Work Text:
The thing is, Mo Ran’s intentions were good.
Since the day Mo Ran had started at Sisheng, he’d known Chu Wanning was a chronic workaholic. Chu Wanning had a penchant for micromanaging, an inability to leave well enough alone, and a work schedule that could make anyone weep—always already there by the time Mo Ran came in, always the last to leave.
But lately, with a new massive project for their company looming on the horizon, Chu Wanning had been adding overtime to his overtime. He’d developed eyebags so deep an airline could charge extra for them. His irritability radiated so strongly off of him that the summer interns scuttled away like mice the second he rounded a corner.
Mo Ran just wanted to try to take care of his dear overworked supervisor, since Chu Wanning clearly had no intention of taking care of himself. It had started small: snacks and coffees brought to his desk, helping him organize said desk, bringing him dinner. Then it escalated: making him dinner at his apartment, helping him organize said apartment, picking up his dry cleaning, and so on and so forth.
Eventually, just for convenience’s sake, Mo Ran had acquired a spare key to Chu Wanning’s place, giving him theoretical access to his living quarters all the time. This created a dilemma.
Chu Wanning tends to naturally forge an environment for himself that Mo Ran would generally describe as “unliveable”. He only seems to have a vague conceptual understanding of what laundry is, and his idea of cleaning the floor is just picking up whatever random bullshit he’d strewn around and jenga-ing it into towers on the coffee table. The first time Mo Ran had ever come over, he’d tried to be gentle with his assessment, but the sheer number of hours and trips it took to fix it—because it had, in fact, taken days—made it obvious just how bad it was.
Yet little by little, Mo Ran did manage to accomplish the impressive feat of making Chu Wanning’s one-bedroom apartment clean and livable—spick and span, floor to ceiling.
In every room but one.
Mo Ran has only ever seen glimpses of Chu Wanning’s bedroom, quick sightings of piles of clutter and papers before Chu Wanning would hastily slam the door shut. Mo Ran had previously thought about broaching the subject, but could never come up with any permutation of the words can we go into your bedroom? that wouldn’t make Chu Wanning oscillate between three different shades of red and then stab him.
Chu Wanning wasn’t even comfortable with Mo Ran hanging out too much in the kitchen—he would always linger uncomfortably in the doorway as Mo Ran cooked, hunched like a cat with its hackles raised while Mo Ran played at domesticity. The bedroom would be… much worse. The bedroom is an intimate place, and if there’s one thing Chu Wanning is great at, it’s breaking out in hives over anything even slightly resembling intimacy.
So therein lies Mo Ran’s conundrum. The bedroom needs to be cleaned, and Chu Wanning will never give him permission to clean it. In cases like this, wouldn’t it be better to just ask for forgiveness?
There’s a planned meeting with Rufeng today, which means Chu Wanning won’t be home for hours. Meetings with Rufeng never go well, and Chu Wanning always leaves them with metaphorical storm clouds rumbling over his head. Rufeng is one of their most important and most difficult shareholders, and Chu Wanning’s position in the company means he always has to attend, even though Mo Ran knows he never wants to be there.
It’s the perfect day, then, to surprise Wanning with a nice gesture and a clean bedroom. Mo Ran knows that he might be mad at first, but his anger will fade away as soon as he gets home and collapses onto a de-cluttered bed with freshly laundered sheets. He’ll get that look of relief on his face that he always gets, part confusion at being taken care of, part surprise at how nice it is—and he won’t say thank you, but Mo Ran will know that he’s grateful nevertheless.
It’s imagining that look that keeps Mo Ran motivated as he slowly creaks open the bedroom door in Chu Wanning’s dark apartment, ready for whatever awaits him.
The state of the bedroom is comparable to the previous state of the rest of the house (which is to say, awful) but it isn’t anything Mo Ran doesn’t think he can handle. He starts by simply taking inventory, cataloging where the messiest areas are, where storage spaces are, what laundry definitely needs to be washed again and what is probably clean, and so on and so forth.
But he’s barely started shuffling around the discarded mechanical scraps on top of Chu Wanning’s bedside table when he hears the distinctive sound of the front door opening.
Mo Ran freezes. Surely Chu Wanning’s not back already? If he’s back this early, he must have stormed out partway through the meeting, which means he’s sure to be more thunderous and angry than usual.
Mo Ran glances around the room with a hint of desperation. Luckily he’d barely moved anything, so Chu Wanning is unlikely to notice anything amiss if he came in now, but the layout of his apartment makes it so there’s no way to get out of the bedroom unseen. They’re not near the ground floor, meaning the window isn’t an option, and the balcony is hardly even wide enough to hang laundry.
He wills himself to think. He tries to come up with any way he could explain himself that wouldn’t result in his immediate slaughter and fails. He can hear the sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom—most definitely Chu Wanning’s footsteps, although it’s kind of embarrassing that he can tell so easily—and he can practically feel Wanning’s irritation radiating through the walls.
Heart thudding in his chest, he ducks into Chu Wanning’s closet and shuts the door.
It’s pitch-black in the closet. There’s barely enough space for him to stand, and he shuffles uncomfortably as clothing crowds him from all sides. He thinks, idly, how it’s almost impressive that there are still clothes in the closet considering the sheer amount that was on Chu Wanning’s bedroom floor, and then he thinks about how these clothes somehow smell like Wanning even though he knows they haven’t been worn.
His traitor of a dick starts to perk up at the mere insinuation of Wanning’s scent, and he sends laser-sharp glares in the darkness at the general direction of his crotch. He can hear noises from outside: shuffling, slamming drawers, an exasperated huff here and there, constantly reminding him of his current predicament.
Mo Ran squeezes his eyes shut. Chu Wanning can’t stay in his bedroom forever, right? Worst case scenario, Mo Ran stuck here for an hour or two before there’s an opening to escape. Maybe Chu Wanning will go to take a shower, or he’ll fall asleep, and Mo Ran can safely get out to the living room. He comes over often enough that being in the living room won’t be strange—he’ll pretend he just got there, he’ll pretend he came over to make Wanning dinner.
It’ll be fine. He takes a deep breath, concentrates on making his heart rate slow and his clammy hands be a little less clammy, and prepares to wait.
He’s unsure how much time passes before he hears a strange sound come from outside. It’s a forceful, shaky exhale, like Wanning was working out or something. Mo Ran knows Chu Wanning regularly exercises, as his figure is certainly not waifish, but he didn’t think he would be such a musclehead that a workout would be his immediate action after work. Plus, there’s so much more space in his living room, so Mo Ran doesn’t know why he would work out in here.
There’s another sound—this time a sharp gasp, bordering on pained. Mo Ran jolts, nearly flying out of the closet in a reflex reaction to hearing Wanning in pain, but manages to stop himself in time. Still, his mind runs a mile a minute, worry filling his head, debating the merits of helping Chu Wanning versus making him really, really mad at him.
But then there’s a third sound, and that sound is distinctively—well.
Mo Ran wouldn’t say a moan, because that would just be unreasonable. But what else could he call it?
A theory starts growing in his head about what could be happening outside the closet door, but he pushes it away. It’s preposterous to assume that Chu Wanning is anything like Mo Ran’s degenerate ways, where ‘rubbing one out’ was always a surefire way to soothe any irritation. Not that he’d admit it now, but the early days at work, when it felt like Chu Wanning was chewing him out constantly, had featured some of the best jerk-off sessions he’d ever had in his life.
But Chu Wanning isn’t like that. Chu Wanning is so… ascetic, so beyond it all. Mo Ran is the type of person to think about bending his supervisor over and fucking him till he cries after a particularly bad meeting, but Chu Wanning would never even have that kind of thought occur to him.
Right?
Who could he even be thinking about, anyway? Those smarmy Rufeng bastards? The mere idea fills him with irritation. There’s just no way—his dear Manager Chu probably just fell asleep. He’s having a nightmare, something anxiety-inducing but perfectly chaste, and his sleeptalk just so happens to sound pornographic.
His thoughts are interrupted by slick sounds and another choked-off moan. Mo Ran’s dick is in absolute turmoil. His hand starts to naturally gravitate toward the tent in his pants, if only to provide the tiniest bit of relief, but he manages to stop himself and digs his fingers hard into his thigh, instead.
It’s bad enough that he’s hiding here, listening to this. Touching himself to it with only the thin closet door dividing them would absolutely be crossing an unforgivable line.
Wanning, this is cruel and unusual, he thinks miserably.
Mo Ran closes his eyes. He tries counting backwards from 1000. He considers putting his fingers in his ears like earplugs, and then decides that that might be too childish, and he should probably stay alert in case Chu Wanning decides he randomly needs something from his closet.
All the while, the noises continue.
Sometimes Chu Wanning let out a gasp that almost sounds like a word, like he’s trying to say something. At one point escapes syllables that sound distinctly like wait, which for a second makes Mo Ran worried someone else is out there, but when he puts together the other pieces—only one set of footsteps, only one set of breaths, no other conversation—it makes him wonder just what kind of fantasy Chu Wanning is imagining, instead. It’s a dangerous road to go down.
But then Chu Wanning makes a hiccuping noise, and quietly, breathily, in a broken tone but distinct enough that Mo Ran can’t mistake it for anything else—Chu Wanning whimpers, “Mo Ran…”
Mo Ran jolts on reflex, his mind completely short-circuiting. His first thought is that he’s caught, and then he realizes that that doesn’t make any sense, but he can’t seem to make more sense out of any other option. Surely he didn’t… thinks Mo Ran. I mean, it’s not like he’d be thinking of…
In his distress, Mo Ran realizes a moment too late that when he’d startled a second ago, it had upset the delicate balance between his body and the clothes in this small closet. Several hangers are off-kilter now, angrily jabbing into his shoulders, coats threatening to slip off of them. He gingerly tries to move around and settle back in without making too much noise, but one ill-timed maneuver sets off a chain reaction, and several hangers push each other off the rod and loudly clatter to the floor.
Mo Ran’s heart stops. The panting and quiet, desperate moans coming through the other side of the door stop too.
Shit, Mo Ran thinks. There’s rustling sounds, and then the impact of feet hitting the ground, unmistakably the sound of someone getting out of bed. Mo Ran’s brain scrambles to process the implications. Fuck. Don’t come over here!
But it’s futile, because there are distinct footsteps, light and hesitant but unrelenting. The march of his own funeral. There’s nowhere to go, and Mo Ran can’t even think of what pitiful excuses he’s going to try to say, his thoughts still helplessly wrestling with that hushed, sweet, choking, Mo Ran—
The closet door cracks open. Mo Ran squints as the light seeps in.
Chu Wanning looks heaven-sent, dewy and flushed and out of breath. His eyes are tinged pink, as if he’d been on the verge of unshed tears, and his hastily-thrown-on clothes are rumpled and askew across his shoulders. Through the thin sweatpants he’s wearing, Mo Ran can see the shape and faint wetness left behind as aftereffects of Chu Wanning’s recent activities with his dick.
And Chu Wanning, beautiful ravaged angel that he is, stares blankly at him. Mo Ran stares back.
“What…” Chu Wanning starts, his face swinging between confusion and anger and something closer to despair. “....Are you doing.”
Were Mo Ran a smarter man, he’d make a solid case for himself here. He just wanted Chu Wanning to have a nice, organized house. He was cleaning the closet. He didn’t hear anything just now, of course! Manager Chu, did you just get back from work? Did you want to grab a change of clothes?
Mo Ran says none of those things, because Mo Ran has only ever been one step above a dog on the intelligence scale. Instead, he opens his mouth, closes it with a clack, and opens it again. He manages to choke out, “Cleaning your room.”
“What?”
“I came here to clean your room,” he repeats lamely. “I.. I wanted to surprise you. I knew the meeting today would be stressful, I didn’t think you would come back and…”
He doesn’t want to finish that sentence, and he thinks Chu Wanning would somehow be even angrier if he did. Not that Chu Wanning seems like he could get more murderous—his displeasure already feels like it’s dropped the room by several degrees.
Yet despite the power behind that icy glare, he can’t actually seem to look Mo Ran in the eyes. “Get out.”
Mo Ran doesn’t move.
“Mo Ran, get the hell out!”
If Mo Ran hadn’t heard what he’d heard earlier, maybe he would have listened. Maybe he would have obediently gotten the hell out and spent the next several weeks at the office groveling at Chu Wanning’s feet while Manager Chu gave him the silent treatment. Maybe they would have eventually put this all behind them.
But Mo Ran had heard what he heard, and so today he’s emboldened enough that he steps forward, carefully watching Chu Wanning’s face and dutifully listening to the hitch in his breath when Mo Ran leans over him. Chu Wanning still won’t look him in the eyes, his gaze darting furiously around as it tries to escape from where Mo Ran is crowding his vision.
“Before I go anywhere,” Mo Ran says, quiet and measured even as his heart is pounding in his chest, “you have to answer a question.”
The sharp edge of Chu Wanning’s retort could slice right through him. “I don’t have to answer anything from you.”
Mo Ran smiles. “But you do.” He reaches out, maybe to prevent Chu Wanning from trying to escape, maybe just to make contact. A simple impulse to touch. “After all, it was my name you just cried out, right? Why was that?”
He feels, more than sees, the way Chu Wanning freezes in his hold. Chu Wanning tries to tug away, but Mo Ran holds tight. He watches as Chu Wanning’s face flushes, then pales, his countenance stricken with something Mo Ran is learning to recognize as humiliation.
“Stop,” Chu Wanning croaks. “Enough.”
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Don’t do this,” Chu Wanning blurts instead. The cracks in his icy facade are widening with each second, revealing the stricken expression beneath. “I—I know it’s pathetic and wrong. You have every right to be disgusted, and I’ll step down as your supervisor, I’ll resign from Sisheng, but just…” He takes a staggered breath. The downturn of his mouth settles into a hard line. “Just don’t do this.”
Mo Ran rubs a gentle path with his thumb along the underside of Chu Wanning’s wrist. He watches as Chu Wanning trembles with it, sweaty and flustered, his half-hardness still noticeable under those thrown-on sweatpants—still not flagging despite the situation, still so responsive to even the very lightest of Mo Ran’s touches.
You should be honest with yourself, Chu Wanning, he thinks.
Out loud, he says, “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t do whatever…” Chu Wanning’s frown turns even deeper. “Whatever joke you’re trying to pull right now.”
Mo Ran can’t help but smile. What a dummy.
“Do I seem like I’m joking?” he asks. He wants to make eye contact, wants to force Wanning to look into him and see that this would never be a joke, that he’s nothing close to disgusted, that even dreaming of this type of scenario had always felt too shamelessfully indulgent on his part—but Chu Wanning has firmly squeezed his eyes shut.
With his hand still firmly wrapped around Chu Wanning’s wrist, Mo Ran tugs, pulling Wanning’s arm down toward Mo Ran’s waistband. He presses Wanning’s palm against the front of his slacks, forcing him to feel just how painfully swollen and hot the hardness is there.
It works—Chu Wanning’s mouth drops and his eyes fly open, looking like all the blood has drained out of his face.
Mo Ran grinds his hips up into Chu Wanning’s palm just for good measure. The pressure isn’t much through the thick fabric, but Mo Ran is so hard that the action makes him lightheaded. Catching his breath before he can let out an embarrassing moan, he repeats, low, “You see what you do to me? Do I seem like I’m joking?”
Chu Wanning has frozen. He looks as if his entire brain has shut down. He just keeps uncomprehendingly staring at the place where his hand is pinned helplessly against Mo Ran’s hardness, utterly vacant.
Mo Ran leans in, his breath ghosting against Chu Wanning’s ear. Even if he has a guess, he wants an answer, he wants to hear him say it. “Why did you say my name, Wanning?”
Chu Wanning flinches a little at the breathy Wanning, but there’s otherwise no response. Mo Ran was hoping for—he doesn’t know, even a slap or a scandalized shameless! for his efforts—but Chu Wanning is still as still as a statue, his eyes glued to the outline of Mo Ran’s admittedly impressive unit, his expression unreadable.
Mo Ran begins to feel… kind of bad. Had he misread the situation somehow? Was this stunt actually pushing it too far? Slightly deflated, he frees his grip on Chu Wanning’s hand, intending to pull away from him.
But Chu Wanning’s hand doesn’t move.
Mo Ran shifts back a little, and Chu Wanning moves with him, his hand glued to Mo Ran’s crotch as if magnetized. Mo Ran is equal parts so turned on he could die of circulatory failure and completely stupified.
“Um,” he says, rather unintelligently. “Found something you like there?”
And Chu Wanning flushes, and then he glares sharply at him—finally—and then he ever so slowly, ever so cautiously, squeezes the outline of Mo Ran’s dick.
All of the breath leaves Mo Ran’s body as if he’d been punched. The places where Chu Wanning is touching him burns, and his head feels light and fuzzy. “Wanning,” he laughs, giddy and incredulous, “are you trying to tell me something?”
Chu Wanning says nothing, the tips of his ears bright red, but his hand moves again, firmer this time, very purposefully and distinctly rubbing against Mo Ran’s clothed cock. He skitters toward the waistband of Mo Ran’s pants, as if preparing to unbutton them and plunge in, then seemingly loses his nerve at the last second. His fingers stay loosely perched by Mo Ran’s beltline like a scared animal.
Chu Wanning squeezes his eyes shut. When he opens them, he’s looking everywhere but Mo Ran.
“I won’t say it,” he bites out. But there’s a hint of need in his tone, an undertone of desperation. “Don’t make me say it.”
And Mo Ran, magnanimous horndog soul that he is, who still hasn’t really recovered from Chu Wanning taking the initiative to squeeze his dick, decides to take pity on him.
Mo Ran surges forward so quickly that Chu Wanning actually startles, deciding he can’t put up with another second that Chu Wanning’s mouth isn’t on his. It’s less ‘kissing’ and more ‘devouring’—Mo Ran blazes into Chu Wanning with a greed that he knows will burn up everything in its path. He can’t help himself from this kind of frantic consumption, no matter how strong his desire to slowly savor Chu Wanning is.
Chu Wanning makes a quiet little sound, which only fuels Mo Ran more. Mo Ran tries, with great difficulty, to navigate them across the room without breaking the kiss. It’s not that moving Chu Wanning is difficult—in fact, he acquiesces to Mo Ran’s manhandling with an ease that borders on dangerous—but that blindly stumbling through Chu Wanning’s mess of a room is like moving through a minefield.
After several hits to the ankle that he thinks might end up bruising, he at last feels the soft plush of the bed bump into his legs, and he finally detaches from Chu Wanning’s face.
He’s met with a beautiful sight: Chu Wanning, his chest heaving, his lips deliciously swollen, his eyes rimmed red—and behind him, sitting on the bed, a visible… object.
Mo Ran’s brain short-circuits for what feels like the billionth time today. He’d had guesses, sure, when he’d heard the noises earlier and suspected that Chu Wanning might be doing something a little more involved than just jacking his dick, but it's a whole other thing to see it confirmed like this. He lets out a low whistle despite himself. I mean, whew, the size of it…
Chu Wanning follows Mo Ran’s gaze, realizes what’s on display, and immediately bristles up like a porcupine. He frantically wrenches Mo Ran’s face in a new direction, closer to his own. “Don’t look at it,” he hisses.
He kisses Mo Ran, and Mo Ran would be pleased with him initiating if he didn’t know it was just a blatant and poor attempt at diversion. “Stop trying to distract me,” he murmurs against Chu Wanning’s lips. “I want to talk about that thing.”
Chu Wanning lets out an annoyed groan against his mouth and pushes forward more forcefully. Mo Ran responds in kind, but the second Mo Ran is the one to put forth any sort of forward force, Chu Wanning melts, and all the strength saps out of him as he submits to the kiss with a quiet sigh. It makes Mo Ran dizzy.
Chu Wanning’s unexpected obedience is extraordinarily distracting, and were Mo Ran a weaker man, he'd simply pin Chu Wanning down and ravage every inch of his skin without a care in the world for the monster dildo sitting lonely on the bed behind him. But as it is, Mo Ran is a very stubborn man, and there is little that can stop him when his mouth wants to run filth.
“So you like them big, huh?” Mo Ran gets out, breathless, between kisses. “Got any more? Got any bigger?”
Chu Wanning bites him.
“Ow,” Mo Ran laughs, and he gives a mean little tweak to Chu Wanning’s nipple in retaliation that makes Chu Wanning let out an undignified squawk. “I’m being serious! This is a whole new side of you, Manager Chu, I want to know everything!”
“Do not refer to me as your manager when we’re….” Chu Wanning’s face is painfully red. “.....Behaving insolently.”
Mo Ran grins. “We’re not even fucking yet,” he says. “I can get much more insolent, Manager Chu.”
This probably would be a good time to transition into fucking instead of just canoodling around—Mo Ran’s weeping, neglected dick would certainly like him to do so—but the thing is Mo Ran is still just so curious. About Chu Wanning’s unforeseen masturbation habits, his preferences, the fact that he had said Mo Ran. Mo Ran still hasn’t really come to process it, and he keeps finding his gaze wandering back to the dildo, and before he knows it the thing is in his hand.
This hefty piece of silicone had just been inside Chu Wanning. Mo Ran stares at it and feels a completely irrational pang of jealousy, which he soothes by reminding himself that he, too, can soon be inside Chu Wanning, and also that he’s bigger.
He imagines it sliding in and out of Wanning, how it would look stretched around his swollen hole. He imagines Chu Wanning twisting as he tries to get it at just the right angle, desperately wishing for someone who would just give it to him like he needs it, someone who would hold him down and make him take it. Someone like Mo Ran.
“Do you do this often?” Mo Ran asks, a little absentmindedly, lost in his fantasy. With the dildo in his hand, it’s not hard to figure out what this refers to. “Do you always think of me?”
“What is this, a questionnaire?” Chu Wanning harrumphs, eyes tight with embarrassment.
“Just humor me.” Mo Ran looks at him with the most earnest expression he can muster, because he really does want to know the answer, and because he knows the puppy eyes work wonders when it comes to coaxing Chu Wanning.
It’s certainly doing something, because Chu Wanning immediately flits his eyes away and bites his lip. “I have more,” he admits, quietly, like it’s being pulled out of him. “Some are… bigger. I don’t do it—not really that—I’m not—” He sighs, his frustrated frown dangerously close to a pout. “I do it sometimes. And…. yes.”
“Yes?” Mo Ran raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what? Yes, you always think of me?”
Chu Wanning does not answer.
Mo Ran laughs, dropping the dildo back onto the bed so he can nuzzle into Chu Wanning’s neck affectionately. “Ah, Wanning… how long have you been thinking of me?”
“I’ve answered enough of your questions,” Chu Wanning snaps, which Mo Ran knows means ‘longer than he’s willing to admit’.
Mo Ran feels a soft warmth curling in his chest and spreading all throughout his body. Chu Wanning, who was so good, so untouchable… Mo Ran never would have imagined that Chu Wanning could have ever returned his feelings, that Chu Wanning would have ever wanted Mo Ran in the same tactile and greedy way that Mo Ran had wanted him all this time.
Mo Ran places a kiss against the side of Chu Wanning’s nape, on his jaw, behind his ear, upon his cheek. “I’m sorry I left you alone all this time,” he mutters between kisses. “I won’t ever leave you needing to use those again. From now on, I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything that you need.”
Chu Wanning lets out a small humiliated whimper, pushing closer to Mo Ran, trying to get him to give more. Mo Ran can feel Chu Wanning’s hardness against his thigh, can feel the way he’s softly grinding it there, but still he keeps his kisses light and reverent, roving all over Chu Wanning’s neck and jaw. He wants him to understand this, before they get into anything else—how warm and gentle Chu Wanning’s hesitant admissions made him feel, how lucky and grateful he is, even amidst all the burning desire and his urge to capture and claim.
But after a few more minutes of this, Mo Ran feels nails digging into his arm, sharp and hard enough that he actually winces. He pulls back to see Chu Wanning glaring at him with a beastlike ferocity. Mo Ran’s dick, mysteriously and impressively, gets even harder.
“If you’re going to blather nonsense about giving me what I need,” Chu Wanning hisses, “the least you could do is actually do it.”
Mo Ran laughs, throwing up his hand in a mock gesture of innocence. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, grinning. “Anything for you, baby.”
With how long they spent kissing and talking, neither one of them have the patience for any more foreplay. Mo Ran tugs at Chu Wanning’s clothes and Chu Wanning lets him, his makeshift outfit from earlier returning to its usual home on the floor. Chu Wanning looks uncomfortable standing there exposed while Mo Ran is still fully clothed, so Mo Ran distracts him by shoving him back onto the bed and giving him a show.
Chu Wanning’s eyes rove over Mo Ran’s golden skin and newly revealed chest, enraptured. He watches the way they widen almost comically when Mo Ran tugs his slacks down and finally releases his dick from its confines, letting out a heavy sigh of relief when he does so.
“W-what,” Chu Wanning says, so quietly Mo Ran almost thinks he imagined it, and Mo Ran wants to tease him more, but decides to let him off the hook.
“I know it’s a lot,” Mo Ran admits as he crawls onto the bed and over Chu Wanning. “But you can take it. You’ll be so good at taking it.”
“Shut up,” grumbles Chu Wanning, but the red is high on his cheekbones. He looks away as he lays stiffly underneath Mo Ran, hands clutching uselessly at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
Mo Ran braces himself and leans down even closer. “You can touch,” he whispers, right against Chu Wanning’s mouth.
One of Chu Wanning’s arms tentatively raises, his hand stretching out to press exploratorily against Mo Ran’s chest. He moves around, his hands feeling cooling and soothing against Mo Ran’s overheated skin. One hand snakes down, and down, and down, until it very tentatively wraps around Mo Ran’s cock.
The second it makes contact, Mo Ran lets out a low groan, and Chu Wanning gasps and lets go as if burned. “No, no, it’s good,” Mo Ran hurriedly says. “Again, baby, please.”
Chu Wanning bravely makes a fist around his cock again, pumping it up and down with more pressure. His technique feels so uncertain that Mo Ran wonders how often he even does it to himself, and the idea that Chu Wanning might fuck himself with a dildo more often than he bothers to touch his own dick turns Mo Ran on so bad he feels at risk of passing out.
To distract himself, he seeks out Chu Wanning’s mouth again, his own hand travelling down to Chu Wanning’s cock to return the favor. They find a rhythm, Mo Ran eventually slotting their hips together so he can get both their dicks in one hand, the friction dizzying. The way his own cock dwarfs Chu Wanning’s is just as sweet as the stuttered moans and gasps that he swallows from Chu Wanning’s mouth.
Wanning’s gasps get sharper, shorter, and Mo Ran can tell he’s trying to say something.
“I—” he gasps. “Mo Ran, I—close—”
Mo Ran stops moving his hand.
Chu Wanning lets out a whimper like a wounded animal.
“Why,” he whines, and Mo Ran shushes and soothes him.
“I want to see you come,” Mo Ran says. “I will see you come. But not like this.”
He sits up and leans back, appreciating the sight before him—Chu Wanning hard and wanting, precum smeared everywhere, chest heaving—before tapping him on his leg. “Turn over.”
Chu Wanning obeys orders so beautifully, wasting no time before he’s turned over onto his stomach, ass up for Mo Ran’s viewing and his face buried embarrassedly into his arms. Mo Ran admires, kneading his fingers into the soft flesh of Chu Wanning’s rear and teasing a finger over his twitching hole.
Although the lube from Wanning’s earlier session has largely dried by now, there’s still some evidence of it, still some stickiness and swollenness left behind. Mo Ran slides one knuckle in unlubed, just to see what will happen, and Chu Wanning shudders.
“Is that all it takes?” Mo Ran laughs. “You’re that desperate?”
“Stop teasing.”
“Sure, sure,” says Mo Ran, giving Chu Wanning’s ass a light slap as he reaches over to the bedside table to grab the lube. Chu Wanning yelps when he does so, his whole body going tight while his cock visibly drips precum. Mo Ran mentally jots that down as something to explore later. Wanning is so full of surprises, and they have so much to explore.
Mo Ran coats two fingers with lube, deciding Chu Wanning is stretched out enough already that he can take that. With no warning, he shoves both fingers into Chu Wanning’s hole, pistoning them in and out. Chu Wanning pitches forward, the surprise turning what would have been a gasp into something bordering a scream, and it fills Mo Ran with a deep satisfaction.
“Feels good?” Mo Ran asks, not slowing down in his pace. He adds a third finger, shifting them all around dexterously inside Chu Wanning as he searches for a certain spot. “Am I making you feel good?”
Chu Wanning is already incoherent, so he doesn’t answer Mo Ran’s question, but when Mo Ran hits a particular angle, he jolts with a broken sob that is answer enough. Mo Ran teases that spot for a moment, enjoying the way Wanning thrashes and spasms under him, until Chu Wanning is frantically trying to crawl away, trying to escape the onslaught of Mo Ran’s fingers.
“Stop, stop,” he sobs. “I can’t—I want—”
“You want me? You want all of me?” Mo Ran is so turned on he might have imagined it, but he swears he sees Chu Wanning nod minutely, face still half-turned into the pillow.
Mo Ran slathers lube onto his dick as fast as he can, not bothering to look for or even ask about a condom, because he doesn’t think he can take another second not being inside Chu Wanning. He lines his cock up against Wanning’s entrance and slowly, relentlessly pushes in.
He’s so tight. Even after using a dildo earlier, even after all Mo Ran’s teasing with his fingers, Chu Wanning is impossibly tight and impossibly warm, as if he’s trying to suck Mo Ran inward, as if he wants him to never leave.
“Fuck, Wanning,” Mo Ran gasps. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
Chu Wanning whimpers helplessly, and Mo Ran doesn’t like how muffled it is, so he curls his fingers into Chu Wanning’s hair and yanks his head back at the same time as he thrusts sharply in.
“Let me hear you,” he insists, and Chu Wanning obliges, a litany of moans falling out of his mouth with each deep thrust. Paired with his shuddered breaths and rhythmic slap of where their bodies meet, it’s the most beautiful symphony Mo Ran has ever heard.
It isn’t long before Chu Wanning is trying to babble something incoherent again, but Mo Ran doesn’t let up this time. Instead, he picks up the pace, pushing and pushing as deep as he can go until Chu Wanning’s whole body convulses around him.
Chu Wanning shatters, tears running down his cheeks while his dick sputters and weeps, untouched.
“Already?” Mo Ran mumbles against his ear, thrusting shallowly and slowly to help rock him through his orgasm. It takes Chu Wanning several moments to recover enough to speak, and he’s still shuddering and hiccuping from oversensitivity as he does so.
“You interrupted me earlier,” he gasps, an accusatory tone leaking through despite his breathlessness. “And then you wouldn’t stop teasing… of course I…”
Mo Ran pulls out, and Chu Wanning’s thoughts are cut off with a sharp inhale when he does so. But Mo Ran doesn’t give him long to recover, manhandling him to turn him back over onto his back, staring down into his eyes.
“You’ll have to give me another one,” Mo Ran says, “because I want to see your face when you come.”
Mo Ran pushes back in, Chu Wanning’s hands reflexively scrambling to try and find purchase on his shoulders. “Wait,” Chu Wanning whimpers. “But I just… I already…”
“You can give me another one, can’t you?” Mo Ran slides in and out quickly, the new angle hitting different places inside Chu Wanning and lighting up all the nerves in his body. “Can’t you be good for me?”
“I—” Chu Wanning chokes out, tears streaming freely down his face. Beautiful. He’s so beautiful. “I—”
“Bear with it, baby. For me.”
Chu Wanning tightens his hold around Mo Ran’s shoulders, burying his head into the juncture of Mo Ran’s neck. Mo Ran feels him nod.
It’s all the confirmation Mo Ran needs to lose whatever inhibition he had left. He thrusts, he kisses, his hand sneaks down to tease and twist nipples and then further down to tease Wanning’s cock, which is already becoming hard again. Mo Ran loses track of time—he loses track of himself, lost in the sea of pleasure that he’s wringing from Chu Wanning’s body.
He notices the telltale signs of Chu Wanning being about to come again, which are starting to become familiar to him: the quick gasps, the curl of his fingernails into Mo Ran’s skin. Mo Ran mutters encouragement into his ear, helping him along this time by timing his strokes to Wanning’s cock alongside his thrusts, and he watches as Wanning’s face scrunches up, his eyes shut tight as he shudders uncontrollably through another orgasm.
And it’s this sight—Chu Wanning utterly adrift in the throes of rapture—that finally sends Mo Ran hurtling over the edge.
Chu Wanning whines as he feels Mo Ran fill him up, and Mo Ran selfishly thinks that he ought to keep him here for a long time, storing everything he just gave inside Chu Wanning for as long as possible. Exhausted, Mo Ran collapses down onto the bed, but he doesn’t fully pull out yet.
Chu Wanning is pliable and easy in his arms, drenched in sweat and exhausted from his own orgasms. Half-dried cum is all over his stomach, and Mo Ran runs a hand through it as he pulls Chu Wanning’s back to his chest. He wants to stay like this forever.
Sticky and satisfied and deeply pleased, Mo Ran closes his eyes and decides that they can deal with any clean-up later. But the thought of clean-up makes him suddenly remember how they even got into this mess, and as he shifts his feet around on the bed, he feels them bump into the trinkets and gadgets and the who-knows-what that Chu Wanning has flung all over his mattress.
“Wanning, baby,” Mo Ran mutters sleepily, sated and warm into Chu Wanning’s neck. “We really do need to clean up your bedroom.”
Chu Wanning elbows him squarely in the chest.