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A Night Like This

Summary:

Xie Lian, prompted by some well-meaning friends, decides to try a one-night stand to prove he knows how to have fun. All Hua Cheng hopes for is a phone number. So when Xie Lian says, essentially, 'your place or mine?' Hua Cheng promptly loses what little is left of his mind.

Notes:

Ahaha, I can write not-angst sometimes. 😅This is FLUFF. I know, I'm shocked too.

Psst, don't try this at home, kids, there's only one San Lang in this world, and he's fictional. Be safe. 😉🫶
Please be mindful that this is written in HC's POV, his views are not necessarily shared by the author. 🥴

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Hua Cheng’s life comes with perks.

Two years ago, he’d made Forbes’s 30 under 30 as a ‘revolutionary young entrepreneur,’ and now, he’s the head of a robust company creating software for designers, operating out of Hong Kong. He’s known for his business acumen, brazen manner, shark instincts, and—well, hotness. He’s made other lists he would have preferred to have never heard of.

Most people don’t know what lies beneath the surface. Fatherless childhood, juvenile record, an eye lost to crossing the wrong people, mother succumbing to addiction when he was seventeen, depression bordering on suicidal, learning to code on a stolen laptop so he could sell his own drawings online to make a living, sleeping with too many random people just to feel something—anything. A great many hours spent wondering what’s the point of it all.

Building a business was a game that distracted him for a while, made him ‘straighten out,’ so that he could ‘prove something.’ It came with continuous education, switching to a better diet, regular workouts, and even, eventually, seeing a therapist. He learned to value himself, if not love. He learned he didn’t have to prove anything.

He’s twenty-seven now, and he ‘made it.’ He won the game. He enjoys it, too. He likes his luxurious apartment. He likes having hundreds of people working for him all over the world. He enjoys his cars and his clothes and never having to worry about cash. He enjoys doing what he likes and having his crazy ideas be worshipped. He loves having a masseur on call, and a personal trainer who works him without mercy. And he enjoys the covetous look in other people’s eyes, the vapor of desire aimed his way anywhere he appears.

His life is great. What’s not to like?

So why is it that when he lies awake at night, he still can’t get rid of the pervasive ever-present question: What’s the point of it all? So he’s made it, so what? Is that all there is?

He knows that way lies destruction, though. A road that will lead him to becoming either a cowardly scum like his father, or an addict like his mother. He loved his mother, but there is one thing that is inescapable about all addicts—they are pathetic. For a hit, for a dose, they are willing to do anything, no dignity—or humanity—left. Hua Cheng is fine with being miserable, but not with being miserable and pathetic. So it’s best to avoid staying alone with his thoughts for too long.

--

He’s found an outlet, he thinks. Every other week, as his busy schedule permits, he dresses down and goes in search of some no-strings-attached, semi-anonymous entertainment. There are a few watering holes he frequents that run way shy of being respectable but are less dingy than they appear to be, as in the drinks are cheap but the staff knows to wash their hands and sanitize the surfaces.

The bar He Xuan runs is the one Hua Cheng comes to most often. Hua Cheng gave him money for that bar. They aren’t friends, but they’d known each other before, and sometimes—sometimes Hua Cheng wants to be somewhere where he doesn’t have to be a hostage to his image.

It also helps that He Xuan’s bar is unofficially known as a good place to pick up men. There are no obvious signs, but people just know. Nothing flashy, nothing touristy, but if one asked in certain circles, they’d be pointed here. The locals and the regulars all know, though no one really talks about it.

The crowd is usually on the younger side, the university campus being not too terribly far from here. Hua Cheng feels odd sometimes watching them. He’s not that much older, not even a decade, but he feels as if it’s by a lifetime. It doesn’t stop him from fucking a fair number of them if the mood strikes him.

Tonight, it doesn’t. His day dragged. His carefully selected team decided to be idiots and fuck up the code for a new patch. Someone who wanted his money wasted his time with a pitch as dumb as they were entitled. His favorite noodle shop screwed up his order, and by the time the takeout bag was on his desk, it was too late. It just… it dragged. Coming here and picking up someone to fuck his frustration out on seemed like a good idea, but now…

Now, he’s sitting here, nursing a second scotch, ignoring He Xuan ignoring him, and sees no one he doesn’t hate on sight. Everyone is dumb, the world is dumb, and he—

The door opens again, and two young men enter, talking loudly in their excitement. Well, one of them is talking loudly. The other is looking around with a brave smile that does nothing to hide how on edge he appears.

Hua Cheng mentally rolls his eyes. First-timers. They look barely old enough to be legal, but young enough to make it clear that they’re here on an adventure, braving the adult world of meaningless hookups and one-night stands. Whatever. Or good for them, or something. Hua Cheng stares morosely into his drink. He feels so tired.

Still. He takes another look. They’re cute. Well, the blabbering chatterbox would be cute if he’d shut up for a second, and he’s too pretty in that doll-like way Hua Cheng really hates, all artful makeup and hair products. The other one…

Hua Cheng pauses. At first glance, there’s nothing to make him stand out, but that’s the thing. He has the kind of face that makes one want to keep looking. The artist in Hua Cheng raises his head as if coming out of a century-long slumber.

The man has smooth, clear skin, pale and luminous in a way that usually suggests shimmer, but by the hint of shadows under his eyes it’s unlikely he’s wearing any. His lips are full and naturally bright. Elegantly curving, perfectly symmetrical eyebrows. A straight, thin nose, ideally proportioned for his face. And domineering the canvas are the eyes—big, slightly rounded, with the tiniest upturn at the corners—a perfect ‘peach blossom’ shape they teach to draw in art classes. The color is undeterminable from a distance in this poor lighting, but the eyes are lively, bright, effortlessly commanding attention of whoever happens to look into them. His hair is slightly too long for a student; he’s probably missed a haircut. He’s dressed simply, jeans and a white button-down. He looks…

Like he shouldn’t be here.

Hua Cheng can’t help a frown at the incongruence. It’s like walking into a KFC near a gas station and finding Mona Lisa carelessly hung up over the fryer, accumulating grease stains. This man looks like he belongs in a museum—no, in a private collection. A timeless beauty that doesn’t need to shout to preside. Next to this man, his friend looks almost garish with his gaudy makeup and fashionable clothes, though thanks to those, he’s the one getting the most looks.

Well. Hua Cheng really does roll his eye this time. This only proves his point—it’s exactly like casting pearls before swine. Most people who come here are dumber than pigs and wouldn’t know what they’re looking at to save their pathetic lives.

Living Art and Obnoxious Chatterbox make their way to the bar. They settle some distance away from where Hua Cheng is brooding at the far end of the counter. It’s crowded tonight, so he can hear their voices, but not actual words. Obnoxious Chatterbox’s voice, at any rate; his friend seems to speak much softer. Hua Cheng feels his frown deepen as he watches them order drinks.

He knows Obnoxious Chatterbox’s type—exactly the kind to get his more serious friend into trouble, then disappear without a trace distracted by something shiny at a critical moment, and then be full of remorse and apologies that are of use to no one. Like spoiled younger children, people like that tend to end up being comforted for the trouble they themselves have caused, frequently by their inadvertent victims. Hua Cheng hates this type.

He isn’t the only one watching the pair. Fresh faces are common enough around here, but fresh faces like that, screaming their newness to the scene, are not. Hua Cheng can sense the attention settling on them. Judging by the delighted look on Obnoxious Chatterbox’s face and the shy smile on Living Art’s, it’s exactly what they wanted.

Hua Cheng continues watching, doesn’t interfere. He’s nobody’s knight in shining armor. He never stops other people from making stupid choices. Their lives, their problems. But as he watches Living Art laugh quietly at something a taller man who’s approached him says, Hua Cheng gets progressively angrier. The sense of wrongness is growing more overwhelming by the minute. He shakes his head to clear it, frustrated and confused.

It’s not that he wants to fuck the guy himself… All right, he does, he’s still a human male with a pulse, but that’s not what’s bothering him. It’s stranger than that. The instinct to stake a claim is very much in place, but he also wants to bundle the clueless creature up in a blanket, call a cab, and send him off safely to wherever it is he lives—to his books, and house plants, and probably a cat. This second urge is nearly eclipsing the first, and this has never happened to Hua Cheng before.

He can barely keep from walking out on the spot, before the weirdness of this day rewires his brain, but just then, his phone comes to life. Oh, if only looks could kill through the miracle of cellular connection. Hua Cheng may have ended up re-staffing his whole firm or settling for working with the ghosts of his former employees. Not that he’d have minded, but his therapist says he needs better ways to work through his anger.

--

By the time he’s done biting off the head of his apparently mistakenly hired PM and fixing what they’d managed to fuck up in the few hours since he’d left the office, the night has progressed, and the bar has become much livelier. Hua Cheng flags down the barman for a fresh drink, He Xuan having disappeared while he wasn’t looking, and suddenly remembers his chosen entertainment.

He looks around and discovers that Living Art is still sitting at the same spot, gazing at his drink with an absent if somewhat tense smile. Obnoxious Chatterbox is nowhere to be seen, which was predictable, but still manages to irritate Hua Cheng further. Can’t he see that his friend is uncomfortable? Did he just abandon him? Typical irresponsible behavior for people like him.

Living Art really does look like he wants other people not to see him, yet at the same time as if he’s aware of how socially awkward it looks to be sitting there alone. A little chagrined smile flits over his mouth, a silent ‘What can you do?’ Hua Cheng shifts in his seat.

He glances around the bar and realizes that, now that the loud gaudy distraction has fucked off somewhere, Living Art is getting more interested looks. He is cute, even if most people can’t appreciate the finer qualities to his beauty. Hua Cheng spots a couple of regulars exchanging glances and nodding at the unsuspecting prey. His blood starts to boil. He knows these guys, knows what they’re up to. Living Art might be clueless, but it’s not—he’s not—

Hua Cheng doesn’t realize he’s moving, until he’s already powerwalked most of the way, ignoring the stink eye the other regulars send him. Dark satisfaction spills over in his gut. Yeah, they know him, too, and they know not to mess with him. Like a tiger, satisfied that he’s scared off the competition, he puts them out of his mind.

He inserts himself beside Living Art, leaning sideways against the counter and smiling playfully.

“Something wrong with your drink?”

Living Art looks up at him, startled. Abruptly, the entire bar stops existing around them. If, in fact, it’s still there, Hua Cheng has no idea.

It’s not the color, though Hua Cheng’s mind ruffles through over two hundred hues in under a second to find a match for this exact shade of light-brown. It’s the overwhelming sweetness of that look, the soul-rupturing openness staring up at him guilelessly from under thick, thick lashes.

“I’m sorry?”

Liquid, tugging heat pools low in Hua Cheng’s belly at the sound. Is he under a spell? Has he had one drink too many? He hasn’t finished his second scotch, but…

“Your drink,” he says, powering through, nodding with his chin at the barely-touched glass in front of Living Art on the counter. “You’ve been staring at it a while. Not to your liking?”

“Oh.” Living Art blinks, glancing at the glass briefly, a tiny confused frown between his brows. A soft huff of laughter escapes him. “No, I was just… uh, lost in thought, I guess. It’s fine.” He twirls the liquid in his glass experimentally, involuntarily making a face. “My friend ordered it. It’s… uh…” He looks up at Hua Cheng helplessly. “I can’t remember the name. It’s… green? Did you want one like that? I could ask the bartender, he has to know what it’s called. Um. If you’d like?”

Hua Cheng wouldn’t like a drink like that. He would dearly love to stop melting. Already he can feel his aggressive aura begin to blur around the edges, losing its potency, and this… creature has barely said two words to him.

He turns on the charm that most people find either arousing or obnoxious and smirks.

“Actually, I wanted to get you a drink, so finding out if you’d liked this one is kind of important.”

Living Art stares at him, mouth open slightly in surprise. Hua Cheng’s mind decides that this is a great time to start showing him movies with a scandalously high rating inside his own head. Thank God, it’s inside his own head. What is he doing? The idiocy of his own completely clichéd approach catches up with him, and he braces himself for being told where to go—as he ought to.

Instead, Living Art blushes.

He blushes.

“Oh, um…” he stammers, drops of tender watercolor-rose spilling over his cheekbones, making Hua Cheng’s lips itch and the tips of his fingers tingle. “I—” He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘You don’t have to,’ then seems to realize the situation and changes tracks. “I—thank you. It’s… um, I didn’t really like it that much. It has anise in it.” He wrinkles his nose, then suddenly looks quickly over his shoulder. “Please don’t tell my friend!”

Hua Cheng thinks he might be dying. He’s dying. This is so far removed from the usual brisk, businesslike exchanges that happen here. ‘Can I buy you a drink? Or would you like to have one at my place?’ Crude and to-the-point, but this is what hookups are for. Why waste time when everyone knows what it’s about?

Hua Cheng hates it. He’s always hated it, which was why he couldn’t even bring himself to act tonight. He only does it when gym isn’t cutting it, when his body feels taut with tension, when he wants to forget himself. He never wastes time on the pretense that this is going somewhere else.

Yet now, when he already knows he wouldn’t dare touch, that there’s no chance he’d be allowed to, all of the empty, usually-superfluous small talk is suddenly imbued with meaning, and Hua Cheng wants to drink it down whole.

(Because there’s no chance, all right? Whatever cosmic error has led to a person like that ending up here tonight, there’s no way he doesn’t know he’s too good for this. If he so much as allows Hua Cheng to buy him a drink, that’s already way too generous.)

Eye still on that illegal blush, Hua Cheng murmurs in a sweet coaxing tone he’s never used with anybody in his life and is appalled to hear from himself, “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. What would you like instead?”

Living Art smiles and shifts in his seat, slightly relaxing. “Something non-alcoholic and without anise? Sorry, I’m not an expert.”

Hua Cheng, who’s been caught by the sight of the collar of Living Art’s shirt caressing the side of his neck, blinks and refocuses.

“You’re under eighteen?” he asks, realizing with horror that the information has done nothing to temper the reaction of his body. He is a monster, and he didn’t even know it. Not that he would actually do anything—he’s not that far gone. He’ll just see that no one else does, and if he’s very lucky, he might even get to see this little rabbit safely home, or at least put him into a cab.

But in his mind, in his atrocious trash mind that doesn’t care, indecent, red-hued images are dancing wildly, rising like the tide.

“What?” Living Art blinks and laughs softly, eyes crinkling. “No, I’m twenty-nine! I just don’t drink is all.”

Hua Cheng stares. He hopes to God it’s true. He prays it’s true. He’ll feel only marginally less monstrous then, but still.

“You’re even older than me, but you look like this,” he purrs. “Gege must get carded all the time.”

Living Art blushes again, eyes darting away for a moment, as he clearly fights off his embarrassment. It’s unbearably cute. Hua Cheng has to clench his hand into a fist in his pocket to resist the urge to trace the contours of that blush with his fingers. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him tonight.

“I—uh, not that often, really,” Living Art says. “As I don’t drink, I don’t often go to places like this—”

No kidding.

“—and I don’t often buy alcohol.” He chuckles ruefully, shaking his head. “But I can tell you that the number of times I’ve been mistaken for a student instead of a teacher is really embarrassing.”

“Oh?” Hua Cheng says, signaling the bartender—still not He Xuan, where the fuck has he gone? “Gege is a teacher?”

“En.” Living Art nods and says shyly, “I’m Xie Lian, you can just call me that.”

“Beautiful, but I’m attached to ‘gege’ now, I’m afraid,” Hua Cheng says with a grin and winks. “Call me San Lang.”

That earns him a curious look, but some habits are hard to break. Few people would recognize him on sight, but many would by his name. Hua Cheng doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure, and he certainly doesn’t have to rely on his fame when he looks for company. If such a time ever comes, he’d rather kill himself.

He doesn’t usually introduce himself as San Lang, either, though, but tonight it slips out before he knows it, and he can’t bring himself to regret it, when Living Art—Xie Lian blinks in confusion, then smiles, and says softly, “San Lang. Nice to meet you.”

He offers his hand. Hua Cheng is back to dying. Adorable. Like it's the first day of school, and Xie Lian is a shy child afraid that no one will talk to him, then suddenly making a friend. Hua Cheng had always been that kid, who parents and teachers pointed at and warned other children about. Trash family, troubled child, and look, that uniform is so ill-fitting, he must have stolen it.

He clasps the warm hand that seems swallowed in his bigger one, and absurdly wants to drag Xie Lian off the stool and straight to his old schoolyard to show him off. He feels giddy with it and grins wide.

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

The bartender appears, interrupting Hua Cheng’s unexpected descent into a pre-pubescent fantasy. Hua Cheng leans over to him to speak over the noise of the crowd straight into his ear. The man nods in the same expressionless manner He Xuan does and wanders off.

“So, gege, what do you teach?” Hua Cheng asks, attention instantly snapping back to his target.

“Oh.” Xie Lian’s eyes gleam with passion Hua Cheng recognizes only too well. “Music! Well, musical theory, though some instruments, too, sometimes. Uh, I’m sorry, it’s a bit boring, I know—”

“No such thing,” Hua Cheng interrupts, leaning a little closer. “One doesn’t have to understand music to be affected by it. As any weapon, it needs to be studied.”

Xie Lian blinks. “That’s… a unique way of looking at it.” A slow, slightly mischievous grin spreads over his lips. “I have a few students in my current class who can’t seem to find their motivation. Something tells me this… philosophy might just do the trick.”

Hua Cheng smirks. “What, brawn over brain?”

“Not quite.” Xie Lian chuckles. “They just tend to see the world as something to fight—like yourself?”

Hua Cheng’s heart skips a beat, a cooling sensation trickling down his spine. He feels seen and unprepared for it.

“What does gege see the world like?” he asks, voice a little hoarse.

Xie Lian’s eyes turn a little distant as he contemplates the question. “As a dark place,” he says at last. “That needs to be filled with joy.”

Hua Cheng’s universe abruptly narrows down to the person sitting in front of him. He’s never wanted anyone—anything—more. Not a physical want, but a crushing, soul-deep craving for something essential he hadn’t known he missed until this moment.

Xie Lian, oblivious, smiles, shaking his head. “Sorry, not like, dark dark all the time, I’m not so nihilistic, but there are so many things that aren’t right, so many people suffering. I just… I feel like we could all help it, bit by bit. Sorry,” he laughs ruefully. “This probably isn’t the occasion for such conversations. Just tell me to shut up. I’ve been told I’m a bit much.”

Anger spills under Hua Cheng’s skin unprompted. “Is it you who’s ‘a bit much,’ gege, or is it everyone else who’s not enough and is uncomfortable about it? People don’t like those who stand out. They’d do anything to bring you down.”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen a little. “Uh, San Lang, that’s… I really can be…” He ducks his head, and a rueful laugh escapes him. “Do you know why I’m even here? A friend of mine insisted I didn’t know how to relax and have fun. That I, quote, was too serious for my own good. I said, I didn’t know where he’d gotten this idea, and here I am proving him right!”

Hua Cheng lifts an eyebrow. “Let me guess, the same friend who brought you here and then abandoned you?”

“Uh, he hasn’t—” Xie Lian looks around, but there’s no sign of Obnoxious Chatterbox anywhere, which totally figures. Xie Lian deflates slightly. “He said it was fine if we split at some point…”

“Uh-huh. And did he also give you the script for this supposed ‘fun having?’”

Xie Lian blushes a little. “Well… yes. Kind of?” He bites his lip. Hua Cheng wails internally, watching white teeth sink into plump flesh. “He said that I’ve been a social recluse since—since uh, since my ex left me, and uh, that it’s been so long, and I—that I need to, uh, to at least, uh—” His blush progresses to scarlet, but he presses on, even if his voice turns a little strangled. “To at least dip my toes in the water, only… only I haven’t mastered the courage to approach anyone all night, and… and maybe Qingxuan is right. Maybe I really am no fun and don’t know how to relax.”

Hua Cheng has gone through ten stages of every possible emotion throughout this, but in the end, he forces himself to bank murderous rage he feels toward both the mentioned ex and the idiot friend, stomps on his ardent desire to build ten layers of fortification around this clueless priceless pearl, and firmly locks down the predator’s instinct screaming at him to grab and run.

“One person’s idea of relaxation is another’s torture,” he says mildly, at a cost only known to himself. Anything not to spook this one. With a smile aimed to charm, he points out, “But even so—aren’t we talking? I’m enjoying myself, how about gege? If he is, too, even a little bit, hasn’t he, by default, succeeded?”

Xie Lian smiles, looking slightly less flustered—and a lot grateful. “That’s kind of you to say—”

Hua Cheng can’t help cutting in, eyebrow raised. “Kind?”

Xie Lian, however, only reels for a moment, before smiling sweeter. “I have a feeling you’re a very kind person, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng drops his head back and laughs loudly enough to draw gazes. It’s not a good sound, but he can’t help it, his head is swimming a bit. His grin is feral, all-teeth, he knows it, when he looks back down, straightening to his full height and caging Xie Lian in a bit, not enough to break the bounds of decency, but enough to push them.

“You’ve got it so incredibly wrong, gege,” he purrs, feeling every inch a ruthless jungle cat on the prowl.

Xie Lian seems a little breathless, but doesn’t appear scared. His smile doesn’t waver. “Do I?” he challenges sweetly. “So far, you’ve only been kind to me.”

Hua Cheng is close, so close to telling him that it’s not kindness that drives him, that a private window into his head would send someone as sweet and clean as Xie Lian running, that Hua Cheng is disgusting inside and out, he only pretends well, hiding behind his designer clothes and second-hand manners he’d learned to imitate to pass but never to embody. Underneath the money and the thin sheen of civility, Hua Cheng remains the same feral street urchin he’s always been. And the things he wants to do to Xie Lian are not kind, not a single one of them.

Fortunately, at that moment, the harassed-looking bartender finally arrives with their drinks, and Xie Lian’s eyes light up on the ruby-liquid glass topped with cherries.

“Oh!” He picks up the glass in delight and takes a sip. “So sweet! I like it so much, San Lang, thank you!”

Hua Cheng… can physically feel his claws and fangs retract. He still very much feels like a ruthless predator, only at the moment, he inexplicably wants to curl around his prey and purr to soothe him, rather than kill him. Temporarily, no doubt, it’s just…

“I’m so glad you like it, gege,” he murmurs, clinking his own glass against Xie Lian’s. “Well met.”

--

They talk for so long that Hua Cheng manages to completely lose track of time. Neither He Xuan, nor Obnoxious Chatterbox have reappeared. Hua Cheng has never felt more grateful to anyone in his life.

He’s long seated himself on the stool next to Xie Lian’s, listening intently to every tale of student mishaps and teaching blunders, of the antics of Xie Lian’s cat—ha! He was right about there being a cat—apparently aptly named Ruoye, and of the many friends Xie Lian, who’s in no way antisocial, seems to have.

Hua Cheng, in return, finds himself complaining sourly about his employees, his real name and occupation slipping out beyond his will. Xie Lian hasn’t heard of him, but he’s heard of his software, and the admiration in his eyes gives more of a kick than hard liquor.

It’s not the hookup type of conversation.

This feels like a date.

Hua Cheng has never been on a date, but he’s fairly certain this is what they’re supposed to feel like. Minus the sticky floors and drunken idiots yelling in a booth behind them. The longer it goes, the more Hua Cheng feels that Xie Lian is almost aggressively out of place in this cesspit—with his refined looks, cultured speech, impressive vocabulary, and too-polite manners. But he’s here, inexplicably, laughing at Hua Cheng’s teasing.

Hua Cheng knows himself to be sinking fast, and it’s terrible, because he knows this can’t last. The saying about the toad craving swan meat comes to mind, and the fact that they are very much in a dirty pond and not a clear lake, only serves to make it worse. Hua Cheng is at home here; it is very much his kind of scene. Xie Lian… If Xie Lian hadn’t been here tonight on a ‘mission,’ he’d never talk to someone like Hua Cheng. As well he shouldn’t.

But Hua Cheng has never been anything but completely shameless when it comes to the things he wants, so as time flies by, he starts tentatively hoping, rehearsing the lines in his head. Something light in tone, teasing, downplaying its importance, but something that will hopefully get him a phone number or a WeChat contact. Anything, even an email, he’s not picky. Whatever Xie Lian feels safe with is fine.

Hua Cheng won’t abuse it. He’ll be on his best behavior, he’ll never overstep, won’t ever make Xie Lian regret it if he agrees. He’ll be the best, most supportive friend. All right, maybe friend is overreaching. An acquaintance then. He’ll be the best casual acquaintance, always available when there’s a new museum exhibit or a window between classes for some ice tea on a hot day.

Just a phone number, but if that’s too much, maybe even just a fake one. Just so he could still have the illusion to enjoy for one night, before reality inevitably crushes him.

“Ah, it’s really late now, isn’t it?” Xie Lian says, glancing at the significantly emptier room.

Hua Cheng’s heart skips a beat. All the clever lines he’s come up with scatter away as he nearly panics. “Gege—”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian speaks at the same time. He glances down, and the blush is back. “I… this might be a bit forward, but… would you like to take this elsewhere?”

There’s a sudden dull buzzing in Hua Cheng’s ears, as if someone had struck a bell inside his head. The room sways a little. Has he misheard? He must have…

“I’m sorry, gege, could you repeat that?” he says feebly, hearing his own voice as if through water.

Xie Lian averts his eyes, cheeks pink. “Ah, San Lang, you don’t have to… you don’t have to be nice about it. I just thought I’d ask.”

His gaze flits around the room a little desperately.

Hua Cheng abruptly realizes two things. One, he very much heard what he just heard. And two, Xie Lian, apparently, has been more stung by his idiot friend’s words than he’d let on, and he’s still on a mission to prove him wrong. If Hua Cheng says no now, he’ll likely try with someone else. It’s not like he’ll have trouble finding volunteers.

With that thought, everything comes crushing down, and Hua Cheng is suddenly on his feet, and for the first time tonight he doesn’t curb the impulse to reach out and touch. His hand clasps Xie Lian’s arm lightly—he only just manages to make it light.

“I would very much like to take this elsewhere, gege,” he says, leaning closer, resisting the urge to throw Xie Lian over his shoulder and carry him out of here. “Your place or mine?”

If he’d misunderstood, this is where he gets punched. That’s fine. He’ll have deserved it.

A punch doesn’t come. Xie Lian only manages to look up at him for a split second, instantly dropping his eyes again, cheeks a flaming red.

“I… wouldn’t like to unnerve my cat. Can we… go to yours? Is that… Will that be okay?”

“Very,” Hua Cheng assures him, his grip tightening involuntarily. If he’s dreaming, he doesn’t want to wake up. “Shall we, then?”

Xie Lian nods.

--

Hua Cheng calls for a cab, and as they wait at the curb, he feels as if he’s slipped into some alternate reality. There’s no way that someone like Xie Lian—pretty, intelligent, and so incredibly sweet—would ever suggest going home with someone like Hua Cheng. Frankly—with anyone he’s just met, that’s just not how the world works.

The car arrives, and Hua Cheng helps Xie Lian in, a hand boldly on the small of his back. Xie Lian only smiles at him, instead of snapping at him to keep his hands to himself. It’s… insane. Hua Cheng was hoping for a phone number. This is beyond his wildest, boldest dreams.

Perhaps, he’s misunderstood? Someone like Xie Lian, so alien in that setting—maybe he doesn’t know what he’s offered? He said it himself, he’s never done this before. Maybe he thinks they really are going to just keep talking, only somewhere quieter and more private?

It’s insane, but is it more insane than the alternative? Xie Lian is looking out the window, rambling about the new shopping mall he sees, and which he clearly has no interest in. He’s nervous. It’s there, in the incessant biting of his lips, in the way his hand is curled over the edge of the seat, as if he’s on a rollercoaster, holding on for dear life. Hua Cheng wants to take his hand, but doesn’t dare. What if he’s wrong? The last thing he wants is to accidentally offend.

By the end of the twenty-minute ride, Xie Lian seems to have exhausted every topic of conversation, and Hua Cheng is fraught with nerves. This, too, has never happened to him before. Stepping out of the car, he almost offers his hand to Xie Lian, but stops at the last moment. What if he’s wrong, what if he’s wrong, whatifheswrong…

Xie Lian follows him almost meekly into the foyer of the building, bowing and saying hello to the concierge, then commenting on how pretty it is inside as they step into the elevator. Hua Cheng looks at him, and can’t manage a smile.

Finally inside the apartment, they’re both silent and still. Hua Cheng forces himself to move, taking off his shoes, gesturing for Xie Lian to do the same.

“I… gege, would you like something to drink? Some tea, or—”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says, stepping closer to him and taking his hand. “It’s all right if you changed your mind. I can go. It’s really fine, I get it, I understand if you don’t want to, I can—”

Hua Cheng can’t take it a second longer. He steps forward, gently cupping Xie Lian’s face with his hand, bringing him close, intent unmistakable.

“Of course I want to,” he murmurs, and watches as Xie Lian’s pupils expand, turning his eyes a bronze-rimmed black. “Gege. Yes?”

Xie Lian swallows, his throat moving against Hua Cheng’s palm. He licks his lips; draws in a breath. At last, quiet but firm, “Yes.”

Hua Cheng kisses him. It feels a little like throwing himself off a cliff, but seconds pass, and he’s neither slapped nor pushed away, and as he realizes that this really is the green light, he unravels.

“Yes?” he asks again, believing suddenly and wanting to hear it again.

“Yes,” Xie Lian replies immediately, leaning in. “Please. Yes.”

Hua Cheng kisses him again, and it’s no longer tentative. Xie Lian’s mouth tastes like the sweet cherries from the drink Hua Cheng kept ordering for him, and underneath something far more addictive, wet, soft, and pliant. Hua Cheng slides his hand around Xie Lian’s waist to bring him closer, the other hand angles them just right. Xie Lian sways into him, unbalanced, and that’s enough to make Hua Cheng snap.

He moves them until Xie Lian’s back hits the wall, and kisses him harder probably than two strangers should kiss. Xie Lian yields to him, letting him do as he pleases, fingers tangled in the fabric of Hua Cheng’s shirt, desperate for purchase. The soft little noises he’s making are enough to drive anyone insane, and Hua Cheng has a shorter fuse than most, or perhaps it’s just this person—this unfathomable, baffling, unlikeliest person, whose very existence in his space is pushing Hua Cheng in danger of losing his mind.

He forces himself to slow down, to ease off a little, to let Xie Lian breathe and push him away if he wants to. Xie Lian makes a soft muffled sound of woe and chases his lips blindly instead. It sends an electric current down Hua Cheng’s spine, shocking his entire system into action. He wedges one knee between Xie Lian’s thighs roughly, and Xie Lian groans low in his throat, unconsciously grinding down.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, head falling back, as Hua Cheng mouths against the line of his jaw. “I’m—”

It’s not a signal to stop, not yet, so Hua Cheng doesn’t, only slows down, sucking gentle kisses over the hinge of Xie Lian’s jaw. The scent of his skin is addictive. “For what?”

“I—” Xie Lian rolls his head helplessly against the wall, hands grasping Hua Cheng’s shoulders. “I’m not… very good at this. Should have… told you. Sorry, San Lang.”

Hua Cheng does stop then, though he doesn’t let him go. “Gege,” he rasps, catching Xie Lian’s gaze. “Why would you think that?”

Xie Lian squirms a little in his hold, which only serves to further torture both of them. Hua Cheng holds steady, waiting him out. At last, Xie Lian admits, looking down, “My ex always said I was… boring. In—in bed.”

Unable to withstand it, Hua Cheng cups Xie Lian’s chin with his palm and kisses him hard, swallowing his surprised squeal. He’s in his territory, this beautiful befuddling man is in his arms, for however fleeting a moment, and he’ll damned if he’s going to restrain himself further.

“Gege,” he growls, tearing his mouth away only just, grinding purposefully against Xie Lian, leaving him in no doubt of the effect he has on Hua Cheng. “When we’re done here, I’m going to need his name and address.”

Panting, pupils blown wide, the contours of his lips smudged over from being kissed so roughly, Xie Lian manages a surprised laugh. “San Lang!”

“I’m not joking,” Hua Cheng says, squeezing Xie Lian’s waist. “That man is an asshole. Forget everything he’s ever said. Can’t you see what you’re doing to me? How much I want you?”

Xie Lian loops his arms around Hua Cheng’s neck, tilting his face toward him, eyes searching. Hua Cheng shivers, keeping himself open for this appraisal, wishing desperately he knew what Xie Lian was looking for.

At last, Xie Lian exhales. “En.”

This man is going to kill me, Hua Cheng thinks, head spinning. He leans in for a kiss, but Xie Lian pulls back.

“Bedroom?”

“Gods, yes.”

For the first time in his life, Hua Cheng curses his stupidly large apartment. By the time they make it to the bedroom, he thinks he might explode. Finally, finally, he pushes Xie Lian’s shirt off his shoulders, revealing a body that is way too fit for a soft music teacher.

“I do martial arts on the weekends,” Xie Lian says with a rueful laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how handy it is when you need to lug a piano from one auditorium to another.”

Hua Cheng runs his fingers over Xie Lian’s abs, before lightly circling a nipple. Xie Lian’s knees buckle, and he grabs Hua Cheng’s shoulders for support, biting back a moan.

“Oh, gege.” Hua Cheng smirks, drunk on it. “Looks like I’ve found your weak spot.”

Xie Lian’s throat seems to constrict, preventing speech, and he squirms in Hua Cheng’s arms more than ever. They kiss, touching everywhere, Xie Lian’s fingers bolder than his words. Hua Cheng’s shirt hits the floor. Xie Lian gets a strangely intent expression on his face, hands fumbling with the buttons of Hua Cheng’s jeans.

“Let me suck you off,” he mutters, blushing, but determined, and tries to sink to his knees.

An alarm instantly goes off in Hua Cheng’s head, and he catches Xie Lian firmly by the elbows, pulling him up.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, looking at Xie Lian carefully.

The corner of Xie Lian’s mouth twitches stubbornly. “You don’t like it?”

Hua Cheng lifts an eyebrow. “There’s no man on this planet who doesn’t like it.” His thumbs rub careful circles over Xie Lian’s skin where he’s holding him. “The question is, do you like giving it?”

Xie Lian’s chin lifts. “I’m good at it, I—”

Hua Cheng kisses him lightly. “Not what I asked, gege.”

“I—” Xie Lian looks away, visibly frustrated. Haltingly, as if embarrassed, he admits, “I do like doing it… sometimes.”

“All right,” Hua Cheng says, pulling him close to run his hands over his back. “How about now? Do you really want to do it now?”

They’ve only just met. Yes, Hua Cheng has been on both the receiving and giving end of a blowjob with someone whose name he didn’t bother to find out, but this is different. Already Xie Lian feels like the most precious person Hua Cheng has ever met. It’s not that he has to be careful with him—he wants to be.

“I—” Xie Lian stumbles, eyes on the first undone button of Hua Cheng’s jeans. “I do—I—”

“Gege.” Hua Cheng lifts Xie Lian’s chin gently with his knuckles. “You’re looking at it like it’s a battle to fight.”

Xie Lian huffs out a helpless laugh, but doesn’t refute it, and some tension bleeds out of him. His shoulders sink a little. Quietly, he says, “I want to please you. I can’t be certain that… that other things…”

Hua Cheng’s vision turns red for a moment.

“I’m going to have to kill your ex,” he says darkly, when he’s certain he can speak and not snarl. “Seriously, gege. How much do you want for his address? Would a new piano for your classroom do?”

“San Laaang,” Xie Lian moans helplessly, pressing his forehead against Hua Cheng’s chest. He shakes his head, then looks up, eyes searching. “What would you like then?”

Hua Cheng gently kisses his mouth. “For you to be honest. I never want to do anything my partner doesn’t also want.”

Xie Lian is looking at him as if Hua Cheng is a newly discovered sonata from centuries ago. In a small voice, he says, “Even if it’s a small thing that won’t bother me?”

“Even if.” Hua Cheng brings them flush together, locking his fury tightly away. He will find that bastard if it kills him, but—later. This—is now. “What would please you? What kind of things do you like?”

“I—” Xie Lian looks away, biting his lip habitually, then hissing softly. “I… I really like it when…” He shivers, a fresh wave of blush rising in his face, spilling down to his chest.

Hua Cheng longs to tease him, but can’t right now. They don’t know each other, and this is fragile. He can do harm here, and he won’t forgive himself. If he couldn’t feel Xie Lian’s erection pressing persistently against his hip and showing no signs of flagging, he would have stopped altogether, his own desire be damned.

“I need your words, gege, please,” he insists, his tone gentle but firm. “If you wanted a night of fun, shouldn’t you get what you want?”

Many people are shy about saying what they like in bed, and Hua Cheng usually doesn’t have the patience for anyone who can’t be straightforward or plays coy. With Xie Lian, he’s prepared to coax and wait forever. He won’t tease. He might die from holding back, but he won’t tease.

Xie Lian turns back toward him, looks up, and says, quiet but perfectly intelligible, “I like to get fucked. I… I really like it.”

Hua Cheng feels sucker-punched, suddenly harder than he’d been a moment ago, gripping Xie Lian’s arms hard. So much for shy. He’d pushed for it, he’d suspected the preference—or perhaps hoped for it in the depths of his dirty, dirty mind, but he’d underestimated the effect that those words falling from those lips would have on him. Barely clinging to his veneer of control, he grins at the impossible man in his arms.

“That was very brave, gege; you did so well. Thank you.” A light kiss. “And your reward is getting exactly what you want.”

Even flustered, Xie Lian lifts his chin up in challenge. “What about what you want? Is that even something you like?”

Hua Cheng couldn’t help his grin if his life depended on it. “Not an issue, gege, trust me.” The degree to which it’s not an issue is probably not something that should be confessed… “I’d wanted to do exactly that since the moment I saw you walk into that bar.”

“San Lang!” Xie Lian turns red. “You—”

Still grinning, Hua Cheng walks him backward toward the bed and pushes him down, quickly following. Braced on his hands and knees above him, Hua Cheng murmurs, smirking, “You let me take you home with me—what kind of intentions did you think I had? Have you even seen yourself, gege? Everyone in that place wanted you. I was just lucky enough to be picked by you.”

“San Laaang,” Xie Lian whines, squirming and trying to crawl further up the bed from under him. “You don’t have to flatter me, I—”

Hua Cheng presses him down and kisses him, hot and heavy, swallowing every modesty-dictated protest. Or maybe it’s not modesty. Maybe Xie Lian really doesn’t know, which would explain so much, including how he’d ended up here, in Hua Cheng’s bed, of all places, after knowing him for two hours.

And it bears investigating, it really does, but Hua Cheng has been in the state of semi-perpetual arousal for the entire night, he really wasn’t lying, and when all he hears is ‘yes’ and ‘please,’ there’s little he can do not to let his body take over.

He kisses, caresses, nips. He strips them both naked, barely noticing. Xie Lian is more sensitive than any person Hua Cheng has ever been with, every part of his body responding to the slightest bit of attention beautifully and at once, and it’s a power trip that would drive anyone out of their mind, let alone Hua Cheng, who’s weak, weak for this, for being the one to bring pleasure like this, for being the one to draw gasps, and moans, and shudders from this person.

His lips on Xie Lian’s nipple, his hand on his ass, he’s drunk on power, on the scent, on the sounds Xie Lian’s making, and the taste of his sweat, the heat of the body melting so beautifully under him. Xie Lian’s thighs part for him, and that’s it, this is how he dies, and he won’t even regret it.

It’s still incredible that Xie Lian is here, that this is happening at all, but the thought that Hua Cheng could have been too slow, could have hesitated too long, could have seen Xie Lian leaving the bar with someone else—someone who would not have stopped him earlier, someone who’d simply use him—the thought makes him growl and squeeze his hands too hard, probably leaving bruises.

Before apologies can fall from his lips, Xie Lian pushes into the touch, body arching, and that’s—that’s… Hua Cheng is somehow more lucky than he’d thought he was a moment ago, and that’s making him lose what little was left of his sanity.

Lube, condoms, he’s careful, he’s so very, very careful, but he also wants the way he’s never wanted anything in his life, certainly not with anyone else. He goes maddeningly slow with his fingers, which has Xie Lian thrashing on the bed, losing every last bit of restraint, forgetting to cling to dignity, and Hua Cheng is—high. He’s high. He could torture him like this forever, watch him lose himself to the abandon of desire forever and never tire.

Xie Lian’s fingers dig into the sheets hard enough to make the fabric scream, his throat is a broken line, as he pushes out, “San… Lang… please…”

And partly he lingered because he knew once he’d snap, there’d be no holding himself back—except he does. He doesn’t know how, but he does, the thought of causing even a bit of pain unbearable. He presses in so slowly, he wouldn’t have believed it of himself, but he’s big, and he already knows Xie Lian hasn’t done this in a long time, and he has to—

Xie Lian’s ankles hook over Hua Cheng’s thighs and he pushes himself down, arms looped over Hua Cheng’s neck, eyes staring up at him, all-black, a physical way to plea for what he wants when words won’t come.

Hua Cheng’s vision darkens for a moment. “Gege, hold still, you—”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian pants, still writhing like he can’t control himself. “Please.” Nails dig into skin as he shifts. “I can’t… Feels so good. Please… Break me.”

Hua Cheng’s mind snaps. The next thrust is rough, and the howl it tears out of his own chest is matched in a perfect, barbaric harmony with Xie Lian’s high-pitched wail. This is insane, they’re both insane, and it’s all he can do to stop himself from pounding the body beneath him, but it’s close, and all Xie Lian does is egg him on.

Hua Cheng would never have suspected this of him, with his sweet, pristine appearance, and he was a fool, a complete and utter fool about it, and now he’s paying for it, because he’s lost. Irrevocably and forever, no one else will ever be enough after this, no one else will ever even come close—and he’ll have to let Xie Lian go. There’s no way that whatever madness possessed him tonight will survive until morning. There’s no way, but now—

It’s a desperate push and pull, and Hua Cheng ends up mindlessly pulling out to flip Xie Lian over, and it’s—god, yes, it’s so much better like this, Xie Lian’s hands braced on the headboard, Hua Cheng’s arms wrapped around his torso probably way too tightly, as he snaps his hips, verging on brutal, certainly not slowing down, and the sounds torn out of Xie Lian’s throat are driving Hua Cheng insane.

He wanted to give this kitten a sweet night, something to think back on and smile, and maybe blush a little, but now he wants to etch himself into Xie Lian’s sensory memory in a way that won’t be possible to erase. He wants to take him over, lay claim to every single part of him, reshape him entirely into something that belongs solely to him, and that’s… that’s…

“San Lang, I… I…”

Hua Cheng wraps his hand around Xie Lian’s cock, stripping him hard and fast, sealing his lips over his neck, mouthing thoughtlessly, as he fucks him straight into a blistering orgasm, and the way Xie Lian bucks against him pushes him forcibly over the edge as well.

It’s rare for him to have his whole body seize and then tremble violently with pleasure when he comes, it’s never so intense. He barely manages to lower them both onto the bed without bluntly squashing Xie Lian with his weight. Then, his vision blurs a little, and all he can do for a while is float and breathe. A single, deeply shocked thought knocks on the edges of his consciousness.

He’s never had sex this intense on a one-night stand. He’s never had sex this intense at all.

What is he going to do now?

--

It’s a while, before he has enough control of his limbs and the presence of mind to deal with the condom, and then bring a cloth for his partner. Hua Cheng sits on the edge of the bed, looking at him and can’t stop.

Xie Lian’s body is a canvas of hinted marks that promise to bloom by morning, and it makes Hua Cheng’s heart twinge with worry, despite a huge part of him feeling selfishly satisfied, smug about it. Xie Lian himself is quiet, seemingly drifting. He suddenly looks smaller, more vulnerable somehow, even though there isn’t and never has been anything weak about him.

“Gege, are you all right?” Hua Cheng asks gently, trying not to let his worry show, as he moves the warm washcloth carefully over the sensitive skin and leans to press a kiss to Xie Lian’s temple.

Xie Lian jolts, as if remembering himself, and instantly a smile stretches his lips. “I’m fine, San Lang. Uh, thanks, I can do this myself.”

Hua Cheng defies his every instinct, and wordlessly surrenders the cloth, giving him space. It’s hard not to take this as rejection, but so what? He knew what this was.

“I… should probably get out of your hair,” Xie Lian says softly.

Hua Cheng closes his eye for a moment, then forces himself to say and not beg, “Gege, it’s still dark outside. Stay the night. You must be wrung out.”

Xie Lian hesitates. His skin is getting gooseflesh now that he’s cooled down from their activities. Hope surges in Hua Cheng’s heart when an immediate ‘no’ doesn’t come. He takes the cloth away from Xie Lian, throwing it into the hamper, and says in as light a tone as he can manage, “I’ll lend you something to wear. I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Oh, San Lang, that’s not…” Xie Lian shakes his head, biting his lip again. When he smiles this time, it’s a lot more natural. “All right. If that’s really not inconvenient for you, then… thank you.”

When they eventually resettle in bed, Hua Cheng pulls him closer on autopilot. It occurs to him that Xie Lian might not want that only after he’s tucked him into his side, but Xie Lian doesn’t object. If anything, he moves closer, tangling their limbs further and pressing his nose into the dip between Hua Cheng’s collarbones. He inhales deeply, mumbles something too low to discern, and within a breath or two his body turns heavy, relaxing into sleep.

Hua Cheng allows himself to breathe.

--

He’s woken up by a soft sound and an indistinct, but certain feeling that something is wrong. He cracks his eye open a tiny bit, not enough to give himself away. He’s forgotten the blinds last night, and early morning light is seeping freely into the bedroom. The noise—a soft rustle of fabric—comes again, and Hua Cheng stills, instantly awake.

He remembers everything with startling clarity. The bar, Xie Lian, taking him home, and… falling asleep with him. Yet now, Xie Lian isn’t in bed with him, but is quietly gathering his clothes. He’s already pulled his jeans on, and Hua Cheng feels absurdly grateful to the coarse uncooperative fabric for being loud and alerting him.

Something bitter spills in his mouth as he realizes that Xie Lian was going to just leave—to disappear from his bedroom, from his life, without so much as a word. Hua Cheng knew it was pointless to hope, he damn well knew it. Xie Lian had told him what he was up to. A night to enjoy himself. He’s not responsible for Hua Cheng going crazy and catching feelings.

And Hua Cheng should be civil about it, he should let them both save face, but—

“You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow, voice hoarse and so damnably colored with emotion.

Xie Lian freezes, caught, his horribly wrinkled shirt in his hands.

It’s unfair, Hua Cheng thinks distantly, resigned, truly unfair that he looks just as good in the morning, with his hair a mess and eyes slightly reddened from lack of sleep. He looks—soft like this. Private. At home. He looks like something Hua Cheng wants to wake up to every single day for the rest of his life, and the realization makes him want to wail like a mortally wounded animal.

“I—” Xie Lian utters, stumbling, eyes wide and startled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Hua Cheng’s mouth twitches, and he can’t help a bitter, “Clearly.”

Xie Lian blinks, taken aback. His hands reflexively grip the shirt, mangling the fabric into something verging on unwearable.

“Was I so bad?” Hua Cheng asks, sitting up fully, trying desperately to marshal his thoughts into persuasive arguments. He needs to try, even if it’s doomed. But when he needs his wits the most, what comes out is a plaintive, “Gege, was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

Xie Lian’s eyes widen, and he drops his shirt to wave his hands in the air. “No! No, of course not! San Lang, how can you think that? You were… it was…” His voice falls to a near-whisper. “Perfect.”

Perfect. Hua Cheng stares at him, uncomprehending. Xie Lian looks a little stricken, even chagrined.

Hua Cheng clears his throat. “Gege, if it was perfect, why—”

“I didn’t want to…” Xie Lian leans down to pick up his shirt again, only to have to fall from his fingers. His hands twitch, but he doesn’t try again. Staring at the floor, he says quietly, “San Lang, I’m sure you could tell already, but I… I never do this. The… the hookup thing. I’ve never done it before. But I’ve been told that… that… that it’s expected that I’d leave before you wake up. So that…” He lifts miserable eyes on Hua Cheng. “So that you won’t have to kick me out.”

Hua Cheng flings the covers off, and rises off the bed, reaching him in an instant.

“Kick you out?” he echoes, voice low, raspy with the many things he’s feeling suddenly all at once. “Gege, I don’t want to kick you out. Why would I have asked you to stay if I did? I want—”

To marry you.

He grits his teeth not to blurt it out, and sucks in a steadying breath.

“Gege, I’d very much like for you to stay for breakfast,” he says, and then he can’t stop it, it’s just pouring out of him. “You can take a shower and I’d find you something to wear. I’d like to cook for you. I’d like to give you a lift to wherever it is you’re going next. I’d like—”

He pauses, but what’s the point? He can’t bring himself to hedge his bets here. Besides, it’s too late already. He touches Xie Lian’s shoulder lightly, unable to help it.

“Gege, I’d like to take you out to dinner. Somewhere nice, where your feet won’t stick to the floor. I’d like to see you again. All I was hoping for last night was to get your phone number so that I could do exactly that. I still want it—more than ever.”

“I—” Xie Lian is looking at him with wide eyes. “I was told… this never happens.”

Hua Cheng jerks his chin impatiently. “By whom? The same friend who’d left you at the bar to fend for yourself? Gege—” Hua Cheng grips Xie Lian’s shoulders, forcing himself to gentle it. “Gege, who cares what anyone thinks or if it ever happens to them? I want this now. With you.”

Xie Lian blinks and seems to be reeling, trying to process.

“Me?” he utters at last. “But… but San Lang, I’m… I really am… just this.”

“I want ‘just this,’” Hua Cheng says at once. “I want it. Gege, if you liked me even a little bit, give me a chance—”

Xie Lian unexpectedly laughs, as if it’s punched out of him. “Even a little bit?” he repeats incredulously. “San Lang, you’re… All of last night, I’d been telling myself not to fall in love with you, and I’m not sure I managed.”

Hua Cheng’s heart soars. “Gege, stay.” He steps closer, wrapping his arms around Xie Lian’s waist, like he’s been itching to the whole time. “Please, stay.”

Xie Lian lets him tug him close. “I have a private class in a few hours.”

“Stay until then. I’ll drive you. What would you like to eat? Or do you want to sleep in some more? We have time, and I’ll wake you, and—”

Xie Lian lifts up on his toes and kisses him. It’s a simple thing, just lips against lips, and Hua Cheng’s heart stutters stupidly in his chest as he feels the smile forming between them.

--

A dusting of sugar powder over Xie Lian’s lip is incredibly distracting. The way Hua Cheng’s t-shirt hangs off his collarbones is even more distracting. Hua Cheng memorizes it all just in case, as he piles more French toast onto Xie Lian’s plate.

They chat easily—a little too easily, as it’s a little awkward, talking like this and getting to know one another when Hua Cheng already knows what sound Xie Lian makes when he comes, when Xie Lian’s hips are covered in his marks under the rough cotton fabric of his jeans. It’s awkward, but it’s—nice. Hua Cheng never used to have nice. He’s a little drunk on the mundane scents of cinnamon and coffee, and he can’t remember the last time he’s smiled so much.

At some point, the conversation inevitably returns to last night, and Xie Lian groans, hiding his face in is hands.

“You really just wanted a phone number?”

Hua Cheng grins wide, moving around the counter and turning Xie Lian gently to face him, stepping between his thighs. “What’s wrong, gege? Buyer’s remorse?”

Xie Lian is blushing, but he shakes his head, hands settling on Hua Cheng’s shoulders. “No. It took all my courage to suggest it last night, I don’t think I could have done it again.”

“I’m glad you did,” Hua Cheng murmurs, and kisses him.

It’s welcome. His hands brazenly sliding under Xie Lian’s shirt are welcome. It heats up quickly, the stool under Xie Lian creaks ominously, but neither of them cares.

Somewhere far, like the background noise in Hua Cheng’s mind, there’re plans to hunt down the ex and make his life absolutely miserable (an extremely grudging downgrade from manslaughter), to buy a Steinway for his living room—or better yet, to remodel an unused room into a music studio, to make friends with the allegedly belligerent cat (they are both feral creatures, Hua Cheng is certain they can find common ground). Plans for dinners and lunches and late mornings spent in bed, shocking the non-existent neighbors. Plans for a series of paintings, if Xie Lian would let him. Plans for—

“Oh God, no!” Xie Lian pushes off, eyes wide and terrified. “Qingxuan! I completely forgot to text him!”

He slips out of Hua Cheng’s arms like he was never there and dashes to look for his phone, then groans. “The battery’s dead. Of course. A-Xuan is going to kill me!”

Hua Cheng suppresses a sigh and smiles.

“Don’t look so worried, gege. Get your things. I’ll drive.”

—plans for meeting Obnoxious Chatterbox and giving him a piece of his mind.

A better person would have forgotten about those when Xie Lian pushes him against the door and kisses him breathless, but Hua Cheng is not—has never been, is never going to be—a good man.

Notes:

Shi Qingxuan got distrated by the pretty bartender, and by the time he came back, Xie Lian was gone. Shi Qingxuan did not have a good night after that. Xie Lian is very sorry. 😓