Work Text:
Really, this meeting is quite important and Lan Zhan truly should be paying attention, but currently Wei Ying is sitting next to one of the new interns who keeps making eyes at Wei Ying and touching his hand, so in actuality Lan Zhan has not heard a single word in the last five minutes. No matter. He’ll simply look over the minutes that someone is taking and peruse the powerpoint himself later. Preferably while Wei Ying is making a mess on his cock in Lan Zhan’s home office.
He catches Wei Ying’s eye and gives him a look that conveys this message.
Wei Ying smirks and blushes, stumbling over whatever sentence he was saying to the intern. He clears his throat and apologizes, the intern asking if he’s alright and patting Wei Ying’s back with overwrought concern. Lan Zhan forces himself to look away lest he glares at the intern hard enough to make the others in the office accuse him of unfair treatment. In his head, however, he is acting very unfairly and is glaring daggers at the intern sharp enough to gouge his eyes out. This is certainly a normal thought to have.
Wei Ying gets fucked very roughly that night, Lan Zhan’s fingers leaving bruises in their wake and his teeth latched onto his neck awfully high up considering they both still had work in the morning. Lan Zhan goes to sleep wrapped around Wei Ying, lips pressed to the mark on his neck, still darkening into a purple-red bruise. They both slept quite well that night.
—
The intern has still not taken any hints.
Wei Ying is kind, and beautiful, and quite touchy, all things Lan Zhan adores about him. Unfortunately it means that others also adore these features of his, which makes him a regular target of anyone and everyone trying to flirt. Others take Wei Ying’s bright smiles and laughter as meaning something, something to them in particular, as opposed to just meaning something about Wei Ying and his own character. It… does not help that Wei Ying is a habitual flirt, himself.
The intern has taken to bringing Wei Ying a little treat for lunch hour every day. Wei Ying appears to think this is just a kindness between coworkers, a courtesy of an intern towards the full-blown assistant. He takes the treats with a thanks and a wink and then trots over to bother Lan Zhan without seeming to realize the intent of the food held in his hand. Because, the habitual flirt and kind person he is, does not tend to realize that others are obviously flirting with him for real and not for mutual platonic bonding.
This is a common occurrence everywhere they go. It is not helped by their apparent age gap. Men and women alike that are closer to Wei Ying’s age touch his hand, his shoulder, give him hooded looks and speak through thinly veiled innuendo, buy him drinks and occasionally even outright ask for his number. His attempted suitors rarely give Lan Zhan a second glance, as if he’s a ghost that fails to materialize until Wei Ying eventually dismisses whoever is hitting on him and turns to Lan Zhan to initiate a level of making out that borders on indecent for public viewing. This usually prompts the failed suitor to go bug-eyed and scamper away, pretending that nothing had happened.
So maybe Lan Zhan overestimates how oblivious Wei Ying is towards those pursuing him. Nevertheless, Lan Zhan is brooding and the intern continues to encroach on Wei Ying’s space and time.
Today, the intern has wheeled his chair over to Wei Ying’s desk to show him an amusing image or video, likely of the type that is wholly incomprehensible to Lan Zhan but makes Wei Ying fall off his chair in laughter. Lan Zhan begrudgingly admits – privately, to himself – that this makes him feel somewhat insecure, another aspect that betrays the way that maybe Wei Ying would be better matched with someone a few years younger. Although, it’s not as if Lan Zhan has ever been on top of current internet culture no matter his age. Still. It’s a point of connection he doesn’t share with his beloved that the intern currently does share.
Predictably, Wei Ying laughs at whatever has been shown to him. He remains, however, in his chair, so it couldn’t have been that funny. With a shy grin, the intern reaches into his bag and produces a drink for Wei Ying, something brightly colored, likely terribly sweet and horrifyingly caffeinated, as Wei Ying prefers. Wei Ying takes it gladly, cracking it open and taking a large, satisfied gulp. Lan Zhan watches from where he’s been glued to the floor by the copier as the intern pushes up the sleeves on his button-up, baring his forearms in an almost lewd presentation. He opens his mouth and proceeds to say some horribly unprecedented words.
“So, uh, Wei Ying, I was wondering if, um.. If you were busy on Friday night?”
Wei Ying’s eyes go wide, flicking his gaze ever so briefly towards Lan Zhan, acknowledging that he knows he’s been watched this whole time and is now very keenly being listened to. Lan Zhan feels heat roll through his body from the tips of his ears to his toes, raging at the fact that they are in the office and he cannot pull Wei Ying up by his tie and shove his tongue down his throat in an obvious claim like he desperately wishes to.
“Because, uh, I was thinking that maybe, well..” the intern stumbles over his words, “maybe we could go grab a drink on Friday night..?” He smiles hopefully at Wei Ying, looking shyly up through his lashes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Lan Zhan’s jaw creaks with how tightly he’s clenched his mouth shut.
As Wei Ying opens his mouth to answer, the intern reaches out in what he clearly thinks is a romantic move, moving to brush a stray hair out of Wei Ying’s eyes, and something in Lan Zhan breaks. This random intern will not be having his romance drama moment in Lan Zhan’s office, if he has any say in it, especially not with his boyfriend.
Before Wei Ying even gets the rejection to the tip of his tongue, Lan Zhan barks, “Wei Ying! My office.”
The intern startles, whipping around to see Lan Zhan with a menacing stack of papers in his hands, and turns back to see Wei Ying hopping out of his chair with an apologetic shrug and a borderline-giddy smile.
“Maybe another time!” he calls over his shoulder as he hurries to follow Lan Zhan, strutting quickly to his office.
As soon as they’re both across the threshold of his office, Lan Zhan hastily closes the blinds on his office door, checks to make sure the curtains are pulled on the other window looking into the larger office area and the one facing outside, and locks the door with trembling hands.
“Surprise meeting, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying wheedles.
“Stop talking,” Lan Zhan growls, and subsequently shoves Wei Ying up against the door (gentler than he would at home, unfortunately, as to not advertise the goings on inside of his office to the rest of the staff) and shoves his tongue down Wei Ying’s throat.
Wei Ying immediately moans into the kiss, opening up beautifully for Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan needs more. He winds his fingers through Wei Ying’s hair possessively and yanks, baring Wei Ying’s throat to him, eliciting a whine from Wei Ying. Smirking, Lan Zhan bites down hard on the juncture between his neck and throat and that whine turns right back into a moan.
“Lan Zhan, ah–” he gasps as Lan Zhan laves a broad, wet stripe up the length of Wei Ying’s neck, “we’re at work! We can’t–” he stutters again when Lan Zhan bites down on his earlobe, “we can’t do this here!”
“Quiet,” Lan Zhan commands, knowing that with Wei Ying, it is futile.
“I’m the boss; I can do as I please,” he says, and promptly uses his hand wrapped in Wei Ying’s hair to shove him down to his knees, his other hand fumbling with his fly to take out his rapidly-hardening cock.
Wei Ying attempts to whine and moan some more, but his endeavors are swiftly interrupted by Lan Zhan’s cock unceremoniously stuffed in his mouth, half-hard yet still filling him enough to cut off his sounds. He looks up at Lan Zhan with his big doe-eyes, beautiful, ready to take whatever he’s given perfect, and most importantly, belonging solely to him.
“Suck,” Lan Zhan instructs.
Immediately, Wei Ying obeys, clearly betraying the fact that all his whining and protests were for show, because the only thing he likes better than Lan Zhan’s cock stuffed in his mouth is Lan Zhan’s cock stuffed in his ass. Lan Zhan takes no time at to start fucking his throat, his cock pulsing and growing larger still by the second. As usual, Wei Ying opens beautifully for him, choking only once before his throat relaxes and allows Lan Zhan’s full length. Lan Zhan smirks down at his lover on his knees, certain that any thought of that godforsaken intern has been summarily fucked out of Wei Ying’s brain.
He thrusts hard, shoving his cock into Wei Ying’s mouth to the root.
“This is where you belong, Wei Ying,” he growls.
A moan escapes Wei Ying’s mouth around Lan Zhan’s cock, his eyes fluttering and rolling back in his head at the brusque words. Lan Zhan’s smugness grows, knowing how his filthy mouth gets his Wei Ying going. He continues to snap his hips in short, brutal thrusts, humping Wei Ying’s face with a ferocity often reserved for when they have gone a few days apart, or after a particularly frustrating night out.
“Right here, on your knees, for me,” Lan Zhan barks out, barely conscious of the limits of the soundproofing in his office.
Suddenly Wei Ying’s eyes snap wide open, and he’s pressing at Lan Zhan’s hips, seemingly remembering usage of his hands for the first time in the last five minutes, his throat convulsing around Lan Zhan’s cock. He hurriedly slips his cock from Wei Ying’s mouth, worried he’s actually choked him for too long. Before he can pull away too far, though, Wei Ying has grabbed onto his cock as if it’s a leash, and turns desperate, pleading eyes up to Lan Zhan, rasping,
“Please- daddy, please, you have to fuck me-”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Lan Zhan has hauled him up from the floor, shoving his tongue back into Wei Ying’s mouth that’s filled with the taste of his own cock, his own precum, his own sweat claiming Wei Ying as his own. Initially, he was intending only to come down Wei Ying’s throat and send him on his way, but he is more than willing to take Wei Ying fully right here in his office, to send him back suppressing a limp, for him to sit gingerly in his chair, clear to anyone paying attention what has just occurred.
Wei Ying whines and moans against him, sucking Lan Zhan’s tongue into his mouth the same way he did his cock, eagerly, desperately, as he turns his shaking hands onto his own fly, hurriedly unzipping his pants to shove them down far enough to expose his cock and ass. As soon as it’s exposed, Lan Zhan grasps Wei Ying’s ass with an appreciative groan, grabbing hold of both his cheeks and squeezing hard before pulling his cheeks apart and grazing the pads of his fingers across Wei Ying’s bared hole.
“Fuck,” Wei Ying gasps, breaking away from the kiss. “Fuck, you– you have to– I need your cock, daddy, please, I n– I need it now, I–”
His last pleading words are cut off by nearly-too-audible yelp as Lan Zhan spins him around to shove against the door once more. Wei Ying moves to continue shoving his pants down, but Lan Zhan grabs his hands before he can touch his pants and twists his arms behind his back, feral with the need to control each and every movement of his Wei Ying’s.
“Like this,” he growls, spitting on his fingers before shoving two into Wei Ying’s pliant hole.
Completely immobilized, Wei Ying sags against the door, cheek pressed into the manicured wood. He tenses around the too-dry intrusion at first before relaxing, allowing Lan Zhan’s fingers to sink fully inside of him with a hitched, whining breath. Lan Zhan has barely pumped his fingers in twice before Wei Ying is pushing back against him, as much as he can in his state, and it’s not more than another minute before he’s begging.
“Now, your cock, I need your cock, daddy, please– please, your cock–” he babbles, quietly enough to not be heard through the door, smart boy, but loud enough to drive Lan Zhan absolutely mad.
Lan Zhan releases Wei Ying’s arms, trusting him to leave them twisted behind his back, to grab his ass with both hands again. He spreads Wei Ying’s cheeks wide, taking in the sight of the perfect, pink hole, already soft and a little puffy from his fingers. He admires the view, gathering saliva in his mouth before spitting directly into Wei Ying’s open hole.
“A-ah, f-fuck, fuck,” Wei Ying stammers out, his hips bucking uncontrollably for a moment, his hole clenching tightly around nothing but the glob of Lan Zhan’s spit wetting the entry.
Lan Zhan can’t hold back the groan, the growl, that the sight elicits, his Wei Ying shaking and bucking in anticipation. He spits again, just to see Wei Ying’s reaction.
“Fuck, god, fuck, just– stop teasing, your cock, please–”
In a swift movement, Lan Zhan grabs hold of his own cock and jams it into Wei Ying’s still-too-dry hole and shoves himself halfway in. Wei Ying jerks and mewls in pain, but does not make any effort to pull away. In another movement, Lan Zhan pulls out and shoves back in, to the hilt this time. Wei Ying nearly shouts, jostled against the door with the momentum.
Comfortably buried inside of Wei Ying, he leans down, bites on Wei Ying’s earlobe, and tells him, “Mark your words.”
Wei Ying barely has the time to gasp before Lan Zhan is pulling out and pounding back into him, his surprised breath giving way immediately to biting his lips raw trying to muffle the sounds threatening to escape him. Lan Zhan fucks him brutally, his hole tight, his cock dragging against his walls in a way that he knows drives them both crazy. It’s not long until his own leaking cock smooths the way, every thrust becoming smoother than the last, his spit and his precum mixing to lubricate the tightness.
It’s almost damningly loud in the office, the harsh, slick sounds of his cock in Wei Ying’s hole, the thudding of his hips against his ass, dampened by the fabric of his pants pressed roughly against Wei Ying’s bare skin. Lan Zhan feels crazed with it, unhinged knowing that if anyone got too close to the door, they would likely hear it rattling against the frames. The soundproofing on his office is good, but not so much as to eliminate noise directly against the door. That– that fucking intern could walk by, wondering why it’s taking his precious coworker so long with the boss, and hear exactly what Lan Zhan is doing with him. The thought consumes him with need, the need for it to happen, for the stupid man pursuing his Wei Ying to know who he belongs to, for Wei Ying to know that he’s not for anyone else’s consumption.
Lan Zhan groans once more, yanking Wei Ying’s head back by his hair to bare his throat, not once letting up the pace he’s set.
“Who–” he growls into Wei Ying’s ear, “Who do you belong to?”
Wei Ying keens, eyes rolling back.
“Who?” Lan Zhan demands, bending him back even further.
“You!” Wei Ying yelps, tears springing to his eyes. “You, Lan Zhan, you– I belong– I belong to you–”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan groans, feeling his impending orgasm approaching. “Only me.”
“Yes, yes, only you– only you, Lan Zhan, please– I need it, please– need you–”
Impossibly, Lan Zhan speeds up more, quick, devastating thrusts directly against Wei Ying’s prostate, wringing out sharp, gasping yelps from Wei Ying. It’s too much, it’s blinding, he’s going to come soon, he needs to claim Wei Ying fully. He knows there’s no way for them to clean up, but he has to come inside of Wei Ying, he has to, Lan Zhan doesn’t think his body would let him finish if it weren’t inside of Wei Ying right now. He has to lay his claim, make it known who Wei Ying belongs to. Just the thought of Wei Ying going back out to the office without Lan Zhan’s come painting his insides, dripping down his thighs, to talk to the intern makes Lan Zhan’s blood boil.
He releases Wei Ying’s hair to wrap an arm around him, taking Wei Ying’s cock in hand. They’re both so close, he can feel it– Wei Ying is tense and tight around him, shaking uncontrollably as soon as Lan Zhan’s fingers brush his aching length. Lan Zhan feels it himself, taut as a bowstring, sweat beading on his forehead, his extremities tingling, the warm feeling in his stomach spreading, he’s so close–
With a final, soul-crushing clench, Wei Ying comes around him, hardly able to contain his wail, pulsing in Lan Zhan’s hand all over the office door, and Lan Zhan topples over the edge right along with him. He comes and comes, uncharacteristically loud, his hips twitching and fucking his come deep into his Wei Ying as he groans gruffly, out of breath. Wei Ying clenches rhythmically around him, wringing every last drop of come from his cock until he starts to soften.
They remain there for another long moment, steeped in the sounds of their heavy breathing and the smell of sex. Lan Zhan would have to break out his incense to clear the smell from the office before anyone else dared enter. It would surely be embarrassing, but truly it’s fueled by Lan Zhan’s possessiveness, not even wanting anyone else to smell his Wei Ying in such an intimate way.
After a handful of minutes, they’ve caught their breath, Wei Ying sagging back against Lan Zhan for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.
“Ah– Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you really are unhinged!” he laughs out, laying his head against Lan Zhan’s shoulder.
Feeling somewhat bashful now that the moment has passed, Lan Zhan buries his face in the crook of Wei Ying’s neck.
“Mine,” he murmurs sulkily.
“Yes, Lan Zhan, and whoever could have possibly made you feel like it was any other way?” Wei Ying asks teasingly.
Lan Zhan doesn’t respond. Rather, he sinks his teeth into Wei Ying’s shoulder.
“Ow, fuck, you beast!” he giggles, pawing at Lan Zhan until they untangle themselves.
Lan Zhan pulls out of Wei Ying tenderly and moves towards his desk, pulling a packet of wipes from the bottom drawer. Wei Ying raises a smug eyebrow at him, but Lan Zhan only raises an eyebrow back, challenging Wei Ying to walk out into the office without at least a little clean-up. They wipe down in comfortable silence, Lan Zhan taking care to wipe off the door with a stoic face and burning ears. Before long, they’re both zipped back up and halfway presentable. Wei Ying fixes his hair in the mirror sitting on one of the shelves in the office, Lan Zhan leaning against his desk to observe him, smug pride prickling up his spine knowing that Wei Ying’s hair is barely salvageable.
Wei Ying sees him watching in the mirror and throws him a cocky grin before sauntering back over to him. He loops his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck, draping over him and pulling him in for a kiss.
“Really, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs against his mouth, “what got into you?”
“That kid,” Lan Zhan responds, with unintended but fully meant vitriol, “seems to think that you are… available. I wished to remind you that you are not.”
Wei Ying promptly tips his head back in laughter.
“You were worried about the intern?” Wei Ying exclaims, almost as if in delight. Lan Zhan again raises a brow at him and looks between the two of them.
“Hey, hey, we’re a special case! You’re the hottest man alive and I’m a complete needy brat, we’re perfect for each other. There’s no way fucking Derrick–” ah, so that was his name, “is taking me away from you, he’ll move on as soon as I’m out of his sight, I know the type.”
Lan Zhan, consoled by the words but still angered by Derrick’s behavior, continues to glare.
“Lan Zhan. My Lan Zhan. No one is taking me from you,” Wei Ying says, all the playfulness from his voice vanished.
“I know,” Lan Zhan whispers, pulling Wei Ying back into a deep kiss.
Another few minutes later, they’ve patted each other down to at least have some sort of plausible deniability of the happenings within the office. Lan Zhan rummages around in his desk to find a stack of papers to give Wei Ying to at least make it look like some sort of work discussion had happened before sending Wei Ying on his way. Wei Ying is excused, and Lan Zhan watches him walk back to his desk.
Almost as soon as he’s sat down, Derrick comes over to talk to Wei Ying again, clearly hoping to resume their previous conversation. He hops towards Wei Ying’s desk, coming up behind him, opening his mouth to likely say some stupid line, and stops abruptly, his mouth hanging open. Unbeknownst to Wei Ying, his eyes are fixed on the back of Wei Ying’s neck, at the junction of his neck and shoulder, where a hickey that had certainly not been there before peeked out, mottled purple and red and still deepening in color.
He risks a look back towards Lan Zhan’s open office door.
They make eye contact.
Lan Zhan smirks.
The intern’s eyes go wide, and he snaps his mouth closed. With a blush, he stammers out some half-assed apology to Wei Ying about earlier and stumbles off to his own desk.
Lan Zhan sits back in his chair, and thinks about the railing Wei Ying is in for as soon as they get home.