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?
( Pallor and prettiness and the long, lean line of surgery. He cannot helps himself, when Wei Ying is bare in ways they have scrupulously neglected. After all, he has not witnessed his husband in the streams since his arrival, and their quarrels and modesty have prevented Lan Wangji from untoward glances during his scheduled bath time.
Now, Wei Ying is sprawled before him, his silks apart. Now, Lan Wangji passes that same, greedy hand over his torso, stopping carefully to envelop the stitched gash where surgery was orchestrated to remove his golden core.
He can't help the sob that escapes him. Can't help himself at all, curling in, mouth chasing the healed line in slow, reverent kisses. Oh, his love. Oh, his disastrous beacon of hardships. )
...hush. Let me thank this flesh for keeping my beloved safe.
[If Lan Zhan hadn't told him to hush, he would have complained or at least tried to redirect him from the awful, ugly surgery scar that will never fade because he has no golden core to cure him of his ills. Perhaps he should have given his actions a little more thought, but it's too late now. Lan Zhan has seen and is giving all of his attention onto his scar.
Which crosses his belly and just barely reaches up to the middle of his chest. Where Wei Wuxian is incredibly soft and sensitive.
He ends up melting under the attention, only able to muster a soft ngh in response to his husband's demand. And maybe a soft whine.]
( That voice, and his name, and together a string of poetry reserved for him, for this moment. He had never thought to hear it. When his mouth walks the shapes, the indentations, the rises of that scar, he shudders, and his gaze turns up, to Wei Ying's face to his lips.
He kisses that start of his husband's abdomen, where gauntness has made his muscle pronounced, where once shined and displayed itself the physique of a consummate swordsman. Not anymore. No matter. )
Say that again. ( A sweeter kiss, tongue laving Wei ying's bellybutton. )
[What is he doing? What is he doing? Is he actually trying to eat Wei Wuxian? Having a taste before he uses his teeth?
He can't handle all of this touching, kissing, licking, these light, feathery touches that make him shiver. Wei Wuxian dearly wants to just grab Lan Zhan's hair and yank him bald, but he has his hands fisted in the sheets already, and he thinks that if he were to let go of them, he might fall apart.
Though Lan Zhan seems to be doing that to him anyway.]
Lan Zhan! [He doesn't just say it-- he squeals it, loudly, body trembling and legs scrabbling for purchase on the bed.
Then he slaps a hand over his mouth because that was embarrassing.]
( No. Not his voice. Anything but Wei Ying's willing enthusiasm, now fettered. He watches the act of Wei Ying's censorship, and, with a parting swipe of his tongue, all warmth, slides up until they are pressed together, hip to hip, and the evidence of their arousal swelling — and Lan Wangji cannot bear to see him so contained.
One hand bears him, hovering. The other gently starts to peel away Wei Ying's, catching him at the rest. )
Boisterous Wei Ying has learned shame. ( It seems to him a strange thing, late. And as if to discourage the notion, his mouth chases a line of sweet affection on Wei Ying's cheek, running to his mouth, hoping to claiming it, once it is revealed again. )
You did that to me! [The protest comes immediately, as soon as Lan Zhan peels his hand away. Wei Wuxian ends up pouting, even if his resolve to keep it forever crumbles in the prospect of a kiss.]
You did that to me. What were you doing? I thought you were going to bite me, eat me whole.
[Whining and grumbling, but he offers his mouth to his husband at the silent request for it, as he promised.]
( First, his prize, his claim, his earned reward: a kiss from his husband's sweet mouth, entirely willing. Trickling, soft, heated. He takes his time, learning the tenderness of Wei Ying's lips, the give at the first signs of teasing.
For a man who taunts as if it were his trade, Wei Ying has always been remarkably sensitive, yielding before the same in kind. And Lan Wangji's hand lowers to spread over his stomach, to cover it, to claim the scar again, and his mouth finally drips down to the column of Wei Ying's throat. )
[Lan Zhan's reward for all of his attention is a moan straight from Wei Wuxian's mouth. Quite soft, but not smothered against anything.
He will just have to resign himself to Lan Zhan being utterly fixated on his scar, regardless of his own dislike for that area-- it's a good thing then, he thinks, that he didn't tell Lan Zhan every detail. Otherwise his husband would fuss to the end of time. If he cultivated to immortality, he would continue to fuss even long after Wei Wuxian has become a tablet in the ancestral hall.
He sighs softly, raising himself up onto an elbow so he can observe Lan Zhan, and reaches out with his other hand to place it on the back of his neck.]
What's compelling my husband to pay so much attention there, huh? There are places that want you more. [Like, say, between Wei Wuxian's legs.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.]
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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.]
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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?
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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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Now, Wei Ying is sprawled before him, his silks apart. Now, Lan Wangji passes that same, greedy hand over his torso, stopping carefully to envelop the stitched gash where surgery was orchestrated to remove his golden core.
He can't help the sob that escapes him. Can't help himself at all, curling in, mouth chasing the healed line in slow, reverent kisses. Oh, his love. Oh, his disastrous beacon of hardships. )
...hush. Let me thank this flesh for keeping my beloved safe.
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Which crosses his belly and just barely reaches up to the middle of his chest. Where Wei Wuxian is incredibly soft and sensitive.
He ends up melting under the attention, only able to muster a soft ngh in response to his husband's demand. And maybe a soft whine.]
Lan Zhaaaaaan... [A soft whine, but long.]
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He kisses that start of his husband's abdomen, where gauntness has made his muscle pronounced, where once shined and displayed itself the physique of a consummate swordsman. Not anymore. No matter. )
Say that again. ( A sweeter kiss, tongue laving Wei ying's bellybutton. )
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He can't handle all of this touching, kissing, licking, these light, feathery touches that make him shiver. Wei Wuxian dearly wants to just grab Lan Zhan's hair and yank him bald, but he has his hands fisted in the sheets already, and he thinks that if he were to let go of them, he might fall apart.
Though Lan Zhan seems to be doing that to him anyway.]
Lan Zhan! [He doesn't just say it-- he squeals it, loudly, body trembling and legs scrabbling for purchase on the bed.
Then he slaps a hand over his mouth because that was embarrassing.]
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One hand bears him, hovering. The other gently starts to peel away Wei Ying's, catching him at the rest. )
Boisterous Wei Ying has learned shame. ( It seems to him a strange thing, late. And as if to discourage the notion, his mouth chases a line of sweet affection on Wei Ying's cheek, running to his mouth, hoping to claiming it, once it is revealed again. )
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You did that to me. What were you doing? I thought you were going to bite me, eat me whole.
[Whining and grumbling, but he offers his mouth to his husband at the silent request for it, as he promised.]
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For a man who taunts as if it were his trade, Wei Ying has always been remarkably sensitive, yielding before the same in kind. And Lan Wangji's hand lowers to spread over his stomach, to cover it, to claim the scar again, and his mouth finally drips down to the column of Wei Ying's throat. )
I will. Forgive me, I must.
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He will just have to resign himself to Lan Zhan being utterly fixated on his scar, regardless of his own dislike for that area-- it's a good thing then, he thinks, that he didn't tell Lan Zhan every detail. Otherwise his husband would fuss to the end of time. If he cultivated to immortality, he would continue to fuss even long after Wei Wuxian has become a tablet in the ancestral hall.
He sighs softly, raising himself up onto an elbow so he can observe Lan Zhan, and reaches out with his other hand to place it on the back of his neck.]
What's compelling my husband to pay so much attention there, huh? There are places that want you more. [Like, say, between Wei Wuxian's legs.]
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