Ohh. For talismans, you mean? [As if brushing the apology away-- no need for it, after all. Yuan could do with more exposure to the outside, and more time with his little friends.]
Aiya, I wish I could have been there, I have so many talismans in the middle of development, I could have helped oversee the children. [Though he highly prefers teaching the little ones rather than helping someone else do so. Not that anyone would allow him to do so around here, even if it's something he's uniquely qualified in, such as talismans.]
Perhaps one day, I won't be chased away from the classroom.
( Though they both know the truth of it: Wei Ying's unparalleled mastery will want the closely scrutinized vetting of the school's entire spate of masters, before he is permitted. Once, Cloud Recesses commanded a tutoring fee for its instruction. Even past concerns over Wei Ying's orthodox, what's at stake is the reputation of Gusu Lan.
He could rise to that standard, Lan Wangji anticipates, just as the great, the infallible, the far too dignified Hanguang-Jun now learns husbandry duties, all in preparation to attend to the family he hopes to retain. Even now, he is slowly but carefully piling away the bowls and readying the treys for collection. )
Yes, yes. Today is not for work. [There's one more line he could say, but there's no need to, is there?]
I'll go get washed. [He stands with some difficulty, his limbs having gone soft and sleepy after the meal. Nevertheless, he manages to give Lan Zhan a coy look through his eyelashes, trying to seem seductive. As if he knows how to do so, and has practice in it instead of just reading naughty books.] I'm sure my husband would want this one clean.
[And he wants to at least make a good impression, which means cleaning and grooming the broom he calls hair.]
( Not for work, though courtesans might disagree. Certainly, however, they have yet to reach that proficiency of service. And will they? Can they? He hopes he will neither shame himself, nor put Wei Ying off the experience. They've only the one chance.
He nods, stiffly, overcome with the start of doubt, of nerves. Perhaps they should have delayed longer, bidden their time until they'd consulted more scrolls, healers, elders. Surely... surely, they should not be venturing into passion without —
His mouth is dry, gaze distant. He shudders. )
Wei Ying. Perhaps... if we require more time. We need not hasten.
[That comes from the hallway, Wei Wuxian not returning to the room yet. He's not going to either, because he really does need a bath. And even if Lan Zhan doesn't want to do anything with him right now, he can keep his appearance until night. Maybe.]
Do you want to put it off until tonight? [You, not us. He's quite ready, he thinks. Maybe.
At least he's not taking this as a slight against him, like the previous times Lan Zhan started something only to take several steps back.]
( To put it off. Will it help, will it hinder? Certainly, the butterflies in his stomach won't be dispelled, he suspects, until the deed is done. Until, as with his debut with sword flight or in duels, he has attempted the art with his two hands.
But will waiting truly improve his odds of success? Or will rushing in condemn Wei Ying to potential sickness or wounding, as a result of Lan Wangji's manhandling?
He hesitates, discomfort with conversing on such a matter never more clear than when his gaze lands and lingers on the hard floor, without trailing after his husband. )
[Oh, his poor husband, suffering from his own imagination. Wei Wuxian won't lie, he has some concerns too, like, well. He's clearly not a woman so it might be tough for him, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to try. But clearly, Lan Zhan's worries are stronger.]
Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. Don't worry about the mights and the maybes.
It will be our first time, why expect it to be perfect immediately?
( Because the thought of failing Wei Ying, of not meeting his wants and needs, is ruinous. Because it aches him, this need to be more, better, complete.
He cannot offer Wei Ying anything less than perfection. It would damn him, damn them, destroy them in parts and whole. Imagine: if Wei Ying were so put off by this singular experience that he never wanted to partake of it again. Would Lan Wangji bear it? He suspects, no matter their inexperience, he will enjoy owning this intimacy with his husband. )
Dear, dear husband. You're worrying about something that might not come to pass. We're both so new to this! We haven't learned anything yet! Why expect perfection?
[Such lofty words from someone who has gotten high marks in all of his classes... but this is not class and they're not being graded on their performance in bed. He thinks people would lose their minds if such a thing was available, anyway.]
Besides, if you fuck the way you kiss, I think you'll do just fine. [Using vulgar words to shock Lan Zhan? Yes. But also, why use any euphemisms?]
( The word. That word. Certainly, no elegance, no euphemism, not even the crudest of poetic lines. Really. This creature knows nothing of style, even if they are dressing the most base of substances. )
Wei Wuxian.
( He flushes, and it's a deep thing, burning. He flushes, and it's partly born of the understanding that Wei Ying thinks... positively of their kissing experiences so far. Ah.
Yes. Yes, he too has enjoyed this. And perhaps, if they navigate the next step in their union with equal enthusiasm, they can overcome their lack of refinement. )
[He lets out an ugly cackle in response-- he definitely accomplished what he set out to do when he said that word. Now Lan Zhan is all riled up, which is a step above worrying about sex and his performance as a virgin.]
Sorry Lan Zhan, but I still have to get clean! [And he starts running towards the bathing area. Hopefully the water is still warm.]
( Was it not this man, this terrible person, this fiend, this cunning monster, who said, not one day gone, that he wished for Lan Wangji to cease his teasing? And now, what does he do?
Ah, but Wei Ying is the antithesis of consistency, a creature made entirely tame only by wine-brokered lethargy. Now, Lan Wangji may only watch him disappear, scowl deepened, intent to hiss and tell him not to bother returning —
Before he's out of the room completely, and oh, Lan Wangji can't help himself. A smile dampens the line of his lips, teasing. Happily, wholly unseen. )
[Wei Wuxian wants to say something to that, but that would delay his bath, and in turn delay him seeing Lan Zhan again. It might make even the patient Hanguang-jun impatient, and no one wants that.
... Except perhaps his incorrigible husband. Though he can explore that later. Right now, he wants to stick to his original plan, as basic as it is.
So all he does is laugh even more as he disrobes.
He scrubs himself hard to get clean quicker, giving more attention to his hair and his, well, parts between the legs, before he dresses in a single layer and heads immediately to Lan Zhan's vanity to groom himself more. Primp and preen, and oil his hair. Make it sleek and shiny rather than dry and near-brittle.
This is how he chooses to appear in front of Lan Zhan. Hair oiled and loosely braided, and only in one layer of soft blue robes he snatched from his husband's wardrobe. And then he raises an eyebrow, waiting for his response.]
No compliment for the healthy sheen of his flushed skin, the rich dark of his tresses, the bright wild white of his eyes. Not the plush of his mouth or the graceful descent of his limbs, or the narrowness of his hips and his dainty waist, and how Lan Wangji watches him, watches everything — hungry.
He has never wanted as he wants this man.
Hardly so strange, then, that he falls in their tired habits of stifling his desire, gaze turning away. )
Wei Ying pleases every eye. ( He cannot lie, but he can at least not give Wei Ying too much satisfaction. He will not preen. ) He knows so.
[He preens, of course, knowing that he's still somewhat attractive. He used to be insufferable over being one of the most eligible young masters, even if that list makes him laugh.
Though Wei Wuxian would never ever welcome any overture that isn't his husband's. Perhaps if he wasn't married he'd have continued to flirt with anyone without caring, but he has Lan Zhan.
He takes that seriously and has no interest in playing with jealousy like in the books.]
But I want compliments and attention from only one man. [He beckons with one quick motion of the hand.] Come here, Lan Zhan.
( Did I not call upon you first? Should it not be the blushing, demure bride, who glides toward her husband?
But this is no true submissive spouse, and Lan Wangji has ever been enthralled, finding himself on his feet and navigating the room before he has even solidified his thoughts. He is beautiful, his Wei Ying, his Wei Ying, his Wei Ying. Beautiful and charming and strong, in ways Lan Wangji wants to promote and prosper, sooner than dim and contain.
He inches closer, hand out in soft invitation, begging permission to touch. To claim. )
[Wei Wuxian reaches out in kind, tangling his fingers around Lan Zhan's and using their connection to anchor him, to pull himself towards his husband. When they're close enough, he leans his whole weight against Lan Zhan, secure in the knowledge that the man won't stumble or fall. His Lan Zhan is strong and solid, like a rock. A wall. A tree he can rest under when the sun is too bright, and a trunk he can lean against when he needs a breather.
No hesitation when he presses their foreheads together either, smiling as he closes his eyes.]
I want my husband to have me. [Now he acts demure, a bride waiting for the husband to make the first move.]
May all of Wei Ying's wishes be this simple, this gentle. May Lan Wangji be allowed to meet them, one and all. Their foreheads brush together, and his breath's stolen, his eyes shutter. He dips in, and he inhales the scent of Wei Ying and his own sandalwood oils combined, and it's inevitable, isn't it?
Their first kiss, the second, how their lips press hungry, how Lan Wangji's hands walk his flank and lower back. The hour's unsuitable, bright light of not-yet-midday, the sun awake to see them. There can be no question, no conceit of modesty.
He kisses and kisses and kisses this man, and when he starts to peel the silks off Wei Ying's shoulder, it is a known and certain and unquestioning thing. )
[Just as Lan Zhan asked of him before, Wei Wuxian offers up his mouth easily. Happily, even, the kisses eventually starting to tease out soft moans from him as they go on. Lan Zhan definitely kisses like he's ready, and that's how he knows they will be fine.
His hands find the front of Lan Zhan's robes, fisting into the topmost layer and hanging on for dear life as he kisses back to the best of his ability, though with every meeting of their lips, just a bit more of his sense is being stolen away. Lan Zhan is just that good at this.]
Let me feel you too, Lan Zhan. [He digs his fingers under Lan Zhan's layers. Five. Five! It's only proper for a cultivator to wear that many layers, but it's terrible for anyone to deal with in the middle of passion.]
( He laughs, light, brittle. As if he can't help himself, as his layers are shed, one by one by one by one &mdashs; until there is but the last one, clinging, and Lan Wangji recalls the vestiges of his modesty. Perhaps not here, surely.
He peels away from Wei Ying with a begrudging, torn moan, distracted and distraught, overwhelmed. Sweetheart. )
The windows.
( They can be seen, he suspects — by the precisely no people with work or a path beside the heavily isolated quarters of Hanguang-Jun. One demerit, he thinks, of doing... this in daylight.
Tenderly, he reaches for Wei Ying's hand, drawing him invitingly where their bed lies, still ruffled. One day, he will treat his husband to the proper courtship experience, to a bridal night festooned with all the frills, to foods of longevity and fortune, and a well-made bed. )
[He doesn't believe Lan Zhan's protests one bit. Not when he's walked from and towards this house so many times in the past days, he knows how isolated they are. Besides, no one is going to come up to Hanguang-jun without good reason, and usually only when bidden.
But Wei Wuxian allows the protest for now, when Lan Zhan promptly distracts him by bringing him to bed. A bed that he's gotten quite comfortable with over the past few nights, still unmade even if the warm spots left by their bodies are long gone by now. Still, he readily splays himself all over the sheets, looking up at Lan Zhan and his single layer of underwear.
Reaches up, hooking a finger underneath Lan Zhan's lapel, and tugs.]
( He goes willing, falling with his knee first to anchor, to leave him bravely upright while the siren, his spouse, calls on. Wei Ying sprawls, artful in ways that pull up Lan Wangji's brows, question unbidden: Who else?
Only, he knows better, truer. Trailing down,a leg each side of Wei Ying's preciously displayed body, he leans in. His mouth finds Wei Ying's shoulder first, then his hand, peeling off silk. And he chases the roundness of the bone, drags his teeth and has his revenge for every mean thing hus husband has ever said, every taunt and remark — raking his teeth down. )
Delicious. ( He is not a beast to bite, nor a Buddha to refuse him. )
[One could probably luxuriate in Lan Zhan's touch forever and never tire of it. Wei Wuxian could, and he's likely the only one who ever will, because this is his husband and no one else's, he's likely to break anyone who even tries to take him away. Perhaps Lan Zhan feels the same, with the way he's giving him attention. His calloused hands. Those teeth.
If Lan Zhan's teeth feel like that on his shoulder, what would they feel like elsewhere?]
Aiya, you want to eat me? My husband hasn't eaten his breakfast yet? Has he been neglecting himself? [His rapid-fire pace would be more of his usual airy, flippant way if it weren't for how he's so breathless, stolen from him by his own husband.] Sorry, Lan Zhan! I don't have a lot of meat on my bones!
[Still, he wraps a hand behind Lan Zhan's neck, as if to encourage him to keep going.]
( His breakfast. Yes. His first, foremost and last meal. He should be allowed this, to consume Wei Ying into himself and ensure they can never be parted. His husband is soft and strange and yielding. He wants more.
And it is Lan Wangji's marital duty to give it. He bites in, hards, mean, teeth catching on skin, rattling it until he knows it's reddened to a point that will later bloom into bruising. And yet, he never breaks skin. Warm, the shy tip of his tongue laps the wound, kitten-like.
He shifts, peeling Wei Ying's silks off his shoulders, down his arms. More intelligently, he should be parting these waters and releasing him completely, but he is — impatient. Cunning. Instead, he drags his fingertips, dancing them down Wei Ying's flank, slipping under the rim of his trousers.
Ah! [How brutish. And yet it also sends excitement racing down Wei Wuxian's bones, makes him pull his robes apart in contrast to Lan Zhan pushing them down, making the belt unravel itself under the two forces. He's almost completely bare now.
Is this what all that Lan restraint, constraint, and discipline creates? An absolute beast with the expressiveness of a rock? It's surprising that word hasn't gotten out about this, there would be chaos in the streets, people looking to have a Lan lover not for their beauty but for their ardor.]
Is this enough for you, er-gege? Or you want more of me, naked on your bed?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Aiya, I wish I could have been there, I have so many talismans in the middle of development, I could have helped oversee the children. [Though he highly prefers teaching the little ones rather than helping someone else do so. Not that anyone would allow him to do so around here, even if it's something he's uniquely qualified in, such as talismans.]
Perhaps one day, I won't be chased away from the classroom.
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( Though they both know the truth of it: Wei Ying's unparalleled mastery will want the closely scrutinized vetting of the school's entire spate of masters, before he is permitted. Once, Cloud Recesses commanded a tutoring fee for its instruction. Even past concerns over Wei Ying's orthodox, what's at stake is the reputation of Gusu Lan.
He could rise to that standard, Lan Wangji anticipates, just as the great, the infallible, the far too dignified Hanguang-Jun now learns husbandry duties, all in preparation to attend to the family he hopes to retain. Even now, he is slowly but carefully piling away the bowls and readying the treys for collection. )
Give them less thought.
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I'll go get washed. [He stands with some difficulty, his limbs having gone soft and sleepy after the meal. Nevertheless, he manages to give Lan Zhan a coy look through his eyelashes, trying to seem seductive. As if he knows how to do so, and has practice in it instead of just reading naughty books.] I'm sure my husband would want this one clean.
[And he wants to at least make a good impression, which means cleaning and grooming the broom he calls hair.]
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He nods, stiffly, overcome with the start of doubt, of nerves. Perhaps they should have delayed longer, bidden their time until they'd consulted more scrolls, healers, elders. Surely... surely, they should not be venturing into passion without —
His mouth is dry, gaze distant. He shudders. )
Wei Ying. Perhaps... if we require more time. We need not hasten.
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[That comes from the hallway, Wei Wuxian not returning to the room yet. He's not going to either, because he really does need a bath. And even if Lan Zhan doesn't want to do anything with him right now, he can keep his appearance until night. Maybe.]
Do you want to put it off until tonight? [You, not us. He's quite ready, he thinks. Maybe.
At least he's not taking this as a slight against him, like the previous times Lan Zhan started something only to take several steps back.]
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But will waiting truly improve his odds of success? Or will rushing in condemn Wei Ying to potential sickness or wounding, as a result of Lan Wangji's manhandling?
He hesitates, discomfort with conversing on such a matter never more clear than when his gaze lands and lingers on the hard floor, without trailing after his husband. )
I fear your injury. Or your — dissatisfaction.
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Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. Don't worry about the mights and the maybes.
It will be our first time, why expect it to be perfect immediately?
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( Because the thought of failing Wei Ying, of not meeting his wants and needs, is ruinous. Because it aches him, this need to be more, better, complete.
He cannot offer Wei Ying anything less than perfection. It would damn him, damn them, destroy them in parts and whole. Imagine: if Wei Ying were so put off by this singular experience that he never wanted to partake of it again. Would Lan Wangji bear it? He suspects, no matter their inexperience, he will enjoy owning this intimacy with his husband. )
And if you are disappointed?
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[Such lofty words from someone who has gotten high marks in all of his classes... but this is not class and they're not being graded on their performance in bed. He thinks people would lose their minds if such a thing was available, anyway.]
Besides, if you fuck the way you kiss, I think you'll do just fine. [Using vulgar words to shock Lan Zhan? Yes. But also, why use any euphemisms?]
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Wei Wuxian.
( He flushes, and it's a deep thing, burning. He flushes, and it's partly born of the understanding that Wei Ying thinks... positively of their kissing experiences so far. Ah.
Yes. Yes, he too has enjoyed this. And perhaps, if they navigate the next step in their union with equal enthusiasm, they can overcome their lack of refinement. )
...come here.
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Sorry Lan Zhan, but I still have to get clean! [And he starts running towards the bathing area. Hopefully the water is still warm.]
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Ah, but Wei Ying is the antithesis of consistency, a creature made entirely tame only by wine-brokered lethargy. Now, Lan Wangji may only watch him disappear, scowl deepened, intent to hiss and tell him not to bother returning —
Before he's out of the room completely, and oh, Lan Wangji can't help himself. A smile dampens the line of his lips, teasing. Happily, wholly unseen. )
See that you are not lost on your way.
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... Except perhaps his incorrigible husband. Though he can explore that later. Right now, he wants to stick to his original plan, as basic as it is.
So all he does is laugh even more as he disrobes.
He scrubs himself hard to get clean quicker, giving more attention to his hair and his, well, parts between the legs, before he dresses in a single layer and heads immediately to Lan Zhan's vanity to groom himself more. Primp and preen, and oil his hair. Make it sleek and shiny rather than dry and near-brittle.
This is how he chooses to appear in front of Lan Zhan. Hair oiled and loosely braided, and only in one layer of soft blue robes he snatched from his husband's wardrobe. And then he raises an eyebrow, waiting for his response.]
no subject
No compliment for the healthy sheen of his flushed skin, the rich dark of his tresses, the bright wild white of his eyes. Not the plush of his mouth or the graceful descent of his limbs, or the narrowness of his hips and his dainty waist, and how Lan Wangji watches him, watches everything — hungry.
He has never wanted as he wants this man.
Hardly so strange, then, that he falls in their tired habits of stifling his desire, gaze turning away. )
Wei Ying pleases every eye. ( He cannot lie, but he can at least not give Wei Ying too much satisfaction. He will not preen. ) He knows so.
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[He preens, of course, knowing that he's still somewhat attractive. He used to be insufferable over being one of the most eligible young masters, even if that list makes him laugh.
Though Wei Wuxian would never ever welcome any overture that isn't his husband's. Perhaps if he wasn't married he'd have continued to flirt with anyone without caring, but he has Lan Zhan.
He takes that seriously and has no interest in playing with jealousy like in the books.]
But I want compliments and attention from only one man. [He beckons with one quick motion of the hand.] Come here, Lan Zhan.
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But this is no true submissive spouse, and Lan Wangji has ever been enthralled, finding himself on his feet and navigating the room before he has even solidified his thoughts. He is beautiful, his Wei Ying, his Wei Ying, his Wei Ying. Beautiful and charming and strong, in ways Lan Wangji wants to promote and prosper, sooner than dim and contain.
He inches closer, hand out in soft invitation, begging permission to touch. To claim. )
May I have you? ( A simple thing. )
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[Wei Wuxian reaches out in kind, tangling his fingers around Lan Zhan's and using their connection to anchor him, to pull himself towards his husband. When they're close enough, he leans his whole weight against Lan Zhan, secure in the knowledge that the man won't stumble or fall. His Lan Zhan is strong and solid, like a rock. A wall. A tree he can rest under when the sun is too bright, and a trunk he can lean against when he needs a breather.
No hesitation when he presses their foreheads together either, smiling as he closes his eyes.]
I want my husband to have me. [Now he acts demure, a bride waiting for the husband to make the first move.]
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May all of Wei Ying's wishes be this simple, this gentle. May Lan Wangji be allowed to meet them, one and all. Their foreheads brush together, and his breath's stolen, his eyes shutter. He dips in, and he inhales the scent of Wei Ying and his own sandalwood oils combined, and it's inevitable, isn't it?
Their first kiss, the second, how their lips press hungry, how Lan Wangji's hands walk his flank and lower back. The hour's unsuitable, bright light of not-yet-midday, the sun awake to see them. There can be no question, no conceit of modesty.
He kisses and kisses and kisses this man, and when he starts to peel the silks off Wei Ying's shoulder, it is a known and certain and unquestioning thing. )
He will. He does.
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His hands find the front of Lan Zhan's robes, fisting into the topmost layer and hanging on for dear life as he kisses back to the best of his ability, though with every meeting of their lips, just a bit more of his sense is being stolen away. Lan Zhan is just that good at this.]
Let me feel you too, Lan Zhan. [He digs his fingers under Lan Zhan's layers. Five. Five! It's only proper for a cultivator to wear that many layers, but it's terrible for anyone to deal with in the middle of passion.]
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He peels away from Wei Ying with a begrudging, torn moan, distracted and distraught, overwhelmed. Sweetheart. )
The windows.
( They can be seen, he suspects — by the precisely no people with work or a path beside the heavily isolated quarters of Hanguang-Jun. One demerit, he thinks, of doing... this in daylight.
Tenderly, he reaches for Wei Ying's hand, drawing him invitingly where their bed lies, still ruffled. One day, he will treat his husband to the proper courtship experience, to a bridal night festooned with all the frills, to foods of longevity and fortune, and a well-made bed. )
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But Wei Wuxian allows the protest for now, when Lan Zhan promptly distracts him by bringing him to bed. A bed that he's gotten quite comfortable with over the past few nights, still unmade even if the warm spots left by their bodies are long gone by now. Still, he readily splays himself all over the sheets, looking up at Lan Zhan and his single layer of underwear.
Reaches up, hooking a finger underneath Lan Zhan's lapel, and tugs.]
no subject
Only, he knows better, truer. Trailing down,a leg each side of Wei Ying's preciously displayed body, he leans in. His mouth finds Wei Ying's shoulder first, then his hand, peeling off silk. And he chases the roundness of the bone, drags his teeth and has his revenge for every mean thing hus husband has ever said, every taunt and remark — raking his teeth down. )
Delicious. ( He is not a beast to bite, nor a Buddha to refuse him. )
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If Lan Zhan's teeth feel like that on his shoulder, what would they feel like elsewhere?]
Aiya, you want to eat me? My husband hasn't eaten his breakfast yet? Has he been neglecting himself? [His rapid-fire pace would be more of his usual airy, flippant way if it weren't for how he's so breathless, stolen from him by his own husband.] Sorry, Lan Zhan! I don't have a lot of meat on my bones!
[Still, he wraps a hand behind Lan Zhan's neck, as if to encourage him to keep going.]
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And it is Lan Wangji's marital duty to give it. He bites in, hards, mean, teeth catching on skin, rattling it until he knows it's reddened to a point that will later bloom into bruising. And yet, he never breaks skin. Warm, the shy tip of his tongue laps the wound, kitten-like.
He shifts, peeling Wei Ying's silks off his shoulders, down his arms. More intelligently, he should be parting these waters and releasing him completely, but he is — impatient. Cunning. Instead, he drags his fingertips, dancing them down Wei Ying's flank, slipping under the rim of his trousers.
His mouth slips to Wei Ying's shoulder. )
And you will not give it to me?
no subject
Is this what all that Lan restraint, constraint, and discipline creates? An absolute beast with the expressiveness of a rock? It's surprising that word hasn't gotten out about this, there would be chaos in the streets, people looking to have a Lan lover not for their beauty but for their ardor.]
Is this enough for you, er-gege? Or you want more of me, naked on your bed?
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