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Xiao Zhan tries, as a rule, not to ask for things that he knows will inconvenience other people. In practice, that usually means doing his own laundry at the apartment and dusting when he can, or hiring a driver to take him home instead of asking his parents to pick him up, or going without food when sending his manager out for a late night run would prove logistically impractical. He's gotten better at accepting help over the years, like letting one of his handlers walk to the Starbucks at the airport to pick up his drink so that the rest of his entourage doesn't have to come with him, but it's still not his favorite thing. He's got legs, and he knows how to use them. Why should he have to rely on anyone else for basic tasks?
"I mean, you're paying them," Yibo said once, when they were talking about it on a flight from Beijing to Hangzhou. "They're just doing their jobs. You could hire a cleaner."
"Maybe I find washing my own dishes soothing," Xiao Zhan replied, popping a peanut into his mouth and crunching down. "You've never been hit by the sudden urge to deep-clean your whole house from top to bottom?"
The alarmed look that passed over Yibo's face made him laugh. "I can safely say that that thought has never occurred to me in my entire life."
"No wonder your apartment is a mess," Xiao Zhan said, purposefully teasing.
Yibo grumbled, "See if I ever invite you over again," tossing a peanut at his head, and the conversation moved on to the extensive collection of helmets on display in Yibo's sitting room.
The point is: Xiao Zhan doesn't make it a habit to ask for things that are outside of the purview of what he could comfortably do himself, and even then, it always seems like more trouble than it's worth. The last thing he wants to be is a nuisance. Still, when he and Yibo fell into this relationship, Yibo had made it very clear what he wanted and insisted that Xiao Zhan do the same. "I know it's hard for you to ask," he said, climbing into Xiao Zhan's lap the first time and looping his arms around Xiao Zhan's neck. "But I wanna know, okay? I wanna know everything about you, Zhan-ge. Don't be shy."
Xiao Zhan knows he asked for this, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with.
They're in a hotel room in Shanghai tonight, ahead of a slew of interviews they'll have to do with various outlets tomorrow, a middle stop on their grand press tour. Xiao Zhan knows Yibo's been planning meticulously for this because he's barely said a peep in their WeChat thread over the past week leading up to it, the normal ubiquity of his chatter replaced by monosyllabic replies at odd hours of the day. Yibo gets like that sometimes when he's hyper-focused, turtling into his shell as he works through whatever it is that goes on in his mind. It was fascinating to watch on set last summer, Yibo pulling the fidgety pieces of himself into the layers of his hanfu and really settling into Lan Wangji between one blink and the next. Xiao Zhan had to write whole essays in his head to think about character work, but then again, Wei Wuxian's number of lines were greater by a couple orders of magnitude.
"You're thinking so loudly I can hear it all the way from over here, Zhan-ge," comes Yibo's voice now, low and amused.
Xiao Zhan sighs and tries to relax. He's lying spread-eagle on the bed, naked, on his back the way Yibo had laid him out earlier — the first thing that had happened when Xiao Zhan entered the room was the blindfold, which he had also asked for, and then Yibo had pushed him back against the door and divested him of all of his clothes. Xiao Zhan blinks into the darkness, eyelashes skimming the fabric, and forces his breath in and out.
"That's not a bad thing," Yibo says. His voice is closer this time, like he's come back around to the bed. "I like how much you think. It's kind of sexy."
"Is it because you do so little of it yourself?" Xiao Zhan says. He jolts when Yibo smacks his bicep, laughing when Yibo rubs his skin to soothe the sting.
"Why should I, when I've got you around to do all the thinking for me?"
Xiao Zhan shivers as Yibo's hand slides down toward his wrist, and then something soft and almost satin-y loops around it. Any answer Xiao Zhan could have given that question suddenly flies out of his head.
"I studied knots all week," Yibo says conversationally. "Really hope this works." Xiao Zhan can feel the edge of the mattress dip under Yibo's weight as he guides Xiao Zhan's hand up toward the headboard. After another minute of quiet rustling, he continues, "Test the give?"
Xiao Zhan swallows and pulls at half strength. Nothing seems to unravel, the soft material holding steady. Yibo makes a small noise of approval, fussing with it one more time, and then brushes a hand down Xiao Zhan's flank toward his feet, massaging as he goes. That wasn't something that had been floated in their original discussion, but Xiao Zhan can't say he hates it. Yibo's hands always feel nice, big and broad and warm.
Yibo keeps working him over like that, fingers squeezing down Xiao Zhan's calves to hook around the delicate bones of his ankles, until all four of his limbs are fastened to the bedframe and Xiao Zhan feels malleable enough that he could probably meld with the mattress. He's gotten half-hard in the interim, because who wouldn't be after being subjected to Yibo's careful consideration? "There," Yibo says, satisfaction shot through his voice, which is coming from somewhere down the bed, probably between Xiao Zhan's legs. "You look great, Zhan-ge. Let me just…"
One of his hands reaches down and curls gently around Xiao Zhan's dick; the touch is light and fleeting, a tad too dry, barely enough friction for Xiao Zhan to buck up into, but two flicks of Yibo's wrist and Xiao Zhan is completely hard, just like that. Xiao Zhan tugs against the bonds around his wrists, less because he wants to get out of them and more for something to counterbalance the swirl of pleasure in his stomach.
"Perfect," Yibo says, almost purring it. He lets go of Xiao Zhan's erection; it flops over against his belly, twitching as Yibo pats his thigh. A moment later, Xiao Zhan hears the click of Yibo's phone go off. He must be taking pictures of — this.
"Yibo," he says, straining against the ties, squirming across the sheets. His hips rise a little. The shutter clicks continue. Xiao Zhan's entire body feels like it's flushing; he can't tell how splotchy he's gotten while blindfolded, but it must be noticeable. "What are you doing?"
"You just look so good," Yibo replies, rough like sandpaper, and Xiao Zhan's dick twitches again. "Don't worry about the photos. I'll be careful with them."
"That's not what I meant," Xiao Zhan says. He shifts, rolling his wrists. Despite the air conditioning whirring in the background, he's already starting to sweat. A bead of perspiration trickles down the slope of his forehead and soaks into the material of the blindfold. He tries on a smile, hoping it looks normal. "Aren't you going to touch me?"
"I will! I will. Trust me, I'm getting there."
When they had discussed this through WeChat a week ago, after Xiao Zhan had tentatively brought up being blindfolded and tied up the next time they saw each other long enough to have sex, they hadn't actually ironed out many of the specifics. Maybe they should have; Xiao Zhan isn't sure what else Yibo has planned, but it hasn't even been that long and the anticipation is killing him.
The bed dips as Yibo moves again, phone snapping away a few more times, probably at some new angle. Xiao Zhan has done his fair share of photoshoots over the years, has been dolled up for a professional lens more times than he can count, but this is — different. "Xiao-laoshi is just too gorgeous," Yibo mumbles, half to himself. "Such a small waist, all this flawless skin, and look at those lips. Look at this beautiful cock. Who could resist?"
"Stop saying stuff like that," Xiao Zhan says, huffing out a laugh as his face heats. "We're not in front of the cameras, you don't have to lay it on so thick."
Yibo freezes; the rustling abates. For a long moment, neither of them says anything, the silence stretching out like a rubber band that just won't snap. Xiao Zhan frowns. Did he say something wrong? Isn't this part of the same banter they've been engaging in for over a year now?
Xiao Zhan raises his head, tilting it. "Yibo?" His throat clicks when he swallows. "Are you alright?"
Before he can take another breath, Yibo settles down across Xiao Zhan's waist; he's taken all his clothes off too, no layers left in between them, and the press of his bare skin makes Xiao Zhan hiss. "You want me to stop telling the truth?" Yibo says, voice somehow coming out a full octave lower than usual. "You think I'm just doing it for the cameras, Zhan-ge?"
Xiao Zhan blinks rapidly beneath the blindfold. "Aren't you?"
Yibo blows out a frustrated breath, close enough that Xiao Zhan can feel it across his neck. "First of all, I would never talk about your dick in front of a camera," Yibo says, sounding so grumpy that Xiao Zhan nearly laughs again. Yibo's right hand cups Xiao Zhan's neck and then sweeps across his collarbone, squeezing one shoulder before it trails down toward his sternum. "More importantly, why can't you just accept a compliment?" Yibo murmurs. "Why can't you accept that you're super fucking hot?"
Xiao Zhan recoils despite himself, half-formed protestations falling from his mouth instinctively. "I don't — I'm not—" He jerks when Yibo squeezes his legs around Xiao Zhan's torso and tweaks his left nipple. Maybe, Xiao Zhan thinks desperately, he can turn it into a joke. "Not all of us are as narcissistic as you, Wang-laoshi." He doesn't think it comes out very convincing.
"We aren't talking about me, we're talking about you," Yibo returns without missing a beat. Xiao Zhan isn't prepared for the warm swipe of Yibo's tongue across his other nipple, and he makes an embarrassing noise in the back of his throat, hips rising ineffectually against the air. "For the record," he continues, after sucking long enough that Xiao Zhan's skin tingles, "I do love it when you tell me I'm hot. I just think you should love it when I do the same thing."
"Yibo…"
"Mm, I'm here," he says, patting Xiao Zhan's chest and then moving further downward. His ass bumps against Xiao Zhan's flagging dick on the way down, and it perks up with interest as Yibo lingers, grinding against it for a few moments before clambering between his legs again, elbows digging into Xiao Zhan's thighs.
"It just feels so excessive," Xiao Zhan confesses. He can't see Yibo's face, but even saying the words out loud into the darkness behind the blindfold makes him feel completely overexposed. "I don't need anyone to fall all over themselves fawning over me. Is it really a crime to not want people to go out of their way?"
Yibo drops a row of wet kisses along the seam of Xiao Zhan's thigh. Xiao Zhan shudders, tugging uselessly against the bonds around his wrists. "To me it is," Yibo says, obstinate as ever. "To me, you're always worthy of praise." There's the sound of him spitting into his palm, and then his slick hands are pulling Xiao Zhan to full hardness again, easy and familiar. "Hear me out, hmm? I'm not great at talking about things, but I want to talk to you all the time. I always want to tell you how good you are, even if I don't get the words right. You should know."
Xiao Zhan's chest constricts so quickly that his head swims, and the next moment, Yibo's sucked most of Xiao Zhan's dick down his throat in one go. Xiao Zhan shouts, nails biting into his palms, ankles yanking against the bonds as his whole body tries to curl in on himself. The worst part of all this is that he can't sink his fingers into Yibo's hair, can't push his bangs back and tell him how well he's doing. Why wouldn't Yibo have that impulse too?
Yibo slurps loudly as he sucks him off, tightening his lips and bobbing his head up and down, working his tongue around the head the way he knows drives Xiao Zhan crazy. Yibo is always enthusiastic about this, sex and touching and being able to spend time in the same space. Xiao Zhan's panting hard by the time Yibo pulls off with a pop, and then Xiao Zhan hears the clicking of Yibo's phone again. "I'll show you the pictures later, sweetheart," Yibo says, and the gravelly texture of his voice when the endearment drops out of his mouth stokes the fire in Xiao Zhan's belly. "You look good enough to eat."
Xiao Zhan makes a bereft noise when Yibo lifts up and away, the lack of contact making him shiver.
"Still here," Yibo murmurs, pressing his palm to Xiao Zhan's side, like he's soothing a skittish horse. "Just give me a sec." Xiao Zhan tenses when he hears the sound of a bottle uncapping, and Yibo swings himself over Xiao Zhan's torso again, resting against his middle as Yibo squeezes lube out onto his fingers. Fuck, Xiao Zhan wishes he could see everything, but something about only being able to hear Yibo as he's prepping himself kicks Xiao Zhan's feverish arousal into overdrive, the slick squelch of Yibo's fingers loud over the roaring in his ears.
"Yibo," he grits out between his teeth, struggling fruitlessly against the bonds. His tongue feels too big for his mouth, thick as syrup. He sounds drunk. He feels drunk. "You have to—"
"Yeah, I know," Yibo says breathlessly, free hand roaming down to fondle Xiao Zhan's chest as he bumps back against Xiao Zhan's aching cock. "Stay still for me, alright? You're so good at being patient, Zhan-ge, you can wait some more."
Even that bit of praise makes something fizz at the base of Xiao Zhan's spine. His toes curl in the sheets as Yibo keeps fucking himself down on his fingers, soft noises falling out of his mouth. Xiao Zhan loses himself in the frantic undertow of his desire, hips jostling in vain against Yibo's spread thighs.
"Okay, okay," Yibo says, reaching down to take Xiao Zhan carefully in his hand. Xiao Zhan cries out, Yibo's slick fingers almost too much, thrashing against the bindings. "Ahh, fuck," Yibo says, over Xiao Zhan's loud gasp, as he sinks inch by inch onto Xiao Zhan's cock, the enveloping heat so tight that Xiao Zhan feels his eyes prickling behind the blindfold. "You feel so good, baby." Xiao Zhan's breath hiccups in his chest and Yibo tips forward to press his mouth to the corner of Xiao Zhan's slack one, hands reverently cupping Xiao Zhan's neck. "You're so good at taking care of me, you know that? I love being in you, I love your mouth on me, my mouth on you, everything. And I love this, feeling you fill me up." Xiao Zhan feels the curve of Yibo's smile against his cheek. "I love that you're all tied up, so you can't run away from what I'm telling you. You always — haaah — come up with the best ideas."
Yibo rolls his hips, agonizingly slow; at this angle, Xiao Zhan can barely thrust up, can only take what Yibo's giving him, in word and in deed. Frustration mingles with the building pleasure in his gut, and he cries out again when he slips out of Yibo entirely and Yibo has to sit back to line Xiao Zhan up again, sinking down faster this time.
Xiao Zhan tries to focus on what Yibo's saying, but it's so hard when the pace picks up, Yibo's urgency bleeding through the fingers digging into Xiao Zhan's waist and the wheeze of Yibo's labored breathing. Yibo goes rigid as he sinks back all the way, Xiao Zhan buried inside him to the hilt. "Ahh, Zhan-ge," he groans, squirming in Xiao Zhan's lap. The obscene slap of their bodies fills Xiao Zhan's ears as Yibo fucks himself down, rolling his body in tight circles. "Sweetheart, I'm close."
"Fuck, Yibo, me too," Xiao Zhan babbles, ties biting into his wrists and his ankles as he flexes his limbs, as he thrusts up with what little leverage he has. He moans when Yibo clenches around him, white flashing behind his eyelids. "Yibo, honey, take the blindfold off? Please, I wanna — let me see you when I—"
Yibo's fingers scrabble behind Xiao Zhan's head, fumbling clumsily. It takes a minute, but eventually he yanks the soaked blindfold off and casts it aside. Xiao Zhan blinks a few times so his eyes adjust to the light, and then all he can see is Yibo perched in his lap, legs splayed wide and muscles tense, one hand balanced on Xiao Zhan's stomach and the other stripping his own cock, straining toward release. Yibo looks so good like this, sweaty and desperate, wild and beautiful and completely in his element. He's always most arresting in motion, the solid reality of his presence sucking all the air out of the room. How did Xiao Zhan ever get so lucky?
Yibo bounces on Xiao Zhan's dick, clamping impossibly tighter as the bed creaks beneath them. His damp bangs fall into his face when he tilts forward, eyes scorching up Xiao Zhan's body. The curve of his mouth tilts up as his breath hitches, gaze locking on his. "Yibo," Xiao Zhan says with the very last of his breath, heart hammering in his throat.
"You're fucking perfect, Zhan-ge," Yibo murmurs, low and insistent, and that's it — that's all it takes — Xiao Zhan's head thuds back against the pillow as his body arches. He comes so hard that he sees stars, eyes squeezed shut to ride out the spinning in his head and the pleasure rolling up from his toes all the way to his scalp.
He struggles to open his eyes again when he hears Yibo shout, and through the heady haze of his own orgasm, he manages to catch the exact moment Yibo spills across Xiao Zhan's chest and stomach. He's trembling and tight around Xiao Zhan's dick, eyelashes thick against his cheeks, mouth spread wide, the muscles in his neck standing out as he shakes through it. Xiao Zhan has seen him come many times over the past handful of months, has seen him unravel because of Xiao Zhan's fingers and his mouth and his ass, but it never gets old. It's always like the first time.
Yibo sags, after. He winces a little as Xiao Zhan slips out of him, his weight heavy and welcome across Xiao Zhan's thighs.
"Get me out of these," Xiao Zhan croaks, tugging feebly against the binds. A laugh wheezes out of Yibo's mouth. He leans forward, and somehow the knots just fall apart beneath his hands. Once he's freed Xiao Zhan's ankles, too, Xiao Zhan catches him by the waist and brings them both down against the mattress, stretching out to tangle their legs together.
"How was that?" Yibo murmurs, arms curling around Xiao Zhan's neck, mouth fluttering to his jaw.
"Good," Xiao Zhan says, because it's the truth. He feels broken open and put back together again, tired and satisfied and warm. "Really good, Yibo." There will be red marks on Xiao Zhan's wrists tomorrow, but he can't really bring himself to care right now. They should also deal with the tacky jizz dripping out of Yibo's ass, but that can wait too, at least until they've caught their breath enough to make it to the shower.
Yibo scoots back just a tad to look at Xiao Zhan's face. "Are you still going to say you're a four or something ridiculous when one of those reporters tells you how handsome you are?"
The rumble of Xiao Zhan's laugh travels through both of them. "Yeah, probably," he says, sheepish. Old habits die hard, and knee-jerk self-deprecation is not something he's going to unlearn overnight.
"I guess we'll have to take it slow," Yibo sighs. His tongue flicks across his lips, a nervous gesture. "You'll let me keep telling you nice things, though, right? Not as a joke, not for the cameras. Just because I want to."
"It's different when it's you," Xiao Zhan admits, heart thumping in double time when Yibo's whole face glows. "I, um, I like it when it's you."
"That's a step in the right direction," Yibo says, grinning wide, and leans in to kiss him.