thinking about modern wangxian first meeting at a party when lwj accidentally walks in on wwx bending someone over a pool table in the cellar
“xiongzhang, I want to go home.”
“...alright. you should at least say goodbye to the host.”
“I don’t know him.”
“still, it’s his birthday event. you were invited.”
“through mutual friends—“
“wangji, just say goodbye to him, won’t you? I believe he went down to the cellar earlier”
lan zhan clutches his red plastic cup of water as he walks down the steps into the dim cellar area. an abandoned game room greets him, TV dark on the wall. from the next door room, there’s noise.
the introvert in him wants deeply to turn around and head home—but he had promised. not letting himself ponder any longer, he tightens his mouth, swinging the door open.
the boy in question—wei wuxian, the rowdy guy in class, known troublemaker, stupidly attractive, annoying wei ying—has his pants shoved down to his thighs. his hand is in the hair of a man lan zhan doesn’t know, shoving his face into the surface of a pool table. lan zhan stills.
“yeah. like that?” wei ying breathes. he’s panting, fucking the man in jolts across the table. it rattles against the concrete floor. “you want it like that?”
the door is half open before him. lan zhan finds himself watching. just...standing there, cup in his hand, lips parted, brows frowning slightly, eyes glued to the way wei wuxian’s hips snap—sending sharp smacks echoing against the bare walls.
going from barely knowing this man to witnessing him pound someone in a cellar, a thousand impressions hit lwj like a slap in the face. the dark hair he can barely glimpse by his belly, glistening with damp. the expression wwx wears while topping; smug and furious and focused.
the way baby hairs plaster to his forehead with sweat—it’s chilly down here, but then he is wearing a hoodie that looks quite too large for him. the way he fucks the stranger with an /intent/, similar to how he gets in a competition, hell-bent on winning.
now, lan zhan is a polite and upstanding man. he doesn’t eavesdrop or spy on people. but he also knows himself and his desires. as he stands there, helplessly caught, he feels a strange mix of resignation, guilt and deeply rooted arousal.
it’s true that he barely knows wei wuxian. he’s a stranger who happens to share some classes with him, really. but lan zhan watches him in the act with a surging enjoyment, unable to stop himself from wishing it was himself that was currently having his face shoved into baize.
lan zhan is no innocent virgin—well, he is a virgin—but he does watch porn sometimes, and he owns sex toys. however, witnessing such an explicit act being performed right in front of him leaves him almost dizzy with the need to know what it feels like to be split open by wwx.
it needs to be him. it needs to be this particular fantasy, painted out in front of him so vividly it aches in his gut.
his throat feels desert dry, so he sips his water, gaze on wwx. he’s quite sure he doesn’t make any noise, but wwx’s eyes lift almost lazily, meeting lan zhan’s above the rim of his cup. then he smiles a little, somewhere between amused and shockingly sweet. “hello” he mouths
wei wuxian doesn’t stop his thrusting—if anything, he leans in, goes harder, with more emphasis. and lan zhan doesn’t turn away. he grows warm, all over, skin and guts, but he is already caught. they keep their eye contact, lwj’s hand slowly crinkling the hard plastic of his cup.
“yeah, you do like that,” wwx continues, but somehow lwj knows it’s meant for him. “you’re SO into this, aren’t you? that’s filthy, hah!”
the man below him moans in confirmation, and wwx’s eyes snap down to him before returning to lwj. he seems so /amused/. lwj burns
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