Chapter Text
Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had spent nearly two months assisting the Nie Clan with a wayward resentful demon in the outskirts of Qinghe. Tired down to their cores, they were more than ready to be back in the quiet serenity of the Jingshi. They had already been on the road for about a week and Lan Zhan could tell Wei Ying had pent up energy. He fidgeted, even in his sleep, and never sat still, even more so than usual. Wei Ying never asked for help, even when he was injured or starving. His stubbornness both vexed and amused Lan Zhan at times, but after such a long period using spiritual energy without a golden core, Wei Wuxian carried a different sort of tiredness, one that hollowed him out and left him on the edge.
This particular day was long, climbing over the mountain ridges before their descent into Caiyi was always harrowing. They would’ve ridden Lan Zhan’s sword but with all of the extra supplies they’d accumulated on their travels, they’d had to borrow a donkey from the Nie Clan to bring everything back. The light was waning in the sky so they figured they would stop in the small village just on the ridge to spend the night. Descending the mountain in the dark would be too dangerous and they were both exhausted, not to mention their donkey simply stopped and wouldn’t move a step further, silly thing.
At the inn, the moment they reached their room, they only took care to wash their faces and disrobe before they collapsed onto the bed without a second thought. Neither paid much mind to the way their limbs tangled together—only to the comfort of the feather mattress the innkeeper had kindly provided.
They woke at dawn—thanks, as always, to Lan Wangji’s internal clock. The innkeeper greeted them at the front door and recommended a spot deeper in the village, promising it served the best congee around—perfect fuel for another long day of travel. She wasn’t wrong. Wei Wuxian devoured his bowl with uncharacteristic silence, too engrossed in the warm, fragrant meal to chatter. Lan Wangji found the quiet unexpectedly pleasant, especially considering how often he’d had to remind Wei Wuxian not to speak while chewing.
With full stomachs, they wandered through the morning market, taking their time to examine each stall filled with local trinkets and handmade wares. At one booth, Wei Wuxian pointed out a chopstick holder shaped like a resting bunny. Without hesitation, it was purchased and tucked discreetly into a hidden sleeve pouch. As Lan Wangji lingered, distracted by a display of other rabbit-shaped curios, Wei Wuxian’s gaze drifted to a nearby flower stall. There, just a few steps away, bloomed a bouquet of the most delicate, violet bell flowers he’d ever seen.
While the florist assisted another customer, Wei Wuxian leaned in, breathing deeply, drawn to the delicate scent of the purple bell flowers. But the moment he inhaled, something jolted through him—his heart gave a sudden, unexpected lurch. He gasped quietly, startled by the fleeting sensation as his pulse jumped, sharp and inexplicable. It passed just as quickly as it had come. Blinking, he shook his head and dismissed it. Just a strange moment. Nothing more.
Lan Wangji soon joined him, curious to see what had captured Wei Wuxian’s attention. But by then, Wei Wuxian had already decided not to spend money on flowers. If they were truly meant for him, he figured he’d find their like blooming wild along the roadside.
They resumed their journey shortly after, but as the hours wore on, something began to feel off. Wei Wuxian’s mind grew hazy around the edges, like a fine mist had settled just behind his eyes. His skin prickled uncomfortably with heat, too warm even beneath the light breeze, and his robes clung damply to the back of his neck and chest. He brushed it off—surely it couldn’t have been the congee; Lan Zhan walked ahead without the slightest sign of discomfort. It had to be the weather. Or maybe he hadn’t slept as soundly as he’d thought.
But the sensation only worsened.
His pulse thudded too loudly in his ears, and there was a creeping, coiling tension gathering low in his belly, sharper and hotter with every breath, a pressure that no amount of steady breathing seemed to ease. His limbs felt both too heavy and too restless, his body alive with a desperate, unspent energy. Something needed to give. He swallowed thickly, jaw tight as he tugged at the collar of his robes, only to feel a rush of molten heat flood his chest and neck. A quiet sound caught in his throat—a half-stifled breath, nearly a whimper—and he pressed his lips shut to hold it back.
It didn’t make any sense. His skin felt raw with sensitivity, every brush of fabric sparking, his thoughts slipping sideways, and a low, needy ache had begun to throb in his hips and thighs. Embarrassment curled in his stomach. He’d never felt like this before—not from heat, not from hunger, not from anything ordinary. It felt like... something else. Like something was building inside him, relentless, insistent, with nowhere to go.
Just after midday, Lan Wangji called for a stop beneath the drooping branches of a willow tree that arched protectively over the stream they’d been following. He’d noticed the bright flush spreading across Wei Wuxian’s face and neck, and more concerning still—the way he had begun to stumble over the uneven ground, his usual springing steps now sluggish and imprecise.
Looking back, the silence that had settled over Wei Wuxian twenty minutes ago should have been the first clear sign. He was never one to hold his tongue without good reason—least of all during travel, when every bird call or oddly shaped cloud was fair game for commentary. Still, Lan Wangji had quietly assumed dehydration, fatigue, perhaps too much sun. Reasonable things.
But now, watching him lean against the willow’s trunk, panting softly as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, Lan Wangji felt unease bloom in his chest. Something was wrong. And it wasn’t just exhaustion.
For Wei Wuxian, the heat inside his body had grown into a different kind of fire—something unfamiliar, primal, and all-consuming. It wasn’t the sun, nor the walking, nor anything he could explain. His thoughts were disjointed, slipping like water through cupped hands, his body caught between bone-deep fatigue and a restless, thrumming tension he couldn’t soothe.
Sweat dotted his brow, clung to the nape of his neck, and trickled down his back in slow, unbearable rivulets. His robes, once light and loose, now felt suffocating. Even the gentle weight of his hair against his skin turned irritating—too much. With a frustrated huff, he swept it up into a makeshift bun, hoping the breeze might offer some relief. It didn’t. The cool water Lan Zhan offered moments later tasted good, yes, but did nothing to douse the blaze churning low and hot in his belly.
He slumped down beneath the willow, back pressed to the trunk, legs sprawled gracelessly in front of him. His body felt simultaneously drained and overrun with energy, like lightning coiled in his limbs, like he needed to move , to do something , or else come apart entirely. Every nerve was stretched taut. He was on edge in a way he had never been before.
And then—there it was. A subtle but insistent throb, low and deep in his groin.
His breath caught.
Oh.
A flush darker than the sun had given him swept up his throat. He shifted, thighs clenching unconsciously, and ground out a low sound—half frustration, half disbelief.
“Nghh…”
Of course .
Of course something like this would happen to him. He didn’t know how , didn’t know why , but somehow, something had flipped a switch in him, and now his body was humming like a struck bell, needy and flushed and shameless .
And no, absolutely not, he was not about to announce to Lan Zhan , of all people, that he was apparently going into heat like some kind of animal.
For the first time in his life, he felt just a tinge of shame—and maybe that was the most terrifying part. The ache between his legs had grown unbearable, his erection straining against the fabric of his robes like a live wire sparking with every twitch, every accidental brush of cloth. The friction wasn’t pleasant—it was maddening. Every shift, every breath, felt like it could tip him right over the edge. He folded in on himself, arms wrapping tightly around his knees as he buried his face against them, trying to make himself smaller, trying to hide the shame and the heat and the wild, restless energy threatening to devour him.
There was absolutely no way he could go on like this. And definitely not with Lan Wangji looking at him.
“Wei Wuxian,” came the quiet voice from just a few steps away. “What’s wrong?”
He laughed.
Or—it might’ve been a laugh. It came out choked and sharp, somewhere between a bark and a sob, and felt far too close to the edge of hysterical. The fog in his head was thick now, his thoughts a looping mess of heat heat heat and don’t look at me , and he couldn’t even muster up the energy to pretend everything was fine.
He didn’t lift his head.
“Wrong?” he rasped, voice muffled by his sleeves. “I’m perfectly fine , Lan Zhan. Just enjoying the lovely scenery, you know—trees, the stream, the soul-crushing weight of existence.”
His throat was dry, and his skin itched with the need to do something— touch , move , scream . He clenched his fists tighter, nails digging into his palms. It was getting harder to breathe normally, and if he didn’t find a way to take the edge off soon, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
He just knew he couldn’t let Lan Wangji see him like this.
But of course, Lan Wangji didn’t believe him for a second. He didn’t move, didn’t even raise his voice—just said, “Wei Wuxian,” in that maddeningly calm tone of his. The one that meant he knew something was wrong. The one that drove Wei Wuxian insane , because it meant Lan Zhan was always watching, always knowing, always seeing more than he ever said aloud.
“Lan Zhan, I’m fine! ” Wei Wuxian snapped, too fast, too sharp. His voice cracked at the edges, frayed and uneven, but he forced a grin. "See? Completely fine."
But he wasn’t. Not even close.
The friction of his robes against his painfully sensitive cock was driving him out of his mind. Even sitting still was torment. Every subtle shift sent another rush of sensation up his spine. His hips twitched before he could stop them, his body moving on instinct—tiny, helpless movements, just enough pressure to send sparks dancing behind his eyes. He pressed his legs in tighter against his chest, curling forward under the pretense of comfort , but really, it was to chase just a fraction more pressure.
It felt obscene . It felt incredible .
And then his brain caught up with him.
Lan Wangji was sitting right next to him .
Watching.
Wei Wuxian froze. His entire body flushed deeper, the heat from before now laced with humiliation. He could feel those eyes on him—steady, golden, unblinking. Lan Zhan didn’t say a word, but his presence was suffocating, heavy with awareness.
Wei Wuxian’s laughter cracked out of him too loudly, the edges brittle. “Ha ha ha! Lan Zhan! Such a warm day, huh? Whew! Must’ve been the walk. Or—or maybe some ants, yeah? Crawled into my robes while I wasn’t looking—ha ha ha…”
He tugged at the fabric of his sleeves with jittery fingers, trying to hide the trembling in his hands, the trembling everywhere . His heart was pounding far too fast for someone who was just “a little hot.”
He didn’t dare meet Lan Wangji’s gaze. He was not going to look up and see judgment—or worse, understanding.
A breeze drifted lazily through the willow’s hanging branches, cool and gentle, stirring the edges of Wei Wuxian’s hair. But it did nothing to ease the inferno burning beneath his skin. If anything, the contrast only made it worse. He groaned under his breath, low and desperate, the sound barely muffled by his arms.
Then the stream—its soft babbling had been background noise, but now it rushed to the forefront of his mind like a revelation. Water. Yes. He needed something, anything cold.
Without thinking, he scrambled to undo his boots and peel off his socks. His hands shook, fumbling with the ties, and the moment his bare feet plunged into the chilled stream, he melted —visibly sagging with relief, head falling back, eyes fluttering closed. A moan slipped free from his lips, unbidden and wrecked, raw with pleasure.
Lan Wangji’s ears flushed pink.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t move . But the blush rose unmistakably along the curve of his cheek, betraying the shift in his carefully guarded composure.
And still—all he could do was sit and watch as Wei Wuxian unraveled before his eyes.
Wei Wuxian, meanwhile, was becoming steadily more undone. In his rush to cool down, his outer robe had come loose, slipping down one shoulder. The ties hung useless. His collar gaped. Sweat glistened along his throat, and his chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths. He moved like a man fevered, as though tearing off his layers might finally put out the fire licking through his veins.
But just as he started stripping further, fingers tugging at the next layer, a hand shot out.
Lan Wangji grabbed his wrists.
“Wei Ying.”
His voice was quiet, but firm , and his eyes—wide, startled—searched Wei Wuxian’s face as though trying to read something that had just slipped out of focus.
Wei Wuxian’s thoughts shattered.
The pressure of Lan Wangji’s hands around his wrists—it was grounding, yes, but also devastating. Too much. Too intimate . Not violent, not even forceful, just solid. Warm. Present. And it made his brain short-circuit. He stared at those pale fingers curled around his own, transfixed, stupidly fixated on the contrast of their skin, the heat blooming under Lan Wangji’s grip like a brand.
Had Lan Zhan ever touched him like this before?
Had anyone?
His mind reeled, body trembling under the weight of the moment, desire and shame warring inside him, a storm with no outlet.
He swallowed hard. “Lan Zhan…”
‘Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, voice low and laced with concern, “what’s wrong? You look unwell…”
“Ha ha, nothing , Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian lied, his voice pitching higher, strangled by effort. “ Nghh… It’s just—just so hot out today. I just need to cool down for a moment.”
The weather, in truth, was perfectly mild for an early spring day—partly sunny, with a gentle breeze whispering through the trees. Not exactly cause for disrobing and moaning in a stream like he was seconds from combusting.
And yet, here he was.
He made a feeble attempt to yank his wrists back from Lan Wangji’s grasp. But Lan Zhan’s hands—elegant, beautiful, and unreasonably strong—didn’t budge. Wei Wuxian twisted, awkward and uncoordinated in his heat-addled state, and the movement nearly pitched him straight into the water with a wild flail.
But Lan Wangji’s grip tightened —fast and reflexive—and pulled him back.
One moment, Wei Wuxian was tumbling off-balance. The next, he was no longer in the grass at all, but squarely in Lan Wangji’s lap , chest pressed flush to chest.
Everything stopped.
His breathing hitched. The warmth of Lan Wangji’s body under him was like being pressed against a sun-warmed stone—solid, radiant, close . His thighs straddled Lan Zhan’s lap awkwardly, muscles trembling as he tried to find his balance, but the rush of shame and sheer sensation made him falter.
Only then did Lan Wangji’s grip loosen, but not entirely.
Wei Wuxian froze, wide-eyed, and immediately tried to scramble back. Abort. Abort. Emergency.
But he didn’t get far.
Two large, steady palms landed on his waist—gently, but with unmistakable purpose. Firm enough to still him. Ground him.
Anchor him in place.
The pressure sent a shockwave straight through Wei Wuxian’s already overwhelmed system. His pulse thundered in his ears. His vision blurred at the edges.
Lan Wangji wasn’t pushing him away.
And that— that —was somehow worse.
He swallowed again, voice trembling. “L-Lan Zhan…”
“Aiya, Lan Zhan! What… what are you doing?” Wei Wuxian sputtered, desperate for anything to cover the fact that he was literally seated in Lan Wangji’s lap, shame pooling hot in his gut. “Just look at you—so dignified, so upright, and yet you do this in broad daylight? What would your Gusu elders say?”
Lan Wangji blinked. “Wei Ying, you’re delirious.”
Flat. Unshaken. Not even a flicker of embarrassment on his face. As if he were the one being accosted.
“You—!” Wei Wuxian was ready to shoot back a scandalized retort, something equal parts teasing and indignant, when suddenly—
All the blood in his body surged upward, rushing to his head and crashing into his temples like a wave. His mouth fell open. A dizzy spell swept through him so swiftly it knocked the wind from his lungs. His limbs trembled, breath coming ragged. His cock throbbed where it pressed against Lan Wangji’s abdomen—excruciatingly sensitive, trapped under too many layers.
He didn’t even have the strength to sit upright.
His body collapsed forward, boneless and trembling, and his forehead came to rest against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. His lips parted—panting now, soft gasps hot against the shell of Lan Wangji’s ear. He didn’t mean to do it, didn’t intend to make that kind of noise, but when the movement sent that unbearable pressure rolling through his core, he couldn’t stop the needy little whine that slipped out.
His hips squirmed—once, twice, as if chasing that edge again—and then stilled, mortified.
Lan Wangji’s hands didn’t move. But Wei Wuxian could feel the sudden tension in his frame, the sharp inhale he tried to stifle, the unmistakable stilling of breath as his ears turned pink.
Neither of them spoke.
Wei Wuxian could feel Lan Wangji’s breath, steady and close, brushing the side of his neck. But what undid him entirely were those large, precise hands—steady where he was trembling, firm where he was coming apart. They shifted lower, slipping down the curve of his waist to the sharp points where his thighs met his hips, thumbs brushing lightly over his hipbones through the thin fabric.
The contact shot through him like lightning.
Wei Wuxian keened, high and strangled, the sound unbidden and desperate. The pressure, the touch, the unbearable ache threading through every nerve—he couldn’t stand it anymore. The tension in his body had stretched to the breaking point. He needed release . Now.
His fingers fumbled for his sash, tugging, yanking—he had no idea where it landed, only that it was gone . Good. One layer closer. His hands scrambled at the folds of his outer robe, practically tearing at it in his urgency.
But before he could strip himself further, Lan Wangji’s hands came up, replacing his.
Not halting him.
Helping.
Wei Wuxian gasped.
Deliberate, wordless, calm—Lan Wangji moved with a quiet purpose, slipping the outer layers from Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and arms. The innermost robe—crimson and clinging—was all that remained, and even that was met with reverent hands.
Then—fingers reached for the tie at his inner robe.
Wei Wuxian froze. His breath caught in his throat. Lan Zhan was undoing it. Lan Zhan’s knuckles grazed Wei Ying’s skin as he tugged it loose, as if he too were overheating—drawn into the same fever dream.
But Lan Wangji clearly hadn’t accounted for how obscene Wei Wuxian could be.
Or how forgetful.
Because beneath that inner robe, where there should have been a thin pair of trousers…
There was nothing .
As the fabric parted and slipped open, Lan Wangji stilled completely.
Wei Wuxian’s pale thighs were laid bare, long and trembling, the robe puddled loosely around his hips. Lan Wangji’s gaze dropped before he could stop himself—sweeping lower—and for one heart-stopping moment, he forgot to breathe .
Wei Wuxian, dizzy and breathless, didn’t even realize what had happened until he felt the air kiss his bare skin.
“Ah—wait—Lan Zhan!” he choked, half-aghast and half-exhilarated.
But it was too late. They were far past pretending nothing was wrong.
Wei Ying didn’t catch the flicker of hesitation in Lan Wangji’s eyes. All he saw was the crimson gauzy robe, the last barrier between him and relief. Without a second thought, he grasped at it and tore it off with a flourish, sending the delicate fabric drifting away like a silk whisper on the breeze.
For a blissful fifteen seconds, life felt exquisite—cool air caressed his bare skin, and the world seemed to hold its breath. Every nerve ending was alive, every inch of him tingling with sensation. The sun filtered softly through the willow branches above, dappling his exposed shoulders and thighs in golden light.
But then, sharp and sudden, the weight of reality crashed down. He was completely bare. And sitting squarely in Lan Wangji’s fully clothed lap.
The heat that had blossomed within him surged anew, but this time it was tinged with something richer, more tangled—heat born not just from his own fevered body, but from the serene, solid presence beneath him.
Wei Ying’s cheeks flamed crimson, the contrast of cool skin against Lan Zhan’s composed warmth sending an electric current that made his breath hitch.
He bit his lip, eyes flickering away, desperate to hide the spark of desire and shame both burning bright inside him.
And yet, even as the flush deepened, a small, reckless part of him thrilled in the vulnerability—bare, exposed, and utterly caught.
His desperation surged, spiraling higher as he began writhing in earnest against Lan Wangji. Overcome by the lustful delirium clouding his mind, he barely registered the heavy weight of Lan Zhan’s gaze pressing down on him. Still, he was sharp enough to feel himself manhandled —Lan Wangji’s strong hands guiding and pulling him without hesitation, until Wei Wuxian found himself lying on the ground, his back resting against the soft pile of discarded robes.
Lan Wangji wedged himself carefully between Wei Wuxian’s thighs, leaning in precariously close. His golden eyes locked with Wei Wuxian’s dark orbs, steady and unflinching—full of something both fierce and tender.
The weight of him was just right, grounding yet not enough to quell the fire roaring inside Wei Wuxian. He felt as if he might jump out of his own skin with need—though what kind, exactly, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that Lan Wangji needed to stop biting his lip, or else Wei Wuxian might lose control and do unspeakable things.
But then Lan Wangji parted that lip, releasing it from between his teeth—and Wei Wuxian’s breath hitched.
It was the most mesmerizing shade of red, glossy and wet with spit, and it made Wei Wuxian ache to taste him. To find out if Lan Wangji’s lips felt like clouds—an image entirely fitting, given where he was from.
“You should find out,” Lan Wangji teased, his warm breath brushing over Wei Wuxian’s flushed face.
“I—” Wei Wuxian began to stammer, not even realizing he’d spoken aloud.
Before he could think to rebut, those soft, warm, wet lips pressed firmly against his own, sending a jolt through his mind and stealing all coherent thought.
And it was— everything Wei Wuxian had ever wanted, yet somehow tinged with a strange sense of déjà vu. Lan Zhan kissed him reverently, pouring as much tenderness into the gesture as he took in return. Their lips moved with fervor, tongues sliding, Wei Wuxian tasting Lan Zhan like no one ever had before.
He bit down gently on that perfect, pillowy bottom lip, drawing from Lan Zhan a low, exquisite moan—a sound so full of pleasure it became intoxicating.
Lan Zhan’s hand curved to cradle Wei Wuxian’s head, while the other drifted down his torso to rest possessively at his waist—returning to its rightful place.
Breathless and swirling in the intensity of the moment, Wei Wuxian grasped Lan Zhan’s robes tighter, pulling him closer, and in that wordless embrace, decided with certainty they’d be much better off.
“Wei Ying, what do you need?” Lan Zhan’s voice was soft, reverent, steadying. His hands gently gripped Wei Ying’s, halting his frantic movements.
“I—I need—nghh… Lan Zhan, help—please, it hurts!” Wei Ying cried out, raw and desperate.
“What hurts, baobei? What can I do?” Lan Zhan’s golden eyes searched his flushed face, full of concern and warmth.
“It hurts… please, do something, Lan Zhan. I—I can’t take it,” Wei Wuxian whimpered, gaze falling shyly.
Lan Zhan didn’t need many clues to understand what ‘it’ meant—especially since it had been pressing, red and angry, against his robes for quite some time. Finally, he looked down, taking in Wei Ying’s deep-red, almost purple cock, the color betraying just how sensitive and sore it must be. His concern deepened.
Gently, Lan Zhan brought his hand up to wrap around the aching length. Wei Wuxian’s reaction was immediate—a soft moan slipped from deep in his throat, a mix of sharp pain and searing pleasure. On the edge of overstimulating. Lan Zhan didn’t hesitate. He carefully spread Wei Ying’s precome along the shaft, slicking it thoroughly to ensure his touch would glide with ease—delicate, soothing strokes that set Wei Wuxian trembling.
Wei Wuxian keens high in the back of his throat before he’s met with Lan Zhan’s plush mouth on his.
“Aiya Lan Zhan, oh-oh gods yes… nghhh, its sensitive”
“I will take care of Wei Ying," Lan Zhan stated quietly, his voice steady and unwavering, leaving no room for argument.
Wei Wuxian could only whimper softly, utterly undone, as Lan Zhan’s skilled hand continued its heavenly assault, the long, twisting strokes driving him quickly toward the edge.
“Lan Zhan!”
The desperation in Wei Wuxian’s voice hits him, and Lan Zhan doesn’t hesitate. He cups Wei Ying’s chest, pinching his nipple hard, giving him exactly what he needs.
The sudden, sharp pinch sends a jolt through Wei Wuxian’s body—electric, intoxicating—and that’s all it takes.
Wei Wuxian’s vision blurs and bleaches to white, sensations crashing over him like a tidal wave. Lan Zhan’s steady hand continues its rhythmic stroke, guiding him through the most intense, overwhelming orgasm he’s ever experienced.
But the sweet relief is fleeting. As the waves of pleasure recede, they leave behind a raw, gnawing ache—an even deeper desperation clawing at his core.
“Lan- Lan Zhan… I need more-” He chokes out.
Lan Wangji’s eyes harden with resolve. He plants a steady hand on Wei Ying’s chest, mouth dragging over flushed skin, leaving Wei Ying trembling and lightheaded. With a rough, sure grip, he flips him onto his front, movements unrelenting, making his head spin. One hand clamps over his hip, the other runs down his spine—possessive, commanding, yet achingly reverent.
He settles behind Wei Ying, one hand curling into his hair to gently tug his face up from where it’s pressed against the robes. Wei Ying yields without resistance, pliant as warm dough, ready to be shaped by whatever Lan Zhan asks of him. A kiss is pressed to the nape of his neck—tender, grounding—before their mouths crash together in a searing, breath-stealing kiss.
Wei Wuxian’s whines into his mouth are devoured as they’re produced, the sound addictive to Lan Zhan. Once again leaving him without any oxygen. Lan Wangji decides he’s had enough and presses Wei Wuxian’s face back to the ground. The tender kisses on his spine do wonders to distract him from the presence of Lan Zhan’s fingers swirling around his leaking hole… since when does it do that?!?
He lets out an embarrassed squeak as he tries to pull away from Lan Zhan, not wanting him to see the mess that he’s become. But the resounding slap on his bum has him faltering.
“Be good Wei Ying” he says, leaving a slap on the other side, then using his hands to spread his bum, looking down at his dusky hole.
And what is he to do?
“Lan Zhannn, don’t look! It’s embarrassing.”
“What’s so embarrassing about having the prettiest little hole?”
Wei Ying’s flush goes down to his toes.
The long finger that circles his rim before pressing in, in, in, has him gasping for air. Already the fullness of it has him panting into the grass.
“Aiya, it's… it’s big Lan Zhan-”
“And you’re taking it so well. Do you think you can take another one sweetheart?’ Lan Wangji rumbles gently behind him.
His responding whimper could be categorized as humiliating if Wei Wuxian had it in him to care anymore. But because he doesn’t, he squirms his hips around to see if a better angle might make it feel less uncomfortable. But Lan Zhan doesn’t allow it for long, he keeps the grip on his waist firm as he pumps the finger in and out a few times before removing it completely, making Wei Wuxian suddenly feel so empty and vulnerable it puts him off kilter, letting out small noises of objection.
“Put it in, put it i-”
He doesn’t even get the time to finish that thought before two fingertips are swirling through the slick his hole is producing to press in, in, in. His hole no doubt stretched obscenely around the digits, but his mind whites out as they’re filling him to the brim. Touching all the best spots, especially when Lan Zhan changes the angle and hits something inside him that sends him orbiting into outer space.
When he comes back from that far off place of warmth and bliss, his body is in some sort of pleasure-seeking limbo of grinding back fervently into Lan Wangji’s hand and pulling away from the oversensitivity of it all. He hardly notices the slick coating his inner thighs, it just adds to that shaky feeling in his bones that makes him feel like he needs more or else he might just pass away.
“Breathe baobei,” Lan Zhan chides softly. “I will take care of Wei Ying”
But then he’s pulling his fingers out, out, out and the devastation in Wei Wuxian’s cries is apparent. He turns to give Lan Zhan the meanest glare he can muster in such a state, but- upright, proper, Second Jade of Gusu- is bringing those fingers up to his mouth, tasting Wei Wuxian in the most obscene display he’s ever witnessed.
“Lan Zhan!” he gasps, part embarrassed, majority turned on beyond belief. He feels another wave of that slick drip out of his hole and he flushes crimson.
“Mn,” is all he says, like the taste is like an oasis in the desert; salvation and ruin. Must be better than anything he’s had in Gusu Wei Ying thinks smugly to himself.
All he can do is watch as Lan Wangji then uses that same hand to loosen his white sash and robes, pulling his trousers down around his knees in one fluid movement. Wei Ying’s greedy eyes memorize the delicate curve of Lan Wangji’s collarbones, so pretty that in any other circumstance he would be sure to kiss and worship them the way they deserve. Before trailing down the snowy expanse of his chest, only seeing a thin strip of his pale skin from between the edges of his robes. The dark hair leading from his navel downward is something that he hopes to become well acquainted with in the near future. It makes him salivate. His wet hole clenching around the air.
When he finally takes in all that is Lan Wangji’s cock, his heart falters in his chest and he forgets if he’s breathing. Sure it has all the same components of his own- a red shaft, wrapped in veins, the bulbous head shiny and pink with warm blood and precome- but the sheer size of it makes his hole ache, reminding him just how empty he is.
“Lan Zhan… gods, it’s so big - how-how is that supposed to-” His breath catches on a moan as Lan Wangji ruts through the slick produced by his hole, hips working in the most sinful of ways. The dirtiest wet sounds coming from the action. Wei Wuxian’s head falls and hangs between his shoulders, trying to make sense of what’s going on. “It’s too big, my h- my hole is too tight, it won’t fit… Zhan-ge don’t be cruel to your didi.”
“It will.’ Is all Lan Zhan says. “You can take it”
Despite the very real fear that Lan Zhan may split him in half with his massive cock, his hips work to meet his sloppy thrusts against his hole until the thick head catches against his rim. His breath catches, waiting to feel what Lan Zhan does next. Lan Zhan gives him no warning save for a brief press of his lips to Wei Wuxian’s sweaty shoulderblade and he’s pressing in. Just the tip leaves him breathless, a stretch like nothing he’s ever experienced before.
Lan Zhan adjusts his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hip and then presses in slowly and steadily until Wei Ying’s tightness makes him pause.
“It’s too much… ngh- its not gonna fit A-Zhan, ah” he whimpers, forgoing all courtesy.
Lan Zhan sucks a breath between his teeth “Deep breaths for me honey, that’s it… you’re so tight-”
Wei Wuxian tries to stay on his hands and knees but he just can’t do it anymore and collapses onto his chest, panting into his folded arms. Back arching in the most sinful way, making Lan Wangji slip his eyes closed and take a few grounding breaths, not wanting to lose control so soon.
He gives a few shallow experimental thrusts. “You’re about halfway… you’re taking me so well A-Xian.’
“Oh gods…” Wei Ying says, eyes rolling back into his head from the pleasure. Whimpers high and reedy. Grasping fistfuls of grass to anchor himself.
On the next thrust he pushes in even further than before, splitting him impossibly wider, going as deep as he can with shallow thrusts at each new depth, until his hips are completely flush to Wei Wuxian’s, his sack nestling in close.
Both men let out moans that harmonize and tangle amongst each other, finally inside .
“O-oh my god, er-gege, hnghh-”
‘It’s too much- you’re, you’re too deep, I can feel you… all the way-’ He slurs, overwhelmed. His body shakes, thighs trembling. Trying desperately to adjust to the fullness inside him. His knees spread wider on the robes.
“Look at you, taking all of me so well. I know it’s big, keep breathing sweetheart… that’s it” Lan Zhan croons into his ear.
Surely the noises he’s making are the most pathetic thing Lan Zhan’s ever heard, but he’s too full to care.
“Gods, Lan Zhan- I can feel you everywhere… fuck, it’s so big ” he says, gasping desperately to fill his lungs with oxygen. They stay flush for several moments, breathing heavily but in sync. In an attempt to adjust to the fullness, he gives a few experimental clenches and cants his hips in just a way that has pleasure shooting up his spine.
His hips subconsciously begin a rhythm of rocking back into Lan Zhan, small thrusts punching little ‘ uh,uh,uh ’s’ from his spit swollen lips. Lost in the pleasure filling his body.
‘Oh fuck- nghhh … so good Lan Zhan-”
Lan Zhan just groans as he watches Wei Ying work himself on his cock, shallow movements working up to longer ones, pulling off about halfway, then a frantic thrust of his hips backward, squelching.
He can only hold his composure for so long before he snaps. Sure he lets Wei Wuxian use him how he likes, but he eventually feels the need to regain control of the situation. He grasps Wei Wuxian’s hips in a bruising hold and starts thrusting with earnest.
Wei Ying goes cross-eyed, the pleasure other-worldly.
He’s not sure when he comes, or if he ever stops. Each powerful thrust touches that deep spot inside him that makes him squeal, legs shaking.
The squelching, wet sounds of his hole combined with the rhythmic tapping sound of Lan Zhan’s sack against his bum has him moaning gutterally.
It feels so obscene to be doing something so lewd in broad daylight, just the thought of someone walking by and finding them in such a compromising position makes his heart pound and his hole clench.
The slick his hole’s producing now leaking down the back of his thighs has everything wet. His brain is short circuiting, trying to comprehend the pleasure Lan Zhan’s massive cock is giving. Turning his mind and body into a mushy mess.
‘Oh- oh fuck Lan Zhan… yes, yes right there ! Don’t stop, don’t stop!’ He squeals.
And what does Lan Zhan do? The exact opposite!
His powerful thrusts slow to a halt, pressed all the way in, splitting Wei Wuxian open, hands tight on his hips to prevent him from fidgeting.
The shivers that race down Wei Wuxian’s spine are from the sudden pause, pleasure and the need to come again firing through every nerve ending.
“Lan Zhan!” He cries out, devastation and bone-deep hunger bleeding into his tone.
“Look at you. So desperate. Be a good boy and take what you’re given.’
Lan Zhan pulls out until just the tip is inside, watching as Wei Ying’s hole flutters around him obscenely, feeling so so empty.
“Lan Zhan! Put it- put it back in! I’ll be good… I’ll be your good boy… please, please !’ he says sniffling slightly, eyes stinging.
“I don’t know if I should, you’ve been very naughty just taking what you want. Good boys don’t take without permission, they’re obedient and follow the rules…’ Lan Zhan hums hotly into his ear, lips tracing every word into his skin.
“Hanguang-jun, Lan Zhan… hngh I’ll be your best boy- I’ll do anything… please-” hot tears stream down his flushed cheeks.
He barely has to wait for Lan Zhan to heed his cries. He realigns his cock with Wei Ying’s hole and presses in, slow but unyielding, until their hips are flush once more.
“Oh- oh gods, yes, yes!!”
“You begged to be filled and now you’re crying from how good it feels. Oh sweet boy….”
Wei Ying assumes he’ll restart his punishing pace but he stays deep and splitting, wearing on his nerves.
“Please… Lan Zhan… I’m yours, do what you want…”
“I want to hear you say it… say who’s making you feel this way. Who’s fucking your little hole just the way you need? Hmm?”
Not a question, but a command. And it’s obvious he doesn’t plan on moving until Wei Ying obeys. The smack on his bum used as motivation to answer, but instead he clenches like a vice around the length inside him.
He mumbles into the robes beneath him.
Another smack lands firmly on the other side of his bum.
“What was that sweetheart? Be good and use your words and I’ll give you a reward.”
“You! Hanguang-jun, Lan Zhan, er-gege! Your cock could only ever make me feel this good… fill me this good. This h-hole is only yours, please !” he rushes out, voice fraying and broken by the end.
“I knew you were my good boy” Lan Zhan rumbles into his ear. Each forceful stroke has Wei Ying scrambling for purchase on the grass, no doubt dirt underneath his fingernails. Powerful and deep, hitting that magical spot inside him.
When Lan Wangji’s fingers move to pinch at his sensitive nipples, it’s game over. His orgasm so intense, he blacks out, breath caught in his chest, clamping down tightly on Lan Zhan’s cock.
“Breath angel, you’re alright, you’re doing so good- taking me so well.”
Feeling utterly drained after his release, he still feels a sharp edge of needing something more. His mind runs frantic at what could possibly be the cure to his ailment. In the haze of his orgasm he failed to notice that Lan Wangji hasn’t come yet, and that simply won’t do!
“Er-gege I- I need it… I need your seed inside… its- its the only way to diminish the pollen”
Lan Zhan’s response is to pull him up into a kneeling position, one arm wrapped around his waist, keeping him pulled close and leaving him little room to move. The other holding firm around Wei Ying’s neck, gentle enough not to prevent him from breathing, but also a suggestion that he could if he wanted to. Wei Wuxian’s hands brace on Lan Zhan’s thighs, fingers digging into his snowy flesh.
Lan Zhan stays deep inside him, shallow, yet powerful thrusts mixed with the obscene grind of his hips against Wei Ying, have his neglected cock spurting from its place in his lap. Wei Ying can only look down helplessly at it- his spend running clear from his tip, mixing with the sweat on his thighs.
“Please… please be merciful Hanguang-jun. Wei Ying needs your seed-” Wei Ying is fully begging now, all he can do is sit and take it.
Wei Ying clenches down with all the strength he can muster on Lan Zhan’s cock in a final attempt to get the spend he wants- no deserves.
“Don’t you want to fill me up with your come? Wan- want it so bad er-ge. Put a little Lan in me and be tied to me forever? Stuff me, stuff me so deep it won’t come out, get me full with your baby… ngh everyone would know it was you too. Second Jade filled Wei Wuxian with his come and then his baby, hmm…” He rambles, words slurring.
Lan Zhan’s release rips through him, his body seizing with the force of it, breath breaking ragged in Wei Ying’s ear. Like Wei Ying somehow knew his deepest, darkest desires and made them known to use against him in vulnerable moments like this.
‘ Wei Ying. Gonna give you every drop of it, make sure it takes. Might plug you up afterwards. Gonna make you full of my heir. Don’t you dare waste a drop’ He growls, rutting into Wei Ying’s poor little hole with a primal pace. Making sure his seed goes exactly where it needs to.
‘Fuck… Lan Zhan- you’re filling me so deep. I can feel your warm seed so deep inside. Gonna give you so many baby Lan’s you won’t know what to do with them all.’
LZ stays flush with Wei Ying’s hips as he rides through the aftershocks of his release. Panting hot breaths into Wei Ying’s ear. And with the final shock, Wei Wuxian’s mind feels cleared from the lust, no longer driven by an insatiable lust for Lan Wangji’s massive cock.
There’s some residual heat in his bones but he doesn’t think too much of it. Mind and body still wrapped around the grounding and heady feeling of Lan Zhan finally inside and around him. The come inside him melting him even further into Lan Zhan’s embrace.
His mind feels hazy in a new sort of way, completely blissed out and satiated. His body slumps back against Lan Zhan’s strong frame.
“If- if I do get pre-"
“I will take responsibility," Lan Zhan assures him.
And all is right in the world.