Ye Xiu pushed Zhang Jiale backwards without breaking the kiss. Probably that was easier for Ye Xiu, anyway, since he was stepping forwards instead. Zhang Jiale clutched his jacket, trusting that Ye Xiu knew what he was doing, too busy drinking in Ye Xiu’s horribly-competent tongue and the mints that almost hid the smell-taste of cigarettes.
They hadn’t done this for years, between first Zhang Jiale’s abandonment of Hundred Blossoms and then Ye Xiu’s forced exit from Excellent Era. It made this feel like the first time again, the same thrum of excitement dancing between their bodies as when Ye Xiu had kissed Zhang Jiale breathless after All-Stars in season three.
Back then they’d been able to sneak off during Excellent Era’s post-match interviews for too-quick adrenaline-fueled fucks. Now, they both had to be present with their teams, so they’d waited until they were back at the hotel. Which, to be fair, they’d sometimes done back then anyway, just because they wanted more time together. Other than the lack of arena makeouts, Zhang Jiale didn't think there was much difference. Han Wenqing had even laughed in the same fondly exasperated way Sun Zheping had done seven years ago.
Zhang Jiale thudded against a wall. “Hey, lao-Ye,” Zhang Jiale gasped, because Ye Xiu had given him the space for it, backing up to tug at Zhang Jiale’s clothes instead. “Is that why you never wanted me to call you Ye Qiu?” He’d thought about it ever since Ye Xiu’s name had come out. He’d never bothered asking; this wasn’t a question to ask in text.
Ye Xiu snorted. He unzipped Zhang Jiale’s Tyranny jacket, slid his fingers beneath Zhang Jiale’s shirt, pushed up to skim across his ribs and to his chest. “I do prefer being called my own name by the person I’m fucking.”
Zhang Jiale laughed. “Aiya, lao-Ye, it’s not like that!” Then he groaned, because Ye Xiu pinched his nipples. “Fuck, yeah, okay. What’re we doing?”
“Winner's choice.” Ye Xiu squeezed Zhang Jiale’s chest, which didn’t feel much like he was following that rule when Tyranny had beaten Happy today. “But you don’t sound like you have a preference.”
“You’re having way too much fun.” Zhang Jiale grabbed Ye Xiu’s ass, pulled him forward until their hips met and he could grind against Ye Xiu through too many layers. “Make me feel good, lao-Ye.” Some other day he might care more; right now, he was caught up in having Ye Xiu again. “I trust you.”
Ye Xiu smiled at him. The weary lines on his face—new, unsurprising—softened as Ye Xiu’s eyes crinkled up. He leaned forward, brushed a kiss across Zhang Jiale’s lips, said, “Get naked, Jiale.”
“You too,” Zhang Jiale said immediately. They’d talked, during their respective breaks from the pro league, about how easy they found it to take on too much and forget to take care of themselves.
“Then hurry up and help.” Ye Xiu’s hands were already under Zhang Jiale’s shirt; it was easy for him to draw them up further, pulling it over Zhang Jiale’s head. His jacket fell to the floor too, and Zhang Jiale cursed and laughed as he found spaces in Ye Xiu’s rhythm—always driving forward, always controlling his space, even outside the game—to retaliate and undo Ye Xiu’s trousers and shove them towards the ground.
Their movement towards the bed was smooth, their actions coordinated despite the passage of years, and they marked their path with discarded clothes. They might be making a mess, but Zhang Jiale didn’t care; he only had eyes for the way Ye Xiu watched him, avid and hungry, and the way Zhang Jiale’s own hands could rest once more on Ye Xiu’s skin.
Zhang Jiale pushed Ye Xiu down onto the bed, and Ye Xiu tumbled back easily. “Do you have opinions after all?” Ye Xiu asked. He spread his legs, an invitation, his arousal clear for Zhang Jiale to see. “I’m happy to oblige.”
Every single time Ye Xiu said ‘Happy’ these days, Zhang Jiale wanted to roll his eyes. But this wasn’t the time for that, not when he could kneel and say, “I wanna blow you.”
Ye Xiu’s hands settled in Zhang Jiale’s hair. He tightened his fingers—trust Ye Xiu to remember exactly how much tension Zhang Jiale liked—and pulled Zhang Jiale towards his crotch. “Yeah,” Ye Xiu said, hips tilting up to meet him. “Yeah, do that.”
It had taken years of intermittent post-game hook-ups before Ye Xiu had been comfortable enough for Zhang Jiale to take his cock like this. Oh, Ye Xiu had fucked his face before then—dick sliding in and out of Zhang Jiale’s mouth until he was almost choking on it—but that was different. Like this, Zhang Jiale could taste the sweat on his thighs and drink in his wetness.
Zhang Jiale grabbed Ye Xiu’s hips, shrugged Ye Xiu’s legs over his shoulders, and followed the insistent pressure on his scalp until he could wrap his lips around Ye Xiu’s cock.
Ye Xiu’s pleased sigh was all the encouragement Zhang Jiale needed. He’d missed this. The tension in Ye Xiu’s thighs as he licked and kissed and sucked. The way Ye Xiu’s back arched when Zhang Jiale flicked his tongue against the head of his cock. The flow of directions and praise from Ye Xiu’s mouth, easy and unbroken, telling Zhang Jiale exactly what he needed to do. The sweetness of the slick coating Zhang Jiale’s chin, the trust of Ye Xiu panting, “Fingers, Jiale—”
Zhang Jiale changed his angle so he could keep his mouth on Ye Xiu’s cock while he sunk two fingers into the heat and wetness of Ye Xiu’s opening. Ye Xiu groaned, deep and guttural in his chest, and the sound resonated into Zhang Jiale’s mouth and clenched around his hand. Zhang Jiale whined, his own cunt fluttering in sympathetic desire. Soon, he told himself. I’ll get his dick soon.
“Jiale,” Ye Xiu gasped. He was trembling, muscles taut and voice finally breaking. “Fucking touch me, Jiale.”
“Yeah,” Zhang Jiale said, before Ye Xiu tugged him back down, filling his mouth with cock once more. His nose was smushed into Ye Xiu’s pubes like this, his mouth wide and open for Ye Xiu’s twitching hips to thrust into, breath coming fast and thin and full of nothing but Ye Xiu.
Zhang Jiale slowly moved his fingers in Ye Xiu. He wasn’t going to fuck Ye Xiu; that wasn’t what this was about. He just liked hearing Ye Xiu moan and curse as Zhang Jiale arranged his fingers to press into his pleasure, circling the rough inner base of his cock. Ye Xiu’s abs trembled against him. Ye Xiu’s hands clenched in his hair. Ye Xiu’s thrusts quickened and turned erratic against his tongue.
Ye Xiu came with a gasp more than a cry. He tightened around Zhang Jiale, still for a moment and then spreading out, liquid in his release as Zhang Jiale lapped at the come leaking from his body, gentling him through the aftershocks.
When Ye Xiu caught his breath enough to say, “Come here,” Zhang Jiale stood—knees creaking more than he liked but it was worth it to have knelt for Ye Xiu—and clambered onto the bed beside him. Arousal still sung through his body, bright but not urgent, not when Ye Xiu was melting into him and licking his own come off Zhang Jiale’s face.
Zhang Jiale wrapped Ye Xiu up in his arms, pulling him up and over until he lay on his back with Ye Xiu draped on top of him, face buried in Zhang Jiale’s shoulder. “Got you,” Zhang Jiale said, teeth scraping on Ye Xiu’s throat. He loved Ye Xiu like this, relaxed and loose and quiet for once in the aftermath of his pleasure. He loved Ye Xiu loud and teasing too, but this was special, more private, and impossible to feel through text or the exchange of blows in a game.
Ye Xiu sighed at his touch and turned his head to give Zhang Jiale a lazy kiss. For the first few, Zhang Jiale restrained himself from pushing for more, but then Ye Xiu’s tongue pushed into his mouth. Zhang Jiale sucked on it for a moment, whining, before Ye Xiu pulled back with a laugh.
“Lao-Ye,” Zhang Jiale said—begged, really—as he arched his back to keep contact with Ye Xiu. “I want you to fuck me. Can you do that? Do I need to wait longer?”
Ye Xiu grinned at him, eyes bright beneath the hair sticking to his forehead, and pressed his leg into Zhang Jiale’s crotch. Zhang Jiale groaned and rocked himself against Ye Xiu, all that need surging to the surface as Ye Xiu offered him the possibility of satisfying it.
“We’re not so young anymore,” Ye Xiu said, not that his actions seemed to reflect the thought at all. He sat up, hands braced on Zhang Jiale’s chest, and squeezed. Zhang Jiale moaned, head falling back, hands tangling in the covers Ye Xiu had already mussed. “You want to be fucked like this, Jiale?” Ye Xiu asked, slowly loosening his grip to instead gently twist Zhang Jiale’s nipples between his fingers “Or are you riding my dick tonight?”
“Yes,” Zhang Jiale said, because he couldn’t think past the rub of his cock on Ye Xiu’s leg and the sweet arousal rising from his chest, through his ribs, and pooling at his core. “However you want, lao-Ye, so long as you’re in me.”
“Stay here,” Ye Xiu ordered. He gave Zhang Jiale one last kiss before rising and going over to where his stuffed backpack spilled onto the floor. Zhang Jiale watched, running his fingers over his own body, teasing his nipples before brushing down his stomach and across his hips to the sensitive—and sticky—skin of his inner thighs. He wouldn’t touch his cock or dip fingers into his cunt; that wouldn’t be following the unspoken rules they’d decided upon long ago. But anything else was fair game, and he liked to keep desire dancing across his skin.
It wasn’t hard to stay horny, anyway, not when Ye Xiu was strapping on his dick and its harness. There were other ways to wear a dick, ones that might not be as obvious, but Ye Xiu liked this one and Zhang Jiale enjoyed seeing the clear black lines wrapping around Ye Xiu’s hips and thighs. The dick jutting out was thick and familiar, and Zhang Jiale’s cunt pulsed in anticipation. Maybe that was why he said, unthinking, “Did I tell you that last season I’d fuck myself after matches and think of you?”
Ye Xiu paused in tightening the harness and looked over. In the hotel’s yellow-tinged light, he looked haunted, all pale skin and dark hair. “You didn’t.”
“It was strange to play a season and not have sex with you during it.” Zhang Jiale sat up, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. He hadn’t meant to make this weird. He’d just been thinking about pleasure, and how much better it felt to have someone else pounding into him than to use a dildo on himself. “I’m glad we’re back to this.”
“If you’d asked—” Ye Xiu shook his head, cutting himself off. “Xiao-Le.”
“Lao-Ye.” Zhang Jiale didn’t want to pursue those emotions right now. Much easier to part his legs and draw Ye Xiu’s attention there as he asked, “How do you want to fuck me?”
Ye Xiu studied him, a smile growing on his face as he approached. “If I told you to get on your hands and knees, would you?”
Zhang Jiale tilted his head. “I like being able to see you.” Still, he rose to his knees and turned, resting his elbows on the bed and his forehead on his hands. “But yeah, okay, fuck me hard, lao-Ye.”
Ye Xiu stepped between his legs and Zhang Jiale felt the cool tip of Ye Xiu’s dick brush against his ass. “Are you wet enough for me?” he asked, fingers dipping down. Slowly, softly, they slipped through Zhang Jiale’s folds and gently dipped inside. Zhang Jiale tilted his hips to make it easier for him, already breathing heavily. Fuck, it’d been too long since he’d let someone else fuck him. He’d been busy running away, then integrating into Tyranny, and then—
Well, maybe he was a bit more hung up on Ye Xiu than he liked admitting.
“I missed you too,” Ye Xiu said as he drew his fingers away. Zhang Jiale looked at him, upside down and framed through Zhang Jiale’s spread legs. He wasn’t avoiding those emotions, which meant Zhang Jiale probably couldn’t get away with it either now. Ye Xiu stroked his dick until it glistened with Zhang Jiale’s own slick. “It might’ve been part of why I asked you to join Happy.”
Zhang Jiale groaned. Partially it was the image, but mostly it was— “Would you fuck me after every match if I were on your team?”
“Yeah.” Ye Xiu pressed forward, guiding his dick into Zhang Jiale. “I would.”
The gentleness of his voice, especially in contrast to the solid force of his dick, caught in Zhang Jiale’s throat. He made a noise—a whimper, a sob—as Ye Xiu filled him. Ye Xiu’s dick was the same size as Zhang Jiale’s own dildo. Zhang Jiale knew that. He may have put a lot of thought into that. Ye Xiu’s dick always felt more intense anyway, because of the lack of control, the feeling of Ye Xiu’s hands holding him steady and stroking his back, the way Ye Xiu himself made little sounds of pleasure.
The steady drag and slide of Ye Xiu’s dick lit Zhang Jiale up from the inside. Ye Xiu moved slowly, taking his time, and Zhang Jiale panted, spreading his legs wider in hopes of enticing Ye Xiu to speed up. “I’m not— Fuck, lao-Ye, you don’t need to be careful.”
“Why not?” Ye Xiu paused, dick deep in Zhang Jiale, and bent forward. “You’re precious, Jiale, and I should treat you properly.”
Zhang Jiale gasped, then moaned, as Ye Xiu kissed his spine and slid his hands around Zhang Jiale’s waist. His fingers caressed Zhang Jiale’s stomach, stroked up his ribs, and finished by lightly cupping Zhang Jiale’s chest. His palms hovered just close enough for Zhang Jiale’s nipples to brush them; his fingertips barely pressed against Zhang Jiale’s electrified skin. With every breath Zhang Jiale took, he touched himself to Ye Xiu’s hands for the briefest moment at full inhale before his exhale took it away again.
Ye Xiu stayed there, completely still, until Zhang Jiale desperately said, “Lao-Ye, please.”
“Please what?” Ye Xiu asked, the wind of his words almost cool against Zhang Jiale’s sweaty back.
“God, please, just move.” Zhang Jiale squirmed, rolling his hips and arching his back into Ye Xiu. “Fuck me, lao-Ye, please.”
“Since you’re asking so nicely.” Ye Xiu drew back, very slightly, and then slammed his hips forward at the same time as he grabbed Zhang Jiale’s chest.
Sensation burst across him—too good to be pain, too intense to be pleasure—and Zhang Jiale cried out. “Yeah,” he said, a groaning exhale as Ye Xiu’s dick thrust into him again. “Yeah, lao-Ye, please, keep going.”
Ye Xiu’s hands eased off, almost regretful in how they lingered on Zhang Jiale’s nipples before coming back to brace his hips. His dick kept moving, hard and deep, just as Zhang Jiale had asked. Ye Xiu was panting too now, leaning into Zhang Jiale with his thrusts, driving him into the bed.
Zhang Jiale worked one arm out from under his head—which was now buried in his elbow and the covers—so he could reach for his own cock. He didn’t have the coordination to jerk himself off, but he could leave his hand there so that each sway of his hips pushed his cock against his fingers, another cascade of arousal and pleasure spiderweb-shining across his skin.
“Jiale,” Ye Xiu said, ragged and in time with his motion. “You close, Jiale?”
“Let me—” Zhang Jiale broke off, moaning as Ye Xiu’s dick moved perfectly through him. He didn’t know how Ye Xiu could understand him, between the moans and the bed muffling his mouth. “God, yeah, fuck. Wanna kiss you, lao-Ye.”
Ye Xiu pulled out, hands still steady on Zhang Jiale’s hips. “Come sit on me, Jiale.”
Zhang Jiale groaned. He felt empty, needy, barely able to coordinate his body enough to crawl over to where Ye Xiu now sat against the headboard. Ye Xiu stroked himself, hand on his dick even though Zhang Jiale knew he wouldn’t be able to feel much from it. It didn’t matter. He was gorgeous like this, and his hips twitched into his hand, and Zhang Jiale wanted Ye Xiu to be touching him like that instead.
It felt like he crashed into Ye Xiu, hands on Ye Xiu’s shoulders as he brought their mouths together. Zhang Jiale didn’t even try to arrange himself on Ye Xiu’s dick; he just knelt over Ye Xiu’s lap so his cock could rut against Ye Xiu’s dick, Ye Xiu’s hand.
Ye Xiu licked into his mouth, hot and hungry, his free hand catching Zhang Jiale by the nape of his neck and holding him there. The hand on his dick reached for Zhang Jiale’s cock, too, and Zhang Jiale moaned as he rocked into Ye Xiu’s touch.
Ye Xiu jerked him off, rough and practiced. Zhang Jiale caught his rhythm and moved with it, moved into it, not caring about anything but the slide of skin, the way Ye Xiu bit down his neck and urged Zhang Jiale back until he could lick Zhang Jiale’s nipples. Zhang Jiale grabbed Ye Xiu’s chest too, let his thumbs rest on the familiar nearly-invisible scars arching across his skin and rubbed at them to make Ye Xiu shiver and curse.
“Come on, Jiale.” Ye Xiu’s mouth moved against Zhang Jiale’s chest, trailing from one side to the other. “Come for me, Jiale.”
Zhang Jiale whimpered, then shouted as Ye Xiu sucked on his nipple and pulled at his cock at the same time, throwing him over the edge as he clutched Ye Xiu and shook. Ye Xiu stroked him through his orgasm, every soft touch of his fingers sending another wave through Zhang Jiale’s core.
When Zhang Jiale finally whimpered and shifted away from Ye Xiu’s fingers, curling into his arms instead, Ye Xiu kissed his neck. “So good, Jiale,” he murmured. He stroked Zhang Jiale’s spine, fingers gentle and sticky. Then, as they’d only started consistently offering in the last year before their lives fell apart: “Stay the night?”
“Yeah.” Zhang Jiale nuzzled into Ye Xiu’s neck. This position wouldn’t be comfortable for long; Ye Xiu’s dick was jutting into his stomach, Zhang Jiale’s legs felt like they were going to cramp, and he was just enough taller than Ye Xiu that resting his head on Ye Xiu’s shoulder was awkward. Still, he didn’t yet want to move. Everything was warm and fuzzy around the edges. That was the only excuse for why he said, “I want to stay with you,” without thinking about all the other ways he meant the words.
Ye Xiu’s arms tightened around him. For a moment, Zhang Jiale thought he might say something equally mushy. Then, instead, “Shower first. Then you can flop on me all you’d like, Jiale.”
Zhang Jiale whined, more because he wanted to hear Ye Xiu’s fond laughter than anything else, but let himself topple backward to free Ye Xiu. “More kissing too?” he asked the ceiling. He was being needy. Whatever. This wasn’t a big ask.
Ye Xiu bent over him, eyes crinkled in a smile. “Of course,” he said, and laid a kiss on Zhang Jiale’s forehead. His hand caressed Zhang Jiale’s cheek, gentle and familiar, and Zhang Jiale kissed his fingers. “I want to kiss you whenever we’re together.”
“Even in the stadium?” His voice was muffled by Ye Xiu’s fingers. They slipped into his mouth around his words, and Zhang Jiale sucked at them, tasting himself.
Ye Xiu’s breath caught. “Yeah.” He drew his fingers back; Zhang Jiale chased them. “Even then.”
“What if you kissed me when the teams greeted each other?” Zhang Jiale looped his arms around Ye Xiu’s waist, catching him, holding him close. Ye Xiu was kneeling, taller than Zhang Jiale for once, so Zhang Jiale grinned up at him. This was a ridiculous line of reasoning. “Would you do that?”
Ye Xiu closed his eyes. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment. His hands came to rest on Zhang Jiale, one on his shoulder and the other stroking down his hair. “Do you want me to?”
Zhang Jiale sighed and pulled himself into Ye Xiu, head resting above Ye Xiu’s quick-beating heart. “I don’t know.” His hands latched onto Ye Xiu’s harness. “It’d be nice if you could.”
For a minute, Ye Xiu’s hands moved through Zhang Jiale’s hair, gently working to untangle it. Zhang Jiale tried not to tell himself that he was being ridiculous for hoping, but he was certain that if Ye Xiu didn’t want the same thing he would have said so by now.
But the tension was too much, and Zhang Jiale ended up saying, “Take it as a joke,” at the same time as Ye Xiu said, “I’d like that too.”
Zhang Jiale laughed, face squished into Ye Xiu’s chest. “Fuck, okay. Maybe not during this season? There’s more than enough going on with Happy for the media to chase as it is.”
“Then I’ll kiss you at the finals,” Ye Xiu said, and even laughing it sounded like a promise. He tilted Zhang Jiale’s face up, and now Zhang Jiale could see his face was covered by a blush. “Does that sound good to you, Jiale?”
“Yeah.” Zhang Jiale smiled at Ye Xiu, wonder and joy bubbling through him until they spilled over him in silver relief. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
Ye Xiu kissed him, sweet and soft. Zhang Jiale sighed into it, happy to relax into more kissing, but then Ye Xiu pulled away. “Shower,” he said, laughing at Zhang Jiale’s betrayed expression. “Clean off first, Jiale.”
“So cruel,” Zhang Jiale bemoaned, standing and squeezing his legs together for a moment. He could feel the pleasant ache of Ye Xiu’s fucking still. As Ye Xiu pushed him into the bathroom, he saw a hickey on his throat and more lining his chest. “You did miss me, didn’t you?” Zhang Jiale rubbed at the one on his neck, shaking his head. “I’m going to need to hide that.”
“You don’t need to.” Ye Xiu undid his harness, stuck his dick in the sink, and placed the webbing on the countertop. “Give your fans something to speculate about; it’s good for them.”
“You just want media buzz that you don’t need to deal with.” Zhang Jiale half-heartedly twisted his hair up onto his head. Untangling it after sex was always a trial. “Hey, lao-Ye. Since you messed my hair up, you should fix it.”
“Am I fixing it in the shower or after?” Ye Xiu asked, amused, as he drew Zhang Jiale into the shower and turned it on.
It was a tight fit with both of them in there—only one of them could really be under the spray at a time—but Zhang Jiale just took that as an excuse to wrap his arms around Ye Xiu and let his hair fall loose across his shoulders. “If you’re offering, then yeah, it’s easier when it’s wet.”
“You’re easier wet,” Ye Xiu retorted, and Zhang Jiale laughed as Ye Xiu maneuvered them until Zhang Jiale was under the showerhead. He leaned against Ye Xiu, content to stay there while Ye Xiu worked shampoo into his hair and slowly let water and his fingers loosen all the tangles until it flowed freely down his back.
Zhang Jiale relaxed into the sensations, even as Ye Xiu teased him for getting away with doing none of the work. “Just make me pretty, lao-Ye,” Zhang Jiale mumbled into Ye Xiu’s shoulder, where his head had come to rest.
Ye Xiu’s hands slowed. Then a kiss, onto Zhang Jiale’s ear, and the murmur of, “Being pretty won’t save you from losing, Jiale.”
“Who said anything about losing?” Zhang Jiale raised his head up so he could kiss Ye Xiu on his smirking mouth. “Pretty sure I’ve won your heart.”
A blush spread across Ye Xiu’s cheeks, harder to see in the shower’s steam but plenty clear to Zhang Jiale’s eyes. He didn’t protest, either, merely said, “Finish rinsing all the shampoo out, Jiale.”
Zhang Jiale grinned, did as Ye Xiu said, and then watched as his lover—partner? Boyfriend? There would be some word for them to share, surely—switched their places and tilted his own face up into the spray. He liked watching the way water trailed down Ye Xiu’s spine, following the smooth lines of his body. Ye Xiu spent so much time bundled in loose sweatpants and hoodies, taking no care for his appearance at all, but he was gorgeous underneath.
Almost nobody got to see this. Zhang Jiale squeezed water out of his hair and made absolutely no effort to hide how thoroughly he was admiring Ye Xiu. There wasn’t any point, especially since Ye Xiu was looking at the way Zhang Jiale’s raised arms highlighted the curves of his chest.
“Thought we weren’t doing anything in here,” Zhang Jiale said, stretching as lazy pleasure warmed his gut. “And if the point was to be nice and clean before sleep…”
Ye Xiu rolled his eyes and shut the water off. “We’ll have time in the morning, Jiale.”
“Oh.” Zhang Jiale almost tripped and caught himself on the wall. How strange and simple a thought, that they would both still be here when morning dawned. How much a difference that made, to allow the concept to sit in his heart. He straightened as Ye Xiu draped a towel around his shoulders. “Yeah,” Zhang Jiale said, though the syllable was useless in the face of the emotions taking flight in his ribs. “Okay. That’s great.”
Ye Xiu laughed at him, and that was okay too. They had this night, and the morning, and there would be many more days to come.