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It wasn’t something they’d discussed beforehand. Yibo probably would have said no if they had. Maybe that was why Xiao Zhan didn’t ask. He simply appeared at Yibo’s doorstep one day, two and a half weeks into quarantine.
“Am I allowed to turn you down?” Yibo had joked when he’d allowed the other man inside his apartment.
“Absolutely, Yibo,” Xiao Zhan had answered seriously. He stopped moving, a backpack over one shoulder and a carry-on sitting beside him. “I’ll go right now. I can find a hotel.”
“Oh, whatever. You’re not spending quarantine by yourself in a hotel. Come in, Zhan-ge.”
“I waited two weeks to be sure of my health. But I’m not trying to bully you into letting me stay…”
“It’d save time if you did,” Yibo said wryly. “Then we wouldn’t be having this dumb back and forth.”
For the first time since appearing, Xiao Zhan’s eyes above his mask crinkled into a smile. Yibo figured it would be okay. Quarantine wouldn’t last much longer.
It would be okay to spend it together.
~~~~~
It didn’t occur to him until a couple of days later that Xiao Zhan’s mood had been pretty grim from the get-go. Initially, Yibo had chalked it up to the other man’s uncertainty of his welcome. But now that Xiao Zhan had the guest room set up with the air mattress he’d inexplicably possessed and they’d begun to work out boundaries and routines, Yibo was able to move beyond being surprised at having a houseguest to paying attention to said houseguest.
Xiao Zhan didn’t look good. He looked exhausted, which didn’t make sense since neither of them had been able to work or travel in weeks. Yibo suspected it wasn’t a physical exhaustion that afflicted his friend so much as it was a mental one. They hadn’t talked about it, but Yibo, like the rest of the industry, was aware of the tribulations Xiao Zhan was experiencing because of overzealous fans. From what Yibo had heard and read, the situation was ugly and growing uglier. Xiao Zhan was the target of every arrow launched these days. Enemies had scented blood in the water, and now they were attacking en masse.
Yibo had experienced something of the same last year, but because the attacks had come from outsiders he’d been able to weather them and move on. For Xiao Zhan, too many controversies were growing from within his own base. There wasn’t much he could do without alienating his own fans, and Yibo hoped his friend’s team was working out a PR strategy with that in mind.
He wanted to ask about it, but after glancing at Xiao Zhan’s profile as they watched TV together, Yibo decided it wasn’t his place.
“What’s on your mind, Bo-di?”
He startled, chagrined at being caught. “Nothing.”
Xiao Zhan smiled mirthlessly, his eyes still on the screen. “Ever since I arrived, you’ve been sneaking looks at me. Did I get fat while I wasn’t looking? Do I need a haircut? I suppose we all need haircuts at this point…”
“You look fine. Still handsome as always, Zhan-ge.”
With a soft huff, Xiao Zhan turned his head. He had a scattering of stubble on his chin and upper lip and his hair was tousled boyishly. Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he looked far younger than he was—except for his eyes. His gaze was muddy and deep.
“I probably shouldn’t have come here,” he said.
“Better here than a hotel,” Yibo argued. “Is that where you were before?”
“Yes. I was trying to lie low and stay away from my place. Too many people waiting for me there.” Xiao Zhan grabbed one of the sofa pillows and clutched it to his chest. “It’s not good, Yibo.”
“I’ve heard,” Yibo said cautiously. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“There’s nothing that I can do to help me,” Xiao Zhan said. “Except hide. Try to make the world forget I exist so they’ll stop being angry with me…Bo-di, I don’t know where or how it all went wrong, but it has gone very wrong for me.”
The despair in his voice twisted Yibo’s heart. Xiao Zhan was usually a fairly sunny person. He also tended to be very cautious and not reveal himself. For him to admit to such feelings meant they’d become too much for him to handle.
“I’m afraid of them,” he admitted in a hushed voice. “How did I end up being afraid of my own fans?”
“It’s difficult to manage millions of them,” Yibo said carefully. “Impossible. So for me, I stopped trying, and just hope they’ll find it in themselves to be rational. I hold myself apart from them and don’t give in to their demands. They know now they can’t manipulate me.”
Xiao Zhan smiled faintly. “No. Lao Wang can’t be pressured into giving selfies. I should learn from you. Crack the whip on these people.”
“They might like it,” Yibo said with a grin.
“I’d do a very good job at it,” Xiao Zhan acknowledged.
Their gazes held for a long moment. Yibo wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he thought he saw a spark of it deep in his friend’s eyes.
“Time will help,” Yibo said. “People are bored now with nothing to watch and nothing to do. Once the quarantine lifts they’ll forget about this and you can move forward again.”
“But what if they don’t?” Xiao Zhan looked momentarily haunted. “What if my career never recovers from this?”
Yibo didn’t have a good answer for him. “Whatever happens, you move forward.”
~~~~~
The transition from friends to roommates was relatively frictionless. It helped that both of them had extensive experience with dorm-style living as idols. Once they figured out their sleeping hours and determined who needed the bathroom first and how to divvy up chores, they settled in nicely together. Secretly, Yibo was glad that the quarantine had been imposed because it gave him this. It gave him the company of someone he liked very much.
How important Xiao Zhan’s presence was to him became apparent into their second week together. The news on the internet wasn’t getting better for Xiao Zhan. He’d taken to spending more and more time in the guest room, leaving Yibo to himself. Though Yibo had a lot of hobbies, most of them required space or the outdoors. He was restless, but it was becoming more than that.
The days stretched into another week. Xiao Zhan emerged from his room less and less frequently. When they did spend time together, he was withdrawn, barely talking, and Yibo was reluctant to rouse him. He had never been very good at coaxing emotion out of people or offering them comfort, and now he regretted that lack of skill acutely. When Xiao Zhan stopped coming out altogether, Yibo watched online cooking lessons and cooked for two, leaving the extra plate in the refrigerator for Xiao Zhan to eat when he felt like it.
Yibo was desperate for interaction. Though Xiao Zhan was in the apartment, it was like he wasn’t. Yibo began to feel what had been delayed with the other man’s initial arrival. It began as an itch along his spine. Practicing magic tricks over and over again until his hands cramped didn’t distract him from it. Building LEGO sets until his fingers were sore didn’t help, either. It was a physical pain in his legs and back, as though the muscles there were shortening.
It affected his brain. Every day seemed foggy and bled into the other. He took to turning the TV on as soon as he woke and leaving it on all day, just so he could hear other human voices. He left the light on in his room at night instead of only in the bathroom.
The depression, when it came, wasn’t subtle. One day he opened his eyes and couldn’t bring himself to roll out of bed. The enormity of what they faced pressed him into the mattress. What if the virus never went away? What if a vaccine couldn’t be developed and people had to remain separated forever? What if sunbathing from his balcony was the most he saw of the sun and the only time he saw his friends’ faces was through a screen?
He flung his arm across his eyes as the first tears slipped out. This prison was going to be his life. All his dreams for his career had turned to dust. His future was over. Life was over. It would be like this forever.
He didn’t hear his bedroom door open, but he felt the dip of his mattress. He jerked his arm away from his face with a gasp. Xiao Zhan kneeled on the bed beside him, his eyes sloping down at the corners.
“Bo-di,” he said softly. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
Xiao Zhan nodded. “Okay. You’re not.”
Yibo smashed the tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Why are you in my room?”
“I was hungry.” Xiao Zhan’s smile was sheepish.
It was then that Yibo remembered that he hadn’t prepared food for himself, and therefore none for Xiao Zhan, either.
“Sorry.” Yibo sniffed and sat up. He expected Xiao Zhan to lean away and give him space, but the older man remained close. “I’ll make something right now.”
“To be honest, I’d prefer that you didn’t.” Xiao Zhan reached out and Yibo froze in place as Xiao Zhan brushed moisture off his cheek with a thumb. “You’re not a good cook, Yibo, and I can’t eat any more noodles.”
“What’s wrong with noodles?” But Yibo didn’t care about the noodles. He cared about Xiao Zhan’s thumb, which hadn’t left his cheek and was methodically drying the trails of moisture leading from the corners of his eyes. “What are you doing?” he finally blurted, unable to stand it.
Xiao Zhan stilled. He took his time lowering his hand. Yibo got the strange impression that he was trying to prove a point with his deliberateness.
“We can’t go on like this,” Xiao Zhan said quietly. “You and me—it’s killing us.”
“The quarantine?”
“The quarantine. The world. Everything. Look at us. We’re wrecks. Both of us. And for what?”
“A lot has happened.”
“Fuck that.” Xiao Zhan grinned at Yibo’s shock. “That’s right. I said ‘fuck that.’ You think I’m all sweetness and light, Yibo? Come on. You know better.”
He did know, he just hadn’t known that Xiao Zhan knew he knew. Xiao Zhan had presented an image since the beginning of filming of The Untamed and he hadn’t shaken it off. But Yibo, granted the privilege of seeing him at his worst, understood that it was only one side of Xiao Zhan. His sweet, friendly façade won him fans and earned him endorsements, just as Yibo’s cool sensuality worked as his commercial demeanor.
“I know who you are,” Yibo said, just as quietly. “That’s why you shouldn’t be so sad about what’s happened to you. You’ll recover from this. People will always love you, Zhan-ge. They can’t help themselves..”
“And what of you? Why did I find you this way today?”
Yibo picked at the bed sheet in his lap. “I’m not doing well with being trapped like this. I don’t like sitting still. I don’t like being cooped up. I don’t like…being alone, though you’re here now, so that helps,” he said quickly.
“I’m not letting you be alone, Yibo. We’ve still got each other.”
Yibo laughed, a bit hysterically. “What good is that when we’ve lost everything else?”
Xiao Zhan folded his fingers over Yibo’s wrist. “Don’t say that. You’re the one who said we’ll still move forward no matter what.”
“Maybe I was just saying that.” Yibo wanted to cover his face with his hands, but he was reluctant to pull his wrist out of Xiao Zhan’s hold. It comforted him. “Maybe I was talking out of my ass and our careers are over, we just don’t know it yet. What if tomorrow one of us gets infected and we’re—”
Xiao Zhan’s fingers tightened painfully. “No. Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. We’re safe in here.”
“Forever?”
“We’ll take care of each other. Forever, if we have to.” Xiao Zhan smiled. “Be grateful we’re not trapped with Yu Bin.”
Yibo wanted to smile, but he didn’t trust that it wouldn’t come out looking like a grimace. “You’re cooking today?”
Xiao Zhan squeezed his wrist. “I’m cooking from now on.”
~~~~~
The producers and directors of Day Day Up contacted him about the cloud episode idea. Yibo was skeptical about how interesting it would be and he worried about having a camera pointed at him which would reveal his lack of engagement. But simply speaking to his bosses made him feel better, and he knew that when he began interacting with his DDU brothers again his mood would improve further. Maybe this cloud show would be enough to stave off the madness.
They filmed the first episode. It was awkward at first but turned better when the director allowed him to show off some magic tricks he’d been practicing. Even when the filming was done, Yibo begged the staff to watch him do more tricks, which to his delight, they submitted to for nearly an hour.
Xiao Zhan watched from the kitchen. An audience of one made Yibo more self-conscious than the watching crew did and he flubbed a couple of tricks. Maybe he was nervous because it was Xiao Zhan, who was slowly becoming his entire world.
The two of them tried to find hobbies to do together, but their interests were too disparate. They had to settle with video games. It was fun, and Yibo was grateful for the opportunity to laugh and forget, but that itch remained, that march of ants through his legs that reminded him that he hadn’t exercised in weeks.
“Show me your most difficult dance.”
Yibo, who’d been shuffling cards, trying to stack the deck, paused to look to Xiao Zhan on the sofa. Xiao Zhan shaved daily now and he’d talked Yibo through a serviceable haircut. He looked close to normal, but Yibo sensed the simmer of energy in him, too. They were two batteries, fully charged with no way of discharging.
“Come on, Yibo. What’s the toughest one you know?”
“You mean in terms of—”
“Physically. Show me the dance that leaves you breathless.”
It had been a while since any choreography had that effect on him. He simply had no reason or venue for dancing that hard. He had to think back to his UNIQ days.
“I’ve got a couple that challenge me,” he admitted.
“Show me,” Xiao Zhan ordered. “Go as hard as you can. Like you’re giving me a concert.”
Yibo smirked. “Okay. Be prepared to be blown away.”
Xiao Zhan laughed and it felt good to hear it. Yibo wished he could find a way to bring it out all the time.
He fired up the song and began the dance. It had been years since he’d run the routine with passion and he wasn’t nearly as sharp as he remembered being. He even fell off the beat a time or two.
When he finished, he was breathing hard and a little miffed. “That sucked,” he declared. “I’m doing it again.”
“Do it,” Xiao Zhan agreed. His eyes were now wider, as though he’d been shocked awake.
Yibo did the dance again. It felt better. His legs burned, unused to such a hard workout, but the sweat on his skin felt cleansing, like he was pushing the poison of inactivity out of himself through his pores.
“Again.”
Yibo, reaching for his bottle of water on the coffee table, looked up. “I just did it twice.”
“Do it again.” Xiao Zhan didn’t smile, though he didn’t look upset, either, just…intent. “Do it again, Yibo.”
Bemused, Yibo took a quick drink and set the song again.
He was gasping for breath by the end, just like the old days when he and his hyungs would run through routines until the early morning hours.
“Again,” Xiao Zhan ordered.
Yibo pulled his T-shirt up and used it to wipe his sweat-drenched face. He didn’t miss how Xiao Zhan’s eyes lowered to his abs and lingered there. “What’s going on, Zhan-ge?”
“What’s going on is that I want you to dance and you’re going to dance.”
Yibo huffed a laugh. “What are you? My manager?”
“Dance.” The energy he’d sensed earlier in Xiao Zhan seemed focused, like a laser pointing at Yibo. “Or are you too out of shape? Not the dancer you once were, Bo-di?”
“Bite me,” Yibo muttered. He set the song on loop before whipping his shirt off and flinging it at the sofa. Xiao Zhan caught it and held it in his lap. Yibo pretended not to notice.
He danced. It was hell. His legs felt like rubber and his lungs burned. Sweat stung his eyes and he felt the little tremor in his fingertips that told him he was pushing the limits of his endurance. But it felt good. It felt like it used to when dancing was his life. The itch was gone, the ants stomped into submission. As Yibo forced his body through the complicated movements and pushed his muscles to clench and unclench to the beat, he could think of nothing else, could fear nothing else. It was only him and the music and his body…and Xiao Zhan, watching him torture himself.
“Again,” Xiao Zhan said softly when Yibo staggered into the last step.
Yibo braced his hands on his knees and gasped for breath. “I can’t.”
“Exhausted?”
“I mean—not completely. But I know myself. If I go again without a break I might get sloppy and strain something.”
“Alright. Take a break, Bo-di.”
“Gee, thanks,” Yibo mumbled. He was slippery with sweat and he could smell the results of his exertion. With an inward smirk, he dragged himself to the sofa and dropped to the floor between Xiao Zhan’s feet. He leaned back and dropped his wet head against Xiao Zhan’s bare thigh. “I’ll rest right here if that’s alright with you.”
He was hoping for an unmanly squeal, but Xiao Zhan gave him no such thing. He combed his fingers through Yibo’s sweaty hair, carding it away from his forehead.
Yibo groaned. He closed his eyes, head lolling against Xiao Zhan’s leg. His heartbeat slowed as he enjoyed the petting.
“I thought you’d be grossed out,” he said.
“I’m not afraid of a sweaty boy,” Xiao Zhan murmured. His fingertips smoothed the sweat beading on Yibo’s forehead. The pause before he spoke was heavy. “Prepare to be shocked: I think it’s kind of sexy.”
Finally. It took longer than I expected.
“I’m not shocked.” Yibo felt the tension in Xiao Zhan’s leg muscles melt away. “I suspected it for a while now.”
“Brat. Then it’s only fair that I tell you I’ve suspected you since we were filming.”
Yibo snorted, unimpressed. “I don’t go that far to hide it.”
“Maybe not, but you’re mysterious. You leave a lot of hints, but you’re difficult for most people to read.”
“Not you, apparently.”
Xiao Zhan’s fingers tightened briefly in his hair. “No. Not me. Not when I watch you as much as I do.”
Gauntlet fucking thrown, Yibo thought. His admiration for Xiao Zhan deepened.
“So now what?” Yibo breathed shallowly, glad that exertion disguised the reason for the heat in his cheeks.
Fingernails scraped over his scalp, making him shiver. “Now? Now you take a shower. You smell.”
~~~~~~
He slept the best he had since the quarantine began. He awoke to the smell of chicken congee.
“I’m not sure I want this to end,” Yibo said around a yawn as he scooped himself a bowl and joined Xiao Zhan at the dining table. Then he blinked. “You’re shirtless.”
Xiao Zhan stirred his bowl and blew across the surface. “I’m doing laundry. Is that a problem? You’re shirtless, too.”
“Yeah, but—never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
Xiao Zhan laughed. “Easy enough to do.”
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t an easy silence. Not relaxed, at least. With each bite, Yibo’s eyes drifted across the table to take in the pale expanse of Xiao Zhan’s chest and the impressive musculature in his shoulders and arms. They hadn’t touched the subject of their shared sexuality since yesterday. He hoped it would come up today.
“For the record,” Xiao Zhan said as he reached for the soy sauce, “you’ve got the better body. I’ll never admit that in public, however.”
“I don’t need you to admit it. I just need you to think it.” Yibo idly scratched his stomach, remembering how Xiao Zhan had stared at his abdominal muscles. “You think I’m hot, huh?”
Xiao Zhan nearly choked on his spoonful but managed to swallow it down. “It’s a good thing you’re not narcissistic, otherwise I’d lose all interest.”
“So you’re interested,” Yibo said while bending closer to his bowl.
“I didn’t think that was in question.”
“There’s a lot in question.” Yibo’s eyes drifted to Xiao Zhan’s shoulders again. “Fuck, you’re really strong.”
“You like that?”
The light tone of Xiao Zhan’s voice stirred heat in Yibo’s lower body. The casualness hinted at something that Yibo was afraid to hope for.
“Who doesn’t like strong people?” he said with a shrug.
“After watching you dance, I think I prefer limber people.”
Yibo caught his eye as he blew across his spoon. “You think I’m limber?”
“I think you can be put in all sorts of positions, Yibo.”
Shit. Yibo squeezed his thighs together as the slow burn of arousal made itself known.
“I want you to dance for me again today.” Xiao Zhan pushed his empty bowl away and leaned back to regard him. “I think it’s good for you. You like feeling worn out.”
“I guess I do. Feels like I didn’t waste the day.”
“All your favorite activities are physical. Dancing and racing in particular—they both take a big toll on your body, don’t they?”
Yibo thought about it. “Yes, but I like that feeling of having nothing left to give. It’s satisfying. And also sort of…I don’t know how to say it. It’s relaxing, I guess.”
“All your defenses are lowered,” Xiao Zhan said, nodding.
“That makes it sound ominous.”
“Does it feel like your body is floating?”
“Floating? I don’t—I don’t think so. I haven’t thought too much about it.”
“Pay attention to yourself today,” Xiao Zhan said off-handedly. “I’m curious.”
~~~~~
He filmed another cloud segment. The director didn’t invite Yibo to show another magic trick, even though he made a point of shuffling his cards and playing with them on camera while they were waiting for the guests to come online. I’m ready and available, he tried to convey without actually coming out and saying it, but either his message didn’t come across or there was no time for him. He hid his disappointment until he turned off his phone’s video feed.
“You should have asked them,” Xiao Zhan said with a tsk. “They love you. They’d say yes.”
Yibo sighed and put his cards away. “It’s not my place. I’m just an assistant host. The show is about the guests.”
“You can be assertive when it comes to your hobbies, but not when it comes to people. Why is that, Yibo?”
The cards placed back in their box, Yibo flipped it end over end as he considered Xiao Zhan’s question. “I don’t feel comfortable demanding things.”
“Asking isn’t the same as demanding,” Xiao Zhan said with a quick grin. “Trust me, I know the difference.”
“I don’t like it, that’s all. Especially when it comes to work, or my seniors. I don’t think it’s respectful.”
“You probably think I’m a nice guy, right?”
Yibo laughed. “You’re a nice guy, period. Nicest guy, Zhan-ge.”
“Why? Because I squeeze my eyes shut when I smile?” Xiao Zhan wore that smile, but it seemed like a mask now. “I’m a nice guy because it gets me things. No one can resist this look.”
“If you’re telling me to smile like you do, it’s not happening.”
“I’m saying that if you played up your cuteness you’d get what you want from people.”
“Ugh,” Yibo groaned, flashing back to the aegyo he used to pull on Yixuan and others. “I did that enough with UNIQ. I’m not doing it now.”
Xiao Zhan hummed. “Then you’re saying you’re content with taking what people give you. You’re okay with suppressing your desires and allowing other people’s will to override yours.”
Yibo felt that this conversation was sneakily insulting him in some fashion. “I’m not suppressing anything. I just don’t feel like asking for things, okay?”
“You prefer to just go along with what others decide for you,” Xiao Zhan concluded.
“Are you creating some kind of psychological profile on me?” Yibo tossed the pack of cards onto the coffee table and stretched.
“Just observing. You’re an interesting person, didi.”
“Well, I’ve been observing you,” Yibo countered as he flopped into the sofa’s cushions beside him.
Xiao Zhan turned up his nose. “And what have you observed about me?”
“You smile and laugh to hide what you’re thinking and feeling.”
“And?”
“And I think you’re still upset.”
Xiao Zhan’s smile fell. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “Shouldn’t I be? I’m on Hot Search again for another awful thing I didn’t do. I can’t even defend myself because to do it I’d have to shift blame onto the fans who are responsible.” He made a fist and lightly punched the arm rest. “All of this is out of my hands. It’s—I can’t stand not having any say over it, Yibo. I have zero control over my own career. My own life!”
“I’m sorry.” Yibo shyly shifted his hand across the cushion separating them, until his pinky finger rested against Xiao Zhan’s thigh. “I wish I could help you.”
Xiao Zhan bared his teeth as though he wanted to lash out, but he only stared at Yibo for several seconds. “You can,” he said eventually. “I think.” Doubt softened the skin around his eyes. “If I’ve read you correctly. If I haven’t, then things are about to get awkward.”
Yibo didn’t like the sound of that. He quickly reviewed his own actions and words over the past several days, but nothing incriminating jumped out. That didn’t mean there wasn’t something there. His view of himself might not match Xiao Zhan’s.
“How can I help?” he asked hesitantly. He did want to help his friend. Of course, he did. But Xiao Zhan had a look in his eye that made his stomach flutter.
“You can dance for me again,” Xiao Zhan declared. His smile this time was vaguely triumphant, as though he’d just set the rules for a complicated game.
“How does that help you feel better?”
“That might become obvious later,” Xiao Zhan replied evasively. “For now…” He covered Yibo’s hand and brushed his thumb across his knuckles. It was the first time they’d touched since yesterday. “Do it for me, Yibo.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a demand, but still, it was a questioning one. Yibo looked down at their hands. Dancing that hard again would be tiring, but he’d felt better yesterday for having done it. That might hold true again, today. Besides, if Xiao Zhan enjoyed it, if he appreciated Yibo more because of it—
“Okay, Zhan-ge. I’ll dance for you.”
~~~~~
He danced his ass off. For nearly half an hour straight, according to the number of times the song played on repeat. Xiao Zhan was a man possessed, or else he was the Marquis de Sade reincarnated, because he refused to allow Yibo to quit. He sat forward on the sofa, elbows on his thighs, watching every twist and turn of Yibo’s body, eyes missing nothing. He would have made a great coach.
Right now, though, he was a relentless taskmaster.
“Again,” he ordered once Yibo snapped into the final move of the choreography.
“Zhan-ge, I can’t,” Yibo gasped. He laced his fingers and rested them atop his head as he struggled to fill his lungs. “I’m done.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done,” Xiao Zhan said coolly.
Something inside Yibo sat up and took notice. Despite being soaked in sweat, he shivered. “Alright, Zhan-ge.” he said softly.
The muddiness in Xiao Zhan’s eyes grew clear.
Yibo pushed himself through another round while his heart threatened to burst through his chest wall. Three-quarters of the way through the dance, Xiao Zhan barked, “Freeze!”
Shocked, Yibo instantly obeyed.
“Hold that pose, Yibo. Don’t move.”
He was ready to collapse in a puddle of his own sweat and this wasn’t helping. He stood frozen in a squat with his hands on his hips and his weight on his toes because he’d been doing a rapid stutter step.
“I can’t hold this,” he panted.
Xiao Zhan rose from the sofa and stepped up to him. Yibo’s calf muscles began to shake. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose.
“Look at you,” Xiao Zhan murmured, drawing closer still. “Every inch of you is rigid.”
Yibo would have made a dirty joke, except it wouldn’t have been much of a joke. His dick was hard, and he had no idea why. What he did know was that the longer he strained to hold position with Xiao Zhan avidly watching him suffer, the harder he grew.
“Spread your feet,” Xiao Zhan ordered.
Yibo let out a burst of breath. “You’re joking.”
“I want to see how much you can take.”
Their eyes met and held. Yibo began to understand what this was. He could step out of the pose and things would take a different route. That option was there in Xiao Zhan’s eyes.
Yibo slowly rotated his feet to spread his legs as far as he could hold them. His entire body began to shake.
“Does it hurt?” Xiao Zhan whispered.
Yibo closed his eyes. “Feels like my legs are on fire.”
“Even if I do this?”
Yibo inhaled as Xiao Zhan ran his fingertips up his stretched inner thighs. “Zhan-ge!”
“Zhan-ge, what?” Xiao Zhan’s gaze was sharp as it searched Yibo’s face. “Zhan-ge, don’t? Zhan-ge, more?”
“Zhan-ge, let me stand straight!”
“No.”
All Yibo had to do was shift position on his own. Nothing and no one was forcing him to endure this. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. A question had been asked. He needed to answer it properly. So that they understood each other.
Xiao Zhan pushed the issue. “If I told you to stay this way all day,” he said in a low voice while he dragged his fingernails up Yibo’s inner thighs, “would you do it for me, Yibo?”
Why make me say it? Yibo thought, annoyed and frustrated. But that was part of the turn-on, wasn’t it? And Xiao Zhan knew it.
Yibo looked away, jaw clenched, before he muttered, “Yeah.”
“You’d do what I say?”
“I just said so, didn’t I?”
“Watch your tone,” Xiao Zhan said softly. “Apologize to me.”
Yibo gaped at him, trying to tell if he was serious. Xiao Zhan stared back unflinchingly, with a firmness Yibo had never seen in him before. It triggered a nervous flutter behind his breastbone. Heat built there, rising up his throat and into his face. He had to look away as he murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Very good, Yibo. You’re forgiven.”
The wound spring that was Yibo’s spine clicked backward, loosening a notch.
Xiao Zhan’s clawed fingers dragged the fabric of Yibo’s shorts up to the junction where his thighs met his hips. “When you behave for me, you’ll be rewarded. You know that, don’t you?”
Yibo eyed him warily. “Rewarded with what?”
“You’ll find out if you earn it.” Xiao Zhan smiled and laughed, eyes squeezed into happy crescents. His expression didn’t match his hands, which skipped up to flatten against Yibo’s heaving abs. “Ah, but I could touch this body for hours. All that dancing really paid off.”
“Let me dance now,” Yibo said in a rush. “I’ll make you happy.”
Xiao Zhan’s smile slid sideways into a smirk. “You’re making me happy now, Bo-di, just by doing what I say.”
He caressed Yibo’s straining muscles and dipped his fingers one by one into his navel, each poke making his dick twitch. He quaked all over when Xiao Zhan slid his hands higher, sweeping them over his shoulders and settling his palms across his pectorals. Xiao Zhan gave them a squeeze before his fingers zeroed in on Yibo’s nipples, rubbing slow circles into the buds with his thumbs. Yibo groaned and bit his lip.
“What if I told you to squat lower?” Xiao Zhan’s eyes were bright, as though the idea excited him.
“I can’t.” Yibo licked his lips. “Please, Zhan-ge.” His legs jerked violently. Lactic acid buildup made the muscles feel like they were burning. “I’m going to fall.”
“I suggest you don’t.”
Xiao Zhan bent his head and gently kissed Yibo’s collarbone. Their first kiss, and it wasn’t on the lips. But Yibo couldn’t complain as the first kiss was followed by another, at the base of his throat. He panted loudly and dug his fingers into his own hips as Xiao Zhan flicked his tongue out, stroking up the heated skin of his neck. Xiao Zhan made a pleased sound.
“Even your sweat tastes sexy.”
Yibo laughed and then moaned as soft kisses traveled higher. He tipped his chin up, giving Xiao Zhan room to kiss the underside of his jaw. Xiao Zhan’s thumbs continued to stroke his nipples as he kissed across Yibo’s jawline and up the side of his cheek. He pressed a hot kiss just beneath Yibo’s ear.
“Why now?” Yibo gasped as teeth closed over his earlobe before the bite was soothed with a kiss.
“I guess I needed to be pushed to my limit,” Xiao Zhan whispered. “Maybe you did, too, to let me do this.”
“I would have let you do this from the day we first met,” Yibo argued, breathless. “I’ve always been attracted to you.”
Xiao Zhan chuckled warmly. “I know. I’ve loved it.”
Yibo lowered his head, beginning to scowl, but forgot to be upset when Xiao Zhan lowered his head and flicked his tongue across Yibo’s nipple. Yibo gasped and his entire body convulsed before he regained control. Or partial control. Every limb twitched from the strain as though he were being repeatedly shocked by electricity.
Xiao Zhan licked his nipple delicately, like he was lapping at the chocolate film covering a raspberry bonbon. Yibo clenched his eyes and gritted his teeth. His cock throbbed with each lick. His buttocks clenched painfully as he struggled with the need to thrust.
“Please,” he whimpered. “Please.”
“You’re a good boy, Wang Yibo.” Xiao Zhan sealed his lips around him and sucked, riding the breathless rise and fall of Yibo’s chest. With a smile, Xiao Zhan slid his tongue over him again and murmured, “I think you should cum for me.”
He pressed his palm between Yibo’s legs. He didn’t even need to squeeze—the mere feel of Xiao Zhan’s hand on his cock broke Yibo’s control. With a shout, he collapsed forward into Xiao Zhan, who caught him and held him as his orgasm ripped through him. He moaned against Xiao Zhan’s bare shoulder while his hips churned, working out wave after wave of pleasure.
“Zhan-ge,” he moaned, nearly sobbing. “Zhan-ge.”
“So sexy,” Xiao Zhan said against the top of Yibo’s head. “So sexy when you obey me.”
Yibo’s knees buckled. Xiao Zhan lowered them both to the ground. Slumped against him, Yibo was exhausted and dizzy, but not in a scary or ill-feeling way. It was the floating feeling that Xiao Zhan had suggested before. Yibo now understood, and so much more.
~~~~~
When he emerged from the shower, Xiao Zhan was nowhere to be found. It was proof that Xiao Zhan’s pseudo therapy worked, because Yibo didn’t become anxious at being left alone. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he stretched out on the sofa and turned on the TV. He couldn’t believe what he found.
Xiao Zhan was on the news, but not for any good reason. Yibo groaned beneath his breath as he listened to the broadcaster relate the controversy of Ao3. The broadcaster questioned the power of idol fanbases and the responsibility of idols to control them. Unable to listen to anymore judgment, Yibo shut it off, glad that Xiao Zhan hadn’t been around to hear it.
The door to the balcony opened. Xiao Zhan stepped into the living room, phone in hand.
“There you…” Yibo trailed off once he got a good look at the older man’s expression.
“It was on the news,” Xiao Zhan said, his face pale.
Yibo sighed. “I saw.”
“On government TV, Yibo.”
“They’re looking for distractions from the virus. Something new will come along. You just have to wait it out.”
“For how long?” Xiao Zhan demanded. “Every day there’s something new about me. I’m losing endorsement deals. I even lost a drama I really wanted.”
Yibo sucked in his breath. “I had no idea.”
“What did you think would happen when my name is associated with hate and scandal?”
Though he knew Xiao Zhan’s ire wasn’t directed at him, Yibo still flinched from the lash of it. “What can you do? You’ve said it yourself. It’s nothing. This has to burn itself out.”
“Until my career is ashes?” Xiao Zhan’s eyes shimmered. “How is that fair? I did nothing wrong.”
Yibo’s own eyes burned in sympathy. “I’m sorry,” he repeated softly. “I’m so sorry, Zhan-ge.”
Xiao Zhan chucked his phone at the sofa and pressed his fists to his eyes. He took a deep, shuddery breath. “I’m not yelling at you. I swear I’m not, Yibo. It’s just…it’s so much.”
“Yell at me if you need to. I can take it.”
“I don’t want you to take it,” Xiao Zhan muttered as he lowered his hands. “Not this.” He turned to the balcony again. “I need some air. Just—give me a bit of space for a moment.”
“Do whatever you need to, Zhan-ge.”
With a curt nod, Xiao Zhan let himself outside again.
Yibo couldn’t focus on the TV after that. He wasn’t hungry, but it was nearing dinner time. Preparing something for Xiao Zhan would keep him active and maybe relieve some of the guilt he felt for being unable to help his friend. He entered the kitchen and began looking through the cupboards.
He didn’t know what would happen if Xiao Zhan’s career disintegrated. Yibo had never personally witnessed such a thing, but the way things were going, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Xiao Zhan wouldn’t be destitute. He possessed other skills. But his dream would die, killed by other hands, and that was horrible to contemplate.
And what of the two of them? Selfishly, Yibo worried that they’d no longer see each other again. An idol dating a non-industry person was always a tricky relationship to juggle. He’d heard of it working a time or two, but it typically ended with the idol leaving the industry. If Yibo were that idol, was he prepared to do that for Xiao Zhan?
We haven’t even kissed, he reminded himself as he reached for the refrigerator door. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
His hand didn’t make it to the door. He stared as a familiar hand curled around his wrist, stopping it in midair. Xiao Zhan stepped up behind him, bringing with him a palpable tension. Yibo stopped breathing.
“I’m better now,” Xiao Zhan said quietly. But he didn’t sound better. He sounded coiled.
Yibo continued to stare at his captured wrist. “I’m glad. I don’t like to see you unhappy.”
“It helped to think about you.”
Xiao Zhan tightened his grip.
Yibo’s heart began to pound. Desire, thick like syrup, slid through his veins. “Then you should think about me all the time.”
“That won’t be difficult.” Xiao Zhan raised Yibo’s hand to the front of the refrigerator and pressed it there. “What do you think about me doing this to you, Yibo?”
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. “It’s fine.”
He watched his other hand join the first on the fridge, held there by Xiao Zhan. Yibo was now caged by the older man’s arms and body, his hands pinned to the brushed aluminum door.
He shuddered when lips brushed across the bare skin at the back of his neck.
“When I was outside,” Xiao Zhan whispered against him, “I was so angry. So terribly, terribly angry. The thought that calmed me down was imagining myself walking in here and stripping you.”
Yibo’s hips jerked. His fingers curled against the fridge door.
“I thought about running my hands over your beautiful body and then bending you over the sink,” Xiao Zhan went on. He kissed the back of Yibo’s neck. “I thought about how you might look as I slid myself inside you. How you’d sound…how you’d feel…”
The trembling of Yibo’s knees had nothing to do with dancing. “Zhan-ge…”
“I asked myself if this is what you want.”
“I hope you can tell—” Yibo swallowed, “—that I do.”
A sigh fluttered across his nape. “I was hoping you’d say that. I was hoping so much that I was right about you.”
“You’re right,” Yibo whispered back. He let his head loll on Xiao Zhan’s shoulder. He brushed Xiao Zhan’s cheek with his lips as he said, “So please…do something about it.”
Xiao Zhan’s breath rushed out of him in a deep groan. His fingers tightened almost painfully around Yibo’s wrists. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice rough. “What are you hoping for?”
“You. I was hoping for you.”
He was suddenly spun around. A wild light illuminated Xiao Zhan’s eyes as he gripped Yibo by the chin and stared at his lips.
“I want you on your knees,” Xiao Zhan said. “I want to fill your mouth with me.”
A weak moan followed Yibo down to the tiles. His knees struck hard, but he didn’t feel anything resembling pain. He fumbled to pull down Xiao Zhan’s shorts and when his cock sprang free, it nearly stabbed Yibo in the eye. He groaned at the sight of the thick flesh. The smell of Xiao Zhan was an intimate musk that Yibo knew would follow him into his dreams.
“Your lips are impossible, Yibo. They’re sinful.” Xiao Zhan braced his hands against the fridge above Yibo’s head. “I need to feel them.”
Yibo reached for him eagerly. Xiao Zhan felt like hot silk wrapped around steel. Yibo closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against the shaft, letting the scent permeate his skin and streak wetness across his cheekbone. Rubbing Xiao Zhan over his face like this felt like submitting to his power and begging for his attention. It was like scent marking himself and declaring himself a disciple. He brought his lips to the tip and licked the beading moisture there. After sampling the salty pearls, he dragged his tongue down the long length of the shaft.
Xiao Zhan’s balls were hot when Yibo sucked them between his lips. They leaped as though they were alive. Yibo moaned as the taste of them spread across his tongue, infusing his senses. He only released them when Xiao Zhan took hold of his hair to pull him back to his cock.
“In your mouth,” Xiao Zhan ordered, breathless. “Take every last inch of me, Bo-di.”
Yibo tried to hide the shiver that twitched him, but Xiao Zhan saw. He curled his fingers beneath Yibo’s jaw and stroked his thumb over his cheek.
“You like being on your knees for me, don’t you, Yibo?”
His gaze was penetrating but supportive, urging Yibo to be honest, to trust that his honesty wouldn’t be abused.
Yibo thrust a hand into his own shorts and gripped his cock. “I like making you feel better. I like making you happy when you…tell me things.”
“It wasn’t about the dancing.”
Yibo nodded. “I know.”
Xiao Zhan’s smirk hinted at things that curled Yibo’s toes. “Does it turn you on? To do what I tell you?”
“Yes,” Yibo whispered. “I don’t know why, but—it makes me hard.”
“Thank you, Wang Yibo.” Xiao Zhan caressed his cheek before releasing him. “Let’s do more to keep you hard. It’s time you sucked me.”
Yibo kept his eyes locked with his as he parted his lips and took Xiao Zhan inside. Nearly a year ago he couldn’t have foreseen this happening, but he had hoped—maybe not for this exact scenario—but to be a part of Xiao Zhan’s life in some significant way. Yibo felt significant as Xiao Zhan’s eyes fell shut and a moan spilled from his lips. He felt important as Xiao Zhan’s fingers clenched in his hair and began to guide Yibo back and forth on his cock.
Yibo swallowed around his spongy head. He rubbed his tongue vigorously along the pulsing veins. He sucked and licked at the slit, encouraging more nectar to leak forth, wanting everything he could get.
“Jesus,” Xiao Zhan gasped as he began to thrust into Yibo’s mouth. “You’re so good. So good…”
Yibo lost himself to the task of driving Xiao Zhan to the brink. He took his cock deep again and again, filling himself with Xiao Zhan, choking on him every once in a while. Each time Xiao Zhan’s cock slid too deep down his throat, Yibo squeezed himself as he was filled with an unbearable excitement.
“Get ready to swallow me,” Xiao Zhan told him after a deep groan. “I’m going to fill you up, Yibo, make a place for me deep inside you. Deep enough that I’ll become a part of you and you’ll never be able to push me out.”
The words spun through Yibo’s head. He sucked harder, needing to pull Xiao Zhan over the edge, needing what his gege promised him. When he felt the telltale swelling in his mouth, he jerked himself frantically. The first spurts of cum hit the back of his throat. Xiao Zhan pulled Yibo in hard, crushing his face to his groin. Xiao Zhan groaned loudly, drowning out the sounds Yibo made as he swallowed, accepting everything, needing more. He was still nursing Xiao Zhan’s cock when he was abruptly pulled back.
“Get up here,” Xiao Zhan panted.
He hauled Yibo upright and crowded him against the refrigerator. “Hands above your head.”
Yibo’s cock felt like a star about to explode, needing just a little more stimulation to go supernova. He didn’t want to let go of it. But the steel in Xiao Zhan’s voice gripped him and demanded his obedience. Whimpering, but unable to defy his gege, Yibo pulled his hand out of his shorts and pressed both wrists above his head, to the metal door.
“So fucking sexy when you obey me,” Xiao Zhan breathed as he crushed Yibo to the door and buried his face against Yibo’s neck. He dragged his tongue along his throat. “How hard are you? Hmm? How hard did it make you to drop to your knees and suck me off?”
“Find out,” Yibo begged desperately. “Please.”
Hands slid over his waist and chest, touching him everywhere but where he needed to be touched.
“Xiao Zhan.”
A kiss crushed his lips. It was wet and filthy, Xiao Zhan’s tongue lewdly fucking him. It drove Yibo even more crazy with need. By the time Xiao Zhan took mercy and eased up, Yibo was ready to drop to his knees again and beg.
“Tell me you’re mine from now on,” Xiao Zhan murmured against his lips. He scraped his fingernails up Yibo’s sides. “Tell me you belong to me, that you’ll do anything for me and only me.”
“I do. I will.” Yibo sucked at Xiao Zhan’s lips, going mindless. “I’ve been yours since we met. You just didn’t know it!”
“And you never knew how much I’ve lov—” Xiao Zhan broke off to smash his mouth to Yibo’s again.
Xiao Zhan yanked Yibo’s shorts down and wrapped his hand around him. Yibo cried out into the kiss as Xiao Zhan gave him his reward: the tight, fast jerking of his fist. When Yibo came, it was with a muffled wail against Xiao Zhan’s slick mouth. Convulsing, Yibo spattered them both with his release. Xiao Zhan just smiled at the mess.
“For the first time,” he said while he placed gentling kisses over Yibo’s sweat-sheened face, “I feel like we’re going to be okay.”
~~~~~
“You have control over this. Over me.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Yibo pressed his face into the bed. “If it were bad, I wouldn’t be here.”
Things had changed. Over the course of the next couple of weeks, the world outside seemed to drift away. It didn’t fully disappear, but it was a distant shout in someone else’s yard. Once a day they’d sit together and watch the news out of Wuhan. Yibo allowed them an hour to check their WeChat and Weibo accounts and make contact with their agencies. But other than what they learned from those sources, they were content to let what happened out there, remain out there. None of that mattered where they were.
Inside Yibo’s apartment, the panic associated with the virus and with Xiao Zhan’s career subsided. A sea change had occurred in Yibo’s relationship with him. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that nothing had changed, the two of them had simply stopped hiding how they reacted to the other.
After the incident in the kitchen, Yibo’s scattered anxiousness converged into a single burning desire. Xiao Zhan would corner him in a hallway or press him to a wall and everything inside Yibo would knot up tight while he hoped for a touch, a kiss, a word spoken in his ear that told him Xiao Zhan wanted him.
He realized what it was about Xiao Zhan that had made him continually compete for his attention on the set of The Untamed—Xiao Zhan’s ability to control himself hinted that he could control Yibo, too. Yibo yearned for that. The thought of having his bouncing thoughts and restlessness nature brought under heel and held tightly and safely was nearly too beautiful to comprehend.
They started simply. A hand on Yibo’s shoulder, bringing him to a stop in the midst of whatever he was doing, served no purpose at all except to prove to them both that Xiao Zhan had permission—and the power—to do it. It graduated to pinning Yibo against hard surfaces, where the two of them breathed against each other and absorbed how good, how right it felt for Xiao Zhan to keep him contained. Sex didn’t come for days, but when it did, it came one night accompanied by silk ties that Xiao Zhan pulled from Yibo’s wardrobe.
“I’m going to tie you up,” Xiao Zhan announced while Yibo was sorting laundry on his bed.
Yibo froze with a pair of socks in his hands. “You are?”
“I am,” Xiao Zhan said as he leaned in the doorway. “Move that stuff out of the way.”
“Why are you going to tie me up?” But Yibo was already moving to obey, sweeping anything left to be folded into a laundry basket and topping them with the already folded garments.
“Because I want to see you helpless.” Xiao Zhan smiled as Yibo fumbled setting the basket out of the way. “Because I think you’ll get off on it. Hard.”
“How would you know?”
Yibo was partially turned away when Xiao Zhan stepped into his space. Yibo stopped moving, his eyes on the bed, as Xiao Zhan ran a finger down his spine. It was the opening gambit of a familiar game, and it hadn’t lost an ounce of its power.
“You like it when your world goes still, Bo-di. Exhaustion is just a way to make it happen. I’ve got a more pleasant means to do it. A sexier one.” Xiao Zhan’s lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Besides, I’ve been imagining it for a while now. I want to fuck you while you’re tied up, Yibo. It’s going to be so, so good.”
It happened in a whirlwind, or so it seemed to Yibo’s rather dazed mind. One minute they were talking about it and getting horny, the next they were naked atop his bed and he was moaning into the bedcover as Xiao Zhan opened him on fingers and then with his long cock.
Yibo breathed shallowly as Xiao Zhan eased inside him. His arms were bound behind him, forearm to forearm. Another tie was wrapped loosely around his throat like a leash, its end held carefully in Xiao Zhan’s hand. The tie around his neck was purely ornamental—Yibo wasn’t interested in breathplay—but it also signified many things that made him want to moan: that he was Xiao Zhan’s property, that he enjoyed being restrained, that he submitted to being led wherever Xiao Zhan took him because Xiao Zhan called all the shots.
“I’m finally inside you,” Xiao Zhan said, holding still. His heartbeat throbbed against the inner walls of Yibo’s body. “How does it feel?”
“Full,” Yibo groaned. His whole body felt hot, especially where Xiao Zhan was wrapped around him from behind. Their skin was sweaty at those points of contact, but it was a sensual feeling and Yibo wiggled just to feel it.
“So many men would love to be in my place right now.” Xiao Zhan pulled back carefully, then eased back inside, in no apparent hurry despite Yibo’s low, throaty moan. “But it’s me, Bo-di. It’s me fucking you. You’d better get used to it.”
Xiao Zhan fucked him deliberately, taking his time to learn which strokes and which pace undid Yibo the fastest and which kept him balanced on the knife edge of orgasm. As he fucked Yibo with his cock, he explored his body with hands, teeth, and tongue, making it a full body experience that dominated Yibo’s every sense.
“You said something about control,” Xiao Zhan murmured as he nibbled on Yibo’s shoulder before pressing a kiss to one of the numerous love marks dotting his body. He’d made it a point to leave his claim all over Yibo now that there was no risk of outsiders seeing, and Yibo’s body was now a warzone of lust. “Control is usually associated with megalomaniacs. Telling me I need control over you is a bad thing.”
“Your control is different.” Yibo shuddered as Xiao Zhan pressed his cock against his prostate and made tiny thrusts to keep up the pressure on the gland. “Shit, it’s—it’s control that makes you feel safe. So you don’t feel helpless. Not because you—ah, god—because you want to seize power from people. Zhan-ge—it’s too much.”
“I want to seize power from you.” Xiao Zhan snapped his hips, making Yibo cry out and strain at the silk binding his forearms. He fucked Yibo hard for several seconds before easing up, leaving Yibo dizzied. “I can keep that up for hours, Yibo, and you can’t stop me.”
“But I…let you,” Yibo panted as Xiao Zhan resumed his slow dismantling of him. “Because I trust you.”
“God, Yibo…” Xiao Zhan threw his arm across Yibo’s chest and hugged him tightly from behind. “You mean too much to me. I don’t like the idea that I’m using you.”
“Too bad. Because I’m using you to keep myself sane while we’re trapped here.”
Xiao Zhan said nothing in response. He slowly wound the end of the tie around his hand, shortening its length until his fingers rested against Yibo’s Adam’s apple. “And after we’re no longer trapped here?” he whispered against Yibo’s ear. “What then?”
“You think the quarantine will end?” To Yibo, it had begun to seem like the weather—riding in like a storm some days, creating clusters of infections, then blowing away days later and allowing recovery.
“Quarantine isn’t permanent, Yibo. One day, you and I will walk out of this apartment. Someday, I’ll resume my career, whatever it ends up being. And one day, you’ll dance for someone who doesn’t want to tie you up.”
Yibo snorted. “Boring.”
“So what then?” Xiao Zhan persisted. “When this ends and real life resumes, will you still need me? Or will freedom pull you away from me?”
Yibo’s answer now was very different from what it would have been at the beginning.
“This need is a part of me,” Yibo told him as he pulled against the silk bindings, just to feel them pinch his skin. “If this thing between us stops, it’ll be because you stopped it, not because I did.”
“I won’t stop it,” Xiao Zhan growled.as he tugged on the tie around Yibo’s throat. It slid up beneath his jaw, catching there and pulling his head back. As Yibo moaned encouragingly, Xiao Zhan ground his hips against his ass, plugging him to the root and making him take every hard, unforgiving inch of him. Yibo’s mouth fell open, half-expecting to feel the tip of a cock emerge from his throat. “This need is a part of me, too,” Xiao Zhan told him, roughly, “and I’m not letting you walk away from it.”
He pushed Yibo onto his belly and the real fucking began. Yibo had had sex before, but he’d never been dominated before. He’d never had his face pressed to the mattress while his ass was fucked raw. He’d never felt the helplessness of taking and being unable to give back. He’d never begged for mercy with words he didn’t mean, or cum, shuddering, only to feel the cock inside him continuing to pump over his swollen, sensitive prostate.
Xiao Zhan pulled out while Yibo’s hole dripped with his release. He flipped Yibo onto his back, atop his bound arms. With an expression that sent more lust coursing through Yibo, Xiao Zhan fucked him into a second orgasm that pulled more tears than cum from him.
“Please, please,” Yibo pleaded as his body floated to the ceiling.
It was only then, when Yibo had nothing left to give, that Xiao Zhan gave up the precious commodity of his own control. With a shout, he surrendered to his orgasm, to Yibo, and to their fate, whatever it might be.
~~~~~
They had sex multiple times a day, in every room of the apartment. Yibo danced for the fun of it, not to wear himself out. Xiao Zhan sketched interior designs, just in case. Yibo talked him into trying LEGOs, but Xiao Zhan stepped on a piece one day and declared LEGOs to be evil incarnate.
The day that Yibo received the call that he could travel to the Yuehua studios to film commercial footage and the next episode of DDU, was the day of reckoning. The lifting of travel restrictions ushered in a new phase.
“I can go home now,” Xiao Zhan stated.
The words were superfluous while Yibo was staring at Xiao Zhan’s packed carry-on and backpack, which were both sitting by the door. They hadn’t discussed this. Yibo could admit to himself that he’d done everything he could to avoid discussing this. But like the virus and bad press, the threat had always been there.
“You should be careful,” Yibo told him in a voice that sounded reasonable, not like a person who was about to lose everything. “Just because the infection rate is down doesn’t mean the virus is eradicated.”
“I’ll be careful,” Xiao Zhan assured him. His eyes above his mask crinkled to prove that he was smiling. Yibo smiled back, though his own eyes didn’t move.
“I’ll be going to the studios,” he said. He turned away to grab his keys. “Feel free to…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Feel free to let yourself out? Feel free to stay?
Feel free to give me my heart back, which you took from me weeks ago?
Xiao Zhan nodded anyway, as though he understood.
“Be safe, Bo-di.”
He raised his hand. He waved. And then Xiao Zhan was gone, the outside world swallowing him up. It wasn’t the virus or publicity that stole him. It was fear, and Yibo couldn’t be mad at him because he felt it, too.
A YH car picked him up. His bodyguards were happy to see him and Yibo was just as pleased. Their presence by his side meant normalcy. He had forgotten what that felt like. At the YH office he fulfilled his obligations. It was good to work again, to step into the role that had been carved out for him with careful planning and lots of investment. He knew this Yibo. He was an old friend.
But…he was also a man whose interests had diverged from his.
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to leave the offices. On the ride back to his apartment, he bobbed his leg, unable to sit still. Yanyan, his bodyguard/assistant, offered to pick up food on the way, but Yibo turned him down even though he was starving. He needed to be back home where it was safe, where the man he had become still lived, even if he did so alone.
At his apartment building, he rushed up the stairs, too anxious to wait for the elevator. A plan filled his head, the steps he’d take, the moves he’d make if those steps didn’t pan out. He rushed out of the stairwell and onto his floor and there stood Xiao Zhan, a suitcase resting against Yibo’s door.
“Real life resumed,” Xiao Zhan said hoarsely. He wasn’t wearing his mask. His eyes weren’t crescents of happiness. “I said I wouldn’t stop. I can’t stop, Yibo.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” Yibo said in a rush, already running. “Don’t ever stop.”
He smashed Xiao Zhan into the door. Xiao Zhan didn’t mind. His arms were iron bands around Yibo’s back, yet his lips were as soft as butterflies.
“It doesn’t matter how the world changes,” Yibo said against those lips. “It doesn’t matter if it explodes. All I care about is you, Zhan-ge. All I need is you. Forever.”
“I tried to tell you once,” Xiao Zhan began, his eyes shimmering. “But I chickened out.”
Yibo smiled. “You didn’t need to say it. I’ve always known. That’s why you get my forever, Zhan-ge. Because I love you, too.”
It was dangerous to remain in the hall. The world was full of threats. It was reasonable to retreat inside his apartment, and it made sense to escape into his bedroom. Beneath the sheets, bare of clothing that might carry the virus, they were safe. And breathing in the sighs of the man he loved was the only air that Yibo trusted.