Work Text:
Wei Ying kicked off his boots, stretching lazily before flopping onto Lan Zhan’s pristine bed. “Lan Zhan, my feet are killing me.”
Lan Zhan, standing by the door, frowned. “You should not have worn ill-fitting boots.”
Wei Ying grinned, crooking a finger at him. “Then come here and make it better.”
Lan Zhan hesitated but stepped closer. The moment he was within reach, Wei Ying grabbed his wrist, pulling him down. Lan Zhan tensed, but Wei Ying only smirked.
“Sit,” Wei Ying commanded.
Lan Zhan obeyed, stiffly perched at the edge of the bed. Wei Ying shifted, sliding closer, lifting Lan Zhan’s hand and pressing it against his ankle. “You’re good with your hands, aren’t you?” he teased.
Lan Zhan’s breath hitched, but his fingers moved instinctively, tracing over tired muscles.
Wei Ying sighed, his grip tightening on Lan Zhan’s wrist. “See? Feels nice.” His voice dropped. “Now, what if I return the favor?”
Lan Zhan swallowed hard, his ears turning red.
Wei Ying chuckled, leaning in, lips brushing against his ear.
“These boots were meant for walking,” he murmured, “but maybe I should just stay right here.”
He didn't let him go.
He didn’t want to walk away.