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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Loquat peels.

( He corrects, but drags Wei Ying closer, readily satisfied when his husband retaliates and their noses collide sweetly. He feels tempted — and enacts his impulse — to bite his lover's nose, a monster well and true.

After, pulling only lightly away to loom dangerously: )

Your parents prevailed to raise you on the road. ( Surely, it would not be such a hardship for a young Liang. Perhaps easier on a babe than a proper child, distressed for the lack of structure. But then, even he appears to reconsider: )

Liang, and our other children. A simple wait, once Wei Ying achieves immortality. ( For he will, assuredly. )

[He pulls back when Lan Zhan nips his nose, crinkling it up as his eyes start to water. It doesn’t hurt much, but that area’s sensitive!] Lan Zhan! [His voice is a whine, but he’s still smiling.]

A-Yuan spent a lot of time in the Burial Mounds, too. Maybe I’m not giving them credit for their resilience. [He doesn’t want to put his kids in harm’s way before they’re learned enough to face the darkness at their side. Trying to cultivate with a toddler in one arm would put him at a disadvantage, but there’s nothing around that Lan Zhan wouldn’t be able to face with minimal back up. He’d spent years cultivating on his own, hadn’t he?]

Until I can figure out a way to reach immortality without mixing in some demonic cultivation, you mean. [He refuses to make himself immortal if he can’t do the same for Lan Zhan. Maybe he’ll change his mind in a couple decades — unless he succeeds in his endeavors. For now, he just can’t imagine living a full life without Lan Zhan in it.] I’ll keep working on it until I can figure it out.

[He nudges his way to kissing the side of Lan Zhan’s mouth.] I already miss A-Liang. Don’t get me wrong, I like having you all to myself, but this is the longest time he hasn’t had either of us.

Wei Yiiiiiing.

( He whines back in a rare, studied pretension. It's seldom that he allows himself these whims, but he has earned the opportunity, careful to nudge at Wei Ying's cheek and direct him to face the brunt of the bathtub, as Lan Wangji finally commences bathing him. First, the little bowl of water, filled. Then, he begins to pour it across the top of Wei Ying's pretty head, the serpentine stretch of his tresses. Again and again and again.

Perhaps they're equal in this: Wei Ying loathes sharing his vulnerability, for fear of inconveniencing. Lan Wangji, too, is never at ease when he laughs. Only together do they dare show their true colours. )

He is a stronger child than you anticipate. ( For all it's never spoken of, toddlers possess their own inner strength, an admirable flexibility and endurance. )

In truth, you will pine for him longer than he yearns for us. ( The ingratitude of children, the gutting woe of a parent. )

[He closes his eyes and stills when Lan Zhan starts to wash him. He’s at ease with this, having grown spoiled for having Lan Zhan do the majority of the work on his hygiene. It feels good being taken care of in the little ways like this even if he tends to shy away from the bigger issues that weigh on him. Slowly, he’s starting to open up to the idea of sharing those things but it doesn’t come naturally to him.]

Yeah, I know. I want to keep him safe from all of life’s harms, but that doesn’t help him. He’ll have scraped knees and broken bones before too long. Hopefully he doesn’t take after me too much or he’ll be getting himself into dangerous situations every day.

[It’s probably because of how he was as a kid that he worries over his own kids so much. Unlike Lan Zhan, this is his first time being an actual father, so it’s only natural that he’s more prone to worry.]

I’ve seen it with Sizhui. He’s a good kid, but I can tell when he thinks we’re being overbearing. You did such a good job with him, Lan Zhan. He’s confident, kind, empathetic, and he won’t back down if we disagree with him when he thinks it’s important. [Like with his relationship with Jin Ling.]

( Over... bearing? His mouth lingers agape, a silent question he had never thought to articulate that Wei Ying's commentary brings into front and center: were they ever too much for Sizhui? Too enthusiastic, too persistent?

As ever when he is emotionally rattled but not entirely paralysed, he stays in a state of frozen incredulity, retaliating against the closest person to him: inevitably, and he pinches the swell of a precious buttock, Wei Ying.

Confident, kind, empathetic. Yes, that is their son. )

Sizhui takes after my likeness. ( White-bearing, neatly dressed, carefully presented. ) Perhaps Liang will emulate his mother.

[He yelps when he’s pinched, then pouts at Lan Zhan.] Okay, okay, when I’m overbearing. I do make it a habit to be more affectionate when the other juniors are around, but he’s so cute when he blushes and hides his face! You should see him, Lan Zhan!

[He rubs at the sore spot on his bottom, but he doesn’t move off of Lan Zhan’s lap for now. Things are starting to feel more normal between them and he wants to stay close.]

He’ll have to dress like you if we send him to Cloud Recesses for cultivation training. I bet he’d look pretty cute in black and red. Maybe I’ll buy him some black robes next time I’m at the market. Your uncle will gripe about it, but he gripes about everything that isn’t perfectly within his narrow view of what’s proper.

[He passes the cleansing oils to Lan Zhan expectantly. Maybe he should wash Lan Zhan, too. He is never as thorough as his husband with things like this, but Lan Zhan never complains about it, so he must be doing an okay job of it.]

( Of course, the pretty young master must have his needs met, and Lan Wangji, hand tremulous and mean, has dallied. Whispering his apologies, he accepts the oils presented, spreading a trickle of thickened sandalwood oils — his favoured scent, inevitably — between his fingertips.

Then follows the massage, first Wei Ying's temples, then his nape and the arc of his crown, before dousing each strand. Every now and then, he crimps the tresses in his hand, pulling them close to Wei Ying's scalp, then ruthlessly scrubbing them, as if he is a laundering woman. )

Black, too stark on a child. ( Too somber, too grown. For once, he presumes to disagree with his husband. ) Perhaps your reds. Greens?

[He closes his eyes when Lan Zhan starts cleansing his hair, smiling as he enjoys the massage on his scalp. He doesn’t mind the smell of sandalwood oil at all, since it’s the smell he associates with Lan Zhan. Smelling like his husband is a comfort.]

That’s why it would be cute. [He grins a little, thinking of their son as a mini version of himself.] We don’t have to make him wear black for long. Just long enough to make a memory of it. But I guess that would be a waste of money, huh? [He sighs, still smiling through it.] But I guess dressing him in reds would be cute, too. He’ll be honoring his brother’s heritage in red and light grey.

[Not that most people outside their immediate family know about Sizhui’s heritage. He’s not actually sure if anyone knows outside of him and Lan Zhan, but he suspects that Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen assume as much even if they haven’t been told directly.]

Besides, white on a kid is depressing, but we dress him in Lan colors regularly. A splash of red will be good for him.

You begrudge our colours, beloved?

( He teases, fingers deepening their hold on Wei Ying's hair, leisurely scratching and massaging the scalp. He owes Wei Ying a great deal of indulgence, after inducing doubt in his mind, body and heart. To think he might have been compared with himself and found wanting. To think, too, that Lan Wangji might have created this sense of desperate insufficiency in him.

Determined to make amends, he leans in just enough to scratch Wei Ying's neck with his teeth and litter down choice bruises. After, with careful interest, he licks, nips and suckles down — impossibly fond, forever charmed. )

You must be punished for your disloyalty as a spouse of Cloud Recesses. ( Truly, Uncle would never abide such blasphemy against the clan colours. ) It is for your welfare.

They’re funeral colors. You’re just used to it because that’s what you grew up with.

[He angles his head towards the touch and tips it down to invite Lan Zhan’s teeth and lips. If they’re not careful, they’ll end up in the same boat as they were at the start of their bath. He wants to be with his husband in their marital ways, but he doesn’t want to push Lan Zhan before he’s ready. Then again, this is Lan Zhan giving the affection. He hums a hushed moan at the attention, tilting his head to one side to see if his lover will continue to explore his throat.]

Punished, hmm? And how do you plan on punishing me, Lan Zhan? [Playful punishments like what he’s expecting now tend to excite sooner than cause harm.]

( Punishment comes by way of curious teeth and a bite that sprawls, lingering. By way of Lan Wangji deepening his hold, both arms wrapped steadfast to pin his husband in place and forbid rattling or shivers.

Then, in the wretched way of every man who has set sights to ravish a beauty, he descends on Wei Ying like a vulture on his prey, nipping his ears, his chin, even dipping down to rake stubborn teeth over his husband's shoulder. )

This mad dog will ravage you. ( Truly, an empty threat, as they both know Lan Wangji will pull back at the flimsiest indication of his husband's discomfort. They have spoken of this before, Wei Ying's vulnerability before canine dangers. He will not be threatened past his comfort on mere whim. )

Perhaps you will fare better if you lie back to allow him. ( Surrender is only shameful when combat held a single chance of yielding success. To crown his persuasion, one of his hands gently teases a syrupy line of caresses down Wei Ying sternum, his belly, then settles possessively to cup between Wei Ying's legs. )

[He winces when he’s bit, but by now he’s used to his husband’s teeth on his skin so he only struggles briefly. If anything, it’s a good sign he takes to indicate Lan Zhan is feeling more like himself. If only Lan Zhan’s self wasn’t so intent on biting! He whines a little, but it doesn’t last long before he erupts into giggles.]

Lan Zhan! Why does it have to be a dog! You should maul me like a bear, instead. [Which paradoxically would mean more thorough gnawing, but who's keeping track. Despite his protests, he encourages his lover by exposing choice bits of his flesh for nipping.]

Poor me, my husband wants to bite me when all I want to do is kiss him instead. Do you think he'll kiss me if I pout enough? [But then Lan Zhan’s hand moves over him just so and he trails off, lifting his butt off his husband’s lap to seek out more of that touch.

That’s all the go ahead he needs. He cups Lan Zhan’s cheek and coaxes their faces together, close enough to capture his husband’s mouth with his own. It’s immediately hungry since he doesn’t have to hold back anymore.]

( A bear. He laughs, sound muffled and impossibly fond against Wei Ying's neck, entirely sublimated when his husband rebels, turning to kiss him. Their mouths meet, compromised and clumsy for the awkwardness of their angle, hands jumping to bracket the sweet curve of Wei Ying's cheeks.

For once, they cannot rattle the bathtub, but Lan Wangji still finds the waters rioting helplessly around them, for their back and forth. With a sigh, taking advantage of Wei Ying's half's lift, he pats his husband's buttock to nudge him, then patiently parts his legs to offer his lover space to maneuver himself. )

Come here. ( Scoot, he does not say, but wisely entitles his husband to the better part of their seating arrangements. ) Do not be cowardly. Face your assailant.

[There’s not a lot of room to maneuver, but he’s of the same mind as his husband. This position just isn’t conducive for making out. He uses the free space to turn around, deciding that facing Lan Zhan with a knee on either side of him works the best.]

Is this better, Lan Zhan? [Now, they can kiss as much as they want without having to strain their necks. He starts it out by brushing his lips across Lan Zhan’s. Lightly at first, though it doesn’t stay that way for long. He’s been wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss some more since they stopped earlier.

He rests his hands on the sides of Lan Zhan’s neck, stroking his thumbs across his husband’s jaw.] I’m just a lowly servant. Hanguang-Jun can do anything he wants to me and no one can do anything to stop him. [He moves one hand down across Lan Zhan’s shoulder and collar bone so he can dip in and kiss his neck instead.] Allow this servant to tend to your every desire.

( They kiss, and it is every reunion they should enjoy without question, without uncertainty. The press of his husband's mouth, the warmth of the waters around them. He feels impossibly aroused, yet at once lethargic, content to wait but burning to progress.

With a rippling moan, waters disturbed in a fury of spumes, he gives his lover the time to see out his inclination and pox his throat with kisses. In response — retaliation — he only pinches at his husband's thighs, his ass, before nudging Wei Ying to raise himself on his knees, so Lan Wangji can finally dip in and capture a pretty, heat-pinked nipple between his lips.

Hard suckle, teeth scraping as his fingers find the other on Wei Ying's neglected breast, thumbing and rounding. He licks, kittenish and slow, bites ravenously, sucks as if an infant seeking his mother's milk.

He breaks only to lick again. ) What part does my servant play in my house?

[His teeth trace Lan Zhan’s skin, biting down when his butt gets pinched. Never hard enough to leave wounds. He shifts and lifts himself up onto his knees, falling right into Lan Zhan’s clutches. The attention to his nipples sends a pleased jolt between his legs. He rarely needs this much foreplay, but his body responds to it greedily.]

I’m your — [He licks his lips, stalling for just a moment before declaring.] — House keeper. You caught me smelling your dirty laundry and now you’re punishing me for it. [A punishment he eagerly awaits.

He kisses the side of Lan Zhan’s head, holding onto the edge of the tub with one hand and dragging his fingers across Lan Zhan’s arm and chest with the other. He seeks out a nipple to pinch and rub at. He’s not as mean as Lan Zhan is about it, but he uses a good amount of pressure. He’s pleased when it hardens under his attention. Just thinking of his husband sharing the same sensation makes him ache for more.]

This humble servant will do anything Hanguang-Jun wants of him. [His fingers leave the nipple to venture downward until he discovers just how aroused Lan Zhan is. He wraps his hand around his “master’s” cock and gives it a gentle tug.]

( His... housekeeper. Caught taking liberties by... catching the scent of his master's robes. For a moment, he peels away to look at Wei Ying in perfect stupor, mouth briefly agape and prepared to question whether servants truly can or ever would comport themselves so improperly. Surely not. This is a fiction. But... perhaps, as with most of Wei Ying's machinations, inspired by truth...?

He is on the cusp of a question, when Wei Ying's deft fingers find first his nipples, then his length, both quick to reveal their interest, hardening as he hisses, sharply. Inevitably, he answers the tug with a light pulsing thrust of his hips, hand rushing over Wei Ying's wrist and forcing the touch to linger, to embolden, to carry on. )

You have tarnished the dignity of my silks. My dignity.

( And hungrier, pressing their mouths together, teeth nearly clashing before their tongues do messy, breathless battle — ) Shall tarnish, then, what you most treasure.

( Truly, never has a 'virgin' been more thoroughly and frequently defiled. )

[He likes the way Lan Zhan grasps at his wrists. One of his favorite things is when Lan Zhan is unrestrained when seeking pleasure. It makes him feel irresistible which is a welcomed thing after today. He matches his husband’s mouth, kissing, licking, sucking. There’s always passion when they come together and it feels somehow more intense after they’ve had a fight.]

I don’t have much, Hanguang-Jun. I need this position, so please don’t cast me out. I’ll give you anything, everything. [He lowers himself marginally, just enough that he can feel the tip between his legs. He doesn’t push down because he doesn’t feel like hurting himself by taking his husband unprepared.]

This servant is all yours, Hanguang-Jun. I feel lucky to be taken by such an understanding, handsome, and absolutely delicious cultivator such as yourself.

( There, the fit of his husband so close to his length, neatly straddling him. Wei Ying belongs here, pillared and the constant, feverish subject of his passions, begging to be taken. And Lan Wangji kisses him for it, mouth burning, kisses his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, then slips down to his nipple again, only to bite down, fiendishly.

After, he relinquishes Wei Ying, content to watch the red of his mark bloom on his husband's chest, where once might have sat the Wen brand. His fingers trail the space, sweetening the hurt — then descend, finally, to pat Wei Ying's flank.

Lan Wangji does not hasten him, does not command. But there is a flaw in their plan for coupling, and he cruelly points it out with a nod to where his qiankun purse sleeps by the bed's side. He had begun their ablutions expecting no love-making, but appetite is a fickly beast, and Wei Ying's body must be teased open. )

Go retrieve the oils, servant.

( His voice weighted, heady; a pleasure, after all, to enjoy the walk of Wei Ying, the enticing shake of his ass, the sweet curves of his thighs — as he departs. )

Prepare yourself and await me on the bed.

[He catches his Lan Zhan’s mouth again, moaning into the deepening kiss. His body feels alight with want that so far isn’t being tended to. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s touched, but he still whines into Lan Zhan’s open mouth.

This position isn’t working for him, one arm straining behind and below him to clasp around his husband’s length. It hurts his shoulder, so he has to let go after another couple pumps. With his freshly freed hand, he can touch and pinch at Lan Zhan’s neglected nipples. His own being tormented meanly, leaving him hissing in response.]

You don’t need to tell this servant twice, Hanguang-Jun. [He steals another few kisses before lifting himself up. He ignores the ache in his knees, focusing instead on the way they’ll feel once they’re entangled.] Look at the effect you have on this lowly servant. I want to please you until we’re both too exhausted to continue.

[He grabs at one of the drying rags to soak up enough water from his skin that he won’t soak the bed. He doesn’t try to hide any of his assets because he wants Lan Zhan’s hungry gaze all over his body. He winks over his shoulder as he tosses the cloth to the floor.

It doesn’t take long to find their oils. He pushes the blankets back and lies down, spreading his knees. He licks his lips, looking at his husband as he opens the small jar and slicks his fingers.] Hanguang-Jun, my chastity is all yours to shatter. I’ll never love another the way I worship you.

( Moans, his own nipples cruelly attended, flushing as he always does far more readily and severely than his lover. Then, Wei Ying is gone.

Lan Wangji takes his time, careful to slip to the rim of the bath, water drip-drip-dripping down in a tenuous cascade off his hair and down his shoulders. And he watches the cadence of Wei Ying's pretty hips, how spumes lick at the curve of his lower back and the swell of his buttocks, the brazen playfulness of his careless wink.

At length and unwavering, he also exits the waters, taking care to pass a drying cloth over his body scrupulously, then to collect the second discarded linen off their floor. What a wretched servant, failing in base duties, requiring his master to attend to him instead.

The bed is aged, weathered as the rest of the inn, but clean. It pleases him well enough, frame rattling as he climbs in and settles on his side by Wei Ying, head supported by his hand. And he watches again, just as incandescent as before, just as hungering. )

Show me. Ravage yourself, as I might.

[He watches Lan Zhan exit the tub, licking his lips at the sight of his husband’s impressive form. He finds himself immediately attracted to his well-sculpted frame. How could he have ever thought he was wholly straight when a man as beautiful as Lan Zhan was in his life?

He spreads his knees, dipping his hand down between his legs. He isn’t as sensual as Lan Zhan is with touching him, but he tries. With a little sigh, his fingers find their destination. He presses two in, lifting his hips a little as he does.]

Hanguang-Jun, you like to see what’s yours? This servant wants your touch so badly.

[It’s exciting to be watched by Lan Zhan as he’s never one to shy away from the spotlight. When Lan Zhan lies next to him, he expects touch that doesn’t come immediately. Instead, he’s encouraged to defile himself which he’s more than happy to do.]

Do you like when I do this? [He pulls his fingers partway out and pushes them in again, then again, and again. As he goes on, his pace gets a little faster, more needy.] I want you. Only you, Hanguang-Jun. Can I touch you?

( There is a perfunctory aspect to Wei Ying's preparation, an element of haste. As if he cannot muster the patience for flesh that serves him so obediently, that yields to Lan Wangji each night in a spectacle of himself.

Clicking his tongue, he ignores his husband's plea, capturing the wrist of his working hand in a tired, tender grip and extracting beautiful fingers with a wet, lewd sound from his surrendering hole. Then, quietly, he maintains his grasp and passes Wei Ying's fingers through the salve again, delivering them back to the entrance of his lover's body, nudging them in. A slow, torturous penetration, in and out and loving and kind. )

First, learn to touch this flesh I love with kindness. ( Perhaps he is breaking character. In the end, what cruel master would admit the depth of his feelings to a whimpering servant? But he can only summon so much consideration for their play, faced with his husband's need. )

Then, I may consider you.

[Sometimes, he needs a reminder to slow down and treat his body delicately. He’s used to the rough and tumble of cultivation and though this body isn’t as sturdy as his first one, he has a tendency to take it for granted. So he pauses when his wrist is taken and he lets Lan Zhan guide him in loving himself satisfactorily. It’s a lesson he should remember regardless of whether it’s his body or his spirit.]

Lan Zhan, Hanguang-Jun, is this better? [He takes more care in his movements, hips and fingers pressing against each other to try and search for the right angle. He rarely shows this much patience with himself, but he finds himself wanting to please his husband with this.]

I do this sometimes when I’m thinking about you and we’re too far apart to be together. [He easily slips out of the servant character, following Lan Zhan’s lead. It might be better to just be themselves with each other tonight, even if he sometimes likes the idea of being completely debauched “against his will” - not that that fits the enamored servant he was playing.]

Talk me through it, Lan Zhan. How else should I touch myself? How do you want me?

Better. ( He murmurs, and he dips in only to press his mouth to the pale stretch of Wei Ying's forehead, subject to the same upcoming wintered chills as the rest of them. ) You are doing well, Wei Ying. So well.

( And the Yiling Patriarch is but a man, Lan Wangji knows, consumed by the need to please, impossibly trained by his guardians of Yunmeng to yearn for approval. Lan Wangji, so often at a loss for how to reward his husband in a palatable manner learned to coax words from himself and sate his urgency.

Even now, overcome by the beauty of his lover's dishevelled body before him, he recenters himself to tease Wei Ying's hand free from his flesh, nodding towards the other, free, cleansed hand. It too must work, after all. )

Show me how you take care of yourself in my absence, wholly. Do you hide, shamed by your indecency? Keep silent, to avoid awakening Liang?

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