Work Text:
"Lan Zhan! You're almost there! One more mile!" someone screams. In the bleachers, a gaggle of boys and girls look up suddenly to find that the track team is on their last loop around the school, Lan Zhan at the head of the pack as usual, hardly out of breath.
"Come on, Lan Zhan!" Nie Huaisang cheers. Nie Huaisang would never set foot on a field, let alone kick a ball, but he was ever supportive in cheering Lan Zhan on.
"Lan Zhan's going to get first place again." MianMian observed, unlacing her basketball shoes. Her team’s practice had just ended and she slumped against the bleachers. "How anticlimactic," she teased.
"Even just for a practice run he always gives it his all." Nie Huaisang observed.
"Oh, don't let him fool you, he's just showing off for a certain someone."
Lan Zhan was indeed at the front, his long legs propelling him ahead of the team, sweat trailing down his jawline. He was tired but not as run down as the others, his eyes focused on the finish line that meant practice would be over as he kept his breathing in check. He needed to get home, shower, study for his Spanish final, help Uncle with dinner-
"Lan Zhan is gonna set the record!" MianMian cried, willing her voice to carry.
"He'll be the first student to complete Coach Wen's torturous training!" Nie Huaisang joined in. The girls further down the bleachers began to cheer as well, rallied by Nie Huaisang and MianMian’s cheers.
"Yeah, Lan Zhan, go!"
Lan Zhan wanted to roll his eyes. MianMian was always teasing him like this. It was distracting. He needed to focus- "Oh my god, look at Wei Ying," one of the girls shrieked.
Lan Zhan suddenly needed to listen intently. Lan Zhan had been trying his best to ignore the soccer team. Wei Ying was...distracting.
"God, he's tan," one of the girls exclaimed. Lan Zhan would not look.
"What the fuck is he even doing?" MianMian said, rolling her eyes.
"I don't know but I like it," one of the girls replied.
"Poor Wen Ning, having to deal with that gremlin." Nie Huaisang sighed.
Lan Zhan whipped around so fast he nearly broke his neck, the names ‘Wen Ning’ and ‘Wei Ying’ having activated his fight or flight response. Wei Ying was teasing Wen Ning, shirtless and glistening with sweat, an enormous grin on his face. With every movement, the sun gleamed on him in another way, perspiration making him shimmer golden in the sun, the outline of his pectorals clearcut and prominent.
As he shoved something in the struggling Wen Ning’s face, his sweaty shirt probably, the muscles come together, liquid dripping between them like holy water. Lan Zhan wanted to lick it up, take a bite out of that chest, suck a chocolate nipple and see if it was as sweet as it looked.
He was so distracted he didn’t notice he passed the end of the track, and didn't hear anyone shouting for him to stop. He ran straight into a hurdle and flipped over it, landing on his back dazed and horny.
He blinked up at the sky, wondering distantly if Wei Ying had a candy trail, and regretting that he had not checked.
It was okay though, because Wei Ying volunteered to carry him in, and Lan Zhan got to press his face against the smooth skin of his chest. It was well worth the concussion he would later be diagnosed with.
(“Is he… licking you?”
“He keeps talking about chocolate. I think he’s dreaming.”)