Fantasy crumbled into reality. The man between his legs now was both Xiaokai and Xingyu, he was Weiran’s best friend, he was his best friend’s little brother—he was his best friend who would never look at him that way and the little brother who he fucked in his free time—he was—

“Xingyu—god—”

That familiar monster slid him deeper into his mouth. His fingers were digging bruises into Weiran’s hips to pull him closer as if he was desperate that Weiran not move, as if Weiran would be capable of such a thing now.

“S-stop—I’m going to—”

The heat was suddenly gone, then a voice in his ear again—“How do you feel about being bottom, Weiran?”

Those fantasies that consumed him for all those years consumed Weiran’s mind in an instant—Xingyu holding him by the back of his neck and drilling into him with a force that made Weiran scream, Xingyu’s grip dimpling into his skin as he held him in place.

“Y—y—yes—ahh—”

A laugh. Xingyu pushed him onto his stomach. “Get your ass up.” The authority in his voice made Weiran shiver. He rutted into the mattress, trying to ease the pressure that had been building, but a hand stopped him.

“I told you to get your ass up.”

He’d never been on the bottom before. All the casual hook-ups—he’d just gone for the top because it was easier, faster, and most people hanging out in bars had something specific in mind anyway. Since coming to the city, it had been the same assumption. He didn’t know—

Xingyu arranged Weiran for him, pushing his knees to his chest, his ass in the air. His cock hanged, untouched, between himself and the mattress, but he didn’t know how to maneuver one of his hands to touch himself without losing his balance.

“X—Xingyu—”

Xingyu peppered his back with soft butterfly kisses. “Relax,” he murmured, and then Weiran felt something entirely foreign—wet and hot again, but it was just at the end of his spine and then it was going downward.

“Oh—fuck—fuck—”

Xingyu’s tongue was inside him, and then it wasn’t, and then it was, and then it was circling just around, teasing, and then it was inside him again. A sound came out of the back of Weiran’s throat that he didn’t recognize, high-pitched and whining. He grabbed onto the nearest pillow and bit into it to muffle whatever sound was coming next.

“Are you ready?”

Weiran nodded into the pillow.

Something opened behind him, closed. “You know the rules. Say it out loud.”

“I’m—I’m ready.”

Xingyu’s finger slid through the ring of muscle. The pain was hot and immediate. Weiran’s entire body shuddered. “Relax.” Xingyu’s mouth moved against Weiran’s skin as he spoke. “Good boy.”