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It always seems like such a good idea when Xue Yang starts something. Just a little teasing, he always thinks, and then he remembers that Xiao Xingchen is evil and not to be trusted, and that anything that happens is something that he’s allowed for a reason. Because he’s a bastard. The worst.
So Xue Yang’s in the laundromat, in his littlest tiniest gym shorts, with Song Lan’s most himbo tank top mostly-falling off of his shoulders. No problem. All good. It’s fine!
The last rinse cycle starts and Xue Yang’s breath stutters in his chest, making him swallow fitfully around the lollipop in his mouth, and he thinks maybe it’s not that fine, after all.
"You look cute," Xiao Xingchen says, rubbing his thumb high up on Xue Yang's thigh.
“Xingchen,” He mumbles, catching his lollipop on the backside of his teeth. He shifts a little, bare thighs sticking to the warm metal of the washer, and Xiao Xingchen mouths another lazy, smearing kiss along his jawline.
“Mm? Something wrong, A-Yang?”
“Mngh-” Xue Yang strangles a noise, toes curling in his sneakers. “Ff- uh. I hate you. You're so fucking mean.”
“Sshh,” Xingchen reminds him soothingly, petting down the outsides of his thighs. “Someone will hear you.”
“Nngh,” Xue Yang says stupidly, and curls his tongue around the stick of his lollipop.
“Oh, you’re easy,” Xingchen says fondly, patting Xue Yang’s thigh hard enough to almost be a smack. Xiao Xingchen likes hitting more than anyone Xue Yang’s ever met. He makes casual acquaintanceship a full contact sport. “Is it big in you?”
He’s talking about the plug holding Xue Yang open. It’s not, really, not compared to Song Lan’s dick, but it’s really very fucking present, and Xue Yang’s been on the edge for - maybe a million years. Probably since Xiao Xingchen had fucked the plug into him, smiling the whole time. Maybe since he’d woken up that morning with Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan kissing over his head.
“Nnnah,” Xue Yang says, but it comes out as a whimper, so he’s not convincing anyone. “S’fine. Ea-aasy.” He shudders at the vibration of the washer between his thighs, stomach going tight and wanting.
“Mm,” Xingchen says knowingly, thumbs petting the tender insides of Xue Yang’s knees. “We’ll get you something bigger, then. Wouldn’t you like that? Being all spread for us all the time?”
Xue Yang opens his mouth to deny it and immediately has to close it again so he doesn’t choke on his own spit and a moan at the same time. He wants to come so bad. He hates Xiao Xingchen so much. He wants to kill him.
The washer shudders to a halt and Xue Yang can finally get his breath back, hips twitching fitfully back and forth to rock the plug where it sits inside him.
“Stay there,” Xiao Xingchen says, smiling, like Xue Yang has any ability or intention to move without coming all over his stupid self.
He moves around the empty laundromat like he owns the place - Xiao Xingchen always moves like he has a deed in his name, like every single room has a plaque in his honor. He knows exactly how much of a presence he has. It’s agonizingly hot. Xue Yang wants to kick his knees out and ride him stupid. Fuck, he wants to come.
Xiao Xingchen tosses the separated laundry into a few dryers, slides his card for credit, and then turns back to watch Xue Yang, who’s trying not to fidget too obviously. He pops Xue Yang’s lollipop out of his mouth to trade strawberry-sweet kisses, then shoves it back in before Xue Yang can do much more than try to slip him some tongue.
“I hate you,” Xue Yang hisses, and Xiao Xingchen laughs like he knows it’s a lie. Xue Yang could seriously kill him with his bare hands. He lets himself get a little distracted by the thought of it (choking Xiao Xingchen until his eyes go a little blurry, and then just fucking sitting on his dick, Xue Yang is so horny he’s losing his mind), which means that he lets out a startled squawk when Xingchen just lifts him off the washer by the thighs and hauls him over to drop him on top of the dryer instead.
Xue Yang drops his face into Xiao Xingchen’s shoulder with a helpless whine, which he will absolutely deny if anyone ever asks, and shoves his hips desperately back into the weaker vibration of the machine.
“You’re precious,” Xiao Xingchen tells him indulgently, smoothing his hands up the line of Xue Yang’s ribs. His sides are naked because Song Lan’s tank top basically has sleeve holes where the tank top is meant to be, and Xue Yang thinks it’s funny and sexy and wishes that Song Lan would maybe wear it more. “You could come just from this, couldn’t you?”
No, he can’t, Xue Yang wants to argue, because if he could, he certainly already would have - but Xiao Xingchen sort of talks about things like he doesn’t give a shit whether they’re possible or not, which is - terrifying. Incredible. Fuck, maybe he can come from this.
“Talk to me,” Xue Yang gasps, and tries to pull Xiao Xingchen closer with his heels at the small of his back. “Fuck - tell me, tell me.”
Xiao Xingchen hums a contemplative noise, as if he has to actually choose whether it’s more worthwhile to talk Xue Yang off or do something else, like maybe blow the dust off the old pinball machine in the corner. Xue Yang is going to bite his throat out and leave him bleeding. He hates him so much.
Xiao Xingchen laces his fingers together at the small of Xue Yang’s back and gathers him close, rubbing his thumbs into the divots to either side of his spine. “The woman at the counter is watching us,” He murmurs into Xue Yang’s ear. “She’s stopped reading her magazine. She wants to ask a question, but won’t.”
Xue Yang traps a whimper behind the ball gag encouragement of his lollipop, candy spit pooling on his tongue. He doesn’t care about being watched, not really - he’d let Song Lan fuck him in the locker room, on the gym floor, anywhere. He’d let Xiao Xingchen shove him full of fingers on a city bus, if that’s what he wants. He doesn’t have any shame. Fuck, he wants to get off.
“You think you’re being quiet,” Xiao Xingchen continues. His tone is so even, fuck, fuck him. “But you’re not. You’re whining like a puppy. It’s cute. The way you shiver’s cute, too, all down your thighs. What are you thinking of?”
Xue Yang has to swallow twice before he can tuck his candy into his cheek and gasp, “You. Just you -”
“Liar,” Xiao Xingchen laughs, long fingers rubbing a slow circle into the waistband of Xue Yang’s shorts. It makes them ride even higher up his thighs. “You’re thinking of Zichen, too, aren’t you?”
He hadn’t been, really, but he is now. Song Lan, who doesn’t like going to public laundromats, who’d waved them off with a vague promise to pick up dinner. Who hadn’t been wearing a shirt when they’d left, because laundry day, fuck, sure, he’ll think of whoever the fuck Xingchen wants him to think of.
“Mm- mhm.” Xue Yang slides a little closer to the edge of the dryer, trying to angle the plug a little better against the vibration. It buzzes in him like it’s actually a vibrator and his eyes cross, stomach twisting up. “Fu- uck, fuck. Make me come, I can come, let me -”
“If you can come like this,” Xiao Xingchen says, scraping his nails down Xue Yang’s thighs hard enough to raise welts, “We’ll give you a reward when we get home.”
Xue Yang has no idea how much time he has left on the dry cycle. Probably not long - his lollipop’s melted entirely, at this point, and he’s just chewing on the stick to try and keep quiet.
“Touch me,” He whispers. He can lower himself enough to beg. He wants a fucking orgasm.
“No,” Xiao Xingchen smiles, and kisses each of his cheeks.
“I hate you,” He really, really does. He rocks slowly against the edge of the washer, trying to keep the rhythm slow enough that the - the attendant at the counter doesn’t -
“She’s still watching,” Xiao Xingchen says idly, and laughs when it makes Xue Yang’s spine go tight. He squeezes around the plug hard enough to knock it directly into his prostate, and Xiao Xingchen laughs again at the noise that Xue Yang makes. “You’re so easy for it. You don’t even need a reward to come, ah? Too impatient to wait until we’re in private. You’d let me make you come anywhere.”
Xue Yang nods fitfully against Xiao Xingchen’s throat, grinding in a needy little circle that makes his cock jerk against the inside of his shorts. It’s not enough, it’s not -
“I wonder what Zichen will give you when we get home,” Xiao Xingchen ponders, pressing his thumbs into the soft give beside Xue Yang’s hip bones hard enough to bruise. “His fingers, do you think? His cock? His whole hand, opening you up so wide you can taste it -”
Xue Yang bites the muscle of Xiao Xingchen’s neck and comes like it’s being yanked out of him, so intense it’s almost not even pleasure anymore, hot and cold down his spine. The dryer doesn’t stop even when he gets oversensitive, and Xiao Xingchen doesn’t seem to have any interest in letting him slide off, either. He shoves him harder into the vibrating metal, holds him there until Xue Yang has to bite the collar of Xingchen’s t-shirt to muffle the high animal whines he can’t trap behind his teeth.
“Can’t, can’t, can’t -” He muffles, straining to get away from the vibration up against his prostate. It doesn’t feel good, even in a too-much way - it just feels achy and strange, like nausea, like getting his balls twisted. “I can’t, hurts.”
“I don’t care,” Xiao Xingchen says, sweet, and holds Xue Yang when he shudders, mindless. He’s not trying to work Xue Yang up into another orgasm - more like he never lets the first really end, even when it should be over, even when it’s just torture to have anything rubbing his prostate and holding him open and making him drip into his ruined pants.
When Xiao Xingchen finally lets him down, Xue Yang feels emptied-out and his legs might as well be made of water, for how well they support him - he sinks into a crouch that takes most of the pressure off his prostate and heaves for breath, supporting himself with one hand on the floor. He’s hidden, this way, from the front door and the counter where the attendant is standing. He thinks about sucking Xiao Xingchen’s cock. He thinks about how good he could make it.
Xingchen pets a fond thumb over his eyebrow and slaps his cheek - the kind that just hurts, instead of being noisy, like he thinks they’re still being subtle - then wanders away to unload all the laundry while Xue Yang’s still trying to figure out where his brain is.
He’s all static inside. He’s only barely aware of Xiao Xingchen bundling him up and calling a polite farewell to the attendant. He doesn’t remember any of actually getting into the car, though it definitely has to happen, because he’s extremely aware when going over a speed bump knocks the plug back against his prostate and makes a dizzying jolt of - something. Something. Good? He can’t - he doesn’t know - sizzle up his spine.
“Gege,” Xue Yang says, rolling his head to the side to watch Xiao Xingchen drive.
Xiao Xingchen tightens his fingers on the steering wheel, but he sounds entirely unaffected when he says, “Yes, A-Yang?”
“You should - let me suck you off. I could… it’d be good. I’d make it good.”
“I’m sure you would,” Xingchen says, soothing, and Xue Yang frowns. It feels like a challenge, somehow. He slides his hand up Xiao Xingchen’s thigh and whines when Xingchen catches it before he can touch his zipper. “Not now, A-Yang.”
“Please,” He says, in his best begging voice. It’s pretty good. He knows it is. “Please, let me, I want to.”
“Not yet. You were such a good boy, you deserve your surprise.”
Xue Yang blinks vaguely out the window over Xingchen’s shoulder. He’d sort of forgotten. “Oh, right.” The praise sinks under his skin, makes him feel warm and sweet. He almost never wants to be sweet. Sometimes Xingchen just drags it out of him.
Xiao Xingchen smiles and reaches over to stroke a fond hand over Xue Yang’s hair, though he doesn’t turn his eyes from the road. “We’ll get home soon.”
“Mm,” Xue Yang says, and tries to find a position that doesn’t shove the plug so deep it makes him feel sick. It’s basically impossible. He’s so fucking oversensitive, and the vibration of the car doesn’t help. His pants are so sticky he wants to take them off, but he knows that’s not going to be acceptable. “Wish you’d come in me. Plugged me up like that. So I couldn’t leak.”
“Your mouth,” Xiao Xingchen says on a sigh, like he doesn’t say the filthiest shit in the world. Xue Yang wheezes a giggle and tips his head back against the headrest. He zones out for the rest of the ride, jolting when they hit bumps, helpless and too warm in his skin.
Xiao Xingchen abandons the laundry in the car to bundle Xue Yang inside, basically holding him up when his knees won’t support him much further than the front step. He presses him up against the inside of the front door to kiss him until his mouth feels bruised and tender, until he’s stolen the flavor of strawberry entirely off Xue Yang’s tongue. Xue Yang sways after him when he pulls away, reaching for him with helpless, hazy hands.
“Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen calls, holding Xue Yang up with a hand on his waist.
“What?” Song Lan peers around the corner that leads into the kitchen, takes in the sight of them, and says, “Ah. You’ve turned him into noodles.”
“Yes,” Xiao Xingchen says indulgently, and rubs his thumb into the hollow beneath Xue Yang’s ribcage at the confused noise that he makes. “Come take him, he wants you.”
“Does he,” Song Lan says, and takes over for Xiao Xingchen in the duty of supporting Xue Yang’s wobbly legs.
“Mmhm,” Xiao Xingchen kisses him hello, then fondly pats his ass. “He wants your hand inside him.”
Song Lan blinks twice, eyes going dark and hot. “Does he.”
“Please,” Xue Yang blurts, though he barely knows what he’s begging for. He’s sort of - not adrift, really, he’s present. Just - underwater. He feels so good it’s almost bad. “Please. Gege.”
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Song Lan says, and scoops him up. He tucks his fingers into the hem of Xue Yang’s little shorts, petting over the curve of his ass until Xue Yang squirms hard enough that Song Lan deposits him on the living room floor to kiss him instead.
He big greedy palmfuls of Xue Yang’s ass, spreads him open until it stings his tailbone and kisses the vague whine out of Xue Yang’s mouth.
“Please,” Xue Yang says, which is about the only word that he actually remembers, and Song Lan rolls his eyes and smacks his ass.
“Creative,” He congratulates him, but he goes a little softer when Xue Yang’s eyebrows crumple together in a confused little frown. “Oh, you’re already down, aren’t you, sweetheart.”
He is. He really is. He rocks his hips up towards Song Lan hopefully, tilts them so Song Lan will take the hint and get the plug the fuck out of him.
He doesn’t, of course, get the plug the fuck out of him. He drops a friendly kiss to Xue Yang’s belly, over his shirt, and peels his shorts off. Slow. Song Lan moves so slow. "You're beautiful, you know that?"
He does, obviously. Xue Yang looks great. He even remembers it sometimes.
Song Lan rubs his thumb around where the plug’s holding Xue Yang open, the weak flutter of his hole around the narrow stem of it. Xue Yang whines when Song Lan rocks the plug into him a few times, hips twitching up restlessly.
“Hurts,” He complains, and Song Lan hums a vague noise of agreement.
“Too much?” Song Lan guesses.
Xue Yang jerks a nod. “Fuck -” The words slip away from him when Song Lan pulls the plug out just far enough that Xue Yang’s held open on the widest part of it, and then lets the grip of Xue Yang’s hole pull it back inside. “- aah - fucking. Washing machine. Fuck.”
“Ahh,” Song Lan says, and slides the plug out just enough to watch Xue Yang’s hole stretch around it again. “You’re dripping wet.”
Xue Yang is. He can feel the lube on his thighs, slippery and messy. “Mm- mhm. You want your hand in me?”
Song Lan’s hand goes tight enough around his hip to bruise, which makes Xue Yang clench up again. Song Lan’s other hand holds the plug steady, instead of letting it slide back inside, so Xue Yang clenches hard around the wide bulb of it until it aches.
“Yeah,” Song Lan says after a long moment. “Yeah. That’s fucking hot. You want that?”
“Mhm,” Xue Yang can’t help how lazy he sounds, idly rolling his hips up. “Want you to make me take it.”
“You’re gonna cry,” Song Lan tells him, dropping his hand flat on Xue Yang’s belly. It’s big, looking at it like that.
“You gonna make me?”
“Sure, but you’d do it anyway.”
Xue Yang bares his teeth and spreads his thighs further, gives Song Lan better access to his body. “I don’t think you can prove it.”
Song Lan rolls his eyes so hard his head moves. “You cry when I get my dick in you all the way.” He rubs his thumb beneath the little swell of Xue Yang’s belly. “You cry and say ‘gege, no, it hurts, you’re too deep, you’re gonna kill me’.”
Xue Yang flushes and kicks at him, which just makes Song Lan laugh faintly. He looks so fucking handsome when he laughs.
“Shut the fuck up. Are you putting your hand in me or not?”
“Mm, sure, since you’re begging.”
“Who the fuck is begging -?”
Xiao Xingchen interrupts before Xue Yang can keep escalating into a fight, dropping to his knees beside them to arrange a towel beneath Xue Yang’s hips and lube by Song Lan. “Good idea, bringing him up,” He says to Song Lan, and Xue Yang blinks. “A-Yang, can you listen to me for a moment?”
“Fuck off, I’m a great listener.” He realizes, vaguely, that he’s definitely been played. He hates them so much. He wishes someone would kiss him again.
“You are, you’re wonderful. I need you to tell us if you need to slow down, A-Yang, can you do that for us? We need to know if you need to slow down or stop for any reason. No shame at all, alright?”
Xue Yang, who’s never tapped out in his entire life and takes pride in that fact, who has had people spit in his face and bend his fingers back so hard they’d sprained, blinks slowly. “Sure,” He says, not even trying to keep the vague spitefulness out of his tone.
Xiao Xingchen wraps a hand around his jaw, fingers pressing into his cheeks so hard they ache, and shakes him just a little bit. Xue Yang wheezes a startled gasp at the whiplash, hips jerking up hopefully. “Xue Yang,” Xiao Xingchen says, and he sounds so serious that Xue Yang’s entire self sort of sits up like a dog. “You will either tell us if it is too much, and you will be honest, or we will put you in a bath and put you to bed. Am I understood?”
Xue Yang wants, desperately, to kiss him. To kneel for him. To suck him off, to cut him open and crawl inside so he can live in the hollow of his ribcage. He wants.
“Yes,” He says, helpless, and then, “Sorry, yes, I’m sorry. I understand.”
“Good boy,” Song Lan says, warm as he ever gets, and eases the plug out of him. "Beautiful, that's so good. You're being so sweet for us." It feels strange to be empty after so long, twitchy and unbalanced, and the praise pings somewhere in Xue Yang's dumb hindbrain, but Xiao Xingchen hushes him and strokes the hollows of his jaw when Xue Yang whines.
Song Lan hooks two fingers into him to start and it’s easy - he’s wet and open from the plug, loose from an orgasm. “More,” Xue Yang says, demanding, and Song Lan makes a noise of agreement and gives him another two fingers at once. The plug hadn’t been that big - that stings, but it’s nothing he hasn’t taken before, and Song Lan’s being gentle and generous with the slick.
It feels good in a strangely uncomplicated way. Usually pleasure with Song Lan is tangled up, a little bit, with violence, with too-dry or too-fast or so overstimulated that Xue Yang can’t even get his head on straight. It’s been long enough that he’s not too over-sensitive now, though, and Song Lan’s being achingly gentle as he fucks his fingers into Xue Yang, twisting his hand to encourage him open.
“Deeper,” Xiao Xingchen says, and trails his fingers down Xue Yang’s throat to his collarbone, hooking into the divot. “Give him more, Zichen, he can take it.”
Song Lan gives Xiao Xingchen a look over Xue Yang’s head that makes Xiao Xingchen laugh, but he presses in deeper - it’s a real stretch now, the breadth of his knuckles pressing into him, and it’s an achy sort of too much that makes Xue Yang feel shivery and small.
“Ow,” He says, testing, and Song Lan eyes him.
“Good?” He asks, and Xue Yang nods, chewing his bottom lip. “Good.”
He fucks Xue Yang like that, slow and thorough, until it doesn’t even ache when his knuckles slide in and out of him. Until he’s just - open, like that. Xue Yang feels - it’s weird. Just feeling loose, like all the tension’s been fucked out of him.
"You're doing an amazing job, sweetheart, better than anything I've ever seen," Xingchen tells him, and Xue Yang moans and tightens up around Song Lan's fingers, wheezes out a pathetic noise when that grinds up against his prostate.
"He likes that," Song Lan says, and Xiao Xingchen smiles.
"I know he does."
Xue Yang's cock twitches against his belly and he arches a little bit, shifting to make himself more accessible.
“Other hand, Zichen,” Xiao Xingchen says, and Song Lan makes a noise of agreement and pulls back, until he’s got three of his fingers hooked into Xue Yang instead of half his whole hand. Xue Yang makes a confused little noise, high in his throat, and Xiao Xingchen grins at him, mouths wait. Xue Yang doesn’t understand until Song Lan - with his other hand, he - and then Xue Yang has six fingers inside him, three from either hand, and he’s trying to squeeze his thighs shut, helpless and bewildered.
His cock drools onto his belly but he can barely even think about his cock, he’s so full. “Ow,” He says again, higher, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s not actually bigger than what Song Lan’s already given him, but it’s still. More. It’s more fingers than Xue Yang’s ever had in him in his life. “I’m gonna come.”
He doesn’t even know why he says it, because he doesn’t feel that close, but suddenly he is seriously going to come, and he has no idea why or from what or how to stop himself.
“I don’t care,” Song Lan says, fucking pulling him - pulling him open, on his fingers, spreading him like that. “Come if you want, but I’m not gonna stop.”
Xue Yang twists with a cry and Xiao Xingchen holds him down by the shoulders, keeps himself from yanking Song Lan’s fingers out of himself by - mistake? Maybe. “Gonna, I’m gonna -” He mumbles. He barely even knows what he’s saying anymore, fuck, it’s - a lot, it’s so much.
Song Lan hums a noise of agreement and presses a fourth finger in on one hand, and Xue Yang is - he’s -
Xiao Xingchen taps him hard on the face and Xue Yang blinks up at him through the tears that have gathered on his eyelashes. He leans down to kiss Xue Yang’s gasping-wet mouth and pets over his shivering belly, rubbing a thumb soothingly just below Xue Yang’s naval. “Open up for us, sweetheart, there you are. Just like that. You’re such a good boy, there you are.”
Xue Yang is so fucking present he thinks he might be dying. He feels like he’s being cored out, like he’s being remade, like he's tipped into an orgasm and hasn't stopped. He sobs and scrabbles for Xiao Xingchen’s hands, because if he doesn’t hold onto something he’s going to get lost and never find himself again.
“I’m gonna,” Song Lan says, and Xue Yang’s empty again, clenching fitfully around nothing. He ekes out a tiny noise of protest and Xiao Xingchen bends to kiss all over his face as he cries, across the corners of his teary eyes and the bridge of his nose and the moue of his mouth. Xue Yang clutches at his hand so hard at must ache, but Xiao Xingchen just squeezes back.
And then Song Lan’s pushing into him, with all his fingers, and it’s - Xue Yang is - it starts small, sort of, but then it’s - his knuckles and he’s -
He forces Xue Yang to take it, and Xue Yang writhes away to try and escape the relentless pressure, the sharp-tight squeeze, it hurts, it hurts, it’s -
“You can take it,” Xiao Xingchen tells him, sweet but inexorable, and Xue Yang sobs and goes limp and Song Lan’s hand slides inside him and his hole closes around Song Lan’s wrist and Xue Yang isn’t sure if he’s coming or dying or -
“Fuck,” Song Lan grits out, and shifts his hand just the - tiniest. Smallest bit. Xue Yang makes a high, sharp noise and arches away, except that’s just better, and better is worse, and he has no idea which way is up but he thinks he’s coming, he has no fucking idea -
“Sshh,” Xiao Xingchen hushes him, rubbing his thumb across Xue Yang’s bottom lip. Xue Yang opens up and Xiao Xingchen presses his thumbprint into Xue Yang’s tongue, like he’s stamping him with a seal of ownership. Xue Yang’s thighs go tight. Release. Tight.
“Look,” Song Lan says, and shifts his hand deeper, and Xue Yang whimpers a helpless noise. He can’t look at anything, he’s blind, he’s dying.
“Oh, fuck,” Xiao Xingchen says, so mildly it’s almost funny, and puts his hand low on Xue Yang’s belly. “Do it again.”
Song Lan does and it’s - Xue Yang pries his eyes open and watches the faint swell of his body where it’s making room, where Song Lan is rearranging him, and it’s like - he’s going to -
“I’m gonna - I wanna -” He gasps around Xiao Xingchen’s thumb, and shudders all over. He doesn’t even know where he’s trying to take the sentence. Come, except he doesn’t think he can. Die, except he thinks he already has?
“Like this,” Xiao Xingchen agrees, and shifts his hand down to frame Xue Yang’s cock between his fingers. “What do you need, sweetheart, anything you need.”
“Fuck me,” Xue Yang says, helpless.
Song Lan snorts and murmurs, “Really doesn’t do things by halves.”
“Mn- mm-mm.” Xue Yang has no idea what to say to clarify. He’s made of static, except he’s never felt so much like a resident in his body in his life. He is so intimately connected to his own sinew. He can feel all his atoms at the same time.
“Your mouth, sweetheart?”
Xue Yang nods and drops his mouth open, looks up at Xiao Xingchen through his wet clumped eyelashes.
“Ah, fuck, you’re beautiful.” Xiao Xingchen says it like it’s a simple fact of nature. Xue Yang is incandescent. He’s alight. Xiao Xingchen holds his mouth open further with a hand on his chin to keep his teeth away and presses into his throat until he’s choking, until he’s so full there’s no space anywhere inside him and all he is is a creature made to take and take and -
Song Lan twists his hand inside him and Xue Yang arches like a livewire, legs kicking out, and comes across his belly with Xiao Xingchen still buried in his throat. Xue Yang is choking, he’s running out of air, he’s dying, he’s - going to come again.
He feels, insanely, that Song Lan can touch Xiao Xingchen from inside him.
He strangles out a noise and Xiao Xingchen pulls out enough to let him get a breath, helpless and sobbing, to let him say, desperately, “Too much, it’s too much, I can’t, please, I can’t.”
“Do you want him out, A-Yang, is that - ?” Xue Yang shakes his head fitfully, because he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything, he’s -
“Please, wanna come again,” He says, tears sliding hot down his temples and into his hair. “Please.”
“Okay,” Song Lan says, soft, and shifts his hand again. He doesn’t move much, but it’s - it’s so big, it’s so much, it’s a hand inside him, fucking him full. Xiao Xingchen curls his free hand around Xue Yang’s cock and Xue Yang about shrieks, scrabbling for Xiao Xingchen’s shoulders with the hand that isn’t occupied with clutching Xiao Xingchen’s in a stranglehold.
Xue Yang comes again, that way, weak and helpless, fucked out of him by the rub of Song Lan’s knuckles against his prostate, and it fucking aches. He starts crying in earnest, broken open, and Xiao Xingchen says, “Oh, beautiful,” like it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Song Lan eases his hand out and Xiao Xingchen thumbs Xue Yang’s mouth open at the same time, fucks into his throat hard enough to make him gag immediately, throat spasming around the head of his cock.
“Let me fuck you,” Song Lan says, and Xue Yang strangles out a noise of assent that gets muffled helplessly around Xiao Xingchen’s cock. He hopes that Song Lan understand, because he’s so empty that his stomach hurts, he needs, he needs -
Song Lan presses into him and it burns, but it’s not tight, he’s not tight around Song Lan’s cock at all. He tries to clench and his body says no, I can’t. His muscles are like water. He lets them fuck him like he’s a toy and it’s so fucking good that he doesn’t even care if he comes ever again, he just wants to live like this.
Xiao Xingchen jerks back out of Xue Yang’s mouth to come on his face, striping across his hot cheek and his eyelashes and his lips. He rubs the head of his cock against Xue Yang’s tongue as he shudders through his aftershocks, keeping Xue Yang’s mouth pried open with his thumb to keep him from swallowing.
Song Lan fucks him like a machine and it starts to ache so much that Xue Yang starts crying in big, heaving sobs that nearly make him gag, shuddering and helpless with it.
“On his face,” Xiao Xingchen says, and Song Lan groans deep in his chest and pulls out, kneels up over Xue Yang’s face and jacks himself off frantically over Xue Yang’s panting-open mouth. They kiss over his head as Song Lan comes and Xue Yang’s so hot for it he feels a sympathy pang through his belly that feels like another orgasm.
It’s suddenly so quiet that it’s like there’s cotton in Xue Yang’s ears. Xiao Xingchen’s thumb slips from his mouth and he swallows, finally.
A tear streaks down his cheek, followed by another.
Xiao Xingchen bends and kisses his hairline, sweet and lingering, and leans to grab a washcloth from the pile, damp and cool from sitting out so long in the chill of the room. He swipes come off of Xue Yang’s cheeks, out of his eyelashes so he can blink dazedly up at them both.
“Beautiful,” Xiao Xingchen says, rubbing a thumb beneath Xue Yang’s eye to catch a tear. “Our beautiful boy.”
He feels broken apart. He feels open and empty and strange, he feels like too much and too little, like he doesn’t know how to fit into his skin anymore without Song Lan’s hand inside him.
“M’cold,” He rasps, even though he’s not really - it’s not cold, exactly, but it’s something like it. He’s shivering, he realizes distantly.
“Let us finish cleaning you up,” Song Lan says. He’s so gentle between Xue Yang’s legs but it still makes him flinch, full-bodied. “Do you want a bath?”
Xue Yang shakes his head fretfully, drawing his knees up so he can be as small as possible. His breath hiccups in his chest, and he feels - tiny. Miniscule. Like he barely exists at all.
Song Lan makes a noise and bundles him into his lap, wrapping him up in both arms, and oh, actually, that’s significantly better. Xue Yang blinks blankly at Xiao Xingchen, who’s unwrapping a candy with a concentration he usually reserves for ignoring Song Lan when he’s forgotten to do the dishes, and absently opens his mouth when Xingchen taps his chin.
He lets the rice paper wrapper melt on his tongue and sucks the hard vanilla candy until it starts going pliable, dropping his head back onto Song Lan’s collarbone and tucking himself more tidily into his lap. He doesn’t feel cold, anymore, though he does ache fiercely just about everywhere. He feels like he’s actually done an ab workout.
“- Are you alright?” Xiao Xingchen asks him, in the middle of unwrapping another candy. Xue Yang tucks the current one into his cheek while he considers.
“I’m not sure,” He says slowly, “That I’m not dead.”
“You’re not dead,” Song Lan’s voice vibrates in his chest, which is really sexy. Xue Yang absently traces his tattoos with one hand just to see him tremble. “You’re fine. You’re amazing.”
“I am amazing,” Xue Yang agrees. “Holy shit, what the fuck. I’m the best.”
He can almost hear Song Lan rolling his eyes, which is very satisfying. Xue Yang opens his mouth for the other candy, even though he hasn’t finished the first yet. The sticky taffy texture makes the rice paper on the new one melt weird, and he almost regrets his hubris, except Xiao Xingchen lets him lick his fingertips.
“You’re the best.” Xingchen agrees, and kisses vanilla off his tongue.