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Ever since he was a child, Mobei Jun had always had a bit of an obsessive nature.
It had started with small things; at first it had been wolves – his uncle had been over for lunch and his mom had forced him to keep him and his father company in the living room while waiting for the food to be served, and they’d put on a nature documentary. Wolves were large, intelligent and natural leaders, and Mobei Jun had been fascinated.
From that day onwards, he was obsessed – he went to the library to read up on wolves as much as possible, he forced his mom to take him to the natural history museum, he begged and begged for his parents to take him to the zoo for his 8th birthday only to be disappointed when he found they didn’t keep any wolves there, and he surrounded himself with wolf memorabilia.
This was a pattern that repeated itself throughout the years. First with wolves, then with Chinese martial arts, then with a specific movie franchise, and yet– and yet, no one had been more surprised than Mobei Jun himself when his new obsession, at the ripe age of 20, turned out to be a person.
His new obsession was Shang Qinghua.
Shang Qinghua was a graduate teaching assistant at Mobei Jun’s university. He was responsible for teaching practical lessons in various Economics subjects, was a part of seminars every now and then and, as far as Mobei Jun had been able to learn, he was also saddled with a big part of the actual Economics Professor’s admin work as well as office hours.
Mobei Jun was only disappointed he’d waited until his third year to take an Economics class – he could have met him sooner.
It started the way most of his obsessions did: something small would trigger his interest, and the more he learned about it, the more he learned he couldn’t keep away.
In the case of the wolves, all those years ago, the trigger had been their power; in Shang Qinghua’s case, it was the way his posture changed instantly from a twitchy little man to the most enthusiastic speaker, not needing to take a break to catch his breath, while lecturing his students on the least appealing topic in the world.
His obsession only grew – he observed the way the teaching assistant chewed on his pencaps while lost in thought; the way his face would light up whenever a student asked something and he got the chance to launch into an enthusiastic, albeit lengthy, explanation; the way he would laugh brightly at Professor Shen whenever he happened to cross paths with them in the hallways. (This last one made his stomach churn whenever it happened.)
Eventually, of course, it was only natural that Mobei Jun was no longer satisfied with just observing. How could he nurture his fixation if all he did was watch? So, Mobei Jun made plans.
He started very simply: at first he would stay after class to ask Shang Qinghua questions. He only had class with him two times a week, so he needed to make sure he made good use of his time – in fact, he usually spent most of the classes writing down questions he could ask Shang Qinghua afterwards.
When Shang Qinghua had asked him, good naturedly, why he hadn’t asked his questions during class, Mobei Jun had said he didn’t feel comfortable which, given his usual don’t-talk-to-me-or-even-look-at-me posture, didn’t seem too far fetched. Shang Qinghua had looked at him fondly, definitely believing Mobei Jun was shy , and told him he could always just ask him after class too, whatever made him feel more comfortable!, so Mobei Jun started to take full advantage.
That had been step one; step two had been unplanned but had come as a blessing in disguise. Since Mobei Jun found himself distracted during most of his Economics practical classes, it was no surprise that he eventually found his grade slipping more and more. The solution was, fortunately, to attend TA Shang’s office hours.
Shang Qinghua held office hours every day between 3pm and 5pm. Mobei Jun’s classes were mostly concentrated in the morning period, with a few afternoon exceptions here and there so, for the most part, he was able to hog the Economics teaching assistant’s time for at least forty five minutes every day.
Soon enough, Mobei Jun’s grades started improving and so did his mood – after all, he now had near daily access to spending time with his newest obsession. If another student was already in Shang Qinghua’s office, one look from Mobei Jun would quickly lead them to wrap up their time with the TA as quickly as humanly possible, and if any student showed up while Mobei Jun was there, they would make sure to not spend more than five minutes there before quickly scrambling away.
Shang Qinghua would often get confused at this behavior from his students, but would shrug and move on, focusing on helping Mobei Jun – as he should, really. However, Mobei Jun wanted more; it wasn’t enough that most of his attention was focused on him and him alone, it wasn’t enough that Shang Qinghua would often get flustered when Mobei Jun leaned in too close, and it wasn’t enough when Shang Qinghua would send him a secret little smile when handing his graded assignments back to him in the classroom, the way he wouldn’t smile at anyone else.
Mobei Jun wanted and wanted and he wanted more, so he decided step three would be to enlist the help of Luo Binghe.
Why Luo Binghe, you ask? Very simple – you see, Luo Binghe was a student exactly like him, with the exception that at the tender age of nineteen he’d managed to get Professor Shen to go out with him.
He and Mobei Jun had met when they’d been eighteen and in their first year of university, and they’d been assigned to work on a group project with another person, a somewhat annoying girl named Sha Hualing. To their collective surprise, they’d actually become friends.
They’d naturally been the first ones to know when Luo Binghe started to crush massively on his Linguistics professor during their second year, and had laughed from the sidelines as he tried again and again to woo his Professor with no luck – that is, until one day Luo Binghe arrived to their Business class with the smuggest look on his face and told them he’d kissed Professor Shen and they were now dating.
Sha Hualing had scoffed – surely he’d been dreaming? – but when Luo Binghe had transferred out of Linguistics to a different class and started being seen with his former Professor on campus, well, she’d been proven very wrong.
When Mobei Jun had realized his fixation with Shang Qinghua had grown to a new level of want, he knew there was only one person who could help him.
“So you want to seduce your TA,” Luo Binghe stated as they sat down on Mobei Jun’s couch during an inconspicuous Thursday late afternoon.
“Something like that.”
“What does that mean? Either you want to or you don’t,” Luo Binghe asked, opening his beer can with a pop .
“I don’t want to just seduce him,” Mobei Jun explained, “I want what you and Professor Shen have.”
“Ahhh,” Luo Binghe said knowingly, taking a swig of his beer as he nodded in contemplation. “So you want to woo him.”
Sure, whatever that meant. “I suppose.”
“What have you done so far?”
So Mobei Jun explained all about how he’d been hogging Shang Qinghua’s office hours for the past three weeks.
“But nothing else ever happens,” he concluded.
“Have you actually tried to get anything to happen?” Luo Binghe asked, looking at him expectantly.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Luo Binghe sighed, putting down his can and turning to face Mobei Jun fully. “You’ve never dated anyone before, have you?” Mobei Jun simply gave him a look. “Alright, look, there are two things you need to keep in mind: number one, your TA is never going to make the first move because of their position at the university; number two, even if they weren’t your TA, you still need to show some effort, otherwise you’re just a cute student who needs a little more help than the other ones.”
Surprisingly, what Luo Binghe was saying actually made sense.
“So how did you show effort?” Mobei Jun asked curiously.
It had been easy, at least according to Luo Binghe – little thoughtful things, he’d explained. He’d started by baking him cookies, then assorted pastries, then full homemade meals that he offered to Professor Shen because ‘he’d made too much’, but–
But, as Luo Binghe explained, while Professor Shen had become sweet on Luo Binghe, he was still a Professor and would never agree to go on a date with him as such. So, Luo Binghe had needed to create an opportunity.
“So you’re saying after I woo him with these… presents, I need to stalk him?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Luo Binghe had said defensively. “It’s just about creating the perfect opportunity for you to bump into each other outside of campus.”
Mobei Jun had taken notes diligently in his head, and set about making steps four and five happen.
Step four was thoughtful gifts. Mobei Jun was no cook, not to mention he had no idea what Shang Qinghua liked to eat – he’d have to remedy that, obviously – so he settled for something less extravagant.
“I accidentally ordered double the amount of pens I wanted,” Mobei Jun said one day the following week, after racking his brain for hours on end on what he could possibly give to Shang Qinghua. “I noticed you always chew on your pen caps, so… I figured you might need some new ones,” and he’d presented a set of five new pens to Shang Qinghua.
“Oh, you really don’t have to do this,” Shang Qinghua said, blinking owlishly at the offered set. “You can just keep them until you need them.”
“They would just dry up,” Mobei Jun said, preening at the light blush adorning Shang Qinghua’s cheeks as he had no choice but to accept the pens.
“Go slow,” Luo Binghe had warned, “don’t give him gifts every time you see him or you’ll scare him off,” so Mobei Jun waited until the week after that before he made another move.
His second gift had been food, actually – he couldn’t bake, but he sure as hell could afford to buy the pastries from the fancy bakery near his apartment, so he told Shang Qinghua he’d bought too many for his afternoon snack but couldn’t bear to eat more.
“You can save them for tomorrow, though,” Shang Qinghua had said confusedly.
“I really can’t,” he’d said, explaining how actually he was on a semi strict diet due to his fitness routine and martial arts classes and these had been a one time treat, really. “I don’t even like sweets very much, I just had a craving for them,” he concluded. Shang Qinghua was all too happy to take the pastries in that case, and Mobei Jun tried not to look too smug as he watched his TA munch happily on a caramel éclair.
After that, it somehow became easier for Mobei Jun to know what to give to Shang Qinghua. Sometimes it’d be coffee, other times it would be pastries; one time it had been a pack of instant noodles that “they’d been promoting on campus, I’m surprised you missed them” (after he’d heard Shang Qinghua tell Professor Shen about the new flavor of instant noodles he’d tried and surmised that he seemed to be a big fan), another time he’d gifted him an agenda because “he didn’t notice his uncle had already given him one” and “yours seems so full, I’m sure you need a second one”, and soon enough Mobei Jun found himself itching to move on to step five – creating the perfect opportunity.
Now, step five required some reconnaissance. How could Mobei Jun hope to bump into Shang Qinghua outside of campus if he didn’t know where the man usually went? Or where he even lived?
(It wasn’t stalking, not really – it was simply a very essential part of the plan! How else was he supposed to pull this off?)
The first part was easy enough – Mobei Jun headed to the library after Shang Qinghua’s office hours ended, where he actually had a pretty good view of the Economics building, and settled in to wait for Shang Qinghua to make his way out.
Once he did, Mobei Jun hurried to catch up with Shang Qinghua – far enough to not be seen but close enough to not lose his trail. To his surprise, Shang Qinghua didn’t seem to have a car – which was good, because he hadn’t really thought about what he’d do if he did, other than try to find the license plate around town – and, instead, he took the subway home.
Mobei Jun followed along, having taken the care to wear a hoodie that day so he wouldn’t be too recognizable, and went into the same carriage as Shang Qinghua, albeit on different ends.
It wasn’t hard to follow Shang Qinghua around, even if it concerned him a little – if Mobei Jun could follow him, then so could anyone else? –, and soon enough he found himself in front of what he assumed was Shang Qinghua’s apartment building.
He stayed close by for what seemed like hours – waiting to see if Shang Qinghua would come out, if maybe he was just visiting a friend and it wasn’t actually his apartment, but nothing happened and so around 1am Mobei Jun went back home, hungry and tired but very, very satisfied with the progress he’d made.
From then on, and with a few more ‘observational field trips’, as he called them, it became easier to piece together Shang Qinghua’s routine – he would make his way to campus relatively early during the week, stay there until around 7 or 8pm, and then he would usually go home.
On Tuesdays and Fridays he varied his routine, actually – he would leave campus a little earlier and go grocery shopping. (Mobei Jun found a supermarket of the same brand near his apartment building and started to go there too. It made him feel closer to his TA.)
He usually spent his nights in, although Mobei Jun did see him make a detour on his way home once or twice to go hang out with Professor Shen (he tried to rein in his jealousy, especially since he was sure of the fact that Professor Shen was happily in a relationship with Luo Binghe and there was nothing going on between him and Shang Qinghua), and on the weekends, particularly on Saturday mornings, he would usually go to the bakery near Mobei Jun’s apartment building to grab breakfast and a coffee.
(His Saturday routine had definitely been a pleasant surprise, especially because it made Mobei Jun wonder if he had adopted it because of him and all the pastries he usually got for him.)
Therefore, it actually wasn’t hard at all to create ‘the perfect opportunity’, and it was on a very inconspicuous Saturday morning that Mobei Jun accidentally ran into Shang Qinghua.
In fact, Mobei Jun quite literally ran into him.
It had all gone according to plan: Mobei Jun had woken up at 8am and had taken great care to select his workout clothes for the morning. After a light breakfast, he’d left his apartment and gone for his usual run, taking care to be mindful of the time.
Shang Qinghua usually showed up at the bakery near 9:30am and, very often, he would take his breakfast to go, which always included a steaming hot cup of–
“Fuck!”
Mobei Jun looked down at the ground to see the object of his obse– affection sprawled out on the ground, his sweater and jeans soaked in hot coffee.
“Mr. Shang!” he exclaimed, immediately leaning down to help him get up, trying not to shiver at the contact as he grabbed the other man’s forearms to help him up.
He’d finished his run a good thirty minutes earlier and had gone to grab a coffee at the coffee shop across the street, sitting near the window so he could watch when Shang Qinghua arrived. From there, it was only a matter of leaving the coffee shop, crossing the street, and waiting at the right corner for the perfect opportunity to start running again and barrel into his favorite teaching assistant.
(He felt a little bad for causing Shang Qinghua to fall and scald himself with coffee, but–)
“Mr. Shang, you could have gotten seriously burned,” he said, seeping as much worry as possible into his voice. “I’m so sorry, please let me help you!”
“A-Ah, it’s nothing,” Shang Qinghua said, trying to placate him by patting him on the arm. “It could have happened to anyone, it’s really fine.”
“But– your burns!” he exclaimed more forcefully, frowning as he looked over the other man for injuries. “You need to clean them immediately.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be heading home now,” Shang Qinghua stammered out, his cheeks completely flushed, and Mobei Jun tried not to stare too obviously at the way the flush seemed to be extending downwards.
“Do you live nearby?” he asked, and Shang Qinghua’s startled look made him realize he was probably being a bit too forward. Remembering Luo Binghe’s advice, he was quick to add, “My apartment is right around the corner – if Mr. Shang is alright with it, you could go take a shower there just to make sure you don’t get burned too badly.”
Shang Qinghua gaped unceremoniously at him, before realizing what he was doing and quickly clearing his throat. “Ah Mobei, don’t worry,” he said, “I’m sure it’s fine to keep these on until I get home, it’s only a thirty minute commute.”
“But it’s November,” Mobei Jun said, frowning. “You’ll get cold if you walk around like that.”
Taking a huge risk, Mobei Jun grabbed one of Shang Qinghua’s forearms again.
“What are you doing?!” Shang Qinghua asked, as he started being dragged along with Mobei Jun.
“I’m sorry Mr. Shang, I just really want to help you,” he said, looking back at Shang Qinghua. When their eyes met, Shang Qinghua blushed again, and Mobei Jun turned his face away to smile smugly as he was implicitly allowed to drag his teaching assistant to his apartment.
Not even ten minutes later, Shang Qinghua was in Mobei Jun’s bathroom, completely naked (he assumed), taking a lukewarm shower.
More than knowing that his TA was fully naked in his space not even 20 feet away, what really caused Mobei Jun’s stomach to churn with excitement was knowing that, once he was done with his shower, Shang Qinghua would have no choice but to wear his clothes.
As he stood in his bedroom and looked down at the clothes he’d selected neatly laid on his bed, waiting for Shang Qinghua, he couldn’t help but picture it – the smaller man’s naked form would step out of the shower, grab the fluffy towel Mobei Jun had handed him before ushering him to the bathroom, and would pat himself dry, before putting on the bathrobe he’d left for him and making his way barefoot to his bedroom, where he would put on his clothes. Shang Qinghua would be fully decked out in Mobei Jun’s things.
(Blood rushed to Mobei Jun’s groin as he imagined the smaller man’s curves and the way the towel – his towel – would gently run over each one, soaking in the water from the shower. Maybe a droplet would run down his back and make its way down the slope of his ass – the ass Mobei Jun had spent so much time observing during classes, the ass Mobei Jun desperately wanted to sink his fingers into and–)
Mobei Jun swallowed dryly, taking a look at the bedroom door and pondering if he had enough time to take care of his problem before Shang Qinghua was done with his shower.
Maybe he’d even catch him and give him a hand–
No. Patience, Mobei , he thought to himself. Remember what Luo Binghe said – you can’t scare him off.
And it was exactly with that thought in mind that Mobei Jun forced himself to exit his bedroom and go out to the balcony of his living room, hoping the cool winter air and sheer willpower would force down his erection.
Shang Qinghua found him like that after he’d put on Mobei Jun’s clothes, peeking his head through the balcony door to call out to Mobei Jun.
“Hey Mobei,” he said, and Mobei Jun turned around to look at him. “I’m all done.”
Mobei Jun nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and instead made his way back inside. However, no matter how much he had imagined it, nothing prepared him for the reality of seeing Shang Qinghua, the man he had been pining over for nearly three months, dressed in his clothes.
Shang Qinghua looked so small ; he was swimming in Mobei Jun’s clothes – the dark blue sweatpants and sweatshirt he’d selected for him, down to the yellow and black striped socks, (the boxers he’d selected for him) –, the sweatshirt sliding down one of his shoulders, baring it to Mobei Jun’s hungry gaze.
“Do you want breakfast?” Mobei Jun blurted out, completely forgetting his carefully crafted plan to let the other man go without much fuss and continue his wooing at a measured pace.
“Oh, uhm,” Shang Qinghua’s stomach rumbled, as if awakened by Mobei Jun’s words, “you d-don’t have to…”
“I actually think I do,” Mobei Jun said solemnly, moving past Shang Qinghua to make his way into the kitchen. “I ruined yours.” It wasn’t a lie.
Shang Qinghua followed Mobei Jun to his kitchen, and watched him curiously as he prepared congee with youtiao.
“Can I help you with anything?” Shang Qinghua said after a few minutes, realizing he’d been standing there without really doing anything but stare at his student.
“Coffee,” was all Mobei Jun said, pointing him towards an expensive looking coffee machine on one end of the kitchen counter.
Shang Qinghua nodded and set off towards the machine, eyeing it quizzically before nodding and pressing the ON button.
“Cups?”
“In there.”
Not even twenty minutes later, they both sat at Mobei Jun’s kitchen table, basking under the sun rays streaming through the window and savoring their breakfast.
“I have to say, I never expected you’d know how to cook this well,” Shang Qinghua commented, nearly halfway done with his food. “You have such amazing talent.”
“I learned recently,” Mobei Jun said, and it wasn’t even a lie – back when he’d started his gifting efforts towards Shang Qinghua, even though he often bought pastries from the bakery near his house he’d wanted to be prepared for when his plan undoubtedly worked and he was able to win his TA’s affection. Therefore, Luo Binghe had started going over to his house once a week to give him private lessons. Clearly, they had paid off.
Shang Qinghua continued to eat and Mobei Jun continued to sip on his coffee, observing the other man discreetly. Their entire set up was so casual, so domestic, that Mobei Jun wanted nothing more than to imprint it in his memories forever; Shang Qinghua, wearing his clothes with still damp hair from his shower, having homemade breakfast with Mobei Jun on a sunny Saturday morning.
What more could he want?
After a few more bites, Shang Qinghua finally loosened up and started to chatter animatedly, telling Mobei Jun about how he’d started going to that bakery because of the pastries he was always buying – what a coincidence that they were so close to his place, actually! He hadn’t even thought that might be the case, but it made sense, right? – and how spending just a few minutes there every week was enough to make him feel like he already was familiar with the comings and goings of the neighborhood.
It was cute how comfortable Shang Qinghua seemed to be around Mobei Jun, and Mobei Jun was helpless to the primal feeling of raw want filling him as he observed how well Shang Qinghua fit into his life.
Mine , he thought, faintly aware that this was an obsession he wouldn’t be able to turn back from.
Shang Qinghua didn’t stay much longer; it was fine – Mobei Jun didn’t expect him to. Instead, he bade him goodbye at the door and offered to call him a DiDi.
“I’ll be fine taking the subway,” Shang Qinghua said, a content smile on his face. “Thank you for having me, you really didn’t have to.”
“I was glad to be able to help Mr. Shang,” Mobei Jun said, “especially seeing as it was my fault.”
“Not at all,” Shang Qinghua chuckled, patting Mobei Jun’s arm, before turning sideways to leave and, “Also, call me Shang Qinghua. No need for Mr. Shang.”
Mobei Jun swallowed, his heart ready to burst out of his chest at any moment. “Are you sure?”
“Of course! We’re way past formalities, right?”
* * *
They were, but Mobei Jun still had a plan to fulfill.
For that very reason, Mobei Jun didn’t seek out Shang Qinghua come Monday afternoon. They didn’t have Economics class that day; Mobei Jun would usually head over to his office hours and make use of the full two hour slot seeing as he had a free afternoon, but that day he decided to do things a little differently.
With immeasurable effort, Mobei Jun made his way to the library instead, settling down in a quiet corner away from the windows so he wouldn’t feel the temptation to check on the TA’s comings and goings.
He stayed there for the better part of the afternoon, being briefly joined by Sha Hualing and Luo Binghe who had another class’ quiz coming up and needed to study but still ended up leaving before him (but not before rubbing on his face that they had dates ), and left the library closer to 7pm, feeling worn out and slightly on edge from not having laid eyes on Shang Qinghua all day.
As it turned out, he’d made the right call – as he was halfway through the path leading to the front gates, a flustered Shang Qinghua ran after him all the way from the Economics building, calling out for him.
“Mr. Shang,” he said, genuinely surprised – so surprised he forgot he could even call him by his given name instead.
“Shang Qinghua,” the teaching assistant corrected, panting hard and trying to catch his breath. Mobei Jun just stood there, waiting, still slightly confused but immensely pleased. “I was hoping I’d see you today during office hours,” Shang Qinghua explained, and Mobei Jun was pleased to note he seemed to have difficulty looking him in the eyes as he did, “I wanted to give you your clothes back.”
Mobei Jun accepted the small linen bag that Shang Qinghua was thrusting in his direction wordlessly, keeping his eyes on the other man’s flushed face.
“Thank you,” he finally said, once it became clear Shang Qinghua was happy to remain silent and avoid his gaze. “You didn’t need to wash them so quickly.”
“O-Oh, well…” Shang Qinghua trailed off, “It was no problem.”
Shang Qinghua stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, until, “Well, I’m going to go now,” the TA finally said, and Mobei Jun nodded in acknowledgement, “I hope to see you in office hours tomorrow.”
Mobei Jun didn’t even have time to react before Shang Qinghua was already taking off, hurriedly walking through the gates and heading to what Mobei Jun knew to be the nearest subway station. He could only smile to himself – Shang Qinghua wanted to see him the next day.
He didn’t disappoint, of course – the next day he was back to his usual routine, and when he stepped into Shang Qinghua’s office with two cups of hot coffee – one of which was what he knew to be the TA’s favorite order –, Shang Qinghua didn’t even seem surprised.
“For the coffee I spilled,” Mobei Jun offered. Shang Qinghua happily accepted.
That week, Mobei Jun redoubled his efforts – he attended office hours every day, and he also bought either coffee or pastries to give to Shang Qinghua every time.
“You’re really spoiling me, Mobei,” the TA had said one day, but at this point he’d already long given up on trying to pretend he couldn’t accept the gifts – he expected them, rather.
Mobei Jun had already started planning what his next accidental run in during the weekend would look like, but fate had other – better – plans for him. On Friday, as he approached Shang Qinghua’s office after his last class of the day, he was able to pick up on the fact that his TA seemed to be talking to someone.
As he neared the door that had probably been left ajar by whichever student had last been there, he realized Shang Qinghua was actually on the phone.
“Yeah yeah, I’ll go.”
…
“Ugh… I don’t know why they say attendance is optional when we know damn well it’s mandatory.”
…
“And that bar is so seedy! What were they thinking?”
A bar? Was Shang Qinghua going out to a bar ? Which bar? When? Could Mobei Jun fol–
Shang Qinghua sighed, derailing Mobei Jun’s train of thoughts. “Fine. Pick me up at 7:30, bro.”
The phone call seemed to be over and Mobei Jun was quick to swoop into the room, holding up a pastel pink bag from the bakery near his house.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted, setting down the bag. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
Shang Qinghua waved a hand at him in dismissal. “Not at all, I’d already finished the call.”
“Is everything okay?” Mobei Jun asked politely, sitting down on the chair across Shang Qinghua’s desk and facing him fully.
“Yeah, just a work thing,” Shang Qinghua said, rolling his eyes and digging a hand into the pastry bag. “Now, what are we going over today?”
If one hour later you were to ask Mobei Jun what he and Shang Qinghua talked about, he surely wouldn’t be able to tell you. His mind was indeed focused, just not exactly on Economics.
“Your mind is clearly already thinking of the weekend,” Shang Qinghua teased as Mobei Jun packed up his things. “You seemed like your head was in the clouds.”
“Apologies, Shang Qinghua,” Mobei Jun said, bowing his head slightly. “I was distracted.”
Shang Qinghua laughed, patting his hand absentmindedly. “All good, it happens to the best of us.”
After a few seconds, the TA finally realized his hand was still covering Mobei Jun’s – petting it, to be more accurate – and he quickly withdrew it, clearing his throat as he did.
“Anyway! Have a good weekend, Mobei,” he said breezily, even though his face was as red as the tomato that had been in Mobei Jun’s lunch box.
Mobei Jun said his goodbyes to Shang Qinghua and quickly hurried out of the room. As soon as he was out of earshot, he called Luo Binghe – he’d be able to help him.
“Are you calling to tell me you finally seduced your TA?” Luo Binghe’s voice drawled from the other side of the call.
“Not yet,” he said, immediately continuing before Luo Binghe could try to tease him further, “I’m calling to know if Professor Shen is going out to a bar tonight with Shang Qinghua.”
“Ugh, he is,” Luo Binghe seemed annoyed, and Mobei Jun could understand why – he and Professor Shen were practically glued at the hip. “It’s some sort of work drinks thing and even though it’s optional they all kind of have to go.”
“Do you know where it is?”
Luo Binghe did know where the bar was, and that was how Mobei Jun found himself heading into said bar, completely by himself, at 8:30pm.
He’d asked Luo Binghe to join him but he’d declined – Professor Shen had told him which bar he was going to and it would simply seem suspicious and stalker-y, as he’d put it, if he were to show up knowing fully well his… boyfriend would be there.
“Spending time apart from each other is healthy and all that,” he’d said, even if he didn’t seem very convinced.
So Mobei Jun had gone alone, not wanting to invite Sha Hualing lest Shang Qinghua get the wrong idea about their friendship, which was fine because he was very much used to doing all of his things alone – getting a drink by himself on a Friday night wouldn’t exactly be a big problem.
Even though he noticed Shang Qinghua as soon as he walked in, he didn’t want the other man to notice him too soon – no, he’d get a drink at the bar, head to a corner close to the bathroom and wait until Shang Qinghua inevitably went to relieve himself to bump into him.
He didn’t have to wait very long – not even an hour later he saw Shang Qinghua make his way to the bathroom, after having seen several rounds of drinks being carried over to where his professor group was huddled, and he readied himself to make his move. Shang Qinghua wouldn’t notice him as he went into the bathroom, as Mobei Jun was in a relatively dark corner, but he planned on changing his position once the man went in so he would see him on his way out.
Instead, “Mobei?” Shang Qinghua asked, squinting his eyes in his direction. “Is that you?”
“Shang Qinghua,” he said in surprise, not expecting him to notice him already. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Ah yes, this is my work thing,” he said, quickly forgetting he was supposed to go to the bathroom and sitting across from Mobei Jun instead. “Are you here with someone?”
The question was poised casually, but Mobei Jun could hear the interest in his voice. “I came alone,” he replied, taking a swig of his drink. “I wanted to relax before starting to study for my finals.”
Shang Qinghua nodded, as though what he said was making perfect sense. “And your friends?”
“Busy. They had dates.”
Shang Qinghua’s mouth fell open in a little ‘o’, before he nodded solemnly again and asked, “Why don’t you have a date?”
Mobei Jun laughed, startled, looking at Shang Qinghua in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re…” he trailed off, gesticulating towards him. “You should have no problems getting dates.”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Mobei Jun replied amusedly, knowing perfectly well what he meant. “What am I?”
“You look like that,” Shang Qinghua said lamely, a pronounced blush appearing on his face. Mobei Jun was sure he was only being so free with his compliments because he was tipsy, if not drunk. “A lot of people must want you.”
Mobei Jun hummed, taking another sip of drink contemplatively. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But I’m not really interested in them.”
“Oh?” Shang Qinghua tilted his head curiously. “Why not?”
“I’m only interested in one person,” he said, looking at Shang Qinghua directly. He was taking a big risk here – he could easily scare him off and send him running, but he seemed so much looser than normal – how could he not at least try?
Shang Qinghua chuckled nervously, before standing up. “I’ll be right back,” he said, “I need to use the bathroom.”
Mobei Jun nodded and tried not to feel disappointed; he’d scared him off and would very likely go back to his coworkers once he was done relieving himself.
To his surprise, Shang Qinghua left the bathroom and headed back in his direction, choosing to sit on the stool next to him rather than across as he’d been before. Mobei Jun swallowed at the proximity between them, and tried not to let his nervousness show.
“Do you go out with your coworkers often?” he asked, trying to subtly slide a bottle of water towards his teaching assistant in an effort to sober him up a little.
“Not really, I don’t really like it,” he admitted. “Usually only a couple of small groups get together and go out for drinks but every now and then we have an ‘optional’,” he complemented with air quotations, “all staff team building night and we all need to attend. I usually wait a couple of hours before leaving.”
Mobei Jun hummed, watching as Shang Qinghua drank some water from the bottle he’d passed him and how his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Are you hoping to leave earlier today as well?”
“I was,” Shang Qinghua said, looking at him, “but then I saw you here.”
Against his will, Mobei Jun’s heart beat faster against his chest, and he realized Shang Qinghua had been leaning more and more towards him, and their faces were so close together he could practically smell the beer in his breath.
“You’d stay just because I’m here?” he asked, refusing to move his gaze away from him. “Is my company so tolerable?” he teased.
“More than,” Shang Qinghua breathed out, and Mobei Jun was only able to hear it because his lips were now so close to his ear, “I like your company very much.”
Emboldened, Mobei Jun didn’t hesitate, “we could always leave together.”
They did.
The next day, when Mobei Jun looked back at that night, he would think it seemed straight from a movie – the way Shang Qinghua had fidgeted in the back of the DiDi, sitting not too close but not too far, and shyly peering at Mobei Jun from under his lashes; the way Mobei Jun had placed his hand on the small of his back to guide him towards the elevator and Shang Qinghua’s small smile in response; the way Shang Qinghua had unexpectedly kissed him once they were inside and making their way up, roughly pinning Mobei Jun against the side of the elevator; the way they hadn’t separated even when the elevator had stopped and the doors had opened, and Shang Qinghua had simply pulled him along.
Shang Qinghua had been the one who’d been tipsy, but Mobei Jun had felt intoxicated.
Mobei Jun had guided them through the hallway and into his apartment, pausing their kisses only briefly enough to pull out his keys from his pocket, panting as Shang Qinghua opted to kiss along his neck and jaw instead.
Once they were inside, Mobei Jun was quick to reverse their positions and pin Shang Qinghua against the door, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and finding his perfectly rounded ass with the other, as his lips parted easily under his.
He was ecstatic; this was an outcome he hadn’t anticipated, but was enthusiastically going along with. He finally had Shang Qinghua – the man he had been craving for months, the man who had been slowly taking up more and more space in his life – right where he wanted him, and he wanted to make the most of it.
“Mobei,” Shang Qinghua whispered when they parted for air, gasping as Mobei Jun moved lower to nibble at his neck, “we should– ah, we should move to the bedroom.”
Mobei Jun pulled away, pausing to look Shang Qinghua in the eyes, suddenly sobering up.
“You want to–”
“You don’t want to?” Shang Qinghua interrupted, fidgeting slightly where he stood. “I just thought…”
“I do, believe me,” Mobei Jun breathed, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from Shang Qinghua in reassurance, smirking when his lips followed his as he pulled away again. “But are you sure?”
Shang Qinghua only leaned up to kiss him again, pressing his body impossibly closer to his and grinding their groins together lightly. “I’m sure,” he whispered against his ear, biting down on it lightly as he stepped back and took his hand.
He was quick to follow.
Mobei Jun guided them to the bedroom, his eyes darkening as Shang Qinghua immediately pulled his sweater vest over his head and started to unbutton his shirt before Mobei Jun even had a chance to close the door.
In solidarity, he decided to take his own sweatshirt off, before striding over to where Shang Qinghua had just stripped out of his button up shirt and was preparing to unzip his pants.
“Let me,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of him and unbuttoning his pants, making sure to keep his gaze locked on Shang Qinghua’s.
The TA’s breath hitched, and Mobei Jun smirked again as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled both his underwear and pants down impossibly slow, reveling in the way Shang Qinghua groaned when his cock was freed. It was a pretty thing – flushed and with a bead of pre-come already gathering at the tip, and Mobei Jun couldn’t help but to lean forward and drag his tongue all the way from the base to the tip, before taking it fully into his mouth.
Shang Qinghua moaned, overwhelmed, and his hands found their way into Mobei Jun’s hair, gently gripping it as he bobbed his head up and down. His hands were holding on to Shang Qinghua’s hips, keeping them firmly in place and stopping him from thrusting into his mouth.
“M-Mobei,” Shang Qinghua groaned, digging his fingers more forcefully into his hair, “I need more.”
“More?” he asked, releasing his cock with a soft pop . “What more?”
Not waiting for a reply, Mobei Jun used the grip he had on his hips to turn him around, before spreading his asscheeks and zeroing in on the pretty pink furl in front of him, diving in like a man thirsting for water.
Shang Qinghua gasped, bringing his hands to grip Mobei Jun’s tightly in an effort to hold himself up, unable to keep from moaning as Mobei Jun’s tongue licked over his hole, tracing a circle around it before thrusting in.
“I c-can’t,” he stammered out, his voice rougher than Mobei Jun had ever heard it, “I can’t hold on, please.”
Acquiescing, Mobei Jun pulled away and stood up, turning Shang Qinghua back around to face him, and grabbed his thighs, lifting him in the air. Shang Qinghua whimpered and wrapped his legs around his waist, happily holding on to his shoulders as he moved them towards the bed.
Once Shang Qinghua was laid on his back he continued his attack on his hole, gripping his thighs firmly and pushing them apart so he could bury his face in his ass, thrusting his tongue in and out rhythmically as Shang Qinghua let out little “ ah, ah ”’s.
He added a finger, then two, and then Shang Qinghua was crying out as he found the spot inside him, and Mobei Jun took him into his mouth again as he came, not wanting to waste a single drop of his first orgasm with him.
“Your pants are still on,” was the first thing Shang Qinghua said when he came back to himself.
“Do you want me to take them off?”
Truthfully, he hadn’t really expected Shang Qinghua to want to do more of anything after he’d already come, but the hungry look in his face was beginning to tell him otherwise. Instead of answering, Shang Qinghua beckoned him closer with one hand, and when Mobei Jun was fully leaning over him he looked him in the eyes and said– “I want you to fuck me.”
His pants and underwear quickly joined Shang Qinghua’s clothes on the floor; even though he still looked completely torn apart, Shang Qinghua was quick to pull Mobei Jun in for another heated kiss, while he rummaged through his nightstand for lube.
(He’d bought it on a whim a few weeks earlier when putting together the next stages of his plan to woo Shang Qinghua; he hadn’t expected he’d need it so soon.)
Shang Qinghua insisted on being the one to lube him up and, well, who was he to deny it? After a few strokes, Mobei Jun lined himself up and thrust inside, moaning as he felt Shang Qinghua’s tight heat enveloping him.
“Fuck,” he cursed, burying his head in Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. “Fuck, you feel–”
“How do I feel?” Shang Qinghua asked hoarsely, feeling his erection start to stand to attention once again. “Tell me.”
“You feel so good,” he groaned, pulling himself almost all the way out before thrusting in again, this time going deeper than before and burying himself up to the hilt.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Shang Qinghua repeated as Mobei Jun started to build up his pace, digging his nails into his back and wrapping his legs around his waist, forcing him in deeper with his feet. “Fuck, you feel so good, so good, you have no idea.”
“Yeah?” He shifted in his position, bringing Shang Qinghua’s legs further up, delighting in the way he moaned as he found that spot again. “How about this? Does this feel good?”
“Fuck, yes,” Shang Qinghua cried out, dragging his nails down his back in desperation. “H-Harder, please, harder.”
He lived to please him, so he fucked into him roughly, gripping his legs so tightly he knew there’d be bruises there the next day, setting a brutal pace as he asked, “Tell me how much you like it,” he demanded, “tell me how much you want me.”
“F-Fuck, I want you–” Shang Qinghua was panting, hardly able to speak, but he persisted anyway, “I want you so much, please, you fuck me so well, you’re so good to me.”
His words did something to him that he couldn’t explain, and he was filled with a sense of possessiveness as he looked at Shang Qinghua’s fucked out face knowing it was him who was causing it.
“Tell me you don’t want anyone else,” he demanded, and it was risky, so risky, but Shang Qinghua was so euphoric at the feeling of being filled by his favorite student that all he could say was, “No one else, only you,” and Mobei Jun’s rhythm soon grew erratic, and he was so so close to–
“I’m so close,” Shang Qinghua gasped out, dragging Mobei Jun into a kiss. “C-Come with me.”
Mobei Jun kissed him again, leaning back so he could wrap one of hands around Shang Qinghua’s leaking cock, and not two strokes later he was coming and his hole clenched so tightly around Mobei Jun’s cock that he was taken right over the edge with him.
When he came back to his senses he was lying fully on top of Shang Qinghua, both of them panting hard and trying to catch their breaths. Mobei Jun would be happy to lie there forever, to keep Shang Qinghua there with him for an eternity, but eventually he moved, chuckling as trembling arms tightened around him to keep him there.
“I need to clean us up,” he said, and Shang Qinghua knew he was right so he let him go, happy to lie there and wait for him to return.
Once they were both cleaned up, Mobei Jun pulled Shang Qinghua into a dry section of the sheets.
“We really did that,” Shang Qinghua said quietly, tucked tightly against Mobei Jun’s chest.
“Hm,” he agreed, because what else could he say?
“Do you regret it?”
Of course Shang Qinghua likely had no idea of the extent of his feelings for him, but to think he could regret it…
“I would never regret this,” he answered honestly. “I love you.”
Shang Qinghua froze in his grip, and that was the moment Mobei Jun knew he’d fucked up.
“What did you say?” he whispered urgently, pulling away slightly so he could look up at him searchingly.
“I said I love you,” Mobei Jun repeated, unable to help himself despite knowing he’d done it – he’d moved too fast, he’d scared him.
“Mobei, I–”
“You don’t have to say it back.” He meant it. “But surely you knew I had feelings for you.”
Shang Qinghua stayed silent, his expression increasingly more closed off, and Mobei Jun knew he was about to break his own heart, but–
“Don’t you… have any feelings for me?”
“Mobei, I’m your teaching assistant,” Shang Qinghua said quietly. “I can’t have feelings for you.”
“I know that,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean–”
“Mobei,” he interrupted, fixing him with a serious gaze. “I can’t.”
Realistically, Mobei Jun was well aware that hearts couldn’t break – the heart is a muscle and isn’t actually responsible for your feelings, your brain is – but in that moment he could have sworn his did.
* * *
Despite the many somewhat questionable movies and tv shows he’d watched over his 27 years of life depicting what were usually young women doing the walk of shame after a regrettable one night stand, nothing could have prepared Shang Qinghua for the reality of doing one himself.
The difference was, of course, that he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. But let’s rewind:
Shang Qinghua had grown up with an alarming lack of familial love, and despite how much he’d at one point tried to deny that it hadn’t influenced his adulthood in the slightest, even he could admit he was nothing short of fucked up.
His parents had divorced when he’d been younger, much younger, and he’d gone on to live with his dad. His dad was, for the most part, neglectful, in the sense that he usually didn’t really pay him any mind and let him do whatever, which was equal parts good and equal parts bad as he often also forgot he had another mouth to feed.
Those were the good days, of course.
On the bad days, his dad did remember he had a second mouth to feed, and he wasn’t happy about it. (Shang Qinghua chose not to remember the bad days.)
On the other hand, his mom had all but disappeared from his life, calling him twice a year – once on his birthday and again during the holidays – but otherwise choosing to exclude him from her new life with her second husband and her new kids.
Shang Qinghua had thus grown up repressing his emotions as much as he possibly could and eagerly waiting for the day he could move out and live on his own, free from the bitter absence of his mother and the bad days of his father.
He’d often kept to himself, going through life with a single friend or two – always temporary, though – and not really experiencing a true sense of companionship until he met Shen Yuan during college, his biggest literary critic and eventual best friend. For the first time, he’d felt what it was like to have someone care about him unconditionally, and it had been nice.
(He’d had the tiniest crush on him at one point, before realizing he was just confusing friendship with more, seeing as he’d never felt either.)
He knew, however, that one single friendship couldn’t erase the years of neglect, and he found himself frequently keeping others at least at an arm’s length, whilst craving a real, human connection.
(He’d tried making other friends, he really had, but it had always seemed so superficial.)
And then he’d met Mobei Jun.
If you were to ask him what it was about Mobei Jun – his student! – that made him so irresistible to Shang Qinghua to the point that he would overlook several faculty rules, he really didn’t know.
Sure, Mobei Jun was just his type – tall, dark and broody, with the most ridiculous pecs in the world and piercing blue eyes who usually followed him around the classroom. But there was more – the way he looked at him like he was the most interesting person in the world, the way his lips would turn up in the slightest smile whenever Shang Qinghua laughed, the way he would go out of his way to give him little things throughout the week, the way he would unsubtly seek him out nearly every day.
At first, he’d been none the wiser to his student’s feelings – for all the attention Mobei Jun seemed to pay him in class, his grades were slipping and Shang Qinghua believed he was only attending office hours every day in an attempt to improve them. But then his grades had improved and half the time he spent with him in his office was spent talking about things other than Economics, and Shang Qinghua could no longer deny the effect Mobei Jun had on him.
Shang Qinghua was a weak, weak man, and in one single night of weakness he’d given in to the student he’d been unquestionably pining for.
Objectively, he knew there would be no problem if he chose to pursue a romantic relationship with his student – as long as he transferred out and wasn’t directly taught and graded by him, it was fine. Case in point: Shen Yuan and his little boyfriend Luo Binghe.
Subjectively though… Well, that was a different story.
Mobei Jun loved him . Him. Unfortunately, Shang Qinghua didn’t know if he was even capable of returning that feeling. Not to mention, Mobei Jun was so young – what could he possibly know about love?
Shang Qinghua was undoubtedly a temptation, a passing fancy, and he couldn’t afford to let him in only to be put aside when the novelty faded.
For that reason, he’d quietly unwrapped himself from Mobei Jun’s arms, gotten dressed, and left. His face– god, Mobei Jun’s face had been absolutely miserable, and he’d had to do everything in his power to steel his resolve and leave before he did something crazy and decided to stay with him instead.
(He already wanted to turn around and go right back.)
Instead, Shang Qinghua skipped (and mourned) his usual routine of getting breakfast from the bakery near Mobei Jun’s apartment and settled for a short, unusually early trip to his usual supermarket before heading home, stocking up on his favorite flavor of instant noodles, and grabbing an assortment of ice cream and chocolate – it was going to be that kind of weekend.
As soon as he got home, he plugged in his phone (which he hadn’t even realized had been dead) to his charger, changed into the most comfortable pajamas he owned, and buried himself under the blankets in his bed. Despite the tumultuous thoughts in his head, the lack of sleep from the previous night quickly caught up to him and he fell asleep easily.
When he woke it was dark, he was hungry and he desperately needed a shower. Ignoring the temptation to check his phone – even though, now that he thought about it, Mobei Jun didn’t really have a way to contact him apart from his university email, so he couldn’t really expect to have any missed calls or messages from him –, he made his way to his small bathroom and spent entirely longer than necessary under the hot water spray, feeling somewhat numb and thoughtless.
He couldn’t really figure out what he’d expected the outcome to be – he’d allowed Mobei Jun to offer him gifts, he’d allowed him to hog his office hours and discreetly kick out every other student, he’d flirted with him, he’d been the one to sit so close to him the previous night that they could almost kiss and…
You’re pathetic , he concluded to himself, turning off the showerhead and wringing the excess water out of his hair. You wanted him, you got him, and then you got scared because you’re pathetic.
It was with that thought in mind that he trudged back to his bedroom, dressing himself again in his pajamas and unplugging the phone from its charger. He had– 26 missed calls?! Who the–
Oh no. He hadn’t even said anything to Shen Yuan last night, had he? He’d just left without a single look back, he was probably–
And yet, Shang Qinghua couldn’t bring himself to care, not really. Sighing, he opened his message thread with Shen Yuan, not really looking at his friend’s previous unread messages, and shot him a quick message saying he was fine and had just left earlier, leaving his phone behind in his bedroom as he went to the living room, where he fully intended to spend the whole weekend buried under mountains of quilts and watching cliché dramas while eating junk food.
It was a solid plan, and that was exactly what he set out to do. The time on his oven read 7:26pm when he finally sat down on his couch, surrounded by the food he’d bought earlier that day, and he settled in for a depressing night.
With a full stomach, it wasn’t long before he was lulled to sleep by the movie he was watching, and he woke up 2h later when the credits were rolling, vaguely realizing that– was someone ringing his doorbell?
Looking at the time on the oven confusedly and realizing that, yes, it really was nearly 11pm so why the hell would someone be visiting this late?, Shang Qinghua fuzzily made his way to the front door, yanking it open without a second thought, ready to snap at whoever had thought it was a good idea to show up unannounced so late.
“Qinghua.”
That was… Mobei Jun?!
“W-What are you doing here?” he asked, a million thoughts racing through his head. How did he know where he lived? How could he have found out? Had he followed him? No, that couldn’t be, because it’d been hours since he’d been home; although, maybe he’d followed him just to know where he lived and then went back home to shower and sleep just like he had?... But still, how would he have known which apartment he lived in?
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun repeated, looking at him with an odd look on his face. “Are you okay? You’re not reacting.”
Right. Because he’d been trying to understand what the hell was going on. That made sense.
“How did you know where I live?” he blurted out, suddenly feeling self conscious about the state of his apartment (and himself, truthfully).
“Luo Binghe,” he said, and those two words somehow explained nothing and everything to Shang Qinghua.
“I didn’t realize you knew him.”
“We’re friends,” he said. “I told him I was worried about you and… well, Professor Shen was worried too, it seems, so he gave me your address.”
“Well that’s very concerning,” he said, frowning. “I hope he doesn’t make a habit out of giving my address to all my students.”
“He’s downstairs waiting for you to signal that everything is fine and I haven’t murdered you in cold blood,” Mobei Jun offered, “ or tied you up and gagged you.”
“What?”
“He gave me your address under the condition that he came along to check if everything was fine.”
That… He would need to have a conversation with Shen Yuan, but for now–
“I suppose you’d like to come in,” he said, too tired to try and sound nicer.
“If you don’t mind.”
Shang Qinghua stepped aside to let him in and walked over to the living room window, pulling it open so he could wave at Shen Yuan, who gestured towards his ear with a phone-like hand gesture. Rolling his eyes, Shang Qinghua retrieved his phone and picked up Shen Yuan’s call.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he asked as quietly as possible, even though he was sure Mobei Jun could probably hear everything he was saying. “What were you thinking, giving my address to a student?”
“Oh, a student?” He could hear Shen Yuan’s mocking tone from miles away. “You mean the student you’ve been spending every day with and who brings you gifts constantly and who – oh, I know – who you went home with last night?”
“How do you know that?” he hissed, praying Mobei Jun hadn’t heard. “It doesn’t mean anything happened!”
“He and Binghe are friends,” was Shen Yuan’s flat response. “Stop messing around with the kid and just get with him already.”
“I’m his teaching assistant!”
“And I was Binghe’s professor, grow up.” He could imagine Shen Yuan rolling his eyes inside the car right now. “You obviously like him, just give him a chance – what’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could break up,” he hissed, realizing how weak of a response it was.
“So?” When Shang Qinghua didn’t respond after a few beats, he continued, “Look, I know you have– issues. But look, you and that student were so obvious that everyone already thinks there’s something going on between you, so it’s better if you just actually get together and he drops your class before someone actually accuses you of something. And yeah, things could go south and you break up, but they could also work out and you could be in a happy relationship for once. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to at least try?”
“I…”
“I’m gonna go – Binghe made dessert for us and we interrupted it for this. You’ll be fine, just try not to be your usual flighty self, have an actual conversation and you’ll be fine.”
And with that he hung up and Luo Binghe started the car, and not two minutes later they were off.
“So can we talk now?” Mobei Jun asked from across the room, leaning casually against one of his bookshelves.
“We can,” he said, resigned to his fate, heading back to the couch and gesturing for Mobei Jun to join him.
They sat on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, and Shang Qinghua didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun started, and he shivered at the familiarity in his voice, remembering the way he’d been inside him less than 24 hours earlier. “I came on too strong.”
Shang Qinghua swallowed, fighting the urge to look away. “A little bit,” he admitted. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of stuff, but I’m pretty sure people don’t usually say ‘I love you’ the first time they get together.”
Mobei Jun seemed surprised – at his lack of experience, maybe? Had he envisioned an older, experienced man who would take him by the hand and show him the ropes?
“Was it your first time?”
Shang Qinghua nodded, and this time he had to look away in embarrassment.
“It was mine too,” Mobei Jun confessed, and Shang Qinghua’s eyes widened in surprise at his statement.
“How is that possible?” he asked, whipping his head around to look back at him. “You–”
Mobei Jun smirked, crossing his arms in amusement, “I believe we had this exact conversation last night.”
Oh. Flushing, he suddenly remembered exactly what he was referring to.
“We did,” he conceded. “But even before…?”
“I was just never interested in anyone before.”
Shang Qinghua was sure Mobei Jun was going to be the death of him, with the way he never beat around the bush, the way he talked about his feelings so matter of factly, the way he wasn’t afraid to show him how he felt.
“I’m not sure I know how to be in a relationship,” he admitted, sliding a little closer to him on the couch.
“We can learn together.” Mobei Jun was the one to slide closer this time.
“I’m not the cool, more experienced, older man you envisioned.”
Mobei Jun chuckled at that, throwing him an amused look. “I know you’re older but that’s not why I like you.”
“Why then?” he whispered, finding himself close enough to Mobei Jun that he could lean in and kiss him if he wanted.
“Everything about you draws me towards you,” Mobei Jun said, and Shang Qinghua gasped as his lips met his neck, pressing tiny, fluttering kisses where he could. “The way you laugh,” he continued, “the way you get so excited about teaching, the way you get so flustered around me.” His words were punctuated with several kisses as he went, and Shang Qinghua found himself closing his eyes and giving in, his hands grabbing onto Mobei Jun’s shoulders in support.
“It will fade,” he whispered, even as he held Mobei Jun tighter, tilting his head upwards so he could access his neck more easily.
“I promise you it won’t,” Mobei Jun said, pulling away from his neck to look at him with darkened eyes. “I could never stop feeling this way about you.”
Maybe it was all the ice cream he’d eaten fogging his brain; maybe it was the way Mobei Jun had pulled him in for a kiss, devouring him in an all consuming way; maybe Mobei Jun’s words were just too sweet and Shang Qinghua was too naive, despite being 7 years older; maybe it was all of these things, but Shang Qinghua found himself unable to resist, unable to keep denying himself, and so he eagerly responded to the kiss, parting his lips under his.
It wasn’t long before he was being pulled into Mobei Jun’s lap, his legs on either side of him, while they eagerly kissed and relearned their way around each other's mouth.
Later, much later, when they were lying in bed in silence, listening to each other’s breaths and to the quiet sounds outside, with only the moonlight streaming in through the single window as the only source of light in the room, wrapped in each other’s arms, Shang Qinghua would wonder why he’d even ran away at first.
And Mobei Jun, well, Mobei Jun would tighten his arms around him and think about how Shang Qinghua was an obsession he never wanted to overcome.