Still recovering from an unexpected tragedy, single dad Wang Yibo isn't sure he's ready to move on - until he meets Xiao Zhan in a bar at Christmas. When what was meant to be a simple one-off encounter becomes more complicated, will Yibo have the st...
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THREE DAYS LATER HE leaned against the bar with Hai Kuan and Bin, beer bottle cradled in his hands as they laughed and joked together. An office party of sorts, if the three of them could count as an office with their little music store-cum-cafe tucked down a back street in Midtown. But they had fun and made enough to pay the bills so Yibo didn't complain too much when they made suggestive comments about pretty customers or tried to set him up a Tinder profile. Everyone was starting to say the same thing, even his mom had murmured a soft
"maybe you'll meet someone nice..."
as she herded the kids into the kitchen for milk and cookies when he had dropped them off earlier.
But Yibo just wasn't sure he was ready to feel someone else warming the bed other than his kids. He wasn't certain his heart was suitably healed to absorb another soul although he flirted with the what ifs. What if he met someone wonderful. What if they were great with his kids. What if Emma would have liked them.
What if.
So, as Hai Kuan and Bin settled into the world's most fiercely competitive game of pool, Yibo leaned against the wall and watched with an amused smile. He watched and he didn't notice someone sidling closer and closer to him until there was a pointed nudge of an elbow against his ribs and he jumped, startled, turning to meet eyes that glowed somewhere between blue and green, ringed with brown, eyes that took his breath away. He paused, confused, and blinked at the stranger, took in the fedora and thick, dark hair that swept across his brow. Yibo's eyes traced lush pink lips - sexy little mole on the lower lip, white bunny teeth - and delicate cheekbones stretched with smooth skin. He took in the cardigan, the skinny jeans, the boots. He stared and he thought something he hadn't thought in a very long time.
The stranger was gorgeous.
"I'll play you for the next game?"
The stranger suggested, nodding at the game that seemed on the verge of descending into violence.
"Sorry, is that weird? My friend took off and... I guess I thought you looked lonely. Are - are they a couple?"
"Those assholes?"
Yibo shook his head with a laugh and tried to calm the messy beat of his heart.
"Nah, best friends forever. I'm Yibo, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Yibo-by-the-way, I'm Zhan,"
it was a horrible joke, a dad joke, and Yibo still snorted on his beer.
Zhan, it transpired, was fantastic company. Friendly without being overbearing, kind without being too soft, he had a pretty smile and breathtaking eyes and when he laughed - which was often - it sang through Yibo like a melody. He was terrible at pool but brilliant with the jukebox, feeding coins into it as he frowned through the selection with thoughtful care. He told Yibo he was twenty-eight and a doctor, a family physician at a clinic nearby and Yibo could almost hear his mom's approving hum. Zhan's eyes widened in surprise when Yibo told him about Food of Love - his little store - and declared their vegan cupcakes to be his favorite accompaniment to a new record or two. Yibo wondered - out loud, embarrassingly enough - how he'd never seen him there before. Weekend customer, Zhan explained and that made sense; Yibo left the weekends to Hai Kuan and Bin so he could spend time with his kids.
Zhan, he'd already decided, was wonderful.
So, as the night drew to a close and the revellers tipped out of the bar to the raucous chorus of Fairytale of Shanghai, Yibo didn't object when Zhan pushed him gently against the wall and slid their mouths together like puzzle pieces. No, instead he just cross his arms around Zhan, brushed his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and battled with the sweet softness of an inquisitive tongue against his own.
He might have raised a middle finger over Zhan's shoulder at Hai Kuan's whoop and Bin's call of
"don't forget the condoms,"
as they disappeared towards the subway.
They kissed like teenagers-all grasping hands and tilting hips. It should have felt foreign and unfamiliar; it had been two years since he last kissed someone, longer, much longer, since he'd kissed a man. But it felt right in every way under the glow of the Christmas lights, the scent of aftershave, beer and sweet maleness washing his senses and flooding them with lust.
"Would you like to come back to my place?"
Zhan murmured, the question caught in the mist of his breath that hung between them in the frigid air. Yibo blinked as Zhan waited, eyes coloured with hope, for his answer.
"Yeah,"
he replied, his breath mingling with Zhan's as he nipped a kiss to his lips.
"I think I would."
"It's not far,"
Zhan assured him as he turned up the collar of his leather jacket and tucked his scarf more securely around his neck.
"Maybe ten minutes across the park."
It turned out more like thirty when they stopped to kiss every fifty or so paces, the lights of the park's Christmas tree catching in Zhan's eyes and sparkling them with innumerable twinkling points of light that glowed back at Yibo like a promise. They walked with their hands in one another's back pockets which proved awkward and unsteady but meant Yibo could surreptitiously grope the warm curve of Zhan's frankly delightful ass.
They behaved like kids, biting kisses to one another's necks as they walked - Yibo ended up with a mouthful of cashmere on most attempts - laughing and joking their way through the glittering beauty of lights that marked the holiday.
The apartment block Zhan took him to was expensive, glass and chrome stretching skyward and speaking of money and opportunities. Zhan supposed a doctor probably earned pretty well and tried not to think of his own cozy little two-bed out in the suburbs, rundown and in need of some love but filled with memories he couldn't bear to leave behind. There was a short elevator ride, fingers laced and knuckles pressed together as Yibo fought stray thoughts of pushing Zhan back to the mirrored wall and falling to his knees in front of him... There followed a hushed ping and the doors swished open onto a plush hallway that smelled of new carpet and fresh paint. Zhan led the way to his front door and, after a moment of fumbling with his key, pushed it open to reveal the dorkiest apartment Yibo had ever seen. There were framed posters everywhere; Bowie and Prince, Star Wars and Batman, there were action figures lined up on a bookcase amongst hardback copies of things like The Encyclopaedia of Sci-Fi and A Visual Guide to The Comic Book Universe. It was dorky and nerdy and utterly, hopelessly charming.
"So,"
for the second time that night Yibo was pinned between a wall and Zhan. He started to think it might be one of his favourite places to be.
"Coffee? Or..."
"Or,"
Yibo grinned into smiling eyes that glowed like sunset on riptide, thumb tracing the velvet plush sweep of Zhan's plump lower lip.
"Definitely or..."
Zhan hummed his approval into Yibo's mouth, the sweep of his tongue flavoured with malt and peppermint. His teeth sparked bright points of brilliant pressure as he nipped at Yibo's lips, along his jaw and down to suck lightly at his neck. All Yibo could do was wind his fingers into his hair and hold him close, to savour the pressure and warmth of another body. He didn't realise how much he'd missed it until right in that moment in a strange apartment with a good-looking guy biting bruises into his neck.
They tripped to the couch, fumbled feet and fingers, snagged jackets and shirts until they tumbled down together in a tangle. Somehow, Zhan lost his cardigan and shirt but kept his scarf. Some-wonderful-how, Yibo's belt was unbuckled and his jeans unzipped as his back hit the cushions. His legs were spread, his mouth gasping for air and grasping for Zhan as deft, clever fingers found the tight heat of a nipple under his shirt. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room so he stole it from willing lungs via pretty lips. He knew the sharp scrub of faint stubble against his chin shouldn't be enough to make his cock twitch, he knew he shouldn't surrender all reason to a soft mouth against his throat, against places he'd forgotten were sensitive. He knew, as Zhan began to grind their hips together in a slow roll, that he didn't care about what he thought he knew.
"You haven't done this for a while."
It wasn't a question so Yibo didn't answer, it didn't sound judgemental so he didn't complain. It was a fact, he wasn't going to deny it.
"Let me take care of you, okay?"
That sounded like heaven to Yibo as he leaned back against the couch, as Zhan slid to his knees between thighs spread like an invitation and - slowly, with a tease of a grin - he ran a single fingertip under the waistband of Yibo's ratty boxers. Zhan's, from what Yibo could see, were designer and didn't look like the elastic was about to give up and die. Zhan didn't appear to have two kids to raise so Yibo decided not to care too much as he tilted his hips, closed his eyes and surrendered to the drag of his jeans and underwear down and further to snag at his ankles.
