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“He’s hotter in person.”

Yibo paused in mid-step as he was entering the private restroom.

“—possible, but it’s true. I nearly sprang a boner while I was standing next to him just now. And he’s so cool.”

Yibo coughed, louder than normal, and waited a beat before continuing around the corner and into the room. At the sink, Zhu Bocheng, aka Paraboy, gave him a nod as he casually slid his phone into his jacket pocket. “Hey, Yibo-ge.”

“Hey.” Yibo walked to the urinals and began working at the belts around his waist. He could feel Bocheng watching him and not being particularly subtle about it. He had to marvel at the balls on the eighteen-year-old.

What he knew of Bocheng admittedly wasn't much, only that he and his team, Nova, had just won the championships for which Yibo had been hired to be a spokeperson. Paraboy had also been awarded MVP of the tournament, so he wasn't just a lackey on the team. To be paired with him for this so-called All-Star game was slightly exciting for Yibo and, as he'd just learned, appreciated by the pro gamer as well.

“So, did you expect to win?” Yibo asked to distract himself from having this kid watching while he pulled his dick out. At this rate he wouldn’t be able to pee. “The championship, I mean? Did you know all along that your team had a good chance?”

“I knew we had a good shot, yes. Nova is always strong. But of course, you can’t take anything for granted. Competition brings out the best in people. As you know,” Bocheng added.

Yibo finally managed to get a stream going, but it took intense concentration to keep it. Being watched was unexpectedly arousing. Or maybe it was knowing that Paraboy, the number one Game for Peace player in the world, found him attractive. Lots of people were into Yibo and it rarely mattered to him. But when it was someone whom he admired for their skill or experience—that was different. He paid attention.

“You watched Street Dance?” he asked, keeping his eyes on his business. He knew if he looked over and saw Bocheng watching him he’d get hard and spray all over the place.

“Yeah. And your race, too. Tough break, but everyone knows it wasn’t your fault.”

Yibo just nodded, well past that particular bump in the road. He was more interested in hearing that the one and only Paraboy seemed to follow him.

“I played the game a couple of years ago,” Yibo said as he finished up. Shaking off had never felt so suggestive. He was relieved to finally tuck himself out of sight. He flashed a grin at Bocheng. “I lost.”

“I know. I watched the show.”

Wow, okay, Yibo thought as he moved to the sink and washed his hands.

“I probably sound like a stalker,” Bocheng said, as if reading his mind. He laughed, eyes crinkling boyishly. “Sorry. I swear, I’m not. Things on the internet—you know. They get around.”

“Don’t worry about it. The reason I do those shows is so they do get around, right? The more people who see, the better.”

“Right. Right.” Bocheng looked relieved. “Anyway, you’ll have me as your teammate this time around so I’ll try to give you a better outcome.”

They grinned at each other in the mirror. There was no doubt about it: Bocheng was attractive and he looked good standing beside Yibo. He was taller than Yibo, thin, and his face held idol-like qualities. In fact, Yibo could already picture the two of them—

Stop. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

He shook his head a little, surprised at himself. In the reflection, Bocheng cocked his head.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just—we kind of look alike.”

Bocheng’s heart-shaped face lit up with obvious pleasure. “That’s a big compliment. I’ll take it.”

Yibo smiled, but he noticed the way Bocheng’s eyes continued to eat him up. It made the hairs rise on the back of his neck with an anticipation that couldn’t be fulfilled. It was definitely time to go somewhere public.

As they walked together back to the stage, Bocheng clung close by Yibo’s side so he could lean in to talk above the crowd noise. Yibo didn’t think all the shoulder rubbing was necessary, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. It was just further confirmation that Paraboy was interested in him.

They settled in at their station and Bocheng scooted his chair close. He leaned his shoulder against Yibo’s as he showed Yibo how to tighten up his precision with the scope and other little tricks to improve his play, such as changing sensitivity settings. Yibo temporarily forgot about the restroom conversation, caught up in the excitement of learning hands-on from the best player in the game.

Bocheng was friendly and joked around. He was easy to talk to and he gave Yibo his complete attention. His hands were constantly on Yibo’s as he pointed out locations on the maps and different equipment they should go for. He didn’t seem shy at all about touching Yibo. He even asked Yibo to secretly sign one of the event’s promo postcards, something Yibo knew the players weren’t supposed to do. Yibo was happy to buck the rules and sign it for him.

“I feel we should win,” Bocheng told him as they waited for gameplay to begin.

“I won’t argue with that,” Yibo said with a grin.

“I’m very competitive,” Bocheng admitted. “It’s a fault of mine. If there’s a chance for me to come out on top against someone, I go for it.”

Yibo smiled noncommittally and looked away, though inside he was laughing. There went any question about who was in charge when Bocheng got together with someone—or what he expected out of an encounter with Yibo.

“I’m pretty competitive, too,” Yibo said after a moment. He swung his chair back around to face Bocheng. “I don’t want to put up a poor showing.”

“I just like to be on top.”

Yibo smirked, feeling his dick swell. “Sure sounds like it.”

When the match got underway, Yibo’s play was improved thanks to Bocheng’s tips. He took out as many opponents as he could, wanting to carry his weight and be a good partner. And of course, he couldn’t forget Paraboy’s strong desire to beat the other teams. However, in the end, Yibo couldn’t avoid a point-blank shot. He found consolation in Paraboy falling not soon after.

“Sorry I couldn’t take you to victory,” Bocheng told him as they removed their headsets.

“No need to apologize. It was my fault. But it was still a good game for me, so thank you.”

Bocheng mopped the sweat from his cheeks with a tissue. He was staring at Yibo again—eyes lingering on his damp face. Yibo accepted a tissue, too.

“You don’t mind losing?” Bocheng asked him.

Yibo dabbed at his face. “I don’t think of it as losing. I think of it as not winning.”

“If you’re not on top, you’re on the bottom.”

Yibo looked at Bocheng’s lips and made sure the younger man saw him doing it. “Nothing wrong with that.”

Bocheng’s eyes widened slightly before he gained control of himself. He patted Yibo’s shoulder, fingertips brushing the side of his neck.

Yibo casually turned his chair, moving out from under Bocheng’s hand. He didn’t have a problem with attention from such a good-looking guy, but considering the venue, he had to be careful. Yibo needed to be seen as cool, and not everyone was cool with same-sex hookups. A pity, because he and Bocheng could have had some fun.

The game finally ended and the hosts came by for another round of interviews. After those were done there were other obligations for the spokespersons to complete to close out the promotional event. To Yibo’s disappointment, he and Bocheng ended up separated before Yibo had a chance to say goodbye to him.

However, just as Yibo was preparing to leave an hour later, Bocheng jogged up out of nowhere.

“Nova’s celebrating tonight if you’re still in Shanghai,” he told Yibo a bit breathlessly. “You’ve got my number. Call me if you can come. I’d like to hang out more if you’re interested.”

Yibo appreciated his boldness. He figured it came hand-in-hand with being an aggressive player.

“I fly out tonight,” he told Bocheng. When the younger man’s eyes dimmed, Yibo thought about it and decided fuck it. “But maybe I can stop by for a few minutes.”

“In that case—” The younger man drew in close and murmured into Yibo’s ear, “Forget the party. Come to my hotel room, ge.”

Yibo’s mouth fell open but he quickly shut it, aware that eyes were on him. “Um.”

“If you want,” Bocheng said, though he didn’t sound any less confident. “Your choice.”

He drew back. Yibo met his eyes and gave a small nod. It was a risk, but life was full of them. His team urged him away while Paraboy stared after him.


He had a hard-on when he knocked on Paraboy’s hotel room door late that night. Yibo peered beneath the brim of his hat down both ends of the hallway but it was quiet. Lele and Yanyan were on a food run and had agreed to give him forty-five minutes. Though they were sympathetic to his attempts to have a social life, they had a plane to catch.

Bocheng answered the door a few seconds later and smiled brightly at Yibo. “Glad you could come, Yibo-ge. Come in, come in.”

He led Yibo inside. The TV was on but the volume was too low to make out the words. Bocheng, who was barefoot and dressed in a T-shirt and track pants, dropped onto the sofa facing the TV. He picked up his phone which had been lying on the cushions and waved at an upholstered chair, indicating that Yibo should sit in it.

“You need anything to drink?” he asked Yibo. “Water? Is your cough still bothering you?”

Yibo raised his hand. “I’m fine.” He looked over at the bed before saying, “I can only stay for a little while. My flight is at eleven.”

Bocheng looked down at his phone. “That doesn’t give us much time,” he said, thoughtful. He surprised Yibo by handing him his phone. “Here. I’m in a game right now using my alt account. You can take over. You should be okay with the controls. They’re at the settings I showed you earlier.”

Confused, Yibo accepted the phone, but didn’t begin playing. “What about you?”

“Hmm? I’ll just watch, it’s fine.”

Yibo reluctantly bent his head and began playing, but he didn’t really understand what was happening. Had he completely misread Bocheng? It didn’t seem likely, but if the gamer was interested in him, why were they messing around with the game and not taking advantage of the short time they had available?

Disappointed and a touch annoyed, Yibo maneuvered through the game half-heartedly. He didn’t look up when Bocheng got off the sofa and walked out of view, figuring he was getting himself a drink or something.

It shocked him, then, when his baseball cap was lifted off his head and tossed to the sofa. A second later, Bocheng’s arms came down around him from behind so the gamer could place his hands over Yibo’s on the phone.

“You gotta account for the big kick on this gun,” Bocheng murmured into Yibo’s ear as he moved his fingers over Yibo’s, guiding them on the screen. “Aim a little low.”

Yibo’s erection, which had begun to wilt when he’d started playing, woke up again.

“Yeah,” Bocheng said into his ear, “like that. You’ve got steady hands. That’s good.”

“I could be better,” Yibo said quietly as he struggled to pay attention to what his player was doing. Bocheng’s arms rested on his shoulders and his cheek was close enough to Yibo’s that he could feel the heat radiating off his skin. It was extremely intimate for one bro helping out another with a game.

“Yeah, with more time spent with me, you could be loads better,” Bocheng said. “I heard that a streamer called you Paraman.” He laughed softly. “We could be a team: Paraman and Paraboy.” He dragged his hands off Yibo’s but not far. He slid them up Yibo’s wrists and forearms, fingers tracing over his veins. “But don’t get any ideas just because I’m eighteen. I’m not a boy.”

Yibo’s breath quickened, though not because his player had just been killed. He couldn’t care less about the game now that Bocheng had made the first move. “I didn’t think you were a boy. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Bocheng slid his hands up farther, caressing and squeezing Yibo’s biceps and shoulders before he dragged his hands back down. Yibo let the phone drop to the carpet as Bocheng covered the backs of his hands with his own. Bocheng laced their fingers together and lowered them to Yibo’s thighs.

Like Bocheng, Yibo wore thin track pants—mostly for comfort but also for the ease in removing them. He congratulated himself for the choice as Bocheng guided their hands to sweep slowly up his inner thighs and tug, spreading his legs wide. Yibo breathed out and watched their hands come up to mold around the bulge in his pants. Bocheng squeezed, forcing Yibo’s hand to close around his dick. Bocheng groaned.

“Yibo-ge, you’re huge, aren’t you?”

Yibo closed his eyes briefly as lust pulsed through him. “Why don’t you find out?”

Bocheng’s lips brushed his ear. “I’m going to.”

He used Yibo’s hand to massage his cock, stroking and squeezing until it rose against the pressure of their hands and pitched an impressive-looking tent between his thighs.

“My teammates were jealous that I got to team up with you tonight,” Bocheng said with laughter in his voice. “If only they knew how well we ended up working together.”

“So far you’ve only teased me,” Yibo muttered, though his already racing heartrate began to climb when Bocheng brought Yibo’s left hand up to his chest to stroke fingertips over his chest.

“Yeah, but we’ve teased you together, Yibo-ge. Team work is important. Even in this.”

He used his left hand to flatten Yibo’s and then smoothed Yibo’s palm across his chest, forcing him to rub his own nipples. It was a novel experience, feeling himself up like this while with a partner. Having Bocheng moving his hands, showing Yibo where he wanted him to touch himself, was undeniably sexy. Under Bocheng’s guidance Yibo caressed his throat and felt up his own abs. He squeezed the meat of his thigh muscles and even his knees. Paraboy apparently wanted to touch all of Yibo.

When lips brushed his jaw, Yibo shivered and tipped his head back. He smiled slightly at hearing Bocheng’s soft moan. A second later, the gamer’s lips accepted the offering and skimmed across Yibo’s throat.

“Definitely going to be jealous of me,” Bocheng whispered before he kissed the tip of Yibo’s Adam’s apple. “How is someone a model, a dancer—” kiss, “—a racer, an actor—” kiss, “—and only twenty-three?”

“How is someone the best Game for Peace player in the world and only eighteen?” Yibo countered as he rolled his hips into their hands. He groaned as Bocheng curled their fingers around the tip of his cock and gently squeezed it.

“Good hand-eye coordination,” Bocheng replied. He licked the skin behind Yibo’s earlobe, prompting Yibo to hunch up his shoulders. “Is this a spot for you? An erogenous zone?”

He didn’t wait for Yibo’s answer, simply licked him again. A zing of sensation shot straight to Yibo’s cock while the rest of his body melted into the chair.

“Fuck,” Yibo breathed, his head rolling to the side as Bocheng concentrated on the spot behind his ear. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

“No, not yet.” Bocheng gave him a last lick before whispering, “I want to suck you off, Yibo-ge. Can I do that?”

Yibo lifted his head. “Do it. Show me what an MVP can do.”

Bocheng laughed.

With a final squeeze of Yibo’s hands, Bocheng disengaged. Yibo rested his hands on the arms of the chair and caught his breath while the younger man came around to kneel on the carpet between his feet. Bocheng was so tall he was eye-level with Yibo.

“You look big, too,” Yibo commented, having caught sight of the bulge in the gamer’s pants before he kneeled down. Yibo ran his tongue over his lips, knowing how powerful the image was. “Are you going to let me taste it?”

Bocheng’s expression twisted with distress. He gripped Yibo’s knees. “Okay, look, I’m young in certain ways. Don’t say stuff like that or-or lick your lips like that…you’ll make me shoot in my pants.”

Yibo laughed, his voice husky. “I thought you’re not a kid, Para-boy.

Bocheng leveled an intense stare at him. “You’re gonna regret that, ge.”

“Bring it on.”

Bocheng assumed his game face as he reached forward and pushed the hem of Yibo’s T-shirt up, baring his abs.

“Wow,” the gamer said in a low voice. “Dancing, I guess.”

Yibo said nothing, a little smug. He lost his cool, though, when Bocheng leaned over his lap and placed an open-mouth kiss against one of the squares of muscle. Bocheng sucked lightly on his skin before drawing a circle with the tip of his tongue. He lifted up and inspected the spot of wetness. Looking dissatisfied, he moved to a different square of muscle. He sealed his lips and sucked firmly this time. It was like a suck to Yibo’s dick. Yibo shivered and cupped Bocheng behind the head, holding him as Bocheng sought to leave his mark.

Hickeys weren’t the wisest thing to allow, but Yibo didn’t have an event in his schedule for the next month where he’d be shirtless. He could afford to indulge. And an indulgence it was. Bocheng sucked and bit him as though Yibo were his only meal. He wasn’t neat or kind about it. The strong suction and the sting of his teeth stirred something deep and dirty in Yibo’s brain. He subconsciously began to roll his hips, rubbing his ass into the seat cushion.

“You got an itch?” Bocheng whispered against a patch of skin he’d just assaulted. “You need something from me, Yibo-ge?”

“Maybe,” Yibo panted.

Bocheng pinned him down by his hipbones as he continued to mark him. Arousal washed over Yibo in heated waves. He wished he could tell Bocheng to mark up his throat, too.

Bocheng didn’t relent until he’d left a constellation of red stars across Yibo’s abdomen. Even then, he wasn’t done. He licked lower, teasing beneath Yibo’s navel. Yibo’s fingers tightened in Bocheng’s hair as the younger man used his teeth to tug suggestively on the elastic of his pants.

“Lift up,” Bocheng ordered.

Yibo arched his back enough for Bocheng to tug his pants and underwear down to his knees. His cock sprang straight up, swollen and faintly quivering. It was so sensitive he was convinced he could feel the air conditioning on it.

Bocheng made a sound of appreciation before saying, “Hold onto the chair, ge. Don’t let go. You’re older, so you should have some self-control.”

Yibo snorted, but he was more than pleased to do as ordered. Any suggestion that was even vaguely authoritarian pushed his buttons, even if they came from someone five years younger than he. He wrapped his fingers around the armrests in anticipation as Bocheng opened his mouth over the head of his cock.

But Bocheng only held there, breathing hotly on him. Yibo tried to sit still, but as the seconds stretched with no sign of movement from Bocheng, his resolve crumbled. He lifted his hips. Bocheng sat back. He looked as though he were holding back a smirk.

“Self-control, gege,” he mocked.

Yibo inwardly cursed at being called out, and reluctantly planted his ass back on the cushion. This time he was determined to outlast Bocheng who brought his open mouth back to within centimeters of Yibo’s cock. The seconds passed. Bocheng’s breath was moist and warm against his hypersensitive tip. Yibo felt his balls twitch. His blood thundered in his ears.

“I bet half of China would kill to have their mouth this close to you,” Bocheng whispered. As he spoke, his lips brushed Yibo’s cock like the sweep of moth wings.

Yibo gritted his teeth for a moment before replying, “Half of China wouldn’t be stupid enough to only breathe on me.”

Bocheng looked up. “Does it bother you?”

His tone was curious. Casual. Maddening.

“What do you think?” Yibo snapped back, a bit harsher than he’d intended. But his balls were throbbing now. He wasn’t used to having a mouth this close to his dick doing nothing but talking about it.

“Would you feel better if I licked you?”

Bocheng swept the flat of his tongue over the slit. Yibo gasped, his spine stiffening. Bocheng returned and licked into the slit, rubbing gently and encouraging a shiny pearl to emerge. He lapped it up with a soft moan of appreciation.

“Shit,” Yibo groaned. He flushed all over. “Keep going.”

“Whatever you wish, gege.”

Bocheng was fucking with him, but Yibo couldn’t find it in him to be upset. He tensed again as Bocheng slowly descended, taking Yibo inch by hot, slow inch. When Yibo looked down, his eyes met Bocheng’s, who stared at him as though he were he were the one balls deep. Yibo shuddered and closed his eyes.

Bocheng lifted off. “Eyes on me.”

Yibo looked down again, caught off-guard by the snap in the younger man’s voice. It was the voice of a captain, or a leader on a field calling orders. Yibo’s balls tightened further. He dug his nails into the armrests and met Bocheng’s gaze.

“Good, gege.”

Bocheng sealed his mouth over him again and set to torturing him.

Yibo tried to remember being eighteen and whether he could have possessed the self-control to dominate a guy through a blowjob. He was doubtful. Bocheng was no ordinary eighteen-year-old. Bocheng swallowed him down until his lips kissed Yibo’s groin. He lifted slowly, squeezing his lips the entire time and coming off Yibo’s tip with a loud, lewd smacking sound. Yibo swallowed back a whimper.

“Good,” Bocheng repeated. “Keep watching me.”

The eye contact made a superb blowjob nearly excruciating. Yibo tried to control his expressions but gave up the effort when Bocheng deep-throated him again and began swallowing around his tip. Yibo’s moan was high-pitched and a bit pathetic. Having to look Bocheng in the eyes while he made the sound was worse and yet…so, so hot.

Fingers cupped his balls. A thumb smoothed the seam between them and occasionally pinched the skin. Yibo wanted to shut his eyes. He wanted to hide his mouth with his hand. He did neither, bound by the demand in Bocheng’s eyes that forced Yibo to watch and reveal everything to him.

This was a game between them, but it wasn’t much of a contest. Bocheng had found the chinks in his armor and pried them apart. He had Yibo's number. Having to hold the younger man’s gaze was killing Yibo. And yet...somehow his brain twisted the discomfort into a weird eroticism that kept him panting and squirming in pleasure no matter how much he wished he could look away. He didn’t actually surrender until Bocheng abruptly stopped sucking. Bocheng wrapped his lips tightly just beneath the ridge of Yibo’s crown. Holding there, he flicked the tip of his tongue right where Yibo was most sensitive.

Yibo gasped. He wanted to seize Bocheng by the head and smash him down, wanted to fuck Paraboy’s mouth until he was hoarse. Bocheng watched him, perhaps reading everything on his face. He flicked his tongue again, making Yibo’s body jerk. He did it yet again, pulling a whimper from him. The look in Bocheng's eyes was lustful. It was completely at odds with the docile way he draped his tongue over the tip of Yibo’s cock like a warm, wet blanket.

The seconds ticked by. Yibo’s thighs trembled. Sweat slid down his temple. His cock jerked in Bocheng’s mouth, seeking friction, but the younger man didn’t react. Bocheng watched. He waited. He was a sniper with all the patience in the—


Yibo didn’t regret the begging. He was beyond that.

“Keep going,” he pleaded as he blushed.

Bocheng’s eyes crinkled at the corners as though he’d smiled. He closed his eyes, wrapped one hand around Yibo’s base, and blew Yibo in earnest.

He was ravenous for Yibo. Yibo threw back his head with a shout as Bocheng worked him over without mercy. His attack felt like being eaten alive, his strokes too firm, too fast, too much. Yibo’s toes curled in his shoes. He saw white stars behind his clenched eyelids. He fucked up with his hips and Bocheng took it eagerly, moaning when Yibo kept plugging his throat.

It was the moaning that did it, that naked exposure of Bocheng’s need. Yibo, frayed at every nerve, at last spun out of control.

He gasped, “I'm cum—”

Bocheng pulled off just as Yibo began shooting his spunk over his own stomach and thighs. Bocheng groaned as he watched. He thrust a hand into his own pants, his arm working frantically. It took only a few seconds for him to climb the peak and tumble over. Shuddering, he collapsed against Yibo’s knees and spurted all over the carpet.

What felt like ten minutes later but was probably only a few, Bocheng raised his head. He looked at Yibo slumped before him and dragged a finger through the cum splashed over Yibo’s thighs. He brought it to his lips and licked it off.

“Shit,” Yibo whispered, closing his eyes against the sexy sight. He couldn’t afford to get tied up with Bocheng again. He had a flight.

Bocheng, fortunately, was interested only in a taste. He sat back on his heels, his curiosity satisfied.

“Okay?” he asked Yibo.

Yibo let out an incredulous laugh. “Okay? That was incredible.”

“It was, right?” Bocheng grinned and leaned sideways to grab a box of tissues from the nightstand.

While they cleaned up, Bocheng offered him more gaming tips. Yibo found it funny that Bocheng’s mind revolved around gaming even after what they’d just done. Then again, he had to remind himself that he could be single-minded when it came to skateboarding or Rossi, so who was he to judge?

Cleaned and dressed, Yibo pulled his cap back on his head and said, “Thanks. Was fun.”

Bocheng grinned. “Yeah, it was. Next time we’re in the same city we should get together again.”

Yibo doubted their paths would cross again considering how convoluted his schedule was, but he nodded anyway. He’d be open to it if it ever became possible.

At the door, Bocheng said, “Thanks again for the autograph.” His smile turned bashful. “I may be a bigger fan than I let on.”

Yibo shook his head, amused. “Catch you later, Paraboy.” He patted Bocheng’s shoulder as he walked out.

“Next time we play, I’ll let you win, ge,” Bocheng said when Yibo was midway down the hallway.

Yibo smirked and called back cheerfully, “Who says I didn’t this time?”

Whistling, he boarded the elevator, armed with the secrets of a top professional gamer and a memory he planned to enjoy many nights to come.