Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM etiquette, Sadism, Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow Wei Wuxian, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, Nonsexual BDSM, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining Wei Wuxian, Jealous Wei Wuxian, Touch-Starved Wei Wuxian, Professional Dominant Wei Wuxian, Sex Worker Wei Wuxian, Gentle Dom Lan Wangji, Mean Dom Lan Wangji, Oblivious Lan Wangji, Past Wen Chao/Wei Wuxian, Minor Jin Guangyao/Wei Wuxian, Mentioned Wei Wuxian/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, Endgame Wangxian, Mo Xuanyu Also Gets a Happy Ending, the tags are scary but i promise there's some lightheartedness too, wangxian love one another so much, wei wuxian is healed by the power of nonsexual bdsm and friendship, and then gets bdsm'd quite sexually and happily by the love of his life, Additional Warnings In Author's Note
“How did you sleep?” Lan Zhan asks when Wei Wuxian finds him in the kitchen washing vegetables. Warm, white light filters in through the window, stretching across the dark rocky path that winds across the back of the residence. While he considers his answer, he thinks about what it would be like to spend time hiking with Lan Zhan in the hills outside the walled-in grounds around them. Perhaps that’s something they’ll be able to do one day.
“Well,” Wei Wuxian answers, though in truth he’s a little concerned that he slept through until dark, “thank you.” In this one instance, it’s mostly true, though, and his stomach flutters with pleasure knowing it is the truth he’s speaking. Physically, he feels good. “Should I call you something specific while we’re doing this?” He can’t imagine calling Lan Zhan Wangji as Mo Xuanyu does, but that doesn’t mean he might not prefer a sir or something similar.
“Lan Zhan is fine.” Before Wei Wuxian can ask further questions, Lan Zhan gestures toward a neat stack of clean, gleaming vegetables. “Cut these,” Lan Zhan says, voice commanding, as he hands Wei Wuxian a knife. “Thin, even slices. If they’re not perfect, I’ll make you do it again.”
Wei Wuxian holds the knife carefully, studying the sharp edge. There’s a cutting board already prepared for him. “You’re going to trust me with this?”
“Yes.”
Though he knows exactly what Lan Zhan’s doing, the part of his brain that reacts to this sort of thing is pleased to have something to do. Each careful stroke of the knife offers him a hint of the pleasure he was promised when he was young. You’re doing a good job for your Dominant, it tells him. This is helpful. He will be happy with you.
It’s not quite how he remembers his relationship with submission forming—he was never for the perfectly behaved automaton manner of submission—but it’s better than having his preferences weaponized against him. It’s good, because he owes Lan Zhan and he likes him and there’s an underlying knowledge that Lan Zhan must play harder than this somewhere beneath his placid exterior.
“Good, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says when he’s done.
It shouldn’t surprise Wei Wuxian after they spent time cuddling, but the gentle squeeze of Lan Zhan’s hand on his shoulder still catches him off guard. “Lan—”
“You will remain silent unless I ask you a question,” Lan Zhan says, not unkindly, but firm. “I don’t require that you acknowledge my orders, just that you complete them to my satisfaction.” He again squeezes Wei Wuxian’s arm, thrilling Wei Wuxian with the touch and his transparency. It hurts a little, Lan Zhan’s fingers digging into his skin. He likes that better. “Kneel by the table. I will be there shortly.”
Wei Wuxian, still giddy from completing the task set for him, complies immediately. The whole time he watches Lan Zhan, his hands itch to assist. He might not be the best cook there is by Lan Zhan’s meticulous standards, but he’s not bad either. Lan Zhan could even order him not to add too many spices. Barred from talking through his thought aloud, he can only smile to himself at the thought. It might be the first time he’d be happy to serve a bland meal to anyone.
*
Lan Zhan’s hand on the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck rouses him from the lace-light doze he’s fallen into while waiting. It startles Wei Wuxian, the coolness of Lan Zhan’s palm. “Do you need more rest?”
“No,” Wei Wuxian answers. “Just got a little too comfortable.”
Lan Zhan places their meal on the table. “Take a few moments to stretch.”
When Wei Wuxian tries to argue that it’s not necessary, he remembers Lan Zhan’s order to not speak. Not being allowed to argue means he has to accept what’s happening to him. Because he trusts Lan Zhan, there’s nothing to worry about.
As he touches the tips of his toes, twists his waist, balances on one foot, he watches Lan Zhan out of the corner of his eye, catches him looking at Wei Wuxian in return. “Like what you see?” he asks slyly.
“Your proportions have always been appealing,” Lan Zhan admits, “and you move gracefully when the situation calls for it. I think there are few who wouldn’t enjoy the chance to watch you.”
A flutter of nervous joy bubbles within him, gentle as champagne. It’s too earnest to be any sort of come on.
“And you’ve spoken out of turn,” Lan Zhan then points out, voice cooler. Traces of Dominance linger on each syllable. They curl around Wei Wuxian’s tongue and hold it tightly, as though pinching it between two fingers. It’s a threat and a promise both.
Wei Wuxian wishes Lan Zhan would follow through on it.
“Be quiet, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, “and resume kneeling.”
This order would be harder to fight if he wanted to fight it at all.
“Come here.”
Prickling heat combusts within Wei Wuxian as he knee walks toward Lan Zhan. It’s been years since he’s done anything like this. Each strike of his knee against the solid hardwood floor reminds him of his place. Though it embarrasses him the part of him used to putting others on their knees, it eases the frustration he feels toward himself for having so casually flouted Lan Zhan’s order that way.
Lan Zhan takes his chin in a tight grip when he gets there. “Good,” he says, as he examines Wei Wuxian’s face. If Wei Wuxian had thought it through, he would have told Lan Zhan he doesn’t have to praise him on top of everything else. It’s nice, but not necessary.
From one of the plates, he grabs a small chunk of mango and presses it to Wei Wuxian’s lips. “Eat, Wei Ying.”
Unconsciously, Wei Wuxian keeps his mouth firmly shut. It’s only when Lan Zhan taps his cheek that he’s able to open it.
Nobody’s hand fed him like this in his life, but with every slice of fruit, bit of vegetable, and sip of water, Wei Wuxian is able to relax into it. Each bite is tastier, too, than the one that came before it, like Lan Zhan’s fingers hold magic within them. When he hums happily after a particularly sweet slice of apple, Lan Zhan brushes his thumb over Wei Wuxian’s lower lip.
Heat blooms within him at the contact and his skin tingles where Lan Zhan touches him.
“Good.”
He finishes feeding Wei Wuxian and efficiently eats his own portion. Wei Wuxian wishes he would take his time and enjoy it. If Wei Wuxian were Mo Xuanyu, he’d dote. If he were himself and belonged to Lan Zhan, he’d dote shamelessly.
He hasn’t ordered Wei Wuxian to keep his eyes down, so Wei Wuxian watches him as he methodically works through his portion of the meal he’s made. Though he also hasn’t ordered Wei Wuxian to keep good form while kneeling, Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare do any of the things he feels called to do, so he keeps proper form himself. Already, Wei Wuxian feels weak to and intoxicated by the things Lan Zhan is doing for him. He could so easily press himself against Lan Zhan’s leg and drowse there.
Looking away, he swallows.
Lan Zhan’s demand that he remain silent gives his mind free rein to wander. He imagines Mo Xuanyu like this. He seems like the type who would also drowse against Lan Zhan’s leg, a little petulant, definitely indulged. Mo Xuanyu would glow under the attention, or he should. He’d get to be so happy and he’d still…
“Lan Zhan, why does Mo Xuanyu go to Nie Mingjue?”
He only realizes the mistake when Lan Zhan stiffens. His own muscles tense sympathetically, heart thrumming as he recognizes the error. It’s a reflex, the way he stills. No matter how poorly he does for Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan won’t harm him in ways he doesn’t want.
Breath tangling in his chest, he waits. Not only is it a deeply personal question, but he’s broken Lan Zhan’s order again. Worse, he’s broken a proper order, one with Dominance behind it, and he’d done it like it was nothing.
Lan Zhan takes hold of his chin again, turns his face up. He studies Wei Wuxian. “You can disobey that easily?”
Wei Wuxian winces. There’s no compulsion to speak the truth, but Wei Wuxian’s not interested in lying either. He’ll own his mistakes, most of them. He has far more important things to keep to himself than this. “I’ve had some practice,” he admits. “I’m sorry, Lan Zhan. That was in—”
Lan Zhan’s fingers tighten against Wei Wuxian’s jaw.
“I did not ask for an apology.” He continues to look at Wei Wuxian as though he’s seeing him anew. “What else have I missed?”
“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian answers even though he doesn’t think the question is actually directed toward him. “Nothing, Lan Zhan. I just…”
Lan Zhan narrows his eyes. “Do you want me to push harder?
Unable to look away, Wei Wuxian fails to still his trembling muscles. The degree to which he needs this, it would stagger him if he wasn’t already on the ground, held upright by Lan Zhan Of course he wants to feel like Lan Zhan is holding his tongue between his fingers or stopping his mouth with a gag composed of words. He couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. “Yes.”
Lan Zhan orders him again, the same parameters as before: he can only speak when Lan Zhan asks him a question. This time, it feels like he’s been wrapped in the order, consumed by it. He is drunk on it already. When Lan Zhan asks him to try—it’s not a question, so he cannot answer—he’s truly stymied. He would have to hurt himself to untangle himself from the many threads of it holding him in place.
Arousal tears through him, hot and wild. He could more easily tame a fire than tame the swell of need within him. His knees spread slightly to better accommodate the obvious bulge between it. Lan Zhan very politely ignores it as he finishes eating. At some point, it does abate, though Wei Ying’s not sure when. He loses track of it until Lan Zhan puts down his chopsticks and touches the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck.
“I will have to punish you, of course,” Lan Zhan says once the dishes have been washed and put away. “Kneel in the living room in front of my chair.”
Still on the floor, he begins to move.
“You may walk.”
Wei Wuxian hesitates.
“Walk, Wei Ying.”
*
He expects Lan Zhan to begin his punishment immediately, but Lan Zhan bypasses the living room entirely as he settles. He thinks then that Lan Zhan is trying to find a volume of poetry for him to read and taking a long time at doing so. Finally, Lan Zhan returns with a rod and nothing else.
“You will hold this at a ninety degree angle for thirty seconds, then you will rest for until I tell you to begin again,” Lan Zhan says. “We will continue until I’m satisfied.”
Until he takes it and discovers how heavy it is, he’d thought the punishment would be too easy. His arms begin to tremble within ten seconds. The entirety of his focus telescopes down to the burning of his muscles by the twenty second mark. At thirty, which feel like they take forever, he nearly drops the rod.
Lan Zhan says, “Rest, Wei Ying.”
He carefully lowers the rod into his lap, hands wringing it tightly between his palms.
“Recite the oldest poem you have memorized,” Lan Zhan says. “You may only speak once you begin reciting it.”
Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to question Lan Zhan, brushes up against the delicious pain of breaking orders, and then snaps it shut as he recalls that speaking out of turn is what got him into this mess to begin with. Instead, he wracks his brain. When he was young, he’d memorized so many for school, Cloud Recesses, and at second father’s behest. Those skills have atrophied in the intervening years. What use does a glorified sex doll turned fake dominant have for poetry?
“Wei Ying, you can do this.”
He begins reciting. And when he’s done, Lan Zhan tells him to lift the rod again. Another thirty seconds. His muscles again begin to burn with exertion. Sweat prickles in his hair line.
“Rest. Now, recite the second oldest poem you know.”
Again, Wei Wuxian searches his memory. Again, it takes too long. By the fourth or fifth time, it’s easier to remember pieces of classical poetry he’s memorized, but Lan Zhan still isn’t satisfied with him. It requires ten rounds in total before he finally says, “Stop, Wei Ying,” and, “You did so well.”
The rod falls from his hands, clatters to the floor, and rolls away. His arms, weak and boneless, can only hang at his sides. Sweat is pouring down his back as his heart thuds hard against his chest. When Lan Zhan kneels before him, taking one of Wei Ying’s hands in his, Wei Ying whimpers. “How are you feeling?” Lan Zhan asks.
“Good,” he replies, no hesitation. His body hurts, sure, but he’s completed the punishment Lan Zhan has set for him. Lan Zhan is touching him. He couldn’t feel better about the circumstances. “Good, please. I—”
He snaps his mouth shut.
Lan Zhan’s thumbs dig hard into his palm, loosening the tense muscles of his hand. “Please, what, Wei Ying?”
But they don’t dig hard enough. He wants Lan Zhan to break through the skin and massage his muscles directly, to get so far inside of Wei Wuxian that there’s nothing left that he hasn’t seen. Lan Zhan should pry him apart with his fingertips. “Ah,” he says, squirming. “Harder.”
Lan Zhan’s thumbs slide over Wei Wuxian’s palm and press against Wei Wuxian’s wrist. A fresh, clean sort of pain rushes up his arm. The ache of release accompanies it, a blessedly weak burst of come coating the inside of his underwear. Sighing in relief and embarrassment, he loses the perfect posture from earlier, curling instinctively toward Lan Zhan as he orgasms.
“Spine straight, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan demands, voice low and gentle. Again, he ignores Wei Wuxian’s weaknesses, treats Wei Wuxian as he has from the start. No matter how humiliating it might be to come untouched like this, he isn’t mocked or loathed for it.
Wei Wuxian hums in silent agreement and squares his shoulders. He doesn’t know how long Lan Zhan touches him for, but by the time Lan Zhan pulls him to his feet, he decides perhaps it’s enough for now. At the very least, he feels sated and content. Even the pain caused by Lan Zhan’s punishment has faded to a dull, exciting pleasure, no harm done except the possibility of muscle soreness.
Lan Zhan pushes water and a few snacks on him before bringing him back to his bedroom. He chooses pajamas for Wei Wuxian, places them neatly on the edge of the bed, and says, “You’re free to speak and do as you wish for the rest of the night.”
The sudden release of these orders forces Lan Zhan’s name from Wei Wuxian’s mouth. “Lan Zhan?”
“As for your question from earlier,” Lan Zhan says, unable to meet We Wuxian’s gaze, “I would not hamper those I care for in pursuing what makes them happy.”
“But…”
“Spending time with others makes Xuanyu happy. It cannot hurt me that he is like this, just as it doesn’t hurt him that I…”
Though Lan Zhan has freed him from the orders he’s set, Wei Wuxian still hesitates to prod further.
Before he can, Lan Zhan surprises him. “You told me once that you foresaw me with two perfect submissive partners, children, an ideal relationship, perfectly harmonious.”
Wei Wuxian laughs, but the sound rings hollowly within him. “Did I really?”
“I do not want that.”
“Lan Zhan?”
“I cannot ever see myself in such a relationship. I simply do not know how to split my heart between two people. I’ve barely learned how to balance the love I feel for my family with the love I share romantically and sexually with Xuanyu. It doesn’t have room within it for more.”
Oh.
“I’m afraid…” Lan Zhan says. “I fear the potential for unhappiness I invite into my relationship with Xuanyu when these incompatibilities stand between us.” As he searches Wei Wuxian’s face, his expression grows severe. “At the same time, I understand that I have brought him happiness in our time together. I cannot dishonor that. And so we’ve found a compromise. So far, it’s been enough him.”
“What about you?”
“It is enough for me.”
Wei Wuxian swallows around the lump in his throat. He’s never enjoyed the sensation of doors closing on him, even when he’s known they were already closed to him. Though he’d always known he would never get to have Lan Zhan in the ways he wants, it hurts to have it confirmed so honestly. And at the same time… at the same time, he’s happy for them. “That’s amazing, Lan Zhan. What you have together is truly enviable. I’m glad for you both. Truly.”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan says distractedly. “Is there anything else you need tonight?”
“Nope! No, I—thank you, Lan Zhan, for doing this for me. It must be awkward for you.”
“Not at all,” Lan Zhan replies, as though he hasn’t just spilled his guts to Wei Wuxian. “We will continue tomorrow. Perhaps we’ll even manage to put you under.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart races at the sudden shift in topic. “Oh?”
“I noticed it didn’t happen for you tonight. It would be beneficial if we could reach that point, don’t you agree?”
“Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “That’s… yeah. We can do that.” Though he has no reason to fear it, Wei Wuxian feels himself worry all the same. He has no good heavens-damned clue what he’s like when he’s under, how pliant, how truthful, how needy or pathetic or awful he’ll be. He doesn’t understand why what they’re already doing isn’t enough when he already feels surprisingly good even just from this, like he’s been rejuvenated, no longer scraped so thin he can’t function. “Sure.”
“Then I’ll leave you to rest.”
For the first time since he arrived, he finds himself angry at Mo Xuanyu for not being exactly what Lan Zhan needs, for Lan Zhan needing to compromise at all. He should have someone who is his alone. It seems fair, when he can only want Mo Xuanyu.
He strangles this cruel thought before it can take hold within him
As Lan Zhan slides the door shut, Wei Wuxian presses his hand to his mouth to keep from calling out, begging for Lan Zhan to stay and hold him again, hating the thought of Lan Zhan going to bed alone, hating going to bed alone himself when he knows what Lan Zhan’s embrace is like.
It would be even better, Wei Wuxian thinks, a new cruel thought springing up to replace the last one, if it was just him and Lan Zhan. They wouldn’t have to compromise at all, because they are the same.
Too much the same, maybe.