wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

( Good enough to eat, pronounces his husband, the consummate cannibal, ready to devour him whole. Kissing him as if Lan Wangji is a strange delicacy that has somehow so far avoided consumption and not a willful, lethal creature, the Hanguang-Jun of so many fears and woes.

They come together easily, greedily, their kiss deepening, his hands travelling up to Wei Ying's flank — pinning him against hard stone, keeping him in place. They always kiss too long, too breathlessly, too readily enamoured. As if they can't help themselves, as if Lan Wangji can ever hope to fill in the gaps in himself with the shape of his soulmate.

The wet of the waters is thankfully too tepid and warm to bother them as they lie still. He sighs, hands drifting to Wei Ying's cheeks, his shoulders. Kisses him again. Then, carefully: )

You won't bear to swim, after.

[They kiss until his lips feel bruised and all he wants is to keep going. He really can’t help himself when they have a moment alone to take advantage of. And sometimes, not even when they’re in public, much to their friends’ and families’ discomfort.

Whimpering slightly, he looks up at Lan Zhan’s eyes the moment he starts to move back. His mouth chases his husband’s hand to lick the palm. Eyes sparkling and mischievous as he thinks about how his drunk Lan Zhan behaved the first time he’d licked his palm.]

We could try to do it while we swim.

[Which probably wouldn’t work at all, now that he thinks about it. The thought of them clinging to each other while trying to float and sleep together amuses him, but it would be unbearably frustrating to actually try.]

Which would you rather have? [He turns his head to the side and catches a fingertip with his tongue.] You’d rather keep swimming than sleep with your husband?

Small>( There is nothing in this life that can compete with the dangerous, hungry allure of Wei Ying beset by purpose, Wei Ying attuned to his husband's needs. Wei Ying hunting him, a predator whose instincts were awakened and sharpened all those years ago in Yiling.

Now, Lan Wangji's finger, trapped in his husband's mouth, travels down to drag his lower lip and bare his fangs, hooking in — before he finally, despicably, pulls his hand away completely. A final kiss, then: )

How will you swim back to the boat when we leave?

( This is, they both know far too painfully, not rejection. This is not even the pretence of refusal. Only a practical consideration to be readily resolved — notably, only the one. )

[He tilts his head back to expose his throat, eyes never leaving Lan Zhan’s even as he leans in for that last kiss. He chooses not to chase Lan Zhan this once, wanting to hear what he has to say for himself. It all comes down to their foreplay. Sometimes it’s touch-based and others, it’s the games they play.]

You’re strong, Lan Zhan. If I’m too tired to swim afterwards, then you can throw an arm around me and carry me back to the boat.

[Now that he’s said it, he’s going to need to see it through. He likes playing damsel sometimes and Lan Zhan always looks so happy when he’s indulging him.]

Or I could float on my back and drift back to the boat. As long as I’m not wearing too much, it won’t take any energy at all.

[Though he doubts Lan Zhan’s will be willing to see him go into public without putting on at least his underwear and first layer regardless of the customary differences.

He doesn’t make a move, waiting until Lan Zhan comes to the same inevitable conclusion he has.]

( ...perhaps he might have stood a chance any day but this, when Wei Ying has only just shared his life, his love, the debris of his childhood. One last place that was his and his alone and is now theirs to honor.

Nodding faintly, mouth soft, he presses in for another kiss, one hand bracing to support Wei Ying's ass, to cushion his perch — the other flat on the wall behind him, bracketing in, as he comes close and closer to allow his husband to climb him with his legs. The water's just tepid enough to indulge them, the press of their bodies heated, faint. Lan Wangji drinks in his husband's pretty, pleasured exhalations.

Then, he bites into the side of Wei Ying's throat, a little bit mean, a little more fond. Teeth rake gently after, half warning and half soothing. )

You'll need to hold on. ( Pretty, painfully beautiful thing. His darling. )

[He’s all quiet sighs and soft moans as Lan Zhan worships him with his kisses. He curls one leg around Lan Zhan’s hips and then the other one. Between his husband and the rocks at his back, he feels securely held in place, which means he doesn’t have to worry about keeping himself afloat.]

I’ll hold onto you tight, Lan Zhan.

[It’s funny that he likes it when Lan Zhan bites him these days. It no longer makes him think of a dog. The dull pain of teeth digging into his throat mixes quite nicely with the sensation he gets every time they move together.

He wraps his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck and tugs him close so they can kiss again. As soon as their lips touch, he sighs contentedly. If Lan Zhan decides he doesn’t want to sleep with him right away, as long as he kisses him for a little while, he could be happy. Maybe not as sexually satisfied, but still content and happy.]

I wish we could be like this all day, every day.

[But it’s probably better that they can’t. Too much of a good thing could hinder the novelty of their bed play.

His fingers dig through Lan Zhan’s hair draping down Lan Zhan’s back, scratching at the sensitive skin there as he scrambles for a good grip. Though he’s using his fingernails, he doesn’t dig in enough to mark Lan Zhan’s anymore than with mild pink scratches.]

( All day, every day. Every day means every day. Of course, since they've marri —

...oh. But he stills, suddenly arrested in place, seemingly stricken. Eyes bright and wide, and lashes burdened, and his head whirling with the reminder of what they had pledged but yet to deliver. In Wei Ying's little enclave, golden light seeps through every crevice, raining down on his face, painting him in majesty.

Lan Wangji kisses him once more, in parting, helpless to their attraction. Then the beauty before him dissolves in a blurr, and he sees far too little, blinking away his rigidity. And quietly, after: )

Marry me here. ( And another kiss, instantly apologetic. ) And again in three days.

( When the siks he has barely told Wei Ying to order can come in. He should wait until then. Finds, more fool he, that he cannot. ) I truly... must marry you now.

( His heart feels so full of adoration for Wei Ying, it may well burst. )

Lan Zhan?

[It’s alarming when his husband suddenly freezes in place. He’s seen Lan Zhan meditating and has caught him dissociating from time to time, but this is different. It’s excitement and it’s a contagious feeling. Even before Lan Zhan mentions marriage, he’s anticipating something good to come out of his husband’s mouth.

His eyes widen a bit at the question. He hopes this is different than when they were at the Ancestral Hall. He’d let his hopes get up then only to feel the disappointment of postponing it.]

You really mean it?

[He kisses him back, staying close and letting that tingle of joy trickle down his spine. Lan Zhan wants to marry him! No matter how many times they marry, it always feels just as exciting as the first time. Maybe there was a time when he needed the reassurance that another wedding would bring. These days, he’s more sure. He knows he’s loved and nothing’s going to change that.]

Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, let me put some clothes on first. We can’t get married with one of us naked.

[He doesn’t try very hard to suppress his grin.]

Unless Lan Zhan wants to take off his robes to make things equal between us?

( And is it marriage? Merely an exchange of bows, wine and bites of rice, glances and joyous laughter. Merely the warmth of their hands joined, merely Lan Wangji entrapped in endless admiration.

He can't stop himself from staring even now, from nodding and reaching in to pass his mouth over Wei Ying's clumsily. It's as if, now that he has learned the shape and taste of his husband's kiss, he is addicted. As if he can never hope for better or different.

Pulling away, he passes his teeth over the lobe of Wei Ying's ear, grazing and rolling it, nearly biting in. Then, finally drifting away in the water, sending ripples to tease the horizon — he pats Wei Ying's flank, his ass. There, there. Proprietary. )

Cleanse yourself first. ( Perhaps a little vulgar, even for the two of them, to join in hasty matrimony with Lan Wangji's seed still clinging to his lover's thighs. ) Then take a robe.

( He has the decency to bracket Wei Ying in again, this time less to mark or bully him than simply to offer him balance as his lover must find his footing. There he is. )

[The way Lan Zhan is looking at him now has his heart beating joyously in his chest. The love pours from it and into him, filling his chest with warmth and butterflies. He smiles back, kissing as he’s kissed and watching when he isn’t. He’s not even disappointed when he’s told that he needs to clean up first. For once, he takes it seriously and starts to rinse himself right away.]

Lan Zhan! If we get married twice in Lotus Pier, we’ll need to marry twice in Cloud Recesses, too! It’s only fair.

[He uses Lan Zhan’s body as leverage, because it’s offered more than it being needed. Being in the water is as natural to him as walking on land. But it’s still nice to be treated like a damsel, so he doesn’t get uppity about it.

When he’s ready to move away from his husband, he steps in and hugs him first. He buries his face against Lan Zhan’s throat as he presses their bodies together far too briefly to be satisfying. He wants to feel his husband’s skin against his skin for a few moments.]

I love you, Lan Zhan. I know I’m saying it too early, but no one says I can’t say it more than once.

[With a last tight squeeze, he slips out of Lan Zhan’s arms and makes his way back over to their picnic area. It would be easy to grab his pants from nearby and they’d even be red, but he thinks wearing a single, easily removable layer would be sexier. In the end, he chooses a single dry layer from his qiankun pouch. It’s black because both of them wearing white would be too depressing. It’s a gossamer thin one that he picked specifically to seduce his husband. It will put the two of them on equal footing if Lan Zhan’s only wearing white pants.]

How do I look?

( It's a slow ascent; he bides Wei Ying his time. Then, at a timid step, he's carrying along the weight of the world or at least his own in waters dripping off his silks, gathering at his feet. Pooling on the tender shoreline, before he's rising, climbing, joining Wei Ying where their qiankun pouches lie.

He'd thought, stricken by belated modesty, to envelop himself in the shroud of a robe and approach their rites with decency. But then, he can still glimpse the pale expanse of Wei Ying's thighs, the alluring stretch of his legs, and his... bride has made no effort of shielding his collarbone. Lan Wangji's own appearance will do.

Within heartbeats, he's sinking down on both knees, waiting patiently for Wei Ying to assume his place beside him — until his gaze is summoned, and he must look his lover greedily, unapologetically over. A scrumptious meal. A beautiful morsel.

His mouth waters. )

Like Xi Shi. Like my soulmate.

[As soon as Lan Zhan looks at him, he spreads his arms wide and spins in a slow circle to make sure Lan Zhan can have a good look at him. When he gets his answer, there’s a bounce in his step as he walks to where Lan Zhan is already sitting and takes his place at his side, right where he belongs.]

You flatterer. It must be a sign from the heavens, because you look like my soulmate, too.

[He leans against Lan Zhan to enjoy a little more touch. With the way Lan Zhan’s been looking at him, he really can believe his beauty is legendary.]

Are you ready, Lan Zhan?

[He sits up straight again and takes in the place Lan Zhan chose for their ceremony. It’s a pretty view, though that could be said of any number of places here. They’re not facing the discarded food from their meal earlier, but he does think about it and regrets not finishing it anyway. He won’t let it tarnish the moment, so he focuses on something else instead. The way the silk clings to Lan Zhan’s skin.]

( A sign from the Heavens. He thinks, at times, it was the Heavens who brought them together, Wei Ying the only man to call his own. But the same powers divided them, and hewatches his lover absorb the light and laughter of the place beside him, watches Wei Ying make his home near him, exacerbating the heat.

In the end, the rites are simple. One by the other, they bring their hands together and ahead, and wilt down in a bow before them, to the Heavens of the enclave's cracked ceiling, to the Earth that holds them. A second bow, to the ancestors of moss and stone with murmurs of mute gratitude. Then, shifting imperceptibly, to Wei Ying, his lover, his muse, his shadow.

He waits on his husband to proceed with the same, the rituals learned by now, familiar. )

[His attention is drawn forward as he moves in tandem with Lan Zhan. His heart beats excitedly as he kowtows, each bow taken with gratitude for this second chance at a love he didn’t have the words for. That he gets to live loving his best friend and being loved by him always leaves him feeling grateful. Moments like these, more so.

They fold themselves over for the third time, taking the opportunity to honor the man he loves enough to live for. His salvation. His light. His current and future husband.

He reaches to the side to pick up his nearby quankun purse to make sure there’s still some rice that hasn’t been sitting out. When he finds it, he uncovers it and places it between the two of them. And Lan Zhan made sure they were close to the wine, too.]

Lan Zhan, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-Jun, I would choose you every time in every lifetime.

( Every time, in every lifetime — and their bows fulfilled. Once, he might have thought the rites themselves would change his world, that he would finish them and find himself different. Throughout their countless marriages, that miracle has yet to pass. He remains unchanged, indiffferent to the act...

Always, until Wei Ying looks at him, just so. Until his husband's happiness alights them both. Until he dips in to lay out rice in one bowl, and fills out the very bottom of their cups with the remnants of Wei Ying's wine. After, one cup held to his bride, the second grasped — he twines their arms to attempt the nuptial toast. )

Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, Yiling patriarch. I would choose you above the world.

( And he leans in, carefully, to pass his lips over the wine and drink in. )

[His surprise at Lan Zhan’s declaration is quickly replaced by a softness. He’ll never be alone again -- well, not permanently alone. As long as they’re both breathing, they’ll return to one another no matter what lies in their future.

He grins sheepishly when only the lasts drops of wine fills their cups. Lan Zhan would benefit from the smaller volume, so he’s not going to complain. He lifts the second cup and follows Lan Zhan’s lead.]

I believe you, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’m tired of living rough. You’ve spoiled me so thoroughly that I can’t imagine living without the comfort of Lan Zhan’s loving care.

[He waits until the moment feels right, some 30 heartbeats or so later when he finally tips his cup back. He feels good. Rejuvenated after loving his husband just a short time earlier.]

Lan Zhan, you make me feel whole.

( He is late to drink his fill, he suspects, shamelessly arrested in the face of the bead of wet — water or sweat — that cascades down Wei Ying's throat, drawing the eye, enraptured, to the sun-kissed column. To his collarbone, peering sharp and neat and pretty below. To the curve of Wei Ying's shoulder, yonder. His mouth all but sallivates.

At long last, more beast than man and decidedly uncontrollable, he tips back his own cup, the sharp burn of the alcohol a mean punishment. His body shivers with it, with the ache born in his gut, with the pleasant exhilaration of relief that follows.

Then, he sets the cup cleanly on the stone pedestal, picking the bowl of rice and untouched chopsticks and collecting a few glued grains to peddle by Wei Ying's pretty mouth. A bride is too shy to take the first bite alone, after all. )

You were ever whole. Only, at times, more brittle.

[He catches the way Lan Zhan’s looking at him and he shrugs to expose a bit more skin. Not enough to be obscene or detract from their ceremony, but enough to show more of his shoulder and chest than before. Back in his first body, he’d been so sure of his good looks, but he’s learned to treat this body the same. Lan Zhan’s attraction to it definitely helps.]

I just didn’t realize a piece was missing until my second life. You fill in all the spaces I hadn’t noticed needed filling and have made me stronger for it. Happier.

[He waits for Lan Zhan to present him with rice and closes his mouth over the chopsticks to make sure he gets every last grain. He takes the chopsticks and picks up a similarly sized bite of rice and offers it to Lan Zhan’s expecting mouth.]

Not so brittle, now. I feel like I could face anything at your side.

[He shifts again, letting his robe part enough to show his thigh. Everything important is more or less obscured (partially, because of the thinness of the silk) by the garment.]

( Obediently, he rounds his lips around the morsel presented to him, keen to entrap it, to taste the grains. Plain, blandly seasoned, nothing to speak of. A delightful tribute and foundation for their marriage days to come.

When they have their proper wedding feast, an escalation from the scant offerings of their elopement — they might enjoy a more ambitious fare. Not yet. Not just now. )

Perhaps even face Uncle?

( No truer challenge, no greater foe to Wei Ying's relaxed, at times utterly debauched nature. They've improved their relations, Lan Wangji likes to think — if not for their own sakes, then certainly for Lan Liang's.

Stealing the chopsticks again, he offers out a fresh morsel of sticky rice to Wei Ying. )

I could face him anytime. It’s the aftermath of facing him that I’m trying to avoid.

[It’s not like Lan Qiren could kick him out of Cloud Recesses with Lan Zhan as acting clan leader. These days, the old man would be more likely to ask him to stay. The house they’re building is no secret nor is the amount of genuine love shared between Lan Qiren and Lan Liang.

He smiles, tasting the rice again. Lan Zhan could be tricking him into eating more by suggesting this impromptu marriage, but he suspects it’s just an added benefit for him and not the main reason for the offer.]

With you by my side, what’s he going to do? Bore us to death? Doesn’t it mean anything that I follow more of the precepts than half of the disciples he teaches?

[Despite their tolerance of one another, he can tell his presence isn’t entirely welcome. Even when he brought it up recently, he still isn’t allowed to teach any classes.]

( It should. But then, Lan Qiren has never been the most readily forgiving of men, and Wei Ying — despite his improvements before the precepts — still willingly courts disaster. He has, Lan Wangji suspects, an appetite for playful riling, for inviting correction.

Feeding each other, Wei Ying speaks through his meal — and should that not give him pause? Of course, Wangji will not be the man to say so. Yet it would be unfair to his uncle to pretend all of Wei Ying's life has been reshaped around the Gusu Lan commandments.

Gently, once Wei Ying has consumed enough mouthfuls to Lan Wangji's satisfaction, he lays down the chopsticks and nudges the bowl forward, should his freshly minted husband wish to once more take over. )

He would offer his life for yours and that of your children. ( A truth, no matter Wei Ying's doubts. ) He would not hesitate.

[When Lan Zhan abandons the rice, Wei Wuxian takes over for him and offers a fresh bite to his husband. He pauses, however, when Lan Zhan claims Lan Qiren would die to keep him safe. It should make him feel like he’s accepted, maybe even liked in some way, but it isn’t so simple. He doesn’t particularly like the idea of someone laying down their life for him.]

He doesn’t have to go that far. I’d be happier if he’d just let me train the disciples.

[He starts up again, offering the bite he’d stalled. It’s true that he’d love the opportunity to work with the kids, but he’s so far been denied the chance outside of traveling for night hunts. Wen Ning is the one who accompanies them during their outings most of the time as a protector in the shadows, leaving him to watch for flares in case something goes wrong.]

Do you think Uncle Lan will ever let me teach in Cloud Recesses?

[It’s unfair to put the burden on Lan Zhan, so he tries not to bring it up too often, but it does still bother him to be excluded. There are other things that he could do to help out the clan, and he does try to do those things, but they’re not his calling.]

( Teaching the disciples, imprinting on them an example, being a formative presence — certainly, Wei Ying isn't at fault for wanting the privilege. Uncle, too, only wishes to ensure that the most impressionable minds of Gusu Lan are exposed to the essence of Cloud Recesses' learnings.

It is... a natural tension, unlikely to be extirpated through the passage of time and pleas alone. He cannot hope to abolish it, only perhaps to quiet some of the flames of Lan Qiren's anguished anger. So be it — he knows the work set before him, nodding in increments, only daring to gaze up at Wei Ying again once he has solidified a battle plan. )

I shall speak to him on our return. ( An unwise intervention, both as a nephew and the acting clan leader, to force his uncle's hand. Yet what else can he do? He, too, sacrifices for their sect. Is the price of his contentment, so that he may best serve the clan, not enough? )

[He shakes his head, reaching to the side to touch Lan Zhan’s hand. It’s a tricky situation to have Lan Zhan speak on his behalf to Lan Qiren. It’s not fair to put that on Lan Zhan’s shoulders or to gang up on the old man to get his way. It would likely end in him getting what he wants and being allowed to teach the kids some practical knowledge to help with their training, but he doesn’t want it to be a forced concession.]

You don’t need to speak on my behalf. I can ask again. It’s been a while since I have and maybe he’s warmed up to me more than the last time. The worst that can happen is him saying no again.

[He rubs at the back of Lan Zhan’s knuckles with his thumb before turning his hand to invite Lan Zhan’s palm against his own.]

I would want his blessing before I took on any classes and I won’t get that if we force his hand. It’s just a shame since I’m a font of useful knowledge most of the kids don’t get to have access to.

[He brings Lan Zhan’s hand up to his mouth so he can kiss his knuckles. It’s their first kiss since they’ve renewed their marriage.]

( Barely bidden, his palm slips onto Wei Ying's, grateful for the contact and reassurance that they're together, bound and true, that — no matter the hurdles of their empty chatter — Wei Ying makes no attempt to abandon him. This should not be what they speak of on their marriage day, not toil or trouble or the infinite complications of clan politics and family dynamics.

Still, they've ventured. Still, Wei Ying remembers enough of Lan Wangji's private discomfort to steer them back and away from the abyss. Gratitude blooms in his cheest, thunderous, the bones of his ribcage groaning. His thumb catches on Wei Ying's knuckles, answering the morsels of affection in the only language that finds him forthright.

The kiss finds his hand shivered, pale, straining. He wants to hold, to reassure. Cannot. The truth of Lan Qiren's objections remains a bridge they cannot forge between them, and Wangji will not lie to his husband in this. He will offend neither the blood of his familial bond, nor the sanctity of his matrimony. )

Then, will you speak to him? ( Alone, without Lan Wangji to shield him? Surely not. )

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