Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

MDZS/CQL

Relationship:

Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Tags:

airplane sex, anal sex, barebacking, pwp

Stats:

Posted on:

2021-02-15

Words:

4,543

Lan Zhan would usually not do something this undignified, except it’s Su She being Su She and he doesn’t want to even consider tolerating that right now. So getting up from his airplane seat, he makes an excuse to go to the bathroom, and leaves to actually do so. The light outside the bathroom says it’s available, so he slips inside.

To his surprise, there’s a man sitting on the ground of the bathroom, playing some game on his phone. “Oh!” the man startles. “Hi! Sorry, did you need to use the restroom? I’ll just—I’ll go—”

“No,” Lan Zhan can’t help but being honest. “I do not need—” he glances over his shoulder.

The man seems to get it, because his eyes brighten. “Oh, are you avoiding someone too? My ex is on this flight, and.” He laughs nervously. “Let’s just say things didn’t end so hot with him.”

“My sympathies,” Lan Zhan says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s still hanging awkwardly in the doorway, so he steps in to join the man, who moved to make room.

“Yeah come in, there’s—well, there’s not a lot of space, but enough for the both of us,” the man says. “I’m Wei Ying, by the way.”

“Lan Zhan.” Lan Zhan locks the door.

When he turns, Wei Ying has a small alarmed expression on his face, but shakes it off. “I was—I guess it makes sense that you locked the door, since we wouldn’t want anyone else coming in.” Wei Ying’s cheeks flush and he coughs. “I mean, because there’s already so little room in here.”

Lan Zhan hums in agreement.

He moves around Wei Ying to sit on the toilet lid, the only space that’s left. he ignores how his foot brushes Wei Ying’s thigh. Lan Zhan wishes he’d had the foresight to bring a book; he closes his eyes as the sound of Wei Ying’s phone game fills the tiny bathroom.

Wei Ying glances at him. “What are you doing? Meditating?” he asks, amusement laced in his tone.

Lan Zhan twitches. “Yes.”

“Oh-” When Lan Zhan peers, one eye open, he sees Wei Ying biting his lip. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you look like you would. Meditate, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying gestures. “Y’know, you’re all like. Serene and stuff. High cheekbones. Uh.” He scratches his head. “Got the whole pale wardrobe thing going on.”

“I was unaware that my wardrobe indicated my hobbies,” Lan Zhan says.

“That’s not what I—Lan Zhan, why are you teasing me, we just met!” But Wei Ying doesn’t sound upset at all—in fact, he laughs.

Under the tiny bathroom light, Wei Ying’s eyes sparkle. His skin looks soft. Lan Zhan closes his eyes again. (Wei Ying looks foldable. Not quite small, long limbs and a narrow waist with not so narrow hips, but the way he’s arranged himself in the cramped space on the floor makes Lan Zhan, in his meditation, ponder how flexible Wei Ying might be. But he lets his thoughts end there.)

It’s silent for a bit—then Wei Ying is going, “So do you play any mobile games? Want me to go back to your seat and get your phone for you? You should play this one if you like logic games, it’s a lot of fun. Except maybe you don’t play games either. You probably think it’s bad for your eyesight which my parents always tell me. Which is true! I just can’t resist a good logic game. Or rhythm game. Or reflex game.”

He’s a bit out of breath when he’s done. Lan Zhan keeps his eyes closed.

“Are you done?” he asks into the silence.

Wei Ying’s laugh is embarrassed. “Lan Zhan, you can’t just make fun of a stranger for disliking silence!”

“Are we strangers,” Lan Zhan says, “when you keep saying my name?”

“Ah.” Wei Ying laughs. But there’s a new edge to it now. A rustle—Lan Zhan opens both of his eyes to see Wei Ying unfolding himself from the floor. His ass is so close to being right in Lan Zhan’s face. It takes a moment for Lan Zhan to register Wei Ying’s next words.

“I guess you’re the type to like silence! It’s fine—I know I’m talkative. I can go if you want.” And then he does stand up, & Lan Zhan has no choice but to locks eyes with Wei Ying’s butt.

Clearing his throat, Lan Zhan says hoarsely, “No, it is fine. I do not mind—” your voice? your ass? says the back of his mind “—listening. You can stay.”

Wei Ying turns. Lan Zhan forces himself to tear his eyes from his ass, ears hot.

Lan Zhan continues: “You were here first. I will remove myself, if you would like.”

“I wouldn’t like! I mean,” Wei Ying says hastily. “It’s better with you in here you know? Less boring! I like the company.”

Lan Zhan is skeptical considering how suffocating it should be with two grown men in this tiny room. But even then, his body wants to get closer to Wei Ying’s. Crowd against him.

And—”I don’t think I am very good company,” he confesses.

“What! Did someone tell you that?” Wei Ying says. “You’re great company, you already made two scathing comments to me.”

“I do not think that qualifies as good company.”

“Well, it does to me,” Wei Ying says, which makes Lan Zhan feel a stupid way. “C’mon, say something else so I can say that we’re friends.”

Lan Zhan considers. “Are you always so eager to make friends with complete strangers?”

“There we go, three for three.” Wei Ying beams. “And you haven’t seen me when I go out to bars. Or my phone contacts.”

Lan Zhan ignores the irrational jealousy bubbling under his skin. “I could be a bad person,” he points out.

“Yeah, but you aren’t. I can tell,” Wei Ying says. “I have a nose for these things.” He taps his nose with his finger. Lan Zhan wants to bite it. Wei Ying’s finger, too. They’re close enough that he could, though Lan Zhan is sure that’s inappropriate.

“I do not think humans are that simple,” he says, because he doesn’t think the way he wants to reach out and bruise Wei Ying can be classified as good.

Wei Ying shrugs. “Maybe not, but sometimes you just get vibes, you know?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. “I do not get vibes.”

Wei Ying giggles. “I—Lan Zhan, you’re so funny. You know how you can guess if people are gay?” (Lan Zhan tenses.) “It’s like that.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says. “What do you think?”

“What?”

“Do you think I am gay or not?” Lan Zhan asks. He’s usually not one to be so direct, especially with the way Wei Ying keeps talking. But maybe it’s the claustrophobia of this room, the heat, and a little bit of the power, of sitting up higher than Wei Ying, that makes Lan Zhan feel so bold.

Wei Ying looks thrown off. “Do I—? Lan Zhan! I’m not gonna make assumptions on your sexuality.”

Lan Zhan stares at him.

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying says meekly. “I already made assumptions—I just. Hm.” He looks back at Lan Zhan, tilts his head. “Maybe—I don’t think you’re gay, actually. You probably have a girlfriend. Or a wife!”

Lan Zhan closes his eyes. Goes back to meditating. “Incorrect.”

“Inc—What?”

“You are incorrect,” Lan Zhan says. “I am gay.”

It’s a bit weird to tell a complete stranger, but at the same time less out of place among Wei Ying’s endless chatter, especially when this shocks Wei Ying into silence.

“Oh. Okay, cool,” Wei Ying says. “That’s cool, I mean, I’m bi so. Yeah, that’s super cool.”

Lan Zhan’s spine tenses, but he refuses to give himself away.

“I do not have a wife or girlfriend,” Lan Zhan adds.

“But what about a husband or boyfriend?” Wei Ying teases—flirts.

Lan Zhan’s neck quivers with want. “I do not have a husband or boyfriend either.”

Wei Ying’s voice is high when he says, “That’s a surprise! I don’t think I know anyone else who’s single, especially since—but yeah, uh, me too. I’m single too.”

This makes Lan Zhan feel better. He wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking of his ass for weeks regardless. There’s a short knock at the bathroom door then. “Hello?” says a woman’s voice.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying glance at each other. “Do you think we can get away with saying it’s occupied?” Wei Ying asks in his attempt of a whisper.

“It is occupied,” Lan Zhan says. Still, he gets up from the toilet. Another knock. “Gentlemen?” says the same female voice—likely a flight attendant.

“Damn, we’ve been foiled,” Wei Ying says, but good natured. He stands up too.

They’re practically chest to chest. Within kissing distance, Lan Zhan’s traitorous brain points out. He doesn’t want to move away. Wei Ying had told him he’s good company which is—unfair. “Do you want to return to your ex?”

“Obviously not,” Wei Ying says immediately.

“As in your seat,” Lan Zhan says pointedly, “on the plane.”

“Oh!” Lan Zhan can practically feel it as Wei Ying laughs half heartedly. “Um. No to that either.”

Lan Zhan parts his lips, feeling dry. He can see the brown-grey flecks in Wei Ying’s eyes this close. “We do not have to return to our seats,” he says. “If you would like to accompany me around the cabin. I do not want to return to my seat, either.”

“You got an ex, too?” Wei Ying teases.

“Former coworker,” Lan Zhan revises, unable to keep the cold edge out of his voice at the thought.

Wei Ying shivers. “Sounds like they pissed you off. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

“Gentlemen?” comes the flight attendant’s voice again. “Sharing restrooms is prohibited on our airlines.”

Lan Zhan is certain it’s prohibited on all airlines, but it might be worth it avoiding going back to his seat. Wei Ying says, “How mad do you think she’ll be if I said that we’re coming?”

Lan Zhan looks sharply to him as Wei Ying giggles, pushes the restroom door open. The flight attendant outside looks both impatient and annoyed. There’s a small line of people waiting.

“What are you guys doing? There’s still like three bathrooms on this plane, aren’t there?” Wei Ying says. “But don’t worry, we weren’t doing anything inappropriate.”

Lust bursts through Lan Zhan’s veins at the thought. He manages to keep himself cool as Wei Ying breezes past the queue like it’s nothing.

He turns to Lan Zhan mischievously as they make their way through the aisle. “I bet they thought we were fucking,” he says with a grin, and a big neon sign in Lan Zhan’s head screams I WISH WE WERE. It’s irrational because Wei Ying is irrational; Lan Zhan feels like his world has turned upside down in that short amount of time spent in the cramped room with Wei Ying.

“So where do you wanna hang out?” Wei Ying asks merrily.

Lan Zhan stops halfway in the cabin, grabs Wei Ying’s hand. His fingers overlap around his wrist.

Both of them freeze.

“Here,” Lan Zhan says, consciously making his mouth say words rather than taking Wei Ying here in full view of everyone, “is fine.”

Wei Ying swallows. “It is.”

Lan Zhan lets go of his hand. He averts his gaze—but he glances back to see Wei Ying staring fixedly at his wrist. A crackle of tension fizzles between them; Wei Ying asks, “So what are you flying to Beijing for?”

Lan Zhan tries to meet his eyes but it feels too intense. He fixates on a point by Wei Ying’s cheekbone instead. “Business,” he replies.

Wei Ying smirks. “Oh we’re talking like adults now? I’m going for pleasure.”

Lan Zhan tries very, very hard not to focus on the way the word ‘pleasure’ sounds coming out of Wei Ying’s mouth.

“Technically, anyway,” Wei Ying continues. “That’s what family would be classified as, right? Although I feel like interacting with half of my family is basically business anyway.”

He goes on to talk about his family, how he visits frequently to soothe his adoptive parents’ sanities—and also his siblings, “Even though Jiang Cheng texts me like, every day,” he adds with a roll of his eyes.

Wei Ying has a lot of things to say, most of which Lan Zhan imagines someone else might say are extraneous. But Lan Zhan listens to every word, arms folded across his chest as every so often someone cuts between them in the aisle to walk up and down the plane. At one point a man tries to talk to Wei Ying and Wei Ying glances at him in between his monologue. This must be the ex, Lan Zhan figures, and quickly rescues him by dragging Wei Ying to his side of the aisle and standing close and saying, “Continue.”

Wei Ying stammers, but does, with a, “So anyway, I was telling her that she could’ve added more huajiao—”

With how close they are, the ex fidgets and moves on instead of interrupting. As soon as he’s gone, Wei Ying says, “Thanks.”

Lan Zhan is too aware of how their elbows are touching. “How much huajiao would you have added?”

And later Su She tries to talk to Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan glares at him so fiercly, while Wei Ying is talking about the fifth of the eight sports he plays. Wei Ying watches the silent exchange as he continues on, until finally Su She meekly leaves and Lan Zhan feels less offended about being in his presence.

“Wow,” Wei Ying says, when he’s gone. “You are terrifying.”

Lan Zhan softens his expression, unclenches his jaw as he turns to Wei Ying. “You do not seem terrified by me.”

“Well, you’re so—ah, Lan Zhan, you’re truly a man of mystery, aren’t you?” Wei Ying’s cheeks look dark in the low light of the airplane. “I can only imagine how boring this flight would be if I hadn’t met you.”

“You as well,” Lan Zhan says.

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” But Wei Ying is grinning, so that’s not a bad thing. “Okay, no, I don’t think you’re terrifying, but you totally are when you’re mad at someone. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me.”

“I do not know why I would be mad at you,” Lan Zhan says.

“Me neither! I’m delightful.”

Lan Zhan hums. “I agree.”

Wei Ying meets his eyes at this. There’s that crackle again; Lan Zhan tries to hold his gaze steady. Then Wei Ying looks away.

“You’re so much,” Wei Ying says. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan.”

“Yes?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying turns his head. Lan Zhan can’t see a hint of his face from here. “Nothing,” Wei Ying says, then mumbles something under his breath Lan Zhan can’t quite hear.

(“Just wanted to say your name.”)

They continue talking, and Lan Zhan wonders how everyone else can simply be sleeping or reading or browsing their laptops when Wei Ying is enough for him to look at and listen to—at least, he’s sure, for the duration of this flight. The windows are closed but Lan Zhan is awake & warm with every burst of sunshine Wei Ying sends his way. They are standing so close, it would take no effort at all to bridge that hair’s gap and kiss him. But they don’t know each other. Or—they hardly do, Lan Zhan reminds himself. There’s a boundary, there’s a social expectation, just because they’re both single and like men and maybe there’s some underlying tension between them doesn’t mean—

The plane hits turbulence. Wei Ying tips into Lan Zhan’s chest, warm pressed against him. Lan Zhan instinctively wraps his arm around Wei Ying’s body, like he was always meant to do that.

Over the speakers, the flight attendant makes an announcement about the turbulence. But no one ushers them into their seats, and Lan Zhan holds onto Wei Ying steadily until the turbulence ends. They are close, so close, Wei Ying’s jean-clad thighs pushed against Lan Zhan’s trousers. He’s not small at all but right now Lan Zhan feels like he could pick him up and bend him upside down. His body itches with want.

“You’re, um,” Wei Ying says, in the calm of the plane now. “You’re big.”

It’s like the wiring has disconnected in Lan Zhan’s brain. “I am big.”

“Oh fuck, did I say—I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” Wei Ying rushes. “I mean you are big, I’m sure, like, everywhere—god, I need to stop talking.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “Would you like to return to the restroom?”

“Would I like to—?”

But then Wei Ying peeks up, must see the dark look in Lan Zhan’s eyes. Lan Zhan’s grip tightens around him, possessive and hungry with the Wei Ying’s body all up against his.

Wei Ying swallows. Lan Zhan feels predatory. “Yeah,” Wei Ying says. “I could go to the bathroom again.”

Getting from the cabin and to the bathrooms—a different one, to be inconspicuous—goes by in a haze. Lan Zhan’s head is muggy with how much he wants Wei Ying, leading him by the wrist at first, until his fingers slip and Wei Ying threads them together. Lan Zhan doesn’t have the fortitude to look back. He just might break.

Wei Ying goes along when Lan Zhan wrenches the first available restroom door open, drags them in, then turns and pulls Wei Ying into his chest, kissing him soundly and without any fanfare. It’s just their first kiss, but—but Lan Zhan’s hand snakes downward as the heat crackles and pops between them, sparks behind his eyelids as he ravishes Wei Ying’s mouth. It’s less like kissing and more a culmination of what they’ve had over this flight so far, like two people who found treasures in each other, who know this might last. And Lan Zhan knows what he wants right now in this narrow space, with his hands pressed against and squeezing Wei Ying’s ass.

Wei Ying moans into his mouth, grinds his hips into little circles against Lan Zhan’s. Lan Zhan can feel him hard through his jeans. “Fuck,” Wei Ying tries to say, but Lan Zhan kisses him again. Wei Ying desperately paws at his shoulders, like he’s trying to climb what he can reach. “Fuck, Lan Zhan, you’re so—”

“Big?” Lan Zhan guesses.

Wei Ying laughs into his mouth. “Hot,” he says, and Lan Zhan can feel the curve of his smile. “Funny. God, we hardly even know each other, and yet—”

“I think,” and Lan Zhan drags his teeth along Wei Ying’s bottom lip, “that I know you well enough.”

Wei Ying makes a desperate noise and kisses him again, scrabbles at his belt, his trousers, his skin—

Lan Zhan has the foresight to lock the door before anyone makes the ill advised decision to come in. He goes for Wei Ying’s jeans too, pressing his fingers into his ass as soon as he can, just down the waistband of his boxer briefs so he can touch, knead at the warm flesh. Wei Ying is panting in his mouth, pressing their bodies closer even though they’re so close in the bathroom—but Lan Zhan wants it too, needs more.

He spins them around so Wei Ying faces the toilet, and Lan Zhan faces his back. “Hands against the wall,” he instructs.

Wei Ying babbles, “God it’s so hot, yeah, tell me what to do—”

“Would you like us to get caught again?” Lan Zhan peels back Wei Ying’s boxer briefs slowly, watches as his ass cheeks protrude up above the elastic. He scrapes his nails down lightly and watches the white to red marks they make; Wei Ying whimpers, pushes back into his touch. Interesting.

He pinches a cheek. Wei Ying huffs a breath out. Lan Zhan says, “Perhaps you want others to know that we are,” and he leans in close, “fucking.”

Wei Ying swears. Lan Zhan watches his hands against the wall curl into fist. “Lan Zhan,” he says, “I swear to god—”

Lan Zhan runs a finger down Wei Ying’s crack and Wei Ying makes a small noise again. Lan Zhan separates his cheeks, spits, drips saliva down his crack. Uses his fingers to nudge inside, open, apart. Wei Ying twists against him, against his finger, getting more in and mumbling, “Please, Lan Zhan, I want—”

Lan Zhan slides the length of his index finger inside. Wei Ying cries out and immediately stuffs his hand in his mouth to keep it down. Inside of him, in his channel and against his walls is so hot and tight. Lan Zhan moves his finger around, widening him up with each pulse of Wei Ying’s muscles. His cock is so hard in his trousers but Wei Ying is even hotter, arching his back for Lan Zhan in his dark grey hoodie, red ribbon in his ponytail loose, muffled sounds coming around his fist.

Lan Zhan drips more saliva down into his crack, into him. When they’re off the plane, when they have enough space, he wants to bury his face in those cheeks, wet and spread Wei Ying enough until he’s prepared for his cock always, that Lan Zhan could slip in whenever he wished. But right now he has a blinding desire to just fuck Wei Ying, to be inside his tight, tight hole, only just wet enough.

He undoes his trousers, takes his cock out, wets his hand with saliva. Parts Wei Ying’s cheeks with the head and Wei Ying sobs and grinds back. But—

Lan Zhan looks down. Perhaps he is too big.

Wei Ying turns back to him. “What are you doing? Are you choosing now of all times to think about this?”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says helplessly. “I do not know—”

“I don’t care. You got a big dick, right?” And then Wei Ying actually shakes his hips—rubs his entrance, his hole against the tip of Lan Zhan’s cock. “C’mon, I can take it. I know you’re big, Lan Zhan, you can still fuck me, I just—okay.”

Lan Zhan begins sliding his cock in. Slowly, just the head, hearing Wei Ying breathe through it all, muttering a litany of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” to himself. But Lan Zhan keeps going, glancing up every so often to see if Wei Ying will protest, will ask him to stop—but he doesn’t, taking every centimeter so well, even thrusting down to get more of Lan Zhan inside of him.

It’s—Lan Zhan feels so immense inside Wei Ying, where he’s so small. “Wei Ying,” he grunts, and slides the rest of the way in, balls slapping against the back of Wei Ying’s thighs.

Wei Ying gets out, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you really are big, holy fuck, I—” he breaks off into a cry as Lan Zhan rolls his hips, grinds in circles just feels so deep inside Wei Ying, as deep as he wanted to be about an hour ago.

Still with their clothes on, just cocks and asses out, Lan Zhan pulls Wei Ying upright with an arm around his torso, Wei Ying’s clothed back against Lan Zhan’s clothed chest. It’s only a bulletpoint on the list of things Lan Zhan wants to do to him, but the bathroom is only so big and Lan Zhan wants to at least drive into Wei Ying, fill his insides right now.

So that’s what he does, fucking him steady with each forceful thrust of his hips, his cock pushing up into Wei Ying’s body. Wei Ying moans, “Can feel you everywhere,” and Lan Zhan says, “You will get us caught,” and Wei Ying cries a bit when Lan Zhan presses his wrist against Wei Ying’s loud, open mouth. He dampens Lan Zhan’s sleeve with his noises and filth but he doesn’t try to move away.

Lan Zhan fucks him faster, rapidly enough that it takes a moment for him to hear the loud slapping of Wei Ying jerking himself off too, his hand against his cock. Lan Zhan wishes he could touch him right now, but angles his cock—Wei Ying’s knees buckle, and he collapses his hands onto the toilet seat as Lan Zhan drives into his prostate. Wei Ying seems to be trying to hold himself up and keep quiet at the same time—but he fails at both, especially when Lan Zhan brings his large hands up to wrap around Wei Ying’s waist, shoving the softness of his cheeks against his hips, and comes into Wei Ying’s tight hot hole.

Wei Ying whines louder, then—shudders, thighs shaking as his body bows forward like a wishbone. Lan Zhan’s breathing is so loud in his own ears, and Wei Ying’s panting—he smiles back at Lan Zhan, and even though he just came, Lan Zhan’s cock twitches inside Wei Ying, anyway.

“Holy shit,” Wei Ying says, as Lan Zhan’s soft cock slips out. “That was—you really. Holy shit.” He tries to stand up but his knees wobble; he manages to get his pants and underwear back up, before kneeling onto the toilet. “I need a moment.”

“Are you sore?” Lan Zhan asks as he gets his own pants up.

“Of course I’m sore! Do you know what you did to my poor butt? Take responsibility.” Wei Ying wiggles his butt, low from where he’s perched on the toilet.

An idea comes to Lan Zhan. “Alright,” he says. “Let us return to my seat.”

“What?” Wei Ying steps down from the toilet now, falls a bit into Lan Zhan’s body. Lan Zhan catches him. “You really wanna go back to that guy you hate? And me with my ex—?”

“I do not hate anybody,” Lan Zhan says, because he doesn’t hate Su She, just finds the reminder of his existence an inconvenience. Although. Hm. He might hate Wei Ying’s ex for whatever reasons he has for being Wei Ying’s ex.

But he adds, “I did not say you were returning to your seat. You can come to mine as well.”

It takes another second for Wei Ying to realize. “Oh, I see,” he says. “You’re my seat, aren’t you? That’s your way of taking responsibility? I suppose I’ll accept it.”

They turn to leave the bathroom. When they open the door, a flight attendant is there, looking flustered—he pointedly looks away as they come out sweaty. What a picture they must make, Lan Zhan thinks, with his hair sticking to his forehead and Wei Ying’s ponytail slipping out.

Wei Ying beaming and chattering once more to the hint of the satisfied smile on his face. With them holding hands as they walk down the seat aisle, Wei Ying plopping himself down on Lan Zhan’s lap like that’s where he belongs.