Derek works at a porn store. One day, Stiles comes in asking all sorts of TMI questions about different toys. That's where it all starts.

The second Jongin realizes what he has done, he panics. Nothing about this is redeemable. He’s not even—he doesn’t think about men like that, and definitely not enough to have accidentally sent a picture of his ass to his straight sunbae. / Jongin is repressed, but his libido isn't.

“It’s Friday night,” Yanli says, a warm teasing note in her voice. “Shouldn’t you be doing something more fun than studying chemistry?” “What are you doing?” Wen Qing asks, stung. “You’re just hanging out in your dorm, right?” “Mm,” Yanli says, the warmth still in her voice. Wen Qing can almost imagine her stretching like a cat as she says it, one of those long dancer’s legs lifting high. It’s a hot night; maybe she’s wearing those tiny grey stretch shorts she wears when she comes right from dance class to the dining hall, barely peeking out under a long t-shirt. Wen Qing has thought about those shorts a lot.

“It’s like my ad says,” Tang Fan says. “We can talk. Or you can talk, and I can listen, or I can talk to you. About anything. Or … I could talk dirty to you?” Tang Fan does have regulars who want sex stuff, but really, what he does only qualifies as phone sex maybe one call in twenty. Mostly, it’s just Tang Fan chatting with lonely people. But he can handle the sexy stuff, obviously, and if the Man with the Sexy Voice wants sexy, Tang Fan is very willing to — actually, he decides, a little unnerved by his own enthusiasm, better not to finish that thought. This is a business transaction, after all. This is the gig economy. “Not this time,” the Man with the Sexy Voice says, almost apologetic, like he’s forgotten that he’s paying Tang Fan for this. “Just — maybe if you could talk to me about something you find interesting?” In which Tang Fan develops some rather inconvenient feelings for a late-night caller to his phone sex line.

The single faceless, anonymous photograph on the profile that catches his eye is shot in elegant black-and-white, and there’s something about the crispness of the focus and the markedly off-center composition that says art, for once, rather than mugshot. The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.” (Or: Meng Yao gets wrecked by that Good Lan Dick. Lan Xichen gets wrecked by Meng Yao's Whole Deal.)

"Really, Xie Lian, you don't even jerk it??" Shi Qingxuan insists. "I mean it's none of my business and you can tell me to fuck off, but holy shit, lady." Xie Lian laughs, feeling her cheeks color, and shrugs again. "I don't know, something about the mechanics of it just never made sense to me," she admits. "And anyway that's time I should be spending studying." -- It comes out that Xie Lian's never had an orgasm. She goes to Hua Cheng for help. • theyre lesbians

He doesn’t look up when Baiyi passes. Probably doesn’t even remember him. So what. You don't need a rosebush to remember you, you just enjoy catching sight of it here and there.

Andrew and Neil switching phones by accident brings them closer together than either of them anticipated.

“So--what’ya say? Make a deal with me?” “Only fools deal with dragons lightly.” “Guess I’m a fool.”