wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

[He makes a show of sighing, but he’s smiling anyway. His life isn’t made harder by taking two baths nearly every evening, so it’s not worth being bothered by it. If he’s honest with himself, he likes it when Lan Zhan pampers him after they sleep together.]

Okay, okay, we can keep doing two baths. Or one really long bath if the inspiration strikes.

[His eyes fall to their hands when Lan Zhan mentions Yunmeng. It takes him a couple moments to identify why he’s so reluctant to admit whether he misses Yunmeng or not.]

I miss Yunmeng from before the war. It’s different now. Until we came here, it felt like too much had changed. Or maybe I’m the one who changed too much. Either way, it’s somewhere I want to visit more, but it’s not home.

[Then again, Cloud Recesses isn’t home, either. No matter where they are, he’s home as long as they’re together. Right now, this little enclave is home.]

( Yunmeng... from before the war. And was it so different? Certainly, Lotus Pier was foremost struck by the need for reconstruction. It is known that Jiang Wanyin, whatever his countless other sins, struggled to raise the Jiang bloodline back to the ranks of an established sect. But Lan Wangji had never anticipated that the very bones of the cities would have come to ruin.

He looks beside himself, where only the cavern's mouth remains unhinged and open, and he knows of these grounds but that they must not have changed in generations. Wei Ying's nostalgia is safe here.

He finds himself reaching for Wei Ying's hands, for his husband's nape — drawing him down to recline on Lan Wangji's thigh, to rest his head gently bidden. Hello. )

I'm sorry. ( But he does not apologise. )

[He allows Lan Zhan to guide him down to rest on his lap, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. His intention hadn’t been to make Lan Zhan feel bad for him, but he likes being spoiled so he doesn’t stop him. He does roll onto his back so he can look up at his lover.

Now that he’s thinking about it, he realizes that he’s probably the one who changed more. Lotus Pier persevered even when people who’d lived through the war and heard stories of his exploits looked at him with uncertainty. And now that he has some amount of anonymity, it feels different still. It just doesn’t feel the same.

He lifts his hand up to touch Lan Zhan’s cheek, smiling in spite of the pangs of nostalgia. He could let himself get depressed by the changes, but he’d rather take comfort that he won’t feel homesick living in Cloud Recesses.]

You’re so handsome, Lan Zhan. I could stare at you all day long, but I’d rather kiss you.

[He grins, dragging his fingers down Lan Zhan’s cheek to touch his lips.]

I’m glad you came with me to Lotus Pier.

Where else might I have gone? ( Simple, breeze. Leaning into Wei Ying's touch to absorb his closeness, as if it is the most natural thing in the world. ) You were here.

( He knows, of course he knows: he might have withheld himself, might have simply opted against giving his husband chase to the end of Jiang Cheng's empire. A week's break would not have ruined them, for all parting still feels tenuous, bittersweet, somehow permanent. They are not yet at a point where, seeing Wei Ying's withdrawing back, Lan Wangji can still breathe.

Easing into their relaxed state, he lets his hand card through Wei Ying's hair, pushing it back and aside, constantly stroking. )

You sacrifice each day to stay beside me.

[His finger slides across Lan Zhan’s bottom lip before he moves his hand back to touching Lan Zhan’s face. It makes him happy to hear Lan Zhan answer his own question. They’re both like that, aren’t they? Orbiting one another is as natural as breathing.]

It’s not a sacrifice. Maybe it was at first, but it’s not like we had anywhere else to go. Cloud Recesses accepts me for who I am. I feel welcomed when I’m there.

[Even Lan Qiren welcomes him ever since the first time Lan Liang fell ill. He assumes that’s because the elder approved of the way he’d handled the matter. He doesn’t even mind following some of the rules when he’s in public and he appreciates that no one holds it against him when he does break the rules.

He pauses for a moment, then he starts laughing.]

I can’t believe I’m here in Lotus Pier and I feel homesick for Cloud Recesses!

( ...ah. Could it be that for all its hundreds of rules and restrictions, for all its dull and tepid environment, for all its numerous conditions... even Cloud Recesses can offer Wei Ying some degree of solace?

Truly, a development of maturity that should gladden both hearts, should leave Lan Wangji fond. Instead, he finds himself nodding along to accept its inevitability, with the air of a foregone conclusion. Throughout, he keeps stroking Wei Ying, keeps nurturing his lethargy while the song of water rippling and bubbling close by lulls them both nearer and nearer to stillness. )

Perhaps our next child will come from Lotus Pier. ( Something, he doesn't say, to remember Wei Ying's stomping grounds by. )

Would you enjoy so?

[Somehow, he feels at peace instead of fighting the urge to get up and find something to do. Being still doesn’t always come easily for him. There’s just something about the way Lan Zhan is stroking his hair and talking to him that promotes a lethargic mood.]

Our little girl.

[He isn’t picky about where the children they adopt hail from, but he likes the idea of having a girl from Yunmeng just the same. She could be a good sister like his own sister had been. They’re both men, but he thinks he’s ready to raise a girl. And maybe, if they’re lucky, she could become a cultivator to keep herself safe.]

I’d like that. We can teach her how to cook and to use a sword.

[He takes the hand Lan Zhan is using to stroke his hair and brings it to his mouth to kiss and nuzzle. He’s sorely tempted to take a long nap, but he knows the sun might burn his skin if he does. At least this little nook is shaded.]

Once we move to the new house, I can ask Jiang Cheng if there are any orphans who need parents.

( Ah, to accept Jiang Cheng's involvement in their family planning... somehow, his mouth purses, hand tense when it reaches for Wei Ying's forehead again, taking a moment to unbuckle his wetted hair from its tender ribbon.

He combs through it after, careful of the knotting that seems indelibly attracted to Mo Xuanyu's body. )

Shall we not let fate decide?

( A girl, a sister. Or perhaps a little brother. Of Lotus Pier, if they so please, but not presented to them as if meat at the market. )

Liang came to us unbidden. ( Perhaps that is the better way, letting the Heavens triage and control who joins their diminutive family. If there can be no creation from Wei Ying's lovely womb, this surely is the next best alternative. )

[He realizes his mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, but Lan Zhan seems to be taking it better than he’d expected. He nibbles at Lan Zhan’s fingertip gently before letting it go. Some of Lan Zhan’s habits must be rubbing off on him.]

Fate it is. We’ll have to spend more time in Lotus Pier.

[He had already said earlier that he’d like to visit Lotus Pier more often, and this would be a good reason to make it happen. Without a reason to travel, he’d likely forget to actually do it. Well, there’s also Sizhui who likes to volunteer going to Lotus Pier and Jinlintai to fill his heart.]

Our next kid doesn’t have to come from Lotus Pier, though. If we come across another lost child, it doesn’t matter that much where they came from. I’ll love them the same.

But we probably shouldn’t look too hard while we’re living in the jingshi.

[He wouldn’t call the jingshi cramped, per se, but it could become cramped if they fill it with another kid or two. Especially ones that can walk, or worse, climb.]

We but keep our eyes and hearts open.

( Whatever happens, happens. Whether a child joins them now or within the decade, once Wei Ying has better attended his core and Mo Xuanyu's constitution, and Lan Liang is firmer on his feet — who is to say? For his part, Lan Wangji is determined to seize immortality beside his lover. There is time. For them, there will always be time.

Whether their miracle arrives at Lotus Pier or elsewhere, what is the difference? They remain tried by the Heavens, resolutely facing whatever fortune throws before them.
Is this mere outing today, the decision of where to perform their next marriage, not the result of whimsy and fortune?

Too long have things been decided, often for them. Let there be change now. )

Will you eat and rest? ( Certainly, they've hardly exerted themselves, but Wei Ying has been running about in the heat, then rowing avidly. That may prove too ambitious for Mo Xuanyu's growing stamina. )

Then we’re of the same mind.

[It feels good to be on the same page. They’ll be passive in their search, for now, and see where fate takes them. It’s a relief. They’ve been reluctant about the idea of another adoption until recently, but it never sat right with him. He wouldn’t be able to say no to a child who needed them.]

I’ll do both if you give me a kiss, first. Here, I’ll make it easier for you.

[With that, he sits up and shuffles closer. Now he’s at an approachable distance and position. Strands of his loose hair fall over his shoulders. If it weren’t still wet, it would resemble the style that he’d worn back in Yiling.]

We don’t have to go back until sundown.

[He’d promised Sizhui as much, though he didn’t ask whether or not he planned to share babysitting duty with Jin Ling. If it were him and he was in love at that age, he would have turned it into a date under Lan Liang’s scrutiny. He figures if he doesn’t know about it, he won’t have to choose between lying or throwing the boys to the wolves. Plausible deniability.]

( Ah, this menace. His husband can be at times contained, at others predicted. More often than not, depended on. Rarely, but critically, delayed when he sets mind to purpose.

But he cannot be wholly stopped, and this is the hour of his want, the moment of their union. Quiet, private, pretty, stifling. No man can hope to break them apart, once their mouths meet, and Lan Wangji's lips walk his husband's, then Wei Ying's jaw, the column of his throat. Teeth graze, sink in, mark.

He pulls away, eyes molten and gaze heavy, and the moment strains dark and taut between them. )

...here? ( He knows what he asks. Wei Ying, also. They are courting the possibility of disaster and the probability of scratches and the certainty of wetness alongside them. So be it. )

[He knows what he’s doing by luring his husband in for more kissing. It is, after all, both of their favorite way to express their love for one another. Sleeping together is just shy of it, and usually comes once they’ve tasted each other’s lips for long enough.

He bares his throat when Lan Zhan brings his attention there, grinning and letting his hands wander across the planes of his husband’s chest. They’re flirting with wanting each other. He could pull away now, if he needs to, but without too much complaining.

But he doesn’t want to.]

We can lay down the towels first?

[If anything, it will be reminiscent of their first foray into outdoor love making. At least when they’re here, they don’t have to worry about someone walking in on their private activities.]

We can clean off in the water after. We can still have a proper bath later, if you want to.

[His wandering hands push up Lan Zhan’s chest and slip between his layers of silk. When he was younger, he really thought he’d enjoy breasts, but he finds that Lan Zhan’s muscular chest is so much better.]

You know all too well I shall.

( Of course his husband has dutifully made all the requisite preparations. This is the same impossibly brilliant mind who sculpted innovation out of signs and enchantments long known, who created a new form of cultivation. What is mere bedding to him?

And of course, too, that Lan Wangji is already disciplined in his submission, welcoming Wei Ying's touch, leaning into it. The heat of his core-warmed body is a simple furnace; Wei Ying's burns down the world.

Dreading to part them, he nevertheless pulls away and opens up the qiankun purse to retrieve a blanket and gently spread it over hard ground, so they might kneel and tumble upon it. They might be animalistic in their love-making, perhaps even predatory — but they are not base.

Task completed, wine jars and their oils inevitable companions, he draws Wei Ying onto the blankets beside him, so they might both linger knelt. )

What is your whim? ( To be taking rapidly, mercilessly, indefatigably? To be ruined? Or perhaps nostalgically worshipped, tenderly revered? )

[Parting, even for a handful of moments, is a test of his restraint. Somehow, he manages to let Lan Zhan go prepare the bank for their bedding. Just like before, he can’t take his eyes off of his husband, appreciating the way the silk clings to his skin where it’s still wet enough.]

I’d offer to help out, but then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the show. [One hand under his chin, he makes a few noises of approval as he surveys Lan Zhan’s progress. His eyes, however, continue to devour as much of Lan Zhan’s physique as he can see.] Nice. Very nice. I can tell your wife is a lucky man.

[He takes Lan Zhan’s hands when they’re offered and follows him enthusiastically to their blanket. They kneel together there and his hands can take over for his eyes as he continues to appreciate Lan Zhan’s arms and chest.]

Kiss me again and I’ll tell you.

[What would Lan Zhan like to do with him, he wonders. He cups Lan Zhan’s cheeks between his hands and looks into his eyes. Usually, they’re in a rush to love each other before Lan Liang wakes up or when they have to return to social functions promptly. It feels like this is a rare opportunity to take their time.]

( His wife, he needn't say as he toils, is a spoiled thing, basking. His wife is a creature of comforts now fleetingly denied that Lan Wangji attempts to recreate, before declaring the stage of their love-making set. He refuses to ask Wei Ying to do without.

And so when his husband makes for him, calls him close, draws his hands to bracket his cheeks — when they close in and their mouths meet and Lan Wangji bites in, ravenous, one arm fastening as a belt behind his lover — he doesn't. Can't, light moan crowning his incursion, the moment slipping between their fingertips, honeyed.

He is slow to pull back, never quite relinquishing. Holding strong and holding on. )

Well?

[It’s clear what kind of mood his husband’s in. The intensity of the kiss nearly has him swooning like an innocent maiden. He meets it hungrily, pressing his front against Lan Zhan’s. It’s almost like they’re back on the boat where they nearly delayed the swim they’re still, technically, delaying.

He drapes himself around Lan Zhan’s neck, answering the moan with one of his own. They’ve been on the verge of this since they left their sons after breakfast and it’s exciting that they’re finally able to love each other properly.]

I want you. [He licks his already moistened lips, enjoying the passion in his husband’s eyes.] I want to keep kissing you. [Facing each other will also keep his knees from hurting.] I’ll be your conquest. I want you to take me like you’re claiming a prize. You can do anything you want to me.

( His conquest. His prize. His inevitably beautiful, helplessly attractive lover. And Lan Wangji who chases the passage of Wei Ying's tongue like a starved and growling thing, like a monster. The game, he suspects, is on. The game began all those years ago when Wei Ying first ventured into the wilderness of his studies at Cloud Recesses.

The game of love Lan Wangji could never hope to win.

He doesn't trip his husband, but grabs him by the wrist, then, catch secure, by the upper arm. Twists and turns him and drops him onto hard ground, conveniently where the blanket's been spread doubled to cushion his fall. Then, he transforms — if not into a cruel conqueror, then certainly a man no longer possessed by the gentleness he gives Wei Ying daily, willingly.

A prize, says Wei Ying. He must be that, and so Lan Wangji is is keeper. His warlord. )

Your gaze is held too high. ( Lower your eyes. )

[The kiss alone ignites his interest, because he can taste his husband’s passions. He wants Lan Zhan to be able to be unrestrained with him and times like this feel like the closest he’ll get.

He’s just starting to coyly move away when Lan Zhan grasps and manhandles him. As a skilled fighter, he can get out of this as easily as breathing, but as a scared peasant? Well, he falls to his knees and dares to look up at the hulking form before him.

He’s the luckiest man alive.]

I mean no disrespect.

[He drops his eyes, not to the floor as is the implied command, but at the inevitable bulge between his husband’s legs. Coquettish, he brings his hand up to his mouth and gasps.]

I don’t have any jewels or coin.

[As if those are the only appetites of young, virile men.]

( A fine break of the fall, on Wei Ying's knees. The demure downturn of his eyes, for all it isn't the most righteous direction. Lan Wangji can hardly begrudge him the error, but still corrects it, hand drawing upon his nape only to push his head down to thd floor, Wangji taking the knee beside him.

Like a dog, dragged into dirt. Brought to heel.

Lan Wangji should, he supposes, have signaled his intention well enough for his husband to call him off if needed. Didn't, but then Wei Ying is ever armed, as long as his cultivation is unchained and he may at least whistle. )

Who asked after your trinkets? ( Only a thug or a vagrant might care for something so coarse. ) Who are you to assume the wishes of your betters?

[He’s only a little surprised as his face is forced down until he’s fully kowtowing to his ‘new’ master. A tingle of excitement crawls down his spine and between his legs. His heart knows he can trust Lan Zhan completely and that gives him the freedom to let himself surrender to his fantasy.]

Please don’t hurt me.

[He keeps his head down like a good possession. His ass, however, is lifted up on proud display. The best way to ‘survive’ as a warlord’s plaything is to use his assets to his advantage.]

How can I please you if I don’t know what you want from me?

[Oh, he has an idea of what Lan Zhan wants, but the idea of being punished for his ‘ignorance’ might be fun. Well, as long as Lan Zhan doesn’t take him displaying his rear to mean he wants to be hit there.]

( Tempting, at ease, to neglect Wei Ying's single boundary and ripen the plump swell of his ass with a few strokes. Tempting, but, as Lan Wangji's hand gently strokes this lewd territory with ample possessiveness, not enough. He asks so little, does his Wei Ying.

And so, not for the first time, Lan Wangji indulges him, one final sweep of his hand caressing his lover as if he were produce at the market. Cattle. His fingers snag on the rim of Wei Ying's tunic, and he lifts up the hem of his robes, up and up to cross the middle of Wei Ying's curved back, to mount the cloth above his ribs.

To reveal the glorious expanse of skin Lan Wangji's mouth may chase, like a hungering wolf, teething. Then, calmly: )

Isn't it obvious?

[He’s tempted to press against Lan Zhan’s assessing hands, imagining the fingers will slip between his cheeks and press into his most intimate places. No, no, he’s so bad at this so much or the time. He’s a virgin in this game and he’ll act as such.

To a point. He doesn’t want to send Lan Zhan the wrong signals.]

A-anything. Just don’t kill me. You can take anything you want. I’ll be good for you.

[He has to bite the inside of his lip to keep himself from grinning too much. The thought of Lan Zhan taking everything he wants from him whether he wants it or not just makes him want it and even more.]

Be patient with me. I’ve never… you will be my first.

[He hazards a glance upwards to see his husband’s beautiful face. What’s in store for him, he wonders. Will Lan Zhan take him quickly or make him wait? How rough will he be? Will they be able to kiss?]

( Hush, he doesn't say at the small inkling of his lover's warmth and the spell of his laughter. Hush and don't betray yourself, though how wretchedly quick is he, is Wei Ying to the possibility — and Lan Wangji's hand lingers fleetingly on his ass again, clenching a quick grab to mimic the hurts of a spank.

Then, he pulls back, making do with the constellation of prepared, packaged jars and potions, selecting the cleverly marked vial of their inevitable lubrication. Oils fit for a king, thick and smacking on Lan Wangji's fingertips. He makes little sound, but the first arrogant huff of laughter. )

Is that supposed to move me? ( What is the virginity of a peasant, he supposes? Not even a coin to trade in most citadels, a commodity so base that value is a threadbare conversation. )

Had you promised it to another?

[As opposed as he is to spanking, it’s strange how much he likes this compromise. It’s just different enough. He whimpers softly, pressing his forehead to the floor once more. He likes this, not so much for being a mere pound of flesh, but for the lack of control in the situation.]

Not by choice.

[He wings it, hoping Lan Zhan’s jealousy won’t be triggered since his heart and his body are no one’s but his to claim, but also preparing for the fallout just in case. He has promised not to intentionally make his husband feel jealous while they’re in bed like this, after all.]

I just thought you should know that my body has never known another’s touch. And, I suppose my lot in life isn’t all bad. You’re far more handsome than any suitor my father tried to sell me to.

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