Wei Ying looks up. Lan Zhan has her lips pursed, so close in the dim cabin. Wei Ying shouldn’t have expected less, considering she’d been so absorbed in her work that sometimes it takes multiple attempts for Lan Zhan to tug her out of that focus. Even then, Lan Zhan herself is usually a breathtaking sight, in her undercut and crisp blouses, soft sweaters and wire-frame glasses when she reads.

It takes a moment for Wei Ying to register that Lan Zhan’s saying her name again, dazed by the golden glint in Lan Zhan’s eyes. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan repeats.

Wei Ying’s thighs twitch. Her mouth is dry. “Wha?”

“You are in heat,” Lan Zhan states.

She—oh. She’s right. Wei Ying hadn’t noticed, with the way her cursor is still blinking on the black window of her laptop screen. The mild itch under her skin had made her energetic, more into the code, kind of like how caffeine does, sometimes. Except the itch is accompanied by the pool of heat in her belly, an aching emptiness in the lower half of her body, a slip of wetness into her underwear, an acute awareness of Lan Zhan’s scent next to her, dark and smoky and overwhelming—

Lan Zhan pulls away. Her nose twitches; she must smell Wei Ying, sweet and warm. Wei Ying likes to think her smell fills Lan Zhan the way Lan Zhan’s fills her, dragging out the saliva from the corners of her mouth, begging for a taste. She asked Lan Zhan what she smelled like before, after a hazy fuck when Lan Zhan was in her rut. Lan Zhan had said that she was sweeter than yin er tang, warmer than streetsold youtiao. The bottom of Wei Ying’s spine tingles at the fact that she reminds Lan Zhan of home, of good food; and they’re not anything, but sometimes, by the possessiveness in Lan Zhan’s eyes after a fuck, after a knot, after a round, there might be the promise of something more there.

But it’s always gone by the end of each cycle.

Admittedly, Wei Ying isn’t the greatest at keeping track of her heats. But she should’ve had a few days. Maybe a weekend. Maybe twenty-four hours. Hell, maybe even just twelve hours from now, if she and Lan Zhan weren’t in the middle of a flight from LA to Beijing. As it is, she and her heat-slash-rut buddy are in the middle of a sixteen-hour flight for work and now her heat decides to spring upon her, which is just fucking great, and she would be more annoyed by it if the ache between her legs wasn’t growing more and more noticeable.

And if another rush of slick didn’t pulse out of her.

“Lan Zhan,” she says, just wanting to say it. Just wanting to hear it, feel her lips make the shape of Lan Zhan’s name. “Lan Zhan, I am in heat, what—”

Lan Zhan closes Wei Ying’s laptop lid. Wei Ying whines as Lan Zhan pulls out the laptop bag from the seat in front of her to slip it away, puts up the tray table, unbuckles her own seatbelt. Outside the sky is dark; Wei Ying has the window seat and likes to keep it a bit open so she knows what time of day it’s supposed to be. The clouds are black and violet beneath the airplane wings, and Wei Ying feels the warmth beneath her skin, desperate to come out. Desperate to pull something in, to pull Lan Zhan in, into her hole, into her pussy, anywhere.

When Lan Zhan reaches into her lap, she thinks that Lan Zhan’s just gonna touch her here, in the airplane seat, heedless of anything else. Her hips buck; but Lan Zhan merely undoes the buckle of her seatbelt, pushing it aside.

“We must take care of your heat,” she says, getting up. She offers out her hand, and in a daze, Wei Ying takes it. “You cannot be around other alphas smelling like this.”

Wei Ying whines again. She knows what that means, what she hears: your omega scent reeks and everyone knows what you are and you’re so desperate for it that you’ll let any alpha take you. Wei Ying doesn’t—doesn’t really think of herself like that, but sometimes she gets so wet, so open that when Lan Zhan says calls her a slut, accuses her of begging any alpha to fuck her, Wei Ying believes it. She could be slutty enough, smell slutty enough, so eager to take a knot that every alpha in her radius can smell it, even if they’re not the one to fuck her. The alphas on the plane now must think so, must know how much Wei Ying wants it. More slick gushes out of her pussy. God, they must be wondering what a whore she is, off to get fucked in an airplane, who the lucky alpha is guiding her through the aisle, how handsome the alpha is, how maybe Wei Ying is the lucky one instead—

They get to the front of the cabin, outside the restroom. The light is blue, unoccupied; Lan Zhan wrenches the door open, guides them inside. Wei Ying’s panting a little, mouth too full and empty all at once to close, tongue hanging out. As soon as Lan Zhan closes the door, locks it, she spins Wei Ying around and bodily slams her into the door, kissing her.

Mouth hot, and wet, and Wei Ying is still thinking about all the other alphas out there. Even the betas, omegas, knowing that she’d been taken to the bathroom to get fucked, to take care of her heat, like she’s just a hole for Lan Zhan to fuck at a moment’s notice, to breed, and—and they don’t really talk about that, really, except now Wei Ying’s thinking about how much she wants Lan Zhan’s seed, for Lan Zhan to put a baby in her, right here in the airplane bathroom.

She’s scrabbling at Lan Zhan’s back, against her arms as Lan Zhan palms her breasts, squeezing, pushing her up further against the door. She wants to hang off Lan Zhan’s neck, body, waist, cock, held up nothing by Lan Zhan’s insane arms that she works out at the gym for. “Lan Zhan,” she gasps, mouth fluttering. “Lan Zhan, please.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t say anything, but she does break the kiss to pull down at Wei Ying’s jeans and underwear. In one swift motion they’re down to her thighs; two fingers immediately shove into Wei Ying’s cunt.

Wei Ying cries and cries.

“Soaking,” Lan Zhan says casually, like she’s making a mere observation. “Even when we are in public, you are still so shameless.”

“Please,” Wei Ying says, and Lan Zhan curls her fingers.

Sobbing noises pour out of Wei Ying’s throat. Lan Zhan rubs at her, long fingers twisting in her slowly.

“Your scent is so strong already,” she says. “It is stronger when you are in heat.”

The muscles in Wei Ying’s thighs jump, itching to both spread apart, to close. “Please, please,” she begs more.

Lan Zhan pushes her up further with her two fingers. Wei Ying swears that she pushes off the floor with this, with the strength of Lan Zhan’s wrist. “Everyone on the airplane smells you here,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying believes it. “Knows that you are in here, begging for my knot. Begging for me.”

“Yes, Lan Zhan, I do, I need it,” Wei Ying babbles. “I need Lan Zhan’s knot, Lan Zhan’s dick, please.”

“Hm.” Another finger joins the two inside of her, and Lan Zhan really does push her up, to her tiptoes, off the ground. Wei Ying sobs at the pain-pleasure-pain; Lan Zhan’s other hand lifts one of her thighs, winds that leg around Lan Zhan’s waist. “Would you like to beg louder? For everyone to hear?”

“I—” Wei Ying’s face is hot, eyes welling. Lan Zhan tightens her grip on the leg wrapped around her. Wei Ying trembles. “I do, I do, Lan Zhan, I’ll scream for you if you want, for your knot, anything—”

“Such a sweet omega,” Lan Zhan says. Her thumb grazes Wei Ying’s clit, and Wei Ying leans into it, wants more of it. But more than that she wants Lan Zhan’s cock, which she can feel against the leg she has dangling, though Lan Zhan’s pressed trousers. “Perhaps not tonight. Perhaps on a beach, where everyone can see you. Perhaps in a hotel, where your screams will travel to all the floors.”

Wei Ying whines and pants, rutting against Lan Zhan’s hand, hip pressing against her, needing more.

“Tonight, your sounds are all mine,” Lan Zhan says, and takes her fingers out.

Undoes her trousers, grips onto her long flushed cock, and then—and then it’s in Wei Ying, filling her up so nicely, every inch of her body. Wei Ying goes slack and moans in gratefulness. Lan Zhan eats it all up, covers Wei Ying’s mouth with hers, licking her sounds out as she hikes up Wei Ying’s other leg so she’s only held up by Lan Zhan, clenching onto her dick, back scraping against the door. Lan Zhan’s huge huge cock is thick and hot inside her, so big like Wei Ying’s almost forgotten it, even though she’d taken it weeks ago, weeks ago when Lan Zhan was in her own rut and feral and animalistic.

Now it feels—now it feels like Lan Zhan’s doing her a favor, and she is, in the best way, warming her up from the inside, holding her by the knees, thighs, ass as Lan Zhan pounds into her. Wei Ying’s legs dangle off her arms as Lan Zhan’s big hands come around to her ass cheeks, spread them apart as she fucks into her deep, like she’s reaching, reaching, trying to find both where Wei Ying’s body begins and where it ends. Wei Ying feels like nothing in her hands, malleable and tight, a hole for Lan Zhan to fill, her huge cock stretching Wei Ying’s pussy, her insides. God, she could fill Wei Ying everywhere, big tongue in Wei Ying’s mouth, squeezing and kneading her ass, fingers inching toward her crack. The bathroom is tiny and overheated and now filled with their scent, inevitably leaking through the cracks of the doors, into the airplane, where everyone else can smell.

And still it’s Lan Zhan driving into her body, every thrust into her a push against the plastic door, and Wei Ying can’t fight it, just lets Lan Zhan hold her up and fuck her in the narrow room. Their thighs slap together; the picture they must make, Wei Ying’s mouth open and face red and tongue dangling with drool, Lan Zhan breathing heavily in the space between their lips, pale as always but a flyaway piece of hair by her ear. Wei Ying brushes it back and Lan Zhan kisses her again, pulls Wei Ying’s legs around her body, increasing the pace to be fast and rough and eager—

It’s so much, too much, enough, especially when the base of Lan Zhan’s cock fattens, catching on her swollen entrance. Wei Ying trembles and throbs as Lan Zhan gets bigger, her dick, her knot expanding inside Wei Ying. “Too big, too big,” Wei Ying gasps, but Lan Zhan says, “You can take it,” and pushes it all in, squelching through Wei Ying’s juices, nailing Wei Ying in place. Small high-pitched sounds fill the room, Wei Ying’s high-pitched sounds as she gets lightheaded at the immenseness, of so much of Lan Zhan. Of all of Lan Zhan, pinning her, keeping her as she slides her tongue into Wei Ying’s open mouth, rutting in with her knotted cock and fucking her mouth in filthy licks.

Wei Ying’s thighs are growing sore and her butt is getting numb but it’s still nothing compared to Lan Zhan twitching, pushing inside of her. “Come only on my knot,” Lan Zhan commands in a low voice. “Do it, sweetheart,” and she bites on Wei Ying’s lower lip, chin, collarbone, neck, so, so close to her scent gland.

And Wei Ying doesn’t know what else to do but obey, orgasm coursing through her like it’s lighting up every end of her body, fireworks in her veins. She shakes and spills more slick around Lan Zhan’s knot, clenching, and Lan Zhan grunts, buries her face in Wei Ying’s neck and comes too.

It’s dirty how her seed fills Wei Ying up, thick and wet and so deep that Wei Ying’s belly feels warm with it. Wei Ying moans and clenches again as Lan Zhan groans against her shoulder, her long hair, mouthing at Wei Ying’s neck, damp with saliva. Wei Ying takes it and takes Lan Zhan, the strain of her heat not quite fading, but not as overwhelming as before, either. Lan Zhan’s cock twitches again, inside, knot wide in her cunt, plugging her up that even though Wei Ying never thought of herself as the type to have kids, she almost wants it, wants to have Lan Zhan’s babies.

Lan Zhan’s breaths get quieter as she comes down from her orgasm. Wei Ying pets her face, her cheek, tucks that stray piece of hair back once more. “Gege is so good to me,” she says, and feels Lan Zhan’s dick convulse inside her again.

Lan Zhan meets her eyes. “Mark your words,” she says.

She pulls them back, keeping Wei Ying’s legs around her torso. Wei Ying squeaks a little as Lan Zhan pushes the tiny toilet seat closed and sits them down, cock lodging into Wei Ying a bit deeper, which Wei Ying didn’t even know was possible. “So full of gege,” Wei Ying says, tightening around her.

Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow. Her hand goes between Wei Ying’s ass cheeks, where the tops of Wei Ying’s jeans are digging into her plush thighs. Her fingers dip in between, run over her puckered rim—Wei Ying squeaks again.

A smirk tugs at the corners of Lan Zhan’s mouth. “Wei Ying enjoys teasing even when she gets what she wants,” she says. Her palm comes down hard on Wei Ying’s ass cheek; the slap echoes throughout the room. Wei Ying lets out a little uh! “Wei Ying should be punished.”

Wei Ying nods frantically, especially when Lan Zhan bites at her throat. Sucks a bruise there, all hard and teeth and possessive. “Yes, please,” she mumbles. “Please, want to be punished.”

Lan Zhan sighs. At the same time, Wei Ying can feel her knot shrinking, cock deflating, pulling out of Wei Ying’s body. Wei Ying makes a small noise of complaint and tries to press her thighs together, or at least tries to, between being sprawled on Lan Zhan’s lap, jeans constricted around her legs. She feels Lan Zhan’s cum leaking out and doesn’t want it to, wants to keep it in, inside her, a reminder.

There’s a pressure pushing between her pussy lips—Lan Zhan’s fingers gathering the cum, pushing it back in. “Not tonight,” Lan Zhan says, as she fingers her seed back into Wei Ying. “Not now. Unless you would like to stay here for the duration of the flight. Unless you would like me to put you across my lap back at our seats, where everyone can see.”

Wei Ying mewls at the idea, hips jolting as Lan Zhan puts her cum back inside her. Where it belongs. “Anything Lan Zhan wants,” she says.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, and pulls her fingers out. Squeezes her closed, smacks her clit. Wei Ying jolts, yelps. “I would like to keep you for myself, for now. I do not want to show everyone how pretty you are just yet.”

Wei Ying keens; but then Lan Zhan is sliding her off her lap. Wei Ying goes down on her knees almost immediately, legs like jelly on the wooden floor.

Lan Zhan huffs in amusement, closing her trousers then pulling Wei Ying back up by her arms. “I cannot carry you,” she says. “Stand up.”

“But.” Wei Ying pouts. “Want your knot again, Lan Zhan, what—”

“I know, baby,” Lan Zhan says, and the pet names aren’t new, ever, but always make Wei Ying want to curl up into Lan Zhan’s body, rub her cheek, her face, her scent all over her. “But we must go back to our seats. Other people must be waiting to use the toilet.”

Other people—who must’ve smelled, heard Wei Ying pleading for Lan Zhan’s knot, wet and hungry for it. The reminder almost drives Wei Ying into that lust again, but then Lan Zhan yanking her jeans closed, gripping her arm firmly, and the unlocking of the door makes the heat recede a bit, for now. The knowledge that she has Lan Zhan’s come inside her, warm and plentiful from her knot, makes Wei Ying a bit cozier with it as Lan Zhan drags them out of the bathroom.

She feels like all eyes are on her from getting so fucked out. Preens, pulsing wet into her underwear.

Lan Zhan looks back at her. The gold in her eyes glints in the low airplane light. Still, she says, “Wei Ying. Later.”

“Later,” Wei Ying agrees. Her chest is light and happy with Lan Zhan’s hand around her wrist so tightly. Lan Zhan leads them back to their seats, Wei Ying in first, then settling in next to her.

The itch, of course, is not gone, but ease settles into Wei Ying’s bones. She takes her laptop back out, and as she does so, chances a glimpse across the aisle.

The couple sitting there is staring at them, scandalized.

Wei Ying waves and mouths, “Hi.”

She pulls her computer into her lap, leaning into Lan Zhan’s side, basking in her scent.

–

By the end of the flight, the plane reeks of them, passengers avoiding their eyes as they walk out into the terminal. To be fair, they had fucked in every bathroom instead of only using the same one. Lan Zhan had said, between the shallow thrusts, that they were being thoughtful by doing so. But when Wei Ying comes out to the diluted air off the airplane, she’s beginning to think that Lan Zhan had just wanted to leave a mark of them everywhere.

With the loose throbbing between Wei Ying’s thighs and smug expression on Lan Zhan’s face, Wei Ying’s pretty sure that they were successful.

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Out in the heat

by aroceu

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© 2009-2026 aroceu