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Wang Yibo's first mistake was agreeing to cover for Jun.
His second was showing up to the client’s place in a white tank top and ripped jeans.
And his third?
Letting Xiao Zhan open the door in nothing but sweatpants clinging to every inch of his soaked thighs and a towel hanging off his shoulder like he knew what he was doing.
Wang Yibo blinked.
Then blinked again.
“You, uh,” he started, eloquently, “You called for pipe help?”
Xiao Zhan gave him a slow once-over, not bothering to hide it. “Mhm,” he said, leaning his lithe frame against the doorframe. “Jun said you were good with your hands.”
“I—yeah.” Yibo cleared his throat. He was, in fact, good with his hands. And now they were sweating.
“Come in,” Xiao Zhan said, walking back inside, his back all lean muscle and unfair grace. “Kitchen. Sink’s moaning louder than my ex.”
What the fuck.
Wang Yibo wasn’t sure if he was in a sitcom, a porno, or a test of moral character.
He followed anyway.
---
The thing was, Wang Yibo had seen hot clients before. Flirty ones, too. But none that made his skin feel like it was two sizes too tight just standing in the same room.
“Under the sink,” Xiao Zhan said, gesturing with his foot. “It leaks when I touch it. Kind of like me.”
Wang Yibo hit his head on the counter.
“Sorry,” Xiao Zhan said, not sounding sorry at all. “You okay down there?”
He wasn’t. He was very much not okay. Especially when he looked up and saw Xiao Zhan crouching next to him, peering at him with eyes that had no business being that pretty.
“So,” Xiao Zhan said, lips quirking, “do I get a discount if I offer... you know, other forms of payment?”
Yibo groaned. “Dude.”
“What? You’re cute. And you’re already under my sink. I feel like I should offer you a drink, or a kiss, or both.”
Wang Yibo came out from under the sink. “You can’t just seduce your plumber.”
“Says who?”
“Says... logic!”
Xiao Zhan tilted his head. “You want me to stop?”
Yibo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “...No?”
“Good.” Xiao Zhan stepped closer. “Because I’ve been waiting for a reason to fuck someone in my kitchen. You’ve got strong arms. I like that.”
“Fuck,” Yibo muttered. “You’re insane.”
But when Xiao Zhan kissed him, hot, wet, and slow, Wang Yibo decided maybe insane was his type.
Wang Yibo’s jaw nearly dislocated when Xiao Zhan pulled him in by the collar and kissed him like he’d been starving.
Which, honestly, he probably had. No one that pretty just acts that desperate unless they’d been pent up for months. Or they had a thing for plumbers. Either way, Wang Yibo wasn’t complaining. Not when Xiao Zhan tasted like jasmine tea and smugness.
“Fuck,” Xiao Zhan breathed against his lips, fingers already tugging Yibo’s tool belt off like it had personally offended him. “You smell like grease and metal.”
Yibo groaned. “Is that... supposed to be a compliment?”
“Absolutely.”
Before he could respond, Xiao Zhan shoved him against the kitchen island and dropped to his knees. No hesitation. No warning.
Just pretty fingers curling around his waistband, pulling his pants down like he’d done it a hundred times before. His breath ghosted over Yibo’s cock, which was already half-hard from the door scene alone.
“Fuck, you’re big,” Xiao Zhan said with a grin, then licked a stripe up the underside just to feel it twitch. “Gonna ruin me, aren’t you?”
Yibo’s brain short-circuited.
Xiao Zhan didn’t wait. One hand braced against Yibo’s thigh while the other gripped the base, mouth hot and wet as it slid over the head and down, down, all the way until his nose bumped Yibo’s abs.
“Holy shit—” Yibo gasped, his hand flying into Xiao Zhan’s damp hair. “You—fuck—”
Xiao Zhan hummed like this was a casual Tuesday and not the start of a full-blown sinfest. He pulled off with a lewd pop, spit stringing between his lips and Yibo’s cock. “You wanna fuck me?”
“Obviously.”
“Good.” Xiao Zhan stood, tugged Yibo’s shirt off, then walked away. “Bedroom’s that way. Bring the lube from the drawer next to the sink.”
“You—what—why would it be there?!”
Xiao Zhan tossed a look over his shoulder, smile all teeth. “Emergency situations.”
---
Xiao Zhan had stripped by the time Yibo caught up, sprawled on the bed like a fucking centerfold, legs spread, cock flushed and leaking, hole already slick and twitching.
"You prepped without me?”
“Had a feeling this was gonna happen.” Xiao Zhan purred. “Now come here and make it happen.”
Yibo crawled onto the bed, kissing a line down Xiao Zhan’s neck to his collarbone, trailing his tongue down to a hard, dusky nipple. Xiao Zhan arched into him, one leg hooking around Yibo’s waist.
“You ready?” Yibo asked, teasing his entrance with two fingers.
“I’ve been ready since you rang the fucking doorbell.”
That was all the consent he needed.
Wang Yibo lined himself up, pressing in slowly. Xiao Zhan’s breath hitched, hips jerking slightly as he adjusted.
“God, you’re tight,” Yibo groaned, burying himself in one slow, delicious thrust.
Xiao Zhan gasped, nails dragging down his back. “Fuck. Fuck. More, give me more—”
Yibo didn’t need to be told twice.
He started slow, letting Xiao Zhan get used to the stretch. But the older man was greedy. Keened every time Yibo bottomed out. Rolled his hips up like he wanted to be split in half.
“Harder,” Xiao Zhan begged. “Come on, plumber boy. Ruin me.”
And fuck, did he.
Yibo snapped his hips forward, again and again, until the sound of skin slapping filled the room. Xiao Zhan’s moans were loud, filthy, desperate. His cock slapped against his stomach, leaking with every thrust.
“You like getting fucked like this?” Yibo growled into his ear, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above Xiao Zhan’s head.
“Yes, yes, fuck, don’t stop—”
Yibo shifted slightly, angled just right, and Xiao Zhan screamed, legs trembling, mouth falling open in a silent wail.
“Found it,” Yibo muttered smugly, slamming into it again. And again. And again.
Xiao Zhan was sobbing now, real tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, his entire body taut like a bowstring.
“I’m close,” Yibo gasped, sweat dripping down his back. “Fuck, I’m—”
“Inside,” Xiao Zhan begged. “Come inside. Fill me up, please, I want to feel it.”
Yibo growled something that sounded like a curse and a prayer, then slammed in deep one last time.
Warmth flooded Xiao Zhan’s insides, hot and thick. He came the moment he felt it, untouched, streaks of white landing on his stomach and chest.
They lay there panting, tangled, ruined.
Yibo dropped a kiss on Xiao Zhan’s collarbone. “You’re insane.”
“You still haven’t fixed my sink.”
“Yeah,” Yibo muttered, nuzzling into the curve of Xiao Zhan’s neck. “Guess I’ll have to come back.”
“Good,” Xiao Zhan said, eyes fluttering closed. “Next time, bring your wrench.”