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
- vague implications of suicidal ideation and drug abuse (considered by Wei Wuxian, but concerning Wen Chao's other submissives)
Nightless City, Seven Years Ago
After Wen Chao has deposited Wei Wuxian into the care of one of Wen Ruohan’s aging submissives, Wei Wuxian goes to his knees and pretends to be cowed and respectful. Though he’s seen the various submissives put to work in this way, he doesn’t actually know what goes on behind the scenes. It’s entirely possible the length of leash Wen Chao has afforded him could be used to hang him, too. Better to be a little careful. “Uncle, please,” he says. Before Wei Wuxian can think of a way to finish that plea, the man has pulled him back to his feet.
It’s hard to tell how old he is, but his hair has started to go gray at the temples, and the skin around his eyes has delicate wrinkles. Despite everything, he appears kind as he pinches Wei Wuxian’s chin between his fingers. Wei Wuxian doesn’t—can’t—trust him, but he doesn’t immediately loathe the touch either, which is a rather novel experience. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He snaps his fingers at one of the other submissives, a perfunctory gesture more than a humiliating one, no matter that the submissive he’s called to heel is dressed in a collar and sheer robes. Wei Wuxian notices an incongruous little stain on the sleeve. Though small, it’s stark and speaks to violence, though he sees no outward signs on her. Wei Wuxian worries for the woman and how she might be punished for such an oversight she had nothing to do with. “Take him to the restroom. And get a fresh change of clothes yourself, hmm? Something from the kitchen must have spilled.”
Huh. He glances at the mark again, notices now that it isn’t actually the color of drying blood. It’s entirely possible it is simply a stain.
After she’s gathered clothes for him and has changed into fresh robes for herself, she leads him to the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to wash up. Be quick about it. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Before he has a chance to thank her, she leaves. Or, she opens the door anyway. She makes a small noise and inclines her head and says, “Wen-xiansheng.”
Wei Wuxian’s pulse ratchets up. Ten minutes of solitude is nothing, but to have it taken away feels unfair anyway. Wen Chao can’t leave him alone for even—
“A-Hua,” Wen Ning says, voice gentle. Wei Wuxian sighs in relief. “Can you give us a moment?”
She nods.
“You won’t inform anyone?”
This time, she shakes her head.
“Okay.”
Wei Wuxian can’t see Wen Ning from this angle, but he takes a moment, maybe two, to prepare. He hadn’t expected Wen Ning to extricate himself from dinner, and so quickly at that. He lets himself lean dramatically against the sink, hands wrapped tightly around the fussy marble edges. To be honest, it’s not even an act, not entirely, this thing that he’s doing.
“A-Xian?” Wen Ning’s voice is almost too quiet to hear over the sound of blood pulsing in his temples. “Is it alright to call you that?”
His stomach threatens to rebel. His heart, too, trembles at what he is preparing to do. He should not draw an innocent party into his machinations. More than that, he should not be vulnerable, not even now that he has no other choice.
Wei Wuxian lets the strings holding him upright all this time snap. His exhaustion collapses him against the sink. It is the truth masquerading as artifice. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he appears sick. He feels sick. He is sick, infected as he is by this place and the treatment he’s received. He would fall if not for the strong, steady grip Wen Ning brings to bear on him.
Wei Wuxian is too weak to shake him off. He cannot fight his own morals, his body, and Wen Ning, too. He is using a good man’s kindness, the only kind of person he can exploit in this hellhole, and that hurts worse than some of the things he has been subjected to. Wild to think about. Before starting this venture, he wouldn’t have thought he had any morals left.
In the handful of seconds before he rights himself, he promises himself and Wen Ning that he will never manipulate anyone else into helping him. No matter what happens, he’s on his own.
“Wen-xiansheng,” he says, giving his voice a pathetic tremble as he clings to the sink. When Wen Ning recoils, he cringes fearfully, curling into himself as he bows his head. This, too, is rather more instinctive than he would like, too little an act. “Wen Ning.”
“A-Xian.” The diminutive sounds awkward on his gentle tongue, too meaningful. Nobody has spoken to him like that since the last time he saw Jiang Yanli. It strips Wei Wuxian of his defenses. It would undo him, this kindness. What might have happened if he’d been given to Wen Ning instead? “What is it?”
“I’m fine.” He palms his eyes, wiping away the sheen of tears before Wen Ning can see them. When he tries to speak, nausea threatens to gag him. “I just haven’t been sleeping.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Wen Ning replies, pained. He walks right into the conclusion Wei Wuxian wants him to make, the one that says Wei Wuxian has been pushed past his limits, that says he needs help, that the reason he isn’t sleeping are the monsters sitting in the other room. Wen Ning can’t possibly know how to give it, but Wei Wuxian is happy to guide him, easier than befriending a calf and leading it to its slaughter.
“Your sister is often here.” He reminds himself that he exhausted; he reminds himself that he is sick, or must pretend to be. He tells himself that neither of these things are his fault. “If she could leave something for me…”
In all the months Wei Wuxian has spent watching Wen Ning and Wen Qing, he’s never seen them partake in the cruelty around them. They do what they can to stop the worst of it, too, shaming whomever they can within the bounds of the leash Wen Ruohan has set for them. Wei Wuxian doesn’t know the details, how or why they have what freedoms they have, but he’s never seen Wen Ruohan complain, for example, about the demands Wen Qing makes of the Dominants who might be influenced toward a kinder approach, so they must know the line they can walk.
Wei Wuxian wishes he could know them in different circumstances. He thinks he would like Wen Qing, who has never once been cowed by the Dominants around her, has never been brought low by need, has never, as far as he’s seen, vulnerable to it.
He admires them, these strange siblings he’s found in the darkest place he’ll ever know.
Wen Ning’s fingers twist again and again between themselves. “A-Xian?”
“I just need to sleep.” His voice cracks in frustration. Loathing threatens to drown him. To think this is what he’s become, begging a naïve boy into helping him when all he ever wanted was to do was be there for his family and pester Lan Zhan into courting him properly.
Lan Zhan, ah, Lan Zhan. He hasn’t let himself think about Lan Zhan in a long time. Lan Zhan has surely moved on by now, found himself a lovely number of partners with which to pass his life, the perfect exemplar of a Dominant. He deserves the best, and Wei Wuxian tries as unselfishly as he can to wish that best for him.
“That’s all?” Wen Ning sounds so relieved by his request, making Wei Wuxian wonder if other desperate submissives have come to them hoping for something else. What might a grief-stricken submissive have wanted that Wen Qing could provide? How would they medicate themselves? He imagines it can’t be good, the things for which they might beg.
Wei Wuxian’s body locks itself rigidly in a fight to keep him from confessing. He could put an end to this. Wen Ning need never be an unwilling accomplice. As though his body is no longer his own, he nods.
“I’ll take care of it,” Wen Ning replies, pleased with himself. “A-jie is good at this sort of thing. We’ll definitely help you.”
Several days pass before he finds several packets of powdered herbs tucked into pillow, delivered at some point while he was kneeling for Wen Chao. When the others are asleep, he unfolds the note hidden with the instructions, grimacing at the recklessness of it even as he squints in the dark to make out the characters.
Mix this with warm water for best results and be very careful of the dose.
‘Be very careful’ is underlined twice.
Because he wants to ensure nothing goes wrong, he tests a bit of it on himself first. He does not love the thought of letting himself be this vulnerable, but he can’t leave something like this to chance. As much as he wants to trust Wen Ning, he needs to know whether this will truly work and how powerful it is. He pinches out a dose that more or less matches Wen Qing’s recommendation, cradling the powder in his palm. Going to the tiny kitchenette might draw attention to him he can’t afford to have. Instead, he quickly licks it off his skin, grimaces at the bitter taste, and hopes he hasn’t made a horrible mistake.
He hides the packets under his mattress pad and waits, heart pounding.
Despite using only a small amount, he sleeps like the dead. When he wakes in the morning, he feels unsettled, as though something had happened while he’d been knocked out. Though he knows when his body has been violated and when it hasn’t—it definitely hasn’t—he feels the vulnerability the drug has teased out of him.
So it definitely works, what Wen Qing has given him.
Now, he just needs an opportunity to use it.
*
Though the lobby of Wen Medical Research is small, it’s clean and neat, the air cool and fresh as it circulates the space. The receptionist, though young, seems bright and engaged as he greets Wei Wuxian. Despite this, it’s clear he’s not expecting anyone today. As Wei Wuxian approaches the front desk, he checks his computer screen again and again. “How can I help you?”
“I was hoping to catch up with an old friend,” Wei Wuxian lies, assuming as much authority as he can muster. “I’ve been away for a while, but I used to know Wen Qionglin. I heard he’s the one in charge here?”
The receptionist smiles blankly, if very politely. “I’m not sure he’s in today. May I know who has come?”
Wei Wuxian should have expected something like this, but it slices through his confidence. Though he understands the receptionist is doing his job by screening unexpected visitors, Wei Wuxian feels stymied. Wouldn’t a true old friend have better ways to contact the person they’re familiar with? Fighting the urge to explain in too much detail, he gives his name. Then he says, “I don’t want to make things difficult for you. It was rude of me to come without attempting to set an appointment. Can I pass a message along?” Awkwardly, he mimes writing. “For when he does come in.”
The receptionist nods, shoulders slumping slightly in relief as he passes over a notepad and a pen.
Wei Wuxian writes down his phone number and his Wechat ID and then signs his name. It’s such a mundane way to make contact that Wei Wuxian almost laughs. “Make sure he gets this,” Wei Wuxian says seriously. “It’s very important that he gets this.”
“I understand, sir,” the receptionist says, inclining his head awkwardly, grimacing slightly. It’s only then that he realizes he’s leaned hard on his old persona, his dominant persona. Though he hasn’t given an order that would stimulate the guy’s desire to obey, it’s still an embarrassing thing to do in public, and rude. “He’ll get it, I promise.”
On the sidewalk outside, he calls for a driver and waits for it to arrive. The atmosphere around here is oppressive, like the building and everything in it is hoping for him to leave, to not cause trouble, to quit upending the lives of the few people he knows. Hasn’t he done enough to the people who have shown care to him? He doesn’t have to keep doing it again and again. What’s the point of coming here beyond vanity and selfishness?
How does assuaging a guilty conscience do the people he’s used any good?
A clatter behind him catches his attention, the sound of a door bursting open, of dress shoes striking pavement.
“A-Xian!” an unsteady voice calls, too close. Confused, soft, it’s exactly as he remembers it being. A mist of tears threatens to overwhelm his senses under the strain of such familiarity. The last few steps of Wen Ning’s approach are conducted more slowly. “Or, sorry. Wei Wuxian. My sister says it’s better not to…”
Though he can’t shape his mouth around the respectful address a submissive would offer a Dominant in most situations, especially when the name he would have to use is Wen, he can still be polite. “Wen Qionglin,” he says, turning around and bending his neck in a nod. He keeps his eyes lowered. “It’s—”
More sets of steps approach, the staccato click of heels, the slap of another pair of dress shoes.
The call of his name, shouted by a voice he hadn’t been sure he’d ever get to hear again. “Wei Wuxian!” Then, a shove. Then, more shouting, this time from a woman, spoken with sharp precision. Then…
“Jiang Wanyin!” she calls. “Stop!” Her arm hooks around Jiang Cheng’s—Jiang Cheng, here, that’s impossible, it’s impossible—his elbow. Despite the size he has on her, she is able to haul him back, nearly toppling both of them in the process.
In the confusion that ensues, Wen Ning grabs Wei Wuxian’s arm, holds him steady in a world that’s had the rug entirely pulled from it. The thing is, he gets Jiang Cheng’s impulse to strike out, he does, mad though it is. Half his heart is desperate to take Jiang Cheng by the collar of his shirt and shake him violently until the world makes sense again, too. A hit, a punch, it wouldn’t be too much between the two of them.
“You!” Jiang Cheng shouts. This time, he succeeds in tearing himself from Wen Qing’s grip, and Wei Wuxian, though held in surprisingly strong arms, twists himself in such a way that it breaks Wen Ning’s hold on him. When Jiang Cheng is finally close enough to touch, he purposefully leaves himself open to the slap Jiang Cheng delivers. He deserves worse for the way he’s abandoned Jiang Cheng and his jiejie and Lan Zhan. Though it hurts, a powerful sting blooming in his jaw and swelling to a painful ache, he doesn’t mind.
What comes as a complete surprise is the bruising, viciously tight hug Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian afterward, bone crushing in its intensity. In the years since they’ve seen one another, Jiang Cheng has filled out, muscled up in ways Wei Wuxian never would have expected. He hit a bit of a growth spurt, too, somewhere along the way, one final burst of height that manages to make Wei Wuxian feel a little small despite their otherwise comparable size. “You—” Jiang Cheng says, voice choked and muffled by Wei Wuxian’s neck as he buries his face against Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.
Jiang Cheng’s weight should be impossible to carry, but habits from a lifetime ago unearth themselves from deep within Wei Wuxian’s heart. No matter how weak and weary he might feel, he’ll always find a way to prop himself up for Jiang Cheng’s sake. “A-Cheng.”
“Don’t.” His voice shakes with emotion. “Don’t call me that. I’m not—” He clings even more tightly to Wei Wuxian’s shoulders. All Wei Wuxian can do in response is return the embrace.
Wei Wuxian could laugh, if he wasn’t so worried that tears would fall instead. He’s not ready for this at all, and can’t be sure he would have been ready even when his contract is complete and he could go to them free of every debt. He never let himself think about what this moment would be like, but he’d always hoped it would be without the specter of this awful thing standing between them. Now that the moment has arrived, he wonders why he bothered waiting, what pride in him mattered so much that he couldn’t ease his own family’s mind. Even if he was unwilling to see them while he was in Madam Yang’s dubious employ, he could have come to them at any point after Lan Zhan had taken it over.
Jiang Cheng seems to think so, too. “Did you ever even think about us in all this?”
“Jiang Wanyin,” Wen Ning says, a warning note in his voice.
Yes, Wei Wuxian thought about them. And at the same time, no, Wei Wuxian didn’t think about them at all. It was complicated, those times, his head so far underwater that he couldn’t take on anything else that might drown him further. He doesn’t know how to tell Jiang Cheng this, that everything he ever did was for them, but at the same time, he couldn’t take into account their day to day wishes, their dreams, their fears, how they felt about Wei Wuxian’s absence from their lives. Jiang Cheng, he thinks, wouldn’t understand that he has needed to slice those parts away from himself in order to not lose them in their entirety.
“It’s okay,” Wei Wuxian says. Though he tries to smile, he falters. The last thing it is is okay, and he doesn’t know how to pretend otherwise, but he doesn’t want to trouble the rest of them, and he certainly doesn’t want Jiang Cheng to feel responsible. “Wen Ning, it’s really fine. Jiang Cheng doesn’t mean any harm.”
Though Wen Ning nods, he continues to watch vigilantly. Wei Wuxian nearly snorts at the image he presents. Mere moments ago he was leaving a note for Wen Ning, unsure of exactly what he was doing and whether it would be a gesture taken in vain. Now, there’s a Dominant trying to protect what little remains of his honor in all this by hovering.
“We couldn’t find out anything!” Jiang Cheng shouts, ignoring the threat Wen Ning imposes entirely. “You just disappeared off the face of the planet. By the time we find out what happened, you were already gone. Jie has spent this whole time trying to believe you weren’t killed in that fire, too, but I know she thinks there was a cover up or something.”
There’s really nothing he can say to any of these claims. They’re far truer than he would like them to be. “I’m so—”
“I don’t want to hear about how sorry you are,” Jiang Cheng snaps, making Wen Ning’s shoulders tense up in anticipation of further issues, but he doesn’t know Jiang Cheng like Wei Wuxian does. To anyone else, it might look like Jiang Cheng thinks Wei Wuxian is giving excuses, but Wei Wuxian knows the truth: Jiang Cheng just doesn’t think Wei Wuxian needs to apologize. “Fuck’s sake. You think I’m that stupid?” Though disgust pulls his mouth into a frown, Jiang Cheng belatedly adds, “Are you doing okay, though?”
Wei Wuxian has no good answer for Jiang Cheng. “About as good as can be expected,” he admits, though he keeps his tone light. “You’re…” He glances at Wen Qing, who is eying him curiously. For the time being, he ignores her scrutiny. The last thing he wants is for a doctor to figure out all his issues while he’s trying not to fall apart in his little brother’s presence. “You’re doing okay? You look good. All grown up.”
Every inch of Jiang Cheng is polished. Though his anger isn’t doing his complexion much credit, he’s definitely bloomed into himself. The twitchy, nervous, unhappy youth he knew is gone. He’s been replaced with someone who looks comfortable in his skin, someone who can be proud of who he is.
Wei Wuxian didn’t think he’d ever live to see the day, and he couldn’t be more proud and relieved.
Jiang Cheng nods churlishly.
“Still as petulant as back then, I see,” Wei Wuxian says. He can’t help reaching for Jiang Cheng again. Grabbing him by the shoulders, he studies Jiang Cheng every which way. “I’m glad some things don’t change.”
“And you’re the same pain in the ass you always were,” Jiang Cheng replies. If his eyes and his tone are a little watery, they can both ignore it easily enough. “Jie’s doing well, in case you were wondering. She has a kid now and everything.”
An ache opens in Wei Wuxian’s chest that could only be filled if he’d been able to share in the lives of his siblings. All that time, gone just like that, and there’s not a single thing that can be done about it now. If he can say nothing else on the matter, he will say this: he’s proud of them for having managed all these years on their own. He knows it’s not what his second mother and father would have wanted.
Even his own parents would have mourned what Jiang Cheng and jiejie went through.
“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian says, because he doesn’t know what else can be said about something like this. “Really, I—”
All Jiang Cheng does is scoff and roll his eyes and then pull Wei Wuxian into another bruising hug.
Wei Wuxian’s hands hover, his heart uncertain, until he simply embraces Jiang Cheng in return.