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For as long as they’d been together, Song Lan had been supportive of the idea of Xiao Xingchen finding someone else to be involved with — but he never thought it would be someone like Xue Yang.
He hadn’t just been supportive — he’d been enthusiastic. He would, without complaint or resentment, do anything Xingchen asked, but over the years Song Lan noticed there were things Xingchen asked for less and less, or had stopped entirely. Song Lan would go to a movie with him, or a concert with assigned seating, but general admission? He felt uncomfortable just thinking about it. Xingchen had friends, of course, more than Song Lan did, but he wanted someone special, a companion. Sex, Song Lan had thought, was less of an issue. He didn’t know if Xiao Xingchen hadn’t known some of the things he wanted, or hadn’t wanted to ask Song Lan, but once Xingchen found Xue Yang, Song Lan found himself doubting a lot of things.
Three months later, “balls deep” in said gremlin, Song Lan was no less confused.
Xingchen always checked in with Song Lan at each escalation of his relationship with Xue Yang, who Xingchen had met “at a bar with some friends”. (It was honestly hard to imagine.) He always agreed without feeling pressured, but he still faintly felt like the frog in boiling water — even though frogs couldn’t really be tricked like that, and there was no evil chef. Despite all the… whatever image Xue Yang tried to project, Song Lan was always sure he wasn’t trying to trick either of them. Perhaps Song Lan could do the tricking all by himself.
The first escalation, having sex with Xue Yang — “getting together at his place” as Xiao Xingchen had cautiously called it — had been trivial. Their second and third times, Song Lan felt like he was settling in. He didn’t mind some quiet nights, especially when he knew Xingchen was having fun. After Xiao Xingchen spent his third night at his mysterious boy toy’s equally mysterious apartment, he asked if Song Lan would like to meet him. Xiao Xingchen seemed head over heels about him, and it would be weird not to, so Song Lan agreed they could have Xue Yang over for dinner.
The dinner — and the gremlin — was not what he’d expected.
He was nothing like any of Xingchen’s friends, or colleagues, or anyone Song Lan had ever seen him interact with in the six years they’d been together, and the two years as friends before that. He was young, he was ill-mannered, he hung off of Xingchen in a way that seemed designed to annoy Song Lan, and he dressed like he’d been injured in a collision of a stereotypical goth club and a punk themed costume party.
Annoyingly — horrifically annoyingly — Xue Yang was painfully hot. Avert your eyes to not stare hot. Turn the other direction when he’s walking again hot. Song Lan hadn’t been attracted to anyone new since Xingchen.
Eight years ago.
When Xingchen asked if Xue Yang could stay over — in the guest room that was mercifully on the second floor, away from their bedroom — Song Lan didn’t even consider saying no. Not because he wanted Xue Yang there, but they were spending more nights together, and Song Lan wanted Xingchen there, in the mornings and the evenings. He wanted Xingchen to be happy, and he’d gotten used to the gremlin. There was no reason for them to leave.
Song Lan didn’t make Xiao Xingchen ask for the threesome. It was obvious, the way Xue Yang was spending more time in the house, sitting closer and closer to Song Lan on the couch, flirting with him in a way only he and A-Chen could think was subtle. One night, when Xue Yang left for his own apartment, Song Lan brought it up as he and Xiao Xingchen were doing the dishes.
Why not? He was hot. Xingchen’s face looked like the sun coming out after a storm when he said yes, and… he had to admit he was curious. He would be happy to only have sex with Xiao Xingchen for the rest of his life, that had been the plan, but he’d never had a threesome, and Xue Yang seemed so desperate for him… and Song Lan had experienced more than a few dreams about him.
The first three times were fun. Song Lan mostly felt like an accessory to their sex, but that was fine. They made sure he was completely satisfied by the end, but the real joy was watching the emotions Xue Yang brought out in Xiao Xingchen. It felt like a gift, to see his beloved like that.
He didn’t know know if Xingchen realized he was showing a different vulnerability when Xue Yang was fucking him. He knew how much Xiao Xingchen had always wanted to be taken like this, and it was no imposition to Song Lan to have his boyfriend suck his cock while his weird little twink railed him.
It was a lot, an awful lot, but it was good. He didn’t know how to do what Xue Yang did, but he was watching, trying to learn.
As for himself and Xue Yang… Song Lan realized he hadn’t really liked Xue Yang till he fucked him, which he felt guilty about, but… Xue Yang was such an ass normally. It wasn’t until he saw what he was hiding underneath that he could appreciate, and like, the whole package.
The morning after their third threesome, which had been the most fun by far, Xue Yang cornered Song Lan in the kitchen while Xiao Xingchen showered. They’d just finished breakfast, and Xue Yang was eating M&Ms by the handful, between sentences.
“Hey. Take me on a date. One of those nice restaurants you like. With fancy desserts.”
“What?” Song Lan stood still with his empty tea cup in his hand.
“Take me on a date, or are you a coward?”
“What?”
“Zichen, I thought you were supposed to be smart — is that only book smarts, Mister Masters Degree? Take me out on a nice date. We talk, drink wine, we go back to my place and you fuck me till I cant see straight. It was Xingchen’s idea.”
Song Lan was too confused to tell him not to call him Zichen. He’d forgotten about his unclaimed tea.
“I… You want that? For yourself, not just Xingchen?”
Xue Yang shrugged casually, as if he’d been asked to pick Pepsi or Coke. “Sure, I like people buying me things and fucking me, and I know for sure you’re a good lay.”
Song Lan never got his tea.
They went out, and Xue Yang was charming, with a sprinkling of annoying — probably to protect himself from being too vulnerable. But he relaxed, and didn’t have the Big Gay Hyperfocus he always had when Xiao Xingchen was nearby. He told rambling stories, and he was honestly… cute. Fun. A kind of charming that six months ago Song Lan wouldn’t have even noticed.
It was a little annoying, to like Xue Yang even more.
Song Lan knew he didn’t have to, but he went back to Xue Yang’s apartment and fucked him. Xue Yang wanted it hard and fast, but Song Lan refused at first, making it soft and sweet… which Xue Yang happily accepted, for all his whining. At the end he went hard, because it was clear Xue Yang wanted it like that, and if Song Lan was going to be intimate with someone, he was always going to want to give someone what they wanted — in his own way.
Xue Yang was boneless and useless after he came — more so than when they were with Xiao Xingchen. (How much was Xue Yang always worrying about what Xiao Xingchen thought, wanted, needed? For him, was Song Lan freedom, or something weird like that?)
When he came back a little, Xue Yang drowsily said he understood that this was weird for Song Lan, that he wasn’t a slut like Xue Yang. Song Lan thought it was a very weird sentiment, but appreciated it. He followed it up by offering that Xiao Xingchen said this would help, and he was the smartest person in the world.
Song Lan didn’t say anything, just made a vaguely affirmative sound, and Xue Yang passed out, curled up tightly against Song Lan’s side. Song Lan could never fall asleep that fast, and his phone was out of reach, so he watched. He realized he’d never seen Xue Yang sleep — that time, that vulnerability, always belonging to Xingchen, in the guest room.
Song Lan felt like he finally fully understood Xue Yang.
He was more than a little wrong about that.
The first three threesomes had plenty of negotiation, but no explicit planning. They’d said what was off limits, talked about emotions. Song Lan had gone in generally comfortable but with no agenda.
After he and Xue Yang had the solo “date”, and thus sex on their own, Xiao Xingchen asked if things could get “a bit more complex”. He and Xiao Xingchen had gone to a kink convention the weekend before, and they’d come back marked up and positively giddy — which was cute on Xiao Xingchen, but odd to see on Xue Yang. Over a few days, after the con, Xiao Xingchen had brought up different “activities”. None of it fazed Song Lan, but he let Xiao Xingchen proceed carefully — it might be more for Xingchen’s than Song Lan’s sake. He was perfectly willing to do all the things Xiao Xingchen brought up. He figured it would be hot at the time, and Xiao Xingchen promised Song Lan would get off any way he wanted, but it all felt like… doing a fairly bland favor for a friend. Nothing distasteful — like helping someone move, with a promise of good sex at the end.
After they’d worked through everything on Xingchen’s list — a few of which Song Lan did decided to veto, they’d had more than they could possible use on the first time — Xiao Xingchen unintentionally surprised Song Lan. He asked if he would, at least for their first time, do all these things to Xue Yang. Xiao Xingchen had never said it would be with him, Song Lan had just assumed. He decided to not mention his surprise, lest Xiao Xingchen get upset at himself for not having been clear. Song Lan loved him, everything was fine, and he would make sure things were clearer in the future.
The really surprising part was what Xiao Xingchen wanted his role to be. He said it came from going to play parties at the con, and watching other people scening, and doing some experimenting themselves.
Xiao Xingchen wanted to watch.
Not just watch, he wanted to give commentary.
It sounded fine, not particularly more exciting than anything else they’d talked about.
He was more than a little wrong about that.
The scene, as designed by Xiao Xingchen, involved Xiao Xingchen roleplaying being Xue Yang’s dom, who had promised to do various things to him - but then he brings in a ringer, to fuck him harder than Xiao Xingchen could. The scenario was all consensual (Song Lan wouldn’t have been willing to do otherwise, not yet at least), but the general vibe would be “Xue Yang is doing this for Xiao Xingchen, not because he asked for them”. Xue Yang the actually person wanted to make Xingchen, A-Chen, proud, but his character was going to be “a little bitch” and A-Chen was going to be “a mean bitch” about it.
The emotions weren’t his problem, he was there to fuck hard and enjoy himself. Seemed easy enough.
Before Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen went into the guest room to set up, Xue Yang came over to Song Lan, pulled his lollipop out of his mouth, and leaned up to give him a sticky kiss.
“You can do whatever you want to be, big fella. I want to see how hard you can go. I’m not afraid to tap out, it’s all roleplay. So don’t hold back. Fuck me up.” Xue Yang turned without letting Song Lan respond, downright flouncing back to the guest room door. He kissed Xiao Xingchen, sloppily, shot an unreadable glance at Song Lan, and dragged an unresisting and giggling Xiao Xingchen into the room.
He read a book about urbanization as he sat outside the room, because he’d been meaning to read it, and because he thought it was funny. When he heard Xiao Xingchen opening the door, he stood up, marked his place in the book with a museum bookmark, and placed it on the chair. Xiao Xingchen walked out, an eager but slightly worried look on his perfect face.
“Zichen, do you still want to? I can do it all myself, we have fun if you don’t want to.”
Of course he’d offer.
Song Lan kissed him lightly.
“I’m ready, A-Chen. I love you. Let’s have some fun.”
It was far more fun than Song Lan had expected. Xue Yang, it turned out, was a pretty good actor, or at least for this particular role. He was sullen, he was sulky, and when they threatened to not fuck him if he was going to be like that, he begged, promising to behave, to be good. They both sneered at that, and Song Lan felt very aligned with his boyfriend, his A-Chen.
Song Lan trusted Xue Yang’s promises as far as he could throw them, and he was quickly proven right. Song Lan didn’t care if he was “behaving”, it wasn’t his job to care — that was for Xingchen to handle, and tell Song Lan what to do with Xue Yang. While to a theoretical outside observer, he might looked perhaps more like an accessory than during their previous encounters, this the roleplay gave him a clear place — and with Xingchen’s instructions he didn’t need to worry about what was the right thing to do. He got to choose how he did things, he was in control, but he didn’t need to worry as much.
An entirely new dynamic that he’d never imagined. It was nice, actually. Really nice.
The only awkward part was how often, and quickly, their “activities” kept changing. Usually once Song Lan was all the way to intercourse, he kept going until he was finished. He didn’t mind, exactly, but it was a very different headspace.
The second time he needed to stop fucking or risk coming, Song Lan raised just an eyebrow, not a hand, to Xingchen. As soon as he began speaking, he carefully pulled out, leaving Xue Yang on his hands and knees, face at the bottom of the bed.
“Poor baby, is that all you can handle? Should Zichen stop hurting you, get you a towel and some chocolates? All worn out?”
While Song Land quickly dealt with the condom and drank water, Xingchen stood up from his chair and walked over to the bed, pulling Xue Yang’s panting face up by the chin.
“I’m talking to you, slut, is that too much for you?”
Song Lan had never once in his life heard Xiao Xingchen use the word “slut”. It was strange and a little thrilling.
“Fuck off.”
Xingchen tsked. “Nasty mouth on this one, don’t you think?”
He raised an eyebrow at Song Lan, now standing where Xue Yang couldn’t see. He awkwardly mimed a slap, and Xingchen didn’t seem displeased, so he strode over and slapped Xue Yang across the face as hard as he could. Xue Yang gasped, Xingchen laughed, and Song Lan’s hand stung. It was a nice feeling.
“Very nasty. What do you think we should do with it?”
Song Lan didn’t need to speak, but Xingchen had encouraged him to.
“Stuff it up? I could get you a gag.” All their toys, including many new ones, were laid out on the dresser.
Xingchen tapped a finger to his lips. He was so beautiful.
He didn’t seem to like that one.
“Or I could take care of it myself…”
Song Lan took initiative and grabbed Xue Yang’s hair and yanked his face up.
“Are you going to behave, or do I have to force you to?”
Xue Yang locked eyes with Song Lan.
“Fuck. Off.”
Song Lan felt something tense up in his chest. Without further comment from either of them, he pulled Xue Yang’s mouth open and “forced” his cock in. Xue Yang didn’t resist, he made the same moan he made whenever he got a cock in his mouth. He sucked, just like the other times Song Lan had his cock in his mouth. He’d been worried the act would involve not… participating, and that wouldn’t have felt good, he would have pulled out from that situation quickly.
“Aww, all its bitching but it's still desperate for cock… the little slut.” It was still wild the second time, hearing Xingchen call Xue Yang a slut… wild, and doing something nice for his cock.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t the most articulate feedback Song Lan could have offered, but it seemed to be enough for Xingchen to work with.
“Do you think he can take it harder, Zichen?”
Xingchen spoke as if he was asking if he thought it might rain.
“Only one way to find out.”
Song Lan used his grip on Xue Yang’s hair to force his head roughly back and forth. Xue Yang was still helping Song Lan feel good, sucking and using his tongue. He was absolutely not going to orgasm yet, but it would be easy to, to let go and use his face, to let go of his head and allow Xue Yang to take him to the edge and past…
He felt himself heading for the crest and roughly dragged Xue Yang’s head off his cock. He looked down at him and fuck, his face was hot, eyes glassy, jaw slack, saliva shiny on his face.
“Hmm, I wonder if it can take more? Looks a bit worn out…”
That comment didn’t feel as directed to him or Xue Yang, just a mild observation, as if people-watching in a park.
“You had enough?” Song Lan didn’t make his voice mean — maybe Xue Yang had had enough, maybe he needed an excuse to move to something else. He’d only continue on his mouth if he was provocative.
“Fuck. Off.”
Very well.
They’d done it before, it was on the “green” list, he was warmed up and asking for it. Most importantly, Song Lan wanted it. He didn’t truly force his cock into Xue Yang’s throat, but he wasn’t gentle. The last sound of Xue Yang’s breath, his final frantic inhale before the option was taken from him, was glorious. Xingchen did this sometimes, but he didn’t have much endurance, and Song Lan didn’t like deep throating enough to ask for it anyway. But with Xue Yang… god, he loved looking down at his face, eyes almost bulging, tears leaking out. He pulled out of his throat — but not out of his mouth — to give him two desperate gasps before plunging back in. He loved the sensation, of course, that wet tightness around the most sensitive part of his body, almost overwhelming, but taking Xue Yang’s air? Trapping the breath in his lungs? It was amazing. He never wanted to hurt Xingchen like this — but Xue Yang loved it as much as he did.
He repeated the pattern a few times — holding still in Xue Yang’s throat, followed by brief access to air, and back in again. Xue Yang was looking woozy, and Song Lan wasn’t sure where to go. Maybe the timing matched up, maybe Xingchen saw Song Lan’s uncertainty — regardless, Xingchen silently stepped back to the bed and crouched down to impassively watch Xue Yang’s face, inches away. With Xingchen watching, Song Lan stopped caring, closing his eyes and letting out some of the moans he’d been holding back.
“He’s going to be unconscious soon.” As unconcerned as ever, about the most important thing he’d said.
While Xingchen wasn’t giving Song Lan any specific guidance, no one wanted Xue Yang knocked out, so Song Lan pulled out roughly. He didn’t know if it was “in character” to steady Xue Yang as he coughed and gagged, or give him water, but he did it anyway. Xingchen didn’t comment, simply yawned and went back to his chair.
Toys were simpler. Their softest flogger, dark grey suede, made a satisfying sound on Xue Yang’s skin and Song Lan could use it for what felt like hours. Xiao Xingchen sounded like he was narrating a tennis game, but one he didn’t really care about. He announced every five strikes. It was easy; Song Lan felt confident and comfortable. It wasn't that he didn’t like touching Xue Yang — he liked it perhaps more than he wished he did — but not having any of his body involved was relaxing. It was still generally hot, the whole situation was, but this part wasn’t sexual for him. He lost track of how much time it took, Xingchen’s voice the steady metronome of their experience.
“Oh, is it getting bored? I think the little slut might be getting bored.”
Song Lan slowed down, landing three more strikes before he stopped.
“This is the nice flogger after all… I’ll get something a bit more challenging.”
Again Xingchen raised a (perfect) eyebrow, gracefully indicated which toy Song Lan should use. It was a thin cane, stingy and nasty, that Xue Yang had picked out at the con. It was the only new toy Xingchen had asked Song Lan to practice with before the scene, and he knew it meant it was time for things to escalate.
“I don’t know, Xingchen, do you think it can handle this one?”
Song Lan had known Xiao Xingchen could bring out a perfect bitch voice when the need arose, but it had never happened so many times in one day. He’d think later about if he wanted a little of this voice for himself.
“Maybe it needs a little break. Do you need a break, sweetheart? Give you some nice kisses and head pets? Have you earned that, little one?”
Song Lan thought he saw a quiver in Xue Yang’s shoulders, thought he might see him desperate to say yes, to let himself have those things he was always, always yearning for with Xingchen… but Xingchen made it sound like it would be such a failure, his saccharine sweet voice dripping with condescension.
“Fuck. You.”
Song Lan tsked while Xingchen laughed airly. “I don’t think that’s on the menu for you, sweetheart.” Xingchen slowly walked to the foot of the bed, Xue Yang’s eyes glued to him. Using Xue Yang’s distraction for his own benefit, Song Lan let loose one precise swing of the cane, leaving a perfect red line along the center of his ass. Xue Yang shrieked, clearly unwillingly, and Song Lan didn’t try to hold back the deeply pleased smile that evoked.
“Fuck you.”
“Zichen, it’s very verbal, don’t you think?”
“Hmm. I’ll see what I can do about that.”
Xue Yang had been very insistent; both that Song Lan wouldn’t be able to hit his pain tolerance, and, if he somehow did, he’d tap out on the several ways he and Xingchen had set up. Song Lan believed him, if only because no one wanted to see Xingchen have to live with a safeword fail. Regardless, it was Xingchen’s place to arbitrate that, not Song Lan’s.
Song Lan let loose.
Xue Yang’s voice was gorgeous, as it transitioned from obscenities to wails and moans — and a few sobs. He didn’t know if he couldn’t speak, or just didn’t feel like it. Xiao Xingchen was speaking, but it seemed to be directed at Xue Yang. If he needed Song Lan’s attention, he'd ask for it.
Without conscious thought, Song Lan lost himself in making something between an art project and a game out of his work on Xue Yang’s ass, feeling a deep visceral pleasure at the thin red lines that appeared with each strike. When found himself growing a bit bored with his composition, he casually picked up a much thicker cane, “the big thuddy one” in his off-hand. He was pleased with how smoothly he switched implements, hopefully without Xue Yang anticipating any change.
Regardless of any anticipation, Xue Yang sobbed at the single devastating hit, the sound forced out of his body by what Song Lan was doing to it. It was like music, from a very unlikely musician and instrument. He wondered what else he could get out of him.
He was startled by A-Chen, he’d forgotten he was there. “Oh, the stinging slaps were nice, but maybe it’s this punch, that’s what it needs to actually shut up. Do you think it’s worked? Have you shut it up?”
Xingchen crouched down by Xue Yang’s face. Song Lan waited. In that moment, he would have been happy to wait forever.
“Hmm, is that a…. Oh, I think it is, I think we have a very weak ‘fuck you’ here, Zichen.”
“Good to know.”
Song Lan counted his strokes in his head. This time he was less concerned with artistry than longevity — he wanted to keep going as long as he could, which meant varying where his hits landed, the timing, the strength of individual ones. When he landed what would be the final hit, he’d been trying to catch Xingchen’s eye, to check in. Xue Yang made it easy by collapsing forward with the hit.
Xiao Xingchen took a quick look at Xue Yang’s face, out of Song Lan’s view, and looked back up with a strange glee in his expression.
“Congratulations! You shut him up.”
Song Lan stretched his shoulders and drank some water while Xingchen whispered things to Xue Yang and set up the next part of the scene. He was feeling warmed up, even excited. He kept his eye on Xingchen, waiting to see when he was needed.
Xingchen sighed dramatically.
“Zichen, I think the show might be over. That was all he could take, what a shame. And when you’d just gotten going — your shoulders look so beautiful when you swing!”
Xue Yang was grumbling something, which Xingchen pretended not to hear until he reacted in a very affected manner.
“Oh, what’s that?”
Song Lan watched Xiao Xingchen taunt Xue Yang, and desperately wanted them to kiss — or touch, anything. He wanted them to connect, to not only interact through him, for Xingchen to take all that he was feeling, about Xue Yang, about everything, and put it onto him, into him, directly.
But if he wasn’t going to, being his implement was… really fucking hot.
Fuck.
“Do you want to orgasm, Zichen?”
Song Lan thought he’d gotten used to the things Xingchen could say with such calm disinterest but that one almost threw off his rythm - the rythm of fucking Xue Yang’s ass. He could, easily — If he wasn’t wearing a condom, he’d already be gone for sure (and maybe after this he’d reopen the conversation about fluid bonding…). But did he want to? It took Xue Yang’s wail to remind him that the question wasn’t really for him, it was for the scene.
“Oh, poor baby, do you want to keep getting fucked? Maybe Zichen is bored with fucking you — half the city’s had a turn, haven’t they? If you really want more… you’d better work for it.”
”Fuck you!”
Song Lan pulled out — hands still gripping his partner's hips — and waited, grinning. (He was glad they’d mostly been arranged where Xue Yang couldn’t see his face.)
“Fuck! Fuck, Zichen, please fuck me, please, don’t stop—”
“But you’ve been such a little bitch, haven’t you A-Yang?”
“—I’m sorry, fuck, A-Chen, I’ll do anything, please? Please? I’m asking nicely?”
Xingchen raised an eyebrow.
“Sir, please, please I’m so — god please, I’m pathetic, I’m yours, I’ll never talk back again.” Song Lan could hear tears in his eyes. “Please?”
“Sounds like you’ve made some progress, A-Yang, but I don’t know if it’s enough…”
Song Lan slid back in, bottomed out and waited.
“Fuck! I will do everything and anything you fucking want, please keep fucking me in my slutty asshole please, Sir, please?”
Song Lan was ready to resume but his boyfriend’s face said ‘No.’
“You sound like you want it, A-Yang, you pathetic little slut, but you want a lot of things, you greedy little thing. You need to deserve it.”
Fuck.
Song Lan was going to have some ideas to discuss with Xingchen after this… He was pulled out of distraction by the sound and reverberation of Xingchen slapping Xue Yang’s face.
“How are you going to prove you deserve it?”
”Please.”
Xue Yang was crying, sobbing, as Xingchen slapped him again and again. He didn’t get an explicit command, but he’d been told to “use his initiative”, and his initiative said to fuck Xingchen’s sketchy little twink, his sometimes surprising sweet twink, as hard as he could. He didn’t care about the details of what Xue Yang was saying, how hard he was crying — he was begging, and Song Lan was giving. He closed his eyes and let them have their scene, eventually warning Xingchen when he was getting close.
When Xue Yang’s frantic begging to be fucked transformed into begging Song Lan to come? Xue Yang only got a few words out before Song Lan was gone, crying out loudly, more than he had previously let himself in front of Xue Yang. The idea of holding back seemed ridiculous now.
After Song Lan caught his breath, he carefully pulled out — both of them wincing a little — and fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, chest heaving. Xingchen could handle it from there.
“Baby, you did so good, so good for both of us. I’m so proud of you.”
Xingchen was leaning against the headboard, Xue Yang attempting to be entirely inside his lap. They hadn’t actually discussed what Song Lan’s role was in aftercare, but he knew what he wanted to do. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Xue Yang’s temple.
“You did very well. That was extremely hot. Thank you… A-Yang.”
He went to kiss his cheek, but Xue Yang turned his face up, so Song Lan gave him what he wanted. None of their kisses, even their night alone, had been so sweet. He matched what he was given, and a little more. He didn’t know if he’d ever get a kiss like this again. Song Lan kissed Xue Yang, long and sweet, until he seemed to want to focus on Xingchen again.
Song Lan stood back and watched, Xue Yang curled on Xingchen’s lap, having his hair pet and being showered with praise and compliments from Xingchen. He looked soft, and happy. He looked like he felt safe — which he’d known since their first dinner wasn’t his default state. Song Lan thought about the first time he’d heard Xingchen talk about Xue Yang, the first time he met him. When he’d slept in Xue Yang’s bed with him curled up next to him, how he felt like he was seeing an entirely new person, hidden inside the brittle persona with broken armor he’d been introduced to. He thought that maybe his life had become a bit monotonous before Xingchen made “a new friend.”
Song Lan hoped that, tomorrow morning, Xue Yang wouldn’t put all of his armor back on — at least not with them.