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Wei Ying’s tits are something straight out of an anime. She’s a sapphic’s wet dream: big doe eyes, blinding smile, tiny waist, peach ass, thick thighs. The first time Lan Zhan saw her, she felt like one of those cartoons where the character’s tongue rolls entirely out of their mouth and their eyes blow out with an air horn sound. Fucking ridiculous and yet not even remotely an exaggeration.
Lan Zhan knows she’s hot: she's been told by multiple people of all genders—not just those she fucks, but cis gay men and cishet women too—that she’s out of this world. Which, sure, is a compliment, and Lan Zhan makes sure to give them her iciest, most regal gaze, soften it with a quick smug quirk of her lip when she thanks them. But Wei Ying is—
“Ah! Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying bounds over, skirt swishing along the tops of her thighs, toeing the line between acceptable and obscene and very much leaning towards the latter. She’s been playing volleyball with the community centre kids while waiting for Lan Zhan’s yoga class to finish.
Yes, volleyball, because Lan Zhan’s girlfriend is trying to kill her.
Wei Ying tosses a wave and a laugh at the kids, who all demand to continue the match next week, and comes to a too-close stop in front of Lan Zhan's nose. Her beautiful tits bounce beneath her cute crop top in the sports bra Lan Zhan had bought her—because of course Wei Ying hadn’t bought any bras since she was eighteen and Lan Zhan refused to let her do any further damage to her back than she already had.
“Ready to go?” Wei Ying asks, eyes so bright with her joy Lan Zhan would swear sometimes they actually sparkle.
“Lunch?” Lan Zhan replies.
Wei Ying beams. “Thought you’d never ask Jiejie! I’m starving! Oh!” She licks her lips. “Thirsty too!”
Lan Zhan breathes through her nose and makes an effort to not ravage her in full view of a bunch of 9-17 year-olds. She’s really fucking thirsty too, god damn it.
They eat at their favourite ramen place, grab boba (lychee green tea with apple jelly for Wei Ying—because she’s an unhinged sweet-tooth—and a grapefruit green tea at 30% sugar for Lan Zhan) and head to Lan Zhan’s apartment.
They’ve only been dating 3 months or so and Lan Zhan's been loving every single second. She pined after Wei Ying for years and she's so ecstatic she gets to love Wei Ying, out loud, in front of friends, family and strangers, that sometimes she thinks she could just burst into fireworks. It feels right, easy, comfortable in a way that previous relationships haven't, which makes the one thing that feels slightly off all the more odd.
They’ve slept together twice, which objectively is fine. Lan Zhan's firmly of the belief that physical intimacy doesn't have a timeline defined by anyone but those within the relationship. Besides that, between Lan Zhan’s PhD and Wei Ying’s fourth-year chaos and relentless pursuit of every extracurricular activity known to humankind, they’ve been kept busy.
It’s the two times they have slept together that have given Lan Zhan pause.
Because Wei Ying hadn’t come.
Lan Zhan prides herself on getting others off, it’s one of her favourite things to do, she delights in giving pleasure almost more than receiving it. But, their first time together, when Lan Zhan had gone to eat her out, Wei Ying had giggled and pulled her back up, kissed her furiously and brought Lan Zhan to the fastest climax on her very talented fingers. After, when Lan Zhan had regained higher brain function and tried again to reciprocate, Wei Ying had gone all soft and kitten-pliant and gosh I’m so tired, aren’t you Zhan-jie? And, well, Lan Zhan wasn’t going to deny her, especially when she cuddled right up and around Lan Zhan like the world’s tittiest big spoon. So, she had let it go, figured Wei Ying was tired, and that was that.
Their next time, Wei Ying ate her out for an hour and a half: Edging her and then making her come again and again and again and again. Lan Zhan’s legs hadn’t stopped twitching for nearly 15 minutes. When her faculties had finally returned, she’d reached again for Wei Ying, and promptly been distracted by a truly mind-blowing kiss—Wei Ying’s tongue really was something else—and then Wei Ying’s alarm had sounded. She’d thrown her clothes on like a pack of dogs was at her heels, chirping about how her lab class would run late, so Lan Zhan shouldn’t worry about waiting up for her as she'd probably stay at Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen’s.
Once is one thing. Twice is odd and unmistakably the sign of a possible pattern.
Lan Zhan’s still got a quarter or so left of her boba, but Wei Ying had guzzled hers down because she’s a gremlin. (She’s Lan Zhan’s gremlin, and Lan Zhan loves her, but she's a gremlin nonetheless.) They’re curled up on the couch, a drama they’re both half-interested in playing in the background while Wei Ying scrolls on her phone because she needs the constant stimulation of little screen with big screen. Lan Zhan tucks Wei Ying closer to her chest and quietly delights at the contented hum Wei Ying makes in the back of her throat.
Honestly, sometimes she’s so cute Lan Zhan thinks she might actually die of an overload. Incredibly embarrassing for her reputation as an ice queen.
She nuzzles against Wei Ying’s neck and Wei Ying makes another happy noise. Lan Zhan kisses her jaw. “Wei Ying?”
“Yes, sweetheart?” Wei Ying smiles. And, look. Normally Lan Zhan hates pet names, but when they roll off Wei Ying’s tongue, she can’t get enough.
She circles her fingers soothingly against Wei Ying’s hip, presses another kiss to her shoulder. “Would you like to have sex?”
Wei Ying flips over, almost sending them both careening off the couch in her eagerness and throws her leg over Lan Zhan’s hips. Lan Zhan indulges her and moves so she’s fully on her back, allowing Wei Ying to straddle her properly. Wei Ying’s fingers immediately go for the waistband of Lan Zhan’s yoga pants, but Lan Zhan catches them. Wei Ying looks at her quizzically.
“Lan Zhan?” she says, and Lan Zhan hates the small hint of uncertainty creeping into her tone.
Pulling her hands towards her, Lan Zhan kisses each of Wei Ying’s fingers until her face loses the small pinch of worry and softens into her patented doe-eyed affection. “What would you like?” she asks, making sure to watch Wei Ying very closely, even as she begins kissing her fingers again, starting with her thumbs.
Wei Ying’s brow furrows slightly. “What would I like?”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says, sucking just a bit on her ring finger, enjoying the hitch in Wei Ying’s breath. “Would you like to come on my tongue or my fingers? Or we can move to the bedroom and I can get my strap if that’s something you’re interested in?”
And Wei Ying—freezes. Lan Zhan watches it happen in real time. Something very much like fear, like panic, stutters across her face, closely followed by embarrassment. Lan Zhan stops kissing Wei Ying’s fingers and tracks the incredible way Wei Ying, so open only moments ago, completely shutters everything she just felt behind a brilliant, if not quite right, smile and an off-hand laugh. “Lan Zhan! I want to make you feel good!”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, taking hold of Wei Ying’s hips as she pulls herself up into a sitting position. Wei Ying immediately scabbles off her lap and sits on the couch. Lan Zhan lets her, for now, but if she tries running away, Lan Zhan will hold her down. They are having this conversation—it is long overdue.
Wei Ying won’t meet her eyes. “Am I—” She cuts herself off, worries her bottom lip. “Was it not good? Before?”
Lan Zhan jolts. “Wei Ying, no. Of course it was good. I love what we’ve been doing.”
Wei Ying properly frowns now. “Then what’s the matter? What can I do better?”
Oh, Wei Ying. Lan Zhan shakes her head and takes Wei Ying’s hands in hers again. They’ve gone cold and clammy. She squeezes them a little. “Wei Ying, that’s not what this is about.”
A small burst of frustration lights across Wei Ying’s face. Good, Lan Zhan thinks, now we’re getting somewhere. “Then what is it about, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying hits all her consonants. Lan Zhan really shouldn’t find that as hot as she does.
“The times we’ve had sex, you haven’t come. You haven’t let me give you an orgasm.”
Wei Ying’s mouth drops open, then closes. Her shoulders pull towards her ears, a little defensive, and then she relaxes, tugs her hands from Lan Zhan’s grip. Lan Zhan lets her, once again: whatever Wei Ying needs.
She laughs, a little high. “Oh, Lan Zhan, you scared me! I thought this was about something serious! Fuck, I thought you were about to break up with me!”
Lan Zhan chooses to breeze right past the lack of orgasm during sex not being something serious part and instead immediately nip all thoughts of breaking up in the bud. “I am very invested in continuing a relationship with you for as long as you'll have me,” she says seriously.
Wei Ying laughs again, more normal this time. “Good! Because I’m not letting you go Lan Zhan!” She inches closer and Lan Zhan automatically reaches out for her ankle and begins rubbing nonsense patterns on it.
“Good, we’re agreed.” Lan Zhan gives a small smile, but doesn’t allow Wei Ying to move on. “But I would like to know why you think your orgasms during sex are not something to be considered serious.”
“Oh! Um, well.” Wei Ying blushes. She’s so fucking cute. If they didn’t really need to have this conversation, Lan Zhan would bite her cheeks. “It’s just never seemed really important I guess? I mean, I’ve never come during sex before, so I just figured I was a rub-it-yourself kind of girl.”
There is … a lot to unpack there, but Lan Zhan’s brain gets firmly stuck on one thing in particular. Lan Zhan pauses in her ministrations. ”You’ve never come during sex?”
"You make it sound like it’s a bad thing Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying giggles, trying to hide again, but Lan Zhan can read her so easily. She’s off balance and unsure. “I take too long. And some people don’t like—" She shakes her head, dismissive. "Anyway. It’s okay! I don’t mind.”
Lan Zhan is horrified. Lan Zhan is furious. Lan Zhan very much minds.
She clears her throat and starts with the safest and the most clinical so as not to scare Wei Ying away too soon with more emotion. “Depending on the kind of sex, whether it’s oral or penetrative and whether there’s extra stimulation, as well as the position, it can take people with vulvas anywhere from 5 to 15 to 40 or more minutes to reach orgasm.”
Wei Ying’s eyes bug out, and it would be funny if the entire situation didn’t make Lan Zhan feel equal parts tired, angry and sad. “Forty!”
She nods. “Mn, or longer. There are many variables. The key is, of course, communication, and working with your partner. Learning what you like and sharing that. Or, exploring and discovering together.”
Wei Ying has gotten progressively more and more red, a proper flush from her cheeks to her chest, bottom lip bitten between her teeth. She is truly delicious. Lan Zhan blinks to regain her focus. “But that’s! That’s so long!” she cries.
Lan Zhan rubs her ankle again and is charmed to see a little shiver run through Wei Ying’s body. “If that’s how long it takes, then that’s how long it takes. There’s no limitation on feeling pleasure, Wei Ying.” She gives a little smirk, knows how much Wei Ying loves it when she lets her humour peek through. “Plus, we can always take snack breaks.”
Wei Ying, serial snacker, smacks her arm lightly. “Be gentle with me Jiejie, my whole world is being rearranged.”
Which, about that. “Why did you think I wouldn’t want to eat you out for an hour and a half, or longer, as you did for me?”
Wei Ying looks away. Lan Zhan’s heart tightens at the brief flash of sadness she sees before Wei Ying hides it away.
“You can tell me anything,” Lan Zhan says.
So, Wei Ying tells her. About growing up in a conservative household under a bitter aunt and passive uncle. About always being told she’s too loud, too much, too Wei Ying. About her boobs growing—and growing and growing—and everyone suddenly treating her differently. About learning to not ask for things lest she be accused of demanding and being greedy. Learning to make a joke of everything. Learning to get herself off as quietly and quickly as possible in houses with thin walls. About the cis men she’s slept with, because they’re easy and available, and their less than enthusiastic interest in her body when they weren't sticking their dick into it. The one who couldn’t find the clitoris with an illustrated map and a physical guide. The one who did find it and had treated it like a game controller to button bash. Or the who who wasn’t interested in finding it at all. The ones who refused to kiss her after she’d given them head or refused to sixty-nine because they didn’t like how wet it gets.
The story Wei Ying tells is hardly new, but it hurts to hear nonetheless.
When Wei Ying stops, she looks a little washed out, shoulders curled in, eyes dim. She's is a very tactile person, and, while Lan Zhan's never really considered herself to be at all, she’s found that, with Wei Ying, there's a lot she's learning about her limits, or rather, her lack thereof.
“Would you like a hug?” she asks and Wei Ying practically launches herself at Lan Zhan. She wraps her arms around Wei Ying easily and breathes through her clinging. She rubs Wei Ying’s back, feels her sigh as she melts into the hug, and they sit there for a while, just breathing.
Wei Ying turns and noses at Lan Zhan’s jaw, wiggles a little on Lan Zhan’s lap, let’s out another little sigh.
Lan Zhan hides a smile and kisses her temple. “During sex, We Ying, what do you like?”
Wei Ying leans back and tilts her head, thinking. “Well, I like giving head and eating people out.” That sinking feeling is back and filling Lan Zhan’s chest the more Wei Ying talks. Wei Ying chews absently on her lip, then lights up. “Oh, and rimming is fun! And, um, giving handjobs and fingering is great too—”
“No, Wei Ying. Not what you like to give others. What do you like given to you?”
Wei Ying blinks. “Oh! Um, I’ve never really thought about it, I guess?”
Lan Zhan takes a moment. Breathes in through her nose, clenching and unclenching her fist, breathes out. It’s all very well and good to get off on giving other people pleasure—Lan Zhan knows this very well—but not getting off at all because you’re too busy prioritising others’ pleasure? Or, worse: not getting off at all because you don’t think your pleasure is worth it, because you’re used to it not being worth it? Mentally, she severely maims every single person who has slept with Wei Ying and not given her pleasure. Every single person that ensured Wei Ying saw her own pleasure as secondary or, worse, irrelevant. Severely maimed, many times over. She feels a little better.
She glides a knuckle along Wei Ying’s cheek then cups her jaw and smiles as Wei Ying sweetly leans into it. “Tell me what you like Wei Ying. Or, if you don’t know, tell me what you’d like to try.”
Oh, she’s so beautiful, Lan Zhan thinks, as Wei Ying’s lips part, breathless with surprise. Lan Zhan keeps eye contact and nudges Wei Ying’s hip. She blinks repeatedly, then bobs her head, a little nonsensically, and shuffles so that she’s sitting across Lan Zhan’s lap with both legs hanging off the couch. Lan Zhan rests one hand lightly on the back of Wei Ying’s neck and the other innocently on Wei Ying’s thigh. Wei Ying’s legs fall a little further apart.
“Okay?” Lan Zhan checks in.
“Okay,” Wei Ying breathes.
“Good.” Lan Zhan smooths her thumb over the top of Wei Ying’s spine. “Just say what comes to mind, if it helps not to think about it too much,” Lan Zhan advises Wei ‘chronic overthinker’ Ying. C’mon, sweetheart, she thinks, you can do it. She gives Wei Ying’s thigh a little pinch, as a little incentive, prompting. “Tell Jiejie what you like.”
“Riding,” Wei Ying blurts and immediately flushes bright red.
Lan Zhan leans forward, kisses beneath her ear in reward, presses her pleased into her skin. “Good. Good, Wei Ying. What else?”
And the floodgates open.
Lan Zhan ensures Wei Ying keeps eye contact as she rambles, a little hazily, “I wanna be eaten out for as long as it takes me to come. I wanna be eaten out and not come, because I want to: be edged until I cry.”
Lan Zhan takes a firmer grip on the back of her neck and slides her other hand a bit further up Wei Ying’s thigh, thumbing the edge of her skirt. Wei Ying gasps, tries to stop the noises crawling up her throat, but Lan Zhan kisses her jaw again. “It’s okay, A-Ying, let me hear you.” Lan Zhan needs her to know that she can make noise; Lan Zhan wants her to be loud. “You are safe, you are wanted, you are allowed.” She slips her fingers beneath Wei Ying’s skirt and teases along her underwear.
Wei Ying is soaked.
Swallowing loudly, Wei Ying releases a shaky breath, and finds her voice. Fantasies, wants, desires pour out—apparently for the first time ever—and Lan Zhan is so proud of her. Somewhere along the way the fantasies take more form, transition from the vague I want and more into I want you.
“I want you to sit on my face and control a vibrator pressed against my clit. Make me come over and over, Zhanzhan.” Wei Ying pants and Lan Zhan attempts to not come immediately. “I want you to eat me out over the kitchen table. I want you to fuck me on your fingers in the shower and get me so wet I can’t tell what’s me and what’s water. I wanna ride your strap. I wanna ride you face. I wanna warm your fingers or your strap or your cunt while you work. I’ll be so ready for you, always ready for you, for when you finally fuck me. I wanna be so good for you, Lan Zhan, you’ll never tire of me, never let me go, never want to, please, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, please—”
Lan Zhan pulls her close and kisses her: hot and tender, biting and fierce. Knows she can’t kiss away the doubt or the crushing anxiety, but she can try. She'll remind Wei Ying every day if she has to. “I will never let you go,” she says, resolute. She moves her hand from the back of Wei Ying’s neck down, rucking up the crop top and sports bra, palming one of those magnificent tits. She rolls a dark nipple, hard and perfect, between her fingers and wishes she could immortalise the sound Wei Ying makes. “My heart is yours, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying drags in a heaving breath, “And mine is yours.”
Lan Zhan continues tugging and pinching Wei Ying’s nipple. With her other hand, she gently pushes aside Wei Ying’s underwear and skims a finger along Wei Ying’s dripping folds. She’s so wet, so warm. Lan Zhan glides a finger in and shivers, astounded by the enormity of her own desire, at the wounded noise Wei Ying makes. Beautiful, beautiful. Lan Zhan shoves her face into Wei Ying’s neck and groans into her shoulder. She slides back in with two fingers. Smiles when Wei Ying moans. She curls her fingers inside and rubs her thumb, alternating circles and zigzags, steadily against Wei Ying’s clit.
She leans back to watch Wei Ying’s face. Glassy eyes, pink cheeks, breathless—she's a vision. “You’re doing so well for me. So beautiful. So perfect.” She increases the pressure on Wei Ying’s clit, pumps her fingers in spiral drags inside her, and Wei Ying shudders. “Tell me more, A-Ying. I want to hear you. I love hearing you. Can you be louder for me?”
Wei Ying whines. Her voice strains higher, but not breathy. No, full voiced, she lets Lan Zhan know exactly what she wants, and Lan Zhan obliges. “You, Zhanzhan, you. Make me come. Be mine, be mine, be mine, be—”
Wei Ying’s orgasm rolls through her in pounding waves: muscles tensing, vibrating, clenching. Wrapped in Lan Zhan's arms, heavy on her lap, pulsing around her fingers in a rhythm she wants immortalised in sheet music. Over and over and over, she keeps coming, inner walls fluttering. Lan Zhan holds her tight, keeps her safe, and strokes her through it. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating, and Lan Zhan knows instinctively that it’s just this side of too much for Wei Ying, but she rides it beautifully. She’s delicious, perfect, possibly magical, and Lan Zhan wants to stay in this moment, keep Wei Ying here where she is Lan Zhan’s entire focus—the centre of her universe—for as long as she can.
She gives a final roll of her fingers, thrills at Wei Ying’s tired ngah—still riding the last eddying waves of her orgasm—and eases out. Wei Ying slumps against her, a little sweaty, absolutely gorgeous. Lan Zhan sucks her fingers into her mouth, revels in Wei Ying’s sweet, musky taste and the heat in her eyes as she watches Lan Zhan.
Lan Zhan reaches for the last of her boba and then holds the straw to Wei Ying’s lips. She gives a sleepy huff that could be a laugh and drinks deeply. Satisfied, Lan Zhan puts it back on the table. She fixes Wei Ying’s shirt, her underwear, and hugs her closer.
“Your pleasure is important to me,” Lan Zhan says, kissing her neck, her cheek, the corner of her soft lips. “I can’t wait to learn more of you.”
Wei Ying smiles, blissed out, and kisses her in return, sweeter than any tea could be. “Can’t wait,” she murmurs against her lips, “to learn together.”