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Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng wakes up to a throbbing headache and a dry throat. He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the morning sun streaming in through the window and curses his past self for thinking it was a good idea to go drink for drink with Wei Ying. 

Forcing his eyes open, he blink groggily up at the ceiling, and then jolts upright with a start. A wave of nausea hits him as he sits up but he forces it down and looks around at his unfamiliar surroundings. 

He is very much not in his bedroom right now. This room is larger, much neater, and more tastefully decorated. The pale blue bedsheets are clearly expensive, and the art on the walls looks like originals rather than prints. Squinting against the sunlight, Jiang Cheng can make out the silhouettes of the city through the window, though the angle makes it clear he’s in an apartment on an upper floor of some high rise. 

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and tries very hard to think back to the events of the previous night. 

He and Wei Ying had gone out for drinks to celebrate their exams being over. It was meant to be a lowkey event, but as with all things Wei Ying has a hand in, it had quickly spiraled out of control. More and more people had joined the party, many of whom Jiang Cheng wasn’t even confident he actually knew. After the group got too big and rowdy to stay at the bar, Nie Huisang had suggested they all relocate to a club he knew nearby. 

Things get fuzzy pretty quickly after that, but somewhere along the way he must have gotten too plastered to make his own way home, and one of the other partygoers must have taken him back to their place. 

Jiang Cheng sighs. He can only hope he didn’t embarrass himself too much in front of whoever’s apartment this is, but there’s no time to worry about that now. He’s disgustingly hungover and really, really just wants to go home. 

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up. He only makes it one step towards the door before his foot catches on something and he loses his balance, toppling to the floor with a thud. Groaning at the impact and sudden wave of nausea that follows, he turns to scowl at whatever it was that tripped him over. 

 On the floor, sticking half out from under the bed, is a box. The lid must have gotten dislodged when he tripped on it, and inside the box, there’s… a bunch of stuff Jiang Cheng can’t really parse in his current state. Right on top, though, is a pair of white leather handcuffs, joined by a sturdy silver chain. 

Before he can stop himself, Jiang Cheng reaches out and picks them up. They feel heavy, too heavy to be a gag gift or some cheap thing someone picked up on a whim. Jiang Cheng’s no expert, but they feel expensive, maybe even custom made. Experimentally, he gives the chain a tug, but as expected, it holds easily. 

Just then, to his horror, Jiang Cheng hears a clock behind him and the door swings open. He turns to look, and sees a tall, handsome, painfully familiar person standing there. 

Lan Huan glances at Jiang Cheng where he sits frozen on the floor, then his eyes flick to the pair of handcuffs Jiang Cheng is still holding. He raises an eyebrow and his lips quirk into what looks like a tiny, amused smile. Then he meets Jiang Cheng’s gaze again, steadily, as if Jiang Cheng isn’t sitting on his bedroom floor holding a pair of very expensive handcuffs.

“I-uh, fuck. Sorry,” Jiang Cheng stutters out, dropping the handcuffs back into the box like he’s been burned. “I didn’t- it was- uh,” he can feel his cheeks reddening as he fumbles for the words to explain what happened, before he gives up. “Fuck. Sorry. I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

Lan Huan is still smiling at him, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement and holds out a glass of water. 

“I thought you might need this,” he says.

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng replies miserably, reaching out to take it. He chugs it all quickly, grateful for the blessed relief of cool water on his parched throat. 

“Anything else you need?” Lan Huan asks, like the gracious host he is. “I don’t have coffee I’m afraid, but I can make you some tea, or if you’re hungry I can get you some breakfast?”

“No, thanks,” Jiang Cheng says, finally pushing himself up off the floor. He makes a vain attempt to straighten out his clothes, and runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t even want to know how much of a mess he probably is right now, especially not with Lan Huan looking so perfectly put together. “I should probably get going.”

Lan Huan nods. “I’ll show you out.”

At the door, Jiang Cheng pauses, shooting a glance at Lan Huan. “Um, thanks for taking me home last night,” he says awkwardly. “It can’t have been fun for you to take care of my drunk ass.” 

Lan Huan shakes his head politely. “No worries, Jiang Cheng. I’m glad Lan Zhan called me to pick you up. If anything, I’m sorry for bringing you back to mine, but you weren’t exactly in a state to tell me what your address is.”

Jiang Cheng winces. God, Lan Huan must be a saint if he’s willing to go out of his way to pick up his little brother’s boyfriend’s brother from some rowdy party. 

“Well, thanks. I appreciate it.” He rubs the back of his neck self consciously. “I’ll, uh, see you around.”

“Yes, see you around, Jiang Cheng.” Lan Huan smiles at him again, and it looks so genuine that it makes Jiang Cheng feel even more ashamed. 

He says nothing more before fleeing out the door, ordering an Uber on his way to the lift. As soon as he’s in the car and out of sight of Lan Huan’s apartment he breathes a sigh of relief. 

Then he wonders how he’s ever supposed to face the man again. 

——

Over the next few days, Jiang Cheng finds himself thinking about the events of that morning over and over again. 

He doesn’t know Lan Huan well. He’s met the guy a few times, but they’ve barely spoken. Wei Ying once told him that Lan Huan is a lecturer at their university, but he’s in the classics department, and Jiang Cheng studies business, so they’ve never crossed paths that way. 

His impression of Lan Huan had always been that the man is a. shockingly handsome, b. polite and friendly, and c. kind of…bland. Perhaps he might have thought differently if they knew each other better, but Jiang Cheng had never found much about him particularly interesting. He certainly never would have guessed Lan Huan would be into tying people up. 

Jiang Cheng thinks back to the handcuffs. He remembers how when he tugged on the chain, there was no give whatsoever. He wonders how hard you would have to pull to break it, or if it’s even possible to break it. 

He thinks about what it must feel like, to be tied up with no way of escaping no matter how hard you struggle. Involuntarily, he shivers at the idea. 

What would happen next? Is Lan Huan into fucking his partners while they’re tied up and at his mercy? Or maybe it’s more than that. Jiang Cheng can’t remember everything he saw in that box, but he’s pretty sure there was some kind of paddle in there. 

 After two days of nonstop thinking about it, Jiang Cheng decides to do some research. That evening, he opens his computer, and does some searching until he finds a website that looks promising. It’s a BDSM educational website, with information on all sorts of kinks. 

The more he searches the more it seems like handcuffs are pretty tame as far as this stuff goes. Some of it piques his interest, other stuff makes him feel a little queasy. 

Finally, he finds himself on a page that gives him pause. The page is about rope bondage, and features pictures of models trussed up in intricate knotwork. Some of it seems to be purely aesthetic, while other configurations are clearly for the purpose of restraint. 

He pauses over one image, of a muscular, hairy man in a complex series of ties. He’s on his front, with his arms restrained behind his back, and his knees bent underneath him. Ropes circle around his calves and thighs, preventing him from straightening his legs. He seems to be entirely immobilized by the criss-cross pattern of knots, but more than anything else, Jiang Cheng is focused on his face. His expression is nearly rapturous, like there’s nowhere else he would rather be. His gaze is focused on someone out of frame, presumably the one who tied him up, and the look in his eyes is so open and trusting it makes Jiang Cheng feel almost uncomfortable, as if he’s intruding on what should be a private moment.

After a moment, Jiang Cheng exits the tab and shuts his laptop. He feels strange; irritable and restless for some reason he can’t quite articulate, even to himself. 

Jiang Cheng isn’t a prude, and he’s not totally innocent either. Admittedly he hasn’t ever been in a relationship, unless you count the girl he ‘dated’ for a few weeks in middle school, but the most they did was hold hands and have a few underwhelming kisses behind the school. But he’s had a handful of one night stands since starting college. They were all quick and meaningless, just sex for the sake of getting off. Not bad, but nothing particularly interesting either. 

Definitely nothing like what Lan Huan seems to be in to. 

It’s not like he’s totally clueless about BDSM either. He’s watched porn before. And he’s heard girls talking about getting tied up or spanked by their boyfriends. But that’s just it, isn’t it? Jiang Cheng’s never heard of guys wanting to be on the receiving end of that kind of stuff. Something about the thought makes shame curl heavily in his gut.

He thinks about Lan Huan using those handcuffs on some beautiful, nameless woman. She’s probably small and slender and submits sweetly to being tied up. She probably arches her back and moans prettily as he fucks her. 

He wonders if it’s purely a sexual relationship or if he’s dating someone. He hasn’t heard of Lan Huan having a girlfriend, but somehow he can’t imagine him having some sort of casual, fuck buddy relationship with a girl. She must be gorgeous, if she managed to get with Lan Huan. They probably look like a pair of fucking supermodels together. 

Jiang Cheng feels his nails dig painfully into his palms and realises he’s clenching his fists harshly. In fact, he’s tense all over, shoulder bunched up by his ears and forehead creased in a frown. 

He shakes his head like he can clear his thoughts away by force. What Lan Huan does and who he does it with in his private time is his own business, Jiang Cheng thinks to himself firmly. 

He gets up off the sofa and heads off to take a shower, ignoring the prickling discomfort he still feels across his whole body. He also steadfastly ignores his half hard cock. 

He tried to, anyway, but lying in bed later after a shower, he still feels an irritating buzz of arousal coursing through him. He lies there for a while trying to fall asleep but it’s no use. So with an annoyed huff, he opens his phone and searches up a video. 

He picks one at random and kicks off his boxers, palming himself to hardness as he watches. The video isn’t anything special, just the type of thing Jiang Cheng’s gotten off to in the past when he needed the release of an orgasm. The girl in the video is on her knees, sucking a guy off and making loud, exaggerated moans. Normally, it would do the trick, but tonight it feels…inadequate. 

Jiang Cheng’s hard, but his release is building up so slowly it’s more frustrating than anything else. The video isn’t helping, and the longer he watches, the more frustrated he gets. Eventually, he gives up, turning it off and tossing his phone on the nightstand. 

He rolls onto his back, still lazily stroking his dick. Unbidden, his mind brings up the image of that guy from the BDSM website, tied up and helpless. It sends a shiver down his spine, and he feels precum begin to leak from his tip. He strokes himself a little faster, thinking about the man’s face, eyes glazed over and hazy with pleasure. He wonders how it would feel, to have ropes pressing into his skin, keeping him perfectly still in exactly the position he’s placed in, without even the option of movement. 

His breaths are coming faster now as he pumps his cock, now slick with precum. His traitorous brain wanders back to Lan Huan, but he’s too keyed up to even try to derail that train of thought. He thinks about the handcuffs, and the paddle he’d glimpsed. He thinks about Lan Huan holding it and standing over him with a genial, polite smile.

In his imagination, Lan Huan taps the paddle lightly against his own palm, like he's testing the weight of it. Then his strong, well-muscled arm brings it down on the inside of Jiang Cheng’s thigh full force, the sound of it reverberating. 

Jiang Cheng comes with a muffled groan. For a few, blissful seconds his mind is blank, and then reality comes rushing back in. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, and throws his clean hand across his face like he can block out the memory of what just got him off. 

With a resigned sigh, he  halfheartedly cleans himself up with a tissue and pulls his boxers back on. At the very least, his orgasm did the job and tired him out enough that he can’t really focus on being ashamed of…whatever that was.  

He lets his eyes drift shut, and resolves himself to think no more about Lan Huan’s sex life. 

——

He makes good on his promise for a whole three days. 

He still feels vaguely guilty and ashamed for his late night, lust induced fantasies, but that’s all they were. Just fantasies about some guy he barely knows, triggered by the unfortunate discovery that the guy in question might be some kind of kinky sex freak. Or maybe he’s not! It’s none of Jiang Cheng’s business, and it’s not like he sees Lan Huan enough for it to matter anyway. 

So he goes about his business as usual, and jerks off a normal amount, and he doesn’t think about anything weird at all as he does. 

“Are you still coming to Huisang’s birthday party this weekend?” Wei Ying asks over the phone. 

Jiang Cheng frowns, shifting the phone so he can hold it between his cheek and his shoulder as he preps vegetables for dinner. 

“Fuck, that’s this weekend?” 

“Yep,” Wei Ying replies, popping the ‘p’. “You have to come, I already said you would and he’ll get all pissy with me if you don’t.”

“Fuck you,” Jiang Cheng says, but there’s no real heat behind the words. “Why are you even asking if you already made the decision for me?”

Wei Ying laughs brightly, like he finds Jiang Cheng’s anger delightful. “Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t want to. Huisang’s parties are so much fun!”

“Huisang’s parties are ridiculous and over the top,” Jiang Cheng replies. “Why does his stupid birthday have to be so close to finals week? I still feel hungover from the afterparty.”

“Oh my poor didi, are you getting too old to have fun? Can’t handle your liquor anymore?” Wei Ying teases.

“Shut the fuck up, who said I couldn’t handle it?”

Wei Ying dissolves into giggles again, and Jiang Cheng grits his teeth in annoyance. 

“Fine, fine, of course you can handle it,” Wei Ying says once his laughter subsides. “By the way, did you get home from the party alright? Lan Zhan said he called his brother to pick you up.”

Jiang Cheng ignores the flush that he instantly feels heating his cheeks. “Yeah, it was fine. He didn’t know my address, so he took me back to his apartment.”

“Oh good. Lan Huan’s so nice, don’t you think?”

“Tch. Whatever.”

“What do you mean whatever?” Wei Ying seizes on Jiang Cheng’s tone like a dog with a bone. “Was he not nice? Did he do something? If something happened, I’ll beat him up for you.” 

 “No!” Jiang Cheng scowls. “He did nothing and nothing happened.”

“Hmm, if you say so,” Wei Ying says, unconvinced. “I hope you’re not lying. I’d hate to have to beat up Lan Zhan’s brother.”

“I’m not lying,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Stop talking about it.”

“Okay, okay, jeez.” Wei Ying says, blessedly taking the unsubtle hint and dropping the subject. “Well anyway, Lan Zhan and I are going to lunch, and I’m about to be late, so I have to run. But I’ll see you at Huisang’s on Saturday, okay?”

Jiang Cheng gives an affirmative grunt and hangs 

up. His face still feels warm for reasons he can’t quite explain and he curses himself internally. There’s less than no reason for him to be acting like this, getting embarrassed over such a tiny, insignificant thing. 

He grips the knife in his hand tightly and goes back to chopping up vegetables, muttering harshly under his breath to, “get a fucking grip.”

——

The next few days drag on slowly. With no class to focus on and Wei Ying busy hanging out with Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng finds himself horribly bored. 

By the time the weekend rolls around, he’s more than ready for a distraction so he’s glad to have Nie Huisang’s party as an excuse. Wei Ying texts him that morning to remind him, and Jiang Cheng sends back a snarky text in response. Wei Ying’s only reaction, as usual, is a long string of laughing emojis. 

Huisang’s party, as is tradition, is extravagant, and worse, themed. This year's theme is 1920s art deco. Wei Ying had dragged him shopping for outfits weeks ago, and forced him to buy a tailored, lilac waistcoat and matching trousers, with a black dress shirt to go with them. He feels a little ridiculous as he gets dressed, but Huisang is a stickler for a theme and has been known to turn guests away if they aren’t dressed appropriately. 

When Jiang Cheng arrives, the party is already in full swing. Huisang lives with his brother in the stupidly massive house they inherited after their parents died, and even from the street the music is loud enough to be heard clearly. 

Jiang Cheng lets himself in without bothering to knock, and is greeted by a swell of people. Most people he doesn’t know, although he catches sight of a few people he’s seen around campus before. It always shocks him how Nie Huisang knows so many people, but he’s always been a social butterfly. Jiang Cheng can’t imagine the effort it would take to maintain all these social connections, but Huisang seems to thrive on it.

He makes his way to the kitchen, where a makeshift bar has been set up with more varieties of liquor than Jiang Cheng could even name. He pours himself something, knowing he’ll need the liquid courage to make it through the night, and then heads off to find Huisang. 

He finds him in the living room, where an honest to god dj booth has been set up and is playing some kind of house music that grates at Jiang Cheng’s skull. Huisang’s dancing with a group of people, but as soon as he spots Jiang Cheng he waves enthusiastically and extricates himself from the crowd to come greet him. 

 “A-Cheng!” He shouts over the music, throwing his arms around Jiang Cheng in a tight hug and barely managing to avoid sloshing his drink all over the carpet. “It’s so good to see you.”

His cheeks are already flushed with drink, and when he pulls back he gives Jiang Cheng a smile so wide it looks like it hurts. 

“Happy Birthday,” Jiang Cheng says, thrusting a bottle of champagne at him.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Huisang says, reaching out eagerly to take it despite his words. “No, really, you shouldn’t have. I mean did you see how full the bar is? Not that I’m complaining,” he pauses and fixes Jiang Cheng with a mock serious expression. “I’m serious a-Cheng, if you ever hear me complain about being given alcohol, call the cops. My identity has been stolen.”

Jiang Cheng’s lips quirk up while Huisang dissolves into a fit of giggles at his own joke. 

“Have you seen Wei Ying anywhere?”

Huisang pouts, “abandoning me already? On my birthday? You’re so heartless, a-Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “You’ll survive, it looks like you have plenty of people who want your attention,” he nods at the group of people Huisang was just dancing with. “And besides, your birthday’s on Tuesday.”

Nie Huisang pretends to swoon and looks up at Jiang Cheng with big, dark eyes a little hazy from alcohol. “Aww, you remembered! I guess you do care after all.”

Jiang Cheng punches him lightly in the shoulder. 

“Ow! Okay, I’ll stop teasing,” Huisang laughs. “Yeah, I think Wei Ying’s outside, there’s a fire going. Fair warning though, he was draped all over Lan Zhan last I saw him.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Of course he is,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

“Ah, young love,” Huisang sighs wistfully, and then glances at Jiang Cheng with a playful smirk. “You know, a-Cheng, if you ever want me to play matchmaker for you-“

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jiang Cheng cuts him off with a scowl. “I’m going outside.”

Huisang laughs again and waves him away. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you later.” Jiang Cheng nods and turns to leave, but Huisang calls after him. “Get drunk! Have fun! Maybe kiss someone! Live a little, a-Cheng!”

Jiang Cheng flips him off over his shoulder, then downs the rest of his drink in one quick gulp. He stops by the kitchen to grab another before heading for the sliding door that leads to the backyard. 

Outside, the air is cooler and the overwhelmingly loud music is blessedly muffled. There’s a fire going, and chairs set up in a loose circle around it. Jiang Cheng glances around, but sees no sign of Wei Ying. He huffs, and turns to go back inside when he collides with a solid mass behind him. 

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters, stumbling back and spilling his drink all over his hand. A hand shoots out to steady him, preventing him from tripping over completely “Sorry, I-“ He stops when looks up and sees who it is he just bumped into. 

“My fault,” Lan Huan says with a warm smile. “I should have been paying more attention. I’m sorry, I made you spill your drink.”

“Uhh,” Jiang Cheng says, intelligently. Then his brain seems to come back online and he takes a step back, letting Lan Huan’s hand drop from his arm. “It’s fine. No need to apologise.” 

Lan Huan shakes his head. “At least let me get you a new one.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “I mean, it’s not like I paid for it. I can just get myself one.”

Lan Huan’s lips quirk as if Jiang Cheng said something funny. “I suppose that’s true. Let’s go get one together then, and we can clean up your hand while we’re at it.”

“Um. Okay, sure I guess.” 

Jiang Cheng allows himself to be ushered inside. Lan Huan leads him to the kitchen and hands him a tea towel. Then, he pours them both a drink. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even ask what it is before taking it with an awkward, muttered “thanks.”

Whatever it is, it’s definitely alcoholic. Jiang Cheng watches Lan Huan take a sip of his own and narrows his eyes at him. 

“I thought you Lan’s didn’t drink.”

Lan Huan smiles wryly. “Did my brother tell you that?”

Jiang Cheng nods. To be specific, Wei Ying had told him about it, but same difference. 

“”It’s frowned on in my family. We’re a bit traditional.” He laughs and scratches the back of his neck, almost self consciously. “Lan Zhan takes that rule more seriously than I do. Although, to tell you the truth, I don’t drink often either. But, well, it's a special occasion.”

“Oh, right.” There’s a moment of awkward silence, and Jiang Cheng scrambles for something to fill it. “I didn’t think you’d come to something like this. How do you even know Nie Huisang?”

It comes out rougher than he means, and he winces internally at how accusatory his tone sounds. Lan Huan, thankfully, doesn’t seem to take it personally.

“Nie Mingjue asked me to come. We’ve known each other since we were children.” Lan Huan glances fondly towards the living room, where Huisang is visible, doing jell-o shots while a group of people cheer him on. “I guess I think of Huisang like a little brother, so of course I wanted to celebrate his birthday.”

“Oh, right,” Jiang Cheng takes a long sip of his drink. “I don’t remember seeing you at last year’s party.”

“I was away at a conference. But most years I come, at least for a little while.” Lan Huan looks down at his drink, then glances at Jiang Cheng with an amused grin. “I can’t blame you for not noticing, you’re usually not in a state to remember much the next morning, if I recall.”

Jiang Cheng feels himself flush and looks away, taking an angry gulp of his drink. He hears Lan Huan laugh softly.

“Sorry,” he says, and bumps his shoulder against Jiang Cheng’s gently. When did they get so close? “I shouldn’t tease.”

“Whatever,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and goes to take another drink only to realise it’s empty. He pours himself another, and glances at Lan Huan to offer him a refill too, but he shakes his head, gesturing to his still mostly full cup. 

Abruptly, the song playing from the living room changes, the music somehow getting even louder, and is met by cheers from the crowd. Jiang Cheng winces, pinching the bridge of his nose against the onslaught of noise.

He feels a hand at his elbow and looks to see Lan Huan next to him again, leaning in close to be heard over the music.

“Would you like to head back outside?” He asks. His breath brushes over Jiang Cheng’s ear and he fights not to react. “It’s a little overwhelming in here.”

Jiang Cheng nods and follows Lan Huan’s lead through the crush of people. Outside, he sucks in a deep breath, the cooler air a welcome relief after the close, crowded atmosphere inside. 

They take seats next to each other by the fire. Lan Huan sips at his drink, seemingly content to sit quietly and watch the fire. But Jiang Cheng feels restless in the quiet, unsure of how to act around the other man. He searches for something to say and, regrettably, lands on the first thing he can think of.

“So is your girlfriend here?”

Lan Huan startles, looking caught off guard for the first time. “My what?”

“Your…girlfriend?”

“What makes you think I have a girlfriend?” he asks, incredulous. 

“It’s just– I assumed…” Jiang Cheng curses himself internally, but barrels on. “You know, I saw that stuff at your place, so I guessed you must–” He cuts himself off and looks away, staring into the fire. “I just assumed.”

“I see,” Lan Huan responds after a moment. Jiang Cheng refuses to look at him, but he thinks he hears amusement in his voice. “To clarify, I’m gay. Also that’s not really how it works.”

“Oh, right,” 

Jiang Cheng fights to keep his expression steady as he tries to process this new information, reforming everything he thought he knew about Lan Huan. He’s starting to feel a little hazy from the alcohol. Later, when he looks back on this moment, that’s what he’ll blame for the next thing he blurts out.

“So how does it work?”

He chances a look at Lan Huan then, and finds him looking back, head tilted and a smile playing over his lips. 

“Are you curious?”

It sounds almost like a challenge, and Jiang Cheng bristles. “So what if I am?”

The smile breaks into a proper grin then, and Lan Huan laughs. “I’ll tell you, if you like. Just,” he pauses, looks Jiang Cheng up and down like he’s assessing him for something, “don’t go spreading it around, okay? I’m sure you won’t, but you know. I teach at the university, I have my reputation to worry about.”

“I won’t tell anyone anything,” Jiang Cheng snaps. He’s annoyed at himself for asking, but he’s dug his grave and has no choice but to lie in it.

“Good,” Lan Huan smiles warmly. “Well, I’m not sure how familiar you are with the scene. But I dom for people who want to submit for me. It’s a different kind of relationship than dating.”

“So it’s just a sex thing.”

“Sometimes. But for most people I think it’s more about giving up control, surrendering to someone and trusting them to take care of you. Sex isn’t always involved.”

Lan Huan says it so candidly and calmly, but Jiang Cheng can feel his ears burning with heat. He hopes desperately that the flickering light of the fire isn’t bright enough to make it obvious. 

“There’s a lot of ways submission can happen,” Lan Huan continues. “Restraint, pain, pleasure, discipline, it all just depends on what the people involved want.” Lan Huan looks at him then, dark eyes intense and glittering with something Jiang Cheng can’t name. “Does that answer your question?”

Jiang Cheng swallows harshly. He feels tense and off balance, aware he’s at a distinct disadvantage in this conversation. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I guess.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks, the only sound the crackling fire and the muffled music filtering out from the house. There’s a handful of other people out in the yard, but they’re all a distance away, gathered in small groups and having their own conversations. Right now, Jiang Cheng feels like it’s only the two of them in their own, fragile little bubble. 

Finally, Lan Huan breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something, Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng nods, not trusting himself to speak.

“If I’m off base, feel free to tell me, but,“ Lan Huan speaks slowly, carefully, like he’s measuring each word before he says them. “Are you…curious about trying it?”

Jiang Cheng flinches. His fight or flight instincts are screaming at him to get up and leave, to avoid whatever ridicule is about to come his way if he answers. He breathes in deep through his nose and meets Lan Huan’s warm, dark gaze. 

“Maybe,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I guess.”

Lan Huan blinks, as if he’s surprised by Jiang Cheng’s honesty. Which–yeah, Jiang Cheng can’t blame him, he’s more than a little surprised himself. In no universe would he have imagined this is how tonight was going to go. 

He leans in closer and Jiang Cheng feels suddenly that he can’t breathe. Lan Huan speaks softly, only just loud enough for Jiang Cheng to hear. 

“If you’re serious,” he says, gaze dark and intense, “I can–“

“A-Cheng!” 

Jiang Cheng jolts from the impact as arms thrown around his neck from behind him, jolting him out of whatever tense, quiet moment he’d been caught in. “Ow! Get off me, idiot,” he says, swatting at the familiar hands draped over his shoulder.

Lan Huan’s eyes flicker with irritation at the interruption, but then he pulls back, features sliding easily back into polite friendliness. 

“Wei Ying,” he says warmly. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too!” Wei Ying grins, and plops himself directly in Jiang Cheng’s lap without a care in the world for personal space. 

Lan Zhan stands behind him, face as stony and expressionless as ever. “Brother,” he says, nodding at Lan Huan, and then, “Jiang Cheng.” 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Wei Ying says, cheerfully ignoring Jiang Cheng’s attempts to push him away. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen my poor didi all night, I was worried he’d gotten lonely and bailed.”

“Fuck off,” Jiang Cheng scowls. “Not my fault I couldn’t find you. Where have you been anyway?”

Wei Ying blushes and ignores the question. “The suit was a good choice, a-Cheng, I’m glad you took my advice. Doesn’t he look nice?”

The question is directed at Lan Huan, who suppresses a smile and nods. “You do look nice, Jiang Cheng. It suits you.”

“See!” Wei Ying crows gleefully. “You should listen to your big brother more often.”

Lan Huan gets up from his seat as Jiang Cheng finally succeeds in shoving Wei Ying off his lap. Wei Ying laughs brightly as he tumbles to the ground, already holding out a hand to Lan Zhan, who pulls him up to stand without missing a beat.

“I’ll leave you to catch up,” Lan Huan says politely. “It was nice talking to you, Jiang Cheng. Oh, and about our conversation,” he reaches into a pocket of his jacket and pulls out a card, handing it to Jiang Cheng, “give me a call if you want to discuss further.”

He walks off with a wave and leaves Jiang Cheng to stare dazedly at the business card he’d just been handed. It’s white and embossed with Lan Huan’s name and phone number

“What were you and Lan Huan talking about?” Wei Ying asks, dropping into the now vacant chair next to him. 

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng replies, too quickly to not sound suspicious. “He, um,” he fishes around for a reasonable excuse and settles on; “he said he’d help me out with some career mentoring.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying says, then frowns. “Why would he do that? Doesn’t he teach classics? What advice could he give you about your future business career?”

“My brother is knowledgeable about lots of things,” Lan Zhan says, and for maybe the first time in his life Jiang Cheng is glad for his input. Lan Zhan makes eye contact with him and nods approvingly. “I’m sure he will be able to offer you valuable guidance.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Jiang Cheng responds, very deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

A few hours later, he leaves the party, head still buzzing pleasantly with alcohol. He gets into an uber to take him back to his apartment, and remembers the business card burning a hole in his pocket. He pulls it out and turns it over in his hands, glaring it like it’s personally offended him. 

Then, before he can think too hard about what he’s doing, he pulls out his phone, types in the number, and sends a text. 

To: Lan Huan

Hey. It’s Jiang Cheng

Chapter Text

The next morning, Jiang Cheng stares at his phone and curses his stupid, drunken self. 

From: Lan Huan
Jiang Cheng, I’m glad to hear from you. I assume this means you want to continue our conversation?

“Stupid,” Jiang Cheng mutters to himself and throws the phone aside. 

It’s too early and he’s too hungover to deal with…that. Instead he pulls himself out of bed, leaving his phone lying face down on the sheets where it landed.

He takes a shower and makes himself coffee and toast. He eats in front of the TV, staring at whatever show is on without really watching it. As he eats, he tries very, very hard not to think about the text, waiting for an answer. 

He can admit to himself that he’s curious. That much was obvious to him as soon as he saw the handcuffs in Lan Huan’s room and then couldn’t stop thinking about it for days afterwards. Contrary to what Wei Ying might think, he does possess some amount of self awareness. 

But what Lan Huan’s offering – or at least, what it sounded like he was offering – is a different matter altogether. 

It’s one thing to get hard thinking about being tied up, and another thing to actually let someone do it. Especially when the person doing it would be his brother’s boyfriend’s stupidly handsome older brother. 

Not to mention, Jiang Cheng’s never even been with a guy before. He has assumed himself to be straight for his whole life, and all his past experiences were with women. Even now, he’s still not sure. It’s not like he has to be gay to think that Lan Huan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that much. 

Lan Huan had said that it didn’t necessarily have to be a sex thing, but it still sounds very much like a sex thing to Jiang Cheng. 

He scrubs a hand across his face, fuming with irritation. He has no one to blame but himself for every stupid aspect of the situation he finds himself in, which just makes it worse. If only he had kept his damn mouth shut, he could have gone the rest of his life without having to examine the way his blood seems to burn at the thought of Lan Huan tying him up and hitting him.

He sits there for a while longer, glaring furiously at his empty coffee mug and turning everything over and over in his mind. Finally, he lets out a long, harsh breath and lets his head fall back against the sofa. 

“Fuck,” he says. 

Then he gets up and goes to his room to get his phone.

To: Lan Huan
Okay. Let’s talk.

It’s needlessly confrontational, but Jiang Cheng is still too furious to make himself be nicer. Barely a minute goes by before his phone buzzes with another text. 

From: Lan Huan
Just to make sure we’re on the same page, you said you were curious, so I’m offering to dom for you. Is that what you want?

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. 

To: Lan Huan
Yes. 
At least, I think so.

From: Lan Huan
Okay, good. If at any time you decide you don’t want to, you can tell me and we can never speak of this again. Sound good?

Jiang Cheng lets out a low, relieved breath. He hadn’t even realised how anxious he’d been, but the knowledge that Lan Huan won’t hold it against him if he backs out is reassuring. 

To: Lan Huan
Sounds good. So what now?

From: Lan Huan
Fill this out and send it back to me. There’s no rush, so please take your time and think it through carefully. When you’re done we can discuss more details. 

With the message, Lan Huan sends him a link. Jiang Cheng clicks on it and it takes him to a long, extremely detailed checklist of kinks. He feels his cheeks flush instantly. 

He takes his time filling it out, like Lan Huan had suggested. Although, a significant amount of that time is spent closing his phone and resolutely deciding he’s changed his mind, only to reopen it a few minutes later. Finally finished, he sends it back to Lan Huan, scowling at his phone like it’s offended him.

Lan Huan doesn’t respond straight away. It makes Jiang Cheng fidgety and nervous, which in turn makes him angry. He stares at his phone for a few minutes, waiting for a notification. When none comes, he shoves it down in between some couch cushions and starts vacuuming the apartment, just for something to do. 

When he’s done, he cleans the kitchen too, and the bathroom. He changes his sheets and does his laundry. He’s not an untidy person to begin with, but by the time he’s done, the apartment is cleaner than it’s been in the whole time he’s lived there. 

Finally, with no chores left to distract him, he digs his phone out from between the couch cushions. He very much does not sigh in relief when he sees the notification light up on the screen.

Lan Huan has sent him back a link to his own checklist, along with a request for them to find time for a phone call to talk through specifics. Jiang Cheng skims Lan Huan’s checklist, face hot with embarrassment and a low, simmering arousal. He sends back a text saying he’s free the following evening to talk. Technically, he has nothing on that night either, but he’s too keyed up to have a proper conversation about anything. 

Lan Huan sends him back a text confirming a time, and ends it with a smiley face. Jiang Cheng stares at it for what is probably too long. 

Abruptly, he stands up, pockets his phone, and decides to head to the gym. He needs desperately to work out some of his nervous energy. His bag is already by the door, so he grabs it on his way out and resolves to not think about Lan Huan or the upcoming conversation for the rest of the day. 

——

The next evening, Jiang Cheng finds himself sitting on the sofa, staring at his phone where he placed it on the coffee table. His leg bounces nervously as he waits for the agreed time. 

When the phone rings, it startles him so badly he actually jumps a little, and then chides himself for it internally. He takes a deep, steadying breath as he reaches for it, and presses the button to pick up. 

“Lan Huan,” he says by way of a greeting.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan replies, voice warm and gentle as always. “How are you?”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng replies woodenly. “And you?”

“Good. I’m glad you reached out to me after our conversation the other night.” 

That shocks Jiang Cheng momentarily speechless. The implication that Lan Huan had wanted him to reach out is too much for him to process, so he ignores it completely. “So, what did you want to discuss?”

Lan Huan laughs softly. “Straight to business, then? Okay, thank you for sending me your checklist. I was glad to see that many of our preferences seem to align.”

Jiang Cheng makes a vague affirmative noise into the receiver. He’d noticed the same thing when he’d skimmed through Lan Huan’s list. 

“I know I said this already, over text,” Lan Huan continues, “but it’s important you know that you can back out at any time. Even if we’re in the middle of a scene. Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

“Not really,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, feeling vaguely embarrassed at his own inexperience. 

“That’s okay. Essentially, it’s just an easy way for us to communicate if we’re comfortable with what’s happening or not, especially in a scene where consensual non-consent might be involved. Green means you’re comfortable and we can keep going, yellow means we need to pause and make some adjustments, red means we stop immediately and end the scene. Understand?”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Good,” Lan Huan says. “I’ll probably ask you for your colour at different points during a scene, but you can also say red or yellow at any time if you need to. I’m never going to be angry or disappointed if you need to stop, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. And then, because it doesn't feel like enough, he continues a little awkwardly, “I won’t be upset either. If you want to back out.”

“Thank you, Jiang Cheng, I appreciate you saying that.” Lan Huan sounds genuinely pleased, and Jiang Cheng feels an odd warmth in his chest in response. 

“Now then, is there anything specific you want to try for your first scene?”

“Uhh,” Jiang Cheng’s brain stalls and he feels his cheeks flush instantly. 

“If you’d prefer, I can come up with something using what you put on the list,” Lan Huan says gently. “But since it’s your first time, I’d rather it be something you’re excited about.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath swallowing his embarrassment. He’s an adult, he’s had sex before. He can get through this conversation. “Restraints,” he says quickly, while his courage lasts. “I don’t really mind what kind. You can choose.”

“Okay, good. Anything else?”

“Um,” Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fist tightly. “I’d like to be blindfolded.”

He hears Lan Huan hum through the speaker. “Great, I can work with that.”

“Great,” Jiang Cheng echoes. His throat feels painfully dry.

“So, when would you like to do this? I have evenings free this week, except Thursday.”

Jiang Cheng lets his head fall back against the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. “How’s Friday?”

“Perfect, does 7:30 work?”

“Mn.”

“Excellent, I’ll look forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng replies automatically. “Me too.”

“Good,” Lan Huan says, and Jiang Cheng can hear the smile in his voice. “Have a good night, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, good night.” 

The line goes dead and Jiang Cheng lets the hand holding his phone fall away from his ear to rest limply on the couch cushion. It all feels suddenly, painfully real. In just four, short days, Lan Huan is going to tie him up and blindfold him and do…something to him. Probably something sexual. 

The thought is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying, and it makes Jiang Cheng furious. He huffs and sits up, glaring at his phone as if he can project his anger through it to reach Lan Huan. 

He’s well aware he’s being unfair. Jiang Cheng was the one who asked in the first place, and Lan Huan has been nothing but kind and gentle the whole time, but in some ways that makes it worse. What right does he have, to spark desires in Jiang Cheng that he never would have thought about otherwise, and then act all sweet and innocent while he talks so matter-of-factly about how he’s going to methodically take him apart?

Jiang Cheng storms into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of wine. He holds the stem so tightly he thinks it might shatter, but he doesn’t have space to think about that with all the other thoughts clogging up his brain. He drinks it too quickly, but it calms him down a little, so he pours another. By the time he’s done with that one, his anger has mostly dissipated. 

He flops back down on the sofa and turns on the tv. The Bachelor is on, which Jiang Cheng hasn’t watched since Wei Ying moved out almost a year ago. It’s comforting, in an odd, nostalgic way despite how he used to roll his eyes and complain whenever Wei Ying forced him to watch it back then. 

With the tv droning quietly in the background, he opens his phone and absently scrolls through his texts with Lan Huan. It still doesn’t quite feel real, but with the alcohol buzzing gently in his system his anger and embarrassment from earlier has softened into a bubbly kind of nervousness that Jiang Cheng would probably call excitement if he thought about it any harder. 

Instead of thinking about it, he closes his phone and lets his brain turn off, focusing on the silly, overplayed drama playing out on the tv.

——

The next few days pass by slowly. 

He keeps himself busy. He goes to the gym a few times, calls Wei Ying to chat, and spends a few hours on the reading he’s supposed to do over the summer break. On Tuesday, he texts Nie Huisang to wish him happy birthday, and gets back an almost unintelligible, undoubtedly very drunk response. 

On Thursday, he goes to see Yanli for lunch. She greets him at the door with a smile and a tight hug, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

He’s been relegated to setting the table despite his insistence on helping out. Jiang Yanli has never allowed him or Wei Ying to help with her cooking, but now that she’s pregnant he can’t help hovering around anxiously, waiting to step in if she needs it.

“Mostly fine,” she replies, stirring the pot of soup on the stove. “The morning sickness has settled, but I still get headaches most days. Mostly I just feel more tired than usual.”

It’s visible on her face, in the dark circles under eyes and the tightness of her mouth. It makes Jiang Cheng’s chest ache. 

“Is the peacock helping?” He asks, not quite suppressing a scowl.

Yanli laughs and leans over to poke his cheek. “Don’t call him that. Yes, he’s helping plenty.” She sighs fondly. “He’s so excited to be a dad.”

“Not as excited as I am to be an uncle.”

“It’s not a competition,” Yanli scoffs, but she’s smiling brightly. “Now take the bowls over to the table, the soup’s almost ready.”

Jiang Cheng forgets all about his never ending quest to insult Jin Zixuan as soon as the food is served. Yanli, in all her perfect, big sister wisdom, has made pork rib and lotus root soup.

“A-Ying will be disappointed he couldn’t come,” she says as she ladles out the bowls. 

“Yeah right,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “He’s so busy with his boyfriend he’s forgotten all about us.”

Yanli clicks her tongue in admonishment, setting a full bowl down in front of him. “A-Cheng, don’t say that. He’s so happy, you should try to be happy for him as well.”

Jiang Cheng scowls into his bowl and takes a bite to avoid responding. 

“Anyway,” Yanli says, “how about you, a-Cheng? Are you seeing anyone?”

Jiang Cheng chokes on his mouthful of soup and feels his face flush red immediately.

“Oh, are you?” She says, eyes glittering brightly. “I thought something seemed different about you today, is that what it is?”

“No!” Jiang Cheng exclaims when he’s recovered. “No, fuck, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wh–? Of course I’m sure.”

“Ah, maybe I misread things then,” she says, but there’s a knowing glint in her eye that Jiang Cheng really doesn’t like. 

Jiang Cheng looks away, taking another spoonful of soup. 

“So, I heard you’re going to be getting some career mentoring from Lan Huan?”

Jiang Cheng manages, barely, not to choke again.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng stands outside Lan Huan’s apartment building and thinks about turning and walking away. 

He glares at the door like it’s offended him, fists balled tightly as his sides and jaw clenched. For the dozenth time that day, he opens his phone and scrolls through the messages Lan Huan had sent him, confirming the date, time, and location. Then he shoves the phone back into his pocket and eyes the door. 

Finally, with a frustrated noise, he strides up and presses the buzzer. There’s silence for a moment before it crackles to life.

“Jiang Cheng?” The voice sounds pleased, like Lan Huan is eager to see him.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Come on up, the doors open.”

The entire elevator ride up, Jiang Cheng feels vaguely nauseous. When he gets out on Lan Huan’s floor and heads toward the door to his apartment, he feels distinctly like he’s walking toward his own doom.

He knocks on the door. There’s a few moments of silence and Jiang Cheng spends them wondering if this is all some elaborate prank Lan Huan has cooked up to mess with him. 

Then the door opens, and Lan Huan is standing there, a warm smile on his face. 

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Uhh, hi.”

Jiang Cheng feels his cheeks warm with embarrassment, but Lan Huan’s smile grows wider. 

“Hi,” he responds, and then steps back and gestures inside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng mutters, stepping in and toeing off his shoes as the door closes behind him. 

When he looks up, he’s suddenly very aware of how close he and Lan Huan are, standing together in the entryway. Lan Huan is looking at him with that ever present smile, but there’s an intensity to his gaze that isn’t usually there. 

Jiang Cheng feels off-balance, as he so often does around Lan Huan recently. It doesn’t help that he looks…good. Really good. He’s wearing a fitted white shirt that shows off the breadth of his chest and dark blue trousers, a touch too formal for wearing around the house. His long, dark hair is tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, emphasizing the elegant curve of his throat.

Jiang Cheng feels remarkably underdressed all of a sudden. He has to remind himself to breathe normally.

“Come, I’ll make some tea,” Lan Huan says, and leads him into the living room. 

The apartment is as nice as Jiang Cheng remembers from his brief look at it last time. Everything is elegant and tasteful, all the furnishings matching without looking like it was ripped directly from the pages of a home decorating catalogue. Jiang Cheng sits on the plush, white sofa as Lan Huan putters around the kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later and hands him a steaming cup of tea. Jasmine, by the smell of it.

“Umm,” Jiang Cheng says, taking the cup as Lan Huan settles down next to him. “Thanks, but, aren’t we–I mean, I didn’t come here to drink tea with you.”

Lan Huan smiles gently. “You seemed nervous. And besides, there’s a few last things I wanted to talk to you about before we begin.”

“Like what?” Jiang Cheng asks. It comes out harsh, but he hates the reminder of how easily Lan Huan sees through him. 

“Well, first of all, I know I’ve said this already, but you can stop or back out at any time. I know you haven’t done this before, so if you decide you don’t like it we can stop, no hard feelings.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and blames the warmth in his chest on the tea. 

“Good, and another thing, during the scene, I don't want you calling me Lan Huan.”

“What, you want me to call you sir or something?” He can’t keep the mocking tone out of his voice, even as he suppresses the barest shiver at the idea.

“Not quite,” Lan Huan says with a small huff of laughter. “I want you to call me Xichen.” 

Jiang Cheng frowns. “Why?”

“It’s my courtesy name,” Lan Huan explains simply. “And, while we’re on the subject, ‘Jiang Cheng’ is a little too formal for this, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Jiang Cheng replies, shifting uncomfortably.

“So, would it be alright if I call you, a-Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng’s face screws up on reflex. The only people who call him that are his family and Nie Huisang, who couldn’t be stopped even if he tried. Not exactly people he wants to be thinking about under the circumstances.

Lan Huan laughs. “No good?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “You can, uh, call me Wanyin. I guess.” He glances at Lan Huan, who’s looking at him quizzically. “My family’s traditional enough to still give us courtesy names too.”

Lan Huan nods in understanding. “Wanyin,” he says quietly, like he’s testing it out. Then he smiles brightly. “Good, it suits you.”

Jiang Cheng wills himself not to blush. He’s not sure how successful he is.

“Okay, next thing,” Lan Huan continues. “I know we’ve discussed generally what we’ll be doing, but would you like to know what I have planned specifically? Or if you’d prefer, I can keep it a surprise.”

Jiang Cheng sips at his tea and thinks for a moment. “No, don’t tell me,” he decides.

“Wonderful,” Lan Huan gives him a mischievous smile. “To tell you the truth, I was hoping you’d say that. But I thought I’d give you the option.”

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng says flatly, though he can’t help but feel a little fond at how considerate Lan Huan is being. It’s not what he expected from an encounter that may or may not involve whips and chains, but it’s…nice. Pleasant and comforting.

“Final question, and then we can start. Do you have anything specific you think you’ll need for aftercare?”

Jiang Cheng frowns. He read something about this in his brief foray into research, but hadn’t looked any further. All at once, he’s reminded of how in over his head he is. “I’m– I don’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lan Huan lays a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll find anything too intense, so I can just do what I usually do for subs. If you need anything more, anything at all, you can ask me. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, are you finished with your tea?”

Jiang Cheng hands him the empty cup and Lan Huan stands up. 

“Now, Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s voice is still gentle, but there’s a note of authority that wasn’t there before, “you’re going to go into my bedroom and take your clothes off. You can fold them and put them on the dresser. Then you’re going to sit on the edge of the bed and wait for me, okay?”

Jiang Cheng nods mutely. 

“Use your words please.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Huan rewards him with a smile, and takes their cups to the kitchen. 

Jiang Cheng stands, feeling slightly unstable as his nerves return all at once. Willing his legs not to shake he heads to Lan Huan’s bedroom. 

Inside, it’s much the same as he remembers it, save for the familiar, white handcuffs placed deliberately on the sheets. Next to them, there’s a length of silky, dark blue fabric.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t look at them for long. His ears are already burning, so he hurries to strip out of his clothes, folding them carefully just as he’d been told to do. 

Then he’s sitting, naked, on the edge of Lan Huan’s bed.

Once again he feels the urge to run. It is suddenly and viciously real that he is about to lie back and let Lan Huan do whatever he wants to him, and it feels…wrong. Shameful in a way he can’t explain to himself. The entire thing is made worse by the fact that already he feels the stirrings arousal low in his stomach. He’s not yet half hard, but he knows it won’t take much.

Before he can talk himself out of it, the door opens and Lan Huan enters, shutting it softly behind him. He stops there by the door, appraising Jiang Cheng with a smirk. Jiang Cheng feels his shoulders tense, and he fights the urge to curl in on himself and hide. Instead, he looks Lan Huan in the eye with as much defiance as he can muster.

“Very good, Wanyin. You followed my instructions perfectly.” Lan Huan comes closer, closing the distance between them in a few short steps. He grips Jiang Cheng’s chin gently in one hand and tilts his face up towards him. “Do you remember the traffic light system?”

Jiang Cheng nods, throat suddenly dry. 

“Can you tell me what each colour means?”

Jiang Cheng’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before he answers, and he watches Lan Huan’s eyes follow the movement. “Green for keep going, yellow for pause and check in, red for stop.”

“Very good,” Lan Huan says, voice low as he runs a thumb absently along the line of Jiang Cheng’s jaw. “And what colour are you now?”

“Green.” Jiang Cheng finds the answer comes easier than he expected, as if all his earlier thoughts of bolting have dissolved. 

“Perfect.” 

Lan Huan lets go of his chin and steps away. Jiang Cheng suppresses a shiver, and tells himself it’s just the loss of body heat. A moment later, Lan Huan’s back in front of him, holding the strip of fabric. 

“Tilt your head up for me,” he says gently.

Carefully, he places the fabric over Jiang Cheng’s eyes, blocking his vision completely, and ties it securely behind his head. The fabric feels nice against his skin, soft and silky.

“Good?” Lan Huan’s voice sounds from right by his ear, close enough he can feel his breath ghosting across the skin.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng replies. “It’s good.”

“Good, now lie back for me.”

He lets Lan Huan maneuver him until he’s lying properly on the bed, and then hears a soft clinking sound. 

“Hands above your head, Wanyin.” 

Lan Huan’s hands smooth up his arms, placing them just where he wants. Then, Jiang Cheng feels smooth leather wrap around his left wrist, and hears the clasp slide into place.

“How does that feel? Not too tight?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“Wanyin, I need you to use your words, okay?” Lan Huan chides gently. 

“It’s good,” Jiang Cheng grits out. 

And it does feel good, too good. He’s embarrassingly aware that his cock is hardening between his bare legs. He feels the urge to hide, but before he can, Lan Huan is securing the other wrist, rendering his arms immobile.

“There you go,” Lan Huan says, his fingers waving Jiang Cheng’s wrists. “The chain’s looped around the headboard. Can you give it a tug for me? Don’t worry, you won’t break it.”

Jiang Cheng tugs hard, and feels his arms stopped short against the restraints. It sends a jolt of heat through him, and he breathes out harshly and lets his arms drop back against the covers. 

“Wanyin, can you tell me your colour?”

“Green,” Jiang Cheng responds breathily. 

“Perfect.”

Fingers slide gently across Jiang Cheng’s bare ribs, and he jolts against the feather light touch. He had thought the blindfold might make things easier, if he couldn’t see Lan Huan’s face, he assumed it would be less intense. He sees now how wrong he was, as Lan Huan continues running his hands softly over his skin. Every touch is electric, made more so by the fact he can’t see what’s happening, can’t even try to predict what will come next. 

“Relax, Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “How am I supposed to relax when you’re–ah!”

He cries out as his nipple is pinched suddenly, the sensation jolting through his body. 

He hears Lan Huan laugh softly. “You were the one who wanted this, remember? Just let yourself feel it, okay?”

Jiang Cheng wants to spit out a sarcastic reply, but then his nipple is tweaked again and all that comes out is a tiny, strangled gasp. Were his nipples always this sensitive? He’s never paid much attention to them before, but now every touch feels like it’s magnified a thousand times over. 

Lan Huan, the bastard, seems to take notice of Jiang Cheng’s reaction. His other hand comes up to join the first, tracing circles around Jiang Cheng’s other nipple. He can feel it hardening under the playful touches, and then, suddenly, it’s pinched harshly. His body arches involuntarily into the sensation and a strangled noise is pulled from his throat. 

“You’re so sensitive, Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s usually warm, gentle voice sounds so different like this. It’s hard to tell without seeing his face, but he sounds almost awed by Jiang Cheng’s embarrassing reactions. 

“Sh-shut up,” Jiang Cheng bites out.

“No,” Lan Huan replies simply, and pinches his nipple again for emphasis. 

He continues to torment him like that, one hand teasing at his nipples, pinching and squeezing and circling them intermittently. Meanwhile the other hand trails its way downwards, scratching lightly over his ribs and making him shiver. It stops at his hip, tracing over the jutting bone there, then ghosts across his stomach.

It’s so, unbearably close to where Jiang Cheng needs it most. He can feel himself, hard and leaking, but Lan Huan’s hands stay deliberately away. 

“Can I tell you how you look to me right now, Wanyin?” 

Jiang Cheng doesn’t say anything. He can’t, not with the way every feather-light touch is driving him steadily insane. 

Luckily, Lan Huan doesn’t wait for a response. “You look gorgeous,” he breathes, and Jiang Cheng chokes on a moan. “You’re so beautiful like this, all needy and helpless for me.” He laughs softly, one hand squeezing at Jiang Cheng’s waist. “Is it overwhelming? Having me touch you like this while you can’t do a thing but lie there and take it?”

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng gasps. His body jolts involuntarily and he jerks against the restraints, hearing the sturdy chain clink as his movement is halted. “Lan Huan, please–“

Lan Huan clicks his tongue, drawing a line with the tip of a finger from Jiang Cheng’s hip down towards his crotch, stopping just short of his dick. 

“That’s not what we agreed, Wanyin. If you want something, ask me properly.”

“Xi– Xichen.”

“Better,” Lan Huan says, finger drawing circles at the top of Jiang Cheng’s thigh. “What do you want, Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng’s head is starting to feel oddly fuzzy, and forming words takes more effort than it should. He fights through the haziness and manages, “touch me.”

“I am touching you,” 

He pinches Jiang Cheng’s nipple again, as if to remind him. Jiang Cheng bites out a frustrated sound. 

“Xichen,” he gasps, “fuck, please. I need more.”

“More? My Wanyin is so greedy.”

My Wanyin. Jiang Cheng shudders and tries not to think about that too hard. It’s not difficult, with the way Lan Huan’s hands are driving him to distraction.

“Usually I’d make you ask for exactly what you want,” Lan Huan continues conversationally. “But you sound so lovely begging for it that it makes me want to go easy on you.”

“Fuck off,” Jiang Cheng says, but he sounds too breathy and desperate for it be even remotely convincing.

Lan Huan laughs. “Oh dear, you were being so sweet just before. Come on, beg me for it again and I’ll touch you the way you need.”

Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw, but he knows he can’t hold back for long. Lan Huan seems content to wait, fingers tracing idly across his skin. 

“Please,” he grits out finally, horrified at how needy he sounds, but unable to do anything about it. “Xichen, please.”

“There you go, good boy,” Lan Huan breathes. 

Jiang Cheng stifles a moan, biting his lip so hard he thinks it might split. 

Finally, Lan Huan’s hand traces a line achingly slowly from his thigh to the base of his dick. He trails just the tip of his finger up the underside of it. Jiang Cheng squirms at the barely there sensation, almost ticklish. 

“Xichen, don’t tease,” he says, and definitely does not whine. 

“My poor Wanyin, I’m sorry.” Lan Huan doesn’t sound sorry, his voice unbearably smug. 

Jiang Cheng is about to spit out another snarky response, but he’s cut off with a gasp as Lan Huan finally, blessedly, wraps a hand around him properly. He squeezes firmly, stroking the shaft and running a thumb across the leaking, sensitive head. 

“So wet for me,” Lan Huan murmurs. “So lovely, Wanyin. Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng pants. “Fuck, feels good, Xichen.”

“Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng shivers and bites back a whine as Lan Huan continues to stroke him. After so much teasing, the stimulation is almost too intense. He can feel himself rapidly approaching the edge, hips stuttering into Lan Huan’s hand against his will.

Pleasure pools in his gut with every movement of Lan Huan’s hand. Just when he feels like he’s about to reach his peak, the hand stops abruptly, pulling away completely. 

Jiang Cheng cries out at the sudden loss of stimulation. His hips thrust up into nothing and his hands jerk reflexively against their restraints. 

“Fuck,” he groans, “fuck, why–?”

Lan Huan pets his hip gently. “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you Wanyin?”

“Xichen,” he says mindlessly. “Please, I need it.”

“Hush, I know what you need.” That hand smooths down his thigh soothingly. “Trust me, okay?”

Jiang Cheng nods helplessly. The incomplete pleasure of his almost-orgasm is still buzzing through his system, and he feels like a single touch would be enough. Lan Huan doesn’t touch him though. Instead, he hooks a hand under each of his knees and guides his legs up to settle, feet planted against the sheet and thighs spread. 

He makes an unsure, garbled noise. The position feels so vulnerable, like he’s putting himself on display for Lan Huan. He feels the bed dip as Lan Huan settles between his legs. 

Then, there’s a wet, slippery finger tracing its way across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. It dips down to his balls, tracing over them gently before dipping lower. Jiang Cheng startles at the touch over his hole, pressure increasing slightly as it rubs tiny circles there. 

It feels strange. Jiang Cheng jerks at the touch, eyes screwing shut behind the blindfold. 

“Xichen,” he tries, words suddenly failing him. He tries to close his legs, but Lan Huan is in the way. “Xichen, I–“

“Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s voice is low and warm, and Jiang Cheng shivers with it. “You’re so lovely here, too.” 

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng gasps. “Xichen, yellow.”

Instantly, the touch retreats. 

“Wanyin, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Jiang Cheng feels his face go hot with shame and embarrassment. “I–I’ve never–“ he trails off with a frustrated noise, balling his hands into fists. 

“Oh,” Lan Huan says softly. “You’ve never had anything inside before?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “My fingers, once, but. No.”

“I see.”

One of Lan Huan’s hands, this one not wet with lube, settles on Jiang Cheng’s thigh, rubbing gentle, soothing circles. It’s only then that he realises he’s quivering all over. He has no idea when it started, but Lan Huan’s hand feels good, solid, like it’s grounding him a little. 

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s voice is so gentle it makes something in Jiang Cheng ache. “But if you let me, I think you’ll like it. I promise it will feel good.”

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath in through his nose and releases it slowly. He wants to feel good. He wants to be good. He wants to prove to Lan Huan that he can take whatever’s given to him. 

“Okay,” he whispers. “Just go slow.”

He feels a kiss against the inside of his knee. “I will. Thank you for trusting me, Wanyin.”

The finger returns, pressing gently against his opening. It doesn’t push in right away, just circles around the tight little furl. The other hand stays on his thigh, smoothing slowly up and down it in soothing motions. Eventually, Jiang Cheng starts to relax, muscles unclenching and shaking beginning to subside. 

When the tip of that finger starts to breach him, Jiang Cheng sucks in a breath. It feels strange. Not painful or bad, just an odd, unfamiliar stretch. It presses in slowly, pausing every few moments to rock back and forth, letting Jiang Cheng get used to it. Finally, it reaches the third knuckle and stops. 

“How does it feel?”

“Weird,” Jiang Cheng answers honestly. 

Lan Huan laughs lightly. “Doesn’t hurt?” Jiang Cheng shakes his head. “Good, I’m going to move it now, okay?”

The finger slides out slowly and then rocks back in. It’s easier now, Jiang Cheng’s body accommodated to the stretch. On the next slide in, Lan Huan adjusts the angle and his finger brushes against something that makes a jolt of pleasure shoot up his spine. A noise slips out of throat and he arches into the feeling, chasing it mindlessly. 

“There you are,” Lan Huan murmurs, satisfaction audible in his voice.

On his next thrust, he angles his finger again to press against that spot more firmly. Jiang Cheng moans outright, too dazed to even try to hold it back. 

“Xichen,” he gasps, “feels good.”

“Gorgeous,” Lan Huan murmurs, quiet enough that Jiang Cheng isn’t sure he was meant to hear it. Then, louder, “you’re doing beautifully, Wanyin. I can’t believe I get to be the first one to see you like this. Can you take more?”

Jiang Cheng shivers pleasantly at the praise and nods jerkily. The finger inside him withdraws, leaving him feeling strangely empty. He hears shuffling and a bottle cap popping open, and then two fingers are pressing back against him, slippery with lube. 

The stretch this time is more intense. As the two fingers breach his rim there’s a dull ache, but no more pain, only pressure as they’re worked slowly deeper into him. 

“You’re taking it so well,” Lan Huan breathes once he’s pushed in as far as he can. 

Then he scissors his fingers apart, stretching Jiang Cheng wider around him as he slowly pulls his fingers back out. Jiang Cheng whimpers and jolts. The slow build up of pleasure seems to intensify all at once. He’s been on the precipice for so, so long, and on the next slide in, Lan Huan’s fingers press hard against his prostate and he feels himself fall over the edge. 

He comes with a strangled moan, cock completely untouched. His muscles spasm as his body arches off the bed. Behind the blindfold, his vision whites out and he feels ropes of cum spill onto his stomach. It feels like it goes on forever, the gentle movements of Lan Huan’s fingers inside him prolonging his pleasure until it’s almost too much to bear. 

When he finally comes down, he’s breathing hard, gasps loud against the quiet of the room. Over his eyes, the blindfold feels damp, and he realises distantly that he’s crying. He finds he doesn't care. His mind is fuzzy, thoughts slow and syrupy, and it’s hard to think about anything except the warm afterglow suffusing through his body.

“Wanyin,” Lan Huan is saying, “you’re amazing. You did so beautifully.” 

It’s only as he begins to withdraw his fingers that Jiang Cheng realises they’re still inside him. Reflexively, he clenches around them, whining softly. Lan Huan laughs and presses a kiss against his knee. Despite Jiang Cheng’s wordless protests, he draws his fingers out all the way, leaving him empty and clenching around nothing. 

Jiang Cheng floats pleasantly in the hazy warmth he finds himself in. He’s vaguely aware of his restraints being removed, and fingers massaging gently at his wrists and fingers. Then his blindfold is taken away, and he squints against the sudden light.

“Sit up for me, Wanyin.” 

Lan Huan maneuvers him upright and props him against the headboard, shoving a pillow behind him to rest against. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and stands up from the bed. 

Jiang Cheng makes a soft, disgruntled noise at the loss of warm hands on his skin, which makes Lan Huan huff softly with laughter. 

“I’ll only be a minute,” he reassures, leaning forward to smooth a hand over Jiang Cheng’s hair. He follows the motion instinctively, nuzzling up against the feeling.

Lan Huan is true to his word, returning only moments later with a warm, damp washcloth and a glass of water, which he places on the nightstand. He cleans Jiang Cheng’s stomach with gentle motions, taking care when he dips down between his cheeks to wipe away the excess lube. 

When he’s done, he hands Jiang Cheng the glass. Jiang Cheng looks at it, mind still too fuzzy to get his limbs to work. Lan Huan, thankfully, seems to understand his dilemma, and holds the glass up to his lips. His other hand comes up to support his head as Jiang Cheng takes a drink.

The cool water sliding down his throat helps him come back to himself a little. “Thanks,” he croaks, throat rough from all the sounds that had spilled out of him earlier. 

“Of course,” Lan Huan says. 

He puts the glass back down and settles back on the bed next to Jiang Cheng. He opens his arms invitingly, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t think too hard before shuffling closer and resting against him. Even through Lan Huan’s clothes, the heat of his body feels nice against his rapidly cooling skin, and he relaxes into the hold. Lan Huan pulls a blanket up over them both, tucking it in around Jiang Cheng’s thighs.

“How do you feel?” he asks, one hand rubbing lazy circles against his shoulder. 

“Good,” Jiang Cheng responds. “Sort of…fuzzy.”

Lan Huan hums. The sound vibrating through his chest feels nice where Jiang Cheng is pressed against him. “You didn’t go into full subspace, but I think you got close.”

Jiang Cheng murmurs an unintelligible noise and Lan Huan laughs softly. 

“Just rest for a while,” he says, fingers coming up to stroke through the hair at Jiang Cheng’s nape. “You were so good, you earned it.”

Warmth blooms in his chest again. He’s glad Lan Huan can’t see his face with the position they’re in, or he’d certainly see the dopey smile he can’t seem to keep off his lips. Blissfully, he allows himself to drift, enjoying the warmth of Lan Huan’s body and the soft movements of his hands. 

He doesn’t think he sleeps, but his consciousness fades in and out for a while. Some time later, as the haziness begins to fade, Lan Huan coaxes him up out of bed. He helps him get dressed in the comfortable clothes he’d been told to bring, soft grey sweatpants and a worn out, oversized t-shirt. He lets himself be led to the sofa, where Lan Huan bundles him in a soft, blue blanket and turns on the tv, handing him the remote.

“I’ll make some tea,” he says. “Do you need anything to eat?”

Jiang Cheng is about to say no, but his stomach grumbles loudly. He flushes, but Lan Huan just smiles warmly at him. 

“I’ll get you a snack too. Won’t be long.”

Jiang Cheng stares at the tv without really seeing it. There’s a nature documentary on, but he mostly just listens to the sounds of Lan Huan puttering around in the kitchen. Soon, he returns with a mug of chai tea and a plate laden with a selection of biscuits. 

“Still feeling okay?” he asks, setting the plate down on the coffee table and settling next to him. He hands him the mug directly, watching him take a sip. 

“Yeah, good,” Jiang Cheng replies. 

“Still fuzzy?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. Tired, mostly.”

“That’s understandable, it was intense for you, right?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng mutters, looking down at his mug. Now that his mind is clearer, he’s remembering how embarrassingly he acted.

“Was anything too much?” Lan Huan asks, a note of anxiety in his voice. “I hope I didn’t push you too hard.”

“You didn’t,” Jiang Cheng answers. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, then says, “you were great. Really.”

He hears Lan Huan let out a tiny, relieved sigh. “I’m glad. I wanted to give you a good first experience. I’m happy to hear you enjoyed yourself.”

“What, did I not make it obvious?” Jiang Cheng scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Lan Huan laughs and leans over to pick up the plate of biscuits, holding it out towards him. Jiang Cheng takes one gratefully, reminded again of how hungry he is.

“I know I said it a lot during the scene, but you really did so well, Jiang Cheng. Not everyone handles subbing so well.”

“Thanks,” Jiang Cheng says flatly, ignoring the tiny buzz of pleasure at the praise.

Lan Huan puts the plate back down and sits back down. He’s mostly still, facing the tv, but out of the corner of his eye Jiang Cheng can see his hands fidgeting on his lap. 

Jiang Cheng finishes his biscuit and sips at his tea. Finally, after a few long moments, Lan Huan speaks up. 

“I want ask you something.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng prompts, reaching for another biscuit.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” Lan Huan starts, speaking slowly and carefully, like he’s thinking through each word before he says them. “But I enjoyed myself today, and I think we have good chemistry together. If you would like to do this again, I would like that.”

The words come as a surprising relief to Jiang Cheng. He hadn’t thought about it much, but he had assumed this would be a one time thing, just Lan Huan showing him the ropes. The idea that it doesn’t have to be the first and only time sends a shiver of excitement up his spine.

“Okay,” he responds, too eagerly, but he can’t help it. “Me too. I want that.”

Lan Huan turns to him with a bright, surprised grin. “Really?” 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. He’s still too relaxed to be anything but completely honest. “Lan Huan, I just came so hard I saw God.”

That startles a real, honest laugh from him. It’s somewhat less elegant than his usual laughter. Jiang Cheng is pretty sure he hears him snort, but he’s feeling nice enough not to point it out.

“Okay,” Lan Huan says when he’s calmed down. “I meant it though, you don’t have to make any decisions right now. You’re probably still feeling a lot of endorphins.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “I know what I want,” he says defensively.

“I know, but just for my peace of mind, text me tomorrow. Okay?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, taking another sip of tea.

They sit in comfortable quiet for the next half hour or so. Jiang Cheng is only half watching, but Lan Huan seems to get genuinely invested. He makes comments every now and then on the animals shown, seeming to have a near encyclopedic knowledge on birds. Jiang Cheng tries not to find it too terribly endearing.

Once the show finishes, and their mugs of tea and the plate of snacks are empty, Jiang Cheng feels fully like himself again. He misses the warm haziness from earlier, but he notices he still feels more relaxed, his thoughts quieter. 

Lan Huan walks him to the door and smiles warmly at him.

“Get home safe,” he says. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay.” Jiang Cheng rubs at the back of his neck. “Good night. And, thanks,” he mutters the last part quietly, refusing to meet Lan Huan’s gaze, but doesn’t miss the way his smile widens.

“Good night, Jiang Cheng.”

Later, after Jiang Cheng gets home, he brushes his teeth and takes a shower. Then, he falls into bed and sleeps more deeply than he has in years.

Chapter Text

From: Lan Huan

Good morning, Jiang Cheng. Did you sleep well? How are you feeling today?

The text is the first thing Jiang Cheng sees that morning, still groggy with sleep. He groans, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm across his face as if he can hide from the sudden wave of shame and embarrassment that rolls over him. 

Memories rush back of the way he’d acted the night before, whining and begging for more. He still can’t believe he’d let all that happen, and he might have chalked it up to an insanely vivid hallucination if not for the slight dull ache between his legs. 

Despite that, he feels…good. The lingering relaxation and contentment he’d felt after their scene hasn’t dissipated completely yet. It’s like he’s had a full body massage, leaving him calmer than his usual, tightly wound state. 

He picks up the phone and texts back. 

To: Lan Huan

Hi. I’m good, thanks. 

Then, after thinking for a moment:

To: Lan Huan

How are you?

From: Lan Huan

I’m glad to hear it. I’m good as well :)

Jiang Cheng can’t quite help smiling at the stupid emoticon. He wipes it off his face quickly and gets up out of bed. As he’s brewing himself a coffee, he sends another text before he can talk himself out of it.

To: Lan Huan

About what we talked about yesterday

The reply comes instantly.

From: Lan Huan

Yes?

Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves. 

To: Lan Huan

I still want to do it again. 

If you do.

There’s no reply for a few long minutes, which is just long enough for Jiang Cheng to start thinking that he’s ruined everything. Right now, Lan Huan is probably thinking of a way to let him down easy. He’s too polite to tell Jiang Cheng outright that it was a mistake and he never wants to see him again, but he’s sure that must be what he’s thinking. 

He sips at his coffee angrily. It’s still too hot, and scalds the inside of his mouth, but he ignores it, taking another mouthful like he can burn away the embarrassment coursing through him. 

Just then, his phone buzzes. Before he can stop himself, he scrambles to pick it up. 

From: Lan Huan

I’m so glad to hear that. Of course, I still want to as well. 

Jiang Cheng breathes a sigh of relief. His anxiety hasn't quite faded, but the message is like a balm against his overheated nerves.

From: Lan Huan

We can discuss more details later. For today you should relax.

Also, you may feel slightly sensitive today. It’s normal after a scene, especially your first one. If you need anything, please let me know. 

Jiang Cheng squints at the message suspiciously. It explains the tumultuous anxiety he’d been feeling earlier, but it doesn’t explain how quickly he’d calmed down after just a single, reassuring text message. He scowls and finishes his coffee, ignoring the message for the time being. 

Later, he meets Wei Ying for lunch. 

“So,” he says, cradling the iced, whip-cream filled, seasonal monstrosity of a coffee he ordered, “have you met up with Lan Huan yet?”

“What?” Jiang Cheng responds with a glare.

“Ya know, at Huisang’s party. You said he offered to give you career mentoring, remember?”

“Oh, right,” he’d almost forgotten about that stupid lie. “Yeah, I saw him last night.”

“And?”

“And what?” He scowls at Wei Ying across the table, and receives an innocent smile in return. 

“What did you talk about?”

“Just, you know, career stuff. Nothing interesting.” 

Jiang Cheng hopes that Wei Ying will drop the subject, but he can be like a dog with a bone sometimes, especially when he senses that Jiang Cheng isn’t telling him everything.

“Such as?” Wei Ying prompts.

“Why are you so interested?”

“God forbid I take an interest in my little brother’s career,” Wei Ying says, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Or is Lan Huan the only one you want to talk to now? Has he replaced me so easily?”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng replies, rolling his eyes. 

“Not until you tell me what you talked about with him!”

“Jesus, fine,” Jiang Cheng’s mind is working overtime to come up with a reasonable cover. “Mostly he helped me pick a topic for my masters thesis. And he gave me the contacts of some people I could reach out to at other universities, like experts in business studies and stuff.”

“Right…” Wei Ying narrows his eyes at him suspiciously, but he seems to accept Jiang Cheng’s answer. Jiang Cheng takes the opportunity to change the subject. 

“So, are you coming to jiejie’s dinner tomorrow?”

Wei Ying brightens instantly, forgetting all about their previous conversation. “Yes, of course! I hope she makes pork rib and lotus seed soup.” He sighs dreamily, looking off into the distance like he’s imagining the taste. 

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Not likely, she made it for me earlier this week, and you know how long that thing takes.”

“What!?” Wei Ying exclaims. “Not fair, she knows it’s my favourite.”

“Don’t be a baby. You were invited to that lunch, but I guess you had better things to be doing, huh?”

Wei Ying pouts miserably into his coffee. “If I’d known she was making the soup I could’ve rescheduled.” 

“So you can make time for soup, but not to see your pregnant big sister. Good to know where your priorities lie. Ow!” He clutches his forehead, and glares at Wei Ying, who had just leaned over the table to flick him hard between the eyebrows.

“Don’t be a dick, a-Cheng. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m telling jiejie you did that,” he mutters. It’s childish, but being around Wei Ying tends to bring that out in him.

“Go ahead,” Wei Ying says, sticking his tongue out mischievously. “I’ll tell her you’re dating Lan Huan.”

“What?!” Jiang Cheng pauses in his attempts to punch Wei Ying across the table. “What the fuck? I am not dating Lan Huan. Are you stupid?”

“Right,” Wei Ying smirks. “You’re just going to his place on a Friday night for ‘career mentoring.’” He air quotes around the last words, rolling his eyes. 

“I am!” Jiang Cheng exclaims, loud enough that a few other patrons of the cafe shoot him dirty looks. “That’s all it is,” he insists, quieter. “Don’t start thinking anything crazy.”

“Very believable.”

“I don’t–it’s not,” Jiang Cheng makes an incoherent, frustrated noise, glaring at his half eaten plate. “We’re not dating. I don’t even like men.”

“You don’t?” Wei Ying says, incredulous. “News to me.”

“What do you mean?” Jiang Cheng hisses. “What made you think I did?”

Wei Ying shrugs. “I don’t know, you always talked about the captain of the soccer team back when we were in high school, remember? I assumed you had a crush on him.”

Jiang Cheng splutters. “I just– I admired him, that’s all.”

“Or that guy from our martial arts club who you had that weird rivalry with for like three years,” Wei Ying continues, ignoring Jiang Cheng completely. “Oh, or that one guy who sat next to you in all our lectures in our first year of university. And Nie Mingjue, of course–“

“What about Nie Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng cuts in. 

“Oh you know,” Wei Ying waves a hand in the air vaguely. “You were always following him around when we were little, and like, staring at him all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jiang Cheng says defensively. “Just cause I thought he was cool doesn’t mean that I had a– a crush on him. Or whatever you’re implying.”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying.”

“Well, you’re wrong!”

“Okay, okay,” Wei Ying relents, patting Jiang Cheng on the shoulder. “Maybe I was mistaken.”

Jiang Cheng crosses his arms across his chest, shrugging off Wei Ying’s hand. “Yeah. You were.”

“Alright.”

Wei Ying sips his coffee. A bit of whipped cream gets caught on the tip of his nose. Jiang Cheng is about to tell him about it, when Wei Ying speaks again. 

“But you know, a-Cheng, if you did like men, that would be completely fi–“

“Wei Ying, one more word and I will break your fucking legs.”

———

From: Lan Huan

Did you tell my brother I was giving you career mentoring?

Jiang Cheng stares at the notification and groans. Right, yeah. He never actually told him that was the cover he came up with. In his defense, he was drunk at the time, and flustered. 

To: Lan Huan

Maybe.

From: Lan Huan

Jiang Cheng, I teach classics. I don’t know anything about business. 

To: Lan Huan

Would you rather I told them the truth?

A few minutes pass. Jiang Cheng watches the dots indicating Lan Huan is typing something appear, then disappear, then appear again.

From: Lan Huan

You have a point. 

Still, we should try to make sure we’re on the same page about these things.

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth, a wave of guilt washing over him. 

To: Lan Huan

Yeah. Sorry. I should have mentioned it.

From: Lan Huan

It’s okay, I’m not angry.

Do you have time to talk now?

To: Lan Huan

Yeah, I’m free.

The phone starts ringing immediately. Jiang Cheng takes a deep, steadying breath before picking up.

“Hi,” he says warily.

“Hi,” Lan Huan responds. 

“Um. Sorry, about not mentioning the cover thing.” Jiang Cheng scrubs a hand over his eyes. “Wei Ying asked me what we were talking about, back at Huisang’s birthday party. It was the first thing I could come up with.”

“It’s okay, Jiang Cheng. I’m really not mad.” To Jiang Cheng’s relief, doesn’t sound angry, just faintly exasperated. “I was just…caught off guard when my brother asked me about it at lunch today.” 

“If it makes you feel better, when Wei Ying asked what mentoring you would be able to give me, your brother was quick to defend the vast scope of your knowledge.”

Lan Huan laughs, and Jiang Cheng feels some of the tightness in his chest unravel. “He flatters me too much. I really wouldn’t be any help if that’s what we were doing.”

Jiang Cheng sighs, cursing himself for his stupid, off the cuff excuse. “Well, we don’t have much choice now.”

Lan Huan hums thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever thought about going in to teaching? If you were, then I could probably provide some helpful advice.”

“Are you suggesting I change my career path just so our brothers don’t find out we’re–“ he cuts himself off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. He feels his cheeks flush hot with embarrassment.

“I suppose that is a bit drastic,” Lan Huan says lightly. 

“Anyway,” Jiang Cheng continues, “I told Wei Ying you helped me with my thesis topic, and gave me some contacts to reach out to.”

“Okay, good that sounds reasonable.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t mention that Wei Ying hadn’t believed him for a second.

“Even so, I think it’s unlikely that the cover will hold up for long. There’s only so much I would be able to help you with.”

“So?” Jiang Cheng asks apprehensively. “What are you suggesting?”

“If we’re going to keep meeting, we should come up with another reason to tell people.”

“Right, like what?”

“I don’t know,” Lan Huan huffs a breath of laughter. “Any more brilliant ideas from the mind of Jiang Cheng?”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “You try coming up with something believable when you’re drunk and someone’s just offered to tie you up.” 

He hears Lan Huan laughing over the speaker, muffled like he’s taken the phone away from his ear. Somehow, Jiang Cheng’s face gets even hotter, but he does his best to ignore it.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” Lan Huan says once he’s managed to get his amusement under control. “I shouldn’t judge too harshly.”

Jiang Cheng grumbles incoherently, glaring at nothing and hoping his annoyance can be somehow transmitted through the phone. 

“Anyway,” Lan Huan continues, “I think we don’t need to come up with an elaborate excuse. We could just say we’re friends, and we have dinner together sometimes.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Like anyone will believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re pleasant company.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. “I don’t–what would we even talk about. Hypothetically speaking.”

“I’m sure we have plenty of things in common.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng says flatly. “Like what?”

“Hmm, I guess we don’t know each other that well yet,” Lan Huan replies thoughtfully. “What kind of things do you do in your spare time?”

“Uhh,” Jiang Cheng finds, to his horror, that his mind has gone blank. He suddenly can’t seem to think of a single thing he likes doing. “I don’t know, normal stuff.”

“Helpful,” Lan Huan says wryly.

Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw in irritation. “Why don’t you tell me something then?”

“Alright,” Lan Huan replies easily. “I enjoy music. I play the xiao and the guqin. I also enjoy painting, when I can find the time.”

“Jesus,” Jiang Chen mutters. Of course, cultured classics professor Lan Huan would have such high-brow hobbies. “Sorry, I don’t know a thing about either.”

“Hmm, okay,” Lan Huan’s quiet for a moment. “I also go to the gym quite frequently, and practice martial arts.”

Jiang Cheng brightens, nodding despite Lan Huan not being able to see him. “Yeah, that’ll work. I work out at least a couple days every week. And I’ve been doing martial arts since I was a kid.”

“Good,” Lan Huan says brightly. “That’s settled then. We first met up so I could give you some mentoring, then we discovered our shared interests and decided to continue having dinner occasionally.”

“Okay, yeah.” Jiang Cheng is certain that this excuse will do nothing to convince Wei Ying that they’re not dating, but Lan Huan doesn’t need to know that.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Lan Huan continues, “did you want to set a time for our next scene?”

The flush that had mostly faded from Jiang Cheng’s cheeks comes roaring back with a vengeance.

“Sure,” he says, clenching his teeth to keep his jaw steady.

“Great!” Lan Huan replies brightly. “I have some ideas based on your checklist, but is there anything you want to try?”

Jiang Cheng thinks hard for a moment. If he’s being honest with himself, there’s a lot of things he’s eager to try, but saying any of it out loud feels…too much.

“Whatever you want is fine.”

“Okay.” He can hear the smile in Lan Huan’s voice. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

“So cocky,” Jiang Cheng replies, rolling his eyes.

“I like to think of it as self assured.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “So when were you thinking?”

“You’re still on break for a few more weeks, right? How about Wednesday?”

“Sure, that works.” His heart rate has ticked up noticeably and he’s sure his face is bright red. He can only be glad they aren’t having this conversation face to face

“I’ll look forward to it,” Lan Huan says, voice deep and gentle. “Have a good rest of your night, Jiang Cheng.”

“Yeah, good night.”

Jiang Cheng hangs up the phone and stares blankly at the wall for a few moments. He sucks in a deep breath through his nose and lets it out slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. 

He’s not sure why just a conversation with Lan Huan is enough to get him this worked up, but it irritates him deeply. He scowls at the empty room, cursing himself and Lan Huan and Wei Ying too, just for good measure.

———

“Didi!” 

The door to Yanli’s house is thrown open and Jiang Cheng finds himself immediately engulfed in a very clingy Wei Ying.

“What the fuck?! Get off!” He pushes at the arms around his neck to no avail. Wei Ying is clinging onto him like a damn barnacle.

“Didi, you were late, I thought for sure the train must have crashed on the way here.” Wei Ying pulls back just far enough to look up at him with an exaggerated pout.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “I was five minutes late. Are you drunk already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I only had a few glasses.”

“If a few glasses of wine is enough to get you this drunk, you really need to stop hanging out with Lan Zhan,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

“A-Cheng, you’re here!” A soft voice calls from the doorway. 

Jiang Cheng looks past Wei Ying to see Yanli smiling in the entryway, a lilac apron tied over her clothes. He softens immediately when he sees her, a soft smile forming on his own face to match hers. 

He manages to extricate himself from Wei Ying and goes over to give her a hug. He doesn’t quite let out a soft sigh of relief when her arms squeeze around him tightly, but it’s a close thing.

“How are you feeling?” He says when she pulls away, shooting a quick glance at her belly. 

“Fine,” she says with an exasperated sigh. “I’m pregnant, not sick you know?”

Jiang Cheng nods but can’t stop himself from giving her a quick, appraising look. She seems tired, dark circles under her eyes a little more pronounced than usual, but otherwise she seems healthy.

“Come inside,” she continues, smiling warmly. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

Inside, Jiang Cheng finds Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan sitting quietly in the living room. Wei Ying follows after him, making a beeline for Lan Zhan as soon as he sees him. He drapes himself on the couch next to him, Lan Zhan’s arm immediately coming up to wrap around his shoulder. Jiang Cheng looks away from the tender gesture, feeling a familiar jolt of bitterness in his chest. 

He greets Jin Zixuan as amiably as he can manage, though he’s not sure he succeeds. He’s warmed up to the peacock since he and Yanli got married, but it’s hard to forget all the lingering resentment from their high school days. Jin Zixuan nods politely in return and gives him a quick, quiet welcome.

Yanli sits in the seat next to him, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as she sits. Jin Zixuan takes her hand and twines their fingers together, smiling at her with so much affection Jiang Cheng feels a tiny bit embarrassed to be witnessing it.

The room falls into the easy conversation that Jiang Cheng has gotten used to hearing in Yanli’s home. He doesn’t contribute much to the conversation, mostly content to listen and offer the occasional, snarky comment. Yanli and Wei Ying do most of the talking, their respective partners sitting quietly next to them. 

Again, Jiang Cheng feels that bitter feeling rising in his chest, but he swallows it down. He is happy for his siblings, really. Just because he’s never found someone who loves him like that, it doesn’t mean he can get all pissy about it. He shakes his head minutely like it can dispel the thought clouding up his mind.

“Are you alright, a-Cheng?” Yanli’s gentle voice asks. 

Jiang Cheng looks over to find her looking at him, eyebrows drawn together in worry. 

“Yeah. Fine.” He stands up abruptly, suddenly desperate to not have that sweet, concerned look directed at him. “Just grabbing a drink. Does anyone want one while I’m up?”

Jin Zixuan and Lan Zhan shake their heads. Wei Ying’s hand shoots up in the air, but Lan Zhan takes his wrist and pulls it down. He murmurs something to Wei Ying, too soft to hear. Whatever it is makes Wei Ying shoot him a reproachful look, pouting like a child being denied candy.

“No, I’m alright. Thank you, a-Cheng.” Yanli’s still frowning at him slightly, eyes searching. 

Jiang Cheng flees to the kitchen before she can see too much on his face. 

He hears the conversation restart behind him as he exits the room, voices filtering softly through the half open door. He sets his hands on the counter, letting out an irritated huff. It’s not like he’s never seen his siblings acting all lovey doves with their partners before. Why does it suddenly bother him now? He feels ridiculous. 

No matter what he feels, he can’t let himself ruin Yanli’s dinner. Resolutely, he grips the counter tight and screws his eyes up. He takes a breath, and lets it out slowly. Then he forces himself to stand up straight and pour himself a drink, before he goes back to his family. 

Dinner is lovely, of course. It always is when it’s Yanli’s cooking. He and Wei Ying spend most of the time they aren’t wolfing down food subtly trying to one up each other’s compliments on how delicious everything is. Yanli smiles indulgently at them, cheeks glowing with a slight, pleased flush.

When the meal draws to an end, everyone sits for a while in overfull contentment. After a few more minutes of quiet conversation, Yanli yawns sleepily and Jiang Cheng takes it as his cue to leave. He offers to help with the dishes first, and has to race Wei Ying to the sink. In the end, Wei Ying washes while he dries, scowling at a triumphant Wei Ying while Yanli laughs softly behind them. 

As he leaves, with a last wave to Yanli and Jin Zixuan, he feels a familiar weight settle into his chest. He sort of feels the urge to turn around, run back and let his sister wrap him up in her arms like she used to when they were children. 

He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood and keeps walking towards the train station. i

Chapter Text

“Jiang Cheng.” 

Lan Huan greets him with a warm smile. He’s dressed just like he was last time, fitted white shirt and dark blue trousers, and his eyes are intense when they meet Jiang Cheng’s. 

“Hi.” Jiang Cheng looks away instinctively, his gaze dropping to Lan Huan’s socked feet. 

“Come on in.”

Jiang Cheng follows him into the living room, toeing off his shoes by the door. Already, his heart rate has sped up in anticipation, like he’s developing some kind of pavlovian response to Lan Huan’s apartment.

“Would you like some tea?” Lan Huan asks, ever the gracious host. “Or would you prefer to just get started?”

Jiang Cheng swallows audibly. “Let’s just start.”

Lan Huan nods with a smirk, as if he already knew that’s what Jiang Cheng would say. 

“Alright. Just like last time, Wanyin. Go into the bedroom and get undressed. Fold your clothes on the dresser and then wait for me.”

Jiang Cheng nods. He feels like a puppet on strings as he walks towards Lan Huan’s bedroom, unable to stop himself from moving even if he wanted to. This time, when he enters the room, the only thing laid out on the bed is a length of light blue rope. He shivers at the sight, the heat of anticipation creeping across his skin. 

Once he’s undressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, he can’t help himself from glancing back at the rope. It looks so innocuous lying there, almost the same colour as Lan Huan’s bedsheets. Jiang Cheng can’t help but remember that photo he saw, back when he’d first learned about Lan Huan’s… proclivities. The man, tied up in intricate ropes, completely helpless and ecstatic with it. 

Jiang Cheng feels his breath start to come faster. He glances at the closed door, and then reaches out to touch the rope. It’s softer than he expected it would be, almost silky against the tips of his fingers. Gingerly, he picks it up, feeling the light weight of it in his hands.

Just then, there’s a soft click from the door. Jiang Cheng drops the rope like it burned him and whips his head around to see Lan Huan watching him with a faintly amused expression.

“Wanyin, I don’t believe I gave you permission to touch that,” he says, voice low and smooth.

Jiang Cheng feels an embarrassed heat rush to his face, but it wars with indignation. “You didn’t say I couldn’t touch it,” he replies with a scowl.

Lan Huan clicks his tongue. “My apologies, Wanyin,” his tone is full of mock sincerity. “I thought you were capable of following instructions, but I suppose next time I’ll have to spell it out for you a bit better, hm?”

Jiang Cheng bristles. “I’m not fucking stupid, you know.”

“Oh, so you can follow instructions then?” Lan Huan opens his eyes wide. “So maybe you were disobeying me on purpose. Is that what happened, Wanyin?”

“No! I wasn’t–“

“It has to be one or the other,” Lan Huan cuts him off, his warm smile belying the firmness of his tone. “So, which is it? Did you disobey me on purpose, or did you not understand my instructions?”

“I–“ Jiang Cheng snaps his jaw shut, realising there’s no right way to answer. He glares at Lan Huan fiercely. He imagines it’s probably not very convincing, given that he’s naked and flushed red.

Lan Huan laughs softly, eyes glimmering mischievously, and crosses the room to stand before Jiang Cheng, forcing him to tilt his head up to look at him. 

“I suppose I can go easy on you this time,” he murmurs gently, hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair out of Jiang Cheng’s face. “You won’t make that mistake again, will you?”

Jiang Cheng suppresses a shudder and nods once, jerkily. 

Lan Huan leans down to pick up the rope and holds it in front of him, twisting the tail end around his hand. Jiang Cheng can’t stop his eyes from tracking the movement. 

“I can’t blame you for being curious about it,” Lan Huan says conversationally. “I haven’t even told you what I’m planning to do yet, have I?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng responds tightly. 

Lan Huan hums. “Turn around,” he says, hand coming to Jiang Cheng’s shoulder to guide him. “Sit facing away from me. That’s it.”

Once he has Jiang Cheng where he wants him, sitting on his knees on the bed, facing the wall, he starts to run his hands slowly across his skin. Jiang Cheng bites his lip, trying not to react as fingers brush softly across his shoulders, and run briefly over his chest. One thumb catches his nipple, pausing to rub a circle around it until it hardens under the touch.

Lan Huan doesn’t touch him like that for long, though. Instead, he draws his hands down Jiang Cheng’s arms, grasping his forearms and bringing them behind him. 

“Like this,” Lan Huan murmurs, guiding his arms to rest behind his back. “Use your hands to grab the opposite elbow.”

Jiang Cheng complies. He stares at the wall in front of him as he feels Lan Huan pull away. There’s a painting hung up there, a sketch of a small house in a field of blue flowers. Jiang Cheng tries his hardest to focus on it, so he doesn’t have to think about the soft sounds of movement behind him. 

The first touch of the rope on his skin makes him shiver despite himself. Lan Huan loops it around his arms, tying knots at regular intervals. He works slowly, pausing to check the tightness or run his hands across the rope every few moments. Jiang Cheng feels his face grow hot, and before long he’s sure his flush must be spreading all the way down his neck. 

Finally, when the last knot is secured, Lan Huan leans back again to examine his handiwork. Jiang Cheng takes a deep breath, willing his traitorous body to calm down. It doesn’t work, of course, and he’s embarrassingly aware that if he looked down, he would see himself half hard between his legs. 

“Lovely,” Lan Huan’s gentle voice comes from behind him. “Is it comfortable, Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng’s mouth feels dry. “Yes,” he answers.

“Try tugging against them.”

Jiang Cheng does as he’s told, trying to pull against the bonds. They hold fast, not letting his arms move an inch. His breath catches as he feels the rope dig into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s just enough to remind him they’re there.

Lan Huan’s fingers trace the lines of the rope gently. “Can you give me your colour, Wanyin?”

“Green,” Jiang Cheng replies instantly. 

“Good,” Lan Huan says. “Come up here, lean against the headboard.”

Jiang Cheng goes, shuffling awkwardly on his knees until he can sit up against the headboard. It’s harder without the use of his arms, but Lan Huan helps, maneuvering him into a more comfortable position. Once he’s situated, he gets Jiang Cheng to lean forward and slips a pillow behind him.

Like this, Jiang Cheng feels suddenly, terribly exposed. His arms are behind him, tied up and trapped, and his whole body is on display for Lan Huan to see. Resolutely, he tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

Lan Huan settles next to him, kneeling on the bed by his hip. He runs a hand idly up Jiang Cheng’s thigh, and Jiang Cheng can feel the muscle there jump in response to the touch. Jiang Cheng keeps his eyes trained skyward, but he can feel Lan Huan’s eyes on him as his hand trails up to trace circles on his hipbone. 

“Wanyin,” he says, voice low and intense in that way Jiang Cheng is quickly starting to recognise as his dom voice, “won’t you look at me?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng bites out. 

Lan Huan laughs, which only makes Jiang Cheng clench his jaw harder.

“I suppose the ceiling must be very interesting, hm? Personally, I think what’s happening down here is much more interesting.”

That’s all the warning Jiang Cheng gets before a warm hand closes around his half hard cock. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to react. Lan Huan doesn’t start moving his hand yet, seemingly content just to hold it there. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Jiang Cheng replies snarkily, shooting a glance at Lan Huan.

Lan Huan smiles at him indulgently, and strokes his hand once, up and down Jiang Cheng’s shaft. Jiang Cheng glares back at him defiantly.

“Have you ever edged yourself, Wanyin?” 

Jiang Cheng’s breath stutters as Lan Huan strokes him again. The touch is slightly too dry, but his body doesn’t seem to care, already hardening further. 

“O–once, yeah.”

“And did you like it?” Lan Huan’s dark, intense eyes are fixed on his. Jiang Cheng gets the unnerving feeling he’s looking right through him, seeing everything he keeps hidden away inside.

Jiang Cheng bites his lip. “It was alright,” he responds. 

“Just alright?” Lan Huan muses. “Some people say when they’re edged repeatedly it makes the final climax much more intense.”

“It takes too long,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. 

Lan Huan’s hand hasn’t stopped moving, slow and deliberate. With every stroke, Jiang Cheng can feel his face get hotter.

“So impatient,” Lan Huan chides playfully. “How many times?”

“What?” Jiang Cheng’s already finding it hard to focus.

“When you edged yourself,” Lan Huan clarifies. “How many times did you stop yourself from coming?”

On the next stroke of his hand, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive head of Jiang Cheng’s cock, making his breath catch. 

“I–I don’t know. Maybe twice?”

“Hmm, no wonder you thought it was just ‘alright’ then,” Lan Huan says with a teasing smirk.

To Jiang Cheng’s horror, Lan Huan’s mocking tone is only making him feel hotter.

“How many times do you think you could do it, before it got to be too much for you?”

Jiang Cheng scowls. What kind of a question is that? There’s no way he could possibly know, given his…limited experience. “I don’t know,” he snaps. 

Lan Huan only smiles serenely back at him. His hand still hasn’t stopped moving. “Just pick a number, Wanyin.”

“Fuck, fine,” Jiang Cheng huffs, fighting not to squirm against the constant stimulation. It’s not enough to get him close, but just enough to keep him worked up. “Five, maybe.”

“Okay,” Lan Huan replies, smile turning sharper. “Let’s try for seven, then.”

“What?! Why would you ask me if you were just going to do whatever you want anyway?” Jiang Cheng glares indignantly, though with his arms tied securely behind him, there isn’t much he can do. 

Oh. There isn’t anything he can do. He’s entirely at Lan Huan’s mercy. He pulls slightly at the ropes, shivering minutely as they bite into the skin slightly. 

“Hush,” Lan Huan chides. “If you really can’t handle it, you know what to say. But I think you can do it. Don’t you trust me?”

Jiang Cheng lets his head fall back against the headboard, looking up at the ceiling once again. “Yes,” he says, tone full of resignation. 

“Good,” Lan Huan purrs. 

He leans away for a moment, and then comes back, hand slick with lube. It’s cold enough that it 

sends a shiver up Jiang Cheng’s spine, but it warms quickly against his overheated skin. Lan Huan is stroking him in earnest now, and the slick slide of his hand feels amazing.

“When you feel like you’re about to come, I want you to tell me,” Lan Huan says. “If you come before I say you can, there’ll be a punishment. Understand?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng says, voice already breathy and low from arousal.

“Colour?”

Jiang Cheng squeezes his eyes shut. “Green.”

“Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng clenches his jaw to stop an embarrassing sound from escaping. Lan Huan’s hand is moving quickly over his shaft now. On every upstroke, he slides his thumb over the head. It’s not long before Jiang Cheng is leaking precome, making everything even slicker and hotter.

He usually doesn’t get worked up so quickly, but the combination of everything – the ropes, the teasing, Lan Huan’s stupid, warm voice – is making everything feel more intense. It’s humiliating how quickly he feels himself getting close, breath coming faster and hips twitching minutely up into Lan Huan’s hand.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng gasps, when Lan Huan twists his wrist on an upstroke. “Fuck, Xichen I’m close.”

Lan Huan hums and– doesn’t stop. If anything, his hand speeds up a little. Jiang Cheng makes a frustrated noise, hands balling into fists behind him. 

“Xichen,” he says again, more urgently. “Xichen stop I’m so–ah.”

He feels himself get closer and closer, every inch of him burning hot in anticipation of his climax. God, he wants to come. But…

But he also wants to be good for Lan Huan. 

“Xichen,” he tries again, desperately. “I’m going to come.”

Finally, just before he feels himself about to tip over the edge, Lan Huan pulls his hand away. Jiang Cheng gasps at the sudden loss of stimulation, his arousal halted cruelly in its tracks. 

“Good, Wanyin,” Lan Huan says. One hand comes up to stroke Jiang Cheng’s thigh soothingly. “That’s one. Make sure you keep track, okay?”

“Huh?” Jiang Cheng grunts, still disoriented from how close he came to climax.

Lan Huan smiles at him sweetly. “I want you to count how many times I edge you,” he says simply. “I might lose track, otherwise.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at him, then scowls as understanding washes over him. “You’re an evil fucking bastard.”

Lan Huan laughs, like he’s delighted to be insulted like this. “Am I? I suppose I’ll have to work harder if I want you to change your mind.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t have time to respond before Lan Huan’s hand is back on him. He doesn’t tease this time, just goes in with a fast, brutal pace. Jiang Cheng’s impending orgasm had abated somewhat, but Lan Huan’s hand feels too good. It doesn’t take long before he’s close again, breath coming in harsh pants as he tries to hold himself back from the edge.

“Xichen,” he grits out in warning. 

“Just a little more, don’t come yet.” Lan Huan doesn’t slow down at all, stripping Jiang Cheng’s cock ruthlessly. 

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and breathes deep, willing himself not to come. He’s fighting a losing battle, powerless to stop himself. He feels his muscles begin to tighten in the telltale way that signals he’s about to come.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps helplessly. 

Lan Huan takes his hand away again. 

Jiang Cheng breaths a sigh of relief even as his body shakes with disappointment, his orgasm slipping away. 

“Very good,” Lan Huan says, other hand back to rubbing gently against thigh and over his hip. “You’re doing so well. Don’t forget to count.”

“Two,” Jiang Cheng answers. He sounds wrung out already. Is Lan Huan really expecting him to last through five more of these?

“Perfect,” Lan Huan murmurs gently. “How do you feel, Wanyin?”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes, taking stock of himself. The buzzing arousal of his last two almost orgasms is still fizzing through his bloodstream, and his cock is painfully hard between his legs. But he mostly feels…

“Good,” he replies honestly.

“How does it compare? To when you did it yourself.” 

“It’s–it’s different. More intense.”

Lan Huan hums happily. “Can you go again?”

Jiang Cheng grits his teeth. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

Jiang Cheng can’t stop the noise that escapes him this time, but he’ll blame it on the fact that Lan Huan’s hand has returned to his cock. His pace this time is slower, but after being worked up for so long it’s just as intense. Jiang Cheng lets his mouth fall open, tiny gasps escaping as Lan Huan works him steadily.

“You look lovely like this, Wanyin,” Lan Huan sighs. 

Jiang Cheng bites back a moan. He feels a sudden urge to cover his face, but his arms flex against the ropes binding them, reminding him how helpless he is. Somehow, that only makes him burn hotter.

There’s a soft huff of laughter. “No need to hold back, Wanyin. You can make as much noise as you want.”

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng growls, but it comes out far too breathy to be convincing.

Lan Huan laughs again. “Don’t worry, soon you won’t be able to hold back.”

That’s not reassuring in the slightest. Jiang Cheng wants to tell him so, but he’s suddenly close again. His orgasm had built up slower this time, so he barely noticed until he was right on the edge.

“Stop,” he gasps, his whole body tensing in an effort to stave off his climax. “Stop, I’m so close.”

Lan Huan strokes him once more before taking his hand away. Jiang Cheng feels himself go slack all at once, relief and frustration mingling as he’s prevented from coming again.

“Three,” he says, before Lan Huan can remind him. 

“Very good.” Lan Huan sounds pleased. It makes Jiang Cheng’s chest feel warm. 

This time, Lan Huan’s hand smooths up his side, fingers skating over his ribcage towards his chest. Jiang Cheng can’t help but gasp when a finger circles his nipple. He’s still so sensitive, and he can’t decide if he wants to arch into the touch or away from it. 

Lan Huan doesn’t give him a choice. He pinches the bud harshly, ripping a tiny noise from Jiang Cheng’s throat. 

“You’re so sensitive here,” he muses. “I wonder if you could come just from this.” He tweaks it again, making Jiang Cheng squirm.

Jiang Cheng shivers at the thought. He wants that, suddenly, desperately. He wants Lan Huan to tie him up and take his time teasing his nipples until he can’t stand it anymore. His face flushes hot at the mental image, shame and arousal curling together in his stomach.

“That’s for another time, though.”

Just like that, Lan Huan’s hand is gone from his chest. He almost whines, but is cut off by a slick finger tracing up the length of his dick. He’s so turned on that even that touch feels overwhelmingly good. He gasps, hips bucking up into it.

Lan Huan’s other hand presses down into his hip, keeping him from moving. 

“Stay still for me,” he says. His tone is firm, commanding. Jiang Cheng doesn’t think he could resist if he wanted to.

He forces himself to stay still as Lan Huan wraps his hand back around him. He strokes him until Jiang Cheng is shivering and panting, balancing on the knife’s edge of arousal. At Jiang Cheng’s warning, he pulls his hand away, wrenching a broken sound from somewhere deep in his chest. 

“Four,” he gasps. 

Lan Huan gives him a few moments of reprieve, tracing soothing patterns into the skin of his stomach, before he grasps him again. Again, he works Jiang Cheng to the brink, pulling away just when he’s about to tip over the edge. 

“F- Five.” His forehead is wet with sweat, his bangs clinging to the skin. 

“Look, Wanyin.” Lan Huan’s fingers come up to grip his chin

Jiang Cheng has had his eyes closed this whole time, head tilted back against the headboard. At the command, though, he opens them, lets his head be tilted down so he can see himself. 

The sight is pitiful. He’s painfully hard, cock swollen and almost purple with the repeated denial. He’s leaking a steady stream of precome onto his stomach, gathering in a puddle of translucent white against the tense muscles of his abs.

“Fuck,” he pants helplessly.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Lan Huan smiles at him. He traces a finger around the base of Jiang Cheng’s oversensitive dick. “How does it feel?”

“If you touch my dick right now I’ll come,” Jiang Cheng says, words tumbling out before he can think them through. 

Lan Huan pauses, his index finger still rests against him. Then it slides lower.

“How about here then?” He strokes his finger over his tight opening. 

Jiang Cheng’s face heats impossibly further. He’d come so fast from that last time. He’s honestly not sure if he can handle it. But his cock is so sensitive he knows he won’t be able to hold back if he’s touched again there.

“Okay,” he breathes. 

Lan Huan gives him a warm, gentle smile. “Okay,” he replies. He reaches over to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand, slicking up his fingers. Then he shifts over to kneel between Jiang Cheng’s legs, spreading them wider to make space.

As he moves, Jiang Cheng’s eyes flick down between his legs and he feels his mouth go dry.

Lan Huan has a sizable bulge in his pants. 

Lan Huan is hard. Just from touching Jiang Cheng, just from watching him squirm and pant desperately under him. His mind feels hazy, his arousal suddenly surging. Not to mention, Lan Huan looks…

Big. 

Even through his dark blue slacks, it’s obvious. Jiang Cheng looks away hurriedly, suddenly glad that his face can’t possibly get any more red than it already is.

“Ready?” Lan Huan asks, oblivious to Jiang Cheng’s personal crisis.

Jiang Cheng nods jerkily, hands clenching and unclenching behind him.

The first touch of Lan Huan’s fingers against his rim makes him jolt. He rubs circles around it for a few seconds before slowly pushing in. It’s easier this time, his body more accustomed to the stretch, but Jiang Cheng still has to fight not to squirm against the intrusion. Lan Huan pumps his finger in and out a few times before he pulls it out and presses back in with two. 

Jiang Cheng’s eyes fall shut of their own accord. 

“Look, Wanyin,” Lan Huan says. 

Reluctantly, Jiang Cheng forces his eyes back open. His gaze falls between his legs, to where he can see Lan Huan’s fingers disappearing inside him. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. 

The simmering arousal suddenly feels like it’s on the brink of boiling over as he watches himself get fingered. Lan Huan hasn’t even touched that spot inside him yet, but it doesn’t matter. Jiang Cheng feels suddenly desperate. He wants more, he wants something bigger stretching him, filling him, he wants to come so badly.

“Xichen,” he pants, “please Xichen.”

“Please what?” 

“I want–I want more, please,” he begs, mindless with need. 

“More what?” Lan Huan asks cruelly. He twists his fingers so they just barely brush over Jiang Cheng’s prostate, forcing a strangled noise from him. “If you want something, you need to ask for it properly, Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng feels like he might cry, or die on the spot. He drags in a shaky breath, forcing the words out. “Give me another finger, please,” he breathes pathetically, hot shame rising in his chest.

Lan Huan gives him a smug smile. “Good boy, Wanyin. I’ll give you what you want.” 

He draws his fingers away, leaving Jiang Cheng clenching around nothing. He slicks his hand up again, and Jiang Cheng can’t help but watch, eyes glued to every movement he makes. 

“Remember,” he says, pressing his fingers back against Jiang Cheng’s hole, but not pushing in yet, “tell me if you feel like you’re about to come.”

Jiang Cheng nods quickly. He barely even listens, just needs something back inside, filling him up again.

Lan Huan doesn’t make him wait long. The stretch this time is more intense, but Jiang Cheng moans at it. He can’t even bring himself to try and keep his noises at bay, too focused on the hot, slick slide of the fingers inside him. 

“God, you really are desperate for it.” 

Lan Huan’s eyes are fixed on Jiang Cheng’s hole. There’s something dark, almost hungry in his expression that makes Jiang Cheng shiver. 

Before long, Lan Huan starts thrusting his fingers in earnest. He avoids Jiang Cheng’s prostate, fingers only glancing over it occasionally. Jiang Cheng is caught between feeling frustrated and grateful. If Lan Huan aims for that spot, he knows he won’t be able to hold himself back. 

Even like this, his arousal is building embarrassingly fast. He can’t control his body anymore, muscles tensing erratically and a constant stream of high, breathless noises escaping from his mouth. His hips try to roll down into the fingers fucking into him, but Lan Huan plants his free hand on his hipbone, holding him firmly in place. His fingers curl into the skin, just hard enough to ache. Jiang Cheng wonders vaguely if they’ll leave a bruise. 

He kind of hopes they do.

“There’s those lovely sounds,” Lan Huan says, sounding infuriatingly smug. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to hold back.”

Jiang Cheng can’t even summon the wherewithal for a snarky comeback. He gasps as Lan Huan spreads his fingers, forcing his fluttering walls wider. 

“Xichen,” his voice comes out rough and needy. “I’m close.”

“Hold on a little longer,” Lan Huan says. “You can do it, Wanyin.”

Jiang Cheng’s voice breaks on a sob. Every muscle in his body tenses as he tries desperately to hold back his climax. He shakes with it, hips trying to jerk desperately against the stimulation, but held firmly in place by Lan Huan’s hand.

“Xichen,” he begs, though even he can’t tell what he’s pleading for. “Xichen, Xichen– ah, please.”

“Do you want to come?” Lan Huan asks. His voice is lower now too, slightly rougher than usual. 

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng gasps. He’s so, so close, all he can think about is how badly he needs to come. He shakes and squirms under Lan Huan’s hands, he can’t tell if he’s trying to get away or get closer. 

“One more.”

Then, suddenly, Lan Huan’s hands are gone. Jiang Cheng sobs out an agonized moan, hips bucking into the air without Lan Huan to hold him down. 

“Just one more, Wanyin.” 

Lan Huan’s voice sounds like it’s coming to him from underwater, muffled and distant. Jiang Cheng can hardly focus beyond the desperate, almost painful arousal.  He feels hot all over, burning apart from the inside. His arms jerk against the restraints, digging into the skin as he tries, fruitlessly, to get a hand on himself. 

“Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s voice sounds closer this time, and he feels a hand gently cupping his jaw. 

Jiang Cheng forces his eyes open and sees Lan Huan, leaning in close. He feels his thumb rub back and forth across his cheek, wiping away a tear streaming down Jiang Cheng’s face. 

“Can you give me your colour?”

Jiang Cheng slowly blinks at him, dazed. Lan Huan’s pupils are blown wide and his lips are parted slightly. He really is impossibly, devastatingly gorgeous. 

He swallows, and steadies himself before answering. “Green.”

Lan Huan nods, his lips curling into a gentle smile. “Do you know what number we’re up to?”

Jiang Cheng forces his fuzzy mind to cooperate. “Six, I think.”

“Good,” Lan Huan murmurs, his thumb is still brushing gently back and forth on Jiang Cheng’s cheek. “Can you give me one more?”

Jiang Cheng nods jerkily.

“That’s my good boy,” he says softly, withdrawing his hand. Jiang Cheng has to strain not to chase after that warm, gentle touch. 

Fresh tears start spilling from his eyes as Lan Huan’s fingers slide back into him. He chokes on a sob as they start to pump in and out, pace slow and inexorable. His focus narrows to just that feeling, of sharp, agonizing pleasure being forced into him. 

He’s babbling mindlessly now, Xichen, and, please, please, and, I can’t. 

“You can, Wanyin,” Lan Huan reassures. “You’re doing so well.”

Jiang Cheng’s fingernails bite into the skin of his palms from how hard he’s clenching his fists. His arms are straining against the rope, the tight, even pressure only making him more desperate. He can’t think past the desire for release, consuming him until he’s nothing but a shivering ball of need.

“Xichen,” his voice shakes and cracks as he tries to speak. “Xichen, I’m so close.”

“Not yet.”

Jiang Cheng whines helplessly. The fingers inside him keep moving at that excruciating, steady pace. Every time they bottom out, it forces a tiny, gasping moan from Jiang Cheng’s mouth.

“So pretty, Wanyin,” Lan Huan’s voice is dark and intense as he stares at Jiang Cheng’s wrecked expression. His fingers tighten where they’re pressed into his hip. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng sobs.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Jiang Cheng feels a sudden rush of fear. No, no, he can’t stop, not now, not when Jiang Cheng has tried so hard to be good. “No,” he gasps desperately. “Please, no, Xichen I can do it.”

Lan Huan smiles down at him. “I know you can.”

It’s only a few moments more before the stimulation gets too much and Jiang Cheng finds himself right on the edge again. His leg kicks out uselessly against the sheets, like he’s trying to run from it.

“Xichen, ah– I'm gonna come.”

Lan Huan’s fingers withdraw, but don’t disappear. They rest gently against his stretched out hole, just the barest pressure against his rim. 

Jiang Cheng cries freely as his pleasure recedes once again. He doesn’t even have the energy to thrash and squirm anymore. His body has gone limp, just shivering slightly against the sweat soaked sheets. 

“S–seven,” he manages, voice hoarse and rough. 

“Perfect,” Lan Huan whispers. “You were so perfect for me, Wanyin.”

A breathless little moan falls from Jiang Cheng’s mouth. He did it. He was good. Lan Huan says he did good. He shuts his eyes and basks in the feeling, mind hazy and floaty with pleasure. 

“Do you want to come now?”

“Yes, please, Xichen,” Jiang Cheng slurs.

There’s a soft huff of laughter. Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes open to see Lan Huan looking at him, dark eyes crinkling up as he smiles. 

“Okay, Wanyin, you earned it.” He squeezes Jiang Cheng’s hip again comfortingly. “Don’t hold back anymore, you can come whenever you want.”

Then his fingers are pushing back inside, the slide loose and easy. Jiang Cheng’s eyes roll back into his head and he moans breathlessly. The fingers move inside him, faster than before. They don’t avoid his prostate anymore, brushing against it now on every thrust. 

Then Lan Huan moves his hand from Jiang Cheng’s hip and wraps it around his cock. 

It only takes two strokes before Jiang Cheng can’t hold back anymore. His orgasm hits him like a tidal wave, powerful and all consuming. His vision whites out and his mouth falls open, desperate whines and moans slipping free. He can’t think, can barely breathe with the pleasure overwhelming him.

Lan Huan fucks him through it, and every movement of his hands sends the pleasure spiking higher and higher until Jiang Cheng can’t stand it. It seems to last forever, the pleasure so intense it hurts. He feels like he’s drowning and floating and burning alive all at once. 

When he finally comes down, shaking and moaning, he blinks his bleary eyes open to see Lan Huan looking at him. His lips are parted, a reverent expression in his eyes as he stares back at him.

Jiang Cheng pants mindlessly, lips curling into a smile. The last vestiges of his orgasm are still coursing through him, sending hot frissons of pleasure shooting through his whole body. 

“Thank you, Xichen,” he manages, barely.

Then he passes out cold. 

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng wakes slowly. 

He keeps his eyes closed, his mind floating hazily. Distantly, he’s aware of warm hands stroking the skin of his wrists, unbound now, and a deep voice murmuring soothingly by his ear. 

“So good, Wanyin, so perfect. I can’t believe you, you’re a dream.”

Jiang Cheng hears the words but they barely register. He lets them wash over him without thinking too much, just letting the warm, low voice soothe him. All he wants is to stay here forever, hazy and comfortable and warm. 

The mattress shifts next to him. He makes a soft, complaining noise when the fingers on his wrists press slightly against a bruise. 

“You’re alright,” the voice says. “Are you back with me?”

He doesn’t respond, save for a tiny, unintelligible noise. His body feels loose and relaxed, his mind empty. 

“Okay,” the voice says after a moment. “That’s okay, rest for a while longer. I’ll take care of you.”

Jiang Cheng is more than happy to follow these instructions, and he lets himself drift in the warm, safe space he finds himself in. 

He must fall asleep again at some point, because when he wakes he finds himself more alert. He’s laying on the bed now, a blanket pulled over him and a warm, clothed body next to him. 

He blinks his eyes open. Lan Huan is lying beside him, propped up on an elbow. He smiles when he sees Jiang Cheng open his eyes, and gently brushes a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng manages, his voice rough with misuse.

“Hi,” Lan Huan responds. “Back with me?”

Jiang Cheng nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

“You did so well,” Lan Huan says softly. His smile is so warm, so genuine, it makes Jiang Cheng’s chest warm in response. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy,” Jiang Cheng answers croakily. 

Lan Huan’s fingers trace a line from his cheekbone down to his jaw, cupping it gently. “Does anything hurt?”

Truthfully, yes. Jiang Cheng feels like he’s just run a marathon, every muscle aching from how hard he’d been tensing to hold himself back. A quick glance at his forearms confirms that the ropes left painful red marks behind, though they seem to be fading already. There’s also…between his legs, where he can feel a dull soreness every time he shifts. 

He swallows around the sudden rush of  embarrassment and shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

Lan Huan lets out a small breath. “Good, I was worried I pushed you too far.”

Jiang Cheng turns his head away, pressing his cheek into the pillow under his head to hide his flushed face. “You didn’t.”

Lan Huan says nothing, just continues stroking lightly over Jiang Cheng’s messy hair. 

He lets him rest like that for a while longer, until Jiang Cheng feels put together enough to move to the sofa. They sit there together for a while, watching whatever’s on the tv and sipping at cups of tea. When it’s finally time to go, Jiang Cheng still feels the warm contentment from earlier, but his limbs are no longer shaking every time he tries to move. 

“Will you be alright getting home?” Lan Huan asks, brows drawn together in concern. 

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

Lan Huan hesitates, but nods. “Good night, then. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. Good night.”

Outside, the air is still warm despite how late it’s gotten. Jiang Cheng breathes slow and deep as he walks to the train station. His body feels heavy, and he can’t wait to get home and collapse into his bed. 

Of course, his luck wouldn’t let it be so easy.

“A-Cheng?” A voice calls as he steps onto the train platform. 

Jiang Cheng’s head whips up in the direction of the voice, face flushing instantly. Nie Huisang waves at him excitedly, weaving through the handful of other people on the platform to get to him. 

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng asks, too harshly, but he can’t help it. Why, why, why does he have to show up here of all places?

Nie Huisang quirks an eyebrow at him. “Nice to see you too, a-Cheng. Nice weather we’re having,” he says sarcastically. 

Jiang Cheng glares at him.

“I was at a bar near here with some friends,” Huisang answers, then squints suspiciously up at him. “What were you doing here? Don’t you live way closer to campus?” 

Jiang Cheng fights the urge to look away. “I was visiting a friend,” he replies, a little proud of how even his voice manages to sound. 

Nie Huisang, unfortunately, isn’t content to take his answer at face value. “What friend?” He questions, leaning closer into Jiang Cheng’s personal space. “I’ve never seen you willingly hang out with anyone other than me and a-Ying.”

“Hey, I have other friends,” Jiang Cheng cuts in defensively.

Huisang ignores him. “And what were you doing so late? It’s almost 11:30.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “Can you cut it out with all the fucking questions Huisang? I already told you I was with a friend.”

“Ah,” Nie Huisang’s eyes light up in understanding. He pats Jiang Cheng on the arm with a sly grin. “I see, no need to tell me any more. I understand now.”

“Understand–no, Huisang. Whatever you’re thinking, it's not that.”

Nie Huisang laughs and gives him a salacious wink. “No, no. No need to be embarrassed a-Cheng. I know exactly what you were up to with this ‘friend’ of yours.” 

“Don’t do fucking air quotes around it. It's not– I wasn’t–“

“Aiya, no need to act like such a prude,” Nie Huisang smiles mischievously at him. “Actually, I’m just glad you’re finally getting some. Maybe it’ll fix your attitude, hm?”

Jiang Cheng aims a punch at his shoulder, swearing as Nie Huisang dodges out of the way, giggling. 

“So,” Nie Huisang continues once he’s safely out of Jiang Cheng’s reach, “who is it?”

“It’s no one,” Jiang Cheng spits through clenched teeth. 

“Okay, you want me to guess then?” He taps his finger against his lip thoughtfully. “Let’s see, who’s your type?”

“Don’t–there’s nothing to fucking guess,” Jiang Cheng tries, but it’s hopeless. Once Nie Huisang makes up his mind, nothing can stop him.

“Hmm, no, they don’t live near here. Oh!” He snaps his fingers gleefully, “is it Xue Yang?”

“What?” Jiang Cheng splutters.

“Not him? Oh, then maybe it’s Yang Jiayi, I’m right aren’t I?”

“Wha–? Who even is that?” 

“You know, that guy from the university basketball team? He was at my party,” Nie Huisang says impatiently. “He kept making eyes at you, you really need to learn people’s names, a-Cheng. Okay, what about–”

“Wait, hold on,” Jiang Cheng says, holding up a hand to stop the tirade, “you think I’m gay too?”

Nie Huisang blinks at him. “I mean, aren’t you?”

“No! Why does everyone think that?!”

Huisang rubs a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean, you always seemed kind of obsessed with da-ge, so…”

“Jesus,” Jiang Cheng mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Nie Huisang pats his shoulder awkwardly. “I guess I was wrong, my bad a-Cheng.”

Blessedly, the train arrives saving him from continuing the painful conversation. Not so blessedly, Nie Huisang is on the same line, and follows him into the carriage. They sit together in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Nie Huisang speaks up. 

“So, it’s a girl then?” He asks, faux casually.

“It’s no one!”

——

Jiang Cheng is sleepily cooking himself breakfast when his phone buzzes with a text.

From: Lan Huan

Good morning, I hope you got home alright last night. 

He decides not to mention his run in with Nie Huisang. 

To: Lan Huan

Yeah, I did. Thanks.

From: Lan Huan

That’s good to hear. 

How are you feeling this morning?

To: Lan Huan

Fine

His muscles still ache, but it’s a pleasant ache, like he gets after a hard session at the gym. Even better, he slept amazing and woke up feeling light and refreshed. 

A few minutes pass. Jiang Cheng finishes cooking and is spooning congee and fried egg into his mouth when the phone buzzes again.

From: Lan Huan

Forgive me if I’m being too eager, but would you like to come over again on Monday? 

Jiang Cheng swallows, mouth suddenly dry. 

To: Lan Huan

Yeah, I’m not doing anything else.

Nice, he thinks. Casual. Not too desperate. 

Then the phone starts ringing. Lan Huan’s name lights up the screen. 

“Hello?” Jiang Cheng answers.

“Sorry, I thought it might be easier to talk this way,” 

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng says stiffly, looking down at his half eaten congee.

“Did you sleep well?” Lan Huan asks, he sounds slightly out of breath.

“Yeah, I slept fine.” He hesitates before asking. “Are you okay?” 

Lan Huan sounds surprised when he answers. “Of course, why do you ask?”

Jiang Cheng fiddles with his spoon. “You sound like you’ve just been running or something.”

“Oh,” Lan Huan huffs a laugh. “I have, I just got back when I texted you.”

Jiang Cheng glares at the table. Of course, he’d forgotten about the Lan’s stupid early morning regimen. Wei Ying has complained about his boyfriend's habit of rising at the asscrack of dawn, and it seems like Lan Huan is cut from the same cloth. Unlike Jiang Cheng, who had been so wrung out from their…activities last night that he’d slept late into the morning.

“So what did you want to talk about?” He tries not to make his scowl audible in his voice.

“Right,” he says, “about Monday.”

“Yeah?” Jiang Cheng prompts. 

“Since I chose yesterday, I thought it’s only fair that you choose next time. We can do anything you’d like.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. He…doesn’t want that. Sure, there’s plenty of things in that checklist that sounded interesting, but if last night convinced him of anything, it’s that Lan Huan is infinitely more knowledgeable about all this than he is. He seems to know what Jiang Cheng wants better than he does himself. He knows exactly when to push Jiang Cheng’s limits and when to pull back. 

He’s quietly thinking for long enough that Lan Huan speaks up again. “Jiang Cheng?” 

Jiang Cheng hangs his head as he realises what he’s about to ask. His face feels warm with embarrassment.

“You choose.”

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan says gently. “I don’t want to always make you do what I want. You should get to choose too.”

“I am choosing,” Jiang Cheng grits out. He can’t explain himself, it’s too humiliating to admit outright that he wants to give Lan Huan complete control of this. “I want you to.”

Lan Huan’s quiet for a long moment. His voice is quiet and low when he speaks again. “Okay, I understand. I’ll choose then.”

Jiang Cheng closes his eyes and lets out a breath. He can only hope it’s quiet enough that Lan Huan can’t hear it over the phone. 

“In that case, would you do something for me?”

Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes suspiciously at the wall. Lan Huan sounds oddly apprehensive. 

“That depends what it is.”

“Okay,” he hears Lan Huan let out a breath. His next words come out lower and darker, in that voice Jiang Cheng only hears when they… “I don’t want you to touch yourself until then.”

“Huh?” Jiang Cheng feels suddenly like his brain might be short circuiting. “Why?”

“Can you do that for me or not? It’s okay if you want to say no.” 

Jiang Cheng thinks. It’s only a few days, he normally wouldn’t have a problem. But he has been abnormally worked up ever since they started this whole thing. His face grows hot as he realises he hasn’t even gone a day without bringing himself off in between visits to Lan Huan. Sometimes more than once.

“I guess I can,” he says uncertainly, face hot. “But I still don’t get why.”

Lan Huan laughs softly. “It’ll be good, I promise. You trust me, right?”

Jiang Cheng shuts his eyes and lets his forehead thunk softly against the table. He already knows what his answer is going to be. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Lan Huan says, voice low and silky. “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

Jiang Cheng hangs up the phone and stares down at his lap in irritation. There is no fucking universe in which that short conversation should have gotten him worked up, but his body apparently hasn’t gotten the memo. He shifts uncomfortably, his half hard dick brushing against the fabric of his boxers.

“Fuck,” he sighs, with feeling.

Resigned, he picks up his spoon and keeps eating his congee.

——

From: Idiot brother 

heyyy, a-Cheng

a-Cheng?

didi? baby brother?

answer meeeee

a-cheng istg if you don’t answer me right now

To: Idiot brother

Stop spamming my fucking phone

From: Idiot brother 

i wouldn’t have to if you answered the first time :p

To: Idiot brother

What do you want?

From: Idiot brother 

i heard a reallllly interesting rumor 

that someone saw you at the train station last night 

the station that just happens to be closest Lan Huan’s apartment

isn’t that soooooo interesting, didi?

To: Idiot brother

You should stop listening to rumors

From: Idiot brother 

i don’t know, my source is pretty reliable

so what were you doing there so late, a-Cheng?

To: Idiot brother

We were having dinner.

From: Idiot brother

oh really, is that all?

To: Idiot brother

Yes. What, is that not okay with you? Should I ask permission next time?

From: Idiot brother

no need to get so defensive, didi

i hope you had fun~~

Jiang Cheng glares at his phone, scowling deeply. He’s really going to kill Nie Huisang one of these days.

Chapter Text

“Did you do what I asked?”

Jiang Cheng is sitting naked on Lan Huan’s bed. Lan Huan stands in front of him, fully dressed. His warm, dark gaze is fixed on his face, a slight smile on his lips. 

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng replies shortly, his eyes darting away in embarrassment. 

“Good.” Lan Huan steps closer, grasping Jiang Cheng’s chin and tilting his face up, forcing him to make eye contact. “Was it hard for you?” He asks, stroking his thumb across Jiang Cheng’s jaw softly. 

Jiang Cheng scowls. “It was only a few days. Do you think my self control is that bad?”

He doesn’t mention the amount of cold showers he had to take, or how close he’d come to disobeying, just to see what kind of punishment Lan Huan would give him. He definitely doesn't mention how often he’d thought of that paddle he’d seen, the first time he’d been in Lan Huan's apartment, and how even just the thought of it had been enough to get him worked up.

Lan Huan laughs and releases his chin. “Good boy,” he says, stroking his hand through Jiang Cheng’s hair. “So obedient.”

“I’m not a fucking dog,” Jiang Cheng snarls, ignoring the way heat is already rising in his chest. 

“No? But you follow commands so well.”

Lan Huan laughs again at the expression on Jiang Cheng’s face, but doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Instead, he steps back and turns away, opening a drawer in his dresser and rummaging around. 

“Turn around and get on all fours on the bed,” he says, still not sparing a glance at Jiang Cheng.

Which is lucky, because Jiang Cheng immediately feels himself flush bright red. Slowly, he does as he’s told, humiliation burning brightly in his chest at position. He tries to breathe deep as he settles, muscles already tense with anticipation. He can still hear Lan Huan behind him, but like this there’s no way he can see what he’s doing. 

He’s painfully aware that the position he’s in puts his ass on perfect display. He remembers that paddle again. His mind twists with trepidation and excitement at the thought of Lan Huan using that on him, leaving him red and bruised and shaking. He closes his eyes and tries to clear his mind, his cock already filling up between his legs. 

The first touch against his skin startles him so badly that he flinches. There’s a low hum from behind him as Lan Huan runs a warm hand over his hip, settling it on his waist. 

“So pretty, Wanyin,” he murmurs. “You were so good for me, not touching yourself at all. You deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t respond. Lan Huan’s fingers tighten in warning. 

“No answer?” He says, voice low and dark. “Maybe you don’t want a reward, then. I could always leave you like this, if you prefer.” Lan Huan’s other hand drifts across his half hard dick.

Jiang Cheng feels a rush of fear that’s quickly becoming familiar. “No,” he grits out. “I want it.”

“You want your reward?”

Jiang Cheng lets his head hang heavily between his arms. “Yes.”

“Ask me properly, Wanyin.”

He grits his teeth against the shame welling up inside him. “Please,” he manages. “Please give me a reward, Xichen.”

“That’s better.” 

Jiang Cheng can hear the smile in his voice. Smug bastard.

He hears the click of a bottle cap opening, and the slick sounds of lube. There’s a light, muffled thump as the bottle is tossed onto the sheets next to him.

“Try your best not to move.”

That’s all the warning Jiang Cheng gets before a warm, wet hand grasps his dick. Lan Huan starts moving right away, stroking him to full hardness easily. Jiang Cheng bites his lip and tries to keep still as pleasure starts to build. 

Lan Huan keeps talking. “Since you were so good for me last time, and you didn’t touch yourself these last few days, you can come as much as you want this time.”

Jiang Cheng’s mind reels. That’s it? Lan Huan’s just going to give him a no strings attached handjob? He’s not even tied up or blindfolded or anything. 

“Just remember to stay still, okay?” Lan Huan continues, almost conversationally. “If you move I’ll stop.”

Then the hand on his hip is gone. Jiang Cheng grits his teeth and tries to focus on keeping his hips from bucking into the hand around him. It’s harder than it should be, but Lan Huan’s hand is skilled and clever, like he knows exactly how to drive Jiang Cheng insane.

He almost flinches again when he feels something wet and cold dripping onto his hole. It takes him a second to register that Lan Huan is pouring lube onto him. He has to bite back a whine as he feels the excess start to drip down towards his balls. It feels incredibly filthy in a way that only makes his cheeks feel even hotter. 

Then, one of Lan Huan’s long, elegant fingers is pressing into him. He chokes a little as he goes right for the kill, hitting his sweet spot perfectly on the first thrust. Jiang Cheng is only given a few moments to adjust before he’s pulling out and pressing back in with two. 

The dual stimulation is making his orgasm build embarrassingly quickly. He’s already close, panting and shaking as he tries to suppress his body’s desire to move. 

“Xichen,” he manages breathily. “I’m gonna come.”

“That’s okay,” Lan Huan’s voice is low and soothing. “You’ve earned this, Wanyin. Come for me.”

Jiang Cheng does, panting and moaning as he paints the sheets under him with his release . He comes hard enough that his arms give out under him, slumping down onto his elbows and knees. Lan Huan’s hands stop immediately, but don’t withdraw. 

“Wanyin, I said don’t move.” Lan Huan sounds almost…disappointed. Something in his tone makes Jiang Cheng’s chest clench tightly, desperate to fix whatever he’s done wrong. “Back up on your hands,” he says firmly. 

Jiang Cheng pushes himself up on shaky arms. He’s about to ask why – aren’t they done? Jiang Cheng already came – but then Lan Huan’s hands start moving again and all other thoughts are wiped out of his mind. 

His cock had started softening, but under Lan Huan’s ministrations it starts to fill again. The pleasure this time is sharper, edged with pain as overstimulation starts to set in. An embarrassing whine slips out as he tries his hardest to keep still even as his instincts are screaming to get away. 

“How does it feel?”

Lan Huan’s low, gentle voice is at odds with the firm, unyielding movements of his hands. 

“T- Too much,” Jiang Cheng pants. 

“You can take it,” Lan Huan says casually. 

Jiang Cheng sort of wants to cry. The stimulation is starting to feel good again, but it’s so intense. Every thrust of fingers inside him is hitting his prostate dead on, and Lan Huan’s clever hand is working his cock expertly. Jiang Cheng bites the inside of his cheek, desperate for something to focus on other than the overwhelming pleasure-pain.

“I told you, you can come as much as you want to this time,” Lan Huan continues. He sounds infuriating calm. “No need to hold back, okay?”

Jiang Cheng can’t say anything in response. He already feels like he’s getting close again. This time though, the edge feels higher, harder to reach. He lets out a frustrated groan as pleasure builds inside him but doesn’t peak, just gets hotter and hotter with every movement of Lan Huan’s hands.

“Xichen,” he gasps. “Please–ah!”

“Gonna come again?”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head. Not yet, he’s so close but he needs–

“More,” he groans, thighs tensing to keep from thrusting back. “Please, more Xichen, I’m so–“

He bites off a whine when the fingers inside him withdraw again. Then three are pushing back in, fast and merciless. He fists his hands in the sheets as his body stretches to accommodate them, the slight pain only adding to the overwhelming sensations. 

Lan Huan’s fingers are making wet, sloppy sounds now on every thrust in and out of Jiang Cheng’s hole. Bright sparks of humiliation burst behind his eyes and he moans again, unable to hold back. 

“Let go, Wanyin. Come.”

Jiang Cheng’s orgasm hits him like a truck, ripping a strangled noise from him as he fights to keep himself from collapsing again. This time, Lan Huan doesn’t stop moving, forcing his orgasm to stretch out until Jiang Cheng is shaking and panting. 

“Good boy,” Lan Huan breathes. 

“Xichen,” Jiang Cheng slurs. “Please, ah, it’s too much.”

“You want me to stop?”

Jiang Cheng groans, fingers flexing against the sheets. He doesn’t know. Lan Huan’s hands are still moving, not allowing the pleasure to abate. It hurts, it hurts so badly, but Jiang Cheng’s body isn’t registering the pain properly. His wires must be seriously crossed – all he wants is more. 

He can’t say that though. It’s too humiliating to admit that he craves this kind of pain, almost more than he wants relief. 

“You know what to say if you need to stop,” Lan Huan says and Jiang Cheng could sob with gratitude. 

His next orgasm builds slowly, agonizingly so. Lan Huan doesn’t let up at all, heedless of Jiang Cheng’s anguished moans and the way his body trembles with the effort to hold himself still. Jiang Cheng finds himself getting hazy again, like he’s slipping away, nothing but a vessel for Lan Huan to use as he sees fit. 

It feels so good, to surrender to him like this.

“You’re being so good, Wanyin,” Lan Huan is murmuring. “You’re trying so hard for me, aren’t you?”

Jiang Cheng tries to make a noise of agreement, but it comes out garbled and pathetic, too wrung out for anything coherent. 

“I know you are,” Lan Huan says soothingly. “Are you going to come again?”

“I– I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng manages, breathless and weak.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know.” Lan Huan leans in closer, his clothed chest pressing along the line of Jiang Cheng’s back. He’s close enough that Jiang Cheng can feel his breath against his ear as he speaks. “You don’t have to do anything but take what I give you. Isn’t that right?”

Jiang Cheng feels something in him break. Like a wall coming down, and suddenly he can’t hold anything back anymore. “Yes,” he gasps desperately. “Yes, Xichen, I can take it– ah. Please, anything you want.”

Lan Huan makes a small, surprised noise. “Fuck,” he mutters, low and dark. Jiang Cheng’s too far gone to register that it’s probably the first time he’s ever heard him swear. “Fuck, Wanyin. That’s right, you’re perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” Jiang Cheng responds mindlessly. “Ah– only for you, Xichen.”

Lan Huan buries his face in the nape of Jiang Cheng’s neck for a moment before he pulls away. “Can you come for me, Wanyin?”

And Jiang Cheng does. It feels like it’s ripped out of him, sudden and brutal. He wails, throwing his head back against the onslaught of pleasure. It’s so much, too much, painful and awful and so good all at once. Somehow, he manages to stay in position, arms weak and muscles quivering.

Mercifully, Lan Huan’s hands slow as he comes down, but they don’t stop completely. Jiang Cheng sobs as Lan Huan’s fingers rub deliberately over the oversensitive head of his cock. 

“Xichen,” he moans weakly. “Please– ah, s’too much.”

“Mm,” Lan Huan hums. “I don’t think it is.”

Jiang Cheng sobs again. “I can’t,” he mutters desperately. “Please, I can’t, I can’t.”

“Colour?”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “Green,” he whispers. 

“Good. Give me one more then.”

Jiang Cheng cries freely as Lan Huan’s hands continue working him. They stay at the slower, steady pace now, but everything is so sensitive that every stroke of his shaft, every brush against his prostate has him shivering and whimpering. Lan Huan keeps murmuring to him softly, but Jiang Cheng can barely register it anymore. 

His whole body feels like an exposed nerve, every touch grating and raw. He can’t even tell if it feels good anymore, but it doesn’t matter. All he can think about, all he can focus on is his need to be good. For Lan Huan, he can be good.

His orgasm this time feels like it claws its way out of him, rough and edged with agony. He spasms, whining as his hole clenches weakly around Lan Huan’s fingers. Vaguely, he realises that he’s coming dry, body completely wrung out, with nothing left to give. 

When it’s over, he slumps over, arms and legs finally giving out. He can’t find it in himself to care that he’s collapsed into the pool of his own come on the sheets, the sticky wetness joining the mess of sweat and lube on his body. 

Distantly, he hears Lan Huan speaking. “That’s good, Wanyin, you did so well,” he murmurs. 

It makes a gentle warmth stir in Jiang Cheng’s chest. He did well. Lan Huan is happy with him. He smiles tiredly with his face still pressed into the mattress. He feels a gentle hand, still slick with lube, stroking soothingly across his bare hip.

“You’re alright, just rest. I’ll clean you up.”

Jiang Cheng lies there limply, not really registering what’s happening around him. At one point, he’s rolled over onto his back and his stomach is cleaned off with a warm, damp cloth. He shivers as the cloth is dragged gently across his cock and over his hole, even those light touches feeling like far too much after everything. 

“Shh,” Lan Huan soothes him when he winces and makes a soft, complaining noise. “I know, I’m almost done.”

Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes open and looks up at him. Lan Huan smiles gently at him, standing between his spread legs with a pale blue washcloth in one hand, dabbing at his skin carefully. 

Jiang Cheng can’t stop himself from staring. He looks almost ethereal like this, lit from behind by the dim light of the lamp like he’s haloed in gold. Jiang Cheng looks away from his face, his eyes tracking down to his broad shoulders and narrow waist and–

He’s hard again. Jiang Cheng’s mind is still fuzzy, but he’s lucid enough to feel a rush of heat as he sees the bulge in his dark trousers, though his body is far too spent to so much as twitch. Hurriedly, he snaps his eyes closed again, hoping that Lan Huan didn’t notice where he was looking, or the flush darkening his cheeks.

 ——

Later, Jiang Cheng finds himself back on Lan Huan’s sofa, dressed again in sweatpants and a soft, well-worn t-shirt. He’d taken a shower once he was steady enough to stand, Lan Huan’s gentle clean up not quite enough to deal with the mess he’d made of himself. 

When he was done, he’d come out to find that Lan Huan had changed into comfortable clothes too. It’s the first time Jiang Cheng had ever seen him look so relaxed. Now, sitting on the sofa with his hair still damp and the tv playing quietly in the background, it all feels terribly domestic. Jiang Cheng bites the inside of his cheek to stop thinking about how much he likes that thought.

Still, he can’t allow himself to fully relax. There’s a question that’s been eating at him for a while. It’s been there ever since their first scene together, but it’s only gotten harder to ignore ever since.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks abruptly.

Lan Huan turns to look at him, surprise melting away into a teasing smile. “You just did.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes and waits for a proper answer. 

Lan Huan’s smile softens into something more genuine. “Yes, of course you, Jiang Cheng.”

Jiang Cheng has to look away then, trying to order his thoughts. “What do you get out of this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lan Huan cock his head. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jiang Cheng says, he waves a hand around vaguely. “This. This whole thing that we’re doing.”

“You mean me domming you?”

Jiang Cheng feels his face flush. “Y-yeah. I mean,” he bites his lip, forcing himself to keep going despite his embarrassment, “I know what I get out of it. But I don’t really understand what it does for you.”

Lan Huan makes a low, thoughtful noise and sits back against the couch cushions. He looks like he’s considering something, so Jiang Cheng doesn’t push him to answer. 

Eventually, he speaks again. “I suppose the same thing could be said for me, that I don’t really understand what you get from it. I’ve tried subbing before, but I found it wasn’t really for me.”

That information makes Jiang Cheng’s mind reel. Who was lucky enough to get Lan Huan under them like that? Did he whine and beg and cry the way Jiang Cheng does? Although, considering what he’d just said, the answer is probably no.

“But as for what I get out of domming,” Lan Huan continues, “I guess I like the element of trust. Knowing that someone is willing to hand over control of themselves, and their body to me and trust me to take care of them. It feels satisfying, to fulfill that trust.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng says. He still doesn’t know how Lan Huan can talk about all this so casually while Jiang Cheng feels like his face is on fire. 

“You seem like you still have more questions,” Lan Huan says with a small smile. “You can ask, I don’t mind telling you anything you’re curious about.”

Jiang Cheng mostly wants to run away and die of humiliation, but he also needs to know. “But you– you don’t get off when we…” He trails off, unable to make himself keep talking.

He’s not looking at Lan Huan, but he can feel the sofa shift, and then a warm hand is placed over his where it rests on the cushions. 

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Huan starts, voice gentle and  comforting, “if you’re worried I’m not enjoying myself please don’t be.”

Jiang Cheng shakes his head emphatically. “It’s not that. I believe you find it satisfying or whatever it’s just–“ 

He cuts himself off. There’s no way he can just say, it doesn’t feel fair that I get to come four times in a row and you don’t get off at all. 

“Listen,” Lan Huan says, “I may be in control during a scene but it’s the sub that’s the focus. What matters to me is your enjoyment. If you do a scene with another dom, they will most likely tell you the same.”

Jiang Cheng feels something small and fragile in his chest shatter. Another dom. Right, it’s not like he and Lan Huan are– are exclusive or anything like that. He knew already that Lan Huan was experienced, and he’d never indicated that the two of them are anything more than casual fuckbuddies. Of course, Lan Huan probably has other subs as well. Hell, he probably has people lined up around the block begging for a chance with him. Jiang Cheng should know better than to be greedy for his attention. 

That doesn’t stop it from hurting, though. 

“Jiang Cheng?” Lan Huan asks, voice full of concern. 

The question spills out of him before he can think better of it. “So you have other subs?”

Lan Huan’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“It’s fine if you do,” Jiang Cheng says, spitting the words out viciously. “I just want to know if I need to, I don’t know, get an up to date std test or something.”

Lan Huan hesitates. “Not currently, no.”

Jiang Cheng ruthlessly smothers the tiny spark of hope in his chest. “But you want others, right? I mean, I know you’ve had others before.”

“Jiang Cheng, I’m not sure this is the best time for this conversation. You’ve just finished an intense scene so you’re probably feeling a little–“

“I feel fine.” Jiang Cheng stands abruptly. “Actually, I’m gonna go home.”

He knows he’s being stupid and childish, like a kid throwing a tantrum. It’s not Lan Huan’s fault that Jiang Cheng has imprinted on him like some lost baby duckling, and it’s not fair to put any kind of expectations on him. Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know what he wants from this…whatever it is in the first place. All he knows is that his chest hurts, and he wants to go home and hide himself away from the world until he can bury all these stupid, pointless thoughts somewhere no one will be able to see them.

He’s barely made it two steps before Lan Huan stands up.

“Jiang Cheng, wait.” 

His tone is so firm, so commanding, that Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks before he can think twice about it.

Lan Huan’s looking at him with a sort of helpless determination. “Just wait and listen to what I have to say. You can leave afterwards if you’d like.”

Jiang Cheng sits back down stiffly. 

Lan Huan lets out a small, relieved breath. “I was planning to talk to you about this soon,” he starts, haltingly. “But I had hoped to wait for a time when we were both a bit more clear headed.”

Jiang Cheng glares at the floor. He doesn’t want to hear what comes next. He is terribly certain that Lan Huan is going to end things. He already fulfilled his end of the bargain, showing Jiang Cheng the ropes or whatever, and now he’s done. Jiang Cheng just wishes he wouldn’t drag out the inevitable so much. 

“Just spit it out already.”

“Okay,” Lan Huan says quietly. “The truth is I prefer to have an ongoing, one-on-one relationship with my subs.”

Jiang Cheng’s gaze snaps up to Lan Huan. He has his head lowered, chewing on his lip as he looks down at his hands. 

“Huh?” His brain feels like it’s stalled. Surely he didn’t hear that right. Surely he’s misunderstanding something and Lan Huan isn’t really saying what it sounds like he’s saying. 

“I didn’t want to pressure you into anything,” he says quietly. “Especially not when you were so new to this.”

An ongoing, one-on-one relationship.

“You mean like dating?” Jiang Cheng blurts.

“No! Nothing like that,” Lan Huan looks more flustered than Jiang Cheng has ever seen him. “I just–“ he wrings his hands nervously, “I like to build a trusting relationship with a single sub, and I prefer for that relationship to extend beyond the limits of  individual scenes.”

Jiang Cheng blinks, trying to process what’s happening. 

“I should have told you earlier.” Lan Huan looks defeated, downcast eyes not meeting Jiang Cheng’s gaze. “I understand if that’s not something you’re interested in. I can help you find another dom who would suit you if you’d prefer to keep things more casual.”

Jiang Cheng’s head hurts. This is…not how he expected this conversation to go. He was so sure that Lan Huan was going to break things off and now–

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to do this with anyone else.”

He grits his teeth and meets Lan Huan’s eye, fighting to keep his gaze steady. Lan Huan looks back at him, surprised, with something fragile and hopeful in his eyes. 

“Are you–“ Jiang Cheng’s eyes track the movement of his throat as he swallows. “Are you sure, Jiang Cheng? You don’t have to force yourself. There won’t be any hard feelings.”

Jiang Cheng makes a frustrated noise. “I’m not forcing myself to do anything.” He tilts his chin up defiantly. “I’m capable of knowing what I want.”

Lan Huan gives him a small smile. He looks almost…shy. It’s stupidly endearing. 

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay. I still want you to think about it though.”

Jiang Cheng opens his mouth to retort, but Lan Huan holds up a hand to stop him. 

“I know you can make your own choices, Jiang Cheng, I don’t doubt that.” He’s speaking firmly now, dark, intense eyes looking right into Jiang Cheng’s. “But I want you to understand what I’m asking for before you agree to anything. There are certain things I expect from my subs.”

“Such as?” Jiang Cheng asks tightly. 

“You don’t sleep with anyone else,” Lan Huan starts. “You don’t touch yourself without my permission, and you don’t come unless I tell you you can. If you break any rules, there will be a punishment. I would also like to meet sometimes outside of scenes, just to spend time together, if you would be amenable. If at any point you want to break things off, you tell me.”

Jiang Cheng frowns. Somehow, that’s less intense than he was expecting. “Is that all?”

Lan Huan laughs lightly. “Yes, that’s all. Although depending on how things develop, I might instate more rules down the line.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng says with a wry twist of his lips. “So basically I just have to do whatever you want.”

“I’m not unreasonable, Jiang Cheng. If a rule isn’t working we can adjust.”

Jiang Cheng takes a second, turning over all this new information in his head. He realises, with no small amount of humiliation, that he wants this. All of it. He wants to hand over this kind of control and let Lan Huan take care of him in return. 

“Do you–” he swallows, steeling himself. “Do you really want this with me?” 

“Of course,” Lan Huan says simply. “Why wouldn’t I? I said from the start I thought we had good chemistry.”

Jiang Cheng looks down at his lap. “I know I’m–“ bad-tempered, overly hostile, hard to be around, “difficult,” he finishes haltingly. “So I guess I’m just giving you an out.”

Lan Huan is quiet for a long moment. When Jiang Cheng chances a glance at him, he’s looking back with a frown. 

“Jiang Cheng,” he says finally, voice quiet but firm, “I don’t want an out. I don’t think you’re difficult. Or maybe–“ his lips quirk up into a small mischievous smile. “Maybe it’s more accurate to say I enjoy a challenge.”

Jiang Cheng’s chest hurts. He glances away again and swallows harshly around the odd tightness in his throat. “Okay then. Your funeral.”

“At least I’ll go out doing what I love most,” Lan Huan leans closer to pat his knee. He smiles brightly, “making you cry.”

Jiang Cheng scowls and kicks him, connecting with Lan Huan’s calf. 

“Ow!” Lan Huan laughs, pulling away and putting his hands up in a show of innocence. “Okay, sorry, I’ll stop teasing. Anyway, if you’re feeling alright you should go home and sleep on it. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jiang Cheng mutters. His cheeks are hot. He can only hope the room is dim enough that Lan Huan doesn’t notice. 

Lan Huan walks him to the door and says good night a little reluctantly. Or maybe that’s just Jiang Cheng’s wishful thinking. Despite the awkwardness from earlier, he walks out into the muggy summer night feeling strangely happy. Like there’s a soft, glowing warmth in his chest.

The next morning, he wakes up, rolls over and picks up his phone. It’s early, earlier than he usually wakes up, but he knows Lan Huan will be awake already to read the message he sends. 

To: Lan Huan

I slept on it. I haven’t changed my mind.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng steps out of the shower in a cloud of steam. He glances at himself in the mirror, running an analytical gaze over his body. He’s put a lot of work into his physique, countless hours in the gym and swimming when the weather’s nice, and as a result, he’s solidly built and muscular, with broad shoulders and a flat, toned core.

That’s not what he’s looking at now. 

There is a ring of angry, red lines around each of his wrists. Last night, Lan Huan had tied him up by his wrists and ankles and shoved a vibrator inside him. Then, he’d pulled up an honest to god chair and sat, fully clothed while he watched Jiang Cheng struggle and squirm as he tried to get any leverage at all against the toy buzzing away inside him, just shy of his sweet spot. 

It had been utterly futile. Lan Huan had tied him up expertly, completely immobilizing him. In the end, he had no choice but to lie there and take it until the frustration got too much and he’d begged and cried for relief. Even then, Lan Huan had been cruel. Only when Jiang Cheng had gone limp and stopped fighting had he finally let him come. 

He touches one of the marks now, pressing his fingers into it until he feels a slight twinge of pain. He likes them far too much, these reminders of his time with Lan Huan. They make him feel good, owned in a way he doesn’t like to think about too hard. 

It’s been almost two weeks since he spoke to Lan Huan and they began this new phase of their arrangement. He’s seen him three times since then, though one of those was just for dinner. He’d insisted they go to a restaurant as far across town from both their apartments as possible, to minimize the risk of being seen. It had been…nice. Lan Huan is shockingly fun to talk to when he lets himself be something other than perfectly polite. 

They actually do have a lot in common, as it turns out. Lan Huan even offered to spar with him one day. He prospect alone had made Jiang Cheng’s blood pump a little faster in anticipation. 

Although, the whole thing had been uncomfortably close to a date in a way that made Jiang Cheng feel fidgety and nervous. Lan Huan had even paid at the end. Jiang Cheng had scowled and insisted he was more than capable of paying for his own meal, but Lan Huan had only smiled at him indulgently as he handed over his credit card. 

Between meeting up with Lan Huan, he’s mostly spent his time researching for his thesis, going to the gym, seeing his siblings–

And thinking about Lan Huan. 

In his defense, it’s hard not to think about him. Lan Huan texts him every day. Usually he sends him a good morning message and asks Jiang Cheng about his day. Sometimes he sends random texts or pictures of things he thinks Jiang Cheng might like. A few days ago, he’d texted him a photo of himself, smiling as a dog enthusiastically licked his face. Apparently he’d met it on one of his disgustingly early morning runs. 

It’s nice. It’s good, great, even. Jiang Cheng likes talking to Lan Huan, but he can’t shake the idea that the whole thing is oddly intimate. It had been one thing when all they did together was get off, or more accurately, Jiang Cheng got off while Lan Huan watched. He doesn’t really know how to deal with this new facet of their relationship. Lan Huan had said it wasn’t dating, but it feels like dating, to all Jiang Cheng’s admittedly limited knowledge on the subject. 

And that’s not even mentioning the other problem. Namely, that during their scenes Lan Huan still isn’t getting off at all. 

He gets hard every time. Jiang Cheng often catches a glimpse of a bulge in his neatly pressed trousers, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he isn’t looking. It bothers him, for some reason he can’t quite pin down. Most likely, it’s just humiliating that every time they do a scene together Jiang Cheng is reduced to a sobbing, sweaty wreck while Lan Huan watches him serenely, as composed as ever despite the fact that he’s obviously hard in his pants. 

Sometimes, when Lan Huan had finished cleaning him up, he gathers Jiang Cheng’s limp, wrung out body into his arms and Jiang Cheng can feel it. Pressing against the middle of his back like a brand. Usually he’s too floaty to notice at first, but when he starts coming back to himself, there’s something about it that makes him feel restless and jumpy. 

He doesn’t know why, and that bothers him more than anything. He knows Lan Huan is gay, and he’s even reasonably sure he’s attracted to Jiang Cheng in some form. But it’s not like he thinks Lan Huan is going to– to force himself on him or something. He trusts him more than that. 

Not to mention, if he did want to, he would have every opportunity when Jiang Cheng is out of his mind and begging for pleasure in the middle of a scene. But he doesn’t. He’s never even brought it up. 

Jiang Cheng hasn’t brought it up either. Not since the last conversation when Lan Huan had brought up the idea of a one-on-on, ongoing relationship. He’s not even sure how he would. 

Lan Huan, I’ve noticed you get hard when you finger me until I cry, but you never seem to want to do anything about it. What’s that about? 

Yeah, no. 

Jiang Cheng shakes his head viciously like he can clear his wandering thoughts by force. He scowls one last time at his reflection before pulling on a dark coloured, long sleeved t-shirt. It’s too hot for it, but the marks aren’t easy to cover. It’s not like he owns makeup or anything. 

He finishes getting dressed, grabs his phone and keys and heads out the door. 

——

“Aren’t you hot in that, a-Cheng?” Nie Huisang asks.

They’re sitting at a table outside a bustling cafe. It’s far trendier than anything Jiang Cheng would have chosen. Most of the customers have half a dozen piercings in their face and are wearing artfully ripped jeans. Huisang fits right in.

“No,” Jiang Cheng replies, tugging the edges of his sleeves down self consciously. Sweat is gathering at the nape of his neck and beginning to trickle down his spine, but he ignores it resolutely.

Huisang eyes him suspiciously, taking a sip of his smoothie. “If you say so,” he says eventually. “You’re stronger than me, I’ll give you that. I feel like I'm being cooked alive.” 

As if to prove his point, he produces a fan from his bag and starts waving it lazily. He sighs as the breeze washes over him, and Jiang Cheng can’t help feeling a little aggrieved. 

“Anyway,” Huisang continues, “how have you been? It feels like it’s been forever since we caught up properly.”

“It hasn’t been that long.”

Huisang gives him an exaggerated pout. “A-Cheng you wound me. I missed you so much these last few weeks and you’re telling me you didn’t even notice the time passing?” He stares wistfully into the distance. His lower lip actually trembles. “I guess I thought I meant something to you.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid I don’t know any other way to be,” Huisang says with a laugh. “But really, tell me. What’s been happening? Anything fun?”

“Not really. Mostly school work.”

Huisang snaps his fan shut and hits Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “Seriously? We haven’t seen each other for months and you expect me to believe the only thing you’ve been doing is school work?!” He hits him again.

“Ow! Stop that,” Jiang Cheng shoves him away. “Also it’s been like two weeks.”

“Yes!” Huisang throws his hands up, eyes wide. “Two long, long weeks. Something interesting must have happened in that time.”

Well, lots of interesting things had happened in that time. None of which he feels particularly inclined to tell Nie Huisang about. 

“Research, going to the gym, seeing jiejie,” Jiang Cheng lists off. “I haven’t had time for much else.”

“Fuck, a-Cheng you’re going to bore me to tears,” Huisang says, collapsing onto the table and narrowly avoiding knocking his smoothie over. “You used to be fun.”

Jiang Cheng scowls. “Some of us have responsibilities. We can’t all just spend our days getting drunk and fucking around.”

“Ouch. Harsh a-Cheng. I didn’t mean to strike a nerve.” Huisang sits up straight and sips his smoothie, looking completely unconcerned by Jiang Cheng’s words. “Besides, that’s not all I do.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng grits out. He feels a little guilty, but mostly he’s just annoyed. “Go on then, what have you been up to?”

Nie Huisang grins proudly. “I got a job.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng dats, his irritation melting away instantly. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you, thank you. I know, I’m the best.” He mock bows in his seat, but there’s a small, genuinely pleased smile on his face. 

“What’s the job?”

“You remember that design studio I’m always talking about? Ah, of course you don’t,” he says at Jiang Cheng’s blank look. “You should listen to me more. Anyway, they had scouts at the career fair earlier this year, so I thought I’d submit my portfolio and–“ He spreads his hands wide in front of him, like he’s performing an invisible magic trick, “I got accepted.”

Jiang Cheng watches him chatter with a warm fondness. As frivolous as he can be sometimes, Nie Huisang really does work hard when it means something to him. “That’s really great, Huisang. I’m happy for you.”

Nie Huisang flushes a little and hits him with his fan again. “Stop that. I don’t know what to do when you get all sincere.”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Noted. In future I’ll be more insulting when you tell me about your achievements.”

“Yes, thank you, that would be much appreciated,” he replies with a haughty sniff.

“Have you told your brother?” Jiang Cheng asks carefully. 

“No,” Huisang sighs. “Da-ge’s mostly given up on trying to make me join the family business by now, but I still don’t think he’ll be too happy.” He wrinkles his nose distastefully. “But seriously, why did we have to strike it rich in the meat processing industry? Couldn’t it have at least been something a little sexier? I should go back in time and murder my ancestors.”

Jiang Cheng graciously doesn’t point out that it’s his family’s money that paid for him to go to a top university and study fashion. Somehow, he doesn’t think Nie Huisang would appreciate the reminder. 

“He’s going to find out sooner or later,” he says instead. “You may as well just bite the bullet.”

“I know,” Huisang groans. “I know, I do, but he’s been weirdly chill lately and I really don’t want to mess with that.”

“Chill how?”

“Oh you know,” Nie Huisang waves his hands vaguely. “I mean, you’ve seen how bad his temper can be. But the last few months he’s been like, calm. It freaked me out at first, I thought something had to be wrong with him. But it’s also been, like, nice? He hasn’t even been bugging me about how I need to quit my stupid hobbies and get a real job or anything.”

Jiang Cheng nods along as Huisang speaks. He’s known Nie Mingjue since he was a kid. The man had always been intense, even when he was still a teenager. “Maybe it’s a good time to tell him, then. It sounds like he could be more receptive to it now.”

“Ah, but this peace we have is so fragile, I don’t want to ruin it.” He taps himself in the centre of his forehead with his fan thoughtfully. “Maybe I can just tell him I got a different job, something he’d actually approve of…”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Right, good plan, Huisang. I think that’d go over really well.”

Nie Huisang pouts miserably. “Yeah, I know, you’re probably right.” Then abruptly, he catches sight of something and straightens up with a grin. “Oh, hey!” He calls, waving at someone behind Jiang Cheng. 

He turns to see a man walking up to their table. He has an iced coffee in one hand and an easy grin on his face. Jiang Cheng thinks he might recognise him, vaguely, but he can’t place where he would have seen him. 

“A-Sang,” the man greets. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

“Me either– Oh!” He turns back to Jiang Cheng as if he’s just remembered he’s there. His smile turns mischievous in a way that makes Jiang Cheng’s blood run cold. “Jiang Cheng, let me introduce you. This is Yang Jiayi, he plays on the basketball team.” 

Fucking Nie Huisang doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

The guy - Yang Jiayi, apparently - turns to him with a grin, extending his hand. “I’ve seen you around campus before. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jiang Cheng replies woodenly, shaking the offered hand. 

“You were at a-Sang’s birthday too, right?” He asks. “It’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to chat then.”

“Yeah, for sure.” 

Yang Jiayi is, he supposes, probably considered handsome by most people. He’s tall, with dark hair that flops sort of artfully over his forehead in a way that makes it obvious he spends a lot of time styling it. The fitted t-shirt he’s wearing shows off a set of muscular, lightly tanned arms. 

Jiang Cheng barely spares him a glance before sipping idly at his coffee. 

“Ah, sorry Jiayi. A-Cheng’s not much of a conversationalist,” Huisang says, kicking Jiang Cheng under the table. Jiang Cheng scowls back at him.

“No worries,” Yang Jiayi replies, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s my fault for crashing your conversation. I’ll leave you to it, then. See you around, a-Sang. You too, Jiang Cheng.” 

He waves and walks off. Jiang Cheng fixes Nie Huisang with a glare that could freeze a lake. 

“Don’t look at me like that, a-Cheng,” Nie Huisang says with a bright laugh. “He’s nice isn’t he? He’s definitely into you.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Who gives a shit,” Jiang Cheng grumbles. “I told you already, I’m not–“

“Yeah, yeah,” Huisang says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re not gay, whatever. But that’s not the only thing you could be.”

Jiang Cheng frowns at him. “What are you on about now?”

“God, Jiang Cheng, don’t tell me you’ve never heard about bisexuality before. You can’t possibly be that sheltered.”

“The fuck? I’m not–“ Jiang Cheng splutters. “Obviously, I’m not stupid. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m not interested in him.”

Huisang sighs, defeated. “Fine, fine.” 

“Seriously, Huisang, I don’t need you trying to play matchmaker for me. I get enough of that from my parents,” Jiang Cheng grumbles.

“Ah, right. Sorry a-Cheng.” He looks genuinely a little remorseful. 

Jiang Cheng sighs and reaches over to punch him lightly in the shoulder. “It’s fine. Keep telling me about your new job, then.”

Huisang brightens instantly. “Okay, yeah, well I start in two weeks! It’s just assisting one of the senior designers to start with, but the hiring manager I talked to really liked my portfolio and said I have a lot of potential as a designer. I might get to work on my own stuff soon!”

Jiang Cheng drinks his coffee and listens to Nie Huisang talk. He waves his arms passionately as he does, fan flicking in and out with every sharp movement. By the time they’ve both finished their drinks, he seems to have forgotten completely about the awkwardness of earlier. 

Nur Huisang hugs him briefly and waves goodbye, a skip in his step as he walks away. Jiang Cheng heads in the other direction, to go home and work on his thesis. 

At least, he’d planned to work on it. He tries to work on it, but his mind won’t stop wandering. Before long, he realises he’s been staring at the same research paper for at least fifteen minutes without processing any of it. 

He slams his laptop shut with an irritated huff and pinches the bridge of his nose. There’s a headache building behind his eyes, so he screws them shut and lets his forehead rest on his desk. The cool surface feels nice against his skin, and it reminds him that he’s still wearing far too many clothes for such a hot day. 

He stands up and strips his long sleeve off, tossing it carelessly into the laundry hamper. As he’s rummaging around in his dresser for a more weather appropriate shirt, his phone starts ringing. He picks it up distractedly, not bothering to check the caller ID before he answers.

“Hello?”

“A-Cheng.”

The icy cold tone makes him stop short. 

“Oh. Hi, ma.”

Yu Ziyuan laughs humourlessly. “You could at least pretend to be excited to hear from me.”

Jiang Cheng shuts his eyes and leans his weight on the dresser. “Sorry,” he says. “I just wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“No? Waiting on someone else, were you? Sorry to disappoint, then.”

“That’s not– No. Of course I’m happy to hear from you.”

Yu Ziyuan makes a noise that makes it clear she knows he’s lying. “It’s been so long since we last spoke, I worried you’d forgotten your family.”

Jiang Cheng takes a slow, measured breath. “I know. Sorry it’s been so long, I’ve just been– busy, I guess.”

“Right,” Yu Ziyuan responds, voice dripping with contempt. “Are you going to tell your mother what it is that’s been keeping you so busy?”

“Just, you know. Research mainly. For my thesis.”

Yu Ziyuan makes a dismissive tch. “I don’t see why you feel the need. You already have a career lined up for you, one your father and I worked hard to put in place.”

“I know.” Jiang Cheng’s voice comes out small and weak. “But finishing this is– it’s important to me.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Yu Ziyuan snaps. “Time you could be spending learning real skills that will help you in the future.”

Jiang Cheng says nothing. He’s heard his mother’s opinion of his choices more times than he can count. It still doesn’t make it easier to deal with. 

Yu Ziyuan sighs audibly. “I suppose there’s nothing I can do. Regardless, you’ll be home a year from now and you can start doing something more useful with your time.”

“Of course, ma,” he says, resigned. 

“Good,” she replies, sharp enough to cut glass. Her tone softens when she speaks next, but remains just as cold. “A-Cheng, if I’m hard on you it's because I want you to succeed.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng replies automatically, like a script he knows by heart.

“Anyway, that’s not actually why I called you.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember the Sheng family?” She asks, but doesn’t wait for a reply before continuing. “I met Sheng Lin for tea yesterday, and she told me she has a daughter a few years younger than you. She’s attending the same university, too.”

Jiang Cheng’s fingers tighten reflexively where they’re gripping the edge of the dresser. “Ma, I–“

“You’re going to meet with her, a-Cheng. It’s already arranged.”

“Why would– you can’t just do that without asking!”

“Why can’t I? I’m not asking you to marry her. I’m asking you to have lunch with a nice girl who you might like if you bother to give her a chance.”

You’re not asking at all, Jiang Cheng thinks, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“You’ll have lunch with her on Tuesday,” she pauses for a moment. “Unless there’s a good reason you can’t?” 

There are several good reasons he can’t, like that he doesn’t know this girl, and he’s not interested in dating her, whoever she is. And of course, the glaringly obvious reason of Lan Huan and their… arrangement. 

But he knows that’s not what his mother wants to hear. 

“No,” he grits out. “There’s no reason.”

“Good.” She sighs again. “You need to start thinking about your future, a-Cheng. I’d like to still be alive to see my grandchildren.”

“Yanli’s already giving you a grandchild.”

“Yes,” she says. “A grandchild who will grow up and inherit the Jin family’s company one day. I’ve worked too hard to see the Jiang corporation fall apart because there was no one left to take over after you.”

Jiang Cheng has never been able to argue with his mother. “Okay,” he says, defeated.

“Good, I’ll tell Sheng Lin then. Goodbye, a-Cheng.”

“Bye, ma,” he responds, but the line has already gone dead.