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…Temperatures are still at an all-time high tonight with a record of 38°C even as we’re nearing 10 pm. It should get one or two degrees cooler at midnight, but tomorrow will be another hot day. We recommend that our viewers stay inside when possible and take precautions to avoid health issues, such as…
“This is hell,” Wei Ying says from where he lies on the floor of the apartment in front of the TV. “We died, and this is hell.” He’s only wearing underwear, and two fans are pointing in his direction, yet he’s still sweating buckets.
“That would explain why you’re here pestering me,” replies his roommate and best friend as he grabs yet another set of cold beers from the fridge. He sits down next to Wei Ying and hands him a can.
“Excuse me, who is the one who hasn’t paid his part of the rent for three months in a row?” he asks while he pops the can open.
“Not my fault no one wants to hire me.” Mo Xuanyu pouts. “I should’ve just opened an OnlyFans account when I graduated high school instead of studying art,” he jokes.
“If you had, we’d be living in a penthouse by now,” Wei Ying says. He takes a sip from his beer and makes a satisfied sound as the liquid refreshes his body for a moment.
“We?” Mo Xuanyu arches an eyebrow.
“Yes. Don’t tell me you would be selfish and not share your income with your best friend. I could help you with photos and shit.”
Mo Xuanyu hums. “We look kinda alike,” he says. “If we’ve opened an account together, I’m sure we’d become rich with the money of weirdo perverts.”
Wei Ying laughs and hits him playfully in the arm. He isn’t wrong. Aside from their heights and differences in musculature, they’re pretty similar. At first when they were in college, people thought they were siblings, and when they denied it, rumors still flew about one of them being the result of an affair of one of their fathers.
But no, they’re just friends who occasionally make out with each other when they’re bored. They moved in together after finishing their degrees, Mo Xuanyu in Fine Arts, and Wei Ying in Mechanical Engineering. Being broke, though, they could only afford a one-bedroom apartment in a pretty old building with no air conditioner in a sketchy part of the city. All windows are open—because, somehow, the temperature inside, even when the fans are on, is hotter than outside—but there’s not even a breeze.
Most of their neighbors are doing similar things to them, drinking cold beverages, hanging out on their balconies, or fanning themselves by the window. You can tell which ones saved enough money to buy an air conditioner because their windows, unlike the rest, are closed.
“God, this is unbearable,” Wei Ying complains as he looks at the ceiling.
“If we had a bathtub, we could fill it with ice and sleep there,” Mo Xuanyu daydreams.
Wei Ying dry laughs. “Yeah, I fucking wish. I bet those rich folks we saw the other day are having a great time in their cold houses and pools.”
One of their favorite activities to do together when they’re free—and the weather isn’t this scorching hot—is to go skating, Wei Ying on his skateboard; Mo Xuanyu in his rollers. They like to skate next to the lake in the rich area of the city, as the scenery of the neighborhood is beautiful, but also there are many uphills and downhills to have fun in. The houses there are a sight to behold, most of brutalist architecture, with huge pools and gardens.
“We need to get a rich friend,” Mo Xuanyu concludes, absentmindedly listening to the news. “Or a sugar daddy.” He takes a sip of beer.
“I should’ve gotten along better with Zixuan at school,” Wei Ying laments.
“I never thought I’d ever hear you say those words.” He takes his phone from the floor. “Here, say it to the camera so I can send it to Yanli.”
“Fuck off.” Wei Ying laughs and raises his middle finger.
In that exact moment, the hum of the old fridge ceases, followed by the TV, lights, and, more importantly, the fans, turning off. The power went out.
“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Mo Xuanyu complains. He gets up to look out the window and, indeed, the street lamps are off as well as the lights they could previously see coming from the building across them.
“Now we’re really in hell,” Wei Ying says, getting up as well. He turns on his torchlight and goes to disconnect the fridge.
“We’re going to die,” Mo Xuanyu whines as he sits back on the floor. Even if it felt like they weren’t helping much, with the fans off, the heat is ten times worse than before.
“You can blame all those rich assholes using all our electricity to set their ACs lower than 26°C,” the other says. “I bet they don’t cut power in their neighborhood, just us commoners.”
“That’s so unfair.”
Wei Ying’s mind goes back to those rich people's houses, particularly to one of them with a beautiful pool, surrounded by a ‘fence’ consisting of shrubbery, and which lacks a security system. He found out the latter fact when he failed to land after performing a trick on his skateboard and fell against one of the plants, going over to the other side into the house’s terrain. Not once did an alarm sound, and only the cleaning lady stepped out of the house after hearing noise to ask him if he was okay, and tell him not to worry about possibly having damaged the plant, that she’ll ask the gardener to fix it, and that her boss won’t ever find out. That day Wei Ying truly learned the advantages of being a conventionally attractive young dude.
“We should sneak into one of their pools,” he decides.
“What?”
“To one of those folk’s houses. The one we know doesn’t have an alarm system,” Wei Ying explains. He sits up.
“What?” Mo Xuanyu repeats. “Dude, you’re going to get us arrested, no.”
“Not if we’re quiet, come on! Aren’t you melting right now?” He extends a hand to help him up.
“Are you crazy? They probably have motion-sensitive lights; they’re going to find out even if we’re quiet, and call the police on us.”
Half an hour later, they’re standing in front of said house. As expected, the street lights in this neighborhood are still on.
“We’re so going to get arrested for this,” Mo Xuanyu whispers to him.
“Don’t be such a coward, come on.” Wei Ying steps closer to the fence. “I’m pretty sure this is close to where I fell to the other side…” he mutters.
Closing his eyes to avoid accidentally getting stabbed in the eye by a branch, he slides between two shrubs and emerges triumphantly on the other side. No lights turn on, so it turns out the house doesn’t have motion-sensitive lighting either. It’s odd that they have such lenient security, but he’s not going to complain. Better for them.
“I’m in,” he says triumphantly. “Come on, get in here.”
“If we get caught, I’ll kill you,” Mo Xuanyu says, but appears next to him after a couple of seconds.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, let’s go!”
He grabs his hand and drags him near the edge of the pool. Once there, Wei Ying takes off his shirt and shoes, and moves to the stairs descending into the water.
Mo Xuanyu looks at the house, nervous. There’s no light coming from inside, but it has so many glass doors and windows facing them that it makes him nervous anyway. Still, he’d be lying if he said the idea of getting in the water isn’t tempting, and regardless of getting inside or not, he’d be charged for trespassing anyway if caught. So fuck it.
He repeats his friend’s actions and walks down the stairs with him. The relief is instant. The water isn’t cold, considering how hot it’s been during the day, but it’s better, so, so much better than standing outside it. Why the hell are the homeowners not enjoying their night inside their pool with this weather? He doesn’t understand.
“Oh yeah, this is life,” Wei Ying says as he floats on his back. “This is how summer nights are meant to be enjoyed.”
“You’re right,” Mo Xuanyu agrees, “we should’ve done this earlier.”
“Says the one who didn’t want to come.”
“I stand corrected.”
An alert from work about a possible security breach wakes Lan Zhan at 2 am. He sighs, gets up from bed, and moves to his desk to grab his laptop without bothering to turn the lights on. It takes him mere minutes to diagnose the issue, and he thanks all the gods and Buddhas that it isn’t something hard to solve. By the time the clock hits 2:45, he’s already taken care of it.
He stretches his arms over his head as he waits for his laptop to turn off. Thanks to the air conditioning, the house is at a nice temperature despite the awful weather, but working made him thirsty.
He leaves his room and goes downstairs to grab a glass of water. He’s adding ice cubes when he senses movement outside the glass door.
For a moment, he thinks it’s his imagination, or just a wild animal crossing through his garden, maybe even one of his neighbor’s pets. Miss Wen’s cat visits him from time to time. But no, it can’t be. The figures are still there when he blinks, and they don’t look animal-shaped.
They look human. They are human.
Two humans to be exact, but that’s pretty much all he can tell. It’s too dark to discern any other details.
He isn’t stupid enough to rush out without knowing how much of a threat they are. Maybe they’re just dumb teenagers trying to do something rebellious, but there’s no way for him to know. Instead, he goes back upstairs—still not turning any lights on—and steps out onto the balcony. On his phone, he types 110, but doesn’t dial yet, then opens the central app he uses to control the house’s lighting. He sits down, making sure that they won’t be able to see him from outside, and turns the pool lights on. They snap on, a turquoise glow spreading through the water.
As expected, the strangers in the pool squeal in surprise and whip their heads around, scanning their dark surroundings. They don’t bolt, though.
Interesting.
They must be brave, stupidly so.
And not only brave.
They are gorgeous.
They’re young, and shirtless. One of them has long hair tied in a bun (at least he had the decency of not leaving hair strands all over his pool, Lan Zhan thinks), and his body is leaner, softer. His eyes are wide as he looks for someone nearby in the dark, and he stands in front of the stairs, ready to run away if it comes to it. The second one is taller, and his hair is short. He smiles big as he tells something to the other boy, probably teasing him, and Lan Zhan’s eyes can’t help but gaze as the water slides down his muscular chest and torso.
He licks his lips. Something pulls low in his stomach, and he firmly shelves it.
Pretty doesn’t equal harmless.
He should do the right thing. Call the police or scare the strangers away, at least. But he dials the impulse back for the moment. They’re not carrying any sort of weapons he can see, and they haven’t attempted to break into the house itself. They're just two overheated idiots who somehow found a way to sneak in.
He exhales through his nose. His brother would call what he’s about to do reckless, even though Lan Huan told him that being more spontaneous sometimes would do him so good.
Well, look at him now, being spontaneous.
As stupid and irrational his brain tells him he’s being, maybe this is the opportunity to do something he normally wouldn’t.
(He doesn’t know who he is fooling, really. He just thinks the boys are pretty).
“Are you sure we’re fine?” Mo Xuanyu asks again.
“Yes! Do you see anyone coming out to look for us?” Wei Ying asks. “It’s fine, calm down.”
“Then why did the lights turn on?”
“I don’t know, maybe the house was out of power too,” Wei Ying says, then clicks his tongue. “We’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but if in five minutes I hear police sirens, I’ll drown you.”
Wei Ying laughs. “Deal.”
Mo Xuanyu stays worried for a while, but after five minutes in which the only thing they hear is a cat meowing in the distance, he relaxes. They are quiet, mostly, talking in whispers to be safe, but then Wei Ying splashes him and all hell breaks loose. They’re giggling, play-fighting each other, and speaking louder than before.
Wei Ying manages to hook his arms around his legs and is readying to throw him underwater, when he shrieks and drops him.
Mo Xuanyu slips and swallows water, which causes a coughing fit. “Fuck you,” he complains when he calms down. “Why did you…?”
Wei Ying is frozen in place. He follows his friend’s line of sight and freezes too.
“Oh, shit.”
Standing at the edge of the pool, looking at them, is a man. His hair is short, and his amber-colored eyes are staring holes into them. His face is all sharp angles and features, and he’s so handsome that Mo Xuanyu doesn’t know if his heart is beating fast because he’s scared shitless that they got caught or because he just fell in love at first sight. Not only is he handsome, he’s also tall, and more importantly, shirtless, wearing only pale blue swimming trunks. He wants nothing more but to bury his face in his muscles.
“Uh… hi. Sorry, really sorry. We thought the place was empty?" His voice goes up as he lies. "Power outage hit our side of town, and it’s like forty degrees, and we—look, we’ll get out right now, no trouble—”
The stranger interrupts him, and fuck, his voice is hot too. “How did you get in?” To their surprise, he doesn’t sound angry. Serious, but not angry.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Mo Xuanyu joins in the apologies. “We’ll leave right away!” He’s already grabbing the edge to pull himself up.
“I asked how you entered,” he says sternly, “not for excuses.”
“Through the shrubs on the east side,” Mo Xuanyu confesses. “We didn’t break anything, I swear. We’ll leave. Please don’t call the police.”
The man’s gaze flicks between them, lingering perhaps a fraction longer than necessary. Wei Ying moves so he’s positioned in front of his best friend, instinctively protective.
The boys are ready for the man to tell them to leave now that he knows where the security ‘breach’ of his property is located, for him to escort them out, or decide to call the police to take care of them after all. Maybe tomorrow, if the weather is better and they skate by, they’ll find him installing motion sensors or reinforcing the hedge line.
“Yeah, guilty, um…” Wei Ying looks around, and only then does he notice they brought dirt and leaves into the pool from when they walked between the shrubs. “We can pay for a cleaning service or something?” he offers. “I can give you my contact info to send us the bill.”
“That won't be necessary,” the man says. His gaze travels from one boy to the other, and Wei Ying is pretty sure he catches him staring at his waist. “You can stay,” he decides.
Mo Xuanyu and Wei Ying’s jaws drop. They look at each other before looking back at the handsome stranger.
The man steps forward until his toes curl over the edge of the pool. The underwater lights catch the lines of his body: the cut of his hips, the low ride of his trunks, the tension in his thighs. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes never leave them.
“I’m already awake,” he continues. “And it’s hot.”
He descends the stairs into the water with unhurried grace.
Wei Ying is pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, and he knows that his friend is suffering from a similar affliction. They've always had similar tastes in men, after all, and this isn't an exception. The man standing before them, half-naked, is stunning.
“A-are you sure?” Wei Ying questions after swallowing, because he doesn't quite believe he's hearing correctly. What kind of idiot allows strangers who broke into his property to stay after the fact?
“Yes,” he says. “This heatwave is unbearable,” he adds after a moment of silence.
Neither of them knows what to do. This is ten times more awkward than getting caught and kicked out. They look at each other, both equally lost, and after what feels like an eternity, they burst into laughter.
“Oh, thank God,” says Wei Ying, relieved.
“And to think you called me stupid for saying we were going to get trouble.” Mo Xuanyu sticks out his tongue at him.
“Well, we didn’t get in trouble, did we?” He splashes water at him. “This kind guy is letting us stay.”
“Lan Zhan,” he introduces himself.
“Lan Zhan is kindly letting us stay,” Wei Ying repeats. A pretty name for a pretty face.
Mo Xuanyu squeaks and splashes back, laughing. “Yeah, well, you’re a terrible influence.” He lunges, trying to dunk Wei Ying, who easily twists away and catches him around the waist.
“Stop, stop, Mo Xuanyu!” Wei Ying begs as he laughs. “I give up, I give up!”
“You’re not getting out of this so easily after trying to dunk me, Wei Ying!” He argues back, and they wrestle for a moment, bodies sliding slick against each other, breaths coming faster.
Wei Ying pins Mo Xuanyu lightly against the pool wall, one hand braced beside his head, the other low on his hip.
Lan Zhan watches from his spot a few feet away, water lapping at his waist, standing still, quiet.
Wei Ying leans in, nose brushing Mo Xuanyu’s wet hair. “He’s so hot,” he murmurs in his ear so the man can’t hear. “Do you think he has a thing for watching? I feel his eyes burning me.”
Mo Xuanyu tilts his head back, exposing the line of his throat. “Maybe,” he whispers. His hands come up to rest on Wei Ying’s chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over wet skin. “Should we give him a show?”
Wei Ying hums, thumb stroking along Mo Xuanyu’s hipbone under the water. “What are the chances he thinks we’re perverts and kicks us out?”
The other giggles and spreads his legs just enough to give space for Wei Ying to stand in the middle. He sneaks a glance at Lan Zhan, who hasn’t looked away yet. “High.”
“But worth the risk?” Wei Ying asks with a devious smile on his lips.
Mo Xuanyu’s grin widens, wicked and breathless. “Yes.”
Wei Ying doesn’t need any more encouragement than that. He closes the small gap between them, pressing Mo Xuanyu gently but firmly against the smooth tile of the pool wall. The water makes everything slick, and he uses it to his advantage, rolling forward just enough that Mo Xuanyu gasps softly into his mouth.
They’ve done this a few times before. Lazy make-outs, drunk on cheap baijiu on their apartment floor that end in equally lazy hand-jobs and blowjobs on their bed. More enthusiastic sessions in couches at parties, trying to get the attention of guys they like and get laid. Even then, only once did the two of them catch the interest of a guy who wanted them both. To this day, it’s one of the best sexual experiences they had.
Considering how successful they’ve been, it’s safe to say that they’re good at kissing and putting on a show for others.
Wei Ying tilts his head and licks into Mo Xuanyu’s mouth like he’s starving for it, slow and messy, the way he knows drives the other boy crazy. Mo Xuanyu makes a small, needy sound, between a laugh and a moan, and clutches at Wei Ying’s shoulders, nails scraping lightly. His legs part wider under the water, letting Wei Ying slot between them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
They’re both half-hard already. The heat, the thrill of being watched, the fact that they’re in some rich stranger’s pool at three in the morning…it all mixes into something dizzying.
“Show-off,” Wei Ying mutters, lips brushing Mo Xuanyu’s. “Trying to out-slut me in front of the rich guy.”
Mo Xuanyu snorts. “Please, you’re the one who started the wrestling match. Desperate for his attention.”
“Pot, kettle,” Wei Ying shoots back. “Well, you know we’re both hopeless, anyway. Get each other all hot and bothered, but then have to kneel and beg for someone who’ll actually flip us over and fuck us stupid.”
Mo Xuanyu’s smile turns wicked. “Someone like him.” He tips his head just enough to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes, who stares right back at him.
The man has moved closer. The water now reaches his chest, and the pool lights catch every tense line of his body. The flex of his abdomen with each controlled breath, the way his hands open and close at his sides as if restraining himself from reaching out. His pupils are blown wide, amber turned almost black, and the front of his trunks is no longer loose. There’s a conspicuous heavy strain against the fabric that wasn’t there minutes ago.
He doesn’t say a thing, only watches them. His jaw is tight, and his chest rises a fraction faster than before.
Wei Ying notices, and a proud smile forms on his lips. He lets his hand drift lower under the water so his palm slides over the curve of Mo Xuanyu’s ass, pulling him in tighter so their hips rock together. Once, twice.
His best friend’s head falls back with a soft moan, throat exposed, and the sounds seem to echo in the still night air.
With him offering himself so openly, Wei Ying takes the chance to lick his neck, tasting chlorine and sweat. The roughness of his teeth against soft skin causes Mo Xuanyu to tighten his grip on his shoulders and let out even sweeter sounds.
Lan Zhan’s control frays. He inhales through his nose deeply and shifts his hips. His gaze drags over them like physical touch, following a line down Wei Ying’s spine, then across Mo Xuanyu’s parted lips, lingering where their bodies meet beneath the water.
Wei Ying feels the weight of that stare like a hand on the back of his neck.
“Fuck,” Mo Xuanyu curses in a whisper. “He’s…fuck, he’s really hard.”
“Think he likes the show?” he whispers back, nipping at his earlobe.
And just like that, Lan Zhan's control snaps. A low sound escapes him, almost inaudible, but it cuts through the night like a warning.
Both boys freeze.
Lan Zhan closes the last few steps in two strides, water parting around him. “Enough,” he says, voice low and steady.
The single word carries absolute authority and makes Wei Ying’s knees weak. His hands still on Mo Xuanyu’s waist. Mo Xuanyu’s fingers loosen on Wei Ying’s shoulders. They don’t pull apart, but the frantic energy between them shifts. They’re waiting now, pliant.
Wei Ying can’t keep his mouth shut. Not in situations like this, not ever. “I’m sorry, sir, was the show not to your liking?” he asks. His tone of voice and expression are the epitome of innocence, even though there’s not an innocent bone in his body. “Or did you perhaps want to join us?”
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer immediately. He’s right in front of them now, so close they can feel the heat radiating from his body. His eyes flick between them, from Mo Xuanyu’s flushed face and rosy lips to Wei Ying’s insolent little smile.
“Come on, Lan Zhan, don’t leave us hanging." Wei Ying’s heart is hammering, but his mouth runs anyway. "You can’t just stand there looking like that and not say anything. It’s cruel,” he whines.
Mo Xuanyu makes a tiny, embarrassed sound and buries his face against Wei Ying’s shoulder. His fingers curl around his arms as if he wants to warn him to shut up, that he’s going to get them in trouble. His hips betray his need, though, as they shift forward to brush against his friend’s thigh.
Lan Zhan notices the small movement. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but edged with steel. “Be quiet.”
Wei Ying parts his lips to fire back something along the lines of ‘make me,’ but Lan Zhan leans in first. One large hand cups the back of his neck, firm and warm, and his thumb presses under his jaw. He doesn’t squeeze, just holds, but the threat itself shoots electric currents down the man’s body.
The words die in his throat. He melts against the touch and obeys, for now.
Lan Zhan’s other hand moves to Mo Xuanyu. His fingertips brush damp hair from his forehead, then trail down to tip his chin up, forcing him to meet those golden eyes that seem to want to eat him up.
Mo Xuanyu’s breath stutters, and his lips tremble. His pupils are blown wide with desire.
“Better,” Lan Zhan murmurs. He strokes Mo Xuanyu’s lower lip as a reward for his silence, making the man’s knees buckle. He has to lean into Wei Ying for support.
Wei Ying recovers first. “Wow,” he says, voice husky but still teasing. “That’s super hot,” he blurts out because he can’t help himself.
The man’s grip on his neck tightens, enough to feel possessive, and his eyes narrow in warning. “Wei Ying.”
The name rolls off his tongue like he’s tasted it before.
Holy fuck.
Wei Ying’s cock twitches hard at the sound. He laughs, incredulous, breathless. He’s never felt so weak to a voice before.
“Okay, wow, that’s…that’s unfair. You can’t say my name like that and make me all—”
Lan Zhan kisses him. It isn’t soft, and he doesn’t ask for permission. He takes Wei Ying’s mouth like it already belongs to him. Firm, controlled, silencing. His tongue brushes against the other’s as if he wants to devour him, eat him from the inside out. Wei Ying makes a muffled noise of surprise that melts into a helpless moan. He clutches at Lan Zhan’s shoulders to keep himself upright. All the clever words at the tip of his tongue evaporate.
The other man watches them, lips parted and chest heaving. A needy sound escapes him, and his fingers dig into Wei Ying’s side, as if to remind him that he’s also there.
Lan Zhan pulls back just enough to let Wei Ying gasp for air. His eyes are glassy, and his lips swollen. It makes for a beautiful sight.
“Quiet now?” he asks.
Wei Ying blinks, dazed. “Mmnn, kind of. Not yet. Maybe another kiss will shut me up for real.”
Lan Zhan’s mouth curves, and he shakes his head. He turns to Mo Xuanyu, who’s practically vibrating with want.
“What about you? Anything to say?” he asks him softly.
Mo Xuanyu shakes his head in a tiny motion.
“Good.”
Without another word, he jumps onto the edge of the pool so he can sit on the concrete while his legs remain submerged in the water. Wei Ying pretends the sight of his muscles flexing under his weight doesn’t do things to him.
Lan Zhan looks at them. “What are you waiting for? Come.”
The two obey diligently. They stand before him and look up at him with expectation shining in their eyes.
“You already know what I want you to do, don’t you?”
A shiver goes down Mo Xuanyu’s spine. He meets his friend’s eyes and isn’t surprised to find him equally affected by the question. They’re so worked up, he’s scared that the moment Lan Zhan lays hands on them, they’re going to come.
Wei Ying, always the more daring of the two, is the one who takes matters into his own hands and frees Lan Zhan’s cock from his swimming trunks. It stands tall and hard, and Mo Xuanyu’s mouth waters at the sight.
“Oh, fuck,” Wei Ying says. He's huge. Probably the biggest he's ever seen outside of porn, and definitely the biggest he'll give a blowjob to. He knows for a fact that's going to be hard to get him inside his mouth, but he's never been one to back out of a challenge.
He looks at Mo Xuanyu, communicating silently with his eyes, and he nods. They both wrap one of their hands around the base. Wei Ying's covers the width in its entirety, but Mo Xuanyu’s smaller one can't, which is oddly cute for the situation they're in. Together, they masturbate him twice, thrice, before licking stripes up and down his length.
They coordinate, so they never move in the same direction at the same time. If Wei Ying goes up, Mo Xuanyu goes down, and vice versa. Lan Zhan barely makes any sound, but the way his hips stutter tells the boys all they need to know.
They keep at it for a while, until Wei Ying wraps his lips around the tip. He sucks gently at first, testing the stretch of his jaw around Lan Zhan's impressive girth, his tongue swirling lazy circles over the slit. A bead of precum pearls there, salty and heady, and Wei Ying hums in approval, the vibration drawing a rare, low groan from Lan Zhan above them.
Mo Xuanyu watches, mesmerized, his hand still loosely pumping the base in time with Wei Ying's movements. The sight of his friend's cheeks hollowing out, lips stretched pink and slick, makes his own cock throb painfully against his swim shorts. He leans in closer, pressing a tentative kiss to the side of the shaft, just below where Wei Ying's mouth works. Lan Zhan's skin is hot under his tongue, veined and pulsing, and Mo Xuanyu traces one of those ridges upward until his lips brush Wei Ying's.
Wei Ying pulls back just enough to meet him halfway, their mouths colliding in a wet, open kiss right over the tip. Lan Zhan's cock slips between them, the head nudging insistently against their tangled tongues as they make out around it. Their free hands meet, fingers interlacing for balance. Tongues flick out to lap at Lan Zhan in unison now, one on each side, before retreating to duel playfully over the crown. A string of saliva connects their lips when they part for breath, only to dive back in, moaning into the shared space.
It’s the hottest thing Lan Zhan’s ever witnessed.
He threads his fingers into their hair. First, he grabs for Wei Ying’s wild mop, and then Mo Xuanyu’s softer strands, guiding them without force, just enough to remind them who's in control. His hips buck subtly, chasing the dual heat of their mouths. It’s heavenly, even in the suffocating weather.
"More," he murmurs, voice roughened with restraint. "Both of you."
Emboldened, Wei Ying grins against the skin. “As you wish, gege.”
He angles his head to take more of Lan Zhan in, sucking deeper, while Mo Xuanyu mirrors him on the opposite side. His lips slide down his cock, tongue flattening broad and teasing. They meet again at the tip, kissing fiercely around it, their breaths mingling hot and fast. Mo Xuanyu's free hand ventures lower, cupping Lan Zhan's balls with a gentle roll, earning another stuttered thrust.
It's overwhelming, the push-pull of their mouths working in tandem, making out in stolen moments between sucks and licks. Wei Ying can feel Mo Xuanyu's shivers through their joined hands, the way his friend's arousal mirrors his own. Both of them are rock hard and untouched, brought to the edge from this alone.
Lan Zhan’s composure cracks further; his grip tightens, a quiet “Mn” escaping as he watches them, eyes dark with hunger.
Wei Ying, of course, can’t resist commenting on it.
He pulls off with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, and smiles up at Lan Zhan like the little devil he is. “Lan Zhan, you’re being too quiet,” he says, pouting. “Are we that bad? Or is it that you’re trying to pretend you’re not about to lose it? You’re so cute.” He licks a deliberate stripe up the underside, slow and taunting, before glancing sideways at Mo Xuanyu. “Isn’t he, A-Yu?”
Mo Xuanyu flushes crimson, but his lips brush his head as he speaks. “You are, gege.”
Lan Zhan’s jaw tightens. His fingers flex in their hair. He doesn’t pull, but it feels like a warning of some sort.
Wei Ying laughs softly, and his breath ghosts over sensitive skin. “Come on, gege, give us something. One little moan? For me?” He bats his eyelashes, then takes Lan Zhan deep again, hollowing his cheeks with obscene enthusiasm, then slides off just as quickly to pepper kisses along the shaft. “Or are you saving all those pretty sounds for when you’re deep inside some other part of us?”
His best friend whimpers at the words, his own neglected cock twitching visibly under the water. He leans in to take over, sucking gently at the tip while Wei Ying talks.
“You know,” he continues in a casual tone. You wouldn’t be able to tell he’s stroking Lan Zhan in time with Mo Xuanyu’s bobs only by his voice. “When I first saw you, I noticed how stiff and proper you were. It made me wonder what it would take to make you unravel,” he says. “Turns out, it’s just two desperate guys on their knees, fighting over your cock like it’s candy.” With that, he turns his head to capture Mo Xuanyu’s mouth in a brief, messy kiss around the head of his cock again. When they part, Wei Ying’s voice drops to a teasing murmur. “Bet you’d sound amazing begging…Though, I think you’re the type who’d rather hear us beg,” he smiles. “And we’d be more than willing to do so, right, A-Yu?”
Mo Xuanyu nods frantically, eyes glassy, but he doesn’t speak up. His mouth is full once more.
Lan Zhan’s breathing has gone noticeably heavier, chest rising and falling in sharp increments. His grip shifts. One hand stays in Mo Xuanyu’s hair, while the other tightens almost painfully in Wei Ying’s, as if urging him to shut up.
It doesn’t go unnoticed, and the boy’s lips turn into a wicked grin. “Oh? Was I right? Or do you just not like me talking so much while sucking you off, Lan Zhan? Am I distracting you?” He swirls his tongue around the crown, then lets it drag slowly down to meet Mo Xuanyu halfway. “Maybe you should do something about it, then. Shut me up yourself. I’ve been told I’m very good at—”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence.
Lan Zhan moves quickly. One moment, he’s seated on the edge, the next he’s sliding into the water with barely a splash. The coolness does nothing to temper the heat in his eyes and in his veins.
Wei Ying has half a second to look delighted (mission accomplished, he thinks) before Lan Zhan grabs his arms, strong and sure, and spins him around like he weighs nothing. He presses him face-first against Mo Xuanyu’s body, who gets trapped between the pool wall and his body.
Mo Xuanyu lets out a startled gasp as his back meets the cool tile, water swirling around his hips. Wei Ying’s body pins him there, warm and slick, their faces inches apart. Mo Xuanyu’s hands fly up instinctively, gripping Wei Ying’s shoulders for balance, eyes wide and dark with a mix of shock and desperate want.
Lan Zhan crowds in behind Wei Ying, one arm still banded across his stomach, the other sliding down to hike Wei Ying’s swim trunks off his hips in one smooth motion. Wei Ying pushes back impatiently, but Lan Zhan holds him steady, trapping him firmly between the two bodies, Mo Xuanyu soft and trembling in front, himself hard and unyielding behind.
“Lan Zhan, ge—” Wei Ying starts, but the protest fractures into a gasp as the man lines up and presses in. No fingers, no prep, no nothing; just the blunt heat of him forcing his body open centimeter by thick centimeter.
There’s no easing the way. Lan Zhan is huge, certainly bigger than anyone Wei Ying has ever taken, and the stretch burns. It’s a bright, shocking sting that steals his breath and makes his fingers dig hard into Mo Xuanyu’s shoulders. He’s had sex before, plenty of it, enough that his body knows how to relax eventually, but nothing has ever felt like this. The impossible girth splits him wide, and the water does little to blunt the friction, every ridge and vein dragging against raw nerves.
“Fuck, Lan Zhan, you—ah!—you could’ve at least—” Wei Ying tries to joke through clenched teeth, but another deliberate push forward cuts him off, turning the complaint into a broken moan. His knees buckle, and he’s grateful that Lan Zhan’s arm around his waist and Mo Xuanyu’s body in front keep him upright.
Mo Xuanyu whimpers at the sight, feeling Wei Ying shudder against him, the tremor traveling through both of them as Lan Zhan seats himself fully with one last, unhurried thrust. Wei Ying’s cock, trapped between their stomachs, leaks steadily now. The pain and the pleasure are tangled so tight he can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
Lan Zhan stills for a moment, buried to the hilt, letting Wei Ying adjust. His breath is hot against his neck, the only sign of how thin his control has worn. Then, he pulls back and drives in again deeper, harder, turning that lingering ache into something electric.
Wei Ying’s head drops forward onto Mo Xuanyu’s shoulder with a choked laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Okay, okay, I get it, I give up, no more talki—fuck, you’re huge, too big, Lan Zhan, I—”
Mo Xuanyu slides a soothing hand up Wei Ying’s sides. His own arousal hasn’t flagged. If anything, watching his best friend taking cock has made him harder. “A-Ying,” he whispers, voice trembling, “you’re beautiful, you’re doing so well…”
“Flatterer,” Wei Ying pants but manages a shaky grin as he reaches down between them. He wraps his fingers around both their cocks, using the exact amount of pressure he knows they both like, and strokes them fast and messy to match the rhythm Lan Zhan sets behind him. Every thrust rocks Wei Ying forward, grinding their lengths together in his fist.
One of Lan Zhan’s hands slides from Wei Ying’s hip to Mo Xuanyu’s waist, tugging him even closer until there’s no space left between the three of them.
“It feels good, so, so good, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying manages, voice cracking as the man angles just right and the burn flips fully into blinding pleasure. “Lan Zhan is so—God—so big, A-Yu. Wait till you feel him inside you—fuck!”
Mo Xuanyu can only nod frantically, one hand clutching Wei Ying’s back, the other reaching past him to grip Lan Zhan’s forearm to anchor himself as the rhythm builds. Lan Zhan’s low growl rumbles against Wei Ying’s shoulder, sending shivers down his spine.
The three of them move together. Lan Zhan dives into Wei Ying with steady, punishing force, while Wei Ying rocks forward into Mo Xuanyu, their joined hands slick and desperate between them. Water splashes against the pool edge, the night air thick with wet sounds, breathless moans, and Wei Ying’s half-laughing, half-pleading stream of more, harder, please Lan Zhan, gege, don’t you dare stop, among other things.
He’s being so loud, Lan Zhan fears the neighbors might wake up from all the noise, but honestly, he couldn’t care less.
His thrusts become more and more erratic as he feels his peak approaching, hitting Wei Ying’s prostate every single time. He licks a line up his neck, then bites lightly at the skin. The boy throws his head back, as a litany of moans escapes his mouth. The pleasure is almost too much, and he squeezes around Lan Zhan’s cock, which makes the man groan.
In front of him, Mo Xuanyu shudders. The hand that’s moving along Wei Ying’s around their dicks stills, and he shuts his eyes close. He bites his lip, but even then, the sounds leave his throat, high-pitched and breathless as he comes all over his and his best friend’s lengths.
He stays trapped between Wei Ying and the wall, feeling boneless and satiated, almost like he could fall asleep. Wei Ying traps his lips on his own and kisses him. It’s sweet and slow, and Mo Xuanyu moans against him, relishing in his affection. It’s the only thing keeping him conscious and anchored to reality.
“I’m close,” Wei Ying says when they part with a wet pop. A trail of saliva connects their mouths until it finally drips down his chin. “Lan Zhan, I’m, mhn!, I’m close!”
Lan Zhan makes a low sound of acknowledgment, but Wei Ying doesn’t get any warning before he buries deep inside of him, and stills before coming. Hard.
“Oh, Lan Zhan, fuck,” Wei Ying cries, pushing back against him as if there were any way for the older man to get deeper inside. “You’re filling me up so good, Lan Zhan, it’s so hot, it’s perfect, it’s…” He keeps ranting a bunch of nonsense.
He’s close, so, so close. He knows that if he just flicks his wrist a few more times, slides it up and down his cock just a little bit more, he’s going to have the strongest orgasm of his life.
Lan Zhan has different plans.
He grabs both of his arms and pulls him backward while still buried in him.
Wei Ying whines in protest. “No, no, Lan Zhan, gege, what are you doing?” he complains as he’s pulled away from Mo Xuanyu and held tight so he can’t touch himself. “I was so close, Lan Zhan! Please, let me—can I—please!” he begs.
Lan Zhan scoffs over his shoulder. “You don’t deserve it.”
“What do you mean I don’t deserve it?” Wei Ying tries to kick him to pull away, but it’s in vain. The man is stronger than him. “Come on, Lan Zhan, have mercy! At least thrust a few more times, I’m sure I’ll come untouched even if—”
“No.” Instead of fucking him, he pulls out.
“No, no, no, no, Lan Zhan, why!?” Wei Ying pouts. “Gege, you’re so mean!”
Lan Zhan doesn’t pay his protests any mind.
He slides out fully, leaving Wei Ying empty and aching, the sudden loss making him clench around nothing with a frustrated whimper. Warm water laps at their skin as Lan Zhan shifts, one strong arm still locked around Wei Ying’s waist to keep him from reaching down. With the other, he reaches past Wei Ying to grasp Mo Xuanyu’s chin gently, tilting the boy’s flushed face up for a slow, claiming kiss. Mo Xuanyu melts into it instantly, soft and pliant, a quiet sigh escaping him.
Wei Ying watches them over his shoulder, lips parted, chest heaving. The sight of Lan Zhan’s tongue sliding against Mo Xuanyu’s, the way the younger boy’s fingers curl helplessly against Lan Zhan’s chest, and something hot twists in his gut. Jealousy or lust, he isn’t sure.
“Lan Zhan,” he tries again, voice pitching higher, bratty and desperate. “You can’t just—come on, look at me. I’m dying here!”
Lan Zhan breaks the kiss only to murmur against Mo Xuanyu’s lips, “Inside.” The single word is low, authoritative, and Mo Xuanyu nods immediately, eyes glassy with lingering pleasure and fresh anticipation.
Lan Zhan releases Wei Ying just long enough to guide them both out of the pool. The cool night air hits their wet skin as they climb the steps, water streaming down their bodies. Wei Ying stumbles deliberately, trying to press back against Lan Zhan, but a firm hand on his hip keeps him moving forward.
The pool lights cast rippling blue patterns across the stone patio and up the glass walls of the house. Lan Zhan’s home looms above them. It’s modern and sleek, two stories tall, full of windows. It feels impossibly luxurious, the kind of place that belongs to someone who doesn’t need to ask permission for anything.
The owner doesn’t offer them towels upon entering, and the cool air of air conditioning makes the boys shiver when they step inside. Lan Zhan herds them through the open living area, where the moonlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, silvering the water still dripping from their skin.
Wei Ying attempts once more, turning to crowd into Lan Zhan’s space. “Gege, please, can we—”
A sharp look silences him. Lan Zhan’s golden eyes are unyielding. “Quiet.”
He steers them toward the floating staircase that curves up the far wall. Mo Xuanyu follows docilely, bare feet silent on the cold floor, while Wei Ying sulks but obeys, arousal and frustration warring every line of his body.
Upstairs, the hallway is wide and shadowed, opening directly into the master bedroom. It’s vast, dominated by a low platform bed draped in charcoal linens. One entire wall is glass, with sliding doors leading out to the balcony that overlooks the pool below. The water there is still glowing, and the loungers hold the boy’s discarded clothes. The room smells faintly of Lan Zhan himself: clean, expensive, and slightly like sandalwood.
Lan Zhan releases them only to flick on a single low lamp, casting warm light across the bed. Then, he turns to Wei Ying.
“Hands behind your back,” is all he says.
Wei Ying’s breath catches. He hesitates just long enough to earn a raised brow, then obeys, wrists crossing at the small of his back. It feels a bit ridiculous to stand there, in the middle of the room, cock hard and leaking, and swimming trunks pulled up clumsily in a hurry.
Lan Zhan produces a length of soft black silk from a drawer—which makes Wei Ying wonder what his bedroom activities are normally like—and binds Wei Ying’s wrists with quick, efficient knots. Not tight enough to hurt, but inescapable.
Wei Ying tests them immediately, tugging. A pout forms when he can’t untangle himself. “Lan Zhan, this is cruel. I’ve been so good—”
“You’ve been mouthy and demanding,” Lan Zhan corrects coolly. He guides the man to stand at the foot of the bed, then turns his attention to Mo Xuanyu.
The younger boy is still half-dazed. His cock is soft, but it twitches in interest under Lan Zhan’s gaze. He cups his cheek, thumb brushing over swollen lips, then trails that hand down Mo Xuanyu’s throat, chest, stomach. It’s slow, deliberate, and it makes him shiver. Mo Xuanyu leans into every touch, and small gasps escape as Lan Zhan’s long fingers wrap around his spent length and begins to stroke him back to hardness with maddening patience.
Wei Ying watches, bound and untouched, cock aching against his stomach. “Lan Zhan…”
Lan Zhan doesn’t look at him. He backs Mo Xuanyu toward the bed until the boy’s knees hit the edge, and he sits, legs spreading instinctively. Lan Zhan follows, kneeling between them, mouth descending to kiss along Mo Xuanyu’s inner thigh while that skilled hand keeps working him. Mo Xuanyu’s head falls back, fingers threading into Lan Zhan’s wet hair, soft pleas spilling out. Quiet little whimpers of “please” and “more” that make Wei Ying’s stomach churn with envy.
He stays there, bound and untouched, cock still painfully hard. Every sound Mo Xuanyu makes feels like a taunt. He shifts his weight, thighs pressing together in a futile search for friction, but the silk holds his wrists firm. A low whine escapes him before he can stop it.
Lan Zhan takes his time. His tongue traces higher, teasing, until Mo Xuanyu is fully hard again. Flushed, trembling, hips lifting helplessly into every stroke of Lan Zhan’s hand.
Only then does he pull back, lips glistening, and finally turns his golden gaze on Wei Ying. He sits on the bed and leans back against the headboard, reaching into his swimming trunks to pull out his half-hard cock, spent from the pool but stirring under the renewed heat of the moment. He spreads his legs in clear invitation.
“Come here,” he says, voice rough with renewed desire. “Ride me. No hands. And you do not come until I allow it.”
Wei Ying’s breath stutters. He crawls on the bed until he’s straddling Lan Zhan’s lap. Slowly, he sinks down, impaling himself on Lan Zhan’s length. The man grabs his hips to aid him, since Wei Ying can’t touch him. A broken moan tears from his throat at the stretch, even after having taken him just a few moments before. His bound hands flex uselessly behind him until he finally, finally, fully sits down.
Lan Zhan mercifully allows him to catch his breath for a few seconds before he applies pressure with his hands to move him up and down at a tortuously slow pace. Enough to keep him hard and needy, not enough to allow him to come.
Mo Xuanyu watches with wide eyes as he strokes himself under Lan Zhan’s murmured instructions. He’s been good, well-behaved, and he deserves a reward. So Lan Zhan beckons him closer, guiding him behind Wei Ying.
“What are you…?” Wei Ying asks, voice slurred and distant, like he’s speaking through thick honey. His head lolls forward, forehead pressing to Lan Zhan’s collarbone as he tries to chase a deeper angle, hips rolling in tiny, helpless circles. “Lan Zhan… feels… so good, please…”
Lan Zhan ignores the pleading for now. One hand stays firm on Wei Ying’s waist, keeping the slow grind steady; the other reaches back to curl around Mo Xuanyu’s wrist, drawing the younger boy closer until his chest brushes Wei Ying’s bound arms.
Mo Xuanyu’s breath hitches. He’s flushed from cheeks to chest, cock hard again in his own fist, eyes wide and uncertain as he kneels behind Wei Ying’s trembling body.
Lan Zhan’s voice is low, calm, almost gentle, nothing like the tone he uses when speaking to Wei Ying. “Have you ever topped before?” he asks.
Mo Xuanyu shakes his head quickly, a shy jerk of motion. His lips part, but no sound comes out at first. Then, barely a whisper: “No… never.”
Just as he expected. Lan Zhan nods. “I’ll teach you, then.”
Wei Ying makes a confused, needy noise at that, trying to push back, but Lan Zhan’s grip tightens.
“Stay still,” he tells him, firm. Wei Ying whimpers, but doesn’t try again.
Lan Zhan turns his attention fully to Mo Xuanyu. “There is lubricant in the drawer beside the bed. Fetch it.”
Mo Xuanyu scrambles to obey, leaning over to pull open the nightstand. His fingers shake as he finds the bottle. It’s clear and unscented. He’s never seen this brand before, and he’s pretty sure it’s ten times more expensive than the stuff they use. He kneels back behind Wei Ying, waiting.
“Warm it first,” Lan Zhan instructs. “A generous amount on your fingers.”
Mo Xuanyu pours some into his palm, rubbing his hands together until it’s slick and body-warm. The soft sound of it makes Wei Ying twitch.
“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying mumbles, voice cracking. “What—ah—don’t tease, please, need…”
“Quiet,” Lan Zhan says softly, not unkindly. He shifts his hips just enough to make Wei Ying gasp and clench around him. “You will take what we give you.”
Mo Xuanyu swallows audibly.
“Now,” Lan Zhan continues, “spread it around him, where he is already stretched around me. Carefully. He is very full.”
Mo Xuanyu’s slick fingers trace the place where Lan Zhan disappears inside Wei Ying. The touch is feather-light at first, tentative, circling the taut rim. Wei Ying jolts, a high, broken sound escaping him.
“More,” Lan Zhan encourages. “Press inside, beside me. Slowly.”
Mo Xuanyu does, one finger easing in alongside Lan Zhan’s cock. The stretch makes Wei Ying cry out—overwhelmed, but not in pain.
“Too much! Lan Zhan, it’s—fuck!, too big, I can’t…”
“You can,” Lan Zhan says, steady. His thumb strokes soothing circles on Wei Ying’s hip even as he holds him impaled and still. “Breathe. Relax for him.”
Mo Xuanyu’s finger slides deeper, then out, spreading more lube. He adds a second carefully, scissoring gently.
Wei Ying’s head thrashes, moans spilling out in a nonstop stream of nonsense. “No, no, no, please, so full, too much, I’m gonna break, I’m, nngh!”
“You will not break,” Lan Zhan tells him. His voice stays even, almost tender. “You will take us both beautifully.”
When Mo Xuanyu’s fingers withdraw, Lan Zhan nods. “Now yourself. Coat yourself well.”
Mo Xuanyu slicks his own cock quickly, breath coming in shallow pants. He’s considerably smaller than Lan Zhan, but at this moment, every extra centimeter feels monumental.
Lan Zhan guides him with a hand on the back of Mo Xuanyu’s neck, pulling him closer. “Line up. Press in slowly. If he tightens too much, pause. Let him adjust.”
The blunt head of Mo Xuanyu’s cock nudges alongside Lan Zhan’s. Wei Ying sobs out a breath, body trembling violently as the impossible stretch begins.
“Good,” Lan Zhan praises Mo Xuanyu quietly. “Just like that. Steady.”
Mo Xuanyu pushes forward. He’s shaking, trying to be as careful as possible, worried about his best friend’s well being. He manages to breach the rim, joining Lan Zhan’s cock inside him.
Wei Ying’s back arches, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as he’s opened wider than he’s ever been. Having Lan Zhan inside him was already a challenge, and now another cock is joining him. His body feels light and heavy at the same time, and stars swim in his vision, almost like he’s going to pass out.
“Lan Zhan—Lan Zhan—it’s too much, I’m—ah—fuck, I wanna come, please, please, let me—”
“No.” Both of his hands grip Wei Ying’s hips now. “Not yet.”
Mo Xuanyu sinks deeper, guided by Lan Zhan’s low murmurs of “yes, just there…good body…deeper now…” until he’s fully seated, pressed flushed against his friend’s back.
All three of them are breathing hard. Wei Ying is a mess. There’s tears on his lashes, his mouth is open, and he’s babbling incoherently: “Full…so full…move, please, someone move…”
Lan Zhan allows it then. A slow roll of his hips, and Mo Xuanyu follows instinctively, pulling back and thrusting in shallow, experimental movements.
“Like that,” Lan Zhan tells him. “Find a rhythm with me. He can take it.”
They move together. Lan Zhan is more deep and controlled, while Mo Xuanyu is careful but grows progressively bolder.
It takes only a few seconds for Wei Ying’s control to shatter into pieces.
He comes with a wail, clenching hard around both of them, body seizing as his orgasm rips through him untouched. His vision whites out, and he slumps forward, held up only by Lan Zhan’s arms and Mo Xuanyu’s chest against his back.
After that, he’s pliant, limp, letting them use him in whichever way they want. He isn’t sure if Lan Zhan chastises him for coming without explicit permission, but he doesn’t care. He’s too far gone.
The other two take their time, drawing it out. Wei Ying is like a rag-doll caught between them, body heavy and boneless. His mind floats in a hazy fog, pleasure-soaked and distant, like he’s drifting toward sleep even as they keep moving inside him. Every thrust feels muffled, a deep, insistent pressure that sends lazy sparks through his oversensitive nerves, but he can’t muster the energy to react beyond soft, breathy sighs. His head lolls against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, eyelids fluttering half-shut, the world reduced to the heat of their skin, the slick sounds filling the room, the faint chlorine scent clinging to them all.
Lan Zhan doesn’t slow. His thrusts are measured, deliberate, deep rolls that bury him to the hilt each time, stretching the boy impossibly around both cocks. One hand anchors his hip, holding him open and steady, while the other slides up his spine to grab his nape, keeping him from slumping entirely. “Good,” he murmurs, “stay like this. Let us finish.”
Wei Ying whimpers faintly, too far gone to form words. It feels endless. Their pace grows from gentle to rougher. Mo Xuanyu’s confidence builds, and he presses closer, chest flush to his back as his hips snap forward with growing assurance. He melts into it, letting them take what they want.
Mo Xuanyu’s breath is hot against his ear. “Wei Ying, you’re so perfect,” he whispers, voice trembling with awe as he thrusts deeper, matching Lan Zhan’s pace. “Taking us both like this, so, so good for us; so tight and warm. I can’t—ah—you feel amazing…” The praise spills out like a melody, soft and fervent. His lips brush Wei Ying’s earlobe with each word. One hand snakes around to splay across Wei Ying's stomach, holding him steady as he grinds in, the other tangling in his damp hair.
Wei Ying hums vaguely in response, a sleepy, contented sound. Sleep tugs at him, exhaustion and relentless pleasure pulling him under, but their movements keep him anchored. Barely.
Lan Zhan's cock drags against that spot inside him with every thrust, sending dull waves of aftershocks through his limp body, while Mo Xuanyu's smaller length adds a slippery friction that makes everything fuller, hotter.
“Almost,” Lan Zhan growls. He shifts his angle to dive harder, still unyielding. “Hold on. Do not move.” His voice is rough with effort, and from savoring the tight heat clenching around him.
When he first saw the two cute guys skating down his street, he never imagined they would end up in his bed, naked and panting. Reality has definitely surpassed his fantasies, for once.
Wei Ying moans, and Lan Zhan shushes him softly. “Just enjoy it, stay. You are ours for now.”
They drag it out longer, thrusts turning erratic. Mo Xuanyu’s hips stutter as he chases his peak, still murmuring breathless endearments, along the lines of “...so beautiful, you’re so warm, A-Ying, gonna come inside you, fill you up…”.
Meanwhile, Lan Zhan sets a brutal rhythm, each deep plunge forcing soft, involuntary moans from Wei Ying’s throat, his body rocking limply between them like a vessel for their pleasure.
Finally, he breaks. His grip tightens, bruising Wei Ying’s hip as he buries himself deep one last time, stilling with a low, guttural groan. Heat floods Wei Ying anew, spilling around the impossible stretch, and the sensation causes a sound akin to a mewl to spill from his lips.
Mo Xuanyu follows a mere second later, spurred by the clench of his friend around them both. He gasps against his neck, moaning Wei Ying’s name as he comes with a sharp cry. His hips jerk as he empties himself inside, trembling through the aftershocks.
Only then does the motion cease.
“Fuck, that was…fuck,” is all Mo Xuanyu can say when he recovers his ability to speak.
“Mn,” Lan Zhan agrees. He reaches behind Wei Ying’s back to untie the silk, then rubs warmth back into his wrists with careful fingers.
“Mmn, Lan Zhan…” he whispers, eyes closed. “A-Yu…so full.”
Endearment crosses both of their faces. They look at each other and smile. Mo Xuanyu pets Wei Ying’s hair, while Lan Zhan shifts just enough to grab a tissue from the tissue box on his bedside table to clean his abdomen.
Once that’s done, and everyone has regained their senses enough, he moves with the intention to pull out, but Wei Ying locks his legs around his waist.
“No!” he complains. “Lan Zhan, A-Yu, don’t move.”
“But, A-Ying, we have to—”
“No,” he repeats.
Lan Zhan and Mo Xuanyu look at each other. The latter one bites his lip.
“A-Ying, come on, this isn’t our house, we have to go,” he says.
“You can stay the night,” Lan Zhan offers before he can regret it.
Mo Xuanyu’s eyes light up. “Really?”
Lan Zhan nods. “I don’t see why not. It’s late, and I don’t work tomorrow.” Unless an emergency happens again, which he doubts will occur so soon.
“Yes, stay,” Wei Ying says, hugging him closer.
“O-okay then,” Mo Xuanyu accepts.
Lan Zhan would normally complain about feeling filthy, about needing to get a bath as soon as possible and change the soiled and wet bed sheets, but he doesn’t. There’s something different about these two, something that makes him want to stay and enjoy their company for as long as they’ll allow. So he doesn’t get up, nor does he attempt to pull out of Wei Ying again. As uncomfortable as being inside him still is, and as hard as it is to maneuver the three of them into a comfortable-enough lying position, he doesn’t complain.
As soon as their heads touch the pillows, they fall asleep.
The next morning, Wei Ying and Mo Xuanyu wake up to the smell of tofu pudding and coffee. When they open their eyes, they find that Lan Zhan has brought over a tray of food. The man must’ve woken up quite a while ago, as his hair is wet from a shower, and he looks refreshed, wearing a set of clean clothes.
“We even got breakfast in bed, wow,” Wei Ying says, sitting up. He yawns, still feeling tired. His body is sore in all the right places.
“My ex could never,” Mo Xuanyu jokes as he sits up as well.
A few hours later, the boys leave with an invitation to come to the pool whenever they want, a new contact in their phones, and a brand new three-person group chat.