Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lan Zhan used to think that Wei Ying moving to London was the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but waking up next to him on Sunday mornings turns out to beat even that. It still seems impossible that it’s real sometimes, like waking up into a dream and half expecting it to flicker and fade around him. Only it never does.

It becomes an assumed thing pretty much immediately, like the movie nights, and the Saturday food adventures, and Wei Ying sending him photographs from his work trips, and his lunches, and his encounters with pigeons in the park. There’s no need for the special designated set of sheets anymore, because Wei Ying sleeps in Lan Zhan’s bed.

A few weeks in, Lan Zhan still sometimes feels like he needs to pinch himself when they’re out on a date and they’ve just settled the bill and Wei Ying is linking their arms affectionately, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. They’ll be walking down the street towards Lan Zhan’s flat, Wei Ying leaning into Lan Zhan either tipsy or just happy, and it will hit him all over again that he won’t need to sneak a subversive look at Grindr to line up a partner to make him feel less alone when he gets home, because Wei Ying will be there. Wei Ying will be in his bed, and tangling himself around Lan Zhan in the shower, and singing his praises over breakfast, and leaving his mark on every corner of Lan Zhan’s flat and every part of his body, just the way he always has on Lan Zhan’s heart.

He does occasionally feel painfully aware that he has no practice at being in relationships at all. His uni boyfriend was so long ago, and everything was still new then, the sex and companionship all tangled up into something intimidating, overwhelming at times. It’s so much easier with Wei Ying that he sometimes worries he won’t know if he’s coming on too strong, or expecting too much, or missing some series of cues. But every time he gets nervous, Wei Ying seems to see it in him, and somehow knows exactly what to say to ease his worries. And then he remembers that it’s not actually as new as it feels. He knows Wei Ying better than anyone in his life, apart from family, and Wei Ying… Wei Ying knows him too.

As the weather turns warmer, Wei Ying’s football group starts holding more matches, and Lan Zhan makes it a habit to turn up to at least every other one, even though Wei Ying keeps insisting he doesn’t have to. The first few times, as he stands around awkwardly in the wet grass feeling every bit the part of himself that is “not good with people,” it is more a show of loyalty than anything else. But once he gets to know a few people, it does become rather fun. There’s a small group of wives and girlfriends, and the occasional boyfriend, who tend to gather together behind the barrier to share snacks and gossip, and all of that feels much more Lan Zhan’s speed than the pub nights. He goes along to those once or twice as well, and also finds them more enjoyable now that he can sit close to Wei Ying and enjoy the feeling of belonging to him even when the conversation gets too rowdy for his tastes.

They go to visit Xichen in Norfolk in March, not long after Lan Zhan breaks the news to both Xichen and their uncle that he and Wei Ying are dating. (His uncle’s reaction is somewhat less vocally enthused than Xichen’s, but on the whole he seems to settle into a position of resigned support.) On the train ride up, Wei Ying is almost giddy, spinning wild plans of recreating all the best pranks and hijinks of their youth. But once they’re actually there, a much more gentle nostalgia seems to settle over him as they explore the secret passageways, and sort through a few old boxes Lan Zhan still has in storage, and steal kisses in Lan Zhan’s uncle’s old study. They hold hands on quiet walks along the shore and make hand-pulled noodles with Xichen for dinner, and then they all spend the evening in the lounge watching Sabrina. At night they have quiet, fumbly sex in Lan Zhan’s old bed, and Wei Ying clings to him long afterwards, saying they should visit here more often.

Lan Zhan would like nothing more than for Wei Ying to move in with him. The impulse to ask has been there since about the second night Wei Ying stayed over in Lan Zhan’s bed, but he’s been tamping it down, not wanting to push Wei Ying into anything he’s not ready for. He could certainly make a case for it based on London rents, and the fact that Wei Ying’s shared flat will become a furnace in the summer—but he doesn’t want Wei Ying to move in with him purely for practical reasons either, and possibly end up regretting it. So he waits.

In any case, he feels surprisingly calm about it all somehow, because deep down in some indefinable way he knows it will happen sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time.

As spring starts in earnest and the food festivals start popping up again, they end up going to a lot of those, though Wei Ying is always mindful of when the crush of people gets to be too much for Lan Zhan. They’re at a barbecue festival in Devon, Lan Zhan trying to figure out how to bite the last of the meat off of a sauce-covered rib without biting his own fingers when he catches Wei Ying looking at him from across a picnic table with a dab of sauce on his nose. “You know, Lan Zhan, I really love you,” Wei Ying says, reaching over to pluck the stubborn strand of meat off with his fingers and feed it to Lan Zhan himself. Lan Zhan doesn’t remember the rest of what they ate that day, or any of the music, or anything else really except Wei Ying in his arms, telling him again whenever he asks, wrapped around him in their hotel room that night.

After months of diligent foodie adventures, Wei Ying gets it into his head that they should be more self-sufficient and get better at making their own international cuisine. So bright and early one Saturday morning—so early in Wei-Ying-terms that Lan Zhan honestly worries for a moment that there might be some kind of emergency—he turns up at Lan Zhan’s with a determined glint, a secondhand cookbook that seems to be in Thai, and an extensive shopping list, and hustles Lan Zhan out the door to the farmer’s market.

It’s like a sweet, uncomplicated echo of that Christmas shopping excursion as they wander around the market, collecting fresh onions and chilies and tomatoes, and anything else they can find that’s on Wei Ying’s list. They head for the Asian market next to get the rest, and then back to Lan Zhan’s flat, where Wei Ying promptly puts him to work chopping vegetables and grinding whole spices as Wei Ying assembles what seems like an unusually large amount of a thing that neither one of them have ever made or tasted before.

“What if it’s good though, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying points out, when Lan Zhan asks him why he didn’t perhaps start with a smaller batch. “We’ll want to have a lot for leftovers…”

Lan Zhan adores him, completely and utterly, even as Wei Ying is chopping up a mountain of onions so large Lan Zhan isn’t sure he even has a pot big enough to cook them in.

It’s bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

~      ~      ~

Lan Zhan is hands down the best boyfriend Wei Ying has ever had.

Which, yes, is not a very big contest, but still.

As they settle into the rhythm of a relationship, it’s honestly kind of amazing to him how little actually changes. They still get together for movie nights, and Lan Zhan still takes him out for paella and goulash and Mongolian dumplings (not all at once) and makes him watch silly romance movies and flashy musicals in the West End—though, okay, he does have to admit that RENT was lit. But around and underneath and in between all that, they get to kiss, and they get to fuck, and he… basically just feels like an idiot for not realizing they were so close to this all this time. They’ve been dating since he moved to London—he just didn’t notice.

When he points this out to Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan just gives him this extremely flat stare. So apparently Lan Zhan did notice.

Anyway. It’s fucking awesome.

A few weeks after they make things official, while they’re still caught up in the rush of it all, Wei Ying finally talks Lan Zhan into going clubbing with him in Soho. It’s a really fun night, and Lan Zhan is actually a surprisingly good dancer—or maybe not so surprisingly, given how good he is in bed—but there’s something about being surrounded by all these hot guys and getting a glimpse into the part of Lan Zhan’s life that he kept hidden for so long that makes Wei Ying… wonder. Wei Ying for his part has never found monogamy difficult, not even when he was with people he wasn’t nearly as into as he is into Lan Zhan, but he knows that’s not true for everybody. And Lan Zhan went so all-in on them being exclusive right away, no questions no negotiations, that Wei Ying can’t help worrying a tiny little bit that maybe… maybe Lan Zhan is hiding again. In a different way this time. Not that he doubts how Lan Zhan feels about him or anything like that—he knows Lan Zhan is very, very into him, and things are great between them overall—but he also knows from what Lan Zhan has since told him that Lan Zhan used to have  an extremely varied and well-staffed sex life, and he seems to have pivoted all the way over from that to Wei Ying and Wei Ying’s Dick Only in like, a day. And that seems… potentially problematic?

He admits to this niggling worry a couple of nights later while they’re cleaning up after dinner, Lan Zhan at the sink and Wei Ying putting away the leftovers. At first it seems like Lan Zhan just thinks he’s having some kind of insecurity crisis or whatever. But once Wei Ying gets Lan Zhan to understand what he means—that it’s not that he thinks he’s not enough, but that he thinks Lan Zhan may be giving up more than is right for him—Lan Zhan sits him down on the couch, and they end up talking late into the night about Lan Zhan’s teenaged crush on him, and what exactly he got out of all those hook-ups, and why that isn’t something he feels he needs anymore.

It takes a lot of going in circles about it, but in the end Wei Ying finally feels like he understands where Lan Zhan is coming from, and that this pivot to ultra-monogamy isn’t just some new form of self-repression. Which is admittedly a relief, because although Wei Ying doesn’t mind other people thirsting over Lan Zhan in general, and he does think he could probably gear himself up for some level of openness if Lan Zhan’s happiness depended on it, the fact is that he doesn’t really like the idea of Lan Zhan sleeping with anyone else. Or himself sleeping with anyone else either, for that matter.

Overall, it becomes more and more obvious through their conversations that Lan Zhan has basically known who he was and what he wanted for, like, ever. As a result, the degree to which Wei Ying really never knew what was going on in his head does give him some more food for thought. For a little bit, he wonders if it’s really just Lan Zhan—he’s so into Lan Zhan—and maybe there’s some kind of magical chemistry between the two of them that he’s been missing all this time, and it’s got nothing to do with the guy thing. But as he thinks back more on his relationships with Cal, and with Mianmian, and with all the other girls he’s dated over the years, and also takes an honest look at his fairly vanilla porn collection and what he’s actually paying attention to when he watches it, it just becomes clearer and clearer that he’s actually not straight. And probably not really bi either, in any meaningful sense. He doesn’t really want to fuck anyone who isn’t Lan Zhan right now, but when he asks himself in the abstract what he’d do dating-wise if Lan Zhan ditched him tomorrow—besides be inconsolable for the rest of his life, obviously—he figures it would probably be dick. Just, like, not random hits-him-up-in-a-club dick. Dick attached to someone he likes.

In terms of higher-minded pursuits, he finally almost, almost gets Lan Zhan to watch Iron Man with him—one evening in March he just goes for it all the way, folds himself up in Lan Zhan’s lap with his arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, and makes a sad yearning face and goes, “But I’m your boyfriend, Lan Zhan!” and then watches Lan Zhan crumble. But he’s also a nice boyfriend, so he pivots to Wonder Woman as a compromise.

It ends up sparking a whole conversation about which one of them would look sexier in gold armor, which in turn leads to a couple of new adventures involving Lan Zhan’s Secret Sex Drawer, so he thinks even Lan Zhan would consider that evening an evening well spent.

Wei Ying does, by the way, become very, very good at sucking Lan Zhan’s dick. He discovers which of Lan Zhan’s army of dildos he likes best for putting inside Lan Zhan while he’s engaging in said dick-sucking, though he also has fun one time lining them all up in a row and making Lan Zhan take each one of them in turn. (“We shouldn’t play favorites, Lan Zhan, they’ll be sad!”) He’s proud of how horny-flustered it makes Lan Zhan as he lets himself be fucked by each dildo while his own dick is studiously ignored.

In general, he also just learns a lot. He starts teaching himself shibari. He finds out that the ball gag Lan Zhan owns seems sexy in theory, but that Lan Zhan not being able to talk is kind of the opposite of what he really wants. He learns that Lan Zhan likes his dirty talk way more filthy than Wei Ying ever would have expected of him, and that the filthier it gets, the more he likes to be cuddled afterwards. Wei Ying’s natural ability to run his mouth turns out to be great for this, once he’s past his initial worry that he’s being rude, and he is more than happy to deliver on the requisite cuddles as well.

In April, while they’re traveling in northern Scotland, eating homemade sandwiches on the train, Lan Zhan floats the idea of Wei Ying moving in with him. He seems surprisingly nervous about bringing it up, which… honestly, Wei Ying wasn’t going to be the one to just invite himself, and he is in favor of taking things slow and not fucking any of this up, but it is also an obvious question with how much time they already spend together at Lan Zhan’s. It’s true Wei Ying is a bit nervous too—the last person he lived with as a partner was Mianmian, and the tail end of that relationship was kind of a mess—but he and Lan Zhan are just so solid, and Wei Ying has his own drawer in Lan Zhan’s dresser by now, and he knows his way around the kitchen and the TV and the Lan Zhan’s fancy rice maker, and it’s just… it feels right.

He still has to figure out his flatshare situation—his first year contract isn’t up until September, and he doesn’t know how the landlord is going to be about a sublet—but they’ll figure it out. And anyway, the absolutely besotted look on Lan Zhan’s face when Wei Ying says yes is totally worth it.

So yeah, they go on like that, figuring things out as they go along. Wei Ying starts leaving sweatshirts and shoes and camera equipment around Lan Zhan’s apartment, and he starts shopping around for someone to take over his rental contract, and he comes by in the evenings after saying goodbye to friends at the pub, and they watch movies and cook and fuck. And every bit of it is spectacular.

~      ~      ~

Lan Zhan tries not to shiver as the blindfold pulls snug over his eyes. His skin is already alight from the earlier poses, Wei Ying directing him this way and that, and he’s following every slip and tug as Wei Ying loops the knot at the back of his head, then pulls it tight. Not so tight that it’s uncomfortable—just a firm pressure, leaving him in darkness.

He’s aware of the tension in his arms, the way it must bring out his muscles as he keeps himself upright. Wei Ying has him bent over slightly, his palms pressing flat against the dining table, his wrists bound together by light blue silk. It’s a tie for show this time, for the visual, like his own bondage used to be—not like the shibari knots Wei Ying has started teaching himself over the past three months—but even so, Lan Zhan feels no less restrained.

The air moves warm against his back as Wei Ying steps in closer. Lan Zhan feels Wei Ying’s hands at his hips, just over the waistband of his jeans, readjusting him gently, tilting his hips out just that bit more. It moves the denim against his filling cock and he can’t help a gasp at the friction.

“That’s good,” Wei Ying murmurs, brushing down the curve of Lan Zhan’s spine with his hand like he’s measuring the angle. Like he approves of the shape, and the way he’s instructed Lan Zhan to present himself. “Perfect. So pretty, Lan Zhan. Stay just like that.”

Lan Zhan swallows, keeping himself as still as possible. He can hear Wei Ying’s bare feet against the floor as he moves, and the drag of his camera strap against the surface of the table. He imagines Wei Ying picking up the camera, inspecting its settings. He’s so attuned in the darkness that he can hear the tiny sounds of Wei Ying making adjustments to the lens.

Then there’s the soft sound of the shutter. It runs through Lan Zhan’s veins like fire, knowing he’s being seen like this. Being captured.

His cock is getting harder, pressing ever so slightly against the table. He tries to keep his breathing steady, even. To stay where Wei Ying put him. Wei Ying shifts around, taking a few pictures from somewhere off to Lan Zhan’s left, then moving in closer, almost in front of him. It sends goosebumps all over Lan Zhan’s skin every time he feels the air shift, not seeing, but somehow knowing how Wei Ying looks at him, assessing, adjusting—working to make him look good. Inviting.

“Watch the hips there,” Wei Ying says, on his left again, close. The soft correction sends another surge of heat through Lan Zhan’s veins. “I can see you’re getting hard.” He puts his left hand on Lan Zhan’s hip again and squeezes gently in admonishment. The touch falls just short of Lan Zhan’s cock, though it pulls the denim enough to make him draw in a sharp breath. His skin flushes with yearning, and the need to please Wei Ying. To look good for him. “Don’t hide it. Let the camera see.” 

It makes his head feel light and dizzy as he does what he’s told, canting his hips back again. His cock wants the pressure of the table, of anything, but it feels good to follow Wei Ying’s instructions, to feel his eyes all over him. It feels good not to think, to just do as Wei Ying tells him.

“There you go,” Wei Ying says, in that low, approving voice. “So gorgeous, Lan Zhan.” Lan Zhan feels it burn down the sides of his throat. “Oh, yeah, that’s perfect. Anyone who sees this will wish they could get on their knees for you in a heartbeat.”

Wei Ying is aroused, too—Lan Zhan can tell by the sound of his voice, by his uneven breath as he moves around to take a few pictures of Lan Zhan from behind. But he keeps his focus somehow, his shutter snapping and fluttering as he sizes up options and captures every angle. It’s that professional focus that makes it burn even sharper somehow, the way Wei Ying leashes his desire to capture every part of Lan Zhan, like an artist at a canvas.

Wei Ying comes back around to his left, getting in close enough that Lan Zhan can smell the arousal on him. But his touch is instructing, abstract, as he tilts Lan Zhan’s chin up and turns his face toward him slightly. Like his own want is completely secondary to making Lan Zhan look as seductive as possible.

“Open your mouth a little,” Wei Ying says. “Yeah, like that.” The shutter sound snaps over Lan Zhan’s skin like a caress. Then Wei Ying adjusts Lan Zhan’s posture some more, tilting his head up further. “Yeah, good. Like you’re waiting for someone to kiss you.” Wei Ying huffs a small breath that sounds a bit shivery. “Or maybe put a cock in your mouth,” he adds, his voice low, soft.

He dips away again, and the sudden distance prickles cool over Lan Zhan’s skin. But Lan Zhan holds the pose.

The darkness around him is like a charge all over him, knowing he’s at Wei Ying’s mercy like this. Wei Ying gets to decide how he looks. Wei Ying gets to decide when he moves, and where. He is Wei Ying’s.

There are footsteps behind him again. “You look so good, Lan Zhan. I want to show you off with that blindfold,” Wei Ying says from somewhere lower to the ground, on his right this time. Show him off. It races over Lan Zhan, would make his knees weak if he weren’t so determined to be good, the way Wei Ying exposes him without exposing him.

There’s a moment of stillness then. Lan Zhan listens for the slightest shift of fabric, suspended in this dark, close heat. The small sound of the camera being powered down and set on the table seems impossibly loud.

He shudders when Wei Ying suddenly steps in behind him, his hands settling on Lan Zhan’s hips. The heat of Wei Ying’s body as Wei Ying leans over him makes Lan Zhan dizzy, and he can’t stop the gasp when Wei Ying presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck.

“That was perfect,” Wei Ying says. “You make it really hard not to jump you right there, you know that?”

It runs through him thick like honey, like a singing, safe weight. Lan Zhan’s hips want to press against the table, but he keeps them still, waits.

Wei Ying’s hands are running down Lan Zhan’s bare shoulders and arms, drawing shivers in their wake. Wei Ying is so close, but not close enough, just a brush of his t-shirt against Lan Zhan’s back every now and then, and those hands holding him fast. Wei Ying spreads slow, hot kisses over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. “I can feel you shivering. It’s so hot.”

If he begs, will Wei Ying grab him and take him? Take all of him?

“So, I don’t think I’m done with you yet,” Wei Ying says, and then he’s closer, there, his hips pressed up against Lan Zhan from behind. A hard bulge there, so close.

Lan Zhan lets out a plaintive sound.

“Do you think we’re done, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan hears the smile in it, and he can’t help the way his hips buck back against that teasing pressure.

But Wei Ying leaves him waiting. Puts another open-mouthed kiss on his back.

“Do you, Lan Zhan?”

“No.” It shudders out of him.

“Hmm, that’s right,” Wei Ying says, sounding pleased with himself. “Because you want something else, don’t you?” His hands are sliding down Lan Zhan’s sides, grabbing his hips in show of possessiveness. “You don’t just want me to take all these slutty pictures of you, you want me to bend you over this table and fuck you.” He’s breathing against Lan Zhan’s neck and twisting his hips, letting Lan Zhan feel his cock. “Show you that you’re mine.”

Lan Zhan lets out another whine. He nods jerkily, hopes it’s enough, because it’s like he’s too drunk for words. Wei Ying has him, and wants him, and loves to fuck him, and he feels so seen and so safe.

Wei Ying’s hands sweep around to the front, flicking open the button on his jeans, and Lan Zhan sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have anything on underneath, and the edges of the metal zipper are a little sting against his skin as Wei Ying draws it down, slow and teasing. And then Wei Ying’s hand is slipping inside and taking him in a firm, familiar grip. “Yeah, you need it so much,” Wei Ying says, and the humiliation burns and sparkles along every inch of Lan Zhan’s skin.

He moans as Wei Ying suddenly lets go of him. The way Wei Ying grabs his jeans and pulls them down around his thighs is sharp, making a point, and the point burns over Lan Zhan’s skin. He can feel Wei Ying fumbling at his own pants, and the image of Wei Ying unzipping himself to fuck him swims behind Lan Zhan’s closed eyes, makes his cock harder and needier.

“Bend down,” Wei Ying says softly, but his hand is also there, firm against his spine and guiding him forward, down, until he sinks to his elbows with his stomach against the cool wood.

There’s the sound of a bottle cap, and then a slick grip, quick and efficient. He gives a sharp gasp when he feels Wei Ying’s cock pressing in without preamble, and he draws in a shaking breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to relax around the intrusion, let Wei Ying in. “Oh, yeah, that’s so good,” Wei Ying says, on a shaking breath. He pushes in slowly, but steadily, his hand still on the center of Lan Zhan’s back, never quite letting up. “You were so good, Lan Zhan. Posing for me. Letting me take all these dirty pictures. You looked so hot. I wanted to do this the entire time. I couldn’t wait to get my cock inside you.”

 Lan Zhan moans into his arms and tilts his hips upwards into the stretch, urging Wei Ying to go faster.

“And eager, too,” Wei Ying says, with a teasing smile in his voice. “You must really need it. You should have told me you were so desperate for it, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Zhan makes another muffled noise into the crook of his elbow. He wants to say something—sometimes he’s able to tease back—but his brain feels white and full of glitter, like static in a snowstorm.

“Yes,” Wei Ying says, as his hips press flush against Lan Zhan’s ass, and Lan Zhan feels full and held and entirely Wei Ying’s. “Fuck, Lan Zhan. I love it when you sound like that.” He rocks his hips, slowly, gently, settling in.

Lan Zhan moans again, half pleasure and half frustration. But it’s all part of it, Wei Ying’s pace. Wei Ying teasing him, making him squirm with need and a hot hungry shame. He loves it so much.

He feels Wei Ying pull out, and then slide himself back in, all easy. Lan Zhan can feel it ringing inside his head as if Wei Ying had said it out loud. I can fuck you for however long I want.

Then Wei Ying’s grip shifts, from his hips to his ass, his fingers digging into the muscle, sliding along his cheeks.

Spreading him.

It runs through him hot and cold and new, every part of him trembling.

“I should take pictures of you like this sometime,” Wei Ying says. His voice is thick with desire, his next thrust full and languid. “You taking my cock.” Lan Zhan makes a helpless noise, and he sees it, he can see it—Wei Ying holding his ass open and watching himself fuck into it. “Would you like that, Lan Zhan? Should I have my camera ready for it next time?”

Yes. It burns through him, just on that edge of shame and want, letting Wei Ying document how much he needs it, needs exactly this.

“I’m so glad I get to have you like this, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s voice suddenly drops lower, and it’s so filthy between the way Wei Ying’s hands still hold him open, and the way he feels Wei Ying’s cock rocking in and out of him—but he also hears the sweetness underneath, the way it wraps all around him.

Wei Ying drops a hot kiss between Lan Zhan’s shoulder blades. “You can look all slutty for other people, but I’m the only one who gets to give you this.” He sinks in all the way again, finally letting go of Lan Zhan’s cheeks and grabbing his hips hard instead.

Lan Zhan moans.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you,” Wei Ying says, a little breathless as he drives in hard again once, twice.

“Yes.” It comes out hoarse, needy. He tries to spread his legs wider against the confines of the jeans. He hears Wei Ying breathe out a happy little laugh, and that burns through him too.

“Tell me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, with a soft little thrust, before he goes still again. “Tell me what you want.”

Lan Zhan can’t think. He can’t form words. All the words are bubbling under the surface, popping into nothingness the moment they reach the open air. He needs Wei Ying to move. He needs more.

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” Wei Ying says in that innocently taunting voice. “I mean, I have some idea, maybe, from the way you’re squirming around on my cock. But I don’t want to guess wrong…”

Lan Zhan huffs out another breath, lets it all roll over him. “Fuck me,” he says.

“Fuck you?” Wei Ying asks, and then he moves his hips slowly, gently, out just a little bit and then in again. “You mean like this, all nice and slow?”

Lan Zhan shakes his head, hips canting to try to force Wei Ying to pick up the pace. “No,” he rasps. “Fuck me hard. Like you mean it.” It just flows out of him, and he knows Wei Ying will catch him, lay him bare and hold him safe. “Like I’m yours.”

He feels the shudder that runs through Wei Ying, and it goes deep where they’re connected. “I can do that,” Wei Ying says, his voice slipping off balance. He pulls out and shoves in harder, hard enough that Lan Zhan feels sparks behind his eyes, and his cock bumps up against the bottom of the table. Wei Ying leans in again, his voice thick with need. “Because you are. All mine.”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan says, as Wei Ying finally picks up the pace, holding him right where he wants him and driving into him again and again. Yes, Lan Zhan whispers, and yours, over and over until Lan Zhan can barely breathe with how good it feels, with how free it is. Wei Ying’s cock, and his touch, and the breathless whispers of mine, all mine.  

~      ~      ~

Lan Zhan looks so adorable sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blue blanket, his hair mussed and damp from the shower. Below the mug of tea he’s holding there’s a slight redness at his wrist where he was struggling against the ties. He just looks happy—tired and happy and sated, and completely fucking adorable.

“All good?” Wei Ying asks as he sinks down into the seat beside him on the couch, setting up his laptop on the coffee table in front of them. His legs are still a little wobbly, his body glowing with the rush of being bossy and pervy and getting Lan Zhan to completely let go like that. Also, from coming so hard it’s amazing his brain is online at all.

Lan Zhan nods, opening up his blanket cocoon to wrap half of it around Wei Ying’s shoulders as well, drawing him closer. He always gets really cuddly after an evening like this, where they let things get a little rough. Obviously the fucking itself is mindblowing, but this right here—this might even be the part Wei Ying likes best about doing it like this. Cuddly Lan Zhan.

“Okay, let’s see here,” Wei Ying says, opening up his laptop and navigating to the folder for the SD card. He feels Lan Zhan shift closer, looping his arm around Wei Ying’s, and it pulls a smile from deep within him. So cuddly.

The first picture is of Lan Zhan splayed out on the floor on his back, his hands bound with handcuffs, the chain threaded through one of his front belt loops. A sizzle runs through Wei Ying at the sight. The pose was his idea, and the picture turned out fucking scorching. Next to him, he can feel Lan Zhan’s quiet smile, satisfaction radiating out of him.

After their initial general talk about the monogamy thing and Lan Zhan’s rapid shift away from the hook-up lifestyle, it took Wei Ying some further poking and prodding to tease out of Lan Zhan that he would maybe, possibly, probably still enjoy doing his dirty photography once in a while. And moreover, that he would maybe, probably, secretly also enjoy the erotic attention that comes with putting the photos out there for others to see. Which Wei Ying was totally on board with and willing to let him have as his own personal thing—except that it also became clear that handing over the reins to Wei Ying for the actual shooting of the photos was not only not a detriment to the experience, but kind of an extra special bonus.

And then, well. Obviously there was the added benefit of getting to fuck afterwards, instead of just parting ways with mutual guilty blueballs like that first time.

Wei Ying uses his little presentation pointer to click on to the next photograph, so he doesn’t have to deprive Lan Zhan of his pillow. That first pose on the floor with the handcuffs tied to Lan Zhan’s belt really made for some interesting shapes—though the position was a little bit limiting, and that comes through in the photos too.

The next set is one with no toys at all, just Lan Zhan with his hand playing at the front of his jeans, his fly half undone.

“I like this one,” Wei Ying says, to one where Lan Zhan’s lower lip looks a little bit swollen and the hand on his crotch seems caught in mid-movement, like he doesn’t know whether he’s allowed to proceed. He can see it’s going to look great even with the top half of Lan Zhan’s face cropped out. “You are very naughty.”

Lan Zhan links their fingers underneath the blanket. “I was merely following instructions,” he says, a little too sated to be properly prim about it.

Then they get to the pose with the dining table.

It actually took until their second post-relationship sexy photoshoot before Wei Ying even worked up the nerve to admit he’d had a fantasy about this during that first time. Somehow even with everything else, even with all the kink discovery and sex drawers and bondage research, the fact that he’d had an actual fantasy about arranging Lan Zhan in a provocative pose, making him look so imminently fuckable, when they hadn’t even been together yet and he was officially just the photographer guy, still felt a little too… something. Too rude, maybe.

Which, he knows, does not make sense. Lan Zhan told him as much once Wei Ying finally managed to spill the beans about it.

And Lan Zhan also seemed super into the idea.

The pictures look amazing. After cropping, the blindfold won’t be visible at least in the frontal angles—but still, Lan Zhan looks fucking gorgeous, with his arms propping him up just so, and the lamp hanging over the dining table lighting him sharply from above, bringing out the curves of muscle running down his arms. The photos from behind are a little less spectacular as artwork, but they still send a heavy thrum of want shooting down between Wei Ying’s legs. He remembers what came after that, when he peeled off those jeans and just went for it, buried himself inside.

Lan Zhan is just… so fucking amazing.

Lan Zhan lets out a soft breath as Wei Ying pages through to one of the profile shots where Lan Zhan has his head thrown back and his ass slightly pushed out, like he’s waiting for something. Someone.

“Not this one,” he says on an impulse.

Lan Zhan peers up at him curiously.

“I want that one for myself,” Wei Ying explains, squeezing Lan Zhan’s knee possessively over his sweatpants.

The flush in Lan Zhan’s face is both super cute and really, really hot. Wei Ying loves the way Lan Zhan responds to any evidence that Wei Ying is into him like that, even after all this time.

Wei Ying shoots him a little smile. “I need material for when you’re off at one of your fish conferences or whatever, or when I have to travel for work. A guy has needs, you know,” he says, stroking his fingers a little teasingly along the inside of Lan Zhan’s thigh. “So, yeah. I’m claiming that one. It’s mine.”

He can feel Lan Zhan’s soft intake of breath against his shoulder, feel the echo of horniness in the way his body shifts under Wei Ying’s touch. Wei Ying turns his head, and finds that Lan Zhan’s eyes have gone dark in that way that means he’s getting turned on.

He’s a bit surprised when Lan Zhan’s hand reaches for him only to cup the side of his face, pulling him in for a deep, tender kiss. “You’re wonderful,” Lan Zhan says against his mouth, and his eyes are so soft and full of warmth, Wei Ying could lose himself in them.

He’s just. He’s just so fucking happy. It feels impossible to be this happy.

“You too,” Wei Ying says, nosing in and giving Lan Zhan another sweet kiss. Then he nods his head towards the screen again. “But hey, now for the real decision. Which one of these goes up for your fanboys?”

Lan Zhan makes a little face of consternation, turning his attention back to the photos.

It really is annoying that the picture display options on Grindr are so limited, Wei Ying thinks as he clicks through a few more shots of Lan Zhan looking extremely slutty. Now that they’ve done a few more of these sessions, Wei Ying has started getting ideas for like, triptychs and whole series and things that could be really cool. At one point he tried to talk Lan Zhan into letting him design a collage that they could put up in the bedroom, but Lan Zhan shot down that idea, arguing that he doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother or uncle stumbling across it when they go to use the ensuite or something. Which, fair enough.

Still though, it’s become clear that Grindr is way too limiting for the level of art they’re creating at this point. And anyway, now that Lan Zhan is off the market, it does feel a bit cruel to keep teasing all those guys with Lan Zhan’s amazing photographs.

Wei Ying has started looking into other venues—he’s currently in favor of OnlyFans, though Lan Zhan still thinks a self-hosted blog might be more fitting—but for now, Grindr is what they’ve got.

“I like this one,” Lan Zhan says, pointing at one of the thumbnails in the album from the dining table set. It’s shot from the front, but with Lan Zhan’s face turned off to the side, his chin lifted just so. The lighting is really gorgeous on his skin. And the angle and composition will totally work even with half of Lan Zhan’s face cropped out.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying breathes, feeling his cock stir weakly as he sweeps his eyes down over the arch of Lan Zhan’s body in the photograph. “Yeah, that one is… pretty good.”

Lan Zhan reluctantly lets go of his arm so Wei Ying can scoot forward and do a quick edit pass, mostly just tweaking the color profile and fiddling with the cropping. He can feel Lan Zhan watching him throughout, sipping at his tea and occasionally leaning in to press a kiss to Wei Ying’s shoulder, or slide an arm around his waist and scratch his nails gently down his spine.

Once he’s got the image exported as a jpeg, he sends the file to Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan uploads it from his phone. They settle in again after that and scroll through some of the remaining photos again while they wait for it to be approved.

Then the messages start coming.

Lan Zhan scans them first—Wei Ying doesn’t interfere because he’s big on Lan Zhan’s personal sexual autonomy these days, even though honestly he’s pretty sure by now that what Lan Zhan is doing is deleting any actually rude messages so Wei Ying doesn’t blow a fuse again like that one time—and then they go through them together.

why are you not single any more your too hot please let me suck your dick

are you sure you and yr boyfriend aren’t open?

i want to lick all the way down your stomach and make you take my cock

you are so beautiful, babe

wanna be inside u so bad rn

would yr boyfriend count it as cheating if I just eat you out and jerk off?

so hot, omg

It always does something to him, seeing everyone want Lan Zhan like that. Now it’s fluttering through his sated exhaustion like a glimmer of sunlight—that strange mixture of horny and mine.

“Satisfied?” he asks, his hand stroking quiet circles over Lan Zhan’s thigh.

It’s late and today was intense, but he can feel the hint of arousal in the way Lan Zhan shifts against his hand, and the way his eyes sweep over the messages on his phone.

“I’m pleased that your art is appreciated,” Lan Zhan concedes. His smile is slow with exhaustion, but there’s a spark underneath.

“Hmmm,” Wei Ying says, nodding thoughtfully. He looks down at the phone in Lan Zhan’s hand again, watching another message come in, another guy out there somewhere begging for Lan Zhan’s attention.

Not going to get it though. Just like all the others.

“I would, for what it’s worth,” Wei Ying says, sliding his hand higher until it’s pressed against Lan Zan’s cock.

Lan Zhan breathes in sharply, but then he settles into the touch. Even puts his own hand over Wei Ying’s and presses it down a little more firmly, like Wei Ying can paw at him whenever. Or he can use Wei Ying’s hand whenever, that too. It’s hot. “You would what?” Lan Zhan asks curiously.

Wei Ying leans in closer. “Consider it cheating. If some guy ate you out and jerked off on you.” He feels Lan Zhan’s intake of breath, and presses a whispery kiss to the corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth. “If anyone gets to come on you, it’s going to be me.”

Lan Zhan does shudder at that, and Wei Ying grins, nipping at Lan Zhan’s ear. He’s buzzing with it, the scene and the sex and the closeness, and the perviness of Lan Zhan’s internet adventures. He presses down on Lan Zhan’s dick again, more purposefully this time.

“Want a nightcap?”

Lan Zhan blinks at him in a daze. He’s so gorgeous like this—he is gorgeous always, but this melty softness in him wraps itself right around Wei Ying’s heart. “A what?”

Wei Ying slides off the couch and settles himself between Lan Zhan’s legs, pushing them apart enough to make space. “I think you want a nightcap,” he says, tugging down the waistband of Lan Zhan’s joggers and pulling out his dick. “I know I want a nightcap.”

As Wei Ying sinks down on him, he can feel the gasp shudder through Lan Zhan’s body, and the whimper of want that comes after it. It’s a lazy kind of blowjob. Lan Zhan sinks his hands into Wei Ying’s hair as Wei Ying sucks, and his entire body is languid and easy under Wei Ying’s hands, even as Wei Ying winds him higher. When it feels like Lan Zhan is close, Wei Ying gets a hand around himself and brings himself off too, loving the feeling of Lan Zhan in his mouth, of Lan Zhan all around him, Lan Zhan like home.

It’s everything he never knew he wanted. And he can’t wait to have this for the rest of his life.