wuding | (no subject)

[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. )

I didn’t think to bring my bow.

[He could always borrow one from the armory if they decide to practice archery while they’re here, though he doubts Lan Zhan brought his bow, either. Then again, Lan Zhan does have the knack for being prepared for anything.]

But we can swing by there. I bet the disciples’ training schedule is the same as it was when I was one, so we can go when it’s not too busy.

[He’s been in this body long enough that his intuition is calibrated to his new proportions while shooting. He may not be as impressive as he’d been on Phoenix Mountain, but he’s a good marksman these days. He wouldn’t mind if they put on a show for the Jiang youths. Jin Ling will be coming in another couple days and he hasn’t had a chance to compete with him yet.

He hums thoughtfully at thought of wearing purple robes. Before this trip to Lotus Pier, he would have been against it. But he’s been given family quarters, which means Jiang Cheng wouldn’t oppose him wearing purples. After tonight, he isn’t sure if he wants to.

But Lan Zhan brought it up, so he’s clearly interested. He grins, leaning in almost close enough to kiss.] Let’s rewrite history, Lan Zhan. I’ll get some purple robes and we can do all the things we would have done if you’d accepted my invitation to Lotus Pier.

( They will borrow bows, as they do meals and sleeping quarters, for surely Jiang Cheng's largesse won't meet an abrupt end over a request of such simple parameters. Better, and he starts to massage the oily sheen of bathing potions into his husband's arms and shoulders, that they depend on the courtesy that so often renders a host submissive to their guest. That they allow themselves some simple joy, alongside the hurts of this visit.

Best of all that they rewrite history, Wei Ying says, and Lan Wangji does not refute him, for all he thinks perhaps their toils were critical to delivering them where they are now. Inevitably, tightly bound. Their suffering was the key to endless happiness. How can Lan Wangji negate it? )

If I take you in a lake boat, will you capsize us, precious thing?

( At dusk, for the sake of modesty and reputation, in the most secluded of the sect's lakes. Surely there must be one that lends itself to purpose. The youth of Lotus Pier would have long found and, with chastity less a requirement of their cultivation, weaponized it. )

Will I need to bind your hands?

[They continue washing each other. For his part, he enjoys both the touching and being touched more than the act of cleansing. His hands linger, taking as much time as he can get away with. Eventually he runs out of skin above the waterline, so he simply keeps touching Lan Zhan under the water, too.

Laughing at the suggestion, he wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders and nuzzles their noses together.] I can’t make any promises, but there’s one way we can find out. [Since they’re already so close, he takes advantage of the proximity to steal a couple quick kisses.]

I know the perfect spot to try it out. I used to go there when I wanted some time to think. No one’s ever bothered me while I was there. [He assumes his little place on the lake is still there and that no one else has discovered it in his absence. If they have, they might get a show.] I’ll take you there tomorrow if you remind me.

[Now that he’s not pretending to wash his husband for longer than necessary, he wants to kiss him some more. He starts out with little kisses that will graduate to deeper ones if Lan Zhan doesn’t insist on focusing on their bath.]

Shall remind you.

( He pledges and briefly concedes to be his husband's sweet and pliant victim, his maidenly target to corrupt, the tender subject of his attention. As Wei Ying turns, Lan Wangji's arms swivel to accommodate him, to reposition him on Wangji's thighs until they face one another, mouths crashing, the light tremble of the bath's waters sending an eruption of spumes to lick their spines.

They carry on, Wangji's interest and arousal unfairly quick to go from simmer to fast boil, to nearly crest as Wei Ying's flesh collides with his own, creating the unfair start of friction. They are not children. Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, an acting sect leader, can surely not be so readily undone. And still, panting as he pulls away: )

Here? ( They both know what he asks and what danger their potential coupling poses to the bathtub. Back home, they've become proficient at lovemaking in water — but also fortified their tub. If they ruin the one here, the odds of the servants communicating the incident to Jiang Cheng... )

[He’d been half-aroused himself since the last time they’d spent precious moments kissing, so it doesn’t take long before his undivided focus becomes sleeping with Lan Zhan as soon as possible. He presses his fingers to Lan Zhan’s chest, dragging fingertips down across pert nipples.]

Ah… Maybe we should move to the bed.

[He says it like he’s not already grinding himself against his husband’s pelvis, trapping them both between them. The friction feels divine and it’s not like every time they sleep together has to be a game. Sometimes it can be carried by impatience and passion.

He reluctantly stops squirming against Lan Zhan, also panting and flushed. He doesn’t look his husband in the eye at first, focused instead on the way his husband’s lips are pink and glistening. He’s a mere man. How could he not immediately think of Lan Zhan in his knees with him in his mouth?]

Do you have any idea what you do to me, Lan Zhan? I feel like I’ll finish if you just touched me the wrong way.

( Artless, already crumbling, breaking in Lan Wangji's arms. Maybe they should move to the bed, but there is nothing in Wei Ying's dissolving composure to suggest he would survive the transfer in possession of his better senses. And would it be so challenging, if one of them retains his wits about him?

Surely, he could afford some mercy, hand dipping negligent and soft to wrap firmly around the swell of his husband's length, the base of it brazen. No dulcet coaxing, no play-pretend — only hard, mean strokes that run tighter than Lan Wangji's own preference, but that Wei Ying adores shamelessly. Water is a flimsy lubricant, but Wei Ying ever enjoys his lovemaking rough.

Throughout, he litters scant kisses down his lover's neck, licking away the salt of his sweat and the sheen of sandalwood that embraces him. )

Hush, then. Be good.

[All at once, his whole world shrinks down to Lan Zhan’s hand around him. He whimpers his first moan, hips arching forward against his husband’s fist. It feels almost too good, leaving his nerves on fire that he leans into. It’s the only thing he can concentrate on and he’s greedy for it.]

Lan Zhan..! Ah, you’re always so good to me. But what about you? [He hasn’t been paying attention to his husband’s growing ardor until now. He scrapes his fingertips down Lan Zhan’s stomach, taking in the muscles flexing under his touch. If he takes care of Lan Zhan with his hand, they’ll be too tired to do anything else.

Would that be so bad? They’re both exhausted, so maybe this is enough. As much as he wants to be filled to the hilt with Lan Zhan’s love, he can leave things like that for the morning.

He wraps his hand around Lan Zhan’s length and gives it a couple rhythmic strokes that match the pace Lan Zhan’s set for him. He’s still distracted and sometimes misses a stroke, especially as Lan Zhan’s brings him closer, but he tries his best.]

Lan Zhan, I’m close! [It’s a fair warning. He feels the escalation, the hints of pleasure promising more. He wants Lan Zhan inside of him, but he also wants to catch his climax.]