au where wwx is strapped for cash so his friend nhs quietly informs him that they're looking for nude models for the life drawing classes the local arts centre runs for over 60s and wwx is like "great! old people! no risk of it being weird!" until he meets the very hot teacher

i think wwx would probably not be a stranger to modelling bc nhs has done photography with him but he's never had to do it nude before and he's nervous about that and then he's extra nervous when he walks in and lwj comes up like "here is a single drape for you to wear"

lwj would make sure he's super comfy though (he has been teaching this class for some time and it's pretty run of the mill for him now—granted, the models are usually not hot young wwx with a badonker of an ass—so he knows about making sure he's warm, feeling okay, hydrated, etc)

but the whole time bless him wwx would be so aware of the tall, quiet man walking between the students, glancing up at him with a critical eye every so often, making soft comments, and then standing back while they continue to draw and his gaze... lingering...

there is A Lot of eye contact going on and it's only the fact that there are a bunch of old ladies currently drawing his ass that stops him from popping a boner right there in the middle of the class

they only need wwx to pose for them for like 3 weeks but each time lwj is there and each time he is watching wwx just as intently as the people actually drawing him

and then the 3 weeks are up and wwx is getting dressed behind a curtain after the last class and people are filtering out and he pops his head out of his sweater and lwj is there, in front of him, almost behind the curtain with him, and wwx is like

and lwj looks him up and down and says very steadily, "are you available for private modelling?" and wwx, dry-mouthed, still halfway out of his sweater, having never posed "privately" for anyone before let alone the hottest man he's ever met, immediately finds himself saying yes

so lwj gives him a location and time and it could maybe be a little bit shady were it not for the fact that wwx knows lwj is a proper professional artist and that he knows nhs somehow and it's all probably fine. and he gets very stressed/excited/nervous about it all week

and he goes to the place and it's on this big gorgeous walled complex that he's only ever driven past and they have a porter at the door and a huge multicar garage and wwx is like O_O oh he's RICH. and he gets shown through to a little standalone studio looking over a pond

and here is lwj, looking much different than the usual well-kept, neat teacher he's seen at the centre—he's in long, loose overalls with paint smudges over the hips from where he's wiped his hands, and bare feet, and his hair in a braid to keep it out of the way

it all feels very different now that he's in what is clearly lwj's own studio, in his space, to pose for him specifically, and wwx's stomach is awash with butterflies. lwj has a canvas set up and paints and a large, shabby-chic armchair positioned beautifully in a shaft of sun

they both stand there a bit awkwardly, until wwx goes, "how do you want me?" and realises how that sounds and blushes harder. but lwj just gestures at the chair and says, "you may wear as much or as little as you like."

WELL. wwx strips out of his sweater. and then looks at lwj, setting up his stool by his canvas, and strips out of his shirt too. he's wearing docs and ripped skinny jeans and he thinks—maybe he would look hotter if he just—if he didn't—

so wwx lounges in the chair with the button of his jeans popped, the fly just a little way down, and a leg over one arm. he's trying not to feel stiff and trying to relax and trying not to think too hard about lwj's eyes on his body. he's here to model and just model, thank yOU

once lwj starts painting it's easier, and he can let his eyes slip shut and sink deeper into the chair (it's very comfy) and enjoy the warmth of the sun. it's actually very nice. and then lwj clears his throat and says, "can you look at me?"

wwx mentally shakes himself awake & tips his chin so that he's looking in lwj's direction. he's very easy to look at. wwx could look at him for hours and hours and hours. he thinks lwj enjoys looking at him too, the way his gaze keeps catching before flicking back to the canvas

after some time, lwj puts down his brush. "i think i would like—hm." he crosses the room to wwx, and oh boy, wwx is suddenly looking up at him from below. lwj reaches out and stops with his fingers a hair's breadth from wwx's chin. "open your mouth a little?"

wwx doesn't hesitate. lwj's fingers brush his chin. "good," he says. "just a little. relax your jaw."

wwx thinks he might die, like this, caught under lwj's gaze with his hand so close to his lips and his direction holding him gently into place. his breath is coming shorter.

lwj must notice it too, because he glances down wwx's body and back up, and wwx really hopes the fact that he's slowly getting hard just from being looked at is not evident. lwj lingers, just a moment longer than would be—well, nothing happening here is particularly conventional.

he returns to his canvas. wwx tells his dick to chill out. it does not listen to him.

the sun starts to dip, the light changing, and wwx is getting—restless. he's been in one position for so long he's starting to go numb, and that's definitely not sexy. he needs—he needs.

"lan zhan," he says, because he should tell him if he's no longer comfortable—but he doesn't get any further than that, because when lwj meets his gaze it's with such intensity it feels like he's been punched in the gut. "oh."

the room is very quiet. wwx's skin feels like it is buzzing. lwj sets his brush down, and the click of wood against wood resonates like a lock being slid into place. wwx sits up slowly, loose hair slipping over the bare skin of his shoulder, and wets his lips. "lan zhan—"

lwj crosses the distance between the easel and the chair in three big strides, throws a leg over wwx's lap, and pins his wrists to it.

"oh my god," wwx whispers.

"is this okay?" lwj asks.

"oh my god," wwx repeats, and nods furiously. "yes, yes, holy shit, oh my god—"

lwj kisses him, hot, fierce, demanding. he pushes wwx back into the chair and *takes*. wwx is helpless but to give. he whimpers into it, gasps as the slick warmth of lwj's tongue brushes against his own, the clack of their teeth, the mingling of breath, the press of him.

he moans as they slide down lower into the chair, lwj's hand exploring the bare skin of his bicep, his chest, his stomach. pressing over where he's straining against his boxers, making his hips buck, sending them both sliding right off and onto the floor.

wwx ends up straddling lwj, arching his hips down to thrust them against his, and lwj makes some noise in the back of his throat and rolls them, pinning wwx again and going straight in for his neck. his teeth are sharp, wwx discovers, and the pain goes straight to his dick.

he gasps, bucking up again, but lwj is already dragging his mouth down his throat, over his collarbone, down his sternum. wwx whines and rocks his hips up again, seeking friction, and lwj growls and slams a forearm across his waist. "wei ying," he says. "patience."

"lan zhan, ah, please, i need, i want—"

it does not take long to get exactly what he wants. lwj wastes no time in pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to let his cock spring free, smearing precome against his stomach, and licking a broad line up the underside.

"fuck! ah, lan zhan, that's—"

"you have no idea," lan zhan says, his lips brushing over the soft skin of wwx's dick. "how hard it was not to simply throw all the students out and bend you over the stool in that classroom."

the words send heat flaring under wwx's skin. "you—"

"mn?"

"ah, lan zhan. you really—you were eyefucking me over the old ladies' heads. very inappropriate. i should have known what would happen when you asked—oh, *fuck*—"

lwj's clever mouth quite effectively stops any further train of thought that is not wet, hot, suction.

wwx's orgasm is like a stampede; an echo in the distance, and then on him, all at once, all-consuming. he bucks his hips up under lwj's hold and presses his head back into the floor and lets out some truly embarrassing noises, very grateful for the quiet privacy of lwj's studio.

"oh, holy fuck," he gasps as lwj's leans back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "c'mere."

they kiss, languid and filthy, the taste of come between their lips, and wwx slides a hand inside the dip of lwj's overalls and down to his heavy cock. "holy shit, babe, wow."

lwj doesn't say anything, merely huffs a laugh into his neck, and together they get him out of the overalls and his underwear and—yeah. holy shit. an artist who is both rich AND hung? wwx is going to owe nhs many, many favours for this one.

lwj ruts against him with his teeth around wwx's jugular and a hand in wwx's hair, holding him tight to the floor, and comes with a bone-shuddering gasp, going heavy and loose on top of wwx. after a moment, he rolls off with a groan, and they both stare at the arched ceiling.

"private modelling, huh," wwx says, teasing. lwj's hand twitches in his.

"i assure you that my interest was purely artistic." he turns his head to meet wwx's eye. "mostly artistic." wwx raises an eyebrow. "hm. conveniently motivated?"

wwx smirks at him. "uhuh. sure."

lwj shifts onto an elbow, looming over him a little. "i will pay you, of course."

wwx sits up. "you don't—"

"wei ying. it is not a question."

wwx can sense when pursuing something is a dead end. he huffs. "fine. but maybe you would let me... privately model for you again?"

lwj sits up too, his ears all blushy and pink. it's cute. "i would like that very much," he says.

"okay. cool. great. cool. um. maybe... this evening? now? in—would the angle be interesting if i were on a bed?"

lwj's lips twitch. "i think now is the perfect time to find out."

// THE END yay thank you for indulging me especially considering this is probably not realistic AT ALL lol i know nothing about life modelling but HEY. that's what fic is for. i love you all! <3 bedtime soon