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lay a whisper on my pillow

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Huang Shaotian bounces, naked and happy on Yu Wenzhou’s cock. He’s a ball of energy on any given day but it’s nothing compared to his enthusiasm in the bedroom.

“Captain, Captain, Captain!” Each flex of his thighs sends his cock bobbing against his stomach with a muffled slap. “The best captain. Look at you, so hot, so naked. They should let you play Glory like this, we’d win every game for sure.”

Yu Wenzhou has his doubts about that but now is hardly the time to debate the relative merits of naked Glory. Not when his control is in tatters, undone by the way Huang Shaotian fits around him, like his body was made for this. Made for Yu Wenzhou. He strokes his hands down Huang Shaotian’s inner thighs, nails scratching against sweat-slick skin. He loves those thighs, big and plump and so much stronger than his small frame looks. He does it again, harder, until Huang Shaotian’s chatter melts into a wordless cry.

“Touch yourself,” Yu Wenzhou says. It isn’t what he means to say but he needs a distraction if he wants to make this last.

With a bright, “Okay!” Huang Shaotian’s hand shoots to his cock like he’s been waiting the entire time for Yu Wenzhou to give permission. Maybe he has.


The words freeze Huang Shaotian mid-bounce. His hand jerks to a halt, opening and closing but not touching. So obedient. Yu Wenzhou is going to reward him for that later.

Much later.

“Not there,” Yu Wenzhou explains, his voice shaky even to his own ears. All thoughts of rewards fly from his head when Huang Shaotian clenches hard around him in his excitement for more orders.

Yu Wenzhou lets him stew in it until Huang Shaotian's biting at his lip, looking down at his cock where it's dark red and leaking against his stomach. A bit of slickness catches the dim light, smeared into the peach fuzz of his body hair. His confusion has the unfortunate effect of prolonging the lack of bouncing, even if it is a much-needed reprieve for Yu Wenzhou’s sanity. He misses the bouncing.

Taking Huang Shaotian’s wrist, he guides his hand away from his cock and up to his chest. “Here. Touch yourself here.”

“Oh…Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Watch me, Captain.” As if in demonstration, Huang Shaotian pinches at his nipple, tipping his head back and letting out a surprised, “Oh. That’s nice.” He brings his other hand to the opposite side, toying with himself under Yu Wenzhou’s watchful eye.

“So good, Shaotian. Keep going. Don’t stop until I say.” With his hands on Huang Shaotian’s naked hips, he guides him back to the bouncing.

Huang Shaotian does as he’s told, impaling himself on Yu Wenzhou’s cock once more and rolling his nipples between his fingers, pinching and teasing himself. He keeps talking all the while, telling Yu Wenzhou how good it feels, how big Yu Wenzhou’s cock is inside him, how he wants Yu Wenzhou inside him all the time. When he’s awake, when he’s sleeping, when he plays Glory.

“Captain, Captain, Captain,” he says, each time Yu Wenzhou shifts his hips to meet him.

Yu Wenzhou holds out for as long as he can, but he’s defeated by the warmth and tightness of Huang Shaotian’s body. He takes Huang Shaotian over the edge with him, still pinching and tugging his nipples because Yu Wenzhou hasn’t told him to stop. He pulls Huang Shaotian in for a kiss while he empties himself inside him.

They’re too exhausted to do much more than half-heartedly clean up and fall back asleep in the aftermath. Yu Wenzhou drifts off in a satisfied heap with Huang Shaotian sprawled across his chest, his voice ringing in his ears.

Captain, Captain, Captain.


“Captain, Captain, look!”

Yu Wenzhou shifts in his seat, a terrible realization sweeping over him. He doesn’t get to his feet the way he usually does when Huang Shaotian calls.


Captain, Captain, Captain. The memories of last night come rushing back. The bouncing, the steady smack of Huang Shaotian’s bobbing cock, the way his breath hitched when he came all over himself with a cry of, Captain.

Yu Wenzhou’s cock twitches in his sweatpants. He plasters a pleasant smile onto his face. “One moment, Shaotian, I’ll be right there.”

He thinks of horrible, terrible things—Chairman Feng naked, that time his grandmother gave him condoms, the awful video the team showed him where someone cut a dick in half but it was cake—until he can safely leave the cover of his chair without embarrassing himself in front of the team, who have all paused to watch his uncharacteristic hesitation. For all the jokes that circulate in the Pro Alliance about who holds Huang Shaotian’s leash, it’s equally known that Yu Wenzhou never ignores his chatty vice-captain.

The strange behavior has attracted attention.

Yu Wenzhou waves them back to their training. After one last thought about the time he failed his math exam as a student, he’s calm enough to rise to his feet without risking an obvious tent in his pants.

“Captain, you’re so slow today. Not that slow is bad, you’re the good kind of slow, but you’re slower than usual. Is everything okay? Captain. Captain?”

Captain, Captain, you’re so big, Please, Captain….please.

Yu Wenzhou spins and grabs his notebook to place strategically in front of his crotch.

He considers the very real possibility that this is going to be a problem.


Sometimes, he hates being right.


The last of the reporters are filing out of the room after the post-game interview when Yu Wenzhou hears it.

“Nice game, Captain Yu.”

Maybe it’s the background noise that distorts Wang Jiexi’s voice enough that he sounds like someone else entirely.

Captain. Captain, Captain, Captain.

A heavy throbbing hums between Yu Wenzhou's legs. He coughs and nearly spits out his water. “Thank you, Captain Wang. And yourself. You almost had us today.”

Wang Jiexi looks at him strangely but doesn’t comment on Yu Wenzhou’s near-death by water bottle, or the way he casually slips his notebook onto his lap. Their conversation descends into friendly trash talk until Wang Jiexi departs to rejoin his team.

From across the room, his own team waves him over. Except Yu Wenzhou can’t get up. Not yet. Luckily, he isn’t a Master Tactician for nothing. He fakes a cramp in his calf so he can stay seated behind his mic a little longer. As a short-term solution, it works perfectly.

As a long-term solution, it backfires miserably.

Huang Shaotian fusses over him for the rest of the day, a litany of, “Captain,” spilling from his lips. At one point, Yu Wenzhou can no longer hold back the pained groan that slips past his defenses. It only makes the hovering worse. The only saving grace is that it appears the moment with Wang Jiexi was a fluke. It’s only Huang Shaotian’s voice calling him Captain that affects him.

Still, it’s definitely a problem.

“Captain, are you okay? Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll take such good care of you. Hey, you—yes, you Zheng Xuan! Get off your butt and go get the captain some water.”

Captain, Captain, Captain, follows him throughout the day, dogging his steps and turning his pants uncomfortably tight. In a fit of desperation, he borrows one of Huang Shaotian’s oversized windbreakers and zips it up over his simmering erection. It’s far too heavy to wear indoors and he fakes an oncoming cold when he starts to sweat.

He has to keep up the ruse of being sick for the next two days in order to make it believable.


Blue Rain wins their next match against Tyranny, and Huang Shaotian throws himself into his arms, wriggling happily. “Captain, Captain, we won!”

Beneath the exhilaration of the win is something else. Yu Wenzhou files out of the stadium with his backpack hanging off his forearm, strategically placed in front of his body.

It’s official. He’s in a hell of his own making.


“Shaotian, this has to stop.”

Huang Shaotian looks up from where he’s sitting at his bedroom desk. His fingers flutter nervously across the keyboard, enough to make a clicking sound but not hard enough for actual typing. “Did I—did I do something wrong?”

He looks so unsure of himself, Yu Wenzhou’s stomach twists. This isn’t the way he wanted to broach the topic. He must be more off-balance than he thought. His mind races for something to say, anything that will take that awful expression off Huang Shaotian’s face. Last night’s dinner provides the perfect distraction. “You mean, other than bribing the kitchen staff with autographs and cute smiles to get extra dessert? I heard them talking about ‘That sweet Troubling Rain boy’ on my way back from our management meeting last night.”

He feels a rush of relief when Huang Shaotian smiles, a rising sun chasing away the clouds.

“Hey, I’m a growing young man, our team doctor said so. Do you want me to show you my doctor’s note for extra dessert. She wrote me a note, I can show it to you. Dessert is the most important meal of the day, don’t you know that? Also, it’s delicious.”

Yu Wenzhou has doubts about the veracity of nearly everything he just heard, but lets Huang Shaotian continue his blustering defense. An occasional disapproving frown has the benefit of setting him off all over again, and the whole cycle repeats anew. It's a familiar routine, comforting. They both know Huang Shaotian doesn’t need a doctor’s note to eat what he pleases. Nor does he need Yu Wenzhou’s permission, but the game is a fun diversion.

Eventually though, they need to talk about what Yu Wenzhou came here for.

Pushing off from the doorframe, he makes his way to the bed, settling in against the headboard and patting the space beside him. Huang Shaotian scurries over, tucking himself under Yu Wenzhou’s arm.

“What’s wrong? For real this time,” Huang Shaotian says. “And don’t tell me nothing, I know all your faces and that’s not a nothing face. That’s a ‘something’s wrong and I don’t know how to talk about it’ face. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”

“I know.” Yu Wenzhou leans into his warmth. It’s no surprise Huang Shaotian can read him like a book. He’s as smart as he is observant. “It’s silly,” Yu Wenzhou says.

Huang Shaotian twists in his arms. After a moment he seems to reconsider, and in one smooth movement, straddles Yu Wenzhou’s hips to look straight down at him. His hands cup both sides of Yu Wenzhou’s face. “There, that’s better. Now I can see you properly. Wenzhou, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you. Nothing you say can ever be stupid because you’re so smart. What would we do without your big, beautiful brain to lead us? We’d lose so many matches and we’d be very sad about it, that’s what.”

Yu Wenzhou surges forward into his hands and kisses him.

He loves kissing Huang Shaotian. Not, as most people might suspect, because it shuts him up, but because Huang Shaotian is just as expressive when he kisses as when he’s speaking. Like now, he slides his fingers down the sides of Yu Wenzhou’s face, little flutters of movement, the same way he does when he’s dancing around a topic or circling an opponent.

Yu Wenzhou shivers when Huang Shaotian’s thumbs find the sensitive patch of skin at the hinge of his jaw. His head falls back to give him more access.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Huang Shaotian attacks the spot again, using the distraction to prod his way past Yu Wenzhou’s lips and deepen their kiss. Yu Wenzhou gives up any semblance of control and lets Huang Shaotian sweep into his mouth and touch him anywhere he pleases. Pressed up against the headboard as he is, the weight of him forms a shield between Yu Wenzhou and the world.

“Oh Wenzhou, my poor Wenzhou, what have you done to yourself? Have you thought yourself into another big knot?”

Yu Wenzhou doesn’t open his eyes, content to let Huang Shaotian trail invisible patterns across his cheeks and chin and forehead. His guess is right, in a sense. It isn’t the first time Yu Wenzhou has chased the blinding light of his ideas until he’s in a tailspin, dizzy and exhausted and needing someone to pull him out. Usually, it’s Glory tactics that do it to him. Plans within plans within plans that make his brain hurt.

In comparison, this particular problem is far more embarrassing. “I didn’t mean to,” he admits.

“My poor, poor captain.”

And there it is, a lightning strike singing along his nerves. He can feel himself stir to life without even being touched. He groans and dips his head forward until he’s resting against Huang Shaotian’s collarbone.

From his place astride Yu Wenzhou’s lap, Huang Shaotian can certainly feel what just happened. Yu Wenzhou can sense his brain ticking as he teases out the pattern. He’s always been scary good at seeing all the little details people would rather keep hidden.

“Captain,” he says again.

It’s a test, Yu Wenzhou knows it. He fails anyway. His cock twitches at nothing more than Huang Shaotian’s voice.

Finally, Yu Wenzhou looks up and faces him. “I may have formed an… association.”

“Oh, Captain—” and there it is again. Huang Shaotian’s delighted laughter fills the room, muffled when he shoves his head into Yu Wenzhou’s neck, “Wenzhou, Wenzhou, sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I promise.” He abandons Yu Wenzhou’s neck in favor of peppering tiny kisses over his cheeks and nose before continuing. “Okay maybe I am but just a little, only a little because you’re cute and I love you. Oh Wenzhou, you’re really in a state, aren’t you? Is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately? I thought you were sick or mad or something awful, and trying to hide it from me. But you’re not sick, you’re just…you’re horny.”

Yu Wenzhou slumps in his arms. “It sounds so much worse when you say it like that.” There’s nothing else he can say in his defense.

“Wait,” Huang Shaotian looks at him with bright eyes, far too knowing. “During the press conference last month when you had that muscle cramp, didn’t Big-Eye come in at the end and call you Captain.” He’s off again, laughing. “Was that…? Did you…? Was that your little problem?”

Yu Wenzhou looks away and it’s all the answer Huang Shaotian needs.

Gentle hands turn his face back, rewarding him with soothing strokes across his cheeks and into his hair when he doesn’t fight it. “You get turned on when people use your title. Wenzhou, you poor, poor thing. This is the best day of my life.”

Yu Wenzhou shakes his head. "No," he says, and has to pause and grab Huang Shaotian's hand before he can climb off his lap. Clearly, he misinterpreted Yu Wenzhou's 'no' and he can't have that. Catching Huang Shaotian's startled gaze, he brings his hand to his lips and kisses his palm. "Don't go anywhere. I meant that, no, it's not just anyone, it's you. It's your voice that does it."

"But Wang Jiexi—"

"Too much background noise. He sounded like you for a moment." Yu Wenzhou doesn't look away, wanting to be seen. "It's only you, Shaotian."

Huang Shaotian takes his face in both hands and kisses him again.

Yu Wenzhou is half-hard and it certainly doesn’t help to have Huang Shaotian squirming all over his lap. He falls into the kiss for a second time, shifting to rub himself against Huang Shaotian. It feels so nice.

“Look at you, Captain. My beautiful captain.”

The room is far too warm for comfort. Yu Wenzhou squeezes his eyes shut against the surge of pleasure flaring between his legs. “Shaotian, please.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you, Captain. Such good care of you, just you see. I’m gonna be so good to you.”

An embarrassing whine escapes Yu Wenzhou’s throat, and he doesn’t protest when Huang Shaotian tugs at the hem of his t-shirt, guiding his arms up so he can peel the shirt off. A little shifting around and Yu Wenzhou’s pants and underwear follow, Huang Shaotian’s fingertips trailing across his newly bared skin as he pulls the clothing down his legs. His socks are the last to go.

It’s a relief to be naked. The cool air feels wonderful on his overheated skin. He lets Huang Shaotian ease him into lying down, sighing in contentment when Huang Shaotian sits heavy across his thighs. A moment later, he realizes exactly why he chose that position.


It gives him a perfect view to watch Yu Wenzhou’s cock jump.

Yu Wenzhou hides his head in the crook of his arm as a delighted laugh rings out again. He can feel the vibration of it in his thighs.


The pool of heat churns in his stomach, spurred on at the thought of Huang Shaotian studying his every move like this, watching him while he’s helpless against the whims of his body.

“Captain, Captain, Captain.” Huang Shaotian repeats it again and again until Yu Wenzhou is so hard his cock rests heavy against his stomach.

A gentle hand tugs his arm from his eyes. “Look at me, Captain.”

Yu Wenzhou looks at him, lost to another surge of heat as it races to his cock. His hips twitch, desperate to be touched, but there isn’t anywhere for him to go with Huang Shaotian sitting on his thighs.

“Look how much you like this,” Huang Shaotian says, taking the hand Yu Wenzhou was using to shield his face and guiding it to his cock. “I didn’t even touch you and look how hard you are.”

“I don’t need to touch it to know.” Yu Wenzhou lodges his protests, but it's futile. Guided by Huang Shaotian’s insistent hand, he’s already wrapping fingers around himself.

He’s every bit as hard as Huang Shaotian claimed. The first touch of his own hand sends jolts of pleasure all the way down to his toes. He arches into it but it’s not enough. He needs more but it feels so wrong to touch himself like this.

“Is it good, Captain, does it feel good?” Huang Shaotian’s hand curls over his own, coaxing him into small strokes up and down his cock.

“Yes,” Yu Wenzhou chokes out. He pulls himself together as much as he can and levels his best disapproving glare at his far too cheerful vice-captain. “However, this isn’t exactly helping the problem, Shaotian.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Yu Wenzhou is aching and stroking himself that means his rebuke falls flat. Or perhaps it’s how he’s spread out naked while Huang Shaotian is still wearing his street clothes. Either way, Huang Shaotian looks absolutely delighted as he licks his lips and rakes his eyes down Yu Wenzhou’s body. “It’s exposure therapy, Captain. I’m helping you, aren’t I? So helpful, the most helpful.” His hand on Yu Wenzhou tightens, lacing their fingers together and speeding up their strokes.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” is the last coherent thought Yu Wenzhou is able to voice for a while. The haze in his brain closes over him and he thrusts into their joined hands, losing himself in how good it feels to let Huang Shaotian have his way.

Eventually, the stream of words that never quite stopped begin making sense again.

“Are you saying you want me to stop, Captain? Captain, should I stop?” His hand on Yu Wenzhou slows, forcing the strokes to an excruciating crawl. With his free hand, he circles Yu Wenzhou’s cock right below the head, making Yu Wenzhou’s entire body shudder.

“Should I stop, Captain?” he says again. “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll leave you like this.”

“Don’t you dare.” Yu Wenzhou’s tongue feels heavy, disconnected from his body. “Again. Say it again.”

Huang Shaotian’s brow furrows, adorably. “‘Should I stop?’” he repeats. “Is that it, is that what you wanted me to say again?”

Mentally, Yu Wenzhou takes back every good thing he ever said about his partner’s quick wit. He’s already lying down, but he lifts his head and lets it drop against the bed for emphasis. “Not that.”

The laughter that greets him is far too amused. Huang Shaotian knew exactly what he was doing when he misinterpreted the demand. Yu Wenzhou knows what he’s going to say before he speaks, and he isn’t wrong.

"What should I say again, Wenzhou? " His fingers trail lightly over Yu Wenzhou’s stomach, playing over the trembling muscle. “Tell me.”

Huang Shaotian is a traitor. A sneaky, brilliant, devious traitor who is going to be punished once Yu Wenzhou’s brain is functioning again. In the meantime, there’s no delaying the inevitable. Trying to fight it will only make it worse. Huang Shaotian relishes every one of his victories over Yu Wenzhou, basks in it as if he’s won his own personal championship trophy.

In this particular game, he’s beaten Yu Wenzhou soundly. Giving up is the most strategic option.

The knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to yield, but it’s the only way out and so he takes it. “Call me Captain again.”

Huang Shaotian’s eyes go satisfyingly wide, like he didn’t expect Yu Wenzhou to give in so quickly. His surprise would be satisfying, but there’s no time to be smug. Huang Shaotian knows better than to give up the advantage and he recovers almost immediately. “So good, Captain, that was so good. Captain, Captain, Captain, I knew you could do it.”

The words roll over Yu Wenzhou in a blaze. His back arches off the bed like his entire body wants to get closer to Huang Shaotian. “Again,” he chokes out. Now that he’s given into it, he’s beyond thinking, mindlessly swatting away Huang Shaotian’s hand to stroke himself, desperate for relief. Long, fast pulls of his cock that feel so good he could sob.

“Captain.” Huang Shaotian rakes his fingernails down Yu Wenzhou’s sides, making him keen. “Keep touching yourself, Captain, I want to watch.”

Yu Wenzhou’s breath hitches and he works himself harder, closer to the edge.

“My beautiful captain. What would the rest of the Alliance think if they could see you like this? If they knew how every time they called you Captain, that this is what you want?”

Shame burns Yu Wenzhou’s face, the earlier coolness against his bare skin replaced by a sheen of sweat. His hand on his cock is wet from how much pre-come he’s leaking onto himself. He’s pinned in place, wearing nothing but his glasses while Huang Shaotian watches him fully dressed.

“Shaotian.” He doesn’t have it in him to say anything more.

He doesn’t need to. Huang Shaotian knows him inside and out. What he needs, what he’s too far gone to ask for. Always in perfect step. He swings himself to the side to lie next to Yu Wenzhou, batting away his hand to replace it with his own. He strokes Yu Wenzhou in a perfect rhythm, kissing his neck and his chest and his stomach.

Between each kiss is a whisper against his skin. “Captain.”

With his hips freed, Yu Wenzhou thrusts into his hand, all pretense abandoned. The world narrows to nothing but Huang Shaotian’s voice, Huang Shaotian’s hand, Huang Shaotian’s lips on his body.

“I’ve got you, Captain. You’re mine, my captain.”

He isn’t sure what does it, whether it’s the reverent way Huang Shaotian says his title, or the claiming. Either way, it’s enough to push Yu Wenzhou over the edge. A mess of warmth spills over his fingers and lands in streaks on his chest as Huang Shaotian wrings the last of the pleasure from his body. He thinks he hears whispers of, My Captain, all mine, all of you, spoken against his skin.

When it’s over, he can only lie there, spread out and breathing hard. A small corner of his mind that hasn’t switched off informs him that the bed hasn’t even been unmade and he’s already going to have to change the sheets.

It can wait until later. He’s too wrung out to move, but Huang Shaotian knows what he wants, cleaning off Yu Wenzhou with a pack of tissues from the bedside table and arranging them so that he’s in Yu Wenzhou’s arms. Once they’re settled, he folds the free edge of the blanket over them both.

Yu Wenzhou clings to him and his sluggish brain resumes something approaching normal. The scratch of clothing against his bare skin isn’t as good as having Huang Shaotian naked, but the familiar shape of him is comforting. By a stroke of luck, he finds the hem of Huang Shaotian’s shirt and burrows his hand under it until his palm gets to skin.

The world goes quiet and Yu Wenzhou thinks he maybe dozes off.

When he blinks his eyes open, it’s to the sight of Huang Shaotian looking at him, still huddled in his arms. Yu Wenzhou kisses his forehead.

“As nice as that was, Shaotian, it didn’t help the problem.”

A happy wriggle brings Huang Shaotian closer. “Didn’t I tell you? Exposure therapy. We’ll have to keep trying.”

It’s a ridiculous statement but Yu Wenzhou is lulled into complacency by the afterglow of mindblowing sex and the comfort of his favorite person in his arms. Tomorrow, he’ll do the responsible thing and tell Huang Shaotian to stop calling him Captain in bed.

One of Huang Shaotian’s knees nudges itself between his legs, the rough material of his pants brushing against Yu Wenzhou’s cock, soft now. A memory of Huang Shaotian kissing his chest drifts across his mind. Kissing him, stroking him, calling him Captain while Yu Wenzhou shuddered helplessly into his hand.

Tomorrow. He’ll tell him tomorrow.

Or maybe he won’t.