1
Afterward, Wei Wuxian slings his arm across Lan Zhan’s abdomen. His palm curves around Lan Zhan’s hip; he can’t help but caress the jut of bone. Nestling his head against Lan Zhan’s chest, he is content to listen to the beat of his heart as it settles into the slow, regular pulse that never fails to lull him to sleep. Or almost never fails. Despite how comfortable and warm he is, slumber eludes him now. If he were willing to be truthful, he’d admit it’s working less and less often of late.
Though he tries to keep the struggle to himself, remains very still as he gently, so gently tries to coil all that restless energy away, Lan Zhan must read something in the subtle tension in his muscles because his hand tightens against Wei Wuxian’s side. Warm air kisses the crown of Wei Wuxian’s head as Lan Zhan exhales into his hair. Anywhere else, Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have heard it, that’s how quiet the sound is, but this is the jingshi. No sound of Lan Zhan’s can pass without being heard by Wei Wuxian’s ears, not while Wei Wuxian greedily hoards everything Lan Zhan gives to him.
It’s all so new still, only a few months since they reunited, but growing more familiar and expected by the day.
He intends always to do so. Taking any of his second, safer, calmer, loving life for granted is out of the question.
Lan Zhan noses at Wei Wuxian’s forehead, inhales, breathes out again. “Wei Ying?”
“Lan Zhan.”
“Is everything all right?”
Something in Wei Wuxian’s chest twists, breaks, falls away. Tonight, Lan Zhan took him apart and put him back together, but he missed a piece this time. Heat flares in his cheeks. His eyes prickle. He doesn’t dare breathe for fear of his lungs rattling and so he cannot offer assurances. Turning his head against Lan Zhan’s neck, he nods, kissing and nibbling as much of it as he can reach. Finally, when he is steady again, he says, “You’re too good to me, Lan er-gege. That’s all.”
His tongue trips over the flirtation. It stumbles out of his mouth, erratic, unsteady. He feels like a fool and worse.
“There can be no such thing,” Lan Zhan replies, easy, so certain. If only Wei Wuxian could be so dogmatic in his approach to himself. His hand strokes soothing lines up and down his rib cage, fingers blazing a comforting heat in their wake. “Rest, please.”
To be loved so selflessly is a burden, he realizes.
That’s the thing that Lan Zhan forgot to fix into place.
Every good thing has a price.
This battered wedge no longer fits in Wei Wuxian’s heart and so he lets it go. For Lan Zhan’s sake, he tries to comply.
2
In the very dead of night, long after others have gone to bed, Lan Zhan moves inside of him. Each thrust strikes true, agonizingly slow and devastating, as Lan Zhan holds his palm over Wei Wuxian’s mouth. He drags it out until time is a sticky mess between them, stretched beyond breaking, loose and lax, no longer real. It could be mere moments or hours that pass with Lan Zhan behind him, within him. They are both on their knees, though Wei Wuxian’s been reduced to sagging forward against the bed, their blankets rolled up to serve as a cushion beneath his chest. His arms wrap themselves up in them and still it’s not enough. Even when he arches his back and moans pathetically, it’s not enough.
Touch me, touch me, touch me, he thinks as Lan Zhan very pointedly ignores his dick because he prefers to take his time. Lan Zhan’s been at it so long that Wei Wuxian’s been brought nearly to orgasm twice and the only time his hand came anywhere near him was when Wei Wuxian flagged earlier on. The slide of his palm over Wei Wuxian’s shaft abandoned him as soon as he’d been brought back to full hardness. If not for the hand over his mouth, he might have begged aloud.
Pleasure washes over him, almost too much to bear, and he thinks, too, why me, why do I deserve this, what did I ever do that was so good?
Wei Wuxian can stop this anytime he wants. Lan Zhan’s hold on him isn’t brutal, even just turning his head would be enough to dislodge it. He wouldn’t even have to ask Lan Zhan to stop; he’d just know and he would do it because he only ever does as Wei Wuxian wants.
He knows Wei Wuxian doesn’t want him to stop.
Pleasure isn’t enough, though, because he flags yet again, exhausted, wrung out, satisfied with what he’s received and yet, at the same time, very much not. His body is betraying itself to Lan Zhan with every passing moment, but he can’t—he can’t. And he doesn’t know why.
Lan Zhan’s hand finds him again, unerring, and this time, though his grip is loose, lax, gentle, it remains. If Wei Wuxian wanted to, he could fuck into the circle of his fingers, reach completion that way, give himself fully over to Lan Zhan instead of balancing on this precipice. It shouldn’t be so difficult for him to fall; his whole life has been one long exercise in falling.
“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, gently cajoling. He could be singing a lullaby for how beautiful and comforting his voice is when he says his name like this. Wei Ying loves it. “Wei Ying, let go.”
And of course, Wei Wuxian does, pulsing into Lan Zhan’s hand as he gasps into Lan Zhan’s palm. He tastes salt as Lan Zhan frees his mouth. Panting, shaking, he realizes only now that rivulets of tears are spilling down his cheeks. Lan Zhan turns him over, but Wei Wuxian’s not so far gone that he doesn’t notice that he’s still hard, leaking a trail of precome against Wei Wuxian’s flank. He touches Wei Wuxian everywhere he can reach with the hand that’s not carefully cradling Wei Wuxian’s release.
“Lan Zhan, you can keep—”
“No need.” Lan Zhan strokes himself, the way eased by Wei Wuxian’s come. Within one mortifying minute, Lan Zhan is done, seemingly satisfied with this turn of events.
He retreats from their bed. In his absence, Wei Wuxian shivers, even after he’s retrieved Lan Zhan’s inner robe from the end of bed and curled within it, heedless of the mess he’s no doubt making of it. The Cloud Recesses are always cold without Lan Zhan by his side. Lan Zhan’s robes are the only ones that successfully stave it off.
Thievery is forbidden; he should return it to Lan Zhan.
Though Lan Zhan isn’t gone long, it feels like an eternity.
He returns with a carefully wetted cloth and clean hands, wipes away the sweat collecting in Wei Wuxian’s hairline and the lubricant sliding between Wei Wuxian’s legs and thighs. All the while, he presses kisses to his face and neck until his lips shine with tears that won’t stop even though Wei Wuxian is… he’s happy. He knows it, because he’s so intimately acquainted with its opposite, despair, and this is not that. Why they evoke the same reactions in him is entirely beyond his comprehension. It doesn’t seem fair. It isn’t fair and when he dares open his eyes and looks at Lan Zhan, he sees the same fear he’d never, ever wanted to instill in Lan Zhan again.
I’ve lost you, he sees, knowing Lan Zhan would never, ever say it. Only he hasn’t. Wei Wuxian isn’t going anywhere. He’s been found and kept well. Lan Zhan takes care of him. It’s just…
Laughing, watery, he scrubs his hand over his cheeks, brushes the evidence away. In the morning, he will help teach the juniors. He will study and give Lan Qiren a headache and hope today is the day Lan Zhan will be allowed to drop the mantle of Chief Cultivator from his too-thin frame. He will prod Lan Zhan about eating and tease him about how handsome he is until his ears are so flaming red that he’ll go into his afternoon meetings with them tinged pink and fearless in the face of any gossip such a blush might invite despite his sect’s rules against it. It’s a good life. “I’m okay, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan searches and searches for the lie.
“Mn,” is the only thing Lan Zhan says, trusting Wei Wuxian’s word despite all evidence to the contrary. This is another gift Lan Zhan gives him. There is no end to the trust he bestows upon Wei Wuxian. “We should rest.”
Wei Wuxian isn’t ready to sleep, but he is incapable of articulating how little he wants to scuttle quietly around the room, working away while Lan Zhan sleeps nearby, so close yet so far. It seems, then, like so little to nod in agreement and help Lan Zhan arrange the bedding appropriately, watch through lowered lashes as Lan Zhan retrieves his trousers from the floor and ties them securely. He doesn’t ask for the robe despite preferring to sleep clothed; Wei Wuxian doesn’t offer it.
When Lan Zhan lies back, he holds his arm out so Wei Wuxian can tuck himself against Lan Zhan, but it’s not what he wants. When he hesitates, Lan Zhan reels his arm back in, holds it across his stomach instead. Nothing changes in his expression. Disappointment clenches around Wei Wuxian’s heart, spasms, and unfurls within him until his ribs ache with it.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, playing with the ties on Lan Zhan’s trousers. “Can I—?” Swallowing, he flicks them away again. The least of what he can return to Lan Zhan is his honesty. “Would it be okay if I hold you instead?”
Lan Zhan’s lips part. After an inexorably long moment, the corners of his mouth curve up into a smile. “I would like that.”
It takes time to arrange themselves in a way that is comfortable, neither one used to being in this position. At first, Lan Zhan’s elbow lands in his stomach as he tries to replicate his usual pattern, but he is tenacious and soon he’s slung himself across Wei Wuxian and hooked his leg around Wei Wuxian’s calf. This way, he is a furnace and his hands seem to be everywhere all at once. His face tucks itself easily against Wei Wuxian’s neck. His breath puffs, warm and even, past Wei Wuxian’s jaw, intimate and close.
Lan Zhan is asleep even more quickly than normal and all that disappointment dissolves and replaces itself with something infinitely more precious: gratitude in its purest form, lighter than joy.
Wei Wuxian is too excited to sleep. Like this, he would gladly stay awake all night. It is respite, relaxation, to stare at the shadowed ceiling with Lan Zhan curled against him. There is nothing to regret in wrapping his arm protectively, possessively, around Lan Zhan’s bare shoulder, in dragging his fingers up and down his spine in delicate sweeps, waiting until they are both goose-pimpled before he finally pulls the blankets around their bodies.
He thinks and wonders.
3
When Lan Zhan reaches for his usual jar of lubrication, normally carefully tucked away in a box, Wei Wuxian grabs his wrist, pulls him onto the bed though he’s only half risen from it. Lan Zhan’s brow furrows in question, but he acquiesces, molds himself against Wei Wuxian’s chest as he folds his arms around Lan Zhan’s shoulders. He bites lightly at the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear. “Can we do something else tonight?”
The question isn’t as hard to get out as he expects it to be. Though his stomach flutters throughout the recitation of it, his voice itself doesn’t falter.
Lan Zhan tenses, just the way Wei Wuxian had hoped he wouldn’t. He asks the question Wei Wuxian always knew he would. “Have you not liked it?”
“I have,” Wei Wuxian assures him. Please, believe me. I do. Don’t let this be the time your trust in me fails. “I do.”
The tension drains from Lan Zhan’s body. “We can do anything you’d like.”
“Then lie back for me,” Wei Wuxian says, before his courage fails him and he falls back on what is easy.
Lan Zhan goes as asks. When he reaches for the laces on his trousers, Wei Wuxian pushes his hands aside. “Wei Ying?”
How does he explain himself when he doesn’t quite know what he’s chasing? “I just want to make you feel good, Lan Zhan.”
Lan Zhan’s eyes soften. His hand tugs lightly at the cascade of Wei Wuxian’s hair until it spills across his shoulder. “You always do.”
“Lan Zhan! You’re the one who always—”
“Even just looking at you is a pleasure to me,” Lan Zhan says, though he is not often given to interrupting when another person speaks. He does not often say such things either, though Wei Wuxian has never failed to grasp Lan Zhan’s love for him once he understood it truly. “How could I not feel good with you?”
A flush blooms rampant across Wei Wuxian’s cheeks and down his neck. “I know, but…”
Lan Zhan pushes himself up onto his elbows. His gaze is keen. It would find all of Wei Wuxian’s secrets if there were any of import left to keep. “Do you?”
“I…”
Lan Zhan’s knuckles caress Wei Wuxian’s cheek and his thumb swipes across Wei Wuxian’s lower lip. No tears are falling this time, which is good. He never used to cry this much. This second life of his, he’s grown so soft, so much more sensitive.
When Lan Zhan reaches for that jar of his, Wei Wuxian doesn’t complain. And then he’s pressing it into Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Wei Ying,” he says, encouraging. “Whatever you wish to give, I would gladly welcome it. This in particular.”
They’ve done a lot of things with the contents of this jar, but given the weight of Lan Zhan’s words… he thinks he knows what is being asked of him. Though this weight is heavy, it is not a burden. He’d thought maybe only to take Lan Zhan in his mouth.
Wei Wuxian couldn’t feel more like a lantern that’s been released into the air, floating up and up, no limits or boundaries on him.
“You’re sure?”
“I have considered asking you.” There is nothing in Lan Zhan’s gaze to give lie to his words. He is, as ever, entirely honest and earnest in his sincerity, quiet though it might be.
Wei Wuxian opens the jar, dips his fingers into the thick gelatinous substance, cool and slippery. Between his fingers, it softens, melts, smooths easily over the callouses that have formed on this hand of his. It gleams in his palm, mesmerizing almost.
The dormant coals of his desire for Lan Zhan stoke themselves aflame within him. Even Lan Zhan is ready, length filling and hardening before Wei Wuxian’s eyes. Even still hidden by his trousers, now dotted with a tiny, tiny wet spot, it’s obvious. It’s beautiful. Lan Zhan is so beautiful like this.
He’s always beautiful, of course, but…
Lan Zhan, eager, spreads his legs, pushes the fabric down his hips, frees himself from the trappings of his clothing and kicks them toward the end of the bed. Perhaps Wei Ying should have waited to coat his fingers, but he can’t regret it.
“Wei Ying, we will do this.” This isn’t so different from when Lan Zhan takes him, taking control of the encounter, except for how it feels different.
Though he hasn’t done this before, he has plenty of expert guidance from Lan Zhan, feels just as eager and ready as Lan Zhan to do this. “How do you want me?” Wei Wuxian asks.
“Any—” He is going to say any way and Wei Wuxian is going to scream, because what he needs is right there, just past Lan Zhan capitulating. He’s already given Wei Wuxian a taste. He cannot take it back. Then his gaze pierces, searching, finding. Determination replaces acquiescence. “Like this. I want to see you.”
It’s exactly what Wei Wuxian wants to hear.
“Please,” he says and it is not a request.
He chases the heat of Lan Zhan’s body as he slides one finger in and never takes his eyes off of Lan Zhan’s face. A furrow forms between his brows and his eyes are closed, but Wei Wuxian doesn’t need to see him to know that, if he is not used to it, he doesn’t hate it either. His body arcs off the bed as he accommodates Wei Wuxian’s intrusion.
Though he is quiet, that means little for the moment. He remains quiet usually. Wei Wuxian has learned to cherish the small gasps and moans that Lan Zhan lets out, few though they are.
“Lan Zhan, is it good?” He’s so tight around Wei Wuxian’s finger, but he doesn’t seem to be in distress.
“It’s good.” Lan Zhan bites his lip, grapples for Wei Wuxian, intertwines his fingers with Wei Wuxian’s on the hand that is free and currently braced on the bed by Lan Zhan’s hip. “Wei Ying, more.”
Wei Wuxian provides because Lan Zhan has asked and because he wants to, oh, how much he wants to. This time, Lan Zhan does gasp, wriggles on Wei Wuxian’s hand, pushes him in and in and in until Wei Wuxian’s thumb easily brushes the sensitive space behind his sac, knuckle brushing lightly over the skin there.
Wei Wuxian turns his wrist, searches and searches for the place inside of Lan Zhan that Lan Zhan has always found unerringly within Wei Wuxian, the soft mound of flesh that Wei Wuxian’s even found within himself. He worries for a moment that he’s gotten it all wrong, that Lan Zhan is very different from him, cannot feel what Wei Wuxian feels, thinks himself selfish to want this when Lan Zhan’s always been happy the other way and then—
That smooth bundle of nerves. Lan Zhan bucking, rocking his hips, touching himself. His fingers tightening between Wei Wuxian’s, nails digging into his flesh, a little painful, but delicious all the same.
Lan Zhan’s so hard now that the head of his cock is bumping against his abdomen, curved slightly, leaving an arcing little streak of precome just to the left of his midsection.
“Lan Zhan?”
“Keep going.” Lan Zhan bites off a gasp, teeth marking his lower lip, reddening the skin around his mouth. “Wei Ying, please.”
The broken shards of that plea rake themselves down his spine. His own arousal spikes within him. He shakes with need, a need to be inside of Lan Zhan, a need to give Lan Zhan exactly what he wants, a need, flagrant and greedy, to not feel as though he is the only one taking. It’s never felt like this before, but he doesn’t think it’s because their positions are reversed.
“What can I give you?” Wei Wuxian asks, breathless. Curling his fingers slightly, he pushes them open a little, dragging his knuckles over Lan Zhan’s inner walls. He still feels so tight. I’ll give you anything.
“Another.” Reaching for himself, Lan Zhan actually moans, throws his head back. In the end, he doesn’t touch, doesn’t wring his own orgasm free. This, Wei Wuxian can offer him, too. “Another.”
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes.”
Wei Wuxian’s body pulses. Yes, yes. Lan Zhan should come. Right now. Wei Wuxian will—
He tries to free himself from Lan Zhan’s grasp, but Lan Zhan yanks his hand back down, presses it hard into the unforgiving bed beneath them. Wei Wuxian doesn’t dare remove the fingers opening Lan Zhan’s body. Who knows what would happen then? “Only when you’re in me.”
“You could come twice,” Wei Wuxian says, reasonable, excited by the possibility. It’s happened often enough for Wei Wuxian that he finds it entirely possible he could do the same for Lan Zhan.
“No.”
Tucking his fingers together, Wei Wuxian slips a third in, easier than expected. “So bossy,” he teases, like this isn’t exactly what he’s wanted, like he wouldn’t luxuriate in it if he could. What else might Lan Zhan order him to do?
Why hasn’t he ordered Wei Wuxian around before?
Lan Zhan’s now writhing continually, pushing against his hand. Sweat dots his forehead, a thing Wei Wuxian’s pretty sure he’s never seen before, his skin dewy with it. A delicate blush consumes not only his ears, but his face, too. He opens his eyes, stares up at Wei Wuxian. “Is that not what you wanted?” His focus is hazy and his voice is rough. He’s chewed his lips so much that they appear kiss swollen.
“It is! I do! You’re wonderful like this, Lan Zhan. I just—”
“Then hurry.”
Hurry. Hurry. Oh.
Heat floods his face again. He definitely wants to hurry, too. Just—right now. For Lan Zhan. For himself a little bit. Or a lot for himself. He’s not even paying attention to himself and he’s still so close. “But—”
“I’m ready,” Lan Zhan says, stubborn. There is no arguing with him. “Now.”
Wei Wuxian isn’t above admitting he scrambles to free his fingers, hates the loss because he so deeply enjoys touching Lan Zhan this way, but he needs—
Lan Zhan hands him the jar again. At least this time it’s already open. He’s not sure he’d have the coordination with his mind racing like this. He’s going to—Lan Zhan wants him to—he’s…
He scoops out more than is probably necessary, nearly spills it all over the bed, but he’s able at the last minute to salvage it, rubbing it down his shaft, ignoring the coolness of it. The shock is good, lets him focus, reminds him why he’s here. Lan Zhan wants to come with Wei Wuxian inside of him. He can… he can definitely do that.
His dick jerks in his hand. Yes. This won’t be a problem. He’ll be good for Lan Zhan. He’s not already balanced precipitously on the edge of coming, no.
Sweat tickles its way down his spine. This will work.
Lan Zhan’s voice snaps through the mire of Wei Wuxian’s thoughts. “Wei Ying!”
How does Lan Zhan handle the pressure? Wei Wuxian is going to die. If he disappoints—
“Wei Ying, whatever you’re thinking—” Lan Zhan’s voice has somehow become a wreck on the shores of this bed. The warm, deep tone of it is rasping, ragged. “—stop thinking it.”
Oh.
Lan Zhan can’t quite meet Wei Wuxian’s eyes. His voice stumbles a bit once he breathes into being the easiest demand he could make of Wei Wuxian. “Make love to me.”
Oh.
Wei Ying is not graceful as he pulls Lan Zhan’s legs further apart. He leaves cool smears of the lubricant on Lan Zhan’s inner thighs that make Lan Zhan hiss and flinch. As he lines himself up, he nearly loses his nerve, ready to go back to how things always are, but then Lan Zhan’s head lifts again and he nods and Wei Wuxian knows, in more ways than one, that he can’t disappoint him.
Because he can’t. He will not let himself.
And because Lan Zhan will never be disappointed in him no matter what.
Knowing this, it’s not so difficult to ease himself in. The tight, slick heat of his body as it surrounds Wei Wuxian is secondary to the rapturous expression that crosses Lan Zhan’s face as he slides all the way in, the top of his thighs pressed against the back of Lan Zhan’s.
“Lan Zhan,” he says, because it feels so good and he doesn’t know what else to say. There are no better words in the universe than the ones that make up Lan Zhan’s name. “Lan Zhan.” He shifts until he’s leaning over Lan Zhan, hair brushing Lan Zhan’s chest. He lifts the hand Lan Zhan had held hostage before and caresses Lan Zhan’s face. “Good?”
Lan Zhan turns his head slightly, captures Wei Wuxian’s thumb between his teeth, sucks and laves his tongue over the pad. He nods and releases Wei Wuxian’s thumb, tilts his chin in such a way that it leaves a trail of his own saliva over his jaw.
Wei Wuxian is going to die, but it might be worth it just for this moment, Lan Zhan splayed before him, hair sticking to his face, saliva glinting on his skin, chest rising and falling with each quick inhalation. He is leaking all over himself.
“Can I touch you?” Wei Wuxian asks, nearly lightheaded with the need to see Lan Zhan come all over himself. If Lan Zhan won’t let him, he doesn’t know what he’ll do.
“I won’t—” Lan Zhan’s throat bobs. I won’t last, Wei Wuxian is sure he means, exultant in that fact. “Yes, please.”
He isn’t ready for the way Lan Zhan jerks into even just the smallest touch of Wei Wuxian’s hand. It changes the angle of Wei Wuxian’s dick inside of him and he almost slides entirely free before Lan Zhan grinds back down onto him. But that alone is enough. Lan Zhan hooks his legs behind Wei Wuxian’s back, finds leverage, thrusts up into Wei Wuxian’s hand before bearing down again and again.
This is different, Wei Wuxian thinks, dizzy with it, from the way Lan Zhan normally is. He always makes sure Wei Wuxian lets go, but never himself, not like this, not until now.
This wild abandon is all Lan Zhan and all because of Wei Wuxian and if tears prickle at the corner of Wei Wuxian’s eyes this time, it’s different than before and only spurs him on. He times his thrusts to Lan Zhan’s, squeezes his hand more tightly as Lan Zhan pushes into it until Lan Zhan gives up and throws his head back, hands fisting the bedding, throat exposed.
It’s so good. Lan Zhan is so good and Wei Wuxian is good, too. He’s perfect. There’s nothing more satisfying than getting to do this for Lan Zhan. Nobody could give this to Lan Zhan, not even Lan Zhan.
“Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “Lan Zhan, I’m—” He brushes the back of his hand across his cheeks, tries and fails to avoid leaving behind a streak of lubricant. They are a mess, he and Lan Zhan, but it’s okay because he can tell Lan Zhan’s close and he’s close and then they’ll probably be too tired to get a bath, but Wei Wuxian will be the one to get the cloth that will clean them up and he’ll gently, so very gently stroke Lan Zhan as he enjoys the gentle fog that’s always followed the sex they share and—
And Wei Ying twists his wrist just so right as he thrusts so deeply into Lan Zhan that Lan Zhan actually cries out. Come spatters his chest and abdomen in thick pulses as Wei Wuxian works him through it, keeping his rhythm until he can’t, until he’s coming, too, Lan Zhan tightening around him like he knows Wei Wuxian only needed just that littlest push to tumble over the edge as well.
Pleasure bursts through him, overwhelming, pushes everything else aside except for his awareness of himself and Lan Zhan and how much Lan Zhan means to him. The love he feels for Lan Zhan, it can’t be contained within the exquisitely beautiful hell of this moment, but it’s as close as Wei Wuxian thinks he’ll ever get to conveying his love in the way Lan Zhan prefers.
His knees, full of jelly, don’t want to hold him up, so he curls close to Lan Zhan, presses his ear against Lan Zhan’s chest.
“Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan’s hand comes up to stroke and untangle his hair, sweaty from exertion. “You’ll get messy.”
Wei Wuxian bites out a laugh, delighted. He is so tired, but in a good way, not like the exhaustion that seems to dog him usually, the result of an underdeveloped golden core trying to keep up all day with gaggles of cultivators, some of whom don’t like him very much. This is the perfect sort of tired, like he’s earned it right and worked, hard and honest, for it. “It’s okay.” Another laugh bubbles up inside of him. “I’ll get us cleaned up.”
Giving lie to his words, he relaxes against Lan Zhan’s chest, content to drift for a moment, only a moment. It’s just too nice having Lan Zhan stroke his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp. And Lan Zhan does nothing to hurry Wei Wuxian along though he is sure he wouldn’t mind it.
“Thank you,” Lan Zhan says suddenly, despite them both knowing how they feel about those words.
“Lan Zhan—”
“Thank you for showing me how you feel,” he says, adamant, “and for wanting this for me.”
Groaning, Wei Wuxian hides his face against Lan Zhan’s neck. How can one man be so… so like him? Who would thank him for this when he’s the one who’s been given something? This formality, it only makes Wei Wuxian want to laugh and bully Lan Zhan a bit because the alternative might sting too much.
It must mean a lot to Lan Zhan, too, to fall back on such things.
“We can do it again,” Wei Ying says instead. “Just like this. Or… or however you want.” He feels shy and is glad that his face is still mostly hidden, even though Lan Zhan’s tucked his finger under Wei Wuxian’s chin and is lifting it.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Lan Zhan says before pressing a soft kiss to Wei Wuxian’s mouth, one that Wei Wuxian can’t help but deepen even though it physically can’t go anywhere else for a while yet. “As long as you let me do the same for you.”
He understands Lan Zhan a little better now; he thinks perhaps Lan Zhan hasn’t been entirely selfless in this. He is glad for it.
Approaching the basin where the water and clean cloths are, he wets one and chooses the softest to dry Lan Zhan with. It is as good taking care of Lan Zhan as he’d suspected it would be.
Once Lan Zhan and he are both clean, Lan Zhan pulls Wei Wuxian into the bed, snuggles into his side, and that, Wei Wuxian thinks, might be even better. As he drifts off, nothing left in his thoughts beyond Lan Zhan and how great he is, he’s pretty sure it’s the best.