wuding | (no subject)

( Can he? There is a resilience in Jiang Cheng, an obsessive resistance to all that is progress, change, redemption. He has decided firmly, unilaterally and without hesitation that he will take on the world to reduce his hurt — and bloom that of others.

Lan Wangji cannot admire that. Cannot respect it.

He endeavors, unbidden and slow, to lift his husband as Wei Ying rearranges himself instinctively to latch on. Their fingers bind, connect, noose. For a few heartbeats, standing with his foremost treasure, Wangji needs to decipher where the bath has been placed — before he begins to walk them to deposit his lover on the rim, looking down at waters drawn and kept steaming and elegantly set by heating talismans.

After, he begins the work of unwrapping Wei Ying loose from his silks, unfettering his belt, pulling at his tunic. )

He knew your intentions here. He offered you familial rooms still.

[He surrenders himself into submission, letting Lan Zhan dictate where and how he’ll move. The few moments of passivity is what he needs to remind himself that there’s nothing he can do tonight to change anything. He’s already let this unhappy business sour his mood for long enough. He should be feeling joy for their reunion.

If only it were as easy to change as that.]

That’s true. Surely he’d know that I’d be speaking with the families during all this.

[He follows Lan Zhan’s lead, helping to make disrobing him as seamless as possible. As soon as he’s nude, he starts to return the favor.]

I really am glad you’re here with me now. Not just because it was a taxing night hunt, either. [He smiles, eyes meeting Lan Zhan’s for a handful of moments.] I missed you. But you’re here with me now, and that means I get to kiss you and hold you as much as I want to.

( Slowly, they navigate the need to bare themselves in increments, removing layers with brisk hands, seducing each other into good behavior. It's Wei Ying's turn, first. Wei Ying who then slithers and coils around him and assists to unwrap him, until they are both carefully unbound, and Lan Wangji holds his hand out to escort his husband into the waters.

He follows after, careful and only slightly cunning, at ease when Wei Ying only once settles within and Lan Wangji can give chase. There's an inevitable comfort to surrendering oneself to warm waters, muscles relaxing, Lan Wangji's body whole reacting to dismiss the hauntings of travel. )

I thought I would come and bed you to give you gladness. To distract you. ( A pause, then tentatively: ) I believe what you need is to speak.

[He enters the bath slowly enough to let himself adjust to the heat of the water - somewhat hotter than the baths in Cloud Recesses. He relaxes almost immediately, humming a note of pleasure as his whole body is submerged up to his mid-chest. He brings his knees up to his chest and holds them close to give Lan Zhan all the room he needs to follow.

Once they’re both in, he lets go of his knees and spreads out to claim enough space for comfort. That also includes tangling his legs with his husband’s and scooting close enough to press their sides together.]

I wouldn’t take bedding off the table completely.

[He doesn’t seem to mind delaying it, however. He grabs for one of Lan Zhan’s hands and starts to massage it and sprinkles some kisses along his fingertips.]

But we can talk more first. I am going to try and go in person to tell the families who live closer to Lotus Pier while we’re in the area. I’ll just do a few per day since I want to spend time with you and the kids, too.

[He nuzzles Lan Zhan’s hand, then turns it so he can rest his cheek against the palm. Lan Zhan’s hands are somewhat calloused from swordplay, but he doesn’t mind. His own hands are getting rougher the longer he resides in this body. Today, he has some blisters along his right palm from working so much earlier in the evening.]

I’ll map out where the more distant homes are and see if I can swing visiting them in person, too. No one should have to hear about losing their loved ones in a letter.

( Answering Wei Ying's affection is always a compromise between shamelessly absorbing what is given freely and retaliating with love and devotion in kind. Just now, Lan Wangji's own hands fickle, he chases the lines of Wei Ying's cheeks, his temples, the cut of his beautiful eyes, the tense stretch of his forehead northbound.

Their mouths meet and it's far from seductive, only meek and humble and knowing, a hello by any other name. Water barely shifts, so deeply burdened with salts and incenses — all lotus, and for once he understands the excesses as simple homage to the pier. He drifts back, ribs knocking into the bathtub's walls, calling Wei Ying to himself to sit comfortably, however he pleases. )

Where you go, I go.

( There is no need for Wei Ying to submit himself to this, but they both know he takes his own redemption in his hands, and that in making amends for Jiang Cheng, he seeks to pay back his own part in steering the lives of these impressionable young cultivators toward disaster.

It was not Wei Ying's fault, it was not the Patriarch's legacy. He will heed neither count. )

We can, together.

[He greets this kiss as an old friend, one that he’s shared with Lan Zhan so many times it feels as natural as breathing. His head tilts ever so slightly towards Lan Zhan’s fingers. He savors the feeling that he belongs here with this man he loves with his entire soul.

He wastes no time in closing the distance between the two of them. He puts his hand on one of his husband’s knees, fingers slipping between them and gently pushing Lan Zhan’s legs apart. When his wordless request is inevitably answered, he positions himself carefully with his back pressing against Lan Zhan’s front.]

I was hoping you’d suggest that.

[He would have gone alone if Lan Zhan hadn’t been the one to bring it up. It’s his own duty to finish what he’d started by taking this task upon himself.

He stretches his legs as much as he can with the limited space, his knees coming up like two islands. At the same time, he reclines against Lan Zhan.]

After all of this is finished, I think I’ll be satisfied by the outcome. Whether things improve between me and Jiang Cheng or not, I’ll feel satisfied that I’ve done everything in my power to make things right between us.

( Things cannot improve, he knows, they both know, not while Jiang Cheng is ruled by jealousy and a private insecurity and guilt toward his brother. Even now, Wei Ying reduced to what some call a glorified concubine in a foreign clan's service, Jiang Cheng is still lesser than the sole of his boots.

And Lan Wangji, slowly opening himself to receive Wei Ying's new seating atop him, will not be the one to reduce his lover only for his fool of a brother's sake. Instead, he steels himself, bent legs like a wall around Wei Ying, his arm coming down to fetter his husband and draw him close, sweet back pliant against Lan Wangji's front.

After, waters pleasantly settling around them, he hums — satisfied. The old aches of his back draw comfort from the warmth. The road's sores ease. )

How did your core weather the exertion, my love?

[It’s dangerous to rest so comfortably in his lover’s arms. If he’s not careful, the inviting tendrils of the sleep they’d disturbed will win him over. He stifles a yawn and rotates his shoulders. He doesn’t want more sleep yet because Lan Zhan’s only just come to him after days of delay.]

It managed.

[He looks down at his own right palm. The blisters are more noticeable wet and warmed by the water. He wants to pop and drain them, but he knows it’s better to let them recede on their own. After over a year’s practice, this body is still so tender and averse to the labors of swordplay.]

I didn’t use ghost cultivation much. Just enough to gather and talk to them. I think that’s why I was so exhausted earlier… I haven’t used so much spiritual energy at once without dual cultivation since I got this body.

You are worn. ( He whispers with reserves of patience he did not know himself he still possessed, breath warm over the shell of Wei Ying's ear, his cheek. )

Eat, drink and sleep. ( The old counsel, impossibly frustrating for all young disciples who first endeavor to grow a core. Wei Ying has born through the repetition of this mantra more than he has Lan Wangji's songs of the guqin. ) You remember.

( They both remember. Even Lan Wangji, fastidious in his cultivation but dutifully obedient, grew to a point of nearly expressing impatience with the processes. He starts, uninvited, to walk his hands over Wei Ying's arms, raising water to pour it over his shoulder. )

I know it does not come easily.

[He shivers and angles his head so Lan Zhan can kiss as much of his ear and throat as he wants to. The gesture, though often erotically inclined, feels more affectionate for now. He sighs again, knowing what his husband will tell him moments before it’s confirmed.]

I was sleeping. I want to enjoy your company for a little bit.

[As the washing begins with a rinse, he moves forward to give himself the room he needs to tilt his head back, successfully wetting his hair and shoulders. It falls like a sheet against his shoulders and back. His ribbon must have come off at some point. Had it been when he was sleeping or had it fallen during his work? He can’t say for sure.]

I promise I’ll sleep as much as I need to. But don’t rush things on my account. The nap helped and so did some food. I was too tired to drink, though. I don’t suppose you’ll let me drink wine until I rest properly..?

[The wine would probably hit him harder than ever if he drinks any after draining himself so completely. There’s a reason he hadn’t reached for it immediately upon finishing.]

( Bidden, he dips his head in to chase Wei Ying's cheek again with peppered light kisses, no more than answering his invitation. They needn't progress further, at least not now, with Wei Ying still so soft and docile in his arms.

Wine, says his husband, and Lan Wangji's breath fleetingly catches, and he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks before merely murmuring: )

You've grown accustomed to Emperor's Smile. Lotus Pier may disappoint you.

( A soft refusal, if ever there was one between them. He cannot deny Wei Ying his succor, but they're both aware that he will just as readily succumb beneath the blanket of his drunken haze, that he will fail to recover in time to enjoy their hours together, after. Then, Wei Ying will resent him with morning. )

For now, am I insufficient?

[He snorts a quick laugh, breaking the tension because of how Lan Zhan tries to convince him not to drink any wine tonight - and he does recognize it as objection, though he’s not bothered by it. Maybe if they’d brought it up before his nap, he may have had a much different reaction. He also knows that Lan Zhan would give in if he whined about it enough.]

Relax, Lan Zhan, I haven’t restocked the wine today. I was going to get some on my way home, but I didn’t feel like it. I’ll get some tomorrow. [He rubs one of Lan Zhan’s knees, then pats it twice.]

Besides, I may as well not have a golden core at all at this point and I don’t know what Mo Xuanyu’s natural alcohol tolerance is like.

[He’s less concerned about the consequences on his recovery. If he really wanted to drink wine tonight, he’d find a way to get some. Right now, it just feels like too much work for not enough benefit. If he can’t sleep, he might figure something out later.]

( Relax, says Wei Ying, and some part of Lan Wangji is already wilting, assuming his rightful place at his husband's cushion and basking in the warm brilliance of waters that envelop them.

At Wei Ying's pat, on instinct, he widens the openness of his legs, stretching out to accommodate his lover even further. There's little give left, within the tight confines of their bathtub, but this will do, must do. )

The Jin have their taste for wine.

( They seldom speak of it, the truth of Mo Xuanyu's birthright, past the occasional mention of Jin Guangshan's comeuppance. Still, it is no hidden truth: he was a child of the main house, denied any claim or heritage. He looks the part, only emboldened and made striking by Wei Ying's inhabitance of his body now. )

I missed you.

[He lets Lan Zhan expand his reach around him and settles again once he’s sure Lan Zhan’s made himself comfortable. They’re both tired from their busy days and long hours, and he feels like he could fall asleep like this if he stays still long enough. He knows Lan Zhan wouldn’t let him sleep the whole night in the tub, so he doesn’t do anything more than cup water in his hands to sprinkle on his husband’s knees.]

I missed you more.

[He grins when he says it and he tries to look over his shoulder to steal an awkward peek his husband’s handsome face. Maybe he should have sat himself on Lan Zhan’s lap so he could kiss his mouth without straining his neck.]

I haven’t said ‘I love you’ yet, or did I? I can’t remember. I love you, Lan Zhan. Now and forever.

And I want to kiss you. [Which will require some rearranging of their position. He turns his body to the left until he’s laying bridal style on Lan Zhan’s lap. He grins even wider and throws his arms around his husband’s neck.] Kiss me?

( Kissing in the circumstances of their tangled limbs is always an arduous proposition, but Lan Wangji makes use of himself, contorting to finally capture Wei Ying in his horizon — his beautiful makeshift bride — one arm behind the arch of his sweet back.

Softening, he walks his mouth over Wei Ying's, cascades it down his neck after, nuzzling patiently and coaxing himself back to discipline before returning again to claim his lips. They're in love, but sometimes too febrile, too eager for their game. They need their wits about them now, when they've yet to investigate Wei Ying's state thoroughly.

But he is sweet, is Wei Ying, impossibly tempting, keen to absorb affection no sooner than it's doled out to him. And Lan Wangji gives it, incendiary, until the breath's been punched from his lungs, until he half heaves for it. )

Is my wife satisfied?

[He kisses back, whining a little when Lan Zhan moves to kiss his throat. When he’s sure Lan Zhan is still kissing him, just in a different place, he exposes more of his neck. He can feel the usual heat rise to his cheeks, but it’s not enough for him to lose control of his state.

One hand cups Lan Zhan’s cheek, gently guiding his husband back to his lips. The second kiss starts out leisurely but dips into amorous territory before long. He can’t help himself. He loves Lan Zhan so much that it can’t possibly be contained in one body.

But all things come to an end and he only chases Lan Zhan’s mouth for a moment before he nuzzles his nose and cheek against Lan Zhan’s shoulder. He shakes his head ‘no’ and kisses Lan Zhan’s shoulder and trails little kisses up the pillar of his throat and along the sharp edge of his jaw.]

I just want more kissing, now.

[He moves back and looks into Lan Zhan’s eyes for several moments, taking in all the little specks of darker gold on a lighter gold backdrop.]

We can wait to kiss more until we’re in bed if you want. But not longer than that, okay? I missed you so much, Lan Zhan. Sizhui’s a good listener and Lan Liang is adorable and funny, but they’re not you.

His fingers idly meander across Lan Zhan’s skin. His shoulders and chest and face and anywhere else he can touch easily. He wants to sleep with his husband, but he’s so exhausted at the same time. It would be embarrassing to fall asleep in the middle of it!]

How tired are you, Lan Zhan? Dual cultivation could energize me after using so much spiritual energy…

( How tired, asks Wei Ying, and they are both fickle creatures only lightly domesticated by the limitations of their bodies: the vaunted Yiling Patriarch, exhausted by his trials of exorcism. Lan Wangji, destroyed by travel. They are no position to negotiate further exertion — at least, until Wei Ying unsubtly indicates it, and ah, but who is Lan Wangji to deny him?

Instead, skin pebbling with the precious titillation of falling under Wei Ying's fingertips, Lan Wangji hisses, chasing Wei Ying's mouth again, the turn of his jaw. I just want more kissing, his husband had said, and Lan Wangji is delightfully weak to him, conquered by the beast of his base seduction.

Tired, for all of it, drooping back against the bathtub's rim to rest his head, to shutter his eyes, to breathe. To be. )

Is it your cultivation you think of, my love? ( Somehow, some part of Lan Wangji doubts this. And summoning the dregs of his energy to pinch Wei Ying's flank — )

You did not even greet your husband with tea.

[He blooms under his husband’s affection, greedily turning his head this way and that to lean into it until their mouths meet again. His fingers dip under the water, sliding across skin. Down, down, until he feels hair. He teases the area above while they kiss, but ultimately retreats above the water. He knows he’s teasing, but it’s only mean if he doesn’t follow through.

He sighs when the kiss comes to an end, but Lan Zhan gives him the opportunity to reposition himself.]

No, it’s not my cultivation…

[He starts to straddle Lan Zhan, but lowers himself back down when he sees how worn out Lan Zhan looks. He smiles indulgently, thinking that maybe it would be kinder for both of them to go to bed before things get steamier than they already are.

And then he’s pinched and he tries to pull away.]

Lan Zhan, you were the one who told me to sleep until you got here. [He pouts playfully and pokes at Lan Zhan’s belly.] If I made you tea before I napped, it would have been bitter by the time you arrived.

( Excuses, excuses, and the gentle lift of Lan Wangji's brow works its miracle of conveying his lack of compassion as Wei Ying bemoans and pleads against his abuses. With a swift pat of Wei Ying's hip, then tush, Lan Wangji releases him — nudging him just the littlest bit farther so that he might turn Wei Ying toward him and they can share a heating glance. )

A good wife would produce it.

( A shy, dutiful spouse of Gusu Lan would never presume to share her husband's waters, attending on him, hand and foot. Perhaps their sect is not yet as progressive as circumstances would dictate — and the thought of such a thoroughly, helplessly domesticated Wei Ying rouses both his amusement and his uneasiness.

He corrects himself, gently. ) After. First, attend to my hair, beloved.

( This too is new between them, for all their love and readily shared intimacy: Lan Wangji has taken his time to accustom himself to inconveniencing his lover, voice hesitant even as he tests out these fine new privileges of fate. )

[He continues to pout even as he turns to face Lan Zhan, as was his original plan. They have to work around each other until Wei Wuxian straddles his husband’s lap with his hands resting on Lan Zhan’s shoulders. He knows Lan Zhan is only teasing him, but he still continues to pout until he’s asked to help with his husband’s hair.]

I’ll give you bitter tea next time.

[He cups some water in his hands and uses it to wet Lan Zhan’s hair near the scalp. He needs to repeat the process to dampen it to his liking, then he reaches for the supplied oils. He hadn’t bothered setting out the sandalwood oils because Lan Zhan hadn’t arrived yet and he had forgotten to do it today, too. He’s fond of the lotus scent, but he prefers the sandalwood because it reminds him of Lan Zhan.]

I displeased my husband by neglecting his comfort. How would he see me punished?

[His hands are in Lan Zhan’s tresses, working out all the travel dirt and making sure the hair doesn’t tangle in the process. He catches the look on Lan Zhan’s face and can’t help but grin and lean in.]

There are other wifely duties I can perform. [He brushes his lips over Lan Zhan’s, scooting along Lan Zhan’s thighs so they can sit closer, pressed together.]

( Obediently, he lets Wei Ying wet and tease and domesticate his hair, inviting his touch, tilting his head to allow him better access. Then, just when it seems as if he might let impatience rule him and take the matter into his own hands — Wei Ying douses him in sandalwood, and he sighs, appeased and indulged and known in all the ways of a beloved soulmate. )

The scent of home.

( Cleaner than the heady lotus, more reminiscent of exorcism rites. And he does not say 'thank you,' because these are the words that run prohibited between them, but he thinks them and nods, thinks them and gazes deep and dark, thinks them and absorbs the looks of Wei Ying so lovingly, freely, unfailingly at ease. )

Wei Ying is too generous.

( It must have been an additional precaution to bring the salts of Cloud Recesses, alongside all the preparations necessary to attend Lan Liang and the pacification rites. Wei Ying has gone out of his way.

To reward him, Lan Wangji draws out his hand, snagging in his husband's hair, pulling it gently back over both shoulders, before delivering cupped handfuls of water to rain down. A slow massage after, retaliatory. )

Shall I not forgive my wife's other misdeeds?

It is. I like the jingshi, but you’re my home, Lan Zhan. I could be in a palace or a straw hut, as long as it’s with you, then I’ll feel like I belong.

[It feels good to see Lan Zhan relax that little bit more as the scent of sandalwood rises up with the steam. All because he prefers the sandalwood smell and brings some of their salts and oils with him wherever they travel. It might not be one of the traditionally observed effects of sandalwood, but it might as well be an aphrodisiac for him.]

And what might those be?

[He drops his hands and wraps his arms loosely around Lan Zhan’s middle while he closes his eyes and smiles through the beginning moments of bliss. It’s only been days they’ve been apart, but he’s become accustomed to touching and being touched. He thrives on it. With a pleased moan, he surrenders to it.

He opens his eyes again, still smiling. He’s still exhausted and anxious about all of those meetings he’s going to be doing over the next several days, but he feels more like himself than he did before their bath.]

If I’ve done so many misdeeds, I’ll have to make it up to my husband, won’t I? [He leans in close to Lan Zhan’s face and licks his bottom lip.] How would he like to be pampered?

( There, nearly child-like, sweetly yielding: this is his husband, finally at ease with himself and his surroundings, eyes soft and mouth curved when he takes in the world again. On instinct, Lan Wangji's arms curl around him to support him on his lap, as if to protect him from threats that would not presume to materialize under the roofs of a foremost clan.

Think Lan Wangji what ill he would of Jiang Cheng, he is still Yunmeng, and they have recovered from their weaknesses and failings of the war. Even now, outside, he spies the shadows of disciples patroling and the crackle of wards sustained to keep the watch. They are safe here, in the familial quarters.

Safe, yet somehow more vulnerable than on the road. Kissing the snow-softness of Wei Ying's head crown, he settles to reward him with a hummed meditation: )

Show me the Lotus Pier of your youth.

( Every nook and cranny in which Wei Ying took his shelter, every lake that brought him joy. Let this one last place of secrecy and seclusion be shared between them, utterly. Much of the sect's grounds would have burned during the war, rebuilt in ways Wei Ying cannot claim to know intimately — but whatever remains can be introduced. )

[He tilts his head to one side and his smile softens when Lan Zhan makes his request. It’s less physical than he’d been thinking, but that’s not a bad thing. If anything, it means more because of it. Lan Zhan wants to know more about his childhood. Wants to see it for himself and imagine what could have been if Lan Zhan had come to visit him in Lotus Pier instead of Wang Lingjiao.

He nods his head and presses a kiss to his husband’s mouth.]

You got it! There are plenty of things I can show you. I can show you my favorite tree to climb - it’s not the one in showed you before - oh! And I can show you how to sneak into the kitchens for snacks. [Though it’s unlikely they’d be turned away if they went to the kitchens in the proper fashion.

He grabs for a wash towel and starts to work on his husband’s face and neck.] There. A face worthy of the title, Hanguang-Jun. [He moves onto the shoulders next.] Do you want to see where I used to hunt pheasants? They’d be delicious, but I won’t kill any in front of Lan Zhan.

And the archery grounds where Wei Ying learned his skill.

( Nearly on par with Wen Qiongling, masterfully performing before the cultivation world whole. So many forget Wei Ying's prowess extends past mere necromancy and sword cultivation and onto painting and the bow. Even gardening, for all Lan Wangji suspects that was more the work of the remaining Wen clan.

Submitting himself to Wei Ying's toweling and grateful for the drying that dispels his chills, he returns the favor with slow pats of his hands to warm his lover's arms. Up, down, beloved friction. )

Shall we visit the markets, also? Wei Ying must long for purple silks. ( For all Lan Wangji suspects only the main clan is permitted the vibrant shades of the color, Wei Ying can at least enjoy better variety than in Cloud Recesses. )