Work Text:
Qian decides to start with books. They look less intimidating. There are e-books. No one has to know. He starts with the one Yuan left on his desk years ago, the one with the cover of two boys curled around each other, not unlike how Qian woke to Yuan curled around him sometimes. Except they aren't nestled in blades of grass. They aren't in a romance novel, period.
This book -- it's not what Qian expected. There's a lot of questioning, a lot of longing, and so much ache. Is this what Yuan had felt? Is maybe still feeling? All of this ache for him? But the boys do get a happily ever after, a kiss and fade to black.
Romance. Qian isn't good with that. But- flowers, right? People do flowers.
On a whim, he buys a bouquet on the way home, placing the vase it came with in Yuan's room. Too much? He moves it out to the living room downstairs. Which isn't right either. Like it's not for Yuan. He's taking it back upstairs when Yuan comes home.
"What's that?"
Qian gulps. Shit. He didn't expect to be explaining this. "Flowers."
"Who gave it to you?"
Qian looks at the pout on that mouth, its slight downturn, and sighs. "No one. I brought it." He goes to tap the flowers against that stubborn head but Yuan intercepts him, taking the vase from him.
"They're nice." Yuan sniffs them, frown turned completely upside down now, and smiles at him, cheeky and radiant. "Thank you."
Qian can't even say they're not for you. He nods, curt, awkward, and turns away to see about dinner.
He looks into dramas next. There are so many, a whole subgenre of them. Some of them have kissing scenes that make him blush and flush all hot under his collars. So that's one thing confirmed -- he's gay too, or at least bi? He's attracted to men. It's not just Yuan frying his systems.
Although Yuan does continue to fry his systems, giving him time, giving him too much space and then too little.
The movie they're watching right now isn't even romance. It's- Barbies? And rising above the patriarchy. And dance numbers. And horses?
Anyway, Qian's getting it slowly. He's been in this box all his life, this box that says he needs to find a nice woman and settle down with her and make some babies. And it's so much bullshit.
What happens to love and following your heart and to thine own self be true?
Qian's watching Yuan's face in the blue light from the screen, smelling his shampoo and feeling the warmth of the night and the muscles and the familiarity.
The kiss to Yuan's cheek takes them both aback.
Yuan turns to him, all big eyes and fast breathing. "Wei Qian?"
Qian sees so much love there, all the devotion he's been feeling up till now. And he kisses him again. On the other cheek this time as he cups Yuan's face. "Okay?"
Yuan stares at his lips, thumbs it gently, and looks up at him. "Okay?" He parrots back.
The blink and nod feels like the hardest thing Qian has ever done, has ever allowed himself to do.
And then they're kissing, both leaning into it, wanting, seeking, not at all like that cursed kiss from years ago. This is Yuan's hands framing his face, on his chin and in his hair, cradling him like he's the most precious thing. This is Qian sighing, opening his mouth for more. Just more.
They end up horizontal, Yuan settled between his legs, kissing him and kissing him. And Qian never thought- well, he never thought beyond this. This is already so much. He feels himself harden as Yuan tongues him down, and tries to shift away before Yuan notices.
But oh, Yuan's also-
Yuan breaks away from his mouth, his own mouth red and his eyes wild. "Can I?"
And Qian has no idea what Yuan's even asking. Can he what? But he knows the answer is yes. He nods again, blushing with it, with how much he wants.
Yuan tugs his t-shirt off and then works on Qian's and oh. Okay. Right. The first press of Yuan's lips to his neck is almost ticklish and he jumps, almost quits this altogether. But then Yuan presses harder, sucks. And oh. Oh, fuck.
Yuan grinds down against him and groans, making this absolutely obscene sound that Qian's never heard before. For as many times as they've innocently slept together, Yuan's never-
It's never-
Shit.
Qian can't believe he's arching up, needing more, more contact, more Yuan. He's almost embarrassed when Yuan grabs his leg and hitches him up even higher, better, so they're rocking against each other as Yuan goes back to sucking on his mouth, on his tongue, on his neck.
"Wei Qian. Please, let me."
And Qian's dizzy. So far gone from just this that his mind is blank. "Yuan," he cradles his face. I love you, he wants to say. Hasn't said it so far. Hasn't said it to anyone.
Yuan kisses him, soft, sweet, and says it for him. "I love you. I know you love me too. Your face isn't hard to read, you know, when I've been reading you all my life."
"Not all of your life!" Qian protests.
"All of my life that matters. Wei Qian, you are my life."
And what can Qian say to that? He tugs Yuan down to kiss his reply into him, fiercely, thoroughly.
This time when Yuan detaches from his mouth, his eyes are hooded over, and he looks nervous but determined. Nervously determined. And Qian finds it really inconvenient that Yuan's this cute right now. They're in the middle of- of- this.
But then Yuan's scooting down the sofa and undoing Qian's zipper and Qian's assessment of him goes from cute to hot in an inhale. Yuan's caressing him, smoothing hands down his thighs and hips, like this whole undressing business is just another way to flirt, all hands, all hands on deck.
Qian lifts up when Yuan taps his ass. It's embarrassing how fast he responds. But well, he's beyond needy right now. Been worked up for the past half hour with the hottest kisses of his life.
Then Yuan tries to settle back down. "Wait! You too." He can't be the only naked one in the room. If they're doing this, then Yuan's- it's got to be fair is the thing.
Only, Qian didn't think about it, how Yuan would be hard too, bouncing as he steps out of his shorts.
The sight nearly does him in. He gulps.
Yuan steps closer, kneels, bringing them skin to skin, and Qian buzzes from the warm shock of it, how soft and hard Yuan is, aching for him too.
"I don't have anything," Yuan says. "But I want to make you feel good." He slides down and down and down until his mouth is right next to Qian's dick. "Okay?"
Qian is decidedly not okay. This isn't- Doesn't the hand stuff go before the-
"What about you?" He blurts instead.
Yuan smirks at him. "Believe me, this is for me too." And the way he looks at Qian's cock then, like it's a delicacy, makes him blush, makes his skin break out in goosebumps.
"Gorgeous," Yuan says right before he steadies it with a hand and flicks his tongue out for a taste.
Fuck. Qian crosses an arm over his eyes. He can't-
"Wei Qian," Yuan licks him again, longer this time, like he's a lollipop. "Do you like this?"
Qian nods, still hiding. He can't- he can't last if this boy keeps mouthing off.
But then Yuan really does bring his whole mouth down on him, sucking him in and then again. The tight wet heat of him feels incredible, better than Qian's own hands have ever been. It drags a moan out of him, involuntary, loud. Fuck.
But Yuan laughs around him, happy about it, probably smug. And Qian decides it's fine. It's better than fine. He peeks out from under his arm and Yuan's staring right at him, still sucking.
Shit.
Yuan blinks and smiles around him, and the sight of it, how happy Yuan looks, almost does it for him. Qian's toes curl and he shifts, trying to be respectful and not shove forward.
Only, Yuan brackets his hips with his hands and does it for him. C'mon, his eyes say when Qian makes eye contact.
"You-"
Yuan hums around him and Qian's only human. His hips jerk of their own accord and then he's riding out the rhythm Yuan's hands are encouraging, shifting closer and closer to the point of no return.
"Wei Zhiyuan!" He calls out, trying to pull away before he comes.
But Yuan stays stubbornly on him, sucking even harder. When Qian spies Yuan's hand on himself, jerking off to the same rhythm, he loses it.
Yuan really does like this, all of this, all of him.
Qian's overwhelmed by it, by everything. He can only pet at Yuan's back as Yuan settles back down on him after cleaning them up. His hands linger, smoothing up and down the spine of him, and pulls him in flush.
Yuan burrows into him, the curve of his smile wet against Qian's neck, and Yuan doesn't have to say anything. Qian hears it all anyway: thank you. I love you. To the moon and back.