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Wei Ying’s ex-girlfriend was seated at the bar, laughing at something he’d said, when Lan Zhan walked down the stairs into the Final Roasting Grounds on their one year anniversary. Lan Zhan hadn’t met her once in the years since he was pulled into Wei Ying’s orbit, but he recognized her from pictures. Wei Ying’s arm slung over her shoulders, laughing, as they cast magical fireworks into the air over the dean’s office, or some other act of witchery that had invariably gotten them in trouble.
Lan Zhan rarely swore unless Wei Ying was teasing the words out of him with hands and mouth and cock, but every curse Lan Zhan knew ran through his mind in that moment.
Lan Zhan wasn’t jealous. Wei Ying and Luo Qingyang had mutually agreed they were better off as friends years before Lan Zhan met Wei Ying, right on the day they graduated from a magical university in the clouds. Luo Qingyang went off to pick up the pieces left by disaster after disaster, and Wei Ying returned home to inherit his family’s coffee shop and make the world a better place one life at a time.
Besides, there were benefits to getting together as a result of a True Love’s Curse. Lan Zhan had proof that Wei Ying loved him every bit as much as Lan Zhan loved him, and there would never be reason to doubt it.
Wei Ying cut off mid-sentence to beam at him, gravitating toward Lan Zhan like a flower turning its petals toward the sun. Wei Ying’s hands flew into motion, and by the time Lan Zhan had let himself behind the counter, Wei Ying was presenting him with a matcha latte, extra sweet, with coconut milk. The foam swirled into the shape of a rabbit with a heart by its nose. Lan Zhan stole a kiss, meaning for it to be quick, but Wei Ying’s hands came to rest on his waist, pulling him in for a longer greeting that left Lan Zhan lightheaded.
“Is that a new coat?” Wei Ying asked, plucking at the lapel of his pastel blue trench coat. “My boyfriend has all the beauty in the world and left none for the rest of us. I can’t wait to peel it off you.”
Nonsense, of course, when it was Wei Ying who was the most beautiful man in the world.
“Get a room, you two,” Luo Qingyang said, reminding Lan Zhan that she was, unfortunately, there. “Wei Ying was never this into PDA when we dated,” she added to someone seated beside her.
So no, Lan Zhan wasn’t jealous. It was just that he’d had plans for their anniversary. Plans currently hidden under his coat in the form of a brand new set of lingerie, and buried inside his ass in preparation. Lan Zhan had assumed Wei Ying would forget the date of their anniversary the same way he regularly forgot bills were due on the first of the month, and rather than remind him or be insulted, he had taken advantage of the opportunity to surprise him for once. That decision was coming back to quite literally bite him in the ass.
Aside from Luo Qingyang, the Final Roasting Grounds was unusually quiet today. Most of the customers were regulars, typing away on their laptops or immersed in books. Wen Ning was over in a corner, drawn into a conversation with a customer who clearly had a thing for him, while Wen Ning remained oblivious.
There was one unfamiliar ghost at a table, but the muscular lumberjack looking apparition was simply holding a warm drink, staring vacantly down at the liquid. That was the sum of Lan Zhan’s abilities — seeing and sensing the dead. The barest of footholds into the magical world, gifted by a near-death experience. Lan Zhan would have resented it, if it hadn’t brought him to Wei Ying, and given him the courage to end a music career that was making him miserable to teach it instead. Even on the days the shrillness of out of tune flutes and trumpets blaring at the greatest volume ten-year-old lungs could produce grated on his nerves, everyday of his life was far brighter.
Nothing in their ordinary lives would have disrupted Lan Zhan’s plans to drag Wei Ying off for weekend-long anniversary sex, so naturally the universe had stepped in with the ex in tow.
Wei Ying made a face at her. “Lan Zhan, this is Mianmian. She’s visiting for a conference, and this is her friend, uh —”
“Wei Ying is the only one still allowed to call me that, because as he just demonstrated, all the magic in the world can’t make a name stick in his head for more than five minutes.”
It had taken Lan Zhan some time to realize that about Wei Ying. The second time Lan Zhan visited the Final Roasting Grounds, hoping to see the hot barista – before he knew Wei Ying was the owner – Wei Ying had called him by name.
Because Luo Qingyang was important to Wei Ying, and he wanted her to like him, even if her timing could have been better, he said, “Wei Ying does know your full name.“
She grinned, scooting forward in her seat. “I’ve been positively dying to meet you, Lan Zhan.”
“I have also wanted to meet you.” Lan Zhan shook her hand, and her grin turned faintly bemused. “How many of the stories Wei Ying has told me are true?”
“The ones that make me look good and Wei Ying look ridiculous, of course,” she said. “I did have to cool a miniature lava flow Wei Ying caused in his least favorite professor’s class once.”
“Great, now you’re both bullying me. I should’ve known this would happen if I let you meet,” Wei Ying whined.
Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes. “Like you could’ve stopped me from meeting the man you’ve been pining over for ages.”
“Hey, we figured it out eventually, and isn’t he perfect?” Wei Ying turned an adoring gaze on Lan Zhan that he, as a matter of course, returned.
“And it only took a curse to get you together,” Luo Qingyang teased.
Her as-yet unnamed friend cleared their throat. “As amusing as other people’s drama is…”
“I’ve neglected you horribly.” Luo Qingyang briefly touched their hand with hers, directing a fond look at them. “This is Shi Junhui. We met doing earthquake relief. I startled them, and they nearly dropped a chunk of masonry on my head. We’ve been friends ever since. Unfortunately, we’ve been sent to opposite sides of the world recently, so Wei Ying will have to forgive me for not giving him my full attention.”
Shi Junhui was a good half a head taller than Luo Qingyang even seated, with a sparse mustache and dark purple lipstick. They wore a sweatshirt in a matching shade, printed with black cats in sheet ghost costumes, and had spent the entirety of the proceeding conversation with their eyes glued to Luo Qingyang. They nodded in greeting, and Lan Zhan nodded back, relieved at the excuse not to speak to a stranger.
“I’d love to get to know you better, but we have to get back to the conference,” Luo Qingyang said. “Junhui’s presenting this afternoon. Let’s get dinner before I leave town, yeah?”
For a moment, Lan Zhan dared to hope his plans to drag Wei Ying upstairs and spend the evening thoroughly celebrating their anniversary might proceed unhindered. They agreed to meet up the next evening for dinner. Luo Qingyang clapped her hands and she and her friend disappeared in a shower of mint green sparks, taking her disruption with her.
Alas, it was not to be.
Wei Ying had already found a new problem to fix. “Mianmian’s been pining over that friend of hers for ages, and meeting them, I can see they feel the same way. We have to get them together, Lan Zhan, before they jet off to opposite sides of the world. My magic says we have to.”
Any other day, Lan Zhan would have thought of how lucky he was that his boyfriend’s reaction to a visit by his ex was to try to set her up with someone else. Wei Ying’s determination to use his empathic gift of telling what people needed to help them was one of Lan Zhan’s favorite things about him.
But today, when Wei Ying grabbed his hands, eyes sparkling with that familiar, beloved zeal, and pulled Lan Zhan forward a step, the plug in his ass rubbed against his prostate. Lan Zhan suppressed a whimper, along with a childish urge to stamp his foot and pout until Wei Ying did what he wanted.
It wasn’t Wei Ying’s fault. If his magic said helping someone couldn’t wait, it couldn’t wait. Wei Ying’s magic would be almost physically tugging him toward that goal.
“Forgetting something, are you boy?” A woman, who looked much younger than she had been when she died, asked from behind the rim of her cup of tea. Yu-popo, Jiang Yanli’s great-grandmother.
“Am not,” Wei Ying said. “What do you say, Lan Zhan? Shall we go on an adventure after my shift?”
Groaning internally, Lan Zhan nodded. If Wei Ying didn’t know Jiang Yanli intended to step in for him for the rest of the day yet, he should at least have time to run upstairs and change.
Yu-popo and another ghosty regular, Lao Huo, leaned together over their weiqi board, betting how long Lan Zhan would let Wei Ying drag him around before he reminded him it was their anniversary. The loser would have to sing folk songs in the old town square. Ghosts didn’t have anything to bet but dares — usually in the form of embarrassing hauntings — but these two were incorrigible.
But as luck would have it, Jiang Yanli bustled out of the kitchen carrying a tray laden with two bowls of pumpkin soup with fluffy slices of buttered toast on the side. “What are you still doing here, Wei Ying? I told you, I have the afternoon covered.”
Fuck, Lan Zhan muttered under his breath.
Wei Ying shook his head. “And I reminded you that if you’re home late because of me, Wen Qing will dose me with an acne-causing potion.”
“Not today,” Jiang Yani said. “She’s helping reverse a complex magical mishap. A-Xuan has been sleeping over every night this week to keep me company.”
Jin Zixuan was more Jiang Yanli’s boyfriend than her wife’s, though he was officially dating both of them.
Wei Ying bounced on his heels. “Thanks! You’re the best, Yanli-jie.”
“You can thank me by heading off. Both of you, shoo. Go and enjoy yourselves.” Jiang Yanli stepped up to the counter to help a new customer, someone nonmagical, and so Wei Ying drew Lan Zhan over to the stairs leading up to the three, sometimes four, apartments upstairs, before linking their arms together at the elbow, and teleporting them out into the world, plug in Lan Zhan’s ass and all.
Lan Zhan could have said something about his predicament in the time it took to walk there. He should have said something.
He didn’t.
Luo Qingyang’s conference was a conference of witches. Its magical nature was apparent from the first steps inside. Given they had materialized within a designated teleportation booth rather than a random corner of Wei Ying’s choosing, and a disembodied voice immediately started yelling for them to vacate the space for the next witches arriving, it would have been difficult to mistake it for mundane.
“Can’t even give us ten fucking seconds to get out on our own,” Wei Ying grumbled, dragging Lan Zhan out of the booth as a red light began to flash without an apparent source.
“What names are your registrations under?” A bored looking person with an ipad materialized from the shadows. Witches might have the convenience of magic, but contrary to what the nonmagical community might think, that did not mean they eschewed technology. The conference center employee set off Lan Zhan’s undead radar, like chill fingers climbing his spine, as well as all his limbs.
Vampire, most likely, because the conference center decidedly did not have the comforting, unique and immensely complex spellwork that let ghosts become corporeal in the Final Roasting Grounds, and they weren’t rotting like other types of undead.
“Oh, we don’t need a registration,” Wei Ying said, like it was an unequivocal fact. “Don’t worry, we won’t be dropping in on any of the sessions or stealing snacks. We’re just here to help out a friend.”
“You haven’t cast a persuasion spell, but I feel like I should let you in.” The vampire narrowed their eyes. “I’m not supposed to let you in if you haven’t paid your registration fee.”
“Yeah, but do you like your job?” Wei Ying asked.
The vampire grimaced. “Fine, you can go in, just stop whatever that is you’re doing. It feels like someone’s walking over the grave I’m not buried in.”
“Sorry,” Wei Ying said. “Family magic, I can’t help it. If you’re feeling like you should start applying elsewhere while I’m here, that does mean it’ll work out.”
“Huh.” The vampire let them pass, looking contemplative.
“Vampires can tell when magic is being used on them,” Wei Ying said, as he led the way into the conference, stopping before a table covered in a puddle of dark liquid in a perfect circle. “Makes them excellent bouncers when they’re freshly turned, but they need more excitement if their eternity is actually going to be worth it. Or an obsession. I know this one vamp who’s really into postal services, and has been delivering packages since the 1840s. Don’t get him started on how much he misses the horses. Anyway is Mianmian’s soon to be lover on the program?”
Wei Ying dragging him along was making it difficult to think of anything save the way the plug in his ass shifted, sending unpredictable jolts of pleasure, discomfort, or pain through him with every step. The tightness of Lan Zhan’s panties kept the plug in place, but Wei Ying’s pace was unmerciful. “What program?”
His question was answered when droplets sprang forth from the puddle, and coalesced before them, rippling as the individual droplets changed color, finally landing on a pale purple background with black text. That, too, blurred and shifted when Wei Ying said Shi Junhui, reforming as closeups of every instance of their name, of which there were three. Lan Zhan squinted at the words, the slight undulations rendering them illegible to him, but
“The session starts in thirty minutes, and she’ll be catching the equity seminar first.” The full name of the seminar Wei Ying indicated was Equity in Rescue: On the Ethics of Healing Non-Magical People.
Was that what comprised a serious ethical debate among witches?
“Magic has been kept a secret from most of the world for valid historical reasons, but witches aren’t expected to ignore an individual non-magical person who’s injured right in front of us — or at least, we haven’t been since a court ruling in 1923 — but we don’t intervene on a large scale. There’s a lot of disagreement on whether it’s acceptable to stand back, when we could help heal illnesses versus if revealing magic would inevitably lead to war.”
A more complicated issue than it appeared on the surface. Lan Zhan nodded his understanding. “You have a plan?”
“Already on it.” Wei Ying grabbed his wrist, and pulled him behind a table that had been left empty near the coffee station, already placing an order on InstaZap with his other hand. Several dozen bouquets appeared on the table. Casting another spell, he summoned a credit card machine from the Final Roasting Grounds.
When Lan Zhan had been cursed into rabbit form, InstaZap had been lifesaving, permitting Wei Ying to order hay for Lan Zhan to dine on — it had been an acquired taste that did not stick once he returned to human form, unlike the option of napping on Wei Ying’s chest. Today, he cursed the name of InstaZap, and whoever founded it.
He might be stuck here for hours. Lan Zhan started to step away, intent on removing the impediment lodged in his ass.
”I’ll be selling them at-cost,” Wei Ying was saying, as he scribbled a glittering sign listing prices in the air.
“Luo Qingyang will recognize us,” Lan Zhan pointed out.
“Very true, which is why I’m casting a spell to make us look forty years older. You’ll have to stick close to me for the disguise to work.” Wei Ying reclaimed Lan Zhan’s hand and pulled him back to his side, and out of the way of a witch levitating a device, a system of miniature, unconnected pipes that nonetheless had a liquid flowing between them.
There would be no sneaking off to the bathroom. And Wei Ying would still be unbearably attractive in forty years — excellent for Lan Zhan’s presumed future marriage, less than helpful for soothing his persistent erection. But Lan Zhan would manage, somehow.
Curious conference attendees found their way to Wei Ying almost immediately. Several confessed their nerves for presentations that Wei Ying soothed, and one would likely be reporting a supervisor’s misconduct, but fortunately none required a greater intervention than a few words from Wei Ying to boost their confidence.
When the ethics seminar spilled into the break room, Luo Qingyang nearly walked right past their flower stand. But a few paces past, she slowed to a stop, and turned back, studying the table quizzically. Only when Wei Ying handed a bouquet over to another person from her seminar, without ever looking at Luo Qingyang did she approach.
“I don’t remember any other conferences I’ve been to selling congratulatory flowers,” She said flatly. Suspicious, though she did not appear to recognize Wei Ying. “Or this being here yesterday.”
Wei Ying cleared his throat and spoke slowly, with feigned difficulty. “You must have missed us. We had an event booked at the Magic Fountain Bar in Canalside Park yesterday evening.”
“Must have,” Luo Qingyang agreed. ”I think I’ve heard of that place, is the fountain light show any good?”
“It’s very romantic.” Wei Ying gave her an exaggerated wink, making her laugh.
“In that case,” Mianmian said. “I’ll take the tulips.”
It was another half hour of standing there, trying desperately not to so much as twitch as Wei Ying charmed strangers into purchasing flowers, that Luo Qingyang made a reappearance, this time with Shi Junhui in tow, cradling the bouquet like a small child. A half hour was a short time on the scale of conferences — they must have left the session early, after Shi Junhui’s presentation — but Lan Zhan nearly collapsed with relief.
“You really didn’t have to get me flowers,” Shi Junhui said. “How much did this cost?”
Slightly ahead of them, Luo Qingyang stopped, turning to face them, her hands clasped nervously behind her back, a gesture she had in common with Wei Ying. “Surprisingly little. But I saw the stand and I thought, well —
“Oh,” Shi Junhui said, too soft for Lan Zhan to hear, but the shape of the sound was unmistakable. Then they squared their shoulders and asked, “Why don’t we skip out on the day’s keynotes and catch up over drinks?”
“Hang out with you or listen to Barry Lancaster blather on? However shall I choose?” Luo Qingyang hooked her arm through Shi Junhui’s elbow, and directed a sly smile up at them. “I know just the place.”
With a clap of her hands and another shower of mint green sparks, they were gone. It seemed the restrictions on teleportation only applied for entering the conference.
“Thank you for putting up with me today, and always.” Wei Ying plucked a peony from one of the bouquets and tucked it behind Lan Zhan’s ear.
“You never have to thank me for spending time with you. I enjoy every moment.” Even when Wei Ying was being irritating or obtuse, even if it was their anniversary and Wei Ying had shown no signs of catching on. When Wei Ying was a ball of energy jumping from one thing to the next as much as the quiet moments they spent nestled together. He wouldn’t trade a moment. That was the way Lan Zhan loved, fully and completely.
And he wasn’t irritated today, Lan Zhan told himself. He was being very patient.
“Is that it?” Lan Zhan prayed to any god that was listening that they could go home now
“Ah, not quite,” Wei Ying admitted sheepishly. “I slipped a tracking spell into the flowers.”
Oh, no.
One more teleportation spell later, and Wei Ying was trying to yank him down to crouch behind a hedge.
Wei Ying was allowed to manhandle him wherever and however he wanted, but he could not squat like that right now. It would either be excruciatingly painful or he would come on the spot. Maybe both. Lan Zhan was so hard it was only the voluminous coat hiding his situation, and precum had escaped his panties to trail down his thighs. Also, the lube was drying, and the plug was starting to chafe.
Lan Zhan wasn’t going to ask Wei Ying in public if he knew an add-lube-to-asshole spell. He would die of embarrassment.
He resisted Wei Ying’s yanking, and Wei Ying paused, looking up at him in confusion. Their disguises had been wiped away when Wei Ying teleported them, the magic fueling them eaten up by the more powerful spell, so the face Wei Ying wore was his own, beautiful and familiar.
“We are barely visible here, and the bush is dense,” he said as explanation.
“My Lan Zhan is so smart.” Wei Ying bounced upright, but crouched down so his eyes were just above the top of the bush, which stood a meter and a half tall.
The bushes formed a half ring around the canalside plaza containing the fountains, with pillars staggered along the outer edge over a covered path. A live string quartet was setting up on the bandstand, the fountains running low, the colors of the rainbow shifting through them. Overflow from the fountains spilled into the broad canal that ran through the city center. The fountain water came for the canal itself, a measure that reduced waste compared to similar installations around the world. It didn’t take long to spot Luo Qingyang and her paramour, taking their seats at the park’s outdoor bar, overlooking the fountains.
Luo Qingyang was talking animatedly, gesturing with her hands, and Shi Junhui listened intently, reaching out to stabilize her glass of wine when she knocked into it. At least someone’s date was going well tonight.
“Lan Zhan, are you angry with me?” Wei Ying asked.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me. I may not be able to read your feelings toward me—” a limitation of Wei Ying’s abilities, his talent specifically excluded reading how others felt for him “— but your expressions are an open book and this,” Wei Ying brushed two fingers over the pout of Lan Zhan’s lips, before sliding his hand down to cup his jaw, “says you’re not happy with me.”
It would have been impossible to stay mad at Wei Ying, even if he truly had been angry in the first place.
“I am frustrated, not angry,” Lan Zhan said.”I will forgive you for a kiss.”
Wei Ying pulled him in, his tongue slipping readily past Lan Zhan’s permissive lips. As always, Wei Ying’s passion made his head spin, made him cling on with everything he had as everything but the sensation of their bodies pressed together, Wei Ying’s tongue sliding against his, vanished.
That was why a tightness settled in his chest when Wei Ying pulled away and went right back to peering through the branches to spy on his ex-girlfriend’s date, though he had promised to forgive. Lan Zhan was perhaps a little irritated that Wei Ying had not only noticed nothing wrong all afternoon, but given him no chance to slip away to deal with his predicament privately. Irrational, when Lan Zhan had said nothing, but his feelings for Wei Ying and rationality were as immiscible as oil and water.
Wei Ying hadn’t even noticed Lan Zhan’s erection when they kissed, but then the fabric of his coat was thick.
The string quartet had finished warming up, and started a slow, introductory score as the fountains began to slowly grow in height, a sign the light show was soon to begin. Lan Zhan breathed in time with the music, a piece by a local composer who had won the city’s annual competition.
There were several ghosts hanging around the fountains, seeping with a ghastly iridescence. One was covered in blood, and sporting a nasty head wound. Lan Zhan didn’t stare. That would be rude, or worse, summon the ghost over, possibly causing Wei Ying to go off on another quest. Maybe if the ghost needed Wei Ying, they would find their way to the Final Roasting Grounds all on their own.
Luo Qingyang and Shi Junhui’s date looked like it was progressing well, their hands joined together across the table, though Lan Zhan wasn’t sure either had realized it. That was good.
“Uh, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying was looking down, blinking rapidly at Lan Zhan’s feet. “Are you wearing house slippers?”
He was, in fact. Fuzzy ones, with a pattern of clouds across the top. This, in contrast to his buttoned up coat. At least the slippers had been in need of replacement. “I was not intending to leave the building today,” Lan Zhan grumbled.
“And I dragged you out without notice. I’m sorry, baby.” Wei Ying knelt at Lan Zhan’s feet, and made a series of gestures over them. The slippers shimmered, and turned into a pair of suede clogs, entirely unscuffed with the same cloud pattern on the top. They had excellent arch support. Wei Ying knew how important arch support was to Lan Zhan.
The tense feeling in Lan Zhan’s chest eased. Wei Ying might have dragged him out on their anniversary, but Lan Zhan had counted on his failure to remember. It was only a date on the calendar, and Wei Ying knew him, all of his little particularities, and indulged him. That was far more important.
Still, Lan Zhan thought, his ass twinging, he hoped Wei Ying was prepared to make it up to him. At length.
Wei Ying remained on his knees, gliding his hands up Lan Zhan’s calves, and squeezed, sending a shiver through him. “Bare calves on my Lan Zhan? What are you hiding under here, hmm?”
Lan Zhan never wore shorts or mini skirts and if Wei Ying thought for just a moment longer, he would catch Lan Zhan red handed. Red holed.
As Wei Ying’s hands slid up over his knees, Lan Zhan hurried to distract him. “Luo Qingyang is looking this way.”
His lie was to no avail. Wei Ying was up in a flash, pulling Lan Zhan behind a nearby pillar, flush against him. His hand clapped over Lan Zhan’s mouth, mostly muffling his grunt of surprise — and the moan that followed when Wei Ying’s thigh pressed the plug harder into him, nearly making Lan Zhan come into his pants on the spot.
Wei Ying stiffened behind him in more ways than one. He slid a hand between them, feeling through Lan Zhan’s coat to find the shape of the plug’s base. Lan Zhan’s eyelids fluttered and he moaned into Wei Ying’s hand. Why had he worn a plug with such a large base? He owned several that were more discreet.
“Lan Zhan. Are you…?”
“It is our anniversary.” Lan Zhan grumbled.
A short, wicked laugh brushed past his ear. “Naughty boy, not telling me. Does it thrill you to walk around in public with your hole stuffed full, no one knowing what a slut you are?”
“Yes,” he breathed, letting his head fall back against Wei Ying’s shoulder.
“I can send you home, if you want.” Wei Ying sounded mournful and not at all like he would be coming home with Lan Zhan.
“Are you done here?”
“God, I fucking wish,” Wei Ying whined.
“Then I will stay a few moments longer.” Lan Zhan could tough it out, for Wei Ying. He had made it this far already.
“I don’t know if I can bear the temptation.” There was a smirk in Wei Ying’s voice when he asked, almost like an afterthought, “How do you feel about committing public indecency?”
That was not in Lan Zhan’s anniversary plans, but he came very close to agreeing. Fortunately, chance was on his side for the first time that day.
The volume of the string quartet crescendoed, and the fountains sprang to life with a roar. The smaller fountains on the sides rose and fell to the rhythm of the music in an array of colors. In the center, water shot straight up, forming a wall, onto which a local folktale was projected, the story of a princess married off to a demon who had disguised himself as a prince, and how she won her freedom by presenting the demon with a series of puzzles, the final one he failed to pass.
Lan Zhan had seen this year’s show before, on dates with Wei Ying, but it was always beautiful. Wei Ying wrapped his arms around Lan Zhan’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. Lan Zhan leaned back against him, only half absorbing the show. This wasn’t the worst way to spend their anniversary.
Luo Qingyang cleared her throat from behind them.
“I should have guessed sooner it was you. If you were anyone else, I’d curse you for meddling. Still might. Did your magic tell you to do this?”
Wei Ying let go of Lan Wangji, leaving a cold space on his back, to press his hands together and pout like a kicked puppy. “It was being really insistent. In the way that tells me that you getting together with them will let you help more people in the future.”
Luo Qingyang stared Wei Ying down until he began to wilt, before throwing up her hands. “Fine. If your magic says I should, I guess I can go be emotionally vulnerable for a minute. Still, fuck you.” She turned on her heel and began to make her way back to a gap in the bushes that lead to the plaza.
“Lan Zhan’s got that covered,” Wei Ying called after her, tightening his grip on Lan Zhan’s waist.
She flipped him off without looking back.
Shi Junhui was staring absently at the colors dancing through the water in rhythm with the triumphant melody of the violins. When Luo Qingyang reached them, she took hold of their hand, pulling them to their feet. Her mouth moved, as she asked them a question drowned out by the microphone augmented wailing of violins and crashing of water as the princess finally won her freedom. But Shi Junhui’s exuberant nodding was unmistakable, and Luo Qingyang smiled, elated and relieved, before leaning in to kiss them.
Happily ever after.
Lan Zhan was determined to secure his own, though right now he would settle for a good rest of the evening.
The truth of the matter was that Wei Ying had not forgotten their anniversary. His memory for things like names and tasks might not have been great, but the day he accidentally admitted his love for Lan Zhan, and Lan Zhan transformed back from a rabbit into a very naked man in his arms — the day he first saw Lan Zhan’s hair spread out on his pillows and had all of him — would forever be imprinted on his mind.
The problem was, his gift for telling what people needed could become a form of compulsion if it would take more than a handful of words to point someone in the right direction.
As Mianmian kissed her new lover to the swell of violins, Wei Ying transported himself back to his apartment above the Final Roasting Grounds with a clap of his hands.
Wei Ying’s plans for the evening sat under a stasis spell on the kitchen counter — takeout from Lan Zhan’s favorite restaurant, and a vase full of a perhaps excessive array of gentians and white roses, as many as the botanist witch could fit in the vase.
“You didn’t forget,” Lan Zhan breathed, lips parting in shock and delight. The flowers would last as long as they were watered, even regrow their roots if they decided to take up gardening. Based on the look on Lan Zhan’s face, Wei Ying was about to start researching soil types.
Lan Zhan continued to stare, more shocked than Wei Ying had wanted, if he was honest with himself. He should have said something to let Lan Zhan know his plans for their anniversary might have been temporarily derailed, but they weren’t forgotten.
“I was kind of counting on you thinking I had, so I could surprise you by being the world’s best boyfriend.” Wei Ying cupped Lan Zhan’s jaw, gently guiding him to meet his eyes. “But I ended up the world’s worst anyway. Can you and your poor, tormented ass ever forgive me?”
Wei Ying squeezed his ass as punctuation, and Lan Zhan’s expression hardened. Performatively — Wei Ying knew the difference between a truly angry Lan Zhan, and a Lan Zhan who was, making him work for it on principle. Wei Ying probably shouldn’t have liked it so much when Lan Zhan was petty, but he found that side of Lan Zhan irresistible. When Lan Zhan got this way, Wei Ying was compelled to try to please him until Lan Zhan was thoroughly wrung out and satisfied, gazing at him from beneath sleepy, half-lidded eyes, a thousand I love yous on his lips. It was part of why they fit together so perfectly.
He pouted, widening his eyes as much as biology allowed, not letting Lan Zhan look away. “Please, Zhanzhan, let me make it up to you.”
“I might forgive you,” Lan Zhan conceded, his tone haughty even as his eyes softened. “If dinner can wait.”
“Dinner can wait an eternity, if that’s what you want.” The stasis spell would last a week, but Wei Ying would buy him an infinite number of dinners if that’s what it took to regain Lan Zhan’s good graces.
“Good.” Lan Zhan placed a palm on his chest, and walked him backwards into the bedroom. When the back of Wei Ying’s knees hit the mattress, Lan Zhan shoved him back onto it.
Wei Ying caught himself on his elbows. “Someone’s feeling bossy tonight. What happened to my good boy?”
Lan Zhan turned his chin up, obstinately haughty and adorable, toying with the top button of his coat. “He may make an appearance. After I show you your anniversary present.”
Oh, now he recognized the game they were playing.
“Then consider me your captive audience.” Wei Ying sprawled on the red satin sheets, with his arms behind his head, watching appreciatively as Lan Zhan unbuttoned his coat one button at a time. He would never get tired of the sight of Lan Zhan baring himself to him.
The coat slid from his shoulders, revealing a sight Lan Zhan could have used to coerce Wei Ying into a life of crime, if he was so inclined. It was a good thing his Lan Zhan was so very good. A sheer bralette of red lace barely covered his pebbled nipples, and his panties did nothing to hide the straining of his half-hard cock against confinement. Matching garters ringed his thighs, connecting to the panties. Those would not be intact by the time Wei Ying was through with him.
Wei Ying’s cock stood nearly to full attention, and he hadn’t even touched it yet. “You were wearing that the entire time?”
“It was a surprise,” Lan Zhan grumbled, even as he climbed onto the mattress to straddle Wei Ying.
“And I ruined it.” Wei Ying slid his hands up Lan Zhan’s thighs, appreciating the contrast between the softness of his skin and the bands of the garters. When he reached Lan Zhan’s ass, he pulled him in to rest on Wei Ying’s still-clothed cock. “I’m sorry, baby. But it looks like you were enjoying yourself anyway, hmm?” Cupping Lan Zhan’s cock through his panties, damp and stained with precum, he felt it stir back to full hardness. “You’re always so eager for anything I give you.”
Lan Zhan stuck out his lower lip, complaining, “My ass is sore and the plug is dry.”
Fortunately for both of them, Lan Zhan was very into overstimulation. And Wei Ying was going to take advantage of that fact until this was the best first anniversary Lan Zhan could have asked for, hiccups and all.
“Poor bunny.” With the same hand that had been on Lan Zhan’s cock, Wei Ying reached up to smooth the creases from his lips — and then flipped him onto his back, kissing him until he parted his lips for Wei Ying’s tongue to slip in, and for a long while after. Until Lan Zhan deigned to wrap his arms around Wei Ying’s neck, and went soft and pliable beneath him. “Lay back and let your Wei Ying take care of that for you.”
As Lan Zhan gazed up at him, his expression was simultaneously one of smugness and surrender. He really wasn’t going to be moving until Wei Ying thoroughly pleased him. Wei Ying kissed him again, because what else was he supposed to do when Lan Zhan looked at him like that?
He was only a witch, and Lan Zhan was perfect.
The first thing on the menu was doing away with Lan Zhan’s discomfort, so all he would be focused on was what Wei Ying gave to him. He retrieved the lube with a gesture and the simplest of spells before pushing Lan Zhan’s panties aside to ease the plug out, replacing it with lube-coated fingers. Lan Zhan’s hole spasmed in response and he gave a high-pitched whine as Wei Ying probed the walls, teasing him with what should have been only enough to frustrate, but Lan Zhan had been on edge for too long. His hands fisted in the sheets, dragging the edges out from under the mattress.
“Don’t come,” Wei Ying ordered, with as much sternness as he could summon.
Lan Zhan’s back arched, his cock twitching as Wei Ying removed his fingers. He whined, struggling visibly to hold back his orgasm, clenching every muscle of his body to keep himself from release. Wei Ying bent to lick and nibble his way across Lan Zhan’s collarbones while he was still shaking from the effort. He tapped a rhythm on Lan Zhan’s thigh, counting each brief touch until the tension eased from Lan Zhan’s body.
“Do you have a hold of yourself?” Wei Ying asked, when his count reached fifty.
Lan Zhan hesitated, but nodded sharply. “Please, Wei Ying, fuck me.”
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” He teased, and bent down to mouth at Lan Zhan’s cock through the fabric, much to Lan Zhan’s irritation. Because everything that occurred in this bed, or against a wall, or on the dining room table, or when Lan Zhan was particularly impatient, on the floor, was fucking, and if Lan Zhan wanted penetration before Wei Ying planned on it, he would have to specify whose cock was going in whose ass. “I can’t resist torturing you a little first. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”
They both knew Lan Zhan was too stubborn to give in if he wasn’t completely in subspace or in the right mood to indulge in his service kink. And tonight was about wringing Lan Zhan out until he was boneless and utterly satisfied, ready to find where the next year of their relationship took them — and maybe, to take the next step with him.
“Hands above your head,” Wei Ying ordered, and when Lan Zhan obeyed, he snapped his fingers. A band of golden light flickered into being, binding Lan Zhan’s wrists together. “Now there’s my good boy.”
On cue, Lan Zhan made a show of struggling against his bonds, but he calmed readily when Wei Ying bent to trace his way slowly from the hollow of Lan Zhan’s throat to his inner thighs with his lips, letting out soft, breathy noises as if reluctant to show how much he was enjoying himself.
Wei Ying loved this game, loved the moment when Lan Zhan would inevitably submit to him completely, and the journey along the way. He loved Lan Zhan’s thighs, and the way they reddened and bruised so easily under his ministrations, leaving evidence of how much Lan Zhan wanted him that wouldn’t wash away before dawn.
He eased Lan Zhan’s panties down just enough to free his cock, and slid a hand along the heavy, eager length, watching as Lan Zhan’s eyelids fluttered closed.
When Lan Zhan was least expecting it, Wei Ying quickly lined up the plug and slammed it back in, simultaneously wrapping his lips around Lan Zhan’s cock to take as much as he could in at once. Drawing back, he sucked on the tip, and plunged back down, bobbing his head up and down at a rapid pace, taking in more each time until his nose brushed the curls at the base of Lan Zhan’s length. He didn’t plan to drag this out too long after what he had unknowingly put Lan Zhan through this afternoon, though Lan Zhan might have intended to play for hours when he dressed himself up earlier.
Pre-cum tickled the back of his throat, forcing Wei Ying to swallow around Lan Zhan’s cock, but Lan Zhan was dripping so much that he had to back off to stop himself from coughing. That was the only reason he stopped in time for Lan Zhan to come down from the edge.
Wei Ying rolled one of Lan Zhan’s nipples between his fingers through the rough lace, not making it easy for him as he bucked and strained against his bonds, crying out his name.
“You’ve been so good for me, Zhanzhan, hold on just a little longer,” he said, soothingly, as Lan Zhan’s nipple grew more sensitive under his unrelenting torment.
Lan Zhan’s throat bobbed at being called good, but he opened one eye to peer up at Wei Ying with his last dregs of defiance. “Are you going to fuck me properly now?”
“Oh, so you want six more edges.”
Though Wei Ying’s wicked grin was obviously teasing, Lan Zhan’s eyes went wide. “No, please, Wei Ying, I’ll be good.”
“Hush, baby, I won’t make you wait. But just for that —” Wei Ying took hold of Lan Zhan’s right calf and eased his leg down to lie flat, caressing the sensitive spot behind Lan Zhan’s knee before doing the same with his left leg. Retrieving the lube from the sheets, he moved to straddle Lan Zhan.
He didn’t give Lan Zhan enough time to process what was happening. Coating Lan Zhan’s cock with a generous amount of lube, Wei Ying sank down on it in one motion. Lan Zhan bucked his hips reflexively, driving himself deeper before Wei Ying could adjust to the initial stretch.
“Fuck, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying panted when he could do anything but moan. He gave himself a moment before he began to move. Thankfully, they had been switching a lot lately, and it didn’t take long. He started slow, picking up his pace as Lan Zhan’s noises grew more desperate.
“You don’t have to hold yourself back this time. Come when you’re ready.” He reached behind himself, playing with the pug as he bounced on Lan Zhan’s cock. Sparks jumped to his fingertips, and he began sending them through the plug each time his ass slapped against Lan Zhan’s thighs. Lan Zhan sobbed, tears escaping the corners of his eyes.
But it was only when Wei Ying braced his other hand on Lan Zhan’s pelvis, sending a shock through the tender skin into the muscle beneath, that Lan Zhan lost control completely, bucking as he came inside him. Wei Ying fucked him through it, gradually slowing his pace to a standstill.
Wei Ying lifted himself off of Lan Zhan’s softening cock and lowered himself flat to kiss him, trying not to rut to completion on Lan Zhan’s thighs. Their anniversary wasn’t over yet. Lan Zhan hummed into his lips, and when Wei Ying pulled back to hover over him on his elbows, Lan Zhan’s eyes were hazy, but clearing.
He pressed kisses along Lan Zhan’s jaw, before sucking his earlobe into his mouth, gently teasing with his teeth until Lan Zhan huffed. “Wei Ying, are you trying to start something?”
“I am indeed!” As Lan Zhan very well knew. “I know you were imagining my cock inside you when you dressed up for me like a vision of love itself. Don’t worry, darling, I’m not done with you yet.”
He sat back, maneuvering back between Lan Zhan’s legs, throwing one over his shoulder for better access. The stretched out, sodden lace that had once been Lan Zhan’s panties were in his way.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan complained when he ripped off the strip of fabric.
“It was unsalvageable, bunny, you made such a mess not even magic could save.” He slapped the ruined panties against Lan Zhan’s ass, and Lan Zhan made a high-pitched noise. He loved to be made a mess of, but never failed to fluster when reminded of it.
He drew the plug part way out, before slamming it back in. Lan Zhan shrieked, and Wei Ying drew it out entirely, watching as Lan Zhan’s hole clenched around nothing.
Lan Zhan shook his head. “Wei Ying, please, I can’t. I —”
“Yes, you can.” Wei Ying informed him, lining his cock up with Lan Zhan’s entrance. Though Lan Zhan’s cock remained limp but twitched when Wei Ying pushed inside. “Do you want me to stop? You know what to say if you do.”
Lan Zhan’s lips parted in a soundless O, and tears leaked continuously from his eyes, but he kicked his heel into Wei Ying’s shoulder until he let his captive leg drop back to the mattress. Partially freed, Lan Zhan wrapped his legs around Wei Ying’s back, pulling him closer the only way he could.
Wei Ying kissed him sloppily, fucking his mouth with his tongue as he thrust artlessly, trying desperately to hold on until he gave Lan Zhan what he needed. Lan Zhan complied beautifully, letting him know with a tightening of his legs and an arch of his back when the pain of overstimulation turned to a rapidly building pleasure. Wei Ying picked up his pace, and when Lan Zhan began to clench around him, he finally let go.
The band around Lan Zhan’s wrists vanished with Wei Ying’s loss of control, allowing Lan Zhan to cling to him, shaking as he came dry, dragging Wei Ying’s orgasm out into what felt like it must be eternal bliss. Wei Ying had always known the secret to eternal bliss was found in Lan Zhan’s arms. He lay on top of Lan Zhan, panting in time with him, and wondered how he had ever gotten so lucky.
“Happy anniversary,” Wei Ying whispered into Lan Zhan’s ear, still buried inside him as Lan Zhan held him close, drying cum growing uncomfortable between them.
“Marry me,” Lan Zhan whispered back.
“What?” Wei Ying’s heart stopped, his entire body flushed white hot, and those two words rang in his ears all at once. He sat up, pulling out of Lan Zhan in the process, and froze there, mind blank, capable of nothing but blinking.
“The ring is in my coat. I had a speech —” Lan Zhan cut himself off. “It appears neither my mind nor my legs are currently functional. I love you, Wei Ying. All of you, unexpected quests on our anniversary included. Marry me.”
It was as much a demand as a question, and enough to call Wei Ying back from the alternate plane Lan Zhan’s initial question had sent him to.
“I would love to hear that speech, Lan Zhan, but as far as I’m concerned, Lan Zhan, this is perfect. I would marry you any day, any time. I would find someone to marry us right now, in this bed, if that’s what you wanted. I love you and I want you in ways I have never wanted anyone else, and I never will. Yes, yes, of course I’ll marry you, and there’s a ring living under an illusion in the underwear drawer of our dresser.”
Wei Ying crooked his fingers, and the top drawer of the dresser slid out, the ring box escaping its concealment to fly into his hand. He raised the lid slowly, like the answer was somehow in question, as if Lan Zhan hadn’t just asked him the same thing. “So, Lan Zhan, will you marry me?”
In answer, Lan Zhan tumbled him onto his back and kissed him hard, the ring tumbling into the sheets between them. Later, Wei Ying would rummage among the folds and wrinkles in a panic until Lan Zhan reminded him in a fond yet deadpan manner that he possessed magic, and could simply summon it from the mess. But for now, Wei Ying was full of warmth and visions of the brightest future imaginable. He laughed against Lan Zhan’s lips, and even Lan Zhan giggled softly as their teeth clacked together like inexperienced teenagers, too caught up in the moment to be anything but perfectly imperfect mess they made together.
In hindsight, their anniversary couldn’t have turned out any other way. It was so perfectly Lan Zhan to get the drop on him when Wei Ying had been planning to propose over their anniversary dinner since the day after they first kissed. Lan Zhan had probably been imagining his own proposal since before they were even together. They wouldn’t be Wei Ying and Lan Zhan if everything went according to plan.