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
Intimate guqin music fills the cabin of Lan Zhan’s car as it chokes on morning traffic, stop and go and stop again, red lights everywhere. Once they make it out of the financial district, they pick up progress, but there’s still a struggle with it until they reach the highway. Lan Zhan remains quiet the entire time, calmly navigating the frustratingly slow creep of cars.
As they settle into a faster clip, the city breaks into the more industrial outskirts and suburban areas and then finally opens up to more rural surroundings—green foliage, rich brown and rolling hills, village upon colorful village. It’s life on a humble, human scale, pretty and real, and it whizzes past at a speed greater than Wei Wuxian can fully appreciate. Eventually, he has to take his eyes off of it and stare at the dashboard instead, a much less pleasant sight.
His thoughts circle around the new yoke settling around his neck and how it will manifest itself under Lan Zhan’s hand, never quite touching the reality he is about to enter. Even when he was with Wen Chao, he knew where he stood, the same with Madam Yang and her dossiers. Her clients were always easy to understand. Lan Zhan is anything but easy, and he hasn’t offered him ground rules upon which he can base his behavior going forward. If he lets himself think about it too deeply, panic might choke him, but he holds it at bay through sheer force of will and his belief in Lan Zhan’s goodness.
“Will you speak to me?” Lan Zhan finally asks, two hours into the drive. His gaze remains firmly on the road, and his hands tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles white with pressure.
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Wei Wuxian casts around for a topic, baffled that Lan Zhan would ask for such a thing, and comes up with nothing, worse than nothing. His mind teems with thoughts, but they’re unfit for conversation. The yoke tightens. “Why don’t you choose?” he asks, once he’s pathetically admitted he doesn’t know what to talk about. “I’m sure I can dredge up an opinion.”
“I don’t want to force an opinion from you.”
What? Does Lan Zhan think he’s being a gentleman here? If he wants to talk about force… “It would be perfectly legal for you to—”
He cuts himself off, wincing. This is why he shouldn’t be allowed to choose what they talk about. His brain is filled with landmines. There’s nothing easy about the fresh silence that slams down between them, an impossible barrier to climb without strenuous effort.
Before he can gather the shreds of his dignity together and apologize, Lan Zhan speaks. His tone is crisp, clear. ”Contrary to what you seem to believe, I am aware of how your contract works.” He draws in a breath, sighs. The thick leather of the steering wheel creaks under his grip. His face, never the most expressive, contorts into a subtle mask of disgust, visible even with half of it hidden. “Abhorrent.”
“Lan—”
“I would not wish ill toward many people,” Lan Zhan says, “but I am glad Wen Ruohan is dead.”
Swallowing, Wei Wuxian looks away, dashes his hand over his eyes, keeps his focus firmly on the fast-moving landscape outside. “Alright,” he says, hating how numb he feels in the face of Lan Zhan’s uncharacteristic vehemence. Lan Zhan doesn’t seem to hear him anyway: the achy, shivering twang of the guqin has mercifully drowned the sound of his voice.
Lan Zhan doesn’t make the mistake of asking him to talk again.
*
Another hour passes. Eventually even the villages grow sparse. Wei Wuxian doesn’t recall Lan Zhan taking an exit, but paved streets have made way for uneven dirt roads. He doesn’t know where they are.
Wei Wuxian realizes suddenly that he is truly, irrevocably dependent upon Lan Zhan’s succor. Noblesse oblige, he realizes, is a bad look on Lan Zhan. It too easily undermines the pristine beauty of his natural righteousness. His misguided desire to help Wei Wuxian has dragged him into the dirt.
You could do anything to a person out here, he thinks as bile coats the back of his throat. Not that Lan Zhan would. ”Are you taking me to your secret lair, Lan Zhan?”
“Is that what you want?” Lan Zhan asks, piqued.
He’s half-terrified to realize he actually would let himself be kept by Lan Zhan in the middle of the wilderness. Nobody would ever have to know and nobody would find him. Yes, he thinks, that’s exactly what I want.
“I didn’t think you’d want to stay in Cloud Recesses,” Lan Zhan says dispassionately. “I have property some distance from Lianyungang. Mo Xuanyu and I often stay there. It’s near Huaguoshan, but few tourists make it out where we are.” His gaze cuts briefly in Wei Wuxian’s direction. “If you would prefer Cloud Recesses, I can make that arrangement. We would need to stay one night, but we can drive back tomorrow.”
The thought of returning to Cloud Recesses holds no appeal to him.
“My brother owns a home in Suzhou as well,” Lan Zhan continues, offering Wei Wuxian a veritable feast of cages to choose from. “We could stay there if you’d like. Because of the merger, he’ll remain in Shanghai for the foreseeable future.”
Wei Wuxian’s heart contracts into itself, curling into a ball so tight, he’s not sure how he’ll unfurl it again. Nobody else would try this hard for him, misguided though those attempts might be. “I’m sure your lair is lovely.”
“It’s private.”
“Even better.”
“I simply thought you might prefer solitude.” He pauses, bites his lower lip once and then stops, as though remembering a long-internalized rule that disallows lip biting. It’s an unsettling moment to witness, like he’s seeing something too personal to view. “I don’t know why I believed that might be the case.”
“Because it is,” he says fiercely. The last thing he wants is for Lan Zhan to feel like he’s failed. Though the gesture has been unnecessary, anywhere he won’t have to perform for more than two people will be a welcome respite. In that respect, the middle of nowhere is perfect, and Lan Zhan has done Wei Wuxian a deep kindness.
It’s the sort of kindness he’ll never repay in full.
*
Farms, orchards, a small number of tea plantations, fishing spots, there’s a little bit of everything as they reach the last stretch of their journey. “Only a few more kilometers,” Lan Zhan promises.
Through it all, there’s a lovely view of Huaguoshan. As promised, tourists don’t clog the road or any of the handful of businesses that line it. Lan Zhan tells him about the land around them and the people here, dumping useless facts and geographical details in his lap. Not far to the east is the coast and there’s a lake nearby, too, though it’s unimpressive, in Lan Zhan’s opinion, compared to what can be found in Cloud Recesses and around Suzhou. If Wei Wuxian wishes it, Lan Zhan concludes, they can visit whenever Wei Wuxian likes.
Compared to the gaudy marble fortress that was Nightless City and the vacuously glimmering club constantly bringing the city to him whether he wanted it or not, this place’s tangled natural beauty desolates Wei Wuxian’s heart. Heartbroken against all reason, he nearly presses his face to the window as he looks out onto it all.
Wei Wuxian isn’t sure he can bear a visit to a lake.
Lan Zhan moves on to explaining the layout of the multiple residences that belong to him, protected by walls that surround it on all sides. Walls, too, break each residence into its own courtyard. It makes sense that he should be trapped again by walls, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare suggest he’s disappointed. Lan Zhan continues speaking about it. Maybe he’s nervous. Maybe it’s important that he explain that he and Mo Xuanyu stay in the main residence, that there is room, of course, for Wei Wuxian to stay there as well, but that he may take any of the others if he wants his own space.
He isn’t equipped for this. Then they arrive and he has to accept that, whether he’s equipped or not, there’s little he can do.
As soon as Lan Zhan shuts off the car, he climbs out and grabs Wei Wuxian’s things from the trunk.
This is the last moment he’ll have alone with Lan Zhan without having to share him and he can say none of the things that need to be said. Thank you. I’ll behave better. I’ll behave worse. I’ll do what you want. I’m sorry.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says somberly when the silence has gone on too long. “It will be alright, I promise.”
Wei Wuxian swallows around a lump in his throat. Just because it will be alright doesn’t mean it won’t be awful. This whole time, he’s been alright. He still wouldn’t wish it on anyone else, has considered what his life might be like if he’d fought harder. He’d protect himself from alright if he could. “I know, Lan Zhan.”
*
Mo Xuanyu is already waiting for them at the gate, patient as they approach, a perfect vision, beautiful and precious. Perhaps Wei Wuxian’s been warped by years spent playing a dominant, because an empty throb of arousal pulses within him as he takes in Mo Xuanyu’s appearance. Delicate silver chains, caught in the upward sweep of his dark, artfully tamed ponytail, glint and sway when he turns toward them. Teardrop sapphires so dark they look like onyx decorate the end of each length of silver, gleaming blue only when they catch the sunlight. Though the floor-length skirt and tunic he wears—a shade of midnight blue a Dominant might choose to wear—are perfectly neutral in cut otherwise, he’s wrapped a belt around his waist that accentuates the curve of his ass.
A silver collar sits low on his throat, perfectly shaped to highlight the bird’s wing bone of his clavicle.
Even at his trimmest, Wei Wuxian’s body wasn’t as delicate as Mo Xuanyu’s. It didn’t curve in this way, soft and hard in turn.
Between that and the odd mixture of Dominant and submissive cues, he forms a compelling image.
And then a brilliant, crooked grin blooms across his mouth, eviscerating the tantalizing effect of his appearance, hauling this ethereally pretty boy back into the realm of humanity. “Wangji,” he calls, tripping lightly over his shoes as he bridges the scant distance between them. “Xian-ge, it’s nice to meet you.”
Wei Wuxian almost chokes at the address. To call it flirtatious would be too drastic, but it’s not far off either. He hasn’t been anyone’s ge in a long time, and certainly not in that playful tone of voice. It’s also more respectful than an interloping submissive deserves from one who has been collared already. Wei Wuxian has no idea what to call Mo Xuanyu in return. Too distant, and he might offend Mo Xuanyu. Too intimate, and he might embarrass himself. Either option requires making an assumption.
He wishes anyone cared at all to properly codify address between submissives. It’s the one thing that’s easier for Dominants, determining the proper pecking order. Beyond a few ambiguous cases, he’s never not known how to address one. “Nice to meet you.”
Mo Xuanyu takes Wei Wuxian’s bag from Lan Zhan’s hand with hardly a fight at all, winging another gorgeous smile at Lan Zhan as he clutches the bag close. The wood inside clatters lightly despite everything being wrapped together with his clothes. He hopes neither of them guess what is inside. “Why don’t I help him settle in?”
Wei Wuxian expects Lan Zhan to decline stubbornly, but he acquiesces without argument. “Is that alright with you, Wei Ying?”
As Wei Wuxian offers a smile of his own, he fights the urge to wonder if his will ever again match Mo Xuanyu’s for brightness. The stretch of the muscles in his cheeks remind him of how long it’s been since he’s found reason to smile. “You deserve a chance to catch up. Point me to a room and I’ll be fine.”
“There will be plenty of time for us to catch up.” Mo Xuanyu winks at Wei Wuxian, eyes glittering with mischief. “He’ll probably be sick of me before I’m done with him.”
When Mo Xuanyu’s meaning registers, Wei Wuxian flushes, thinking of the innuendo-laden jokes he used to tell. The coquettish intimacy he invites Lan Zhan—and to a lesser extent, Wei Wuxian himself—to partake in is enchanting. Wei Wuxian has never experienced it from the outside like this. He can see now how he may have flustered Lan Zhan.
A part of Wei Wuxian, a selfish, vain, awful part of him, wonders if he may have had more of a part in honing Lan Zhan’s tastes than he thought.
“Xuanyu,” Lan Zhan says, mortifying Wei Wuxian with the gentle rebuke. “There’s no need to bait us.”
Mo Xuanyu’s bearing shifts just enough that it’s clear the message has been received and earnestly accepted. Even so, he can’t quite suppress a smile as he leads Wei Wuxian down one of the side paths while Lan Zhan heads directly toward the main residence.
“From how Wangji has talked about you, I thought you might like being teased, too,” Mo Xuanyu says, a becoming blush spreading across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry if I’ve misconstrued.”
Though Wei Wuxian has a million questions, he refrains from asking them. They’re all variations on the same single one: Lan Zhan talks about me? There’s no reason to be surprised. Surely he’s only spoken of Wei Wuxian recently, in order to facilitate… all of this. “No, it’s fine.” There is something about Mo Xuanyu, perhaps his youthfulness or maybe simply their lack of familiarity, that makes Wei Wuxian want to soften for him, explain himself, open up just enough to seem like something other than a complete asshole. “I’m not used to being teased, that’s all.”
“I’ll go easy on you then,” Mo Xuanyu says graciously.
It would be better to keep a leash on his discomfort and remember that he doesn’t belong here no matter how quickly Mo Xuanyu works to put him at ease. This is Lan Zhan’s way of showing altriusm to an old acquaintance. Lan Zhan has always been good, and now Wei Wuxian is the beneficiary. As long as he remembers this, he can save all of them some heartache later.
Perhaps sensing Wei Wuxian’s reticence, Mo Xuanyu’s affect takes on a polite no-nonsense quality as he points out the guest residences and their amenities. He offers to show Wei Wuxian each one, but Wei Wuxian’s mind is already made up.
“How about that one?” he asks, pointing toward the one furthest from the main residence.
Mo Xuanyu’s expression freezes and then softens when he plasters a smile atop it. “I like that one,” he says, leading Wei Wuxian over. “It’s near the pond with my favorite fish.”
He’s quick and professional as he gives the tour of the residence, though there’s little that needs explicating when it’s split into four sections, bedroom, living area, kitchen, and bath that have clearly been renovated recently, so new it’s almost painful to step inside. The living area takes up the front half of the rectangular structure, its window frames giving a full view of the courtyard. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are split into nearly equal thirds in the back, cut off from view by a hallway that separates it from the front. When they reach the bedroom, Mo Xuanyu carefully places his bag on the bed. “Would you like me to put your things away for you?”
“No!” he says too firmly, the thought of Mo Xuanyu seeing and wondering about his half-constructed toy plaguing his pride. “No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.”
“No problem,” Mo Xuanyu replies. “What about something to eat? I’ll be in and out while I get your pantry stocked anyway. I can make something if you’d like.”
“I’m not hungry,” Wei Wuxian says. When Mo Xuanyu looks as though he’ll argue, he adds, “I get motion sickness.”
“I’ll bring some ginger candy, then,” Mo Xuanyu says decisively. “When you’re ready, I can make something for all of us. It’ll be fun.”
“No need. I can take care of my own meals.”
Mo Xuanyu’s expression dims, replaced with something much worse: sympathy. Or maybe empathy. “It must have been difficult for you,” he says carefully, as though he knows it’ll piss Wei Wuxian off.
Which it does. He is brave to have said it anyway.
“Did Lan Wangji tell you that?” Wei Wuxian asks, affect flat with suppressed anger.
“It wasn’t hard to put together,” he says, not bothering to defend what doesn’t need to be defended, “once I met you properly today. You pretended very well at the club. Even I was fooled.” For the first time since Wei Wuxian arrived, Mo Xuanyu appears nervous, the twitchy kind of nervous Wei Wuxian recognizes in himself, the sort that’s waiting for the world to slap down at you. There’s something ineffable in Mo Xuanyu’s bearing that tells Wei Wuxian that the world hasn’t succeeded in suppressing him. “I know what it’s like to be forced to pretend you’re something you’re not. It’s written all over your face.”
Well, shit.
Mo Xuanyu can’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three, old enough to know some things, but not yet old enough that he should be able to see through Wei Wuxian so completely. In truth, nobody of any age should get it, but Mo Xuanyu does, looking at Wei Wuxian in this precise way, both suppressed upset and understanding present.
Mo Xuanyu is tricky. He lets—he lets his words hang there between them, like it would be perfectly alright with him if Wei Wuxian never responded. Just as he thinks he has a grasp on an answer—thanks, kid, but no fucking thanks—Mo Xuanyu steps toward the door, giving Wei Wuxian the space he needs to avoid saying something he’ll regret.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Mo Xuanyu says, “but if you want to, I’m more than happy to listen. I just hope you’ll let Wangji help you. He’ll give you what you need if you let him.”
Though his silence is damning and awkward and unintentional, Mo Xuanyu isn’t deterred.
“If there’s anything missing here, I’m happy to take care of it for you,” Mo Xuanyu says, charging ahead fearlessly. “We also, ah, have a playroom. I can show you that as well. In case…” He gestures vaguely in a way that might or might not be sexual. It’s hard to tell. “In case you and Wangji intend to—”
This close to everything he’s ever wanted, it would be too easy to grasp the selfless rope Mo Xuanyu is holding out. If he expects them to… to do those things, why should Wei Wuxian stop himself from reaching for it? From trying? Except he must. Anything more or less would be unfair. He doesn’t want to have that intimacy with Lan Zhan this way. “It’s not like that between us.”
Mo Xuanyu bites his lip and a furrow forms between his eyebrows, but both halves of his expression are soon shoved behind a mask. His eyes remain irrepressibly bright. Worse, they’re knowing. “I see.”
Wei Wuxian begins rifling through his things for pajamas, careful to avoid exposing the full contents of the bag, and waits or Mo Xuanyu to get the hint.
“I really am happy you’re here.” Mo Xuanyu keeps looking at him for a few more seconds. His scrutiny is unbearable, as though he’s trying to divine a deep truth through the fifteen layers of bullshit it’s buried under. Wei Wuxian is lucky. He doesn’t seem to find it. “It’ll be so nice to have more people on the grounds.”