backfire

Content Warnings

- non-consensual blow job that Wei Wuxian is somewhat prepared for, but it's still an unpleasant prospect, it's not described in detail
- general unpleasantness from Wen Chao's first official appearance

This chapter also contains one of my favorite things of all times: characters reading poetry aloud to one another. If you ever see this in future fics, it's absolutely me plagiarizing myself. 😂 This one's a bit heavy in the middle, so take care, but other good progress is made, I think. Thank you for reading!

Chapter Ten

Dinner is a quieter affair than Wei Wuxian finds entirely natural, but though it’s a little awkward, it gives Wei Wuxian a chance to ease into the feeling that he can allow himself access to Lan Zhan, that he will not inadvertently ask for more than Lan Zhan wants to give, that he isn’t taking from Mo Xuanyu the things that belong to Mo Xuanyu.

“You seem tired,” Lan Zhan says once Wei Wuxian has cleared away the dishes.

It’s hard to properly flop across the tables, but he manages, half melting against it, one leg stretched out, the other tucked between his thigh and the chair. As silly as it is, it feels nice to sprawl this way. He is supposed to convey cheer and he’s certainly rested a great deal already. “You fuss too much. Mo Xuanyu caught me in the middle of a nap. You can ask him yourself.”

“You looked better the first time I saw you.”

“Though I’m a little scandalized that the perfectly polite Lan Wangji is calling me ugly to my face…” Wei Wuxian replies drolly. “…I’m fine.”

Lan Zhan’s eyebrow crawls up his forehead, ready to settle down in a home built on incredulity. “I don’t believe I’ve ever said any such thing.”

“I can read between the lines.”

“I’m not so certain.”

Wei Wuxian can’t help but laugh. How could Mo Xuanyu ever want anything different than this? There’s nothing better than being teased by Lan Zhan. “Lan Zhan is bold in his insults tonight.”

Before Wei Wuxian can correct his posture, Lan Zhan takes hold of Wei Wuxian’s wrists. Though his touch is light, Wei Wuxian feels his fingers as bands of steel. Lan Zhan could pull him flat across the table if he liked. “I would not insult you,” Lan Zhan says. “I only wish to see you happier than this.” He gestures with his free hand. “Can I arrange a physician for you? Are you feeling unwell?”

Ha. A physician? So they can tell him what he already knows? “No need.”

“Wei Ying, there must be something I can do.”

Wei Wuxian almost breaks, almost asks. There are plenty of things Lan Zhan can do while his partner is off being played with by another Dominant. This isn’t a step he can bring himself to take, though he’s wondering now if maybe Mo Xuanyu sent him here for a reason. “You said you like to read on nights like these?”

Nightless City, Ten Years Ago

The day after the contract is registered, Wei Wuxian returns with second mother to Nightless City. This time, they’re alone, and Wei Wuxian is grateful for it. It had been difficult enough to say goodbye to jiejie and Jiang Cheng and even second father, who wouldn’t meet his eyes and from whom Wei Wuxian would not accept an apology. It would be worse if he had to do it standing outside this cement monstrosity, looming and unpleasant to look at.

Second mother is brief in her farewell, only seeing him to the gate where an expressionless man dressed all in black is waiting for him. “Where is he?” she asks the man, snappish. “Or is he determined to show me so little respect?”

“I was told to meet you and the boy here,” the guard says.

“And you do everything your little master tells you to do, Zhao Zhuliu?” second mother says. “I’ve owned dogs less loyal than you. Where’s your collar? If any Dominant were going to submit, it would be you.”

Zhao Zhuliu barely blinks at the insult.

“Can I trust you to ensure Wei Ying is cared for?”

“If it’s within my power to do so.”

Second mother sniffs. Though Wei Wuxian doesn’t expect her to say anything further to him, he’s still disappointed when she releases him to Zhao Zhuliu without a word. She turns away while he himself is still considering whether he should say something else, anything else—his own parents loved her once—but as she walks toward the car door held open for her driver, she remains hunched slightly, twisted away.

If Wei Wuxian didn’t know any better, he’d think she might be feeling shame.

“Come,” Zhao Zhuliu says.

Though he’s already been here once before, Wei Wuxian still finds himself disoriented by the time he arrives on the floor and wing of the compound that belongs to Wen Chao. This place, too, is monstrously large, room upon garish room, until finally they reach a large hall.

There are more people than he expects, many of whom are kissing or grinding against one another. In fact, it takes Wei Wuxian several guesses to finally figure out which one of the half-dressed men in the room might be Wen Chao, and even then he’s not certain until Zhao Zhuliu clears his throat.

Wei Wuxian tells himself he’s not out of his depth, but he knows for a fact he is.

“Zhuliu-ge,” Wen Chao says brightly, extricating himself from the pile of giggling women he’s buried beneath. He speaks frivolously, nearly losing his balance as he trips over an ankle, and wags his finger in their direction. He might be drunk, or he might not be. “This is him, hmm?”

“Yes,” Zhao Zhuliu says.

Wen Chao approaches, taking a sheet from one of the submissives lounging nearby. He wraps the sheet around his lower body, little more than a parody of modesty. He immediately touches Wei Wuxian’s face, turning it this way and that. His sticky fingertips carry a sweet, musky odor. “Wei Ying, Wei Ying,” he says, clicking his tongue. “You are a beauty, aren’t you?”

Wei Wuxian keeps his gaze lowered. He’s unsure what Wen Chao wants from him, but given the state of this room, it’s not difficult to guess.

“And so demure. I’d heard from my cousin that you’re a mischievous beast. She was at Cloud Recesses at the same time as you. I was expecting rather more than a prim little bitch.” He plucks at the sleeve of Wei Wuxian’s jacket. Pale purple, it sits fashionably loose on Wei Wuxian’s shoulders, ensuring his clavicles are properly exposed, peeking out from the low, scooped cut of his shirt. It’s not what he would have chosen, but he didn’t get a choice in the matter. When he’s done fussing with Wei Wuxian’s clothing, Wen Chao yanks the long, thick plait of his braid. “You’ll be more fun to play with once you understand what I expect from you.” He snaps his fingers in Wei Wuxian’s face. Then, he points at the ground. “Kneel already. I don’t have all day to service you.”

Wei Wuxian’s gut twists. He doesn’t move, though Wen Chao’s order curls around his heart and tugs. For a Dominant, he’s not very strong. His order is easier to withstand than most of the orders he hasn’t always wanted to follow, certainly easier than the nightmare he’d expected based on Wen Xu’s capabilities. He should be relieved, but even if he can’t compel Wei Wuxian physically, he’s still a scion of the most powerful family in China.

The veneer of affability falls away from Wen Chao’s face. “Kneel, A-Ying.” There’s no love in his use of the diminutive, only a desire to make Wei Wuxian feel small. It doesn’t work, which only seems to piss Wen Chao off. “Are you frigid, too? Kneel.”

Wei Wuxian clenches his teeth. He knew he would be expected to do this, spent this entire week dreading it while second mother drilled him on all the things Cloud Recesses never taught him about duty. It still surprises him that he’s being expected to perform so soon, and in front of such an audience. If second mother knew how many submissives Wen Chao has at his disposal, she might have ripped up this contract. Two submissives, that’s expected. That’s honorable. Second mother even knew about and approved of Wen Chao’s wife. He thinks maybe this would have been a slight too far.

He finally goes down, knees thudding against the soft mats that cover much of the floor. His stomach flutters with nervous anticipation. Second mother told him that it might be unpleasant at first, submitting to Wen Chao, but that he would like it, that his body was made to like it.

He’s not sure he agrees. How could he ever like this?

As Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and steels himself for what’s going to happen, Wen Chao pushes his fingers between Wei Wuxian’s lips and, slides them over Wei Wuxian’s tongue, flooding his mouth with the taste of dried sweat and more. He fights the revulsion that accompanies the flavor, wishes somehow he’d reach the state second mother promised he would be able to find, that he’d been warned about in etiquette training, that intoxicating space where he might be happy to do anything.

Dropping the sheet, Wen Chao withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his dick.

It doesn’t go well.

Wen Chao loses interest halfway through trying to make him deep throat without choking, Wei Wuxian tells himself it’s to be expected, that he hasn’t failed. As he gasps, throat aching, he insists it’s not a violation, that he could have gotten out of it at any time.

The submissives around him laugh at his inexperience, but their expressions of glee are like stiff masks. The emotion doesn’t reach beneath the surface. Though tears gather at the corner of his eyes, born of humiliation and as a result of the physical act itself both, nobody shows much in the way of sympathy, either, not even behind Wen Chao’s back.

“Someone put him in a training device,” Wen Chao says, bored. “And make sure he knows how to take a fucking, huh?”

As one of the submissives nearest to him pulls him to his feet, another man, smaller than him, but strong, he looks on the bright side. Wen Chao could have come in his mouth or on his face or anywhere else. How much more unpleasant would that have been? He can take a bit of pleasure, even, in frustrating Wen Chao this way.

After Wei Wuxian settles in the living room, Lan Zhan retrieves a slim volume of poetry. Though he expects it to be some rare collection of classical poems so hauntingly beautiful they’ve transcended time and ennui to remain living, breathing words, he’s surprised to discover it’s far more recent. Though care has been taken with the cheaply printed book, Lan Zhan has been unable to stop the flow of time and entropy. The binding is loose, the spine warped. It’s a beloved object that has been well-used.

Wei Wuxian is careful as he flips through the pages. There are a handful of poems on which Lan Zhan has clearly lingered, the pages opening naturally for him when he reaches them. As Wei Wuxian scans them, he finds their themes of love and yearning too much to handle.

Lan Zhan sits in one of the soft, squishy chairs that flank the couch. If Wei Wuxian were his submissive, he could sit at Lan Zhan’s feet as he recites these aching words. Lan Zhan might toy with his hair or tug teasingly at his collar until they both grow tired of this form of foreplay. He could fuck or spank Wei Wuxian as he reads aloud, ass hiked up, face nearly pressed to the floor, the book held open between his arms. He would do his best to avoid dripping exhausted, overstimulated tears onto the paper. He’d fail.

This is a bad idea.

But it’s one he’s walked right into. He has to see it through.

Lan Zhan closes his eyes as Wei Wuxian reads to him, head cocked slightly to the side, as though to better listen to Wei Wuxian’s speech. Wei Wuxian’s heart settles, knowing he can be of service to Lan Zhan in this way, a way that doesn’t hurt Wei Wuxian or make him feel guilty. It doesn’t cross a line to read poetry aloud. And even if it did, he’s not sure he could stop himself from chasing this feeling all the way through to the end now that he has it.

Lan Zhan is just so responsive to it. That’s the thing. His mouth twitches when Wei Wuxian has done something pleasing. He nods if Wei Wuxian has navigated a particularly tricky line well.

By the time he’s done, his voice is cracking, less from the strain of talking so much and more because of the emotion cradled in this moment. The tension within him drains away as his body enjoys the pleasurable hum of having served a Dominant well, more than that, a Dominant he admires and loves and owes and needs. As he closes the book, a tear drips onto the cover. He brushes it aside and scrubs his hand over his face, donning a practiced smile just in time.

Lan Zhan opens his eyes, looks over at him. “That was beautiful, Wei Ying. Thank you.”

“Aiya, Lan Zhan. Don’t thank me.” An electric net of giddiness settles over his body. He almost laughs and only manages to stop himself because Lan Zhan would be suspicious. “It was my pleasure, huh? The least I could do.”

Leveling a flat glance at Wei Wuxian, Lan Zhan says, “You are not expected to do anything here.”

“But where’s the fun in that? It’s good to be useful.”

“No matter what that contract has tried to turn you into,” Lan Zhan says, “you’re more than your utility.”

The joy brought by the unexpected gift of this evening hardens and cracks. Always with this stupid contract. Wei Wuxian would like to go a single day without the reminder that it exists. “I can still want to do things, Lan Zhan.”

Though Lan Zhan concedes with a gentle bob of his head, Wei Wuxian doesn’t feel as though he’s won this argument.

“I liked doing it,” he says stubbornly. “I wanted to do it. I wish you would—”

The full weight of Lan Zhan’s attention snaps onto him, pinning him in place. His question is written all over his face.

“Forget it,” Wei Wuxian says. “Forget I said anything. I’m happy you enjoyed it.” The shine of having done this for Lan Zhan is tarnished now. He’d thought… well, it was clearly stupid to think they’d transcended even for a moment the stupid tangle of enforced duty Wei Wuxian is mired in. Heaven fucking forbid Wei Wuxian do anything without Lan Zhan thinking he’s being used against his will. It was stupid of him to open this door, because doors always close, don’t they, leaving him on the wrong side of them. He hands the beloved volume back to Lan Zhan and stares at the floor.

“Wei Ying…”

He’d like to ignore Lan Zhan, but he can’t, even though he feels petty and exposed. “What?”

Lan Zhan sighs. “If I could dissolve your contract without it reverting to the state, I would. In the meantime, I want you to feel comfortable enough to behave as though it doesn’t exist. I wish you would do what brings you happiness instead of what you think would be useful.”

Yeah, yeah. His contract is iron-clad. The Wen lawyers did a number on it that second mother didn’t care enough to fight. If Lan Zhan decides he doesn’t want it any longer, he can sell it back to Madam Yang if she’ll have him. Otherwise, some cadre or other could easily line their pockets facilitating another sale.

“I’ve disappointed you again,” Lan Zhan says quietly, not quite a whisper. “Wei Ying, what would you have me do?”

Wei Wuxian remains stubbornly silent, knowing perfectly well that he’s spiting himself in the process. If Lan Zhan can’t tell that reading a book of poetry is gratifying to Wei Wuxian, that’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault. That which is self-evident needn’t be explained. And that which isn’t self-evident oughtn’t be told. What good would it do for him to say he wants Lan Zhan to want him, bully him, keep him here for good, long past the contract’s expiration?

Lan Zhan isn’t done. Apparently, he’s the one with the fighting spirit today. “Wei Ying, you hardly trouble me at all. I wouldn’t even know you were here if Xuanyu wasn’t constantly talking about you or bringing your meals out.” He looks as though he intends to reach across the distance between the chair and the couch for him. That would be a start. He could bruise Wei Wuxian’s wrist with the tight loop of his fingers digging into Wei Wuxian’s skin if he really wants to prove he’s as mad as he sounds. Wei Wuxian would like it.

“Lan Zhan—” Lan Zhan shouldn’t treat him like an outsider. He should let Wei Wuxian have this. “—don’t make this difficult, please.”

“If I have offended you, I would like to make amends.”

“You haven’t—” His frustration bursts out of him, undesired, unbidden. He can all but hear the suggestion that all he needs to right himself is a good Dominant and a few hours bent over a table to get that perfectly polished, prized demeanor all submissives surely prize. “There’s nothing on this Earth you could do to offend me.” He swallows his pride, what little of it he still has. “I like reading for you. It feels good.”

“Wei Ying…”

“Contract or no contract, it feels the way submitting is supposed to feel.” He pushes the words out as quickly as possible. It feels awful to make a gentle, simple, innocent thing into a battlefield upon which they can fight over the bureaucratic red tape wrapped so tightly around Wei Wuxian’s throat that he can barely breathe. He’s all but asking for Lan Zhan to find some fault with him taking pleasure from this, paternalistically deciding it can’t be good for him, but he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t want to be told he looks tired or needs to rest, that Lan Zhan knows better when what he felt was good, and all for the price of an hour spent doing something nice for the man he cares about. “Can’t that be enough for you?”

Lan Zhan blinks, mouth slightly parted, and looks away. His ears redden. He snaps his mouth closed and swallows. Once he’s recovered his wits, Lan Zhan says, “Then I will expect you to read for me again.”

A fragile bubble of relief swells inside of Wei Wuxian, pushing against the walls of his rib cage. He fears it will pop, and fears even more that it won’t, that he’ll get used to the feeling of completeness within him only to lose it again when he least expects it. He nurses it anyway, simply because he wants to.

Back to MDZS/CQL | Link to Chapter Eleven

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Content Warnings

Chapter Ten