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It’s the first time they’ve done a scene with Nie Mingjue. Lan Zhan doesn’t have any reservations; Wei Ying didn’t either, when they talked about it. Wei Ying had licked his lips and gotten a far away look in his eyes. Lan Zhan is pretty sure he knows what he was thinking about.
But now that they’re here, Wei Ying doesn’t seem to register Nie Mingjue kneeling on their bed, his broad thighs where their pillows usually are. Lan Zhan raises the leash and Wei Ying’s head goes with it. The narrow silver collar around Wei Ying’s throat is new. Lan Zhan loves the way the sunlight filtering through the curtains makes it shine. His back straightens and he stands taller, taller, until he is on tip-toe, even though there is still slack in the leash. Wei Ying submits so beautifully for Lan Zhan. He is so eager to please.
Lan Zhan doesn’t like to speak when he doms. Wei Ying is so in tune with him, it is rarely necessary. Lan Zhan walks to the bed, keeping his hand in the same place on the leash. Wei Ying obediently drops his heels to the ground and walks precisely one step behind him as he follows. Lan Zhan puts one knee on the bed and draws the leash closer. Wei Ying gets up on the bed and shuffles forward on his knees. He kneels in front of Lan Zhan, his back to Nie Mingjue, and gazes at the white sheets beneath him. He rests his hands on his knees in loose fists. His eyes are distant, his lips parted. He is so beautiful. Lan Zhan takes a moment to look.
Lan Zhan raises the leash and extends his arm. First Wei Ying’s head turns to follow it, then his whole body. He shuffles in a circle until he is facing Nie Mingjue at the head of the bed in a vertical kneel, a long straight line from the crown of his head to his knees. Lan Zhan lowers the leash and pulls it toward him until it’s taut. Wei Ying sinks back onto his heels, a comfortable position he can hold for hours. Lan Zhan lets the leash fall onto the bed in a dark coil of pliant leather. Nie Mingjue has been watching it all so patiently, his own hands flat on his thighs, his cock half hard between them.
Lan Zhan comes the rest of the way onto the bed. He kneels behind Wei Ying and settles his hands on his hips. The skin is so soft there, the fine hairs and the softness above his hip plusher than velvet. Lan Zhan digs in his fingers. Wei Ying sways back slightly. Lan Zhan loves these moments, the ones when he can feel them both settle like pebbles dropped to the bottom of a deep pond.
Lan Zhan makes eye contact with Nie Mingjue and nods. Nie Mingjue reaches for the condom and lube on the bedside table. Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying come back to himself partially by the way his breath catches, can see the movement of his head as he tracks Nie Mingjue’s hands. Lan Zhan watches him watch as Nie Mingjue lubes himself up. Lan Zhan is big, but Nie Mingjue is bigger. Is Wei Ying’s mouth already slick with saliva, he wonders? If he forced open Wei Ying’s mouth with his fingers, would his tongue be dripping with it?
Lan Zhan pushes Wei Ying forward with a hand on his back. The pressure is light but steady. Wei Ying bends at the waist, his neck craning so he can watch as Nie Mingjue finally unrolls the condom over his dick.
Lan Zhan only has eyes for the view immediately in front of him. Wei Ying’s ass rises into the air as he bends. He told Wei Ying to prepare, and he has. The base of a silicon butt plug is visible between the curves of his asscheeks. Its light aqua; a gift from Lan Zhan early in their relationship. His colors, not Wei Ying’s. He wants to pull it out with his teeth and bite the flesh beside it.
But Nie Mingjue is there, so he will be on his best behavior. Today, he is the perfectly controlled dom. No rough surprises for Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan squeezes one asscheek appreciatively. He grips the butt plug in his other hand and pulls, slow but unyielding. He watches the ring of muscle widen around the thickest part of the plug, and then the rest of it slides out with a quiet gasp from Wei Ying. He was generous with the lube, it looks like; the clear liquid drips out of his hole as soon as the plug is free. Lan Zhan sets aside the plug and catches the drops on his fingers. He spreads the warm liquid over Wei Ying’s balls, then rubs it along his perineum. Wei Ying jerks at the unexpected touch. Lan Zhan’s free hand clamps down on his hip. Wei Ying stops moving, but he whines.
Lan Zhan digs his fingers in deeper. Wei Ying goes very still. He is on his hands and knees now, his ass exposed. He whimpers out a little breath, then cuts it off himself. Good. Lan Zhan eases the pressure. He rubs the now sore spot on Wei Ying’s hip with his thumb. Just like that, the tension goes out of Wei Ying’s shoulders.
Lan Zhan looks up. Nie Mingjue is fully hard, but he gives no sign of impatience as he hands over the bottle of lube. Lan Zhan takes it with his clean hand. He lubes himself up, then sets the bottle on the floor beside the bed. He wipes his hand clean on a washcloth he had left at the foot of the bed for that purpose.
Lan Zhan picks up the leash. He brings Wei Ying into a vertical kneel again; he’s slower to react now that he has come partially out of subspace, but he can be patient. He nudges Wei Ying’s legs apart until he can kneel between them. They are almost back to front.
Lan Zhan unclips the leash. He drops it to the floor. He hooks a finger under the back of Wei Ying’s collar. Wei Ying’s breath is coming faster; his ears are flushed. Lan Zhan tugs. Wei Ying sits down.
They both moan as Wei Ying sinks onto Lan Zhan’s dick; Lan Zhan’s moan is quiet, but Wei Ying’s is loud and desperate. Oh, Wei Ying is not as together as he thought he was. Lan Zhan smoothes a hand over his shoulders, brings it around to his front, presses his palm over his sternum so he can bring them flush together. Wei Ying whines. His hips jerk helplessly, little movements that Lan Zhan can feel travel from his dick to the very core of him.
Lan Zhan almost loses it. The tight heat of him, the desperate sounds he makes—it is almost impossible to deny Wei Ying when he is like this. He wants to push Wei Ying facedown and pound him into the mattress.
Lan Zhan places both hands on Wei Ying’s hips and pushes him up, then pulls him down. One stroke. Wei Ying tightens his thighs to prepare for another, but that’s not what Lan Zhan has planned. He brings his palm to Wei Ying’s sternum again and leans into him. They both go forward. Wei Ying forgets that his arms aren’t bound behind him, and Lan Zhan has to remind him, has to grip Wei Ying’s hand in his and place it on the soft sheets in front of them. Lan Zhan keeps pressing forward, slow, inexorable. Wei Ying curls his fingers into the sheets and pants.
Wei Ying almost stops moving when they are fully on their hands and knees, but Lan Zhan won’t let him. Lan Zhan braces himself against the mattress with one arm so Wei Ying doesn’t have to take his full weight. He keeps pressing down until Wei Ying’s hips are pressed into the mattress, until his arms buckle under him and he collapses facedown. Lan Zhan isn’t fully seated in him anymore, not at this angle, but they are still connected. He pauses above Wei Ying, his arms bracketing him, and lets him breathe.
Wei Ying’s head is at Nie Mingjue’s knees. Nie Mingjue’s long fingers stroke through Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying turns his head to the side, and Nie Mingjue obligingly smoothes the dark strands away from his eyes and mouth. Lan Zhan watches as Wei Ying blinks slowly at Nie Mingjue. His heart aches at the trust he sees there, at the gentle openness that Wei Ying so rarely lets himself feel.
Nie Mingjue lifts Wei Ying’s head, shuffles closer, and resettles it on his thighs. Wei Ying closes his eyes briefly. It must be uncomfortable for Wei Ying to have his back bent at such an angle, and Nie Mingjue helps him bring his arms under his chest to ease it a little bit.
It is a great pleasure to watch Nie Mingjue’s large hands position Wei Ying’s head a little higher on his thighs. Wei Ying goes so easily. He doesn’t protest at all when Nie Mingjue scoots forward on the bed, even though it jostles his head slightly. Wei Ying’s mouth is parted, and his lips leave a damp trail of saliva on Nie Mingjue’s thigh as it moves beneath his cheek. Nie Mingjue’s cock bobs upwards as he adjusts their position. Wei Ying licks his lips when he sees it. His pupils are huge. His breathing is deep and even, but Lan Zhan can see how much he wants it.
There is a beat as Nie Mingjue waits, but Wei Ying is too deep in subspace to move without instructions. Nie Mingjue grips Wei Ying by the hair and guides his mouth onto his cock. He does it so gently, more gently than Lan Zhan would have. Good. Wei Ying can only take roughness when he is expecting it.
Wei Ying sucks on the tip of his cock immediately. Nie Mingjue lets out a little grunt. His hand still on his hair, he pulls him off his cock, then pulls him back, deeper this time. Wei Ying takes him in eagerly. He squirms beneath Lan Zhan, trying to move farther up the bed. Lan Zhan lightens the pressure on his hips so that he can, though he doesn’t move very far. His head bobs up and down Nie Mingjue’s cock, but his lips never get more than halfway down his length. The next time Wei Ying pulls back to the tip, Nie Mingjue grips his hair and tugs.
Wei Ying freezes. His whole body tenses, then goes limp. Lan Zhan strokes his hip in silent praise. Wei Ying relaxes further until he is melting in the mattress. Slowly, so slowly, Nie Mingjue pushes forward.
Wei Ying can take Lan Zhan down his throat. Lan Zhan is long, but Nie Mingjue is wider. They both watch closely as Wei Ying struggles to adjust to the unaccustomed girth. Nie Mingjue pulls out so Wei Ying can catch his breath. He coughs. Lan Zhan strokes a soothing hand along his shoulder.
The second time Nie Mingjue pushes in, tears spring to Wei Ying’s eyes. Both his hands curl into the silk sheets and he twists them in his grip. Lan Zhan can see him struggling to relax his throat. Nie Mingjue pulls out to let him breathe, and he does, gasping. Saliva slides over his lips and down his chin.
Lan Zhan taps his palm on the center of Wei Ying’s back: a check-in. The fingers of Wei Ying’s right hand immediately straighten, and he taps the mattress once. Green.
Lan Zhan looks up to find Nie Mingjue watching him with his sharp, dark eyes. He nods.
Nie Mingjue sets a pace in time with Wei Ying’s breathing. He holds his head steady by the hair, but he gives him enough freedom that Wei Ying can lick and suck at his cock. He fucks Wei Ying’s throat with smooth, even strokes. Wei Ying’s lips are shining and wet. Saliva trickles out of the corner of his mouth and leaves a shining spot on Nie Mingjue’s corded thigh. They make a beautiful sight: Wei Ying so eager to please, and Nie Mingjue so steady and firm.
Lan Zhan sits back. His cock slides farther out of Wei Ying; only the tip is inside now. Wei Ying is too preoccupied to notice. Lan Zhan picks up the riding crop that lies parallel to them on the bed. He drags the leather tongue along the curve of Wei Ying’s ass to let him know it’s there. Wei Ying immediately tilts up his hips to give him better access. Nie Mingjue shortens his strokes and tilts Wei Ying’s head so he is no longer fucking his throat. Wei Ying licks at him eagerly now that he can breathe through his nose.
Lan Zhan gives him two strikes in quick succession, one on each globe of his ass. Wei Ying clenches around Lan Zhan’s cock. By the tenth stroke, five on each side, he is making soft little moans. They must feel amazing around Nie Mingjue’s cock, because his breathing has deepened and he is petting Wei Ying’s hair with each thrust.
Lan Zhan tilts forward and presses in a little deeper. Wei Ying whines. He tries to press his hips up to get him deeper inside. Two more strikes, one on each cheek. Wei Ying clenches harder, whines louder. This is what Lan Zhan wants to see, the desperate Wei Ying from before—but this time, he is going to get what he wants. Thirteen, fourteen. His asscheeks are pleasantly pink, just like his upper body. Wei Ying flushes from his neck to his stomach when he’s aroused. It is such a pretty color on him.
Fifteen, sixteen. Wei Ying is having a harder time staying still. His hips judder against the mattress. Lan Zhan is vaguely aware that Nie Mingjue is fucking his throat again. Seventeen, eighteen. Lan Zhan’s own breathing is quickening. Nineteen, twenty.
Lan Zhan tosses the crop aside. He braces himself with his arms on either side of Wei Ying’s body and fucks into him. Wei Ying whimpers. His hands scrabble across the smooth sheets, and then his hand finds Lan Zhan’s. He grips him and holds on. Lan Zhan wants to squeeze his hand back, but he can’t, so he quickens his thrusts: I’m here, I’m with you, you’re going so good. Wei Ying’s mouth makes a slick sound with every thrust of Nie Mingjue’s cock. Lan Zhan can feel Nie Mingjue’s hot breath on his own neck every time he thrusts forward, and its only due to the twist of Nie Mingjue’s body that they don’t bump heads. Between them, Wei Ying writhes on the sheets, every thrust punching out a muffled moan.
Nie Mingjue breathing becomes erratic. His hand tightens in Wei Ying’s hair in warning. Wei Ying tries to be so good; Lan Zhan feels him try to relax even more, strain to take Nie Mingjue even deeper. Nie Mingjue’s hips stutter; he grunts. Wei Ying’s throat works around him, trying to swallow, even though the condom has caught all of it.
Nie Mingjue pulls out as soon as his orgasm has shaken through him. It’s abrupt, but Lan Zhan can tell he is worried about how long Wei Ying hasn’t been able to breathe. Nie Mingjue smoothes back Wei Ying’s hair from his face as he gasps in air. Even before he catches his breath, Wei Ying cranes his neck to chase after Nie Mingjue’s cock. When Nie Mingjue pulls away, Wei Ying lets out a loud, broken whine.
Wei Ying likes to feel full. Lan Zhan had told Nie Mingjue that when they agreed on this, had reassured him that Wei Ying would love the weight of his cock down his throat. Lan Zhan meets Nie Mingjue’s eyes as he pounds into Wei Ying. Wei Ying needs, and Nie Mingjue is not providing. He doesn’t know what Nie Mingjue sees in his eyes, but it makes his own go wide.
Wei Ying lets go of Lan Zhan’s hand to paw at Nie Mingjue’s thigh, close to where his half-hard cock lies against it, the tip of the condom full. Nie Mingjue looks lost for a moment. Tentatively, he moves his softening cock closer to Wei Ying’s lips. Wei Ying immediately takes it back into his mouth. As soon as his lips wrap around it, he sighs contentedly and closes his eyes. Nie Mingjue holds his own cock gently at the base to keep the condom from slipping off.
Wei Ying has been so good. Wei Ying has taken all they have given him. Wei Ying is deserving of love, and praise, and everything he has ever desired.
Lan Zhan feels across the expanse of the mattress with his right hand, but he comes up empty. He tries to keep his thrusts even so Wei Ying doesn’t notice that he is distracted. He had left it beside the riding crop, but it is small and hard to find.
A warm hand touches his. He looks up. Nie Mingjue presses the bullet vibrator into his hand. Lan Zhan meets his eyes for a moment in silent thanks. He turns it on; it’s a single button, easy enough with one hand, and it only has one speed. Wei Ying tries to turn his head when he hears the buzzing, but he can’t with Nie Mingjue’s hand on the back of his head. Lan Zhan works his hand under Wei Ying’s body, between his stomach and the mattress. He cups the leaking head of Wei Ying’s cock and the vibrator together and holds them.
Wei Ying yells. His hips jerk, trying to get away from the sensation even as he tries to rut into the mattress. Nie Mingjue’s broad hands hold his shoulders down. Lan Zhan sinks into him and pins his hips with his own. He feels Wei Ying’s cock spurt against his hand, once, twice, again and again, the hot liquid leaking through his fingers. Only when Wei Ying lets out a muffled sob does he remove the vibrator and toss it away.
Tears stream beautifully down Wei Ying’s cheeks. He lets out a broken moan with every breath, even as he sucks on Nie Mingjue’s softening cock. He is grateful that Nie Mingjue is stroking Wei Ying’s hair when he can’t.
He pulls Wei Ying’s hips up, the way Wei Ying had tried to before, and finally gives him the angle that Wei Ying had been begging for. Each thrust takes him hilt-deep. He can barely hear the slap of their skin over the roar of his heart.
He comes deep inside him while Wei Ying’s head is pillowed on Nie Mingjue’s thighs. Wei Ying’s hand found his again at some point, and he finally is able to grip it back as he collapses on top of him. He rests his forehead on Wei Ying’s shoulder and breathes.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying is saying in a small, desperate voice. “Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan kisses his shoulder blade, very gently, then pulls out. He does it as gently as he can, but Wei Ying still hisses. His own come dribbles out of Wei Ying’s hole and slicks up his thighs. He sits back on his heels. He pulls Wei Ying into his lap in an imitation of how they began.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighs into the side of his neck. The silver collar presses into Lan Zhan’s collarbone. Lan Zhan strokes his hair. The strands at the base of his neck are damp with sweat; his back is slick with it. He kisses Wei Ying’s shoulder and breathes in the warm, alive smell of him.
The bed dips as Nie Mingjue gets up. Lan Zhan can hear the faint sounds of something being dropped in the bathroom trash can, of running water, a flushed toilet. He closes his eyes and nuzzles Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying is humming, deep in his throat, a wordless sound of contentment.
Some time later, the bed dips again as Nie Mingjue returns. Lan Zhan raises his head and blinks in surprise. Nie Mingjue is holding a steaming cup that smells of hot lemon and honey. Wei Ying takes it gratefully. He takes a small sip, then another one. “That was so good, holy shit,” he says. His voice is rough. Nie Mingjue places a hand at the back of his neck as if in apology, and Wei Ying smiles up at him gratefully. “Seriously,” he says, his voice still sounding like he swallowed gravel, and then drinks another mouthful of tea. “Also, this is so good. You’re amazing.”
Lan Zhan can feel his drop coming with the weight of a mountain. He does not want to leave Wei Ying, never wants to stop touching Wei Ying, but he knows he has to get up. As soon as he begins to pull away, Wei Ying climbs out of his lap and sits cross-legged on the bed.
Lan Zhan goes to the cabinet in the bathroom where they keep the washcloths. He runs the water until it is hot and then dampens one, and then grabs a second. He gets the tin of the salve from the medicine cabinet. He brings it all back into the bedroom, where Wei Ying is babbling to Nie Mingjue about how he deserves “a gift basket, all the gift baskets, right, Lan Zhan? Would you like fruit or flowers? Are you an edible arrangements kind of guy, or are you more about fruit in a box? How about both? Can we give him both, Lan Zhan?”
Lan Zhan does not respond, but he gives a slight nod that Wei Ying will take as agreement. He gets Wei Ying to lie down on the bed on his stomach after he gives the teacup to Nie Mingjue, and then he sets to work cleaning him up with the washcloth. Wei Ying pillows his head on his arms and talks to Nie Mingjue as he works. Wei Ying shivers a little, so Lan Zhan quickly finishes up and then dries him off with the other washcloth. He kneels between his spread legs and unscrews the lid on the tin of salve.
Wei Ying’s skin has turned red from the riding crop. He will feel the sting when he comes down from his own high. Lan Zhan quickly smoothes the salve over the skin and rubs it in. He massages away any bruises that might form and the tension in the underlying muscles. When he is done, he screws the cap back on, folds the washcloths, and puts it all neatly on the bedside table.
“—so I really am serious that we should do this again,” Wei Ying is saying. Lan Zhan doesn’t know when, but at some point, Nie Mingjue got dressed. Nie Mingjue catches his eyes from across the room and smiles. Lan Zhan is stunned for a moment by the warmth in that smile. It was a thank you and a you’re welcome all at once. Nie Mingjue bends down and presses a kiss to Wei Ying’s forehead. Wei Ying immediately goes quiet and looks up at him in surprise. He moves around the bed with sure steps and presses his lips to the top of Lan Zhan’s head. Then he is gone.
Wei Ying rolls over onto his side and looks at Lan Zhan. “What was that?”
Yes, Lan Zhan thinks, he deservers a box of fruit and an edible arrangement.
Lan Zhan looks at the toys scattered on the floor, thinks about how they both desperately need to shower, about how they are going to have to do a load of laundry before they can sleep in their bed again. He gets onto the bed and lies down beside Wei Ying. Without prompting, Wei Ying scoots closer and slings an arm over his waist. “Lan Zhan,” he murmurs in his ear. “You are the best and I love you and you’re wonderful and that was amazing, and I hope you feel as good as you just made me feel every day of your life.”
Despite himself, Lan Zhan smiles. He rolls over and curls up against Wei Ying. Wei Ying hooks his chin over the top of his head and holds him close. The cool silver of Wei Ying’s collar presses against his nose. Lan Zhan nuzzles it.
“Yours,” Wei Ying agrees sleepily. “Nap?”
Lan Zhan nods. He knows that Wei Ying understood what he really meant: I am yours. The last thing he hears before he drifts to sleep is Wei Ying’s contented sigh.