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Wei Ying is drunkenly flirting at a club the first time it happens.
The young woman he’s been chatting up playfully elbows him in the side. She’s just as inebriated as he is, clearly receptive to his jokes, and he feels certain he’s going to be able to snag her number, but then she says, “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend. Angling for a threesome or something?”
He blinks at her owlishly in confusion, wondering if he’d misheard her, somehow, in the slew of music thumping around the venue. “Sorry, what?”
Her thumb juts out, poking at someone behind him. When he turns around to look, it’s just Lan Zhan.
“Not my boyfriend,” Wei Ying says, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Too pretty to be dating me, don’t you think?”
She giggles. “Don’t fish for compliments. He’s been glaring at us.”
Not unusual, but odd. Lan Zhan was unfailingly polite to everyone except him. It’s surprising that his wrath has been extended to a stranger. “Not us. Me. He’s always pissed at me about something or another.”
“What, so he’s like, your vicious ex? Kinky.”
Quickly realizing that their conversation is going nowhere, Wei Ying chalks the conquest up as a wash. He walks in the straightest line he can manage—which is, honestly, almost perfect, because his alcohol tolerance is absurdly high—to reach Lan Zhan’s side, slinging an arm around the omega’s shoulders with a huge, cheesy grin.
“Lan Zhan. Buddy.” He sighs, theatrically running a finger under the other man’s chin. “It must be nice, being the hottest guy everywhere you go, but the rest of us have to work to get people into our beds.”
Instead of responding verbally, Lan Zhan glares at him with a thousand times more vitriol. Wei Ying pulls away, holding his hands up in surrender.
It’s been years of this. Literal years. He doesn’t know what he did to earn Lan Zhan’s ire, but he’s certain that it wasn’t terrible enough to haunt him until age twenty-one.
…Okay, that’s not entirely true. Wei Ying does remember why Lan Zhan hates him. It’s because he’d pranked the other boy in high school, teasing him over a number of silly things. The event in their final semester had been especially exciting; the war between himself and Nie Huaisang had peaked with Wei Ying offering Lan Zhan his rut-scented jacket. He watched Lan Zhan snarl at everyone for hours in response. He threatened to rip people’s fingers off for getting too close.
Wei Ying laughed himself sick, apologizing for sending Lan Zhan into a spiral. Then, he’d gone about his merry way.
He doesn’t expect Lan Zhan to follow him to college. He’d always been dedicated, determined to be the best and brightest. Wei Ying is equally intelligent, but ten times lazier. He’d taken the easy way out, chosen a place far away from his brother and opted to live his best life.
And yet. Here they are.
Wei Ying leans against the wall, flagging down the bartender to ask for a shot of something clear and strong. He downs it in a single swig. “Is this some sort of.” He hesitates to be crass, even in his state of lower cognitive function. “Thing?”
Lan Zhan scowls. “Thing?”
“Like, y’know. I’m an alpha, you’re an omega, never shall the two rivers cross—thing.”
He receives stone-walled silence in response. Wei Ying stares up at the ceiling, praying for patience. “Look, I really am sorry about the shit I did to you back in high school. But. It’s been long enough to let all that stuff go, right? Haven’t you spent enough time trying to get revenge?”
Startlingly, Lan Zhan looks taken aback by this comment. “Revenge?”
Wei Ying’s nose scrunches up. “If not that, then what?”
Recognizing that he’s stumped Lan Zhan, Wei Ying slips away from the bar for a bathroom quickie, and then he leaves.
Out of sight, out of mind, he figures.
It happens again. And again.
Always, people assume Lan Zhan is his boyfriend. Now, why is that, he wonders. Maybe it’s because Lan Zhan looks so damn fuckable.
(Ha.)
Finally, Wei Ying takes it upon himself to inquire. If he’s not going to get laid, he might as well make a few friends along the way. Lan Zhan keeps blue-balling him by proxy. He’s bored. And horny.
“It’s because he smells like you, silly,” one of the girls titters.
Wei Ying’s jaw falls open. “Excuse me?”
She kindly pushes on his jaw, encouraging Wei Ying to close his mouth. “I might be a beta, but his scent’s strong. He’s broadcasting this very ‘don’t touch me and don’t touch him’ vibe. It’s not really meant to be enticing, so alphas probably can’t tell.”
“Seriously?” Alpha presentations were rare. It’s likely that he’s one of the only people in the vicinity who’s out of the loop. Wei Ying groans. He wonders if that had been the point all along. Cockblocking Wei Ying by scaring off anybody within arms-length of him does seem very Lan Zhan.
Wei Ying pushes himself away from the bar with a wink, thanking her for her input. Instead of slipping into the shadows, as he often does, he decides to have a talk with his unwitting companion.
“If your goal was to keep other people as far away from me as possible, then you’ve succeeded, my friend.” He doesn’t think Lan Zhan actually considers him a friend, though he’d tried very hard, once upon a time ago, to earn the label. “You got me. Congratulations. What does a guy have to say to get laid around here?”
Lan Zhan turns gratifyingly purple in rage. “There should be. Courtship. Rituals.”
He barks out a laugh. “Lan Zhan. It’s the twenty-first century. You seriously still believe people follow, like. Guidelines?”
Amber eyes flit over to him. He stubbornly glares daggers at Wei Ying. “It is common courtesy.”
“Dude. I have needs. I don’t have time for common courtesy.”
There’s a beat of silence before Lan Zhan says, “A simple statement of intent would be a good start.”
He snorts. “I think it’s pretty clear what I’m getting at when I chat people up at the bar.”
Lan Zhan growls at him. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me.”
Instead of explaining himself, Lan Zhan says, “Figure it out on your own,” before he stomps off, leaving Wei Ying standing under a flickering lamplight in confusion.
A month passes before Wei Ying gets a chance to crash one of Lan Huan’s fancy brunches, stumbling over to the table where Nie Mingjue, Lan Huan, and Meng Yao are sitting in various states of elegant composure.
Lan Zhan’s older brother looks startled to see Wei Ying, initially, but he quickly adapts to the situation, scooting over on his side of the table to make room. “Sorry for showing up unannounced,” Wei Ying says flippantly, in a way that belies he’s not nearly as sorry as he should be. “Important question to ask you, gentlemen.”
Lan Huan is a beta who manages a relationship with a stubborn alpha and a half-feral omega. Surely, he can shine light on the shitty situation Wei Ying is stuck in.
“Let’s say, hypothetically,” Wei Ying hums, asking the server for a glass of champagne so that he doesn’t look quite as out of place amongst the well-dressed and well-fed clientele. “When an omega follows you around and terrifies all of your prospects. Do you think he wants to see what happens when your dick falls off?”
Lan Huan coughs, cheeks flushing red at the insinuation. After all, this is not a hypothetical question—everyone here knows which omega Wei Ying is referring to.
Unmoved by his crass language, Meng Yao speaks up. “What gives you the idea that he is not romantically interested in you?”
“Everything,” Wei Ying declares, taking a swig of his beverage with a flourish. Nie Mingjue grumbles about his lack of manners. “He’s been pissed at me for existing since the day we met. I’ll admit, I kinda deserved it, but I did what I could to make amends. He finally crossed the line.”
Lan Huan clears his throat, bravely offering a counterpoint, though he looks physically pained as he does so. “And if someone told you that he was just awkwardly trying to convey his feelings?”
Wei Ying puts his glass down. “You think he has a crush on me?”
Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes. “Speaking as somebody who grew up with the kid, I know he does.” Truthfully, the word crush is putting it lightly. Nie Mingjue and Lan Huan have watched Lan Zhan moon over Wei Ying for the better part of six years. Obsession would be a more accurate term.
Wei Ying taps the table, cogs turning in his brain. A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Oh. Well. Guess I have to reevaluate, then. Thank you, O Council of Elders, for your wisdom.”
Wei Ying leaves a bill on the table despite Lan Huan’s insistence that he doesn’t need to pay, leaving as quickly as he came, suddenly and without warning.
“Your brother is screwed,” Nie Mingjue says, earning a contemplative hum of agreement from his partners. Lan Huan focuses on eating his food so he doesn’t have to think about it.
Armed with the new knowledge of Lan Zhan’s affections, Wei Ying becomes giddy. Lan Zhan doesn’t want him to be single and lonely forever—he’s jealous.
He immediately swings from being annoyed with the omega for scaring off half of the city to basking in the attention. He feels Lan Zhan’s eyes on him like razors, cutting him to size silently. Rancid musk must be oozing off of him. If only he were close enough for Wei Ying to smell it.
He takes pity on his classmate after a week or two, dramatically slinging an arm over Lan Zhan’s shoulders. Now that he knows, he notices the minute shift in Lan Zhan’s posture.
Lan Zhan is tense. He trembles, a little, as Wei Ying leans in. He smells faintly of heat-blocking spray, but underneath that, the thin odor of apricots and cucumbers wafts into Wei Ying’s nostrils. The tips of his ears are dusted pink.
Wei Ying feels briefly, scintillatingly power-crazy.
“Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sing-songs, unaffected by Lan Zhan’s glare. Lan Zhan is infatuated with him. With him. Who wouldn’t take ruthless advantage of this? “If you want to stake a claim, you really shouldn’t do it from across the room. Other alphas might get ideas.”
Lan Zhan fixes him with a flat look. Wei Ying giggles.
“I know, I don’t know any other alphas either, but it’s the principle of the matter.” He puts his fingers on Lan Zhan’s waist, amused by the way his golden irises get swallowed by his pupils in response. “You know, last month you said something about courting rituals. Enlighten this Wei Ying. Tell me how I should be wooing my partners.”
Lan Zhan seems confused by the shift in gears, but not upset. Gradually, he lowers his shoulders, talking in quiet tones, though the thump of the bass is still loud outside of the club.
They begin meandering towards campus. Lan Zhan outlines the things he’d been taught by his uncle. Wei Ying guffaws at the litany of antiquated practices, but he assures Lan Zhan that he’s not laughing in mockery—he’s laughing at how very sweet and quaint everything is.
Wei Ying licks his lips before they part. It’s been a while since he had sex and he’s burning for it. He wants to kiss Lan Zhan a lot, to rub his juicy ass, to tilt Lan Zhan’s head back and breathe into the omega’s mouth. Knot him.
But he’s going to play by Lan Zhan’s rules, and he’s going to win.
Wei Ying starts giving him gifts. Just little trinkets, really. Nothing special.
Handkerchiefs. Candy. An old, oversized sweater.
He never, ever gives Lan Zhan anything that would rest on his neck. That’s a privilege reserved for mates only.
He’s not sure how deep this dalliance with Lan Zhan is supposed to go, but for now, he’s having fun. He takes things as they come.
It’s an honor, after all, to have a person as breathtakingly beautiful as Lan Zhan interested in him. Even if Lan Zhan’s crush wanes, Wei Ying can brag about this for the rest of his life.
Lan Zhan grows even more assertive as time passes, slamming his hand down on the table as he steps between Wei Ying and his lab partner. Thankfully, his magazine-worthy face does everything for him—the other boy simply swoons and apologizes, like he’d done something wrong.
“So.” Wei Ying says after he shoos the poor thing off, lying and saying that he’ll finish up his part of the assignment tonight and email his classmate later. “We’ve carried out three of the six major steps.”
“Mm,” Lan Zhan agrees, his gaze faraway, like he’s focusing on something else entirely.
“Scenting comes next,” he continues, as if Lan Zhan hadn’t told him all of this information in the first place.
Slowly, the omega turns to him, molten eyes sizing Wei Ying up with fury.
No, not fury, Wei Ying corrects himself, fighting down the urge to shiver. Hunger.
“Yes,” Lan Zhan replies.
“My place?”
Lan Zhan’s long fingers dance on his phone screen. “What time?”
Not no, or how dare you, or I’ve had enough of this. What time.
Wei Ying knows he’s going to have to go home and give himself a good squeeze to keep from nutting the instant Lan Zhan steps into his apartment. “Eight o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
Fuck, Wei Ying thinks. He doesn’t know what to do with an omega. Surely, it can’t be that different from sleeping with beta women.
But. There are supposed to be an awful lot of bodily fluids involved. He wonders if he should get a liner for the mattress, just in case.
He doesn’t want Lan Zhan to get the wrong idea about him, to start thinking that he’s some mediocre alpha tripping over his first real taste of an omega. He told himself that he would win and he’s going to. He’s going to blow Lan Zhan’s mind.
(Among other things, he hopes.)
Lan Zhan looks. “Stunning.” Wei Ying feels no shame about admitting this aloud, breath coming short as Lan Zhan stands in the doorway.
He’d gotten dressed up for the occasion too, wearing a wine-red shirt and a dark black cardigan over his most flattering pair of jeans, a set which hugs his ass just right, but Lan Zhan looks like a painting.
Dressed in whites and baby blues, wearing stuff that looks more expensive than Wei Ying’s entire closet—he seems ephemeral.
More surprising than his outfit, which is a departure from his painfully-utilitarian everyday wear, comprised of khakis and button-downs, he smells kind of fucking incredible.
Wei Ying feels bad for standing around and taking such a deep inhale of Lan Zhan, but then, he’s not much for decorum. The fact that he’s been courting Lan Zhan for weeks in the hopes of getting his rocks off probably does not bode well for their future…correspondence.
“No blockers today?” His voice comes out a lot more ragged than he intends; he pushes arousal to the back of his mind.
Lan Zhan stares at him. Through him. “The whole point of this endeavor was for you to scent me.”
Wei Ying laughs nervously, refusing to fidget. You’re supposed to be winning the game, he reminds himself, except that sounds stupid now that Lan Zhan is actually in front of him, broadcasting his desire to be tackled to a flat surface and made a mess of. “Right,” he says, leading the way to the living room. “Come on in.”
He carries out the requisite small talk by himself, blathering on and on about nothing in particular. He busies himself with snacks until Lan Zhan reaches for his hand.
Time comes to a screeching halt. The immediate, overwhelming need to push Lan Zhan into the couch cushions and bite Lan Zhan’s neck hits Wei Ying like a freight train.
Suddenly, he realizes this isn’t going to be anything like having sex with a beta woman.
He forces himself to take things slowly despite the animalistic howling at the back of his brain. He presses his lips to Lan Zhan’s wrists, laving at them lightly.
He works his way north, caressing Lan Zhan’s thigh. “This okay?” Wei Ying breathes, heart soaring when Lan Zhan nods. He lets out a soft little mm.
Cute, Wei Ying thinks, picking up on the way Lan Zhan sags into him, adjusting his legs so that he’s more or less sitting in Wei Ying’s lap.
By the time he makes it to Lan Zhan’s shoulders, he feels dizzy. “You smell like the outdoors,” Wei Ying muses, fingers splayed out against Lan Zhan’s chest. “Like…really fresh and crisp. What do I smell like?”
“Fire,” Lan Zhan replies quickly, rubbing himself against Wei Ying’s crotch without a care in the world. “Chili oil.”
He laughs. “You make me sound spicy.”
Lan Zhan turns so that they’re facing each other. They’re so close that Lan Zhan’s breath fans against Wei Ying’s cheeks. “Mm.”
Wei Ying carefully extracts himself out from underneath Lan Zhan once he’s finished. Something carnal and base in him preens at the fact that Lan Zhan reeks of alpha. That everyone who crosses paths with him will think that he belongs to somebody. That he belongs to Wei Ying.
Never has he been more grateful that he lives alone, posted up in the place Jiang Fengmian had insisted upon moving him into, paying the rent for Wei Ying despite his decision to fuck off to the other side of the country.
He carefully stands up, folding his arms as he leans against the wall, broadcasting false bravado loudly at Lan Zhan in the hopes that the omega doesn’t pay too much attention to the tent in his pants.
“So,” Wei Ying stalls for time in an attempt to regain his composure. It does help that Lan Zhan looks a bit dizzy himself, eyes glossy. Hair ruffled. “Bedroom?”
Lan Zhan nods. When he attempts to stand up, he trips.
Fuck. Wei Ying wants to knot Lan Zhan so bad.
He shakes that thought out of his head. He’s going to be a gentleman. He’s going to make love to Lan Zhan so sweetly that he apologizes for terrorizing Wei Ying all these years. He’s going to make Lan Zhan beg for his cock.
…Oh, who is he kidding. He’s going to do his best to show Lan Zhan a good time. Scheming is lost on him right now. He’s beginning to forget why he cared in the first place.
He offers Lan Zhan his arm, the two of them walking to the bedroom on unsteady feet. Wei Ying peels off his clothing carelessly, enraptured by the sight of Lan Zhan undressing slowly. Like each layer is precious.
It’s torture. But he perseveres.
Finally, Lan Zhan is naked in his bedroom. He revels in this.
For once, Wei Ying is lost for words. All he can do is pull his hair loose of his ponytail and sink into the mattress, slotting his knees on either side of Lan Zhan’s hips. “How far do you wanna take this?”
Lan Zhan hums. “As far as you want to go.”
Dangerous words. He’s on the edge of hitting his rut, pheromones pushing his mind into a ditch. Instinct tells him that he wants Lan Zhan to stay here in this bed with him for a lifetime. To help him nest and bond with him. More immediately, he’s been aching to get his dick wet for weeks.
Bad combination. This is why courting is overrated, he thinks, licking his lips.
“Alright,” Wei Ying agrees, leaning down to kiss Lan Zhan.
Their bodies writhe together, minutes slipping away from them as he loses his breath. Lan Zhan tastes even better than he smells, eager and giddy, growing more pungent when Wei Ying pulls his hair. Slips a finger into his slick, slick hole.
There are no words to describe the feeling of him inside. The bodily fluid itself is slightly viscous, clinging to his skin. There’s a wet slurp and squelch as he builds up a rhythm, stretching Lan Zhan wide.
His incisors ache. Knot him. Bond him. It’s a damn good thing Lan Zhan isn’t in heat. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to resist those urges otherwise.
“I gotta,” Wei Ying says, pulling away with a heaving chest, lips puffy from Lan Zhan’s incessant nibbling. As it turns out, he’s a biter. Who knew? “Condom,” he explains, ruffling through his drawers.
Lan Zhan purrs. Bastard. How dare he be so beautiful? This should be illegal.
He inhales deeply before he sinks into Lan Zhan’s wet heat. The omega clings to him tightly, gasping as he gets settled. Desperate little moans leak out of his mouth as Wei Ying gets to the last inch, spearing Lan Zhan with his cock.
Every ounce of intelligent thought leaks out of his brain in that instant. (In truth, it flew away as soon as Lan Zhan climbed in his lap.) He is entirely animal, thrusting in and out with reckless abandon, staving off his rut just to feel Lan Zhan come unraveled beneath him.
The rush is heady. Wei Ying wants Lan Zhan to be his, entirely. If he could find the words—if he could tell him—
For now, all they can do is fuck. And fuck some more.
He spills inside of the first condom, pulling it off and wiping himself down before he grabs a second. Lan Zhan really does beg for his dick, then, insisting that Wei Ying knot him.
Wei Ying preens. It feels good, being wanted. Having Lan Zhan want him.
The second round is even better than the first. Lan Zhan mumbles something incoherent into the sheets as Wei Ying’s knot flares out. He’s never done this before, and it’s an experience, figuring out exactly where to find the notch inside of an omega. Letting himself get stuck.
It’s. Endearing. Absolutely humiliating.
It feels so infuriatingly good that Wei Ying could die and go to heaven right now.
Lan Zhan, too, seems blissfully pleased by this arrangement. He doesn’t even complain when Wei Ying adjusts their positions, putting both hands around the omega’s tiny waist.
It takes the better part of an hour for him to calm down. Ungluing himself from Lan Zhan is a bit like ripping off a bandage—painful, but necessary.
He cleans up their mess in silence. It’s strange. He doesn’t feel the need to fill the room with incessant chatter, perhaps because Lan Zhan isn’t much of a talker. Or maybe it’s just because the silence feels comfortable with him.
Wei Ying refuses to linger on this. Instead, he basks in the moment. The glory. He’s sweaty and sated and it’s nice to have somebody in his bed.
They have sex again. And again.
Lan Zhan becomes insatiable after the first time, stalking across campus to tug on Wei Ying’s wrists. Sometimes, he practically climbs in Wei Ying’s lap.
“Sorry,” Wei Ying says, offering not-so-apologetic smiles to anyone he happens to be speaking to whenever his—whatever Lan Zhan is—shows up.
Fingering him open in one of the school’s filthy bathrooms is a rush. Letting Lan Zhan come in his mouth, using his tongue to pull an orgasm out of Lan Zhan, having Lan Zhan suck him off, on his knees—it’s fantastic.
It gets harder and harder to remember that he’s not supposed to bond with Lan Zhan. Not yet. Not without his permission. The omega has to initiate the process.
He seeks out Lan Huan again. He’s been using Lan Zhan’s brother has something of a moral compass, lately, figuring out how far he can take this before he accidentally ruins everything.
As usual, Lan Huan looks exhausted by Wei Ying’s mere presence. Behind him, his constant companions are bickering about something; he doesn’t bat an eyelash at their antics.
“Hypothetically speaking,” Wei Ying starts, as he so often does, though everybody in the house knows he’s speaking of existing issues with an existing person. “If you’ve been courting someone for two months, are you allowed to ask your partner if you’re official?”
It’s a miracle that he remembers any of Lan Zhan’s convoluted rules, but he’d committed himself to playing Lan Zhan’s game. Research is necessary to succeed.
Lan Huan closes his eyes for a long moment, like he could excuse himself from this conversation simply by letting his soul escape his body. Idly, Wei Ying thinks this must be a family trait. Lan Zhan does the same thing when he’s annoyed.
Distantly, he hears Nie Mingjue snort.
“Courting,” Lan Huan mumbles. “Right.”
Wei Ying lifts an eyebrow at that. What’s that supposed to mean, he wonders.
“I think,” Lan Huan says, “it would be best if you and my brother had a conversation.”
Theatrically, Wei Ying slaps a hand to his chest. “Perish the thought!”
The older man offers him a flat, unimpressed look, pulling his phone out of his pocket. There’s a hushed conversation. Then, several minutes later, Lan Zhan turns up out of breath, bangs matted to his face with sweat.
It is a testament to how far gone Wei Ying is that all he can think is cute.
Lan Zhan glares at him. It’s been a long time since he did that. Wei Ying forgot how hot he could be when he was mad. “Why are you at my brother’s house?” After a beat, he adds, “How do you know where he lives?”
“I have ways of finding out certain information,” Wei Ying says, which is code for, I bribed Nie Huaisang.
Lan Huan ushers them into the guest room, closing the door with a soft click.
He’d said to talk. So. Wei Ying starts talking. “Do you like me?” He blurts out, feeling absurdly childish for doing so. It shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t need Lan Zhan to like him, especially if they’re just supposed to be an alpha and omega going through the motions of a courtship for fun. As like, a test run, or something.
But it would be nice.
Lan Zhan frowns.
“It’s just—” Wei Ying babbles. “I dunno! I can’t quite get a read on you sometimes. You hated that I was flirting with other people, but you haven’t asked me to bond with you. Hell, I don’t even know if courtship equates to dating. Does it? Am I stupid?”
Lan Zhan’s expression softens. “You’re not stupid, Wei Ying.”
He narrows his eyes warily. “But?”
Lan Zhan sighs. “I did not believe it would be necessary to grant you permission.”
Wei Ying turns that over in his mind, trying to remember the little notebook full of instructions for courtship that Lan Zhan had read to him once upon a time ago. “The only reason you would’ve skipped that step is because you thought that…” He trails off, eyes growing wide. “You thought we were dating before? Like, before all the formal courting and stuff?”
Lan Zhan’s ears color. “To a degree. I have realized, recently, that I was mistaken.”
“What.” Wei Ying is filled with incredulity.
Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. The jealousy. His sense of proprietorship. His need to glare Wei Ying’s potential suitors into submission, all but telling them to back off.
Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. “Oh my god,” Wei Ying breathes. “Shit, since high school?”
Lan Zhan turns away from him, flooded with shame. “You practically courted me back then, too.”
The rusted cogs in his brain turn, analyzing that sentence. “The pranks? Me giving you my jacket?”
He shrugs. “I thought it was a gift.”
Wei Ying laughs. Laughs some more. Laughs until he feels sick. Lan Zhan pouts. He runs a finger over Lan Zhan’s cheeks in response, far too elated to keep his hands to himself. “Well then.” He offers Lan Zhan a chaste kiss, rubbing his wrists as they breathe each other in. “No sense in delaying the inevitable.”
Lan Zhan tilts his head back slightly, lips quirking up with mirth as well. “Bond with me, please,” he says, and Wei Ying merrily obliges.
By this point, he’s intimately familiar with Lan Zhan’s scent. Earthy. Clean. The tang of iron from his teeth breaking skin compliments his natural elements. The whole of him is so satisfying that Wei Ying whines when he pulls away to admire his handiwork.
“It’s probably, like, against the rules to fuck in your brother’s house, right?”
There’s a long, blistering pause, wherein Wei Ying wonders if his shamelessness has begun to rub off on Lan Zhan. “Probably,” Lan Zhan agrees in a murmur, disappointed that they have to delay their coupling for all thirty of the minutes it would take them to get to Wei Ying’s place.
Lan Zhan pins Wei Ying against the wall the instant they’re inside, pawing all over him like they haven’t touched in years, rather than days. “You should move in with me,” Wei Ying hums, laughing as Lan Zhan silently demands to be fucked, making insinuations with his gaze. “You could fuck me awake whenever you want to.”
He moans at that sound of that, slick trickling down his thighs.
When Wei Ying presses into him, his face hits the plaster, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “You know. I just thought of something. I’ve never seen you in heat.”
“Medication,” Lan Zhan whispers, pressing himself back onto Wei Ying’s hips, holding the alpha's hands high above his head, limiting Wei Ying’s movements. “A precaution.”
Understandable. They’re too young for children. They should focus on graduating first.
“I’ll stop taking it,” Lan Zhan continues, gasping when Wei Ying’s knot reflexively inflates.
“Minx,” Wei Ying teases, laving at the shells of Lan Zhan’s rosy ears.
They fuck three times that night, rolling all over the floor and the couch and the bed. They grope each other in the shower, too, but Wei Ying insists that there’s not an ounce of come left to wring out of him.
This doesn’t stop Lan Zhan from trying anyways.
Once they’re clean, lazily lounging naked in bed, Wei Ying thinks that maybe, it’s not so bad to lose. There were no winners or losers in the first place, really, given that he’d made an unintentional mess of the whole situation himself.
Now, there’s only Lan Zhan, resting on his chest, legs slotted between his own like he belongs there.
(He does. Maybe, he always has.)
It’s odd, running into a familiar face at the bar.
In truth, it’s been a long time since he went to one. It's been even longer since he last tried to pick someone up. The girl on the stool recognizes him, though, greeting him with a wave and a smile. “Hey, it’s you! The one with the angry ex.”
Wei Ying laughs. “Not my ex. My boyfriend.” Lan Zhan is so much more than that, so much more than words can encapsulate, but it’s a term that seems to get the gist across for most people.
She coos. “Aww, you made up. Good for you. You gonna introduce me?”
Lan Zhan looks disgruntled, as always, seeing Wei Ying flirt with strangers, but there’s a modicum of comfort to the fact that the imprint of Wei Ying’s teeth is boldly flaunted on his neck. That Wei Ying pats his legs and Lan Zhan is allowed to sit his lap, cheeks burning as red as a furnace.
They stay like that for the remainder of the evening, Wei Ying drinking until he no longer feels bad about slipping his hands up Lan Zhan’s shirt. Lan Zhan shakes with desire and fury in equal measures, grasping Wei Ying’s wrists when he’s had enough, muttering that they need to leave.
He pays his tab with a round of giggles, luring Lan Zhan into kissing him outside of the club for several minutes before they hop on the bus, barely able to stop themselves from committing public indecency before they stumble back into Wei Ying’s apartment.
It smells rank, like alpha and omega musk. Like spicy slick. Like home.
They wouldn’t have it any other way.