Xiao Zhan doesn’t bother listening or saying anything in response to Yibo's ranting, just holds the phone a little closer to his face and lets a low moan hover at the edge of his breathing. He’s looking at the red tip of Yibo’s cock where it peeks out from his foreskin and thinking about licking it. Yibo’s indignation comes through clearly over the phone. “Are you— Are you jacking it, Xiao Zhan?” “Uh huh,” Xiao Zhan sighs, and tries his best to let the wet sounds of his hand on his cock get louder. Maybe he should grab lube for extra squelchiness. “Oh, no way. Nope, I can’t handle this,” Yibo declares and the line goes dead. Xiao Zhan laughs softly to himself, and somehow that transforms into the convulsions of orgasm and he comes all over his hand. He takes a picture and sends it to Yibo. see you tomorrow

Thursdays are for boxing. Thursdays are for Nie Mingjue. He pretends, sometimes, that they’re peers, even though they’re in different weight classes and always will be. He likes spitting and snarling at Nie Mingjue just to see what he’ll do, to push and shove at the boundaries. Nie Mingjue, it feels like sometimes, has self control the way that ponds have ice in the late fall- delicately and temporarily and easily disturbed.