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Meng Yao's birthday unfolds in sections. First, the weekend trip to Meng Yao's favorite spa. Second, season tickets to their favorite theater over an excellent meal. Then, finally, the gifts Lan Xichen gives to him on his knees (and back, and stomach. Tied up, held down, fucked until he's crying—)
There is a fourth part. Xichen waits until they're home mostly because he is uncertain how it will go over for either one of them. Because it will involve work from A-Yao, Xichen cannot help but worry it will not be welcome.
It is a present for A-Yao, but more than that, it is a present for mama. It won't work if Xichen's not little to give it, and he knows it's such a huge ask to make of A-Yao. It's easy to understand what they both get out of games of sadism and dominance. Places where A-Yao can fully embrace his sharpness, rewarded by the depth of Xichen's subspace and obedience. But what he gets out of Xichen when he's little seems too abstract. It's so new, Xichen doesn't want to push.
Still, it’s important enough that he decides to take the risk. After a quiet supper, when all the dishes are done and leftovers put away, Xichen kneels at A-Yao's feet.
"Hm?" A-Yao rests a hand on the crown of his head. "Do you want something, Xichen?"
"I have another present for you." Today is A-Yao's actual birthday, and even though Xichen is uncharacteristically nervous, it doesn't feel wrong to close on this.
Meng Yao's hand had been about to tug at Xichen's hair, but instead, he slides it down to Xichen's chin, tipping his head back. "Do you?"
A-Yao's gaze is bright, curious, intense. It's hard to meet his eyes. Especially with the headspace Xichen has been trying to work closer and closer to while he did the dishes.
"It's a present for mama," Xichen explains, making an effort to speak in a clear voice and not a shy whisper. "It can wait if you'd rather; I don't want to assume." He folds his arms behind his back, suddenly struck with the urge to fidget, which was a habit forced out of his system decades ago.
"Oh." It's not often he surprises A-Yao and his reaction makes Xichen smile. "Go on," A-Yao says, voice softening. It's clearly not unwelcome.
Xichen's nerves and A-Yao's gentle touch pull at him, coaxing him toward little space; he resists with a few deep grounding breaths and clings onto a clear headspace by his fingertips as he unfolds his arms from behind his back.
Xichen reaches under the side table, pulls out a small golden box he'd hidden there earlier, and offers it up to A-Yao. To mama. Mama takes the box, his hand leaving Xichen's head as he reaches for the gift.
He feels, quite suddenly, dizzy with anticipation. Xichen has gifted A-Yao art before, for past birthdays, but this is unlike anything else he's done. It had taken forever to make. Not because it was hard, but because Xichen had to get himself into little space alone to make it, which had taken more than one try and had been so hard to sustain without his mama.
Without A-Yao, without mama, Xichen had felt stupid. Small in a way that wasn't fun when he'd tried the first time. The second time, he waited until after a scene, sneaking into his studio in the middle of the night to craft.
The sneaking also helped keep him under. It felt like a game, and between the way his lips were still swollen, the scent of mama's perfume on his skin, and the sense he was playing a game, it had worked.
"Will you open it now, mama?" Xichen asks, unable to keep the hopeful lilt out of his voice. He should wait, let mama open it in private, but he wants to see mama's reaction so badly.
Oh, he's gone surprisingly little, surprisingly fast. The dizzy sensation fades, leaving him feeling excited—shy. Hands now empty, he rests them on mama's legs, curling his fingers around his thighs. He forgets, when he's not actively in this space, how big all his emotions get. They are not little emotions to begin with. Xichen has never felt anything in small ways. He's not sure any Lan ever has. But feeling them this way is so new, so fragile.
A clay fox is nestled in sparkling blue tissue paper—spritzed lightly with the scent A-Yao only wears when he's mama—inside the box. Xichen is no sculptor. He'd never worked with clay before. It's not clumsily executed—Lan Xichen cannot turn that part of himself off—but it is simple. The fox is leaping up, a smile on its almost cartoonish face.
Mama doesn't say anything, and Xichen holds his breath. This is so new, strange—what if he did it wrong? What if Meng Yao—
"Xichen, shh, don't cry." Xichen's not crying. His eyes are wet as he blinks them clear, but he's not crying. Just. Almost.
Mama sets the box down and coaxes him up onto the sofa. Xichen is too big to fit in his lap, but he tries anyway. "Shh," mama repeats, kissing him on the forehead. "Did you make it yourself?"
The direct question makes it easy for Xichen to answer. "Yes…I snuck out of the bedroom last month after we played last time…" His mama laughs, and Xichen presses his face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry!"
"No. No. You didn't do anything wrong." There's a slight pause that makes Xichen nervous, but then his mama runs tugs playfully at his hair. "Silly, sneaky boy."
Xichen feels warm all over and keeps his face buried against mama's shoulder. "I'm not in trouble?" he asks, voice muffled.
"No, Xichen, you aren't in trouble." Mama's fingers stroke through his hair, soothing now, almost ruffling. "Not even a little bit. It's a very pretty fox." He leans back and lifts the little figurine up, and notices that Xichen signed the bottom of it. Xichen wiggles some in pleasure as his mama traces his fingers over the mark.
"It's perfect," mama says as Xichen turns his head to watch him admire the gift. "I'll keep it on my desk at work."
"Oh!" Xichen feels his face heating and presses it harder against mama's shoulder. A-Yao's desk is immaculately organized, and the only obvious personal touch is a series of miniature ink wash paintings Xichen gifted him when they were first dating.
There are so many butterflies in his stomach as mama leans forward to set the fox down on the coffee table. Then, mama's fingers find his chin, gently guiding his head up. Xichen makes a soft wobbly whine when mama takes his face in his hands with both hands and kisses him on the lips.
It's soft, so soft. Xichen wants to melt into it or melt back against the sofa and let mama lay on top of him and kiss him until he's hard—ah, this wasn't supposed to be about him. But mama doesn't let him break away from the kiss. He cups the back of Xichen's head, holding him firmly in place.
"Are you going to be shy for me tonight, my little kit?" mama asks.
My little kit is new. Xichen's heart starts to race, even as he shakes his head no, answering mama's question. Little kit. He wants to hide his face again. He wants to go to the studio to make another little figurine to represent himself.
"No, you aren't shy?" mama asks before he leans forward to kiss Xichen again.
"Mama shouldn't need to do extra work on his birthday," Xichen says when he's finally released from the kiss.
"You think I don't like kissing you?" Mama's smiling—teasing him. Xichen dips his head and almost squirms under his gaze. He does very much like kissing mama, but he doesn't want him to think that he had ulterior motives. Doesn't want him to think he was aiming to… play.
Xichen stumbles over his words in a way he never has, not even when he was truly young. "I—" He presses his face back against mama's shoulder, hiding in a way A-Yao would never allow outside of a scene like this. "I don't want to be greedy. Good boys aren't greedy." He doesn't even bother to try and stop from whispering.
Mama pauses again for a long while. Xichen tries not to worry about it, but it's hard not to. Did he say something wrong? Did he say something silly—
"Xichen."
He blinks and shifts back, peering up at his mama shyly, then looking away the moment he meets A-Yao's eyes. He's not usually so easy to read, and in the current state Xichen is, he can't stand to look at the soft concern.
"Yes, mama?" Xichen makes himself ask.
"You're not a greedy boy. You never have been. I know what greed looks like. It's not you, never you."
Xichen dares to look back up, breath hiccupping in his chest as he does. He doesn't get to say anything before mama cups his face once more and kisses him on the forehead and then the mouth.
"You're a good boy, Xichen," A-Yao says as he breaks away, using the voice on Xichen that he uses when he's unwilling to accept any argument to the contrary. "Mama is the greedy one for taking all the kisses I want."
This shocks a little laugh from Xichen's lips.
"Greedy boys don't ask first before they take something they want,” mama continues, “and you asked so nicely if we could play, didn't you?"
Instead of answering, Xichen just nods his head. The teasing relaxes him just a little bit; his emotions are still knotted in his chest, but mama's fingers are soft as he eases the tension.
"I don't think greedy boys make sure their mama has so many gifts, do you? Greedy boys don't make such pretty things to give their mamas either. Are you a greedy boy?"
Later, Xichen will marvel at how Meng Yao has learned to give him softness, at this small, precious thing they've carefully nurtured between one another. Xichen allowed to be silly, allowed to be shy, uncertain, ungraceful. And above all, he is allowed to ask for anything he wants. It feels so much like taking without giving when Xichen asks for it, but that's not true—he is giving Meng Yao a place to be soft without being hurt.
Now though, he's a bundle of barely soothed nerves.
"Answer me, Xichen." That voice means he's not allowed to argue or protest or delay.
"No, mama," he whispers as he lifts his head again. "But you're not greedy either!" he adds, with a hint of defiance coloring his voice.
"Hm. But I want to kiss you, and if you were worried that kissing me was selfish…"
More teasing, a little bit more soothing. Xichen still sullenly tucks his face against mama's neck. He's allowed, after all, to be sulky when he's little. He's starting to remember that now that he's sunk fully into the headspace.
Mama just pets his back, letting him lean heavily into his side.
This is so messy. It's so big. It's so special. Mama is so special.
"Happy birthday," Xichen whispers. "I'll give mama all the kisses you want."
"That's better," mama says with a laugh. "Sit up."
Xichen doesn't ask why, and he doesn't need to when, seconds later, mama settles himself on his lap.
"Hello," mama says with a smile that makes him dimple.
"Hello," Xichen echos, not playacting how soft his voice goes when he's little.
"It's my birthday." Mama's grin grows brighter, sly like the fox, as he takes Xichen's hands and rests them on his hips. "And we both deserve kisses."
Mama doesn't waste any more time talking before he leans down to kiss Xichen slow but heated in a way that makes the butterflies in Xichen's chest dance around madly.
"Do you want to play with me?" mama asks in between kisses, and yes. Of course. Always. But Xichen blushes furiously first, trying to hide his face against mama's neck, but mama doesn't let him.
They don't… talk much about this outside of when the scenes happen. Xichen knows that he should try— but A-Yao did get him to admit how hot Xichen found it when he spoke in a particular way about sex while Xichen was deep in little space.
He doesn't regret the admission for all he currently wants to squirm and hide under every cushion and blanket on their sofa.
Mama catches his face in his hands and gives Xichen that smile again. Xichen melts. "Yes, please," he answers as politely as he can while trying not to wiggle and jostle mama too much on his lap.
Now, mama does lean into him and kisses him until he melts back into the sofa. Heat rises between them; mama's hands are so gentle as they stroke over Xichen's shoulders and chest. They kiss until they're both breathless. Xichen gets hard first, gasping when his mama slides a knee between his thighs and presses up against him.
Xichen moans, tries to hold still, fails as he starts to rock his hips forward against mama's thigh. "I—oh—" He has to take several deep breaths before he can even speak. "I want to do something for you, mama. For your birthday."
"Oh, Xichen," mama says with a laugh, but he gives Xichen another kiss, so it doesn't feel like he's being chastised. He kisses up along Xichen's jaw to the shell of his ear. "You know how much mama likes it when you use your mouth."
"Please." Xichen shudders, arching up against his mama. He loves using his mouth on mama. The lulling sensation of suckling should feel dirty, but it only feels perfect.
Mama slides off his lap, and Xichen wastes no time settling down onto his knees on the floor between mama's thighs. He parts his lips as soon as mama has his cock out and leans forward. Mama's half-hard, which is fine by Xichen; he likes how mama hardens in his mouth.
Like his voice skewing higher without conscious thought, Xichen is unintentionally slower at this, too. A little messier, prone to getting distracted by how good it feels to suck on the tip of mama's cock, rather than taking him deep or letting A-Yao fuck his throat.
He doesn't need to be perfect right now. Mama strokes his hands through his hair and keeps up a steady, gentle line of praise that makes Xichen feel hot from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head.
"Such a good boy for your mama, aren't you? I should— oh, that's good, just like that— I should make more time for us to play. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Xichen hums his agreement as he licks a path down the shaft of his mama's cock and then kisses back up to the head, wrapping his lips around his cock and taking it deeper into his mouth.
To some extent, they're always playing. Xichen doesn't wear a delicate chain necklace around his throat as a collar for nothing, but to have more time like this— he moans at the thought, and then mama moans with him. Another night, A-Yao might force Xichen down at this point, fuck into his mouth, but now he just gently rubs the head of his cock over Xichen's tongue.
It doesn't take long before Xichen's hips start rocking, trying to find friction that isn't there.
"Ah—" Mama's hand clenches hard in Xichen's hair as he lets mama's cock hit the back of his throat. "Give me your hand."
Xichen doesn't bother to ask why. He offers mama his hand, and mama wraps it around the base of his dick.
"Stroke me off—I'm close. You can keep just the tip in your mouth to suckle."
Xichen almost comes just at that; it is his favorite thing when he's like this. He could stay with the head of his mama's cock in his mouth for hours if mama let him. He's shaking as he shifts so just the tip of his mama's cock rests in his mouth and starts to suck, tongue rubbing gently along the underside as he does.
Mama's hands are tighter in his hair now, but Xichen doesn't mind. It feels so good. He wants to reach down and rub at himself as he sucks, but he's a good boy. He doesn't. He focuses his mind on teasing out his mama's orgasm, working his hand over the shaft of mama's cock.
He likes the way mama's cock feels in his hand, so hot and soft as velvet against his fingertips. Likes, even more, the soft way he's praised, the gasp in mama's voice as he gets closer and closer to coming.
"Xichen—good, just like that," his mama coaxes as Xichen sucks a little harder, tongue moving faster over the underside of mama's cock. "Oh, little kit, that—"
Xichen knows he's doing a good job when mama can't even speak clearly. he hums with pleasure, which earns him another gasped: "Little kit—"
He comes untouched. It's moments before mama comes, bright and bitter over his tongue. Fast enough that he can't swallow everything without making a mess. He sits back on his heels, licking his lips and blushing as he looks at up mama.
"You came, didn't you." It must be written all over Xichen's face. "No, don't make that face," mama says the second Xichen starts to frown. "It's cute how excitable you are." He leans forward, swipes a bit of cum onto his fingers, and presses them against Xichen's mouth.
Xichen licks them clean, taking a moment longer to just suck on the fingers in his mouth for as long as his mama will let him. It's not long enough, and he whines a little as mama pulls his hand back. Mama stretches, yawns, and then tucks himself back into his pants and does up his fly before standing up.
"Come on, let me get you cleaned up. Messy boy," mama says as he ruffles his hair.
"Mama!" Xichen does squirm now, even as he pushes his head up against his mama's hand, nuzzling against the touch. Eventually, though, he stands up, all too aware of the mess in his pants growing unpleasantly cold and itchy. Mama holds his hand as they walk into their en suite.
Xichen goes to undress, drifting back toward his regular self, but A-Yao stops him. "Let me clean up your mess, Xichen."
It's enough to push him back down in the warmth of being little. He's not worried anymore about being greedy or overreaching. He's content, pleased that he made his mama happy. He drifts while A-Yao cleans him off with a warm, wet towel, glad he's not in trouble for coming without permission. Not that he gets into a great deal of trouble when he's little. A-Yao seems so disinclined to punishment when he's Xichen's mama.
"Are you really going to keep the fox on your desk at work?" Xichen's shyness isn't entirely gone.
"Of course I am." Xichen finds himself nudged down to sit on the closed toilet seat while A-Yao gets out face wash from the medicine cabinet.
"It's not very—"
"Don't tell me it's not very good, Lan Xichen. You made it for me. It's going on my desk." Xichen closes his mouth so quickly his teeth click together. And then, gentler as A-Yao tips up his head and starts to wash Xichen's face for him: "You can stay under if you want to, little kit."
Xichen waits until there isn't anything on his face before reaching for A-Yao's hands and kissing his knuckles. "I'm somewhere in between."
A-Yao lifts Xichen's hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles in return. "Stay little, Xichen. It's my birthday, and you're adorable. Mama wants to cuddle with my best boy."
"Alright. Okay. Thank you, mama," Xichen's voice goes soft again, and he rests his head against his mama's chest and wraps his arms tight around him. "Happy birthday."
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