As Lan Wangji wet a linen on the other side of the jingshi, Wei Ying sprawled across their bed, settled and quiet. Candlelight carved shadows between the gentle curves of his ribs, caught in the sheen of his body, lightly coated in fresh sweat. “Lan Zhan,” he called, dreamy, as his fingers brushed lightly over the bedding. Though his eyes were closed, eyelashes beautiful, fanned smudges against his cheeks, his head was turned toward Lan Wangji, like Lan Wangji was the first and only thing he wanted to see when he finally opened them. “Er gege, how long does it take to retrieve a cloth?”
Lan Wangji smiled gently, tested the water with his fingertip. Perhaps it was warm enough now. “A moment.”
Wei Ying’s mouth pulled in a pout as he stretched and arched his back, exposing more of himself to Lan Wangji’s eyes. His eyebrows pulled together in a furrow of feigned displeasure as he whined piteously. Before Wei Ying could rise, Lan Wangji returned, bowl and cloth in hand. He sat on the edge of the bed, waited for Wei Ying to open his eyes, which he did, pinning Lan Wangji with an overwrought glare. “Hanguang jun is too unfeeling.”
Wiping at Wei Ying’s forehead, stroking lightly over his cheek to scrub the dried track of his tears, he smiled, studying Wei Ying’s face. Beneath the performative unhappiness, Lan Wangji could only see contentment, only Wei Ying’s happiness. Good. It was as it should be.
He cleansed Wei Ying’s body diligently as Wei Ying dozed, wondering at his good fortune. That he should get to have this with Wei Ying was more than he deserved. That Wei Ying should take pleasure from and with him was a gift.
“Did you enjoy yourself, too, Lan Zhan?”
This was a question Wei Ying always asked, as though it weren’t patently obvious. Lan Wangji set the bowl aside, impatiently putting it on the floor. It would be proper to return it to its place on the other side of the room, but there was no time for that when he could instead take Wei Ying’s face between his hands and kiss that lovely, pouting mouth instead. “Always.”
Everything they have done together, whether it involved hands or mouth or more intimate areas, was enjoyable. Making Wei Ying feel good was the highest pursuit he could have in this second lifetime of Wei Ying’s. There was nothing he preferred.
As his hands drifted down Wei Ying’s jaw to settle lightly against his neck, fingers sweeping back and forth over Wei Ying’s throat to capture his bounding, healthy pulse beneath his thumb, he asked, “Did you?”
“Mm, of course.” Wrapping his arms around Lan Wangji’s back, he pulled him down flush. Despite how sensitive he must be, he ground up against Lan Wangji’s thigh. “Except for how you always get dressed so soon after. I experience deprivation every time you put your trousers back on. It’s terrible.”
“I should indulge you better,” Lan Wangji replied, teasing. He pressed another kiss to Wei Ying’s mouth. “Wander around the jingshi entirely naked.” Another kiss. How many were too many? He hoped he never found the answer. “Always ready to—”
Wei Ying smirked, playing with the ties of Lan Wangji’s trousers. “Always ready to what? I liked where this was going.”
Always ready to make love to you, was what he intended to say, but somehow the words wouldn’t come. It seemed, all of a sudden, strange that it was he who always performed on Wei Ying and never the reverse. It had never crossed his mind, in fact, to do anything else. Wei Ying clearly loved it, invited it, courted it with words and actions.
For his part, he found penetration deeply pleasurable. Perhaps Wei Ying would also like it. If nothing else, he was curious about how it might feel to receive. Was it really as good as Wei Ying seemed to find it? What if Wei Ying was only indulging him? He’d always been good at hiding his own discomfort behind joviality and high spirits.
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying’s voice grew a little more serious. “Is everything—?”
“I am well,” he answered with as much grace as he could muster. “We should ready ourselves for bed.” Pushing himself up, he retrieved the scatter of Wei Ying’s robes, put them away, and returned with fresh sleep clothes.
Rest eluded him even while Wei Ying curled, worn out, against his side, hand splayed across Lan Wangji’s abdomen, body warm and solid and present in a way that always comforted Lan Wangji.
What would it feel like?
Was that something he could even ask for?
He didn’t know and because he didn’t know, didn’t have a single clue or where to begin to find an answer, it was not so very easy to will his mind to calm.
The problem, he discovered, with not knowing something without wanting to trouble Wei Ying about it—not until he was certain one way or the other—was finding time away from Wei Ying to work at it without him figuring it out. They spent much of their day apart. This, Lan Wangji despised. That something as mundane as duty could draw Lan Wangji to lanshi, for example, while Wei Ying traipsed off to the library with a gaggle of juniors behind him felt wrong. In recompense, their evenings, then, could only ever be for the both of them. Lan Wangji was loath to waste those precious hours in solo pursuits. There was simply no time for him to practice alone.
And so they continued as they often did: ate dinner, played music. Wei Ying teased him relentlessly and was teased in return. They took one another to bed, always with Lan Wangji between Wei Ying’s legs or above him or with Wei Ying riding him. Lan Wangji gripped him hard about the thighs or his biceps or the back of the neck. He left marks on Wei Ying’s skin, an endless number of them, as Wei Ying pled for mercy he did not truly want. For a time, he forgot the question he’d tucked away in his heart. It was easy to forget when he was so content.
“Wei Ying,” he asked sometimes, pushing the sweat-slick hair from his beloved’s forehead. “Wei Ying, you like this, don’t you?”
“Lan Zhan, I like it so much,” he said each and every time, stroking Lan Wangji’s back or arm or side, whatever he could reach. “You spoil me.”
Eventually, the question came back, fiercer than before. Could he give Wei Ying more? Could he himself want something more? Or at least something different? And most importantly: if he was thinking this, then what was Wei Ying thinking? What might Wei Ying want? Might he wonder the same things Lan Wangji did?
He didn’t know the answer and Wei Ying never seemed dissatisfied in any way, offering no clues as to whether he was or had gone through anything similar.
Sometimes, Lan Wangji was called away at the request of other sects. Most of the time, Wei Ying came with him. Usually, they weren’t urgent and could wait until Wei Ying was able to come with him.
This time, Wei Ying was in the middle of a night hunt with a few of the juniors, only meant to last the day, but Lan Wangji’s presence was requested now.
Under normal circumstances, he would not have hesitated to wait or call Wei Ying back to his side before leaving. Under normal circumstances, he would not be wondering what it would be like to allow himself to be fucked either. And so he’d accepted, solved the problem at hand quickly and easily because, surprise, it wasn’t an emergency, and began traveling back before the end of the day.
Just before nightfall, he settled into his accommodations for the night, a small inn tucked into a village where nobody knew him.
Once he’d eaten, he conjured one of the messenger butterflies more common to the Jin Sect and offered his apologies to Wei Ying. Guilt sprang up within him to deceive Wei Ying in this way, to find a reason to remain distant from him when his heart called for him to return. As soon as he sent it, he imagined the disappointment Wei Ying would feel upon realizing Lan Wangji would not be waiting for him with a bath at the ready and a meal to follow. There would be no one to hear the tale of his adventure, nor to listen to the praises he would no doubt sing of the juniors’ prowess. The bed would be cold without Lan Wangji there to warm it. Wei Ying always complained of the cold. Without Wei Ying here, he was viscerally reminded of the many years he’d spent alone. He, too, was too cold without the heat of Wei Ying’s companionship. Given that this was his fault, he deserved the disappointment of an empty bed.
Though he could beat the messenger butterfly home if he truly wanted to, dissolve the spell and forget all about this, he willed himself to remain where he was. It was only one night. Wei Ying would understand and Lan Wangji will relish the chance to make his own absence up to him.
In the meantime, he could resolve the question that had taken hold in his mind. Within the privacy of the small room he’d arranged, there was nothing to stop him. After this was done, he would never have to do this again, armed forever with the knowledge he sought.
He set the small jar of lubrication he’d brought with him on the small sideboard table next to the bed, disrobed mechanically, and put down a spare linen he’d brought for this purpose. He cleaned himself, perfunctory, and failed to empty his mind as he did so, embarrassed and ashamed and entirely too aware of his own body in ways he hadn’t experienced in years.
He imagined what would happen if Wei Ying was here, what Wei Ying would do if Lan Wangji could have shared this with him. Probably, his mouth would find the back of Lan Wangji’s neck. He’d rub Lan Wangji’s shoulders the way he did whenever Lan Wangji woke from a nightmare, coo comforting nonsense into Lan Wangji’s ear all the while. He’d tell Lan Wangji he was beautiful despite all the ways Lan Wangji had let him down. All the marks that crossed his back would damn him for this if not for Wei Ying’s words, his mouth as it pressed kisses into the ragged scar tissue. It always seemed to ache if he ruminated too long on the past.
The Wei Ying in this fantasy was gentle, welcoming. He told Lan Wangji that he was going to love this, that it would feel so good. He said that he thought about Lan Wangji when he filled himself with his own fingers, that he always thought about Lan Wangji no matter the circumstances, but it was especially nice then.
He would have picked up the jar for Lan Wangji and arranged Lan Wangji to his satisfaction, but Lan Wangji only had himself to do both of those things, underwhelming without the promise of Wei Ying’s body at the end of it. His pulse fluttered nervously as he scooped a few fingers’ worth of the lubrication into his hand and spread it over several digits until it was warm and his skin gleamed. It carried a light scent that Lan Wangji could never quite pin down, that he always associated with the time he spent with Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan, you look so good like this.
Shuddering, he spread his legs. His skin heated again with uncharacteristic embarrassment. A frisson of excitement, burdened by fear, tried to break through the cracks of his uncertainty. It didn’t quite succeed. Nothing they’d done together had ever left Lan Wangji feeling ashamed and this shouldn’t either. He won’t think less of me if I don’t like this, he reminded himself as he shifted into the position he’d seen Wei Ying take on those rare occasions that Lan Wangji let him prepare himself rather than do it himself. He won’t even know if I don’t want him to.
He wanted Wei Ying to know and, at the same time, he did not.
It was awkward to reach between his own legs, cumbersome almost. Wei Ying always managed to appear striking to Lan Wangji’s eyes when he did this, all long limbs and knowing, clever fingers. Unlike Wei Ying, who was never gangly, never looked strange or silly, he was maladroit, unpracticed. Even when he hitched his hips higher, sank further onto the bed, lifted one leg for better access, it didn’t feel quite right.
The first touch of his broad finger to the rim felt intrusive rather than arousing, so different from Wei Ying’s reaction. He relaxed into it with sighs and thick, honey-sweet hums. By now, Wei Ying would have been half-hard at least, but Lan Wangji remained soft, shaft quiescent against his inner thigh.
Pressing in more deeply did nothing to improve the sensation. It was intrusive, if not actually painful, uncomfortable beyond measure and when Lan Wangji stroked himself in an attempt to stoke arousal within him, he failed. For a long stretch of moments, he could only lie there, mind spinning, a finger knuckle-deep within him, embarrassed of and for himself.
Wei Ying liked this. He had to because Lan Wangji could not have misread Wei Ying so deeply for so long. He’d seen Wei Ying sob and beg with pleasure, pleasure, genuine pleasure, not faked pleasure, not secret disappointment, not pain or discomfort. But doing this to himself, he could not truly imagine how. Wei Ying sometimes came just from penetration, keening as Lan Wangji drove into him, hands bound above his head or behind his back or pressed into the mattress by Lan Wangji’s.
He drew in a deep breath, stroked himself again, pulled back and pushed back in. This time, it felt a little better, smoother as the lubrication spread. It wasn’t good precisely, but the sensation of fullness, foreign before, was less distracting already. Thinking back to all the times he’d done this to Wei Ying, he searched for the spot within him that always made him babble, failing to find it multiple times before successfully locating the small bulge, grazing it lightly with his fingertip.
Were this Wei Ying, he might have cried out or cursed at Lan Wangji, urging him to go faster, harder, there, right there, Lan Wangji, you demon, please. But he was not Wei Ying and it offered only a mildly interesting sensation, neither humiliating nor particularly enjoyable. Given his earlier embarrassment, he was glad that it wasn’t more humiliating that this.
Perhaps he could understand the appeal, but he still couldn’t fathom liking it the way Wei Ying seemed to.
He thought he knew how he felt about doing this now, but in the interest of fairness, he continued to rock back against his finger, pushed a second in beside the first, nearly lost the hard-earned erection he’d struggled so much to retain, and came rather unceremoniously when he stopped thinking about the intrusion and fantasized instead about burying himself in Wei Ying once he got home, keeping Wei Ying spitted on his cock for hours as Wei Ying writhed and whined for release.
This wasn’t, of course, what he would do. No, when he returned, he’d ask Wei Ying what he wanted and how he felt about it, because now that he knew this wasn’t… that it was fine, nice enough. It didn’t feel anything like what Wei Ying deserved and Wei Ying deserved everything. For that reason alone, Lan Wangji wanted to ensure Wei Ying had the opportunity to have what Lan Wangji got to enjoy on a regular basis.
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying cried as he stepped into the jingshi just after dinner the following day. He pushed himself to his feet and stomped over to the door, a playful frown on his mouth. “Lan Zhan, you’ve neglected your husband. All these hours, he’s been so sad and alone and missed you terribly. One butterfly is not enough, no matter how pretty it might be.” Though his words were scolding, mischief danced in his eyes. “Did you have a nice night to yourself?” he asked, like he knew what Lan Wangji had gotten up to. “Getting to sleep at hai shi and waking at mao shi without the encumbrance of another body to—”
Though Lan Wangji took his face between his hands, he continued talking right up until the second Lan Wangji kissed him and even then he made noise, muffled moans accompanying the kiss as he melted against Lan Wangji. “Wei Ying,” he said, only when they parted many moments later. “I missed you as well. I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“Psh. Lan Zhan, it’s fine. It would’ve been quite the journey to make in one day. Even I can only get into so much trouble in such little time.” He grabbed Lan Wangji by his robes and dragged him toward the table, where a spread of food remained warm, all favorites of Lan Wangji’s. “Have you eaten?”
“No,” Lan Wangji said, heart warm and full. Would it have been so terrible to share his concerns with Wei Ying instead of running off, even if only for a day? Yes, a part of him said, the part that was so terribly unimpressed by the night he’d had.
“Go clean up. I’ll make a fresh pot of tea and then you can tell me all about your adventures without me.”
Though the jingshi was only lit by a few candles—a holdover behavior, Lan Wangji thought, from when Wei Ying didn’t have many amenities—Lan Wangji was certain that his ears were growing red enough to see even in the low light. “It was not much of an adventure,” he said, as he removed his outer robes and folded them neatly. He did the same as his inner robes until he was down only to his trousers and undershirt. Before he could go in search of a basin of water and a linen, Wei Ying was bringing both over to him. “How was the night hunt?”
As Lan Wangji might have hoped, Wei Ying got started on the juniors and couldn’t be stopped, not until Lan Wangji had cleaned up and sated himself on the delicately savory vegetables and slightly bitter tea he preferred. Lan Wangji could even properly enjoy Wei Ying’s retelling, which featured none of the usual hallmarks indicating he was eliding important details like who got hurt (Wei Ying, usually) and how (doing something heroic). As such, he felt comfortable concluding that it was a safe, uneventful night hunt, no more dangerous than most routine night hunts tended to be.
Wei Ying wound down naturally all on his own.
“Ah, Lan Zhan,” he said, leaning heavily on the table and perching his chin on his fist. His gaze was soft, besotted, and once again, Lan Wangji was not sure what to think of or do with the knowledge he’d obtained last night. “Next time, we should go together. I just talked your ear off. I’m too clingy to be left for so long.”
Lan Wangji’s mouth lifted in a small, fond smile. “I am as well.”
Wei Ying’s eyes gleamed. Between one blink and the next, the mischievousness from earlier became heated. “How did you occupy yourself last night, Lan Zhan? I have to tell you, it’s not the same when I—”
Lan Wangji stretched across the table, pressed his hand to Wei Ying’s cheek. “Wei Ying,” he said, heart pounding furiously. “There’s something I’d like to discuss,” he said. “With you.” He avoided wincing only thanks to years of practice at keeping his expression schooled into a serene blankness.
“Ah?” Wei Ying’s mouth fell open. Lan Wangji’s thumb pressed against the soft plushness of his lower lip. His scrutiny intensified and flagrant curiosity overwhelmed his expression. “Lan Zhan, what did you do? Was it very naughty?”
“I…”
“Lan Zhan, you can tell me anything.” He rose, took Lan Wangji’s hand in his, and then rounded the table. He settled across Lan Wangji’s thighs, squeezing himself into the small bit of space open to him with the table in the way. “Especially if it was naughty.”
His ears burned again and of course Wei Ying realized it because his thumbs brushed over the sensitive tips of them, fingernails raking lightly down the back of his head.
“Did you touch yourself?” Wei Ying asked in a whisper.
Lan Wangji could only nod.
“Did you think about me? What did you do? Did you hold me down? Make me ride you until I collapsed? How can this humble husband of yours match up to your imagination tonight?”
Lan Wangji could only swallow, could only shake his head.
Wearing a perplexed expression, Wei Ying pouted. “Did I take you in my mouth because I very much needed to be shut up?”
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said. “You need never shut up for me.”
Though Wei Ying smirked, there was a hint of concern in his gaze now, a hint of challenge. It wasn’t that Lan Wangji wanted to be a puzzle; he never wanted to be difficult for Wei Ying. He just… didn’t know if he could say this. If he could not feign the enthusiasm Wei Ying showed for being penetrated, he would never forgive himself for broaching the topic at all. “Then what is it? You do know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, we can try it. If it’s not good, who cares? There’s so much we do that is good, right?”
The trouble, in Lan Wangji’s estimate, was that he wasn’t sure that was true.
“You…” Why was this so difficult? It wasn’t like he was still a youth, untutored in such things as this. He had years of experience by now. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t just speak his wishes out in the open. He’d faced down so much worse in his life than this, but in this moment, he couldn’t remember any of those incidents.
He finally managed to spit the words out only because he knew Wei Ying would ferret it out of him anyway. “When we have intercourse, do you enjoy receiving?”
Wei Ying’s mouth fell open. He closed it. It opened again. He blinked several times as though every word he’d ever known evaporated on his tongue. “Lan Zhan…?”
Despite Wei Ying’s gentle inquisitiveness, Lan Wangji could not speak further, couldn’t even lift his eyes from the corner of the table just beyond Wei Ying’s clothed thigh.
“Is it not obvious?” He wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck, pressed kisses up the line of his throat. “Have I not been vocal enough for you, er gege? What kind of fantasy is this? You go away for one night and start to wonder if it’s good?” His fingers traced up the back of Lan Wangji’s neck, settled into his hairline, pressing lightly into the base of his skull, almost hypnotizing. “Lan Zhan, truly I have been neglectful.”
Lan Wangji shook his head. “No. No, I…” He buried his face against Wei Ying’s shoulder, breathed in the light scent of sandalwood that now always clung to him, too, and not just Lan Wangji. “I tried it.”
Wei Ying’s fingers stilled. “Eh?”
“I wanted to know what it was like for you,” he said, face heating.
“Lan Zhan, you touched yourself?”
Lan Wangji nodded.
“And how was it?”
“I don’t know.”
Wei Ying hummed, thoughtful, resumed stroking the back of Lan Wangji’s head. “I see.”
Do you?
“Lan Zhan, I can assure you that I know exactly what it feels like to me and I love it. If you don’t, that’s not a reflection on either of us. It’s not a bad thing if you don’t. It just means we’re compatible, huh?”
Lan Wangji couldn’t answer. Not because Wei Ying was wrong, but simply because he wasn’t sure. If it was something Wei Ying liked, he wanted to like it, too. And likewise… “I enjoy penetration,” he said, clumsy. “What if you do, too? Do you not deserve the opportunity to—”
Wei Ying’s hands slid to Lan Wangji’s cheeks, lifted his face, covered his mouth. “Don’t finish that statement, Lan Zhan. I don’t want you going around thinking I’m deprived of anything. What I deserve is a husband making love to me in the way we both like best. How do you know I’d even like taking you? Maybe I would hate it.”
“But—”
Wei Ying smiled and patted his lips with his fingertip. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I do.” They were long past the time when either of them had any reason to mistrust the other’s thoughts or motives. He absolutely did believe Wei Ying. It was just…
“So what shall we do?”
Lan Wangji took a deep breath. “I would like to try.”
At Wei Ying’s behest, they waited, though Lan Wangji couldn’t be certain it wasn’t Wei Ying wanting to wait because he thought Lan Wangji needed some distance or because he himself needed time to acclimate to the idea. They waited long enough that every time Lan Wangji sank his fingers into Wei Ying’s body, he thought of Wei Ying’s hands doing the same to him, of his praises being for how good Lan Wangji looked beneath him and around his fingers. Each moan and breathy gasp from Wei Ying began to feel like a symbol of what it should have felt like to him.
It didn’t quite make him feel like he was doing something wrong, but he didn’t feel like he was doing anything right either.
It was to the point that Lan Wangji finally, a week later, a week filled with fantastic sex that still left Lan Wangji feeling sad and unfulfilled, said, “Wei Ying, please,” when they crawled into bed together, barely parting long enough to get the words out. They’d been kissing one another so thoroughly that Wei Ying’s lips were pink and slick when he pulled back. “Please,” he repeated, a whisper.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, are you sure?” Wei Ying raised his head, brushed his hands over Lan Wangji’s robed shoulders, squeezing lightly.
He’d faced down resentful spirits that made him less nervous than this question did.
He nodded anyway.
“I’ll do my best, Lan Zhan,” he said. “And if it’s still not good, we’ll stop, alright? No matter when you know it’s not what you want.”
When, Lan Wangji wondered. Not if. Wei Ying was willing to try this even though he expected Lan Wangji to dislike it and he was trusting Lan Wangji to be honest when he did.
That eased his mind more than anything else could, even if the pettier parts of him wanted to love it just to be contrary.
As Wei Ying rose to retrieve the supplies he’d need, Lan Wangji disrobed, perfunctory, stomach tight with fear and—and maybe a little bit of arousal, confusing in its intensity. He wasn’t even certain he could call it arousal. He didn’t stir, didn’t feel any of the usual signs when he was eager to share this intimacy with Wei Ying, but he was… he did still want Wei Ying in this new way.
Wei Ying looked beautiful as he, too, stepped out of his robes, leaving them on the floor to retrieve later as he always did. Fondness welled within Lan Wangji as Wei Ying bent to untie the stockings around his feet and kicked those off as well. When he lifted his gaze, catching Lan Wangji watching, he smiled. “What?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious.
“Nothing,” Lan Wangji answered. As Wei Ying ducked his head, he couldn’t quite hide the splash of red across his cheeks.
“Hanguang jun, you can’t look at me like that.” He pushed his trousers down his legs. Unlike Lan Wangji, he didn’t seem to have any issues with arousal. His length curved toward his abdomen, bobbing with every stretch and flex of his muscles. “It’s too much. I’ll get shy.”
“You look shy,” Lan Wangji said, eyeing him.
Wei Ying grinned. “Ah, Lan Zhan, you want me to tease you, hmm?”
He did want that; if nothing else, it would serve as a good distraction.
Wei Ying’s fingers plucked the jar of lubrication from the drawer next to their bed. There was also a small container of scented oil that they rarely used and normally only when Lan Wangji’s back twinged. “Why don’t we get you relaxed first?”
He abandoned the jar on the corner of the bed and kept a careful hold on the oil. Lan Wangji was too aware of Wei Ying’s gaze as it raked over his skin. Wei Ying, maybe sensing Lan Wangji’s nervousness, hummed under his breath, a soothing, meandering song that Lan Wangji didn’t recognize. Only once Lan Wangji calmed did he say, “On your stomach, please.”
Lan Wangji shuddered at the request, made new by this fresh context, but complied. Normally when he did this, he kept his trousers on, but tonight, his lower body dragged over the sheets, cool and almost silken beneath him. Settling with his arms under his cheek, he forced himself to empty his mind of his worries—worries that were now less about whether he would like it or not, but instead centered around his fears that Wei Ying would be disappointed one way or the other.
The first touch of Wei Ying’s hands over his back always startled him, no matter how gentle he was, how warm his palm might be, or how expected it was. Wei Ying used to flinch back in turn, worried that he was hurting Lan Wangji. They’d been together far too long for such things to hold them back now. He knew he wasn’t hurting Lan Wangji. In turn, Lan Wangji quickly relaxed his vigilance, lowering his expectations of himself until he no longer felt guilty for his initial, instinctual reaction to having his back touched.
Wei Ying straddled Lan Wangji’s thighs as he normally did when they did this. His hands were practiced and careful as he stroked over the muscles of Lan Wangji’s back. He continued humming, off-hand, no song in particular, but pleasant and calming all the same.
It was strange, he had to admit, to get to experience this when his body didn’t ache in a way that went beyond what his golden core could treat, usually when they’d just come back from an arduous night hunt or when Lan Wangji had had a nightmare that managed to tense every muscle in his body, keeping him locked up and in pain through the night, distress unnoticeable until he woke in the morning.
Wei Ying worked diligently until Lan Wangji was practically boneless, thoughts drifting aimlessly. He forgot the fact that this wasn’t any other night until Wei Ying’s hands strayed further down his spine, past the inward dip of his lowest vertebrae. With a breath, he was able to relax again, but his mind turned sharply onto what Wei Ying was doing to him, hands kneading over his buttocks.
Lan Wangji stretched to look over his shoulder, caught Wei Ying’s smile just before he ducked his head and pressed a light kiss to one cheek and then the other. “You look so good, Lan Zhan,” he said, breath ghosting over Lan Wangji’s skin as he parted them. He lifted his eyes, caught Lan Wangji’s gaze with his, and raised one eyebrow as though to ask if he was safe to proceed.
Lan Wangji nodded, hypnotized, as Wei Ying reached for their usual lubrication. This won’t disappoint him, he told himself. If I don’t like it, he’ll be fine.
“Tell me about what you did to yourself, Lan Zhan,” he said, carefully scooping some of the thick substance onto his fingers, rubbing it until it was liquid and shining.
In halting words, Lan Wangji explained how he pressed into himself, searched for the same spot he enjoyed touching within Wei Ying, told him about how he fucked himself with first one, then two fingers, how it was uncomfortable and then it wasn’t, how it wasn’t and yet did little that thinking about fucking Wei Ying couldn’t do better.
“You thought about me?”
“I thought about touching you.”
“But not me touching you?”
“No,” he answered after a pause. He wondered now why he hadn’t tried that.
“But you were able to complete?”
“Yes.”
“I would have liked to see it,” Wei Ying said, thoughtful, as he pressed lightly at Lan Wangji’s rim, barely dipping in, circling in a teasing manner. Though Lan Wangji couldn’t yet say it felt good, he could sense that it was different like this. With Wei Ying here, it was less awkward and knowing Wei Ying might be enjoying this heightened his own enjoyment somewhat. Wei Ying’s finger broached him lightly, barely thrusting in.
“Have you…” Lan Wangji sucked in a breath as Wei Ying twisted the digit and retreated. “Have you thought about doing this to me?”
Wei Ying made a thoughtful noise, pushed his finger in again, grazing his inner walls. “Idly, I suppose? It’s not a preoccupation of mine. I guess I’m kind of curious.”
“Would you have told me?”
“At some point,” Wei Ying said, “probably.”
Lan Wangji wasn’t so sure. All he knew was they wouldn’t get anywhere if Wei Ying continued to be this careful with him. Rolling his hips, he stretched his legs wider, hitched himself up higher, painfully aware of the position he was in and how he hoped it looked to Wei Ying. “Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan, let me take my time, eh? You tease me so much. Can’t I tease you a bit?” But despite his words, he worked deeper into Lan Wangji, all the way in, until Wei Ying’s other knuckles brushed against his perineum. A shudder worked through him at the light touch. “Good?”
He thought it might be. Though Wei Ying’s fingers were thinner, not quite as filling as Lan Wangji’s own, there was something a little different about Wei Ying doing this to him. The intrusion wasn’t an intrusion. “Keep going.”
Even though Wei Ying claimed he was teasing, he did as Lan Wangji asked, pressing a second finger to his opening, working with the same diligent slowness as before. It was more than a little awkward, like his every reaction was on display, but Lan Wangji felt warm and cared for, too. He knew Wei Ying would make this good for him regardless and that it was a chance for them to grow closer. Even if it didn’t work out, they’d know one another’s bodies in yet one more way. That was a worthwhile pursuit.
Because Wei Ying was so careful, the slide of his second finger was easy, not uncomfortable at all despite the stretch.
He thought back to their own early fumblings, how perhaps he hadn’t been quite as careful with Wei Ying, how his fingers had often shaken as he touched Wei Ying, fearful and reverent, knowing he didn’t have the right to touch at all, that he should have spent the rest of his life alone for his hubris, his inability to communicate his love. Wei Ying had encouraged him, groaned and grappled and cried out all the while, fisted the linens that covered their bed and ground down against the mattress searching for more. If it had hurt him, he didn’t express it. He should have asked.
“Lan Zhan, how is it?”
“Keep going,” Lan Wangji said again, searching for the same feelings that Wei Ying expressed when doing this. It didn’t feel bad, of course not. Nothing they did together was bad. Just…
“If this isn’t working for you…”
“Please,” Lan Wangji said. “Please, I want to do this.”
A third finger pressed against his rim. No matter how well prepared he was, the stretch this time ached and burned a little. It felt like more than three fingers pressed against him. How exactly did Wei Ying stand it, this feeling of fullness? Wei Ying breathed out heavily and stretched to grab the jar. As Lan Wangji looked over his shoulder, he watched Wei Ying scoop more lubricant into his palm, clumsy since he only had one hand to do it all with.
The slick glide of it became apparent within a moment when Wei Ying drizzled it between his cheeks. It slid awkwardly, but then Wei Ying turned his hand, slow, fingers shifting within him and—
Lan Wangji gasped, catching himself on his arms as sensation climbed his spine, something that might have been pleasure clawing deep within him.
“Lan Zhan?”
“Again.”
The additional lubrication made it easier for Wei Ying to move his hand around, his fingers pushing into him as he turned his hand. It still felt overwhelming, but in a good way. Almost. “Ah, Lan Zhan. You’re so beautiful, did you know? You’re red all down your back.”
The last thing he wanted to hear right now was how beautiful he was. “Wei Ying, please.”
“Do you want more? Is it feeling better?” Now that Lan Wangji was stretched, he began pressing his fingers in and out at an even, regular pace, slow and tantalizing, teasing in an earnest, serious way. “Lan er gege,” he said, raw-edged and husky. “Do you like it?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, pushing back against Wei Ying’s fingers. It was different, new, better than his own fingers. And Wei Ying’s voice dragged itself down Lan Wangji’s spine in a way he’d never experienced before, another sort of caress entirely.
“Should we stop?”
Lan Wangji shook his head. “It’s not bad.” It was difficult to get the words out. Speaking about himself had always been hard and speaking about this was more difficult than speaking about most things. For Wei Ying, he could spill many words, so many if that was what Wei Ying wanted, but only if they were about Wei Ying and what he felt for Wei Ying, not what he felt for himself about what Wei Ying did to him. “Don’t stop.”
Wei Ying bent forward, changing the angle within him. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Lan Wangji gasped as Wei Ying rotated his wrist again.
Though he craned his neck, he couldn’t see Wei Ying as well as he wanted to, wished he could look Wei Ying in the eyes and know that Wei Ying was enjoying this, too. “I want to see you.”
“It’s easier this way,” Wei Ying warned, because he would know better than Lan Wangji.
“I don’t care.”
Wei Ying pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Removing his fingers, he left Lan Wangji feeling empty. The skin-warmed lubrication coated his thighs. This was unpleasant, the dripping sensation as he moved, and yet it, too, sent a small thrill through him as he turned over.
“There you are,” Wei Ying said. His hair, still half bound, spilled over his shoulders, brushing Lan Wangji’s chest, tickling lightly over his abdomen. “I’m just gonna wipe my hands off, okay?”
“Wei Ying?”
“Shh, we’re not done. I want to make this good for you.”
He rinsed his hands in the basin on the other side of the room. His body picked up the diffuse moonlight that filtered through the screens over the windows. Barely any shadows settled on him at all, making him seem soft and ethereal in ways he usually wasn’t. Normally, he was Wei Ying as he was: human and silly and present, flesh and bone and blood, not remotely distant, the way Lan Wangji preferred him. This ghostly apparition was no less appealing in many ways, though Lan Wangji yearned always for the reality of him.
The illusion shattered the moment he returned and settled between Lan Wangji’s legs, spreading them further, each hand, cool from the water, pressing against Lan Wangji’s knees until he was satisfied, situating himself until he could kiss the jut of Lan Wangji’s hip.
Lan Wangji had remained soft even while pressed against the mattress, but as Wei Ying looked up at him through lowered lashes, arousal formed a sticky pool within him. He hardened a bit, just enough. Holding steady to the base, Wei Ying opened his mouth, dragged his tongue over the long length of him, all the way down to the root and then back to the tip. This was familiar; Wei Ying took him this way often, would suck lightly down and back, sometimes scraping his teeth lightly over the most sensitive parts of him, sometimes taking him again fully in his mouth to suck. They’d learned it wasn’t enough to bring him to climax, but it was often enough to make him fully erect, needful of Wei Ying’s hands or thighs or more.
As Wei Ying worked him with his mouth, the fingers of his free hand slid between his legs. There was still enough lubricant spilling from within him that he was able to push in with ease. With these dual sensations, Wei Ying’s mouth around him, hot and eager, and his fingers inside of him, he bit back a moan.
Wei Ying groaned around him and stroked up and down the lower half of his shaft, now wet with Wei Ying’s saliva. He somehow managed to time the touch of his tongue against the underside of his head to the touch of his fingers, a feat even Lan Wangji hadn’t managed to master when he did this for Wei Ying.
At least he could see… he could understand why Wei Ying liked this. It was nearly overwhelming in its intensity, good in a way he’d never experienced before. “Wei Ying,” he said, voice going hoarse as Wei Ying brought him to the edge of orgasm. He pushed at Wei Ying’s forehead. “Wei Ying, I’ll—”
Though Wei Ying pulled back and let go, Lan Wangji arched up, unable to help chasing the pleasure that followed. His fingers pressed more deeply, found that small, smooth mound within him.
This time, he understood.
Lan Wangji moaned, pushed back against the touch. “Wei Ying, again.” But no, no that wasn’t right. “I want you.” He wanted to know what this was like, all of it. With Wei Ying. Because of Wei Ying. He surged up, kissed the taste of himself off of Wei Ying’s lips. The bitterness faded away and left only the flavor of Wei Ying’s mouth behind.
“Lan Zhan, you’re a menace!” he said when Lan Wangji finally let him go. “All my hard work! You’re going to be such a mess by the time we’re done.”
But Lan Wangji didn’t care. That wasn’t what this was about. It was about having Wei Ying in every way he was capable of taking him. “Wei Ying,” he said. “Don’t make me beg.”
“What if I like it?” Wei Ying asked, pouting as he stroked Lan Wangji one last time.
He would, he realized, beg if it was necessary. Swallowing, he nodded. Whispering into Wei Ying’s hair, he said, “Please.”
“Ah, Lan Zhan. I can never say no to you, can I?” He drew his hand down Lan Wangji’s flank, fingernails scoring lightly over his skin, so sensitive and warm now that Lan Wangji feared he would be consumed by the heat of it. “Like this?”
Lan Wangji nodded and Wei Ying kissed him one more time. Wei Ying pressed gently at his shoulder and curled his other hand around the back of his neck as he guided him back down. “Lan Zhan, you really are too pretty for words. I wish I spent more time studying poetry so I could tell you instead of using it to bother a poor flower damsel with it,” Wei Ying said. “I could paint you like this if you’d like.” He dragged his hand down Lan Wangji’s inner thighs, dipped his fingers between Lan Wangji’s legs again. He stiffens further as Wei Ying slicks his hand with what he’s found, wrapping it around himself. “Would you like that, Lan Zhan? To see yourself like I get to see you? We could make our own erotic art. It could be—”
Lan Wangji’s patience frayed and snapped as Wei Ying resumed opening him, stretching his already stretched entrance. “Wei Ying.” Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his inhibitions and misgivings. He wanted this with Wei Ying and he wanted it now and if Wei Ying didn’t do something about it, he was going to figure out for himself how to get it. “If you do not—”
“Aiyou, Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s eyes sparkled with mischief, darkened with arousal. “What will happen if I don’t?” He stroked himself again. Precome gathered at the tip; he swiped through it with his thumb, touched himself the way he wouldn’t touch Lan Wangji. “Hanguang jun, how will you punish me?”
A thousand different possibilities flashed in Lan Wangji’s mind, too many to recount aloud. He could only hope his expression conveyed them to Wei Ying.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I’ll stop teasing. I just—are you certain?”
“Yes.” He did not know how to make it any clearer. He was already a mess, already flushed, already eager and ready to beg. Perhaps something would go wrong past this point, but he didn’t see how.
Wei Ying drew in a deep, steadying breath through his nose. “Very well,” he said, shaky. “Lan Zhan, you’re going to be the second death of me.”
That comment didn’t deserve acknowledgement; it would only encourage more of Wei Ying’s terrible jokes. “Now, Wei Ying.”
“I’ve never been this bossy with you, Lan Zhan. Who’s supposed to be in charge here, huh?” But despite his complaints, he did as Lan Wangji asked. Though he was slick and ready, feeling Wei Ying against him was new, different. As he pressed in, Lan Wangji wasn’t sure he’d be able to take him. His eyes never left Lan Wangji’s face and his hands petted his legs, gentle. “Alright, Lan Zhan?”
Yes. No. He wasn’t sure except to say that he wanted to continue. He nodded and breathed. How could he feel so hot and hard? How could it be so different from his fingers? The blunt head of him felt like it would stretch Lan Wangji beyond his endurance. Again, he had to ask himself how Wei Ying liked it so much, let Lan Wangji do this to him nearly daily, when it was so intense.
“Too much?” Wei Ying asked, holding still despite the effort it took. He was biting his lip and sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead. If Lan Wangji said the word, it would be over.
Lan Wangji shook his head, wrapped his legs around the back of Wei Ying’s thighs, pulled him closer. “Please, just.” He just wanted him to take the plunge, get the worst part over with. “I want you.”
Wei Ying swallowed, nodded jerkily. He pulled Lan Wangji’s thighs apart a little more and pushed past Lan Wangji’s body’s resistance. Pain cut through the lingering pleasure of what Wei Ying had done before. He wilted and even when Wei Ying took hold of him and stroked him through it, the pleasure was muted.
Careful, so careful, Wei Ying bent toward him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, his mouth. “You’re doing so well,” he said. “You feel so good. I want you to feel good, too. Are you sure this is what you want?”
Lan Wangji nodded, gasped as Wei Ying moved within him, but not to drive deeper, no, to pull—
Lan Wangji again tightened his legs around Wei Ying. “No. Please. I need to know. I need—please, keep going. Keep going.” His voice was a harsh rasp, little more than a whisper. “Keep going.”
“You can have my fingers if you’d rather. If that’s what you like, it’s… I like it, too. You don’t have to prove anything.”
“Keep. Going.”
It became a chant, a mantra, a plea that Wei Ying only reluctantly followed, pushing forward slowly, slowly, so slowly. It seemed to take ages for Wei Ying to fully sheathe himself and by then Wei Ying was gasping, too, muttering curses. The air between them was humid, heavy. Each breath was shared between them, back and forth almost. “Lan Zhan, is it…?”
He rolled his hips, squeezed his eyes shut. “Touch me,” he said, as Wei Ying stroked him again. “More.”
He pulled harder, his touch dry and a little uncomfortable even with precome and the lubricant that remained on his palm. When Wei Ying tried to reach for the jar, Lan Wangji dragged him back. There was no time now. “Lan Zhan?”
“It’s fine.” It was starting to get better anyway as he adjusted to the feel of Wei Ying within him, large and long and hot, more overwhelming than his own fingers and Wei Ying’s. The drag of Wei Ying’s length within him was hypnotizing now. It still ached, but the pleasure from before was returning. Wei Ying gasped as Lan Wangji clenched around him and that was good, too. So good. Better than good. Wei Ying shifted his hips a little, pressed in again and—there.
Pleasure burst, fire hot, within him. Lan Wangji shivered with it. A moan clawed its way out of his throat. Oh, it…
“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asked, worried, rhythm slowing.
“No,” he said, grabbing at Wei Ying’s shoulders. “No, don’t stop. I—” Wei Ying’s cock dragged within him again and pleasure again rippled through him. Ah, it was… it was so different from fucking Wei Ying, so much more intense in every way. Yes, it hurt a little bit. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but… but it was intoxicating, too.
He opened his eyes, looked up at Wei Ying, who was already looking back at him, searching his face, worried and aroused all at once. “What is it?” Wei Ying asked, gentle, soft, rocking slowly against Lan Wangji, only pulling out far enough to make sure each drag of his cock hit the spot within him that Lan Wangji always aimed for. Their thighs were stuck together, sweaty and tacky with lubricant and Lan Wangji didn’t care. Each touch pried a gasp from Lan Wangji, sent another pulse of liquid pleasure through him until he no longer hurt at all, until he was sure he would come even if Wei Ying stopped touching him—which he desperately hoped he didn’t. He never wanted Wei Ying to stop touching him.
“It’s good,” he managed finally, heart full of tender affection for Wei Ying, for his willingness to do this, taking Lan Wangji at his word and doing his best. “You can go faster.”
“Do you not like this?” Wei Ying asked, touching Lan Wangji’s face.
He did, but he also knew that he climaxed more quickly when he fucked Wei Ying in hard, quick jabs, preferring it to anything slower. He wanted Wei Ying to have that if he wanted it.
“I like it like this, Lan Zhan,” he said. “I want you like this for as long as I can keep you here.”
Lan Wangji bit his lip, certain he would not survive the encounter if it took much longer. How long could Wei Ying last? When Lan Wangji took him, he never lasted, both of them too impatient. With Wei Ying in charge, could they last longer? Would they—
“Lan er gege,” Wei Ying said. “Should I take the edge off for you? Are you impatient? Should I make you come twice? Hold you on my dick until you get off a second time?” He reached for Lan Wangji, smiled when Lan Wangji groaned. “Would you like that?”
Lan Wangji, in all their years together, had never managed to come twice in any of their encounters. He could last for as long as he needed to, not that he ever tried, but once he was done, he was done, like he’d put everything of himself into the initial effort, leaving nothing else behind. If Wei Ying wasn’t done—and sometimes, he wasn’t—then Lan Wangji had other ways to satisfy Wei Ying. But now, he wanted to try. More than that, he wanted Wei Ying to try, wanted to be held here until he did as Wei Ying wanted. “Yes.”
This time, Lan Wangji didn’t stop him from getting the jar of lubrication. The change of angle felt incredible and the anticipation was even better. He wanted to come, wanted to be made to come again, and he wanted to feel Wei Ying come all at once.
When Wei Ying wrapped his hand around Lan Wangji this time, his palm was cool from the lubrication, working him quickly as he fucked him at a much slower drag. Wei Ying’s coordination had always been good, but even Lan Wangji wasn’t sure how he kept up the different rhythms. The dichotomy would drive him mad.
Though Lan Wangji tried to push himself into the touch, Wei Ying remained unwilling to bend, seeming to enjoy watching as Lan Wangji writhed beneath him. “Wei Ying, faster,” he said, certain it wouldn’t work, but Wei Ying smiled and gave him what he asked for and only what he asked for: he went faster, yes, but only just. Not enough, not quite, but—
“Wei Ying!”
“Have I been too cruel?” Wei Ying asked. His hand sped up a bit more, lubrication squelching with each upward stroke. “Lan Zhan, you’re so wet and red. What are you holding out for?”
“I’m—” I’m not. He bucked under Wei Ying’s hand as he twisted it, upsetting his rhythm. “Please, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying knew him too well, knew how close he was. He didn’t need to hear it from Lan Wangji. And finally, finally, Wei Ying stripped him brutally, so fast Lan Wangji couldn’t keep up.
He tipped over into his release as Wei Ying tightened his grip a little, said, “Lan Zhan, you look so good like this,” as he shattered in Wei Ying’s hands. Wei Ying captured it in his palm, the whole of his release, and held it, considering, slowing his thrusts down again. Lan Wangji was growing sensitive, overwhelmed by the sensation. He was so used to their lovemaking being over with at this point that he didn’t know how to keep—
“Wei Ying, I need…” But as he scrabbled at the bedding, he didn’t know what he needed. Something. Anything. “I need you to come. Please, I—”
“I have you, Lan Zhan. I will. This is good, isn’t it? Just this?” Wei Ying moved smoothly within him and pressed his hand against Lan Wangji’s chest, his come smearing over his skin, still warm. “I thought I was the greedy one.”
Lan Wangji whimpered, oversensitive, but determined.
“Let go for me, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying said. “I promise I’ll make it good. Just enjoy it, huh?”
Lan Wangji shuddered. His control slipped. He collapsed backward and stared up at Wei Ying in wonder. If Lan Wangji thought Wei Ying was beautiful when he had him, it was nothing compared to this. Here, he felt safe to just be, to allow Wei Ying to take what pleasure he would. It fulfilled him to witness it. Even through the sensitivity, the heat building again within him, he wanted Wei Ying to take as long as he wished.
It was nice to let go and give in to what was happening to him. Each deep, lingering thrust, every touch of Wei Ying’s hand on his body, the press of his mouth against Lan Wangji’s when he leaned in, it was all good, and when he took Lan Wangji in hand a second time, pulling until he was hard again and leaking, a mess, wet and wrung out and…
And.
Wei Ying kissed his lips again, then each cheek, then his forehead.
He murmured soothing words into Lan Wangji’s hair, nuzzled at his temple, took his earlobe between his teeth, before coming back to swallow each of the noises Lan Wangji made, filthy sounds that Lan Wangji had never given voice to before. Rocking again and again like this, Lan Wangji thought Wei Ying might never come, thought that he might truly be able to keep Lan Wangji here for good.
But of course nothing could last forever, not even this. Wei Ying’s motions grew erratic, losing the rhythm he’d set as he fucked into Lan Wangji hard and fast.
“I can’t…” Lan Wangji said. “I can’t, I can’t…” It was all too much, close again to the precipice, but not near enough, not without Wei Ying—
Lan Wangji was beyond the ability to muffle the sounds he was making, ragged though they were. His body existed outside of his control, belonged only in Wei Ying’s hands to be made to do what he willed and stopped from doing what Wei Ying did not want done.
“You can, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji turned his head and Wei Ying brushed his hair back, forcing him to look up again. “Look at me, Lan Zhan,” he said. He, too, looked overwhelmed, overcome. “You can.”
Eyes squeezed shut, Lan Wangji shook his head, sure that he couldn’t, still sure he would disappoint—
“Lan Zhan!”
Wei Ying slammed into him one last time, breathed out in a harsh pant. Going still, he gasped. Heat flooded Lan Wangji’s body as Wei Ying came, lip bitten until it was red and swollen. Knowing that he’d done that, that Wei Ying had come like this, that he’d enjoyed it enough…
All it took was one more jerk of Wei Ying’s hand up his length and he was orgasming again, too, body arching up against Wei Ying’s. His body sang with the pleasure-drenched pain of it.
He laughed once as he slumped fully into their bed, unexpected joy coursing through him, not unlike how it felt to spar with Wei Ying, playful and exhilarating.
It wasn’t the sort of sound he was used to making, but he couldn’t help it and didn’t want to hold it back. As Wei Ying worked himself free, slow and careful, laughing, too, he stared up at the ceiling. “Is it always like that for you?”
“Yeah? Yes.” Wei Ying, groaning, climbed off the bed and stumbled toward the other side of the room. He brought back cloths and water and sat on the edge of the bed. He did for Lan Wangji what Lan Wangji usually did for him, gently wiping away the sweat and release from Lan Wangji’s body. It was strange to let himself be cared for like this, watching Wei Ying do this for him instead of the reverse, but it was nice, too. If Wei Ying’s fond expression was anything to go on, he was also enjoying it. “We’re very good at having sex, Lan Zhan,” he said. “Keep up. Of course it’s always like that.”
“Hmm.”
“Are we going to have to fight over who’s doing what now?”
Though Lan Wangji smiled, he shook his head. “Perhaps,” he teased, while he intended to do no such thing. He only ever wanted to do what Wei Ying wanted and that was just as relevant now as before. If Wei Ying wanted this, then he would have it. If he wanted their more usual way of doing this, he would have it, too.
“How cruel. You’ll win against me every time. I’ll never get to—”
Lan Wangji yanked him off-balance, kissed the words from his mouth. “You will have everything you want,” Lan Wangji said, serious.
“And sometimes you’ll have what you want, too.” Wei Ying tapped him on the nose before wringing out the cloth all over Lan Wangji. Cool water dripped down his neck and chest, startling him. He took it and tossed it halfway across the room to Wei Ying’s laughing incredulity and twisted them both until Lan Wangji was on top of him, peering down at him.
“Thank you, Wei Ying.”
Wei Ying, blushing, pushed at Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “Ah, Lan Zhan. Don’t ruin a good time with a thank you. I’m just glad you told me.”
“Nevertheless,” Lan Wangji said, stubborn. Wei Ying had given him something special tonight. Of course, Lan Wangji was grateful and Wei Ying should know it.
“You do realize I’m now going to expect you to come back from your various adventures in sect politics with new wild ideas to enact in our bed, right? Sect Leader Yao will call you away unexpectedly and I’ll spend the whole time waiting for whatever your imagination conjures for us in your absence.”
“Please don’t invoke Sect Leader Yao here.”
“But—”
Lan Wangji stopped his words with a kiss. That did not dissuade Wei Ying from speaking once they broke for air.
“If you’re going to be so thankful, then you’ll just have to return the favor. And then I’ll owe you and you’ll owe me and then—”
Lan Wangji kissed him again, kissed him endlessly.
For the first time, he found himself enjoying the thought of them being indebted to one another.