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It would be hard to pinpoint a reason why Wen Ning and Nie Huaisang hadn't thrown a party to celebrate their move to a new, slightly larger apartment that could accommodate all their belongings until now. Wen Ning finally had his small studio where he could sculpt in peace and quiet while Nie Huaisang sat in the other room, writing his crazy stories. Between one appointment and the next, they would pass the time on the dates they loved to have together at home - ordered pizza, eaten on the living room floor while watching a kitschy horror movie, or taking a bath together in a tub full of foam. They hadn't noticed when three months had passed since the move, so their surprise at seeing Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangjim at their door was great.
"Aye! A-Sang! I thought you were kidnapped by the fans of your erotica! Could it be that you've been collecting material for a new novel for the past few months?" laughed the man, walking right in, ignoring Wen Ning's red cheeks. He hugged the two friends, beginning his tour of the living room, commenting aloud on the qualities of the new apartment, of which he could see the vastness. Above all, the space, the amount of light coming through the large windows.
He plopped down on the couch that stood in the middle of the living room, reflexively grabbing a pillow to put his arms around it, as if he constantly had to hug something, or someone, to himself.
"Tell us what you've been doing so far!" he called out, looking behind Wen Ning, who was still red in the face, and headed to the kitchen to prepare tea for everyone. Meanwhile, Nie Huaisang squatted on the back of the couch right next to his friend with a satisfied smile, looking down at the pillow he was holding and then at Lan Wangji.
"A-Ning's been carving lately, he's got a big order, so he really needs some peace and quiet for this. I don't know... It took him quite a while to sketch out the right position, and now it needs to be done... I just sometimes, when I'm not actually writing, try to help him relax, though I really don't know if I'm not just disturbing him more..." he said quietly, as if lazily, running his fingers over his lips, glancing obliquely at Lan Zhan. He saw that the man had clearly begun to understand what had just been said, and also noticed the pillow his partner was holding. However, Wei Wuxian didn't realize anything, laughing quietly.
"I'm not surprised that your books are selling so fast in this case!" he muttered, hitting his friend with the pillow, only then looking back at his partner. "Aye! Zhan-ge, your ears are all red! Are you too hot?" he asked, making a saddened face, but immediately raised his eyebrows in surprise when he recognized the man's darkening gaze.
"Shameless," muttered only Lan Zhan, poking his gaze into the pillow.
"A-Sang, you said you wouldn't put them in the living room" Wen Ning's voice, trembling slightly, drew everyone's attention to the sculptor, whose cheeks were covered in deeper and deeper red. Their color could only be rivaled by the red of Lan Wangji's ears.
"Did I say? I really don't know why they wouldn't be lying here... After all, they're just pillows, right?" Nie Huaisang replied, covering his mouth with his hand, hiding a satisfied smile.
He loved teasing his partner, pushing him to his limits, seeing how much he could take. He also loved his blush, which was adorable, adding a kind of softness to a man who wore loose clothes to hide his strong, heavily muscled arms. At this moment, Wen Ning was clearly trying to control himself and act as if nothing was really happening, while paying no attention to his surroundings while immersed in his own thoughts.
He didn't see that Wei Ying had turned the pillow over to read the inscription: we had sex here . He didn't hear his friend's laughter or his comments as he pointed to more pillows. None of this reached Wen Ning, who had memories of what was happening in specific places before his eyes. He could hear Nie Huaisang's shameless moans in his head, almost seeing him leaning over the back of the couch.
"A-Ning, why don't you sit in the chair? You look like you need to rest" Nie Huaisang's quiet voice snapped the sculptor out of his memories. He looked at his beloved, and the darkened gaze betrayed what he was thinking about, only to be met with satisfaction from the writer.
Nie Huaisang took the tray of cups from him to place on the coffee table, continuing his conversation with Wei Wuxian about the pillows and the spread of them around the apartment, letting his friend float various guesses until he finally laughed happily while shaking his head.
"Wei-xiong! You think the fact that I write erotica means I don't do anything else in the apartment? I don't know, I really don't know what you think of us," he said cheerfully, pulling Wen Ning with him, then pushed him lightly onto the chair. None of the others could see as he flicked the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, taking the cushion from the chair, enjoying watching the growing blush on the sculptor's face.
Wen Ning had to cover his mouth with the palm of his hand, trying, just a little, to hide what was happening to him. His memory suggested memories of the previous evening when he had sat exhausted in that exact chair, and Nie Huaisang had knelt between his legs, helping him to relax.
He had been able to recall the events of the past week in an instant, and yet there had been many more such events. Now, sweeping the living room with an unconscious glance, he saw that the cushions were arranged seemingly at random, yet precisely in every place where they enjoyed each other to the fullest - the chaise longue, the fireplace, the wide windowsill. He didn't see that Lan Wangji was also shifting his gaze around them, noticing all the pillows. Nor did he notice that Wei Ying had begun to comment aloud on some descriptions in the books, laughing along with the writer.
"A-Sang! I remember that you always had an interesting collection, but sometimes I wonder where you come up with some items. After all, if someone doesn't have strong arms, they won't be able to do some things" he laughed, looking suggestively at his partner, only hearing the short word 'shameless' in response.
The writer merely waved his hand, explaining literary fiction and what his audience wanted, surreptitiously glancing at Wen Ning, who seemed to be slowly coming back to himself. He smiled shyly, plucking at the sleeve of the loose sweatshirt that effectively hid his body. None of their friends knew how muscular the sculptor really was. They even seemed to forget how much strength he required to create each sculpture.
He saw Wen Qionglin's absent stare and how red his face was. He looked like he had a fever, like he needed to go to bed. Surely NIe Huaisang would have suggested exactly that to his partner, if not for the fact that he knew that expression perfectly well and knew what he could count on once they got rid of the guests.
"Ah, Wei-xiong, sorry, but A-Ning is clearly not feeling well. I wouldn't want you to get infected" Nie Huaisang finally apologized to his friends, standing beside his partner, placing a hand on his shoulder, He gently brushed the skin on his neck with his fingertips, seemingly casually, causing goosebumps on the sculptor's forearms.
"Aye, Zhan-ge! Looks like we'll have to hear more stories next time," Wei Wuxian sighed theatrically, putting the pillow back in place, then grabbed his partner's hand, pulling him with him towards the exit. The four of them stood by the door for a while longer, trying to arrange to go to a karaoke bar together, until finally Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning were left alone in the apartment.
"A-Ning, about what..." the writer began, but immediately broke off, letting out a quiet cry of surprise, feeling a spark run along his spine. He knew that this was the direction his partner's thoughts must have been running, but he couldn't say he had expected such a reaction when Wei Wuxian with Lan Wangji were still standing outside the door.
However, Wen Ning was no longer thinking about his friends, or the fact that they had definitely heard the rumble from their side of the apartment. None of that mattered at the moment, when he could finally do what he had thought of before - punish Nie Huaisang. Still red in the face, he leaned in a bit, directly into the man's ear.
"You really... You did it on purpose," he whispered in a voice hoarse with desire, immediately slapping the writer's buttock with his open palm, a bit harder than usual when he was naked. Nonetheless, a moan of satisfaction escaped Nie Huaisang's lips, followed by quiet laughter as he provoked the sculptor further, stopping to think if their friends were still standing at the door listening to what was going on or if they had already left.
The next day there was a piece of framed cloth hanging by the door with the words we had sex here too .