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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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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. )
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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.]
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.]
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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. )
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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?
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( 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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If you want me to show you what I do when you’re not here with me, you’ll need to give me your dirty robes first. [He lets his husband guide his hand away from himself for the moment. He’ll be using it on himself soon enough if Lan Zhan really wants to see how he tends to his needs when he’s alone. Certainly, there’s the discrete method where he just needs to finish as efficiently as possible, but that’s no fun. Lan Zhan deserves to see how he treats himself when he has the time and desire to fantasize and make it count.
He rubs his thumb across his lubricated fingers, winking again.] I usually use my sound dampening talismans, so I don’t have to be quiet. Letting out my noises is something you like too, don’t you? It feels better when I don’t have to hold it in.
[He moves his clean hand to the oil jar and takes a fair amount with two fingers. He works the oil onto his palm, then grasps his own cock for a few firm strokes. True to his word, he doesn’t stifle the low moan he coaxes from himself.]
You mentioned you don’t like to touch yourself when I’m not with you because it’s not satisfying. Is it because your touch doesn’t feel as good? Or is it because you can only get off when you’re touching me?
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Then, all at once, all too keenly and kindly and loving, he reaches out to capture Wei Ying's hand in his, pushing both to give his husband's pretty length a few choice , hard, tight tugs before relinquishing his grip. Then, finally, he kisses his lover's mouth, tastes the residual sweetness of wine and spices. )
Once, I would pleasure myself without you. ( Gravelly, a whispered confession. He does not intend it grieving or dark. ) For thirteen years, absent a choice.
( And he refuses to make mourning of their evening together, even in this place of hollowed, perennial ache. ) Now that I have it, I do not wish to be alone. Better to wait. To witness. To enjoy.
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The thought of Lan Zhan touching himself while thinking about him is undeniably sexy. He wants to ask more. To know which positions he liked most and how often he took those liberties with himself, but the addition of thirteen years holds his tongue. Talking about grief would only hinder both of them right now. It can wait until after.]
So you leave yourself wanting me when we’re apart. Does it make our reunions sweeter? [He spreads his legs again to make room for his other hand to return to its task. He moans when his fingers enter him again, leaning his face towards his husband again.] You never have to be alone again. Even when we’re not in the same place, I’ll always be waiting for you to come home to me.
Lan Zhan, I want you. I can take care of myself like this for you if you want me to, but I want you to kiss me and touch me while I do it.
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( He murmurs, entirely enraptured, chasing the lines of Wei Ying's mouth with his lips in sweet, butterfly presses before slipping to drink in the sight of him once more. He can tell when the pleasant cadence of Wei Ying's hand grows feverish and agitated, when the simmering want in him turns to hunger, when his impatience is no longer an edge to their flirtation, but a barrier.
And, conceding, he slips back, dragging Wei Ying with an arm across his waist to also sit on his side before Lan Wangji, fitting snugly together. His arousal feels suffocated, at home pressed against Wei Ying's backside, while his grip lowers from his lover's belly to his pretty little cock in a few, punching strokes.
Like this, he needn't say, because Wei Ying always knows how to fall into the geometries of their love-making perfectly. )
May I have you? ( He has never been refused, outside of the scant occasion when Wei Ying's anger turned too ravenous to permit it. He has been invited, he suspects, even at times when lovemaking would have better gone postponed. Still, he asks. )
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[He follows Lan Zhan’s gentle guidance, rolling onto his side facing away from him. He lets go of himself, trusting that his husband will take over for him. It’s a winning bet and his moan is deep and appreciative when his bet pays off. He pushes his butt back towards Lan Zhan but the angle isn’t quite right yet.]
Please, Lan Zhan. I want to be filled up with you. [He pushes back against his husband again. He feels the urgency of arousal being stoked by Lan Zhan’s deft touch. It feels so much more intense than anything he could do for himself.]
Is it good, Lan Zhan? Do you want me as much as I want you? Your hand’s good, but your cock is what I really need. I want us both to feel good. Together. Don’t make me wait for it. I can’t.
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( He hisses out as Wei Ying's squirming unleashes delicious frissons of friction, and his length answers with hard, encouraging swelling. For a moment, he forgets himself, stroking his lover's arousal coarsely, before the shivers of their frustrated bodies remind him he must act or waste his chance.
Devilishly, torturing both, he only slots his hips lower, one hand pinning Wei Ying's hip in place as he wets himself with a thin luster from the discarded salve pot. Then, he slips his arousal, tip snagging against the lines of Wei Ying's upper thighs, riding up to sit between the filled moons of his ass. )
Like this? ( Of course not. He knows so, but cannot help himself. )
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More. Inside, Lan Zhan. You want it too, don’t you? Together. [His arousal has finally hit the point where he’s having a hard time speaking in complete sentences, but that doesn’t stop him from trying.]
Need you inside me. Before I finish, Lan Zhan. You drive me crazy sometimes. If I finish too early, I’ll take care of you. There’s always my mouth.
[He writhes, moving despite being pinned against Lan Zhan. He should push Lan Zhan’s hand away from his length or stop moving with it, but he’s a slave to gratification.]
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Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh. ( He whispers before Wei Ying can even release a sob, kissing his lover's nape, the heated stretch behind his husband's nearest ear. ) My love. My love, you must wait for me.
( By force, if not discipline. At least, Lan Wangji does not torture him pointlessly or extensively, returning to pay his own length heed only enough to once more lave it in thickly glistening, chilled salve — and position it at Wei Ying's long-abused, well-wetted entrance. A few short strokes, if deep, propel him until a moan breaks out of him thunderously, choked off when Lan Wangji dips his head down to mask his enthusiasm, biting into Wei Ying's shoulder. This position feels... intimate, somehow, inescapable. A perfect candidate to show his affection to Wei Ying's new flesh. )
...good. You are so good for me.
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Lan Zhan… [He shudders when Lan Zhan kisses his neck and ear. He wants to do something to increase Lan Zhan’s pleasure too, but this position makes it difficult. He feels snugly cradled with his husband’s hot skin against his back.Lan Zhan definitely wants it too. He can tell when he feels the hard tip of his husband’s cock presses into him. It’s always a little uncomfortable at first, but it’s a discomfort he gladly takes to be this close with his one and only.]
That’s it, Lan Zhan. Just like this. Does it feel good? I love you, Lan Zhan. You’re good, too. The best fit. [He feels elated to hear his husband’s encouragements and the noises he’s making now that they’re one body. He can only move his hips a little, so he presses back to swallow his lover wholly.]
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He stills for a moment, groin pressed tightly against Wei Ying's backside, before starting to saw his thrusts at a maddeningly slow, syrupy pace as he grazes on the shell of Wei Ying's ear. There is no urgency to this, the kind of love-making they might have once entertained early morning, with Wei Ying barely startling awake, when they yet shared the privilege of time to spare. )
Easy. ( Soft, gravelly. Fond. ) Just so. Will you be good for me? ( Can Wei Ying, who has never appreciated trickling pleasure, talk himself down from the furor of his sexual appetite? )
Allow me to take you, as you are. Belonging to me. At my pace.
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