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It feels strange to have a hotel room for himself. Alone. The last few months he had been sharing his room with Xiong and Dongdong. There was always chatter, laughter, the shuffle of feet, the rustle of snack bags being opened at midnight. And now the silence felt weird.
Maybe because it's soundproof as well, so he felt like he's truly isolated. Usually, in the dorm, even when he's alone, Shen could hear someone laughing down the hall, the muffled thump of footsteps or music leaking through thin walls. Little signs that the world was still turning around him. Here, there was nothing. Just the faint buzz of the ceiling light and the soft whoosh of air conditioning.
He rolled across the bed a few times, half-heartedly playing a round of Honor of Kings, but the game didn’t hold his focus. After ten minutes of lying on his back, staring at the ceiling like it might offer some kind of answer, he sighed and decided he might as well sleep early for once.
He got up from bed and dug through his bag, searching his phone charger. He always made sure to charge his phone while sleeping. He frowned when he couldn't find it.
Oh, shit. Right. He’d asked Xiong to hold it earlier when he left his bag in the car.
He ran a hand through his hair, letting it fall back messily. It was already past eleven. Xiong might be asleep by now... but then again, probably not. Xiong had a habit of dragging his feet at night, always waiting until the last possible minute to wash up or brush his teeth. He might still be scrolling through his phone, lights still on, the way he always was.
So with that thought, he went to the another room. They were on the same floor, just two doors apart.
He pressed the bell and wait.
It took almost a full minute before the door opened and Xiong’s face appeared in the gap. “What happened?”
My phone charger,” Shen said, already stepping in like it was his own room.
“Oh,” Xiong blinked, then opened the door wider. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping slightly onto the collar of his shirt. He radiated warmth and the faint scent of hotel soap. Shen didn’t say anything, but he noticed. Of course he noticed.
Holding the door open, Xiong stepped aside and Shen walked in.
“Where did you put it? In my bag?”
“Yeah—” Shen stopped mid-step and made a beeline for the desk. He looked scandalized when he saw the chips there. “Why do you have snacks—”
“Omar gave me some,” Xiong said quickly, rolling his eyes.
“And he didn’t give me anything? That brat—”
“It’s for you too,” Xiong laughed and gave Shen a light punch on the shoulder. “You can eat it, idiot. He gave it to me and told me to share with you.”
“Oh. I’m taking some back to my room.”
“Mm, go ahead,” Xiong said with a shrug, already rummaging through his bag.
But Shen didn’t take the snacks yet. Instead, he flopped down on Xiong’s bed like he owned it. He watched him for a moment, and a quiet sort of happiness settled in his chest. This felt familiar. The two of them, in the same room.
“It feels weird being alone in my room,” he said suddenly.
He heard Xiong chuckle and couldn’t help but grin. That sound always made Shen’s chest feel warmer than it should.
He lay back on the bed, eyes drifting to the ceiling, watching as Xiong continued digging through his bag.
“But seriously, Xiong—don’t you feel lonely?" he added, voice softer now. “Don’t you feel weird? Not having everyone around?"
“I guess,” Xiong’s voice had a thoughtful edge, “But I kinda like the silence. Oh!” His face lit up with triumph. “Found it.”
Shen rolled over and turned his back to him.
“You’re no fun,” he mumbled.
He felt the bed dip, then a gentle poke in his back.
“And you are way too clingy,” Xiong replied, deadpan.
“So what if I am?” Shen said without turning around.
“Were you lonely? Is that why you’re here?”
“Maybe.”
Shen wasn’t really sure what happened after that. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Then he heard Xiong hum, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing over. A second passed. Maybe two. Maybe longer.
And slowly, Xiong turned his head too, catching Shen’s gaze. Round eyes, lips slightly parted to reveal small teeth. That familiar face, lit just enough by the bedside lamp, looked impossibly soft. Always so fucking pretty.
One second they were staring at each other, and the next, Xiong kissed him. It was a tentative touch, like he wasn’t really sure about it.
What the fuck.
Shen’s heart was pounding in his chest. It felt absolutely wonderful—but also strange. Well, not strange. Just surprising. Unexpected. Then again, Xiong had always done things like this—touching him with a kind of soft familiarity that drove him absolutely insane.
He froze, too afraid to move. And slowly, like a cat stretching, Xiong leaned back. His eyes—big, round, and unreadable—stayed fixed on Shen.
He just looked so soft. Hair still damp from the shower, skin warm and flushed pink. And Shen was a healthy, nineteen-year-old guy—his brain couldn’t not notice the curve of Xiong’s lips, the little cupid’s bow, the mole on his chest just barely visible through his shirt.
And fuck, he’d known there was something weird between them. Some unspoken thing. But he hadn’t thought Xiong would actually kiss him.
Okay—maybe he’d thought about it. Once. Or twice. Or… several times.
But—
Oh, fuck it.
Shen kissed him back. Just their lips, barely moving at first. But it grew warmer, heavier, and he tentatively brushed his tongue across Xiong’s lips. He felt Xiong shudder, but he didn’t pull away.
Shen’s hand moved to his neck as the kiss deepened. He’d kissed a girl or two before, sure, but never like this. Never in a quiet hotel room, on a soft mattress, just the two of them with no one around to interrupt.
Xiong was so warm, while the room around them felt cold. Shen moved closer, letting his other arm slide around Xiong’s waist.
He tried using his tongue again, slipping it gently between parted lips, and—wow—Xiong let him in. Warm. A little minty, like toothpaste.
“Xiong,” he muttered, breath catching. “Wow. Xiong…”
He heard a soft moan, and that sound made something snap. He pushed Xiong gently down onto the bed, hovering over him, kissing him harder now, with a kind of hungry awe. Shit. He’d never done it like this before. He could feel himself getting hard.
“Xiong—”
He didn’t even realize his hand had gripped Xiong’s waist that tightly. He hoped it didn’t hurt. His mouth was trailing lower now, across his jaw, to the curve of his neck.
“Shen—” Xiong’s voice was breathless. “Careful. Don’t leave any marks.”
“Oh. Right.”
He hadn’t even thought about that. But now that Xiong had mentioned it… he kind of wanted to. To leave a few light brushes where no one else would see.
“Xiong,” he whispered, “can I take off your top?”
“Hm.”
Shen wasn’t sure what that hm meant. A yes? A maybe? A try and see what happens? But Xiong didn’t stop him. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t look scared.
So, with trembling fingers, Shen reached for the hem of his shirt and gently tugged it upward. Xiong lifted his arms wordlessly, and the fabric peeled away, exposing his chest to the cool hotel air.
Shen stared.
Oh, that tantalizing skin—the same one that had haunted his dreams since debut night. Shen kissed Xiong’s stomach, flat and taut and easily the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. If only Xiong knew how many times Shen had replayed his part in the Liar performance…
He reached out slowly, fingers grazing along the skin just beneath Xiong’s collarbone. It was warm, rising and falling with shallow breaths. His thumb found that tiny mole he’d always noticed, and this time, he touched it. Xiong’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t speak.
And then, shyly, with a quick glance at Xiong’s face, Shen dipped his head, lips brushing over one nipple.
Xiong gasped—his hips jerking slightly—and Shen froze for half a second, eyes darting up again. Shit. What he saw was Xiong biting his lip, eyes half-lidded, staring back at him. He’s so sensual it should be a crime.
A thrill ran down Shen’s spine. He likes it. He really—
Shen grinned, emboldened. He kissed it again, more deliberately this time. Licked it gently. Xiong moaned, hand finding the back of Shen’s head and threading through his hair. He bit down, softly, experimentally. Xiong shivered.
“You like that?” Shen whispered, lips still brushing the sensitive peak, feeling it harden against his mouth.
“Shut up.”
Xiong’s voice was rough, deeper than Shen had ever heard it. That alone nearly undid him. He trailed a line of kisses down Xiong’s chest, then his stomach. He stopped at the waistband of Xiong’s pajama pants, where bare skin disappeared under soft fabric. He hovered there, his hand trembling slightly.
“Can I touch you?”
Silence. He looked up. Xiong was biting his lip again, red and flushed, but his breathing was shallow, erratic.
Finally, barely audible, “I’ve never done this before.”
Blood rushed to Shen’s cheeks, his neck burning.
“Me neither,” he whispered.
For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing. Then, gently, Xiong reached up and curled his fingers behind Shen’s neck, guiding him down. Shen followed instinctively, closing his eyes as their mouths met again. It was warm, and soft, and Xiong—beautiful Xiong, who had become such a constant in his life these past few months.
He slowly lowered his body until their chests touched, until he could feel their hips press together—his arousal meeting Xiong’s. He groaned, unable to stop himself.
Fuck.
Xiong’s fingers gripped his hair tighter, his breath hot against Shen’s ear. The sound—raw and desperate—was the filthiest, most real thing Shen had ever heard. No porn could compare to this.
“Shen—”
“Yeah?”
“Shen Yisheng—”
He rolled his hips again, slowly, and Xiong moaned, right into his ear. Never in his life had he imagined doing this with a friend—a male friend—but heaven's above, it felt good. Too good.
He couldn’t stop. Couldn’t not touch him now. He didn’t know how long it lasted. Minutes? Hours? They kept kissing, messier now, tongues and teeth, filthy and hot, until suddenly Shen stilled—body going rigid—and he came in his pants with a groan. He felt Xiong meet his final thrust before stilling, too.
The world paused.
Shit.
“Wow—” Shen whispered, panting, resting his forehead against Xiong’s shoulder, and then collapsed on top of him. The man beneath him groaned in protest and gave his arm a light slap.
“Xiong, you sounded really hot just now.”
“Shut up,” Xiong muttered, poking his waist. “You’re heavy, Samoyed.”
Shen laughed, warm and breathless, and rolled off to the side.
For a while, they said nothing. Just lay there. Shen reached out blindly until Xiong’s fingers found his first, and their fingers laced together. Their hands fit so easily, like they'd done this a thousand times. They lay like that for a while, not speaking, just letting the quiet settle around them.
Later—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week—Shen would think about what this meant. Maybe he’d feel embarrassed about coming in his pants, or the kissing, or the way he had trembled like a kid. But right now, none of that mattered.
He turned his head, just enough to see Xiong’s profile in the dim light. Flushed cheeks, lashes casting shadows. Beautiful.
Right now, all he wanted was to lie there and listen to Xiong breathe beside him, fingers twined like they belonged together.