Song Lang took a pen from another drawer and handed it to him, then listlessly slumped on the table, watching Shen Zhifei write his name stroke by stroke on the title pages of those books.
"It's only the second semester of your junior year of high school, isn't it too early for you to buy all this?"
"It's not too late. I'll send you a new set next Spring Festival. You'll benefit more from doing the exercises by comparing them with the new set."
“I understand now,” Song Lang sighed deeply. “You’ve been setting me up since this pen. I’ve decided to cancel my gift.”
Shen Zhifei smiled but did not answer. He placed the signed books one by one and stacked them to the side. When there was only one book left, Song Lang suddenly grabbed his wrist.
It was just a fleeting thought.
He especially wanted to leave a shared mark with Shen Zhifei in that book.
“Um,” Song Lang sat up straight, stammering as he felt the sudden thought was too sentimental, “Your handwriting is so beautiful, why don’t you teach me how to write it?”
Shen Zhifei put away his pen and pushed the pen, along with the last copy of the "53" textbook, towards Song Lang. "Come sit over here."
Song Lang quickly moved his buttocks closer to him, and Shen Zhifei pulled him into his arms from behind.
He glanced to the side and back, pretending to be calm as he picked up his pen, assumed a writing posture, and his long, strong hand covered it, the warmth of his palm extremely comforting.
"When writing, your fingers should be firm but your palms should be relaxed. Your fist is clenched too tightly, relax."
The alluring voice was like a feather brushing against Song Lang's eardrums, activating every cell in his body, making it impossible for Song Lang to relax.
He was very excited.
"Brother?" Shen Zhifei suddenly leaned closer and gently bit his ear.
Song Lang shuddered as if struck by lightning, pursed his lips, straightened his back, and tried to focus his attention on the tip of his pen.
"Keep going, keep going."
Shen Zhifei chuckled, took his hand, and wrote his name.
Pen Insertion Warning
Work Text:
Song Lang didn't understand calligraphy, but under Shen Zhifei's guidance, he could feel a restrained yet sharp momentum in every pause and return stroke.
He discovered for the first time that writing could be sexy.
"It's so beautiful."
Song Lang blew on the ink stains on the title page that were starting to dry, tilted his head and said to Shen Zhifei, "Write something else for me, then I'll be willing to open this book."
Shen Zhifei gently grasped his hand and said, "Let's write somewhere else."
“Don’t do that, you just…” Song Lang hooked his finger back, thought for a moment, and said, “Just write yours under my name too.”
"That won't work."
Shen Zhifei shook his head seriously, but his free left hand had already slipped inside Song Lang's clothes.
"To save ink, I'd rather write my name on your body."
"...Fuck, you're so slutty."
Song Lang tossed Wu San aside, turned around, wrapped his arms around Shen Zhifei's neck, and pounced on him to kiss him.
The room was blasting heat, and the two of them were soon soaked in sweat from their passionate kiss.
As Song Lang straddled Shen Zhifei, he ripped off his shirt and tried to pull off Shen Zhifei's clothes, but Shen Zhifei was pinned against the desk by his shoulders.
"Behave yourself and don't move."
Song Lang glanced down at the pen tip resting on his chest, and felt as if a million ants were crawling across his heart even before Shen Zhifei had started writing.
It feels tingly and numb, and it's very itchy.
He braced his arms on the edge of the table, thrusting his chest forward, “…Write.”
Shen Zhifei gripped his waist with one hand, and with a slight exertion of his right hand, the tip of his pen pierced a small dent in the boy's firm chest.
As the pen tip moved, the indentation left a deep black ink mark on the supple, tanned skin, eventually forming the three characters "Shen Zhifei".
Even though Song Lang subconsciously held his breath while he signed, his heart was pounding restlessly beneath his skin and inside his chest, every nerve being teased by the cool pen tip.
"Brother, you've written my name here, so you're mine now." Shen Zhifei grabbed Song Lang's neck, his eyes burning with passion. "No one is allowed to set foot here again, understand?"
Song Lang's earlobes were a bright red.
He grasped Shen Zhifei's wrist and asked in a hoarse voice, "Then... what about you? Where can I get your autograph?"
Shen Zhifei placed the pen in his hand, guiding him to press the nib against his chest, "You sign here too. Once you've signed, it's yours."
“My handwriting is terrible.” Song Lang frowned. “If I had known there was this part, I would have practiced my handwriting beforehand.”
“It’s alright,” Shen Zhifei said solemnly, bowing his head and pressing a kiss on his knuckles. “As long as it’s written by you, I’m willing to have it tattooed on my chest.”
"What are you talking about? Hold your breath, I'll try my best to write it nicely."
Even knowing that the ink might become blurred and distorted by sweat later, the sense of ritual in which both sides assert their sovereignty is irresistible.
With one hand on his shoulder and his back bent, Song Lang carefully wrote his name on Shen Zhifei's chest, stroke by stroke.
After finishing writing, he leaned over and blew on the ink a few times to make it dry quickly so that it would stay on his chest longer.
Shen Zhifei pinched his chin with two fingers and lifted it up, kissing him with tenderness and love on her face. Song Lang was still thinking about the autographs on their chests, so he placed his hand on Shen Zhifei's shoulder and restrained himself from making any distance.
"Lift your butt."
Shen Zhifei patted his thigh, and Song Lang cooperated by getting up and taking off his pants. When he straddled down again, there was a cool, thin, and slightly moist piece of hardware pressing against his buttocks.
Song Lang looked down and his breath caught in his throat. Before he could even speak, the pen he had just been holding to sign his name tore open a small hole in his anus.
"Hiss—stop messing around," Song Lang grabbed Shen Zhifei's hand, which was about to do something reckless, and whispered, "Take it out right now, how the hell am I supposed to write with it in the future?"
"Relax, I don't want to hurt you." Shen Zhifei gently stroked his back with one hand and lightly kissed his uneasy Adam's apple. With the lubricant in his other hand, the pen firmly and powerfully probed deeper.
"Ugh..." The coolness of the pen barrel seeped into Song Lang's body through his sensitive intestinal wall, causing him to gasp. "It's too cold, I'm not used to it."
"Take a moment to adjust, and you'll soon be able to hold it in your mouth to warm it up."
Shen Zhifei pushed the pen a little deeper until the clip on the cap pressed against the folds of Song Lang's anus. His warm fingertips deliberately circled around the sensitive skin around the anus. Song Lang instinctively tried to clench his anus, which was being stretched and teased, but instead, he sucked the pen inside him even tighter.
That tormenting hand continued its charade, and after a few back and forth motions, it slid along the smooth, warm pen shaft and burrowed into Song Lang's burning intestines, expanding its territory.
Forced to stretch his body further, Song Lang gripped Shen Zhifei's hair tightly, tilting his head back and groaning uncontrollably. Sweat condensed into beads on his smooth forehead, sliding down his cheeks and nose.
Shen Zhifei gently bit his collarbone, reached around to Song Lang's front with one hand to grasp his already erect penis to comfort him, and with the other hand, she used the pen that held the starry night to thrust and grind inside Song Lang's tight body.
Gradually, the fingertips of both hands felt a speck of dampness, and Song Lang's panting and moans were also tinged with moisture. Shen Zhifei then quickened his pace and more forcefully fucked that warm cave.
"Hmm...no, no, faster."
Under the double stimulation from both ends, Song Lang was somewhat dazed from being fucked. He clung tightly to Shen Zhifei's shoulders, saying "no" one moment and "continue" the next. When the pen deliberately grazed the sensitive spot protruding inside his body with light pressure, he could no longer hold back and trembled as he ejaculated onto their lower abdomens.
Exhausted, Song Lang lay on top of Shen Zhifei, enjoying the afterglow of his climax.
The wet glans was scraped, and Song Lang groaned softly as his previously limp penis regained its strength.
Shen Zhifei lifted him and placed him on the desk, spread his legs apart, and spread his round and perky buttocks even wider with one hand. Then he smeared the semen that Song Lang had ejaculated onto the edge of his anus, which was still tightly gripping the pen.
The reddish soft flesh paired with the whitish liquid, along with the pen that shouldn't have been in the picture at all, appeared exceptionally decadent and lewd in Shen Zhifei's eyes.
His eyes were dark and filled with a captivating lust.
"Get to work quickly, and stop staring at me like that."
Song Lang reached out to pull the thing out of his anus, but Shen Zhifei held his hand down.
"Song Lang—"
Shen Zhifei captured his lips, and as their teeth and tongues intertwined, his voice became incredibly hoarse.
Long, slender, fair fingers gripped the fountain pen, which was as deep blue as the night sky.
"I really want to use it to write my name here too. From now on, you can only fuck me, and you can only orgasm for me."
Song Lang, panting heavily, sucked on Shen Zhifei's lower lip and responded with a muffled sound.
The hand beneath him slowly and methodically pulled the pen out of his body, section by section.
Amidst the sizzling sound of the lubricant, a small piece of soft red flesh turned outward from the opening as the pen was withdrawn. The suddenly empty body contracted uncomfortably, as if clamoring for something thicker and longer to fill it.
"Come in, come in." Song Lang stretched out his legs and hooked Shen Zhifei's waist, pulling her into his arms.
He was passionate and frank, like fireworks suddenly exploding in the night sky outside the window behind him.