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“Come on, Second Master Lan! We’ve had such a long day travelling from Yunmeng… doesn’t it seem kinda heartless to not let us in, just because we don’t have our invitation?”
The senior disciple of the Yunmeng Jiang sect is, in a word, shameless. Words seem to flow from his mouth with no regards to their consequences; he flings both arguments and compliments into the air with unrestrained delight. Lan Wangji would say he’s captivated, but captivation feels both like an understatement and a misnomer.
He’s captivated, perhaps, like how one could be captivated at the wreckage of a farmer’s cart along the road, or how one could be captivated by a tiger lurking nearby in a forest. Wei Wuxian is a force of nature, a typhoon making landfall upon the shores of the Cloud Recesses.
But if that is what he is, then Lan Wangji must stay resolute.
“Without the invitation, entry is forbidden,” he states.
Wei Wuxian’s lip wobbles. “We didn’t mean to lose it! Please have mercy on us!”
Pathetic. Lan Wangji’s hands clench and teeth grit, as if that will help him steel himself. “Find the invitation,” he manages, his voice a little more hoarse than he’d like, “and then return.”
Wei Wuxian’s petulance only increases in response, his peony-bud lips already forming a sweet little pout. “The sun’s about to set, Second Master Lan, and Caiyi’s twenty li away from here,” he wheedles. “Going back to go find it now would be far too difficult…”
Lan Wangji quickly turns his back, if only to force his gaze away from how the sunset seems to burnish Wei Wuxian’s hair into shining jet, seems to dance in his eyes like gold upon obsidian. He had been fortunate to be born with a body not easily susceptible to displaying his emotions, but none of the rumours about the senior disciple from Yunmeng could have prepared him for such a wonderfully frustrating loudmouth. He begins to walk away, now more for the sake of appearances than anything else.
Would it be so terrible to let the Yunmeng disciples in?
(No, he must remain resolute.)
Wei Wuxian is shouting for him again. “Please don’t go, Second Master Lan, I’ll do anything!”
Lan Wangji’s foot pauses on the step, curious.
“Anything,” repeats Wei Wuxian, hesitant yet playful. Lan Wangji’s breath involuntarily hitches, as he hears the rustle of his approaching footsteps. “But you’d have to let them into the Cloud Recesses first.”
A soft gasp ripples around them, as Wei Wuxian’s warmth ghosts against the very outer boundaries of Lan Wangji’s personal space. When he next speaks, his voice tickles against the shell of Lan Wangji’s ear.
“What do you say to that, Lan er-gege? If there’s anything you’d like from me… I wouldn’t stop you at all.”
Lan Wangji closes his eyes, already on the verge of silencing him. How thick can this man’s face get, offering such lascivious things in front of his cultivation sect?
Sure enough: “Wei Ying!” hisses Master Jiang, his voice scandalised. Wei Wuxian laughs at that, stepping away from Lan Wangji.
“I was joking!” he says. “We’ve all heard how honourable and pure the Jades of Lan are supposed to be; I just wanted to see if they really were that way!”
With a twitch of Lan Wangji’s fingers, Wei Wuxian’s lips suddenly close to muffled indignance. Lan Wangji’s not proud to admit that it quickly sets his mind awry, tripping down much less honourable avenues about other ways he could tease out such noises from the senior Jiang disciple.
As he walks away from them, letting the voices of the guards and the stifled protests of Wei Wuxian fade into the distance, Lan Wangji turns back and allows himself one final glance.
He has some meditating to do.
“Emperor’s Smile!” exclaims Wei Wuxian, perched like a smug cat on the rooftop with his little white jugs lashed together with string. He holds one out to Lan Wangji, beaming. “If I share some with you, would you pretend you didn’t see me?”
The full moon is bright against Wei Wuxian’s mischievous smile and the jugs of wine in his hands. Lan Wangji has to tear his gaze from how Wei Wuxian cups them, cradles them close, as he prattles on about how discourteous Lan Wangji had been earlier in forcing him to return to Caiyi for the invitations now nestled in his robes.
When Lan Wangji had went back for the Yunmeng delegation earlier, he’d noticed Wei Wuxian hadn’t been with them. Jiang Yanli had explained where he’d gone, but Lan Wangji had felt a strange ache in his heart nonetheless. Even though he knew perfectly well Wei Wuxian would return — and here the man is, telling Lan Wangji it was partly his fault he’s breaking so many Lan sect rules — he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at seeing his absence.
Foolish of him to have cared like that! He lurches forward, but Bichen is blocked quickly by Wei Wuxian’s sword. The man has definitely earned his title of senior disciple — he wields his blade with ease and elegance, never once stumbling in his form as he dances out of Lan Wangji’s grasp.
“I have so many other things to do tonight besides playing with you,” he scoffs the next time they land. The dismissiveness in his voice sets off something red-hot in Lan Wangji’s gut, and he promptly tackles Wei Wuxian, rolling the two of them down into the courtyard.
The Emperor’s Smile presses hard between them when they land. Other things are also pressed hard between them, based on the object pushing against Lan Wangji’s thigh. He hopes, desperately, that it’s just one of their swords.
“Wangji-xiong,” breathes Wei Wuxian. “Do you —”
Lan Wangji springs up and away from him, his heart racing and ears heating. Wei Wuxian’s eyes sparkle from where he lies on the ground, still clutching his Emperor’s Smile.
“You —” he begins, but Wei Wuxian merely laughs at him, slowly clambering back to his feet.
“Me,” he agrees. “I’m very happy to see you, you know.”
Lan Wangji grits his teeth. Wei Wuxian’s laughter grows.
“I’m joking, I’m joking! It’s just my sword,” he teases, holding up his sword with a wink. “Why, did you think it was something else?”
Lan Wangji is glad the moonlight doesn’t show his rapidly-reddening ears that well. “Tedious.”
“Tedious?” cackles Wei Wuxian. “From what I see, you’re the one who thought it was my —”
“Turn around,” retorts Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian does, and is confronted immediately by the stone bearing the Lan Sect rules, carefully carved out. “Alcohol is forbidden. Relinquish the wine.”
“Well, if that’s the rule, then I’ll just sit on the wall and drink it,” retorts Wei Wuxian, already leaping up onto the roof of the wall surrounding the Cloud Recesses. “I mean, I’m technically not inside from here, am I?” And saying that, he uncorks the first of his Emperor’s Smile and begins to drink, tilting his head back in satisfaction and wiping suggestively at his lips once he’s done.
Lan Wangji knows his knowledge of the universe is imperfect, but the most frustrating mystery to him at the moment is why he feels so drawn to someone so antithetical to everything he has ever stood for. As it is, when he silences Wei Wuxian and drags him to face his brother and uncle, all he feels is smug satisfaction.
Wei Wuxian bumps his shoulder with a wink when they part that night, and Lan Wangji knows immediately that, just like with this afternoon, meditation will not help him tonight. The Jiang senior disciple is a force of nature battening down his sanctuaries, stirring his emotions into a tempest barely constrained by the confines of his own self-control.
He’s holding on, but barely. It’ll only be a matter of time before he falls.
It happens soon enough, what with all of Wei Wuxian’s antics during and outside of class. The halls of the Cloud Recesses now ring with his laughter as he leads his fellow students into mountains of mischief. Lan Wangji watches them play from afar, unable to look away from his smile so drenched with sunlight, or from his tangle of unruly black hair fluttering as he spars with the other students.
It happens soon enough, what with Wei Wuxian’s impertinent questions in class. Lan Qiren sentences him to detention by copying lines, and assigns Lan Wangji to supervise him. He has to drag the man away from the back mountains, heedless of Wei Wuxian’s attempts to distract him with conspiracies about hidden treasures within their depths.
The Library Pavilion is quiet on this first afternoon, with thankfully not another soul in sight as Wei Wuxian leans in close to Lan Wangji with a pout. “I’m trying to say sorry and make amends,” he says. “I shouldn’t have snuck in after curfew, shouldn’t have brought in wine, shouldn’t have fought with you. If it wasn’t for the fact that I hadn’t ever seen the Lan Sect rules before, I wouldn’t have drunk that Emperor’s Smile in front of you!”
Lan Wangji has a suspicion he’s going to start drinking in secret now. He’ll have to keep an eye out for more suspicious activity around him and his band of enablers.
“Besides, it’s not entirely my fault, since you started the fight first — I’m not the kind of person who likes to land the first blow. If you hadn’t been so rash that night, we could’ve had a perfectly civil conversation.” Wei Wuxian leans forward into his space, shoving his elbows all over Lan Wangji’s papers and scrolls. “Hey, Second Master Lan, why won’t you spare some face and look at me?”
Lan Wangji’s hands do not pause in his calligraphy. “Copy the rules again.”
“Oh, come on!” wheedles Wei Wuxian. “I already said sorry!”
“You do not mean your apologies,” he retorts.
“I’ll say them however many times you like!” protests Wei Wuxian, leaning in to grind him some more ink. His eyes sparkle as his hands move in rhythmic circles, and Lan Wangji can’t help but be caught up by his soothing movements. “I could even say it kneeling down, if you’d like…”
His gaze is fixed on Lan Wangji’s lap, and suddenly Lan Wangji is both grateful for and irritated by all of the layers he’s wearing. It covers him, but it also makes his collar much warmer than it needs to be. Wei Wuxian seems to have noticed, as his sly grin grows wider and he shifts closer.
Lan Wangji nudges himself away. Wei Wuxian nudges closer again. “Lan Zhan… you want me to say it kneeling down, don’t you?” he asks.
Lan Wangji desperately tries to pretend he hadn’t heard that. Still, his hands tremble a little as he goes to set down his brush, and that’s all Wei Wuxian needs to reach out and grasp his wrist.
In the coming days, Lan Wangji will tell himself he had protested, will convince himself it was just this one moment of weakness, a caving that will never happen again if he can help it. But in the moment, all he can do is capitulate, letting his back hit the polished cherry floor with Wei Wuxian on top of him, his eyes dark with something thrilling and unfathomable.
Wei Wuxian’s hands cup him through his robes. Lan Wangji’s breath hitches. “Wei Ying —” he begins, but Wei Wuxian merely rubs him a little harder, and all coherent thoughts seem to dissolve into the pleasure now clouding his mind.
“Say the word,” says Wei Wuxian, “and I’ll stop and we can pretend this never happened.”
Lan Wangji snaps his mouth shut. Wei Wuxian laughs, before leaning up and pressing the softest of pecks against his trembling lips. Lan Wangji’s stomach drops as he watches Wei Wuxian pull back, wetting his lips with his tongue as he looks thoughtfully down at Lan Wangji.
“I’ve never done that before,” he murmurs. Lan Wangji’s stomach jolts as he realises it’s the same for him. This — this impudent, shameless, frustrating, wonderful boy had taken his first kiss.
“Wei Ying, you —” he begins, but Wei Wuxian muffles his protests with his lips again, pinning Lan Wangji’s wrists above his head with one hand. His other hand now rests on Lan Wangji’s chest, feeling his frantic heartbeat with a sly grin.
“Shh. Just tell me if you want me to stop apologising.”
Lan Wangji swallows, shakes his head. “Do not stop,” he manages, his voice hoarse. Wei Wuxian grins, and his hand moves lower.
“Not even now?”
Lan Wangji doesn’t know what possesses him to shake his head and buck his hips upwards, but all that does is embolden Wei Wuxian’s hands further down, down, down, until he’s reaching through the folds of Lan Wangji’s robes to touch him. Heat bolts through Lan Wangji at that, clouded with pleasure so great that he’s sure he will die of it if he’s not careful. Wei Wuxian pushes aside his robes, pulls down his trousers, and Lan Wangji watches, wide-eyed, as the other man slowly takes him into his mouth.
“Wei Ying,” he repeats, but this time his voice is softer, more pleading. In the past, whenever such urges took ahold of him, it usually didn’t take long to meditate them away. But now Wei Wuxian has taken rein over the fire, his hands moving in time with his lips and tongue. Lan Wangji’s breaths grow ragged in response, as he feels the last of his control ebbing with each stroke of Wei Wuxian’s tongue against him.
He will say, later, that he doesn’t remember what happened next when his ironclad self-regulation finally faltered. But in truth, he could never forget the way Wei Wuxian had looked up at him from below, or the softness of his mouth against Lan Wangji’s hardness. He could never forget the little sounds escaping Wei Wuxian’s throat as he took him deeper in, or the way he swallowed Lan Wangji’s release with a sly lick of his lips.
“I’ve never done that before, either,” Wei Wuxian remarks afterwards, as he wipes his mouth clean. Slowly but surely, Lan Wangji’s heartbeat returns to its normal cadence, and with some regret he tucks himself back in.
“Wei Ying,” he begins, but Wei Wuxian leans in and puts a finger to his lips, smiling still.
“Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll be our little secret. If you ever want another… apology from me, you know how to get it.”
Lan Wangji grits his teeth, his control snapping back into place as he scrambles away from the other man.
“Shameless!” he grinds out. Wei Wuxian laughs, rising to his feet and returning to his table.
“You could have said no!” he rejoins over his shoulder, before sitting down to return to his lines as if nothing had ever happened. As if he had not completely pulled out the rug from under Lan Wangji’s entire world.
He dreams that night of the feeling of Wei Wuxian’s lips against his skin, and wakes half-parched with longing.
The next month passes in a flurry of paper and petals, permeated with the smell of jasmine and ink. Wei Wuxian mostly stays at his table, alternating between copying lines and doodling nonsense. Lan Wangji does not bring himself to look further, terrified that his control will slip again with Wei Wuxian in such close proximity.
On the last afternoon of the month, Wei Wuxian crosses the barriers between them again and holds out a piece of paper in front of him.
“Here,” he says. Lan Wangji does not dare stray too far from his book.
“Are you finished copying?”
“Yup,” replies Wei Wuxian. “I won’t be coming here tomorrow, so I thought…” he places the paper onto the table, “I’d give this to you.”
Lan Wangji’s gaze darts from the book briefly, as Wei Wuxian crosses over to the side of his table with a thoughtful hum.
“Actually, I forgot something,” he declares, before making a couple more strokes on the paper with Lan Wangji’s brush. “There. Done!”
Lan Wangji slowly sets down his book at the sight of what’s on the paper. It’s his portrait, carefully rendered from afar, gracefully detailed down to the last detail: a peony tucked behind his ear.
Lan Wangji can feel his ears burning at the sight. He opens his mouth, but Wei Wuxian beats him to it. “I know you’re about to call it tedious,” he says. “Why not use a different word? Or add some new ones?”
Inhale. Exhale. Lan Wangji sets the drawing down and mutters, “Very tedious.”
“Fair enough, thank you,” sighs Wei Wuxian, leaning against the table and peering up at him. “But really, is that all you know? Tediousness?”
Lan Wangji chooses not to dignify that with an answer, instead reaching back for his book. When he picks it back up, however, he quickly notices something wrong with it.
Instead of a collection of poetry about spring gardens and blossoming flowers, he’s seeing spring gardens and blossoming flowers of a different sort. A much more lascivious sort.
Lan Wangji has known of the existence of such texts, but he had never had the audacity or lack of self-respect to seek such images out. But just looking at the piece is enough to make his ears burn, enough to make him throw it aside and spring to his feet with a horrified “Wei Ying!”
The culprit is already rolling with laughter. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here!” he exclaims, raising his hand. Lan Wangji moves for his sword, and Wei Wuxian waves a warning hand. “But just so you know, I brought my sword today as well. Surely you want to keep your family’s Library Pavilion in one piece, right?”
Lan Wangji takes several deep breaths. “Shameless,” he growls, except that just gets Wei Wuxian raising a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
“You really have the nerve to call it shameless after what we’ve done here?” he wonders. Lan Wangji grits his teeth before seizing the book and ripping it into pieces. “Ah! — Lan Zhan, nonono, you’ve ruined it —”
Lan Wangji sees red and pounces. This time, Wei Wuxian’s back hits the floor, and Lan Wangji’s hands tangle into his hair. The other man’s body immediately goes boneless.
“Lan Zhan,” he gasps. Lan Wangji’s breath comes out in ragged pants as he looks down at him, his hair tousled and cheeks flushed, his eyes shining yet dark with arousal. He feels that familiar fire burning deep inside him, as he leans down to brush his nose against the line of Wei Wuxian’s throat.
Wei Wuxian makes a small, wrecked noise, his arms coming up to wrap around Lan Wangji’s neck. His lashes flutter, so inky and long, as he tilts his head up, angling his lips for Lan Wangji’s.
“Lan Zhan, did you miss this?” he teases. “An entire month, and you never asked again. I was beginning to think you didn’t care.”
Lan Wangji wishes he could say just that, but lying is forbidden in the Cloud Recesses. Instead he chases Wei Wuxian’s lips, biting them slightly when he pulls back from the kiss. Wei Wuxian yelps, but then cups his face again with a wide grin.
“Has no one ever taught you to play nice when you kiss someone?” he wonders. “Or taught you how to kiss at all?”
“You yourself are just as inexperienced,” protests Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian’s laugh is wild, unrestrained.
“You got me,” he admits, pecking Lan Wangji’s nose with a grin. “Lots of pretty girls and boys in Yunmeng have caught my eye, but those fancies never went anywhere. And now — you —” He gasps, clearly exhilarated. “Your ears are so cute when you’re flustered, Lan Zhan, I can’t help myself…”
“Wei Ying,” growls Lan Wangji, his voice half-strangled with impatience, with need. “What do you want?”
“Simple, silly,” replies Wei Wuxian, already reaching down to cup Lan Wangji through his trousers. “You.”
The first time might be an accident, the second time a coincidence, but the third time is absolutely, unequivocally a habit.
Wei Wuxian presses a moan into the pillow, his legs wrapped tight around Lan Wangji’s hips. Lan Wangji is grinding down against him, one hand gripping both of them as he breathes, ragged but eager, against Wei Wuxian’s neck.
“You’re — you’re not worried about us being late for dinner?” Wei Wuxian gasps, arching up to meet his next thrust, their bodies heated and sweaty beneath their inner robes. Lan Wangji’s trousers are pooled at his knees, while Wei Wuxian’s have been kicked off somewhere into the room. Lan Wangji is more than painfully aware of how bad it would look if someone else walked in at this moment, and it makes his thrusts more erratic, more intense.
He bites down against Wei Wuxian’s collar, slamming his hand against Wei Wuxian’s mouth when the other man moans. The inn may be less populated because of the recent spates of drownings and disappearances on Lake Biling, but that doesn’t give Wei Wuxian free rein to tell the rest of the party exactly what they’re up to. Especially with walls so paper-thin, and his own brother and Master Jiang in the room next door —
“They’ll send someone up to check on us,” breathes Wei Wuxian against his ear, almost as if knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “And I bet it’ll be Jiang Cheng, and he’ll be so upset with us…”
A shiver runs down Lan Wangji’s spine at the thought of Master Jiang’s wrath, but it doesn’t stop him from taking them both in hand. Wei Wuxian stifles a moan into his fist, feverishly bucking his hips up into Lan Wangji’s touch.
He spills first, ribbons of white coating Lan Wangji’s hand as he strokes him through his climax. “Lan Zhan,” he gasps, the words hot and desperate against Lan Wangji’s cheek, “keep going, keep going. I need to feel you.”
Lan Wangji rubs his hands along the inside of Wei Wuxian’s thighs before complying. He slides himself in between them, and Wei Wuxian gasps, pressing his knees closer together. Slowly, Lan Wangji thrusts his hips against the backs of Wei Wuxian’s thighs, letting himself slide through their supple softness, through the slick coated just a breath away from where he lies still soft and spent. He then shifts upright, pressing Wei Wuxian’s legs to the side before thrusting back between them.
The third time is a pattern, a habit, a flaw — a crack in the moral restraint he had once prided himself on. He knows he should be ashamed of his promiscuity, but he cannot bring himself to deny Wei Wuxian. Especially not now, with the man making such delicious little noises of encouragement as Lan Wangji continues to thrust between his thighs.
“Ah — Lan er-gege, you feel so —” Lan Wangji kisses away the rest of the sentence, reaching between them to take the rest of Wei Wuxian’s release to coat his thighs. Wei Wuxian arches, half-hard once more and delirious with pleasure, his face flushed a lovely crimson as he loops his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck to hold him close.
It’s intimate in a way Lan Wangji has never experienced before. He craves it more than a drunkard craves wine, intoxicated by the promise in Wei Wuxian’s eyes and the softness of his lips. Wei Wuxian spreads his legs again, reaching down to stroke him over the edge. His breath punches out of him alongside his release, white and messy against Wei Wuxian’s fingers.
“Wei Ying —” he breathes, as Wei Wuxian licks his fingers clean and grins up at him, cheeks bright and eyes brighter. Lan Wangji can’t help it — he leans in to press their lips together, before regretfully tucking himself back into his trousers. Wei Wuxian laughs a little, before looking over to where he’d kicked off his own.
“Help me get mine, Lan er-gege,” he teases. Lan Wangji complies, swiftly swinging on his outer robes as well. Wei Wuxian dresses quickly, too, before waylaying Lan Wangji at the door.
“You look — your hair’s a mess,” he says, taking a comb out of the folds of his outer robes. Lan Wangji freezes, as Wei Wuxian starts to comb out the snarls. “Can’t have you going downstairs looking like that. Then they’ll know we were both up to no good.”
Lan Wangji says nothing to that, but throughout the rest of the night all he can feel is the memory of Wei Wuxian’s hands in his hair.
“Lan Zhan! Let me borrow your forehead ribbon!”
The chords of the guqin reverberate through the air, stopping once more at Bichen’s hilt. Wei Wuxian cannot move any further from his position, shivering from the cold and pain of the attacks. Lan Wangji flies to his side almost immediately, tearing his ribbon off his forehead.
He’d just said last night that only the closest of family members may touch the ribbon. And Wei Wuxian had laughed at him and wondered who would ever want to be tied down to him. It’d struck a chord, of course, dredging up his old fears of love and marriage. If love could make his father imprison his mother for the rest of her life — if escaping love could drive his mother to commit murder — what would happen when it was his turn?
Wei Wuxian is in danger, and Lan Wangji flings his ribbon around their wrists in an attempt to protect him. He has no time to think about the implications, or the tempest that has been brewing in his heart ever since Wei Wuxian first teased him by the gate into the Cloud Recesses. He tugs the ribbon a little to ensure its security, before summoning Bichen back into its sheath.
It’s only later, as they’re searching for the exit, that Wei Wuxian brings it up again. A couple bunnies help lead the way, but all Lan Wangji can feel — besides the cold — is that familiar storm that rises every time he sees his forehead ribbon around their wrists.
Maybe he’s going mad, or maybe the sight of Wei Wuxian bound to him with something so intimately his is just… right. Somehow. As ever, wherever Wei Wuxian is concerned, Lan Wangji frequently finds himself eating his words.
As they approach the first hints of light at the end of this mountain tunnel, Wei Wuxian stops dead in his tracks. “Hold on a moment,” he says. “You bound me with your ribbon. You… you bowed to Lan Yi with me.”
Lan Wangji swallows. “I paid her my respects.”
“Tied up with me,” Wei Wuxian points out. “You don’t think it’d… look weird?”
Of course it looks like what it does. “Do you mind?” wonders Lan Wangji, unable to stop the bitter edge in his voice. “You said you could not imagine anyone bound to me.”
Wei Wuxian gapes at him. “You’re not serious,” he breathes.
Lan Wangji says nothing, half out of hope, half out of fear. Slowly, his hand moves down to their wrists, fidgeting with his end.
There’s a loud clatter as Suibian falls to the ground, as Wei Wuxian takes the opportunity to wrap their wrists tighter and bring himself closer to Lan Wangji. He pushes in, pressing him up against the rock wall, and Lan Wangji barely has a moment to breathe — or drop Bichen — before Wei Wuxian’s lips are on his, his mouth slowly opening with want. Slowly, Lan Wangji’s hand tightens into a fist against the ribbon, not daring to let him go.
If anyone had told him even a couple months ago that he would end up like this with Wei Wuxian — pressed against the walls of the Cloud Recesses’ secret cavern, bound tight with his forehead ribbon, kissed within an inch of his life — he would’ve told them that they might be undergoing a qi deviation. Yet here he is: pressed, bound, kissed, boiling over with emotions until his knees give way and he has to lean against Wei Wuxian for support. Wei Wuxian’s bound hand cradles the back of his head, while his other hand runs along the small of his back.
It’s the fourth time now, Lan Wangji realises, as Wei Wuxian’s knee nudges between his thighs. It’s gone far beyond any excuses for accidents and coincidences. He’s constantly brought into these compromising positions because he keeps seeking them out, because he keeps craving Wei Wuxian like a parched traveller to a desert oasis, like a moth to a flame, like the moon to the sun.
Wei Wuxian manages to loosen just enough of his robes to kiss his bared shoulders, nimble fingers moving swift and sure into his trousers. Lan Wangji gasps, entwining their fingers as Wei Wuxian’s hand reaches him, stroking along the length, hardening him to his touch.
“It’s pretty unconventional,” remarks Wei Wuxian against the corner of his mouth. “But then again, you did spring this on me so quickly. I have nothing else to offer you.”
Lan Wangji swallows, pushes him back just a little to look at him. “I want nothing else,” he replies. Wei Wuxian laughs, leaning in to peck his nose before his hand begins to move once more. Lan Wangji inhales sharply, his own hand scrabbling down the front of Wei Wuxian’s robes to cup him through his trousers. He’s heartened to find that part of him just as eager, just as wanting, as his own.
“Lan Zhan,” whispers Wei Wuxian, a quiet sob bubbling low in his throat as Lan Wangji strokes him. “Please… harder…”
Lan Wangji kisses him and complies, using their bound hands to tug Wei Wuxian flush against his chest. Despite the chill of the breeze against their sopping robes, Wei Wuxian is an inferno, every stroke and kiss burning the imprints of his touch against Lan Wangji’s skin. He can feel release coiling low and tight within him, and as it draws higher and nearer his breath and thoughts alike grow erratic and rushed.
“Wei Ying,” he gasps, as Wei Wuxian’s thumb rubs along the tip. “I —”
“You’re close, aren’t you?” asks Wei Wuxian, breath tickling his ear. “So am I, Lan Zhan, keep — keep doing that — ah!” He bucks his hips, thrusting against Lan Wangji’s eager fingers. “Quick, quick, kiss me Lan Zhan, quick —”
Lan Wangji does, muffling Wei Wuxian’s cry as he tenses and climaxes into Lan Wangji’s hand. He himself follows swiftly, trailing his lips against the corner of Wei Wuxian’s mouth as the other man groans, low and wrecked, into the rocky corridor. For a moment, all they can do is look at one another, before Wei Wuxian shakes a bit of his sleeve at Lan Wangji to help him clean his fingers. In turn, Lan Wangji lets him use his own sleeve, mentally making a note to clean it properly as soon as possible.
“We’ll have to do it properly someday,” murmurs Wei Wuxian, stepping back just a little bit. They pick up their swords again, looking at the cave entrance lying just mere zhang away from them. “All the bows, a banquet, a wedding night — everything.” He reaches up, smoothing down Lan Wangji’s hair with a small smile. “I bet you’d look amazing in red, anyway.”
Lan Wangji feels his ears heat at that, feels his stomach flutter with something strange and golden. Unable to find the words, all he can do is pull Wei Wuxian back in by their bound hands once more, for one final kiss before they have to face the outside world again.
His knowledge of the world is imperfect, but for the first time in his life, Lan Wangji can feel the thunderstorm in his heart slowly ebbing into a light spring rain. Wei Wuxian laughs as they pull apart, his smile warming Lan Wangji up as brightly as the sun.
And as they reach the cave exit, Lan Wangji squeezes Wei Wuxian’s hand tighter. In response, Wei Wuxian looks up at him and grins.
“You first,” he says.
Lan Wangji nods, and leads Wei Wuxian out into the light.