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Wei Ying’s back hits the granite countertop, and he grins up his husband.
Lan Zhan’s hand slides up his skirt, groping Wei Ying’s quads and then cupping the growing bulge through his briefs.
“Can you feel how wet I am for you, Zhanzhan?” Wei Ying lowers his mascara-coated lashes and gives his husband one of the sultry looks he perfected in college for the express purpose of getting Lan Zhan to fuck him.
Three years post-grad, it works just as well.
He rolls his hips up, pushing his tented briefs into Lan Zhan’s hand, letting him feel where Wei Ying has already soaked through the cotton in anticipation.
Still champagne-bubbly from dinner, Wei Ying tips his head back and presses his cheek against the cold countertop. It’s a searing counterpoint to the fiery touch of Lan Zhan’s hands as they knead and tease.
The long skirt stays on, as Wei Ying expected it would. He smiles to himself as Lan Zhan strips his underwear, folds them neatly, and sets them on the barstool. It’s so inherently Lan Zhan that Wei Ying can’t help falling in love all over again.
He inhales sharply as Lan Zhan wraps a hand around his dick and strokes it with only drops of precum to ease the chafe. “Ah, ah! Lan Zhan,” he moans, low and guttural.
“Beautiful,” his husband says, wedging himself into the space between Wei Ying’s legs. He leans down, stroking slowly and steadily as he presses his lips to Wei Ying’s painted smile.
Wei Ying pushes up on his forearms and leans into the kiss, determined to leave stains across this flawless man.
He cups Lan Zhan’s cheek with a hand and leaves the ghost of scarlet kisses across his chin and cheeks. When his gaze flicks upward, Lan Zhan’s hazel-brown eyes are dark with want. Wei Ying winks.
“Oh, Darling Husband, I have wonderful news,” he begins, unable to keep the smile off his face. The paperwork hangs on their fridge proudly. After so long, their dreams will be coming true in just a few short weeks.
After all of the meetings, paperwork, lawyers, and home visits, it’s all falling into place.
He pants as Lan Zhan’s hand speeds up, driving him toward a threshold he’s not allowed to cross yet.
“I’m— ahh— I’m going to give you a baby,” he says, nibbling on Lan Zhan’s ear and leaving sticky rouge in his wake.
Lan Zhan inhales sharply, and Wei Ying can feel the twitch of his husband’s cock against his hipbone. The hand on his dick stills, and Wei Ying pouts.
He runs his painted nails along his husband’s chest, wrinkling the pristine white shirt. “Lan Zhan, won’t you fuck a baby into me? We’ve both been so terribly patient, after all.” Wei Ying slips his right leg out through the slit and then raises his knees, baring himself. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes catch on the jeweled plug nestled between his cheeks. The hand on his thigh tightens in a way the foretells bruises for tomorrow. Wei Ying shivers.
“You have been wearing this all night?”
“I have. Do you like it, Gege?”
With a low groan, Lan Zhan spreads Wei Ying’s legs and reaches for the plug. He traces it with one fingertip and then pushes down.
Wei Ying whines, closing his eyes at the teasing pressure. “Lan Zhan!”
“Impatient,” he admonishes.
“But I’ve been so good for you,” he counters. “I made myself all wet and ready just so you can fuck a baby into me. Won’t you? Please?”
Lan Zhan tugs on the plug, watching as Wei Ying’s hole clings to the body-warmed metal. Wei Ying moans and gasps and pleads as Lan Zhan pushes it in and out, teasing and not nearly enough.
Wei Ying’s cock is leaking onto his skirt in a way that is going to be a nightmare to clean later. He doesn’t care.
“Gege,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face. How long has he been tormented now? Too long, he thinks. “Give it to me. Please.”
“I‘ll give you a baby,” Lan Zhan says, voice calm and steady as if he hasn’t been fucking Wei Ying on the kitchen counter for fifteen minutes. “Right here.” He spreads one broad hand across Wei Ying’s bare stomach. From his thumb to his pinky, he spans Wei Ying’s waist. It’s unfairly sexy of him, really. Wei Ying tells him so and earns a sharp bite to his collarbone. That one will definitely bruise. Good thing he doesn’t have a seminar to teach in the morning.
Before he can complain, Lan Zhan tugs the plug free entirely, and lube gushes out, making Wei Ying arch his back and shudder through a whole-body spasm. “Fuck,” he says emphatically.
“Fuck,” Lan Zhan agrees, running his fingers through the slick. He coats his cock with it.
Their eyes meet, and Wei Ying grins, biting his lip.
Lan Zhan pushes him flat against the counter and lines his cock up with Wei Ying’s hole. He takes a breath in anticipation. No matter how many times they do this, he is always in awe of the size of Lan Zhan’s thick cock.
He’d cried so much the first time. It was great.
Lan Zhan sheathes himself with one fluid, powerful thrust. Wei Ying’s mouth opens in a silent scream as the air escapes his lungs.
Without pause, Lan Zhan sets a brutal pace. Deep. Hard. Fast.
Trapped between the frigid granite below and the searing heat of Lan Zhan inside and above, Wei Ying mewls and grasps and whines.
He feels like he’s being flayed alive. Every kiss and thrust and scratch has him seeing stars.
“Gege. Oh, oh— fuck, right there. You’re so fucking big. You’re gonna get me pregnant, right? You’re going to give me a baby with that thick cock of yours. Put your seed in my wo— ah! Womb!”
Lan Zhan nips punishing kisses across his bared throat.
Each thrust echoes in the kitchen. Skin on skin echoes in a debauched chorus. Wei Ying sings his praises and filthy words.
“Won’t I be pretty, Gege? Can’t you, hah-ahh, yes, yes,— picture me in this kitchen, swollen with your child?”
Lan Zhan presses down on his stomach, and Wei Ying almost comes at the combined pressure of that divine cock splitting him apart while Lan Zhan’s music-callused fingers make him feel every inch of it.
“Naked. Barefoot.”
Wei Ying bursts into laughter. “Just for you, Gege. I’ll be your pretty little housespouse. Giving you babies and batting my lashes.”
Lan Zhan groans into his neck.
“Would you like that?” He runs his hand through the feathery locks of black hair and catches a fistful. He tugs until he can get Lan Zhan’s lips for sloppy kiss. He sucks Lan Zhan’s tongue into his mouth, licking away traces of cake and cream.
When they part, Lan Zhan’s hand wraps around his dick, and Wei Ying bucks.
“Gege, Er-Gege…oh— it’s too much! I can’t take it.”
“You can.”
“I really can’t,” he protests, hooking his ankles behind Lan Zhan’s back and pulling him closer with every thrust.
“Wei Ying said he wanted my baby.” Lan Zhan’s thrusts grow faster, less graceful. His blush is starting to migrate from his ears to his cheeks. “Wei Ying will get it.” Wei Ying sobs. “You will bear such beautiful babies for me,” Lan Zhan says.
“Lan Zhan!” he wails; mortified and aroused in equal measure. Wei Ying is leaking; he’s so fucking close. He’s gonna scream. “Oh, fuck, fuck, yes! Gege!” He rolls his hips, encouraging Lan Zhan to nail his prostate with each thrust.
Just before he reaches the peak, he throws his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and whispers, “Make it twins, Er-Gege.”
Lan Zhan moans, burying his cock deep and spilling as Wei Ying shakes apart in his arms, painting white streaks across Lan Zhan’s fist and his own stomach.
They shudder through the waves of pleasure together, breathing into each other’s mouths more than kissing.
Draped across the counter, Wei Ying catches his breath. He giggles when he sees the smeared lipstick stains on Lan Zhan’s white shirt.
Lan Zhan tucks a sticky strand of hair behind his ear and smiles down at him.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, as much as I’m looking forward to parenthood, I’m really going to miss having frequent kitchen sex.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes go somehow even softer. “Before. You said twins?” he asks, almost hesitant.
“Jingyi’s paperwork came through this afternoon while you were at work,” he says, taking his husband’s hand and kissing the fingertips. “We’re having two little boys, Gege.”
Lan Zhan’s damp eyes mirror his own.
They kiss about it for a long, long time.
Eventually they get up, and Lan Zhan throws their clothes in the washer before the stains can set.
When they have dragged themselves to the bedroom, scrubbed the fluids from their bodies, and settled into bed, Wei Ying snuggles into his husband’s embrace and pecks a kiss to the underside of his chin.
“We’re gonna be dads, Gege.”
“We are.” Lan Zhan kisses the top of his damp hair.
Wei Ying grins and brings their hands to his stomach. “ZhanZhan, when our little radishes are settled, what say we try growing them a little sister?”
Lan Zhan pins him against the mattress and growls in his ear. “Mark your words.”
Wei Ying shrieks with laughter.