Chapter Text
Xiao hates this club.
It’s one of those hyper-modern nightmares full of tacky strobe lights, sleek leather and soulless electronic music. Venti ditches him for the dance floor after their second drink. At the bar, the crush of sweaty bodies crowding around is stifling. Xiao is small but he makes the most of his meager frame– he leans back on his elbows, head high and shoulders wide to avoid getting pushed and shoved. His third cranberry vodka goes down easy.
The drinks are the only reason he’s here to begin with.
Xiao’s last final of his last summer class was this morning, which according to his roommate, was cause for celebration.
“It’ll be fun!” Venti had insisted.
Xiao blinked at him from his spot on the couch, instant ramen in one hand and a paperback in the other.
“I think we have very different definitions of the word fun.”
“C’mooon!" Venti whined. "You’ve done nothing but work and study for like, a month straight. You need to cut loose!”
Venti had a point there. Between early morning classes, late night work shifts, and the hours in between spent buried in textbooks, Xiao could use a break.
But–
“I’m not wasting money on going out,” Xiao said.
– things have been tight lately. Financial aid is a joke, his savings are long gone, and paying for summer classes after changing majors wasn’t part of the plan.
“I’ll buy,” Venti countered, and what was Xiao supposed to say to that?
The problem is that Venti never actually pays for drinks. He sweet-talks bartenders or flirts his way into free rounds but right now, he’s busy on the other side of the club making eyes at some blonde guy in a crop top while Xiao’s glass is almost empty.
With a sigh, Xiao knocks back the dredges of melted ice and vodka. It’s late enough and he’s buzzed enough that he wonders if he should just call it a night and walk home.
“Would you like another?” someone asks.
Xiao must be drunker than he thought if he failed to notice the man leaning against the bar next to him.
He’s alarmingly attractive. Tall, dark-haired and self-assured. He smiles when Xiao turns his way and it’s like a breach of sunshine under the dim club lights.
“What?” Xiao mumbles inelegantly.
The man looks pointedly at Xiao’s empty glass. “Can I get you another drink?”
It takes Xiao a moment to catch on but he’s not oblivious– he gets hit on plenty. Just usually not by expensive-looking men in well-cut suits.
“Yeah, okay,” he says.
With a casual wave, the man gets the bartender’s immediate attention. He gestures for another round and pays with a thick platinum credit card. A woman in a tiny, strappy dress sidles up to the bar, all batted eyelashes and twirling hair, but the man’s eyes stay locked on Xiao as he leans in close to talk over the music.
“Are you having a good time?”
His voice is deep, rich and warm as the dark liquor in his glass.
“Sure,” Xiao says.
“It doesn’t look like it,” the man counters. He nods vaguely at the dance floor. “It seems that your friend has abandoned you.”
“How would you know?” Xiao throws back. “You been watching me?” He doesn’t mean to be antagonistic; it’s just that everything about this guy makes him feel like he’s been caught on the back foot.
But the man shrugs, unbothered. “Not on purpose,” he says, “but can you really blame me for noticing you?”
Xiao stands out with his dyed hair and tattoos. He knows that’s not what the guy means. He scoffs to make up for the hot flush creeping into his cheeks.
“How often does that line work for you?”
The man’s lips curve into a smirk. “That depends,” he answers smoothly. “If it works right now, I’ll be batting a thousand.”
That sort of makes Xiao want to laugh. He buries the urge in a sip of his drink. He is abruptly very aware of how close they’re standing, the brush of the man’s arm against his, the soft, earthy smell of his cologne.
Still smiling faintly, the man leans down. His lips nearly brush Xiao’s ear as he asks, “What’s your name?”
Xiao blinks up at him. The man’s eyes are a strange color, a molten golden-brown that makes Xiao think of insects trapped in amber.
“Xiao,” he says without a second thought.
“Zhongli.”
Xiao knows this is a bad idea. He swallows his better judgment down with the rest of his drink and says, “Do you want to get out of here or what?”
*****
On the curb outside, Xiao texts Venti a pin with his location. Two minutes later, Zhongli is helping him into the back of a cab. The downtown lights speed by in a sparkling haze as they’re driven towards the nicer neighborhoods near the harbor. Xiao hopes he doesn’t end up dead in a ditch by morning. He can feel Zhongli’s eyes on him for the entire drive and thinks it’s a risk he’s willing to take.
Zhongli’s apartment is at the very top of a very fancy high-rise. That’s all Xiao’s intoxicated brain gets to process before the door is closing and he’s being pressed up against it.
The first touch of Zhongli’s lips against his is warm and sure and tastes like bourbon. Strong hands land on his waist, a knee pushes between his thighs. Xiao has been hard since the elevator ride– he grinds his hips and gasps at the friction. It’s mindless and hot and Zhongli groans deep rumbles of encouragement until Xiao’s legs feel like jell-o and he has to pull back to catch his breath.
Zhongli doesn’t miss a beat; he descends on Xiao, dragging kisses across his jaw, down his neck. His hands skate lower, over Xiao’s ass, down the backs of his thighs. Before Xiao can even register what’s happening, Zhongli is hoisting him up in his arms.
“Fuck,” Xiao hisses as his legs wrap around Zhongli’s waist. He’s surprised by the hard muscle he feels between his thighs. Zhongli is slim and lithe but he’s obviously built. And he puts that strength to good use: guys usually treat Xiao like he’s made of bird bones and glass but Zhongli walks them deeper into the apartment with the kind of competent manhandling Xiao has always craved.
He’s dropped on the bed with a disorienting bounce. Zhongli crawls over him, using his body to push Xiao where he wants him. Their mouths meet again, fevered and urgent as hands grope for zippers and buttons.
When they’re both stripped bare, Zhongli kneels between Xiao’s legs. His gaze is dark and hungry where it roams over Xiao’s body. “Gorgeous little thing,” he murmurs appreciatively, palms sliding up Xiao’s shins. “Tell me, what do you want?”
Xiao blushes, then blinks in dizzy confusion. “...For you to fuck me?”
Zhongli’s mouth curves into a small, wicked grin. His hands stop on Xiao’s knees to push them further apart. “Just want to be certain of your preference,” he says, and Xiao snorts.
“What, like I’m gonna try to fuck you?”
Zhongli shrugs like it’s all the same to him, then presses a kiss to the inside of Xiao’s thigh, and that’s the last coherent thing Xiao gets to say before Zhongli flips him onto his stomach and hauls his ass into the air.
Xiao flushes red-hot as Zhongli palms the curve of his ass. With an admiring hum, his fingers dig in, thumb gently prying Xiao open.
“Pretty,” Zhongli says.
Xiao buries his burning face in the bedding. This is borderline mortifying but his cock jumps and leaks at the sound of a drawer opening and the tell-tale snap of a plastic cap.
Slick fingertips trace the cleft of his ass. Xiao jerks, heart hammering– he’s never let anyone do this before– but this is definitely not the perfunctory prepping he usually gives himself. Zhongli’s fingers are long and deft, first one, then two, stretching and flexing with a purpose and precision that has Xiao rocking back to meet each pump.
“My goodness, you’re as tight as you look,” Zhongli tells him as he presses in with a third finger.
“Please,” Xiao pants into the pillows, “just fuck me already.”
There’s a low rumble of laughter as Zhongli twists his wrist and pushes in deeper.
“Mm, you even beg prettily too.”
When Zhongli does finally fuck him, Xiao is on his back with his thighs spread wide and his ass hiked up onto Zhongli’s lap. The first push of Zhongli’s cock against his hole feels impossible but Zhongli uses that brain-scrambling competency to ease his way in, slow and steady.
When Xiao’s strained gasps turn into pleas for more, Zhongli’s hands close around his waist, dragging Xiao down into every thrust. Xiao is a mess, an arm flung over his bleary eyes, the other hand clawing at whatever part of Zhongli he can. He arches and bucks, too far gone to bite back his embarrassing moans as Zhongli drives him straight to the edge.
Just as Xiao’s about to fall, Zhongli wraps those long fingers around his cock. “Sweet Xiao,” he says, “come for me,” and Xiao does, plummeting into ecstatic, all-consuming nothingness.
Distantly, he feels Zhongli come too. There’s a deep, vibrating groan, a hot pulse, then Xiao’s lowered back onto the mattress. Zhongli drapes himself over his sprawled body to kiss him, long and lingering, before he pulls out.
Boneless and floaty, this is exactly what Xiao wanted. No thoughts, no tuition payments, no debt collection notices. Just pleasant white static where his worries should be.
His eyes slip shut while Zhongli deals with the condom. A hand sweeps the hair out of Xiao’s face, lips brush against his temple, but Zhongli’s voice floats through Xiao’s consciousness like it's coming from miles away.
“Would you like to stay the night?”
Xiao’s already halfway out. He mumbles something, then the mattress shifts and there is a blanket pulled over him and a pair of arms holding him close.
*****
He doesn’t sleep long. The sky is still grey with barely-morning light when Xiao opens his eyes again.
He is painfully sober– literally. His head hurts, his ass hurts, and it takes a long, panicked moment to remember that the arm suffocating him from behind belongs to the stranger he went home with.
Zhongli’s chest is flush with his back, rising and falling with deep, even breaths. Obviously still asleep. Carefully, Xiao extricates himself from his hold.
His head spins when he sits up. Not just because of the hangover but because Zhongli’s bedroom is… not what he expects. Luxurious, yes, but where it could be some minimalist, nouveau riche travesty, it’s well lived-in and cozy instead. Intimate, even. The framed photos and well-worn books feel like something Xiao shouldn’t be seeing. He slips out of bed on silent feet.
One night stands aren’t Xiao’s thing. He’s seen enough of his roommate’s dates come and go to know how this works, though. He gathers his clothes off the floor and pads into the ensuite. It’s hard not to feel resentful of all the pristine white marble. No broken tiles, the faucet doesn’t leak, and the pipes are mercifully quiet when he pees and washes his hands with the most unnecessarily expensive soap he’s ever seen in his life.
Xiao’s thighs are sticky with dried-up lube when he peels his jeans back on.
Unfortunately, Zhongli is awake when he goes back into the bedroom.
“Good morning,” he says with a perfectly calm, sleepy smile.
He’s sitting up in bed, rumpled sheets pooling around his waist. His bare chest is lean and sculpted. His hair is longer than Xiao realized, coming loose from the tie he didn’t notice last night. He is stupidly, unreasonably beautiful, and Xiao feels even more keenly that he really shouldn’t be here.
“Morning,” he says back.
This was not part of the plan. For lack of a better one, Xiao goes to find his boots where they got kicked off last night.
“Leaving already?” Zhongli says. “It’s hardly dawn.”
“Yeah.” Xiao swallows, words thick and clumsy. “I, um. I’ve got to get to work.”
Zhongli hums in understanding and Xiao is sure he knows he’s lying. “Would you like a shower before you go? Or a cup of tea or coffee?”
There’s still cum stuck to Xiao’s stomach and honestly he’s dying for a glass of water. He shakes his head. “I’m fine,” he says, tugging on his boots. “Thanks, though.”
The bedding rustles. Xiao ties his laces with laser focus while Zhongli slips out of the sheets and into a pair of sweats.
“Let me call you a car, at least,” he says.
Xiao bristles. He’s perfectly capable of getting himself home and opens his mouth to say as much but then Zhongli is right there, putting a hand on his shoulder and looking down at him like he knows exactly what Xiao is thinking.
“Please.”
His earnestness throws Xiao off-kilter. He can’t think of a good enough reason to say no. Instead, he just tries not to stare at the way the muscles of Zhongli’s back flex when he bends down to find his phone.
Of course, Zhongli insists on walking him out too. He pulls on a crisp white t-shirt that looks like it cost more than Xiao’s whole wardrobe. It’s irrationally annoying that he manages to wear gym clothes and bedhead with the same effortless grace as last night’s suit.
At the front door, Zhongli seems to have forgotten something. He excuses himself, leaving Xiao feeling awkward and small in the foyer, then comes back holding a neatly folded sweatshirt.
“It’s cold out,” he says when Xiao just frowns at it. “And you didn’t have a jacket last night.”
Xiao looks between his own see-through sleeveless top and the sweater in Zhongli’s hand. Begrudgingly, he takes it and yanks it over his head.
“What’s Wangsheng?” he asks, inspecting the white letters stitched across the chest.
“Work,” Zhongli says. “They gift us one of those for the holidays every year. I swear, I must have one in every color by now.”
He’s grinning like it’s a joke but Xiao knows better. He just doesn't want Xiao won’t feel bad for taking his sweater when they both know they’re never going to see each other again.
There’s already a car waiting when they get downstairs.
There’s no exchange of phone numbers or see you arounds as Zhongli holds the door open and fuck if Xiao knows what he’s supposed to say to the guy who had half his hand inside of him five hours ago.
Zhongli stops him before Xiao gets in the backseat. With a gentle hand on Xiao’s wrist, he looks like he wants to say something but must think better of it– instead, he bends down, and Xiao doesn’t mean to dodge it but he’s caught off guard and the kiss lands on the corner of his mouth.
“Bye, Xiao,” Zhongli says as he pulls away.
There’s a look in his eye, there and gone before the car door closes, that makes something in Xiao’s chest feel weird and tight. He tries not to think too hard about it on the ride home.
*****
“Good night?” Venti asks the second Xiao walks in. He’s got a hickey on his neck and a shit-eating grin on his face that says his night probably ended the same as Xiao’s.
Xiao makes a vague sound and beelines for the bathroom.
“Congratulations on breaking the dry spell,” Venti goes on, trailing after him. “It’s been what, like, a year?”
“It’s creepy that you’re keeping track of that,” Xiao says as he shuts the bathroom door in his face.
“Can’t a guy be happy that his very best friend finally got laid?” Venti shouts from the hallway. “At least tell me how it was! What’s his name? Was he hot!?”
“He was no one.”
Xiao strips and kicks his clothes into the corner. He cranks the shower up as hot as it goes, which isn’t saying much in their crappy apartment, but it’s enough to boil the brain cells responsible for remembering that last phantom touch of a kiss.
By the time he’s done washing away the smell of the club and sex and a stranger’s cologne, he can almost pretend like last night didn’t happen at all.
*****
Forgetting is easy when Xiao is busy just trying to keep himself afloat.
He spends the rest of summer break picking up extra shifts and begging his school counselor to let him take extra credits next term so he can stay on track to graduate. He pleads his case successfully and the mountains of assignments pile up as soon as classes start.
He does think about Zhongli once or twice. First, a couple weeks after their hookup, when Xiao is collecting clothes to haul to the laundromat. Zhongli’s sweater is balled up at the bottom of the hamper like a dirty secret. Xiao considers tossing it out but the fleece is thick and warm and new clothes aren’t really a luxury he can afford to throw away.
He thinks of Zhongli again the weekend after that, when Venti invites him out to the same club. For a wild moment he wants to say yes before he realizes that the chance of seeing Zhongli there is probably zero. And when he catches himself thinking that thought, he tells himself that even if Zhongli were there, he’d be picking up some other guy to take home and fuck into his unnecessarily massive mattress. The idea makes Xiao feel vindicated in a bitterly satisfying sort of way.
So Xiao works and studies his way through the end of summer and into autumn, living off vending machines and the leftovers Xiangling makes him take home. It sucks, but it’s hardly the worst thing he’s lived through.