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
Content warnings:
- Wen Xu overdoes an order that leads to Wei Wuxian being unable to control himself or fight, the moment is frightening to him
- Wei Wuxian has a not great reaction to a memory of his time with the Wen
- offhand mention of Wei Wuxian being purposefully isolated with abusive implications
Nightless City, Over Ten Years Ago
“As we’ve discussed already, the Wen family follows traditional practices when we reach the conclusion of our business deals.” Wen Xu’s recitation of a foregone, previously discussed conclusion is perfunctory at best. He’s as ready to be done with these negotiations as everyone at the table, which has already been cleared of the meal they’ve pretended for over an hour was the point. “My younger brother is eager to do his part to ensure the prosperity of our mutual interests in the coming years.”
Though second father is technically the head of the family and responsible for addressing Wen Xu, he can only thin his lips in apparent displeasure. It’s second mother who takes it upon herself reply; she’s handled everything else. “Having such diligent, respectful Dominates in the younger generation must relieve your father of so many burdens.” Her voice is strained as she speaks these words. Even when she is pleased with the outcome of an arrangement she herself helped form, she is not a Dominant meant for polite ass kissing. And that’s leaving aside the fact that it highlights how deficient her own family is: three, and only three, submissives.
Wen Xu raises his hand, palm out. “I believe we’re close enough now that we can spare ourselves the unnecessary flattery, Yu-nushi.”
Second mother nods in acknowledgment, still tense.
Though Wei Wuxian knows what’s coming, he has to steel himself for the indignity about to befall him.
“A-Li is already spoken for,” second mother says brusquely, as though they’re discussing the exchange of property, “and my biological son is, of course, a Dominant—”
Jiang Cheng, seated next to him, clenches his fist under the table. It was difficult for him to find the correct mindset for today, but second mother had insisted he come, too. One day, he’ll be expected to hold his own against people like Wen Xu, and he won’t have her to cover for him, then. Though she’s trained him to behave like a Dominant since he was in diapers, he has yet to learn it well, and he’s had very little practice passing as one with other Dominants.
The life spread before him, one of lies and hiding and fear of failure, isn’t one Wei Wuxian would wish on anyone.
A small, selfish part of him wishes, though, that Jiang Cheng had been born a Dominant. Out of everyone here, he might have stopped this.
“Wei Wuxian is our dearest spouse’s child,” she says. “I wouldn’t release him to any family lightly. I fully expect him to be provided for in the manner befitting his status.”
“I understand,” Wen Xu says. “My brother will take excellent care of him.” Wen Xu’s attention is discomfiting, now that it’s finally drifting toward Wei Wuxian himself. “He did take quite a shine to A-Xian from an early age. A-Xian, come here, please. Kneel for me.”
He would not embarrass his family by struggling against Wen Xu’s order, but the order is too strong. His body—it won’t obey. His legs feel like they’re made of water. His bones are as solid as jelly. Even at her worst, second mother never so thoroughly oppressed Wei Wuxian’s ability to move. While his mind frantically demands his submission, his body is pinned in place by the weight of it.
He remembers hearing about it. Lan-laoxiansheng definitely taught him and the other submissives about it and warned the Dominants who’d come for training away from asserting their will too freely. An experienced submissive could navigate the stress of it. A good Dominant would know better than to do it at all.
“Wei Ying,” second mother snaps. Her Dominance, lighter, yanks him to his feet, a puppet master’s hand of encouragement pulling his strings. Though he would rather do anything else, he rounds the table and kneels next to Wen Xu’s chair.
“A-Yi—” Jiang Yanli cries, but second mother immediately silences her with a quelling glare. Jiang Cheng can’t even speak.
He doesn’t blame them.
Wei Wuxian knows what it truly means to be submissive, and it’s not this, not at all. It shouldn’t coat him in slime to be on his knees for another; it shouldn’t frighten him. It should be freeing and achingly beautiful, an art as much as biology, like he’d learned, like he’d come to fear it wouldn’t be for him once he learned about this arrangement. His submissiveness is something akin to servitude, a symbol meant to assuage the Wen’s arrogance, their power.
Wen Xu’s fingers tangle in his hair and pull until his chin is fully tipped.
*
Wei Wuxian gasps, jolting upright in bed, hot all over, as though flames are licking their way up his body. In his panic, he succeeds only in tangling himself in his sweat-drenched sheets. His body betrays itself to these memories he hasn’t dredged-up in years.
Unsettled, he peels away the sheet and grimaces at the spot of moisture on the crotch of his lounge pants, the half-hard state of his dick. Nervous energy prickles over his skin as he studies the dampness between his legs. Like phantom fingertips, that energy cuts a slit in him. It reaches deep inside and pulls empty pleasure free.
You don’t miss it, he tells himself. You don’t miss them.
He takes a cold shower, uses the soap Lan Zhan’s provided to him, and dries his hair methodically without once looking in the mirror. Half in a daze, he wanders into the kitchen and drinks a tepid glass of tap water that anchors to his gut, a heavy, pressing weight. His hands shake. He doesn’t know how to make them stop.
Lan Zhan will notice it, if his hands shake.
He finishes the water and returns to the bedroom. Sitting in front of his bag which has sat mostly empty and abandoned under the bed since his arrival, he pulls out the one thing he hasn’t found a better place for. “Glad you survived transit,” he says, mock lighthearted, flicking the arm of the toy he’s been building for himself, turning the base over and over in his hand. It was so close to being done when Lan Zhan dragged him out of the club.
As he searches the tools and supplies, he realizes he must have forgotten to pack the sealant he likes to use when he needs to cast a mold. It’s not strictly necessary, but he feels frustrated with himself anyway. Back at the club, it would have been easy to get another jar. He supposes it would be easy here, too, except that he’d have to explain to Lan Zhan why he wants to borrow against the back pay waiting for him once his contract is up.
When they were kids, he never would have hesitated to shamelessly try to extract money from Lan Zhan, but now…
He puts the pieces of his toy back and shoves it under the bed again. He’ll just have to find a different way to distract himself from the feel of Wen Xu’s hands in his hair, just the right sort of painful.
*
Later, he and Mo Xuanyu are sitting next to the fish pond—their habit, ever since that first day—when he starts nodding off. He’s sprawled out and doesn’t even know he’s fallen into a doze until Mo Xuanyu’s hair is tickling his nose, his face directly overhead. The grin on his face is blinding. When Wei Wuxian shoves at him, he laughs and rolls to the side.
“Didn’t sleep well?” he asks.
“Bad dream,” Wei Wuxian admits, groaning as he pushes himself upright.
“Wanna stay with us tonight? We have a guest room.”
That’s sweet of him, really, but Wei Wuxian can’t imagine anything he wants less. “No, no. There’s no point cramping your style over nothing.”
Mo Xuanyu rolls his eyes and flicks his hair over his shoulder. “Then at least come check out the playroom. Give yourself a good time. You look like you need it.”
Okay, so there’s one thing he wants less, and Mo Xuanyu found it. He’s very bright.
“What would you know about something like that, huh?” His gut churns miserably. What would he even do with a good time at this point? Could he even recognize one for what it is? “This disrespectful kid.”
“Hey! Rude,” Mo Xuanyu says, mock defensive as he knocks his shoulder against Wei Wuxian’s. “I know a lot about a lot of things.” He watches the fish chase one another around the pond, fussing with the pleated scarlet fabric around his thighs. “You know, exiling yourself? It’s not what either of us want.” He looks at Wei Wuxian out of the corner of his eye, a glance as swift as a darting fish, there and gone.
“What do you want, then?”
Mo Xuanyu worries at his lower lip, gaze settling somewhere in the middle distance. “A lot of things.”
Wei Wuxian’s instinct is to ignore the bait Mo Xuanyu has cast, but he can practically feel Mo Xuanyu’s need to talk vibrating off him, and it’s not so very difficult to resurrect some of the curiosity that used to get him into so much trouble. “Such as?”
“I’d like Wangji to be happy,” he says earnestly.
Mo Xuanyu is sweet, too sweet. Dredging deep for a bit of banter, he poke at Mo Xuanyu’s cheek. “As befits a sap like you.”
“I’m serious! Even though he pretends he doesn’t, he frets so much. I worry about him.” Though he keeps his tone light, Mo Xuanyu is clearly concerned as he bats Wei Wuxian’s hand aside. It’s been easy in some ways to forget he’s so young, young in a way that makes all of his problems seem opaque and life-threatening when, in fact, they’re nothing at all.
“Lan Zhan is dependable,” Wei Wuxian replies. “He wouldn’t want you to worry about him.”
Shaking his head, Mo Xuanyu twists toward Wei Wuxian and hikes himself onto his knees as he stares directly at Wei Wuxian. “You two are one and the same.” He pushes himself to his feet and brushes at his clothing in a piqued, fussy manner. “Just come up to the house, okay? You’ve been here for a week, but I wouldn’t even know you were here if I didn’t chase you down.” Has it been a week already? “Eat one meal with us. Maybe you’ll stop having bad dreams if you fill the echo chamber in your brain with something nicer than whatever is giving you nightmares.”
“I don’t—”
“And Wangji will stop worrying so much. Win-win, right?”
“I—”
“Say yes. I promise it won’t be awful.”
*
The overfilled turntable strains under the weight of the many dishes laid upon it, so heavy with food that it can’t even rotate it without protesting.Worse, the various bowls and plates barely contain the food piled inside, pieces threatening to fall out with even the slightest disturbance. As curls of fragrant steam tickle Wei Wuxian’s nose, Wei Wuxian doesn’t know where to start and kind of resents Mo Xuanyu for not warning him that Lan Zhan would do this much work. As soon as they’d stepped into the kitchen, Mo Xuanyu presenting Wei Wuxian to him like a prize, Lan Zhan stopped what he was doing to what seemed at the time like a simple stir fry and immediately went into overdrive.
“Lan Zhan, isn’t this a bit much?”
“No,” he answers simply.
“Shh,” Mo Xuanyu says, taking the bowl in front of Wei Wuxian and filling it with rice, a few pickled vegetables, tender slices of pork. “Trying to dissuade him from doing what he wants to do is a losing bet.” He hands Wei Wuxian a pair of chopsticks. “Better to enjoy it, hmm? And try not to be too polite.”
“Ask Lan Zhan. He’ll tell you I’ve never been polite in my life.”
“I would not,” Lan Zhan answers. “Eat, Wei Ying.”
Both Mo Xuanyu and Lan Zhan watch him as he takes his first bite.
As he hums in satisfaction, delicious flavor bursting over his tongue, the tension breaks. Lan Zhan, treating Mo Xuanyu exactly the same way Mo Xuanyu just treated Wei Wuxian, fills his bowl with a ridiculous amount of food, too, encouraging him to eat with the tiniest possible smile on his face. Even just witnessing it secondhand, Wei Wuxian is struck with embarrassment.
He would have liked to cling to the fantasy that he could avoid witnessing their intimacy for a while longer.
In the past, Lan Zhan had been so stingy with him. Seeing him behave in any other way feels wrong. It’s not for him, these tiny smiles.
Though his appetite turns, he methodically works through the bowl, pleased with himself when he’s finally finished what Mo Xuanyu gave him. Then, a large strip of glistening, fragrant beef is placed in the bowl atop the bit of rice that remains. When he lifts his head, it’s Lan Zhan looking at him, Lan Zhan offering that smile to him, Lan Zhan tilting his chin to encourage Wei Wuxian.
It’s so much worse, having it directed his way, when few of the other intimacies Lan Zhan affords Mo Xuanyu belong to Wei Wuxian.
He’s not sure how he’s supposed to choke down another bite, but he manages it. For a bit of Lan Zhan’s reflected intimacy, he might do anything.
Once they’re through eating, Wei Wuxian offers to clean up, but Mo Xuanyu shoos him and Lan Zhan into the living area, saying he’s been too negligent anyway and that he would prefer to earn his punishments from something more exciting than too many dirty dishes. Bubbly pop music begins to pipe in from the kitchen, low and mostly unobtrusive, as he clatters about.
“You haven’t been sleeping well,” Lan Zhan says as he sits on one side of the couch. Wei Wuxian takes the other.
Damn the man. Not even five seconds of peace. “Is my complexion that bad? I’m sleeping fine.”
Lan Zhan stares at him, cheetah-like. Under such intense scrutiny, Wei Wuxian’s skin itches. If he doesn’t answer to Lan Zhan’s satisfaction, he might become prey.
“Aiya, Lan Zhan. Let a man get used to sleeping at night, huh?”
“You can—” Lan Zhan’s throat bobs enticingly as he swallows. “If there is anything you need for your comfort, all you have to do is tell me. I will ensure you have it.”
Wei Wuxian barely holds back the urge to grimace. “I will, I will,” Wei Wuxian says blithely. “Honestly, Lan Zhan. You’ve already provided me with so much. How can I ask for more?”
“I am serious, Wei Ying.” Lan Zhan’s tone borders on the indecent, sending an almost perfect shiver down Wei Wuxian’s spine.
He can’t laugh Lan Zhan’s words off, not when he speaks to Wei Wuxian in this way, like he belongs to Lan Zhan in any way, shape, or form outside of the contract that exists between them. This is the perfect moment to beg for the scraps that will allow him to finish his project. Finishing his project will be good for him. The request sits on the tip of his tongue. Then Mo Xuanyu returns with a tray, the delicate aroma of tea clinging to him. All of Wei Wuxian’s imagined courage bleeds away as Mo Xuanyu kneels next to Lan Zhan, all restrained, beautiful smiles.
It would be inappropriate it is to press for anything from this sweet boy’s Dominant.
It’s a wonder he made it as a whore for as long as he did. If he was this filled with shame back at the club, well. He would probably have less to feel ashamed about now, but he also wouldn’t have gotten anywhere either.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says again.
He cracks, just a little. Every time he thinks he can hold strong against Lan Zhan, he gets bullied. Maybe it will be enough to let himself be bullied a little. “Aish, fine. Give me your phone.”
Lan Zhan’s brow furrows, but he complies. “You don’t have a phone?”
“Don’t act so scandalized. Who am I going to call, Lan Zhan?”
Swiping the screen until he reaches Lan Zhan’s Taobao app, he scrolls through, adds a few items to the cart, and hands it back on the order screen. He waits for Lan Zhan to question him, but Lan Zhan barely acknowledges the order except to tap the purchase button. “I’ll secure a phone for you.”
“That’s—”
“I didn’t bring you here to isolate you,” Lan Zhan insists, which is categorically not what Wei Wuxian is trying to imply. Rather, he only wished to impart the absolute futility of having a phone. Wen Chao broke the last one under the heel of his boot the first week of his stay at Nightless City, but he hasn’t had a significant need for one in the years since that time. In fact, the lack of a phone served him well in Madam Yang’s club. Nobody could harass him directly that way.
“You know, I used to have a client who made me take his phones,” he says. “Told me he was obsessed, couldn’t stop scrolling through it until I made him stop. He told me to post embarrassing things on social media about him. That was the punishment they wanted. Absolutely batshit if you ask me. What’s inside of one that’s so interesting to look at?”
“I could not tell you,” Lan Zhan replies. “Nevertheless.”
Mo Xuanyu pours three cups of tea, distributing the first to Lan Zhan before stretching toward Wei Wuxian to give him the second. Lan Zhan fondly tugs at a wisp of hair that’s fallen from his ponytail. As Mo Xuanyu blushes, tucking it into place, Lan Zhan sips the tea.
Longing pulses, slow and painful, to fill the spaces within Wei Wuxian where an argument against cell phone technology might have lived. It suddenly doesn’t matter whether Lan Zhan purchases a phone for him or not.
Lan Zhan’s expression, when he resumes looking at Wei Wuxian, is darker than before, like he is inclined to go to war over this conversation, though who he’d attack remains to be seen.
“My point is…” He sighs. What is his point anyway? Nothing Wei Wuxian says will assuage him and the more he allows Lan Zhan to have his way, the less he’ll see what’s actually going on here. Eat, rest, show a bit of liveliness. Stop Lan Zhan from worrying. That’s all he has to do. Why fight over a phone that doesn’t even matter? “…Lan Zhan-gege is very generous.”
He keeps his tone ironic, dry enough to avoid sounding too directly flirtatious, but Mo Xuanyu still chokes on a sip of tea, and Lan Zhan’s ears flush a deep shade of red. Lan Zhan turns the conversation toward lighter grounds, praising Mo Xuanyu for the tea and then onto other topics.
Wei Wuxian should be relieved, but all he can think about the rest of the night is the tender touch of Lan Zhan’s fingers over Mo Xuanyu’s hair and how differently they’d probably behave with one another if he wasn’t there. Surely, they’re not that reserved when they’re by themselves. They’d have no need to be.
A small seed of selfishness nestles itself deep in his heart. He hopes, rather unfairly, that he has disrupted their lives with his presence here, that their openness with him comes at a cost, not one commensurate to the pain he feels knowing Lan Zhan isn’t his, but a small discomfort at least.
Just so he knows he’s not alone.