumbled. “It’s whatever. I should have known you’d be easy.”
“Rude.”
“You’re the one who begged me to fuck you.”
“You’re the one who posted slutty pictures online for me to find.”
Mu Qing twisted his nipple so hard that Feng Xin yelped. “Don’t be an asshole about that.”
“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry- Mu Qing!”
Mu Qing looked up, a satisfied expression on his face, from the bite he had just left on Feng Xin’s pec. Feng Xin was surprised that he hadn’t drawn blood, with how hard he had bitten.
“Jesus, your teeth are fucking sharp. Are you a vampire or something? Fuck.”
“Maybe,” Mu Qing said smugly, and then lowered his head to Feng Xin’s chest again, wrapping his arms around his waist and nuzzling his cheek against him. Unfortunately, it was very cute, and so Feng Xin couldn’t do anything about it.
He wasn’t really sure what to do with Mu Qing’s confession that he had thought about sex with him, and for a long time before this. He wasn’t really sure what to do with the fact that he had too. He looked at the gap in the pictures on Mu Qing’s wall, and remembered something.
“Hey, Mu Qing.”
“What.”
“Can you unblock me on Reddit?”