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“What’s the point of practicing lines with you,” Xiao Zhan shakes his marked-up script in Wang Yibo’s face, “when you don’t have any lines?”
Yibo smacks the script away. “If I’m not here, you’re just talking to yourself.”
The couch is cramped with the two of them. Xiao Zhan wants to slide to the floor to spread out like a starfish, but that would certainly end even the illusion of practicing lines.
The small sitting room in the short-term apartment Wang Yibo is staying at while they’re on location is as hot inside as it is outside. The ancient air conditioner barely conditions the air directly below it. Xiao Zhan left the portable fan (his best friend) in his trailer on set, so he’s resorted to fanning himself with his script.
Yibo, as usual, shows no touch of heat on his eerily handsome face.
“I am just talking to myself,” he sighs. “You only have two lines and they’re ’stop that’ and ‘Wei Ying’!” By now, he can do a passable Lan Wangji himself, so there’s even less of a reason for Wang Yibo to be here.
“I have very important re-acting to practice,” Yibo waves one hand in front of his face, “Here. In the face.” He grins.
“I’ll kick you in the face.” Xiao Zhan lifts one leg to mime kicking Yibo, settling on pressing one foot into thigh rather than literally kicking him in his smug face.
Yibo lifts his arms to block his face in self-defense anyway. He gasps between laughs. “Not the face! The moneymaker!”
“Okay, how about here,” he says, changing tactics to shove Wang Yibo’s shoulder. Usually it’s Yibo who resorts to violence immediately, while Xiao Zhan prefers to use his words, but sometimes you have to sink to your rival’s level.
Yibo narrows his eyes. “Really? You wanna go?”
Xiao Zhan snort-laughs. “Yes, let’s go. I can take you.”
And then it’s a free-for-all of slaps and shoves and punches—from Yibo only, he swears, young people these days are so violent—that leave them both gasping for breath between shouts of laughter.
Usually when they start hitting each other, there’s some reason they have to stop: a scene to shoot, a crew member giving them a horrified look, a wig adjustment. Here, it’s just them, an uncomfortable couch, the thick hot air, and lines that don’t really need to be rehearsed at this point. When it’s the two of them, they always take things too far. Slaps become pinches, shoves become kicks. Yibo tickles Xiao Zhan’s sides; Xiao Zhan pinches Yibo’s upper arm; Yibo headbutts him, pushing him back so he’s lying stretched out on the couch. There’s something dangerous about this and he’s only getting hotter.
Yibo straddles him, pinning him. Despite Yibo’s weak arms, with his back on the couch cushions, Xiao Zhan has to concede that Yibo has the advantage. Xiao Zhan smiles up at him.
“Lao Wang! You’ve pinned me.” He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Have mercy!”
Yibo wraps his fingers around Xiao Zhan’s wrists and pulls his arms out of the way. “No way. No mercy.”
Xiao Zhan wants to ask what “no mercy” means but he can’t breathe with Yibo this close. He leans over Xiao Zhan, so close Xiao Zhan can’t take in his handsome features all at once—he’s just pale skin, a dark eye, a nose, lips that somehow come together to form a now-familiar face.
Then Yibo kisses him. That’s—wow—that really is merciless, Xiao Zhan thinks.
Yibo’s lips are something unexpected, though Xiao Zhan would be lying if he said he’d never looked at them. They’re dry and soft and Xiao Zhan holds still for a second trying to figure out if they’re real and, more importantly, if they’re really pressing against his. But some old instinct—or a well-buried fantasy, more likely—takes over and he tilts his head to get a better angle before kissing back.
When the kiss breaks, they stare at each other with similarly wide eyes. Xiao Zhan doesn’t know why Yibo’s surprised since he’s the one who started it, but to say Xiao Zhan is shocked would be an understatement. “What was that? Do you like me?” he asks stupidly.
“No,” Yibo says, as blank as Lan Wangji, “Can’t stand you.” He breaks out in laughter and Xiao Zhan’s heart speeds up.
“Can’t stand me?” he squawks, outraged. “What can’t you stand?”
“Can’t stand how you want to talk instead of making out,” Yibo practically growls.
“Well,” Xiao Zhan says before pulling him back into a kiss.
He opens his mouth under Yibo’s until Yibo’s lips open too and then they’re lost to the narrow world of lips against lips, tongues against tongues. Xiao Zhan pulls Yibo closer until they’re chest to chest on the cramped couch. Yibo’s hands move against his sides, pulling at his shirt.
“I’ve thought about this for a while,” Yibo says, as though that explains everything.
“Oh,” Xiao Zhan breathes, “I haven’t.” He hadn’t dared, to be honest. Yibo looks troubled at that so Xiao Zhan reassures him quickly. “But it’s a good idea.” He drags a hand through Yibo’s hair. “A great idea.”
“Mm, thanks,” Yibo says. “I’m pretty smart.”
Xiao Zhan laughs and Yibo kisses the corner of his mouth. “I always wanted to kiss you when you laughed,” he says, which just makes Xiao Zhan laugh more.
“Then you should,” he says, “You should do whatever you want.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Yibo says and then he’s on him again, mouth open and hands everywhere. He kisses down Xiao Zhan’s throat as he groans. This doesn’t seem fair—Xiao Zhan wants to kiss too. He tugs Wang Yibo’s hair so he’s back at his lips, then kisses along his jawline.
His fingers skim along Yibo’s skin, under his t-shirt. Yibo moves to kiss his collar bone, slides his hands lightly across Xiao Zhan’s chest. Yibo is quiet but breathing heavily, like he’s recovering from eight hours of dance practice and knowing he’s the reason for it makes Xiao Zhan head swell. Xiao Zhan’s feeling it too, though: he’s burning up everywhere, but he only wants to get closer.
Yibo moves one leg between Xiao Zhan’s and pauses as Xiao Zhan’s breath catches. He moves his leg experimentally against Xiao Zhan’s groin.
“You’re hard,” Yibo says with more surprise than seems warranted. Yes, Wang Yibo, that’s usually what happens in these situations, Xiao Zhan wants to say.
“Yeah,” Xiao Zhan whispers instead, going for sultry, “what are you gonna do about it?” He pushes his shorts half down, giving his erection some breathing room. He studies Yibo’s face in hopes of some sign he hasn’t totally freaked out. Yibo is staring at his dick with the serious face he gets when they’re learning some new fight choreography.
He expects Yibo to take him in hand, stroke him, like young boys just discovering which parts of the body feel good and how. Instead, Yibo surprises him again: he shifts down so his face is between Xiao Zhan’s legs. He licks up the shaft of his cock and slips the head into his mouth.
“Wang Yibo,” he gasps as he watches his cock disappear into his mouth. “Where did you learn about this?”
Yibo pulls off with a glare. “Do you want an answer or do you want me to keep going?” He blows on his cock, now wet with his spit. Xiao Zhan shudders. What a brat.
“Keep going,” he groans, “but also answer.” He doesn’t know if the image of Yibo practicing this with a friend—maybe another UNIQ member?—turns him on or makes him sick to his stomach.
“I’m not that young, Zhan-ge,” Yibo breathes against his cock. “I’ve seen AV.”
“Just AV?” Xiao Zhan tries not to whine as Yibo takes him in again. “Wow, you must be a prodigy to learn,” he gasps, “just from videos. As expected from the great Wang Yibo—ow!” he cries as Yibo smacks his thigh, hard.
“You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” But Yibo’s laughing and Xiao Zhan has always been happy to see that smile, like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day of filming in period costumes and heavy wigs—though he never thought he’d see that smile so close to his dick, now pressing kisses to the base of it. He laughs too, overcome with the strangeness.
“I’ll shut up, I’m shutting up.” He strokes Yibo’s hair. Yibo is confident but he’s still a baby, Xiao Zhan remembers—and how frustrating it must have been, to know he wanted this while Xiao Zhan was clueless, and how scary to make the first move! Xiao Zhan really admires him, this beautiful boy resting heavily between his thighs. “Show me what you can do, Wang-laoshi,” he murmurs.
“I will,” he says with determination. His eyes fall closed and Xiao Zhan feels like he can count each individual eyelash in the time that stretches between his words and his mouth moving back to his erection.
Then he’s surrounded again by that wet heat, all the nerves on his body narrowing in on that point where Wang Yibo’s mouth moves on him. He does something with his tongue that Xiao Zhan can’t describe and he gasps. “That’s good,” he encourages, “Good—ah—so good—“ and Wang Yibo gives him a look Xiao Zhan knows is mocking but positive reinforcement is an important part of coaching! And from that position, Yibo’s eyes meeting his can’t be anything but a turn-on. Could he come just from Yibo’s mocking looks? If so, they’ll never finish filming.
He runs a hand through Yibo’s hair gently as Yibo starts to move his head. Xiao Zhan babbles, the shameless Wei Wuxian still inside him briefly taking over. “Can’t believe how good you feel—“ He looks away, tilting his head to the side and focusing his eyes on the ceiling, but Yibo is still everywhere. “—Should have done this weeks ago—“ He widens his legs, resting his left heel against Yibo’s back as his right foot slips off the couch to the floor. “Like that, ah, you’re so good—“ Whatever he’s saying, Yibo must like it; Xiao Zhan can feel him moaning around his cock.
Yibo’s nose presses into Xiao Zhan’s pubic hair and holds there, with Xiao Zhan’s dick tickling the back of his throat. He pulls back and repeats the motion, a lack of practical experience more than made up for by the intensity of his determination. Xiao Zhan holds himself back from bucking his hips deeper into Yibo’s mouth.
“Hope this doesn’t hurt your throat,” Xiao Zhan groans. “Your fans will never forgive me—“
“You’re not that big,” Wang Yibo, asshole, says, which earns him a smack to the shoulder.
“Hey! Focus on your job—“ Xiao Zhan cries but Yibo only grins.
“I’m done with that job now,” Yibo says and he crawls up from between his legs to lay on top of him again. Without thinking, Xiao Zhan wraps his arms around his neck, pulling Yibo into him. “I don’t want you to come until I’m inside you,” Wang Yibo whispers into his ear, and Xiao Zhan briefly blacks out.
Through the haze of inside me? inside me? running through his head, Xiao Zhan smacks his arm and says, “Wang Yibo, aren’t you a gentleman? Buy me dinner first!”
Yibo nips at his jaw. “I’m serious. Wanna fuck you.” He rocks his hips into him, rubbing against Xiao Zhan’s sensitive and exposed erection. He’ll never be able to see Wang Yibo dance again without remembering that movement.
“Okay, okay,” he says, stroking Yibo’s hair at the back of his neck. He hasn’t bottomed in years, not since college, before rehearsal and photo shoots filled up any time he might have had to fool around. “We’ll need lube and a condom.” He almost blushes to say it but he assumes Yibo would be more embarrassed. “I could run to a store—“
“Hold on,” Yibo says, getting up. “Wait here.”
As though Xiao Zhan is going to run away! “Where would I go?” His shorts are half down and he’s still hard—not a good look for fleeing the scene.
“Don’t move!” Yibo answers absurdly. He disappears into the bathroom and reappears with lube and a condom. Xiao Zhan bursts out laughing.
“You have this with you?” Xiao Zhan looks at the bottle. “Have you been planning this?” He feigns outrage, but can’t help laughing.
Yibo’s face, surprisingly, goes red. “It’s just in case.”
“In case you seduce a coworker?” He dangles the bottle in Yibo’s face. “Am I one in a long line of conquests?”
Yibo grabs the bottle quickly. “It’s just for safety. There’s no one else.”
Xiao Zhan holds back a gasp, but he has to ask. “No one like no other coworkers? Or no one else—“
“No one else.” Yibo’s eyes narrow. “Don’t say—“
“That’s cute.” He can feel himself smiling; he feels lightheaded in a way that has only a little to do with his erection.
Yibo groans into his hands. “I said don’t say it.”
Xiao Zhan decides to have mercy. “There’s no one else for me either,” he says quickly. “Not in a long time.” He kisses Yibo’s fingers, which are still holding the lube, so it’s a little goofy. He carefully looks into Wang Yibo’s eyes. “I want you to fuck me.”
Making Wang Yibo’s cheeks flush bright red—with embarrassment? with arousal?—is even better than making Wang Yibo laugh, Xiao Zhan thinks, but he only gets a glimpse of Yibo’s blush before Yibo’s too close to see, leaning over him to kiss him again. “You can’t just say it like that,” he says against Xiao Zhan’s lips.
“You’re the one who brought it up!” Xiao Zhan says. He scrambles underneath Yibo’s weight to pull his shorts off the rest of the way and kick them on to the floor. Not elegant, but it got the job done; now it’s just Yibo who is wearing too many clothes. He fiddles with the waistband on Yibo’s sweats, fingers skirting across his thin hipbones. “I was just agreeing with you.”
“I thought you’d be more shy, Zhan-ge,” Yibo says. There’s no way he actually thought that.
“I can play shy,” Xiao Zhan says. He kisses him chastely, closed mouth and delicate. “Take care of me, gege,” he adds as he pulls at Yibo’s waistband. “Take these off.”
“Shameless,” Yibo mutters but he complies, pulling off his shirt too. Xiao Zhan can finally look at him; he feels like he’s been trying not to look at him since they first met and now he’s here, naked, within arm’s reach.
“‘Shameless’? Are we rehearsing? Lan Zhan!” Xiao Zhan teases.
Yibo makes his most stern face and says “Wei Ying!” with all the drama he can muster.
“Stop, stop.” Xiao Zhan laughs. “You’re too scary as Lan Wangji. Come here,” he says, positioning Yibo between his legs. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you need to pull up a video to review—“
Yibo shuts him up with slick fingers circling his hole. “Do I? I think they go here—is that right, Zhan-ge?”
“Mm, you’re supposed to put them in,” Xiao Zhan says, letting his legs open wider. He pulls his knees up so Yibo can get a better angle. He’s rewarded with one of Yibo’s fingers, warm and wet, and quickly—a bit too quickly—a second one follows. Yibo kisses him with each stroke of his fingers inside him, punctuating any discomfort with his soft lips.
“You should twist them just a—ah,” Xiao Zhan sighs as Yibo’s fingers curl into just the right spot.
“Is that good?” Yibo smirks.
“It’s good,” Xiao Zhan says. “Stretch me out more, I need to feel it.”
Yibo groans, any smugness gone. He dutifully pours more lube onto his fingers and stretches Xiao Zhan’s asshole around him. “Is that enough? I can’t take it—”
“So impatient,” Xiao Zhan coos. He brushes the hair from Yibo’s forehead. “Yeah, I’m ready for you. Put the condom on first—“ but Yibo is already ripping open the foil and rolling on the condom.
“Yes, condom goes first. That’s a good tip,” Yibo deadpans. He presses the head of his cock against Xiao Zhan’s entrance. “Okay?”
“Okay, okay, I’m going crazy—“ he whines as Yibo pushes in slowly. They didn’t prep enough, Xiao Zhan can tell, but he didn’t think he could have lasted through much more foreplay. He breathes deeply and tries to relax. Yibo’s forehead is dotted with sweat and his closed eyes speak volumes as he presses in. Xiao Zhan strokes his arm. “Hey, can you—”
“Anything you want,” Yibo answers quickly.
Xiao Zhan smiles. “Can you touch me?”
“Of course.” He strokes his cock, slow and deliberate. The burn of Yibo’s cock inside him eases as the pleasure of Yibo’s hand helps to relax him.
Yibo begins to move, slowly in and then slowly out again, over and over, until Xiao Zhan is just about dying with his need to be properly fucked.
“You can speed it up,” he says.
“Oh, are you greedy? You really want it?”
Xiao Zhan laughs. “Yes, I want. Come on.”
Yibo speeds up his thrusts but it’s not quite enough. Xiao Zhan hooks his ankles behind Yibo’s back, pushing his hips up to meet each thrust. The rhythm grows more frantic—Xiao Zhan can already feel the soreness he’ll be complaining about tomorrow on set—but it’s worth it to watch the sweat drip off Yibo’s forehead as he gasps above him.
“It’s okay?” Yibo mumbles, uncharacteristically hesitant.
“It’s good,” Xiao Zhan gasps. “Just, angle more—a bit—up?” He’s not sure he’s getting his meaning across but Yibo adjusts, somehow, and manages to hit his prostate. Of course such a coordinated dancer would pick up the moves quickly. Xiao Zhan moans—that’s the feeling he remembers, part of what made this so fun. He runs his fingernails down Yibo’s back.
“That’s better?” Yibo says, smug as he hits the same spot again.
Xiao Zhan sighs. “Do you need constant praise?”
“No, but it’s nice,” Yibo says.
“Okay, okay,” Xiao Zhan says. He moans loudly. “Wang Yibo, your cock feels so good inside me.” He writhes underneath him. “You’re moving just right, Lao Wang, Bo-ge, so good for me, so strong—“ he’s playing it up, but not by much; he can’t catch his breath around the words as Yibo continues to drive him wild.
Wang Yibo kisses him quiet just as he’s about to throw in another pornographic moan. Then he says, “Your asshole feels great too, Zhan-ge. Probably one of the top assholes in the world.”
Xiao Zhan smacks his shoulder. “Who would want a compliment like that?”
But Yibo strokes his cock, then, and Xiao Zhan forgets his complaint.
True to his word, Yibo makes Xiao Zhan come while he’s still inside him. Xiao Zhan pulls Yibo as close to him as he can, touching him everywhere, and shouts something, Yibo’s name or an expletive, he’s not sure which. When the wave of pleasure fades, Yibo is still fucking him, fast and deep. In the fuzziness of post-orgasm, Xiao Zhan puts one hand on the back of Yibo’s neck.
“Always love watching you,” Xiao Zhan mutters.
Yibo’s eyes widen and then he’s coming over the edge too. Xiao Zhan tries to memorize his face as he comes. There’s something delightful about seeing someone so handsome look so ugly, so silly, especially when he’s still fucking you. A bubble of laughter catches in Xiao Zhan’s throat, but it can’t escape; it becomes a long sigh into Yibo’s ear. Yibo’s stomach drags against Xiao Zhan’s too-sensitive soft cock. Yibo whispers Zhan-ge, Zhan-ge between kisses and Xiao Zhan curls his hands in his hair. “You’re so good, I got you, I got you,” Xiao Zhan tries to say but he slurs the words together. “Come on, come on.” His arms are shaking and his cock slips out, and then he collapses on top of him, his mouth open against Xiao Zhan’s collarbone.
There’s a moment of suspended stillness. The room is hotter than ever and the stickiness of post-coital bliss isn’t helping. Xiao Zhan presses his hand gingerly to Wang Yibo’s shoulder, suddenly shy. Yibo feels hot, everywhere he touches his body, which is all over.
Yibo sits up suddenly and scrambles off him. “Mmm, I’m gonna—I’ll be right back,” he says and vanishes into the bedroom.
Xiao Zhan blinks at the sudden lack of Yibo’s weight. He lays on the couch spent, his shorts still off and his socks still on. A pit settles into his stomach: should he have not deflowered his co-star? Was this going to be weird? He closes his eyes and rests his hand on his forehead. He tries not to picture Yibo’s handsome, stoic face crumbling as he came inside of him, just a few minutes earlier.
Something cold against his hand snaps him out of it. He opens his eyes to a bottle of water and a box of tissues. Wang Yibo has put his sweatpants on but he’s still shirtless.
“Yo,” Wang Yibo says as Xiao Zhan cleans off his stomach. “Hydration helps slow down aging.”
Xiao Zhan takes the water with a grin. “Such respect for your elders.” As he stretches out on the couch, Yibo crawls on top of him again, settling against his chest.
“It’s too hot to cuddle,” Xiao Zhan whines but his arms wrap around Yibo’s broader shoulders anyway.
“Don’t care,” Yibo replies, muffled against Xiao Zhan’s neck. Who knew the cool prince Wang Yibo turned into a clingy octopus after sex? But then he realizes: he’s the only one who knows Wang Yibo after sex.
He kisses Wang Yibo’s ear. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got a bad personality?” he says, but Yibo just smacks him on the thigh and nuzzles closer.
Xiao Zhan finds he doesn’t mind the heat so much after all.