Thread by @isocrime

me: but what would i even wr-
me (clown): THE SMUT WIZARD'S GOTTA TURN 🐶 INTO A GODDAMN DOG

https://twitter.com/isocrime/status/1441220798623059968

(there will be no sexy times during the dog part)

z's bored. nobody will go golfing with him all day every day. he needs a project.

so when a friend tells him that their cousin needs somebody to watch their 1yo samoyed for a couple weeks, it sounds like a great idea.

g's filming his next project. he's slogging through three weeks of night shoots like a good sport, but he's getting tired. and lonely. and he can't make himself sleep during the day.

somebody (it's the wizard 😉) offers him some bedtime tea to help him out.

tea works great. g gets done with work, washes his face, drinks a cup, and is out like a light.

but the dream he has is WEIRD.

first he thinks he's woken up, but when he opens his eyes his vision is funny. the colors aren't right, somehow. also everything smells AWESOME. he can smell GRASS and SNACKS and FRIENDS!

g tries to get up and topples over. weird. he's not /that/ clumsy. luckily he was sleeping on the floor, so there's not far to fall. why was he sleeping on the floor?

he twists around to look at himself and - huh. dog. that...sure says something about his subconscious mind.

walking takes some trial and error. as long as he doesn't think about it too much, it goes okay, but if he pays too much attention to where his feet - paws - whatever - are going, he gets wobbly and confused.

while he's still getting his sea legs, a FRIEND appears! trotting in from the kitchen - a little black french bulldog.

aw, g thinks. he looks just like lufei. g bends down and boops his nose against his new friend. good smell.

there's a rattle of a key in a lock and the frenchie barrels off with a cacophony of raspy barks. might as well go see who's home, g thinks, and follows more quietly (not difficult to do).

"luuuuuufeiiii~~~~~" sings an achingly familiar voice. "helloooo, guess who's - no don't pee, i'm home all the time now you don't have to be so excited, c'mon buddy - where's Princess? don't you want to be a good boy like Princess?"

g hasn't seen him in - it's been - oh /please/, even if it's a dream g wants to see -

his nails scrabble on the floor as he tries to break into a run and makes a hash of it. he tries to call z's name and it comes out as barking. he's so happy, look who's HOME

"lufei, look, you've set a bad example for princess, now everyone is being noisy. is this the kind of senior you want to be?"

g skids to an ungainly halt and runs directly into z's knees. z makes an /oof/ sound and g cringes back, sorry, sorry, he forgot -

"hi princess, it's alright," z says, bending at the waist to pet g's ears. oh, that's nice. especially when he scratches a bit, yeah, there. g wags his tail, reassured. z isn't mad at him. "i'm happy to see you too."

z smells like a hundred good things. chili peppers, aftershave, sun-warmed hair, old baseball cap, new sneakers, tiger balm, sweat, chicken-flavored dog treats, sun screen, metal keys, and a bunch of other scents that must be dogs and people he met while he was out.

g licks z's chin, because he wants to say HI, HELLO, I LOVE YOU and isn't thinking super clearly. being a dog is a lot to process, there's a lot of sensory and emotional input g isn't used to. z laughs - a good sound, maybe the BEST sound - and pats g's head before he stands up

"okay boys, breakfast," z says, which has lufei wagging his entire butt with joy and g...not doing that. he doesn't really want to eat dog food. even though the dog treats he thinks might be in z's pocket smell very tasty. there's lines.

he still follows z into the kitchen, afraid that if he lets him out of his sight z will vanish from the dream.

z puts a bowl of kibbles down for lufei, then for g. then he goes to the fridge and pulls out a tupperware of leftover noodles to heat up for his own meal

the sight of kibbles makes g ravenous. so wonderful, the delicious aroma of meat, he has to be fast or lufei will eat his portion too

no! g will not eat dog food. absolutely not.

but the smell of chicken (chicken byproducts! not tasty!)

oh, the emotional turmoil.

g is rescued by an even more delicious smell: z's noodles.

yes! please give him some people food. he'll do anything. z, look at him, he's sitting so pretty, looking up so piteously, give him noodles, wonderful noodles, just a little bit, just so he doesn't have to eat kibbles

"shoo, go eat yours," z says, holding his bowl too high for g to reach.

g doesn't WANT his, he wants z's. he puts a paw on z's thigh. please. one bite. rescue him, z-laoshi

z is a massive fucking softie so he picks up a couple noodles with his fingers and holds them out.

the dog part of g's brain doesn't see anything weird about taking food from z's hand with his mouth, and the human part is having too much trouble resisting sticking his face into a bowl of dog food and yumming it up to protest

he is at least very gentle, making sure not to even nip

then g licks every one of z's fingers chasing the taste of sauce. so much for good table manners. he tried.

"yummy, huh?" z says fondly. "too bad, the rest is for me."

unholy desire for kibbles somewhat blunted by the gift of people food, g is able to switch his bowl with lufei's while z isn't looking. lufei is happy to cover up g's breakfast-avoiding crimes. what a good friend. maybe they can run around together in the yard later!

after breakfast z stretches out on the couch to read for a while. lufei lies down on the rug with a chewie and starts to gnaw. g walks over to sniff it and gets the stink-eye. okay okay okay, he wasn't going to try to steal it, he just wanted a lil smell, yeesh.

maybe g can get up on the couch and curl up next to z while he reads. he stands next to it and puts his chin on the couch cushion, pricking his ears at z. i miss you, lets cuddle, he tries to say.

human, not-dream g wouldn't be that direct. human g has been trying to get over z.

"i know, you want up," z says, laying his book down on his chest to look at g. g can't see him as well as he'd like with is color-deficient dog eyes. he can't tell if z's skin is healthy or pale. he stretches his neck to rest more of his head on the couch.

"your mom says i'm not supposed to teach you that you're allowed on the furniture," z says. "if it was up to me, you could sleep on the bed and everything. but she's a hardass."

oh. oh no. why did g's dream give z a girlfriend who moved in with him and brought her dog?

without meaning to, g whines. life's not fair.

they'd had one summer, one perfect, glorious summer where g thought maybe he'd found love, real love, and then - z'd said he wasn't any good at relationships. "we'd just break up a hundred times," he'd said. "friends are forever."

and then - well. life had shown them both just how unfair things could get, and z withdrew from everything, including g. this is the most g has gotten to see z in months and it's a weird dream where he's a dog.

he whines again, the world's most tragic puppy.

"aw, princess, don't cry," z says, and ruffles his ears. "you're too cute to be sad."

g huffs a sigh. z laughs gently at him. "how about i read aloud to you, huh? do you like music theory? i bet you do, you're a smart puppy."

he's so fucking sweet g could just DIE. g lies down next to the couch and rests his head on his paws, cocking one ear to listen to z as he starts to read in a relaxed drawl. g could listen to him talk forever.

unfortunately, music theory is really, really boring.

g falls asleep while z is still reading something about half tone and quarter tone scales, a patch of sunlight from the open window just starting to creep across his face.

when he wakes up he's back in his human bed with his human body, well-rested and alone.

[this seems like a nice spot to stop for a while! sorry to everyone who thought the puppy play would show up quickly, i'm enjoying myself with the cute parts so you'll have to wait for me to get that out of my system first]

strange as the dream was, g hasn’t slept that well in weeks so the next day when it’s time to shut the blackout curtains and go to sleep he brews himself some more. maybe this time he’ll be a cat, or a bird! hah, he was so clumsy as a dog, imagine trying to fly

but, nope, he wakes up to the jingle of z's keys in the door.

this time he and lufei sprint to foyer together, making a racket. it's fun to be loud, g thinks. in hengdian he and z would make each other laugh so hard the telephoto-jies could pick up the noise.

g bounces up and puts his paws on z's chest, snuffling into his neck. he's all sweaty - maybe he went on a run. good smell, warm and healthy. z hugs him and smiles. "you're naughty today," he says. "but i didn't take you on a walk before i went out, so i forgive you"

they're going on a WALK?

they're going OUTSIDE?

z lifts g's paws off his chest and sets him down on the floor, then grabs a leash and collar from a hook by the door. g sniffs them. smells like him! and somebody else's house, muddy water AND salty water, oh boy there's a beach nearby? does g get to go to the BEACH sometimes?

dog brain is HYPED. g's normal brain is in shock as z reaches down and buckles the collar around his neck. he should have expected this and somehow didn't. g's skin prickles like he's getting goosbumps and he shakes himself to make it go away. the dog tags jingle cheerfully.

then z clips the leash on and that's even stranger. z's going to be controlling where g goes, making sure his dogs won't run off. (making sure his dog and his girlfriend's dog can't run off, g reminds himself. wherever the girlfriend is. he hopes she's pretty - z deserves pretty)

outside has even more smells than inside! the sun is bright and makes g sneeze. lufei is already pulling at the leash, eager to get going. g sits on the stoop next to z, just looking at him while he locks the house back up. this perspective is different. his face is so far away.

wherever z is living now is out in the country, surrounded by green. the side of the long drive they walk down is a bit muddy; it must have rained overnight. g steps in a puddle while he's not paying attention and lifts his foot up in alarm. COLD! SQUISHY!

he looks at z in reproach. how could he lead g into this treacherous place when he knows g is not wearing shoes!

z bursts into helpless laughter. "oh my god, /princess/, it's just a puddle! now we know where you got your name. look at lufei, he's fine."

lufei forges blithely ahead, unconcerned. he's still pulling so hard on the leash he's wheezing. g thinks he should be more careful about his health.

z resumes walking (still chuckling), but g, who had been trotting along next to him like a good boy, hesitates about the puddle.

he doesn't have long before he runs out of leash. z tugs at him. "come on princess," he says. "you'll be okay."

easy for him to say, wearing shoes. g decides to hop over the puddle.

it goes...poorly. g hasn't tried jumping with four legs yet.

he almost falls over. z laughs so hard g thinks he might start to cry. it's all very offensive.

"good boy, so brave," z says, wiping his eyes. g is going to chew up all his shoes, see how he likes walking in the mud barefoot.

g huffs a doggy sigh. z would probably be happy about the excuse to buy more sneakers and expensive golf cleats.

it's not the worst, walking along at z's side, leash loose, collar jingling. as far as dreams go, g can't think of much that would feel more peaceful. he's proud of how much better his leash manners are than lufei's.

lufei is a good friend but he is pretty naughty.

there are several stops for lufei to lift his leg and pee on various fenceposts and unfortunate plants. g will not be doing that, thank you. a little after they turn around to head back home, lufei finds an appropriate patch of grass and uses it as a bathroom.

as they're walking up the drive, almost back home, z stops and gives g a patient look. g looks back at him. what? has he not been a good boy?

"i know the grass is a little wet, princess, but you need to go potty before we go inside."

oh, no. nope. no way.

g does have to pee. that's fine. he can keep having to pee. he is not pissing on the grass while z watches. he will NOT. no no no. this is worse than the kibbles.

unfortunately, z is very stubborn and doesn't like bending down to clean up accidents.

g whines. lufei stops pulling the leash and comes over to see what's the matter. z crosses his arms across his chest and waits.

"if you don't like this spot, you could have done your business anywhere else along our walk," z says.

wrong. g could not.

g tries a couple of plaintive barks. they're unsuccessful in winning over z's heart. everything was so nice up to this point! where is z's compassion, his understanding? princess is very smart, he could learn all on his own how to use the person toilet when they get home!

z appears willing to wait forever. right, this calls for some quick problem-solving. maybe g can pretend to pee? no, z is already suspicious, the time for that has passed. also, still embarrassing.

there's no nice places to hide within leash-length.

well, there's a bush.

g waits a while longer. he's starting to actually have to pee. and his feet are chilly.

THE BUSH WILL DO.

resolutely, g picks his way through the grass to the bush. the leash runs out about six feet short. g will not give up in pursuit of his goal! he is strong! he digs in his feet and pulls. let! him! reach! bush!

z shakes his head in disbelief and relents.

with absolutely no grace, g climbs into the bush. it's relatively large, more of a hedge than a bush, but he can do it. he lifts his legs high and shoves with his head, fluffy white fur catching on branches, and wiggles as deep as he can into the foliage.

(g's lucky he's so focused on his goal of ENTER BUSH that he doesn't notice z grabbing his phone as fast as he can and taking a video, barely able to hold it steady he's laughing so hard. he's going to put this on his private insta the second they're home)

after a valiant struggle, g is deep enough in the bush he can squat and pee as fast as he can. he kicks some leaves when he's done (dog brain says this is important) and squeezes back out of the bush, covered in leaves and twigs.

he glowers at z. happy now?

"you are so weird," z says, but he's satisfied enough to walk them the rest of the way home.

[and now i need to go be sociable, back later!]

as soon as the leash is off g tries to bound off into the house but z grabs him and lufei by the collar. “not with those muddy feet,” he says. “wait.”

lufei sighs and lies down, giving z big moon-eyes. z makes a towel appear from somewhere deep in the shoe rack.

he holds out a hand for g’s paw. g lets him rub his feet clean and dry, then watches as lufei submits to the same treatment. then the collars come off and they both get a treatie.

g crunches through his treat before his brain catches up that it’s dog food. oops.

“you need brushing,” z says, pointing at g. “and then a bath.”

at the word bath lufei makes a brisk exit. g doesn’t feel THAT dirty, really. he didn’t roll in any interesting smells at all.

“we’ll make you all pretty,” z tells g. “won’t that be nice?”

the dog part of g is skeptical, but g himself thinks...maybe he agrees. he always liked it when z played with his hair and called him handsome. he misses being a pair who looked after each other.

none of this is helping him get over z, but it’s a dream, and he feels relaxed for the first time in - hell, he doesn’t want to think how long it’s been. as a big fluffy puppy he doesn’t have to watch his back or not make mistakes. if he’s bad z just tells him no and laughs.

z gets out a little wire brush and tells g to sit on the rug in the center of the living room. that’s no good - is z going to sit on the floor?

when z’s back is turned g trots over to the couch and carefully picks up a throw pillow with his mouth.

he brings it back and drops it at z’s feet, then sits where he’s supposed to be.

z looks at the cushion, then at g, face puzzled. “is this...for me?” he asks. g woofs innocently. he’s a SMART dog, a GOOD dog, no reason he can’t get a pillow so z’s knee will be comfy

z shrugs as if to say “okay, sure, the dog can be weird if he wants” and sits on the pillow. g is happy about that.

z starts brushing at his head and works down. he’s gentle and thorough, picking burs out with his fingernails and going slow through the tangled parts.

when z gets to g’s back g helps him reach by sneaking in close and leaning his head on z’s shoulder. z scratches g’s neck and doesn’t make him move. the steady pull of the brush through g’s fur is so soothing.

getting his tail combed out isn’t quite so nice, and g squirms to tell z that maybe they could skip this part? z shushes him but does go more carefully with less pulling.

g is so fluffy by the end! maybe they can skip the bath? no baths for good dogs???

apparently yes baths, good dog or not. lufei’s turned into the incredible invisible dog, the stinker.

z hefts a reluctant g into the tub. “you’re dirty,” he says. then smiles the way that means mischief. “but if you get nice and clean we can be bad and let you on the furniture”

that’s pretty alright. g still gives z piteous eyes, even though the water is pleasantly warm and z’s hands massaging shampoo into his thick coat aren’t so bad.

“awww, so sad and scrawny without your fluff,” z says, and snaps a picture. he’ll add it to the insta post.

after a thorough rinse and towel-dry, z pulls out the blow dryer and gets g the rest of the way dry. g can’t help himself and tries to bite the stream of warm air a couple times. it doesn’t work, but it’s fun.

g gets a treat once they’re all done (the other one was kind of delicious, and now he’s given in once...)

z gets a big glass of water and takes a couple of painkillers. kneeling on the bathroom floor wasn’t easy on him.

no more getting dirty, g decides.

then z grabs his book again and lies down on the couch. now he’s clean g is allowed up too, z said! so he hops up (not elegantly) and cuddles up against z’s chest. (not on top of the bad knee!)

z pets his ears lazily.

g wants to stay awake in the dream as long as he can, soaking up time with z-laoshi in this big airy house, but he’s so comfortable and z’s chest is so warm, rising and falling slowly with his breathing.

g falls asleep again, and when he wakes up he’s back in real life.

that evening g gets a push notification to his phone. z has posted to his private Instagram account! he doesn’t post very much, and g tries not to endlessly stalk him for clues about his life.

you’ve gotta cut him a break. he’s only human, come on.

z’s uploaded a video of a big white dog struggling madly to wedge itself into a shrub.

um.

UM!

[lunch is here, back later!]

any doubts g could have about maybe it being a coincidence are erased by the next picture: the same dog in a now-familiar bathtub, looking woebegone and shrunken to half its previous size without its fluffy coat. he remembers z taking that photo.

g isn't a determined skeptic, he rolls with the world being big and strange and he hedges his bets with superstition - doesn't make sense to tempt fate, and every little bit helps in the arena he works in - but this is a lot to take in all at once.

he distracts himself for a moment being offended that z would take a video of him doing something so embarrassing and then post it without his permission!

okay generally dogs don't care but

it's rude.

okay back to the more pressing issue: magic is real and g actually peed in a bush.

while inhabiting the body of what g assumes is z's new gf's dog.

in front of z, who took a video and posted it online.

in conclusion, this new bedtime tea is officially sus as fuck.

he falls into bed after work at 4:30am and skips the tea. surely he's tired enough to just sleep. he'll just go to bed, move past this weird experience, and get back to business advancing his career and figuring out how to stop being in love with his ex.

g sleeps like shit. he spends an hour watching a beetle walk halfway across the mostly-dark ceiling, then spends another hour watching it refuse to walk any farther, until he's pretty sure he hallucinated the part where it was moving and he's staring at a speck of dirt.

when he wakes up, groggy and dissatisfied, the beetle is gone. so it was alive the whole time after all.

no dreams of being a dog. the tea is no longer sus, the tea is GUILTY.

the next night of shooting goes horribly. g is cranky even BEFORE his costar makes a casual cutting remark about playing to cpfs when she doesn't know he's listening. stupid vampire-farmer drama with its stupid 90% of scenes set outside in the dark

[okay i didn't mean to come up with anything about g's fictional drama with an unrealistic number of night scenes, but now i care about this vampire-farmer oops]

[g is playing the vampire farmer's old neighbor/rival farmer, who would like the vampire farmer to fuck off and stop bothering him about the ONE TIME he ripped him off with a batch of moldy seeds]

[to dodge censorship the vampires aren't "dead," they're infected with a mysterious disease that gives them all the characteristics of vampires but they're not vampires and definitely not undead in any way.]

[it's very patriotic and pro-agriculture, also. pay no attention to the definitely-supposed-to-be-vampires behind the curtain.]

back to g and his more-than-sus tea.

he makes it through three more days of being unable to sleep through the day, his body clock still not getting with the program.

it's almost like the insomnia getting worse over time, not better. almost like some outside force is pressuring him to continue spending time with z as a happy puppy instead of being angsty and self-punishing.

it's the fourth night where it won't stop raining that does him in. the sky opens up for half an hour, sending them all scattering to tents and trailers, then stops for just long enough to get set back up, and as soon as they're halfway into the first take, boom: raining again

he gets trapped in his costar's trailer during one of the downpours, and it's wet and awkward and nobody laughs. all g wants is z with a towel rubbing his hair dry, then throwing the towel over both their heads for silly, humid kisses

all he has to do if he wants to hear z-laoshi laugh is drink a cup of tea and have a good night's sleep.

(or he could, you know, fucking call him.)

z never has to know that g spent some time letting him pet him and tell him how handsome and obedient he is. as long as he keeps acting like a dog z won't notice anything strange. g wants to know how z is; wants to see him whole and healthy and in love (even with somebody else)

after g drinks his sus tea and falls asleep, he wakes up as princess on z's bed, snuggled into blankets that smell like z. presumably the "no furniture" rule has been given up as a lost cause.

(once z discovered how warm and not-alone it felt to sleep with a dog next to him, he couldn't bring himself to tell princess no. actual dog princess thinks this inexplicable change in behavior is GREAT)

they go to the ocean, but not somewhere with a beach. there are docks, and piers covered in barnacles for g and lufei to sniff, and a couple guys fishing with long poles. z waves, asks one how his kids are doing, when's his boat getting fixed, are the fish are biting today?

when they get home, z sits down on the couch to mess with his and g hops right up after. lufei takes the other side and rolls over for belly rubs.

g wants belly rubs. but now he knows this is really zh, he feels too weird. instead he paws at z until he can see the phone screen

z browses the news a bit — g notices he’s deleted the weibo app again — then gets a message from a friend. “you’ll like this,” it says, along with a video link.

as z opens the video g tilts his head to see what it is

it’s one of g’s ads. if g stretches his brain he thiiiiinks this one should have come out sometime this week. maybe today. it’s for a vitamin-infused cream that accelerates hair growth (strongly implied to reverse balding), and they’d put g in a ridiculous long wig

on the phone screen g shakes his hair out and finger-combs it, smiling at the camera. it’s intercut with g in a wind tunnel, hair flying everywhere

it had been a fun shoot, aiming for something a bit lighthearted instead of only sexy. it’s tough to be sexy about balding.

“cute,” z says happily, and rewinds the video to play again. he’s beaming as he watches a second time, cupping his hands around the phone.

it’s not a very special commercial. g isn’t sure why z’s friend sent it.

z goes back to wechat and replies: “haha I can count on you to show me everything junjun does, it’s like you think I’m obsessed with him”

“🤣 don’t act like you aren’t!”

“yeah yeah yeah and so is half the internet, I’m just another fan now”

“🙄”

z could be more than a fan if he wanted to be, g thinks! he could do anything he wanted with g, how does z not know that?

if only there was some way for g to communicate with z. but dog paws can’t type! he doesn’t have fingers! he can only woof!

his phone isn’t even here, it’s back in his hotel room! he’ll have to wait until he wakes up to get it, and by then he’ll be human again and he’ll be able to just.......

call......

z.....

idiot.

“he’s cute, right?” z asks princess. “you agree with me, you’re a clever dog.”

z’s face turns wistful and g comforts him by stretching over to give him don’t-be-sad kisses on the chin

wait, no, this is real life and he shouldn’t lick his ex’s face, what the fuck

g curls up next to z and tells the dog half of his brain not to do any more socially inappropriate things or make him eat any more dog treats or having to be scolded away from rolling in rotten fish.

when he wakes up he’s human and not tired anymore. he can still barely remember the smell of z’s house, like there’s traces of it still lingering in his nose.

he has to go back to the hateful set in a few hours, and all he wants is to hear z’s voice again. he picks up his phone.

“hey,” g says.

“hey,” z says back, with a small laugh. “you won’t believe this — I was just thinking of you.”

“I miss you,” g declares.

“we haven’t talked in a while, yeah,” z says ruefully. “it’s good to hear from you.”

“what have you been up to, then?” g asks, which is a way more normal conversational opener than “let’s get back together I know you still have feelings because I spied on you as a dog”

“I’m watching my cousin’s dog,” z says. “well, my friend’s cousin’s dog, it’s sort of not his cousin but he’s known her since they were kids so — you get it, haha, yeah.”

not...not a girlfriend’s dog.

“is that the dog I saw on your insta?” g asks, feigning ignorance

“you follow that old account?” z asks, surprise coloring his voice. “I think only about seven people total actually check it at this point.”

“I like to see what you’re up to,” g says.

“oh yeah? me too. or — uh — I —“

g suddenly wants to see z’s face in non-doggie vision. even his private insta posts always have the face cropped out. maybe he can just ask.

“not very fair, there’s a thousand pictures of my face out there and I never see yours,” g says.

“I’ll turn on my camera,” z says.

shit, shit, g isn’t video-chat ready, his hair is floppy and he doesn’t have a shirt on because he just woke up, aaaaaah

but he wants to see z’s face so he does his best to frame the shot in a way that makes the unkemptness look deliberate

z fucks up the camera at first, and g gets a sideways view of mostly-forehead, but he gets it fixed relatively quickly (for him) and smiles at g.

it’s been too long.

z, who isn’t fucking up his sleep schedule with night shoots, looks awake and put together. there’s color in his cheeks

huh, that shirt is green, g thinks. looked kinda brown before.

“sorry I look like a mess,” g says. he yawns and presses his cheeks to check if he’s really as puffy as he feels. one good night of sleep hasn’t undone all the damage from g’s schedule.

“don’t be humble, laogong, we all know you look...” z pauses, and his face turns soft. “gorgeous,” he says quietly.

g laughs in embarrassment, hiding his face in his elbow. “still a flirt,” he accuses.

“ah ah ah, it’s not flirting if it’s true.”

“you look good,” g tells z. if z likes compliments so much he can receive some himself.

z ducks his head and smiles cutely. g’s heart does a familiar little flip. he should never have let z go.

they chat about g’s work and z’s unreleased demos for a while, until g has to go.

he promises to call again soon.

he forgets to explain that the only way he can get a good night’s sleep is by magically invading z’s privacy by inhabiting the body of his cousin’s dog.

[aaaand that’s it for tonight, more to come!]

for some reason g kind of hoped that after the narrative resolution of calling z and making some not-so-subtle overtures he wouldn’t need the tea so badly to sleep.

WRONG.

but he also can’t try to get z back while also secretly hanging out in his house as a dog.

suffering through the insomnia is hell. his stomach feels like a gordian knot every afternoon when he wakes up, and he has a constant sickening headache.

g wants someone (someone = z, if he’s being specific) to scratch him behind the ears and let him snooze in the sun. he also wants to give z a blowjob and get called a good boy.

it’s possible some wires are getting crossed here, g thinks.

they’re filming a bit where g has to dress up like a vampire and switch places with his (not)undead rival since they’ve become reluctant allies so they can appease his wrathful mother-in-law.

all the hopping shakes up g’s stomach so much he takes a moment to barf behind a tree

he just wants ONE nice stretch of sleep. the magic tea and z’s airy house beckon.

okay, maybe he can explain the situation, and z will be cool with it? they’ve been chatting (flirting) while g is bored in the evening.

g: you ever have a dream tell you something that turned out to be real?
z: yeah, def
z: i dreamed i was trying to cook noodles and kept lighting the pan on fire. turned out ma’s soup had boiled over and was burning

g: more weird than that
z: i dreamed a-xu kissed lao wen a couple times. that sort of came true, haha

(okay, quick diversion to talk about kisses, g decides)

g: how’d it happen in the dream?
z: lao wen didn’t just kiss a-xu’s shoulder on the riverbank 😳
g: so then....where?

z: well, lao wen always takes liberties, so a-xu’s neck next. then under his ear...
g: and then his mouth? did he pull protesting a-xu into his lap and seduce him?
z: something like that

(okay enough flirting, back to g’s actual issue.)

g: i keep dreaming I’m your cousin’s dog.

z: princess??????
g: it’s crazy, right? even before you posted the video.
z: hell of a coincidence
g: can I ask a favor?
z: always
g: you won’t tease me?
z: no promises
g: ugh, fine, I know you can’t help yourself
g: can you help me test that I’m not actually a dog in my dreams?

z: so you mean setting aside the fact that your filming schedule has clearly driven you coo-coo bananas
g: yes setting that aside, thank you z-laoshi
z: what kind of experiment will prove if your dream dog is princess?
z: it’s kind of an interesting question actually

z: where would the dog’s soul go while you’re in its body?
g: I don’t know, somewhere else?
z: not a very satisfying answer, g-laoshi
z: do you and the dog merge? what happens to your body? is it just empty? is there a copy of you still there?
g: z-laoshi you’re killing me

z: I’m just considering the philosophy
g: I know you’re teasing me!
z: only a little
g: you’re the worst, why do I like you. are you going to help me with my weird dreams or not
z: I dunno, what’s in it for me?
g: hm
z: better be good
g: give me a second

when it comes to bribes, g knows what works. he has a special selfie folder on his phone

[g has shared img_056.png]
z: fuck, okay, yeah

in the photo he’s sweaty and shirtless, crouching down to re-tie his shoe after a hard workout on the treadmill. he’s got his hotel key-card held in his mouth for a sec to free up his hands, and is looking up into the camera with big fuck-me eyes.

the running shorts are SHORT

g: thank you, z-laoshi~
z: did you just HAVE that?
g: not telling
z: who’s the cameraman!
g: jealous?
z: little bit maybe
g: don’t worry, I didn’t let him fuck me in the end
z: [...]
z: [...]
z: [...]
g: i’m kidding, oh my god
g: it’s fanservice I decided not to post

z: I hate you, is this how you treat someone you want to solve your nutty dream-dog problem
g: fine, fine, whatever you want z-laoshi

(z is gonna ignore that sass)

z: what’s something princess definitely couldn’t do that you could?

g: ask me a math question and I’ll bark the right number
z: you suck at math
g: how dare you!
z: no no no, it’ll work, I’ll give you an easy one
g: insulting me after I sent you a sexy picture
z: sorry, sorry, you know you’re perfect in my heart, don’t be mad

g tells z to go to bed so he can get back to work, then undermines that advice by flirting a little more.

don’t yell at him, he’s getting only positive feedback here, z is clearly down with the what-if-we-weren’t-exes overtures, and g enjoys playing this game

if g is being honest with himself, he’s been pretty miserable. he likes the work, he /does/, he’s just...before z it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t trust anyone outside his team. self-reliance meant safety.

then he learned what it was like to have z as an ally.

something about being just a good dog in z’s house makes g’s hackles go down, and he’s finding out he needs that.

it’s nice that z is reciprocating g’s sexual advances, but g finds he’s more anxious about being allowed to keep visiting in his dreams.

the tea knocks g out like a sucker punch, and he pops awake as princess, body free of aches and nausea for the first time in like a week.

he puts his feet way out in front of him and streeeeeeetches. it’s nice! he shakes to get the last of the lingering sleepy human feelings off

g pads around the house, looking for z. he finds him washing dishes, singing to himself. the song isn’t familiar, but it sounds like z’s kind of style. romantic, pretty, yearning.

when g’s nails click on the tile z turns around and points a finger at him like a gun

“bang! 6 divided by 3,” he says, chuckling to himself like it’s a private joke.

fuck, math. easy math, if only dog!brain thought less in emotions and smells and more in numbers

it’s two, right? g imagines counting on fingers he doesn’t have right now. he’s 99% sure it’s two.

z watches him struggle and laughs. “you think about it, princess,” he says, amused. “I’ll ask again in an hour.”

okay it’s gotta be two. g barks twice.

z stops laughing, eyes wide. “freaky coincidence. try 5 minus 4”

one bark.

“1 plus 2”

three barks.

“what’s the sixth prime number?”

g sits down and whines.

“yeah I don’t know that either”

z bends down at the waist to stare into g’s puppy face. “junjun?”

g yaps at him.

z smiles and reaches out to ruffle g’s ears, then pauses — is it too weird to pet his ex? g solves this by shoving his head into z’s hand, demanding affection

“i’ve been asking this dog stupid math questions since last night and you only answer now? were all the other ones too hard?”

hey, g just got here! that was princess! g might not be able to remember three digit numbers right now but he’s not dumb!!!

z pets his head some more, and g decides he wants belly rubs too. he flops over and rolls on his back, paws in the air.

“cuuuuuuute,” z whispers with a muffled squeal.

he sits down on the kitchen floor carefully, bad leg outstretched, and pats the soft fur on g’s belly.

g wiggles with delight and thumps his tail on the floor.

“yeah?” z asks, rubbing his tummy more vigorously, then finding a spot that makes g’s leg kick reflexively. “ohmigod so cute,” he says, and keeps doing it until g is panting

“you’re such a happy puppy,” z says, scratching g’s chest.

is g a happy puppy? is he a GOOD DOG? does z feel warm and safe when he’s around?

he’ll have to ask on the phone later, after he confirms with z that his dog really did do math, and didn’t mess it up.

“if you were lufei I’d give you a treat but...”

don’t make g eat more dog treats please. he can only take so much

z snaps his fingers, having an aha moment. “I have watermelon in the fridge.

g rolls to his feet with an ungainly scramble. watermelon??!? he loves watermelon!

z holds the wedge of watermelon still for g, who crunches through it with gusto. it’s sweet and cold. he munches it down all the way to the rind, then licks the juice off of z’s hand. he stops himself before he tries to lick the drips on the floor.

it’s a peaceful day, and g wakes up rested.

there’s a message from z on his phone. it’s a photo of princess snoozing on the couch, and z has written “all tuckered out from figuring out that 6 divided by 3 equals 2”

that’s that question answered, then.

[stopping here to go have some filthy wenzhou thoughts until tomorrow because this isn’t getting to the porn fast enough]

g: I’m better at math as a human
z: what’s 8 x 12
g: I refuse to play this game.
z: don’t use your calculator app!
g: I know it’s 96

(z checks the answer using his calculator app)

z: that’s right! such a good boy, do you want a treat?

g’s face heats up (wires crossed again...)

and he does sort of want a treat

g: depends on what kind
z: maybe that depends on how well you beg - let me see those puppy eyes

it’s just teasing, g tells himself. flirty teasing to defuse how deeply weird the dog mind-swap thing is now they both know it’s real.

it’s not g’s style to back down when he could instead challenge z to finish what he’s started. g snaps a selfie from a high angle, blankets visible rumpled around his waist, no shirt on yet, treating the camera to a a limpid please-please-please-fuck-my-mouth gaze

z: i can reward that, give me one moment

g should be getting to work, but he’s glued to his phone. after long enough that g starts to fidget, z’s selfie arrives.

z is fully dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when g visited, but now his fly is only half done up, and g can see the outline of an erection through his pant leg. g imagines z hurriedly stroking himself hard while he waited.

g is never late to work, but he’s gonna be late

he videocalls. z picks up immediately.

“hey,” g says, a little breathless.

“one not enough?” z asks, grinning. his free hand is out of frame, doing things g wants to know more about.

“maybe I wanted to see you,” g says.

z smiles wider, eyes crinkling. “you are seeing me~”

“you know that’s — just — tell me: are you seeing anybody else?” g asks, desperate for z to say no.

“not since you,” z says. “nobody—ah— nobody since you.”

“then you could be showing me how you’re touching yourself, I think.”

“how do you know what I’m doing, could be anything”

“z-laoshi~~” g says, laying on the cute (z is weak to cute). “haven’t I been good?”

he adds the begging eyes, and wets his lips with his tongue. “wouldn’t I be even better if I was there?”

“yeah, I know you’d be good to me,” z says roughly. “you’d get down between my knees, huh?”

“mm,” g says, then puts two fingers in his mouth and sucks wetly.

“fuck, you’re too much,” z says, and FINALLY flips the camera so g can see his dick. “look what you did to me”

g really doesn’t see anything wrong with it. z is flushed and wet at the tip and fuck if g doesn’t want to swallow him whole. he sucks his fingers with the same rhythm as the movement of z’s hand, making sure there’s a lot of lewd noises for z to enjoy~

“stop doing that, it’s obscene,” z tells him.

g slips his fingers free and licks in between the v of his fingers where it’s gotten too wet and spitty. z makes a broken little wheeze.

“what should I do with these, then?” g asks. “you wanna get fingered while I blow you?”

“if you were here—“ z says, and breaks off panting, flipping the camera back around so g can see how wrecked his face is.

“I’d kiss you,” g says, as he finally sticks his hand down the front of his pants. “I miss kissing you, and touching your hands.”

“Oh,” z sighs, “please—“

nope that got too real too fast, big time yikes!!!!

“and then I’d see how many times I could get you to come in my mouth in 24 hours,” g adds quickly.

rescued it, phew.

“you’re a devil,” z says through clenched teeth as the wet sounds of him touching himself grow louder and faster. “I’m not falling for that game again.”

g flops backwards onto his pillows and laughs and laughs, still rolling his hips up into his hand. it feels good to laugh.

g doesn’t know what z is complaining about, 5 wasn’t /that/ many times and his dick hadn’t been so sore he turned down an opportunity to fuck g the next night.

z comes first, with a furrow in his brow and a cute stuttering whimper. nothing’s changed about his o-face, g notes.

z watches avidly as g finishes himself off, whispering the occasional word of praise or encouragement. g wishes they were in the same place so z could pet g’s hair too.

he’s barely 30 seconds into the afterglow when he gets an annoyed message asking why he’s late

“shit,” g says, while z laughs at him for letting phone sex make him late.

g isn’t going to say it was worth it because z will gloat forever.

“bye bye, good luck coming up with an excuse~~” z tells him, and then g hurtles himself into the shower as fast as he can

[accidentally took a 9 hour break without warning today, oops. here’s a warning that I’ll write more tomorrow! we’re inching towards the puppy play here]

the universe punishes g for being late with a bus breakdown on the way back from set. he’s so tired when he gets to his room he just wants to have a cup of tea and go to bed in what he’s wearing

he’s already brewed the tea when he remembers — even though z knows g is princess sometimes, g still has to ask z if he can come over. especially since things got a lil spicy earlier. he can’t ask z to always be on the lookout for signs his dog is harboring his ex(???)’s brain

he checks the time. 4am, nooooooo

g can’t message at this hour and expect a quick response!

(wrong, z is lying awake reading an ebook with princess lying on his feet, kept up by the fear that if he gives something serious with g a shot he’ll mess it all up)

okay, he’ll give sleeping the regular, non-magical way and see how it goes

it goes terrible.

after two hours of fretting, g gives in and asks z if he’d mind a guest. he doesn’t ask if z can take him on a walk to the ocean, even though he’s been yearning for BEACH

it’s too hard to explain that g wouldn’t mind z taking him out on a leash and throwing things for him to catch and bring back.

g’s not sure he can explain it to himself. maybe it’s just the time with z paying attention to him, and how running as a dog is FUN, unlike treadmills

z messages back to say yes much faster than g expected (it gives him a warm bloom of happiness in his chest)

“just tell me it’s you somehow,” z says, “and you can visit whenever.”

whenever probably doesn’t mean every day, g thinks, telling his heart to slow down. pace urself!

when g wakes up as princess he’s curled up on the bed (soooo comfy, people furniture is a+) with z stretched out next to him, reading. g stretches, yawns, and goes to stick his wet nose under z’s chin

then he tries his best to quietly howl wuhu

z bursts into laughter, throwing his arms around g’s fluffy body and rolling back and forth on the bed.

“hi jj,” he laughs. “have you been practicing or are you just better at finding the key as a dog?”

g puts his head on his paws and raises his puppy eyebrows. why so mean, zls

z pats his head and scratches behind his ears. then he takes his hand away and pats it awkwardly on the covers. “sorry, i keep forgetting you’re not a dog right now,” he says.

that’s okay, g thinks. g is a GOOD DOG, but an imperfect boyfriend.

g noses his way under z’s hand again, encouraging more pets. z laughs and lets him.

“you’re right, you’re too soft to resist” he pauses, then smiles. “i always have liked your cute hair”

especially the wig at the end that was white, g remembers. and he’s all white now!

no walk for g today — when z lets lufei out he opens the door for g and lets him wander around the yard untethered, sniffing things. he can tell there’ve been rabbits around recently, and z tried to barbecue on the back patio a few weeks ago. chicken, maybe, g thinks

the next day he tells z he’ll be over again, and the day after that as well. z remembers to treat him more and more like a human each time he visits. he gives g people food (PEOPLE FOOD) and g figures out how to use the real toilet, albeit awkwardly

“is it every time you go to sleep?” z asks on the phone (z calls often; he says when g visits he comes up with all kinds of questions that g can’t answer until he can talk)

“i have this weird tea,” g says. “it’s the only thing that helps my insomnia but it has this side effect”

“are you sleeping enough now?” z asks, all concerned. “should I let princess nap more?”

“don’t worry, don’t worry,” g says. “I always wake up happy”

another week of night shoots and g gets a break — he’s back on a daytime schedule for ten days while he films a reality show. it’s a slow-life one about farming, a good tie in for 🧛🏻‍♂️👨🏻‍🌾.

(the fansites are stoked to see g use his muscles all dirty and sweaty)

it’s a little sad for g because he won’t be able to use his phone much and he won’t be sleeping during the day for puppy visits

no phone sex OR head scratches.

then, suddenly! two of the big sponsors pull out and the show has to be postponed while they fill the budget shortfall

g calls z, annoyed. he’s in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a hotel while the producers try to fix their money problem before their celebrities fly home. (I don’t care if this is actually how tv production works, just go with me for the sake of porn)

z makes sympathetic noises — he knows g hates to waste time — until g mentions the podunk town he’s staying in.

“that’s only an hours drive from me,” z says, biting his lip.

g can’t believe he’s so familiar with z’s house and yet had no idea where it was.

“actually....princess’s mom is back in town,” z says. “my bed will be kind of cold — i got used to having company”

that’s unquestionably an invitation. good job at communication, boys!

“this hotel bed /is/ very uncomfortable,” g says, not hiding his grin very well.

three hours later (one to arrange things with the show’s crew, who are happy to not pay for his room, one to pack/shower Thoroughly, one to drive), g is on z’s familiar doorstep. looking at it from human-height, with hands he can use to knock. how weirdly normal

z opens the door and g remembers the most important difference about visiting in person:

he can kiss z-laoshi.

g gathers z close and kisses him right in the doorway. now he can /feel/ the way z’s gotten a bit softer, no longer pushing his body to maintain an exhaustingly rigid standard. his hair is long, messily held out of his face with a sweatband.

g pulls the sweatband off and tosses it who-knows-where so he can bury both hands in z’s grown-out hair while z runs his hands up and down g’s chest.

it’s been so long since g kissed z, he’s dizzy

g knows there’s no cameras watching but once the initial rush of “must kiss must kiss!!!!” ebbs a little he gets antsy being so much out in the open.

z gets it, and helps g move his luggage inside. they bypass the guest bedroom and go straight to z’s.

g takes z by the waist and kisses him again the second the luggage is tossed in the corner

“I could talk or ask you how you’ve been, have some tea,” z pants, “it would be polite, since you’re a guest. or...”

“or?” g prompts

“I really want to fuck you and the bed’s right there”

“honestly, I cleaned out before I got here,” g says. “but it’s been a while. I’m going to be tight for you”

z groans and strips g’s shirt off so fast he leaves honest-to-god scratches on g’s hips from his fingernails.

z’s body is less sculpted, but he’s still working out just as much (maybe more, given the free time). he sweeps g’s feet out from under him and flips him onto the bed, following eagerly.

pants: off!
kissing: more of it!
lube: where the fuck’s it gotten to?

“can i have you right away?” z begs. “it’s been so long, I want you under me, usually we’d — foreplay — but —“

“no — yeah — from behind,” g gasps. he rolls onto his elbows and knees and sticks his ass up in the air. right away is perfect.

he wants z to slick up and push in, condom or no condom, while g is still tight as a vise. he wants z to be that desperate.

z strokes over g’s ass. “one second, give me one second,” he says. the nightstand lube has vanished, but he has more in his sex toy box, good stuff

this lube isn’t just good because he knows where it is; it also comes with an injector attachment.

much faster than fingering it in; g’s going to get his wish /and/ not get himself injured

when g sees what z has he drops his head to his forearms and whimpers

z climbs up behind g, and he hears the snap of a condom getting adjusted, then feels z spread one of his cheeks to the side and slip the narrow rubber nozzle into him. z pumps lube into him, checking with a finger to see if g is messy enough yet, and adds more for good measure

it’s a good thing z is hard enough to pound nails just from kissing and grinding because even with all the lube in the world g’s ass is going to take some force to open up

z pushes, feels how little it yields, and eases off. g throws a hand back and grabs his thigh

“I am literally /begging/ you to put your dick in me,” g says, digging his fingers like claws into z’s thigh muscles. “fuck’s sake, put your back into it”

z lines up and shoves his hips forward again. g grinds back on him, willing himself open

when it sinks in properly the sensation drives an agonized little cry out of g.

“do NOT stop,” g says, squeezing z’s thigh in warning again. he’ll leave bruises if he has to! this is serious!

“it’s got to hurt,” z pants. “you’re so tight it’s almost uncomfortable for /me/“

“then fuck me loose, oh my god, come on,” g says, fully dowm to use dirty tricks to accelerate his trip to pound-town.

it does hurt, yeah. but good hurt, sex hurt, hurt that means z is inside him. pain reminds him his insides are a forbidden, difficult place to reach. special.

“fuck, you’re not real,” z says. then forces more of his dick into g with a hand on g’s lower back to keep him put

yeah, fuck, it’s good, and it’s even better when z has himself fully seated and can use two hands (one on g’s shoulder, one on his hip) to yank him onto his thrusts

it’s teeth-rattling and incredible. z proves himself to be exactly as desperate for it as g wanted him to be. plus he’s got stamina from doing a lot of cardio.

g’s exhales become a low, wobbly moan, volume spiking each time z fucks into him

pretty soon g’s ass goes from a tourniquet to a soft, sweet hole. z fucks him with a different kind of hunger, plastered over g’s sweaty back and mouthing half-silent words against the nape of his neck. among what g can make out, over and over, is “good boy, jj, good boy”

that has g shooting off real quick! once g is done shaking through his orgasm, z pulls out, whips off the condom, and fists his dick until he comes all over g’s lower back (and if a little bit drips down over g’s well-abused asshole, that’s not a problem)

they lie together after, panting and sticky and very satisfied.

“now,” z says, then takes a moment to try to better catch his breath, “now we can have some tea, if you like.”

g smacks him with a pillow for being a brat, then drags him in for a clumsy, worn-out kiss.

after they clean up, they eat and chat, then g leaves z to his own devices for a while as he ties up loose ends for work stuff. when the light gets pretty and golden in the late afternoon he decides to take some selfies in front of the trees that surround z’s house

g’s selfie-shoot quickly becomes z’s photoshoot with g as the model and z as photographer + artistic director + stylist + distraction

it’s easy and fun — g gets grass in his hair and laughs until his belly hurts.

g is feeling tender enough downstairs that he’s glad z’s dining room chairs all have padded seats. he will not be on the receiving end of any more penetrative sex tonight!

so when they go to bed and get frisky instead of sleeping, z takes it upon himself to very gently eat g out and then give him a blowjob that’s exactly the way he likes it (awwwww, he remembers)

g, who also knows what z likes, puts two fingers in him and lovingly sucks him off

it’s perfect. it feels like proof they never should have called it off

and then g can’t sleep.

he alternates between lying still and listening to z breathe, trying to drift off, and checking his phone to make sure there’s no updates on when he’ll have to leave.

z wakes briefly in the wee hours of the morning and notices that g is still restless. he mumbles something at g, only half-awake, and imperiously shoves until g is getting spooned, z curled against g’s back with his nose tucked between g’s shoulder blades

g sleeps for a couple hours like that, comforted by having someone at his back.

but its still not enough by morning, and z doesn’t have a single energy drink in his entire house. the closest thing he has is a container of electrolyte powder with a little plastic measuring scoop

the next night z gives him a massage and an eye mask and warm soy milk to help him sleep

aaaaand it doesn’t help.

g is frustrated. he didn’t bring the tea! and even if he did, he doesn’t want to spend the night as a dog without z in some random cousin’s house.

“i thought you’d been getting enough sleep before,” z says when he finds g curled up on the couch that evening, blinking blearily at his phone.

“only because I was visiting you as a dog,” g says, then yawns. “magic something or another, I dunno”

“Mm,” z says, and sits down next to him on the couch. “I guess. so do you think it’s the magic chemicals in the tea or the dog thing?”

“huh?” (g isn’t feeling the sharpest right now, he got used to decent sleep for a bit and the current insomnia is getting to him)

z waves his hands in the air, one side doing something that might be brewing tea and the other indecipherable but presumably related to dogs.

“it could be the tea is sedative, and the dog adventures are purely a side effect. or not.”

“I don’t have the tea with me,” g says.

“that’s fine,” z says. he’s got a glint in his eye that means he’s forming an Action Plan. “I’m saying — you always seemed happy and relaxed as princess.”

“I really don’t have the tea,” g repeats.

“shush, you won’t need it”

usually if g waits long enough z will be able to chase his idea around in verbal circles until it coalesces into a sentence or two that make sense. g kind of enjoys watching the process of z’s brain at work

(“kind of”, he says, like he doesn’t make smitten goo-goo eyes about it)

“we can both act,” z explains after a long line of reasoning. “maybe we can evoke the same effect without needing magic. like...”

z closes his eyes for a moment, and when he next opens them his face is subtly different: more indulgent, fewer expectations behind it

“hey puppy,” z says to him, low and coaxing. “roll over and I’ll rub your belly.”

oh, fuck, g wants this thing a LOT. it’s going to be mortifying when z realizes how much. he wavers.

“come on,” z encourages. “be a good boy.”

g whines; he can’t help himself. z pats the couch next to him, showing where he wants g to lie down.

in slow motion, g obeys, settling on his back with his head on z’s thigh and his knees hanging over the arm of the couch.

“that’s a good puppy,” z says, and g’s face goes hot

then z pulls g’s shirt up to his armpits and rubs his palm firmly up and down g’s belly.

all of g’s limbs tremble, and then z does it again, adding a little scratch when his fingers touch g’s happy trail.

“you like that?” z says, in a tone that doesn’t expect a verbal answer

g nods, head buzzing.

“so cute,” z praises him. “the cutest. i could play with you all day.”

whatever z wants to try is fine with g; it certainly can’t /hurt/ the insomnia problem. so far z is still just rubbing g’s belly and as far as g’s concerned he can keep doing that 4ever

“just a puppy,” z coos. “just the sweetest little puppy with no worries at all, just wants treats and love and playtime.”

it sounds so wonderful. treats and love and no responsibilities besides doing what z asks. and z won’t trap him with demands that are impossible to meet.

then z’s thumb happens to drag heavily across g’s bare nipple, and g’s whole body jerks as pleasure fizzes in a direct line to his cock.

g stares desperately up at z, not sure if he wants z to back off or to do it again.

z flicks his thumb over g’s nipple again, then pinches it

“do you want to keep being a puppy, or do you want to come over here and suck my cock?” z whispers, switching to pull at g’s other nipple until g moans.

/both/, says a horny voice in the back of g’s head. /why not both?/

(z could scratch behind his ears and call him a good boy)

but g is already basically in z’s lap getting his nipples toyed with, so given the choice he’s going to pick the sex one. if he rolls his head to the side he can nose against where z is already hard (remember to process that one later, honey)

g rubs his face against where z’s nice hard cock tents his pants, and z dips his hand under g’s waistband and pulls g’s /also/ already stiff cock out so it bobs against his belly, pants barely pulled down otherwise. the angles all terrible but that doesn’t make it any less hot

z urges g to flip onto his belly so he can give head properly

before g is fully settled z also tucks a soft throw pillow under g’s hips. no reason for it. maybe to keep him comfortable. g melts a bit at the touch of cushy fabric against his achy cock.

g can’t help himself. he’s not strong enough.

once he’s got z in his mouth, he starts rocking his hips into the pillow (like a—)

it feels good and he’s horny and impatient, so he does it faster (rutting against it like a—)

(like—)

z’s hand finds g’s hair, petting him as he—

as he humps a pillow like a dog

like a shameless animal humping its owner’s leg, mindlessly rutting because it feels good and it doesn’t know better

naughty dog, ruining furniture, embarrassing everyone, fuck, he can’t stop, he has to—

“good boy,” z says. “that’s it, good boy”

g cries big wet sex tears as he comes. z’s cock is still in his mouth but he’s not really doing anything with it, too busy falling to pieces dick-first to be any good at sex.

above him z is breathing hard, watching.

after, g goes limp right on top of the wet pillow, every muscle an over-cooked noodle.

z helps, cradling his head and sliding his cock back and forth just a centimeter or two inside g’s mouth. g’s mumblemaybeboyfriendmumble is so sweet to him

when z comes it takes g by surprise. he coughs on it, ack gah too much not ready!

“sorry, sorry,” z says gently, laughing at himself a little. “should have seen that coming”

he softly dabs spit and come off g’s chin and wipes it on his own pant leg. not mad. taking care of it.

“mmmmthanku,” g mumbles. “s’nice.”

“you take a breather,” z says fondly. “I’m gonna brainstorm for a bit, but you can stay right there.”

sounds good, g thinks. noooo problem. he’s going to take a nap.

[that seems like a good stopping point! tomorrow: z has Plans and is willing to pay extra for overnight shipping.]

z lets him snooze on the couch until midnight, but when they move to bed g can’t get back to sleep.

he’s fine, everything is fine, he’s got z nearby, healthy and whole. when g gets dragged onto conference calls during the day he even hears z puttering around on the piano

there’s nothing wrong. he has no scandals, no trouble getting roles, no one is sick in his family, it looks very likely that he’ll get his boyfriend back — g is doing! everything! perfectly!

and he’s still so tired.

z is Onto Him. he gives g a sidelong look over breakfast and teases him lightly about his makeup team working hard. then offers to be g’s makeup team and dabs at his forehead with a napkin while g tries (not that hard) to bat him away.

later, g caves and skims his own supertopic (on his priv account, obviously, no geotag risks). they’re speculating madly about where he took the backyard selfies he posted yesterday.

then g double-checks his vpn and indulges himself looking at what the old cp fans are saying

there’s not as many, these days, but a few have hung on. and while g tries not to obsess...he knows where to look.

“don’t spread theories about where 🐶’s recent pictures are from,” says a pinned post. “if he’s with 🐱 we don’t want anyone to find them.”

“we should be on the lookout for evidence of those big mosquitos out in the countryside afterwards though,” says a comment underneath.

g leans back and laughs, because nothing ever changes, does it.

in the middle of the quiet afternoon the doorbell rings and z springs up from his seat to get it with none of his usual sighs about being inconvenienced by visitors/packages/delivery that he ordered himself.

well now g is curious.

z hurries past with a box.

then he vanishes into the kitchen, and g hears him letting lufei out into the fenced-in part of the yard.

sus, z. extremely sus!

g unfolds himself from his chair and follows to check on what could possibly be in that box.

z shuts the box quickly when g pokes his nose into the kitchen. “i had an idea,” he says, patting the top of the box. “to help you relax.”

“I am relaxed,” g says. “very relaxed, taking a break in the countryside with my laopo.”

z gives him a deeply skeptical look.

“nothing is going wrong,” g assures z. “I’m not hiding anything from you.”

he isn’t. he would tell z if he needed anything.

z takes him by both wrists and swings their arms back and forth. g is stiff for a moment, then lets his hands hang loose and goes where z wants him.

“it’s a little strange, okay? one of my fengzi ideas, so you have to trust me.”

oh boy. g is not going on any “relaxing” bike rides. no matter how much he trusts z, that is too much.

“not like that,” z says, reading his mind. he shakes g’s arms, playful. “sexy.”

oooooooh, sexy

z guides g to sit down, then slides the sus box over in front of them both. he picks at the packing tape for a second.

“i had this express ordered,” he says. then he chuckles and says under his breath, “not like I could use one of lufei’s.”

then he pulls the whatever-it-is out of the box and holds it out for g to see.

leather. black. silver buckles.

z bites his lip.

“can i put it on you?”

a collar, g half-realizes. the other half is nodding already.

there’s a leash too, but z leaves it on the table as he comes behind g, stroking his shoulders to make sure g knows where he is.

“i had a hard time, at first,” z says, not buckling the collar around g’s throat yet.

“not having things to do, maybe not even sure who I was anymore outside the grind and the image. it would have meant a lot, then, to have a few hours where somebody told me exactly how to make them happy, and it was all things I knew how to do.”

“you’d do that for me?” g asks, craning his head backwards. z uses one hand to turn him back to face front, and g’s abs clench.

“well,” z says, sliding his hand down to cup g’s throat, “being nice for you is only half of it. i also get to own the most handsome, obedient puppy”

“okay,” g breathes. yes. he wants that.

the collar clinks as z fits it around g’s neck. the hair g’s arms stands up as z buckles it just shy of snug. the leather is new and stiff. it’ll take time to break in.

“good boy,” z says. he produces a piece of puffed-rice snack, shaped like a tiny pillow and vividly yellow with flavor powder, from a bag in his pocket. he pops it into g’s mouth. salty-sweet shrimp flavor bursts on g’s tongue.

there’s a dusting of powder still on z’s fingers

g licks them clean.

“good boys get treats,” z says, all gleeful that his game is working so well already. he bends to kiss g’s shrimp-flavored mouth (that part...kind of gross) (oh well.)

then he picks up the leash and clips it to the d-ring at the front of G’s collar.

“oh, hang on, first—“

z drapes the end of the leash over the back of g’s neck and starts undoing the buttons of g’s shirt.

g lifts his hands to help with the lower buttons while z works on the top

“ah-ah! no,” z scolds.

g drops his hands to his knees like his strings got cut

“let’s get this off you,” z says, working the shirt off over g’s arms. g isn’t wearing an undershirt because he does expect to be sexed at least 1.5 times a day and flashing skin speeds up the process.

z hangs the shirt over the back of a chair, then pulls g’s socks off too

z lets g keep his joggers on and takes the end of the leash back from around g’s shoulders.

“okay puppy,” z says. “time to go on a walk.”

g’s eyes go wide.

“a short walk,” z says. “just around the lawn.”

he tugs the leash gently.

g isn’t sure about this. he knows there’s nobody to see for miles, no cameras, no unexpected visitors.

z’s confident posture falters, and g realizes that z isn’t all the way sure either. g isn’t the only one vulnerable here. they’re going to have to work together.

he stands up, eyes fixed on z. z blushes and wraps the leash around his fist a few times, shortening it.

“not so bad?” z asks quietly

g ducks his head and smiles up at him. it isn’t. even if things turn out awkward instead of sexy, they won’t be mean to each other about it

“good,” z says, and feeds g a treat.

g’s very aware that z is fully clothed and he is not. at the door z slips on shoes — none for g.

he steps gingerly onto the stoop, and shivers at the cold touch of ground on his bare feet.

“don’t be spoiled,” z says, and tugs the leash

g humphs the way a disappointed dog does after being denied an indulgence and follows z around the side of the house, picking up his feet fussily, watching for sticks and pebbles.

then z makes him walk on the grass! which is DAMP!

z is clearly starting to enjoy himself, eyes dancing. he draws g close by the leash and kisses him, then sticks his hand down the front of g’s pants

g yelps and grabs z’s hand because this is outside! how uncouth! and another thing, ah fuck that feels good, do that agai—

maybe...maybe adult gay men in the privacy of their own homes, when they are pretending to be puppies, should only resist things if they’re unpleasant.

even the grass under g’s feet isn’t bad, he just feels like he...shouldn’t.

“feels nice, huh?” z says, coaxing g’s dick harder. “you like that. you like having your puppy cock stroked.”

g whines. yes, it’s so embarrassing but /yes/, touch g’s puppy cock that’s horny all the time and doesn’t care what people think as long as it can rub against something

too soon, z tucks g’s erection securely under his waistband (the tip of it peeks out, not quite hidden)

g looks down at his dick mournfully. he knows he shouldn’t touch it with his hands; z almost certainly won’t let him. he glances up to check just in case z will — aw, darn.

“you’re so fun to play with,” z says, and bounces on his toes. “such a good dog. now, sit.”

g lowers himself to the ground to sit cross-legged at z’s feet. the grass is cool but soft. z ruffles g’s hair, then offers him a treat. g is very polite as he eats it from z’s hand

z’s smile only grows as he leads g through a series of tricks — shake, lie down, roll over, kneel up pretty, lick, kiss gentle, open, stay

[bedtime, see you all tomorrow! we’re really in it now, folks]

z opens the front of his pants and — of course he was freeballing — lets an impressive boner spring free. he has g lick his hand again and strokes himself, then taps g’s face with his dick: one cheek, the other.

“such a good boy,” z says. “do you want another treat?”

yes!!!!!!! he does!!! he’s been so good, and he likes z’s cock so much, please give it to him!

“one more trick,” z says, grinning as he holds his dick just out of reach. “roll around in the grass with your paws in the air, like your back is itchy.”

g hasn’t ever convinced somebody to let him give them head by rolling in the grass before, but if z wants it, he can. z can tell him to stop if it’s not sexy.

the grass is cool on his back, prickly in a way that both tickles and scritches away his itches when he moves

g wiggles his shoulders, holding his hands up like z asked, scooching around to get at the places the grass itches at him. he wiggles some more, the clip of the leash clinking, then pauses to pant and look up at z because — this is all pretty silly of him, maybe z regrets asking?

but z is staring at him with the softest expression, g’s leash held loosely in one hand, the other idly thumbing over the head of his dick

(inside, z is so so so happy to watch g enjoy himself. the way g had been holding tension in his jaw for days is gone, replaced by an open-mouthed grin. /this/ is the g that z wants, emotionally AND hornily. this is what he can turn g into, all because g trusts him utterly)

z kneels down next to g (we are ignoring the knee injury some, for the sake of sexy) and rubs g’s belly, which only makes g more wiggly, then feels up his dick through his sweatpants. g lets out a small whimper and strains his hips up

“okay pup, lets get you your treat, you deserve it,” z says.

honestly g could roll in the grass and get tummy/dick rubs for a while longer, but z has the leash and he’s getting up, expecting g to follow. g rolls to his feet and lets z lead him to a lil patio with lawn chairs

the lawn chairs are cushioned and not too dewy, but the stone cobbles are hard so z grabs a cushion from the spare chair and tosses it on the ground for g (who isn’t going to be using a chair anyway)

then he relaxes into his chair and spreads his legs.

“come here,” z says with a playful tug on the leash. g comes. “down.”

if g had a tail, he’d be wagging it. this trick princess will never be able to do — g is a SPECIAL puppy

he licks z everywhere, including all his ticklish spots, until z grabs the back of his collar to hold him still and feeds his cock into g’s mouth

then z sits back and relaxes while he receives some very skilled, enthusiastic head. all he does is keep a little tension on the leash to make it clear that g shouldn’t think about going anywhere.

the collar feels extra present when g makes himself gag a bit on z’s cock

“oh, shit, /good/ boy,” z says when g gets the angle right to deepthroat him

the breeze ruffles g’s hair, chilly on his back, and z’s chair freaks as he shifts to get his pants hitched a little farther down. g makes it good, lapping up z’s pleasure, floating on the assurance of z’s praise.

g usually avoids praise. the way it feels is too good sometimes; if he lets himself enjoy it and seek it out he’ll get a fat head

it makes his cheeks flush, how warm z’s words make him when he’s in this mental state where he can’t argue or dismiss the praise even in his own mind

g makes z come in his mouth, and this time he’s ready to swallow. he licks z clean while z sinks back into his chair, boneless and satisfied. “what a well-behaved dog,” z says, and pats g on the head.

trapped g’s waistband, g’s dick yearns for a touch.

“I think you’re obedient enough to be let off the leash,” z says after he catches his breath.

g’s ears prick (metaphorically). does being let off the leash mean z will let him come? he’s not picky about how. the fact they’re outside in the yard isn’t important.

“I’m going to lie down on my stomach on that lounge chair to read,” z says, faux-lazy. “my puppy can try to resist, but I don’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from jumping up and humping his owner. he’s gotten too excited during playtime to control himself.”

g whimpers. now that z’s said it, g’s needy puppy cock is DEFINITELY too excited to keep from being naughty.

z unclips the leash and sets it aside, but leaves the collar alone. then he goes and stretches out on his stomach, all comfy. like this his ass looks positively biteable.

g tears his eyes away and stares at the ground, breathing hard

he’s the one who has to take initiative now. z’s making him choose to act like a dumb horny puppy who doesn’t really know any better.

he shifts his weight on his knees and twists his fingers together behind his back

/it’s okay if you do this/, he tells himself. /no one will scold you for being inappropriate. there won’t be any negative consequences. you want it, and z wants it, and all you have to do is cross a few feet and crawl on top of him/

ten more seconds. ten seconds to show that g is a good puppy who tries to follow the rules, even when his cock is leaking with need.

he counts down, the butterflies of arousal in his stomach multiplying with every second.

on zero, g gets up from the cushion.

his head feels light and full of air like a ping-pong ball. this is really happening, not in a dream or a fantasy.

he gets on his hands and knees over z (the lounge chair creaks a protest at the weight of two tall men — this is why dogs are not supposed to be on the furniture!)

g carefully lowers his hips until his clothed cock brushes the valley of z’s ass. on contact he shudders and thrusts reflexively.

z looks over his shoulder at g and raises an eyebrow. g’s hips keep twitching forward, searching for more stimulation. “someone’s being naughty.”

g refuses to meet z’s eyes and rubs his dick on z’s ass faster, squeezing in as much humping as he can before z tells him no.

“awww, but you’re so cute when you’re shy and desperate,” z says. “I don’t know if I have the heart to stop you.”

he’ll let—? g gets to—? oh, please—

g bows his back and ruts frantically, compulsively, against z’s soft warm body. he’s whining and panting, he wants to come he just wants to come and then he’ll be good again

g tugs z’s pants down just far enough to expose him, then his own, and slots his sweaty dick into the valley between z’s sweaty asscheeks

it drags and chafes, not quite slick enough, but g doesn’t care, he’s being a bad dog and z is letting him get away with it

he humps z’s ass right out on the lawn until he finds his sticky, gasping release.

z lets him shiver for only a few moments before he manhandles them both around so he can drag g into his arms. “that was so hot, jj,” z says, kissing him frantically. “you were too good, fuck”

“wanted you so bad,” g whispers, clinging.

“I know, I know,” z says. he plays with the little locks of hair around g’s ears, and smiles. “you got me, puppy.”

z doesn’t put the leash on g again to lead him back to the house. he takes him by the hand instead, human and sweet. g still feels needy and untethered. he can vaguely tell that z isn’t quite done feeling protective and bossy either.

he’s loose-limbed and snuggly as z scrubs the grass stains off his skin with a damp towel. g leans on z heavily, warm.

z flicks the silver d-ring on g’s collar with a sharp little plink. “this on or off?” he asks.

“mmmmm, off, hickeys instead,” g decides. “‘bove the collar”

“daring, g-laoshi,” z says as he undoes the buckle and sets the collar on the counter. he touches the freshly bared skin immediately with curious fingers. g shivers pleasantly.

z bullies g into drinking a glass of warm water, sneaking love bites in between g’s sips

“my good jj,” z hums against his neck. “so good, so perfect.”

“I was naughty at the end,” g reminds z.

“yeah,” z says dreamily. “that was the best part. you were so into it, I could /feel/ how bad you needed me. like I was the only thing in your world. so sexy, wow.”

oh, g thinks. huh.

...maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising that z likes his naughty puppy AND his good boy. they had fun together with both, didn’t they?

“h-ge,” g says, dopey and soft. z turns his head right into g’s kiss.

they eat a slapdash dinner on the couch, half-watching variety shows, half-gossiping about the people on screen as they cuddle. z’s surprisingly up to date on industry drama

“I have friends,” z says airily when g comments. “I ask them if there’s anyone I need to beat up for you”

“oh god,” g says, imagining the chaos z-fengzi is capable of causing. the man knows how to piss people off.

“I wanted to see how you were too,” z says, finding g’s nipple by feel and tweaking it. “you’re very private these days and your lp worries.”

“I’ve been fine,” g says lightly, and kisses z on the ear.

z squirms and things devolve into a tickle-fight. he’s easy to distract (short term. long term the man is almost impossible to shake)

but it leaves g with the lingering sense that it might be time to re-evaluate “fine”

[what a good stopping point that is not an unannounced break in the middle of things getting hot and heavy]

g doesn’t sleep perfectly, but he’s only up for a couple of hours and falls back asleep before dawn.

he spends the time lying awake next to z thinking about what he wants.

it would be wrong to squander his good fortune and the work people have put in to help him get here

he doesn’t want to let them down. he doesn’t want to face the same cataclysmic downfall that tore apart z’s career. he doesn’t want to break his promise to try hard for his fans.

but those are all things he /doesn’t/ want.

he wants...

to rest.

he wants to be unafraid. he wants to act in productions he thinks matter. he wants to kiss z in public in front of a fountain and have nothing bad happen. he wants to buy a really irresponsible car. he wants to watch z raise a child.

it’s uncomfortable to think of all the things he wants. they’re all so far away, and the harder he works the less attainable they seem

also, it’s the middle of the night and g needs to sleep. he decides to focus on the least scary one: a super sweet sports car. what color, hm...

when g wakes up z is in the middle of doing pull-ups at the bar he’s installed in the doorway (g has banged his head on it twice so far). g watches for a while and appreciates the view

“you slept through your alarm and I didn’t want to wake you,” z says when he notices g’s awake

“there’s fruit in the kitchen,” z offers. “if you like.”

g showers and eats a bit, then asks if z wants to take a walk.

“a regular walk,” g clarifies when z raises his eyebrows and gives g’s bruised-up neck a significant look.

z drives them both to the beach to walk along the shore. it’s low tide: seagulls pick at the stinky clumps of seaweed, and g runs ahead occasionally to chase them, then jogs back to z.

what??? dogs aren’t the only ones who can have fun scaring birds!

z laughs at him and takes pictures. it’s only when z’s knee starts to complain and they turn back that g’s ready to try saying the thing he’s been holding all morning.

“i think i hate my job.”

g’s pace quickens, heart beating too fast

it’s awful of him to hate the work. he’s letting people down. z would probably give anything to be in g’s shoes right now, how could g —

z catches him by the wrist and brings him to a stop.

“you thought i couldn’t tell?” z asks gently

oh no, g is crying. this isn’t how he’d planned to do things. why the fuck does z have to be so understanding. how can they still know each other so well after so much time apart?

“I don’t know what to do,” g says with a forced little laugh. “I thought I’d age out eventually”

z’s grasp slides from g’s wrist to his hand, and g tangles their fingers together.

“I’ll be there,” z says. “you know I will.”

“we broke up,” g reminds him, and sniffs hard. they hadn’t worked as exes-but-still-friends. g was too hung up on z to handle it, and they’d drifted

z bumps g with his shoulder. “imagine if we hadn’t,” he says wryly. “disaster!”

“I could have been there for you,” g says, thinking of that awful august, feeling wretched.

“I would have messed it up,” z says, eyes wet. he dabs at his face with the back of his free hand

“would not,” g says stubbornly.

“would so,” z says. “I was a disaster. I drove drunk. I crashed my car.”

“fuck, z,” g says.

“okay, I only crashed it into a mailbox,” z admits. “but it was still — you wouldn’t have liked the me I was then. you would have been right to leave.”

“i wouldn’t have left,” g insists. “I would never — if you needed me, I would stay! and we would figure it out! that’s what you do when you love someone!”

g runs out of air and stops shouting. z is very still, eyes round, searching g’s face.

“if two people love each other, they should be together,” g says into the silence, voice hitching. “did you not mean that? or do you...do you not...”

“i’m so stupid,” z says, really really crying now, and then he throws himself at g and kisses him over and over.

between the tears and the ocean spray they’re the saltiest kisses g has ever received

“I’m sorry,” z says in between wet, desperate kisses. “I’m sorry, i fucked it up, I’m sorry.”

“don’t do it again,” g says, hands fisted in the back of z’s shirt. no more leaving.

eventually they do remember that they’re outside, and while the beach is mostly abandoned it’s maybe not the best place for all this kissing and feelings nonsense.

g catches both z’s hands in his and runs his thumbs over the bumpy ridges of z’s knuckles.

“take me home.”

the car ride home gives them both time to put themselves back together. by the time they pull into z’s driveway they’re exchanging quick shy glances, ones that say /we’re going to process all this by having hot crazy sex, right?/

z drags g into the bedroom, pushes him onto the bed, and buckles the collar onto him so fast g’s head spins

“how do you like your new home, pup?” z asks. “a lot better than that nasty old pound, huh? you get to stay here with me forever.”

g laughs and nods his head. yes, he is.

all the clothes come off right away this time; they want to press against each other skin-to-skin. z giggles as he asks g if he’s properly house trained and has all his shots.

“perfect,” z says, as he pets g all over. “you know what’s extra special about bringing a puppy home to be mine for good?” he asks.

g shakes his head, very curious. z leans down right next to g’s ear.

“I can finally come inside him,” z whispers.

“fuck, yeah,” g whines, forgetting himself and using words. he hasn’t had unprotected sex in years and years; he wants z close and raw.

“oh, my puppy likes that,” z says, smoothing g’s hair. “well, he’s a good boy. and good boys get all the love and treats and cock they want.”

“roll over,” z says. he’s going to take g from behind like a dog, while treating g like a dog, fuck, g is so turned on.

z tells g to stay and grabs a towel and lube (also, without g’s knowledge, a hefty prostate stimulating vibe)

g pants and whines as z efficiently fingers lube into him, expecting it to be followed quickly by dick and excited about it.

when z pushes a toy inside him instead in one forceful push and immediately switches it on, g yelps and falls to his elbows, shuddering

z nudges the base, which makes g’s toes curl as the toy seats itself securely against his prostate.

“awwww,” z says, ruffling g’s hair. “so cute when you’re overwhelmed.”

g whines and pushes into z’s hand on his head. the vibrator is a quality one, heavy and rumbling inside him

“up,” z commands. g shakily gets his hands back under him.

then z pulls one of g’s knees outwards. g thinks he wants his legs spread wider and complies, but z makes a dissatisfied noise. what does he want?

“lift your leg, puppy,” z says, tugging again.

oh, oh no, g thinks, and buries his hot face in his upper arm as z helps him lift his leg like he’s pissing on a fire hydrant. keeping his balance makes him clench around the vibrator which is intense!

then z squeezes half-underneath g, still holding his leg up, and what is he—

z is wrapping his lips around the head of g’s cock while g is still on all fours. (well, three, technically)

g trembles, gasping whimpers falling out of him as z sucks on him. it’s degrading and strange and it’s going to make g come really really soon if z keeps it up

“close, close,” g grunts through clenched teeth, and z backs off, giving him a second. too soon, his maddening mouth is back. he brings g right to the edge twice before popping off one last time and leaving g’s dick to bob desperately in the open air.

“good boy,” z praises.

g winces when z sets his leg back down — he’s got a cramp — and z massages his thigh gently to help.

then he drapes himself over g’s back, hard dick bumping against g’s full ass.

“who’s a cute little fuckpuppy begging for cock?” z asks, chuckling when g whines. “you are~”

“i shouldn’t be allowed to have you,” z says under his breath

g would have a response to that but z is pulling the vibrator out and pushing his dick in hard.

z works out. he’s got core and thigh strength for days. g’s hole is DOOMED

y’all z makes g his /bitch/. their sex is always athletic but this is a ruinous, bed-damaging ass-fucking. z fucks him like he owns him. he pounds into g until all of his muscles are burning and there’s sweat dripping down both of their backs.

g goes to a place in his head that doesn’t worry about anything but staying up on his hands and knees so he can be a puppy just for fucking like z said he was.

he can tell he’s all loose and open now, no resistance left.

z falls on top of g when he starts to come, pressing them both down flat against the bed, g’s dick crushed against the mattress as z’s hips kick forward and he finishes hot and messy inside g

he pulls out and sticks his fingers in instead, playing with his own come in g’s ass

they’re both super winded, and g is still achingly hard. z, because he is a monster and also feeling too lazy to keep taking care of g right this second, sticks the vibrator back into g and turns it on a variable pulse cycle.

g kicks his feet and swears at him

(z is pleased with his idea. he’s bought himself five minutes to recover post-orgasm and a view of g’s ass full of come and vibe. hot AND practical. where is the downside?)

g eventually manages to roll onto his side and give z the biggest, most woeful puppy eyes imaginable. z is heartless???? z is unforgiving????? does he not see how good of a boy g is???????

“okay, okay, so patient,” z says, grinning. g makes the eyes MORE. this is serious! don’t stall!

z doesn’t stop smiling but he does pull g into his arms, arranging him with his back to z’s chest and his legs splayed, held open over the outsides of z’s thighs. the vibe stays in!

z holds g close, drizzles lube over his dick, and gives him a torturously sweet handjob. g is helpless and teary-eyed and sore and the maddening toy won’t stay the same intensity long enough for him to get numb to it.

but he also feels loved and cared for and soft, so...

“if you edge me again I will /bite/ you,” g says when z slows down too much.

“scary puppy,” z says, and tugs his collar a bit. “you want a muzzle?”

no!

...maybe

despite the teasing, z stops fucking around and works on bringing g to a well-deserved orgasm. g bucks in z’s lap, groaning through a series of spasms that look almost painful, then goes boneless

z is a menace but not actually cruel so he removes the vibe for g quickly

they are so sweaty and gross it’s almost not fun to cuddle (almost). g wants a shower and z follows him right in. there’s squabbling about how hot it should be; z gets shampoo in his mouth (don’t ask how)

g has give him an I’m sorry kiss (and gets shampoo in his mouth too, bleh)

somehow it’s still the middle of the day, despite having been an emotional marathon.

g decides to cook something for lunch-ish. z makes a nuisance of himself in the kitchen, trying to sneak peppers into everything. (z’s pantry is 50% pepper by volume.)

[dinner from the local chengdu place we recently discovered arrived and now I’m too fat and happy to do anything but scroll and sleep]

[this should be the last update, very close to the end actually 🐶🐾❤️]

g makes z some chili sauce to go /on the side/, and z wheedles g into trying just oooooone bite of chicken dipped into it. he feeds it to g and laughs when g coughs and dives for water. the things he does for love, honestly.

it starts to rain that night. pouring, road-washing-out kind of rain. the producers of the farming show g is supposed to be filming call him in despair, can he get back before things get too dangerous? they’ve aaaaaaalmost got the money sorted out, really!

even without the incentive of spending more time with z, g isn’t going to make somebody drive through flash flooding to come get him. that would be unsafe.

(the smut wizard strikes again, to great success!)

g does go out to stand in the rain and take pictures for a little while. z watches from the doorway, expression soft and smitten, and when g comes in all drenched he pins g against the wall and forcibly towels his hair until it’s all standing up in a puff.

the next morning it’s still raining, fat drops pattering away soothingly on the roof. g wakes up having slept better than he has in a long time.

“what’s next?” he asks z, breaking a long stretch of comfortable silence drinking tea and watching the rain

“i’m working on music,” z says, tapping the ring he’s wearing thoughtfully on the side of his mug. “don’t know when or how I can share it. maybe there isn’t a way, but...maybe.”

“if the wind turns,” g says quietly.

“yeah”

“what do you want?” z asks, after another little silence. “besides the acting.”

the thing g wants is both obvious, and not. g thinks he trusts z enough to say the true answer out loud.

he takes a breath.

“i want to be a good husband for someone.”

“you would be,” z says instantly, then goes pink and hides his face in his mug.

“it’s not very ambitious,” g says, and sighs. “i wouldn’t leave behind any great works of art or inheritance for a child.”

“but...you’d be happy?” z asks.

g pressed his lips together and nods.

“that’s what’s important,” z says, like he means it, like he knows it’s true.

it’s far too soon to be thinking about moving to this quiet house, sweeping the dust out of the corners and making sure it always smells of home-cooked food. too soon to think about who “someone” is.

z reaches over and puts his hand on g’s knee, and g covers it with his own. “i could make more time in my schedule,” g says carefully. “be pickier about scripts.”

“not play the supporting role in a paranormal farming romance?” z suggests, and chuckles.

g shoves z in the shoulder. “there’s some great comedic moments in the script, don’t believe the leaks”

“okay, mr 18th line,” z says, still smiling. “i see you’re taking the role very seriously.”

“i /am/ a professional, you know”

at the end of the week, a letter written in gold ink on red paper arrives in the mail:

you’re welcome
- the smut wizard

PS congratulations on learning something about yourselves.

bewildered, z shows it to g, who doesn’t get it either, and they toss it in the recycling. some weird ad campaign probably.

g and z enjoy a lot of sex during G’s surprise vacation, both of the puppy variety and more vanilla stuff. they don’t get tired of kissing.

the smut wizard’s power to realistically delay g’s return to work does run out eventually

but there’s still phone sex

they will, eventually, get married. there’ll be neighbor children to look after, and music, and holidays with family.

and sometimes g will put on a collar and get fucked within an inch of his life.

love comes in many forms.

🐱❤️🐶

the end

i hope everyone enjoyed this foray into kinks unknown! big ups to you all for trusting me to make puppy play work, and bless 🐶🐱 for having so much plausible kink potential

thanks for reading and playing along through all the twists and turns!!! it was great fun 😘

here’s a link to the top of the thread for anyone who wants to re-read, retweet, or inflict it on unsuspecting friends ☺️

https://twitter.com/isocrime/status/1441575623042891783