emperorssmile: (pic#16097910)
魏无羡 (Wei Wuxian) ([personal profile] emperorssmile) wrote in [community profile] wuding2024-05-18 07:12 pm

Why is it Always Meditation?

The ride home gives him time to think and overthink everything they’ve been talking about. There’s a substantial side of him that wishes he could somehow take back everything that they’d been speaking about. He doesn’t want to face his demons. He wants to snuff them out completely and never think about them again.

But now that he’s let Lan Zhan in on it, he can’t see a way to get out of it. He feels exposed after sharing some of his inner workings and there’s plans set in motion to expose more. He hadn’t been lying about trusting Lan Zhan with that side of himself, but he hadn’t been thinking about how much it would hurt Lan Zhan to know about it.

By the time he reaches Cloud Recesses, he’s feeling more than a little frazzled. He leaves Little Apple near the stables where she can have the finest grasses in Gusu to appease her royal senses. He even gives her an apple he’s only had a couple bites of before he finishes the trek back to the jingshi on foot.

Luckily for Lan Zhan, there are only a few people loitering around outdoors so he isn’t flagged down to stop and chat with anyone. Carrying Liang around in public always tends to invite conversation.

He pauses outside the door and shifts Liang in his arms to free his right hand so he can open the door. “Lan Zhan, I’m home!” He doesn’t know what to expect after everything. The thing he looks forward to the most is being in Lan Zhan’s arms, and he can only hope that things haven’t become awkward between them. “I rode as fast as Little Apple could carry me. We should bring some more fruit down for her.”
shangba: (02.00)

[personal profile] shangba 2024-06-04 07:40 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know," he murmurs, still wet against the stretch of skin of Wei Ying's throat, still heady, still needy. "I know."

And he loves Wei Ying for it, part and whole, loves the the candor and domesticity and kindness that compel Wei Ying to yield and reassure him. The truth, as they surely both know it: Lan Wangji has failed him. Has proven insufficient. Must work harder, faster, more consistently to find an answer that progresses his husband from luxurious futility to a sense of worth and urgency.

He melts altogether into the warmth of Wei Ying's arms, drawn into an embrace that all but dissolves him. Their breathing synchronizes, limbs entangling. He lets himself be, as close to Wei Ying as flesh and skin will allow them — then pulls out, drifting to settle at his husband's left and finally allow him comfort.

"...should bathe you again." He cannot possibly be asked to rise again.
shangba: (02.00)

[personal profile] shangba 2024-06-04 09:42 pm (UTC)(link)
The fight's fled him, drained syrupy from his flesh and bones. He languishes, accepting Wei Ying stumbled over him like a tattered flag, nearly weightless for how small he remains, despite ongoing, assiduous efforts to heal him of his thinness. He noses, haphazardly, landing first in Wei Ying's hair, then his collarbone.

"You smell of me," he fumbles the words, strung along by more stubbornness than proper enunciation. "Smell of mine."

And he does, their musk combined, for all their intimacy hardly lasted enough to warrant an afterthought in the annotations of the most generous love poet. Truly, he laughs, stifled and strange, mouth caressing Wei Ying's ear in passing. "This is not the bedding of which to tell the washerwomen."

As if Wei Ying ever succumbed to such gossip, as if he would share the secret of his husband's intimacy, like all the pretty young girls who chatter and tout their trysts. Still, the thought amuses.
shangba: (05.00)

[personal profile] shangba 2024-06-04 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
"Will make it up to this neglected maiden," he pledges, thieving a second kiss from Wei Ying's laughter-warmed mouth. There, right there. He has captured the essence of his husband's beauty and instead to keep it for his own, enshrined in perfect, crystalline memory. "Will make you biddable with silks and sweets."

Like a perverted older man who cannot satisfy his bride with his flesh and must instead depend on the wealth of his coin purse. How convoluted, how strange. He draws Wei Ying to himself, to his chest, calling his lover to spread over him as if a second blanket, while shifting so the covers might better house Wei Ying beneath.

"My love is stubborn on this night." Whimsy, playful, as if he is only an observer to Wei Ying's fine habits and not his foremost instigator. "Eludes the sleep that should have long claimed him. What distracts him?"
shangba: (13.00)

[personal profile] shangba 2024-06-05 11:47 am (UTC)(link)
It blooms a certain satisfaction in him, to hear Wei Ying speak material desires with whimsy and confidence — as if he no longer fears rejection, no longer dreads the look of Lan Wangji pondering his request. As if he is entitled, and he is, oh, he is. To this and more than the cultivation world can ever fruitfully deliver him.

"Have a fresh garment cut for you of the same cloth, sooner than refitted," he chastises, and does not speak the truth they both know: that Wei Ying's instinct has still taken him to the cheaper merchant stalls and houses, where pieces of clothing are cut already to a broad size. A premium seller would never presume to create a garment without taking the buyer's measure.

Lan Wangji's hand stumbles in Wei Ying's hair, fishes out knots and loosens binds. The strokes, the kissing, the carefully obsessive attention are, inevitably, by-products of care he has never learned to direct at anyone, anything else.

"You already hold me. Wei Ying is my blanket." Beneath another cover that stretches above them all. "He may sleep."