Today, Wei Ying’s nerves have left him unable to do anything but check and recheck that he has all of his paperwork, his nesting materials, a sexy outfit. He’d kept switching clothes, like this was a date he had agreed to rather than a first meeting with his assigned heat partner.
Wei Ying regrets the outfit a little; it’s constricting and too hot even though it felt perfectly comfortable the last time he wore it. What does it matter if the alpha he’s been paired with—Lan Zhan—thinks his clothes are nice? He won’t be wearing them for long, anyways.
So here he sits, in the waiting room of the heat clinic ten minutes before he’s expected. It leaves him with extra time to fret as if he hasn’t done that enough already; to shift around enough as his arousal grows more difficult to ignore that even he’s annoyed listening to it. The lady at the front desk had given him a smile, told him to sit, and called him ‘sweetheart’—he did his best impression of the most charming version of himself, but his mind was still on the alpha. Still is, an anticipatory simmer low in his belly . The clinic has paired them with each other based on several tests of compatibility—including looks, which means he’s already seen Lan Zhan’s handsome face.
Wei Ying has googled Lan Zhan a few times, but the internet is devoid of any social media bearing his face and name. There were a handful of articles praising his academic achievements, as well as a video of him playing the cello, which appeared to have been filmed by a family member—when his bow stills, the camera work gets shaky as the person claps and calls “woo, Lan Zhan!”. Another, gruffer voice says, “He played quite well,” in a tone that suggests the speaker is very proud.
As he plays, his expression comes alive—lips pushed out, eyes downcast and forehead pinched. His entire body moves with the motion of the bow, enrapturing with how much it seems like a dance between him and the cello. Lan Zhan is a stunning musician and a gorgeous alpha. The fact that Wei Ying feels so drawn to him must mean those silly little compatibility tests are pretty good.
He shuffles his papers again, staring at the grainy little black and white photo of Lan Zhan. The information listed makes his cheeks burn. Hair color, eye color, height, weight. Fairly standard. Then more embarrassing things: what he likes in bed, what he doesn’t. The length of his dick, and the fact that it curves upwards. The only saving grace is that it doesn’t have pictures of that, too.
There’s a little paragraph written by Lan Zhan himself. In it, he talks about how he’s family oriented, his BMus degree, his volunteer work and his cello. It sounds like something you’d put on a resume, not a form for omegas to choose who they’re fucking. Somehow, Wei Ying finds that impossibly cute.
It’s five minutes to the hour when Lan Zhan sweeps in, the picture of placid elegance. His long hair is twisted up into a practical bun, and he’s wearing a soft looking grey sweater paired with wide legged black cotton pants. He looks breathtaking.
Lan Zhan goes to the receptionist first, speaking to her in a voice too low and deep to carry. Whatever she says to him, his eyes—a deep amber that wasn’t discernible in the cello video—flick over to Wei Ying. The weight of that gaze on him feels almost tangible, so much so that he has to suppress a shiver. He offers Lan Zhan a little smile and a wave, and Lan Zhan nods his head at him, making his way over to where Wei Ying sits.
“Wei Ying,” Wei Ying says to introduce himself. “But, ah, you already knew that. And you’re Lan Zhan. And we’re…” going to fuck , goes unsaid.
“A pleasure,” Lan Zhan says. “The receptionist said that an attendant would be with us in a moment.” He looks like he can’t decide between sitting next to Wei Ying to be polite, or remaining on his feet, given that they won’t be in the waiting room much longer. Wei Ying makes the decision for him, jumping to his feet, bag in hand, swaying a little closer than necessary. They’re about to have sex, so he thinks it’s probably okay.
“So. The cello, huh?” Wei Ying sets a hand on Lan Zhan’s arm, fluttering his eyelashes, and tells himself that it’s his impending heat that’s making him flirt so shamelessly. “I can’t even make a joke about handling big things because I already—” Wei Ying goes silent and gulps when Lan Zhan turns his gaze on him. “Um, well. Anyways.”
He trains his gaze on Lan Zhan’s big hands instead, held loosely at his sides.
“I read that you play the flute. I assume you know what to do with your mouth and tongue,” Lan Zhan replies.
Shocked, Wei Ying’s eyes snap up to Lan Zhan’s. Incredulous laughter bubbles in his throat, and he feels the tension he was carrying ease a bit. “Your info didn’t say you were funny! I like that.”
Lan Zhan looks pleased, warmth in his eyes as he regards Wei Ying, who belatedly realizes his hand is still on Lan Zhan’s forearm. It’s a strong forearm, in his defense, the softness of the sweater belying the corded muscle that lies underneath. His hand starts to skate up Lan Zhan’s arm, aiming for his bicep, but the attendant decides to show up right then.
Wei Ying tries not to curl his lip at her, but he must admit that he’s only half listening to what she’s saying as she leads them to the suite. Luckily, that’s a skill he perfected in school, and he always aced his tests.
Mostly, she’s telling them the safety nets available to them: that they can choose to back out at any time, that nobody will be directly observing them but there is always someone within reach by the press of a button. She mentions the amenities available—a large bed, a full bath, extra nesting materials, food and water so that they need not leave the room or be interrupted.
Blah blah blah. Lan Zhan is listening with rapt attention, considering each and every one of her words, but Wei Ying is already uncaring as to whether anyone else is around, solely focused on Lan Zhan. Trying to be subtle (and likely failing fantastically), Wei Ying puts his nose to Lan Zhan’s arm and inhales. The cool, forest-y sweet scent of sandalwood hits him, even better fresh from the source rather than in the little tube he’d sniffed before. He never let go of Lan Zhan’s arm, so he’s still gripping it tightly as the attendant opens the soundproofed door of the heat room.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, pulling Wei Ying’s attention away from snuffling at his arm like a truffle pig.
“Do you have any questions before she goes?”
Wei Ying hardly spares her a glance. He can already feel slick pooling in his underwear, his scent spiking and sweetening to appeal to the alpha he’s hanging off of. His clothes feel itchy and hot. He shakes his head at Lan Zhan, distantly aware he’s being rude but unable to stop.
“It seems the pairing was good,” she says with a smile, unbothered. “Well. I’ll leave you to it. The contraceptives are on the far table, and they’re meant to be taken orally. One is for omegas only and the other for alphas—it won’t have any negative effects if you take the wrong one, unless you count pregnancy as negative.” She laughs, shuffling out of the room and swinging the door closed behind her.
As soon as the latch clicks, Wei Ying is on Lan Zhan, bag dropped to the floor. He’s never kissed anyone before, so he’s a little clumsy at first and too eager, his lips hitting off center and teeth clacking. Lan Zhan, in his surprise, takes a moment to respond, but he adjusts quickly, cupping Wei Ying’s cheek in his hand and tilting their heads just so, until they can slot together easily.
Wei Ying is overwhelmed with how desperate he feels, hands screwing up the fabric of Lan Zhan’s sweater, their kiss a messy wet slide of lips and tongue. It feels like Lan Zhan is everywhere; his scent fills Wei Ying’s senses, drawing him further into his burgeoning heat. The hand not on Wei Ying’s cheek finds his waist and begins to travel lower, gripping the curve of his ass and kneading the flesh there.
Wei Ying smiles into the kiss, pleased that Lan Zhan seems to like his ass. It’s one of his best assets. Physically, anyhow.
His brain is overwhelmed with primal need, the desire to be fucked, knotted, bred. He needs Lan Zhan inside of him, filling him up, he needs it like he needs air, or perhaps even more so at this point. A whiny sound burbles in his chest, and he pushes at Lan Zhan’s shoulders, trying to get them to the bed without breaking away from Lan Zhan’s mouth.
Lan Zhan moves back a step, following Wei Ying’s direction, but then, for some reason, he stops! Wei Ying almost cries out in frustration as Lan Zhan grabs his chin, forcing him to stare into Lan Zhan’s eyes and not kiss his mouth. Why isn’t he letting Wei Ying kiss his mouth? Tears spring into his eyes.
“Wei Ying, shh,” Lan Zhan soothes, thumbing the tears away. “We need to take the contraceptive before we begin.” He places a gentle kiss on Wei Ying’s lips, trying to calm him further.
“I don’t—Lan Zhan, I don’t want—please,” he begs. The baser side of his brain is in the driver’s seat now, telling him he absolutely can’t take anything that will keep him from bearing Lan Zhan’s children. Frustration roils in his gut at Lan Zhan trying to convince him, the logic of this alpha he’s so perfectly compatible with trying to prevent him from getting pregnant escaping Wei Ying.
“It is perfectly safe,” Lan Zhan says, but Wei Ying shakes his head so hard it rattles his brain. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Wei Ying grabs at Lan Zhan’s arms but that doesn’t feel good enough; relief floods through him when Lan Zhan allows him to move closer. He wraps his arms tight around Lan Zhan’s waist, bringing them chest to chest. So close that he can feel each breath Lan Zhan takes, the steady thump thump of his heartbeat. He tries to look as entreating as he can, eyes wide and lower lip pushed out.
“If I take it,” Wei Ying says slowly, like he’s explaining something difficult to understand, “then I won’t get pregnant.”
Lan Zhan’s cock jumps where it’s pressed between their bodies, but his brows knit together, the corner of his mouth turning down in his confusion. “Yes… that is the goal.”
“I want it,” Wei Ying says. As if to prove his point, he plants his face on Lan Zhan’s neck, mouth and nose brushing over his scent gland. The scent is strong here, nearly intoxicating Wei Ying with the urge to savor it, to drink it into his nose and throat, hold it on his palate like a fine wine.
Lan Zhan has the audacity to laugh at him! A soft huff of air, but a laugh nonetheless. “Build your nest… if you feel the same once it is ready, then we will discuss it.”
Frowning, Wei Ying turns back for his bag of nesting materials and hurriedly yanks the zipper down, revealing his scent laden clothes and bedding. He glances at the mattress, which is empty except for a waterproof liner and a fitted sheet. Though he’s never spent a heat with an alpha before, he has plenty of experience with building nests. It’s a methodical process, less based on logic and more on what feels best in the moment.
The extra materials provided include lots of blankets—soft throws and some comforters, specifically. He arranges a comforter on the bed first, then a throw blanket for a strong base. The materials he brought follow, forming a cocoon of sorts, surrounding him with the familiar scents. It’s thought that, in heat partner facilities, omegas will want only familiar scents, considering the fact that the alpha is a stranger. Their scent isn’t normally found comforting; it should be pleasant at best, inoffensive at worst. Wei Ying, however, feels like he absolutely has to have Lan Zhan’s clothing in his nest or he might die.
He starts tugging at the sweater, and when Lan Zhan moves to take it off for him, he goes for his pants, fumbling with the double buttons. A growl rips from his throat, directed at said buttons. “Why the fuck are these so difficult to open? These pants are like a chastity belt, Lan Zhan, this is so mean.”
Lan Zhan finishes taking off the sweater—leaving Wei Ying to wonder how taking a shirt off can be so sexy—and reveals an impressive, lean musculature that the sweater had been hiding away. After he toes off his shoes and socks, he nudges Wei Ying’s hands away, pulling his waistband out a little to undo a hidden button—why the hell are there so many buttons?!—and unhooking a clasp. The buttons Wei Ying was struggling with come undone easily after that, less tension holding them in place.
Eager, Wei Ying tugs the pants down, leaving Lan Zhan in just boxer briefs. Wei Ying is momentarily distracted from nest building, even as Lan Zhan presses the shirt and pants into his hands. Staring at Lan Zhan feels more important. There’s lots to admire, from the taper of his waist to the curve of his pecs and the thickness of his biceps. Wei Ying might actually drool.
He must stand there a beat too long because Lan Zhan murmurs, “Wei Ying?”
“Ah? Oh, right. Let me…” he hurries over to the bed, Lan Zhan’s clothes in hand, and pushes them into the head of the nest, where Wei Ying can smell them at all times. After adding a couple of pillows here and there, he steps back with his hands on his hips to admire his handiwork. Surely, Lan Zhan will see that he’s a worthy omega after looking at this nest. It’s well balanced and comfortable—the only thing it lacks is their bodies.
Hopeful, he looks over at Lan Zhan, but he’s not looking at the nest Wei Ying has built. Instead, he’s watching Wei Ying with a soft look in his eye and a considerable bulge in his underwear. Wow, how did Wei Ying miss that before, it’s huge . Of course, he knew that already, but it’s another thing actually seeing it. He wants to get his hands on it. Or his mouth. No—his pussy. His own (much smaller) cock is hard and straining against his pants, the fabric growing uncomfortable from the wetness of his precome and slick.
“Lan Zhan, my nest,” Wei Ying whines. “Look at my nest, I worked so hard. Will you put a baby in me now?”
Because he is a perfect alpha, Lan Zhan does look at the nest, giving it a very considering once over.
“It is a very good nest. And you still feel the same?” His voice is so gentle, even as he’s clearly aching with arousal, his cock hard and his scent heavy in the room as his rut sets in. He’ll make a fantastic mate. An even better father. Wei Ying can’t think of a single reason that this isn’t the best idea he’s ever had.
Wei Ying nods enthusiastically, tossing his shoes away and clambering into the nest with little grace. He nearly falls on his face in his rush to get into it and get his clothes off at the same time, hands scrabbling at the waistband of his jeans with little luck. Why did he wear jeans?! He half-sobs into the blankets, frustrated. His heat has set in faster than ever before, and it’s leaving him needy, impatient. He needs Lan Zhan now .
Warm, careful hands pull at his pants, tugging them off of Wei Ying’s legs. Wei Ying cracks an eye at Lan Zhan, watching as he adds the jeans to the edge of the nest. Something in him preens at his alpha putting things into his nest. His alpha. He could almost purr.
Lan Zhan removes Wei Ying’s underwear next, baring his sopping wet pussy and thighs to the cool air of the room. His pupils dilate dramatically, like a cat with an eye on its prey, his mouth opening as he sucks in a deliberate breath to taste Wei Ying’s scent on the air. Wei Ying’s underwear is still in his hand, soaked through with slick, and his hand grips it possessively as he hesitates to add it to the nest.
“Gege, Lan er-gege, don’t mind the underwear, you can have whatever you want of mine. Anything. Come here, come here, I want you,” Wei Ying says, lifting himself onto all fours and presenting his rear to Lan Zhan. He wiggles his ass enticingly, but Lan Zhan was not waiting for encouragement; his hands grab Wei Ying’s ass, fingers digging into the skin, and he parts his cheeks to just… stare. With a ragged breath, Wei Ying pushes back, his mind a mantra of cock now cock now cock now . He cannot fathom why Lan Zhan hasn’t already knotted him; it seems like a horrible injustice.
The underwear seems to have been dropped in favor of lavishing Wei Ying’s ass with attention. Wet kisses are pressed into the curve of his cheeks, at the base of his spine, on the edge of his rim. Wei Ying sobs openly, words failing him as he is overwhelmed with the desire to plead for it, whatever ‘it’ is, he’ll take anything. Absolutely anything at all. He just—wants. For Lan Zhan’s body to drape over his, for him to take what he wants from Wei Ying, so hard and so many times that his body is left pleasantly sore and well used.
But Lan Zhan takes his time, his mind clearer than Wei Ying’s, or perhaps his self control better. Taking his time to suck bruises into the soft skin of his hips and thighs, to bite down hard on the place where his ass is the roundest. Wei Ying yelps and jolts forward, but Lan Zhan’s hands are on his hips, keeping him in place, grip tightening like a vise.
Lan Zhan leans over Wei Ying’s back, his cock—now freed, though Wei Ying isn’t sure when that happened—sliding easily between Wei Ying’s legs, where the skin is slippery with his arousal. His voice has a slight tremble to it when he speaks—almost impossible to notice, but his mouth is only a finger's width from Wei Ying’s ear. “Do you want my cock? My knot?”
“Yes, Lan Zhan, fuck me, I’m so—I’m open, I’m ready for you,” Wei Ying says. “You can feel how—how I’m made for you, how I’m yours. Please.”
Lan Zhan growls in his ear, nipping the lobe with a scrape of sharpened teeth. Teeth meant for a bonding bite. Wei Ying wonders if he can ask for that, too, but he doesn’t want to push so far so soon. Already, he’s getting Lan Zhan’s baby. He did not walk into this clinic thinking he wanted a baby right now. Arguably, the purpose of the clinic is to fill the ache without babies. But Wei Ying hadn’t accounted for Lan Zhan being all that he is, triggering this all consuming need.
Surely now Lan Zhan will slip inside of him, give him what he’s begging for, he thinks. But Lan Zhan pulls back, and the room feels cold without him pressed against Wei Ying. He doesn’t have much time to mourn the loss of warmth, though, because Lan Zhan’s mouth distracts him from any other thoughts, tongue delving into his throbbing folds. Lan Zhan presses the flat of his tongue against Wei Ying, licking into him like his slick tastes of sweet wine.
One of his hands finds Wei Ying’s cock, fingers just barely brushing over it. It’s more torture than pleasure, the feeling making him want even more, trying to push his hips into the touch. But that pulls him away from Lan Zhan’s tongue, where it’s licking a line from Wei Ying’s pussy to his hole, and that’s not what he wants either.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying chants, unsure what he’s even asking for.
A hot, wet tongue licks at his hole, circling the rim and dipping inside, and the noises alone are nearly enough to push Wei Ying over the edge. One of those big hands hits his ass with a smack so hard he’s shoved forward, forcing a moan out of him as he comes with tears in his eyes.
“From that?” Lan Zhan says, sounding curious. Gently, he turns Wei Ying onto his back, brushing the sweat-stuck hair from his forehead.
Wei Ying’s face burns with shame. “No!” But his denial is useless with the cum that’s streaking his skin, the way his body had shuddered and clenched around nothing, the moan that had wrenched from his throat.
The corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth lifts. He moves Wei Ying’s limp legs, pushing them towards Wei Ying’s head and spreading them apart to observe how his cunt pulses in time with his heartbeat. One hand slides down, cupping his ass, and those molten eyes look straight into Wei Ying’s as he smacks him again. Embarrassed, Wei Ying closes his eyes as he jolts. Slick gushes out of him, revealing the truth behind his bluster.
“It takes you so little,” Lan Zhan says, his voice like sandpaper even as his tone seems callous.
“I changed my mind, no pussy for you,” Wei Ying says, turning over to haul himself onto shaky knees to crawl away from Lan Zhan.
He doesn’t make it very far—Lan Zhan grabs his ankles and yanks them backwards, making Wei Ying collapse face first into the nest. It’s ripe with their scents; he inhales deeply, pleased, in the seconds before Lan Zhan drags him back.
Wei Ying had almost forgotten he was still wearing a shirt, loose and rumpled now, until Lan Zhan tears it off of him, the fabric protesting as he shreds it. A dismayed screech comes from Wei Ying. “Lan Zhan! That was my favorite shirt! I wore it to look nice for you.” The pout in his voice is audible, his scent souring a little in genuine disappointment at the demise of his shirt.
Lan Zhan pulls him in, back to chest, and murmurs close to his ear. “I will replace it with ten more.” His voice rumbles in his chest, feeling so close to an alpha’s purr—a rarity—that Wei Ying shivers. Hot breaths make the little hairs on his skin stand on end, every prickle like a livewire, the iron-hot line of Lan Zhan’s cock pressed into the small of his back. Lan Zhan’s sandalwood scent envelops him, along with its calming notes.
Annoyed but soothed—annoyed that he’s being soothed—Wei Ying wriggles in Lan Zhan’s arms, face screwing up as he struggles. Lan Zhan’s arms tighten around him, holding him in place, and Wei Ying growls at him. Lan Zhan is strong, impossibly so, and his arms are steadfast where they’re wrapped around Wei Ying’s torso. Wei Ying’s legs, however, are mostly unhindered, and he gets them underneath himself and twists to the side, causing them both to fall hard onto the nest.
“I thought you said that you were mine. That you were made for me.” Lan Zhan huffs, catching his breath.
“Who said that? Some desperate omega, surely,” Wei Ying says, panting. He pushes his ass back against Lan Zhan, whose arms have loosened considerably, the hold more like the cuddle of sated lovers. Wei Ying is not sated. Not even close. “I would never.”
Lan Zhan squeezes the insistent ass shoving against his cock, then slips his hand between Wei Ying’s legs. Two of those long, elegant fingers push inside of his pussy, finding Wei Ying’s g-spot with an unerring certainty. With a little “ ah !”, Wei Ying’s hips rock back, searching for further pleasure on Lan Zhan’s fingers, knowing it won’t be enough no matter what.
“I can’t believe you’d just— nnh — take whatever you want? From this— ahh— helpless omega?” Wei Ying goads, even as he can’t keep the breathless whine from his voice, even as stuttering moans interrupt his words.
“You want it,” Lan Zhan replies, teeth skimming over Wei Ying’s scent gland, making him moan louder. “Wei Ying is easy. Gagging for it.”
“Oh my god ,” Wei Ying cries. “Fuck me, Lan Zhan, fu—” Lan Zhan lines his cockhead up to Wei Ying’s pussy, choking the begging words right from his tongue. Without any further hesitation, Lan Zhan pushes inside, his cock sliding easily into the dripping wetness of Wei Ying.
His first two thrusts are slow, adjusting to the overwhelming sensation. Then he pushes Wei Ying onto his stomach, moving with him so that his cock stays snug inside. His knees frame Wei Ying’s hips as he sits up, setting his hands on either side of Wei Ying’s head. Wei Ying has only a moment to anticipate before Lan Zhan is pounding into him hard and fast, chasing his own orgasm with abandon, drawing Wei Ying toward a second one right along with him.
With each thrust in Lan Zhan’s breath hitches, almost inaudible over the obscene, wet noises and slap of their hips as they meet again and again and again. When his knot starts to catch on Wei Ying’s rim, Wei Ying shudders and comes again, driven to it just by the thought of Lan Zhan locked inside of him, filling him with his seed.
The stretch of the knot borders on painful, even more than usual as he rides his post orgasm oversensitivity, but it’s ecstasy to the baser part of his brain. He thrills at it, Lan Zhan filling him up, tying them together. His hips stutter, then his knot is fully seated inside of Wei Ying, cum flowing into him with searing warmth.
Lan Zhan circles his hips, extending his climax, each brush of his cock over those nerves inside of Wei Ying like a spark to the system. When at last his energy begins to falter, his arms going shaky, Lan Zhan lowers himself onto Wei Ying. His body is heavy, but Wei Ying luxuriates in the press even as it constricts his ribs, making it difficult to get a good pull of air into his lungs.
Lan Zhan’s knot isn’t going to go down anytime soon, but Wei Ying is abruptly exhausted, all of the oxytocin having vacated his system. He pushes at Lan Zhan until they resettle on their sides and falls asleep with Lan Zhan still inside of him, gently mouthing at his neck.
Wei Ying wakes with Lan Zhan’s cock still sheathed in him, knot long gone down. The nest beneath them is sticky with cum and sweat, which Wei Ying would normally find atrociously disgusting, but can’t be bothered with now. In his sleep, Lan Zhan’s hips are doing tiny bucks, his body seeking pleasure in Wei Ying even in his dreams.
Pleased, Wei Ying smiles and meets Lan Zhan’s ineffective thrusts, simply enjoying the way it feels to have Lan Zhan inside, fucking into him. He wonders if the first knot will take, but it’s no hardship if it hasn’t. Already the gentle burn of heat-induced arousal begins to lick at his skin, the flame quickly kindling into a steady roar.
The sun has gone down, leaving them in darkness. Wei Ying tries to remember if he can turn on the lights from here, his brain sluggish. Parting from Lan Zhan seems, in this moment, like a fate worse than death. He needs his alpha, needs him, his instincts insist that without Lan Zhan wrapped wholly around him, he will suffer.
But he also wants to see Lan Zhan’s face this time. To watch how he looks when he fucks him, when his knot grows. To learn every infinitesimal change in expression, to see the simmering gold of his irises when he looks at Wei Ying. And, as needy as it sounds when the thought crosses his mind, he wants to see if there is fondness in his expression. Wei Ying suddenly, deeply wants to know if Lan Zhan likes him, too.
Though it is a hardship, Wei Ying pulls away from Lan Zhan, who is still asleep even as his hips have continued to move. A little line forms between his brows when his cock slips out of Wei Ying, and Wei Ying smooths it out with his thumb. His lips are pushed out in sleep, like a pout. It’s so cute.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying murmurs. “Lan Zhan, wake up.”
Those long, doe-like lashes flutter. A few slow blinks, then Lan Zhan is looking at him with a soft expression, a little smile curling on the edges of his lips. “Wei Ying.”
He says ‘Wei Ying’ with gravity, like there’s nothing more important he has ever said or ever will say. It makes Wei Ying blush, even though it’s really, really nothing, and then he’s blushing even harder because Lan Zhan is touching his cheek with gentle fingers like he’s something precious.
“Lan Zhaaan,” he whines, dropping forward to push his face into Lan Zhan’s chest. He really just meant to hide his face, but the muscle provides lots of cushion, and Lan Zhan is very warm. Turning his face to the side, he rests his cheek on Lan Zhan, allowing the rest of his body to go boneless, melding against the alpha’s. “Don’t be nice to me.”
“Do you want me to be mean to you?” Lan Zhan asks.
“Haa,” Wei Ying replies.
Lan Zhan’s touch is no longer tender, his fingers snatching Wei Ying’s chin and squeezing. He forces Wei Ying to look at him straight on, until the only way to avoid that blistering look would be to close his eyes. And how could he, with how Lan Zhan stares, his gaze arresting. Wei Ying feels caught in it. Prey, frozen under the watchful eyes of the predator.
“Do you?” Lan Zhan asks again, his voice sharp like a razor’s edge.
“I—of course not Lan Zhan, I’m—I’m a good omega,” Wei Ying demurs. Those flames from before raze a path through his body, licking up his spine. His cock is at attention, even the slightest shift of his thigh zinging through him. He tries to be subtle about it, rubbing off on his own thigh like he’s desperate—and he is, he is, his body is screaming to be filled up, fucked into incoherence, knotted.
Lan Zhan’s eyes flicker down to his cock, and he raises one derisive brow. “Are you?” He releases Wei Ying’s chin to grab his cock—his grip is just over the edge of too tight, making Wei Ying yelp in surprise and pain. “Do good omegas rub their tiny little cocks on their own legs?”
Wei Ying whimpers, not even at the pain, which is making him feel even wilder with need, but at those words , those filthy words. “I thought—I thought Lan Zhan was a—a good, respectable alpha. Clearly, I was…” He trails off, train of thought forgotten, all he can focus on is the feeling of Lan Zhan’s hand, the way his palm eclipses Wei Ying’s cock. Shamefully, involuntarily, his hips thrust into the tight warmth of Lan Zhan’s palm.
Lan Zhan’s eyebrows raise, as if he’s incredulous that Wei Ying would dare—he wants to say he didn’t dare, it was an accident—but already Lan Zhan is flipping him onto his back, his hand grasping Wei Ying’s neck. Wei Ying tilts his hips and Lan Zhan slides into him with ease, Wei Ying’s body wet and warm and inviting. Though his expression is stolid, his eyes blaze, his mouth parting on a little gasp as he sinks inside.
Wei Ying feebly scrabbles at the hand wrapped around his throat, not really wanting it gone but playing like he does. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, they dampen his lashes and prick at the corners. Lan Zhan thrusts into him, hard enough to shove him up the bed, and his mouth drops open in a strangled moan.
Even now, with his breaths constricted and words garbled, Wei Ying doesn’t stop talking, teasing. “Cou—couldn’t wait to get back inside me, huh? I’m ju—” he’s cut off by a particularly rough thrust, Lan Zhan’s fingers clenching around his throat, “I’m just tooo irresistible.”
“Be quiet,” Lan Zhan growls, but there’s little bite to it, his voice roughened by the staccato measure of his breathing as he fucks hard into Wei Ying’s pussy, like it’s so tight around his cock he has to work for it. Wei Ying feels a bit smug, knowing how good Lan Zhan feels inside him, so good that he loses all composure. At his little self satisfied smile, Lan Zhan narrows his eyes, leaning down to fiercely bite Wei Ying’s lip.
When Wei Ying only laughs, little hiccuping peals of delight, Lan Zhan bites down on his neck—only hard enough to bruise, not enough to mark, to claim. This sends Wei Ying tumbling over the edge, a feeling of pure bliss washing over him as he cries out. His fingers grab at Lan Zhan’s head, trying to pull him closer, encourage him to bite harder. His disappointment when Lan Zhan doesn’t capitulate to this wordless demand is background noise to the waves of pleasure that continue to crash in like a riptide.
Faster than Wei Ying would’ve thought possible, he’s coming again, and this time Lan Zhan joins him, his knot bullying its way into Wei Ying’s cunt. Soft lips trail kisses over his chest, up his neck and jaw until finally, finally, Lan Zhan is kissing him. This kiss is gentler than the others, slow and careful. Lan Zhan’s hand has long loosened its hold on his throat, and now it shifts to cradle Wei Ying’s face, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly.
Wei Ying surges up into the kiss, legs and arms twining around Lan Zhan’s body like they can become one this way, with Lan Zhan deep inside of him and their tongues sliding together for so long Wei Ying loses sense of time. When at last he really can’t take another breath, he pulls away, gasping for air.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers raspily, “bite me.”
Lan Zhan is so close that his nose is pressed into Wei Ying’s, so Wei Ying sees in detail how Lan Zhan’s pupils dilate. “Are you certain?”
“I’m probably pregnant already; if you don’t bond with me, I’m pretty sure my sister will kill you,” Wei Ying says, wincing. “Sorry.”
“I will take responsibility,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying fully expects him to just go for it; scrape his teeth along his neck until he finds the scent gland and bite down hard enough to draw blood.
Instead, Lan Zhan sits back, his cock slipping out of Wei Ying. Even worse, he gets out of the nest!
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “Where are you going?”
“You must eat. You are working hard.” Lan Zhan is at the food stock, picking things to put on a plate. Wei Ying can’t help but notice that they’re all the most nutritious options, the box of cookies completely passed over. One of the gatorades is grabbed, at least, and Wei Ying reaches for it eagerly—he hadn’t really noticed how much energy he’d been expending, truthfully, but now that Lan Zhan’s mentioned it, it feels like all he can think about.
After he downs half the gatorade, he moves to take the plate from Lan Zhan, but Lan Zhan maneuvers it out of his reach. Wordlessly, he takes a grape and fits it to Wei Ying’s lips. Wei Ying flicks his tongue out to grab the grape, the tip brushing the pads of Lan Zhan’s fingers as he does.
They eat the entire plate this way—Lan Zhan occasionally popping something into his own mouth but mostly setting food on Wei Ying’s lower lip until he takes it. Watching with satisfaction as he chews and swallows, then offering him another thing. Technically, Lan Zhan is not yet his alpha, but he feels safer and more cared for than he ever has before.
Wei Ying starts to drift off again after that, his body digesting the food. Something in him preens with satisfaction when Lan Zhan lies down behind him, gathering him into his arms and twining their legs together. Like this, with Lan Zhan’s even breaths to steady him, heartbeat strong and solid against Wei Ying’s back and arms wrapped tightly around him, he falls deeply asleep.
This time, when Wei Ying wakes it’s because there’s something wet and warm enveloping his dick. When he cracks an eye open, he sees Lan Zhan looking back at him, mouth fully covering Wei Ying’s cock. A bit of mirth seeps into his expression, and Wei Ying quickly learns why when Lan Zhan sucks. Hard .
He arches into it, hips jerking clumsily, and Lan Zhan has the gall to look even more amused. Mouth pulling off, Lan Zhan swirls his tongue around the head, over and over until Wei Ying is panting, little “ ah ah ah ” noises coming from him unbidden. Just when he feels something coil low in his gut, muscles tightening, Lan Zhan pulls off with a ‘pop’.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, affronted.
“Did you want to come?” Lan Zhan asks, like he’s genuinely curious. The question is so casual, as if he’s only asking if Wei Ying wants some sugar in his coffee, or to go first in the shower in the morning. The thought of being domestic with Lan Zhan alone actually almost makes Wei Ying bust, but he resists.
“You’re such a bully, Lan Zhan, I can’t believe I ever thought you were a good alpha,” Wei Ying grouses, turning onto his hands and knees to crawl away. “I’ll take care of it myself! I didn’t bring a knot dildo, but I guess my fingers will do.”
His limbs are a bit wobbly underneath him, slowing his pace, but he’s not really trying to get away so it doesn’t matter much. Need aches low in his belly, his instincts rebelling viciously as he moves away from the alpha behind him. By the time he’s flopped down onto the furthest corner of the nest, he’s forgotten why he thought this was a good idea at all. His heat-brain is a loop of Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan ; when he looks around for him he sees Lan Zhan on his knees across the bed, observing him with a fond look in his eyes. Too far, too far—he reaches out for Lan Zhan with a pout on his lips, making grabby motions to encourage him to come closer.
“I thought Wei Ying wanted to use his fingers,” Lan Zhan says, amused.
Wei Ying frowns hard, glaring at him. “Aren’t we here to sate our mutual needs? And are you sating mine by harassing me so cruelly, Lan Zhan? Hm? You’re not, you’re not. You should be doing me so hard I can’t speak, you should fill me up and stay inside until we’re just one person.”
“Is that right?” Lan Zhan’s eyes are more pupil than iris now, and he’s on his hands and knees prowling closer to Wei Ying. It shouldn’t be possible to look both sexy and graceful while moving like this, but he manages it somehow.
Wei Ying turns onto his stomach and presents to Lan Zhan once again, in case Lan Zhan needs some convincing. He’s half a second from yowling like a feral cat if Lan Zhan doesn’t do something about it, so horny that he’s angry, and maybe also so angry that he’s horny.
It doesn’t come down to that; moments later, he feels Lan Zhan push into him, bottoming out without sparing even a moment for Wei Ying to adjust to his size. Lan Zhan holds onto his hips and sets a mind-melting pace, fucking into Wei Ying so hard it hurts, but he loves the edge of pain, it has him moaning even louder.
Wei Ying is nothing if not persistent, so he does attempt to speak—to tease, or spur Lan Zhan on—but when he tries, his words are so distorted that even he isn’t sure what he’s saying. The build of his pleasure is like a train hurtling towards a cliff; there’s nothing slow and coiling about it. Instead, he comes before he even realizes that it’s going to happen, and Lan Zhan keeps fucking him, then he comes again, going limp under Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan slows as his knot builds, working it into Wei Ying’s cunt with care. His hands hold Wei Ying’s hips in the air and flush with his own, but the rest of Wei Ying has collapsed into the nest, his awareness somewhere further than the front of his mind for the moment.
His eyes are only half open, blinking slowly. Lan Zhan leans over his back as the knot is finally, finally fully inside of him, tying them together, and places a chaste kiss behind his ear, another on his neck. Wei Ying’s awareness returns in increments, faster when Lan Zhan’s sharp teeth scrape over his scent gland, lips brushing his skin.
“Do it,” Wei Ying slurs, and Lan Zhan does. All of Wei Ying’s attention narrows to the sudden, exquisite pain of Lan Zhan’s teeth in his neck. When he lets out a sound between a moan and a cry of pain, Lan Zhan’s cock jerks inside of him; despite having just come twice in rapid succession, Wei Ying wants to go again.
He looses a petulant whine, wanting to push Lan Zhan into the bed and ride him until his legs give out, but Lan Zhan’s knot is still large and solid inside of him. There’s no way it’s going down for another half hour at least.
It’s not quite a hardship; at least it means that Lan Zhan will be inside of him, Lan Zhan will be close, will hold him in his arms. And he does, arranging them on their sides so that he can hold Wei Ying tight against his body, limbs tangled together, his face buried in Wei Ying’s neck. Like this, every breath Lan Zhan takes will be filled with Wei Ying, who finds that thought immensely pleasing.
The next time Wei Ying wakes, his own body has woken him, desperate need coursing through his veins. It’s morning now, and at some point Lan Zhan slipped out of him. They’re no longer on their sides—during the night, Lan Zhan ended up on his back with Wei Ying on top of him, chest to chest.
Wei Ying kisses Lan Zhan’s collarbone. It’s a very nice collarbone, elegant and jutting from his skin in a way that makes Wei Ying want to fit his teeth over it, just to gnaw on it. He sucks a mark into the skin there, and Lan Zhan shifts underneath him. When Wei Ying peeks up at his face, though, his eyes are still closed, mouth slack with sleep. A tiny, mischievous smile curls on his lips.
Reaching behind him, he takes hold of Lan Zhan’s dick—disappointingly soft, though he supposes that’s not surprising, since he is fully asleep. Carefully, he climbs down Lan Zhan’s body until his face is level with his cock. He lifts the sad, limp thing and presses a kiss to the head where it’s hiding behind it’s sleeve.
It feels wrong that he’s never tasted Lan Zhan’s cock before the moment that he drags the flat of his tongue from the base to the tip, worse still that he’s never been filled on this end. He fits his lips over the head, swirling his tongue around it like Lan Zhan had. It’s beginning to fill from his teasing touches; he encourages it further with a few of strokes from the hand he has wrapped around the shaft.
At last he commits, bobbing his head up and down, working Lan Zhan’s formidable cock into his mouth. He gets about halfway down before he chokes and pulls off, trying to smother his coughs in the crook of his arm. When his gagging has died down, he turns back to Lan Zhan’s cock with his tongue between his lips. A chance flick of his eyes upwards and he sees Lan Zhan watching him, gaze heated and mouth parted slightly.
Wei Ying is surprised, but he rolls with it, acting like this was his intention all along. “Are you enjoying the show, Lan Zhan?” He presses a sloppy wet kiss to Lan Zhan’s cock, red and angry looking now. A drop of precum is beaded on the head, and he laps it up like it’s a tasty meal—it may as well be, for the groan it draws from him.
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, but his expression is answer enough; hot and wanting, looking like an ethereal being with his reddened ears and how his hair falls around his face. Wei Ying doesn’t know when it fell out of its carefully arranged bun, but the effect is devastating. Lan Zhan is the most gorgeous person that Wei Ying has ever seen.
With a grin, Wei Ying takes Lan Zhan’s cock back into his mouth, swallowing down half in one go. He has to pull back and go down again, but in the end, Lan Zhan’s cock is deep in his throat, past where he would’ve thought he’d even enjoy. It feels so good to be full like this; he wonders if, sometime when he’s not so desperate, Lan Zhan might be willing to let him sit with it in his mouth. He thinks it would be mind numbingly good, just to hold it there, until all of his thoughts fade out.
This time, however, he’s here with a goal—he moves his mouth over Lan Zhan’s cock, sucking and licking and sliding his tongue along it, until Lan Zhan’s hips are bucking into his mouth and he’s coming down Wei Ying’s throat. His knot is at the base, threatening to form without Wei Ying, but he’s quick—he gets on his knees and lines Lan Zhan up with his cunt, enveloping his knot with ease.
He’s never done this before, but he has strong legs. Rocking forward, he sets his hands on Lan Zhan’s pecs, squeezing gently. Lan Zhan is looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes. He reaches for Wei Ying’s ass, gripping it but letting Wei Ying move at his own pace.
“Am I pretty, Lan Zhan?” he asks, breathless from the pleasure as well as the exertion. Lan Zhan’s cock is filling him so well, especially so with the knot beginning to push into him. Wei Ying wants to ride it out until he can’t move anymore; he keeps grinding his hips, the ecstasy of it intensified by the desperation that’s surging through him.
“Mn.” Lan Zhan brushes his knuckles over Wei Ying’s cheek, a tender look in his eyes.
Then Lan Zhan helpfully snaps his hips up, the last moments of his ability to move aiding Wei Ying in his tumble over the edge; he comes just as Lan Zhan’s knot ties them together and his cum starts to pump into Wei Ying, seemingly endless.
Riding the high of his orgasm, Wei Ying drops down, mouthing along Lan Zhan’s neck blindly until he finds where his scent comes the strongest. When he places his teeth over it, Lan Zhan says in a voice aching with desire, “ Bite.” Wei Ying bites down as hard as he can. Blood coats his tongue, and his waning orgasm intensifies with new vigor, a second wave cresting before the first has even receded, along with a feedback loop of Lan Zhan’s own pleasure. It volleys back and forth between them for what feels like a lifetime, until Wei Ying is collapsing onto Lan Zhan, hearing nothing but his ragged breaths and seeing nothing but Lan Zhan’s face—his strong jaw, piercing eyes, full lips. He wants to pepper kisses over all of them, but he’s going to need several moments before he can lift himself up again.
They don’t fall asleep this time; instead, Wei Ying enjoys the feeling of Lan Zhan inside of him and toys with his hair as they talk. Lan Zhan tells him about how one day he’d like to teach, and Wei Ying in turn tells him about how he’s fascinated by the sciences, and he’s pursuing a career in aerospace engineering. Wei Ying mentions that he always wanted to have at least three kids, and Lan Zhan gives him a resolute promise that they will make that happen. This makes Wei Ying laugh, and when his laughter subsides enough to see Lan Zhan’s face again, he’s bowled over by what he sees there.
Nobody has ever looked at Wei Ying like that before, with such a striking sense of wonder in their eyes. He’s so overwhelmed that he can’t do anything but kiss Lan Zhan fiercely, feeling wild and slightly unhinged. He likes Lan Zhan so much. It shouldn’t be possible to like Lan Zhan this much already, but here he is—here they are.
Maybe it’s a little crazy to go headfirst into a relationship with someone you’ve only just met, but somehow it feels like they were meant to be together, all this time. The universe was just giving them a little nudge forward.
Three days later they exit their suite hand in hand, nesting materials packed away in a laundry bag and both of them freshly washed and clothed in their spare outfits. Despite being all clean, Wei Ying is viscerally aware that they smell like mates, their scents having adjusted to feel like an answer to each other’s. That, and they’re both sporting angry red wounds where the bonding bites sit on their necks; it’ll take time to scar over, and they didn’t have access to any sort of bandages in the suite.
Wei Ying smiles up at Lan Zhan, squeezing their joined hands, and Lan Zhan gives him a little smile back, returning the squeeze.
“Are you ready?” Lan Zhan asks him, and Wei Ying nods. He’s so hungry—he’s tired of cold food. He wants some noodles in his belly as soon as humanly possible. But first, they have to check out and do an offboarding interview. The clinic likes to be sure everything went smoothly.
Wei Ying is, admittedly, a bit nervous for that part. He isn’t sure what the precedence is for two people completely forgoing the contraception they’re given, knotting raw many, many times and becoming bonded mates. Probably like, at least one or two before them though, right?
The alpha woman doing Wei Ying’s exit interview tells him that they are, in fact, the only people to have ever done this. He feels a bit sheepish, but it’s not like he broke a rule . Technically.
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You know that the goal of a heat/rut partnership is to avoid pregnancy, correct?”
“And you know that you’re not supposed to bond and have unprotected sex with the alpha that you’re assigned to?”
“Yeah, I know that,” Wei Ying says with a sigh.
“Alright, I’m just checking,” she says. “Just wondering if we made some sort of mistake in the information process. Like, maybe you two thought that this was a fertility clinic instead! Something like that.” She waves her hands emphatically as she speaks, then turns back to her clipboard.
“No, ma’am,” Wei Ying replies.
“Evidently.” Her tone is scathing and so is the look she gives him. In a droning voice, she asks, “Were you or did you feel pressured or coerced at any point in the mating cycle, and if so can you please describe the incident?”
“No, if anything—” she glances up at this, and he snaps his mouth closed so hard his teeth clack together. “No pressuring. We were both fully onboard with everything that happened to the best of my knowledge.”
“Are you aware that the clinic is not responsible for the decisions that you made while spending your heat cycle with Lan-xiansheng, and if you come to regret any of those decisions, we are not culpable?”
“I am aware,” Wei Ying agrees.
At last she seems satisfied with her questioning, though she clearly still harbors concerns for his sanity.
When Wei Ying opens the door to leave, she calls after him, “Be sure to set an appointment with your obstetrician, Wei-xiansheng.”
He nods his thanks to her, then trains his attention on the waiting room. Lan Zhan is waiting there for him, backlit by the sun streaming in through the windows. A grin stretches wide on his face and he drops the papers he’s holding in favor of charging at Lan Zhan with arms outstretched. Without a second thought, Lan Zhan drops their bags and holds his arms out to catch Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan’s arms come around him, firm, safe and comforting, and Wei Ying wraps his limbs around him so tight his joints hurt a little. He puts his face directly in Lan Zhan’s neck, allowing his sandalwood scent to envelop his senses. After he places a soft kiss there, he pulls back to kiss Lan Zhan’s jaw, his chin, those high cheekbones, the full, pouting lips, the tip of his nose. Next, each eyelid, which flutter open after receiving their kisses with a look in them so warm Wei Ying’s chest aches. One kiss in the center of his forehead, too.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers.
Lan Zhan kisses him. “Wei Ying,” he replies.
“You caught me.” He doesn’t know why that makes him so very happy, but Lan Zhan’s eyes crinkle at the corners.
“I did,” Lan Zhan agrees, but it feels like he’s saying something more. Like he’s saying, yes, always.