“Mine.” Lan Wangji murmurs, possessiveness nestled within the gruff tone of his voice as Wei Wuxian tries to slow his own soft pants into an even pattern of breathing. The air of the jingshi, warmed with Wei Wuxian’s own talismans, is heady with the scent of their coupling, and Lan Wangji smooths his hand up and down Wei Wuxian’s bare thigh with a distinct air of smug satisfaction.
Wei Wuxian laughs at his beloved husband, and then laughs some more when said beloved husband frowns at him.
“Lan Zhan, ah Lan Zhan. Of course I am yours, but do you need to remind yourself so often?”
“It is others who need to be reminded.” Lan Wangji grouches, gathering Wei Wuxian more firmly in his arms, turning onto his back so that he can manoeuvre his husband to lie sprawled across his chest.
Wei Wuxian settles with a satisfied little noise, nestling his cheek against Lan Wangji’s sunburst scar, the ridges so familiar and comforting by now.
“Others see me as the fearsome Yiling Laozu, not as the dashingly handsome young man you see before you.” Wei Wuxian wiggles his eyebrows teasingly at his husband. “No one would try anything with me, Lan-er-gege, and if they did, I would simply refuse them.”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji replies, and tightens his hold.
“Really, Lan Zhan. You have nothing to be jealous over…”
“It would be best to visit an inn first, right? Ask the locals about any suspicious activity that’s been going on around the house?”
“Mn.” Lan Wangji stops in front of the inn Wei Wuxian indicated, surveying it first before entering. “It is late. We would do better to sleep here and continue in the morning.”
“Ah, Lan-er-gege is eager to get into bed with me, I see!” Wei Wuxian laughs, enjoying the slight reddening of his husband’s ears. Lan Wangji continues speaking, otherwise seemingly unbothered, though Wei Wuxian could feel how the grip around his hand tightened.
“Wei Ying has not eaten. We shall eat dinner here, and then rest.”
“Rest, yes, of course Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian winks exaggeratedly, tugging his husband along with him into the inn.
As soon as they enter, the scent of spices and herbs surround them, making Wei Wuxian’s mouth water.
“Lan Zhan! Wow, they have proper food here! Let’s sit down straight away.”
Wei Wuxian tugs him to an empty table and grabs the pre-offered menu excitedly, eyes scanning each and every line as his husband watches in amused silence.
“Ah, everything looks so delicious! Thank you for suggesting we go here. Lan Zhan is such a good husband, always taking care of his Wei Ying like his.” Wei Wuxian babbles as he reads through the menu.
“Seriously, spiced congee with rousong, sesame oil chicken soup- Lan Zhan, they even have spiced duck here! Oh, I can’t choose-”
“We will order everything he mentioned.” Lan Wangji informs the server whom Wei Wuxian had failed to notice approaching as he was talking. Noticing her now, Wei Wuxian startles slightly, a blush forming on his cheeks as his husband merely smiles indulgently at him.
“Lan Zhan! That really is too much, the duck is so expensive, you can’t-”
“For such generous customers-” The server interrupts, startling Wei Wuxian yet again, “the duck can be provided for free. You are lucky to have such a good friend, gege.” The server smiles at Wei Wuxian, who happily returns with his own. What good luck to be waited on by such a polite woman!
“Oh, thank you so much! We-”
“That will not be necessary.” Lan Wangji cuts in icily. But when Wei Wuxian turns to him in surprise, he finds the expression is levelled at the friendly waitress, for some strange reason. “I am perfectly capable of paying for my husband’s food.”
“But, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian reasons, “surely, if she’s offering-”
“I will pay.” Lan Wangji repeats, his gaze not moving from the waitress, who withdraws with a murmur of acquiescence.
His stare remains fixedly on the retreating form of the server until Wei Wuxian places a hand on his arm.
“Lan-er-gege! The way you were staring at that girl- should I be jealous?” Wei Wuxian is of course teasing, but Lan Wangji’s eyes seem to harden even further.
“Why did you not inform her that we were married?”
“What?” Wei Wuxian blurts, head tilting forwards as if proximity can help him to understand his husband’s seemingly random question.
As his head drifts closer to his husband’s, Wei Wuxian’s breath catches in his throat. Lan Wangji’s eyes are molten fire, burning down on Wei Wuxian hard enough that it feels almost as if all the other layers smothered between them have fallen away. The background discussions, the noises of the inn, even Wei Wuxian’s own heart beat all become muffled as Lan Wangji stares at him, and he stares back.
Lan Wangji must have repeated his question. His lips are moving — Wei Wuxian’s gaze darts down to them briefly and snags on the soft pinkness of his lips, the teeth they pull back to reveal, and oh how Wei Wuxian wishes those teeth were on him, biting him, marking him-
“…what?” Wei Wuxian repeats dumbly. When Lan Wangji takes on this expression — determination and frustration warring across his usually placid features — Wei Wuxian can usually expect to be flung against the nearest surface and taken without mercy. It seems Lan Wangji guesses his husband’s train of thought, his gaze darting down to Wei Wuxian’s slightly ajar mouth, but he resolves himself, repeating the question.
“Why did you not inform her that we were married? Not just… good friends.” Lan Wangji spits out the waitress’s words as if they repulse him. Wei Wuxian is perplexed.
“…Are we not friends, Lan Zhan?”
“We are husbands.” Lan Wangji stresses.
“Well, we are both!” Wei Wuxian concludes, “I don’t understand why you are so angry, Lan Zhan, what is upsetting you?”
“That… woman,” Lan Wangji says, as if it is the least unpleasant thing he can utter in polite company, which Wei Wuxian has never been, “was under the impression that we… are not together. That you are not mine.”
“And why should it matter what a stranger thinks of me?” Wei Wuxian counters wryly, “If I were to care about that, I should never leave the jingshi.”
Lan Wangji mutters something which sounds suspiciously like I would not object, which makes Wei Wuxian’s quiet amusement bubble into a laugh. Oh! Wei Wuxian realises with wicked delight.
“My Lan-er-gege!” He exclaims, “What would the Lan elders think of you now, hm? I’m sure jealousy is prohibited somewhere in one of those four thousand rules.”
“I am sure those rules were not created with someone like Wei Ying in mind.”
“The last thousand certainly were.” Wei Wuxian snorts, and Lan Wangji finally laughs, the dreadful seriousness wiped from his face. Wei Wuxian loves it when Lan Wangji treats him harshly in bed — encourages it, even — but in conversation he prefers his gege to be kind, soft, indulgent.
After all, he lives to be spoiled, and Lan Wangji does it so well.
Wei Wuxian cannot help but lean over the table to plant a kiss on his husband’s smiling mouth, a kiss his husband would no doubt attempt to deepen if Wei Wuxian did not lean back. As he does, some sincerity returns to Lan Wangji’s gaze.
“She… wanted you.”
“I really don’t think-” Wei Wuxian starts to object, but Lan Wangji shakes his head.
“She saw your beauty, and she wanted you. I am able to recognise that urge, after being so familiar with it myself. I do not… like that.”
“You don’t like that someone else looked at me without knowing I was yours.” Wei Wuxian surmises, and Lan Wangji nods. There is something almost self-conscious about his acknowledgement, and Wei Wuxian softens slightly. He loves his husband so much.
“Lan Zhan, I don’t mind that you’re jealous.” Wei Wuxian tells him with a smile, and sees some of the invisible tension stiffening Lan Wangji’s spine melt away. “The things you love have always been taken from you, so of course now that I’m here again you want me safe. I don’t mind it at all. In fact, I like it…”
Lan Wangji’s gaze sharpens with something else as a familiar tone enters Wei Wuxian’s voice.
“Why don’t we go upstairs to our room, and you can show everyone who I really belong to. After all, these walls must be so thin, and I fear I’ve forgotten our silencing talismans…”
Lan Wangji’s hand comes across the table to grip Wei Wuxian’s wrist, hard enough to bruise, but he remains seated.
“You must eat first.”
“Yes, let’s have dinner, Lan-er-gege.” Wei Wuxian purrs, “and after, dessert.”
Cloud Recesses has been uncharacteristically busy with visiting disciples arriving in order to partake in the Gusu Summer School programme. Wei Wuxian has reluctantly been allowed to lead a few select classes on the strict instruction that he does not corrupt any young minds, according to Lan Qiren, who had allowed him this only after going through at least half Cloud Recesses’ store of meditative tea, and who still appeared as if he would go through a qi deviation at any minute.
Wei Wuxian had been delighted to greet his nephew yesterday, who of course resisted Wei Wuxian’s welcoming hug with with a grunt and an elbow in the gut — Better than a knife! Wei Wuxian had joked, to approximately no one’s amusement — and Sizhui and Jingyi were clearly overjoyed to reunite with all their friends.
Wei Wuxian is strictly limited to teaching only the older disciples, on the grounds that they are apparently less susceptible to his demonic teachings, but Wei Wuxian is still happy, even though the sight of all those little serious-faced Lan disciples he is decidedly not permitted to teach makes him want to adopt another horde of children to cuddle and tease all day.
Whenever he mentions this thought to Lan Wangji, he can expect to be pounced on within the next ten seconds.
The class Wei Wuxian enjoys most is, of course, archery. As one of the few hobbies Wei Wuxian was able to maintain even after the loss of his core, he has a certain fondness for it, not diminished by his obvious affinity for the sport.
An affinity not shared, unfortunately, by Sizhui’s friend. The Ouyang boy, Wei Wuxian vaguely recollects, is struggling even to nock his arrow, much to the amusement of the other juniors. Wei Wuxian wants to remind them of the Lan Sect’s thirteenth rule, do not mock others, but he cannot reference the rules when he does not abide by them himself. As it is, all he can do is aid the clearly flustered boy.
“Relax your elbow,” He advises, placing a hand on the boy’s tensed arm and pushing it downwards to the level of his hips. “Nock the arrow down here and it’s easier, see? Just relax and let the arrow find its place.”
“Y-yes, Senior Wei.” The boy stammers, and Wei Wuxian’s heart fills with pity; he must really struggle with archery. To help him more, Wei Wuxian places his other hand on the boy’s upper back, encouraging him to stand up straight.
“The stance is very important for archery, more than anything else.” He tells the boy. He straightens up accordingly, making Wei Wuxian smile proudly. The boy, who had turned around to watch his teacher’s expression, drops the bow.
“Wow, you are certainly clumsy!” Wei Wuxian laughs, followed by the other junior disciples who have evidently stopped to watch the display. Inwardly, Wei Wuxian frowns. Now he will have to help the boy even more, to account for his shyness in front of others. As Wei Wuxian bends over to pick up the bow, he hears a stifled gasp behind him, and rises again with the bow in hand to glance around hastily, checking that no one had accidentally injured themselves or something like that.
Thankfully — Lan Qiren would murder him if any of the disciples were harmed — all the disciples seem fairly unharmed. The boy of course still looks incredibly flustered, but Wei Wuxian simply attributes that to his embarrassment over dropping the bow. Wei Wuxian hands it back with a benevolent smile.
“Here you go. Just try to aim, and I’ll give you pointers where they’re needed.”
“Yes, very good,” Wei Wuxian murmurs approvingly as the bow is raised again, and he notices the flush deepen on the boy’s cheek. Hm, perhaps he has a crush in the class whom he is trying to impress…? To try and raise his confidence, Wei Wuxian continues complimenting him, “Perfect, you’ll be sure to hit the mark well! Just adjust slightly to account for the wind-”
Wei Wuxian has just draped his other arm across the boy’s back in order to urge his right arm to the proper direction when he hears the clear voice of his husband.
“Lan Zhan, just wait a moment-” Wei Wuxian yells distractedly, still focusing on his aim, “Yes, come on, and loose the arrow… now!”
The arrow finds its mark after the boy looses it, and Wei Wuxian whoops in celebration.
“Yes! Well done, um-”
“Zizhen.” The boy breathes when it is clear Wei Wuxian is not going to recall his name any time soon.
“Well done, Zizhen. You’ve learned well.”
“Wei Ying.” His husband’s voice seems a lot closer now, enough that Wei Wuxian can feel his warm breath against his nape, and Wei Wuxian spins around with a grin.
“Lan Zhan! Did you see that? Zizhen is practically a master archer now! I don’t doubt even the illustrious Hanguang-Jun could not surpass his skill!”
Rather than help him raise Zizhen’s confidence — which may take some work, Wei Wuxian worries, as the boy is perhaps even more flustered now, stuttering and blushing behind him — Lan Wangji seizes him by the wrist and practically drags him away.
“Lan Zhan! I’m- I’m in the middle of a lesson!” Wei Wuxian protests as he stumbles helplessly alongside his apparently furious husband.
“The lesson is scheduled to end within a few minutes, the children will be fine.” Lan Wangji rejoins. Wei Wuxian is so scandalised that he forgets to watch where he’s going, and trips over an errant pebble on the otherwise immaculate Cloud Recess paths.
Wei Wuxian screws his eyes shut as the ground rears up beneath him — he falls often, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it — and prepares for the jarring sensation of his knees hitting the gravel.
It never comes.
Instead, Wei Wuxian is wrapped in a pair of strong arms and lifted, being settled against smooth robes, warmed from the skin underneath. Ah yes, of course Lan Wangji would catch him yet again.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian slits his eyes open, peering up at Lan Wangji’s clenched jaw. “I seem to have fallen for you.”
“Ridiculous.” Lan Zhan replies, but Wei Wuxian can hear the reluctant fondness in his words, and shuts his eyes again, content to settle in and wait until his husband decides to tell him what is bothering him.
Wei Wuxian feels a slight lurch as Lan Wangji steps up on something, though Lan Wangji is careful to let him remain as undisturbed as possible, and after he hears a panel slide back and forth on perfectly oiled hinges, Wei Wuxian is quite sure they have entered the jingshi. The familiar scent of Lan Wangji’s preferred incense sticks for mediation comforts him, and Wei Wuxian turns his head into Lan Wangji’s chest more firmly, nuzzling him while still keeping his eyes closed.
He is set gently on their bed, and feels a hand brush over his hair — tightly bound up in a ponytail so as to be kept out of the way during archery — as the soft mat dips slightly beneath him. Wei Wuxian is arranged, pliant and soft for his husband, on his lap. A large hand snakes around his torso to press him flat against Lan Wangji’s chest, and his husband hums in approval as he fully ensconces Wei Wuxian.
Everything is warm sensation, and if Wei Wuxian has to endure an afternoon of pampering in order to allay the great Hanguang-Jun’s bad mood, who is he to complain? Lan Wangji begins to undo Wei Wuxian’s hair, running his fingers through his aching scalp as Wei Wuxian lets out soft moans.
“You fight dirty, Lan Zhan, you - ah, yes, baobei - you know I love it when you play with my hair.”
“…Not fighting.” Lan Wangji replies, dropping a kiss to the crown of his head. There is a brief pause as the ribbon is drawn out of Wei Wuxian’s hair — presumably as Lan Wangji ties it around his own wrist — but before Wei Wuxian can complain, his hands have returned, and Wei Wuxian melts on his husband’s lap.
“Will you tell me what upset you earlier, er-gege?”
“…Hm.” Lan Wangji murmurs. Wei Wuxian can tell his mind is drifting back to… whatever it was that provoked him, because his fingers have tightened their grip ever so slightly. Wei Wuxian buts his head into Lan Wangji’s palm like a cat, reminding him to be gentle.
“Come on, which minor sect leader do I have to terrorise? Was it Yao? I hope it was Yao.”
“Ouyang.” Lan Wangji mutters, and Wei Wuxian swivels around clumsily until he straddles Lan Wangji, looping his arms around his neck. Lan Wangji avoids his eyes, and Wei Wuxian suppresses a sigh. Doesn’t this man know that Wei Wuxian loves him, all of him? Lan Wangji has this strange idea that Wei Wuxian would disprove of his darker side, his anger, his possessiveness, his contempt of others, which is frankly ridiculous.
“Sect Leader Ouyang? Well, he always has been infuriating-”
“Not- not the Sect Leader.”
“One of the disciples, then? Really, Sect Leader Ouyang should enforce discipline more. Just yesterday, one of-”
“It was his son.”
“His… oh, Ouyang Zizhen?” Wei Wuxian remembers vaguely, then frowns. “But… just now I was helping him in a lesson. Surely he can’t have gotten up to any mischief yet-”
“You know that I… do not enjoy you… touching others.” Lan Wangji grounds out. It is not accusatory, no, he sounds almost embarrassed to say this, which Wei Wuxian frankly finds adorable, but he can’t really see what his husband’s possessive nature has to do with Sizhui’s friend.
“…Yes…” Wei Wuxian replies slowly, quirking a brow at Lan Wangji, who then looks at him as if he is being deliberately obtuse. “I know that, Lan Zhan. But what does that have to do with- Ohhhhhh!”
Wei Wuxian laughs as he finally realises what has his husband so frustrated. Aforementioned husband does not speak, his ears remaining a stubborn shade of delicate pink.
“Ah, Lan Zhan, you are jealous of teenagers now!” Wei Wuxian crows, and the ears darken to Wei Wuxian’s wicked satisfaction.
“Do not tease.”
“You are jealous of children! Of tiny little toddlers!” Wei Wuxian can hardly breathe through his laughter. “Will you be this way when we have children of our own, Lan-er-gege? When you fill me up with babies-”
Lan Wangji’s eyes flash.
“-what will you do when my stomach is round with them, hm? All swollen with your children? After all, aren’t you the only one who’s allowed to be inside me-”
Lan Wangji flips them over, Wei Wuxian landing on his back, hard, legs splaying out as Lan Wangji thrusts himself between them mercilessly. Lan Wangji is already hard, and Wei Wuxian finds he is not far behind.
“Ah, Lan-er-gege,” He gasps, “I’m beginning to think the only way to assuage your jealousy is to seduce you.”
Lan Wangji does not remove his face from where it is buried in the juncture of Wei Wuxian’s neck, kissing and licking and biting.
“You should get jealous more often.” Wei Wuxian laughs breathily, but soon stops when it becomes clear that he is unable to do anything else but be kissed.
Lan Wangji is on his way back to the jingshi when he hears his husband moan.
Lan Wangji quickens his steps, a flash of impatience joining the arousal thrumming through him like a heartbeat. Wei Wuxian was supposed to wait for him in the evenings. It was what they had agreed, and they had already had a tryst just after midday, with Wei Wuxian crying and drooling, bent over Lan Wangji’s desk while he opened him up with his tongue. Is he so desperate that he has to resort to pleasuring himself, especially when he knows Lan Wangji will be back so soon?
Or, Lan Wangji considers, does he want to be caught in the act? Does he want Lan Wangji to shame him for being so desperate? To drag him into bed? To punish him?
Lan Wangji is close now. To the jingshi, and the pretty little moans of his husband float out through the — undoubtedly intentional — open window, joined by a symphony of pants and creaks as skin slaps against-
Those are not just his husband’s moans.
Lan Wangji practically flies to the jingshi, ripping the panel out of the way to see his husband. His husband, on all fours, letting out gurgled moans as his mouth is thrust into by- by… Lan Wangji? And at his ass, Lan Wangji pounding into him without mercy, and- and another Lan Wangji underneath Wei Ying, his cock shoved in alongside the other as his hands rest proprietarily on Wei Wuxian’s thick cheeks.
On his Wei Ying’s thick cheeks. Lan Wangji — the real one — sees red.
There is a haphazard pile of talismans on the desk, presumably how Wei Wuxian engineered this whole mess, and most of them seem to be centred around one of Lan Wangji’s spare headbands, lying atop a painted rune. Lan Wangji ignores Wei Wuxian — who seems to have noticed his presence, and is letting out hoarse-throated cries to join them — and draws bichen.
He would love to run through these false Lan Wangjis with his blade, withdraw it slowly, watch them collapse to the ground and bleed out… but he cannot. They are too close to his Wei Ying, and thus the risk unfortunately cannot be taken. Perhaps he can summon them again later purely for the satisfaction of killing them.
Lan Wangji cleaves through the table with his sword, breaking the rune, and — judging by Wei Wuxian’s dismayed whine — effectively destroying the imposters. Good. Lan Wangji turns on his heel, striding over to the bed where Wei Wuxian has collapsed face first without anyone else to hold him up.
Lan Wangji grips him by the hips and ruthlessly tugs him back up onto all fours, tearing off his own pants and decidedly ignoring Wei Wuxian’s protests. His hole is gaping, the remains of what looks like three lots of come already sliding past the loose pink rim. It seems that Wei Wuxian has been having his fun for some time before Lan Wangji arrived.
He shoves himself in without warning. Wei Wuxian cries, but his hole is ready and wet, almost sloppy around Lan Wangji’s cock.
“Were you that desperate?” He growls, one hand pushing Wei Wuxian’s face into the pillow, the other keeping a bruising grip on his ass as it ripples with the force of Lan Wangji’s thrusts. He gives it a sharp slap. “Desperate enough to make yourself a doll to fuck you? And not even that was enough, you little slut.”
Lan Wangji wrenches Wei Wuxian’s head up with a fistful of his hair, looks at his pretty, tear-stained face for a second, before letting it drop again. He uses his now free hand to force another three fingers in Wei Wuxian’s hole. Wei Wuxian screams.
“You’re so fucking loose, I could probably fit my whole fist in here. Would that be enough to fill you up? Would you be happy, so stuffed full of cock you can barely breathe? Does it even have to be cock, or should I grab bichen and plug you up so you’ll stop being such a whore?”
“I’m s-sorry, Lan Zhan- ah! - so sorry, please,” Wei Wuxian begs, his breath stuttering as it is pushed out of him by the force of Lan Wangji’s thrusts.
Despite his words, Lan Wangji honestly does not know how Wei Wuxian managed to fit two of Lan Wangji’s cocks inside him. There is only one now, and yet still when he smooths his hand around to Wei Wuxian’s stomach, he can feel the swell of skin where his forehead drags inside of him, pressing against his palm.
“Wei Ying, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji chants as his thrusts quicken, beginning to reach his peak, wanting to add to the mess inside of his husband, his slutty little hole.
“Lan Zhan, ah- please, let me come, please. I didn’t come, didn’t come all night, didn’t want to come without you Lan-er-gege, your Wei Ying waited for you-”
“Yes, my Wei Ying, mine.”
“Lan Zhan, please-”
“Yes, come, Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian tightens around him as he comes, his lithe little body collapsing into bliss. Lan Wangji still holds him up by the hips, mercilessly pumping into him until he finds release, and then slowing his thrusts to a more lazy pace, watching in satisfaction as the mess of come dribbles down Wei Wuxian’s shaking thighs.
He waits until Wei Wuxian starts crying again out of over-sensitivity before he slows his thrusts to a stop and gently pulls out. Immediately, Wei Wuxian is reaching out to him, needy palms outstretched, and Lan Wangji collapses onto him without protest.
Wei Wuxian prefers to be held after particularly strenuous scenes, so Lan Wangji keeps him wrapped up in his arms, briefly reaching over to drag a blanket atop of them. Even though, with their sweat — among other substances— covered bodies, it should feel unpleasant, Lan Wangji can feel nothing but contentment as his husband snuggles into his chest.
“Lan Zhan~” Wei Wuxian whines a short while later, his voice still slightly hoarse. Lan Wangji resents the fact that he was not the one to ruin Wei Wuxian’s throat like this.
“Did you really not like seeing the… other Lan Zhans with me?”
Lan Wangji tightens his hold around Wei Wuxian.
“Not even if you could be there when they were summoned?” Wei Wuxian tries, but slumps down defeatedly when Lan Wangji responds with a firm shake of his head. “Oh. What a shame. I really enjoyed getting pounded by three of you, you know.”
“It’s not like I was with someone else.” Wei Wuxian reasons, “They weren’t even people! Just talisman puppets.”
“Talisman puppets?” Lan Wangji enquires, and feels Wei Wuxian perk up excitedly, as he always does when he talks about his inventions. Lan Wangji watches him fondly, a familiar feeling glowing in his chest.
“Yes, I finally perfected them! All you have to do is use an object with an imprint of the spiritual power of someone, and you can create a temporary mimicry of them! Of course, they aren’t sentient — that would be inhumane — but they retain all the physical strength of their originator, and can be cajoled into tasks pretty easily-”
“This is a groundbreaking invention.” Lan Wangji interrupts, allowing only the slightest shade of amusement to colour his tone.
“I know!” Wei Wuxian counters, doing a smug little wiggle on Lan Wangji’s chest.
“And you used it… to sate your sexual desire.”
Wei Wuxian gives him a roguish grin. “What kind of inventor would I be if I didn’t give my creations a test ride?”
Lan Wangji will not grant that with a laugh, not when the thought of the puppets thrusting into Wei Wuxian still makes him seethe with voyeuristic rage, but he does not push Wei Wuxian off him, which is generous as far as Lan Wangji is concerned.
“You aren’t… truly angry with me, are you Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian asks hesitantly, and Lan Wangji sighs.
“Could never be angry with Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji confesses, rolling them both over onto their sides so their bodies curve in towards each other. Wei Wuxian’s gaze is slightly nervous on his, now. “Can be angry at… false puppets. Who touch what is not theirs.”
“Lan Zhan, they’re you.” Wei Wuxian says, relief bubbling out of his sore throat in a chuckle.
“They are not. I am me. Wei Ying does not need anything else.”
“Hm. You’re right, er-gege.” Wei Wuxian smiles, shuffling closer so he can drape his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders and press their foreheads together. “I don’t need anything else.”
“I need someone to get rid of that boy before I snap and murder everyone in the surrounding vicinity.”
Sizhui looks vaguely disturbed. Jingyi looks ecstatic.
Jin Ling is wearing his usual look of teenage disgust. “I thought you were the Yiling Laozu, why don’t you just get rid of him yourself?”
“Because,” Wei Wuxian explains patiently, as if he is not currently watching his husband being flirted with barely a few dozen chi away, “if I do, Lan Zhan will never let me forget it. I will never be able to tease Lan Zhan for being jealous ever again, and that cannot be allowed to happen.”
“Isn’t marriage meant to be the ‘harmonious twining of two concurrent souls’?” Jingyi quotes the sect rules with the false-piety he dons whenever Lan Qiren is within listening distance.
“No!” Wei Wuxian hisses, “Marriage is a competition, and I have to win! A-Yuan, come, won’t you help your poor Wei-gege?”
Sizhui’s face twists in indecision, wearing his emotions on his cloud-embroidered sleeve in a way he was never taught to at Cloud Recesses. Even this small reminder of the young boy Wei Wuxian helped raise makes his throat tighten ever so slightly.
“Surely, it would be best to simply talk to Hanguang-Jun…”
Never mind. Wei Wuxian has no allies. He turns desperately to Jin Ling, who looks more and more bitter by the second that he begrudgingly accepted their invitation to a small night-hunt.
“Jin Ling! Come on, doesn’t it anger you to see your dear uncle treated so shamefully?”
“It annoys me that my uncle acts so shamefully,” Jin Ling mutters under his breath, but nevertheless allows Wei Wuxian to pull him along to join Lan Wangji and the limpet in the form of a gangly boy who has now decided to attach himself to Lan Wangji’s arm.
“…So strong!” Wei Wuxian hears as they drift closer.
“Who does he think he is, flirting like this?” Wei Wuxian whispers furiously, “Who would be shameless enough to say such things?”
“He sounds like you.” Jingyi, who has for some reason decided to tag along after all, says, and Sizhui elbows him in the gut.
Lan Wangji stands, stone faced under the assault, though Wei Wuxian can detect a low simmer of irritation under the veneer of placidity, and it makes him preen slightly. Yes, you carbuncular little twerp, Wei Wuxian crows inwardly, my Lan Zhan doesn’t like you at all!
Once they reach him, Wei Wuxian drapes himself proprietarily over Lan Wangji’s back and sucks his earlobe in between his teeth. He hears Jin Ling gag behind them, but pays him no mind, keeping his eyes directly on the boy as he jerks away from Lan Wangji like he’s been burnt. His husband twists around slightly to wrap an arm loosely around his waist, but otherwise continues the conversation, unbothered.
“As you said, when the spirit appeared in the well-”
“Ah, Hanguang-Jun,” The boy demurs. He seems to have recovered his ill-placed confidence after Wei Wuxian’s arrival, and an unattractive smirk slithers across his pimply face. God, this kid can’t be older than twenty years of age. Wei Wuxian wants to squish him beneath his boots. “Maybe we should discuss the case somewhere more… private.”
“Unnecessary.” Lan Wangji replies shortly, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t bother to hide his snort as the boy flinches. The boy seems to take this as a provocation, and straightens up.
“Don’t you think we should discuss it without…” the boy flicks his gaze unsubtly towards Wei Wuxian, “-him here?”
Lan Wangji stiffens next to him. The boy doesn’t notice, and carries on, undaunted. “After all, it might have been him who summoned it here in the first place. We all know what Wei-”
“You will not speak his name.” Lan Wangji cuts in, his tone and gaze icy, even as his hand burns into Wei Wuxian’s waist. “You are not good enough to hold the syllables in your mouth. You are not good enough to even breathe within the presence of my husband.”
“I…” The boy stutters, eyes wide, “I thought that was- a rumour. I- I should go?”
“Or you should stop breathing.” Lan Wangji suggests viciously, already advancing towards the boy, drawing his sword-
Wei Wuxian holds him back with a delicate hand placed on the hilt of bichen. Lan Wangji stops immediately, but throws him a confused glare as he allows the boy to stumble away.
“He insulted you.” Lan Wangji states, as if that alone is grounds for murder. “I cannot allow it.” He continues, as if he read Wei Wuxian’s expressions. He probably did, Wei Wuxian realises fondly.
“Ah, Lan-er-gege,” He sighs, and sees the juniors fleeing away from them out of the corner of his eye. A good judgement call on their part, obviously. “You don’t need to kill that kid to protect my honour. All you need to do is… pay me attention.” He utters the last words softly, through bitten lips as he gazes at Lan Wangji from beneath his eyelashes. Lan Wangji is helpless to this kind of look, and sure enough, he abandons bichen on the forest floor in favour of pulling Wei Wuxian closer.
“Am always attending to Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji breathes, and Wei Wuxian pouts, shaking his head morosely. He realises it is not so bad to be jealous, if it makes Lan Wangji this enamoured of him.
“You weren’t paying attention to me.” He sighs, “Barely even looked at me. Aren’t I pretty today, er-gege?”
“Yes,” Lan Wangji says, pulling Wei Wuxian closer as his arms wrap fully, easily, around his waist, “Wei Ying is always pretty.”
“Prettier than that boy, right?” Wei Wuxian knows he is, but it is still gratifying to see the confusion on Lan Wangji’s face as he tries to even comprehend the ridiculous question. It renders him speechless for a few moments, before Lan Wangji regains his composure.
“I barely even saw that boy. Cannot see anyone except my beautiful Wei Ying.”
Even though this is exactly the answer he was expecting, Wei Wuxian still finds out he cannot handle it.
“Lan Zhan!” He cries, burying his face in his husband’s shoulder and effectively ruining the whole coquettish thing he had going on, “You can’t just say these things! What am I supposed to do now, huh? Just deal with it?”
“Wei Ying has had his entire life to become accustomed to his beauty. If he still cannot fully acknowledge it, it must fall on others to inform him.”
“Others?” Wei Wuxian mumbles into Lan Wangji’s shoulder, “Should I go into the village and ask everyone there if they think I am pretty?”
“Must fall on myself to inform him.” Lan Wangji corrects himself. “No one else.”
After a moment, in which Wei Wuxian tries in vain to physically suppress the blush he knows is still burning on his cheeks, Lan Wangji speaks again.
“Was Wei Ying… jealous, earlier?”
He sounds disgustingly smug. Wei Wuxian loves him so much.
“Nope.” Wei Wuxian lies, and Lan Wangji hums, obviously disbelieving.
“Wei Ying likes to tease, but cannot be teased in return?”
“No.” He replies flatly, before threatening, “Or I’ll cry.”
“Wei Ying looks very pretty when he cries.” Lan Zhan replies serenely, his contended smirk not even faltering as he effortlessly catches the fist Wei Wuxian swings at him half-heartedly.
He twists Wei Wuxian’s wrist so that his arm is pinned behind him, catching Wei Wuxian’s other arm around his neck and pinning that to his back as well. Now that he has Wei Wuxian helplessly caught — Oh no, Wei Wuxian thinks delightedly — he traps him against a tree, leaning on one arm placed beside Wei Wuxian’s head.
He leans in and plants a chase kiss on Wei Wuxian’s lips, leaning back before Wei Wuxian can deepen it, much to his discontent. Lan Wangji watches his little grumbling indulgently, like Wei Wuxian’s choices are of little consequence to him, which, in this position, they are. He places a smattering of other kisses, on his forehead, on the tip of his nose, on his ear, up his jawline. He kisses him until Wei Wuxian is panting slightly, unable to get away from Lan Wangji even if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to.
Lan Wangji surveys his work, letting out a quiet exhale which to anyone else would be a heavy sigh of contentment.
“My pretty, lovely, jealous little Wei Ying.”
Wei Wuxian flushes, but doesn’t try to deny it.
“My pretty, lovely, jealous husband, Lan Zhan.”
“Mn. We are well-suited to each other.”
“I would expect nothing less from my zhiji.” Wei Wuxian smiles, and Lan Wangji smiles back, a gentle thing that so little people have the privilege of viewing. It is this treasure, more than any other, which Wei Wuxian guards so jealously.
“And I would not expect less from my Wei Ying.”
“Ah, yours?” Wei Wuxian teases lightly. Lan Wangji finally unpins him from the tree, gathering him close into his arms, close enough that he can feel Lan Wangji’s heart — the heart he had given to him so long ago — beating against his own.