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Zhao Yunlan has barely gotten to breathe a deep and heartfelt sigh of relief before he’s faced with a looming anxiety (this one is even worse than having his SID idiots cursed by developing the most annoying personalities imaginable): Shen Wei, radiating disapproving worry at him. Zhao Yunlan opens his eyes and smiles to show that he’s fine, everything’s fine. (Ignore the corpse on the floor and everything’s fine.)
Shen Wei stares down at him, a small crease between those dark brows. That’s all it takes for corpses and idiots to cease to matter, Zhao Yunlan’s full attention now on better things. “What?”
That earns him nothing but a slight darkening of Shen Wei’s face, so clearly it was the wrong conversational gambit. Before he can try a typical damsel’s expression of gratitude to her hero, Shen Wei hunches down so their eyes are level. “Did he hurt you?”
Zhao Yunlan’s hands twitch in the metal cuffs still around them, and he glances instinctively at the table still heaped with implements of pain and humiliation. They’re just things, of course — he won’t see whatever it was that shoved against the edges of his very being on display there. But he quickly suppresses his shudder with a chuckle. “Nah. I had the situation under control.” Because of course he did.
At that Shen Wei exhales slowly, reaching for the zip tie around Zhao Yunlan’s ankle, but those brows don’t unknit as much as Zhao Yunlan had hoped. He’s not the type to be stoic about any injury he could have those lovely hands tending, but maybe Shen Wei doesn’t fully trust him not to play tough in front of the others.
“Ah. But it’s true, he was quite rough...” Shen Wei’s hands freeze, and he looks up, alarmed. Zhao Yunlan darts the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, and says in a voice so full of sin that Guo Changcheng’s ears glow pink just from being in the same room, “I think it would be best if you took me home for a thorough inspection. You’ll give me a good check-up, won’t you, Professor?”
“I—” Shen Wei rocks back on his heels, eyes wide and mouth half-open for a charming moment before that expression vanishes behind a mask of bland politeness that can’t fully hide the effect Zhao Yunlan’s words have had on him. “If you need any help, I will of course do what I can to assist you. But won’t you be needed here?” There’s a brief tug at Zhao Yunlan’s leg, and the first of the two zip ties snap.
Zhao Yunlan looks hard at Lin Jing, who hurries to reassure him, “We’ve got this, boss! You should go home and. Uh.” Lin Jing realizes he’s accidentally strayed deep into innuendo territory, and tries to signal Lao-Chu and Xiao-Guo for backup. The two are suddenly very busy investigating the corners of the room. “Rest,” Lin Jing finishes weakly.
“See?” Zhao Yunlan smirks at Shen Wei, just as the second zip tie comes off. Though it was only a little plastic, being able to move again makes it feel like being free of heavy shackles. But instead of standing up he sprawls back in the chair, waiting for Shen Wei to stand so that he can look up from under lowered lashes. “Thank you for freeing me, sir,” he says. “I’m ever so grateful.”
“Zhao Yunlan!” Shen Wei scolds him, because the demure words and manner only make his shameless flirting more painfully obvious to everyone in the room. In fact Lao Chu is rolling his eyes and looks about one sultry syllable away from shoving the innocent Xiao Guo out of the room. Shen Wei, desperate for a distraction, looks at the cuffs around Zhao Yunlan’s wrists and turns to ask the others if they’ve seen the keys.
There’s a scramble around the room, Shen Wei abandoning Zhao Yunlan to lounge all alone in the chair. He eyes the cuffs, the thick links between them, and turns his hands thoughtfully. The metal is warm against his skin now, solid and implacable in a way that reminds him deliciously of Shen Wei’s hands around his wrists. Yes. That’s a much better thought than the memory of being strangled, of having that thing pressing against the very fabric of his self. Zhao Yunlan hones in on a very sexual shiver and hastily decides to forget any unpleasant associations the handcuffs might have held for him.
“Hey,” he calls in the tone he uses to boss his people around. They all turn to look at him, and he gestures with his bound hands. “Look at the mess you’re making of our crime scene!” he says, and Lin Jing looks remarkably guilty for a second.
“I— I’ll be more careful,” Xiao Guo offers apologetically, though Zhao Yunlan is certain the kid hasn’t dared disturb more than a few grains of dust.
“Nah, it’s fine. Just leave it.”
Shen Wei’s brows knit again. “We haven’t found the key,” he says.
Zhao Yunlan smiles carelessly. “Well, I’m sure we can come up with something.” To distract Shen Wei from any practical objections he stretches languidly. Slowly raising his cuffed wrists over his head he arches his spine in a motion Shen Wei should be intimately familiar with.
The expression on Shen Wei’s face makes it hard to tell if he wants to sweep up Zhao Yunlan in his coat to hide his shamelessness from the world, or to smother him on the spot. Whichever it is, Zhao Yunlan suddenly finds his people cut off from view as Shen Wei steps in front of him. “Yes,” Shen Wei says hastily, back turned. “That might be for the best.” He spares the others a few parting pleasantries, then whirls around on Zhao Yunlan, who looks up in wide-eyed innocence.
“Finally time for my examination?” he asks. Or — he tries to ask. Before he can finish the sentence he’s been hauled to his feet and pretty much shoved through a dark, pulsing portal.
The force of it sends him stumbling, and he might have fallen into his own apartment had Shen Wei not grabbed him by the back of his jacket. The portal vanishes, and Zhao Yunlan leans into the support Shen Wei offers. “Mm, I have such a strong and handsome rescuer,” he murmurs with smug satisfaction.
The rescuer in question brushes him off, but Zhao Yunlan’s found his balance now. Leaning close to Shen Wei he pitches his voice low. “Please, sir, you must let me repay this favor.”
Shen Wei is staring at him, eyes wide behind the glasses. The clinging invitation could not have been any more obvious, and so there is hunger in the expression — but also a muddled confusion. “So you’re fine?” Shen Wei asks, and if it hadn’t been for the voice a shade deeper than usual it would’ve seemed they were simply carrying on the conversation from before, the words carrying wary concern.
“Mm,” Zhao Yunlan says. “Of course.” He rubs a shoulder against Shen Wei, like a cat. “Why? Are you worried about my ability to perform? Because you shouldn’t—”
Shen Wei grabs him and hauls him close, so they’re eye to eye. “He took you away,” Shen Wei says, and this time his voice holds a snarl. “You were gone. And when I found you, in that place, I didn’t know…”
Zhao Yunlan’s heart, which is already so soft for this man, melts into silly mush. “Shh,” he says. His hands bunch in Shen Wei’s coat, and he gently rests their foreheads together. He pours words into the space between them, soothing away the lingering fear — his own, and Shen Wei’s.
“Baby, it’s fine. Nothing happened.” Well, mostly nothing. There’d been that one moment Zhao Yunlan felt like he was getting shoved out of his own brain, but all’s well that ends well. “You got there in time.”
“And you—” Shen Wei has been listening quietly, but tries to draw away. Zhao Yunlan won’t let him; holds onto the coat until his boyfriend stills and sinks back into the embrace. “You were teasing me.” The words might have meant to be stern, but standing like this there is too much warmth, too much fondness in the outrage for it to be a true recrimination.
But still, because everything with Shen Wei means too much to Zhao Yunlan to fuck it up, he swallows his pride and shrugs out the truth. “So I didn’t have to think about that guy or about — about anything but you.” Also because Shen Wei is wonderfully cute when flustered, but he feels it’s unnecessary to add that.
“Oh,” Shen Wei says, the sound laden with feelings that Zhao Yunlan can’t quite parse but that make him happy he answered honestly.
That over with, Zhao Yunlan drops his lips to Shen Wei’s ear. “So. Did you like it?”
A heartbeat passes. Two. Shen Wei stands stiffly, as if trying to recall some important unfinished business. Then there’s a burst of movement and Zhao Yunlan feels fingers winding through his hair. Heat rushes through his body in response, and he opens his mouth to catch Shen Wei’s low growl. “Yes.”
Zhao Yunlan’s skin prickles with the energy between them, with the need for contact where there is none. His hands reach for Shen Wei’s waist, but he’s brought up short. Shen Wei has him by the handcuffs. And so Zhao Yunlan is tantalizingly caught between the fist in his hair and the one holding his arms still between them. Pinned like that Shen Wei can stare hungrily at him, and say, “What happened to your gratitude, hm?”
It takes a long, blinking moment for the words to set off flashes of delight in his brain. Such wanton teasing, but Shen Wei hasn’t told him to stop. Instead, he can greedily anticipate getting exactly what he wants. And all at once the urge to go to his knees for Shen Wei is so strong Zhao Yunlan’s legs buckle with it. His body doesn’t sink to the floor, though — it can’t; Shen Wei is still holding him fast.
He can’t help a wheedling protest — he really, really wants to taste Shen Wei, and he would be so good, his mouth continuing to express his gratitude with Shen Wei’s hand on his head just like that—
“Impatient,” Shen Wei smiles, but the ferocity in the expression doesn’t make Zhao Yunlan consider whether he might be getting more than he bargained for, not for a single heartbeat. He just grins in agreement, wriggling a little to see if he can slip free, still preoccupied with his base urge to get his lips around Shen Wei’s cock.
“Did I say I wanted you on your knees?”
Zhao Yunlan stills at once, the tone of command in the words bringing all his attention to Shen Wei’s face. He sees pupils blown wide and cheeks beginning to flush with desire and wants to rub up and feel if there are any more signs of just how much Shen Wei likes this game, but he still can’t move freely. He can’t grab at Shen Wei’s body, and he can’t lean in for a kiss, and desperation is building to a whine in his throat when his last coherent brain cells finally latch on to something he can do. First he lowers his gaze bashfully. Then he swallows hard, and there is nothing bashful about the gravelly arousal in his words. “What would be your pleasure, sir?”
When Shen Wei doesn't immediately answer, Zhao Yunlan glances up. This time his impatience is rewarded. Before Shen Wei can compose himself, Zhao Yunlan catches him with a stunning look of naked greed on his face. It makes Zhao Yunlan feel like he is the most delicious dish at a loaded banquet table; like he is the most favored concubine in a splendid palace, and most definitely makes him hard enough to be aching for more of Shen Wei's touch. He bites his lip against the urge to whine, making sure not to waste the opportunity to make it as flirtatious as he can, and feels Shen Wei instinctively tightening the grip on his hair. “Get on the bed.” Shen Wei lets him go.
The words make Zhao Yunlan feel hot enough that his clothes should be combusting. The urge to close the distance Shen Wei has opened between them with a kiss wars with the urge to find out what, exactly, will happen once he gets to the bed. He hesitates for a moment, and Shen Wei adds, “Now,” in a tone that makes Zhao Yunlan's bones nearly melt. He gets on the bed, boots and clothes and handcuffs and all, arranging himself on his side so he can watch Shen Wei.
Shen Wei seems to cross the room with a single step, pulled to Zhao Yunlan like iron filings to a magnet. It makes him draw a quick breath, surprise and desire and such a craving for that mouth on his and those hands on his body. He moves to meet Shen Wei, but is pushed back onto the covers with some force.
“Stay,” Shen Wei says, and Zhao Yunlan nods even though he doesn't want to stay, he wants to move. Shen Wei only has a knee on the bed, and the knee isn't pressing up against anything interesting at all, but before Zhao Yunlan can get too upset about that Shen Wei reaches out a hand and gently brushes his cheek. Zhao Yunlan turns his head quickly, and catches the withdrawing fingertips with a kiss.
The startled gasp Shen Wei makes is no louder than a whisper, but Zhao Yunlan grins. He still can't believe such little things can have such an effect on his cool and composed boyfriend, especially when they're both still fully dressed. Shen Wei rids Zhao Yunlan of his boots and socks with practiced ease and absolutely no teasing, and he’s about to complain when he gets distracted by another command. “Give me your arms.”
Zhao Yunlan reaches up to do as Shen Wei asks, and notices the belt for the first time. It doesn't give him pause at all, just sends a thrill of excitement down his spine when Shen Wei grabs his cuffs and tugs them to the headboard. Metal clangs against metal, and Shen Wei frowns. “Here—“ It's not an instruction as much as a warning, and then Zhao Yunlan finds his jacket bundled up over his head. Shen Wei shoves it all the way to his wrists, bunching it around the cuffs' links.
Shen Wei fastidiously tucks the sleeves under the cuffs themselves, folding them over to give Zhao Yunlan some little padding between his skin and the metal. Zhao Yunlan feels it all happening, and his heart soars at the tender care even as he gets hornier because there are fewer clothes separating him from the object of his desires. But just because he's happy doesn't mean he wants to spend all night with Shen Wei fussing over him. “Come on,” he whines, when he sees the frown of concentration on Shen Wei's brow, all attention on getting the jacket properly folded. He wiggles against the bed, trying to draw Shen Wei's attention to all the parts of him languishing. “That's fine, it's good — just tie me up and have your way with me already!” He smirks and looks hopefully at Shen Wei.
Shen Wei gives a wonderfully deep chuckle. “Zhao Yunlan. I am having my way with you,” he says, and his belt yanks Zhao Yunlan's wrists against the headboard again. This time there is no clanging, and within a few moments Shen Wei lets go. Zhao Yunlan gives the bonds an experimental tug, and feels no give. With Shen Wei hovering so eagerly above him the sensation adds to his already significant arousal.
“Does anything hurt, is it—“
Zhao Yunlan hisses in annoyance. “It's fine, I told you.” Because it is, it is better than fine to be stretched out on display like this. As long as he isn’t treated like an object too precious to be handled, that is.
“Very good,” Shen Wei says, and there is something eager about those words, like a kid about to rip open a New Year's envelope.
Zhao Yunlan barely has the time to wonder what it could mean and then there is a blade in Shen Wei's hand. “Hold still.”
Neither blade nor words frighten Zhao Yunlan, because it's Shen Wei. That doesn't mean he can't feel a frisson of something almost like awe when he sees it. And he does go very still, because he knows how well that edge can cut. Shen Wei gives the faintest smirk — Zhao Yunlan's eyebrows rise, because he's not sure he's ever seen such lethal power look so very smug — and then the tip of the blade slides between Zhao Yunlan's skin and his sweater. Shen Wei handles it so deftly the cold metal doesn't touch his skin, just slices through fabric to leave his naked skin exposed in its wake. Fuck that’s hot. Shen Wei doesn’t drag it out, and in a few moments Zhao Yunlan’s sweater is neatly discarded and forgotten.
Zhao Yunlan exhales a shuddering breath, eyes wide and fixed on Shen Wei. The blade has vanished, which means Shen Wei has hands that should be on Zhao Yunlan, but they're not. Shen Wei is just standing there, still in his coat, looking at him. And Zhao Yunlan can't pull him down into bed because he's stuck. He can't touch himself either, as he likes to do when Shen Wei gets into a staring kind of mood, even though he's so hard it's making him stupid with lust. He groans with frustration, hips moving in a slow circle that does nothing to alleviate the ache in his cock.
Shen Wei's lips part around a caught breath, and then a hand is on Zhao Yunlan's cheek again, cool against his own hot skin. Zhao Yunlan nuzzles into it, starved for touch, and Shen Wei wordlessly runs a thumb along his lower lip, eyes dark and wide and entirely too wild for the sweet round glasses. Zhao Yunlan's lips part invitingly, and Shen Wei smiles and then moves his hand away, the utter bastard. Zhao Yunlan groans in frustration, throwing his head against the pillow. “Come on, hurry up, I—“
“My pleasure,” Shen Wei says softly. Zhao Yunlan stills. “Remember?”
Zhao Yunlan swallows. He does. And if his own pleasure right now would be to have Shen Wei stop with the teasing and just fuck him — well. Shen Wei might have other ideas. First. Other ideas of what to do first. Zhao Yunlan is pretty sure the end result will still be fucking, or he'd start begging right now. But since Shen Wei seems so beautifully turned on by taking his time, not even that impatience can override the deep and helpless urge to satisfy him. “Yes, sir.”
Shen Wei nods, almost as if to himself, and takes off his glasses. Zhao Yunlan’s breath catches in anticipation, and before he can exhale Shen Wei's hand is in his hair and Shen Wei's mouth is closing over his and he kisses back with all the desperate lust pent up in his body. He's writhing, he can't help it, and Shen Wei's open coat slides across his bare chest. The kiss is deep and hot and so wonderfully physical after all that teasing. Zhao Yunlan basks in it.
Shen Wei's lips trail to the corner of his mouth, and he throws his head back, baring his throat. Eyes squeezed shut, he feels Shen Wei's teeth lightly graze the exposed skin, raising tingles of anticipation. He knows what’s coming next, and yet his entire body jerks when Shen Wei bites down hard, the sharp sensation flooding him with pleasure. When he’s this turned on Shen Wei’s urge to mark him always drives him wild, the pain blooming into heat in his groin. Zhao Yunlan groans in encouragement, and Shen Wei’s body comes closer; nips at his throat and his jaw with bites that explode like sparks behind his eyelids.
And it’s all so good that he forgets about the cuffs. He goes to grab Shen Wei, and instead just tugs hard at the bonds. In his defense, it is getting quite difficult to think straight, and he very much wants to wrap his arms around Shen Wei’s body. But it’s also a stupid thing to do, because it makes Shen Wei go very still, which is the last thing he wants. Zhao Yunlan can’t be sure whether it is a sign of hesitation or anticipation — even blinking his eyes open all he can see is Shen Wei frozen above him and now is not the time for a break. “Have I displeased sir?” he says, voice so thick with desire the syllables sound drunk with it. “I’m sorry— I’ll be good for you, sir. Whatever you want, please, I—”
Zhao Yunlan’s words dissolve into a low whine when Shen Wei bears down on him, a knee shoved between his legs and hands pinning him down hard. He trembles with the effort to hold still; to just wait. This time there is no warning, no slow nuzzling. A hard bite in the soft spot where his neck and shoulder meet makes him gasp loudly, hissing through his teeth. Shen Wei strokes his flank soothingly, as the first pain dulls into a sweet throbbing, and bends back down to kiss the tender spot. Zhao Yunlan moans in low approval, and Shen Wei looks up at him, eyes alight.
“Perfect,” Shen Wei breathes. “Just like this. You’re so good.” The praise sinks into Zhao Yunlan’s soul and also his groin. Helplessly he rocks his hips, seeking friction, his body searching for Shen Wei’s in the only way it can right now. Shen Wei’s lips quirk in a fond smile at his desperation, and for a few moments Zhao Yunlan can almost, almost get a bit of relief — then it’s gone. Shen Wei is out of the bed, so far out of reach that Zhao Yunlan can only ache for him.
“Wait,” Shen Wei says, before Zhao Yunlan can plead or protest, and he jerks his head in a nod. Not that he’s free to do anything besides wait at Shen Wei’s pleasure, but the word gives him something to hold on to. He’s waiting. He’s not slowly dying from blue balls, he’s waiting. Right. Waiting with his pulse beating hard in the hollow of his throat and the pit of his groin and his breath coming ragged, tracking Shen Wei’s every move. The coat is coming off, which is good — but then Shen Wei is fucking folding it, like it even matters, like Zhao Yunlan isn’t building up to exploding from sheer frustration. The shoes are neatly tidied away — nearly worth it for the look at Shen Wei’s ass as he bends over, but not entirely because it doesn’t make Shen Wei any more naked. And then no more clothes are coming off, but Shen Wei is returning to the bed, which leads to a moment where Zhao Yunlan can’t decide which he wants more: Shen Wei naked, or Shen Wei back in bed.
Then Shen Wei leans over and undoes Zhao Yunlan's pants for him and tugs them down and oh yes. This is what he wants more. To be stripped naked by Shen Wei’s hands and gaze, to lie back and finally be rid of the constricting jeans and see the way Shen Wei looks at his swollen cock. He swallows thickly, wondering if Shen Wei is ever going to do more than look — and then those lips are closing on it and for a second the edges of Zhao Yunlan’s vision go fuzzy. He’s gone so long without being touched that the sweet, soft pressure of Shen Wei’s mouth nearly undoes him. Especially with Shen Wei still dressed in his shirt and vest and everything, kneeling between Zhao Yunlan’s legs, tasting him like he’s a treat too delicious to resist.
Zhao Yunlan whines — encouragement or warning, even he isn’t sure — and Shen Wei grabs his hips, holding him still. Good thing, too, because the slow, shallow bobs Shen Wei is indulging in are driving Zhao Yunlan to distraction with the need to thrust deeper. Feeling Zhao Yunlan struggle, Shen Wei looks up at him through long lashes. There is a deep flush across the delicate cheekbones, and his lips are wet after nuzzling precome from Zhao Yunlan’s cock. And Zhao Yunlan growls and pulls at the cuffs, because there’s no fucking way he can look at that and not need more — more of anything Shen Wei wants to give him — so badly he’s trembling with it.
Shen Wei sits up and runs one hand along the inside of Zhao Yunlan’s thigh, fingers curling loosely around his shaft. Zhao Yunlan’s hips spasm, seeking more contact, more friction, more — and there’s a gentle stroke, and then another. But before he can relax into it Shen Wei rests two fingertips against his lips and Zhao Yunlan’s breath stops.
“Open,” Shen Wei says huskily, and parting his lips restarts Zhao Yunlan’s breathing even as the rest of him is reduced to a quivering mess. His mouth is watering at the slight hint of musk and salt on the pads of Shen Wei’s fingers, his tongue seeking the flavor before he hollows his cheeks around the digits. The slight widening of Shen Wei’s eyes is as beautiful as anything Zhao Yunlan could have hoped for, but before he can get lost in the pleasure of watching Shen Wei being sucked the fingers pull out. Shen Wei rests the tips against Zhao Yunlan’s lower lip, and his voice hitches slightly as he says, “Get them wetter.”
The promise in the words makes Zhao Yunlan’s cock twitch in Shen Wei's hand. He moans and tries to mouth at the fingers, but Shen Wei has pulled them just out of reach with an expectant air. At first Zhao Yunlan can’t understand why — and then he bleakly curses himself for giving Shen Wei the opportunity to tease him this mercilessly. And even though he knows it will all be better once he does he can barely find the coherency to murmur, “Yes, sir.”
The fingers brush his lips at the same time he speaks the last syllable. Zhao Yunlan flicks an eager tongue over them, and within a few licks he notices his mouth is moving at the rhythm with which Shen Wei is palming his cock. Zhao Yunlan can't say who is setting the tempo and who is following because it's always like this with them — they meet each other, find each other, match each other in every way that counts. And it's hot and sweet and takes the edge off the worst of Zhao Yunlan's need, enough that he can enjoy every moment to the fullest without holding back. It's almost a chance to breathe, except his mouth is too busy with Shen Wei to care about how much air makes it into his lungs.
Shen Wei indulges him, letting him taste the fingers until they are glistening wet. “Enough.” Shen Wei’s voice has a raw edge to it that makes Zhao Yunlan tingle with renewed heat as he obeys. He has been so keenly focused on what he was doing with his mouth that it's a lovely surprise to look up and see just how desperate Shen Wei looks now. Not a hair out of place, of course, but those lips are the bright red of ripe cherries and the eyes fixed on Zhao Yunlan are dark pools of desire. As Shen Wei moves the slick hand down between Zhao Yunlan's legs, he can spot faint tremors in that solid frame: a visible sign that it’s getting to be a struggle to remain in such perfect control.
Zhao Yunlan would very much like Shen Wei to stop holding back, and cants his hips invitingly. He licks his own swollen lips as Shen Wei pauses, arranging a few pillows to help with the angle. This means neither hand is on Zhao Yunlan anymore. And of course it drives him mad, but lust has finally eclipsed his coherence. All he can do now is strain towards Shen Wei as far as the cuffs will allow, a low whine of sheer desperation building in his throat.
At the first cool nudge at his entrance, the sound turns to a stuttering sigh of contented anticipation. He hears its echo on Shen Wei's breath as the slick fingers push inside. They are both quiet then, panting and thrusting gently, uniquely focused on the task of stretching and relaxing. Shen Wei doesn't tease, doesn't yet delve deep, but Zhao Yunlan is still shuddering at his touch. It's an easy enough task to get Zhao Yunlan ready — it's Shen Wei who always insists on working him beyond what would be completely acceptable to ridiculously slick and open. And he usually protests, and sometimes gets his way, but this does all feel very, very good after all of Shen Wei’s coy teasing. Besides, didn’t he promise to be good? So he braces against the cuffs, but doesn’t fight them, and when he whines it’s not to wheedle, but because he’s coming undone under Shen Wei’s skillful touch.
There's lube dripping from Shen Wei’s fingers, the bottle having appeared without Zhao Yunlan noticing. Those careful thrusts are going deeper now, and there has to be more than two digits, though Zhao Yunlan also hasn’t been keeping count. But surely there are enough of them, and surely it can’t go on for much longer because no matter how good it feels to have Shen Wei’s fingers in his ass Zhao Yunlan wants more.
Like a very terrible mind reader, Shen Wei chooses that moment to stop. Not stop and get his cock into Zhao Yunlan, which would be more than acceptable at this point. No, he stops and does that fucking thing where he moves away again. Zhao Yunlan blinks, panting hard, wishing he could at least touch himself if Shen Wei is going to keep going off and doing — oh. Oh, he’s undressing. Dismay turns into delight as Zhao Yunlan finally gets to see that beautiful body. The smooth skin, the hard curves and planes of muscle, the lines of ilium and clavicle — it makes Zhao Yunlan ache with redoubled lust, mouth watering with how much he wants to kiss or suck or bite every inch of that gorgeous frame. “Wow,” he breathes, because he’s forgotten words but: wow.
Shen Wei’s features are drawn in concentration as he strips the last few layers off, but that comment makes him pause. The pretty lips quirk around a hoarse murmur. “You should see yourself. You’re…”
Zhao Yunlan is disheveled and desperate and probably looks positively debauched with his tousled hair and flushed skin and slicked ass on display. Even drunk with lust he preens a little at the thought. He waits, as still as he can get, for Shen Wei to pick a description.
“You’re a perfect reward,” Shen Wei whispers, almost shyly, and Zhao Yunlan feels inordinately pleased.
The bed dips under Shen Wei’s weight, and when he kneels and lubes his cock between Zhao Yunlan’s spread legs there’s nothing shy about him at all. “And you’re mine,” Shen Wei runs possessive hands up and down his chest, fingers brushing the still-tender bite mark.
Zhao Yunlan gulps, and nods. “Yes. Yours.”
Shen Wei’s eyes flutter close for a moment, dark eyelashes like brush strokes on the delicate skin of his cheeks. Zhao Yunlan feels something tighten around his heart — and then Shen Wei looks straight at him and enters him and everything outside of that moment falls away.
Shen Wei sinks in with a long, slow thrust, and Zhao Yunlan's spine arches. The pleasure of it is excruciating; the feeling of being properly stretched and filled by Shen Wei. He moans, hips moving as he tries to get more; to speed up. But of course all he can do is lie there and take it at whatever pace Shen Wei feels like giving it to him. And right now that happens to be gentle, careful strokes that are driving Zhao Yunlan wild. He’d be clawing at Shen Wei’s back if he could — but he can’t. It feels like it takes a very long time before he can get that through to his body, though it might only have been moments. Then he throws his head back on the pillow and groans in frustration, hands clenched into fists as he stops fighting the cuffs.
And in that moment of surrender, Shen Wei is there to give Zhao Yunlan all he needs. Leaning forward Zhao Yunlan finds his mouth claimed in a bruising kiss, a hand fisted in his hair. He moans into Shen Wei’s mouth, the friction from their bodies sliding against his cock making him tremble even before Shen Wei moves. Moves in perfect, deep thrusts angled to draw so much pleasure that Zhao Yunlan’s eager whines turn into low, desperate cries as Shen Wei fucks him and keeps fucking him. Zhao Yunlan is writhing helplessly, his hips meeting Shen Wei’s, his face pressed into Shen Wei’s neck and there is nothing else as the world dissolves into white sparks. There is just this: Shen Wei inside of Zhao Yunlan and all around him, strong arms holding his body close as they move together. Zhao Yunlan takes all Shen Wei has to give him, again and again until he sinks so deep into ecstasy there is nothing but heat and friction transmuting into desperate and violent release.
Everything but the raw, physical contentment of the thoroughly fucked feels hazy and distant for quite a while after that. Zhao Yunlan isn’t aware of Shen Wei moving, but notices that there’s only air against his sweaty skin where he was expecting a cool body. He can very dimly feel an ache in his shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to the sensations elsewhere in his body. Shen Wei’s absence and the strain in his shoulders is somehow linked, but he doesn’t actually register the appearance of any kind of spectral blade; just sighs in unconscious relief when Shen Wei tucks his arms under the covers. Then Shen Wei is gone for some time, and Zhao Yunlan drifts in and out, still high on the afterglow.
Shen Wei returns with warm, damp towels, and Zhao Yunlan makes the job of rubbing him down that much more difficult by insisting on snuggling into Shen Wei’s lap. The impossible man is already wearing pajamas, much to Zhao Yunlan’s disappointment, but at least the cuddles are acceptable. Acceptable and awkward — Zhao Yunlan wrapped around Shen Wei like a cat does make it harder to reach, but he doesn’t mind. Looking up at Shen Wei he grins lazily at the little frown of concentration drawn between those brows. “Missed a spot,” he says smugly, because he’s come so hard there’s cooling stickiness to wipe away from the hollow of his throat.
There’s a lot Shen Wei could say to that, including pointing out that the spot would not have been missed if Zhao Yunlan wasn’t quite so inconveniently arranged. Instead the only comment is, “The towel isn’t too cold?”
Zhao Yunlan chuckles, heart so full of love at his boyfriend’s ridiculous priorities that he can only laugh. “You…”
Shen Wei’s head comes up, attentive to anything Zhao Yunlan might have to say. “You really are too good to me, baby,” he says, and Shen Wei ducks his head.
“No, I—today I was late, and now I...” Shen Wei’s fingertips brush the tender mark on Zhao Yunlan’s neck.
At that, Zhao Yunlan groans, interrupting what else Shen Wei might have had to say. “You did something you know perfectly well I like very much? Oh no, how could you.” He clutches his heart dramatically, which Shen Wei absolutely deserves because Zhao Yunlan is losing count of how many times he’s had to give some version of this particular reassurance. “I shall immediately have to seek elsewhere for the love of my life.”
“Zhao Yunlan—” Shen Wei speaks as if expecting an argument, then Zhao Yunlan gets to watch his eyes light up and his mouth soften into a true smile.
“And forget about today,” Zhao Yunlan adds with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I know I have.” Because truly, if there was any lingering chill in his bones Shen Wei has melted it all away. There can be no more room in Zhao Yunlan for the terror of that one moment where something else tried to slip into his head, now, not after Shen Wei has filled his heart and mind and body. And even the slight soreness around his wrist is now a lovely reminder of lascivious things.
Shen Wei hesitates, very briefly. Then he nods, and bends down to place a kiss on Zhao Yunlan’s forehead.
“Good,” Zhao Yunlan says, because it really is. With Shen Wei here, how could it be anything but?