wuding | yiling.

yiling.

( He had anticipated silence, nightmarish husking, a slaughter of dust and dreams. A vast, unending emptiness of possibility.

Instead, Yiling surprised him: in the wake of the war that toppled the Yiling Patriarch and his restitution thirteen years after, the village has thrived, a convenient settlement at crossed roads. The markets lack exotic produce or sophisticated offerings, but excel in popularity. Those who must eat will have their fill. The roads accept visitors, bandits still banished by the specter of the Patriarch that is said to still manifest against wrongdoers on his grounds. Yunmeng's commerce is, if not wholly restored, then tentatively rejuvenating.

They arrive on lukewarm morning, Yiling clinging to its suffocating humidity even at the turn of seasons. Begging leave of his retinue, the acting sect leader has entrusted Sizhui and Uncle Qiren to watch over the clan — and now only carries their wares, dragging Little Apple by a soft lead. The donkey trots obediently, sparing unconvinced glances each way as if to transmit that it is an animal debased by these surroundings and prefers a hey of higher quality.

They enter the village, well ahead of Wei Ying's distant cave settlement, on foot &dmash; to vocal offers of carrot, winter melon and... of course he buys a bundle of turnips, paying twice the local going rate, and still not half of what might be charged in Jinlintai. Appeased, the old lady that descended on him withdraws, patting her belly, then her thinning basket of goods, because, ah, what a day.

Lan Wangji, trailing after his husband, is still a little aghast and confused after his ambush. )

I believe they like me here. ( Certainly, they like his silver. )

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No need for apologies or thanks between us.

( The old rule, a by-gone superstition, wholly juvenile. Mere manners will not spell the signs of another parting. But he clings to the intimacy that the arrangement promises, clings to Wei Ying before them, clings to the truths between them. )

Wei Ying. You accepted a man, despite years of flirtation with women alone.

( At least, overt steps. In retrospect, there is perhaps something to be said of the ease with which Wei Ying gave chase to the second Jade of Lan, a decidedly male possibility. )

You sheathe me in your body each night, for all you once doubted such surrender. ( An all too enthusiastic yielding, once all is said and done. )

What is my enjoyment of a beautiful body, compared to your concessions?

[He keeps touching Lan Zhan’s face and neck, smiling more as Lan Zhan keeps speaking. He doesn't think of any of those things as concessions, but he can see where Lan Zhan is coming from. He had always known Lan Zhan to be handsome, but he’d never entertained the thought of bedding him until after his resurrection.]

Don’t be silly, Lan Zhan. You know how I am. I just do what feels natural to me and that’s loving you. [He tilts his head up kisses Lan Zhan’s forehead, then his nose, then he brushes his lips over Lan Zhan’s.]

I love you. I think I always have in some ways; I just wasn’t ready to entertain the thought of being with a guy back then. I wasn’t really thinking about sleeping with any of the girls I flirted with, either. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to be with like this.

[He licks his lips before kissing Lan Zhan again and again, sprinkling elated affection onto his husband’s mouth. It feels good to be half of a soul greeting its other half.]

( They fall too readily into their habit, drinking each other's soft inhalations, mouth chasing fragments of warmth. Driven by momentum, Lan Wangji lifts himself on his knees to dip in, almost sat in a crouch, chasing Wei Ying's mouth with a litany of silent, slow-pressed kisses.

He loves this man. Loves him tirelessly, hopelessly, serenely. His hands crowd Wei Ying's, affixing them on the battered bed spread, holding his husband near, dear, tight. At long last, he pulls away, the movement a discordant gesture against a background of oceanic silence. )

Enough, beloved. They will bring water. ( As if that has ever truly stayed them in their lust. ) Earlier, you wept. I am frazzled. Let us reconvene.

[It’s too easy to fall into passion when they kiss and his cheeks are flushed by the time Lan Zhan pulls away. He chases after him for a moment, then lets out a long, steady exhale. He wants more, as he always does when they get like this, but he merely nods his acknowledgement. Later. They can seek satisfaction in each other later. Lan Zhan should probably meditate and he really should do the same as much as he doesn’t enjoy the act of meditation.]

Yeah, right. Right. Later.

[Even as he says it, he leans in and captures Lan Zhan’s mouth again in a slow, thorough kiss. For once, he behaves and pulls away first with another shaky sigh.]

Okay, now we can wait until later.

[This feels different from their usual coming together after a heated argument. He doesn’t feel as frantic. It’s more like coming home where he knows it will be safe and he’ll be comforted. He finds that he’s okay. He doesn’t need to seek the reassurance of his husband’s flesh so much as his presence at his side.]

Hold me in the water before we wash? I don’t want to be away from you right now.

You need to be held.

( He translates, mouth still raw and yearning from the depth of his husband's kiss, but politely withholding himself to allow Wei Ying the distance they both require. A fool's game, steward them toward moderation, when Lan Wangji himself still aches for a completion that they would be unwise to accelerate.

Within heartbeats, he hears the knocking — first timid, then feverish, as if the attendant fears to interrupt the newest guests, then to dally in their presence. Sheer habit, for all Wei Ying too is clothed now, Lan Wangji to crack their door open and permit two flushing servers to bring in a large copper tub, then buckets of heated water. Behind them, a maid with the ordered dishes, firmly packaged.

Lan Wangji welcomes them all, liberal with coin for their trouble, dictating where their items must be descended before the attendants withdraw. He lingers only long enough to test they have received all that was expected, then to place heating talismans to protect the temperature of their water and meal, until both come into use. )

Truly, they receive their Patriarch well.

[Is it a need? He supposes so. Lan Zhan had carried him the entire way to town, but it hadn’t felt like he was being held. Things had still been awkward between them at that point and while the rocking motion of walking had eased some of his tension, it hadn’t been the same as being held by his husband.]

I just want to be close and I like feeling your arms around me.

[He doesn’t mind the interruption. It’s good timing. He might have been more annoyed to stop kissing Lan Zhan if it had been because of the servants’ timing. He greets each of the servants who enter the room and at least one of them relaxes a little because of it. When they finish up and leave, he gets to his feet and stretches his arms over his head.]

What first, dinner or the bath? I’m not too hungry, but I wasn’t the one carrying my husband all the way back. [He steps over close to Lan Zhan and takes a look at the packaged meal. He can’t recall what Lan Zhan requested, but he’s sure it’ll taste fine.]

I’d agree with you if anyone knew it was me. Then again, news of my resurrection’s probably made it back here at least as rumors. I wonder if it’s the same with our marriage. If so, maybe they do know who I am.

Bath. We carry too much of the cave's sickness.

( Its filth, perhaps, in lesser parts than its resentment. Ablutions can never wholly eliminate spiritual grudges, but there is a ritual benefit to the procedure, a righting of the countless wrongs that a body and soul suffer through exposure to such evil. Their dinner, saluted with a cautious nod, will keep.

The first step: he pours in most of the buckets of water into their bathtub, steam rising and coiling with satisfying resilience. A talisman follows, to retain the bathing waters warm.

After, he stops as if to begin downing his own silks — before turning instead to step before Wei Ying, and kneeling down to come at level and commence unlacing his husband's boots and trousers. No better than a concubine or a lowly servant, is Hanguang-Jun on this night. There is no shame in it. )

My husband is as spoiled as he is pretty.

Yeah, we’ll have to use fresh robes tomorrow. These ones reek of the dead. [Which will just make things harder for them around town. If they’d stayed overnight in the cave — a bad idea to suggest — they would probably be sleeping in these robes. To think that had been their plan mere shi before.

He starts to loosen the sash around his waist, pausing when Lan Zhan moves to undress him. He’d rather have Lan Zhan take his robe off, so he leaves the belt-loosened ensemble to him.]

You like to spoil me. [He starts by loosening the simple knot that binds the two sides of his husband’s forehead ribbon, letting it fall across Lan Zhan’s shoulders.] You do such a good job of it, too.

[Next, he pulls the pin from Lan Zhan’s hair, then he removes the headdress after. It doesn’t take much effort to work the topknot out of Lan Zhan’s hair.]

I might be pretty, but you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met. [Factoring in seeing Lan Zhan smile so often has propelled him above even Lan Xichen in the looks department. He doesn’t make the rules.] Beautiful too, in a masculine sort of way.

( This is ever his favorite moment, when Wei Ying unbinds the signatures of Hanguang-Jun to gently reveal him. He leans into his lover's hands, sweetly cooperative as if a kitten, tipping his head into questing fingers whenever they peel away pressure from his temples. He breathes. Is Lan Wangji, separate and tolerable, a creature distant from the demands of his station.

Finally, he remembers to return the favor and resume his own unveiling of his husband's body, stripping away boots and belts and allowing the silks of Wei Ying's robes to dangle like forgotten skins. )

Partisan. You alone think so. ( And perhaps their Lan Liang, who has increasingly warmed to his father's expressions, now he has learned to thaw them through the start of smiles. )

You know who attracts glances on the road. ( And it is not Lan Wangji. )

Edited 2024-10-06 12:18 (UTC)

[He takes some time to just touch Lan Zhan’s face and hair before he moves southward to make fast work of the complicated knot of his husband’s belt. He’s done this so many times that it’s second nature to him.]

My opinion is the only one that matters. [He shows uncharacteristic patience as he undresses Lan Zhan layer by layer instead of pulling them off in batches. He’s not rushing to sleep with him which might be the main motivator on a normal evening. There’s something sweet about taking his time like this.

He moves how Lan Zhan needs him to strip off his robes. He’s only wearing a couple layers. It’s no wonder he felt cold outside that cave!] They’re only looking at me because they’re trying to decide if I’m a man or a woman.

[It doesn’t take long until he’s pushing the last of Lan Zhan’s layers off his shoulders. He takes a step closer and wraps his arms around his husband’s waist for an intimate hug.]

You are a man.

( He whispers it as his arms come around Wei Ying, entrapping him close and pulling him in, accepting his presence. There is no need to hasten, not with an evening of lethargy awaiting them. He only considers to accommodate his husband's natural chills, but even that can wait, while he nuzzles Wei Ying's cheek. )

A handsome, brilliant, just, whimsical man. My man.

( Belatedly claimed but rightfully earned, Lan Wangji's one and only. He noses at Wei Ying, careful not to discourage or overstimulate him, but wishing this much of their arrangement well known: Wei Ying is not inferior to him.

There is no question, despite the frequency of their jests over his spouse's potential breeding, that Lan Wangji has married a man and enjoys him for these merits. Perhaps if Wei Ying were different — resurrected as a woman — Lan Wangji might have prevailed to stifle his natural inclinations and opened himself to bedding his spouse, after trial and error. But it would have been an experiment in patience, and he knows far too well they were fortunate in how their situation played out. )

My husband.

[Being in Lan Zhan’s arms feels like coming home after a long night hunt. He feels safe, secure, well-loved, wanted. After what happened today, that last part is especially nice. He turns his head so he can nose at Lan Zhan’s throat, nestling closer until they’re pressed flush together.]

I’m all yours and you’re all mine, too. [He sprinkles a few kisses along the side of Lan Zhan’s neck. Nothing overly sensual, because Lan Zhan had requested earlier that they avoid rushing into bedding one another. It will come naturally later. For now, he just wants to share some simpler affections.] My man, my husband. [After sleeping with Lan Zhan so many times, it should feel more naturally calling him his man, but it’s the first time he’s spoken the words aloud. They feel foreign to his tongue, but the sentiment is just the same.

He tucks his chin on Lan Zhan’s shoulder again, squeezing him close for a few moments before relaxing. They can stand here like this all night just holding each other, but it would probably be more comfortable to sit in the tub. It’s metal this time, so it won’t break easily if they end up messing around.]

You still smell good. Not even the odor of resentment can spoil it. [He moves back just enough to look up at Lan Zhan’s face.] I couldn’t possibly love you anymore than I already do, but I feel that way every day and somehow manage to love you more deeply every time I look at you.

When did my beloved steal enough coin to silver his tongue?

( Slowly, between traded affections, they crawl their way toward the bathtub — for once, Wei Ying leading the advance with utter discipline, shaming Lan Wangji's tentative progression.

They land before the tub, and he remembers enough of himself not to shame his husband with the need to bring himself up. Arms rounding around Wei Ying's waist, he lifts him in a testimony of stubborn pride, as much as competence, finally descending his lover to sit on the rim and test the freshly poured, steaming water with a dainty foot. )

Pleasant? ( For all his attempts, Lan Wangji remains utterly incapable of judging temperatures, forever finding the waters too heated for his own skin. But Wei Ying is delicate in this, sensitive to the cold. )

[He laughs when Lan Zhan picks him up, kissing the top of his head as he reaches the zenith of the lift. He plants another kiss on his nose before dipping both feet into the water.] Perfect! [Meaning it’s warm enough to pinken the skin but not so warm it’s uncomfortable.]

Want to kiss some more? [He asks as he slips into the tub and finds his place against the inner wall with his legs folded against himself so Lan Zhan can get comfortable. It only makes sense for Lan Zhan to take his position first since Wei Wuxian will inevitably end up in his lap as he does most nights they have their bath.]

We can wait to do other stuff until later if you want. I just want to tell you how much I love you without using words.

[He holds his arms out like he’s waiting for Lan Zhan to climb in and embrace him immediately. Lan Zhan hadn’t been exaggerating how spoiled he is.]

You are never tempered when we kiss.

( He warns, but eases into the waters all the same, careful not to unbalance Wei Ying in his transition. The tub is blessedly copper this time, likely invulnerable to their transgressions, but it also offers little give by way of Lan Wangji assuming his seat in tight confines. Modern bathing arrangements are ill equipped to accommodate a scion of Gusu Lan, it would appear.

Huffing, he turns around, back to the bathtub and legs spread idly wide each side of the rim, to welcome the weight of his husband no matter how Wei Ying chooses to position himself. )

You will not be satisfied, then begrudge me. ( He has seen this same request play out dozens of time, and he only has himself to blame for his tendency to indulge Wei Ying in perpetuity. )

That’s because you’re such a good kisser. So really, it’s your fault we always end up needing more whenever we kiss.

[He grins and moves closer, careful not to pinch his husband’s skin between his knees and the bottom of the tub. He decides he wants to face his husband in case he decides ‘yes’ on more kissing, so he sits sideways across his thighs.]

You’re right, Lan Zhan. If you kiss me the way you usually do, I’ll be clay in your hands, but can you really blame me? I mean, look at you.

[He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and pulls himself close enough to kiss where his jaw meets his throat.] See Lan Zhan? I can be good. If I were trying to seduce you, I would have straddled your lap instead.

But, if we’re not going to kiss, will you still hold me tight? Just for a little while before we start to wash up.

You are good, so very good.

( But this is no mere kissing, he wishes to say, but settles instead to all but purr his approval when Wei Ying latches onto his neck, painfully assured of his victory. Of course Lan Wangji will not discourage or push him away; shamelessly, he melts into the affection, drawing Wei Ying farther in with an arm snaking at his husband's back.

Helpfully, the pleasantly heated waters are already playing their part to ease them, the tension of the day beginning to dissipate, as Lan Wangji's muscle sing away their sorrows. He had grossly underestimated the toll that exposure to so much resentment can take upon the flesh, burdening it down. His very bones feel drained of strength.

Drunk on Wei Ying's affection, he retaliates with soft kissing to the narrow stretch of his lover's fragile shoulders, the column of his throat. Gently, he bites in. )

Shall I worship you when we bed tonight? ( He has enough awareness, at least, to know their bedding is an inevitability neither of them is particularly opposed to. )

[He beams as brightly as the sun when Lan Zhan calls him good. It’s not a compliment he hears often and it’s nice to have his efforts recognized. Especially when he intends to behave himself, even though they both know he’s bad at actually following through when it comes to restraining himself when he wants something.

He giggles a little when Lan Zhan goes for his throat. It tickles pleasantly and he’s torn between protecting his throat and offering up more of it. He goes with the latter, tilting his head and pulling his hair out of the way in invitation.]

You’re already worshiping me. [And he revels in the beginnings of it, feeling desired and loved in the way only Lan Zhan can make him.] But you can do it more, later. I don’t mind.

[He holds onto Lan Zhan’s shoulder with one arm and touches Lan Zhan’s cheek with the other, guiding him to pull back.] If you keep going like that, kissing and biting me, then I’ll have a harder time being good for you. [He kisses Lan Zhan’s mouth, again, a third time, then he breaks the kiss and presses his nose to his husband’s throat instead.]

Edited 2024-10-06 23:16 (UTC)

( This is too much, too soon. Already, he feels the young stirrings of his interest, accelerated with the recent compulsion that all parents have to see their passions through in as short a time as possible and fit their needs in between the screams of their children.

Hungrily, he answers each of Wei Ying's kisses, before capitulating and drawing his head back over the rim of the bathtub, pointedly looking away from his husband's gaze and eyeing the downtrodden, cracked ceiling instead. He must cool himself, must tire out the start of his ardor. Must meditate, if need be.

Throughout, his hand limply strokes out Wei Ying's spine and shoulders, careful to retain connection with his husband. )

Let us speak of different matters. Anything. Anything my husband wishes. ( A pause. ) The dreams of his farm.

[He’s disappointed when Lan Zhan pulls away, but he reminds himself that they’re not trying to sleep with each other. Just to enjoy affections without moving it towards sex. That will happen later when they lay down for bed and he tells himself that he can wait for as long as he needs to. He’ll be good.

He settles again, resting his head on Lan Zhan’s chest and letting trickles of water fall from his raised palm. He plays with the water for a few moments, then plays with Lan Zhan’s hair.]

Dreams of my farm? [It takes him a little time to realize what Lan Zhan’s talking about.] Oh, the farm that we don’t have yet. I guess I spent a lot of time living that sort of life when I lived here so it just feels like something we can do together someday when you’re not leading a clan. [He lays his hand across his own stomach, patting a little rhythm there.]

This body isn’t made for spiritual endurance. I figure it might be something we can do if we get a chance to retire from cultivation. We could grow all sorts of things! Like potatoes and leafy greens for you. Maybe we could build a lotus pond, too. Little Apple could protect the goats and chickens while I toil the fields. I’d bring you the best of what we grow and go to the market to sell the excess. [He laughs a little bit, then shakes his head.] It’s all just a silly dream. We’re not made for a quiet life.

( He listens, hands marauding to scry circles over his husband's belly and as he murmurs and thinks of everything Wei Ying whispers, everything their life could become. A farm, then. Would it be so impossible? )

My pretty wife will toil the field?

( Forgive him his amusement, his incredulity. The impossible light contentment at merely having the option to contemplate this prospect. Of course Mo Xuanyu's body is ill built for such toil, in its current form, but Wei Ying could always dedicate himself to bulking his flesh and becoming a beast of the grounds. )

Then head on to the market. ( He speaks so very dreamily, as if imagining each of Wei Ying's steps. ) Perhaps chatter with fishwives along the way. Receive orange peels from children. ( So often a likelier gift than the fruit whole, given the poverty of most villagers. )

Return to me with stories after. An idyllic life.

Sure, why not? It’ll give me something to do between tending to the children. [Then again, he didn’t help out too much with the farming. It had mostly been the Wen remnants who handled that sort of stuff.] You can help too, if you want. You’re good with animals. You could make sure the goats are milked and the eggs are collected.

[He touches Lan Zhan’s shoulder, pushing the wet hair clinging to it over the side so he can draw little designs on his husband’s chest with his fingers.]

Do you think it sounds nice? [It works out in the idealized version in his mind’s eye, but real life is never so easy. They’ll probably rely on their children or the servants to tend to the fields other than when the mood takes him. It’s something he never remembers to factor in.]

It’ll give me a way to provide for our family. When I’m not working out in the field, I’ll teach our kids about cultivation. We could take day trips to Caiyi to shop or Cloud Recesses to visit their uncle and great uncle.

...I would like it so.

( He whispers, and he finds himself wistfully yearning for a life where this might be their day-to-day. When it might, in truth, satisfy them. Of course they cannot hope to be so easily contented, two cultivators accustomed to the thrills of a battlefield life. Still.

With a prolonged exhalation, he dips his head back to crown over Wei Ying's, kissing the top of his temples, then — at a stilted angle — his cheekbones. This will never be his peaceful existence, but it may be his relationship with his husband, still. )

Time beside you. Our children could have that.

( A pretty, blessed life. Maddeningly, impossibly tame. More than Lan Wangji may ever have hoped to earn in a hundred lifetimes, after a thousand feats of virtue. )

But you would bore, readily.

Yeah, I like it too.

[He likes the thought of it, anyway. Of spending his days with his family, knowing they’re safe in his care. Of the normal hustle and bustle of going to the markets to verbally spar with anyone who comes to purchase their goods. He could tinker, too. Make charms for all sorts of things and sell his inventions in the same breath.

But Lan Zhan’s right. It would be a boring existence compared to the lives he’s lived so far.]

Sometimes boring’s not so bad. [He smiles to himself, remembering all the times he’s called Lan Zhan boring. He kisses his husband’s shoulder for good measure.] But I’m easy to satisfy. As long as I have you and the kids, that’s what matters the most.

[He looks at Lan Zhan thoughtfully.] If you could do anything with your life once we retire from politics, what would you want to do? It can be as silly or as serious as you want it to be, but you can’t just say whatever I want is fine.

Whatever Wei Ying wants is fine.

( He murmurs it with amusement, but keeps his interest all the same robustly affixed on Wei Ying's face, to prevent any misunderstandings that his moment of humour shields indifference to his husband's request. In truth, he must consider it — must balance his desires, stripped away from Wei Ying's. At times, they are too readily combined.

He hesitates, then, drawing water up between cupped hands and shed it on Wei Ying's back, in warning that his hair will likely follow — )

To roam. To help. I feel — ...a restlessness. ( How strange, to think of fussy Lan Wangji as the less anchored creature. )

At times, I cannot breathe for it.

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