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
With the harsh click of her dress shoes, Madam Yang barges into Wei Wuxian’s suite an hour before he’s meant to begin taking clients for the night. “I don’t know what you did,” she says snidely, “but you’ve definitely worked hard at it, haven’t you?”
She’s not the strongest Dominant he’s ever seen, but she’s forceful regardless, and that almost feels good to him. “What are you talking about?”
Without replying, she hands over his roster for the night: Lan Zhan, and only Lan Zhan.
Wei Wuxian’s stomach twists and his heart lurches. Having Lan Zhan here is a bad idea, but cold, clarifying relief washes over him all the same as he realizes that means he won’t have to dominate anyone tonight.
“Tell me, have you been planning this?” she asks. “One of the most eligible Dominants in the province shows his face in my club last night for business matters, leaves without partaking, returns in the morning to take you out to breakfast, and then strong arms me over your contract before the sun’s even set. Odd timing, that. Are you trying to get into bed with him as his second spouse?”
As though that were any real possibility. He doesn’t answer.
“And why is he even flitting around you? Wei Wuxian,” she says, holding onto her anger by a mere thread, “what does he know?”
“Nothing that will harm the club. I can guarantee that much.” His hand shakes as he shoves the roster back into hers. “When the time comes, will you bring him back yourself? I don’t want him embarrassed by one of the hosts when he arrives.”
Using the roster as a fan, she scoffs. “Who can embarrass that shameless man?”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
“Then turn him away.” In fact, that would be the better option here. “Tell him I won’t see him. If you care about propriety so much, send him off.”
“Once the transfer goes through with the city’s registrar, your contract is his. If he wants to pay for time with another Dominant when he has a perfectly beautiful submissive collared at home in the meantime, that’s his business. He wouldn’t be the first deviant who entered through those doors of mine.”
“Dev—trust me. It’s not deviancy, just stupidity. Lan Zhan is—” He is pure, perfect. He wouldn’t come to a club for something like that. He wouldn’t even come to the club for a routine encounter with some submissive or other. “Lan Zhan is good.”
She scoffs again. “Even if that is true, do you think anyone who flaps their lips at him is going to care? Let him step into a mess. If he tries to out you, I’ll have something on him, too.”
He almost explains, before he realizes it doesn’t matter. Madam Yang will be nothing more than a memory then. He needn’t exposed his cherished past to her. “I—” His shoulders slump in defeat. “How long until the transfer is complete?”
“A week.”
“If you can somehow get him back here without anyone noticing he’s mine for the night, I’ll…” What can he even do? No matter how much fury works its way out of the cracks in his heart at this situation, molten and all-consuming, his hands are tied. Madam Yang will let Lan Zhan back regardless. “I’ll make myself ready.”
In the bath, he scrubs his skin until it’s red and raw, and hesitates as he passes a wet, soapy cloth between his cheeks, rubbing it over his rim before pressing it inside of himself. Muffling a gasp, he wrestles his mind into blankness, because if he lets himself think, what he’ll think about is Lan Zhan and how Lan Zhan could fuck him tonight if he wanted to. He could use Wei Wuxian’s contract to force a collar onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d sure like it more if it was Lan Zhan doing it.
It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to be wanted that way by Lan Zhan?
Dream on, Wei Wuxian.
Cloud Recesses, Thirteen Years Ago
In Cloud Recesses, the Lan family and their guests alike are allotted one free day a week. This is Wei Wuxian’s seventh such free day, but for once, he has somehow found himself entirely without any outstanding punishments to complete, and that won’t do at all. It’s not a proper day off if he hasn’t earned himself something. Even a quick smack across the knuckles for bad calligraphy would be enough.
Luckily, it’s not an unpleasant task, finding the kind of mischief that will teach him a lesson, but it is a little time consuming. A couple of hours spent wandering the myriad paths that make up the Lan family’s ancestral home finally lands him in the lap of his favorite sort of trouble:
Lan Zhan, strolling through a garden in the back mountains, clad in the ethereal whites they’re all burdened to wear, but doing it better than everyone else. Who says diligence doesn’t pay off?
“A Dominant as pretty as you,” Wei Wuxian calls, fighting giggles as Lan Zhan flinches, “will definitely keep a whole harem of submissives at his beck and call. You’ll have to draw up a schedule for them so they won’t feel slighted. You’ll—”
“No,” Lan Zhan replies, ears pink, eyes wide. His robes twirl around his ankles. He resumes walking as fast as propriety allows. “Wei Ying, leave.”
Of course he can’t. The view is too gorgeous.
Though it’s cold up here, wildflowers splash a riot of color across the tall grasses surrounding them on either side of the path. As Wei Wuxian follows, he remains a step ahead of Wei Wuxian, avoiding the rule against running by a technicality. Wei Wuxian, on the other hand, has been casually searching for prey all morning and half an afternoon. He’s not going to give up now.
So he breaks this rule, running ahead just so he can turn around and look Lan Zhan dead in the eye.
Shame on him. He’ll have to sit punishment for that. But later. He really wants to earn it.
“They’ll fight over you. It’ll be like a drama. Someone could wind up dead, all out of painful yearning for you. They’ll scheme and fight and bleed for you, Lan Zhan. That’s romantic, right?”
Lan Zhan’s eyes flash. “You have morbid taste in fiction. No spouse will bleed for me.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t like to leave marks.” When he’s alone, he has shivered at the thought of it. “I wouldn’t have so many bruises otherwise.”
“If you were to learn decorum, you would not bruise at all. Go. Now.”
Wei Wuxian raises his hands in surrender, stepping out of range in case Lan Zhan decides today is the day he’ll put Wei Wuxian on his knees and end him. Lan Zhan has been tetchy of late; Wei Wuxian doesn’t want this to end too quickly. “Fine, fine. A gentleman of Lan Wangji’s caliber will keep it to a well-restrained number of harmoniously collared submissives his whole life. Two, right? It’ll be lovely. He’ll gently and respectfully Dominate them and at least one of them will be able to bear his beautiful children, as is right and proper, while the household cares for them together. What a perfectly settled home life you’ll have, Lan Zhan. Stability at its finest.” He grins, unable to bear how happy he is at the thought of Lan Zhan living well, his joy inversely proportional to the storminess of Lan Zhan’s expression. “I think I might be jealous.”
“You make too many assumptions,” Lan Zhan replies viciously. His boots click loudly against the rock as he breaches Wei Wuxian’s personal bubble in his effort to escape. Wei Wuxian wishes he’d breach more than that as he passes. “Mind your place.”
“If my place is on my knees, I’m your man.”
Lan Zhan whirls to face him, more active than a spinning top. “Wei Ying!”
Before Wei Wuxian knows it, Lan Zhan has caught him by the collar of his robes. For a moment, he thinks Lan Zhan really is going to put him on his knees and almost crumbles right then and there, but then he realizes Lan Zhan’s only plan for him is the hall of discipline, which was his goal all along until he developed higher aspirations in the here and now.
He’s not sure why this is what sets Lan Zhan off, but as he squirms out of Lan Zhan’s hold and races away, mentally rearranging his afternoon to account for the flogging he’s no doubt earned for himself once Lan Zhan traps him for good, he shouts over his shoulder. If he’s going to get punished, he must earn it properly. “You’re just sad I can’t carry your babies, Lan Zhan! It’s okay, I’m sad about it, too!”
*
When he’s finished with the shower, unhappy and unsatisfied, he hesitates over the cosmetics that line the counter. A single bottle of perfume. Face wash, an exfoliant, one moisturizer. Concealer and powder, for those days when his skin breaks out in red spots, more and more frequent as time and stress leave their marks. Back at Lotus Pier, his entire bathroom choked on the number of products he owned. Even now, all the empty space he has feels wrong.
As he washes his face, he thinks about what it would be like to put on makeup for Lan Zhan, and wishes he could. He didn’t care about such things when he was young, thinking submission was better when it came without artifice, but it might be fun to play with now.
It would be even better if Lan Zhan perched Wei Wuxian on his lap to shape Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows, applying powder with such serious dedication that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t be able to help teasing him. He’d rub rouge across Wei Wuxian’s lower lip with his thumb, feathering the red staining color outward until Wei Wuxian’s mouth looked plump and abused, like he’d been face fucked instead of prettily made up. Lan Zhan would wing the perfect slash of eyeliner across Wei Wuxian’s waterline, offering the same armor to him that he’d granted Xuanyu last night.
Xuanyu.
Wei Wuxian smiles for the mirror, molding his expression until it carries the right degree of pleasant neutrality. Once he’s satisfied, he draws on a pair of beige linen trousers and a clean tunic, the lines of his body hidden by the folds of fabric. It’s not comfortable precisely, but it further pushes the neutral presentation he wishes to convey. Better to hide behind courtesy than flaunt anything.
If anyone here is a deviant, it’s not Lan Zhan.
Because even if Lan Zhan did want him, he can’t imagine sharing him with anyone, which means he shouldn’t want him at all.
*
He prepares the tea service he sometimes forces his clients to use and fusses with the scant decorations that dot the room set aside for guests. Not a single item is out of place, vases, statues, plants, all of it elegant and pleasing to the eye, all of it lacking in frivolity. None of it is what he’d have chosen for himself, but this is not a role he’d have chosen for himself either. Fair is fair.
Lan Zhan is the only one who will ever successfully see through it. Hopefully, he won’t say anything about it.
The sound of the door sliding open startles him from the contemplation he’s fallen into. When only Lan Zhan enters, he flicks his sleeve and approaches, unsure of how he should proceed, what exactly Lan Zhan expects from him. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he says, falling back onto the awkward politeness he reserves for strangers. “I’m at a loss.”
Lan Zhan takes measure of the room before the full weight of his attention bears down on Wei Wuxian. It’s a struggle to fight it even without any Dominance behind it.
“Did anyone see you?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Kneel,” Lan Zhan replies, voice harsher than it was this morning. “Keep to the proper posture unless I say otherwise. I know you know how.”
“Hello to you—”
“Unless I ask you a question, do not speak.”
Were Wei Wuxian a sixteen year old asshole, he’d have nitpicked Lan Zhan’s orders to death. But where should I kneel, Lan Zhan? Can you show me how I should do it? I can’t remember. Because he’s a desperate twenty-nine year old, he folds smoothly to the floor right where he is and carries himself exactly as a submissive who received instruction at Cloud Recesses ought to. He even breathes the way he’d been taught to back then, a technique he’d forgotten he knows until this very moment.
His entire being clicks back into proper alignment. He could cry, if he wasn’t mortified by the very thought of such a thing. If Lan-laoxiansheng had a sense of humor, he’d laugh at such a development.
“Good.” As though to further reward Wei Wuxian, he properly answers Wei Wuxian’s question. “Nobody saw me. I wouldn’t care if they did.”
His body aches for more than Lan Zhan’s faint praise.
Lan Zhan studies the room, hands behind his back. He’s wearing a less than modest suit, like he’s come directly from a board meeting, properly buttoned perfectly tailored to accentuate his shoulders. Though Lan Zhan’s always been trimmer than the ideal Dominant, he carries himself well and his clothing hides the rest.
His shoes gleam in Wei Wuxian’s peripheral vision, the black leather shiny and well-cared for. “Did you sleep well?”
He stops in front of Wei Wuxian. Though Wei Wuxian would love nothing more than to lift his gaze, he keeps it on the floor before him.
“Yes.”
“There are still bruises under your eyes.”
This is a classic taunt, a trap into which Lan Zhan wants him to fall. He wants to fall into it, too, and then take whatever punishment Lan Zhan will give him for speaking out of turn. Though his body shivers almost to the point of falling apart, he bites his tongue. Lan Zhan has paid handsomely for him. He’ll get nothing less than precisely what he asks for.
“Share a drink with me,” Lan Zhan says, gesturing toward the low table halfway across the room. “Go over there and wait.” Wei Wuxian begins to rise, but Lan Zhan stops him in his tracks. “On your knees.”
With his legs trapped by the hem of his tunic, he can only shuffle over.
Though Lan Zhan brings the tea service over, he doesn’t place it in front of Wei Wuxian. Instead, he sits, begins to heat the kettle, and measures enough tea for only one person’s enjoyment. “Do you keep any liquor here?”
“What?”
“You will answer the first time I ask a question.”
“Some of my clients like to serve me. I keep it here for that.” There’s no reason why he should blush about such a thing, but the admission unlocks his sense of shame. Then, he realizes that’s not actually an answer. Lan Zhan has asked for answers. “Yes, there’s liquor.”
Lan Zhan’s mouth flattens into an unhappy line. He rises and finds the liquor cabinet immediately. “I didn’t ask for details.”
He returns with Wei Wuxian’s favorite spirit, the difficult to procure Tianzi Xiao. Sold only in Lan Zhan’s home district, there’s a wait list three years long for a bottle. Wei Wuxian put in a bid years ago, waiting patiently while more moneyed bastards from Shanghai jockeyed year after year for the prestige of owning a bottle. He’d finally obtained one a few months ago and has been too afraid to open it since then.
It figures Lan Zhan would choose it.
If he thinks about it, he can still feel the beating he got from Lan-laoxiansheng for, hmm, well. Having a bottle on Lan family property, and also because he no doubt had imagined all sorts of licentiousness had secured it, when all Wei Wuxian had done was play some cards with an overbearing Dominant in town who’d begun gloating at the wrong time and drew Wei Wuxian’s attention.
In fairness, Wei Wuxian hadn’t known back then just how precious this stuff was.
As Lan Zhan returns to his place at the other side of the table, Wei Wuxian stretches for the bottle. If he can hide it away, maybe Lan Zhan won’t notice the label. “Ah ha, xiansheng, xiansheng, I’m not sure—”
“You’ve grown even more undisciplined than I remembered,” Lan Zhan says placidly. The criticism, mild and gently delivered though it is, lands like a slap to the face. Would Xuanyu do such a thing as move or speak out of turn? Of course not.
Wei Wuxian sits back on his heels, has a hard time squaring his shoulders from the slump they want to fall into. He doesn’t dare pout, though that deeply buried instinct rears its head, too. They are not children any longer, and he’s in no position to behave like an unloved brat.
Though Lan Zhan’s attention remains entirely on Wei Wuxian, he smoothly opens the bottle, decanting it properly before pouring a generous splash into the tiny, delicately stemmed glass he’s brought with him. With slim, elegant fingers, he offers it to Wei Wuxian.
Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he takes it, careful to avoid touching him as he does. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they share skin-to-skin contact, but alarm bells blare in the back of his mind at the possibility. It can lead nowhere good to know how soft Lan Zhan’s palm is these days, nor where they might carry calluses.
Discomfort prickles along the base of Wei Wuxian’s neck as he watches Lan Zhan pour his own tea. After Wei Wuxian’s behavior this morning, this must surely be a test.
Only once Wei Wuxian is dying for answers does Lan Zhan finally give a few.
“I have already secured your schedule until the contract transfer is complete.”
“Lan Zh—”
“Silence.”
Wei Wuxian stifles the urge to shout, pummeling his fit of pique into a tiny ball and shoving it down. It isn’t fair, the way Lan Zhan can bully him like this without him understanding why it’s happening.
“It is done,” Lan Zhan says. “There’s no reason for you to struggle against it now.”
Says you, Wei Wuxian thinks uncharitably.
“Drink.”
Though there’s no compulsion behind it, Wei Wuxian obeys immediately. The gentle aroma of the liquor tickles at his senses, and the taste is as exquisite as he remembers. More so, even. These days, he understands the finer things in life in a way he never could as a youth. Heat prickles behind his eyes as he swallows, the flavor smooth and warming and perfect. He imagines a life in which he could have had this all along.
Lan Zhan pours more for him. “Again.”
Were Lan Zhan any other Dominant who’d come to a place like this, Wei Wuxian might think he’s trying to get Wei Wuxian drunk in order to increase the efficacy of any orders he might give, but Wei Wuxian understands Lan Zhan’s character, and though he can’t guess his motivations, he knows Lan Zhan doesn’t intend any harm. Anyway, he would have needed to bring a bigger glass if he wanted to do that. He’s playing his hand by bringing one of the smaller, more appropriate ones Wei Wuxian keeps on hand. This is meant to be nothing more than a pleasant diversion.
But were Lan Zhan any other Dominant who knew Wei Wuxian’s secret, Wei Wuxian would think he wants Wei Wuxian, too. Double-edged sword, this knowledge Wei Wuxian has of Lan Zhan’s character.
Again and again, Lan Zhan serves him until even the discomfort of being the recipient of such service settles into something else. Eventually, Lan Zhan retrieves a bottle of water, gives it to him, and says, “You must have questions.”
This is a statement. Wei Wuxian cannot ask anything yet. He softens upon finding the seal has already been opened on the cap.
“You may ask one of them.”
“Are you a deviant? Why do you keep trying to serve me?” Wei Wuxian blurts out before his brain can stop his mouth. “What are you doing this for?”
The corner of Lan Zhan’s mouth curls. “I am not a deviant.” His expression smooths out as he takes a sip of tea, and he entirely ignores Wei Wuxian’s other questions, as much a stickler now as he always was.
After several moments, Lan Zhan sighs, relenting. “This is not a power play,” he says carefully. “If I answer your third question, it is not an invitation for you to push me. Do you understand?”
Nothing about this is understandable, but he’ll say what he has to so he can get an answer. “Yes.”
“I merely want you to relax. For the next week, that is all I want from you.”
Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure he doesn’t remember what that sensation feels like. If Lan Zhan wants him to relax, there are easier ways to do it. His suspicion must show on his face, because Lan Zhan continues explaining.
“I do not intend to use you sexually or abuse my ability to order you around, though I’m aware either would be more expedient than this. Regardless, you will do as I say.”
In more ways than one, the bluntness of Lan Zhan’s words threaten to undo him. Such plain-spoken language put the image of Lan Zhan using him into and pulled it out of his head so quickly, it leaves his thoughts in tatters. On the surface, sure, he’d known better, and if asked, he would have laughed at anyone who believed it was a genuine possibility, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it, doesn’t wish that’s what Lan Zhan was here for.
“Close your eyes, Wei Ying.”
Oh. That fucker. ‘Close your eyes, Wei Ying,’ can only mean one thing. The worst punishment of all.
Meditation. Lan Zhan wants to meditate. With Wei Wuxian. In little better than a brothel. Lans must always be Lans, even when they dip their metaphorical wick in a giant mess.
He obeys, because he made a promise to himself that he would. He doesn’t have to like it.
When he begins listing to the side, half in boredom and half in genuine exhaustion, Lan Zhan pulls him to his feet and brings him over to the bed. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Lan Zhan it’s his clients’ bed, that this will simply mess up his sleep schedule, that he has things he’d rather do with Lan Zhan than rest, but his eyes grow heavy and he’s in no position to fight it when Lan Zhan touches his cheek and tells him to sleep.
“Lan Zhan.” Bleary, he says, “I thought you said you weren’t going to order me around. You can’t put me to bed.”
“That was not an order.” Lan Zhan doesn’t punish him for disobeying him, though he’d be within is rights to do so. “But I can still do as I please.”