[If the elders say no. More sect politics. The very thought of it brings a tinge of red to Wei Wuxian's eyes, before he forces the resentful qi down. What's the use of having a sect leader when elders have final say? It's so insulting to Zewu-jun, who led the Lans so well during the war, having to deal with old bastards who can just deny everything he says if they don't like what he's putting forward.
He pushes that thought away, not wanting to give into pessimism-- if he and his refugees are denied, then he'll find another way. At the very least, Yuan will have a better future. But he wants to think that things will look up for him.
He squeezes Lan Zhan's hand, but finds that the contact is no longer enough , and splays himself all over his husband's lap.]
I will. As long as you're my husband and he's my son, I'll visit.
[Traveling between Yiling and Gusu on a regular basis will be difficult on him without a sword and he could get a horse or donkey, but he has no idea how to help an animal survive in the Burial Mounds. Maybe it can eat their extra radishes, but they need those radishes to sell and earn money.
As long as the sun rises in the east and sets westward. As long as Lan Wangji's hand, tremulous and artless at first, wades over the warm stretch of Wei Ying's forehead, when he assumes his position over Hanguang-Jun's lap.
One stroke, tender. The second, more measured. He has hardly learned affection, never perfected it; but he will not disappoint here and now, this only man who matters. His fingers are too callused for this, too harsh, too biting.
He breathes in and out, and he allows himself these scant, trickling seconds of enjoyment. )
[Despite all the trials and squabbles they've gone through to get here, Lan Zhan is surprisingly easy to please.
Words of assurance and the chance to touch... Very easy indeed.
Not like Wei Wuxian is any different, himself. He's happy to be here, basking in the attebtion of someone who adores him so, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of that large hand on his skin, despite everything that has happened between them. Despite his terrible reputation and the state of cultivator society.]
You may not have more to ask, but I do! I do!
[Without missing a beat or opening his eyes.]
When did your feeling start? I never noticed them!
( When did his feelings start? He feels, at time, as if he was born with an ache of longing in his hollowed chest, and it only pivoted its source. From his mother, to Wei Ying, the hurt continuous.
He cannot riddle the specifics. Cannot begin to think of himself as a transparent, knowable thing, when so often he is accused of opacity. In Wei Ying's hair, his fingers tangle, linger. )
...don't remember. ( A truth, however foolish. ) Perhaps a few months gone. A lifetime. I do not recall their absence.
( A love so powerful, so corrosive, it consumed his world. )
[He doesn't wholly understand what Lan Zhan is saying, but he thinks he gets the idea.
He just wonders though... who did Lan Zhan love before him? Or was it just him, and his love faded for a little bit? Perhaps Wei Wuxian was being particularly obnoxious at the time... Or perhaps that was during the early days of Sunshot, when he'd just emerged from the Burial Mounds. He wants to ask. But he doesn't want to, at the same time. He's just afraid of the answer and the feelings it would surely cause-- the same reason he doesn't tell Lan Zhan that he, too, likes him and genuinely sees him as his spouse.
Instead, Wei Wuxian soaks in Lan Zhan's touch, enjoying the feeling of something that he only ever remembers his shijie doing for him. Surely his mother did as well, but he doesn't remember. His husband's hands are a good deal thicker and rougher than Jiang Yanli's but good all the same.]
If it's tough for you to remember, that's fine. I'll just be flattered that you liked me even for that long. [Then he pats Lan Zhan's thigh.]
You should have told me though! Look at all that wasted time, when we could have been doing more things together. [Though he has no idea if that would have made a difference, when he left the guest lectures early, and he imagines that part to still be the same because he would still brawl Jin Zixuan for that awful mouth of his.]
( He murmurs it, as if it may be forgotten, yet the truth hangs: Wei Ying concedes to him, has wilted on his lap and is accepting of his attention, because he has no contender. No alternative.
The truth of his willingness is a different beast. Boredom, force and convenience have shaped his cordiality. Long-term interest, too, if the safety of either Yuan specifically or the Wen more generally can be secured.
And despite it all, Lan Wangji cannot fault him. Wei Ying has suffered far too long, to be begrudged any slyness, any weakness of character that might direct him to submit to his husband for his own gain. Let him have it. Let him have everything.
He strokes Wei Ying's hair and his forehead, and he cups his jaw, and he is content. )
[If he were a cat, he'd be purring right now. He stretches like one, arms above his head and arching over Lan Zhan's lap, before he opens his eyes and grins up at his husband.]
We can make up for lost time, right? [To do what, exactly? Wei Wuxian isn't sure himself. He just knows that they could have done more than bicker and fight these past few years, and he wants to do what these things are.]
You and me, and sometimes the baby. Perhaps babies.
( The baby. The babies. Not unexpectedly, and to Wei Ying's probable satisfaction, he flushes unseemingly, reduced to the worst of his juvenile sensitivity, his consummate shyness.
His hand stills, paralyzed in place by audacity alone. How dare he. Truly. Doesn't this Yunmeng wretch know he speaks to — ...his husband. In truth, he has the right. )
[Wei Wuxian grins-- with him now being allowed in Lan Zhan's close proximity any time he likes, he can watch his husband's face any time, and study his reactions. This shy look is cute. It makes Wei Wuxian want to tease him more.]
We'll plant a seed among the vegetables, of course! And if we want more, we just plant that child again.
[He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan on the cheek. His husband should stop being so cute if he wants Wei Wuxian to stop teasing him.
Of course he's well aware that this is not how people have children. He's read books and heard stories. He'd seen pregnant women all the time back before Lotus Pier fell, and he's sure that there are some now, as it's rebuilding. He's sure all the sects do by now. But they are both men, and neither of them have a womb. Adoption is the best they could hope for, unless something impossible happens.
A thought that he will have to tuck away for later.]
Lan Zhan, what are you thinking, hm? Something naughty? [Asking that takes a lot of courage out of him, because he's never done that, and so far, outside of a few heated kisses, their marriage has been quite... chaste.]
( Naughty. As if he knows how, as if it might ever be permitted. He knows, they both know, they have ever been different creatures, frailed by their breeding. Lan Wangji's has never prioritized worldly, carnal pleasures.
And so he finds himself... lacking. A likely discouraging prospect, his failure as a groom. Had they enjoyed a proper matchmaking, Wei Ying's representatives might have called Lan Wangji's qualifications in bedplay under question.
But they have never enjoyed such scrutiny over their suitability. He must acknowledge it now, flushing, gaze descended, fingers straying away from Wei Ying to fold gently at his sides. )
It... is not a requirement. For me. ( He will not force his wants on Wei Ying, certainly not while also lacking skill. If Wei Ying only wishes them to be as friends, it can be permitted. )
[He keeps his eyes on Lan Zhan's face, before reaching for his hand again. He contents himself with gentle taps along Lan Zhan's wrist, over his pulse.]
You don't want to try, with me? [He won't force Lan Zhan, though. And even if he's a curious creature who wants to feel what it's like, even once, he supposes he can live with celibacy if the one person he wants to do it with has no interest.
He's not actually sure if he's ready right now. But he's saying this anyway because he thinks he should let Lan Zhan know.]
( A simple conclusion. He wants Wei Ying, desires him. Has certainly aligned himself with the possibility of consummation, should their roles ever progress to equality. But now, when he holds Wei Ying's freedom in his hand, his future and his fortunes?
It would be an unequal thing, entirely unfair, a burden. Likely, also, unwanted. He dares not. )
We have barrelled through courtship. ( Hardly undertaken the rites, barely performed a wedding. Even Lan Wangji must recognize they have been sorely lacking, for all his enthusiasm has removed his instinct to obey the forms. )
( Let's. As if it's a simple thing, immediate. As if there is no forethought that might burden their enterprise or delay it, as if Lan Wangji needn't —
...think. He must think. Surely, surely. He must plan, make this worthwhile, enticing, a spectacle. He watches his hand, captive in Wei Ying's, and tugs on sheer instinct of introducing distance between them, of shielding his inadequacy.
There is a pause, a moment of recalibration. Then, he recites: )
Since I finally see the young man, how can I be not happy? ( A tender proposition. )
[Wei Wuxian wonders what Lan Zhan will do, but then he hears that short line of poetry, and he can't help but gasp, placing his hands on his chest like a young lady of the gentry. He's already lying down, so he can't keel over and pretend to swoon, unfortunately. But he can still act.
Not that it's any act. He's genuinely pleased at the line coming from his husband's mouth, even if it's quite simple. Lan Zhan likes poems! He likes sappy little love poems! That's cute.]
Poetry, for me? Wonderful poetry?
Aiya, you have already given me two things! Now I have to think of gifts to reciprocate with. [That won't be easy, what with his lack of money.]
( Wonderful, says Wei Ying, and any other day Lan Wangji might question the sincerity of his exuberance. But he's so openly charmed, so at ease, so complimentary —
...that even Lan Wangji, cheeks flush and gaze wandered, lets himself bask in the possibility. He should learn better, finer, proper verse. He will speak it, as sophisticated lovers do, to win his bride's heart. )
But Wei Wuxian can't be satisfied with just that. Wei Wuxian and Yuan are his gifts? Come now, he's given poetry and a pretty hair comb, why would Wei Wuxian not reciprocate? They're courting, it's only right.
Wei Wuxian sits up and places his chin on Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
Come on, Lan-er-gege, I want to give you something too. You got me when we married, and Yuan-er was part of marrying me as my son. I should be giving you something!
( So sweet, so very sweet, a picture. Better than Lan Wangji might have imagined, grounded despite his recent excesses and the great tidal anger that so often stormed him during the Sunshot campaign.
There is hope for Wei Ying, still, despite his necromancy. He is certain of this little. He must be.
And, murmuring, he answers his spouse's plea, tipping his head to cover the crown of Wei Ying's, accepting his proximity. )
Your mouth, freely. ( As often, as little, as flimsily or daringly as Wei Ying might choose to. Only the pleasure of knowing Lan Wangji is not only permitted, but invited. That the rejection of Phoenix Mountain is long banished. )
[Wei Wuxian's mischievous smile turns softer, but is no less bright. It's more warm, affectionate, and pleased with the innocent request from Lan Zhan, even if his words could be misconstrued as something more salacious. Wei Wuxian knows better thanks to admissions from Lan Zhan's own mouth, and chooses not to tease him for this.
Instead, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Lan Zhan's cheek.]
Yes. [Simple, easy permission given.] You want it now?
( Yes. And may he ask? Should he? There is a disquiet in him, a fear that he pushes Wei Ying past his natural comfort. That he takes advantage, a man raised and kept at a certain station through happenstance of birthright.
But the print of Wei Ying's mouth still burns his cheek, and Wei Ying's fresh scent, so naturally mixed with the house's sandalwood, overwhelms him. He nods, and he leans in first, drawing himself into Wei Ying's orbit.
Silly Lan Zhan. [He grins, pressing their foreheads together.] I'm already here.
[With their bodies pressed up like this, the only way he can come to Lan Zhan is if he is right in the man's lap. But he's already been there before, so why be so shy?
So he just swings his whole body into Lan Zhan's lap, legs bracketing Lan Zhan's waist, arouns around his shoulders. Shameless and enthusiastic.]
( They are too close for courtesy, perhaps even for comfort. Wei Ying straddles his lap and holds onto him as if he weren't an enemy, or an overlooked friend, or a dullard scion of Cloud Recesses.
Their hands bind together. Their foreheads knock. When he initiates the kiss, it isn't bashful or unassuming, it isn't heated, but faintly, knowingly patient. He has time. He will always have time, now they are married.
Their lips press faintly, their tongues intersect. He absorbs all that this man is. )
[It's not the soft, chaste kisses they've shared before, nor is it the heated, passionate sessions that never fail to take his breath away. To Wei Wuxian, it feels more like a greeting and acknowledgement, a companion to what their words are saying.
Here I am.
You are indeed here.
When Lan Zhan releases his mouth, Wei Wuxian proceeds to pepper kisses all over his husband's face. Forehead, brow, cheekbones, even nose. Learning his face with his mouth.]
I will be here for as long as I can. And if I have to go, I will always come back.
[A promise and a wish in one. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he'll always try to return to Lan Zhan's side.]
But he can't call the lie, can't name Wei Ying a traitor. Watches him with the mournful awareness of every man who's known winter will once again come, who can depend on nothing, on no one.
And he weathers the storm of his... husband's affection with strange, straining impunity. He nods, unbidden. Accepts it has come now, it will go some time after. Next he initiates a kiss, it's to Wei Ying's brow, firm. )
Ah, so you want me to show with my actions instead? [So picky! So fussy!
So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He pushes that thought away, not wanting to give into pessimism-- if he and his refugees are denied, then he'll find another way. At the very least, Yuan will have a better future. But he wants to think that things will look up for him.
He squeezes Lan Zhan's hand, but finds that the contact is no longer enough , and splays himself all over his husband's lap.]
I will. As long as you're my husband and he's my son, I'll visit.
[Traveling between Yiling and Gusu on a regular basis will be difficult on him without a sword and he could get a horse or donkey, but he has no idea how to help an animal survive in the Burial Mounds. Maybe it can eat their extra radishes, but they need those radishes to sell and earn money.
He'll think of something.]
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As long as the sun rises in the east and sets westward. As long as Lan Wangji's hand, tremulous and artless at first, wades over the warm stretch of Wei Ying's forehead, when he assumes his position over Hanguang-Jun's lap.
One stroke, tender. The second, more measured. He has hardly learned affection, never perfected it; but he will not disappoint here and now, this only man who matters. His fingers are too callused for this, too harsh, too biting.
He breathes in and out, and he allows himself these scant, trickling seconds of enjoyment. )
Then, I ask no more of you.
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Words of assurance and the chance to touch... Very easy indeed.
Not like Wei Wuxian is any different, himself. He's happy to be here, basking in the attebtion of someone who adores him so, closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of that large hand on his skin, despite everything that has happened between them. Despite his terrible reputation and the state of cultivator society.]
You may not have more to ask, but I do! I do!
[Without missing a beat or opening his eyes.]
When did your feeling start? I never noticed them!
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He cannot riddle the specifics. Cannot begin to think of himself as a transparent, knowable thing, when so often he is accused of opacity. In Wei Ying's hair, his fingers tangle, linger. )
...don't remember. ( A truth, however foolish. ) Perhaps a few months gone. A lifetime. I do not recall their absence.
( A love so powerful, so corrosive, it consumed his world. )
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He just wonders though... who did Lan Zhan love before him? Or was it just him, and his love faded for a little bit? Perhaps Wei Wuxian was being particularly obnoxious at the time... Or perhaps that was during the early days of Sunshot, when he'd just emerged from the Burial Mounds. He wants to ask. But he doesn't want to, at the same time. He's just afraid of the answer and the feelings it would surely cause-- the same reason he doesn't tell Lan Zhan that he, too, likes him and genuinely sees him as his spouse.
Instead, Wei Wuxian soaks in Lan Zhan's touch, enjoying the feeling of something that he only ever remembers his shijie doing for him. Surely his mother did as well, but he doesn't remember. His husband's hands are a good deal thicker and rougher than Jiang Yanli's but good all the same.]
If it's tough for you to remember, that's fine. I'll just be flattered that you liked me even for that long. [Then he pats Lan Zhan's thigh.]
You should have told me though! Look at all that wasted time, when we could have been doing more things together. [Though he has no idea if that would have made a difference, when he left the guest lectures early, and he imagines that part to still be the same because he would still brawl Jin Zixuan for that awful mouth of his.]
no subject
( He murmurs it, as if it may be forgotten, yet the truth hangs: Wei Ying concedes to him, has wilted on his lap and is accepting of his attention, because he has no contender. No alternative.
The truth of his willingness is a different beast. Boredom, force and convenience have shaped his cordiality. Long-term interest, too, if the safety of either Yuan specifically or the Wen more generally can be secured.
And despite it all, Lan Wangji cannot fault him. Wei Ying has suffered far too long, to be begrudged any slyness, any weakness of character that might direct him to submit to his husband for his own gain. Let him have it. Let him have everything.
He strokes Wei Ying's hair and his forehead, and he cups his jaw, and he is content. )
We have the time.
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We can make up for lost time, right? [To do what, exactly? Wei Wuxian isn't sure himself. He just knows that they could have done more than bicker and fight these past few years, and he wants to do what these things are.]
You and me, and sometimes the baby. Perhaps babies.
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His hand stills, paralyzed in place by audacity alone. How dare he. Truly. Doesn't this Yunmeng wretch know he speaks to — ...his husband. In truth, he has the right. )
How will you make more children?
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We'll plant a seed among the vegetables, of course! And if we want more, we just plant that child again.
[He reaches up and pats Lan Zhan on the cheek. His husband should stop being so cute if he wants Wei Wuxian to stop teasing him.
Of course he's well aware that this is not how people have children. He's read books and heard stories. He'd seen pregnant women all the time back before Lotus Pier fell, and he's sure that there are some now, as it's rebuilding. He's sure all the sects do by now. But they are both men, and neither of them have a womb. Adoption is the best they could hope for, unless something impossible happens.
A thought that he will have to tuck away for later.]
Lan Zhan, what are you thinking, hm? Something naughty? [Asking that takes a lot of courage out of him, because he's never done that, and so far, outside of a few heated kisses, their marriage has been quite... chaste.]
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And so he finds himself... lacking. A likely discouraging prospect, his failure as a groom. Had they enjoyed a proper matchmaking, Wei Ying's representatives might have called Lan Wangji's qualifications in bedplay under question.
But they have never enjoyed such scrutiny over their suitability. He must acknowledge it now, flushing, gaze descended, fingers straying away from Wei Ying to fold gently at his sides. )
It... is not a requirement. For me. ( He will not force his wants on Wei Ying, certainly not while also lacking skill. If Wei Ying only wishes them to be as friends, it can be permitted. )
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[He keeps his eyes on Lan Zhan's face, before reaching for his hand again. He contents himself with gentle taps along Lan Zhan's wrist, over his pulse.]
You don't want to try, with me? [He won't force Lan Zhan, though. And even if he's a curious creature who wants to feel what it's like, even once, he supposes he can live with celibacy if the one person he wants to do it with has no interest.
He's not actually sure if he's ready right now. But he's saying this anyway because he thinks he should let Lan Zhan know.]
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( A simple conclusion. He wants Wei Ying, desires him. Has certainly aligned himself with the possibility of consummation, should their roles ever progress to equality. But now, when he holds Wei Ying's freedom in his hand, his future and his fortunes?
It would be an unequal thing, entirely unfair, a burden. Likely, also, unwanted. He dares not. )
We have barrelled through courtship. ( Hardly undertaken the rites, barely performed a wedding. Even Lan Wangji must recognize they have been sorely lacking, for all his enthusiasm has removed his instinct to obey the forms. )
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[And, because he can and because he really, really wants to:]
We have all the time now, don't we? Let's do some courting.
[They're doing this all backwards. First a child, then marriage. What's one more on the list?]
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...think. He must think. Surely, surely. He must plan, make this worthwhile, enticing, a spectacle. He watches his hand, captive in Wei Ying's, and tugs on sheer instinct of introducing distance between them, of shielding his inadequacy.
There is a pause, a moment of recalibration. Then, he recites: )
Since I finally see the young man, how can I be not happy? ( A tender proposition. )
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Not that it's any act. He's genuinely pleased at the line coming from his husband's mouth, even if it's quite simple. Lan Zhan likes poems! He likes sappy little love poems! That's cute.]
Poetry, for me? Wonderful poetry?
Aiya, you have already given me two things! Now I have to think of gifts to reciprocate with. [That won't be easy, what with his lack of money.]
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...that even Lan Wangji, cheeks flush and gaze wandered, lets himself bask in the possibility. He should learn better, finer, proper verse. He will speak it, as sophisticated lovers do, to win his bride's heart. )
Wei Ying's presence is my gift. My child.
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But Wei Wuxian can't be satisfied with just that. Wei Wuxian and Yuan are his gifts? Come now, he's given poetry and a pretty hair comb, why would Wei Wuxian not reciprocate? They're courting, it's only right.
Wei Wuxian sits up and places his chin on Lan Zhan's shoulder.]
Come on, Lan-er-gege, I want to give you something too. You got me when we married, and Yuan-er was part of marrying me as my son. I should be giving you something!
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There is hope for Wei Ying, still, despite his necromancy. He is certain of this little. He must be.
And, murmuring, he answers his spouse's plea, tipping his head to cover the crown of Wei Ying's, accepting his proximity. )
Your mouth, freely. ( As often, as little, as flimsily or daringly as Wei Ying might choose to. Only the pleasure of knowing Lan Wangji is not only permitted, but invited. That the rejection of Phoenix Mountain is long banished. )
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Instead, he turns his head and presses a kiss to Lan Zhan's cheek.]
Yes. [Simple, easy permission given.] You want it now?
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But the print of Wei Ying's mouth still burns his cheek, and Wei Ying's fresh scent, so naturally mixed with the house's sandalwood, overwhelms him. He nods, and he leans in first, drawing himself into Wei Ying's orbit.
Pretty. Pretty man, pretty token. )
Come here.
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[With their bodies pressed up like this, the only way he can come to Lan Zhan is if he is right in the man's lap. But he's already been there before, so why be so shy?
So he just swings his whole body into Lan Zhan's lap, legs bracketing Lan Zhan's waist, arouns around his shoulders. Shameless and enthusiastic.]
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Their hands bind together. Their foreheads knock. When he initiates the kiss, it isn't bashful or unassuming, it isn't heated, but faintly, knowingly patient. He has time. He will always have time, now they are married.
Their lips press faintly, their tongues intersect. He absorbs all that this man is. )
Yes. You are here.
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Here I am.
You are indeed here.
When Lan Zhan releases his mouth, Wei Wuxian proceeds to pepper kisses all over his husband's face. Forehead, brow, cheekbones, even nose. Learning his face with his mouth.]
I will be here for as long as I can. And if I have to go, I will always come back.
[A promise and a wish in one. He doesn't know what the future holds, but he'll always try to return to Lan Zhan's side.]
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But he can't call the lie, can't name Wei Ying a traitor. Watches him with the mournful awareness of every man who's known winter will once again come, who can depend on nothing, on no one.
And he weathers the storm of his... husband's affection with strange, straining impunity. He nods, unbidden. Accepts it has come now, it will go some time after. Next he initiates a kiss, it's to Wei Ying's brow, firm. )
Words are simple.
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So endearing.
He taps at his chin as if thinking about it, even if he doesn't actually need to. Lan Zhan's demands are good enough for him, because he feels his skin crawl every time he says something sappy or soft, he needs some levity.
He kisses his way along Lan Zhan's jawline until he reaches his husband's mouth, and offers himself freely, parting his lips.]
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