aroceu's ficSometimes Lan Zhan only puts the tip of his cock into Wei Ying’s hole.
He’s the worst. Wei Ying is pretty sure he has certifiably the worst boyfriend, aside from the fact that he’s pretty much in love with him. Because Lan Zhan knows that Wei Ying is desperate for it, greedy for it, yet even sometimes just the tip of his cock will send Wei Ying over the edge.
Or it won’t, because Lan Zhan won’t let him. He’ll grip onto Wei Ying’s cock tight, thrust the head of his cock those few centimeters, in and out, teasing at Wei Ying’s rim, puffy and oversensitive. It’s definitely too much, Wei Ying’s already whimpering, “Lan Zhan, please,” tears streaming down his face. His insides are empty and Lan Zhan is teasing him like this—he clenches around Lan Zhan’s cock, tightens, trying to drag more of Lan Zhan’s cock inside of him.
It doesn’t work, of course. Lan Zhan has his own hand wrapped around his cock, keeps it at just the head. Because he’s the worst, he doesn’t warn before he spurts inside Wei Ying, deeper than the head of his cock but not deep enough. Not where Wei Ying wants it, wants all of it, scrabbling against his kitchen counter and aching red cock between his thighs. And inside him, Lan Zhan’s cum is thick and gooey, warm in his channel. Wei Ying clenches down to keep that inside, too.
The coldness is a surprise when it slips into his hole, his tender rim. Wei Ying hadn’t forgotten, but he sobs a little as the buttplug nestles inside him, keeping Lan Zhan’s cum in there. His cock is raw, aching as Lan Zhan slides it all the way in to the base, nudges it firm, then slaps at Wei Ying’s cheeks lightly.
Wei Ying cries again.
He doesn’t do anything as Lan Zhan pulls up his underwear, his jeans, takes care of him, zips him back up. Straightens his shirt—a black collared button-up—and reties his tie. Wipes the tears from his face and kisses his nose.
“You are presentable now,” Lan Zhan says to him. His own limp cock is still out.
Wei Ying sniffs. “You’re the meanest.”
Lan Zhan looks smug as he begins to redress himself.
*
They’re a little bit late to the gathering, but it’s fine because both Wei Ying and his boyfriend don’t really care about the politics of it all.
The four richest families in the small town are kind of friends, and kind of enemies. Wei Ying hadn’t understood why they had to be enemies when they were younger, which was why he made friends with Nie Huaisang early into primary school, and wanted to get to know Lan Zhan soon enough as well. He isn’t part of the Jiang family, technically; but with his parents as wards to the Jiangs, he eventually got a good enough word in to go to the same school as Jiang Cheng and the rest of the elite kids, and the kids of the parents who try to get into the four families’ good graces.
Now that they’re all adults, it’s easier to avoid—except for the part where Jin Zixuan, who has never been Wei Ying’s favorite Jin (although it’s very hard to have a favorite Jin at all), had invited all of the four richest families to a party at his parents’ house. He’d even gone out of the way to invite Yanli-jie, which is the main reason why Wei Ying is going, when she had told him. “I gotta make sure Jin Zixuan isn’t up to something,” he’d told Lan Zhan, who’d nodded in understanding. Lan Zhan had been planning on attending too, so they decided that they would just arrive together. Everyone knew they were dating, anyway.
But the afternoon they were getting ready, things got a little… out of hand.
And that’s how Wei Ying shows up to Jin Zixuan’s pretentious neighborhood gathering with a metal buttplug stuffing Lan Zhan’s cum inside of him.
He squirms as they make their way through the entrance, nodding at the butler. The Jins are the only family who have hired help anymore; Lan Zhan had told him that he and his family clean the estate once a week, from top to bottom. “That’s nice,” Wei Ying had told him, “but we’re not doing that when we move together, are we?” Lan Zhan’s eyes had twinkled, and he said that they definitely would clean once a week too.
The Jins probably have their help clean the estate once a day, with how sparkly and shiny and gold it is. Wei Ying crinkles his nose in disgust. “I know it’s been like, a decade since I’ve been here,” he says, “but is it just me or has the décor gotten tackier?”
Lan Zhan hums consideringly at a gauche golden vase sitting in the middle of the foyer for absolutely no purpose.
They make their way into the kitchen. It is, of course, a potluck; Wei Ying’s parents are here already, and greet him with kisses on his cheek. Wei Ying laughs and tries not to feel weird that he’s doing this with a plug shoved in his ass.
“It’s only been a couple weeks since I’ve seen you,” Wei Ying says; his apartment is closer to the city.
“You can afford to visit your parents more now that you’ve moved back for your Master’s,” his mother says sternly, patting his cheek.
Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “And not get your WeChat stickers? Come on.”
“WeChat stickers are no replacement for this face,” says his mother.
From beside her, Wei Ying’s father snickers. Cangse Sanren elbows him. “Laogong, come greet your son.”
“Aiyah,” says his father, but embraces Wei Ying like a good parent, not like a mom pretending to be an auntie. “Er-zi, come by more so your mother stops wondering if we should drive out and bring you dishes.”
“You definitely don’t have to,” Wei Ying says, hugging his dad back. “Lan Zhan cooks for me enough.”
His parents brighten up, at the sight of Lan Zhan behind him. Lan Zhan extends his hand; Cangse Sanren bats it away and begins pinching his cheeks too.
Wei Ying giggles as he watches Lan Zhan respectfully take what his parents dish out, answering their questions. They’d been delighted when Wei Ying had brought him home for the first time, about a month or so into their relationship—by that point, he and Lan Zhan had fucked countless times, and confessed that they were taking this relationship seriously. Wei Ying knows that he’d originally gone to that pool party to get laid, but honestly? He’s kind of a romantic guy, he’s not that sure if he would’ve been able to just fuck someone and let it go. He probably would’ve tried to figure out the person’s personality first, decided if he liked them enough, and if were worthy of fucking Wei Ying—which is a lot of work, anyway, when you’re just looking for sex. Luckily for him, he knew Lan Zhan’s personality like the back of his hand, liked it, and Lan Zhan was definitely, definitely worthy of fucking Wei Ying.
He’s uncomfortably reminded of the metal plug lodged inside him. Maybe too worthy.
He and Lan Zhan make the social rounds, running into Jin patriarch, who stiffly acknowledges them ;Lan Zhan’s brother, who is sipping cider; and Jiang Cheng, who holds his wine stiffly in his hands.
“Aw, is didi missing his beer?” Wei Ying teases.
Jiang Cheng glares at him. He gulps down a bit of wine, which even Wei Ying knows is not how you’re supposed to drink it. He makes a face.
“Have you run into jie?” he asks.
Wei Ying’s face darkens. “Not yet.”
“She told you, right?” Jiang Cheng says. “About how Jin Zixuan came by to our house to personally invite her?”
“Yeah,” Wei Ying grumbles. “Something’s fishy. I don’t trust that guy.”
Jiang Cheng knocks back the rest of his wine like it’s a can of beer. “Me neither. If he does anything to hurt her again…”
He and Wei Ying nod. High school hadn’t been great when Jin Zixuan had very publicly broken off his and Jian Yanli’s engagement, scornful that his mother and Yu Ziyuan were best friends. Wei Ying had kind of thought the idea of an arranged marriage was romantic, and so had Yanli-jie, as they’d spend a lot of time giggling about the idea of dates and molding both yourself and your partner as someone you’d both like. Apparently Jin Zixuan had not thought so, having ignored Yanli all through high school, finally ending it when Yanli had asked him to a school dance. Yanli had burst into tears and Wei Ying had punched Jin Zixuan in the face and Lan Zhan had come to the nurse’s office with him to get an ice pack while Wei Ying ranted about what a prick Jin Zixuan was.
It’s been over five years since high school, but Wei Ying’s not over it. Surely Jin Zixuan isn’t either, so why he asked Yanli personally still mystifies him.
Jiang Cheng gets roped into a question by another auntie about his relationship status, which makes him turn bright red. Wei Ying enjoys it for a moment, until Lan Zhan asks, “Would you like to find Jiang-guniang?”
Wei Ying sighs. He hasn’t even broken into the alcohol, but he did come here for only one reason. “Yeah,” he says.
Lan Zhan smiles and pats his ass. The cold plug shifts inside him; Wei Ying breaks his groan off into a small yelp.
“I will continue here,” Lan Zhan says.
It says a lot, because Wei Ying knows Lan Zhan is not fond of socializing with humblebragging aunties and uncles. But if Wei Ying finds Yanli-jie crying or something, it’s… yeah. Lan Zhan is his boyfriend of a few years now, but he’s not family (yet, his brain reminds him), and Wei Ying will want to be alone to comfort his da-jie. Even with a toy inside of him.
He roams around the ground floor, where most of the party is happening—the two living rooms, the kitchens, the movie theater, the three dining rooms—all adorned with different types of gold, and yet Wei Ying accidentally returns to the dining rooms at least twice because he couldn’t recognize that he’d already been in before. There’s no one in the five offices or courtyard garden or something that looks like a guest room. Every bathroom is empty except one, and when Wei Ying knocks, the voice of his actual least favorite Jin yells, “Go away!” Wei Ying rolls his eyes and continues on.
He considers searching on any of the upper floors, except it’s a bit of a taboo to go past the ground floor at one of these elite parties, especially if it’s hosted at your own house. All the good shit is down here—or further down, in the basement.
The Jin’s basement had always been the envy of every high schooler—while the Nies had a rocking backyard for pool parties and the Lans didn’t party and the Jiangs refused to party, the Jins went all out for their basement. Not like the rest of house and adorned with gold, it instead has every single video game console and game known to man, plus an actual arcade, plus about five VR systems, plus a massive pool that could put every sky pool to shame despite being some thirty feet underground. Along with about three hot tubs and a banging stereo system and a full bar, you were the envy of the school if you could get into a Jin party.
Wei Ying, of course, was only ever invited for these pretentious family gatherings. And even then, he only play a video game for twenty minutes before snotty Jin Zixun would kick him out of the basement and he’d morosely have to find a deck of cards and play Solitaire before Jiang Cheng and Yanli found him and roped him into a game of Big Two.
Now that they’re adults, it’s mostly dark down in the basement, save for the dim colored lighting at the bar. Wei Ying creeps down, letting himself gaze at the massive TV screen with envy before actually searching around. He winces as the plug loosens in his hole in his hole—it’s with greed that makes him feel a bit slutty when he pushes it back in more. His walls clench in satisfaction, and he passes the bar, the hot tubs. He’s pretty sure no one’s down here.
Then, as he turns the corner, he hears soft voices.
“I didn’t… it wasn’t… there are a lot of things I regret,” Jin Zixuan says.
When Wei Ying treads back, peeks around the wall, he sees two figures strolling by the pool—the unmistakable gold of Jin Zixuan’s bomber jacket, and the smaller figure of Yanli-jie in a swishy lavender dress. The pool lights glimmer on them, waves along their faces. Wei Ying takes comfort in the fact that if need be, he can push Jin Zixuan into the pool if Yanli-jie so much as frowns.
But Yanli-jie isn’t saying anything as Jin Zixuan keeps talking. “I have been foolish,” he says, and Wei Ying nods in agreement. “Being a teenager, a child, is no excuse, as you were a teenager too. But I am not the same boy as I was then.”
He turns to Yanli, narrow nose framed in the blue pool light. “I want to apologize for my past actions,” Jin Zixuan says. “What I said, what I did… It was not right. It was humiliating. I humiliated you, and I wanted to humiliate you, because I felt humiliated by you. It was unfair of me to be shallow when I did not know you, when I did not recognize your kindness. It…” He pauses. “It was inexcusable. I am sorry.”
From here, it’s hard to tell what Yanli-jie is thinking. Even as she turns so that Wei Ying can see her face, her gaze is undecipherable.
“Jin Zixuan,” she says. “I am not the same girl as I was then, either.”
Wei Ying holds his breath.
Jin Zixuan inclines his head. “I understand. You are under no obligation to forgive me, or—”
But then Yanli breaks into a smile and pats Jin Zixuan’s shoulder. “I’m joking,” she says to him kindly. “Or rather, I’m not as sensitive as I used to be.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive,” Jin Zixuan points out.
Okay. So he might be rapidly climbing up to the top of Wei Ying’s favorite Jins list.
“Indeed,” Yanli says, but she’s still smiling. “But we were both young. I do understand what you’re saying, and if you would like to hear it, I forgive you. But I forgave you a long time ago.”
Well I haven’t, Wei Ying thinks spitefully. And Jiang Cheng hasn’t either.
Jin Zixuan exhales. “That is more than I can ask for,” he says. “I am glad that you—are still the same, in many ways.”
Yanli laughs lightly. “And I am still different, in many ways,” she says. She bumps her shoulders with his, and Jin Zixuan looks stunned. “Come, I think our parents may be looking for us.”
She heads off towards—well, where Wei Ying is. Wei Ying quickly scrambles in the dark, trying to avoid being seen.
He bumps into a body in the shadows.
Wei Ying opens up his mouth to scream—then a hand covers his mouth.
“Don’t move,” says a low voice in his ear.
Wei Ying could almost sob with relief. He’d recognize Lan Zhan’s large hand anywhere.
Yanli and Jin Zixuan pass through in the dark, not noticing them in the shadowed corner, none the wiser. Lan Zhan’s other hand is stroking down Wei Ying’s spine, through his shirt that feels paper thin now, with the way Lan Zhan is pressing down, inch by inch. As they watch Yanli and Jin Zixuan pass through the arcade, Lan Zhan’s fingers run over Wei Ying’s sensitive cheeks. Press between, at the base, nudging at his cum still inside of Wei Ying.
Wei Ying whimpers against Lan Zhan’s palm.
“Quiet,” Lan Zhan mutters.
They wait as Yanli and Jin Zixuan disappear, footsteps going up the stairs.
As soon as the basement door slams shut, Lan Zhan lets him go. Wei Ying gasps.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he says, catching his breath. “When did you come down here?”
Lan Zhan shifts. It’s always hard to tell if he just moves his arms weird, or if he’s actually shrugging. “A few minutes after you,” he says.
Wei Ying laughs into him. “Didn’t want to stay with everyone else, did you?” he says, and by the look on Lan Zhan’s face, he can tell that he’s right. “Don’t worry, we can leave early if we want. I think we talked to everyone we were supposed to.”
“Indeed,” Lan Zhan says. “Your parents are getting drunk.”
“Oh boy.” Wei Ying covers his face. “How about your uncle?”
“Uncle is playing mahjong,” Lan Zhan says. “I believe your parents were planning on joining him after their glass of wine.” Which is another way of saying that basically everyone who’d otherwise pay attention to them will either be partaking in the mahjong tournament, or making sure that everyone in the mahjong tournament doesn’t kill each other.
Wei Ying chuckles. “Then we can really leave early.”
“Or.”
Lan Zhan gets his fingers on the rim of the plug and wriggles it out by a millimeter.
Wei Ying squirms. Moans. “Here?”
“Here,” Lan Zhan confirms, and kisses him.
It’s not their first time fucking somewhere semi-publicly—Wei Ying’s favorite skinny jeans had finally worn out last month, since they were from high school, so Wei Ying dragged Lan Zhan out to buy a new pair. That had ended in some pretty spectacular dressing room sex, and Wei Ying’s pretty sure he can never go back to that store in the mall. He’s resigned himself to a life of buying all his jeans through Alibaba.
But at least it won’t be as big of a deal if he can never look a Jin in the eye again. Lan Zhan’s mouth is too tempting as he kisses Wei Ying dirty, sucking on his tongue, tasting the roof of his mouth while his hands grip Wei Ying’s ass. He pushes and squeezes and the plug loosens; Wei Ying whines, “Lan Zhan,” into his mouth as the plug gets jostled inside of him.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan replies. He pulls away, licks up the line of spit between them—why is that so fucking hot?—adjusts the plug again. Wei Ying is rock hard again. “Have you ever been down here before?”
“Have I ever been—what?” Wei Ying’s brain is mush.
Lan Zhan kisses an eyebrow. “In this basement,” he says, and glances around pointedly—at the video games, the pool, the bar.
Wei Ying shrugs. “I mean, I guess, technically? I tried playing the Wii once when I was like, fifteen, but then Jin Zixun was like, get outta here, you aren’t allowed to play Wii sports.”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan says.
“And like, the pool was usually used for the teen parties I’m pretty sure, so I definitely haven’t used that,” Wei Ying continues. “And I think actually every Jin ancestor in existence would kill me if I touched their precious alcohol.”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, again. “How about the hot tub?”
Wei Ying rolls his eyes. “Well, I obviously haven’t been in the hot tub if I haven’t been in the pool. Or anything. Honestly, like, is this basement that great anyway?” He eyes a VR system. “Okay, it is.”
Lan Zhan pats his ass—pats the plug, and Wei Ying squeaks. “Follow me,” Lan Zhan says.
“Lan Zhan—what?” Wei Ying trails after him as Lan Zhan makes his way to the three installed hot tubs, on the raised marbled concrete in the middle wall of the basement. It’s opposite the better part of the arcade where you can see all the consoles and screens, watching as other people play Super Smash Bros or whatnot.
Lan Zhan looks at the dials on one of the hot tubs. He frowns. “Wei Ying,” he says.
They’ve reached the point in their relationship where Lan Zhan has a tone that says I do not wish to learn how to use new technology if I have an engineering boyfriend and Wei Ying can recognize it right away. He sighs and observes the buttons and dials—it’s not the same as the ones on the tub at the Lan estate, but it’s pretty easy to understand.
“I hardly think this is time for a dip in the old hot tub, Lan Zhan,” he says. “Especially since this isn’t our house and no one else is down here.”
He freezes for a moment at saying the words our house—but Lan Zhan says, “I believe you should enjoy one part of this basement.”
“What about the video games?” Wei Ying says. “We could play the newest Mario game or something.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes darken. “Wei Ying.”
Of course. Wei Ying’s hole tightens around the plug inside him, almost obediently.
“You just want to fuck me,” Wei Ying sighs. “In a hot tub.”
“I always want to fuck you,” Lan Zhan says, which, okay, fair. And also: hot. “The hot tub would be convenient.”
“Convenient for who?” Wei Ying says, but he’s already turning the tub on.
As the water runs, Lan Zhan strips them both—Wei Ying then himself, folding and placing their clothes on the marble. Wei Ying whines, “Why are you doing this, Lan Zhan, why are we doing this? Anyone could come down and see that we just, like, left in the middle of the party to fuck.”
“They will not,” Lan Zhan says, folding his socks as well.
Wei Ying refuses to get distracted by his cuteness. “But they could,” he says. “And we’re using their hot tub without permission!”
“You were never permitted to use it when you were younger,” Lan Zhan says. “I believe they could owe you this one thing.”
“You mean you believe that so that you have an excuse to fuck me in another hot tub,” Wei Ying grumbles.
Lan Zhan doesn’t reply, but only because he steps into the tub, where the water is now up to his calves, bubbling and stirring under his feet. Above them, everyone else is probably yelling over the mahjong table, flush on their cheeks from all the alcohol. Wei Ying’s own cheeks are flushed because the way Lan Zhan’s looking at him now makes him very aware of the plug still in him, the wetness warming his insides.
Lan Zhan extends a hand. “Come.”
“I better come twice,” Wei Ying grumbles, taking his hand and stepping in. He winces at the burn of the water.
Lan Zhan uses his other hand to tug at Wei Ying’s cock. Wei Ying lets out a small uh!
“If that is what you wish,” Lan Zhan says.
He kisses Wei Ying again, stroking his cock tenderly. Wei Ying keens into him—Lan Zhan may be terrible, but he’s never gonna deny this, deny the way Lan Zhan makes him feel taken care of. Big and loving, two hands feeling like four with the way he manhandles his dick, his legs, his weak knees as he sits down on the hot tub bench, bringing Wei Ying further into the water with him. Wei Ying sits on his lap, shivering a bit at the contrast between the tacky cum still in him, stoppered by the buttplug, and the slippery water engulfing his body.
They make out like that for a bit, Lan Zhan’s fingers going back between Wei Ying’s cheeks, thumb teasing the rim of the plug. Wei Ying moans as a nail scrapes gently against his ass cheek—it’s so sensitive, it honestly might be more sensitive than his dick. Well, maybe not as his dick bumps against Lan Zhan’s under the water, and that makes him moan too. But Lan Zhan twists the plug around, sloshing around the cum that’s still inside Wei Ying, and Wei Ying clenches his ass to keep it in, to keep the plug in.
Lan Zhan chuckles against his mouth. Pinches his ass cheek. “Greedy,” he murmurs, as Wei Ying gasps.
“Ah,” Wei Ying mumbles. “Mean.”
“Hm,” Lan Zhan says. He begins to tug the plug out, and Wei Ying instinctively, instinctively tightens his hole.
Lan Zhan laughs low, cruel. “I can feel you,” he says. Wei Ying whines. “Wei Ying likes having something inside. Such a slut.”
“No,” Wei Ying tries to protest.
Lan Zhan fiddles with the plug again, pulling it out another millimeter.
“No.”
“What did I say?” Lan Zhan says. “Wei Ying likes being filled. He would like to be filled all the time, would he? With toys, with plugs.” He pushes the plug back in, just those few millimeters, along with the cum, and Wei Ying moans. “With cock. Wei Ying will take any cock he can get.”
“No,” Wei Ying says, shaking his head. “No.”
“Cocks from strangers, men who want to fuck Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan continues. “Men who see Wei Ying’s pretty little face and pretty little hole, Wei Ying will take every cock he gets offered. Wants to be full with anything, with everything, doesn’t he?”
Lan Zhan is the worst boyfriend. He doesn’t talk much, except for the part where he says the worst things, things that make Wei Ying feel desired and pretty and slutty. Things that make Wei Ying feel like he is always showing off every part of his body for everyone, eager to get any cock in him—except he isn’t. And Lan Zhan knows that, but it’s the knowledge, the knowledge that Lan Zhan can see him like this, wants to see him like this, makes Wei Ying feel—feel—
“Only want Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying insists. “Not just anyone, please, just Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan squeezes his cheek again, so hot and tender in the water, under his callouses. “Only me,” he says. “Because I have the best cock, right?”
“Yes,” Wei Ying says, babbles against Lan Zhan’s face. Drool is starting to gather under his tongue; he’s starting to slip away to that light space in his head. “Yes, Lan Zhan has the best cock.”
Lan Zhan growls. “Wei Ying is slutty for cocks. For my cock.”
“For yours, yes,” Wei Ying says, nodding frantically, eyes growing glassy. “For Lan Zhan, for everything about Lan Zhan—”
Lan Zhan pushes them down into the water. The both of them—and it’s hot, and Wei Ying doesn’t care, might be drowning for a moment until there are hands under his armpits. Raising him up, pushing him back up, and Wei Ying gasps, barely gripping onto the edge of the hot tub as even wetter, thicker heat wraps around his cock. His nails scrabble on the tile as he struggles to hold himself up with Lan Zhan’s mouth wrapped around his cock, sucking without abandon, tight and urgent like he’s trying to pull the cum out of Wei Ying’s body himself.
Wei Ying’s thighs are trembling. The two hands are on his ass again, squeezing and kneading, spreading him apart—and Wei Ying has to clench, has to focus on keeping the plug in. Wants it, needs it inside him even as Lan Zhan molds the soft flesh of his cheeks, sucking his cock so fucking hard that Wei Ying’s becoming one with the water, wet and shaking everywhere.
It takes mere seconds for him to come, thrashing his arms on the tiles with a small scream as the orgasm gets forced out of him, unwilled, just natural, like it was all he was made to do. Come for Lan Zhan, come because of Lan Zhan, shooting deep, deep in his throat as Lan Zhan holds him underwater. Someone’s bound to hear, except they’re not because they’re all busy upstairs and the basement is massive, but it’s—it’s shameful, makes Wei Ying’s cock throb more, push out more cum. He’s crying and shaking through it all, though he feels Lan Zhan’s hands clutch around his thighs, petting him through his orgasm. Wei Ying feels tender and raw all over as he comes down, still small shocks making him tremble as Lan Zhan pops out of the water.
Lan Zhan’s short hair is wet, sticking to his face, as he takes a breath. He’s the best thing Wei Ying’s ever seen, and Wei Ying moans and tries to kiss him on the mouth, shaking a bit still. He misses, catches Lan Zhan’s chin instead; but Lan Zhan shifts to kiss him on the lips properly.
Wei Ying can’t even kiss, just holds his mouth open and lets Lan Zhan’s tongue gently drift in, tasting a bit of the clean water, of Wei Ying’s come. Pushes the come into his mouth, and Wei Ying takes it, swallows it down.
“Want me to fuck you?” Lan Zhan asks against his face.
Wei Ying makes a wounded noise into his neck. He nods.
Lan Zhan stands them up. The water reaches their thighs; the cold air of the basement shocks Wei Ying’s soft, tender cock. Lan Zhan turns them around so his chest is against Wei Ying’s back; Wei Ying can feel Lan Zhan’s pubis hair brush against his ass.
“You’ve been so good,” Lan Zhan says, and Wei Ying keens. Lan Zhan’s fingers are on the plug again, shifting it around. Now that he’s allowed, Wei Ying squirms back against him, hole clenching and unclenching. “Holding me in so much. So tight. Has Wei Ying been a good boy tonight?”
“Good,” is all Wei Ying can manage.
Lan Zhan finally pulls out the plug for real this time—centimeter by centimeter, with a slow, nasty squelch in the air. Wei Ying tightens immediately, not wanting any of Lan Zhan’s previous cum to drop, not wanting—not wanting to feel empty.
Three of Lan Zhan’s fingers slip in, and he hums in approval. “Still so wet and open for me,” Lan Zhan says. “So loose like a pussy.”
Wei Ying sobs.
“So easy for me to slip in,” Lan Zhan says, and he does.
This time, not just the head—the full length of it, massive in girth, sparking up every nerve ending in Wei Ying’s body. Where he thought he might’ve been drifting off again, maybe sleepy, his body awakens at the feeling of Lan Zhan’s cock—thicker than any plug, deeper than any cock. It’s filthy how he’s wet already, from Lan Zhan’s cum before, like Wei Ying is just something for Lan Zhan to dump his cum in any time he wants. He presses his back against Lan Zhan and moans, grinding his ass against him.
Lan Zhan’s arms wrap around him. His cock is so deep in Wei Ying, just pushing in, pulsing, fucking up his insides. At least that’s what it feels like, with every dirty twist of his hips, just rocking, shifting, not quite thrusting. He takes one of Wei Ying’s hands and drags it down his chest—Wei Ying thinks he’s going to his nipples, but he goes further south instead, to his belly.
There’s a bump under both of their palms.
Lan Zhan digs his cock in deeper, and Wei Ying gasps; the bulge shifts beneath them.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, “you’re too big, I can feel you, fuck, I can feel you—”
“I know,” Lan Zhan says, and raises Wei Ying up by his knees.
Wei Ying squeals—Lan Zhan’s cock thrusts deeper, then Lan Zhan holds him up, Wei Ying’s feet not touching the ground, just dangling into the water. Lan Zhan begins jackrabbiting into him. His balls slap against Wei Ying’s butt cheeks as he fucks into him, just using him to get off—except now Wei Ying’s hard again, god, only Lan Zhan can do this to him. He feels small, like an object, a warm hole for Lan Zhan to fuck into as his breaths get slightly heavier, holding the entire weight of Wei Ying’s body while fucking him. And yet he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slip, doesn’t let go, breaking Wei Ying apart into a million little pieces as he drives his massive cock in relentlessly, until it’s all Wei Ying feels, all Wei Ying knows.
He’s moaning and moaning and making the sluttiest noises and Lan Zhan can’t even stop him because both of his hands are busy holding Wei Ying up. Wei Ying cries; god, he’s so overwhelmed, can’t keep his mouth shut of noises, nonsensical, not words just steady aaa aah ahhhs and unhhnh uh uhhhhs. He feels it when Lan Zhan comes, feels it in every part of him as Lan Zhan stops thrusting, cock pulsing, twitching inside of him, filling him, sticky and white. It’s more, now, with the cum that was inside him earlier, and making Wei Ying truly dirty, debauched, just a cocksleeve for Lan Zhan to empty his seed into.
And he’s still tender when Lan Zhan lets him down, knees buckling when his feet hit the cold water—but then Lan Zhan bends him over the edge of the tub, nudges his cheeks apart.
“La-aaahn,” is all Wei Ying manages to get out before Lan Zhan swipes his tongue over Wei Ying’s hole.
They’ve done this before, but since Lan Zhan is full of surprises, notably that he likes to surprise Wei Ying, this comes as a shock every time. His tongue is wider than his cock and wet and not as thick, slurping the cum out of Wei Ying. It’s just like being filled with Lan Zhan’s cum, but worse, because now it’s slipping out. Wei Ying whimpers as he feels the slick over his sensitive walls, inching towards his rim; he tries to clench, keep it in. Lan Zhan slaps his tender ass cheek.
“Fuck,” is all Wei Ying can say, as Lan Zhan licks at him again, taking his come back out. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, you can’t—”
“Hm.” Lan Zhan’s lips vibrate against Wei Ying’s butt cheek. Wei Ying shivers. “Wei Ying is so greedy.”
“Unh,” Wei Ying gets out, as Lan Zhan fits his mouth over Wei Ying’s hole.
And he works at it again, tonguing the semen back out, slowly, a tease. There’s so much of it and Wei Ying’s progressively feeling emptier, pucker desperately trying to hold onto what he can keep. “Selfish,” Lan Zhan says, and spanks Wei Ying again.
Wei Ying squeals—then Lan Zhan’s whole mouth, his whole mouth covers Wei Ying’s hole, down to his perineum. He hollows his cheeks and sucks.
The noise Wei Ying lets out is barely human, a screech, a sob, as he immediately crests over the edge again. His orgasm hits hard and his oversensitive cock shoots all over his chest and into the cool water, making him sob even more. And through it all, Lan Zhan keeps sucking at him, licking at his tender hole like it’s something to be cherished, squeezing and massaging Wei Ying’s cheeks and making his orgasm last a little bit longer. Wei Ying’s still making little noises as he comes down, thighs shaking again—he feels weak, unsteady, unsure how much longer he’ll be able to stand.
Lan Zhan is saying something. There’s patting at Wei Ying’s flank, his shoulder, tucking his long hair back from around his eyes. “Wei Ying,” he finally hears. “Wei Ying, are you okay?”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying slurs out. His mouth feels too heavy, tongue too big. Lan Zhan turns him back to look him in the eyes. Wei Ying tries to look straight at him, but it’s hard. His gaze is unfocused.
“Wei Ying, you did well,” Lan Zhan says to him.
Wei Ying makes a happy noise. Lan Zhan brings him into his chest and holds him for a moment, letting Wei Ying settle down in his arms. Wei Ying breathes and focuses on the sound of Lan Zhan’s heartbeat beneath his ears, the warm, damp palms stroking the small of his back.
After a moment, when he looks down, he laughs.
Lan Zhan peers at him with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Wei Ying wriggles his toes. The water is cool, and now comes down to their ankles. The buttons of the hot tub are on the outside, where they couldn’t have bumped into them. “I think we broke another hot tub.”
Lan Zhan looks down. He laughs, too.
*
By the time they make their way upstairs, fully dressed and Wei Ying brought mostly back down to his brain, everyone’s still going at it.
“You cheated!” Jin-furen’s shouting at Wei Ying’s mom.
“No, you cheated!”
“No one cheated!” Yu Ziyuan interrupts, and both Jin-furen and Cangse Sanren turn on her.
Yanli-jie spots them, and perks up at the sight of Wei Ying. “A-Ying,” she says, as Wei Ying runs to her with a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too,” Wei Ying says, beaming.
“I see you and Lan Zhan are here,” Yanli says. “Have you had fun at the party so far?”
“Barely,” Wei Ying snorts. “I’d rather be playing Big Two.”
“Oh?” Yanli-jie glances behind him, to Lan Zhan. Her eyes are sparkling. “Are you sure? Because I think you’ve had a pretty good time already.”
“What,” Wei Ying says.
But Yanli releases him and smiles. She leaves to go talk to Jin Zixuan.
“Jiang-guniang,” Lan Zhan says, as Wei Ying makes his way back to his side, “is very perceptive.” His ears are pink.
Wei Ying shakes his head. “Things are different than high school, indeed,” he says, watching Jin Zixuan brightly offer Yanli-jie a glass of champagne. Yanli accepts it happily.
Then Wei Ying turns back to Lan Zhan, pats the buttplug in his pocket. “Well, I don’t think anyone’s gonna notice if we leave again,” he says with a smirk. “Shall we go back to mine?”
*
His bed, thankfully, does not break.