wuding | Date in Lotus Pier

( He thinks, if he only waits — if he holds his breath, if he bears through it — Wei Ying will surely, decidedly pull back. He will not presume to continue, to make a wanting, wholly desirous fool of Lan Wangji, to stain him with want —

Only he does. Of course he does. He travels his foot up and down Lan Wangji's ankle, then his calve, then — and here, Lan Wangji flinches, once more owlishly gazing to scout around his whereabouts, determined to exorcise whatever soul might catch him in the throes of misplaced passion. No one pays them mind; how could they? The table hides their shame.

Hissing, he stays Wei Ying's foot where it has last landed with a hand, inevitably pressing it down onto Wangji's own lap, where his brazen arousal stirs with pulses of interest. Damn them both. )

They will know.

[He watches hungrily as Lan Zhan reacts to his teasing. His husband has always been beautiful, especially when he’s completely debauched and seeing it now is enough to make his own clothes feel too tight below the waist. He shifts in his chair, licks his lips, and grins.

The fact that they’re in public like this shouldn’t excite him so much. Anyone can see them if they just look over. The great Hanguang-Jun at his mercy. He wants to have Lan Zhan squirming against his foot until he cums in his robes.]

Relax, Lan Zhan, no one is paying us any mind.

[He moves his toes down, pressing against the firmness he can clearly feel even through the sole of his shoe. Maybe he should take his shoe off so he can really feel how much Lan Zhan wants him.

Some amount of blood manages to get to his mind when he realizes this shameless act might cause lasting damage to his husband’s reputation.]

I’ll stop if you ask me to.

( He does not ask. For a moment, he barely breathes, let alone summoning the strength for breath and interdiction.

Then, with the certainty of fools and cravens, he begins to orock shakily, slowly into the press of Wei Ying's foot, aroused far more by the thought of their indecency than the few slivers of friction. His moan is so punched, so very silent, it may well course his bloodline sooner than break loose from his mouth.

He will not finish like this, cannot begin to — growls mutely between clenched teeth, waiting for the wait attendant to pass by, before finally ripping himself loose from the table, and slipping a handful of additional silver pieces beside their pay. Compensation for an inconvenience the establishment does not even know they've caused.

His hand wraps over Wei Ying's wrist, and he wrenches his husband behind him, hissing as he drags him in the late afternoon air down the nearest abandoned alley by the docks. A fine, fortunate thing that sailors and children have, by now, all gone to their evening meal, and they linger between port houses, alone with their shadows.

By the end, he is living, pale with his indignation. )

You.

[Biting his lip when Lan Zhan moves against his foot, he manages to hold back his own surprised gasp so it barely registers as noise. He feels hot all over witnessing this, not because he thinks a footjob is a sexy way to get off, but because of the danger of discovery. He’s more willing to ruin his own reputation than his husband’s, so he makes it a point to avoid drawing any attention to them.

Likewise, he doesn’t resist when Lan Zhan makes their hasty exit. He follows closely, grinning to himself and having fun running off like a pair of hormonal teenagers.]

Me.

[He knows he’s crossed a line with this. He knows he’s the one in the wrong. What he doesn’t know is whether Lan Zhan’s merely annoyed with him or actually angry.

He holds his hands up placatingly before he starts to try and talk his way out of this.]

I took things too far. I didn’t intend to when I started, but I got too into it when I saw the look on your face and had to keep going further. You’ll forgive me, won’t you? I won’t do it again since I clearly pushed you into discomfort with this, but in my defense, you’re entirely too attractive. How could I resist?

( Him. Impossibly, wickedly, delectably — Wei Ying. Running his hands up, running his mouth, running from Lan Wangji's life, always running. And he talks, and he talks, and he talks, and he never stills himself, not willing.

Not until it's enforced.

Lan Wangji's mouth crashes down on his husband's not half a heartbeat before he's had his say, pressing Wei Ying back one step, then the next, until the aching coarseness of the dock house's wall stings at his back, and he is trapped between its rock and the inevitable hard place of Lan Wangji's thigh, his body.

Inelegantly, he steals Wei Ying's hand, forcing it through the many layers choked off by Wangji's belt and fitting his fingers under the rim of his trousers to sit on his prettily thickened arousal. At least here, with dark setting around them and the docks largely abandoned, a small alley offers some degree of protection — though every passing stranger will suspect why two lovers are dallying together in such a place. )

Take responsibility.

[He still has more to say, but it doesn’t matter because Lan Zhan is kissing him and it’s all he can do to keep himself from stumbling as he’s backed up against the wall. The rocks dig into him and his elbow gets mildly scraped, but that doesn’t matter either. It’s been too long since he’s driven Lan Zhan into a frenzy.

He rides Lan Zhan’s thigh, the heat between his legs rising up to a fever pitch. The friction helps and he whines when Lan Zhan moves back even a little.]

Lan Zhan, don’t you want to keep kissing me? Or maybe you’d like it more if I did something else with my mouth?

[The angle is too narrow and it’s uncomfortable on his wrist, but he still wraps his fist around Lan Zhan’s erection. The other hand coming up between them so he can work at Lan Zhan’s belt.]

You won’t even need to touch me. Having a taste of you would be enough to push me over the edge. Or maybe you want to claim your wife? Better decide quickly or we won’t make it to either.

( He talks too much, always a storm, always unthinkably. As if, unheard for years amid the Jiang, he must now attempt to compensate and be known by the world whole.

So, Lan Wangji kisses him again. Can't be helped for it, restless when he seizes his lover's mouth and bites in with the quiet ferocity of a ravenous beast. He has not feasted until now, he has not lived until, hissing, he accepts Wei Ying's hand around him, arousal building in mean pulses. He is no better than a youth, stirred by the suggestion of friction, thrusting his hips toward Wei Ying with a gutted keen.

He wants. He wants and wants and wants, and Wei Ying's feeble efforts ill suit him. His teeth seek out the lobe of his husband's ear, biting in.

Then once Wei Ying's hand has worked him and he can trust himself to breathe again, growling: )

Turn around.

[Kissing Lan Zhan is better than talking and he responds with similar passion. His whole body feels hot. All he wants is more of Lan Zhan and he’s pleased with the results. His husband is heavy in his hand and he strains for more friction for himself, too.

A surprised moan slips past his lips when his husband’s teeth pinch his ear. The sound might travel, so he presses his mouth against Lan Zhan’s shoulder to muffle himself.]

So demanding. I love it when you know what you want.

[He doesn’t want to stop, but he does just long enough to follow Lan Zhan’s command. Pressing his butt back against his husband, he wonders if they should prepare their salve or if Lan Zhan is too far gone for such concerns. It will hurt without anything slick, but he’s not the most patient man.

He puts his hands up against the wall, giving himself over completely, trusting Lan Zhan to treat him with with care no matter how eager they are.]

You’re so hard, Lan Zhan. I want all of you. You can do anything you want with me for as long as you want.

( There is trust Wei Ying lends him that he suspects he hasn't earned, can't deserve no matter how willingly he attempts to tame himself. Hissing, as his husband assumes position, he remembers to fish through his sleeve for the last of the oils they'd handily brought along, just in case — because they've become such wretched, lecherous old men, who cannot help claiming each other willy nilly on the open road.

But there is no time to uncap or pour it, no patience. Wei Ying is there, and Lan Wangji sits the jar in one hand, while the other hastens to draw down the rim of his husband's trousers — before he steps in, crowding and stifling Wei Ying against the wall, claiming him on each side.

Clumsily, he brings his arousal between the pretty roundness of his bride's cheeks, groaning out his pleasure when the shallow thrusts reward him with increments of friction. So hard, said Wei Ying. He knows nothing. )

Will you be just a sheath for me? Will that suffice?

[He presses his forehead against the wall, spreading his legs just enough to give Lan Zhan the room he needs to place himself. His breath hitches when Lan Zhan pushes against and then into him. This is something he’s expecting and has grown accustomed to, so he knows to keep his body relaxed while his husband moves deeper.]

Lan Zhan, I want everything you’ll give me. Does it feel good to be inside me? Don’t hold back.

[The only problem he has in this position is that it wouldn’t be easy for them to kiss. That’s always the problem when Lan Zhan takes him from behind. They’ll have to make up for the lost kisses when they’re finished.

He presses his fingertips into the grooves of stone in front of him as they move together. It stings at first and he feels too full. Moving helps, so that’s what he does.]

Ah, Lan-er-gege, you’re so good. I need you. Your hands, your touch, anything. Just, so good.

( The tightest noose of a fit, the start of sting. He hisses, half wincing, half combating the instinct to thrust in harder, deeper — before conceding and remembering enough of himself to pull out and coat with oil, haphazardly and far too liberally. It's wet as can be, boyishly so, inexpert. The slide back into the home of his husband's body is worthwhile.

For a moment, he lets himself breathe, punched and mean. Recovering. His front to Wei Ying's back, the sweat of their bodies stifling even in the settling chills of early evening. Summer is a strange sickness in Lotus Pier, at once feverish at midday and eerily sedate the moment the sun's removed itself.

One of his hands finds Wei Ying's on the wall, pressing down. The other glides tenderly toward his own groin, palming his arousal. )

You would not shut up. You would not be still. ( Something about the thought of Wei Ying's indecency, of their combined shamelessness, tainting the dignity of that establishment with their play, only spurs him on with hard, artless thrusts. )

[His hips buck towards their hands and he rewards Lan Zhan with a low moan, unmuffled. Their combined heat has him already starting to pant. Sandalwood, lake water, sweat. The smell of what could have been had Lan Zhan been able to visit Yunmeng in the past. He’ll enjoy it now twice as much.]

Lan Zhan, Hanguang-Jun, have mercy on your bride. If you keep this up, I’m going to finish before you do.

[He moves their hands back, working his way under his robes so he can have skin-to-skin contact. It doesn’t matter if it’s his own skin for both, because having Lan Zhan guiding his hand is just as erotic.]

You like it more when I talk. Aaah, but that’s the problem, isn’t it? You liked it too much.
I should have known you were into that sort of thing.

( He liked it too much, still likes it too well, hand mean and hard and unyielding when it settles on Wei Ying's length, when he tugs at him as if to overwhelm him. When he strokes him, milking out his pleasure, far too unforgiving at the base.

His lover enjoys him so, he will tell himself. At the very least, Wei Ying has never outright refused him — and some part of Lan Wangji is at times determined to test these limits to their bitter last. )

Shut up, before they find you. ( A risk significantly diminished by the settling evening hours, but all the same alive and thriving. This time, when he bites at Wei Ying's ear, it's in warning: do not shame us here.

Jiang Cheng, after all, will never let them live this down. )

[Between Lan Zhan’s hand taking over and the unyielding pace of Lan Zhan’s thrusts, Wei Wuxian starts to stutter between words, clearly more focused on their union. It overwhelms his senses, sharp hints of pleasure already starting to promise more.]

Make me. Y-You have your silencing spell. If I’m, ah! Making too much noise, you can use that on me.

[He only feels more encouraged to keep going. He’s taking a calculated risk. Sizhui hasn’t sent either of them notice that they’re coming back to town, so it’s not like they’ll be discovered by family. And if someone else happens upon them, they can bribe them to hold their tongue.

He shudders at the bite, moaning noisily by surprise instead of purposely goading Lan Zhan on. He pushes himself back, grinding his ass against Lan Zhan’s hips greedily. Just a little bit more and he twitches in Lan Zhan’s hand, his next moan catching in his throat. His spend is wasted on the wall in front of him.]

Lan Zhan, it’s too much. C-Can’t hold it back.

( Can't hold back, but Wei Ying's already released himself, shamelessly, incompetently undisciplined. Lan Wangji's instincts serve him enough to slap a hand on his lover's sweet mouth, while the other yet milks him.

Hard, harder. His pace animalistic, unyielding, merely a primitive beast rutting into his mate. His own release catches him with a rippling shudder, back aching, bones loose. His keen loses itself, reedy, against Wei Ying's nape.

He pulls his palm off Wei Ying's mouth, slips it to his chin and nudges his head to the side, crossing the distance to meet in a clumsy, wet kiss. Then, whipped on by the urgency of protecting their dignity, he finally pulls away from his husband's body, starting the work of fastening them back to the illusion of composure. As if anyone who glimpses the state of their rumpled silks won't yet know. )

Young master Wei is certainly shameless. ( But Lan Wangji sounds very much a cat content with his prey. )

[He keeps his forehead pressed to the stone, taking a few moments to recover while Lan Zhan continues to have his way with him. His orgasm sputters, coming in short waves but only producing a small amount of cum compared to their first time today, but it still feels euphoric. He keeps moving even after he’s finished, though his pace is more languid.

He doesn’t bother trying to hide his moans, though Lan Zhan’s palm dampens the noise. As soon as he gains his senses, he sloppily kisses and licks at Lan Zhan’s hand. His husband’s skin is pleasantly salty. His lips are even better.

He wants to enjoy this moment for longer, but they’re in a hurry to look presentable. It probably doesn’t help much, but he helps Lan Zhan put them in a more presentable state.]

I could say the same about Hanguang-Jun.

[He squirms around until he can turn to face his husband. He throws both arms around his shoulders and hangs half of his weight there. He wants to be held until he falls asleep, but that’s not for him to do just yet. Lan Zhan can’t blame him for his lethargy after being the one responsible for it.]

Mmmm, I needed that, Lan Zhan. You’re such a good husband to make sure your bride is satisfied. I’m going to need to change my robes before dinner, though.

[Not even he’s shameless enough to meet up with Jiang Cheng smelling of sex.]

( They look... inevitably ragged, guilty and not the littlest bit out of keeping with the pristine attire and composure that Gusu Lan's foremost disciples must embody. Truly, Uncle would have cause for disappointment.

Lan Wangji can't bring himself to care, only tipping down to collect his husband once they've returned back to a semblance of their composure, picking Wei Ying up in both arms to ferry him away and spare him the discomfort of straining his delicate feet. There is only so much elegant bridging of distance that Wei Ying can be expected to tolerate after such effort.

He feels euphoric, amorous, overly affectionate; fond. His gaze falls soft on Wei Ying, as he nuzzles his husband's cheek. )

What color tonight? ( Perhaps the purplish blues, to suit their host. )

[He nestles against Lan Zhan, rubbing their noses and cheeks together. His arms encircle his husband’s throat and he presses kisses along Lan Zhan’s delectable jawline and cheek.

He feels good. Not only is he satisfied in a carnal way, but also emotionally. He has his husband, his kids, his nephew, and his brother to welcome him into their arms. Figuratively, of course. He doubts Jiang Cheng will offer him a hug of all things. Life feels good.]

Haven’t thought about it. Help me pick something when we get back to the room?

[He sighs contentedly, not minding one bit that Lan Zhan is carrying him out in the open like he’s a damsel. They’re married and being carried around is one of the perks. Once they’re back on the main thoroughfare, people turn their heads to look their way. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be scandalizing any of the onlookers as of yet.]

You’re pleased with yourself. Hmm, guess I was the one who started it, so maybe I’m the one pleased with myself. I’d be more pleased if I had time to nap before getting ready for dinner.

( If they are to be spied, judged and found wanting — if anyone should dare think less of Wei Ying, after the discredit they have already done him once, finding fault with him for the sins of Nightless City — then Lan Wangji cares little, if anything for the weight of these opinions. He is hard pressed to bear them at all.

And so he illustrates that indifference, walking through the docks with his prize and paying the inevitable passers-by not a lick of their unearned attention, only nodding now and then to the cadence of his lover's tone. Here, a hum in acknowledgement. There, one of curiosity or wonder. For all he'll never eclipse his brother as an exemplary conversationalist, Lan Wangji is also learning. )

Perhaps wear the purple with a silver trim. ( A nod to both of Wei Ying's once and current allegiances. ) You may sleep, beloved. Yunmeng dines late.

( And Lan Wangji is still riding the highs of his impossible affection, determined to give his husband whatever he desires. )

[If Lan Zhan isn’t careful, the rocking motion of the ways he’s holding him will surely put Wei Wuxian down to sleep. Still, he tries to keep his eyes open and alert. He wants to sleep, but at the same time knows he’ll sleep past meal time if he’s given half a chance. He knows he’ll feel a little more lively once he’s washed and changed.]

Do you think it’ll be alright for me to wear Jiang colors?

[He second guesses the idea, thinking of how things stand with the Jiang clan currently. Jiang Cheng has accepted him as a guest, but how would he feel seeing him sporting purple after everything? Is it his place to do so? Would it be rubbing salt into the wounds of his broken promise?

He’d defected from the Jiang clan before things were damaged between the two of them. He’d made his choices. By going through with his actions, he showed the whole clan his back and went ahead with saving the Wen remnants.

His thoughts are spiraling and he clings to Lan Zhan for a brief moment while he wills himself back to calm.

Lan Zhan’s right. With how things stand now, wearing purple will be a statement that he supports the Jiang Clan, not that he is trying to establish his position of old.]

You’re right. I think I’ll wear that one. I just… I don’t want to insult him or anything. If he gives me a hard time with it, then I’ll know where I stand. And if he doesn’t, then maybe he really is healing from what I put him through.

( ...ah. He feels Wei Ying's withdrawal into himself, the body he occupies so boisterously suddenly small and fragile and weak, requiring Lan Wangji to shield him. With a deep sigh, he rounds his arms to bring Wei Ying even closer in, his heartbeat hopefully sweet enough to reassure his skittish bride.

To think they've come to a point of estrangement between two brothers that a choice of robes gives cause to despair. To think, too, that this is an improvement of relations. No, Lan Wangji cannot fathom such a turn of fraternal events. Zewu-Jun and he have never ruptured their love so deeply. )

Wei Ying. High-ranking visiting members oft don some part of the host colors to show solidarity and thank hospitality. ( Zewu-Jun is much more skilled in these matters than Lan Wangji, but even he knows the basics. ) We may both don some purple. Perhaps as a secondary color to the silver.

( A concession to Wei Ying's caution, making the white-silver their primary. )

[He feels fortified in Lan Zhan’s arms. Stronger, safer, loved for who he is and not for who he tries to be. He takes a deep breath in and sighs it out. Together, they’re stronger, but they won’t be together tonight. At least not until the late hours when Lan Zhan will already be sleeping or willing himself awake through his natural circadian rhythm.]

I know, you’re right. I’m overthinking things. I’ll wear the robes you mentioned first… but you’ll still wear a little purple with me, won’t you?

[He’ll likely wear purple or silver underclothes with it. Silver, most likely, since the robes themselves are more purple than silver.]

You won’t mind, either? I’m yours, body and soul, no matter what colors I’m wearing. If you wanted to see me in orange or green, I’d wear them just as proudly.

[He wears more white than he used to, but Lan Zhan and he both think it feels too morose for him. Most of the time, he just wears black or dark grey with either white or red underclothes depending on whether they’re at home or traveling. Lan Qiren never mentions wearing more white and he’s the one who is most invested in what others are doing or not doing.]

( Orange... and green. For all he would never discourage one of Wei Ying's initiatives, when he asks for so little, the suggestion draws a particularly sour downturn of his mouth, because the colors lack in harmony with Wei Ying's nature so completely that he is startled by the vision.

Still, he nods, despite himself. He will never not nod, never object, never put himself between Wei Ying and his apparently garish, eye-searing aspirations. His husband's will be done. )

I shall not mind. Your coloring suits all silks. ( No. Do not lie. And coughing, to the side: ) Perhaps less so, orange.

( Vile, unfortunate suggestion. The truly very worst. )

[It’s a good thing he doesn’t actually plan to go out and buy orange robes, but he can’t help but consider it just because of Lan Zhan’s reaction. After he’s finished laughing, he shakes his head and plants another kiss on Lan Zhan’s cheek.]

You don’t think I’d look good in orange? There goes my plans to seduce you with bright, vibrant plumage.

[He squeezes Lan Zhan a bit, then relaxes in his arms again. It doesn’t last long as he completely freezes when he hears barking coming from somewhere nearby. With a shriek, he practically climbs onto Lan Zhan’s shoulders.]

Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, don’t let it get me!

[One bad thing about being in Lotus Pier as opposed to Cloud Recesses is that pets are not only allowed, but sometimes they’re even encouraged.]

Scare it away!

( It happens within instants: one moment, Wei Ying is lethargic and sweet and molten in his arms, enjoying his rest. The next, he is clinging to Lan Wangji as if a cat climbing to shelter, and Wangji twists in a flurry of white silks, unwound and loose.

The... fierce and unyielding animal is a small dog that does not even reach Lan Wangji's knee, but mouthy. A mean little thing, all teeth, yap and yap and yapping — chased about by three children who follow closely in its footsteps, teasing it with treats and a fetch toy. The animal appears to think Wei Ying, in his haste to wave his hands, wants to play along.

No matter. Scare it away. Though Lan Wangji remains ever hesitant to harm a creature, he can remove both of them at a brisk pace, waving off the dog when it thinks to give chase and distracting it with a kick of nearby pebbles.

After, he dashes from one end of the docks to the next, murmuring attentively as he pushes Wei Ying's head into Wangji's collarbone and away from the gruesome sight of the bloodthirsting animal. )

Bear it, my love. Only a few heartbeats. We head to the Jiang courtyard. ( Truthfully, the dog is already far behind them. )

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