Work Text:
Meng Yao stumbles into his dorm room and manages not to trip over his own shoes, trying to remove his jacket with one hand and find his phone with the other.
He’s beat. He can handle all-nighters better than most, because he’s used to working two jobs after his classes, but even his body regrettably has limits. He had three deadlines on this thrice cursed day, and he nailed every single one of them: he expects those assignments will all be perfect or near-perfect scores. That wraps up the semester quite effectively… at the cost of every remaining ounce of his energy.
No big deal. He knows from past experience that if he takes care of his neglected bodily needs before the seventy-two hour mark, he’ll be good as new the next day.
His tried and true Emergency Plan for situations like these is always the same: a large vegetarian pizza, a lightspeed shower, and a quick wank followed by at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep.
He opens up a pizza app and types: “Need a 10 inch vegetarian inside me within 30 minutes, can you deliver to St. Christopher’s dorms, room 305?”
“Hello to you too!” He gets a few surprised emojis and a blushing emoji, which is kind of a weird reply from a pizza menu bot. Companies always try to be hip to appeal to young people nowadays.
“If you make it within 15 minutes I will make it worth your while. It’s an emergency,” he adds with voice dictation, because he has his shirt over his head trying to get out of his school clothes.
“On my way,” the bot pings. Then it sends… an eggplant emoji for the vegetarian pizza and a fire emoji for the oven, presumably.
15 minutes later, Meng Yao has barely gotten out of the shower when the doorbell rings. A male voice, muffled by the door, says with exaggerate cheer: “Your delivery’s here~!”
Meng Yao opens the door in wet hair and pajamas, and blinks blearily at the absurdly, unreasonably handsome delivery man.
He does not look like a delivery man; that is not to say there is anything wrong with delivery jobs (Meng Yao has done a few) but… for one, this guy should have been snapped up by a modeling agency on sight, and two, his clothes look like genuine brand stuff, sporty chic. Nothing you’d want to wear while delivering greasy boxes on a scooter.
“Hi, I made it in fifteen minutes,” the sexy hallucination says, and smiles a million dollar smile. “Can I come in?”
“Hi,” Meng Yao finally manages, ogling the man without his usual discretion. “Uh…”
“Lan Xichen,” the guy says, helpfully. “I’m… you know…” he looks down the hallway both ways, then lowers his voice with a slight blush: “the vegetarian you were expecting?”
It occurs to Meng Yao, far too late, that this man has no pizza box on his person.
It’s kind of hard to think straight with 36 hours of sleep debt and the beginnings of a hard-on, in Meng Yao’s defense. This guy is so gorgeous he finds himself wondering if he actually fell asleep face first on his pizza, and is dreaming up a computer-generated avatar compiled from all of his private fantasies - one who is currently leaning against his door frame, politely waiting to be invited in.
Meng Yao lifts one finger in a thin pretense of control. “One second.” He thumbs through his phone apps and his eyes widen. “Oh my god.”
In his delirious pizza haze, instead of Pizza Hut he’d opened up Grindr to a chat he’d had open in the background, where he’d been flirting with a local Adonis (who he’d thought for sure photoshopped himself) as a way to stay sane during finals.
He replays his messages in his head and feels the urge to whine like a chihuahua, but manages to bite it back so only a reedy sigh slips out. Pizza was not the object of this delivery. Dick was.
“Are you alright?” Lan Xichen asks, sounding a touch concerned.
What can he say? That he wasn’t expecting him to show up? That he thought he was ordering pizza? He would certainly be offended, or think Meng Yao was making fun of him.
“It’s just… you’re even more handsome in person,” Meng Yao manages. “My name is Meng Yao. Sorry, I just handed in three final assignments today, so I am not at my best–”
Lan Xichen furrows his fantastic eyebrows and nods. “If you’ve changed your mind, I would absolutely be willing to pick up our conversation another time! I don’t want to impose.”
The idea of letting Lan Xichen walk away without having sampled him sends all kinds of alarms through Meng Yao’s tired brain, jolting him into action. He finds himself half-yelling “No!” and grabbing him by the shirt, pulling him inside his room in a rush.
Lan Xichen goes easily, despite being half a foot taller and having the general silhouette of someone who hits the gym regularly. “Ok, ok,” he laughs, “I’m glad you haven’t changed your mind!”
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” Meng Yao assures, leaning into Lan Xichen’s pecs with an appreciative oomph; definitely not photoshopped.
Some kind of switch has flipped in his brain from “exhausted” to “manic”, and all his nervous energy is channeled into not letting this opportunity slip away. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” he smiles, flashing his dimples to their strongest setting.
“You did say it was an emergency,” Lan Xichen replies, with adorable seriousness undercut by a grin. “Can I kiss you?”
At Meng Yao’s nod, followed by a bitten lip, Lan Xichen leans in and nearly kisses the lights out of him. His tongue is luxurious, sweet, intoxicating. Not gentlemanly at all.
When he pulls back Meng Yao is panting, and involuntary grinding his hips against Lan Xichen’s jeans.
“What was your emergency, A-Yao? I can help,” Lan Xichen whispers along his jaw, trailing down the collarbone with his lips. The nickname makes Meng Yao swallow involuntarily.
“Oh,” Meng Yao hums, trying to maintain a casual tone. “I needed a treat. After all the hard work. I figured I had about an hour of lucidity before I fell asleep out of exhaustion, which is why it’s very… urgent.”
Lan Xichen beams at him: “Happy to treat you.”
Then he drops fluidly to a knee, pushing Meng Yao to sit back on his small bed. His large hands skirt the hem of Meng Yao’s pants, a thumb tugging on the elastic without slipping inside yet. “Please, tell me what you’d like me to do.”
Well, since he’s asking so nicely. “I want you to fuck me,” Meng Yao whispers, voice cracking with arousal and darkening with well-repressed shame. “with the disclaimer that I won’t be able to do a lot in return. But… but you can keep going, even if I’m—“
Lan Xichen presses a kiss on his stomach, effectively halting him. “Don’t worry about me; I’m here for you.”
That shouldn’t be as heartwarming as it is, especially for what is essentially a booty call, but tired, insensate Meng Yao almost wants to cry at how good that sounds.
“Okay,” he gasps, hitching a leg up on Lan Xichen’s shoulder. “Okay then. I want you to fuck me unconscious.”
Lan Xichen’s eyes widen, then darken intently. At Meng Yao’s indication, he reaches for the lube and condoms in the nightstand without moving from his kneeling position, and it’s all Meng Yao can do to observe the extension of his shoulder and arm muscles with badly concealed hunger.
It seems like Lan Xichen has taken him seriously on the urgency of the situation, because he has Meng Yao’s cock in his mouth and his fingers in his hole in a matter of moments, working him over with extreme efficiency. Meng Yao grabs a fistful of his hair and presses his hand on his own mouth, knowing full well that the walls are thin.
Between half-whispered swears and punched out gasps, he arches through a first orgasm on Lan Xichen’s fingers and spills into his plush mouth, deliriously wondering how he got so fucking lucky.
When Lan Xichen stands to unzip his own pants, Meng Yao cracks one eye open and forces himself to fight off the boneless daze, because he built up quite the expectations for the main course and he sure as hell won’t miss it.
So much better than pizza, Meng Yao thinks, hysterically. Before he loses the last crumb of his sanity, he urges Lan Xichen on: “Gege, get in me, now.”
Lan Xichen, he distantly notes, gets easily worked up when Meng Yao makes clear demands of him, so he forces himself to babble a few more; anything that’ll get that dick inside him sooner, anything that’ll satisfy that all-encompassing restlessness he’s been contending with for days.
“All yours, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen pants, climbing atop him on the narrow bed. He lifts Meng Yao’s thigh with one hand, lining himself up with the other with a look of utmost concentration. God, he’s big. No false advertising there.
He pushes in carefully, and Meng Yao’s eyes roll back and his mouth falls open in a delighted gasp. After a moment he manages to squint his eyes open again he finds Lan Xichen looking flushed, his hair in disarray and his pupils blown - somehow holding himself still for his sake. “Are you alright?” he asks, that warm voice a shade lower.
Meng Yao follows a bead of sweat down the bridge of his nose, a warmth that is different from the heat of sex tingling somewhere around his chest at the sight. Maybe this sexy stranger is an angel sent to reward him with good cock and a solid night of sleep, but then he wouldn’t look so… flushed and disheveled himself, with his lovely dark hair escaping its tie and sticking to his forehead and cheekbones.
Moved by spontaneous affection, Meng Yao spreads his arms to get Lan Xichen close enough to kiss, and Lan Xichen folds himself obediently into the hug while still keeping his hips locked, trembling with the effort not to shove it in all the way. The kiss that follows the embrace scorches Meng Yao’s lips. “You’re so good,” Meng Yao mumbles incoherently, “now move, make me feel it, alright?”
“Yes,” Lan Xichen huffs against his mouth, “yes, A-Yao, yes,” and starts rolling his hips. He seems to have lost his suaveness along with his composure, and only a blistering need to please remains. He rocks against Meng Yao, hips picking up the pace, urgency building with every slap of their bodies.
Meng Yao keeps holding him close with one arm, kissing his jaw and licking at the sweat that gathers on his collarbone, gasping out garbled demands to spur Lan Xichen further. The pleasure is nearly too much for his thoroughly exhausted body, like a deep-tissue massage that edges into pain; scrambling, he braces himself against the wall not to hit his head with every thrust. Amidst it all, Lan Xichen notices this and stretches over him to shield Meng Yao’s head with his own hand, cupping his skull delicately in counterpoint to the hardest thrust of his hips yet. That small tenderness mixed with raw pleasure sends Meng Yao spiraling into a bone-shattering orgasm, and everything goes dark.
*******
He should probably wake feeling like he’s been run over by several trucks, but somehow Meng Yao wakes refreshed. The muscle pain and various aches are making themselves heard as his body slowly comes online, but are not entirely unwelcome.
An absolutely incongruous smell of food reaches his nostrils and gets him salivating before he opens his eyes. His sexy hallucination is still there, wearing only briefs and an undershirt, cooking something in Meng Yao’s kitchenette.
“Good morning! I borrowed some eggs from your next door neighbor,” Lan Xichen beams at him, seeming somewhat nervous. “I figured if you were so tired you passed out, you’d need a good breakfast.”
Meng Yao blinks owlishly at him. The sight of several vicious hickeys on Lan Xichen’s jaw and throat makes him feel somewhat guilty, if also rather smug.
“You… didn’t need to cook for me,” he shakes his head, “but thank you.”
“I wanted to,” Lan Xichen shrugs, serving him some scrambled eggs on toast. “It’s not high cuisine; eggs are the only thing I can confidently cook.”
Seated at the small study desk, converted into a breakfast table, Meng Yao tries to sort through what he remembers of last night, and feels belated embarrassment swell and burst like a firework. “I must apologize for my behavior last night,” he begins, eyes glued to his plate. “I was nearly out of my mind from exhaustion.”
One perfect eyebrow is raised at him. “Does A-Yao regret it? I can go, if I have overstayed my welcome.”
“No, it was fucking amazing,” Meng Yao miserably corrects him. “But I have to come clean…”
He shows Lan Xichen his phone and confesses the Pizza App misunderstanding without daring to look him in the eye. “I don’t know how I managed this. But I was being literal, when I asked for a ten inch vegetarian.”
Lan Xichen bursts into laughter, dropping his share of toast to hold his sides. Meng Yao’s embarrassment gradually fades, and a wobbling sort of elation spreads into all of his limbs as Lan Xichen laughs joyfully for a solid minute. He’s not mad, then. The relief tingles down to his fingertips.
“Well, that is to say, I’m not usually such a pillow princess,” he fake-grouses. “I was just extremely sleep deprived.”
“I did not mind in the least,” Lan Xichen glances at him, a tad sultry. “But if A-Yao would like another go at it… I’m free all day.”
Meng Yao blinks up at him, stomach fluttering distractingly. “After breakfast,” he says, haughty despite the blush threatening to color his cheeks. “Meanwhile, tell me a little about you, Lan Xichen. You showed up so quickly, I assume you also live on campus?”
Perched on a too-tiny stool and making it look comfortable, his guest slash booty call props his chin on one fist and gazes at Meng Yao warmly. “Let’s introduce ourselves again,” he agrees, “my name is Lan Xichen and I’m in my first year of grad school. I love cycling, swimming, playing the clarinet and the flute, and oh… I’m a vegetarian.”
Too charmed not to grin, Meng Yao waggles an eyebrow at him. “Well, I knew that one.”