Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

MDZS/CQL

Relationship:

Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian

Series:

Part of the might as well swim series

Tags:

anal fingering, anal sex, barebacking, biting, d/s, finger sucking, first time, hand holding, masturbation, orgasm control, orgasm denial, sex tears, subspace, undernegotiated kink, underwater sex, virginity kink

Stats:

Posted on:

2021-01-04

Words:

4,054

As it turns out, the Lans have a perfectly good hot tub, too.

Lan Zhan had told his drunk brother that he and Wei Ying were going to take his car, to which Lan Huan had thrust up his can of beer and said, “Go, didi! Get yourself a boyfriend! I’ll sleep over at Mingjue’s.” Mingjue had said, “What, you’re not gonna ask?” and their third friend who Wei Ying’s name is pretty sure is Meng Yao said, “Like you’d say no to him.”

As they made their way to the Lans’ car, Wei Ying had said, “Why did your brother tell you to get a boyfriend?”

Lan Zhan’s ears reddened. In the car, a few minutes after Wei Ying had asked and was now complaining about the music coming from the radio, Lan Zhan finally answered, “My brother may have known I have been… taken with you, for the past several years.”

“Several years?” Wei Ying gaped.

Lan Zhan started the engine and didn’t respond.

And now that brings them here, to the Lan estate. Which, with how big it is, is almost more shocking than the idea that Lan Zhan’s been holding a torch for him for years. But in the way that the Nie estate was grand in an ancient temple, look-but-don’t-touch-except-for-the-bomb-ass-backyard kind of way, the Lan estate is majestic in a this-is-the-equivalent-to-a-world-famous-garden kind of way. Like the big one in Singapore. Except instead of glass, it’s all oak wood, dark and subtle and minimalist against the artfully boring white walls.

It’s not impressive as much as it is new to Wei Ying, who practically grew up in the Jiang Estate which featured a manmade pond at nearly every turn. But it’s still stunning to see one of these estates for the first time up close. He and Lan Zhan had only ever done their schoolwork together at the high school or in the library. But he can easily imagine Lan Zhan doing his homework in the moonlit corners they pass, or at the square homey table in the dining room they cut through. Or in the massive basement, which has what looks like a gym, a fitness center, a set of showers, and a hot tub.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying laughs into Lan Zhan’s shoulder. They’re holding hands—Lan Zhan hadn’t wanted to let go since they stepped out of the car. Wei Ying’s not complaining. “Did you just want to fuck me in a hot tub?”

“If Wei Ying did not want to get fucked in a hot tub,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying’s skin tingles at the sound of fuck falling from Lan Zhan’s lips, “he should not have tried to entice me in one.”

“I wasn’t trying to entice you!” Wei Ying protests.

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow, and their hands. He slips his fingers from between Wei Ying’s and spreads them, in front of Wei Ying’s face. His long, strong fingers, delicate on the guqin, rough on the piano, flexing and pale under the basement’s yellow light. His fingers that can probably reach deep into Wei Ying’s body, taste a bit like his sandalwood scent in his mouth, a mean grip around his cock…

Wei Ying bats his hand away. Then he grabs it again. “Rude!” he says to Lan Zhan, as he threads their fingers together. “You know what your hands do to me.”

Lan Zhan’s lips quirk.

“Don’t look so self-satisfied,” Wei Ying says, though Lan Zhan’s smirk gets more pronounced. “You only learned it tonight, and I had just been making an observation. How was I supposed to know I had a thing for your hands? And your,” he gestures, “everything.”

“My everything,” Lan Zhan repeats. He leads them to the hot tub, though they’re clothed—Wei Ying had been shivering in his mesh shirt, so Lan Zhan had loaned his white hoodie to him, wearing just his beige collared shirt instead.

Wei Ying sits down next to him on the wooden steps. “Yes, your everything. Just look at you. How was my innocent virgin body supposed to resist all of this?” He gestures at Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan stills. “You are a virgin?”

Wei Ying blushes. He meant to be hyperbolic, but…

“So what if I am?” His pout loses its effect when he can’t really cross his arms with the way they’re still holding hands. Instead he just squeezes Lan Zhan’s hand for emphasis.

Lan Zhan squeezes back. “It is not… I,” he says, then thinks for a moment. “When you said you were looking to get ‘laid,’ I had assumed it was something you did before. Often.”

“Oh.” Wei Ying scratches his head with his free hand in embarrassment. “I mean, I was looking to get laid. But mostly because I’m just really horny! Because I’ve never done it with anyone before. And, like, there’s only so much jerking off can do, you know?”

Lan Zhan tilts his head.

“Show me,” he says.

Wei Ying’s mouth goes dry. “What?”

“Show me,” Lan Zhan says, dark eyes getting darker, “how you jerk off.”

Hearing it like that, filth from Lan Zhan’s lips, makes Wei Ying’s spine tingle. And with his gaze so heavy on Wei Ying, Wei Ying feels like he has no choice but to obey. “Okay,” he says, and moves robotically, unlacing their hands and starting to undo his shorts.

As he does, Lan Zhan goes around to the hot tub. He fiddles with the controls. There’s a small spurt, then water starts pouring in from the side waterfalls, quickly filling the tub.

Wei Ying starts. With his shorts down his legs and hands stuffed halfway down his underwear, he says, “Lan Zhan! I thought you wanted me to show you how I jerk off.”

“I do,” Lan Zhan says, adjusting the dials. He glances up to Wei Ying. “Keep going.”

Wei Ying puts his hands on his hips. “You can’t just tell me what to do! You say that like you expect me to just listen to you.”

Lan Zhan stops what he’s doing and comes over to Wei Ying. “Show me how you masturbate,” he says, low and demanding in Wei Ying’s ear. “Now.”

That—That’s just not fair. Wei Ying’s mind whites out, and before he knows it, he’s discarded his underwear too, and Lan Zhan’s hoodie and shirt. Then he’s naked and Lan Zhan’s beckoning him to the edge of the tub and Wei Ying is weak. He slides into the water as requested.

Lan Zhan’s big hand makes its way to Wei Ying’s scalp, running through his hair. “Good,” he soothes.

Wei Ying preens, making a small noise against Lan Zhan’s face.

Lan Zhan is standing up next to the tub. He’s outside, still clothed, while Wei Ying is naked. The water and bubbles are hot against his skin, but no match to Lan Zhan breathing next to his ear, carding through his hair gently. Lan Zhan’s arms are long enough to reach the dials from here, and he does, the less bubbles and more of a low rumbling beneath Wei Ying. The water is clear enough for Lan Zhan to see everything.

To see Wei Ying’s dick, quickly hardening in the pale blue light in the water.

“Touch yourself,” Lan Zhan commands.

Wei Ying groans. “Lan Zhan, oh, Lan Zhan,” he says, wrapping his palm loosely around his cock. Then tighter, because he’s been on and off with his boner for the past half hour, and Lan Zhan isn’t that mean, is he? “Lan Zhan, I want you, I wanna come.”

“Not yet,” Lan Zhan says gently.

Wei Ying whines.

“Keep touching yourself,” Lan Zhan says. “Let me see.”

Wei Ying whimpers, but does as he’s told. The water feels slippery but not slippery enough, raw along his cock as he jerks himself. It feels so weird with the hot water around him, everything oversensitized up to his nipples, his neck—then Lan Zhan kisses his neck, bites down on his shoulder, and Wei Ying gasps.

“Lan Zhan, ah, you’re so mean,” he says, trying to see him, getting a snatch of his thick black hair, hungry eyes. “Making me do this by myself when I said I wanted to do it with someone else, ah, Lan Zhan, why? Weren’t you going to fuck me? Why am I doing this by myself?”

“Soon,” Lan Zhan murmurs against his skin. He bites his shoulder again; Wei Ying cries out. “I want to see Wei Ying first.”

“So mean, so mean,” Wei Ying whines, but he strokes his cock faster, feeling everything—the hotness, the wetness, Lan Zhan’s sandalwood scent around him. He imagines what it would look like from Lan Zhan’s perspective, seeing his comparably smaller hand around his comparably smaller cock, through the clear water, in Lan Zhan’s hot tub. This isn’t what hot tubs are made for and Wei Ying’s bones are still kind of tired from sitting in Nie Huaisang’s for so long—and yet, it’s different, better, with Lan Zhan’s teeth digging into his shoulder, surely to leave a bruise. “Ah, it hurts Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whimpers.

“Don’t stop,” Lan Zhan says.

“I, ah, ah.” Wei Ying thrusts his hips up into his hands. Lan Zhan’s teeth press down into his skin more, and he moans, cries, at the pain and the overwhelming pleasure everywhere. “It’s too hot, it’s too hot.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” Wei Ying says. “Lan Zhan, please, can I—”

And he’s sure he’s going to come, with or without Lan Zhan’s permission; but then Lan Zhan says, “Stop.”

Wei Ying’s body is a traitor. It does as commanded, hand releasing, orgasm that felt so on the brink, just edges away, quickly receding. Wei Ying makes a pathetic noise and turns his face towards Lan Zhan, whines. He blinks; he feels tears on his eyelashes.

Lan Zhan looks at Wei Ying. Kisses his eyelids, then his mouth. Even though Wei Ying’s still so hard, it feels like some relief, Lan Zhan’s ragged breath against his own. Their mouths slot together perfectly like they were made for each other, tongues running against teeth. He’s so hot and warm and slick, and if it’s the only bit of Lan Zhan Wei Ying’s allowed to get, he’ll take it. Lan Zhan tastes so good, on his tongue, in the crevices of his mouth that Lan Zhan explores like he’s trying to feel every part of Wei Ying—

Then Lan Zhan pulls away. Wei Ying whines.

“Will fuck you now,” Lan Zhan says.

And Wei Ying feels giddy and greedy as Lan Zhan begins to strip. He watches with hazy and hooded eyes as more of Lan Zhan’s skin becomes visible—his nipples again, his eight-pack, his big thighs and huge, thick cock in between. There’s a sprinkling of hair on his chest, beneath his bellybutton and around his cock. Wei Ying moans because none of the porn he’s watched in his life has ever measured up to Lan Zhan, in real life, like this.

“Lan Zhan, please,” he says. “I’ve been waiting—been wanting, you look so good. Have you jerked off before, too? Jerked off thinking about me?” He can’t imagine there’s any teenage boy who hasn’t masturbated, but the idea of Lan Zhan getting off to him—he moans again. “Did you think about fucking me, when we were in high school? Splitting me open?”

Lan Zhan growls, climbs into the hot tub with him. He covers Wei Ying’s mouth with his own but Wei Ying can’t stop talking, feels like he needs to keep going until Lan Zhan makes him shut up.

“So hot, and now you have me in my tub. Have you jerked off in your hot tub, here, too? Thinking about what you’ll do to me?”

Lan Zhan makes a broken, horny noise against his lips. “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, you’re mean, this is what you get for not letting me come,” Wei Ying mumbles. “This is what you—ah!”

Lan Zhan wraps a big hand around him. Just one, and it feels like it’s engulfing his entire cock in warmth and friction. Wei Ying moans, while Lan Zhan takes his other hand and sticks his fingers into Wei Ying’s mouth.

“What about you?” Lan Zhan asks. “Did you think about begging for it? Did you think about me making you shut up?” He stuffs his fingers between Wei Ying’s lips further. Underneath the water, his strokes are slow, tantalizing as he looks Wei Ying in the eyes.

Wei Ying feels tears watering at the edge of his eyes. “Lan Zhan,” he says around his fingers.

“Still no coming,” Lan Zhan says, and tightens his grip around the base of Wei Ying’s cock.

Wei Ying feels helpless, biting Lan Zhan’s fingers lightly, making noises, orgasm threatening to burst out of him. But Lan Zhan keeps him here, keeps him at the edge, until it dwindles, painful. Wei Ying’s body is relaxed and worked up at the same time when Lan Zhan releases him, hard cock still dark and flushed straight up in the water. Lan Zhan keeps his fingers in his mouth, though; Wei Ying bites hard on the pad of one.

Lan Zhan says, “Ow.”

He takes it out. But he seems pretty satisfied with the indentations of Wei Ying’s teeth on his finger.

Wei Ying pouts. His cock is aching, his—ass is aching, with how turned on he is, wanting something in it, anything. Lan Zhan hasn’t even fingered him yet! “I came here to get railed, Lan Zhan,” he says. “You’ve only just been teasing me.”

Lan Zhan’s mouth slants up. “Teasing Wei Ying is fun.”

“I can’t believe you,” Wei Ying complains, as Lan Zhan settles in next to him. As Lan Zhan drags Wei Ying’s entire body with immaculate strength, that totally turns Wei Ying on with a full body shiver. “Saying that teasing me is fun… Imagine if I spent a whole night doing nothing but teasing you!”

“You already did,” Lan Zhan says, settling Wei Ying onto his lap. “Earlier.”

Oh. Right. “Well!” Wei Ying says, as he feels Lan Zhan palm between his cheeks. “That doesn’t coun—ah!”

Lan Zhan’s slipped two fingers into his empty, pulsing hole, bigger than probably what he can handle right now. Maybe bigger than what he could handle ever, except that Wei Ying really wants to take Lan Zhan’s cock, and that’s like, five whole fingers wide.

“Lan Zhan! You’re mean, it hurts,” Wei Ying whines into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, as Lan Zhan nudges his fingers deeper into him.

Lan Zhan hums against his cheek. “Want me to stop?”

Wei Ying refuses to answer that. “Too big,” he complains instead. “I knew Lan Zhan had nice hands, but now you’re using them against me.” He feels Lan Zhan’s fingers flex inside him, his passage, his channel, spreading him open like he’s nothing. His sphincter clenches, hard, tightening. Two fingers, and it’s good, too good, and not enough.

“I’m using them inside of you,” Lan Zhan replies.

“Did you just—” Wei Ying tries to sit up, get a good look at him, but that just drives Lan Zhan’s fingers into him deeper. “Ah! Did you just, hngh, make a pun, Lan Zhan?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t reply to this. “You are very tight,” he says, instead. “A virgin indeed.”

“Right, right,” Wei Ying says, nodding, adjusting himself, make himself comfortable when Lan Zhan’s fingers go in deeper, like they’re trying to reach the back of his throat. He gasps, gets light-headed, tries to catch his breath. “S-So you have to be nice to me, gege, go easy on me.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, and spreads his fingers apart.

Wei Ying shrieks.

“I don’t think you want me to,” Lan Zhan says, as if they were discussing the weather—or what they were discussing earlier, practically playing twenty questions with Lan Zhan’s love life. “I think you want me to be rough with you.”

Tears are sparkling in Wei Ying’s eyes. He blinks at Lan Zhan through them. “What makes you say that?”

In response, Lan Zhan nudges a third finger against the rim of Wei Ying’s hole. Wei Ying cries, “Too much, too much!”

“Would you like me to stop?” Lan Zhan asks, again.

Wei Ying rests his head on Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Wants to bite him, in retaliation to how hard Lan Zhan bit him earlier. “Gege is mean,” he says, instead. “What does he have so many fingers for? He only needs one to play the guqin and piano.”

Lan Zhan laughs lightly into his ear. “Playing piano requires more than one finger,” he says, as he slots the third beside the other two, into Wei Ying.

Wei Ying hiccups against his chest. “Why? I can play piano with one finger,” he says, as the three fingers stroke inside, massaging at his walls. Wei Ying’s chest feels full like Lan Zhan’s reached inside him this deep already.

“I can play chopsticks on piano with one finger,” Wei Ying mumbles out.

“A child can play chopsticks with one finger,” Lan Zhan replies, flexing his fingers in to the knuckle.

Wei Ying mewls against his skin. Bites his shoulder, except not hard enough, like he’s just finding something to do with his mouth. “Don’t talk about children while you’re doing this to me,” he says against the saliva on Lan Zhan’s skin.

“Mm.” Lan Zhan slips his fingers out, slaps Wei Ying’s cheek lightly in the water. The traction of the water prevents it from actually hurting, but Wei Ying is so sensitive that he still flinches, anyway. “I do not believe Wei Ying is the one who should be telling me what to do.”

“Since when has Lan Zhan been so aggressive during sex?” Wei Ying whines, settling down onto Lan Zhan’s thighs. “Why is Lan Zhan so—ah! fuck!—horrible to me?”

Lan Zhan had shoved his cock into Wei Ying in the middle of his sentence.

“Only with Wei Ying,” he says, and begins bouncing Wei Ying up and down his cock.

It’s big and everywhere, in every part of Wei Ying’s aching body. He feels used, like a sex toy, a doll, Lan Zhan’s big hands gripping him by the waist—and they really do almost come all the way around his waist—shoving him up and down unceremoniously onto his cock. “Ah, ah, ah,” Wei Ying cries, because he doesn’t—doesn’t know what else to do, with so much of Lan Zhan inside of him. With all of Lan Zhan inside of him, when Lan Zhan goes particularly deep with one thrust, so much that Wei Ying’s mind nearly shoots out of his body, like he’s dissociating with how much it’s overtaking him. He’s just noises right now, drool and noises he can’t help out, babbles and streams of words, like,

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, big, ah, I can feel you, ngh, everywhere, I,” Wei Ying gasps, and the water sloshes around them. It’s sloshing so much, but Wei Ying can barely hear it, focused on the faint sound of their thighs and ass and balls slapping together beneath the warm water. “Lan Zhan, too much, too—”

“You like it too much,” Lan Zhan says, and shoves his fingers into Wei Ying’s mouth. Wei Ying moans and bites, but it’s no match for the overwhelming pressure inside of him, reaching every part of his body, filling him. “Wei Ying likes it when it’s too much for him.”

“That’s not, that’s not true,” Wei Ying tries, still fucking himself down on Lan Zhan’s cock. Water is overflowing the edge of the tub, with how much they’re moving around. And still, Wei Ying can’t stop, wants Lan Zhan everywhere, the friction, the hotness, everything.

Around the fingers in his mouth, he manages, “Lan Zhan, are you this mean with everyone you, ah, fuck? Are you?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes flash. He buries himself into Wei Ying’s ass, his body, into one long push, and holds him there. He’s splitting him open, carving this part of Wei Ying’s body just for him, and Wei Ying nearly expires except for the way Lan Zhan grabs him by the chin.

He looks into Wei Ying’s eyes.

“This is my first time too,” he says.

Then he spins Wei Ying around so that his stomach is pressed against the edge of the hot tub, standing, Lan Zhan behind him, still in him, entirely in him. Wei Ying is on his hands, gripping the edge of the tub as Lan Zhan pulls himself out, then slams back in again, making Wei Ying’s teeth rattle. And again and again, pounding him unforgivingly, like it’s not his first time, like he’d been lying, he does this for a living, like he’s a professional. He’s not, Wei Ying knows, because Lan Zhan doesn’t lie, but—but he probably thought about this a lot of times. Wei Ying’s wild mind goes everywhere with it, with what Lan Zhan might fantasize about: fucking Wei Ying this hard, showing how much he wants to take from Wei Ying, giving and giving until Wei Ying doesn’t want anymore and still has no choice but to take it from Lan Zhan. Wei Ying is moaning and crying with every deep push of Lan Zhan’s cock, until Lan Zhan sticks his fingers in his mouth again, and—Wei Ying likes having something in this hole, too, something he can gnaw on, chew on, something he can suck. He sucks Lan Zhan’s fingers hard, as hard as Lan Zhan is fucking him, and Lan Zhan groans. Spreads Wei Ying’s cheeks with his other hand, pulling Wei Ying’s head back with the fingers in his mouth.

He’s probably watching. God, Lan Zhan is horrible, a beast in bed, Wei Ying thinks giddily. Watching himself push into Wei Ying’s virgin hole, with his virgin cock, the sight probably turning him on—

Then Wei Ying sucks on one finger particularly hard and Lan Zhan comes. Just like that, no warning, in his ass, in his body, hot and slick and good, even with the water around their thighs. Lan Zhan’s cock, his cum is different than the water, sticky and thick and filling up parts of Wei Ying that he didn’t know where inside of him, like he’s marking himself there, making Wei Ying’s body his home. And Lan Zhan barely gets a hand around Wei Ying’s cock when Wei Ying comes too, at the feeling of everything but especially Lan Zhan, head rubbing over the palm of his cock like he’s saying it’s okay, you can come now.

It feels unending, every part of his body, toes curling on the floor of the hot tub as he shakes through it. Lan Zhan is plastered over his back, holding him as Wei Ying trembles through his orgasm, cock spurting over his fingers. Wei Ying mewls throughout, especially when Lan Zhan kisses his neck, his cheek in comfort. When he’s done, he feels boneless and tired and a bit pruney.

And then confused when he realizes that the rumble of the hot tub has stopped.

He turns, nudges his nose against Lan Zhan’s cheek. “Did you turn your hot tub off?” he asks.

Lan Zhan frowns. From this angle, his nose crinkles, and Wei Ying wants to kiss it.

“No,” Lan Zhan says.

He slips out—Wei Ying makes a whine of complaint, and even more when Lan Zhan absently sticks two fingers back in, pushing his cum in instead of letting it leak out. It’s too much but Lan Zhan was right when he said that Wei Ying likes it too much—he does, likes Lan Zhan trying to keep his cum inside of him, like it could stay there forever.

On the other, very literal hand, Lan Zhan is examining the settings of his hot tub, the dials on the side.

“Oh,” he says.

“What?” Wei Ying asks sleepily.

Lan Zhan removes his fingers from inside Wei Ying. Looks at his palm, covered with his and Wei Ying’s semen.

“I believe,” he says, “we broke my hot tub too.”

Wei Ying laughs, then drags Lan Zhan’s hand towards his face and licks their mixed cum off.

They go at it two more times that night, but in Lan Zhan’s bed, since they don’t have any more hot tubs to break.