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“And he’s been eating his food?”
“Yes.”
“And his urine is normal?”
Errrrr. He wasn’t sure; still, “Yes.”
Mobei Jun gave him a look. It was clear he didn’t really believe him. “And his stools?” he asked, continuing his interrogation.
“Normal,” he lied. He’d cleaned them; he just had no idea what ‘normal’ stools were supposed to look like. “Mobei, everything’s fi–”
“And you’re sure everything’s fine?” Mobei Jun pressed. “He’s not depressed, he’s not listless…?”
“He’s fine,” Shang Qinghua insisted, drawing out the end of the word. “Seriously, I know you’re suffering so much more than that cat is!”
“His name is Bao,” Mobei Jun corrected him, lips curving downwards into a displeased frown. “He’s not used to me being gone.”
“And he misses you,” he reassured him, “but he’s fine. He’s been hearing you talk and he’s right next to me,” he told him, turning his head to look at the fluffy brown and beige cat sitting right next to him on the couch, tail swishing from side to side. “Here, look.”
Picking up the laptop, Shang Qinghua held it up and turned it so the cat – Bao, he reminded himself – would be in frame. Mobei Jun was quick to coo at him, a noise Shang Qinghua never thought he’d hear him make, and the cat meowed in response, ears perking up as he moved to sniff the laptop relentlessly.
Shang Qinghua couldn’t blame him. Mobei Jun always smelled so good.
Mobei Jun spent a few more seconds interacting with his cat, before he sighed deeply and called out for him again. “I have to go to another meeting,” he told him, a deep furrow in his brow. “If anything happens–”
“I’ve got it,” Shang Qinghua assured him, waving him off as he disconnected the video call.
There.
“Alright, it’s just you and me now again. What do you want to do?” he asked, slapping the top of his thighs as he turned to look back at the cat. Unsurprisingly, Bao was already gone; he didn’t like him very much. “Right. Guess it’s just me then.”
Not that he minded. In the four years since Mobei Jun had adopted Bao, they’d never exactly been each other’s biggest fan.
The biggest surprise was that Mobei Jun had asked him to cat sit for him while he was out of town.
“Anyone else would be a better idea,” he’d tried to say, but his complaints had fallen on deaf ears. Mobei Jun had insisted.
And because it was Mobei Jun, of course, Shang Qinghua couldn’t say no. It was the single word he’d never really been able to tell him over the years.
They met in high school. Shang Qinghua had been in his last year of high school and Mobei Jun in his first. At the time, Shang Qinghua had already been able to foresee how the next four years of his life in university would go – namely, that his parents would remember to pay for his tuition and everything else would be up to him – so he’d wanted to get a headstart.
When he first put up posters around the school announcing tutoring services, he’d been dispirited when no one reached out to him. One day, however, Mobei Jun texted him.
They didn’t become friends then. In fact, their relationship was incredibly imbalanced. Shang Qinghua had assumed that, because he was older, Mobei Jun would be dumb and pliant and he’d be able to boss him around and get him to do what he wanted during their tutoring sessions; instead, Shang Qinghua had somehow found himself following Mobei Jun around even after their tutoring sessions.
He was a little embarrassed to admit he had a crush on a 10th grade kid. He couldn’t help it, though; Mobei Jun was tall, broad and very, very mean. In other words, he was just his type. The fact that he was an alpha and smelled of sharp watermint with a spicy undertone that vaguely reminded him of his favorite instant noodles only made it that much better.
It was also harmless; after he graduated, they wouldn’t see each other again.
To his surprise, even after Shang Qinghua graduated and moved out of his father’s place into the university dorms, Mobei Jun still texted him sometimes. At first, Shang Qinghua replied; a few months later, his replies became fewer and farther between. There was no point to it.
It wasn’t until Shang Qinghua was in his third year of university that they saw each other again – this time, as dorm roommates.
“Mobei Jun,” he’d said, surprised, watching wide eyed as the younger boy – a man now, and taller even than he’d been before – walked into their shared room. “You’re my new roommate?”
Shang Qinghua’s brain had been so fried at seeing his old crush standing in the doorway, knowing they’d be sharing the same room for the rest of the year, that he hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact that it should have been impossible for them to room together. Alphas and omegas sharing a room was highly unethical.
After that, Mobei Jun became impossible to avoid, and Shang Qinghua’s crush – the one he’d sworn left and right had disappeared some time during his first year in university – came rushing back, threatening to swallow him whole.
They’d been friends ever since. Or close to it, at least.
And now Mobei Jun was on the other end of China at a business conference and Shang Qinghua was staying at his apartment watching over his most prized possession – his cat.
Staying at Mobei Jun’s apartment wasn’t anything he’d ever complain about, though, even if his cat hated him. After all, it was so much nicer than his. Mobei Jun’s scent was also everywhere.
For years, Shang Qinghua had wondered why Mobei Jun had even ended up at the dorms back in his first year. His family had always been loaded; surely they could afford an apartment off campus for him? And indeed, when Shang Qinghua graduated university and moved into his tiny studio, Mobei Jun hadn’t returned to the dorms either. He’d just found an apartment close to campus – a one bedroom with a nice balcony where they had beer and dinner sometimes – and called it a day.
Mobei Jun would be gone for a full week, and Shang Qinghua was only three days in. So far, everything had been great – he slept in Mobei Jun’s bed, surrounded by Mobei Jun’s scent, and he showered with Mobei Jun’s things, surrounding himself even more with his scent. He knew this could only end badly – once he went back to his apartment he was sure he’d be feeling down for a few days, missing the scent of the alpha he’d unwittingly started to refer to as ‘his’ in his head too much, even knowing Mobei Jun would never be his. Still, for the time being, he was fine with being delusional and gorging himself on the scent of his alpha.
(He also planned on stealing some of Mobei Jun’s clothes to add to his nest. He had so many; Mobei Jun would never know.)
Shang Qinghua had spent the last four years familiarizing himself with Mobei Jun’s apartment – sometimes he even spent more time there than at his own – so it was easy to make himself feel at home. The only thing that made him slightly uncomfortable was the fact that he’d forgotten his laptop at home and he was using Mobei Jun’s.
He hadn’t even noticed until the first night, when Mobei Jun insisted they video call.
“Why are you on your phone?” Mobei Jun had asked, frowning. “It’s too small and grainy. Switch to your laptop.”
“I can’t, I forgot it at home,” he explained. “I’ll stop by tomorrow after work and pick it up, though.”
“You can’t do that,” Mobei Jun immediately said. “Bao is used to being fed at an exact hour. Just use mine.”
“I can’t use yours,” he tried to protest, but it was to no avail. Mobei Jun insisted.
So Shang Qinghua had been using Mobei Jun’s laptop since then, now being privy to his password, and he was using a new session on his browser to log into his own account and things. Like his email and his bank account. Or, more importantly, his Zhongdian account.
Writing dubious porn hadn’t been in his plans when he’d first graduated high school, but he’d quickly figured out it was an easy way to make money on top of his part-time job at a nearby convenience store. Even better, since he worked the night shift he could just write on his phone all night and only take breaks when the occasional customer strolled in.
He’d thought his days of writing were over when he graduated university and got a real job as a Junior Financial Controller, but in the end he’d just– kept going.
It wasn’t even about the money anymore. It was just a good escape from reality. A good way to wind down after work.
Nowadays, he didn’t post 10k word updates every day like he’d used to, and he didn’t drop plot points only to pursue the ones his audience wanted. His writing was more deliberate and he did whatever he wanted, because he didn’t depend on the money to eat anymore.
It was nice. It was also a secret, so he needed to make sure he deleted everything before his week was up and Mobei Jun got his laptop back.
For the past three days, his routine had been much the same: he’d get home from work, feed Bao, call Mobei Jun, make himself dinner, and then he’d settle on the couch and write until it was time for bed.
Right now that was exactly what he was doing – he’d eaten the takeout he’d gotten on his way home from work after his call with Mobei Jun, and he was lounging comfortably on the couch with Mobei Jun’s laptop perched on a pillow on top of his lap, typing away.
Usually he was a fast writer, able to write up to 800 words in fifteen minute sprints. At this time, however, he was having some difficulty. He’d reached an important plot point in his ongoing novel, and he was having second thoughts about how he intended to go about it.
In the full hour since he’d sat down to write, he’d spent more time scrolling his social media and staring vacantly at the screen than actually writing. He didn’t know what to do.
There was only so much he could scroll and there were no interesting discussions about any of his novels on the Zhongdian forums, so he was all out of ways to procrastinate and entertain himself.
Absent-mindedly, he opened the Notes app on the computer to go through his Writing folder. He liked to write down small sentences when inspiration struck throughout the day or small notes on different plot points, and he hoped he’d be able to find something to inspire him.
Of course, he completely forgot that this wasn’t his laptop and those were, instead, Mobei Jun’s notes. Yelping in surprise, Shang Qinghua x’d out of the app as quickly as he opened it. He shouldn’t have done that! He absolutely should not have done that!
Mobei Jun would kill him if he found out he’d opened something he shouldn’t!
And yet, in the split second he’d had Mobei Jun’s Notes app open, he’d been able to notice that the most recent note Mobei Jun had edited had been something named ‘Confession’.
Confession? What sort of confession?
Needless to say, Shang Qinghua was curious. In all the years they’d known each other, Mobei Jun had never once expressed any interest in someone else. It made Shang Qinghua happy on the one hand, since it spared his stupid little heart from unnecessary pain; on the other hand, he knew it was only a matter of time before Linguang Jun – his uncle and Mobei Jun’s only family – forced Mobei Jun to marry. He’d been trying to set him up on matchmaking dates with ‘suitable omegas’ for years now.
(Shang Qinghua was very much not a suitable omega in Linguang Jun’s eyes, he knew.)
So why did Mobei Jun have a note alluding to something like that? And if not that, then what else did he have to confess?
As the good friend he was, Shang Qinghua resisted his curiosity for a good while. That night he limited himself to shutting down the laptop and sliding into bed earlier than usual, telling himself he would use that time to think about what he wanted to do for his novel.
As if.
Obviously, he spent the entire time since he got into bed and until he fell asleep thinking about what that note could be.
He shouldn’t open it. Couldn’t, even. They were friends, but Mobei Jun was a very private person. What if he found out Shang Qinghua had gone through his things? Shang Qinghua could have a crush, but he wasn’t stupid – he was all too aware Mobei Jun would have no problems beating him up if he were displeased with him before tossing him to the side and ending their friendship.
(Shang Qinghua was more worried about the prospect of them not being friends anymore than about the possibility of getting beat up.)
On the fifth day of his stay, Shang Qinghua finally gave in.
He’d been antsy the entire time since first finding that note. He thought about it day and night, making up wild scenarios in his mind about what it could be.
The wildest one, by far, was that it could be Mobei Jun’s love confession to him. They’d been friends for so many years and Mobei Jun had never been closer to anyone else – surely, if he had feelings for someone, it would be for him.
That one was, of course, easily tossed to the side. Shang Qinghua knew better.
It could also be a coworker. Or maybe Mobei Jun had already gone on a matchmaking date and had met someone he liked.
Maybe it wasn’t a love confession at all; maybe Mobei Jun had killed someone.
Ha. That was actually easy to believe. Mobei Jun was really so cool! Shang Qinghua could easily see him secretly being a part of a mafia gang – or even being the mafia boss! – and taking someone’s life with his bare hands.
(He should be a little bit concerned about how much this particular fantasy turned him on, but he brushed that thought aside.)
Of course, there was always the possibility that Mobei Jun had already deleted the note from his phone since he’d last seen it, and Shang Qinghua would be left wondering forever what he’d wanted to confess. Or thought about confessing. Either one.
In reality, Shang Qinghua shakily moved his pointer finger over the mousepad of the laptop over to the Notes app icon, and waited with baited breath as it loaded and synced with Mobei Jun’s phone.
Confession.
It was still there. Edited earlier that evening, only a few minutes after they’d had their nightly video call.
Taking a deep breath, Shang Qinghua clicked on it. His brain stuttered a few times as he read through it, wide eyes jumping from each set of characters to another as tried not to get ahead of himself.
He’d been right. It was a love confession. Mobei Jun was really in love with someone!
It was just… that someone wasn’t him.
I want to tuck your hair behind your ears when you fall asleep on the couch.
I want to share earbuds on the crowded train after work while we listen to the same love song.
I want to offer you my jacket when it’s cold outside and you always forget to bring one.
I want you to always smell like me.
I want to press our foreheads together and feel the gentle scent of honeysuckle mixing with my own.
Up until the last sentence, Shang Qinghua had had hope. Who else did Mobei Jun let into his apartment to the point of falling asleep on their couch? Who else would Mobei Jun take the train for instead of driving his expensive car with tinted windows to the point where he would even sit down on the dirty seats if not for Shang Qinghua?
Who else would Mobei Jun lend his clothes to?
Shang Qinghua had been filled with hope, up until the very last bit.
I want to press our foreheads together and feel the gentle scent of honeysuckle mixing with my own.
Clearly, there was a lot Shang Qinghua didn’t know about his best friend, because Shang Qinghua’s scent wasn’t of honeysuckle. It was tuberose.
Mildly nauseous, Shang Qinghua quit the notes app and closed the lid of the laptop without giving it a second look. He’d seen enough.
Looking at the empty seat on the couch next to him, Shang Qinghua was suddenly filled with the thought of who else had been here. Mobei Jun hardly ever got along with anyone else – and now he found out someone else had been taking his seat? Taking Mobei Jun’s clothes?
Almost as if burned, Shang Qinghua jumped up from the couch. He was thankful there wasn’t any other scent in the apartment. Whoever it was, at least, hadn’t been there in a while.
Not that it mattered. They’d still be the one Mobei Jun would call and invite over once he arrived from his business trip so he could confess to them.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
In the days leading up to the end of Shang Qinghua’s week catsitting Bao, he spent a lot of time sitting at the dining table and avoiding the couch. He also spent a lot of time staring at said couch, trying to imagine who it was that had managed to capture Mobei Jun’s heart like that.
He hadn’t even known Mobei Jun could be so sincere. The thought of Mobei Jun speaking the words on his notes app so earnestly to someone else made his stomach churn. His piercing blue eyes, gazing down at the object of his affection, deep voice intonating the words ‘I want you to always smell like me’...
It was too much; far too much for Shang Qinghua’s little heart to bear.
Even Bao seemed to realize something was off, because he started to cozy up to him and wrap his tail around his leg under the dining table, looking up at him with big green eyes. Mobei Jun also noticed something had changed during their nightly video calls, but Shang Qinghua always gave the same excuses. ‘Just had a tiring day at work’, ‘just feeling a bit under the weather’, ‘just a bit tired, don’t worry’.
When the day for Mobei Jun’s return finally arrived, Shang Qinghua felt a bit bad.
Mobei Jun (15:22:06)
I should be home around 7. Do you want to stay for a bit? I can make us dinner as a thank you
Shang Qinghua (15:41:36)
oh sorry i really need to go back home and get some things done before tomorrow
next time!
He knew Mobei Jun was likely to catch on to the fact that he was being weird, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt bad, but Mobei Jun had broken his heart without even meaning to. He was more than in his right to want a little time away!
So that day, a few hours before Mobei Jun was set to arrive, Shang Qinghua slapped on some scent suppressants on his scent glands and busied himself with cleaning Mobei Jun’s house from top to bottom and left to right. He washed sheets, steamed the couch cushions and aired out all the rooms. The last thing he wanted was for Mobei Jun to get home and get hit by the full brunt of his scent. Not when he yearned for a different omega.
(He still stole some of his clothes to bring to his nest, though. Mobei Jun wouldn’t notice.)
When he finally went home, only an hour before Mobei Jun arrived, Shang Qinghua took a long look around the living room and felt oddly bereft. For some reason, he felt like everything had changed in just a matter of days. Who knew when he’d be back there, now that Mobei Jun was going to start dating someone?
Shang Qinghua just needed time, and that was exactly what he got.
His phone was turned off as soon as he got home. He knew Mobei Jun was likely to try and get in touch with him but he felt too raw, and he wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower, arrange Mobei Jun’s stolen clothes around his nest and burrow himself in it until the next day.
The next day, when the time came to wake up and get ready for work, Shang Qinghua simply… didn’t.
To: Director Yue
From: Shang Qinghua
I need to take the week off for a personal emergency. My team should be able to cover anything that arises in the meantime.
Thank you.
Hitting the send button, Shang Qinghua didn’t bother to wait for a reply before he closed his laptop again and turned over in his nest. Everything else could wait.
Shang Qinghua didn’t mean to spend the entire week lying in his nest moping, but he found he was unable to do much of anything else. Against his better judgment, his omega felt rejected, even if there was nothing to reject to begin with. He’d never had the guts to tell Mobei Jun how he felt about him, never really in a rush for things between them to change, and now Mobei Jun–
He couldn’t even think about it. It hurt too much. Every time his thoughts strayed back to Mobei Jun he felt like his heart was being squeezed tightly in his chest by an invisible fist, squeezing squeezing squeezing until he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Throughout the whole week, Mobei Jun texted and called, but Shang Qinghua ignored him every time. He wanted to pick up and go back to being his friend, but every time he imagined how their conversation would go – “Qinghua, there’s something I need to tell you” – he found he couldn’t do it and simply burrowed himself deeper into his nest, the acute feeling of rejection nearly burning a hole through his chest.
It was fine. Mobei Jun would stop calling eventually.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
By the end of the week, Shang Qinghua had expected he’d be at least feeling better enough to go back to work and go on about his life. Even if he couldn’t ignore Mobei Jun forever, he was hopeful at least that burying himself in work would help keep his mind off things and distract him from the grim reality that was being in love with his best friend when he didn’t love him back.
Instead, Shang Qinghua felt worse.
It wasn’t until the first cramp hit and slick started to trickle down his leg that he realized he’d forgotten to take his suppressants in the middle of his distress.
He was going into heat.
To make things worse, it seemed he was in for a much more painful heat than usual since the feeling of rejection in his chest had yet to abate. Mobei Jun’s scent, which was his usual favorite to keep him sane and grounded during his heats, was working against him this time; now, it only served to torture him, making him writhe in his sheets as his omega whined and mourned the rejection of the alpha it had yearned for for years.
He spent the first day in pain, curled up into a fetal position as he held up one of Mobei Jun’s stolen sweatshirts to his nose, only barely resisting the urge to rut into his own hand and sink his fangs into his pillow. His body was begging him for release, but his mind wouldn’t let him; what right did he have to touch himself to Mobei Jun now that he knew the alpha was in love with someone else? Would never want him?
On the second day, things took a turn for the worse.
Shang Qinghua was finally sleeping after writhing unsatisfied and frustrated in his sheets for hours, when he was suddenly woken by a loud bang and the sharp scent of–
“Alpha,” he whimpered, eyes barely focusing on the tall figure standing in the doorway of his apartment. “Alpha, you’re here…”
He was barely coherent, his mind nothing but a jumbled mess of thoughts centering around Mobei Jun and want him, need him, want you, please and all he could do was get onto all fours on his nest, uncaring of his state of undress and the slick sticking to his bare inner thighs as he started to crawl out of his nest and towards the source of that delicious scent. Watermint and chili oil combined into a neat little package that seemed like it was made just for Shang Qinghua.
All thoughts of rejection quickly went out of his head. If Mobei Jun was here, he thought, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, then that meant he did want him–!
“Qinghua, what– what’s going on?” Mobei Jun asked, somewhat helplessly, trying to maintain his stiff posture but failing in the face of a naked omega crawling on all fours towards him.
“It hurts so bad,” Shang Qinghua whispered, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, slowly able to make out the features he loved so much. Dark blue eyes and what was undoubtedly Mobei Jun’s signature displeased frown, the lines of his defined muscles visible even under his dress shirt.
Mobei Jun. Oh he’d missed him so much.
“It hurts,” he repeated, dragging himself over to Mobei Jun, clinging onto his thigh as he started to rub his aching hole over the sole of his shoe. “Alpha, it hurts so bad. I’m so empty. Please, please– I need you–”
“Qinghua,” he heard Mobei Jun say. He sounded like he was in pain. Why was alpha in pain, though? Shang Qinghua wanted him to feel good. So good. “Qinghua, stop–”
Shang Qinghua didn’t pay him any mind, continuing to rub his hole over his shoe. It felt so good. It felt good in a punishing kind of way, like Mobei Jun was giving him a single droplet of water to drink after a long drought, telling him he’d get more if only he was good and patient.
And he wanted more. He wanted so much more, so he’d be good.
His small cock rubbed against the pants of Mobei Jun’s leg with every one of his movements, precum staining his finely tailored suit as Shang Qinghua continued his assault. His scent was thick and heady, heavily permeating the entire apartment and no doubt clouding Mobei Jun’s senses, but no matter what he did, Mobei Jun simply– didn’t react.
“Mobei Jun?” he asked, halting his movements so he could look back up at him. Mobei Jun was just standing there, brow furrowed and the same small frown on his face, looking like he didn’t care at all.
Had Shang Qinghua misunderstood…?
“Stop that,” Mobei Jun said, his voice cold as ice, finally moving so he could pry Shang Qinghua off him.
“You don’t want me?” he asked, eyes filling with tears.
“Not like this.”
What might have sounded reasonable to an otherwise sound Shang Qinghua, only served to further the feeling of rejection he’d been feeling for the past week. The only thought running through his mind was that Mobei Jun didn’t want him, and he was unable to think of it in any other way.
“Get out,” he said, turning his back on Mobei Jun, staying right there on the cold floor. His slick was everywhere – his thighs, the floor, Mobei Jun’s shoe – and his scent was turning sour and rotten, like a ripe watermelon that had been left out under the scorching sun all day, only to rot and start attracting flies.
“Shang Qinghua–”
“Get out!” he repeated, louder, turning only his head in Mobei Jun’s direction so he could glare at him. “Out! I don’t want you here. Leave me alone!”
Part of him hoped Mobei Jun would stay. Tell him it wasn’t what he thought it was. Draw him into his arms and comfort him through his heat.
Instead, Mobei Jun nodded and quietly left, leaving nothing but bitter disappointment behind him.
☁︎☁︎☁︎
Predictably, after Mobei Jun’s impromptu visit Shang Qinghua’s heat only became more painful. Nothing he did brought him any measure of comfort, especially after he threw Mobei Jun’s clothes down the 8th floor window in a fit of rage only to regret it ten minutes later when he realized the only scent left in his apartment was his own.
When his heat finally ended after four days spent in a daze, feeling like he’d been left to rot in his pathetic excuse for a nest, Shang Qinghua finally crawled out of his filthy bed and decided to turn his life around.
His sheets and the clothes he’d stuffed under his pillows and on the sides of his bed were thrown into the washer, the windows were opened wide so the air could circulate, and he dragged his aching bones to the bathroom for a long-deserved hot shower.
It wasn’t until he opened his door after getting the notification that his takeout order had been dropped off by the courier that he realized Mobei Jun was there.
“Hi,” he blurted out, for lack of anything better to say. Mobei Jun was standing, still wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing the other day (albeit slightly more rumpled, with his tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck), holding onto his takeout bag. “Uhm…”
“Can I come in?” Mobei Jun asked.
Shang Qinghua nodded, gratefully taking the (heavy) bag of takeout from Mobei Jun as he stepped aside to let him in. He was starving; he hadn’t eaten since the start of his heat, aside from small moments of lucidity here and there when he was able to snack on some crackers and cheese like a small mouse.
Mobei Jun took off his shoes and threw his loose tie somewhere to the side, gingerly taking a seat on the small loveseat Shang Qinghua had been able to squeeze into the space. Shang Qinghua watched him the whole time, heart squeezing in his chest.
Despite his broken heart, Mobei Jun was still his friend. He shouldn’t have ignored him like that.
“Do you want some?” he asked, light heartedly, setting down the various boxes of takeout on the low table in front of them, opening them and hoping Mobei Jun didn’t hear the sound of his stomach grumbling noisily as the scent of the food wafted up to his nose.
“No need,” Mobei Jun told him, but his stomach grumbled noisily all the same.
Shang Qinghua went over to his kitchen space and brought two empty bowls and two sodas, setting one of the bowls in front of Mobei Jun. “Eat anyway,” he told him.
They ate in silence.
The TV was turned off and there was no sound filling the space other than the loud sound of their chewing and slurping, but neither of them seemed to mind. Shang Qinghua was starving and Mobei Jun– Mobei Jun seemed to be, too.
Halfway through his third pork dumpling, Shang Qinghua was suddenly hit with some much needed clarity.
“Have you been here the entire time?” he asked, whipping his head to the side so fast so he could stare at Mobei Jun wide eyed that he nearly gave himself whiplash. “Is that why you’re wearing the same clothes?”
Mobei Jun finished chewing, seemingly not in a hurry to reply. “Yes,” he said, simply, like that wasn’t the most insane thing Shang Qinghua had ever heard. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“But it’s been days,” he said, a pained lilt in his voice. Mobei Jun… Why did he have to be so confusing? “What about your work?”
“I called out,” he explained. “I also called out on your behalf. Your boss was a little worried when you didn’t show up after your time off.”
Ah. So Yue Qingyuan had reached out to him when Shang Qinghua hadn’t shown up.
“So that’s why you came,” he said, turning his head to focus back on his food, feeling like he couldn’t possibly keep looking at Mobei Jun. “Director Yue called you.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t come regardless?” Mobei Jun asked, sounding surprised. “You could have gone to work anyway and I would have still come.”
“Hm.”
Rationally, Shang Qinghua knew he should believe him. They were friends. Mobei Jun was bound to worry even just a tiny bit if Shang Qinghua suddenly stopped answering his texts. He just wasn’t sure why he would still bother to come around.
In truth, Shang Qinghua had wondered for a long time when Mobei Jun would stop finding any use in him.
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun tried again, when all the food was gone and all that was left was one last sip of soda and the lingering awkwardness between them, “why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
“Ignoring me then,” Mobei Jun amended. “I don’t understand.”
Mobei Jun sounded frustrated, and when Shang Qinghua risked glancing at him he found he looked the part too. He hated it. It made him feel like he was the one in the wrong even though he was the one who’d ended up with a broken heart.
He knew it wasn’t really his fault, though.
“I– thought it would be easier,” he said. A half truth.
“Easier, how?” Mobei Jun asked, the small dip between his brows deepening. Shang Qinghua wanted to reach out and smooth it out with his thumb, but he held himself back.
The last thing Shang Qinghua wanted was to admit his feelings in any shape or form and, much less, look pathetic in front of Mobei Jun. But he’d already been pathetic before – only two days earlier, crawling on the floor while he begged Mobei Jun to fuck him only to be rejected – and he was still exhausted from his heat, so–
“I found your confession,” he admitted, looking at him guiltily. “I didn’t mean to, I just– I forgot I was using your laptop and I opened the Notes app to go through my notes and– I’m sorry.”
Mobei Jun blinked, but the dip between his brows was gone and he looked–resigned. He clearly knew what Shang Qinghua was talking about.
“And you thought ignoring me was… easier,” he repeated, slowly, like the word in his mouth left a bad aftertaste. “I see.”
He was looking in Shang Qinghua’s direction, but he could tell he wasn’t really looking at him. He had a faraway look in his eyes, like he’d never been more far away. Shang Qinghua wished he could tell what was going through his mind.
“So Qinghua doesn’t want to even be friends anymore?” he asked, abruptly, his voice taking on an icy undertone.
“Mobei Jun,” he lamented; pleaded, almost. “Just– not for now.”
It never even crossed his mind that Mobei Jun couldn’t know what he was talking about. After all, Shang Qinghua had never confessed, had never even given him the slightest indication that he could feel more than friendship for his quiet, brooding friend. It was just, in his mind, he was too obvious. Had to be.
“We’ve been friends for years,” Mobei Jun pointed out.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You want to leave just like that?”
“Mobei–”
“No,” Mobei Jun interjected, raising his voice. He looked mad. Shang Qinghua was simply confused – why did he even care that much? “Have I not done enough over the years? You stopped talking to me after you graduated and left me behind, so I had to use my family name to pull strings at the university so I could room with you–”
“You what?” he asked, shocked. He’d never considered that. Had that been how he’d been able to go around the policy of not letting alphas and omegas room together…?
“I’ve done everything I could to make you want to stay by my side, and you still want to leave? I’ve cooked for you, I’ve scented you, I’ve given you my clothes to help you through your heats, I’ve been there for you, and you still dare to leave?”
Shang Qinghua gaped at him, feeling a mix of shock and confusion. He… didn’t know what to say.
Why did Mobei Jun sound like he was confessing?
“I don’t understand,” he said, quietly. “Mobei Jun, I never wanted to leave.”
“Then why?” Mobei Jun asked, glaring fiercely at him.
“Mobei Jun,” he asked, helplessly. Why did he feel like they were having two completely different conversations?! “Mobei, aren’t these the kinds of things you should be doing for the person you plan on confessing to? Of course all those things were enough– it’s just that I still went and wanted more, even knowing I couldn’t have it.”
At that Mobei Jun paused, all the fury visibly bleeding out from his face as confusion set back in. “Qinghua– who did you think that note was for?”
Okay well, now he was just rubbing it in.
“I don’t know,” he snapped, frustrated. “Whoever it is you know that smells like honeysuckle and apparently falls asleep on your couch. How am I supposed to know?”
Mobei Jun gave him a strange look, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he sidled closer to him on the couch, sharp water mint suddenly filling his senses as he raised one of his hands so he could tuck his hair behind his ear.
“I want to tuck your hair behind your ears when you fall asleep on the couch,” Mobei Jun said, quietly, looking him in the eyes so intently Shang Qinghua wouldn’t be able to look away even if he wanted to.
“Mobei–”
“I want to share earbuds on the crowded train after work while we listen to the same love song,” Mobei Jun continued, ignoring him. His thumb was brushing over Shang Qinghua’s cheekbone, gently, and Shang Qinghua’s breath hitched in his throat when he realized how close they suddenly were. “I want to offer you my jacket when it’s cold outside and you always forget to bring one.”
“I run hot,” he whispered, like he needed to justify himself.
“I want you to always smell like me.”
“I already do,” he whispered, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat as Mobei Jun continued to lean in. “Mobei Jun–”
“I want to press our foreheads together and feel the gentle scent of honeysuckle mixing with my own.”
Shang Qinghua was certain now there had been some kind of misunderstanding – Mobei Jun clearly couldn’t tell honeysuckle from tuberose – but when Mobei Jun finally brushed his lips against his, the misunderstanding in his heart suddenly cleared: there had never been anyone else.
The confession had been for Shang Qinghua all along.
“Do you get it now?” Mobei Jun asked when they broke away, pressing their foreheads together.
“I do,” he said, smiling deviously up at him. “You clearly don’t know what honeysuckle smells like. My scent is of tuberose.”
Mobei Jun frowned, giving him a slightly condescending look. “Qinghua, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know what you smell like.”
Shang Qinghua laughed, heart light for the first time in two weeks. “That’s probably true.”
☁︎☁︎☁︎
They went back to Mobei Jun’s apartment.
Mobei Jun needed to shower and change into clean clothes and Shang Qinghua had gotten rid of every item of clothing of Mobei Jun’s he’d had lying around – which had seemingly been picked up by someone on the street by the time they left his building –, so it was easier to go back to his place since neither of them was willing to part for long.
After all, they had a lot of time they needed to make up for.
For how forward Shang Qinghua had been during his heat, however, now that everything was said and done he felt oddly shy. So they’d kissed; now what?
Mobei Jun, for his part, seemed to be in a somewhat similar dilemma, going by the stiff way he was sitting on his side of the bed, hands folded over his lap as he stared at the unlit TV, so different from how he’d been earlier.
On their way to Mobei Jun’s apartment, sitting on the back of a fancy DiDi, Mobei Jun had foregone all sense of propriety and had scented him the entire time. He’d been taken aback when he’d gone back to his apartment and realized there was no honeysuckle scent left behind – “tuberose,” Shang Qinghua had corrected him, pointlessly – and he needed to correct it expeditiously. Shang Qinghua didn’t think scenting him so heavily and unashamedly in front of the DiDi driver was the way to go, but he still bared his neck and let Mobei Jun suck on his scent gland all the same, shivering when he felt his tongue drag over his swollen gland to lap at the oil oozing from it.
The elevator ride up to Mobei Jun’s apartment had been much of the same, with Mobei Jun manhandling him until his back was against the back of the elevator and keeping him in place with firm hands over his forearms, rubbing their scent glands together until the small space reeked of their combined scent.
They’d only really stopped when Mobei Jun reluctantly realized he needed to shower. He’d given Shang Qinghua some of his clothes that he could change into for bed and he’d headed to the shower afterwards. When he’d come out of the bathroom, Shang Qinghua had already been in bed, nervously opening and closing Weibo on his phone while not really looking at anything.
And now here they were. In bed. Alone (Bao was left behind in the living room). Feeling completely–
“This is awkward,” he blurted out, stealing a guilty glance at Mobei Jun. “Isn’t it? Do you think maybe it means we’re not actually supposed to be dating?” Then, suddenly remembering something, “I mean, not that we are dating–” only to completely shut up when Mobei Jun sent him a furious glare.
“We are dating,” he said, looking at him like he was daring him to say otherwise. Or like he wanted to eat him. Probably both. “Do you not want to be dating?”
“Of course I do,” he assured him, taking the opportunity to inch closer to him on the bed.
Okay, this wasn’t so bad. They just needed to get the ball rolling.
“It’s just,” he started, stomach twisting into knots as he thought of what he wanted to say, “I’ve never… done that before,” he admitted. “What if you don’t like it?”
Mobei Jun’s glare dissipated in favor of a surprised blink. “Never?”
“Never.”
It was frankly embarrassing. He was 26! Even Shen Yuan had done it before he had!
He just hadn’t had time. He was busy during college trying to get his degree while working his ass off, and then– Well, and then Mobei Jun had just inserted himself right back into his life and he’d never entertained the thought of even trying it with anyone else.
Still, he’d read extensively about it. Had written it, too. How difficult could it be?
“I’ve never done it either,” Mobei Jun said, cutting through his musings, and– oh. Actually, that wasn’t entirely a surprise.
“Do you… know how it works?” he asked, tentatively. He didn’t want to make Mobei Jun embarrassed but he could always spare the time for a quick rundown before–
Before he could finish that thought, he was abruptly pounced on, his back hitting the mattress as he suddenly found himself caged in between Mobei Jun’s arms. Mobei Jun, at least, didn’t look embarrassed. He looked– really mad.
“Mobei Jun?” he asked, with trepidation. “What–”
“I know very well how it works,” Mobei Jun told him, a gleam visible in his dark blue eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Will Qinghua let me show him?”
Throat dry, Shang Qinghua’s words died in his throat as he realized the outline of Mobei Jun’s cock was pressed right against his thigh, hot and hard and very, very big.
Nodding, he sealed his fate. “I’ll be in your care, then.”
Mobei Jun kissed him then, slow and deliberate, so different from the frantic and near animalistic way he’d tried to devour him less than an hour earlier, and Shang Qinghua melted into it easily. Kissing Mobei Jun felt like coming home. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, as easy as breathing, and now that he’d had a taste he didn’t think he could ever go without.
The second they parted for air Shang Qinghua immediately chased his lips for more, arms circling around his neck so he could pull him down towards him, bringing their chests flush together.
They kissed until they were dizzy, until the air was heavy with their pheromones and they didn’t know where one of them started and the other one ended. Mobei Jun licked a hot stripe up his neck when they parted for air, lips honing in on his scent gland and he sucked until oil was released, smearing it everywhere and letting out more of Shang Qinghua’s scent.
“Sweet honeysuckle,” Mobei Jun mumbled, kissing his way back up to Shang Qinghua’s lips, his own lips oily, “do you taste this sweet everywhere?”
“I don’t know,” he gasped out, grinding his own bulge desperately against one of Mobei Jun’s thighs. “Why don’t you find out?”
Mobei Jun’s hands were already on the hem of his borrowed sweatshirt, bunching it at the waist so he could drag it up and off of him, and when Mobei Jun sat back so he could take his own shirt off Shang Qinghua sat up too so he could help him, eager to run his fingers through the hard planes of Mobei Jun’s chest, feel the defined muscles he fantasized about time and time again.
“Get back down,” Mobei Jun ordered, firmly pushing him to lie back down on the bed. “Stay still.”
“Mobei,” he whined, but Mobei Jun ignored him.
In the end, Shang Qinghua couldn’t really complain, though. After all, he had a front row seat to the show that was Mobei Jun taking his sweatpants off, revealing muscled thighs and a bulge that easily made Shang Qinghua’s mouth water.
“Take your boxers off too,” he urged. Mobei Jun was being too slow.
“Be quiet,” Mobei Jun said, half heartedly, already pulling his boxers down.
The sight of Mobei Jun’s cock, red and veiny and impossibly thick, nearly made Shang Qinghua’s heart stop. He knew he should probably be worried but– damn, did he want to be stuffed full and fucked until he couldn’t remember his own name.
“Fuck me,” he pleaded, pathetically, already scrambling to get his own pants off, “please–”
Mobei Jun chuckled – a dangerous sight to Shang Qinghua’s heart, the sound going straight down to his heated core –, his hands coming to halt Shang Qinghua’s movements as soon as he’d thrown his discarded clothes to the floor.
“You need to be patient,” he told him, slowly pulling his pants down as he bent down to leave a trail of kisses along every inch of newly exposed skin, all the way down to his bare feet. When his pants were fully off, however, he didn’t immediately reach for his boxers; instead, he slowly kissed his way back up to his hips, first one leg, then the other, before pressing his nose to his bulge and taking a deep breath. Then, before Shang Qinghua had a chance to even try and close his legs, he licked right over where his wet hole was, making him nearly jump off the bed in shock.
“Mobei!” he gasped out, scandalized. “What are you–”
“Your scent is stronger here,” he told him, looking up at him with dark eyes, his pupils nearly entirely dilated.
“I–”
“Stop talking,” Mobei Jun ordered, hooking his thumbs on each side of his boxers and pulling them down, finally exposing his hole to the cool air of the room.
Shang Qinghua didn’t have any time to be embarrassed before Mobei Jun was diving in, tongue darting out to lap up the slick already coating his inner thighs before moving to flatten his tongue over his hole.
“M-Mobei Jun,” he whimpered, hands flying to hold onto Mobei Jun’s hair for support. “S-Slow down–!”
If Mobei Jun heard him, then he ignored him. Mobei Jun ate him out like a starved man, all messy and sloppy, slurping sounds mixing with Shang Qinghua’s whimpers as Mobei Jun licked into his hole, trying to reach as far as he could as his hole slowly relaxed and his walls softened.
Mobei Jun abruptly pulled away, the black of his pupils entirely swallowing up any hint of blue as he told him, very seriously, glistening slick smeared all over the lower half of his face, “You taste as sweet as you smell,” before leaning in and sucking on his rim again.
“More,” Shang Qinghua whined, tugging on Mobei Jun’s hair, “Mobei Jun– I’m still so empty–”
This time, Mobei Jun heard him. One of his fingers slipped in carefully, Mobei Jun watching with transfixed eyes as Shang Qinghua’s hole greedily sucked him in, and he thrust his finger in and out experimentally as Shang Qinghua watched with baited breath.
“One more,” he pleaded.
“But you’re so tight,” Mobei Jun told him, a strangled sort of quality to his voice – no doubt realizing his cock was far too big to fit into Shang Qinghua. “Shang Qinghua, are you sure–?”
“I can take it,” he assured him, voice all breathy and desperate as he arched his back to try and get a deeper angle, “please.”
By the time Mobei Jun was three fingers in, fucking his fingers into him in earnest as Shang Qinghua begged him to let him come, he wasn’t entirely confident he’d be able to take him easily. He was more than willing to try, though.
“Please Mobei, please– let me come,” he pleaded, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
Mobei Jun was hovering over him, one hand busy working him open while the other pinned both of his wrists to the bed. He’d restrained him when Shang Qinghua had tried fisting his own cock in an attempt to get himself off, telling him very directly that “you’ll come on my cock only”.
Shang Qinghua would be more than happy to do it, but Mobei Jun refused to fuck him just yet.
“Just fuck me,” he pleaded, trying to roll his hips in time with Mobei Jun’s movements, “come on, I’m ready–”
“You’re still so tight,” Mobei Jun told him, brow furrowed in what Shang Qinghua could only imagine was concern. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” he cried out, aware of the whiny lilt of his voice. “Mobei Jun, think about it – if I’m this tight, imagine how it’ll feel like to fuck me. Don’t you want to feel my tight little hole squeezing around your cock?”
Mobei Jun’s eyes widened in shock, and he was so taken aback he stopped thrusting his fingers into him, letting them slip out of their own accord.
Any other time, Shang Qinghua would have definitely been embarrassed to say something so lewd out loud. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and he didn’t make good money out of writing porn for nothing.
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun breathed out, giving him what could only be described as a crazed look as he finally let go of his wrists so he could line himself up, smearing his precum against Shang Qinghua’s hole as he rutted just the tip against him, “remember you asked for this.”
Shang Qinghua wanted to answer, but before he could Mobei Jun was already starting to push in, the initial breach of his head knocking the wind out of his chest as his walls struggled to accommodate.
If this was just the head, then–!
“Oh my god,” he breathed out, whimpering when Mobei Jun kept pushing in, barely stopping to let him get used to the size, “oh my god, you’re so– you’re so big, you’re going to split me open,” he babbled.
“I don’t care,” Mobei Jun said, cooly, a sadistic smirk on his face as he looked down at Shang Qinghua’s unfocused eyes. “Didn’t you want me to fuck your tight little hole? Wanted me to feel it squeezing tight around my cock? Hm?”
Did Mobei Jun want him to reply? He couldn’t. He really, really couldn’t.
“Then that’s what I’m going to do,” Mobei Jun continued, taking a hold of Shang Qinghua’s thighs and folding them over his chest, making Shang Qinghua cry out as he deepened the angle and his cock slid even further in. “I’m going to fuck your tight little hole, and you’re going to let me.” Then, leaning down, until his lips brushed against the shell of his ear, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”
Mobei Jun bottomed out with one last thrust, his balls flush against Shang Qinghua’s backside. Fuck. Fuck.
Oh fuck, but he felt so full. This was exactly what he’d wanted, this was exactly what he needed.
“So full,” he mumbled, arms going around Mobei Jun’s neck so he could pull him close, blunt nails digging into his skin. “Alpha, so good– you’re so good to me–”
Mobei Jun pulled out then, leaving only the tip in so he could slam back in, beginning to finally fuck him in earnest. He fucked him hard and fast, making Shang Qinghua bounce up on the bed with every thrust, sweat gathering on his forehead and dropping down to Shang Qinghua’s chin.
His small cock rutted against Mobei Jun’s abs with every thrust, giving him the delicious friction he’d been craving earlier, and he came embarrassingly quickly, spilling between their bodies as Mobei Jun fucked him through his orgasm.
“You’ll come again,” Mobei Jun told him. Not a question; a fact, ignoring Shang Qinghua’s whiny protests as he kept fucking him.
“I can’t take it,” he whimpered, wincing as his overstimulated cock rubbed up against Mobei Jun’s skin, but Mobei Jun ignored him.
His cock gave a valiant twitch, beginning to fill out again even as tears spilled down his eyes, and Mobei Jun’s pace sped up as he neared his own orgasm.
“Come with me, Qinghua,” Mobei Jun murmured, voice impossibly soft in contrast with how roughly he was fucking into him, before his mouth found his scent gland again so he could stimulate it, making Shang Qinghua gasped as he sucked on it to release more oils. “Qinghua–”
Mobei Jun came then, spilling his warm load into him, and Shang Qinghua joined him when Mobei Jun gave a particularly hard suck to his scent gland, sending him over the edge.
They laid there just like that in the aftermath, staring at each other with wide eyes as they struggled to calm their breathing.
“Was that good?” Mobei Jun asked, some of the blue already back in his eyes.
“So good,” he breathed out, a dopey smile on his face. “Did you like it too?”
Mobei Jun smiled; a rare sort of smile, one Shang Qinghua had only seen on his face maybe once or twice. “Of course I did.”
When Mobei pulled out, both of them watching as a thick glob of cum dribbled down from Shang Qinghua’s fluttering hole, he wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed.
Mobei Jun clearly knew what he was supposed to do, because he got up without a word and headed to the bathroom, coming back with a clean dick and a warm, damp towel so he could clean Shang Qinghua up.
“How did you know all this?” he asked, suspiciously. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
“I can read,” Mobei Jun told him, dryly, but he could tell he was amused by his question.
Minutes later, when Shang Qinghua turned to lie on his stomach, head propped up against his arms, Mobei Jun’s amusement died in his throat as Shang Qinghua arched his back and propped his hips up on a pillow, wiggling his butt invitingly.
“Mobei Jun,” he started, a devious little smile playing on his lips, “did you know supposedly it feels better when you do it this way?”
“Qinghua,” Mobei Jun said, hoarsely.
Wiggling his butt again, “Want to try?”