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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( They finish in increments, the last of Lan Wangji's reflexive, soul-shattering tremors subsiding just as Wei Ying hits the stride of his climax. Throughout, Lan Wangji brackets his cheeks with warm palms, littering butterfly kisses on the feverish stain that is his lover's bloomed mouth, the soft stretches of his cheeks.

His hands travel down to caress Wei Ying's arms, then his bony flank, finally landing on the hard angles of his hips, keeping Wei Ying pinned close. Their breaths seem entirely aligned for a few heartbeats, feeding off and sustaining each other. The world all but explodes within and around them.

Then, quietly, they return to themselves — and Lan Wangji selfishly still lingers inside the sheath of his lover's body, irreverently uncaring of Wei Ying's likely natural discomfort. Let him bear it. Their connection for these few moments is worth more than this. )

No ascension. No death. ( But softened: ) Shall wed you, but not in the cave. Ill omen.

[By the time he finishes, his body’s trembling from head to toe. Sometimes the aftermath leaves him overstimulated like this, but it always passes without doing anything in particular to speed it along. He all but collapses under Lan Zhan, arms splayed out at his sides while he catches his breath.]

Okay, no dying. [He smiles and studies Lan Zhan’s face for a long moment, just admiring his features while he settles in. He usually tries not to allude to his demise around Lan Zhan, so he’s relieved that it’s taken in stride.]

No, not in the cave. [Even though it and the Burial Mounds are a significant part of his own life, it’s not like he shared much of it with Lan Zhan there anyway. There’s no need to tempt fate by marrying in the place he’d originally died.] Let’s finish exorcising that cave so we can have a few days of seclusion after we get married again.

We will do this again, in our seclusion?

( A natural occupation, given the purpose of nuptial seclusion: to gravitate together, to learn one another, to secure the lineage. Perhaps too hard of an ask of Wei Ying, but he has made a purpose of prevailing against the impossible.

Drifting loose of his husband's body, he shifts to the side, more an ungainly bundle of limbs and fond glances than the studied scholarly dignity of Hanguang-Jun. His disciples would struggle to believe he is the one and same. A blessing that only Wei Ying must glimpse him so, molten between his ruined sheets and tussled pillows.

Still chasing affection, easing out of the previous high, he nuzzles at his lover's collarbone, sweet short licks giving way to predictable nibbling. A dog, after all. )

I've worn you down. ( A sheepish acknowledgement he does not build into an apology, too unrepentant. )

We can do this again and more if you want.

[He rolls onto his side to face Lan Zhan, smiling and resting his head on one folded arm. He likes the way Lan Zhan looks right now. His hair’s a mess and he looks sated and loving. He recognizes the intimacy in the moment, taking in his lover at his most vulnerable. He can just look at Lan Zhan looking at him like this and enjoy it for a little while. He feels good. Relaxed and entirely too in love with the man before him.

He welcomes Lan Zhan close, arm laying lazily around his husband’s middle. He even tilts his head to allow for the affection despite knowing Lan Zhan well enough to expect a pinching bite. It makes him laugh and squirm.]

You’ve done more than that. I’m too exhausted to get out of bed. Guess that means I’ll have to nap with you. [It’ll either mean he’ll get up later to busy himself or he might sleep the whole night through depending on if his lethargy persists.]

I’m not the only one worn out. [He tugs Lan Zhan as close as he can get.] You should sleep in tomorrow. We need all the strength we can muster for our work.

( Their strength, already sabotaged for one evening, cannot hope to truly recover by morning — but Lan Wangji all the same anticipates their early rise, the chance to reset himself. He knows already how it must begin, with fresh lotions and ablutions, and Wei Ying carried somnolent in his arms and delivered into his bathtub. It cannot be that they proceed with their day without cleansing — Lan Wangji's dignity will not permit it.

Then, they will break their fast, for all Wei Ying might begrudge him and try to negotiate a swift nap instead. Exercise, perfunctorily. Perhaps even enjoy their view. They must, in short, fleetingly become human once more, if they are to share the slightest chance of acting as weapons after.

Nodding, he brings one arm under his lover's head, slightly mirroring Wei Ying's own conquest of Lan Wangji's midriff. The closer they are entangled, the harder they will be to bring apart. )

If my husband commands, how am I to refuse him? ( Softer then, squeezing the embrace: )

[It’s been a long time since they’ve been able to enjoy sleeping together more than once in one evening. Not since the beginnings of their union when they rushed to make up for all the time they’d lost. Other than for special occasions like subsequent marriage ceremonies, anyway.

He inches closer, using Lan Zhan’s arm as a pillow. He molds himself around his husband’s body and fills in all the negative space between them.]

Exactly. You can’t refuse my wisdom.

[He stifles a yawn against Lan Zhan’s shoulder, then sighs contentedly as he makes himself comfortable. He’s not sure how he’d let ghosts poison his mind with jealousy earlier in the day, but he won’t let it happen again. He’s won his husband’s affection so thoroughly that it would be nearly impossible to lose him as long as he stays true to himself.

He thinks to apologize, only to remember that apologies and thanks aren’t exactly a welcome topic. Instead, he turns his head to kiss Lan Zhan’s upper arm briefly before settling again.]

I love you, Lan Zhan. My husband.

[He feels too lazy to get up as clean himself off and he hopes Lan Zhan feels the same if only to avoid losing precious moments of their prolonged affection. He never minds going straight to sleep after sex with Lan Zhan.]

My heart is filled with you.

( He retaliates, as if their love is not a given, perpetually and stubbornly confessed, shamelessly upheld. They can pronounce and prove it every day of their wedded bliss, and he suspects it will not suffice to calm their doubts and uncertainty. No matter. They have years before them, decades and time.

His mouth chases Wei Ying's temple for a moment, free hand sliding to card through his husband's hair and ease it away from his temple, sweeping it behind a delicate ear. Sweetheart, precious thing. )

Sleep. ( Easier said than done when Wei Ying's insomnia assaults unfailingly, but he must try. They must both try. The rest Wei Ying proposed is recommended for Lan Wangji, whose golden core can compensate for the failings of his flesh — but critical for Wei Ying, who benefits from no additional assistance. )

[His eyes flutter closed as he enjoys the petting, just letting himself absorb the love like he would warm sunlight. He feels completely relaxed, mind turning over his love for his husband instead of something that might keep him from sleep.]

I think I might. You’ll sleep, too?

[He kisses whatever part of Lan Zhan is closest, nestling himself close. He could stay up and talk some more, but it would likely end up with him staying up long enough for his somnolence to fade. Because they’re going to be busy tomorrow, he’s leaning towards taking advantage of his sleepy mood even if he’ll wake up again in a short while.]

You make me so happy, Lan Zhan.

( As do you. But he cannot say the words. Cannot bleed his heart further when it feels already on the cusp of collapse from the vast, overwhelming affection it carries.

Instead, he calls Wei Ying to him with the hold of his arm, steers him in and presses his mouth against his husband's forehead and temple, and he simply allows them both to enjoy the luxury of being together — alive on a stage remembered only for its death. And, privately, shamefully enthusiastic recipients of a break from their children, able to reconvene only as themselves. )

So happy that even Worm Ying is beholden to me?

[He doesn’t need to hear it. He can see it in the way Lan Zhan looks at him. By that smile that’s only meant for him and the kids to see. And he smiles, too, just thinking about how lucky he is that after everything, he gets to spend his entire second life with his soulmate.]

Mmhmm. Worm Ying would wrap himself around you just to hold you close and never let go.

[He drapes himself over Lan Zhan, squirming around just long enough to make himself comfortable in their new orientation. He presses a kiss to Lan Zhan’s chest, nudging his nose under his husband’s chin.]

No matter what form I take, I’ll be with you. Whether I’m a worm or a dragon or anything else, I still expect you to sleep with me every day.

( They are speaking in hypotheticals now, loitering and drawing out their evening — another privilege of their circumstances, when the brevity of how little time they're allowed, complicit, means they only ever discuss the practical and the unavoidable when they're together.

Worms and dragons and their love-making if they were different, stranger men — or creatures. They can afford to explore that, Lan Wangji's mouth slack and slow as he explores the thought, letting it run its course. Humming, he concludes: )

Dragons are holy creatures. ( Like phoenixes and all other fabrications of myth. ) Could not soil them with touch.

( Unlike the poor, average Wei Ying, hereby deemed suitable for an older man — this Lan Wangji of no morals — to exploit for his pleasure. ) Wei Ying must linger among mortals.

[That has him opening his eyes again. He shakes his head and chuckles quietly. You won’t get out of it that easily. If you were the dragon, you wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to lure me into your lair for lots of touching.

[He leans up to kiss Lan Zhan squarely on the lips. It’s not a long kiss, but he does linger for a moment.]

You’re more of a dragon than I am, anyway. The great, untouchable Hanguang-Jun. Pure and righteous. [He lays his head down again and smiles, taking the time to study his husband’s face.] And handsome, too.

I stand by what I said. No matter what form I take, you can’t resist my charm.

( He would not hesitate for a moment, a breath, a heartbeat. Finds himself nearly tempted to illustrate exactly how indisposed he is to abstinence, after merely a year of enjoying his husband's convenient proximity —

But he remembers himself, dutifully staying put and disciplined and only touching Wei Ying to chase the wisps of his hair away from his forehead, or rub heat back into his arms through slow, careful rubs. In the end, he draws up their sheets around them, helpfully cocooning them to weather the evening's chills. )

Why would I wish to? ( This, sensibly, in the voice of every man who assesses his property before him and finds it entirely too irresistible. ) How will I keep my wife satisfied, if I hold back?

Good question. [He snuggles close again when they reposition themselves under the covers. He kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder, neck, cheek. Just to share a few more trickles of affection before they both end up falling asleep.]

You satisfy all my cravings, Lan Zhan. For companionship, appetite, and of course maritally, too.

[He turns his head to yawn again so he doesn’t yawn directly into Lan Zhan’s face. He touches Lan Zhan’s cheek and stares into his eyes for a few moments. He feels at peace tonight. Maybe more so than on their normal daily life. It feels like even though things had been rough earlier in the day, they’ve made it through and come out closer.]

If I weren’t so tired, I’d sleep with you another two times before going to bed.

( Two times. Truly, the benefits of a youthful, beautiful body. For once, it is Lan Wangji who gazes down, slightly dismayed by his husband's prolific enthusiasm, before nodding in acceptance that such is his fate: to forever soothe insatiable needs of a lustful yaoguai.

Then, piously, breaking their gaze: ) It is strategic we have your second husband to call upon.

( A faithful, unwavering pillar of jade that is unlikely to ever fail to rise to the occasion. It alone can hope to slip in and attend to Wei Ying's needs, when Lan Wangji can no longer meet them. No flesh-born man would be permitted — unless... )

Unless my husband wishes to entertain another round of incense.

The Second Husband of Gusu Lan.

[He smiles fondly, lazily running his fingers through strands of Lan Zhan’s hair that are on this side of his shoulder. It’s true that he probably could go for another couple rounds if he gives himself some time to recover first, but he doesn’t need it to be satisfied. He’s feeling pretty good already.

He never thinks of summoning the jade pillar when they’re together and he feels wrong using it when they’re apart.]

Incense? [He doesn’t think of it right away, but he gets there eventually.] Oh, you mean incense. Or, I guess I should say incense in a particular burner?

[That has him perked up. They’d had a few interesting experiences after using that burner the first time. And to think Lan Zhan would bring it up now.]

You’d share the most secret parts of yourself with me again?

Have I ever closed them off from you?

( It strikes him at times, the difference between his own perception of himself and the quiet gaza of those around him. How he falls often, inevitably short. He watches Wei Ying, tired and slow, nudges him with his nose, then peels back. Was his intimacy so tightly guarded once more that Wei Ying assumed it under lock and key?

The incense burner marked a loosening in the coils of his carefully guarded inhibitions. A point of no return, for all they are unlikely to ever regularly revisit the burner. He is satisfied with their arrangement, more than with thoughts of fiction — but entertaining a rare treat can never hurt. )

We need not proceed, if you have doubts. ( He will not push Wei Ying past any measure of his comfort. Every part of their intimacy has been carefully, choicely curated, that to risk it on a whim would be — destabilizing. )

Neglect my words.

[And has Lan Zhan withheld his secrets before now? He can’t say one way or another because of the nature of secrecy. He trusts that Lan Zhan will share with him anything that he needs to or should know. And so he shakes his head.]

Not since we were young.

[He touches Lan Zhan’s cheek gently, still staring at him with naked admiration. He hadn’t meant to imply that Lan Zhan is keeping things from him, intentionally or otherwise. But he can tell there’s something going on in his husband’s mind now that’s causing him to shrink back.]

No, no, I’m interested. We’d know what we’re getting into this time. I don’t have any doubts. [He smiles when he leans in to steal a quick kiss on the mouth.]

But I can’t guarantee it’ll be fun dreams that we share. [Not when he’s so prone to nightmares. He can only hope his dreams are merciful when they’re sharing. He’s not sure he wants to put Lan Zhan through something unpleasant just for the sake of making love and seeing what sort of perverted scenarios their dreams come up with.]

( ...ah. Of course Wei Ying would have the concern of the sterility of his shared dreams. At his best, he is sweet, mannered, encouraged, tempered — but the illusion of his fragile calm can always burst in ways unpredictable.

He hesitates, then, buttered by a humour he half cultivates, half feigns: )

Shall have to wine, dine, flatter and coax you before sleep. Ensure agreeability.

( For all they both know it is unlikely to prove quite this simple. A year into their marriage, and they still at times wake to find him shivered, prey to nightmares. Worse still are the nights when Wei Ying says nothing, when Lan Wangji sleeps undisturbs while his beloved trashes in agony. )

Will sit Wei Ying's ankles on my shins all night.

I look forward to it.

[At least, he looks forward to being spoiled silly before bed. He likes it when Lan Zhan takes good care of him. He can’t control his dreams, though. Sometimes they come when he falls asleep happier than can be and sometimes he has good dreams after a particularly rough day. Still, he hopes he can show Lan Zhan something pleasant.

Really, he’s more interested in Lan Zhan’s dreams. From what he’d experienced the first time they used the incense burner, his husband’s dreams are delightfully sensual. And maybe he’ll be able to sleep with him with his own - his first - face if it’s in a dream]

Hold me close while we sleep. I always sleep best with your arms around me. [He nuzzles his nose against Lan Zhan’s. He would nestle himself closer to his husband if it were possible to do so.]

( Close, instructs Wei Ying, and how his disciples and the cultivation world whole would laugh to see Hanguang-Jun the trained, obedient creature of his husband, quick to materialize his every whim.

His arms close around Wei Ying, at once mindless and worshipful of his delicacy, drawing him in. His mouth chases the shell of his husband's ear, one hand splayed indelicately over his lover's waist. The warmth of his purring core radiating, infusing Wei Ying's bones, his flank. )

Rest, Patriarch. ( His love. ) Wake stronger.

( So that together they might rest abed whatever still sleeps in that wretched, death-courting cave. )

Yeah, I think I will.

[He sighs his contentment, letting himself relax again, fully like one can only do when they’re safe and protected. He nuzzles his face against Lan Zhan’s shoulder until he finds a good place to rest his head.]

I’m the luckiest man alive to get to be with you like this.

[He wraps one arm around Lan Zhan’s middle and curls the other one under and between them.]

Good night, Lan Zhan. I hope you have some fun dreams we can reenact later.

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