Work Text:
Song Lan blinked at the rows of identically sized bags of chips as an unidentifiable pop song clamored through the speakers. Had there always been a Spicy Sweet Chili flavor of Doritos?
Somehow, after five hours on the dark road, watching the yellow lines in the middle of the highway and green exit signs and flashing orange warnings, the clearly typed words looked foreign. His vision had always been perfect, even as they grew older and Xiao Xingchen’s went from bad to worse. The text was clear—it just was indecipherable. There was something disorienting in seeing the words and not knowing what they meant.
Was this what it had been like in the early 1900s when a carnival came to a quiet town, blinding them with bold colors and screaming logos?
The song kept playing overhead, and Song Lan still didn’t recognize it.
At the front of the store, a cashier in a ragged hoodie stared at his cell phone, a pair of large headphones on his ears. It was after one in the morning, and no one else was in the store. The cashier hadn’t looked up with Song Lan had come in, and still seemed oblivious to him. It was like Song Lan wasn’t there at all.
Maybe Song Lan hadn’t pulled off the exit yet, and was still staring at the highway.
That probably wasn’t true. Song Lan was a very safe driver, and never let his thoughts stray too far from the road—even when Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang were panting in the backseat. He had never lost track of the road while behind the wheel. He took his responsibility to get his lovers around safely very seriously.
Maybe they had already reached the hotel, and he was dreaming about the gas station while Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang snored beside him.
“Zichen.”
That sounded real. Song Lan blinked and looked up.
Xiao Xingchen was standing beside him. His hair was in a braid down his back—Song Lan had woven it together that morning—and he was in the soft pink sweatsuit he preferred for long drives. His glasses were back on his nose. He had taken them off more than an hour ago when he had given up the pretense of helping Song Lan with directions and had decided to focus on the remote he’d brought to control the vibe inside Xue Yang.
He looked beautiful and there.
“You were getting gas,” Song Lan said, confused. The words felt like syrup in his mouth.
“We got gas and waited for a while, honey,” Xiao Xingchen said. “You didn’t come back.”
“Sorry,” Song Lan said reflexively.
Xiao Xingchen shook his head and stepped closer. He put his hand on Song Lan’s chest and pushed him backward.
Song Lan went without protest, stumbling back as Xiao Xingchen prowled forward. The tile floor squeaked under his shoes.
He had a brief image of colliding with the rows of shelves and causing an avalanche, but Xiao Xingchen was too precise for that. Besides, Song Lan couldn’t make himself care. It didn’t feel like anything so dramatic could happen in the quiet gas station, even if they tried. He could probably push over the magazine display and find a duplicate in its place the next minute.
“Look at me, sweetheart,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan met his eyes a moment before he ran into a hard, flat surface. He gasped as cold glass hit his back. Even though his soft travel clothes, the temperature was a shock.
Xiao Xingchen pressed in closer, leaning against Song Lan. He brushed a kiss to the corner of Song Lan’s lips.
“Xingchen,” Song Lan gasped.
“You seem a bit out of it,” Xiao Xingchen said, pulling back. “I told you we should have taken a break a few hours ago.”
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Xue Yang sing-songed. He appeared at the end of the candy aisle and settled against the endcap. Neon bags surrounded him like a glowing aura.
How long had Xue Yang been there too?
Xue Yang was in black, as usual. His short hair was mussed, falling clumsily over his eyes. His cheeks were flushed nearly as dark as the Twizzlers by his cheek. Song Lan wondered if the short, thick plug they had slid into his hole just before getting in the car was still buzzing. As a focused driver, Song Lan had gotten good at tuning out the whines and begging from the backseat, but he knew they had been going on for a while before this stop.
“Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen said, tilting his chin back to force eye contact.
“What?” Song Lan tried to remember what they were talking about. “I don’t like to take breaks when I drive.”
“That’s because you had a bad habit of pushing through unpleasant things without stopping to take a breath,” Xiao Xingchen said. “And we’ve talked about how that’s not good for you. You said you were fine, but you’re distracted.”
He put a finger between Song Lan’s eyebrows and pressed. It intensified the cold behind him—Xiao Xingchen had corralled him against the beverage wall at the back of the store.
“Sometimes you trick me with your handsome, stoic face,” Xiao Xingchen said. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I was focused,” Song Lan said.
“Focus on something else,” Xiao Xingchen said. One hand held the base of Song Lan’s neck, just enough pressure to keep him in place, while the other hand slid down his shirt toward his pants.
“Xingchen,” Song Lan said, looking past him toward the front of the store. “We can’t.”
“The cashier isn’t looking,” Xiao Xingchen said. His hand didn’t pause. “We could blow up the place and he’d ignore us.”
He dipped his fingers gently into Song Lan’s waistband. The skin there was unexpectedly sensitive, and Song Lan gasped. He kept going, full of that calm confidence that made him Xiao Xingchen. He slowly slid inside Song Lan’s boxers and cupped his soft cock.
“We’re in public,” Song Lan protested.
“Barely,” Xiao Xingchen said, fingers lightly teasing Song Lan’s cock. “You need a break before you drive anymore, baby. You should let me make you feel good.”
Song Lan swallowed, fists clenching by his sides. His skin smeared across the cold glass.
The sudden shift in activities and the unusual exhibitionism (unusual to include Song Lan, instead of pulling him in to stand guard) should have made Song Lan feel even more disconnected from reality. Hadn’t he just been wondering if this all was a dream?
But instead, Xiao Xingchen’s hand on his cock and the refrigerator behind him felt like the only real things in the world, a lighthouse in the fog.
[Gets him hard]
“What about Xue Yang?” Song Lan asked.
Xue Yang was still leaning against the shelf, spirals of bright gummy candy beside him. His pupils were blown, and his mouth was open.
“What about him?” Xiao Xingchen asked, adding a twist of his wrist at the head of Song Lan’s cock.
“Ah,” Song Lan panted, hips jerking before Xiao Xingchen shoved him more firmly against the glass.
Xue Yang made a breathy, desperate whine, and then laughed. “You could at least turn my vibe back on,” he said. “I’m going to have to get my cock out soon watching this.”
“Do that and you won’t come for a week,” Xiao Xingchen said, looking over his shoulder at Xue Yang with a cool expression. “You got my attention in the car. Don’t be greedy.”
“Xingchen,” Xue Yang pouted, looking even more turned on by the threat. “We aren’t even there yet. We can’t have a whole vacation where I don’t come.”
“It’s cute when you try to tell me what I can and can’t do,” Xiao Xingchen said.
Song Lan knew he wouldn’t hesitate to edge Xue Yang for the whole week. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen both enjoyed the way Xue Yang got when he was desperate beyond words. They had learned how to play his body to make him come like a dream, and that meant they knew just how far they could bring him to the precipice of orgasm before tugging him back down.
If there was one thing Song Lan had learned from years of friendship and then more with Xiao Xingchen, it was never to call his bluffs.
“Oh, Zichen likes that idea,” Xiao Xingchen said, still looking at Xue Yang. He must had heard it in Song Lan’s breathing, or felt it in his cock.
“I didn’t mean it. I’m just horny,” Xue Yang backpedaled. “You can’t blame me—look at him.”
Xiao Xingchen turned back to Song Lan and smiled. “I know. He’s beautiful like this.” He tightened his grip and Song Lan shuddered with pleasure. “That’s it, Song Lan. Feel my hand on you. You’re making such good little noises.”
Song Lan flushed and bit his lip, and Xiao Xingchen’s free hand was instantly clamping onto his chin to tug his mouth open. Too surprised and turned on to resist, Song Lan’s jaw dropped obediently. He could hear his own quiet groan at the dual firm pressure of Xiao Xingchen’s hands on him.
“He’s wearing headphones,” Xiao Xingchen reminded him. “No one but me can hear you over the music. I want to hear you. You know how I feel about you holding back.”
“I know,” Song Lan said, words muffled by the hand holding his face.
“Good,” Xiao Xingchen said, taking advantage of Song Lan’s open mouth and sliding his thumb inside. He fucked it in and out slowly, a teasing contrast to the way his other hand sped up on Song Lan’s cock.
Song Lan moaned, and the noise sounded wanton around Xiao Xingchen’s fingers.
Maybe after this, Xiao Xingchen would press Song Lan down to his knees to fuck his face. Or maybe not. Maybe Xiao Xingchen would just tuck Song Lan’s cock back in his pants once he was sure that Song Lan’s head was clear enough to drive. Song Lan might have to watch the road while Xiao Xingchen fucked Xue Yang in the backseat, the slick sound of his cock echoing the car rattling down the highway.
Song Lan used to think of himself as beyond bodily needs, more mature and cerebral than his classmates who spent all their time chasing after their next lay.
Xiao Xingchen had quickly proven him wrong.
Song Lan flushed to know Xiao Xingchen could play his body so easily, jerking him off in public because he knew what Song Lan needed. Song Lan was Xiao Xingchen’s to use and to take care of.
“You’re dripping on my hand,” Xiao Xingchen told him, fucking his fingers slightly deeper into Song Lan’s mouth.
Song Lan’s hips jerked forward, but he pulled himself flush against the glass before Xiao Xingchen had time to correct him. He had been with Xiao Xingchen long enough to know when he was encouraged to take and when he was required to stay still.
“You’re already so close,” Xiao Xingchen breathed in his ear. “I love that you’re letting me touch you here. You look so pretty with your cock out for me. You’re mine, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” Song Lan said reverently through his mouthful.
“Fuck,” Xue Yang said. He was still obediently not touching himself, but he looked wrecked. A blush spread across his nose, which usually meant he was close to coming. The black sweatpants hid his erection, but Song Lan could imagine the red tip and pulsing precome.
Song Lan panted and leaned against the glass. It barely felt cold anymore. Though the gas station felt outside of time, he realized there might be an outline of him against the door even after they left, a memory of their encounter. Xiao Xingchen was making Song Lan real and here with the sheer force of his control.
“It’s time to come, Zichen. Give it to me,” Xiao Xingchen said, stroking him relentlessly. “That’s it, baby, let go.”
With a shuddering groan, Song Lan let his orgasm sweep him away. It pulsed through his body, grounding him and lifting him up at once. The pleasure was stunning.
Xiao Xingchen’s warm palm caught his spend, slicking it back over his cock as he worked him through it. He kept petting Song Lan’s cock until the last echoes of his orgasm faded.
“Good,” Xiao Xingchen said. He pulled out a pack of wet wipes from his pocket—a staple of every trip they took, as Song Lan’s habits spread to his partners—and cleaned Song Lan’s cock and then his hands before tucking Song Lan back into his pants.
Song Lan stayed slumped against the refrigerator. Xiao Xingchen’s hands were less electrifying than when he was on the precipice of orgasm, but they still commanded all of Song Lan’s attention.
Xiao Xingchen smiled. “Look at you.” He pulled Song Lan down for a kiss. His lips were firm and coaxing, and Song Lan stumbled to keep up. His own mouth felt loose after his orgasm and still echoing with the feeling of Xiao Xingchen fucking his fingers inside. Xiao Xingchen didn’t seem to mind Song Lan’s clumsiness—if anything, he looked pleased as he pulled back. “Isn’t it nice when you let me make you feel good?”
“Always,” Song Lan said. He felt every inch of his body, warm and heavy.
Xue Yang groaned. “So hot,” he said. “He looks fucked out. Maybe we should find a hotel instead of driving the rest of the way tonight.”
“Zichen will be good to drive. You just want to come,” Xiao Xingchen said.
“Duh,” Xue Yang said fervently. “That was the best thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe Song Lan let you jerk him off in a gas station.”
Song Lan felt a pang of unease, but Xiao Xingchen soothed it with a frown at Xue Yang and a cool palm on Song Lan’s cheek. “Zichen knows I don’t suggest ideas unless I have things under control.”
Song Lan relaxed again. He looked past Xiao Xingchen to Xue Yang. “You say everything is the best thing you’ve ever seen.” His voice was gravely.
Xue Yang shrugged. “I live in the moment. If you want to try to top it this weekend, feel free to try.”
“I have some ideas,” Xiao Xingchen said. He fixed Song Lan’s hair, tucking loose strands away from his face. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah,” Song Lan said, grateful. He swallowed and looked down at Xiao Xingchen’s body. They were so close together that it was difficult to see if Xiao Xingchen was hard. “You don’t want to come?”
“We still have some time left in the car. I’ll have my fun.” The smile he shot Xue Yang was bright and filthy.
Head clear and body grounded, Song Lan found the chips Xiao Xingchen had requested in the first place and grabbed a bar of Xue Yang’s favorite chocolate as well. Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang strolled behind him. It was hard to hear over the pop song on the radio, but it sounded like Xiao Xingchen was telling Xue Yang exactly what his plans for the rest of the ride were.
At the cash register, Song Lan caught a glance at the security TV behind the cashier’s shoulder. The camera pointed straight at the refrigerated aisle. A hot flush raced through him, and a sickening jolt hit his stomach.
Then, he realized the camera’s angle passed right by the gummy candy endcap. Xue Yang, leaning against the shelves, had blocked the view of the frosted glass and Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen’s activities.
He turned, startled, to Xue Yang, who just winked at him.
He looked at Xiao Xingchen, who smiled—a bit reassuring, a bit pleased with himself.
There was… something in the way these two knew him so well. That Xiao Xingchen had realized that Song Lan was feeling disconnected, that Xiao Xingchen had crafted a plan in the moment knowing exactly what he needed. He’d decided what would happen and brought it to life without consulting Song Lan or even sharing the plan. Considering his haze, he probably wouldn’t have been any help if Xiao Xingchen had tried to ask him, and Xiao Xingchen surely knew that too. If Song Lan hadn’t just come, the feeling might have spread into arousal, but instead it settled as a warm, embarrassed hum in his stomach.
Song Lan signed the screen and then picked up the snacks in one large hand. The cashier looked back at his phone, dismissing them already.
Back at the car, Song Lan put the snacks where Xiao Xingchen could reach them, but didn’t hand Xue Yang his candy yet. Xiao Xingchen would decide if and when Xue Yang got to taste them.
Before Song Lan could turn on the engine, Xiao Xingchen leaned up over the center console and brushed a kiss against Song Lan’s cheek. His cool glasses bumped against Song Lan’s face, and the sensory reminder of what they’d just done scorched through him.
“Let me know when we’re close, sweetheart,” Xiao Xingchen said. “I’ll put Xue Yang back together enough to get him through the hotel lobby.”
A smile tugged at Song Lan’s lips. “Of course,” he said. “Have fun.”
“Oh, I will.” Xiao Xingchen gave him one more peck and then ducked into the backseat.
Shaking his head, Song Lan turned on the engine and pulled out of the gas station parking lot. Slick, quiet noises started from the back of the car immediately.
The neon lights of the gas station left his rearview mirror, and the road stretched before him again.