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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( 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?

[It shouldn’t make this much of a difference to hear that he’s doing well, but he fills with a pleased sort of pride under his husband’s encouragement. He grins brightly at him, feeling compelled to keep up this little game even though he equally wants to be touched by Lan Zhan instead.]

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?

( For a moment, he is enthralled by the vision before him, watching Wei Ying with startlingly stubborn intent as if keen to devour his hands. He only stirs back to attention when his lover's movements come to a still, and he blinks up towards him, seeking to remember the words shared with him.

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.

[Even though it’s still his own hand around himself, it feels better with Lan Zhan guiding the motion. He lets out an appreciative moan, matching the strength and cadence of his husband’s grip. He keeps it up even as he’s released. What feels even better is when their lips meet. He throws himself into the kiss that’s much too short-lived for his tastes.

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.

The sweetest.

( 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. )

[It’s the kiss that pushes him from playing with himself to tease both of them towards the intent to bring himself to completion. Every time their lips touch, he feels a pleasurable tingle through his system. So much that he whines when Lan Zhan pulls back from him.] Lan Zhan… if we keep this up for much longer, I’m not going to be able to wait for you.

[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.

Good.

( 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. )

[It’s almost too much for him to feel Lan Zhan hard against him. His hand pumping him effectively leaves him torn between furiously fucking his husband’s palm and slowing down to give Lan Zhan more of a chance to fix them together. His whole body aches for completion and the way Lan Zhan moves against him is making it worse instead of better.]

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.]

( In the end, he is a servant of his husband's wishes, his foremost admirer, his stalwart champion — and the architect of his deepest frustrations, when Lan Wangji's hand allows another apologetic stroke, grip tightening when he reaches the base to stifle Wei Ying's enthusiasm. A cruel thing, worthy of a despot. He makes no apologies. )

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.

Edited 2024-10-18 23:16 (UTC)

[He whimpers as Lan Zhan’s fist tightens around him. Logically, he knows this is for the best, but it still leaves him feeling frustrated. It’s not the first time he’s been stifled like this and he can’t help but wonder if Lan Zhan will torture him repeatedly if he continues to prove too excited to behave himself. He’s not one for delayed gratification unless Lan Zhan’s the one insisting on it.]

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.]

( It feels exquisite, he needn't say, because Wei Ying should know, should feel the pulse of his gathering, bolstered arousal, should hear Lan Wangji's staggered breath.

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.

[The pace is slow for his tastes, but it's not unpleasant. He groans after a few moments, matching his stifled thrusts to his husband's to take him as deeply as he can. He shudders again when Lan Zhan speaks, tilting his head back and to the side like he will somehow be able to kiss from this position.]

I'll be good, Lan Zhan. [Even if being good is hard to do at the moment. All he wants is for Lan Zhan to take him to completion, but how hard can it be to wait? What they're doing now feels good.]

I want to be good for you. [He presses against Lan Zhan again, moaning noisily when he does. The extra motion makes him feel like he'll come undone, but it's just a spark that doesn't get fed by his impatience. He really does want to be good for Lan Zhan. He wants to be praised for it.]

I'm yours, Lan Zhan. Only and always. Keep talking to me. I like to hear your voice when you're feeling good.

I do. Am.

( So much so, that his natural taciturnity is exacerbated, driving him to new heights of frustrated futility as mere words fail to convey the scope and ambition of his love play. He thrusts into Wei Ying, so very slowly and yet increasing the depth, replacing ignorant enthusiasm and studied force and precision.

Over the years, they have come to know each other — so much so that Lan Wangji can make weapon of it now, grip gliding down to capture Wei Ying's length again and torture it with tender strokes. )

So good to me. Tighter than a virgin. Than my own fist.

( For all Lan Wangji has only just confessed his recent indifference to self-pleasure. Wei Ying, who fits around him like a glove, whose own quiet thrusts back slot their bodies together, Wei Ying who ruins and rules him, stands above any trick of the hand Lan Wangji might perform on himself. )

At times — ( A pause, as he recovers his breath, voice yet strangled into Wei Ying's ear. ) At times, I think of this, when you sleep. To do it. Lift your robes, and — and only think of my pleasure. Slip inside. Take, take, take, until you wake to it, gasping, unable to claim control.

Good, good, Lan Zhan. [He wants to encourage more bed talk until he’s drowning in the depth of his husband’s voice. To think he’d be able to elicit so many spoken words from his beloved Lan Zhan. And only he gets to hear them!]

Every time we sleep together feels like a first — ah! — like a first time, doesn’t it? [He isn’t expecting the hand around him and a moan catches in his throat. It’s so torturously slow, but it still feels good. When Lan Zhan is done toying with him, they’ll speed up eventually. But he’s being good tonight.

His whole body feels feverish under Lan Zhan’s attention. He wants to do something to help his husband along, so he touches whatever he can reach. Lan Zhan’s arms, mostly. His hip and thigh. Just little, encouraging touches.]

I want to kiss you, Lan Zhan. When we’re done, let’s kiss until we fall asleep. Would you like that?

[He tilts his head, aiming his ear towards Lan Zhan’s warm lips. He shudders again, moaning at the scenario shared with him.] Next time you feel that way, you should do it. I won’t get mad, promise. You don’t have to restrain any part of yourself with me, Lan Zhan. [In fact, the idea of Lan Zhan taking advantage of him like that is a big turn on. He likes the idea of not having any control over what’s happening to him as long as Lan Zhan’s the one doing it. Much like their first kiss taken so many steps further.]

( Kiss, yes. He craves it so, the one disadvantage of their current position, even as their pleasure amplifies whenever Wei Ying's restlessness drives him to squirm on Lan Wangji's cock.

Beneath Wei Ying's fleeting kiss, his ear flushes, a shiver catching down his limbs and spine. He answers with a deep, punishing thrust, his left hand riding up to drum on the jutting lines of Wei Ying's ribs and snag on his teased nipple, twisting it.

Then, still a slave to his fantasy: )

It would be — selfish. ( But some part of the thought still delights him enough that he pumps himself harder in Wei Ying, finally recalling to start stroking his lover's sweet length. ) But I would. I would. Take you... take... whenever — at our new house.

( So very far away from the world of Cloud Recesses, delightfully intimate. Hiding Lan Wangji's secrets. ) Wherever I see and want you. Only... only turn you onto the first surface. Take.

( All at once, their pace no longer satisfies even him, the hunger to claim Wei Ying all consuming. Releasing his husband in every way, he begins the torture of distancing them, of exiting Wei Ying's body, only to sprawl on his back after. )

Come here. How do you want taken?

Be selfish, Lan Zhan. [His nipple is still sensitive from the punishment it endured back in the tub and he hisses when Lan Zhan twists it, but he doesn’t try to stifle it. The pain feels good, sending another thrilling current between his legs. The pacing is slow, but he feels thoroughly attended to. The one part of him that craves more is his mouth.]

I want you to. I want to be your sheath in every room of the new house. Take me, Lan Zhan. Any time of the day or night. As often as you want. I’m yours, beloved. All yours for whatever you want to do with me.

[Where any of the servants might catch them. For some reason, it excites him further, leading him to squirm more against his husband’s hips.

He whimpers again when Lan Zhan slows to a stop. It feels like torture to go from so much stimulation to nothing. He rolls back immediately just to establish touch as quickly as he can. From there, he rolls in place until he’s facing Lan Zhan. He’s breathless, face flushed, and grinning now that he realizes he can kiss Lan Zhan as much as he wants if they’re facing one another.]

Often. [His grin widens and he pushes himself up so he can crawl his way on top of his husband. He straddles him, his ass resting on his lover’s pelvis. He can feel the entire length of Lan Zhan between his cheeks and he craves to have him inside again.]

I want to kiss while we do it. [He leans down, holding himself up with a hand on either side of Lan Zhan’s head. He brushes his lips over Lan Zhan’s with a pleased sigh before letting the kiss deepen naturally.]

( They are child-like in this, entirely too fond, too readily succumbing to their affections. Barely released from the throes of love-making, Wei Ying wrestles to climb him and assert his want, to claim his husband's mouth for his own. And Lan Wangji answers him, slow to understand his sudden appearance before him. )

...hello. ( As if, only heartbeats earlier, they weren't as close as any two men can be. As if they were a world apart and not tenderly connected by savage thrusts and Lan Wangji's enthusiasm for slow, reverent play.

Even now, arms rising to bracket Wei Ying's body and pillar him, he is worshipping, attentive, drawing out their kiss, chasing another whenever Wei Ying finally pulls away from him. There is urgency to a point of discomfort, but he can overcome it. Can overcome anything. )

I missed your beautiful face.

[It’s a simple thing to lose himself in kissing Lan Zhan, but his body is begging for more. It’s why he starts to grind his hips against Lan Zhan’s, trapping his cock between them in the process. It feels good, but not as amazing as when they’re joined. But he is a slave to his wants, so he keeps doing it until their kiss breaks.

He laughs a few syllables and kisses Lan Zhan’s nose.] I missed your lovely mouth on mine. And I miss another part of you inside me, too. [It’s crass where Lan Zhan had been romantic, but he’ll be forgiven. He knows that he’s not the only one painfully interested in completion.]

You look good like this, Lan Zhan. So good. [He kisses him again, lifting his butt to stimulate his lover, as if he needs to do anything else to entice him into sleeping with him properly.]

( Laughter breaks from him, crumbling, shrivelled. He reaches up, between fractured moans, to still his husband's slow ride before it can gain momentum that will at once satisfy and further tease them, putting them to shame. They should be above reaching swift, explosive completion in a manner juvenile, but enthusiasm never fails to sabotage them.

Even before Wei Ying can settle, he slithers his hand to blindly recapture the pot of salve, fishing for fresh sheen. After, fingers timid despite their all too recent coupling, he wets the rim of his husband's hole, thrusting inside only to test it for yield, before sweetly positioning Wei Ying astride to straddle him. His own length, unforgivably swollen, waits primed and held up to receive its sheath.

Then, softly: ) Bear down, beloved. ( As if it is not Wei Ying who has been urging them to see this through. ) Show me your love.

[His arousal can’t be the only one starting to ache, but he listens to his husband and ceases his teasing when he realizes Lan Zhan is reaching for their salve. He nuzzles his nose against Lan Zhan’s cheek and jaw, scattering light nips along the way. They can’t have the acting sect leader showing off his bedroom secrets, so he doesn’t use much force behind his teeth.

He only tenses for a moment when he feels his lover probing his most intimate area, still sensitive from before. Any discomfort at this stage is fine because he knows once they start going at it again, it will be replaced with urgent pleasure.]

Haven’t I been showing you my love all evening? [He lets his husband place him and waits until he feels the tip slide into place before letting his weight do the work for him. It hurts around the perimeter of his entrance, but it doesn’t stop him from taking Lan Zhan into him.]

Feel good? [He holds his front half up so he can watch his husband’s face as he’s engulfed. Once he’s taken him whole, he lifts his hips and bears down on him again. If Lan Zhan doesn’t take over the pacing, Wei Wuxian will probably move too fast for his lover’s preference.]

Good. ( He hisses out, and it is all he can do not to brutalize his husband with the heft of his enthusiasm, not to answer him with thrusts in kind.

He times himself, careful to exhale and inhale and force his body prone and weighted, only inching his touch up to glide up his lover's thighs, then capture his hips. In the end, he directs their pace, slowly guiding Wei Ying up and down, then up and down again, his own hips rising to meet him in quiet pulses.

Belatedly, his hand drips down to catch on Wei Ying's length, strangling and tugging it, starting to milk away his pleasure. )

Careful. Slow. So good. So tight — ( More hissing, choked off. ) My love. My love, I am unworthy. Please. Mercy.

[It’s difficult for him to go at Lan Zhan’s pace, but he defers to him and tries his best to ride slower than he’d like. His hands bracket Lan Zhan’s face to give him leverage, carefully under his fanned out hair so he doesn’t tug it. This gentle way of making love feels important, somehow. They’re usually rougher and faster and he feels like he’s going to be driven mad with the wisps of pleasure promising more if only they keep at it. ]

Love you. So much, Lan Zhan. I feel whole, with you, like this. [He lowers his top half down to kiss Lan Zhan briefly, moaning and bucking his hips when his husband takes him in hand.] You’re so good to me, Zhan. My husband. My everything.

[He can tell Lan Zhan’s getting close, tasting the same frantic urges he is. He grins at him, kissing him a few more times.] That’s it, Lan Zhan. I’ve got you. [He’s not far behind him, either.] Close, Lan Zhan, so close. Let go for me.

I shall, I shall —

( Only he's feverish, mouthing whatever words snag and are ripped from his treacherous lips, hunting whatever truths Wei Ying wishes to hear, only to earn his lover's mercy, his boon. His hips buck and accelerate, grip on Wei Ying instinctively tighter, while the heat that engulfs him all but chokes out his arousal, at once punishing and rewarding.

Their mouths crash together, meet. The pace of Wei Ying's ride just slow enough that their tongues can tangle without risk of their teeth cutting in between feats of collision. He could lose himself in this, the strained creaking of the modest, humble bed, the rising musk of their coupling, the inching heat of the braziers. Could drown in pure intimacy with his soulmate, the only man destined to ever satisfy him.

But he pulls back, head nearly knocking against the mattress, as he eyes Wei Ying over, taking a full measure of him. Then, he leans in to kiss him again, teeth latching onto the thin, taut stretch of Wei Ying's lower lip. )

I hunger for you. For this. Look how it takes me. Feel it. How can you doubt it? Doubt us. ( Every few hushed, gravelly words, a deep thrust in kind. ) Feel my want for this body.

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