Archive of Our Own ^beta

“San Lang, you have to come see this! Hurry!” 

The long grasses between the parallel tire-worn tracks tickle the undercarriage of Hua Cheng’s car as he pulls towards a Xie Lian who is brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed than usual. 

He grins and leans half out the driver side window. He has a taunt on his tongue, something about greeting him so abruptly after two weeks apart but Xie Lian is already bounding away around the side of the barn so Hua Cheng just bites his tongue, lips curling, and cuts the engine. 

It’s a good thing the farm is small or he might’ve already lost him, weaving like a field mouse through hutches and paddocks. Every now and then Xie Lian glances over his shoulder to make sure he’s following, smiling when he sees he is. 

Hua Cheng isn’t sure when he’d realized how easy it is to make Xie Lian smile, but he remembers when he swore to himself to do it as often as possible. 

“Ta-da!” Xie Lian gestures, hopping onto the lower plank of the fence surrounding an enclosed patch of land. 

Every time Hua Cheng has come here in the past it’s just been tilled earth and mounds of soil, but now, when he follows Xie Lian’s arm, he notices the ruffled tips of lettuce leaves poking through the dirt. It’s a vegetable garden, he realizes. 

“And there!” Xie Lian points to the other side of the garden, beaming. A row of little sprouts are beginning to unfurl, lush and heart-shaped. “They’re radishes,” Xie Lian coos, staring at them like they’re worth their weight in gold. “I’ve never grown anything in this garden before,” he says. “Ever since I built it, years ago. I’m not very good with plants.” His gaze swings toward Hua Cheng and his smile squints his eyes. “Your luck must have rubbed off on me, San Lang.” 

Hua Cheng’s heart bounds. God, you can have it all. 

“Nonsense,” he hums, “obviously gege just doesn’t realize his own talents.” 

“Mhm, sweet talker,” Xie Lian teases. 

He leans over the fence and tears a corner from the nearest frilled head of lettuce, his shirt riding up and flashing the dimples at the small of his back. Hua Cheng stares for as long as he can. 

“Here, try some.” Xie Lian blows on the lettuce then holds it up to Hua Cheng’s lips. 

The part of him that sanitizes his entire bathroom twice a week recoils from food pulled straight out of the ground, but every other part joins forces against it. He would take a bite from a roof tile if Xie Lian was hand-feeding it to him. Hua Cheng takes it between his teeth, chewing with a contemplative face. 

“Well?” Xie Lian jumps one plank higher to boost himself and sits on the edge of the fence, barely concealing his eagerness. 

“…I’ve been proven wrong,” Hua Cheng sighs. “Fresh vegetables really are better than store bought.” 

“Even the fancy organic stores?” Xie Lian teases, his grip on Hua Cheng’s walk of life far too precise. 

“Believe it or not, your lettuce is better than the stuff they mist every fifteen minutes with distilled glacier water, yes.” Hua Cheng physically leans into the taunt, nudging shoulders with Xie Lian. “I don’t know how you do it, gege.” 

“I don’t know either!“ he laughs, looking back at his patch with the countenance of a proud parent. 

Hua Cheng wonders if there’s a way to voice his desire to co-parent a vegetable garden without sounding stupid. He’d only arrived a few minutes ago but already feels the warmth of this place sinking in. 

It was hard, at first, to pinpoint just what about the bucolic lifestyle Xie Lian leads was so appealing to Hua Cheng. It’s picturesque, certainly, with cozy hutches and small terraces to yield the crops. He’d love to hold a shoot here, maybe convince Xie Lian to let him take a few pictures of him in the setting sun, just for his personal collection. It's nothing like the commercial farms closer to the city, with barns the size of Hua Cheng’s parking building. It’s easy, too—easy to slough the stressors of the city from your shoulders and just breathe. Sweet air, vivid colour, cold water. 

Like an idiot, he’d thought it was the pull of the farm rather than the farmer. Xie Lian’s smile soothes the turbulence he brings with him from work and asks for nothing in return. 

He considers it a personal challenge from the world that someone like himself, who unloads his affection through gift-giving, was hypnotized by the least materialistic man on the planet. A few pairs of overalls, and a mini fridge for the goats’ milk—that’s all Xie Lian had allowed himself to accept. Well, that’s excluding the handy novelties of the outside world Hua Cheng has on permanent offer. When Xie Lian had expressed interest in finding more fabric so he could make winter clothes for the goats, Hua Cheng had brought up a few tabs on his phone of places in the city that would sell him full bolts for wholesale and Xie Lian had gawked. 

“Where is this?” he’d asked, nearly climbing into Hua Cheng’s lap to share the view of his screen. 

Hua Cheng had swallowed coolly. “Ah… Tianmao? Do you have an account?” 

Xie Lian had scrolled through the selection with one hand braced on Hua Cheng’s thigh, and absently said, “I churn my own butter, San Lang. What makes you think I have a Tianmao account?” 

Hua Cheng’s thigh was warm beneath his palm. 

“Can I buy these two?” 

So they’d worked out an agreement, heavily laden with Hua Cheng’s stipulations, wherein Xie Lian could use Hua Cheng’s—seemingly endless!—online shopping accounts to order anything that isn’t easily accessible out in the country, and Hua Cheng wouldn’t accept any remuneration. Instead, he requests a homemade meal every time he comes out to visit. Taking Xie Lian’s labour costs into consideration, he’d reasoned, it all evened out. 

In actuality, he was just desperate to spoil Xie Lian. 

Two barn cats dart past, caught in a chase that brings them through the billy goat enclosure. Hua Cheng waves at Ruoye, who’s got a fan of grass splayed out the side of his mouth. He stares on apathetically. Hua Cheng likes to think there’s a profound appreciation for his father’s suitor behind those blank eyes. 

If Hua Cheng had been asked a year ago how sincere a role he thought goats would play in his life, he probably would’ve said, “I told you to stop asking me stupid questions for your shitty vlogs; go ask He Xuan,” and then promptly, and to the best of his ability, forgotten what the question was. 

But now, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that cost him less than his shoelaces are worth, resisting the urge to wipe a streak of mud from Xie Lian’s cheek, he realizes hypothetical Shi Qingxuan would’ve been onto something. 

Like a hoe jamming through fate’s network of woven vines, Hua Cheng is convinced his car breaking down right here, however many months ago, was his turning point—the rewrite he didn’t know he needed. 

“How was work this week?” Xie Lian asks, hopping down to pluck a few weeds out of the ground. “Did you do anything fun?” 

A smile tickles Hua Cheng’s lips. “You never ask me about the news, gege. Don’t you want to know what’s going on in the world?” 

Xie Lian makes a face. “I could borrow a newspaper from Yushi Huang if I cared about the news. I want to know what you did! Your life is so exciting.” 

As prominent as Hua Cheng is, he usually prefers not to talk about himself, instead leaving rumours to circulate and evolve endlessly until they’re either accepted as fact or burn out. Xie Lian is the only one who asks because he cares rather than because he’s nosy. Likewise, Hua Cheng isn’t inclined to listen to anyone else the way he does to Xie Lian, hanging off every word because his voice is music that can heal the earth. 

“Mm, it’s not that exciting.” He purses his lips. “Although I did do a shoot in a museum and they took us down through the archive and restoration rooms. All sorts of antique armour and weapons—I think gege would’ve found it very neat.” 

“How old?” Xie Lian’s eyes are wide, and he hastily wipes his hands on his pants. 

“Maybe… twelve, thirteen hundred years?” 

The glint in Xie Lian’s eyes has Hua Cheng itching to buy out an auction on his behalf. 

“San Lang! How incredible; were you allowed to take pictures?” 

Hua Cheng crosses his arms and leans back on the fence. “No,” he hums. He watches Xie Lian’s valiant attempt to keep disappointment from his face for just a moment before he says, “But I did anyway.” 

He pulls out his phone and opens the pictures, pinching his tongue between his teeth when Xie Lian let’s out a joyful laugh and leans in close enough for their cheeks to brush. 

“These are incredible! Imagine finding one of these out here, in the dirt! I wouldn’t be able to part with it. Is it illegal to hold on to a historical artifact?” 

“I won’t tell anyone.” 

Hua Cheng continues to scroll through the photos one by one, giving Xie Lian time to appreciate what he can from pictures he took behind the backs of the curators. 

Eventually, maybe neglectfully, he scrolls one image too far. 

“Ah, handsome!” Xie Lian chirps before Hua Cheng has time to lock the screen. 

It’s a picture of himself he’d taken at the gym the other day: shirtless with warmth in his cheeks and sweat at the corner of his jaw—the kind of photo douchebags use on their dating profiles. In all honesty, it’s to track his progress of building a bit of muscle over the last few months, but he’s not about to tell Xie Lian he’d started going to the gym to impress him. 

“Aiyah, San Lang, why did you put it away? I wanted to see,” he teases when Hua Cheng shoves it into his pocket. 

“Leave me some face, gege,” he begs with enough sarcasm to smother the scent of humiliation. “It was an accident.” 

“Mhm.” Xie Lian pushes off the fence with a smile that Hua Cheng would wage war to defend. “Come on.” He turns and walks backwards, beckoning Hua Cheng. “Help me feed the girls, my big, strong San Lang.” 

A sigh of resignation leaves his lips—an attempt to deviate attention from how wildly flustered that comment had made him. They meander back up the way they had come from, then veer around the side of the house. Hua Cheng hadn’t even noticed these goats when he was pulling in; six of them, grazing or laying in the early autumn sun. Their pen is all the way across the property, with the hayloft and the little brick silo separating them from the bucks’ enclosure. 

The farm only has a few small paddocks, but usually Xie Lian keeps the goats near each other because: “Goats need friends just like people do, San Lang. Imagine having no one to listen to you bleat.” 

The springs keeping the gate shut creak like they haven’t been oiled in a century when Xie Lian pushes inside and latches it behind him. When two of the does come up to the fence, Hua Cheng reaches through and lets them roughly nuzzle his hand. 

“Pass me that hay please, San Lang.” He waves at a pile with a tarp over top. 

It’s like picking up a bucket of concrete, and Hua Cheng has to bite back a grunt. Xie Lian takes it with a grin in one arm and plucks a length of straw from the bale, holding the end up against Hua Cheng’s lips until he gets the hint. 

“Now you look like a real farmer,” he hums. 

“Do I?” Hua Cheng murmurs, pinching the straw between his teeth. 

Xie Lian takes a step back, bale still swinging from his hand, and seriously appraises him. “Actually, now that you mention it…” He bends down and rakes his fingers through the dirt then rubs them across Hua Cheng’s cheek before he can recoil. “Now it’s perfect.” 

He grins and backs up with the goats’ food, out of reach of retribution. Not that Hua Cheng would try anything—except maybe a desperate, filthy, erotic-novel-tier kiss. 

“Very bold action to take against the person you just taught to use an axe last month,” he jokes, leaving his cheek streaked with dirt. 

“If we had an axe fight,” Xie Lian says confidently, “I would win.” 

He would. 

Most of the goats have trotted over to Xie Lian, waiting for their lunch, but one is still lingering near the fence, affectionately butting Hua Cheng’s hand. Maybe she likes the smell of his lotion. 

He looks back across the farm and asks, “Why are they so far apart today?” now barely able to hear Ruoye’s faint bleating. 

The sweet, speckled doe gets what she wants when he scratches behind her horns as he watches Xie Lian work. 

“Hm?” Xie Lian loosens the bale and tosses it up on their climbing hutch. “Oh, Ruoye is in rut.” 

He passes the second bale of hay over to Xie Lian, who drops it on the other side of their enclosure. 

“So he gets solitary confinement?” Hua Cheng whistles. “Poor guy.” 

“Yes,” Xie Lian confirms without pity. “He will jump the fence to get his jollies, San Lang, if you know what I mean.” 

A silent understanding shapes Hua Cheng’s mouth. “And you don’t want that?” 

Xie Lian laughs and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. “His rut gets the ladies excited and it makes the milk taste, uh…” He makes a face. “…goaty.” 

Hua Cheng hums in understanding. “Ruoye is just that handsome, hm?” 

“Of course!” He gestures at a bucket of slops and Hua Cheng passes that over the fence too. “He would mate every single doe in here twice if he could, but that’s too many kids for me to handle.” 

As accustomed as Hua Cheng has grown to the blunt way Xie Lian’s words fall, he still finds himself mildly flustered when the topic of sex comes up between them—in any capacity. The word “mate” looks exceptional on Xie Lian’s lips. Coming from a face that looks like it’s never known anything less than the world’s purest and most innocent joys, it frequently throws Hua Cheng off balance. It’s the same bluntness that he touches with, very liberal in his definition of personal space. 

And that’s the crux of Hua Cheng’s melodramatic midnight quandaries around Xie Lian’s sexuality and prospective interest in him. It’s a toss of the dice whether Xie Lian is grabbing him by the hip and squeezing, or thumbing food from the corner of his mouth, or stroking his leg with a foot during dinner… to show small town hospitality, or to flirt. 

Hua Cheng’s eye tracks him as he roams from goat to goat, stroking their backs while they feed. His face is soft in the sun. 

“Anyway,” he hums, looking back, “I have to hide the does in this paddock so he doesn’t get aggressive. Although he might still try to mate E’ming.” 

Hua Cheng recalls the shaggy black buck that trots lovingly behind Xie Lian like Hua Cheng wishes he could. 

Xie Lian smacks his lips. “He’s fixed, but I don’t think that makes a difference to Ruoye.“ 

“How subversive,” Hua Cheng hums. “I admire his eye for beauty outside of feasibility.” 

Xie Lian grins. “That’s romantic, San Lang. I think he’s just horny.” 

Hua Cheng’s breath stops in his throat and he swallows it down. 

“If we didn’t have the options that we do, I’m sure we wouldn’t be too picky.” 

His tongue twists in his mouth, pushed to the back of his teeth by curiosity. “…Options?” Whether it’s convincingly unaffected or not, Hua Cheng isn’t sure. 

“You know.” Xie Lian hops up on the other side of the fence from Hua Cheng, boots wedging between two rungs. “We can use our hands, or a pillow, or toys. Not to mention porn. Ruoye only has one outlet, San Lang; he’ll take what he can get.” 

Hua Cheng is temporarily incapacitated. Vivid imaginings of Xie Lian in bed plaster themselves to the surface of his brain, smothering him. Biting the pillow and writhing in his sheets, close to tears as he edges himself while the sun sets across his face—he sees it like it’s a movie in his head. Frantic hips rutting on the mattress, hands clutching the rungs at the head of his bed, and hair stuck to his cheeks with sweat. 

Hua Cheng thinks he might be experiencing the same phenomenon that triggers blackouts in deep sea divers, succumbing to the weight of his own imagination. 

He pinches his tongue between his teeth for a long second to steady his voice before he dares to ask, “…Toys?” The middle of nowhere hardly strikes him as the sort of place with electricity, let alone dildos. 

He’s met with that sprite-adjacent smile that bewitches him; he might call it cocky on anyone other than Xie Lian. 

“Sex toys, San Lang. Like I ordered a few weeks ago?” 

His lack of comprehension manifests as an extended silence and dumb look. 

“You brought them up from the city yourself,” he laughs, “with those fancy puddings from your favourite café.” 

Hua Cheng’s poor, abused tongue is half numb from being gnawed. He definitely remembers the puddings; when he’d told Xie Lian “café”, it had been a mild understatement. One of the private pastry chefs who caters his shoots had owed him a favour. But the other half of that delivery… isn’t as vivid. 

After Xie Lian had gotten the knack of browsing products online, and Hua Cheng had borderline grovelled to let him pay for a few of his expenses, he’d ended up ordering fabric, three or four books, a hose nozzle, scented dish soap, and… toys. Hua Cheng does a manic shift into reverse, cogs grinding as he tries to place himself back in that time. 

After a moment, he remembers—Xie Lian humming at the phone, brows drawn. 

“Do you know much about toys, San Lang? About what’s popular?” 

Hua Cheng hasn’t willingly interacted with a child in a decade. “Mm, I’m not sure. I can ask Yin Yu, if you’d like?” He must have a… nephew, or something. 

“Hah.” Xie Lian’s eyes twinkle like he wants to laugh a little harder. “Don’t be silly, San Lang. Why would you ever bother anyone about something like that? I’ll just choose whatever looks nicest.” 

“You’re sounding more and more like a photographer every day,” Hua Cheng teases. 

He’d probably lost his train of thought after that, eyeing the fine veins that weave the back of Xie Lian’s hands and forearms. 

But… those had been toys for children. Normal toys. They were dolls and race cars and stuff, weren’t they? He hadn’t questioned why Xie Lian had wanted them—he’d buy him a fully functional submarine without batting an eye if he wanted. 

A huge, mind-boggling puzzle sits before him, and the last few pieces are slotting painfully into place. 

“I didn’t…” Hua Cheng says slowly, “…I didn’t realize that’s what you meant when you said toys.” 

Xie Lian’s lips make a pretty shape, effortlessly rivalling every model Hua Cheng has ever shot. 

“Just because I live all the way out here doesn’t mean I’m clueless about that stuff.” The fence groans as he hops up another rung then grabs Hua Cheng’s shoulders for balance as he jumps down on the other side. “Believe it or not, I don’t get many visitors other than you, San Lang.” He gives his shoulders a squeeze then starts to walk backwards, beckoning Hua Cheng to follow. “And I have needs like anyone else. I thought I’d…” he shrugs, “try something new.” 

Hua Cheng’s phone is burning a hole through his pocket, begging to be unlocked so he can check his order history. He wipes his palms on his jeans and follows Xie Lian across the yard. 

“Of course,” he murmurs. 

A very specific nervousness itches in his chest, like he’s walking an invisible tightrope. A slip to either side could mean either offending Xie Lian, or humiliating himself. He shakes his shoulders loose. 

“So… did gege choose well?” 

His curiosity has him in a death grip. At no point in his life has he ever had to feign nonchalance as urgently as he does now. 

“San Lang!” Xie Lian chirps, and for a moment Hua Cheng thinks he’s about to get an earful for being so nosy, but Xie Lian’s eyes are wide and dazzling. “They’re amazing; I can’t believe how much fancier everything’s gotten in the last few years! To be honest, I was just guessing when I ordered them, but they’re like little robots with all their buttons.” He’s a little pink in the ears, but doesn’t look nearly as flustered as Hua Cheng feels. “I had no idea they could do all that now.” There’s a glaze over his eyes that Hua Cheng can hardly look at. 

He turns his head away before he can slot that gaze into a daydream he’ll regret the second it’s materialized. 

He pushes himself to laugh and asks, “…Oh? What had you so surprised?” 

Xie Lian smiles and grabs his hand, pulling him down a trampled path of overgrown grasses that overlooks his modest rice paddy terraces. Hua Cheng had helped him harvest the rice just last month, right at the peak of the summer heat, and probably sweated off fifteen pounds. The newly seeded plots are growing well, though. Tufts peek through the water, row by row. 

“Are you teasing me?” Xie Lian prods. “You must know.” 

The path curves right, and drops them off in a room-sized meadow that any photo blogger would break bones to get a picture of. While the springtime flowers are already long gone, the grass is lush and full with clover, and the trees provide just enough cover while still offering a good view of the stars at night. They’d rested here before in the summer, palm pressed flat to the cool earth for relief. 

Xie Lian lays himself down and holds his hands up to the overcast sky. 

“No, no,” Hua Cheng kneels next to him, “I just… there’s a few different types.” 

That tightrope stretches further over the yawning cavern of irreparable mortification. If his self-preservation was better honed, he might stop and ask Xie Lian about lunch instead, or a good book he’s read. But the devil on his shoulder is winning. He watches Xie Lian’s fingers twitch like he wants to grab the clouds. 

“You mean they can do more than just vibrate?” 

The answer forms perfectly well in Hua Cheng’s mind, but if he has to say the words “suck” or “thrust” to Xie Lian’s face, he’ll drown himself in the paddy field. 

“You’d be surprised, gege,” he laughs. 

“I know I would,” Xie Lian says and bends his legs. “I’ll never get used to how quickly the world seems to move while I’m out here just… living.” 

Hua Cheng looks up at the clouds, somehow so much less ominous than those in the city. “I think you got the better end of that deal, gege. I know a lot of people who are barely even living.” 

The slope of Xie Lian’s hum indicates he understands that better than Hua Cheng thought he might. 

When Hua Cheng looks down, their eyes meet. Xie Lian’s lips twitch just like they do when he tickles Hua Cheng’s neck with a piece of grass and watches him jump. 

“I guess I’m just gonna need you to keep visiting, then. If San Lang has all the answers, he’s my most valuable resource.” 

Hua Cheng laughs quietly, settling back onto his elbows. Their knees brush and it gives him a thrill. “I’m flattered that you think I have all the answers.” 

“Don’t you? You know all about politics and philosophy and nice clothes.” 

He swallows when warm fingers, rough from tilling the earth, tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. 

“…That’s hardly everything, gege,” he insists. 

Xie Lian slowly sits up. 

Cowardice lowers Hua Cheng’s gaze to his lap rather than lifting it to whatever is patiently waiting on Xie Lian’s face. 

With a laugh, he adds, “In fact, I can’t think of a single useful thing I learned before my car broke down out here.” His mind supplies a bouquet of sappy examples that he has no hope of ever saying aloud; I never knew a person could be so completely selfless, I never knew a sunset could get rid off all my frustration, I never knew that someone’s laughter could get stuck in my head. 

Xie Lian is silent for a moment, and Hua Cheng’s knotted stomach does another flip. 

“…I guess you’re right.” Xie Lian sighs, and when Hua Cheng looks up at him, he has his tongue between his teeth. “You didn’t even know how to change your own oil, San Lang, you’d be helpless without me.” 

With a pained sound, Hua Cheng throws a hand over his heart. “Cut down in one fell strike. And all the worse because it’s true.” 

“You’re so poetic,” Xie Lian teases, “Do people in the city all sound like books when they talk?” 

“Only the exceptionally boring ones.” 

They volley back and forth easily and shuffle closer to one another when the wind begins to pick up. 

“You’re not selling yourself very well, San Lang,” he laughs, “Did you know that?” 

Hua Cheng smiles and nudges Xie Lian with his shoulder. “I thought I was already sold?” 

“I’m sure I could fetch a good price for you at the farmer’s market, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Only if I sit quietly and look pretty.” Hua Cheng shuts his eye and smooths his face into a look of serenity. 

Xie Lian beams. “You always look pretty.” 

His heart feels like a flower in bloom at that. Hua Cheng drums his fingers on the ground to keep himself from returning the compliment tenfold. “So you only keep me around for my looks, hm?” 

“San Lang, you make me sound like such a pervert,” he snorts. “I’m not some sex maniac who only cares about whether someone is good looking.” 

There’s a brief pause in which Hua Cheng manages to hold his smirk. “…Who said anything about sex?” It succeeds in taming Xie Lian’s banter. 

He looks up into Hua Cheng’s eye with a bit of a shock. “Ah—” He clears his throat and, after a moment, says, “…It‘s mating season, so I’m… my brain’s a little… distracted. And slow. Because I’m busy.” 

“Right,” Hua Cheng nods. “Busy with mating, but not a sex maniac. Did I get that right?” 

Xie Lian shoves him and Hua Cheng breaks, laughing. 

“Have you always been this much trouble?” 

“This much and more, trust me,” he replies, eyeing the bitten back smile on Xie Lian’s lips. 

“Oh so you’re the sex maniac, then? And now you’re trying to frame the innocent goat farmer who’s never even kissed anyone. It all makes sense.” 

“Gege! How could you turn this on me like…” Quickly, like a sobering splash of water to the face, Hua Cheng stops joking. “…You haven’t?” 

Seeming to know exactly what he means, Xie Lian gestures at the expanse of empty farmland around them. “Who would I be kissing, San Lang? Other than Ruoye, of course.” 

Me, me, me, oh my god, please kiss me. 

“I don’t know.” Hua Cheng shrugs. “An old classmate? A neighbour? Tall, dark, handsome stranger at the farmer’s market?” He looses a huff of laughter, somewhere between amusement and self-deprecation. 

“Believe it or not, I’m not the type to throw myself out there romantically. It’s a little harder here than it is in the city; everyone already knows everyone. You can’t just go to the club, hook up with someone in the bathroom, then never see them again, San Lang. You know?” 

He’d give his left thumb and probably also his right to hook up with Xie Lian in a club bathroom. 

“Really? No secret, farmer’s market gloryhole?” 

Xie Lian sends him a flat look. It only makes Hua Cheng smile harder. 

“…So, what? You’ve been sitting here and yearning for that first kiss?” 

At that, Xie Lian sits up and plucks a blade of grass. He wraps it around his finger, like a schoolgirl with her pigtails. 

“Not yearning; I’m not that pitiful. Just…” He cocks his head. “…curious.” 

So effortlessly are the tables turned that Hua Cheng barely even registers his heart jumping into his throat before it’s plummeting back down again. He sits up as well, fingers covertly digging into the earth in hopes that it’ll ground him. 

Xie Lian continues. “…You’ve kissed people before, right, San Lang?” 

Their eye contact is a pact, and with every passing second and breath, the stakes are mounting. 

Hua Cheng nods slowly. “…Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“Is it nice?” 

Xie Lian’s lips are thin, naturally resting in a distant smile, and so dissimilar to Hua Cheng’s. It’s impossible to resist glancing at them, swept up in a waking dream where he can already feel them on his skin. 

“…Yeah.” 

Xie Lian smiles like that’s the answer he was expecting. “So why shouldn’t I be curious?” 

For the first time in his adult life, Hua Cheng doesn’t have a quick answer ready. 

After a moment, he says, “I’ll… always encourage your curiosity.” 

That answer sits between them for a long moment. 

Then, when the silence reaches its zenith, Xie Lian hums, “San Lang.” 

His voice is small in the breeze. It would’ve been lost to the rustling of the trees if Hua Cheng weren’t hooked on his every word. 

“Mm?” he asks, comparatively distant in his own ears. 

With an enviable amount of face, Xie Lian reaches out and thumbs just beneath Hua Cheng’s lips. 

“Would you mind if I…?” he whispers, “Just once is… enough.” 

That’s not nearly enough; make it fifty, a hundred. If Hua Cheng weren’t choked by that question, he’d have told Xie Lian as much. 

After the many vapid attempts people have made at seducing him over the years, how could he have guessed they’d all be brilliantly outshone by a man who cuts his own hair and doesn’t own a single shirt without stains? 

Hua Cheng nods, nods again, then stops, dazed as Xie Lian actually leans in. 

For a split-second, it has all the hesitant romance of the movies—lovers slowly reeled into one another by their red thread. But that split-second comes and goes, and their red thread pulls taut, fast. 

Xie Lian seizes his cheek and comes to him quickly, kissing him with a sharp breath in. 

On instinct, Hua Cheng’s entire body tenses, but there’s no vicious impact, no blooming pain, just an eager kiss begging to be guided. It’s thunderous. That tension is instantly rewritten as fervour, and it consumes him like nothing’s ever consumed him before. Hua Cheng cups the back of Xie Lian’s neck so he can press into the kiss, crooning in his throat. 

He’s ecstatic—unable to feel the chill of the after-summer breeze with Xie Lian’s mouth on his, making him hot. It’s a total experiment and Hua Cheng breathes in every bit of his lacking expertise like it’s the sweetest air. 

Xie Lian must feel his smile against his lips, because he lets out a barely-conscious little sound of question. 

To answer, Hua Cheng’s jaw goes soft, giving his mouth some slack, then waiting for Xie Lian to cleverly copy him, as easy to teach as he is to love. When he does so, Hua Cheng quietly laughs. 

As a long-time proponent of acting first and making excuses later, he hopes Xie Lian won’t mind several months of tension flooding out into this demonstration. And why not give it his all? The last thing he wants is Xie Lian running off to get a better kiss from someone else. 

Holding that thought as fuel, Hua Cheng breathes out then surges up and brings them together, dragging Xie Lian down into the depths of a proper kiss. It’s as much romance as he can manage. 

Xie Lian chirps his surprise as he’s pulled under, fingers curling into a fist on Hua Cheng’s cheek. He obviously isn’t expecting the vigour but falls to it so quickly, going soft under Hua Cheng’s touch. The little smile pressed to Hua Cheng’s lips makes his heart melt and his toes curl. 

Their hair is caught in the wind, whipping around them as they pull themselves in tighter, until Hua Cheng’s nose is flush to Xie Lian’s warm cheek. 

It’s pushing the boundaries of a ‘curiosity kiss’, but Hua Cheng would rather drive over his camera than leave Xie Lian to think he’d be better off kissing someone else. 

Both of Xie Lian’s hands fall and settle on Hua Cheng’s chest, curling carefully into his shirt. But seconds pass, their mouths reshaping to find that every angle is the perfect one, and before long, Xie Lian is clinging to him, tugging his shirt between needy fists. 

Hua Cheng can feel his sanity draining between Xie Lian‘s lips—he could rip his shirt to shreds for all he cares. 

Xie Lian’s curious first kiss becomes a curious second, third, and fourth, continuing to breathe all his wonder between Hua Cheng’s lips until they blur together. 

Neither of them has enough presence of mind to notice when the seam of the clouds begins to tear. Raindrops dot their shoulders and heads but Hua Cheng noses forward and into another kiss. A few long, sticky seconds of ignorance pass before Xie Lian makes a sudden distressed sound and sits back, leaving Hua Cheng physically tilting towards him, teasing the edge of a precipice. 

“It’s raining.” Xie Lian sits there in shock, unmoving and un-kissing. 

“Just a little,” Hua Cheng murmurs and leans further. He might never get another chance to kiss Xie Lian, or hold him this close again. Fuck the rain—even an act of God would be hard-pressed to stop him right now. 

Then, with an unfamiliar stroke of bad luck, the clouds are punctured with a crack of thunder and it begins to pour. 

Okay, he thinks, not just a little. 

The rain hits the flooded paddies like it’s paying back a grudge and Hua Cheng’s heart mourns when Xie Lian yelps and jumps to his feet. Before he can begin to marinate in his feelings, Xie Lian grabs him by the hand, tugging him up with the strength of ten men. 

“Hurry!” He pulls Hua Cheng back down the path they had taken into the meadow and makes for the nearest cover. 

The dirt bathes happily in the rain and cakes itself to their shoes and jeans as they run. Xie Lian pulls him past one of the empty paddocks and around to the tree line where he spots their sanctuary: a hay shed, one with a little sloped roof and tin walls on three sides, warped all over by time but sturdy enough to serve its purpose. 

They cross the threshold like they’re breaching the surface of a choppy ocean. Heavy panting mixes with the sound of rain pelting the roof and Xie Lian squeezes his hand. A moment later he drops it. 

Hua Cheng turns to look, the fire in his chest not yet extinguished, even under a torrential downpour. “Gege…” 

Xie Lian clears his throat then turns and instantly starts to fuss. He peels Hua Cheng’s shirt away from his skin to get a closer look, subtly eyeing the part that he’d stretched out during their kiss, and sighs, “Why do your clothes always get ruined when you come to visit? This isn’t one of your very nice, very expensive shirts that needs to be dry cleaned, is it?” 

After the initial shock of Xie Lian touching his chest, Hua Cheng laughs. “It’s just a t-shirt, gege. A normal t-shirt from a normal store.” 

He’s still grimacing. “When you say normal—?” 

“Normal normal.” Hua Cheng confirms it by gathering the fabric in his hands and wringing it out between them. 

That seems to convince Xie Lian that their outfits are more or less financially on par. He pushes his hair out of his face and slumps a bit under his sigh. 

“I’m sorry, San Lang. I would’ve brought you inside earlier if I knew it was going to start raining like this.” 

And miss out on that kiss to absolutely write home about? 

“Apology not accepted,” he hums, combing his wet hair back with his fingers. “I needed a bit of extra excitement in my life.” 

The daylight gives way quickly to a muggy autumn haze, and the only light coming through the clouds now is yellowish. Half of Xie Lian’s face is lit by that candle-esque glow. 

He laughs through his nose. “Do most of your kisses end with that much excitement?” 

Hua Cheng loosely wrings his hair out over his shoulder and leans against one of the sturdier looking beams. 

“No, but I don’t think I’d call that ended. Postponed, maybe?” 

That presumption sinks into the space around them, saturating the inside of the shed. The floor creaks beneath Xie Lian as he shifts his weight. A strand of hair falls back into his eyes and a raindrop slides off, down his cheek to settle in the seam of his lips. 

“…You must’ve had many more exciting kisses than that,” he says quietly, daring Hua Cheng to prove him right. 

An involuntary palpitation grips Hua Cheng when Xie Lian steps even closer in already close quarters. 

“Are you saying my kiss wasn’t exciting enough for you? My, my; gege has high standards.” 

Xie Lian’s lips tweak into a temporary smile, accepting the prod. Then, with the voice of an angel, he says, “I mean the kisses that end with sex.” 

A flash streaks through Hua Cheng—something bordering the territories of arousal and diffidence that he hasn’t felt since he was in the hormonal war zone of puberty. That whirlwind period of sexual realization and curiosity, long before he’d figured out how to play to his strengths and style himself into someone worth wanting. Back when everyone was thinking the same thing but nobody would say it out loud. 

Xie Lian always says it out loud. 

“The kisses…” Hua Cheng echoes, dumbstruck. Then, slowly, “…Gege, I—” 

“They’re different,” Xie Lian says quietly, “aren’t they?” He’s holding himself with an uncertainty that’s several shades short of shy. “The way you’d kiss someone for their first kiss isn’t the same way you’d kiss them if you were having sex.” 

Suddenly, Hua Cheng can’t bring himself to joke anymore. He’s suspended in this moment, waiting until his tightrope snaps and he’s plunged into whatever fate has lined up next for him. 

“I… probably not,” he murmurs. 

If the rain wasn’t pounding at the roof, he would be choking on the sound of his own heartbeat. 

“How is it different?” 

Xie Lian’s voice is growing quieter, to the point that Hua Cheng has to watch his lips for the pattern his words make just to confirm what he’s hearing. 

He tries a calming breath, but it trembles all the way down. 

“I guess it’s more…” he pauses for a second, “…insistent.” Hua Cheng’s brows tick lower. 

Never in his life has he kissed someone with the intention of taking them to bed, but he’s been the object of them many times. People waste their time and energy kissing him, praying that their efforts might be fruitful and not just another husk in Hua Cheng’s basket of rejected suitors. 

Xie Lian is the only one he’s ever burned to kiss like that, to hold and touch and experience that with. God-willing— 

“You try to put everything, all your words and feelings, into that kiss. Everyone is different but the goal is just…” He steals a quick breath, “…to turn each other on. It’s just instinct.” 

He feels borderline sacrilegious saying something this crude to Xie Lian; to a pink-cheeked, rain-streaked face that has never done any wrong. But Xie Lian’s throat bobs with the tiniest questioning sound, prodding Hua Cheng on. 

“Some people…” He falls back on his own experiences, being pushed up against the bar or the wall of an alley out back and caught up in zealous kisses. “Some people are rougher. They bite your lips until they’re swollen because that’s the kind of sex they want from you.” 

He swallows hard. Xie Lian is a rapt audience. 

“Mhm?” His eyes are flitting across Hua Cheng’s face and torso. 

It’s warming him pleasantly from the inside out, and emboldening him. 

“…But other people are slow,” he breathes, “and it’s all about leaving you wanting more. They get you hooked on them, and you just kind of melt together.” 

Xie Lian hums. “Which is better?” 

“Either,” Hua Cheng answers quickly, “both.” 

A warm autumn wind whistles in through the open side of the shed. 

“As long as you want to be with each other, there’s no such thing as a bad kiss.” 

Xie Lian fiddles his lip between his teeth, thoughtful. “What if you just want to experiment?” 

Hua Cheng maintains his stillness, silently begging Xie Lian to continue. 

“Like… if you’re friends, and one of you has never had real sex and you think it would be fun to try? Which kiss would be better then?” 

Gravity reorients itself for a split second and Hua Cheng’s heart rises abruptly. 

“…Then,” he murmurs, throat thick, “…I think it would be gege’s choice.” 

Carefully, Xie Lian lifts onto his toes. His gaze falls to Hua Cheng’s mouth. “…I’d like to try the slow one, maybe.” 

Barely perceptible, Hua Cheng breathes, “Mhm,” and teeters willingly forward to share his breath. 

Their noses bump first, trying to steady them, before their lips come together. It’s almost painfully slow—just the lingering of two mouths shaped into connection—but Hua Cheng is alight. He waits just a second longer before taking Xie Lian softly by the hips. 

“Am I doing it right?” Xie Lian whispers, eyes shut as he pulls back just a breath then kisses him again. 

Hua Cheng could melt. He nods gently and angles his face down so Xie Lian doesn’t have to crane his neck. 

His heels land back on the earth, and like a counterweight, his hands rise to cup Hua Cheng’s cheeks. A featherlight touch, a thumb along his cheekbone, encourages Hua Cheng to pull Xie Lian just a little closer, and lean just a little harder into the kiss. 

Xie Lian whimpers, like he has a thousand times in every one of Hua Cheng’s dreams, and it’s pure music. Better than the wind in the trees, or the crickets in the field, or anything else Hua Cheng has come to love through him. 

Both hands crawl their way towards the back of Hua Cheng’s head. 

He feels the choppy breath against his lips before Xie Lian takes his leap of faith, parting his lips and offering Hua Cheng a warmth he can’t resist. Tongue, hotter than the mid-summer sun strokes his lip and Hua Cheng quivers. A gasp opens his mouth to it before he can consciously respond and his fingers squeeze around Xie Lian’s hips. Their tongues are endlessly soft, pressing into each other like lovers curled up under a starry midnight. 

Hua Cheng exhales hard and surrenders himself to Xie Lian’s pace, letting him set the tempo that their tongues slide past each other at, allowing him to dip his toes into the glassy pool and stir the waters. 

He’s clever, almost deviously so, and makes quiet sounds that rope Hua Cheng even closer. They’re chest to chest, making-out at a pace nobody has ever had the patience to try with him before. 

It’s incomparable, like watching the birth of a star in slow motion and letting its heat warm him from the inside out. And it’s erotic, in ways deeper than he thinks Xie Lian realizes. 

Even through the rain he can hear the echo of their kisses—the heavy, wet sounds of their lips parting just so they can add another kiss to the running list. In fact, it’s practically all he can hear, along with the rabbitting pace of his heart. 

The arousal is gripping him fast, squeezing the breath from his lungs as a thrill throbs between his legs. 

After a minute, Hua Cheng breathes, “…Gege?” 

“…Mhm?” 

His hands cautiously coast up Xie Lian’s sides. “When you said you thought it would be fun to… try—” 

Xie Lian breaks his stride with another kiss, tongue catching on his lip for a moment before withdrawing to whisper against his lips, eyes still closed. “Having sex?” 

Hua Cheng stills for a moment, letting Xie Lian take a few more kisses from him. 

“…Yeah, that.” His hands tentatively continue their path upward, high enough to tuck Xie Lian’s damp hair behind his ears. “Were you just saying that as a… as a hypothetical?” His voice is barely loud enough to hear above the downpour. 

“No,” he murmurs. “Why, was it a bad idea?” Finally, lashes fluttering delicately, Xie Lian opens his eyes. 

Hua Cheng could drown, instantly and willingly in them. 

“…No,” he says breathlessly, “…I think it’s a great idea.” 

A smile, soft and gauzy, draws Hua Cheng’s gaze. 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Xie Lian kisses the corner of his slack mouth. He whispers, “So then I can…” Both hands fall to Hua Cheng’s chest, to the shirt he’d tugged out of shape, and trail curiously down his front. 

He’d let Xie Lian poke around in his brain if he asked, let alone feel him up. Even if it’s just to sate his curiosities, even if Xie Lian decides he couldn’t care less about him when it’s over, Hua Cheng will still give him each and every first. 

Hua Cheng breathes out shakily and loosens his grip on Xie Lian’s nape. His palms are flush to his pecs and slowly drifting lower, and Hua Cheng can feel everything, vividly. They drift over his stomach, out to his hips, then back in to settle on the bulge at the front of his pants. 

“Do we keep kissing?” Xie Lian murmurs, “While we get ready to do it, should we keep kissing?” 

“Mhm,” Hua Cheng answers with half a mind; the other half is occupied by the hand on his crotch. “Sure.” 

Xie Lian seems to mouth a quiet, “okay,” before pressing onto his toes. He kisses Hua Cheng’s cheek, probably hot with colour, then his lips. 

It’s distracted, because his hand is snaking beneath his shirt now, beginning to map someone else’s body for the first time. His palm is scalding on Hua Cheng’s chest, and aimless, touching anywhere and everywhere he likes. It’s hard not to melt beneath it. 

The distant bleating of goats, unhappy with the sudden downpour, intersperses the sound of their kisses. 

Xie Lian smiles against his lips and it’s the only warning he gets before his nipple is pinched between rough fingers. Hua Cheng nudges noses with Xie Lian and sucks in a breath, his hips cocking upward of their own accord. They press into Xie Lian’s abdomen and the sudden friction makes him tremble and short-circuit. 

“Ah,” he chokes, hardly more than a breath. 

But before he can draw his body back, Xie Lian’s hand slides down his arm and hooks into the loop of his pants, keeping them flush. 

“Keep rubbing on me,” Xie Lian breathes, face finally beginning to flush, “It feels good—it’s turning me on.” 

Jesus. Hua Cheng nearly passes out from the blood that flows away from his brain at those words. 

“God, okay.” 

With every ounce of restraint he can manage, Hua Cheng grinds into the hard muscle above Xie Lian’s belt. His fingers twitch, curling into Xie Lian’s hair. 

He’s toeing the border of embarrassment with how hard he is right now, letting his lip be sucked on as he weakly dry humps the love of his life in the middle of a rainstorm. 

He would’ve lost this bet. 

“San Lang,” Xie Lian breathes—no, he moans. Right into the corner of his lips, he moans. 

The shed they’re tucked in is tiny and lined with pitchforks and scythes, but cautiously, with a hand out to guide him, he backs Xie Lian up against a wall. Their hips come blissfully together and Xie Lian gasps. 

“Oh, San Lang, oh, that…” 

“I know,” Hua Cheng murmurs. His voice is close to breaking so he keeps it low. 

Now that they’re chest to chest, he won’t yield even an inch, crowding into Xie Lian’s space and allowing himself a moment of greed. He can feel Xie Lian’s erection through his pants, and nudges a thigh between his legs to get more of it. 

The kiss they’re sharing drops to a simmer, a dangerously slow give and take between their tongues, mimicking the shared friction between their legs. 

Xie Lian’s hands have drifted around to Hua Cheng’s back, smoothing up and down bare skin. During one especially deep exchange of pressure, he sucks in a whistling breath and digs his nails in. 

“Mm… mmm.” 

Xie Lian lost in pleasure is something Hua Cheng decides right here he could watch every day for the rest of his life. He’s humping his leg almost pitifully, rubbing his cock up and down to the point of overwhelm. 

Hua Cheng breathes out shakily; bit by bit he’s sapped of function and stripped down to his barest needs. He wants to fuck, he realizes, so so badly. Never in his life has he felt so driven or so utterly animal. 

“Gege…” he breathes. “We should… we should… take off—mm…” 

Xie Lian is adamant not to let him speak, pulling him back in to kiss between every other word. The kisses have grown heavier too; at some point he’d learned to suck Hua Cheng’s lower lip into his mouth and sink his teeth in. 

But his suggestion doesn’t go unheard—Xie Lian feels his way back to the hem of Hua Cheng’s shirt and peels it up over his head. 

Despite what Hua Cheng had thought he’d known about farmers, Xie Lian doesn’t smell like stale animals and rust. Instead, the itchy scent of fresh hay and grass lingers on his clothes as well as his skin, Hua Cheng notices when he takes the opportunity to push his t-shirt up his chest. 

On numerous occasions has he seen Xie Lian’s bare chest, but he’s never before been in a privileged enough to spot to touch. His palms find hard-earned muscle and he can’t help moaning into Xie Lian’s bruising kiss. 

Hua Cheng likes to think if they were in bed right now, he’d be gentle and slow, pressing Xie Lian into the mattress by the hips and feeling out their first time together. But if he’s being honest, it would probably be just as much of an unrestrained mess as it is here, up against a tin shed’s wall in the middle of a hazy afternoon storm. 

Like they’re following the beat of an imperceptible song, their hips rock in sync and their cocks grind together. 

“Hah…” Xie Lian shudders, finally acquiescing to part so he can drop his head back and focus everything on the pleasure between his legs. He pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“…I’ll get it for you,” Hua Cheng murmurs, drawn into a veritable trance by the uninhibited look of ecstasy on Xie Lian’s face. He wears his pleasure on his cheeks, flushed and puffed as he’s panting—shame is all but a stranger to Xie Lian. 

The shirt comes off with some effort and Hua Cheng is careful not to drop it on the ground, which is little more than packed dust and dirt. As soon as it’s stripped, Xie Lian’s arms fall and grab at the waist of Hua Cheng’s pants. 

“These too?” he asks, gently tugging as if he’s already answered his own question. “Please?” 

Hua Cheng shudders and doesn’t give it a second thought. His hands fit over Xie Lian’s and together they undo and draw his jeans down, first over his ass, then carefully forward to free his cock. He shifts back so he’s not grinding on rough denim and leads Xie Lian’s hands to his own pants. 

He’s much less tender with himself, wrestling the wet fabric until it's around his ankles and he can kick them off with his boots. 

“San Lang,” he sighs, as their hips slot gingerly together. “God, I think you’re even bigger than my toys.” 

Hua Cheng bites his tongue, incapable of replying to that outrageous sentence even if he wanted to due to the raw slide of their erections together. 

Their skin is damp and cool, but feverish everywhere their bodies touch. He watches Xie Lian’s cheeks grow rosy as they slowly grind against one another, skin to skin, with a barely restrained pressure behind it. He settles a hand on Hua Cheng’s waist to keep them lined up as he ruts meekly. Both of them have their chins tucked to chests, possessed by the sight of their erections desperately seeking friction in each other. 

“Look how much bigger you are,” Xie Lian breathes. 

And it’s true—Xie Lian’s cock is precious, at least two inches shorter, and eager as it pushes up on Hua Cheng’s. 

Then he whimpers, “That’s going to be inside me,” and Hua Cheng pointedly squeezes his eye shut to stifle the insane rush of arousal those words bring. 

He’s never gotten this far with anyone—he’s never wanted to—and that mental image is enough to send a profound jolt through his body that makes his cock twitch between them. 

Gradually they begin to thrust faster, learning the right pace and pressure through trial and error until they’re panting, Xie Lian’s chin hooked over Hua Cheng’s shoulder. 

Xie Lian abruptly kicks up a leg to hook around Hua Cheng’s hips and both their moans come blissfully uninhibited. It brings them that much closer, enough to feel the squeeze between their quickly-warming bodies in the same way a tight fist would do. 

Hua Cheng is hit with the abrupt realization that he could easily come like this. Although to be fair, when it comes to Xie Lian, he’s reached an orgasm to much less. Another few moments like that and… 

“Gege,” he groans, breath hurried, “I’m close, can we—?” 

Xie Lian cuts him off with a kiss and a mumbled, “mm-mm.” His leg squeezes and draws him in even closer, to the point that any rhythm at all is pointless. It becomes a frantic rocking together, soaking in each other’s heat as their flush cocks grow slick with precome. 

“I don’t want to stop,” Xie Lian pants against his lips. “It feels so good.” 

And who is Hua Cheng to argue? 

“…Okay.” His voice trembles. 

The slippery press of hips, of their erections trapped between their bodies, is making him hot all over. The rain seems to evaporate from their skin, filling Hua Cheng’s head with steam until he’s so overheated he can barely think. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, letting his mouth loll as Xie Lian presses his tongue in. It quickly becomes a lazy kiss, a kiss at the very brink of white-out pleasure, accented with needy little ‘mm’s and ‘ah’s—the chase for climax shoves everything else to the back of the mind. 

Hua Cheng sucks in a sudden sharp breath and curses, gripping Xie Lian’s bare body tight as he reaches the edge. He comes, hot between their chests, panting and nuzzling into Xie Lian’s temple. A series of rough tremors wrack his body and Xie Lian kisses his cheek and jaw throughout it. 

“Good, San Lang, doesn’t that feel so good?” He’s breathing just as hard, squeezing close to soak up the peripheral pleasure of Hua Cheng’s orgasm. 

“Mm, gege.” 

His muscles tense through the ebbing waves of climax and he soon needs to lean on Xie Lian to keep himself upright. 

“…Fuck,” he whispers, the last jolts of pleasure slowly releasing their grip on him. 

He opens his eye to a flushed and entranced Xie Lian lingering close to his lips. He moans quietly, then laughs, flushed with interest. 

“That was…” he swallows, “really amazing to watch.” 

Again, if in bed, Hua Cheng might have the presence of mind to feel embarrassed at coming so quickly, but something about the cosmic randomness of virginal sex in a shed eases the sting. 

Xie Lian’s fingers flutter around their chests, rubbing through the uneven stripes of come before bringing a hand to his mouth. Hua Cheng’s cock jerks painfully at that, entirely unprepared for that sort of raw arousal so soon. Xie Lian licks his fingers and smiles at Hua Cheng, teasing. 

Then he surges into a kiss that Hua Cheng can barely keep up with, hands cupping his face. It’s Xie Lian’s turn to lead them, and he clumsily guides Hua Cheng to a chair-like stack of hay bales and pushes him back hard enough that he hits his head on the wall and dizziness clutches him for a moment. He barely feels the pain though; instead it just blurs his vision enough to give Xie Lian, now crawling into his lap, a hazy angelic glow. Hua Cheng parts his lips, overwhelmed for the nth time today by how furiously he loves this man. His throat bobs in anticipation. 

“Sorry,” Xie Lian breathes, but he’s naked and his ass is on Hua Cheng’s thighs, so he barely hears the apology. 

The hay scratches the small of his back but becomes their rough, makeshift bed out here while the rain continues to batter down, just a few feet away. 

Xie Lian’s bare back is open to the world and the wind and it makes Hua Cheng feel a little possessive despite there not being anyone around for acres. Regardless, he grips Xie Lian’s waist, slim between his large hands, and squeezes, pulling him closer. Xie Lian seems more than pleased with the handling, sighing and dropping his head to the side. 

“Touch me more, San Lang. Your hands are so soft.” 

He arches, presenting his chest, and Hua Cheng can’t refuse. His palms glide up toned muscle usually hidden by his shirt, thumbing every dip and curve of his abs and pecs before he leans in to kiss his heartbeat. He watches Xie Lian, whose eyes are softly shut, part his lips and sigh. 

“You’re so sweet,” he murmurs, a strand of hair falling to his cheek. 

His lips trails downward and catch on a nipple; his tongue flicks over it, hard in a slack mouth before closing around it and suckling. Xie Lian inhales sharply and curls his hips, the head of his cock brushing Hua Cheng’s abdomen. He grips the back of Hua Cheng’s head, fingers threading through wet hair, and holds him to his chest, encouraging more. 

Hua Cheng groans, a deep throaty sound, and unleashes months of restrained attention onto him. Both hands mirror each other as they curl around his shoulders and rub, then feel their way down his sides, down to the dimples in his lower back, then further, groping his ass. This is a spot that Hua Cheng has caught himself staring at more than a few times, and sinking his fingers in to knead possessive circles satisfies some deeply primal urge. 

He cranes his neck to kiss all the way across his chest, motivated by the sounds Xie Lian is making in his lap. He lingers slack-mouthed over the other nipple, breathing hard until Xie Lian arches into him and hugs his head to his chest. Hua Cheng is fed by Xie Lian’s unrestrained sounds of interest, motivated to catch his nipple between his teeth and tug. 

“Ah, yeah,” Xie Lian whimpers, knees shifting on the bale beneath them as he squirms closer. 

Interest is renewing between Hua Cheng’s legs, getting him to half-hardness soon enough purely from the privilege of having his tongue on Xie Lian’s hot skin. 

He follows the guiding sounds Xie Lian is making, like a dowsing rod for his own pleasure, until it reaches a point where his moans aren’t enough. 

He nuzzles his face into the top of Hua Cheng’s head and pleads, “Finger me. Hurry, I want you, San Lang.” 

It has close to the opposite effect of rushing him, instead triggering a technological lag in Hua Cheng’s mind with the phrase “I want you.” 

He stutters his way through a deep breath then pulls back to look up at Xie Lian, glancing between his eyes. “…I don’t have lube.” 

Xie Lian pats his hips then remembers he’d shucked his jeans and climbs out of Hua Cheng’s lap to grab them. He quickly fishes around in the pocket before kneeling over him again and pressing a foil packet into Hua Cheng’s hand. 

A stunned stillness washes over Hua Cheng, laden with a thousand questions, none of which he can ask because Xie Lian is kissing him again, hard. 

His hands pet through Hua Cheng’s hair then drift to his cheeks, greedily staking his claim while tilting his hips back. He strokes down Hua Cheng’s arm blindly until he can grab hold of his wrist and move his hand to Xie Lian’s ass. 

“This is what comes next, right?” Xie Lian pants, eyes still shut as he lingers in the kiss. “When I touch myself, I’ll put my fingers inside,” he leans in until their noses brush, “and imagine that it’s someone else. That I’m having real sex.” 

Hua Cheng is near breathless and unable to tell if his mind is struggling to keep up because of the mental image or the physical impact earlier. 

Xie Lian notices his stillness and gently opens his eyes. “Are you nervous?” he teases quietly, bumping their noses. “A city boy like you?” 

Hua Cheng swallows and shakes his head—not nervous, just lovestruck. 

Well… maybe a little nervous. 

The lube is body-warm through the foil from being against Xie Lian—he has to assume—all day, but asking that question might pry open a truth his heart isn’t equipped to handle right now. 

The sound of crinkling foil tearing is barely audible over the rain. While their lips hover a beat apart, Hua Cheng’s slicked fingers trace from behind his balls up the cleft of his ass until he’s pressing gently at his hole. 

Xie Lian whimpers and the sound buzzes into Hua Cheng’s parted lips as they touch in the faintest kiss. It’s featherlight, just enough contact to feel the current flow through one body to the other. 

“Put them in,” Xie Lian pleads, his throat bobbing with anticipation. 

Hua Cheng kisses him briefly, then sits back to look at his face, peering between his eyes. 

Cautiously, he curls a finger and the tip eases past muscle into searing body heat, and Xie Lian’s eyes slip shut, offering Hua Cheng unimpeded access to his vulnerability. He sinks his finger in to the knuckle and drinks in the pleasure drifting across Xie Lian’s face. 

Both hands fall to Hua Cheng’s bare shoulders, holding on so he can press his hips back, openly seeking more. 

Hua Cheng starts to pump his finger in and out, crooking it to work Xie Lian open. Xie Lian’s tongue peeks out to wet his parted lips, through which slips a moan. Wispy and shrill, his pleasure is pressed up on its tip toes. 

Hua Cheng can’t resist curling in to kiss his bared throat, softly at first. He works his finger in deeper, pressing in until the knuckles of his neighbouring fingers brush lube-slick skin. 

“Ah, San Lang,” he gasps, clutching the back of Hua Cheng’s head again as a necklace of kisses is placed around his throat. 

His cock is hard between them, twitching as he squirms in Hua Cheng’s lap. He swallows and Hua Cheng feels it under his lips. 

“It’s different from when I do it myself,” he whimpers, starting to roll his hips. After a moment, he continues, “…It’s better. You’re so gentle with me, San Lang.” His eyes are shut but his lips lift in a silent laugh. “I didn’t think this is how people from the city would have sex.” 

Hua Cheng nuzzles into the side of his neck. He’s ridiculously hard again, and his erection nudges Xie Lian’s thigh every time he rocks in his lap. 

“You thought we’d all want it fast and rough?” he teases. 

“Not necessarily rough,” he murmurs, “just, ah, less… caring.” 

Loving, Hua Cheng mentally corrects him; I’m in love with you. He kisses like he’s in love, how can he possibly be expected to fuck like he’s not in love? 

“We’re not all heartless in the city,” Hua Cheng hums, pecking at the spot where his pulse is thrumming. Slowly, he squeezes in a second finger and the lube squelches between them. 

Xie Lian stutters on his breath in and sits up a little straighter. “Oh, San Lang.” 

Hearing his name fall from Xie Lian’s lips like a prayer makes him feel frighteningly sinful all of a sudden. He squeezes his waist a little tighter and bares his teeth. 

The rain has grown heavy enough now that it’s sluicing down the slanted roof and forming a watery curtain, isolating them in their own world. 

Hua Cheng carefully bites down at the junction of Xie Lian’s shoulder and starts to suck a needy bruise into his skin. His fingers pump at the pace he wants to one day suck Xie Lian off at—just slow enough to prolong the experience, one infinite moment after another. He lays a hand on Xie Lian’s cheek and spreads them apart so he can ease his fingers just a little deeper. 

Xie Lian’s knees are trembling progressively harder as Hua Cheng thrusts into him. 

“Yes, fuck me,” he suddenly whispers, barely audible over the storm. 

But Hua Cheng hears, and is immediately gripped by an unforgiving squeeze of arousal, cock throbbing painfully. He curses and messily mouths his way from the bruise he’d just left up to the corner of Xie Lian’s lips for a furious kiss. 

Absently, he wonders how he’d spent so long mistaking mystery and enigma as the root of eroticism; he has the most unambiguous man on earth in his lap right now and he couldn’t be more turned on. Xie Lian tastes like sweat, and labour, and dark earth that’s soaked up the rain. He’s flawless—just as outstanding to fuck as he is to love. 

A third finger nudges at his hole for a moment before squeezing in with the others and tearing a gasp from Xie Lian. Experimentally, he crooks his way to the prostate, stroking hungrily when he finds the spot that makes Xie Lian reel back from the kiss all of a sudden and cry, voice breaking on the unfiltered pleasure. 

“God, San Lang!” he gasps. Xie Lian curls back in to share space, hugging Hua Cheng’s shoulders and burying his face into wet hair. “Oh, that’s good,” he whimpers, “You’re so good.” He grinds back on Hua Cheng’s fingers and murmurs into his temple, “Am I tight?” 

Fuck. 

Hua Cheng shuts his eye and nods, “Yeah, gege, you’re tight.” 

“Are you excited to fuck me?” 

Hua Cheng exhales roughly, unequipped to answer that one. A thread of purity still weaves in and out of every filthy word he says, and Hua Cheng feels moments away from passing out because of how hard he is. 

Xie Lian hugs him tighter and whispers, like he’s imparting a secret, “I’m excited.” His voice is soft and warm against Hua Cheng’s skin. “I don’t know how often you do this, but—” 

“Never,” Hua Cheng interrupts, dizzy with lust. 

He barely registers what he’s said until Xie Lian stills above him, then slowly sits back. Hua Cheng blinks open his eye and lifts it to find a face of mild shock across pink-painted cheeks. His fingers pause, snug inside of Xie Lian. He opens and closes his mouth. 

They both seem to linger at the edge of saying something but remain in silence as seconds pass. 

Finally, all Hua Cheng can think to say is a breathless, “…Sorry.” 

Xie Lian ignores his apology entirely, blinking bemusedly. 

“But you… you’re you,” he eventually murmurs. A palm rubs down Hua Cheng’s chest then slowly draws up to cup his cheek. “You’re San Lang, you’re perfect; how could nobody…?” 

His question fades out as Hua Cheng’s cheeks and chest blush, warm from the most precious compliment he’s ever received. 

“Hardly, gege,” he murmurs, but smiles slightly nonetheless. “And it’s not that nobody…” His answer fades out in much the same way, before he clears his throat and picks back up with, “I just never wanted to. Not with any of them at least.” 

He leans in marginally closer, and Xie Lian tentatively mirrors him, until they’re sharing the same air again. 

“Then… with me?” Xie Lian murmurs, a hopeful blush in his ears. 

“Only you,” Hua Cheng confirms. 

A weight looks to leave Xie Lian on a heavy breath and he stops to swallow before replying, “…Me too. Only you, too.” A sunny smile suddenly rounds Xie Lian’s cheeks and squints his eyes. “You should’ve told me earlier, I would’ve brought you to my bed instead.” 

But Hua Cheng is still stuck on, ‘Only you, too,’ the revelation echoing around in his brain like a drumbeat. His heart thrums, steadily beginning to beat faster as the realization sinks in that Xie Lian… Xie Lian… 

He’s struck dumb, expression probably embarrassingly optimistic as he mumbles, “…Me?” 

Xie Lian studies his face, brilliant smile dimming down to something sweet and subdued. “Yes, San Lang, you. Of course, you.” He bears down on the fingers still snug inside him and murmurs, “You thought I would ask just anybody to do this?” The hand on Hua Cheng’s cheek strokes up through his hair, pushing it back from his face. “You’re wearing non-designer jeans for me, San Lang. Plus Ruoye approves.” 

Hua Cheng thinks briefly of the goat who’d once taken a jealous bite out of his shirt. It all starts settling, like a sheet fluttering down to adorn the bed of their affection. Hua Cheng is hot all over, not least of all where Xie Lian is perched in his lap. 

“So I can… we can…?” 

“Make love?” Xie Lian offers, then nods. “Please, I really want to.” 

Stripped down to bare, both physically and emotionally, Hua Cheng shudders, then tilts his head up and kisses Xie Lian with a vibrancy he’ll never again need to dull. 

“Mm!” 

His still fingers suddenly quirk and Xie Lian jerks in surprise, stiffening then going slack. He sits back in his lap and squeezes his knees around Hua Cheng’s hips. Hua Cheng pumps his fingers another few times before withdrawing them and tilting back just enough to speak. 

“Do you have a condom?” he pants, trembling with the effort of maintaining control. 

Xie Lian kisses him jerkily. “What for?” 

His breath leaves him all at once. God. 

Heat flashes up his chest to his face and all he can manage is a shaky nod and a breathless, “…Right.” 

He feels for the lube as they kiss and finds Xie Lian’s hand instead, already clutching the torn foil. Their kisses slow down to a rolling back and forth of heat and tongue until Xie Lian eventually pulls away and slides in so they’re cheek to cheek and chest to chest. The faintest stickiness from Hua Cheng’s earlier release and the damp in the air still clings to their skin. 

Bravely, Xie Lian nips his earlobe and whispers, “Can I do it for you?” He twists to squeeze the remaining lube out into his palm then lifts onto his knees and reaches behind himself. 

“Fuck,” Hua Cheng groans when that hand wraps firmly around his cock and starts to stroke him, “Yeah, yes.” 

Xie Lian shuffles further forward so his erection is flush against Hua Cheng’s abdomen, rubbing on him while he works lube up and down the length of his cock. It’s messy work, based on touch alone, but Hua Cheng thinks he might come again if it goes on much longer. His cock nestles naturally into the cleft of Xie Lian’s ass, and he can’t help think their bodies are the perfect fit for one another, made to slot together. 

“Please,” Hua Cheng murmurs, voice breaking. He’s holding Xie Lian by the waist, both thumbs brushing the tender, pale skin of his belly. “Gege, put it in, please.” 

“Mm.” Xie Lian hooks his chin over his shoulder and pushes his ass back, holding Hua Cheng’s cock there so he can rub on in. It serves no other purpose than to tease them both, riling them up like the desperate, handsy teenagers they might as well be. Their hug grows tighter, Xie Lian’s arms curling around his neck. 

The tip of his cock catches on Xie Lian’s hole once, then again, before he finally, forcibly, stills Xie Lian’s hips and bites his tongue to keep from outright begging. 

“…Gege,” he pants, warning, “I know your… your toys can last all night, but your San Lang needs some mercy.” 

Xie Lian ducks to kiss his neck and Hua Cheng can feel the smile. “My San Lang,” he murmurs to himself, pleasing Hua Cheng with his quiet giddiness. 

It only occupies his mind for a second though, because Xie Lian’s touch is impossible to ignore. 

He looks behind himself, watching Hua Cheng’s cock as it nudges at his entrance, and as he slowly begins to sink onto it. He stares unabashedly, like he wants to memorize every twitch and tremble, like they won’t be doing this again tonight, and tomorrow morning. 

Hua Cheng curses and drops his head back onto the pillow of hay, brows drawing in tight. Inch by inch, his cock squeezes into warmth—into Xie Lian’s warmth—relentlessly, deeper and deeper, until Xie Lian is sitting flush in his lap and finally turns to look back at him. 

He’s pink in the face, mouth slightly agape in the shape of shock. All he manages at first is a faint, “ah,”— easily the most precious sound Hua Cheng has ever heard. 

But the pleasure seems to radiate through him steadily, until he rolls his head to one side and starts to carefully push himself up and back down. He bounces gently on Hua Cheng’s cock, squirming as he lifts up just an inch and drops quick enough that it might be called riding. 

“You’re so deep in me,” he breathes, gaze latched onto Hua Cheng. 

Hua Cheng swears and whines between gritted teeth, “I know, I can feel it.” 

“Mm, feels good?” 

“Feels fucking incredible.” 

He’s torn between studying the pleasure on Xie Lian’s face and watching his cock sink inside him, eye flitting between the two. It’s surreal—he’s easily touched himself dozens of times to this exact scenario, painted with rough strokes in his imagination. …Well, the shed is new, he supposes, but still. 

The lube clings every time Xie Lian moves in his lap, making their sex sound lewd and sticky in the privacy of the shed. 

Xie Lian settles his hands on Hua Cheng’s shoulders and starts to lift himself up a little higher, cautious as he rolls his hips back. A quivery sigh floats from his lips. He’s propelling himself, thighs flexing as he starts to genuinely ride Hua Cheng’s cock. His body rolls with each movement, lines between pale and tanned skin stark even in the shed’s haziness. 

Through the possessive grip on his hips, Hua Cheng encourages him down a little harder, just a little, so there’s a gentle slap of ass on thighs when Xie Lian lands in his lap. 

His sighs become moans, snipped and trembling as Hua Cheng squeezes deeper inside of him. 

Xie Lian attempts a kiss, their mouths finding each other messily as his body continues bouncing. Hua Cheng sits up into it, arms already aching—he could stand to get stronger with this kind of workout. 

He suddenly reaches behind himself and shoves the hay bale aside so he can lie flat with Xie Lian straddling his thighs, pushing his cock just a little deeper. 

“Oh fuck, ah—” Xie Lian slumps forward, palms flat to Hua Cheng’s pecs. They feel around his chest, around sticky skin and fine muscle until his heavy eyelids slip shut and Hua Cheng is left to take over, bouncing him on his cock. 

“Ah, ah,” Xie Lian moans, his own cock hard and tight to his belly, jerking and twitching gently through his first fuck. Then— 

“Oh!” Xie Lian sits up abruptly, seemingly in epiphany, and Hua Cheng’s heart jumps into his throat, stopping everything. 

He sits halfway up and squeezes Xie Lian’s waist. “Gege? Are you alright?” 

Xie Lian’s face shifts into a split-second pout. “…I hope all this rain doesn’t ruin my vegetable patch.” 

The panic-stricken expression on Hua Cheng’s face shifts instantly, wiped away by a breathless laugh. He caresses Xie Lian’s cheek and sucks in a deep breath. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, gege, there hasn’t been rain in a while, anyway.” He thumbs between his furrowed brows. “And if it floods we can just pick them quickly and make a salad for dinner.” 

A brilliant smile lights up Xie Lian’s face. “You’ll stay for dinner?” 

Hua Cheng laughs and tucks a piece of hair back behind his ear. “I’ll stay forever, if you let me.” He reclines onto his elbow and looks between Xie Lian’s eyes, bright despite the torrential storm. “It’s worth a few more headbutts from Ruoye.” 

“San Lang…” Xie Lian slowly melts back on top of him, cheek pressed to his heart, and murmurs, almost shy all of a sudden, “Make love to me.” 

Hua Cheng’s heart speeds up, pumping heat throughout his body as if they hadn’t just been fucking to the point of him seeing stars. 

“…Mm,” Hua Cheng agrees quietly. 

Gently, he rolls his hips, just barely pushing into Xie Lian, but it’s enough to get both of them breathing hard, chests rising against one another. One hand lays at the small of Xie Lian’s back while the other tracks up to his hair, holding him close as they fuck softly. 

Xie Lian’s head is tucked under Hua Cheng’s chin and he’s pressing kiss after kiss to his chest and neck. 

There’s no other way Hua Cheng can describe the feeling than: everything aligning flawlessly into the perfect indefinite moment of pleasure. He’s swaddled in warmth, weighed down by the body of the man he loves and who loves him and his heart is absolutely, absolutely full. 

Carefully, he rolls them over, and Xie Lian’s legs naturally wrap around his hips, keeping them close enough to continue gently thrusting. Hua Cheng groans, holding himself a breath above Xie Lian as his hips stutter forward, instinctively gaining speed. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Xie Lian whispers, heavy-lidded eyes tracing the shape of Hua Cheng’s face. “Faster, my love.” 

A weak sound escapes Hua Cheng alongside his ragged panting. Urged on, he starts to pull his hips back, adding new depth. His hips move fluidly, cock sinking again and again into Xie Lian’s body with weight behind it until he’s fucking him properly, thighs slapping his ass when their bodies meet. It’s like an implosion; everything good and hot and perfect is sucked into a minuscule point somewhere in his abdomen then blown outwards, consuming him. 

“Baby,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead to Xie Lian’s. 

But he’s just as lost in the pleasure as Hua Cheng is, and only nods his head helplessly. His legs tighten and his heels dig into Hua Cheng’s ass, bracing himself. 

“You—” Xie Lian gasps, breathless. “You… you have…” He reaches up and brushes warm fingers through Hua Cheng’s hair. “…hay in your hair.” 

Hua Cheng pauses for a split second, then grins and kisses him hard, hips continuing their rhythm. “So do you,” he murmurs. 

Xie Lian hums with a smile. Hua Cheng watches the smile fade to a tender parting of lips and drawing of brows as he visibly succumbs to his lust. 

“Feels really good, San Lang,” he moans. “I’m really full.” 

“Mhm?” 

He rocks back and snaps forward, biting his lip to stifle the grunts and groans of how incredible Xie Lian feels squeezing around his cock. Every thrust is a renewal of perfection, the most flawless form of ecstasy wrapped tightly around him. His knees dig into the edge of the bale as he lifts Xie Lian’s hips higher, and he feels hay sticking to sweaty skin. 

Xie Lian cries abruptly, hands grasping at Hua Cheng’s back then digging in for purchase. “Oh, San Lang, yes,” he mewls, “Fuck me there.” 

The new angle has Hua Cheng’s cock rubbing on his prostate, driving him into an easy frenzy that Hua Cheng watches obsessively. 

“Nn—” He clings to him, nails drawing lines down his back as his jaw goes slack. His eyes are unfocused, crossing just slightly. 

Hua Cheng is utterly smitten, breathing hard above him and jolting the both of them with the roughness of his thrusts. He kisses Xie Lian’s slack mouth, the slick sound of their tongues complimenting that between their legs. 

The bite of nails in his back, of fresh scratches, makes his cock twitch, the pit of arousal in his stomach cracking open further. His jeans are still around his knees, shoes trying desperately for purchase on the smooth, packed-dirt floor. He frowns in concentration, eager to bring Xie Lian more of that toe-curling pleasure. 

“Gege,” he pants, and Xie Lian nods frantically. “Are you close?” 

“Yes,” he gasps without a second to think. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“Ah, please.” 

Hua Cheng reaches between them and takes Xie Lian’s cock in his hand, sticky with precome and the humidity between their bodies. 

“I think about you every time I fuck myself,” Xie Lian whines suddenly. 

Shit. 

Hua Cheng pants against his lips, “Yeah? Really?” 

Xie Lian squeezes his eyes shut and arches his body into Hua Cheng’s touch, into his tight fist. 

“Mhm; every night after you come to visit I think about the way you smell, your expensive cologne or whatever it is,” he draws a hand up Hua Cheng’s abused back and strokes a thumb over the side of his neck, where he applies his cologne, “and it turns me on.” 

Hua Cheng well and truly swoons at that, hips stuttering. He’ll have to send a fruit basket to whoever recommended this scent. 

Xie Lian continues, “I only bought the toys because my fingers weren’t enough and I couldn’t stop… San Lang, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is weak and breathy, but threaded through with such a desperate earnestness. 

An inarguable boost of self-esteem rushes through Hua Cheng, renewing strength to his pleasantly sore muscles. 

“But it was never this good,” Xie Lian gasps. 

He’s moaning and squirming beneath him, reaching through the clouds for his orgasm. Hua Cheng strokes him with a firm hand, trying to sync it with the pace they’re fucking, making love, having sex; he wants to say it every way he knows how. 

The second Xie Lian hits the peak of his pleasure, he feels it. 

Tight. He tightens around Hua Cheng, so hard that he thrusts in and stays there until he’s drawn into his own climax a second later. 

They both come—Xie Lian on his own chest and Hua Cheng deep inside Xie Lian—with broken moans, spun from however many months of hidden obsession. Their foreheads are pressed together, sweat and hair and hay making messes of their faces. 

Hua Cheng squeezes Xie Lian’s hip, his cock throbbing as the ultimate high sings through him and into Xie Lian, raw and unrefined. 

Xie Lian nips weakly at his lip and Hua Cheng lets him, smiling faintly. They don’t need to speak, slowly stepping down from their shared ecstasy together in silence, everything fading back into pattering rain, and exhausted breaths. 

Hua Cheng doesn’t pull out, instead gingerly settling his weight on top of Xie Lian and shutting his eye to catch his breath. Xie Lian starts tiredly stroking his hair, then playing with it between his fingers. 

As the euphoria fades into a pleasant hum, Hua Cheng begins to feel a faint throbbing in his head where he’d hit it earlier. 

“Mm…” He pushes himself up halfway and looks at Xie Lian, who’s looking back. He touches the back of his head and finds a tender spot. 

Before he even speaks, Xie Lian flashes a quick sulky expression and asks, “Did I hurt you, my love?” 

The pain all but disappears at the use of his new favourite nickname. 

“No, gege, I’m fine.” He smiles genuinely as he tries to keep his heart from melting. “But… next time, maybe we could do this somewhere a little softer.” 

Xie Lian perks up when he hears ‘next time’. 

“Like my bed?” he offers, leaning up to kiss Hua Cheng’s cheek. 

“Or the grass,” Hua Cheng suggests. 

Xie Lian huffs, beginning to pick hay out of Hua Cheng’s hair, and off his chest and back. “You exhibitionist.” 

“What?” He smirks. “Nobody ever drives by here.” 

“Ruoye could see!” 

The hazy sky slowly dries up, pulling them into a muggy evening of lounging and kissing and touching and talking, half-dressed in the hay, until the goats start bleating for dinner.