wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

[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.

( Not by choice, as if there is any man, any creature who might hope to coax, let alone force the Yiling Patriarch into concessions. As if a full surrender was ever part of the territory of his conversations.

Wei Ying all but arches into the touch, all but presents himself, and Lan Wangji rises up to silently trickle down his belts and unfasten himself, to loosen his robes. At the same time, his palm flattens heavily on Wei Ying's lower back, keeping him pressed down, supple, listening.

Lan Wangji need not hasten himself, the quiet of the cave like an illicit promise that he may have this, everything. That no man can stop him. )

He thinks you'd earn him money.

[He remains bowed, forehead and nose resting against the shade cooled rocks. He has to tell himself to be patient and that they have as much time as they could possibly need. Part of letting go of control is following Lan Zhan’s schedule. If he wants to go slow, then they’ll go slow. Until things feel more urgent, he’ll be able to do play by the rules.]

Thought. After today, I’m not sure.

[He’s the one making this up and he still almost feels sorry for this fictional maiden. He’ll need to remember this so he can tease Lan Zhan later about how he callously took him anyway, in spite of her sad life.

The only downside to their game is that there’s no room for kissing. Having to refrain from it will make their kissing later feel that much better, but he’s not adept at patiently waiting for the nebulous later. At least their positioning will help him stay in character.]

What do you have planned for me?

( After today, a proper virgin slated for a life of mediocrity would lose a great deal of value after a first night's passions. Even a brothel would discount their pay, for all they'd first try to misrepresent their purity to earnest clients.

But this is Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, husband to Hanguang-Jun. Come tomorrow, he will wake among silks and blankets, thriving and indulged. This, Lan Wangji's hand pushing him down then stirring to pour oils on his fingertips, then on the cleaving between his cheeks — this is no more, no less than anticipated. This is their optimal outcome.

As they stand, Wei Ying can hardly show him affection, and this part of their rite is missed. Mouth to mouth, hand in hand, their gazes meeting. A peasant wouldn't be permitted that affection. Still, Lan Wangji mimics it, the fingers of one hand sliding inside his husband's tender, so oft well-used hole; his other hand slips to Wei Ying's hip, his thigh, circling kindly. )

Have you earned the right to know? Beg.

[One of the bonuses of his loss of control of the situation is that he can be surprised when Lan Zhan’s fingers penetrate him. He’s so at ease with Lan Zhan that he’s genuinely let his defenses down completely in their little world together. His gasp is sharp but he relaxes after the initial startling, knowing from experience that relaxing his muscles makes it better for both of them.

He lets out a long moan, turning his head so his cheek rubs against the wet stone as his body reacts to Lan Zhan’s hands. It hurts a little, but in the way he likes it. He’ll like it even more once it’s his husband’s cock.]

Please, Lan Zhan.

[His fingers itch to touch himself. Because of the way he’s folded over his knees, he can pinch himself between his thighs and belly. He can’t help but move his hips to get whatever friction he can manage.]

Oh, right. I mean… Please, what can I call you? I’ll do whatever you ask of me. Just please, please have some mercy on me.

( Please — but then, that name. And he shouldn't strike him, should remember his husband's limitations, and so Lan Wangji's lingered touch is the threat of a thing, a breezy suggestion. It is his hand sweeping on Wei Ying's ass, proprietary, suggestive. The rise of it, the slowed, trickling fall. A spank so honeyed and slow in its motion that it might be misunderstood.

He looks innocently down, when he does it again, knowing all too well he's tempting Wei Ying's anger, sooner than his terror. It isn't enough of a spank to bother, only to irritate. So be it. )

You presume in how you speak to me. ( Not his husband, in this make-believe. Not even sweet and loving Hanguang-Jun. A master of a kind, a stranger. )

Who am I?

[And he does miss the impact of what Lan Zhan’s doing the first time the hand falls onto him. It’s only when Lan Zhan pulls back afterwards that makes him wonder. Heat flushes his face and he freezes in place. Pure humiliation settles in his stomach like lead. It makes him feel like he’s a child who was caught misbehaving.

And when the initial shock passes, the irritation prickles the back of his neck.]

We talked about this.

[His tone is a warning. Yet, he’s not trying to crawl away. He’s not upset enough to put a stop to what they’re doing. He can piece together what Lan Zhan’s motivation for the gesture had been given the nature of their game, but it doesn’t change how it makes him feel.]

( ...ah. Past the point of bearing in play, then.

No, he will not pretend, will not exculpate himself. Draws back entirely, hands fully withdrawn off Wei Ying, not a mote of warmth or friction shared between them. Then, carefully, once moments trickle on, he leans in to connect his mouth to the pretty shell of Wei Ying's ear from behind, with a weighted whisper: )

I apologize. ( A secret, between them. No need to interrupt their little tryst, or to break entirely from its development — but he can still convey the full extent of his fervent regret.

He waits to return his hand on Wei Ying's flank, soothing with gentle strokes, anticipating his lover's approval before he continues. They might have their need, but better to only see this through if Wei Ying is still disposed toward the act. )

[He lowers his back end when Lan Zhan withdraws and sets his weight back onto his folded legs. Maybe it’s for the best that they break off from their lovemaking long enough to make sure things are still good between them. The little kiss on his ear makes him smile, feeling better from the affection more than from the apology, though both are certainly good.]

I forgive you, Lan Zhan. You stopped when I let you know I didn’t like it.

[He lifts himself back into position, but his heart isn’t in it like it was before. In the end, he doesn’t stay like that for long and he sits up completely after Lan Zhan’s hands start to touch him again. There’s no denying that he’s still hard in spite of everything.

He turns around to face Lan Zhan, arms open invitingly.]

I want Lan Zhan back for a little bit first, okay?

[They can kiss away any last remaining threads of his annoyance. And then they can decide whether to go back to their game or to finish up in a more romantic orientation.]

Kiss me?

( At first, he flinches with the possibility — deserved — that Wei Ying has now lost his appetite for their trysts. That he wishes, above all, the rest and distance and peace owed to him, their previous passion as quickly forgotten as it was ignited.

But then, Wei Ying only stirs to draw toward him, and Lan Wangji welcomes him with open arms that fasten around his waist and nudge him gently to straddle the perch of Wangji's lap. They kiss, and it's a thing without shape or haste, a sweet caricature of intimacy that younger men might practice when they do not yet know their appetites.

Lan Wangji does not bite, barely licks, mostly waits patiently for Wei Ying to take full advantage of his invitation. Then, carefully: )

You kiss as if you are mine.

[There’s barely any need for guidance onto Lan Zhan’s lap. It’s been his destination all along, in one way or another. With soft moans and signs, he takes his frustrations out by kissing Lan Zhan until their lips are plump. Their hips move enough to excite but not satisfy. Breathless by the end of it, he finally pulls back enough to gaze into his husband’s eyes.

Ah, so Lan Zhan is open to finishing their little game. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from smiling too much as the affection he feels towards his husband threatens to overwhelm him. He’d been worried that their little hiccup might have made Lan Zhan feel timid about treating him a little roughly.]

Aren’t I?

[He places his hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, trickling his fingertips down across his chest. They’re still sat facing each other, but who cares about the little details? All that matters is that they finish before it feels too painful for either of them.]

I know you will never be mine, but I also know that I’ll have no other. Isn’t that how this arrangement works? I meant it when I said you’re handsome.

( There, warming, gaining traction, slithering in his lap. A mass of willing, tender flesh, a perfectly elegant, attractive creature. Lan Wangji draws him in, slips his mouth to his husband's ear again, and this time the apology comes by way of short licks and curious nibbles, none of the muted, heavy grazing of before.

Beneath Wei Ying's weight, Lan Wangji's own interest deepens, his arousal creating a stiffening complication to their tryst. His hand joins behind Wei Ying's lower back, and he supports his husband as he climbs up by his hands, until they've bridged what little height's distance rests even when they're sat so closely. Wouldn't have, some part of him aches to know, if this were Wei Ying's body of old.

No matter. Facing each other is better, Wangji's bruised mouth yearning for another kiss. This, he will never tire of. Then, carelessly, he dips his fingers in the nearby oil jar again, dripping pearlescent droplets as he drags his touch over the roundness of Wei Ying's ass, signaling the return of his attention. If Wei Ying does not wish for it, best he says so now. )

So handsome, you're seducing your conqueror?

[The rules of the game seem to have changed, but he’s not displeased. He’s the one that crawled into Lan Zhan’s lap, even if there was some encouragement. And so maybe his poor virgin peasant girl has an adult’s tastes, it doesn’t need to change the dynamic between them too much.]

Just making the best out of the situation.

[He lifts himself up using Lan Zhan’s shoulders as an anchor point, letting this be his permission for more productive touching. His body feels like an inferno, ready to take as much as Lan Zhan is willing to give.]

You’re much stronger than I am. If I tried to fight you, it would end the same way for me.

[He follows Lan Zhan’s lead and kisses his husband’s ear, taking it between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down too hard, listening carefully to make sure Lan Zhan can tell him to stop if he finds it uncomfortable. ]

If you’re satisfied, maybe you’ll keep me.

Maybe.

( He offers it out like pittance, like coins in the broken hands of a beggar. As if they don't both know Wei Ying could oh so readily, so decisively put an end to their encounter, that he dictates every step of their game.

Here, then, the trouble of it: he is to assume control through physicality, but he cannot spank for Wei Ying's comfort, nor scratch or mark his husband for his own. It leaves him with scant few options to impose himself in the ways his role require, until he settles on one, reaching for his discarded robe's belt and holding it out before him, a taut line, unyielding. )

Hands out. ( To be bound, he needn't say, his purpose plain. Let Wei Ying suffer at least some degree of restraint. )

My prize hasn't earned freedom. Can't be trusted.

[His eyes drop down to the belt and it makes him grin. Even as he offers his hands, he pretends to pull away. It’s true that he has control over the situation in more ways than Lan Zhan does himself. That his fantasy of being one-hundred percent under Lan Zhan’s control will never truly come to fruition because there’s too much respect and trust for it. He’ll never be completely powerless, but he likes the thought of it.]

I’m willing, yet you still want to retrain me. You’ve had one goal in mind this whole time and you’d take me whether I allow it or not.

[He waits until his wrists are bound, testing the tightness and stability of the knots Lan Zhan so expertly ties. He could probably get out of it if he put his mind to it, but that’s no fun. Instead, he keeps his hands between them for the moment.]

You’ll be rough with me, I know. You don’t have to be gentle with some unnamed peasant girl you captured. You can do what you like with me and I’ll have no choice but to bear it.

Why do you feel the need to tell me what I know?

( He murmurs, and he lets the conceit of their mismatched strength linger between them as he binds Wei Ying's hands in a tight, tightening knot. Let him sting the littlest bit, redden and bear the marks of his own temerity. Let him hurt as he wishes to — but cease pushing and pulling and applying pressure he knows all too well Lan Wangji will feel compelled to materialize.

They have spoken of this, almost as much as of Wei Ying's unwillingness to be spanked. Lan Wangji will be gentle directed, but not nagged.

And so, Wei Ying's arms brought together, he draws them in with a tug of the binding, pulling with sudden momentum likely to press Wei Ying back down on the floor, back bowed, pretty plumpness of his ass up.

There is a certain prettiness in the look of him now, disheveled, upper robe barely hanging, bound, oil slick glistening off his thighs. Truly, a prize worth his name. Lan Wangji's free fingers dip into the oil jar again, careful to round around Wei Ying's hip, dipping back to blindly seek out his hungering hole and thrust in, three at once. )

You're no true virgin, for how you take this.

You don’t like the sound of my voice? It doesn’t make you want me more? If it bothers you so much, you should kiss me again, though I suppose you could always clasp your hand to my mouth or use another method to keep me from talking.

[He winces when Lan Zhan tightens the bonds around his wrists. It doesn’t hurt too much, but he can feel that there’s just enough give to rub his wrists raw if he isn’t careful. His testing is cut short as he’s put back into his proper position. His forehead rests on the rocks again and he gasps when the fingers enter. Three fingers isn’t necessarily too much in diameter for him, but it does pull on the rim of his entrance in a way Lan Zhan’s cock doesn’t.]

You’re my first. My only.

[He pushes back against Lan Zhan’s hand, willing the fingers to move deeper inside of him. He knows this part is to prepare him, but why not enjoy it? If only Lan Zhan were being generous and pressing where it feels the best.]

Aren’t I being good for you?

[He adjusts his position so that his head rests on his hands instead. He can use his bent arms to keep himself lifted just a little off the ground for more comfort.]

( Perhaps Wei Ying was put to waste in either body, sentenced to cultivation and battlefields, when he would so clearly have thrived in a brothel. Even now, faced with the inconvenience of deep, sudden penetration, he only eases into the strain, face down, ass up — the ravishing picture of seductive perfection.

Of course for all his outward wretchedness, for all his cruelty, Lan Wangji does not waste time in giving his lover precisely what he wants, fingers first pulsing to stretch out the rim, before leaving it and thrusting deep in turns — two, at times, then three. The meaner hits for when there are fewer fingers to intrude, inevitably. In the end, what he wants to achieve are the tremors of pleasure that so often propel Wei Ying to his meltdowns —

And he is a patient man, kissing a line of warmth over Wei Ying's forehead, licking away the salt of tears or sweat. The angle, his hand over Wei Ying's back just so, facing him, doesn't allow efficient penetration — but the advantage of seeing Wei Ying more than compensates. )

Why would I kiss a whore?

[He rides Lan Zhan’s fingers, hips jerking progressively more sharply as Lan Zhan escalates how often he presses the center of his pleasure. Moaning, writhing, gasping, he presses his cheek to the ground and looks back at Lan Zhan with mostly-lidded eyes. After being married so long, they know all the most efficient ways to bring the other to the the crest of completion.]

Because you like how I kiss you.

[The urgency of his thrusts increases the closer he gets. He craves release and hopes Lan Zhan will ‘force’ him through multiple orgasms instead of stopping before he peaks.]

Please, please, mercy. I can’t stand it. Aren’t you going to take me? What pleasure do you get from this?

[He can’t help himself. Lan Zhan knows his body even better than he does and he stands no chance at all to resist the touch. Lan Zhan must have thought ahead because if he had one free hand, it would already be wrapped around his own cock. As it stands, he can only bite at the heel of his palms.]

( And he does love his husband's kisses, loves them above even the friction of his clench around Lan Wangji's fingertips, even above the press of their flesh together. Loves them wholeheartedly. )

The pleasure of seeing you weep.

( But he is not Lan Zhan, Wei Ying's beloved, lent to such easy confessions. He is a tyrant of some kind, absent his scruples, and he nudges Wei Ying up until Wangji may take hold of the bind that unites his hands, dragging it and them up above Wei Ying's head. Maneuvering his husband, he brings their mouths together, leaving the warmth of his body only now that he has been appropriately readied.

They kiss, and it's a mean thing, far too heated. They kiss, and if he were to ask anything of his lover into perpetuity, it would be this. Until, violent and cruel, he pulls Wei Ying farther from him, turning him around. )

Climb my lap. ( Back to Lan Wangji's front, just so, as Wangji's hand gently, generously supports his arousal. ) You are my doll to enjoy as I please.

[And weep, he does, and it’s not a pretty and silent thing. It’s accompanied by frustrated whines as he chases his pleasure but never quite catches up to it.

At first he barely registers that Lan Zhan is stretching him out and handling him like he weighs nothing. His wrists are starting to feel the friction of their binds, but he doesn’t mind it. He adores being under Lan Zhan’s control like this. That regardless of whether he tries to get out of this, Lan Zhan will have his way with him. He knows he can put an end to this any time he wants, but he hasn’t had to no matter how much Lan Zhan bullies him in bed.

His lips are sore by the time Lan Zhan is through with him. But not enough to keep from talking once his mouth is free.]

Wouldn’t you enjoy it more if your doll works for your pleasure? Or would you rather I fight to be free?

[He does as he’s told, getting back to his feet and taking his place on Lan Zhan’s lap. He moves deliberately, pressing close enough to feel Lan Zhan’s erection against his skin. He wants to be impaled right now, but that’s for Lan Zhan to decide.]

You don’t strike me as the type to want a true doll that can’t move himself, but if that’s your desire, I can provide.

( Mewls, sooner than weeps, but it's the thought that counts, the easy collapse of Wei Ying's detestably sweet pride. He sits back down on Lan Wangji as if he intends but is far too innocent to mount him, and it's Wangji whose arm must round around his waist and drag him, whose hand must tease pried the cleft of his ass sneak in the plump length of his arousal in sweet, if angry slides of friction.

He does not force Wei Ying down, exactly, does not punish him with the relentless and uncaring thrusts that a whore or a war prize would earn from a vicious god. Only sit the head of his cock to kiss Wei Ying's pretty hole, and starts to press down on his lover's hip, insisting on the incremental slide. )

I thought — ( Hissed, as the inevitable tightness of Wei Ying's body constantly assails him. ) You were too innocent to know what to do.

[Once he’s fully impaled, he makes Lan Zhan choose the rhythm of their motions. His feet are braced on the ground to give him enough leverage to lift and drop himself, but he only uses that freedom sparingly to grind himself against Lan Zhan’s lap.]

Innocence doesn’t mean naivety, dear warrior. [He leans his back against Lan Zhan’s chest, even if it will limit some of his motions. His bound hands rest between his knees and he’d use them to touch himself if Lan Zhan is cruel enough to stop touching him. Between being filled up and Lan Zhan’s generous groping, it doesn’t take long for him to start chasing pleasure again.]

Am I your first or do I get to benefit from your experience? You fill me up with no room to spare. Do you enjoy being inside of me?

[His voice is airy from pleasure and the beginnings of exertion, but he wants to urge his husband on. Even if Lan Zhan didn’t like it when he talked during sex, he’d probably still do it.]

( There is a single, lone advantage to this position: what it sacrifices by way of ease of lifting and seating Wei Ying down, it pays in access. Even now, as he continues nudging his own hips up to thrust into his husband, his path paved, even as his hands chase the filling solidity of Wei Ying's arousal — Lan Wangji can dip his head in to nip at the jut of his lover's jaw, to brush their mouths together.

They miss kissing, both of them, no matter how pretend-cruel their play, or how deep their passions. Even impaled on him and immersed in the theater of his role, Wei Ying hungers for this affection that Lan Wangji only too readily offers out.

Their pace picks up, Lan Wangji recalling to stroke Wei Ying's length on occasion, in between tremulous hisses, the clench of his thighs, pleasure coursing down each time his husband consumes him. )

You were made for me. For me to have, for me to own. Weren't... weren't you?

[For his part, he moans with the same abandon as he would in their bedroom after hanging noise-cancelling talismans. Chances are, no one is close enough to hear them, and he isn’t sure if that actually makes a difference to him.

It’s for the best that Lan Zhan’s hand doesn’t stroke him efficiently, because he’d probably have already finished. Just having that hand around his cock adds delicious friction from their thrusts. He pushes his hips down glutinously every time Lan Zhan presses towards him, taking in everything.]

It feels so good to have you inside me. I couldn’t take more and any less wouldn’t be enough. A perfect fit.

[He leans back, basking in the affection. Lips against his skin. What a spoiled thing he’s become being treated to only the most decadent indulgences.]

Would you keep me as a wife or as a whore?

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