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Zhehan is not the best at multitasking.
It’s never really bothered him. In his opinion, it’s better not to multitask anyway—it’s better to give whatever he’s doing, whoever he’s talking to, his full attention. It’s more mindful. It’s more respectful. It prevents him from getting into situations like this:
“—and I don’t think twenty centimeters is really that much larger than average,” Gong Jun is saying over the phone when Zhehan tunes back in. “You agree, right?”
“I—twenty centimeters?” Zhehan blinks away from his chat with Xiaoyu and stares at the wood of his little Hengdian hotel desk.
He’d only been looking at WeChat because Xiaoyu wouldn’t stop sending him nagging messages (Zhehan you better be reviewing the contract, Zhehan we need your feedback tonight, Zhehan you can pine over Gong Jun later, Zhehan, Zhehan, Zhehan). Zhehan had just been distracted from his call for long enough to send back no I’m busy pining over Gong Jun now, but apparently that was enough to completely lose the thread of the conversation.
“Yeah.” Gong Jun’s voice fuzzes a little from where it’s coming out on speakerphone from Zhehan’s mobile. “I mean, it’s a little longer, but it’s easier to say twenty. And I know it is larger than most people’s, but it’s not really that large. Or, at least, not large enough for people to act so weird about it.”
“I can’t believe you’ve measured,” Zhehan says, aiming for teasing, but it comes out a little faint. How in the heavens did they get onto this topic of conversation? And who are these people talking to Gong Jun about his dick?
“Everyone keeps asking me, I had to do it before someone decides to measure live,” Gong Jun says, with genuine weariness in his tone.
Zhehan, meanwhile, chokes on nothing. “I’m sure no one would do that.”
“You never know,” Gong Jun says. He sounds a bit like he’s joking, but, disturbingly, only just a bit. “Seriously, you wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve been asked.”
Zhehan can’t even believe that there are people asking Gong Jun this to his face at all.
Curiosity is one thing—after all, it’s not like Zhehan isn’t curious, himself. But actually asking?
Honestly, Zhehan would say he has an even better reason than most to want to know. It goes beyond idle curiosity, or a dick-measuring contest. His motivations for wanting to know are simple and pure: he wants to fuck. But even though he has a more compelling reason and more general shamelessness than most, he isn’t thick-skinned enough to go around explicitly asking Gong Jun to measure.
“So, do you agree?” Gong Jun says.
“Sorry, about what?” Zhehan says, before his brain catches back up with the conversation. “About twenty centimeters?”
“Yeah.”
Zhehan pushes his chair back a bit, puts a hand on the front of his waist, and his other hand at what he estimates to be about twenty centimeters away from it.
Heavens.
“It does seem… a little longer than average,” Zhehan says, and he isn’t sure if the faintness in his voice this time is from concern or an ill-advised moment of horniness.
Is this a turn-on? Is it a turn-off? His brain can’t seem to decide.
Gong Jun’s exhale is strong enough that the air crackles in the speaker. “Aiya, just because yours is smaller—”
“Wow,” Zhehan says.
“I didn’t—I don’t mean that in a bad way!” Gong Jun’s voice cuts in above a clattering of plastic, and Zhehan can picture the way he’s scrambling not to drop his phone. “It’s not like it really matters for much, either way.”
“Wow,” Zhehan says again. On one hand, Gong Jun has been subtly checking out his dick. This feels like a win. On the other hand, Gong Jun is doubling down on calling Zhehan smaller. And maybe he’s right, but what the fuck.
“Da-ge, you know I don’t mean anything by it,” Gong Jun says, the edge of a whine creeping into his voice. “Don’t be weird about it.”
“Who’s being weird about it?” Zhehan is simultaneously fighting off a scowl and a blush. It feels strange. “You’re the one staring.”
“I’m not, really,” Gong Jun says. “I promise I don’t. I don’t like it when people stare at mine, either. It’s just—sometimes it’s hard not to notice, especially when we’re filming certain scenes.”
Has Zhehan been unknowingly popping boners during filming? If he has, he doesn’t want to know. “You don’t have to explain.”
Gong Jun is quiet for a second too long. “Are you really upset?”
Zhehan’s pride will get over it if it means Gong Jun’s admitting to gauging his fuckability. “Depends. Do you have thoughts other than small?”
“I think it’s cute,” Gong Jun says, like that’s any better. “And very proportional? Your feet are a bit small too.”
Either Zhehan has been deemed unfuckable, or Gong Jun doesn’t know how to flirt. Both are, unfortunately, very possible.
“At least my ass is big,” Zhehan says.
Gong Jun chokes, which, really? It’s not like Zhehan pointing that out is any more scandalous than what they’ve already been talking about—and while Gong Jun is in a car, no less.
He hopes Gong Jun’s assistant has her earphones in. He hopes Gong Jun has his earphones in.
“It’s, um,” Gong Jun says, and it’s a marvel to be able to hear a blush in someone’s voice, “yes. It is.”
“So you admit to staring at that, too?” Zhehan says. God he hopes Gong Jun’s been staring at his ass.
Gong Jun laughs. It sounds breathy, puffed up against the phone’s mic. “You sound like you want me to.”
“I mean,” Zhehan says. “It’s a nice ass. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“I can’t believe you’d rather I stare at that instead.”
“Wouldn’t you rather I stare at yours?”
“There really isn’t much there to stare at,” Gong Jun says, tone dry.
It startles a laugh out of Zhehan. “As opposed to other parts of you?”
“I mean...” Gong Jun trails off into laughter, and Zhehan catches himself grinning at the sound of it.
“You haven’t answered the question, by the way,” Zhehan says. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“Aiya.” The blush is back. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth,” Zhehan says. “Don’t you think I deserve to know where you’ve been staring?”
“Well, where have you been staring?” Gong Jun says.
“Everywhere,” Zhehan says without hesitation. “And especially at your long… fingers.”
“Aiya.” Gong Jun sighs again, and Zhehan grins, picturing the expression on his face—the little roll of his eyes, the way he would try to swallow back his smile to not give Zhehan the satisfaction of seeing him laugh at a bad joke. “Don’t tease, da-ge.”
“You’re the one teasing,” Zhehan says, propping his chin on his hand. “Am I ever getting an answer at this rate?”
Gong Jun is quiet for a second, then says, “I’ve looked.”
Zhehan buzzes with unholy glee. “And?”
“And what?”
“Your review?”
“It’s very nice,” Gong Jun says, which is pretty much an objective fact and doesn’t tell Zhehan much in the way of whether or not Gong Jun is having impure thoughts about it.
“Do you want to touch it?” Zhehan says. “You can touch it if you want.”
He hears the voice of Gong Jun’s assistant faintly in the background before Gong Jun can answer. Then Gong Jun says, “Ah, I need to go. We’re almost back. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Anytime,” Zhehan says. Silence lingers for a few seconds too long, into which he says, “Have a good night, Junjun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” Gong Jun says warmly, and then hangs up.
Zhehan basks in the residual heat of Gong Jun’s voice for a moment, then throws on some sweats and his jacket and leaves his room. He’s pretty sure he’s having a mild crisis, and the best thing about having a best friend as his assistant is that he immediately knows what to do when he’s having a crisis.
He bangs on Xiaoyu’s door until Xiaoyu lets him in with an aggrieved look.
“Something tells me this isn’t about the contract,” Xiaoyu says as he latches the door shut.
“What contract?” Zhehan says, throwing himself on the armchair beside the bed. Then he remembers how he ended up in this situation in the first place. “Oh, that. It started it, does that count?”
Xiaoyu sits on the edge of his bed. “Is it actually related to the contract in any way?”
“Not really, no,” Zhehan says. “I was talking to Gong Jun and apparently he’s been checking out my ass. And my dick.”
“What,” Xiaoyu says.
“Actually, that wasn’t why I came here,” Zhehan says, and ignores Xiaoyu’s muttered god I hope not. “I have a hypothetical question.”
Xiaoyu, true lifelong friend that he is, gives him a look that’s one part resignation and one part deep suspicion. “What is it?”
Zhehan leans forward with his elbows on his thighs. “So, hypothetically, if you were considering entering a physical relationship with dicks involved,” he says, “would twenty centimeters be a dealbreaker?”
Xiaoyu’s face is twisted worse than all the times he’s let Zhehan add peppers to his meal combined. “That is not Gong Jun’s dick size.”
“First, why not?” Zhehan says. “And second, who says I’m talking about Gong Jun?”
“First, because no one’s dick is twenty centimeters,” Xiaoyu says. “And second, you literally just said Gong Jun and dick in the same sentence like thirty seconds ago.”
“No, this is a hypothetical question,” Zhehan says. “It would be a breach of trust for me to tell anyone Gong Jun’s dick size that he told me explicitly, ha ha. That being said, don’t tell anyone else, okay?”
Xiaoyu’s face does not untwist. “He’s lying.”
Zhehan kicks him behind the shin. “Don’t call Gong Jun a liar! Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t think Gong Jun could have a monster dick.”
“I am definitely not going to think about Gong Jun’s dick,” Xiaoyu says, even though Zhehan’s certain that he already is. “Why are we even talking about this?”
“I told you a hypothetical dick size because I need you to answer the hypothetical question,” Zhehan says. “Like, how fucked would I be if we, you know? I mean, I know how fucked, but—”
Xiaoyu digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Ugh, please stop talking, I don’t want to think about this anymore.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Zhehan says. “You can stop thinking about it as soon as you give me advice.”
“Or how about you save my sanity and figure this one out yourself,” Xiaoyu says, hands still shoving his eyelids closed.
“I’m having trouble because, logically, it sounds like a bad idea,” Zhehan says, “but emotionally, I think I might have just discovered a size kink.”
“Oh, you just discovered that, did you?”
Zhehan frowns at him. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No,” Xiaoyu says, and nothing else.
“Well,” Zhehan says, “all right then. But I still need your objective opinion. If I were to let him stick that thing in me—”
“Nope,” Xiaoyu says loudly, drowning out the rest of Zhehan’s words. “No. Look. You and Gong Jun—hypothetical Gong Jun,” he adds, when Zhehan opens his mouth, “—can do whatever you want. As long as it doesn’t affect filming, then I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it.”
“But would it affect filming, is the question,” Zhehan says.
Xiaoyu lets out an unearthly sound of misery. “Just—use your best judgment when you see it, all right? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind doing it the other way around, if you asked him. God I can’t believe I said all that out loud.”
“This is all hypothetical,” Zhehan reminds him.
Xiaoyu scowls. “If this were hypothetical, then I wouldn’t need brain bleach. Good night, have fun, don’t tell me a single thing more about it.”
“I’m really not about to go sleep with him right now or anything.”
Xiaoyu’s scowl deepens. “Then what the fuck are we having this conversation for?”
“I told you already that it was hypothetical!” Zhehan says.
“Don’t pretend this isn’t about Gong Jun.”
“Fine, it is,” Zhehan says. “But the sex is hypothetical.”
“You want to fuck him, though,” Xiaoyu says.
“Obviously.”
“And he wants to, too,” Xiaoyu says. “So, again, I don’t understand what’s hypothetical about any of this.”
That was a strange leap in logic for Xiaoyu. “What makes you think he wants to?”
“He literally told you he has a big dick,” Xiaoyu says. “In what world is that not a come-on?”
Zhehan’s mouth flaps.
Xiaoyu has a really good point, actually. Maybe Zhehan was having trouble figuring out Gong Jun’s assessment of his fuckability, but the entire conversation started because Gong Jun was humble-bragging about how big his dick is. And Xiaoyu’s right—people only talk about how big their dicks are when they have something to prove, or when there’s someone they want to get into bed. Gong Jun isn’t the type to strut around trying to prove something, so it must mean—
“Oh my god he was hitting on me.” Zhehan bolts up from the chair. “I have to go.”
“Don’t miss your call time tomorrow!” Xiaoyu yells after him. “And finish reviewing the contract in the car, I’m serious!”
It is thanks to Xiaoyu that orgasms will be happening tonight, so, out of gratitude, Zhehan dutifully reviews the contract terms in the car and sends some notes to the lawyer before they arrive at Gong Jun’s hotel.
It’s only when Zhehan is in the hotel lobby that he realizes he doesn’t actually know what Gong Jun’s room number is, and it’s only when Zhehan pulls out his phone to message Gong Jun that he realizes he’s arrived completely unannounced.
He hesitates, fingers over the keyboard, before he gives in and messages, Can I come over?
The reply comes quickly: Okay.
Zhehan squints at it. It’s not very enthusiastic, on the surface, but it’s also not questioning, which means it’s a net win, right? Right.
He’ll find out soon enough, anyway. He messages again, asking for the room number. Gong Jun’s reply is as quick and brief as before, and Zhehan reminds himself not to read into it as he slips into the elevator and heads over to Gong Jun’s room.
“That was fast,” Gong Jun says as he lets him in. He must have just gotten in—he looks a little flushed, and he’s still wearing street clothes.
“I may have already been in the lobby when I messaged,” Zhehan says, kicking off his sandals and surveying Gong Jun’s hotel room instead of looking at him. It’s a nice little suite meant for longer term stays, similar to Zhehan’s—with a kitchen and dining set, a nook with a sofa, and, of course, the bed with its rumpled sheets.
He wonders if Gong Jun was lying on it, before Zhehan came over.
He wonders if Gong Jun was doing anything else on it, before Zhehan came over.
His fingertips buzz with nervous anticipation as he turns. Gong Jun’s still hovering by the door, watching Zhehan with an uncertain expression. “Is everything okay?”
“Come closer,” Zhehan says.
There’s a deeply satisfying thrill in the way Gong Jun doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question before he takes one step closer, two, until Zhehan has to tip his head up to look at him—or would have to, if Gong Jun hadn’t taken the slight upward tilt of Zhehan’s chin as a sign to duck his head until their faces are at a height.
That fills him with a different kind of thrill, one that vibrates throughout his body, down his arm. His hand lifts before he thinks about it, his fingertips grazing, barely, Gong Jun’s cheek. Gong Jun’s lips part, pupils blowing, and that’s all Zhehan needs before he leans in and kisses him.
Gong Jun feels still against him. Zhehan pulls back to check his reaction, and that’s when Gong Jun moves, his hand curling around the back of Zhehan’s head and tugging him forward again.
It’s an artless kiss, objectively—the kind that would have any director calling for a retake within a second. But here, where it’s just for them, Zhehan doesn’t care that the angle of his neck is a little awkward, that Gong Jun’s mouth is a little clumsy and too-big over his—the fact that he can taste Gong Jun’s desire against his lips, can clutch at Gong Jun’s biceps and feel the desperate want in Gong Jun’s arm, locked around his back—
He doesn’t want perfection. He just wants this—all of this.
It goes on until Zhehan’s neck starts to complain, and Zhehan maneuvers them both to the bed. Gong Jun doesn’t even seem to notice until Zhehan’s already sitting on the mattress, and pulling Gong Jun down with him as he lays down. Gong Jun leans over him, careful to keep all his weight off Zhehan as they kiss and kiss and kiss.
Zhehan slides his hands under Gong Jun’s shirt, fingertips skimming up his sides. His skin is sticky and warm from the summer heat.
Gong Jun’s stomach jumps, and he hisses, breaking away from the kiss. “How are your hands so cold?”
“I was nervous, forgive me.” Zhehan hadn’t noticed his hands had gotten cold and clammy, but it’s very obvious against the warm skin of Gong Jun’s sides. He rolls his fingers along Gong Jun’s ribcage, feels Gong Jun's breath hitch. “They’ll warm up.”
“Hm.” Gong Jun smiles, a little indulgently, and leans down.
Zhehan tilts his head up this time, catching Gong Jun’s upper lip before the vague mouthing disguised as a kiss can begin again and coaxing him into giving in to Zhehan’s rhythm instead. They move slowly against each other as the heat rises, and then—as usual, for Zhehan in heat—Zhehan starts to get frustrated with the amount of clothing they have on between them.
He sneaks Gong Jun’s shirt upwards until it gets caught under his arms, and then tugs impatiently. Gong Jun breaks the kiss to wrestle it off, and Zhehan is treated to the sight of bare abs and bare chest. He ducks his head down and mouths at Gong Jun’s collarbone.
Gong Jun makes a noise—a little startled, a little turned on. It’s unbearably cute. Zhehan grabs onto Gong Jun’s shoulders with now-warm hands and holds on as he grazes with his teeth. Gong Jun shudders. “Marks, da-ge.”
Zhehan nips lightly at him, making him yelp. “I know, don’t worry.”
Gong Jun huffs and starts pulling at his shirt in response, and Zhehan lets him yank it up and off. Then Gong Jun grabs him and bodily drags him more fully onto the bed. Zhehan’s head is still spinning from being so easily manhandled when Gong Jun climbs over him, the bed dipping with Gong Jun’s weight as he straddles Zhehan.
Then he’s bearing down, mouth to mouth and hips to hips, and Zhehan feels Gong Jun—all theoretically twenty centimeters of Gong Jun—pressed against him.
Zhehan lets out a low groan against Gong Jun’s lips. Yeah, that’s good.
He’s overheating from the way they’re pressed together, the sweat sticking their skin together, but he doesn’t care when it means they can grind and grind against each other. Gong Jun is getting firmer and bigger against him. Zhehan feels like he’s on fire.
At some point he feels Gong Jun sneak a hand between them, and press it meaningfully against the fly of Zhehan’s pants. Zhehan hesitates—does he really want to be naked first?—before he decides it won’t matter soon anyway, and lets Gong Jun keep going.
“Better not call me cute again,” Zhehan mutters when Gong Jun has his fingers inside his waistband.
Gong Jun blinks up at him. “Ah?”
“Nothing,” Zhehan says, and raises his hips to help Gong Jun get his pants off.
Gong Jun does not call him cute—actually, the way that Gong Jun pauses, eyes dark, and licks his lips when Zhehan’s cock is freed from his boxers is deeply satisfying. Zhehan wiggles his hips a little, adjusting his leg position, and Gong Jun seems to take that as a sign to move again, climbing off Zhehan so that he can tug Zhehan’s pants off all the way, and then his socks while he’s down there.
Zhehan sighs a little as his legs fall open, relieving the pressure on his knees. Gong Jun’s long fingers close over them, lightly massaging, and his eyes are wide and worried when he says, “Sorry. Should we readjust?”
“This is fine for now.” Zhehan urges him back up and flicks at his pants. “Come on, your turn.”
“Okay, okay.”
Zhehan holds his breath as Gong Jun undoes his button, then his zipper. His mind still hasn’t decided if being nervous or horny is the right reaction in this situation, so his body is simply buzzing with nervous-horny energy as Gong Jun slides his pants down over his hips, letting his cock spring free.
It’s big. It’s definitely big.
But—it’s not a monster.
“Junjun, you liar,” Zhehan says, feeling at once disappointed and relieved. “That is not twenty centimeters.”
Gong Jun startles, looks down at himself. “What? My—” His head snaps up, and he looks at Zhehan with something akin to horror. “Earlier, you thought I was talking about my dick?”
“Were you not?” Zhehan says, slowly closing his legs.
“I meant my hands, da-ge!” Gong Jun thrusts his admittedly large and approximately twenty centimeter hands in front of Zhehan’s face. “I was measuring my hands, not my—” Gong Jun looks—and sounds—like he isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry.
Zhehan feels much the same way, embarrassment creeping hot from his stomach to his cheeks. “So, just to be clear,” he says, finding a corner of the duvet and crumpling it over his dick in a belated show of modesty, “you were not bragging about your dick in an attempt to get me into bed with you.”
“No!” Gong Jun says, in equal parts offense and horror.
“Got it.” Zhehan slides off the bed, pulling the duvet out from under Gong Jun and fashioning it into a makeshift robe as he goes. “Understood. I’ll just—”
“Zhehan, wait.” Gong Jun grabs at the duvet, and then, when it slips off, at Zhehan’s arm, tugging him back onto the mattress. “I don’t want you to leave. I just meant that I wouldn’t—I know how to flirt better than that.”
Zhehan readjusts the duvet over his shoulders, wrapping himself up snugly. “Well, sorry if I haven’t seen your flirting in action.”
Gong Jun’s lip quirks into a little smile. “All right, maybe I don’t know how to flirt better than that. But at least I’m not that crude.”
“So you were flirting?” Zhehan says. “Or you weren’t?”
“I—maybe?” Gong Jun says, looking uncertain about his own flirting habits, which—how? “It depends.”
“Depends,” Zhehan says, a little incredulously. “On what?”
“I can’t tell, sometimes, if you’re flirting or you’re teasing,” Gong Jun says.
Zhehan scoffs, “Obviously it’s both. I don’t talk to all the boys about my ass, you know.”
“Even though it’s a nice ass?” Gong Jun says.
“Even though it’s a very nice ass,” Zhehan says. “Also, just to make sure, you weren’t calling my dick small, then?”
“No!” Gong Jun says. “It’s very—”
“If you say cute—”
“Attractive,” Gong Jun says, with no small amount of exasperation.
Zhehan considers that. “I accept attractive.”
“So you’ll let me see it again?”
Zhehan pauses. “Was that you trying to flirt, just now?”
Gong Jun pauses, too. “Did it work?”
“No,” Zhehan says. “You’re awful. No wonder I thought you weren’t into me. How long have you been wanting to fuck me?”
Gong Jun looks pained. “I’m not answering that.”
“Because I’ve wanted to suck you off since the first day of filming,” Zhehan says. “In case you were curious.”
Gong Jun stares at him for a long moment, then says, “No wonder you thought I was talking about my dick earlier, if you’ve spent so long thinking about it.”
That familiar mix of surprised-pleased-proud bubbles up inside Zhehan—the same thing he always feels, when Gong Jun’s burgeoning improv skills rear their head.
Now if only this wasn’t at his expense.
Zhehan’s mouth flaps for long enough that Gong Jun starts to giggle, a high-pitched little heeheehee.
“Proud of yourself for that one, are you?” Zhehan pinches Gong Jun’s waist. Gong Jun bats at his hand but doesn’t stop laughing—actually, he laughs harder, until it sounds like he can’t breathe.
“Your face,” Gong Jun wheezes.
“Yes, I’m sure it’s very funny,” Zhehan says, biting back a smile as he pinches Gong Jun again. At his expense or not, Gong Jun’s delight is infectious. “Do you want to have sex or not?”
“I do, I do.” There’s still a laugh on Gong Jun’s lips as he grabs the edges of the duvet wrapped around Zhehan. “You came all this way for my dick, it would be a waste if we didn’t.”
Zhehan narrows his eyes and tugs his blanket-robe tighter around him. “Gong Jun, don’t think I won’t leave just because I have a boner.”
“I’m being sincere!” Unfortunately, Gong Jun has the very devastating wide, watery sincere eyes to back up his statement.
Zhehan sighs as all his sternness melts away. He relaxes his grip on the duvet. “Fine. But you’re doing all the work.”
Gong Jun laughs. “Sure, of course.” He slides the blanket off Zhehan’s shoulders, and gently eases him back onto the bed. “For the record,” Gong Jun says, hovering over Zhehan, “I’ve wanted you since the start. I just didn’t want to say anything until I was sure about what you felt, because…”
“Don’t worry about that,” Zhehan says, pressing down Gong Jun’s lip with his thumb to stop him from chewing at it. He tugs him down and kisses him briefly for good measure. “I want it.”
“I know that now.” Gong Jun’s voice is warm, but it also has a teasing edge that Zhehan can’t ignore.
Zhehan clicks his tongue and tugs at Gong Jun’s ear. “Stop being a brat and fuck me already.”
Gong Jun’s breath puffs against Zhehan’s lips when he laughs. “Yes, da-ge,” he says, and does.