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
In the end, Wei Wuxian doesn’t drink himself silly. In fact, he abandons the bottle after a single swig, exhausted even by the weight of it in his hand. He doesn’t want to be angry, so he simply stops being angry, telling himself that Lan Zhan is afraid for him, that he can’t possibly have known what he was attaching himself to when he so brazenly took on Wei Wuxian’s contract.
He tells himself: fuck it.
If Lan Zhan wants to give him a bath, if that will assuage his concerns that he’s not doing enough or not doing it right, so what? It won’t even work, so Wei Wuxian has nothing to worry about. If he gets hard because the man he loves is touching him, naked, half-naked, or anywhere in between, it’s no less or more embarrassing than what he’s already seen Wei Wuxian do in his presence.
It probably will relax him, if nothing else, Lan Zhan’s touch and Lan Zhan’s bath and Lan Zhan’s attention all on him one last time. He would be stupid to deny himself this chance before Mo Xuanyu is there to take the time he deserves with the man he has chosen and been chosen by.
When Wei Wuxian is able to show his face, Lan Zhan is still in the kitchen, his expression guarded as Wei Wuxian approaches him. “I don’t want a doctor,” he says, because that’s off the table, “if this doesn’t work out the way you want it to.” He’ll decide entirely on his own, after the contract is complete, if he’s willing to accept defeat and let himself be put under artificially. Maybe he will. Maybe he never, ever will. “But if you want to try it this way, we can try it.”
“I won’t take you to one,” he replies. “I don’t want you to feel coerced. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I’m well aware, Lan Zhan.” It’s so perfectly clear. He could laugh at Lan Zhan’s fierce defense of what he already knows. As he sits next to Lan Zhan, he wishes he could kneel as easily as Mo Xuanyu does. He doesn’t think: I’m glad Wen Chao didn’t take this from me, because it belongs to you, not a doctor I don’t know, only you. He doesn’t think: I bet I know what will work and neither of us will like it.
He definitely doesn’t think: I’m afraid I can’t.
Lan Zhan frowns, turns his head away, closes his eyes, and breathes.
Before his courage fails him, he reaches for one of Lan Zhan’s hands and clasps it between both of his. He hopes it’s enough to make Lan Zhan understand, because he doesn’t know what else to say to make him get it.
“I feel like all I’ve done is hurt you,” Lan Zhan says.
It might hurt, but that’s irrelevant, and it won’t be Lan Zhan’s fault if it does.
Besides, hasn’t he always liked it when it hurts? Even Wen Chao figured out that much about him.
*
“The bath is ready,” Lan Zhan says quietly. “Take your time getting prepared. I’ll knock in a few minutes.”
“Alright, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying replies, equally quiet. “I won’t be long.”
Before Lan Zhan goes, Wei Ying stops him with a quick, “Hey,” and, “You could have told me you’ve been hiding an entire bathhouse here.”
“My apologies. It’s free for you to use whenever you wish. There’s also a small pool and hot tub in the connecting rooms if you’re interested.”
Of course, Wei Wuxian thinks, because Lan Zhan is generous and not a little serious about the state of his special bathing facilities, a far cry from the tidy showers housed in the residences. The room is huge and gently misted in steam emanating from the tub in the center, big enough to fit at least two people, possibly three if they’re really friendly with one another. Ceramic and gently sloping, it’s inviting and not a little austerely opulent.
As he studies the room, he discovers it’s not terribly difficult for him to disrobe, even knowing what will happen shortly. There’s a wooden cart filled with supplies to one side of the tub. On the other, there’s a rack for him to place his clothes within easy reach, along with a large linen cloth and a ridiculously thick and fluffy towel. A stool stands nearby, similar to what he’d imagine he’d find in a doctor’s office, very severe and somber, except for how it’s made of wood and elegantly carved.
He considers wrapping the cloth around his waist, but as he steps into the warm, gently perfumed water, he simply drapes it over his lap. It doesn’t hide much, but it does provide him with a degree of modesty and control. He submerges himself fully, counts to ten, and breaks the surface just in time to hear Lan Zhan’s knock.
“I’m decent,” he calls, leaning against the curved rim of the bathtub, the perfect shape for his neck.
Lan Zhan quietly steps inside.
He has rolled back the cuffs of his shirt, exposing the graceful turn of his wrists. The nearly translucent skin on the inside of his forearms draws Wei Wuxian’s eye and refuses to free them. A thin red robe fills his arms, held in a silly, childlike embrace. “I forgot to bring this earlier,” he explains, placing it next to the towel.
Wei Wuxian slicks back his hair and blinks droplets of water from his eyes.
Lan Zhan expertly hooks his socked toes around the leg of a stool and positions it behind Wei Wuxian. For a breathless moment, he leans over the tub, everything in Wei Wuxian’s face, especially the delicate scent of his body. Wei Wuxian would accuse him of doing it on purpose if Wei Wuxian didn’t know he’s too good a man for such low tricks. The view of his clavicles through the collar of his shirt is nice, though. “I think it would be better if I don’t give you orders tonight.”
“Sure,” Wei Wuxian agrees. It’s sensible. It’s the right call. Even Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to upset the delicate balance after their argument earlier.
If Wei Wuxian was worried about remaining unseen, he needn’t have. Though the water is clear, Lan Zhan doesn’t look into the tub once, not even accidentally. For a long time, he simply reads the labels of every single bottle in the cart. Bath time is serious business apparently. Only the finest body wash will suffice. How can Wei Wuxian be angry in the face of Lan Zhan’s earnestness? It’s impossible.
“Do you do this with Mo Xuanyu?” he asks, both curious and pained by how the question falls from his lips. Letting himself slip down the tub until his toes stick out of the water on the opposite side. Lan Zhan finally plucks a pair of bottles from the back and moves them forward.
“No.”
“No?”
“He tends to me,” Lan Zhan replies easily, “not the other way around.”
“Oh.” The water sloshes as Wei Wuxian shifts again. “Do you want to switch?” He could switch. There would still be skin-to-skin contact. It might be nice, taking care of Lan Zhan for once.
“No. Sit upright, spine straight, but tilt your head back.” To illustrate—or because Wei Wuxian isn’t moving quickly enough—he presses between Wei Wuxian’s shoulder blades. Though he’s bossy, it’s not the same sort of bossy as before. Somehow, it feels even more illicit.
Wei Wuxian still complies. “Do you want to tend to him like this?”
“Not particularly. How I want to be with him is different from how I want to be with you.”
Being nosy helps distract him from the fact that he’s functionally naked here, so he doesn’t feel too terrible pestering Lan Zhan further, especially since he’d draw whatever boundaries are necessary if Wei Wuxian pushes too far. Besides, the ache behind his sternum serves as a sort of punishment for his interrogation. “Do you let Mo Xuanyu get chatty with you?”
As Lan Zhan squeezes shampoo into his palms and lathers it together, he remains silent. Wei Wuxian wonders if he won’t answer at all when he finally says, “He isn’t quite as chatty with me when we’re alone, not like he’s been since you arrived.”
Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to say in response. To be honest, he’d rather thought Lan Zhan would consider that a feature, but his tone of voice tells Wei Wuxian otherwise.
“I think having you here has been good for him,” Lan Zhan admits. “I can be dour and sullen.”
“You, Lan Zhan?” He can’t keep the teasing tone out of his face. Lan Zhan is so charming even though he doesn’t try to be and doesn’t really seem like he would be. He doesn’t say: and you don’t think I’m dour and sullen these days?
“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Lan Zhan replies drily.
“I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.” If Lan Zhan doesn’t know he means the world to Mo Xuanyu, he ought to. Even if things are strange between the two of them, that much is evident. “He adores you. I bet he has fun pestering you into a good mood. I’m sure I would. You should give him a chance.”
“Perhaps,” Lan Zhan agrees quietly. “Is this really what you want to talk about?”
“Gossiping about you is my favorite pastime,” Wei Wuxian says. It feels so artificial, teasing Lan Zhan this way, but the alternative—actually talking about what’s going on—seems impossible while he’s in this state. “What would you prefer to talk about?”
“Perhaps we needn’t speak at all,” Lan Zhan says gently.
They settle into silence as Lan Zhan’s fingers press against his scalp. It’s less awkward now that he’s had a chance to get used to it.
For a time, Lan Zhan runs his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair, back to front, gently massaging his scalp as suds form. He is careful, gentle, manages very well to avoid letting any get into Wei Wuxian’s eyes.
The only problem with this silence is the fact that it gives Wei Wuxian too much time to think, and what he thinks about is how Lan Zhan has all but said there’s space for him here. If Mo Xuanyu enjoys having him here, if he serves some function, if even Lan Zhan thinks he’s a valuable addition to their household, that means…
It means there could be a place for him here. Even after this. He could become the support that keeps Mo Xuanyu from needing to go outside of his relationship with Lan Zhan to get what he needs. If Mo Xuanyu sometimes needs a different flavor of domination, Wei Wuxian could supply it without Mo Xuanyu having to sequester himself elsewhere. Then neither of them would be missing out on anything. Maybe then, Wei Wuxian could ask Lan Zhan to bed him from time to time.
“Is something the matter?” Lan Zhan asks, gently squeezing Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He flinches and causes a breaker of water to splash over the side of the tub.
No, not even for Lan Zhan could he go back to that.
“No! No. Sorry. Did you say something?” He searches his memory of the last handful of moments and can’t recall hearing Lan Zhan’s voice in the mire of his thoughts.
“I did not say anything, Wei Ying.” He rubs his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair, scrubbing lightly. “I’m going to rinse the shampoo from your hair. I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Okay.”
Lan Zhan scoops up water with a ladle and tips Wei Wuxian’s head back, the opposite hand curving over his forehead to keep the water from spilling into his eyes. The gentle cascade of water is soothing; Wei Wuxian wishes he could always feel so soothed. When Lan Zhan puts the ladle down, Wei Wuxian is disappointed, but he doesn’t know how to say he wants Lan Zhan to continue. It would be ridiculous anyway, wouldn’t it, to ask for such a thing?
They lapse into silence again as Lan Zhan manipulates his body, taking hold of one arm to rub soap into his skin, rinsing it again, taking his other arm, repeating the process. He tends to Wei Wuxian’s legs as far as is appropriate for those who aren’t partnered, holding Wei Wuxian’s heels gently in the cup of his palm. He bends Wei Wei Wuxian forward to scrub the back of his neck and spine. His hands caress Wei Wuxian’s chest. Most endearing of all, he takes time to thoroughly massage behind his ears, thumbs brushing gently over the jut of bone there. He could melt under the attention, simply dissipate into the water and evaporate away, gentle as steam.
As Lan Zhan works this time, he starts to hum.
“What’s that song?”
“A trifle,” Lan Zhan says, “nothing more.”
Though Lan Zhan has stopped humming, Wei Ying still has the ear he trained when he was younger. “You played it before,” he says, “on the guqin.”
“It’s really nothing, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan answers, “just a song.”
Wei Wuxian sets his jaw. “It’s beautiful.”
Lan Zhan digs his thumbs into the muscles of Wei Wuxian’s neck and down over his shoulders. “Thank you.”
“Did you learn it back home?”
“No.”
“Hm,” Wei Wuxian says. “Who knew you could be so stingy about where you learned such a nice song. Maybe I’d like to play it, too, huh?”
Lan Zhan’s hands still. Then, they retreat. “That wouldn’t be wise.”
There’s enough room in the tub that Wei Wuxian can easily twist around. He looks up at Lan Zhan, braces his arms on the rounded edge. “Why not?”
Lan Zhan breathes through his nose, exhales through gently parted lips. His lips are bitten pink and his face is flushed from the steam, red all the way down to his throat. “Turn,” he says sharply. “Your muscles are still too tense. You are meant to relax.”
He feels perfectly relaxed, muscles loose. How much more relaxed to I need to be, Lan Zhan?
Once Wei Wuxian is more appropriately seated again, wet, clinging linen demurely draped across a lap now hidden by a thin layer of suds, Lan Zhan dips his fingers into the water. Tsking, he reaches across to turn on the hot water tap, adding a pleasant burst of heat.
Lan Zhan’s chest is warm as it presses against Wei Wuxian’s back, fits perfectly against him. Wei Wuxian remains still, soaking up the contact, scarcely breathing.
Eventually, Wei Wuxian tires, lulled by the soporific effect of the water, the gentle scent of the oil with which Lan Zhan has perfumed it, Lan Zhan’s touch on his skin. He dozes in Lan Zhan’s hands and only rouses again when Lan Zhan tells him he should probably not remain in the water much longer.
Though disappointed, Wei Wuxian nudges the lever that controls the drain with his foot. Water siphons away slowly, but he stays put the whole time. Lan Zhan has treated him too well. He doesn’t want to go.
Lan Zhan drapes one fluffy towel around Wei Wuxian’s shoulders and takes another to squeeze the moisture from Wei Wuxian’s hair. Lan Zhan works quickly, patting his goose-pimpled skin while avoiding touching him anywhere particularly salacious. When Wei Wuxian is ready to stand, he averts his eyes and hands over the towel.
His ears are pink. Who is this Dominant to be so shy all of a sudden?
Without thought, Wei Wuxian leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s not until he’s already pulling back that he realizes what he’s done, but by then, it’s too late. He knows the taste of Lan Zhan’s lips, how soft they are. His mind slows down the moment, savors it. A second stretching to infinity. He’s broken his own rule and feels his resolve crumbling in the breaking of it. He sees again the world where he is part of Lan Zhan and Mo Xuanyu’s relationship and thinks: it could be enough.
He’s already survived having less of Lan Zhan than he wants. Couldn’t he survive it forever, if need required it of him?
Wei Wuxian leans in again and finds himself stopped by Lan Zhan’s broad, warm palm against his chest. “Not like this, Wei Ying.”
Mortification turns the blood in Wei Wuxian’s veins to ice, freezes the air in his lungs. His heart will shatter if he tries to speak in his own defense. It might shatter anyway. It’s unfair to demand Lan Zhan watch his step when he won’t watch his own.
“I’m sorry,” Lan Zhan says, backing toward the door. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
In a stupor, Wei Wuxian wraps himself in the robe Lan Zhan has left for him, shivers as the cool silk touches his suddenly overheated skin. As he slides his feet into the slippers left by the tub, he feels lightheaded and has to lean against the tub to catch his breath.
He reminds himself that Lan Zhan won’t hurt him or strip him of his dignity, won’t cruelly torment him with things he cannot have or things he doesn’t want. Knowing the two of them, they won’t even talk about it, simply sweeping it under the rug of their hearts where it will form a misshapen lump they’ll pretend to ignore.
He hasn’t kissed another person in years, and to do it like this…
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan calls through the door, voice raised, yet thin, watery almost. “Do you need help?”
Bitter laughter bursts forth from within him, quickly tamped down. Oh, yes. He definitely needs help. He’s always needed help. But when has he ever gotten it? Even Lan Zhan’s help isn’t helping. Pushing the heels of his hands over his eyes, he sighs. Of all the things Lan Zhan has done for him, there’s one thing they haven’t tried yet, one thing Lan Zhan has refused to do.
Stepping outside, spine straight and chin raised, he meets Lan Zhan’s eye without flinching. “I think I ought to be punished, don’t you?”
“Wei—”
“Properly punished.” He lowers his gaze. “I know you know how.”
“I don’t think—”
“I do,” Wei Wuxian says. He should have known it would always come down to this. He’s tired of beating around the bush. It’s time for Lan Zhan to simply beat the bush. Lan Zhan has been gentle, he’s been firm, he’s been so painfully kind. He’s put on blinders, Wei Wuxian thinks, though Wei Wuxian can’t guess why. Perhaps he truly doesn’t favor causing pain to his submissive. If so, it would be a surprise to Wei Wuxian, who figured Lan Zhan had always enjoyed his Dominance with a side of sadism.
Why else would he want to handle discipline back at Cloud Recesses?
Lan Zhan thinking a cuddle would cure him was wishful at best. If anything is going to put him under, it’s a heavy rod held aloft long past his endurance can stand. It’s that—or an equivalent.
Or something even more brutal.
Maybe especially that.