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Upstairs, Downstairs

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There's a stranger crouched in the entryway of Xiao Zhan's dim living room when he gets out of the shower, hair still dripping, boxers sticking to his thighs. He's about to quietly grab the mosquito racket sitting on the bookshelf—closest handy thing available, highly swingable, not quite a taser but still carries a bitch of a current—when he realizes Jianguo is there too, sitting in the shadow that the man's casting across the floor and purring up a storm. Hm. Interesting.

Jianguo doesn't hate people, exactly. It would be more accurate to say that she is exceedingly indifferent to anyone who isn't Xiao Zhan, and even then, she's extremely picky about the types of scritches he's allowed to give her at any particular time. By contrast, the man in the shadows is petting her with enormous vigor, combing through her fur like he's looking for gold. As Xiao Zhan's eyes adjust to the light, he watches Jianguo splay out on the ground and show her stomach so that she can get some belly rubs from this dude, which is so wild that he almost laughs out loud. That hasn't happened in weeks around these parts. Could the guy be carrying catnip on him? He supposes he shouldn't put anything past anyone actually trying to break into his house.

"When did Seungyounie get a pretty kitty like you, hmm?" the stranger coos, words slurred. Xiao Zhan relaxes as the man pitches over a little, knee skidding across the floorboards, body listing. "Ah, shit."

Instead of going for the mosquito racket, Xiao Zhan flips the light on. Jianguo eases back up to her feet as the stranger falls onto his butt, squinting against the brightness. He's clearly dressed for a night out on the town, probably club hopping: he's wearing a tight pair of ripped jeans and a meshy shirt that dips low enough for Xiao Zhan to admire his prominent collarbones. His dark eyes are kohl-lined, smokey eyeshadow wisping out toward his temples, and his hair's falling out of its careful coif, sculpting gel unable to hold up after an evening of dancing.

"Oh, hello," the man says, eyes narrowing. A confused look crosses his face before it clears, comprehension dawning. "Are you Seungyoun-hyung's new boyfriend?" He sways to his feet and whistles, openly ogling Xiao Zhan's bare chest. "Damn. Congratulations to him."

"I think," Xiao Zhan says delicately, "you may be in the wrong apartment." He's gotten mail for a Cho Seungyoun before, advertisements in Korean and the odd postcard stuck in the wrong mailbox, 1376 somehow morphed into 1276. It's good to know this guy probably isn't here to jack his flat-screen TV.

"Oh," the man repeats, less certain, and then he looks around the apartment for the first time in the light. Same layout, different furniture. "Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry." He trips on his own two feet as he tries to spin on his heel, and Xiao Zhan steps forward automatically to steady him, arm coming up to fit against the curve of his sweaty back. He reeks of alcohol this close, and he's radiating heat. The guy smiles woozily at him, head lolling against Xiao Zhan's shoulder, and Xiao Zhan sighs, tamping down on the way his hindbrain is reacting to an armful of wriggling, attractive man. His work-induced dry spell has really done a number on his libido. "You're very strong, ge."

Xiao Zhan huffs, amused despite himself. "Do you need some water?" he inquires, helping the guy to his couch. Jianguo follows, winding her way around the stranger's legs once he's properly situated.

"That would be great, thanks," the man says. He looks up through his eyelashes and licks his lips in a way that makes Xiao Zhan think he should definitely have put a shirt on before making his presence known, if only for his own sanity. "Sorry."

"Don't mention it," Xiao Zhan manages, and escapes to the kitchen. In the attached laundry room, he tugs a fresh shirt off the clothesline and pulls it over his head.

When he comes back out with a giant glass of water and a couple of pain pills just in case, the stranger is slumped over against the armrest, eyes closed, Jianguo curled up in his lap. "Hey, buddy," Xiao Zhan murmurs, touching the glass to the man's forehead.

He blinks his bleary eyes open. "Seungyoun?"

"I'm not Seungyoun," Xiao Zhan says patiently, "or Seungyoun's boyfriend. My name's Xiao Zhan, and I'm your friend's downstairs neighbor."

"Shit, that's right," the man says, accepting the water and taking a long swallow. Xiao Zhan does not stare too long at the quick bob of his throat; he stares at it a perfectly normal amount. By the time he's drained half the glass, he looks a bit more alert. "I'm Wang Yibo. You can call me Yibo."

"Hello, Yibo," Xiao Zhan says, holding his hand out. "I brought you some painkillers, if you want them."

Yibo squints at his palm and then up at his face again, lips pursed. "You're not trying to drug me, are you?"

"Says the man who broke into my home," Xiao Zhan replies, dry. Yibo at least has the grace to look a little sheepish about that. "How did you get in, anyway?"

"Must have gotten off the elevator at the wrong floor," Yibo mumbles, slumping over again. He takes the pills from Xiao Zhan's hand and throws them back with another gulp of water. "You know you keep your spare key in the same place?"

"Underneath a potted plant?"

"Not very secure," Yibo points out, grinning up at him, and oh, what a smile. This kid has almost certainly broken some hearts. "Perhaps you only have yourself to blame."

"If my cat didn't look so comfortable in your lap right now, I'd be throwing you out," Xiao Zhan says, trying to put on his bitchy client voice, but he can't help his answering smile. He reaches down to scritch Jianguo's ears, shaking his head when she purrs and burrows her face further in Yibo's stomach. "You little betrayer."

Yibo's sharp grin melts into something softer around the edges when he looks down at the cat. Fucking hell. "Then I have this little one to thank, don't I?" He strokes a hand down her back and uses the other to boop her nose. "What's your name?"

"Jianguo," Xiao Zhan says. "She usually doesn't like other people."

"Mm." Yibo's looking up through his eyelashes again. "Guess I'm just a likeable person."

Xiao Zhan snorts. "Don't push it." When he glances over at the digital clock, it reads half past midnight, quite a bit past when he usually goes to sleep. The kid seems mostly harmless, and Xiao Zhan is pretty exhausted after pulling a week of fourteen hour days, so… "Out of respect for the cat, you're welcome to stay until you feel ready to brave the stairs." Yibo's eyes go wide. "Try not to drool on the couch if you fall asleep."

"Yes, sir," Yibo says dutifully. He waves one of Jianguo's paws as Xiao Zhan pads down the hall to his room. Too cute. Dangerously cute. Xiao Zhan puts it out of his mind and faceplants into bed.

In the morning, there's no sign of him except for a faint whiff of lingering alcohol on the couch and a scribble on the white board at the entrance of Xiao Zhan's apartment: fed your cat before i left. thanks for not slipping me any roofies. i'll tell seungyoun to send you a kitty care package. Xiao Zhan keeps it there even when the month turns over a few days later and he has to reset the calendar. Every time he sees it, it makes him laugh.



The following Friday, Xiao Zhan lets himself into the house after a very late client dinner to find Yibo drunkenly trying to feed Jianguo a slice of cold pizza. "If I have to take her to the vet because of digestive issues, you're footing the bill," Xiao Zhan comments, dropping his messenger bag on the floor and toeing his shoes off.

Yibo slouches against the wall and squints at the ceiling. He's in a light pink jacket this time and baggy white pants; his eye make-up is a vivid red, matching streaky highlights in his hair. Xiao Zhan thinks he preferred the skinny jeans, and then reminds himself he shouldn't have a preference. "Damn," Yibo says, staring down at Jianguo, who's licking at his fingers. "I did it again."

"What gave it away?" Xiao Zhan lifts the plastic bag in his hands. "Want some leftover takeout?"

Yibo nearly dozes off into the fried rice, but Xiao Zhan manages to get some more information out of him before then. Yibo's twenty-two and fresh out of college, working part-time at a local dance studio and paying the rest of his bills by driving delivery. Most Friday nights, he goes drinking with friends for some light-hearted fun that doesn't have to do with their day jobs. Seungyoun hasn't been joining them lately, preoccupied with some social agenda that he's kept secret from their group. After their gatherings, Yibo's been coming over to see if he's left behind any clues.

"So… breaking and entering," Xiao Zhan says, pouring hot tea for both of them. He leaves a bit of milk in a saucer for Jianguo and takes a sip of his cup. "Poor Seungyoun. I can relate."

"It doesn't count if he knows I know where his spare key is," Yibo argues.

"And yet you keep getting off at the wrong floor, so your mission goes unfulfilled," Xiao Zhan remarks. "Maybe you should consider drinking less when you're going out."

Yibo doesn't have anything to say in response, but he does help Xiao Zhan wash the dishes and pack the rest of his food away before he leaves for the night, so at least he's making himself useful in some way.



The third time it happens, Yibo intercepts Xiao Zhan in the park just outside his apartment building and gets his help scoping out the common areas in the complex. The fourth time, his hair is blond. He's actually on his way to pregame for a friend's birthday party and stops by to drop off some beers with Xiao Zhan. "So you can live a little, old man," Yibo says, laughing when Xiao Zhan flips him off.

The fifth, it's a quarter till nine and Xiao Zhan's working late as usual. There's a deadline for a rebrand over the weekend, and the agency's expecting a clean slate of social media graphics first thing Saturday morning so the client can provide necessary feedback before the launch. In the middle of painstakingly adjusting the kerning on some text, he hears clicking at his front door, like someone's trying the lock. Jianguo hops off the couch and makes a beeline for the entrance, like she can see through the metal and already knows who it is. To be fair, Xiao Zhan is pretty sure he knows too.

The door swings open. "We've got to stop meeting like this," Xiao Zhan says, but he can't quite keep the amusement out of his voice.

Yibo's dressed in marginally less clubby attire today, but the jeans he's wearing still look painted on. "I had a thought, Zhan-ge," he says, determined and unabashed. Whatever alcohol he had before coming over probably helped with that, but Xiao Zhan is beginning to suspect that Yibo doesn't have an ounce of self-consciousness in his body. He's actually holding an overnight bag, and he has what looks like rappelling gear slung over his shoulder, as if he's two seconds away from tossing a grappling hook to Seungyoun's balcony and climbing up from the twelfth story. "What if I slept over and ambushed him tomorrow morning?"

"I'm not aiding and abetting your criminal trespass," Xiao Zhan replies, but Jianguo yowls as she twines around Yibo's legs, so of course he lets Yibo in the house anyway. "Have you tried, I don't know, just talking to your friend?"

"Talking is overrated, this is much more interesting," Yibo says, grinning when Xiao Zhan rolls his eyes. "You haven't heard any weird noises coming from upstairs?"

"Nah, but you're welcome to stay and see if you can divine any information from the rats scurrying around in the ceiling." He sinks back onto the couch, various tablets littered across the desk in his living room, and starts clicking around the logo again.

After puttering around for a while, Jianguo padding around him in circles, Yibo wanders over to stare at his screen. "Wait, Zhan-ge," he says after a minute, gesturing wildly at one of the iPads. "Do you work for Diego Najera?!"

"Uh, kind of," Xiao Zhan says, flipping between a set of colored-in skateboarding silhouettes and some outline-only versions, trying to decide which ones look better. "I work for an independent graphic design firm that works with brands hoping to break into the Chinese market. We help them with look and feel, social media penetration, all that stuff."

"Wow, that's so fucking cool," Yibo says, all previous inebriation and thoughts of Seungyoun suddenly gone. "I love his skateboards."

That tracks. Of course Yibo's a skater boy. "Which one do you think looks better?" Xiao Zhan asks, waving a hand at his monitor.

Yibo squints at the two canvases. "The ones that are colored in, for sure," he says decisively. "They pop a lot more."

"Okay, I'll choose the outlines, then," Xiao Zhan says, biting his lips around a smile, and yelps when Yibo smacks his arm. "Just kidding, just kidding, you're right."

"Of course I am," Yibo says, smug, which is around the time when Xiao Zhan's late night delivery order arrives. Yibo opens the door and accepts the takeout bag of sushi for him. "Mm, looks good."

"Feel free to help yourself to some of it," Xiao Zhan says absently. "I always overorder from this place."

Yibo ends up spending the night on the couch listening for noises upstairs while Xiao Zhan guzzles three cans of Monster trying to finish his work. It's nearly six in the morning by the time Xiao Zhan sticks the last logo in the portfolio and gets it emailed out. Yibo's drooling gently into one of the cushions when Xiao Zhan bends to shake his shoulder.

"Hey, Yibo." Yibo's eyes are crusty and his hair is flat on one side when he finally rouses. "If you wanna catch Seungyoun, now's probably the best time to do it."

Yibo sits up so fast Xiao Zhan's head spins. "Right. Great. Good," he mumbles, voice gravelly with sleep, and staggers to the door with all his climbing gear. Somehow he manages to balance while bending down to give Jianguo one last pet. "Get some sleep, Zhan-ge," he says in the open entrance, yawning.

"Go upstairs," Xiao Zhan says, stifling a yawn of his own. Yibo sends him a smile and a thumbs up sign before he rounds the bend toward the stairs.



Next Friday is one of his rare evenings off. It also turns out to be Yiboless for once, which Xiao Zhan takes to mean he finally had a chat with Seungyoun and put the topic of his love life to rest for the time being. He should probably be happy that Yibo isn't around to get underfoot and distract him from the rest of his life, but that couldn't be further from the truth. As the evening ticks on and he tries to fill the time, he's slightly horrified to find that he's gotten used to Yibo's shenanigans over the past month and a half. Even Jianguo seems droopy, pawing at the door like she's waiting for him to show up.

Xiao Zhan phones up Xuan Lu on Saturday to see if she wants to grab lunch, just for something to do that isn't moping around the house. He must seem visibly pitiful, because she takes one look at him when she slides into the booth and says, "Spill." Her eyebrows climb as he tells her an abbreviated version of his initial encounter with Yibo and subsequent developments. "So… you made friends with someone who broke into your house?"

"It was an accident," Xiao Zhan says. "On his part, not the part where we became friends. He was trying to get into his friend's place on the thirteenth floor." A pause, and then: "Also, frankly, he was very hot, so once I realized he wasn't trying to steal my shit, I didn't mind having him there."

"So you were thinking with your dick," Xuan Lu amends.

"Well, not really," Xiao Zhan says, scrunching his nose. "I don't know. First it was just funny, and then—I just liked having him around, I guess, even if he was just using me to try and get information."

"Seems like a really convoluted way to get information," Xuan Lu points out, which is true. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"Well, I don't even have his contact information, actually," Xiao Zhan says blankly. "I just started expecting him to show up at my house every week. Like he belonged there."

Xuan Lu pats his arm as their server comes by to take their orders, a knowing look in her eyes. "Zhanzhan, doesn't that tell you everything you need to know?"



By Wednesday, Xiao Zhan has gathered enough courage to go upstairs and have a chat of his own with Cho Seungyoun. On the plus side, he has a few pieces of misdelivered mail to hand over anyway. Usually, Xiao Zhan just walks the envelopes over to the right mailbox himself, but this time he's got an actual reason to see Seungyoun in person. It's as good an excuse as any.

A sweet-looking kid with a big grin answers the door. "Hello," Xiao Zhan says, suddenly nervous. He offers a disarming smile of his own and extends the hand holding Seungyoun's mail. "This is a little weird, but I'm your downstairs neighbor, and—"

"Oh, wait, you're Xiao Zhan!" Seungyoun interrupts in slightly accented Chinese. He accepts the stack of envelopes and grins wider. "Yibo has been telling us so much about you, wow. No wonder. You're exactly his type."

"Wait, what?" Xiao Zhan blinks. "What? He told me he'd been coming over to see you."

Seungyoun snorts. "Using me as an excuse to get some, huh. That punk."

"Get some," Xiao Zhan says, trying to find his footing again. "Right. He didn't come over last week, and I was wondering…"

"Ah, what's the word in Chinese? Yibo gets around, but he should be back soon. I wouldn't worry about that."

Gets around. Sure. That's not shocking. Xiao Zhan puts on a smile and hopes it isn't too wooden. "Of course. Thanks, Seungyoun!"

It's only after he gets back down to his floor that he remembers he didn't even get Yibo's contact information. Right now, though, he's not sure what to think, so maybe it's for the best after all.



Two days later, Jianguo's loud meowing is what wakes him up about an hour after he'd decided to turn in early for the day, deadlines be damned. Xiao Zhan's heart leaps into his throat as he slips out of bed and pads into the living room. The lamp is on. Yibo's on the couch, blond hair given way to a dreamy teal blue.

"Zhaaaaaaan-ge," he says, sing-song, drunker than Xiao Zhan has seen him since the first time he unceremoniously barged into his life. "Did you miss me?"

"Yibo," Xiao Zhan says, trying to shake the sleep out of his head. He sighs as Yibo wilts into the armrest, eyes sliding shut. He swivels on his heel and goes to get Yibo a glass of water on autopilot, mind racing. He has questions he's not sure he wants the answers to, but at least he has to try, right? Yibo's here. That's better than nothing, even if he doesn't really know what to believe right now.

When he slides into the living room again, Yibo's got his legs curled under his chin, the gentle swell of his cheek pressed against one knee.

Xiao Zhan leaves the water on the end table, sinks onto the couch next to Yibo, and flicks a damp finger against his forehead. "Hey," he murmurs. "Hey—kiddo. What are we doing here, hm?"

Yibo cracks his eyes open and pitches his face into Xiao Zhan's neck. Xiao Zhan swallows around the lump in his throat and brings an arm around Yibo's shoulders. "I missed you while I was gone," he confesses into the hollow of Xiao Zhan's collarbone. "I wanted to message you, but then I realized I don't even have your WeChat. What's up with that, huh? Aren't we friends?"

"Where'd you go?"

"Shanghai," Yibo mumbles. "Dance workshop with the studio. Kind of last minute—one of the other trainers had a family emergency so I got to go instead. I would've told you, but like I said. I didn't have your WeChat."

"I see," Xiao Zhan says. "And why would I need to know? You've just been coming to spy on Seungyoun, isn't that right?" For a long minute, Yibo doesn't say anything. "Yibo," Xiao Zhan says to the middle of the room. "I talked to Seungyoun."

When Yibo pushes off from Xiao Zhan's chest, his eyes are glittering in the lamplight. "What did he say?"

"That I'm exactly your type, among other things," Xiao Zhan says, and a flush crawls up Yibo's face so fast that it's a wonder Xiao Zhan can't feel the heat.

"I'm going to kill him," he mutters.

"Why's that?"

Yibo shakes his head for a moment, as if trying to make sense of the conversation. "I don't know what all he told you," he says slowly. "But I should've come clean about my ulterior motives a while ago. I'm sorry about that."

"Ulterior motives," Xiao Zhan repeats, raising an eyebrow. "And what might those be?"

"Your cat," Yibo replies promptly, which earns him a smack on the arm. "I'm just kidding!" He pouts, looking up through his eyelashes like that first night. "Maybe I just wanted to be sure you were as handsome as I remembered you being the first time."

That startles a laugh out of Xiao Zhan, and a little flip of his stomach. "You had to verify that five separate times?"

"Maybe I just like being right," Yibo says. "But—no, that's not it either." He fiddles with the jagged rip in his jeans, chewing on his lip. Then: "I actually figured out Seungyoun's thing weeks ago," he admits, gaze cutting away and then back again. "He was just working on a ridiculous song as a surprise for one of our friends' birthdays. I kept coming because I wanted an excuse to see you."

Xiao Zhan blows out a long breath, chest squeezing tight around his heart. He wants so badly to believe that. "You could've just said so."

Yibo shakes his head, mouth twisting. "You never seemed to care that I was prancing around dolled up or half naked in your living room. I didn't even know if you were actually interested or just humoring me because I kept breaking into your house." He gestures at the remnants of Xiao Zhan's work spread across the coffee table. "It's a Friday night, Zhan-ge. You should be out and about living your life instead of working overtime every week, you know?"

"You should be out and about living your life as well, and yet you're here instead," Xiao Zhan says, raising his eyebrows. And, since they're putting all their cards out on the table: "To tell you the truth, you're the most interesting thing that's happened to me in a while."

"You must not have a very interesting life then," Yibo says, immediately wincing afterward. "Wait, sorry. That's not—I didn't mean—"

Xiao Zhan makes an amused noise. "You aren't wrong," he says. "But Yibo, if I didn't want you to keep breaking into my house, don't you think I would've just moved the spare key somewhere else after the first time?"

Yibo blinks rapidly. "Oh," he says, sounding a bit stunned. "That's—a really good point, actually."

"I wasn't sure what to think after I talked to Seungyoun this week," Xiao Zhan admits. "If it wasn't about him, I didn't really understand why you would keep coming back here."

"I already told you," Yibo says, scooting closer, eyes luminous. "Because I wanted to get to know you better. Because I liked you. I like you."

Xiao Zhan's heart skips a beat. "Is that so? Seungyoun said you get around," he says, just to tease him, and Yibo groans, rubbing a hand across his face. "But maybe he just meant that you have to go places for work, huh?"

"Let's stop talking about Seungyoun," Yibo says, waving his hand. "Are you going to accept my confession or not?"

"You're so impatient," Xiao Zhan says. "What if I need time to process it?" Yibo groans. Xiao Zhan decides to have mercy on him, tilts his head and gives Yibo a real smile, leaning in so that their breaths mingle. "I like you too. I think you should come over whenever you want, no excuses necessary. What do you think of that?"

"I think you should fix your apartment security," Yibo says seriously. "Way too easy to break in. Can't have any other crazy kids wandering through the door and thinking they can get fresh with you, right?"

Xiao Zhan's laughing when Yibo closes the final gap between them and fits their mouths together. He kisses with fervor and determination, like it's a competition, something worth winning together, and Xiao Zhan can feel himself drowning in the feeling, awash in a sea of heat. It doesn't take long at all for his dick to get interested in the proceedings, and Xiao Zhan's about to reach over and see if Yibo's feeling the same way when Jianguo meows loudly from the floor.

They break apart for air, Yibo chuckling, the rumble traveling between them. "Ah, Jianguo," he says, leaning down to scritch her head despite the obvious tent in his jeans. "Hello, sweet girl. I missed you too, but I need to get very well-acquainted with your dad first."

After a few more firm pets, they manage to haul themselves into the bedroom, Jianguo safely locked outside. Xiao Zhan tosses his sleep shirt into the far corner and gets rid of his underwear, hopping out of one leg and then the other. Closer to the foot of the bed, Yibo's shimmying out of his clubbing clothes, peeling each layer off with care: the feathery top, the ripped jeans, the dark boxer-briefs.

When they're fully undressed, they just stare at each other for a moment. Yibo's pale and slim all the way down, skinny waist and hips, long legs, huge hands and feet. His dick is long too, even just half-hard, and flushed pink. Xiao Zhan hasn't been able to work out as much lately with the way work has picked up, but he doesn't shy away from Yibo's unflinching gaze, letting him look his fill. "While we're admitting things," Yibo says, stepping forward to press a big hand against the fine line of hair trailing down Xiao Zhan's stomach, "I've been wanting to get my mouth on this for over a month." His fingers curl loosely around the base of Xiao Zhan's cock before giving it a firm tug. "This, too."

Xiao Zhan laughs again, a little breathless this time, toes tingling with anticipation. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

He ends up leaned back against the headboard, legs spread wide so Yibo can settle in between them, bony elbows digging into his thighs. Yibo lingers for a moment pressing open-mouthed kisses along Xiao Zhan's abdomen, tongue swirling across the fuzzy hair leading down to his crotch. Once he gets to Xiao Zhan's dick, though, he wastes no time getting down to business, taking half of Xiao Zhan in one swallow, sucking so hard that his cheeks hollow out. The warm pressure feels fucking incredible, and Xiao Zhan sinks his fingers in Yibo's hair and tugs. Yibo moans loudly, rutting sinuously into the mattress beneath him. Xiao Zhan can only guess how delicious he must look on the dance floor, sweaty and panting, the muscles in his back rippling as he moves.

Yibo works his jaw open, pitching forward, and manages to swallow around Xiao Zhan's entire length, tongue stiff against the veiny underside, mouth puffy and red and stretched wide open. His big nose bumps against the thick hair at Xiao Zhan's crotch, rubbing back and forth as Yibo exhales into it. "Holy shit, Yibo," Xiao Zhan says, voice tight. He tries to keep his hips still, tries to hold back, but Yibo keeps looking up at him through his eyelashes and sucking harder, throat making room for Xiao Zhan, like he was always meant to be there. "I'm not going to last."

Yibo hums, looking as pleased as anyone can while gagging on a mouthful of cock. He flutters his damp lashes and bobs his head, undulating against the bed, and that's it—Xiao Zhan bends over Yibo's head, combing his fingers through Yibo's soft hair, and shoots down Yibo's throat with a bitten-off shout.

The moment Xiao Zhan spirals down from the aftershocks, he hauls Yibo up into his lap, curls an arm around his waist, and gets a hand on his dick. Fully erect, it's huge in Xiao Zhan's hand, hot and heavy and leaking into his palm. Yibo can't stop making these devastating little noises as Xiao Zhan works him over, pace brutal. Xiao Zhan looks up at Yibo's half-lidded eyes, his pink lips and his flushed face, and thinks, I want to make him sound like this for as long as he'll let me, with so much conviction that he has to tilt his chin up and swallow every single sweet groan that tumbles from Yibo's mouth.

It doesn't take long for Yibo either. Two more firm strokes and another twist of Xiao Zhan's wrist, and Yibo comes with a low cry, making a mess in between them. Afterwards, he slumps against Xiao Zhan's chest, sticky everywhere, his forehead rolling against Xiao Zhan's shoulder. Yibo's weight feels good. It tethers him in place. He's not thinking about anywhere else he needs to be or anything else he needs to do. He's just here.

"You should stay the night," Xiao Zhan says after a moment of companionable silence. "Technically you've already done it, but you know. More formally. In this bed."

Yibo squeezes his arms around Xiao Zhan's neck. "Okay," he murmurs, sleepy and satisfied. "Only if you go out with me tomorrow. On a real date."

"You're hurting my feelings," Xiao Zhan sniffs, grinning when Yibo pulls back and sends him an alarmed look. "Haven't we basically been dating this whole time already? I shared my sushi with you, Wang Yibo."

Yibo's face melts into an easy grin. "Oh, well, if you put it that way," he says, a sparkle in his eye, "then date me again, and again, and again."

"Yes, and yes, and yes," Xiao Zhan replies. He's beaming when Yibo tugs him down into the sheets and fits their mouths together again.