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
As much as Wei Wuxian has enjoyed staying in a house full of people, nothing can stay the same forever. First, Wen Qing and Wen Ning make arrangements to return to Xi’an. Jin Zixuan returns to Lingyi for work, though Jiang Yanli remains behind with Jin Ling for a while longer, determined to outlast them all if need be. Mo Xuanyu stays a few more days to spend time with his nephew, but he, too, finds his motivation to go, stating he needs to begin moving his things from Lan Zhan’s apartment in Shanghai and the residence he keeps in the mountains. He tells Wei Wuxian he hopes to see him and Lan Zhan again soon. Jiang Yanli insists that he’s welcome to stay with her and Jin Zixuan whenever he likes. Mo Xuanyu promises he will.
Eventually, his precious sister has to go, too, telling Wei Wuxian that she misses her husband and can’t let him subsist on instant noodles any longer.
It’s not as hard as Wei Wuxian might have expected, watching everyone peel away from his home. He can be content with the visit as it has stood, knowing it’s not likely to be repeated in quite this way.
Though Wei Wuxian feels a tug to remain, he knows at some point he, too, must go, that this isn’t quite the home he left.
Still, he hesitates, hating the thought of Jiang Cheng being alone here again.
Jiang Cheng is the first to bring it up, rolling his eyes as they eat lunch before finally saying, “So when are you going,” right in the middle of Wei Wuxian taking a sip of tea. Wei Wuxian is petty sure he times it that way on purpose.
“What?” he asks, spluttering inelegantly.
“You don’t have to hang around just because you think you have to. I have things to do, too.”
In Wei Wuxian’s peripheral vision, he sees Lan Zhan narrow his eyes and straighten his shoulders. Wei Wuxian curves his hand over Lan Zhan’s knee and squeezes gently. It’s obvious to Wei Wuxian that Jiang Cheng is baiting him. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is also right. Wei Wuxian’s time here, at least for now, is coming to an end. “What does my babiest brother have to do that’s so important he can’t keep me around?”
Jiang Cheng has grown up a little. Though he’s happy to bait Wei Wuxian, he’s not baited in return.
“I usually go to Xi’an to help Wen Qing and Wen Ning a few times a month,” Jiang Cheng says, “but if you two want to stay here, you’re more than welcome to.” He levels a glare at Wei Wuxian, as though daring him to wear out that welcome. “Obviously.”
Wei Wuxian studies Jiang Cheng’s face, searching for signs that he’s only saying this for Wei Wuxian’s benefit. Though he knows Jiang Cheng works closely with Wen Qing and likely wants to be with her when he can, he could still see Jiang Cheng overselling how important it is for him to go up there. But Jiang Cheng seems earnest, if irritated that he’s the one who’s had to bring it up and play the bad guy.
“I’m sure Lan Zhan has work he needs to get back to,” Wei Wuxian says, hedging.
“I’m sure he does,” Jiang Cheng agrees. “You know, if you do decide you want it, I won’t fight you for it.”
“What could I want?”
“Lotus Pier. It’s yours by rights anyway.”
Jiang Cheng’s words drop like stones into water, sinking immediately to the bottom.
Wei Wuxian swallows. The only claim Wei Wuxian might have on it is his age and unclaimed status, but he’s not sure what the legality would be in the eyes of the law. With Jiang Cheng having rendered himself null, he may have the greater claim now as he lacks the submissive nature that makes him vulnerable in the eyes of the law. He shakes his head, squeezes Lan Zhan’s leg even harder, though this time because he needs comfort and not because he’s trying to offer it. “I don’t think it is.”
Besides, it’s too big, meant for whole families, not the little unit composed of only himself and Lan Zhan. He’d drive himself mad if he made himself steward of this place.
Before Jiang Cheng can speak, Wei Wuxian adds, “I’m not going to fight with you over the property.”
“Did I say you had to?” Jiang Cheng stands up and stacks his bowls, taking them to the sink while Wei Wuxian tries to work out what just happened and why. “I just wanted you to know you have somewhere to come back to if you want it, that it’s yours if that’s what you want.”
“That’s true even if you don’t try to fob it off on me.”
“Yeah, fine. I’m just saying.”
“And I’ve heard you,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I’d much rather annoy you with visits than play host. If you don’t want it, that’s another issue entirely, but—”
“Don’t be a stranger then. That’s all I ask.”
Wei Wuxian softens, warmth expanding within him. Jiang Cheng’s gruff tone will always be a source of comfort for him, normalcy in a world that is still so different from what he remembers. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”
*
Once the kitchen has been cleaned up, Wei Wuxian returns to his bedroom and surveys the items within it as he ponders what he wants to take with him. For a time, Lan Zhan is in the guestroom he stopped using altogether, no doubt meticulously packing is things, but he eventually returns, arriving just in time to watch Wei Wuxian contemplate the closet.
Lan Zhan barely hesitates as he wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist and pulls him back until they’re flush against one another. “They’re beautiful,” he says, tipping his chin to indicate the myriad outfits stuffed inside. It’s not so dissimilar to the wardrobe Mo Xuanyu had arranged for him except that nobody bothered to arrange them nicely by color. “Are these things you used to wear?”
“No,” Wei Wuxian says. Second mother would have scolded him for daring to put them on where he could see. Second father might have cried, though he would have hidden it well. Anything at all that reminded them of his parents brought pain to them. It’s a wonder they could look at him at all under the circumstances. “They belonged to my mother mostly. After she passed away, I told myself I would wear them when I got older.” As he gently caresses the fabric, he finds signs of his father in there, too, and smiles. So far, he hasn’t kept that promise, wearing the handful of neutral robes, shirts, and trousers he’s grown used to, which are already packed up and ready to go.
Lan Zhan stretches his arm out, rubbing a richly dyed silk skirt between his thumb and forefinger. He always enjoyed how it fell around his mother’s legs when she kneeled and used to ask her if he could wear it when he was grown up. He’d admired the brazen purple shades that danced down her body when she turned and deeply enjoyed the shimmer of gold around the hem that gave further grandeur to the piece. “Why don’t you?”
Wei Wuxian rolls his shoulder. There are myriad reasons, he thinks. The colors pop too brightly. He fears they won’t fit. Robes are more forgiving in that way. Robes suit the understanding he has of himself now. It’s not so easy to go back. But for Lan Zhan—for himself, indirectly—he would like to try.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, voice rasping. “Order me to put one on, whichever one you like.” It will be easier, he thinks, if it’s an order. “Don’t take it easy on me.” Better to jump in all at once, he feels.
Pinching Wei Wuxian’s chin between his fingers, Lan Zhan searches his face. Despite the raw-edged quality of his nerves, Wei Wuxian bears up under the scrutiny. Without looking, he removes the skirt from the closet and hands it to Wei Wuxian. While Wei Wuxian clutches it to his chest, Lan Zhan meticulously scours the rest of the items for a shirt he finds suitable.
Eventually, he stumbles upon a pale, creamy yellow that suits, open at the neckline. This, too, he pulls and hands to Wei Wuxian. He doesn’t order Wei Wuxian to put them on, but excitement works through Wei Wuxian’s body anyway.
Expecting Lan Zhan to be finished, Wei Wuxian is surprised when Lan Zhan says, “What’s this,” as he points at a box tucked into the corner of the shelf that sits above the rod on which all the clothes hang. “May I bring it down?”
Wei Wuxian nods, draping the clothing over his arms so he can open the box. Sturdy and decorated with delicate gold filigree, it shines even now. He knows immediately what it is. Only a moment’s hesitation keeps him from opening it for Lan Zhan. Though his stomach clenches in fear and trepidation both, he knows what Lan Zhan will say and do once he sees it.
It will be exactly what Wei Wuxian has asked for. It will be what he needs.
“My mother’s favorite collar,” he explains, though he is certain it needs no explanation. Even without looking at it, he remembers exactly what it looks like. A delicately wrought loop of gold, it sat elegantly at the base of his mother’s throat, and could only be properly closed with the help of another’s hands. He’d coveted it, or something like it, though he didn’t understand at the time what it was he truly wanted. At the time, he’d just thought it pretty, but as he hands the box over to Lan Zhan, he knows precisely what it is he desires and what this collar can represent.
His heart aches with rival wishes, brawling as one side and then the other punches the vulnerable space behind his breastbone. It feels like it would be too soon, too audacious to ask Lan Zhan to put it on him, but it also feels like he cannot go another minute without Lan Zhan’s hands being the thing that puts this weight of it around his neck.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, unable to meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. “I think you should decide what to do with it.”
Lan Zhan nods somberly. “Take a shower while I finish preparing everything here.” He brushes his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair, not yet long enough even to sweep behind his ears, but longer than it’s been in years anyway. “I’ll give you my answer when you return.” He adds, quieter, “Take whatever time you need.”
Lan Zhan still hasn’t asserted his Dominance, but even telling Wei Wuxian what to do is enough for now.
*
When Wei Wuxian returns, Lan Zhan has already packed enough of the wardrobe to replace the clothing Mo Xuanyu will have taken back, filling a suitcase Lan Zhan tells him Jiang Cheng offered while Wei Wuxian was cleaning up. Wei Wuxian stands in the doorway, dressed only in fresh underwear, his towel draped around his shoulders, watching as Lan Zhan has turned an impossible endeavor into an easy one.
“Come, please.” Lan Zhan looks over his shoulder, carefully sweeping Wei Wuxian’s body with his gaze. Though his words continue to carry the flavor of an order, he’s put no Dominance behind it. Still, Wei Wuxian shivers in pleasure as he complies, his slippered feet bringing him closer and closer until he can plaster himself to Lan Zhan’s warm back. For a moment, he enjoys feeling taller than Lan Zhan in a way he hasn’t enjoyed his height in years.
Lan Zhan turns in his embrace, rubs a few strands of Wei Wuxian’s hair between his fingers. He takes the towel and squeezes the hint of dampness remaining in his bangs. “You were careless about drying your hair.”
“I was eager to come back.”
Lan Zhan’s eyebrow peaks doubtfully, but he doesn’t chide Wei Wuxian. Instead, he retrieves the shirt he’d picked out, urges Wei Wuxian to lift his arms with a gentle stroke over his triceps and down his elbows.
“You’re going to dress me?” Wei Wuxian asks, impossibly fond as Lan Zhan slips the fabric over his head and smooths it over his chest.
“Is that a problem?” Lan Zhan asks as he holds up the skirt for inspection. It looks fresh, the pleats crisp and clean.
As Lan Zhan kneels, Wei Wuxian feels a mix of fond exasperation and shy embarrassment. “Of course not,” he says. “It’s just…”
Lan Zhan’s hands skim Wei Wuxian’s flanks as he pulls the fabric up Wei Wuxian’s legs, settling it over his hips before ensuring the ties are perfectly fastened around his waist. After tucking the shirt in, he guides Wei Wuxian to the thin, elongated mirror standing into the corner of the room. “What do you think?”
Though Wei Wuxian could look at himself and judge, he prefers looking at Lan Zhan’s reflection as Lan Zhan looks at his. There is an almost proprietary pride in Lan Zhan’s gaze that sets warmth blazing in the pit of Wei Wuxian’s stomach, proof that this has been a job well done. Though it feels strange to dress in such fashion now, it’s nothing like how strange it had felt when he’d worn Mo Xuanyu’s clothing. In this, he feels more at home in it than he could have hoped for. It might still be scary, but in a different way.
For a moment, too, he lets himself imagine what his mother might think, if she would be pleased with his appearance, his resilience. “I…”
Lan Zhan’s fingers dust over the shoulders, settling the shirt properly across his back, the fit not quite right. Even Wei Wuxian can see it will need to be tailored, but it’s nice all the same.
“I look good, don’t I?”
“You have always looked good to me. Even when you were dressed like a Dominant, I could barely tear my eyes away,” Lan Zhan answers. His lips brush the shell of Wei Wuxian’s ear as he whispers, “But I’m glad you can see it today, too.”
Wei Wuxian turns just as Lan Zhan steps away. “Lan Zhan?”
Gingerly, Lan Zhan picks up the box from the bed. He returns, a gentle little smile on his mouth. With even more reverence than Wei Wuxian might have shown it, Lan Zhan lifts the collar from inside and unlatches it. Wei Wuxian’s throat dries as he watches Lan Zhan place it around his neck. It happens so slowly, so carefully, as though time as spooled itself out. Yet at the same time, his heart beats too fast as he waits for Lan Zhan to tell him it won’t fit, that he cannot truly have this. He’ll tell Wei Wuxian that this is all wrong, that it’s a dream, that he—
The locking mechanism snaps perfectly into place, settling right where it ought to. The metal is cool against Wei Wuxian’s skin, but it will warm soon enough.
Lan Zhan presses a gentle kiss to the nape of Wei Wuxian’s neck while his hands settle on Wei Wuxian’s hips, digging in until it stings, until Wei Wuxian is sure to bruise, until he is gasping and turning his head and capturing Lan Zhan’s lips with his own.
“Lan Zhan, we should—” He pants, losing his train of thought as Lan Zhan’s tongue presses between his lips. “We should… don’t we have a train to catch?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I…” What he wants is something he thinks he oughtn’t pursue here. “I want to.” He wants time alone with Lan Zhan, as much of it as he can get. He realizes suenly the problem with playing dress up in his mother’s clothes. “You want me to go outside dressed like this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“‘Dominants and submissives must present themselves with decorum and wear modest dress in public spaces,’” Wei Wuxian recites.
“This is modest enough,” Lan Zhan says, though his actions, even the sound of his voice, belies the truth. Wei Wuxian’s own reaction, hidden by the skirt thankfully, also proves that it is definitely not the most modest thing they could be doing on a train together. “Regardless, I don’t wish for you to change. Is that enough?”
It will have to be, because Wei Wuxian doesn’t intend to disappoint Lan Zhan or himself.
*
An hour into the train ride, he’s beginning to realize there’s a reason the Lan family demands modesty. Compared to Lan Zhan, dressed according to the protocols Wei Wuxian grew up with, he feels… loose, vulnerable, obvious. Despite any number of people around him wearing far less and signaling far more about themselves and being completely at ease with it, he can’t relax. Worse, it arouses him, having others see him like this, wearing a collar on top of it, proclaiming to the world exactly what he is without even Lan Zhan doing the same to help deflect attention.
“Wei Ying, are you alright?” Lan Zhan asks, raising his eyes from the book he’s been reading. Though it has nothing at all to do with anything, Wei Ying can’t help wishing he might be the one to read to Lan Zhan, but combined with how he’s dressed, the collar around his neck, it would feel too intimate to do so publicly, even if they kept quiet about it.
“Fine,” Wei Ying answers, even though he feels as though he’ll burst if he doesn’t blurt out the truth.
Though a severe expression crosses Lan Zhan’s face, he also reaches across the armrest and takes gentle hold of Wei Ying’s hand. He also slips one of his feet beneath the hem of Wei Ying’s skirt, tapping his shoe against Wei Ying’s, a flirtation that does nothing to stave off the ardor in his heart. “What do you need to feel comfortable?”
“Who says I’m not comfortable?”
“Wei Ying.”
“It’s a little embarrassing,” Wei Wuxian says. “That’s all. You can’t pretty me up and expect me not to react, huh?”
“What do you need?”
A lot of things, Wei Wuxian doesn’t say. “Tell me what to do.”
Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, merely stares, wide-eyed.
“Give me an order,” Wei Wuxian says. “For real this time. Something to focus on. Doesn’t matter what it is.” That’s a lie, but he can be sloppy with Lan Zhan, give him free rein to do as he will. Though Lan Zhan might do anything to him with or without his permission, he knows Lan Zhan won’t abuse the fact that Wei Wuxian is inviting him.
Lan Zhan nods, pauses to consider. “Wei Ying, I want you to relax.” Beneath it, Wei Wuxian feels the tiniest shred of Dominance, barely enough to be considered an order. It’s malicious compliance at best. Wei Wuxian could cry in frustration.
Despite having the crutch of an order to lean on, it’s still difficult to give in to Lan Zhan’s demand. Relax? How can he relax? How can he do anything when everything he’s ever wanted is right here in his grasp in the most shameless manner possible? What has he done to deserve it?
Then, Lan Zhan begins speaking—in actual fact, he begins reading aloud from his book—a book of poetry, of course, less romantic than the volume he shared with Wei Wuxian, but no less beautiful. His voice is soothing enough that it would have calmed him even if Lan Zhan hadn’t made an order out of it. Leaning back in the seat, Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and lets Lan Zhan’s words flow over him.