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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( 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.

[Finally, they start moving at a pace that works for him. He allows himself get lost in the sensations, in his husband’s love. He crumples over his lover, leaning heavily on one elbow so he can touch Lan Zhan’s face and chest while they kiss. He feels like he’ll tip over the edge at any moment. All the world around them shrinking until it’s just the two of them clinging to each other.

Only Lan Zhan pulls back right before they reach the crescendo. He looks down at him blearily, but it doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong. Lan Zhan’s still as hard as ever inside him.]

Lan Zhan… [The words hit him just as hard as each of the thrusts. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it while his body is struggling to keep up with their purpose.] I doubted myself. But I doubted you and us, too. I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. It wont happen again. I’ll never doubt you again. Never doubt us.

[He touches Lan Zhan’s cheek and stares right into his eyes while they continue their love making. How could he have ever doubted this beautiful man’s love for him after everything they’ve been through?]

Shhhhhhhhhh.

( He soothes and needn't say, Do not promise what you cannot deliver. It is in the nature of things, of Wei Ying to devote himself to missions he cannot complete, to pledge the world and his own stability, when he can vanquish any enemy and turn base talismans to sophisticated enchantment — but he cannot subdue his fear. Not truly.

Lan Wangji has not lived beside him for years now to ask it of him. Hand soft over his husband's cheek, he brings him down for another, slow kiss, before simply retaliating in the language in which his husband is prone to accept his answer: colliding their bodies, drawing them violently close, each thrust propelling them closer, deeper, more securely against each other. He feels the precipice within reach, rich pleasure blooming in his veins as if a fresh fount of blood's stream.

Then, it happens, inevitably: one last staggered, jutting push up, his fist nearly forgetting to round around Wei Ying's length until the last few moments, and he spills with a gutting, extended groan that seems as much to relieve as to pain him. Breath harsh, cutting, panting, his chest a tidal flux of heaves. )

...Wei Ying. ( He manages it only too long after, when he feels he has both broken and remade himself, hand resuming its attention on any signs of his husband's lingering arousal. ) My love.

[He keeps watching Lan Zhan until he’s drawn into another kiss. He licks at Lan Zhan’s mouth, tasting his lips and tongue while they give into their need for each other. He wants to keep addressing his failure, but Lan Zhan’s body is too tempting.

The thrusts become more frantic and he lifts and drops himself until he starts inching towards his own climax. Then he grinds against his lover instead, moans bubbling up from deep in his chest. He likes it like this where they’re the only thing in each other’s world.

Usually, he’s the one that peaks first, but tonight it’s Lan Zhan. He feels his husband’s shuddering body, the sudden fullness of Lan Zhan’s seed filling him.]

That’s it, Lan Zhan, I’m here. You’re so sexy, Lan Zhan. [His words come out in puffs of heavy breath against Lan Zhan’s open mouth. He writhes, pushing down against Lan Zhan’s hips until he feels the promise of his own impending release. As soon as the hand around him starts to stroke again, it tips him past the point of no return.

His orgasm hits him hard. His arm shakes and struggles to keep him up, so he collapsed on top of his husband, trapping his hand between them while the waves of pure lightning flush through his whole body. He’s still going when Lan Zhan’s is finished and it’s another few blissful seconds before the pleasure goes from a hose to a trickle. He keeps moving, chasing every little spark until he finally stills and drapes himself over Lan Zhan’s chest.]

Hmm? [He doesn’t feel like lifting his head, so he just nestles his face against his husband’s throat. He kisses the skin there lazily while he catches his breath.]

It feels like my blood is humming. You’re amazing, Lan Zhan. Is there anything you’re not good at?

...withstanding spices. Drink. Late travel.

( All the faults instilled as virtues by an education among the Gusu Lan. He knows, without question, that Wei Ying does not require his answers — that he needs the animal reassurance of Lan Wangji's presence, his voice and the comfort of his body's warmth.

Belatedly, his hand comes up to pat blindly over Wei Ying's shoulders, his neck, to walk down the stairs of his spine. He does not know what his caresses seek, only that Wei Ying's warmth instils in him a feeling of peace, lethargy and relaxation. In this strange, dreary little room — and yet he has never been happier. )

What do you fear? ( Softer, velvety: ) That I will leave you, for this body's faults?

[He chuckles at Lan Zhan’s answers, nudging his nose against the spot just under his husband’s jaw where it meets his throat.] I love you more than spices and drink and late travel, so I’ll forgive you that. I was ready to move in with you in Cloud Recesses before I knew I’d be treated to real food and as much wine as I care to drink. [And he isn’t held to Lan sleeping hours, either. Truly, he’s treated as an honored guest in every way these days.

He slides so that he’s laying on one side of Lan Zhan with an arm and leg thrown over his chest and hip. He kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder and walks his hand across his skin in a similarly meandering way. He just wants to touch and be touched.

He stills when Lan Zhan brings up his fears, sighing out a slow breath.] I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. I can tell you right now with one-hundred percent certainty that you would rather die than leave me, but in the moment, it’s like my brain completely shuts down and all I can think about are… the bad things about me, I guess. And then I think who in their right mind would want to be with me?

...I would.

( He murmurs it quietly, less to chide or correct than simply to pledge himself, faithfully and unrelenting. He would. Does, every day and every hour, even when Wei Ying's company is unstrategic, chaotic, inconvenient.

He would, because he aches to be without him, because his husband's arm fettered over his body is still not close enough. Because he turns in to pass his mouth over Wei Ying's forehead and kiss his cheek, and mere moments have passed since they last coupled — and still they are too far and away. )

I would choose the Yiling Patriarch. I would choose Worm Ying. ( One and same and lovely to him, facets of this beautiful person. )

It is, at times, instinct. I breathe, only now, with Wei Ying returned. ( His lungs feel fuller, no longer closer to burst at every timid inhalation. ) Your soul calls to mine. Your brilliance awes me. Your bodies both attract me.

I know you would, Lan Zhan. I know you love me as much as I love you.

[He smiles when his face is kissed, squirming as close as he can get. His leg wraps around one of Lan Zhan’s and he squeezes him in a half-bodied hug. He, too, feels like they’re somehow not close enough. Only when they’re connected does he feel whole.

He feels good right now. Sure of his husband’s devotion to him and their family. None of the doubts from earlier in the day plague him. He feels foolish for letting them get the best of him, but the only way through is forward. In the morning, they’ll go back to the cave to eradicate more of the resentment there. He feels… prepared for it in a way he hadn’t been today.]

You’d choose normal, old Wei Ying, too, I hope. [He’s only teasing and he kisses Lan Zhan’s jaw and cheek a handful of times to show it.] Unless you’re saying my natural state is Worm Ying.

[He kisses Lan Zhan’s face more times, just because it’s there and he wants the pleasant afterglow of their shared climaxes to keep making them feel good.] You feel like home, Lan Zhan. For my body and my soul, both. I trust you with parts of me I never thought I’d show anyone. [Namely, his insecurities. He barely acknowledges them himself!]

Tomorrow will be different. We’ll be a united front against everything that lingers in that cave.

Wei Ying. ( Soft, enveloping, even as he brings an arm to draw him closer and closer still, to breathe in the scent of him and admire his husband thusly. ) We may not prevail during tomorrow's attempt.

( His pride already bruises at the thought. Wei Ying's must bleed. Yet their strength, a growing and formidable resource, still possesses limitations. They cannot push past the natural barrier of their skill and must resolve to break the whole in parts, even in crumbs, and overcome it. )

We must be at peace with the possibility. ( Even whispering the words, he finds himself sullen and dismissive of its specter, quick to wish it exorcised. ) If we do not succeed, we return. We attempt again. We will always win a war of attrition.

( Even tentatively, taking care to kiss Wei Ying's temple: ) There is no shame in it.

We may not prevail, but we won’t let it divide us again. That’s a step in the right direction.

[He hasn’t forgotten the utter strength of the resentment in that cave. His own power shudders in the face of it. His control of resentment energy isn’t what it was in his first life. He doesn’t have the Yin Tiger Tally bolstering his strength. He’s also not up to snuff with his control of spiritual qi, either. But he won’t back down in the face of a challenge.

He climbs back on top of Lan Zhan, slotting one knee between his husband’s legs. This position is better, closer, than before. He looks down at his husband and grins at him.] Hello, Lan Zhan. [He kisses the tip of his nose.]

We have to be tenacious. I don’t expect to be finished with this work tomorrow. Probably not even in a week, but that’s okay. The important thing is that we do it together.

Next time you want to gaze into the blood pool for a while, I’ll be by your side. I won’t get jealous of myself again!

Hello, Wei Ying.

( He murmurs, syrupy and slowing, instinctively compelled to answer his husband's greeting, even when it is offered in play. He responds with a kiss in kind, crowning the gentle turn of Wei Ying's nose.

Then, unapologetically, he rolls them over until his body once more shields that of his lover, and he envelops Wei Ying completely at every turn, tirelessly deflecting any squirming. Worm Ying, held this tightly, should struggle.

And gently: ) We had barely washed. How is it my husband has already filthied us?

( As if it is not Lan Wangji who coaxed them into love play, as if he was anything but an aggressively enthusiastic participant. )

[He holds onto Lan Zhan and they’re rolled until Lan Zhan’s on top. He does end up squirming around a little until he finds a comfortable position for the two of them. As long as Lan Zhan holds himself up, he doesn’t feel squished under him.]

You should have thought of that before kissing me so much. [He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan exploring his back affectionately. He knows his husband sometimes feels shy about his scars, so he doesn’t focus on them in his fingers’ wandering just in case he’s feeling shy now.]

I suppose you want to have another bath before bed? [He’d rather just lay around and fall asleep, but he indulges his husband’s desire to feel clean before falling asleep. Some days he feels more reluctant than others, but tonight he wants to give his husband everything he wants. Maybe they can kiss each other for a while or at least have a good conversation.]

It’s still early. We might have some time to do some preparations for tomorrow once we’re clean again. [If he still has the motivation to do so after their bath. He probably won’t, but he could be convinced.]

( For a moment, he hesitates, suspended braced over his husband's lax and molten body, keen to assail him with further kisses and caresses — before Wei Ying dutifully introduces the possibility of respectably attending to their ablutions.

He considers it, at length: on the one hand, cleanliness is the foremost virtue, and the stickiness of seed and sweat will frustrate and discomfort him over the evening. On the other, he is but a man, rigorously seduced, thoroughly debauched, and equally depleted after a day of exhaustive exorcism.

In the end, a compromise: )

Unnecessary. Shall bring a dampened cloth to cleanse us. ( To cleanse Wei Ying, he needn't emphasise, because they both know Lan Wangji could just as readily clean himself by their bathtub and needn't crawl back with the cloth for his own devices.

Slowly, bed creaking, he starts to carefully roll to his side. ) You may be spoiled on this night.

[One final light squeeze before he lets his husband free. He decides to make himself comfortable by spreading out his limbs. He welcomes the cool air after such a heated activity, letting it reinvigorate him while he waits for Lan Zhan to fetch the cleaning cloth.]

You must be tired, too, if you’re satisfied with a blanket bath. [Their day had been long and exhausting even before factoring in their fight. He reaches for Lan Zhan lazily, just to touch him for a few moments until he’s up and out of reach.]

After I’m cleaned up, I can hold you while we read or something. You deserve to be spoiled too, Lan Zhan! Oh! I can rub the tension out of your back and shoulders if you want. Or if you’re too tired, I’ll hold you while you fall asleep early. I have a few things I want to prep for tomorrow, but I might take a nap first. That way we can fall asleep together.

[Or, he could just let himself be spoiled. That would be nice, too.]

( Slow to be released, trickling out of Wei Ying's arms, he finds himself hesitantly approaching the bathtub to collect the cloth and rinse it in one of the buckets of residual fresh water. Rinse. Repeat.

Then, coming back to Wei Ying, he loiters at the very rim of the bed, well outside the reach of inquisitive hands and greedy touches, before starting to wipe down his lover's flattened belly and quieted groin of seed and sweat. He is less careful when he removes himself after, claiming and dousing a second cloth to attend to himself by the bathtub, before once more rejoining his husband and falling unquestioningly in his arms.

To hear Wei Ying's heartbeat. To absorb him. )

You have only just been tumbled, yet your mind is already hard at work. ( 'A few things' to prepare is surely a string of tasks, all pillared on solutions only Wei Ying's sharpened mind can devise. )

Did I fail to tire you?

[He reaches for Lan Zhan again, but he’s well out of his reach. It’s for the best, since it’s doubtful that either of them could be cleaned promptly if he could get his hands on his husband again. He still feels great with the last whispers of afterglow lingering through his body.

He practically throws himself into holding Lan Zhan as soon as he’s close enough. He gives him a playful squeeze as he wraps his limbs around him.] You didn’t fail at anything, Lan Zhan. I’m tired, sure, but my mind feels rejuvenated, too. [He spreads a series of little kisses along Lan Zhan’s shoulder and throat.]

It’s just that now that I know what we’re dealing with, I have a some ideas I want to flesh out before I forget. [He can’t control when inspiration hits. Letting his mind rest while sleeping with Lan Zhan had given him the break he needed to put a few things in a different light.

He loosens his hold on his husband, letting himself relax in their embrace. Maybe he should jot down a few notes in case he ends up falling asleep before he gets a chance to work. Naw, it can wait. He likes holding his husband too much to break away from it so soon after starting.]

( His husband is, unfailingly, a mind at constant work, jealous of himself and his own potentrial when he is stolen the opportunity to develop his thoughts. Lan Wangji cannot be the one who denies him, careful to situate himself in his lover's arms in such a way that he can roll over and let Wei Ying attend to his sparks of brilliance. )

You seek to dispel the energy, or to isolate and contain it? ( At times, the best assistance that he can offer his husband is a sounding board, the chance to talk himself through his own plans and polish them. )

Will two cultivators suffice, or shall I enlist nearby clansmen? ( In truth, not all requests must go through Cloud Recesses. Enough of their disciples have been deployed in the vicinities, or are passing nearby grounds en route to their assignments. They can be intercepted and drawn in for reinforcement. )

[He lets go of Lan Zhan with one arm so he can stroke his head and back, reveling in their shared affection. He kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder a few times. Lethargy is the enemy of motivation, but it’s hard to overcome when it affects both of them. He feels content to stay right where he is.]

Both. We should disperse the weaker spirits before we focus on the persistent ones one at a time. I doubt the talismans I threw down before we left the cave will hold overnight, but I think I can improve them with a few adjustments. It’ll make it easier on us if we can quiet some of the more violent ones so they don’t interfere with our ability to work.

I underestimated the power in that cave before, but it won’t happen again. Some of the ghosts will need to be eradicated. There’s old resentment in there. [He fingers through Lan Zhan’s hair, combing it out gently while he talks.]

I think the two of us will be enough, but we can get assistance if we don’t make any headway tomorrow. [He’s reluctant to invite anyone else, though. Because of his history with the cave, it just feels too intimate for outsiders.]

( Already, he is molten and caving, entirely at the mercy of Wei Ying's wandering hands and absorbing the smallest inkling of his affection, his lightest trickle of touch. All but purring when his lover's hand cruises through his hair, then turning to litter kisses over Wei Ying's shoulder and upper arm — whatever lingers close.

Old resentment, yes, no doubt amplified by the natural dispositions of an ancestral graveyard. Sometimes, places inherit the evil of the deeds committed on their premises. And then, all too often, they attract them. )

If necessary... we may call upon Lotus Pier.

( For all it pains Lan Wangji to contemplate an excess of exposure to Jiang Cheng, this is his pasture, by right and vicinity. He is bound to assist. )

He will answer.

[He smiles to himself, enjoying how much Lan Zhan is acting like an overgrown cat desperate for attention on his terms. How could he possibly be cruel enough to stop giving him his affection? He pushes Lan Zhan’s hair behind his ear and keep stroking and combing through his hair.]

Yunmeng-Jiang is the closest living sect, isn’t it? [He reminds himself that his perception of the land belonging to the Wens is more than a little outdated.] I’ll write Jiang Cheng tomorrow to let him know what we’re up to and whether we require some extra hands.

[He probably should have thought to inform Jiang Cheng before coming into his territory, but it’s just as easy to ask for forgiveness as it is to ask permission. And he thinks he, personally, has more of a claim to the cave than his former shidi, anyway. If anything, they’re doing Jiang Cheng a favor cleansing his land.]

I still think we’ll be able to do this just the two of us if we change our approach. [He spares another few kisses on Lan Zhan’s shoulder, wiggling a little bit until he finds a more comfortable position to lie in.] We know what to expect this time.

I believe in our odds.

( Arrogantly spoken, but Wei Ying has successfully loosened his limbs, eradicating the last of his tension until Lan Wangji sprawls, drumming his fingertips over his lover's shin and hip.

In truth, Wei Ying makes a diplomatic proposition: they should have approached Jiang Cheng and served him notice of their arrival and intentions to act on their lands. If nothing else, then because Lan Wangji currently serves as the acting leader of a sect, and to die on Jiang Cheng's territory would leave the head of Yunmeng in the tenuous position of fending accusation of malice, sabotage or neglect.

Still, he bristles when he hears the words spoken, shooting Wei Ying a sharpened glance, before accepting his husband close. )

Shall avoid the blood pool, if necessary.

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