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Night hunts are fun again for Wei Wuxian.
They were always exciting, but they haven’t been exactly “fun” in years. But here, now, on this barge on the water with Lan Zhan and a small group of Lan and Jiang disciples–Jiang disciples! On a morning hunt with them, and Jiang Cheng too!--Wei Wuxian is having an absolute blast. It’s water demons this time, which had seemed such a big deal when they were younger, but which these days are just an easy way to blow off steam. And right outside of Lotus Pier, in high summer, when it’s the most beautiful. Colors pop, everything is so green, the sky so blue it nearly hurts his eyes, but hazy enough that it might rain later - it fills his senses.
Lan Zhan is beside him, Bichen doing the work of ten cultivators as he spins in his fancy, swishy robes. Wei Wuxian loves watching him in action; his sullen battle swan, the most beautiful person in Gusu, in anywhere, really. The water demons thrash and splash, spraying brackish water which gets directly into Wei Wuxian’s mouth - disgusting! But it also tastes like home, and he relishes it even as he spits it out.
A’Yuan–well, Lan Sizhui now–so grown-up and powerful, quick and focused like his Baba; Lan Jingyi, a little more ragged around the edges, but good with the sword, fighting with a little half smirk on his face. Whose kid is he anyway? The two of them side by side remind Wei Wuxian a little of himself and Lan Zhan when they were that age, only without the contention and frustration. And Jin Ling, whose combat style is a direct line from Jiang Cheng’s. Wei Wuxian couldn’t be prouder.
They go at it for hours, well into the afternoon, and by the time they finish up, everyone is soaked. Wei Wuxian’s robes are gritty, clinging to his legs and back. The sun bakes the salt into his skin and hair, and it’s gross; his clothes will be stiff later and will need a good soak.
He loves it.
Jiang Cheng sheathes Sandu and drags his sleeve across his forehead. The Jiang disciples, some of them only in their teens, look proud of themselves, slightly stunned that it’s over. Jiang Cheng gives them brief, encouraging words out of his stern, cheerless mouth, but it’s enough to make them all preen a bit.
Lan Zhan sheathes Bichen and flicks his sleeve in that terse but somehow flashy way he has. He must feel Wei Wuxian looking at him, because he turns, catches Wei Wuxian’s eye, and smiles, there and gone, but it hits Wei Wuxian like a palm to the chest. Oh, Lan Zhan.
“So saucy,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, close enough so that Lan Zhan hears it, hopefully quiet enough so that the others won’t.
“I am never ‘saucy’,” Lan Zhan says, with all of his dignity.
“Lying is forbidden,” Wei Wuxian reminds him.
“I never lie,” he says, and smiles again, the absolute sauciest.
“Well,” Jiang Cheng says, “that’s more than enough bullshit for me today. I think we’re done here. Or at least I am.” He leaps from the barge to the shore.
So apparently, not quiet enough so the others didn’t hear it. Oh well.
No, Lan Zhan isn’t lying. He’s teasing.
“You’re teasing me,” Wei Wuxian says. “Teasing! You! Me!”
Lan Zhan gives a subtle little nod and a slow blink and says, “Then you may punish me as you see fit.”
Wei Wuxian isn’t even faking it when he gasps in shock.
Lan Zhan’s ears are pink. Even his cheeks are pink. It almost looks like exertion - heavens, it almost looks like the kind of exertion that Wei Wuxian should not, by any means, be thinking about as they stand on a barge in the middle of a river surrounded by sect disciples. But now the thought is in his head.
Lan Zhan takes his hand, pouring a little spiritual energy into him.
Wei Wuxian pulls his arm back. “What…? I’m fine, Lan Zhan. Truly.”
Lan Zhan studies his face. “You do not feel overtaxed?”
“Huh? No, I’m pretty good, actually.” Now that he thinks of it, he probably should feel overtaxed after a battle like this, where he relied on his core–small, but growing–but he doesn’t, which means… “I’m getting stronger,” he says, mostly to himself.
Lan Zhan looks him over and nods approvingly, and in the gesture, Wei Wuxian senses relief. He knows Lan Zhan’s most secret worry is that Wei Wuxian’s cultivation might not be enough to keep him alive and healthy for as long as Lan Zhan’s will. Wei Wuxian fears this, too: Lan Zhan would simply die with him. And that’s unacceptable. Lan Zhan is too good to die; the world might not deserve him, but he deserves the world, he deserves what makes him happy, and if for some inexplicable reason, that thing is Wei Wuxian, then…
He’s staring, as usual. But that’s sort of the way they both interact, because Lan Zhan is staring at him, too.
A lock of his lovely, silky hair has come free from its binding at the back of his head, and Wei Wuxian lovingly tucks it behind his ear. When he ducks his head, it springs free again. Come to think of it, his hair looks a bit–not wild or messy, never messy, not even slightly unkempt–but a bit frizzy? Maybe two or three or twenty small, broken strands are starting to curl away from his head. And his ears are still pink. And the delicate skin across his nose and his cheekbones.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says. “Are you… hot?”
“Are you not?” Lan Zhan asks, slightly pouting.
“Well, yes, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve never seen you bothered by the heat before.” He presses the back of his fingers against Lan Zhan’s head. He does feel a bit overheated.
“It is not so much the heat as…” He lifts his arms, their trailing sleeves heavy and damp.
Wei Wuxian has seen Lan Zhan in various states before, including stumbling drunk, but he’s never seen him looking this bedraggled. Of course, Lan Zhan is from Gusu, of thin, cool mountain air. Yunmeng’s air is heavy and wet. Still, they’ve been through the desert before.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, “do you use your core to regulate on days like this?”
“Of course,” Lan Zhan answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which, to him, it probably is. Someone with a strong enough core can rely on it for these minor things.
Wei Wuxian takes a look around, to where the juniors have gone back to the shores and are shaking out their wet robes, and Jingyi is roughly wringing out his hair, and yes, they all look pretty bedraggled, but they’re still energetic and bouncing around as they retell each other about the battle that they literally just finished. Jingyi is the loudest, he obviously feels that he has permission to shout in Lotus Pier. He would have made a good Jiang, honestly. They look wet and hot, but not like a wilting flower.
Lan Zhan looks like a wilting flower.
“Let’s go to the inn,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll have a cool bath sent in, you can use it by yourself and I won’t crowd you. Yeah?”
“Mm. You may crowd me.”
Wei Wuxian knows by now that Lan Zhan is only saying that because he thinks he’s supposed to. It’s better to play along for a while, and then ultimately let him be for a time.
So they bid farewell to the juniors and leave them on the banks to discuss the battle and essentially talk about their best moments. It’s a good way for them to bond. Their inn is at the farthest southern part of Lotus Pier; Wei Wuxian hadn’t felt confident that he would be welcome staying close to his old home. But now it’s hot and muggy, and Wei Wuxian’s hair is clinging to the back of his neck in a way that he’s used to, a way that reminds him that he’s alive in a human body that can feel things. He can also understand why the sensation might make Lan Zhan miserable, so he picks up Lan Zhan’s hair as they walk, rolls it in his hand, and holds it off his neck.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says.
“Hmm? Doesn’t it feel nicer with your hair up?”
“Yes,” he says. “But you don’t have to–”
“Ah, I want to. I love your hair.”
That earns him one of Lan Zhan’s tiny, pleased little smiles and they continue walking.
Yunmeng weather is unpredictable, and it’s not long before purple clouds start to roll in from the west. At least they will cool the rest of the afternoon, but for the moment, it just ramps up the humidity.
At the inn, Wei Wuxian asks for the tub to be filled, and some fruit to be brought to the room. As Lan Zhan waits by the door, he pays for all of it, along with a little extra for a bucket of chopped ice. It’s his own coins now, which he’s earned during his travels, and it feels good to pay for something nice for Lan Zhan for once, after being dependent for so long.
In their room, they wait uncomfortably for the bath, and naturally Lan Zhan won’t undress in the meantime, nor will he sit on the bed for fear of getting it wet. Wei Wuxian takes that time to set up a few breezy talismans to cool the room.
“Can I take down your hair while we wait?” he asks.
Lan Zhan casts his gaze around as if someone is already standing in there with them, and finally nods. Wei Wuxian takes him by the shoulders and turns him to sit on one of the wooden low benches, then kneels behind him to undo the pins and twists that keep his guan and his hair in place. Lan Zhan’s hair is tangled and muddy, which can only be driving him slowly insane. Wei Wuxian hums as he works his fingers through the snarls. He’s just about to really dig his fingers into the curve at the base of his skull, to see if he can get him to make that satisfied groan he can sometimes wring out of him, when a knock sounds at the door.
Lan Zhan rises to his feet and busies himself behind a changing screen, not actually taking his clothes off, while the inn staff bring buckets of water for the bathtub, some fresh fruit, and the ice.
Finally everything is set up and the staff leave, and Lan Zhan starts plucking hurriedly at the sash of his outer robes. His hair is entirely down, loose around his face and soft, if still dull with dirt. He is heart stoppingly beautiful like this, and no one else gets to see him this way.
“May I help?” Wei Wuxian asks. His voice sounds soft and awed. He quickly clears his throat.
Lan Zhan nods in reply. It’s difficult to tell sometimes if he’s saying ‘yes’ because he wants to, or because he thinks he’s supposed to. When he really doesn’t want something, he’s fairly good about making it known without words. But this time he just looks tired.
So Wei Wuxian undoes his sash, and unwinds it from around his waist. His dick is starting to have opinions about this; it’s ridiculous how turned on he is already, but he wills himself to remove Lan Zhan’s outer robe without being overtly lascivious about it. The robe is soggy and hot. Wei Wuxian’s robes are in a similar state, but it’s ignorable.
“The ice,” Lan Zhan says. “Not for the bathtub.”
“No. Just to suck on.” Wei Wuxian waggles his eyebrows and Lan Zhan huffs in exasperation.
So much for not being lascivious. Wei Wuxian makes quick, practical work of helping Lan Zhan out of the rest of his clothes, which he usually only does if they’re about to fuck, because it’s part of the fun. But Lan Zhan is just allowing him to do it now, holding his arms out for Wei Wuxian to peel the tighter inner layers off. His skin is raw where the wet fabric was rubbing against him - which Wei Wuxian’s dick informs him is also sexy, even though it isn’t. Lan Zhan is uncomfortable. Making him comfortable is its own reward.
“There you are,” Wei Wuxian says, once he’s got him naked. He looks him over, of course he looks, how can he not? But Lan Zhan’s body doesn’t seem to be as interested as Wei Wuxian’s is. And that’s fine. “You’ll feel so much better after a bath and some fruit and tea. Then we’ll rest here until dinnertime, okay Lan Zhan?”
Lan Zhan answers with a quiet “Mn,” and a tired nod, and Wei Wuxian nudges him off to the tub behind the screen.
He listens to the water slosh around when Lan Zhan gets in and tries hard not to picture him washing himself. Submerging his head and face, getting his hair wet, the water dripping down his chest… No, Lan Zhan is tired. Poor thing. Not sexy.
In the meantime, Wei Wuxian is pretty soggy too, and there’s a basin with some rice water and washing powder in the room. He undresses quickly and washes with a cloth at the basin, rinsing and combing the mud out of his hair and smoothing some scented rice water into it. Then he ties his hair back and rolls it up, before finding a clean inner robe to slip into. He settles onto the narrow bed and watches the clouds roll in out the window. He can smell the incoming lightning, almost.
It’s still hot, but such a luxury to be clean and comfortable, Wei Wuxian allows his body a little ripple of pleasure. It’s so cozy, so safe in this room in Yunmeng, listening to Lan Zhan finish bathing, stepping out of the tub, shuffling around behind the screen. His dick reacts to everything Lan Zhan does because it apparently belongs to a ridiculous horny teenager.
Wei Wuxian reaches into the bucket of ice and grabs out a long shard to suck on. He purses his lips around it, then lets his breath run cool. What a pleasure it is to have a body with which to taste the slightly stale ice, to feel the tingle of it on his tongue, to inhale the cold air and exhale it warm again.
Lan Zhan comes from behind the privacy screen in his trousers and inner robe. His feet are bare and he’s got his wet hair pinned in a loose knot at the top of his head, with damp little wisps framing his face.
Wei Wuxian chokes on his ice before coughing it back out, and he sits up.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, coming over to him with his concerned little face.
“I’m fine. You’re just…” He stops to pat his chest and clear his throat. “You shocked me. I don’t know why. I should be used to you by now.”
Lan Zhan reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, which is the perfect opportunity for Wei Wuxian to lean in for a kiss. Lan Zhan curls his fingers gently around the back of Wei Wuxian’s head as he kisses. It’s brief and soft, and Lan Zhan pulls away to say, “Your mouth feels cool.”
“I’ve been sucking ice,” Wei Wuxian says, intelligently, and then plucks a shard from the bucket and holds it up, like a genius. Lan Zhan always makes him dither when he kisses him. It’s unfair.
When Lan Zhan bends forward and uses his mouth to take the ice shard from Wei Wuxian’s fingers, all of the rest of his thoughts fly from his head. All that’s left is Lan Zhan’s lips around his fingers, sucking on the piece of ice.
Finally, Lan Zhan releases him and says, “Now my mouth is cool, too.”
So Wei Wuxian kisses him again. And again and again.
He slips his hand into Lan Zhan’s robe, slides his fingers along the ridges of muscle that line his ribcage. So much strength in his slim, scholar’s body. Wei Wuxian can feel his core radiating power. He skims over the smooth skin of his ribs, around to his back where the first edges of scars begin. This is familiar territory by now: the first one he reaches, which comes nearly to the front where the whip had curled around. The one just below it, deeper than the first. Inward towards his spine, a shorter one that had chipped this vertebrae. His old friend Anger starts to claw its way to the top, as it usually does, but Lan Zhan gives his hair a little tug to remind him to settle down.
Wei Wuxian lies back and pulls Lan Zhan down to lie on top of him, braced up on his elbows and craning his head up a bit to keep kissing.
He knows the scars still ache sometimes and he would take that pain away if he could, he's even fantasized about time magic–for a whole host of reasons, not just Lan Zhan 's punishment – but the implications are too terrifyingly far-reaching, and Wei Wuxian is a realist. He can't undo the pain of the past, but he can offer comfort to Lan Zhan over small things like getting overheated in the heavy Yunmeng summers.
When he slips his hands entirely under Lan Zhan’s inner robe and around his back, he feels the heat still radiating from him; his sides are already slick with sweat even though he’s just bathed.
“We don’t have to,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against his lips. “If you’re too tired or hot. It’s okay.”
“I want to,” Lan Zhan says back, moving down to mouth at Wei Wuxian’s throat. “I always want to.”
“I do too, but…”
Before he can finish his thought, a gust of wind rattles the window and the sky darkens.
“Wait here,” Wei Wuxian says, and with a quick kiss to Lan Zhan’s open mouth, he gets up to prop the window open. The next breeze seems to rip open the sky. The rain falls on Yunmeng, breaking the heat, at least for the moment. When it blows over, and the sun comes out again, it will be twice as oppressively humid. He knows this like he knows his own name; Yunmeng is in his bones, even these newly formed ones.
He turns back to see Lan Zhan lounging on the bed–-lounging, he is lounging--with his robes closed, still somewhat prim with one hand resting on his stomach, and the other by his side. His legs are comfortably relaxed, crossed at the ankle. There’s a little scar on the pale skin of his left instep from a long-ago battle. Wei Wuxian hurries back to the bed to kiss it. Lan Zhan grunts a little in surprise. When Wei Wuxian looks up at him, he’s got that look on his face: a little shocked, a little exasperated, a little delighted.
Thunder rumbles, and lightning soon follows.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, “you like thunderstorms, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Wei Wuxian kisses the sharp bones of his ankle, first the outside, then the inside. “Me too,” he says, between kisses. “It feels exciting, but also cozy and safe.”
Shijie used to put pillows on the ground for him and Jiang Cheng, and they would lie back and watch the storms rip through Yunmeng in Spring and Summer. He’s not at a point yet where he can think of her with peace in his heart, so he pushes those memories aside.
He continues upwards, and rubs his cheek against the soft skin of Lan Zhan’s inner thigh, which is still pink and irritated from his pants getting too wet and hot. Wei Wuxian reaches out for the bucket of ice, picks out a shard, and sucks on it for a few seconds.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, leaning up on his elbows to look down.
Lan Zhan’s body is interested, if tired.
Wei Wuxian kisses his thigh with his cold mouth, and Lan Zhan jerks a little under his touch.
“Lie back,” Wei Wuxian says. “I like taking care of you. Let me? Your skin is so hot.”
He feels Lan Zhan shifting, and looks up to see him with his forearm thrown over his eyes, which is something that Lan Zhan does sometimes when they’re intimate like this - usually when Wei Wuxian is looming over him, staring, and running his mouth. Most of the time he just lets him hide, because Lan Zhan is, at the very heart of him, modest, even genuinely shy, and he sometimes still struggles with eye contact. It’s all fine, now that he understands it. But this evening he’s admittedly yearning to see him.
“Lan Zhan,” he says softly, leaning up on his hands. He scoots up to kneel between his thighs, and sits back so that he’s not hovering over him.
Lan Zhan moves his arm away from his face and gazes at him–not shyly–with a little smirk.
“What’s on your mind?” Wei Wuxian asks.
Lan Zhan reaches down to take his hands. He runs calloused fingers over Wei Wuxian’s knuckles and says, “You, as always.”
Wei Wuxian bends forward to kiss his stomach just above where his cock is, skimming along his length with his cheek on his way back down.
Lan Zhan sucks in a breath and says, “Wei Ying, do you… enjoy me, like this?”
Wei Wuxian rests his head on his palm beside Lan Zhan’s hip and smiles up at him. He can sense another question inside this one. “I enjoy you in every way.”
With a little squeeze of his hands, Lan Zhan says, “I mean, do you enjoy taking care of me?”
“Of course.” He’s aware he’s dodging whatever deeper thing Lan Zhan is asking, but something about it is making him squirm inside. “You like taking care of me too, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then?” He leans forward to press more kisses around his hips and stomach. “I like doing things for you, too. I like pleasing you,” Wei Wuxian says. “And I also like… Of course I like comforting you. Is that what you’re asking?”
“Mn.”
It isn’t, or at least it’s not all of it, but Wei Wuxian would like to get back to the kissing and the looking at Lan Zhan’s lovely face and smooth cheeks and fine, feathery brows as dark as crows’ wings and ridiculous red mouth, with its familiar little downturned smile, and–oh–those fine dark brows still read a bit confused about something.
Wei Wuxian sighs as he smooths his hands over the sharp jut of Lan Zhan’s hips and sits back up.
“I love taking care of you,” he says. “I still can’t believe I have the honor of your trust, okay? The few times you were in true pain or true danger–when you wake from a nightmare, or when something hurts you–it’s a privilege to comfort you, and making you feel good makes me feel good. But I love it more when I’m not really worried for you, like now. You’re, ugh, uncomfortable and exhausted from the heat, but I thrive in the heat, so I’m fine. Lan Zhan, there’s always a power imbalance between us, and there will be for years to come.”
“Wei Ying–”
“You know it’s true,” Wei Wuxian presses. “Not just my core; I can work on that. But our standing in society. The way people treat us. The money. You’re always taking care of me. It’s rare that I get to do the same for you. I like feeling useful.”
Lan Zhan sits up, with Wei Wuxian still kneeling between his thighs, and scoots closer. “You are still the most capable person I know. I have never seen you as weak. I have certainly never seen you as useless.”
“Also you look beautiful like this,” Wei Wuxian says, because now the words are just spilling out and he’s piecing together this part of his own desires as they do. “You’re vulnerable in a way that’s not actually dangerous. Sometimes pain and pleasure can look similar. The way your skin looks and feels when you’re too hot, like you just had the best fuck of your life. When the sweat runs down your temple, and your hair is disheveled, and you’re a little out of breath and a little shaky. You tremble sometimes after you come, did you know that? Like you’re overwhelmed.”
Lan Zhan is staring at him now, a little shocked. “I am.”
“I know. And I get to see it.”
He takes Lan Zhan’s hands, but Lan Zhan is doing the thing where he looks everywhere but at Wei Wuxian’s face. Which is not exactly uncommon, it just usually doesn’t happen when they’re being intimate. It’s fine, he’s not going to force Lan Zhan to look him in the eye while he says whatever is on his mind, but he gives his hands a little shake and asks, “What is it?”
Lan Zhan looks down at their joined hands. “I– am trying to find the words.”
“You don’t ever have to justify yourself if you feel uncomfortable with something.”
“You are owed an explanation.”
He’s not, he really isn’t, but Lan Zhan won’t accept that, so he doesn’t bother. He also doesn’t urge or lead him.
“I do not like my own weaknesses,” Lan Zhan finally says. “I’ve grown used to hiding them. I realize I should not, especially from you. But it is a difficult habit to break.”
“Vulnerability isn’t weakness.”
“No, and yet…” He seems to struggle for the words.
The sexy mood is flagging here–everything’s flagging–but that’s okay. They can fuck any time. Even though Wei Wuxian was extremely ready, this is fine. Feelings are important, more important, vital. His dick can wait; it’s his brain’s turn.
“Being cared for,” Lan Zhan says, “being tended to… Any time that I found myself in need of care, it has been for unpleasant reasons.”
Because you were tortured, Wei Wuxian’s mind dismally supplies, but he doesn’t give voice to this. Because the people caring for you were the ones who decided that your pain was a fair price.
“Because,” Wei Wuxian says instead, “for you, comfort is tied up with trauma.”
At that, Lan Zhan finally looks up to meet his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I suppose that is the reason.”
“Sometimes I wish I were able to take better care of you,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I can understand why you feel the way you do. I think it’s healthy to accept comfort, but I can find other ways…”
“I do want your comfort,” Lan Zhan says. “and your attention, and your desire. I want to be able to take joy in it, in knowing that you care for me. I want to be able to put myself into your hands entirely, and to not feel shame. Today I felt–feel–uncomfortable. I feel hot and tired, and my back hurts.” He takes Wei Wuxian’s hands and says, “Wei Ying, please help me feel better. I am ready.”
He’s so earnest, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, or fuck him or just hug him all day. All, maybe. On top of it all, the honor is so overwhelming it knocks him breathless. He raises Lan Zhan’s hands to his lips and kisses his knuckles, turns his hands over and kisses his palms.
“What will make you feel better?” he asks. “We could lie down together? Or I could rub your back, or bring you some cool tea. We don’t have to do anything else, we don’t have to fuck, or…”
“Yes.”
Wei Wuxian gives his hands a little squeeze. “To which thing?” But he knows Lan Zhan sometimes doesn’t like to say it. “Yes to sex?”
A nod. His Lan Zhan, so lustful all the time. He can’t stop his own ridiculous grin.
“How do you want it?” Wei Wuxian asks. “So that you won’t feel overheated.”
“I am tired. Wei Ying can do all of the work and that will make me feel cared for.” He lies back on the pillow and arranges himself somewhat stiffly, with his arms at his sides and his hair bunched up at the top of his head. “And the ice,” he says. “It helped.”
“Ah. Good.” Wei Wuxian really liked that part; his cock twitches again at the thought. He reaches into the wooden bucket for another shard.
“And the cooling talismans,” Lan Zhan says. “Perhaps one on the bed.”
Wei Wuxian leans over to his robes, which he’d left hanging on the privacy screen, to get another talisman. A gust of wind blows the window all the way open, and the rain lashes in, soaking the sill.
“The window,” Lan Zhan says. “I like it open, but we mustn’t let the rain come in and damage the wood."
Never let it be said that Wei Wuxian doesn't ask for this. Patiently, he gets up, pushes the window so it opens outward, lays his own soggy robe beneath the sill, and comes back to the bed.
“I would like some tea,” Lan Zhan says. “And an orange.”
“Now you’re pushing your luck,” Wei Wuxian says, but he can’t hide his own ridiculous smile as he crosses the room again, picks out an orange, pours some cool tea, and brings it back to the bed. He watches indulgently as Lan Zhan drinks it down - he’s not even sipping delicately at this point. He peels the orange as Lan Zhan drinks, its lovely scent mixing with the rain and filling the room.
“More tea?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Later, thank you.” He holds his hand out for an orange slice, but Wei Wuxian pushes it into his mouth instead, making him scowl cutely.
While Lan Zhan finishes his orange, Wei Wuxian takes the empty cup and sets it aside before climbing back into bed. He nudges Lan Zhan's thighs apart to reclaim his place between them, and leans over without lying down on top of him, to kiss his mouth again, sticky and sweet with orange juice. More ice is what he needs. But Lan Zhan's neck is right there, and he's sweating again, clean sweat mingled with the scents of sandalwood hair oil and soap flakes. Wei Wuxian has to kiss the side of his neck and breathe him in.
Lan Zhan's hands come up to hold his hips and he arches a little, straining up towards him.
Now we're back in business.
"That's it," Wei Wuxian murmurs against his neck. "Let Wei gege take care of you."
The hands on his hips shove at him a little and he backs off to see Lan Zhan looking at him with one eyebrow raised: exasperated amusement.
Wei Wuxian giggles. "Too much?"
"Mn."
“Alright. That’s fair. Do you want me to put my cold hands on you?”
Lan Zhan considers it, but shakes his head. “Unpleasant. Warm hands. Cold… cold mouth, though.”
“Ahh, Lan Zhan.” How far can he take this? He pops a chunk of ice in his mouth and bends forward to blow cool air across Lan Zhan’s stomach, which earns him a shiver. He palms gently at Lan Zhan’s cock and fastens his lips over the jut of his hip bone and that gets him a jolt and a gasp. “Lan Zhan,” he says. “Should I?”
“I– Yes. Take the ice out first.”
Instead of spitting it out, Wei Wuxian chews the ice and swallows it. Before the inside of his mouth can warm up again, he dives down and swallows Lan Zhan down as far as he can in one go. For his efforts, Lan Zhan almost knees him in the shoulder, but the sound that tears from his throat makes it worth it; a shocked moan that almost makes the hair on the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck stand on end. He uses his free hand to push Lan Zhan’s thigh back down, and Lan Zhan’s hands flutter around his hair and neck until they come to rest on his shoulders. His grip is so tight, it might leave a bruise.
“Wei Ying,” he pants. “Wei–Wei Ying, ah.”
Wei Wuxian strokes his thumbs along the soft crease of his groin, feeling the coarse-textured hair as he eases off slowly, now that his mouth is warm again. A few soft licks to signal gently that he’s backing off for now. He leans his chin on his crossed hands on top of Lan Zhan’s stomach, gently nuzzling his length with his cheek. “Was that good, my love? Should I do it again?”
“Yes, but… not for too long. I want to make you come first.”
Wei Wuxian has no choice but to duck his head and bite Lan Zhan’s side before sitting back up.
“First,” Wei Wuxian says, “before we go on, I had better check your pulses, to make sure you’re well. May I?”
“Oh. Yes.” He holds his hand out, palm up. His cheeks are still pink, now the flush is creeping down his neck and chest. This is most likely a sex flush–Lan Zhan is fair-skinned–but when Wei Wuxian takes his pulses, they are still a bit empty, and too fast.
“Am I well?” Lan Zhan asks.
He’s playing along now, the minx. “Your pulses are still showing summer heat, and some dampness, too.”
Lan Zhan tilts his head in question–isn’t this just a game?-- so Wei Wuxian places his hand back down and smiles. He had learned a lot from Wen Qing. He doesn’t need to talk about that now.
“Yes, you will be well. With more treatment.”
His “treatment” is the exact opposite of what Lan Zhan actually needs, but, well. He reaches for more ice, and for the qiankun pouch they keep under the bed, which holds some of their combined personal items; in this case, a jar of oil.
“Now if you would lie back and relax. That’s it.”
Oh, but he’s lovely, slightly a mess, half smirking to let Wei Wuxian know he’s not taking this game too seriously. Wei Wuxian chews and swallows another piece of ice and goes back down on him. He dips into the oil and slicks his fingers while he’s at it, while he’s got Lan Zhan distracted and writhing beneath his mouth, his bare feet sliding down the sheets along Wei Wuxian’s sides.
When he touches him to slip his fingers inside, he does so without teasing, straight to the point. He knows Lan Zhan’s body by now: he likes his touch to be confident and without hesitation. He loves to suck him while he’s touching him so deeply inside, too - he loves when Lan Zhan does this to him. Giving that same pleasure back to him is just as satisfying.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, “slow down. I do not want to… not yet.”
He does get carried away. So he gently eases off, while keeping his fingers moving inside, to kiss wetly along the crease of his thigh, his stomach, sucking a mark onto the soft skin there, nipping beneath his rib-cage, all the soft, vulnerable, unprotected places.
Lan Zhan’s hands are all over his back, his shoulders, his neck, his hair, gripping and then slackening in time with the thrusts of Wei Wuxian’s fingers. It’s so hot he has to stop a moment and rest his head against Lan Zhan’s chest.
“I’m going to come all over you before I manage to fuck you,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, ah, I need to catch my breath.” He sits up and scoots back a bit, withdrawing his fingers and giving them both a little space. Lan Zhan’s legs try to close, try to hook behind his hips to bring him back in, but Wei Wuxian holds his thighs down and apart.
“Do you want to turn over?” he asks. “You might feel cooler.”
“No,” Lan Zhan says. “I need to breathe. And I need to see your face.”
Thank heavens, Wei Wuxian wants to see Lan Zhan’s face, too. “I’ll try not to lean on you,” he says.
“Lean on me. I am fine. I enjoy it - the closeness. Your skin.”
“Lan Er-gege,” he says, as his hips lurch forward without permission from his brain. He braces a hand on Lan Zhan’s stomach as he pushes in, pressing over his core, where he imagines he can feel their joining through his palm and fingertips. Lan Zhan is so hot inside, it’s probably his imagination that he’s hotter than usual, but maybe not.
Lan Zhan reaches for him and Wei Wuxian has the presence of mind to press his hand back down to the bed, which makes him clench up inside with a cut-off moan.
“Lan Zhan. Behave.” He pushes in a little harder to make a point, and Lan Zhan tips his head back, arching his long neck and bunching up his ridiculous high ponytail on the top of his head. Wei Wuxian can’t turn his eyes away. “That’s it,” he says. “Look at you, you’ve got it all now, good boy.”
Lan Zhan swallows hard at those words and his hands curl into the sheets. Wei Wuxian leans to the side a bit to reach for the bucket of ice again. His movement shifts them both enough that Lan Zhan cracks his eyes open and frowns at him. So impatient, his Hanguang Jun. Wei Wuxian takes a bit of ice and holds it up questioningly.
Lan Zhan nods, closes his eyes and arches upwards again.
He won’t last with Lan Zhan looking like this. It’s strange, the way it’s not entirely about the sensations of his body. It feels good, Wei Wuxian cares that it feels good; he loves the physicality of it, loves when he’s inside Lan Zhan, he loves the slide, the grip, the movement; or when Lan Zhan is doing him, hitting all the right spots, petting him, filling him. The pressure, the closeness and heat. He does love those things, but there is an artistic heart lurking within Wei Wuxian that loves looking at Lan Zhan when he’s sweet and open like this. And there’s the part of him that’s an utterly besotted sap who can’t get enough of being trusted enough to do this.
He brings the ice shard to Lan Zhan’s lips and traces their outline. When Lan Zhan touches it with his tongue, and touches Wei Wuxian’s fingers along with it, his hips stutter and he nearly loses his balance. Lan Zhan braces him with a hand against his hip and sucks his fingers and the ice into his mouth before releasing them again.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, chanting it like a prayer in time with the movement of their bodies.
He runs what’s left of the ice down the sharp little point of Lan Zhan’s chin, over the curve of his adam’s apple, into the soft hollow between his collarbones. The ice is melting, dripping over his neck. Wei Wuxian leans forward to lick the water up, stops to suck at his adam’s apple and scrape his teeth over his pulse.
Lan Zhan is mostly quiet when they make love. That’s fine too. Sometimes when Wei Wuxian is fucking him like this, face to face, he lays his arm across his eyes. Also fine. Lan Zhan is still modest sometimes, he might never shed his restricted upbringing - all of it is fine. Lan Zhan loves him, cherishes him. Wei Wuxian doesn’t need him to be loud or immodest. His soft vocalizations with each exhale are enough. His hands coming up to hold Wei Wuxian by the back of the neck, keeping him in place where he wants his mouth, right there on his neck - it’s enough. His calloused heel digging into Wei Wuxian’s backside, urging him deeper - it’s enough.
“Wei Ying,” he says, his voice rough against Wei Wuxian’s ear. “Good, so good.” Lan Zhan kisses his shoulder, bites his neck, and Wei Wuxian moans in such a shaky voice he’s almost embarrassed. Lan Zhan’s hand slides up his side, under his arm, across his back, pulling him down closer. “Wei Ying,” he says, “my love.”
Wei Wuxian has to pull back a little and slow down, or this will be over before it’s well and truly begun. Lan Zhan lets him go easily, resting his hands on Wei Wuxian’s hips as they move, spreading his thighs further - he’s so flexible, it’s obscene - giving him more space and looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. Lan Zhan rarely thinks to touch himself when they’re doing this. Wei Wuxian had asked him once if it was part of his self-restraint, but Lan Zhan told him no, it’s just because he prefers Wei Ying to do it for him. Lan Zhan likes his hands on him.
So Wei Wuxian sits back, pulls Lan Zhan’s hips onto his lap, and takes him in hand–both hands–sliding his grip up and down, still wet with oil and Lan Zhan’s own pre-come. He twists his top hand on his way up, the way he knows Lan Zhan likes it. Lan Zhan reaches down to hold his forearm as his eyes slip closed.
Without warning, Lan Zhan wraps his legs tight around Wei Wuxian’s waist and flips them. The bed is narrow, so he has to do this by deftly maneuvering Wei Wuxian under him by the waist.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, breathless. “Why are you so sneaky? And I thought I was doing all the work?”
Lan Zhan rises on his knees, sinks back down. “You took such beautiful care of me, I am well now.”
Lan Zhan is so hot around him, powerful thighs framing his hips, Wei Wuxian can’t hold his own head up; the next time Lan Zhan grinds down, he moans, unabashedly loud. Lan Zhan might be quiet in bed, but Wei Wuxian is noisy; he can’t help it.
Lan Zhan leans forward, wraps his big hand around the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck, and draws him upwards. Wei Wuxian braces on his palms and lets Lan Zhan cradle the back of his head as they kiss. His mouth is still hot. His hand spans the entire back of Wei Wuxian’s head and is so obscenely strong it gives him the chills.
“Pull my hair,” Wei Wuxian murmurs against his lips, and Lan Zhan’s hand tightens in his hair as he rides him.
“I’m going to come,” Wei Wuxian tells him, which makes Lan Zhan speed up, and wrap his other arm around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.
He can feel Lan Zhan shaking, holding onto him so tightly. This is what gets him every time. Of course it feels good, Lan Zhan is hot and tight around him, slippery and sweet. But the hand in his hair, the trembling, the breath against his neck - this is what sends him hurtling into his orgasm, a little shocked when it hits him, as he always is.
Lan Zhan kisses his neck wetly, breathes his name, slows his hips a little, and holds Wei Wuxian against his chest.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says a little sullenly when he catches his breath. “How is this me taking care of you?” He peels himself away and leans back on his hands to see Lan Zhan looking down at him - flushed, his hair coming out of its messy ponytail, a little smile on his red lips.
“Damn it,” Wei Wuxian says, pushing Lan Zhan off of him to flip them again. “Now lie down here, open your legs, and be good so I can suck your dick while I put my fingers in you again until you come.”
It’s so worth it to watch his mouth drop open in shocked lust. Wei Wuxian nudges his thighs apart and goes back down. Lan Zhan is wet everywhere, with oil, with Wei Wuxian’s own spend, sweat trickling down his stomach, cock leaking. Wei Wuxian wastes no time in doing exactly as he promised, going directly for that sensitive little bundle of nerves within him, swallowing him down at once, pinning him between his mouth and his fingers. He’s got Lan Zhan panting the way he never does even in the middle of a battle, and now he’s vocal, now he’s moaning Wei Ying as he arches up. Wei Wuxian uses his free hand to press him back down by the hip, and Lan Zhan sobs as he comes, gripping Wei Wuxian’s shoulders.
His orgasm leaves him shaking, and Wei Wuxian pulls away from him slowly, with kisses to his thighs. This is the part he loves. Maybe he even loves it more than his own release. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and rests his chin on Lan Zhan’s hip, satisfied with himself for the moment.
From down here Wei Wuxian can see the underside of his chin, a line of sweat trickling to his neck. He wants to lick it, but this is the time when Lan Zhan likes to get cleaned up. Thunder rumbles outside the window, and a gust of wind brings a chill into the room. The thigh he’s leaning on breaks out into gooseflesh.
“Are you cold now?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Hmm. No, not cold. Comfortable.” His hand is toying idly with Wei Wuxian’s hair.
“Want to get up and wash off?”
Lan Zhan hums in reply. Wei Wuxian knows he likes to do this part himself. When they first started fucking, Wei Wuxian had thought to bring some cloths and wipe him down, but Lan Zhan had gently stopped his hands and gone behind the screen to clean himself. He had chalked that up to the typical Lan modesty, but now he has an epiphany: it might make him feel too vulnerable.
So he rolls away and sits up, turning to look out the window, so that Lan Zhan can pick up his clothes and wrap them around his waist when he walks behind the screen again. Once he’s out of sight, Wei Wuxian goes back to the basin to wash his hands and rinse the worst of the sweat and oils from his body. Then he strips the top blanket from the bed and folds it on the floor.
Neither of them takes long, but Wei Wuxian is already lying in the bed again when Lan Zhan returns. The rain lashes down, and the breeze stirs Lan Zhan’s hair, which is completely down again. Later, Wei Wuxian will ask if he wants it braided. For now, he just wants to stare. The way his hair frames his face when it’s loose and soft like this, so dark in contrast to his pale skin, and brings out the contours of his face and the depth of his eyes: it makes him weak inside.
“Kiss me before I die on the spot just from looking at you,” Wei Wuxian says, and Lan Zhan rewards the compliment by crawling onto the bed to oblige him. Damn it, Wei Wuxian could go again, actually. Maybe later tonight. Lan Zhan’s mouth lingers on his, and when they part, he lies down beside Wei Wuxian on the narrow bed. Wei Wuxian scoots onto his side, with his back against the wall, and stares at Lan Zhan’s profile.
The breeze rattles the window again, and blows through the room, stirring the white robes that Lan Zhan has hung up to wear when they go back out later, after the rain stops.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, “you know, I could fix some of those cooling talismans to the hems of your robes if you want.”
Lan Zhan lifts his head and looks at him, considering it. “You could sell them, too.”
The idea surprises him a bit - Lan Zhan seems to enjoy taking care of him and buying him things… Oh. Oh.
“Or perhaps,” Lan Zhan continues, “you could give lectures and show others how to make them. Good cultivators would pay for that. Cloud Recesses could host them. Or… or not. Anywhere you wanted.”
“Ah, no one would pay for my lectures,” Wei Wuxian says, but even he knows that’s not true. Even when he was considered the villain of all the sects, people still used his ideas and tried to associate with him.
Lan Zhan just scoffs at him.
“I would of course be honored to be allowed to host a lecture at Cloud Recesses,” Wei Wuxian says. Lan Zhan wants him to consider Gusu as his home, or at least as one of his homes now.
“Of course you are allowed,” Lan Zhan says. “I believe we would even have to turn people away. Your inventions are clever, useful, and artful. Anyone should be glad to have access to your intellect.”
‘Should’ and ‘would’ are two different things, but maybe Lan Zhan is right. After all, he was–not exactly welcome–but allowed in Lotus Pier, to hunt water demons with Jiang disciples, and that counts for something.
“It’s not a bad idea, actually,” Wei Wuxian says. “I’ll give it some thought.”
Outside, lightning flickers, and they both stare out the window, tired and daydreaming.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says.
“Hmm?” He casually twines a lock of Lan Zhan’s hair around his finger. He wants to climb on top of him again and just rut on him, but Lan Zhan needs space.
“Thank you for taking care of me today.”
“Thank you for letting me,” Wei Wuxian says. “I understand now why it’s hard for you to accept care.”
“Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “But… To be completely honest, I was like that before… Before. Even as a child. So perhaps it is just the way I am.”
“Maybe. But your experiences reinforced the idea that needing comfort means something bad happened to you, so I get it.”
Lan Zhan pulls his hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. “Today you made it a good experience. I will feel more at ease with it now.”
He’s so sincere, and he tries so hard, Wei Wuxian feels such a tremendous wave of affection for him he has to close his eyes and swallow hard.
Lan Zhan turns onto his side and does a little head tilt and slow blink, and before Wei Wuxian can ask, he lays a gentle hand on Wei Wuxian’s side, like a cat tentatively asking if it can climb into your lap. Gamely–giddily, even–Wei Wuxian settles back into the pillows and pulls Lan Zhan toward him, tucking his head against his chest and petting his hair. Lan Zhan rests his hand on his side and wiggles a little to get comfortable.
Wei Wuxian drinks it all in: the sandalwood scent of Lan Zhan’s hair, the dry starch of inn sheets beneath his back, the sound of rain and thunder, the smell of Yunmeng during a rainstorm. The prospect of a future. The trust Lan Zhan placed into his hands today.
The breeze has cooled the day off for now, at least, and they’ll get dressed later and go out again, and eat dinner with the juniors; the little ducklings that Lan Zhan has raised.
“My good Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, petting a hand down the smooth skin of his arm. “My good Lan Zhan.”