wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

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?

( It's a game, after, a learned pace: the push of Wei Ying's pretty cock in his hand, the pull of his body down in Lan Wangji's lap. The answering, powerful sway of Wangji's hips with momentum. The sing of their flesh, pleasure building in both, the harshness of their breaths.

He's barely hanging on. Can't much further. But he must, and he keeps himself in check only through small bites that leave, somehow, Wei Ying's skin still unmarked, because this is another line — his husband loathes dogs. And Lan Wangji cannot bear to occupy that station. )

Will you give me sons? ( After all, they both know even the lowest courtesan comes into rank once she bears her lord children. )

Why elevate a whore otherwise? ( Because Lan Wangji loves him, wholly and utterly. Because Wei Ying is worth every gesture and rank of prestige. )

[The little bites give him something he can focus on to last just a little bit longer. The way his skin comes alive under Lan Zhan’s teeth has him moving with his husband with renewed strength. If they keep it up for too long, he’ll be as exhausted as he usually is after more extensive bed play. Nothing can beat their last wedding night in terms of exertion, however.]

Sons, daughters, as many as you’d like. Maybe I’ll give you one in a few seasons from today.

[His legs are starting to shake under his weight every time he lifts himself up, but he’s tenacious and refuses to stop doing what feels so good for both of them. Still, he whimpers his frustrations and leans more heavily against Lan Zhan’s chest.]

You’re so amazing. So good. I knew there was kindness in you. Just look at how well you tend to a lowly whore.

[Being a servant isn’t something to be ashamed of, so why would being a whore be so shameful? No, his sexually depraved maiden isn’t going to balk at it, either.]

So good. Your hands make my skin feel hot. All I want is you.

( Ah, his husband's exhaustion begins to wrest control of him, and Wei Ying all but droops, as Lan Wangji briefly welcomes him with both arms willing. He draws him close, pushing him to grind down and absorb all of Lan Wangji's interest, as he plunges in with a hard drag of his cockhead to the core of his lover's depths.

He gives them both pause, restraining their movements with one arm around Wei Ying's waist and the second wrapping on his length, stroking him with earnest meanness and an eye to force out his climax from where it conceals itself. He hisses, kissing behind his husband's ear. Amazing, Wei Ying says. So good. )

You have me. Yet I am not enough. ( Wistful, almost, as if he cannot overcome the disappointment of not yet knowing Wei Ying's full satisfaction. How unfortunate. )

You insult your lord with your disinterest. You presume.

I am interested. You have all of me. I just ask for a small piece of your heart or mind. Please, ah! Like that. Just like that.

[He’s panting now, still trying to move with Lan Zhan but their new position keeps them bound together. His hips grind down against Lan Zhan’s and it doesn’t take long for the buzzing wisps of pleasure to build up and snowball into his release. He cries out Lan Zhan’s name and shudders as the sudden wave of intense pleasure washes over him.

He stops for a moment to catch his breath, fighting against the siren’s song of laying back against Lan Zhan and cuddling with him until it’s time for them to go back to their children. ]

Am I enough? Do you want more of me?

[He has to lift both arms up to hold onto Lan Zhan’s arm that’s still wrapped around his waist, hugging it close to his chest.]

I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I’m yours to play with whenever and however you like.

[It goes the same for Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. He’s always told Lan Zhan that he’ll do anything he wants in bed outside of the few lines he’s drawn.]

Will always want more of you.

( He murmurs, and there is a moment when he is both the purported criminal assailing a beautiful prize and Wei Ying's doting husband, their truth universal and shared. There is no shame in it, in accepting Wei Ying, in wanting him close, in drawing him into the cavern of Lan Wangji's ribs, in kissing his temples. He is here, after all, to be taken, to be used, and the wet of his pleasure on Lan Wangji's hands is a privilege he does not deserve but still claims gladly.

Around him, Wei Ying's pleasure met, he feels the clench of his lover's flesh, feels the pull to keep him in, feels — alive only when he takes siege of Wei Ying's hips and pushes him down, letting Lan Wangji selfishly claim him for his own and chase his pleasure. His own climax is foregone, inevitable: his hips stutter, throat rusted, moan long.

Tensions snaps from his back, travels down. He releases in waves, biting onto Wei Ying's shoulder with all the passion he'd restrained moments prior. )

Say you won't leave. Say it.

I’ll give it. You can have everything. All of me.

[He squirms in Lan Zhan’s lap, keeping his hips in motion to entice his husband’s pleasure. It’s always a risk to keep going for too long because he tends to recover faster than Lan Zhan. He mutters sweet nothings about how handsome Lan Zhan is and how he loves it when they’re one like this. Lan Zhan doesn’t take long today to catch up to his peak and he slows his hips down to milk every last drop into himself.]

I won’t leave you. Not for anything.

[He takes a deep breath and lets himself relax as he exhales. However, he doesn’t get off of Lan Zhan’s lap. Decoupling is never as glamorous as coupling. At least they’re close to running water so Lan Zhan won’t have to feel bothered for long.]

Your side is the only place I want to be. I promise, I’m not going anywhere without you.

( An incremental descent, not without tremors. He comes back to himself in degrees, combative, teeth somehow chattering, the rest of his body left in feverish shakes. He might have been sickly, if he were not merely wholly, utterly in love.

And overwhelmed. This is Wei Ying's effect on him, the inevitable price to pay for their affection. Of late, he is so overcome and in awe of his husband's brilliance, that he stunned, moments after, by the privilege of partaking in it. His hands round around Wei Ying's waist, and he draws them both, Lan Wangji's back to the stone nook and his lover against him, strangely still unsaddled from his perch on Wangji's lap. Well deserved.

He kisses Wei Ying's temple, his nape, failing to pretend what still lingers of their part. His heartbeat's storming. )

...my heart feels too full.

[He brings Lan Zhan’s arm up once they’ve settled into their new position so he can kiss it as the easiest target to reach. It’s not enough so he strains his neck to ask for a kiss or two on his face. He feels utterly spent and entirely too comfortable on top of his husband. He’ll likely turn around once they part bodies.]

I feel like that around you, too.

[This is all him, now. There’s no trace of the oddly complicit maiden left in him. All he wants is sweet affection and a few moments to recover from their love making.]

I love you so much it feels like I’ll drown in it sometimes. Is that how you feel, too? When I was younger, I never thought about all the good things that come with being in love.

[He lifts his hands up to ask Lan Zhan, wordlessly, that he wants to be unbound. His wrists sting just a little bit and it might leave indentations or maybe even bruises that will fade over the next couple of days.]

( He can have this, a moment when Wei Ying is his and his alone, when Lan Wangji can bask in the indulgence of his husband's confessions. They love each other, and it is the truth and known, and it cannot be thieved from them.

Sometimes, Wei Ying alludes to this, to a youth when he thought their romance impossible. Worse still, unwanted. And it would be a better, stronger man than Lan Wangji, he who does not think ill of his lover's faithlessness on a handful of occasions.

He is not so strong. )

You should have. ( He murmurs, nosing behind Wei Ying's ear, nuzzling and breathing in his scent. ) But do you know better now?

Much better.

[He tilts his head to invite Lan Zhan nosing at his ear. Now that he knows what having a relationship with someone he loves is like, he knows better. Being alone just doesn’t cut it for him anymore.

Just like this position they’re in! He supposes now is as good of time as any to dismount Lan Zhan’s length. This way he can turn around and wrap his arms around his husband’s neck and drape himself across his body. He takes his turn to nose around Lan Zhan’s neck, sprinkling a few kisses along his throat.]

There’s still opportunity to make up for all our lost time.

[Like they’re doing now. It feels ridiculous how much better he feels when they’re together like this. If life were gentler, they’d spend every moment of every day in each other’s arms. Because it’s not possible, it makes him appreciate all the time they do have to spend together.]

What about you? Did you think falling in love with someone was something to strive for? Back when we were younger, I mean.

( Wei Ying decouples them, and there's the moment of inevitable disgrace when wetness spills between them, and they withdraw within themselves — only to come back together again, kissing avidly. Wei Ying belongs on him, weight firm, scent heady. Belongs reclaiming these binds of their marriage.

And so they meet, touch disdaining the possibility of disruption. Lan Wangji's arms fastening behind his lover's back to steady him. A slow balance. )

I thought of you. ( This much is known, painfully sincere, obvious. He has shamed himself often enough with the immutability of his feelings. ) I thought you did not desire me.

( Another long foregone conclusion. This is the trouble of unburying their past. So much of what Lan Wangji speaks now has been disproven. )

I did not dare think past it. A matrimony would have been presented to me, perhaps. ( If he failed to produce a love match in the way of his people. And were Wei Ying alive and well and cared for in Yiling, and still denying Lan Wangji's timid advances, he cannot say what he would have done before that proposal. )

We were both wrong when we were younger. It’s a good thing we wizened up, huh?

[They can’t change the past, but they can use its lessons to appreciate the present. He likes to think that they could have ended up together if he’d survived. If there were no war. If he hadn’t rescued the Wen remnants. If, if, if. But there’s a chance they would have both ended up alone, too. That Lan Zhan would have ended up in some political marriage and him living on without knowing what he was missing.

It makes him value what they have all the more.

He relaxes on top of Lan Zhan, though the heat is starting to feel uncomfortable again. His throat is parched and he really could drink a whole bottle of wine and still want more.]

I don’t like thinking about you married off to some woman. You would have been less happy than you are with me and I don’t want to think of you unhappy.

I do not... believe I could fathom interests of feminine persuasion.

( Whispered, somehow muted, as Wei Ying settles again in his lap, as he drapes over Lan Wangji and steals both their comfort to the inevitable benefit of their mutual adoration. Lan Wangji's hands, sticky with heat, land on his back, his spine, in careless strokes.

He speaks a truth he has long suspected that the clan refuses to admit: that his natural inclinations lean overwhelmingly toward, if not men, then one man with certainty — though Lan Wangji is not so great a fool that he will deny having, on occasion, spied and understood the beauty of other silhouettes, even without feeling the impulse to act on his eyes' attraction. That Wei Ying commands his attention wholly and indiscriminately is not to take away from these other men.

A pause, then the inevitable correction: )

Perhaps if it were your body.

[It’s a good thing that he came back in the body of a man. For both of them. He wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do if he were suddenly inhabiting the body of a woman. Flirting with Lan Zhan would be an uphill battle, but he’d probably still do his best to get a rise out of him. If he were a pretty woman, he’d probably use his looks and charm to get people to give him gifts and do favors.]

I know I’ve said it before, but I’m glad Mo Xuanyu’s body is that of an attractive enough young man.

[He lifts his head up and grins at Lan Zhan. How lucky for them both. For Lan Zhan, it means he can be with someone he’s physically and mentally attracted to and for Wei Wuxian it means he gets to feel sexy and desired by the man he loves. Not to mention he gets to be free from dealing with the weirder aspects of a female body. There’s no way he’d be able to handle moon cycles.]

I’m thirsty.

[He kisses Lan Zhan’s mouth a couple times. They would do well to finish their swim, too. They’re absolutely drenched in sweat, sticky where it’s drying and slick where it hasn’t.]

Let’s get some watermelon when we go back. For now, there’s wine!

[Which isn’t going to be too soon, he hopes. He’s enjoying their little date.]

( Thirsty, says Wei Ying, and instinctively Lan Wangji stirs to satisfy the base requirement, as if his husband is no better than a child who cannot attend his own needs. In truth, he is often lacking in the patience or organization or discipline to do so, and lo, Lan Wangji intervenes then —

But he abstains now, careful to allow his husband to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, before joining his hands at Wei Ying's back to prevent him from toppling over when Lan Wangji dips him in play. Then, just as Wei Ying's hair is about to wash over the blanketed grounds, Lan Wangji nods steadily at the gravid qiankun purse beside him. Wine, he needn't say, and water. Only, of course Wei Ying knows already.

Mouth cleaved in silent laughter, he releases his husband, nodding toward their wares, then the waters in wait. )

Will you detest a round of ablutions even here? ( So often Wei Ying is bored with baths after their love-making, but the muggy heat of Yunmeng might incentivize even him. )

[His laughter is anything but silent as Lan Zhan swings him about. He barely holds on, trusting that Lan Zhan has everything under control and that there’s no danger of him falling. He likes when Lan Zhan shows his more playful nature and he gives himself a lot of credit in getting his husband to relax. Though, maybe there’s something about Lotus Pier that encourages a little fun. The lack of codified rules helps.]

Won’t swimming clean us off or are you wanting to use oils too?

[He pulls himself upright again, one arm loosely hanging around Lan Zhan’s shoulders while the other makes a grab for the qiankun purse. As much as he wants wine, he reaches for the water first because Lan Zhan is likely feeling just as parched as he is.]

You should drink something. I’ve seen people faint from weather like this. It’s worse for kids and the servants who never formed a golden core, but you look drenched and I know it’s mostly sweat at this point.

[Just like with cold temperatures, Lan Zhan’s golden core should protect him from some of the effects. But Lan Zhan’s is accustomed to the mild summers of Gusu which has heat waves that get about as hot as today’s typical late spring weather in Yunmeng.

He picks up his own cup and throws the water back like he would drinking wine. One cup, two, three. Maybe he should be more worried about himself than Lan Zhan considering his body isn’t nearly as accustomed to the heat as his old one had been.

After putting the small cup down, he grabs the jug of wine and opens it. There’s no need for a cup for this, so he lifts up the whole jug and drinks greedily straight from it. A small trickle of wine tickles his jaw and neck, but he pays it no mind.]

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