Lan Wangji is not quite himself.
It started when they first reunited, his eyes streaked with blood. Lan Wangji is still very much a mystery to him most of the time. Wei Wuxian is sure he’ll figure him out just as soon as he reconciles the version he holds in his mind from before with the one in front of him, thirteen years later. He figures this mood of Lan Wangji’s is something he will be able to retroactively puzzle out.
When they meet with Nie Huaisang, he chalks it up to chasing someone like this through the woods. It's strange to him how different his old friend has become; everyone has grown so different from before that he no longer notes this with any real confusion or anxiety, but he notices. There are too many thoughts swirling in his head for him to pay much attention after they see him out.
He only comes to when he feels Lan Wangji rolling up the leg of his trousers.
Kneeling, he rolls it up in neat, crisp folds. “Wait, again?” Wei Wuxian asks, surprised by the concentrated focus this seems to spark in Lan Wangji.
“We will remove the Curse Mark first,” he says while continuing to roll. Wei Wuxian feels odd, an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach as he watches Lan Wangji kneel like this before him. How many times would he do such a thing?
“I’ll do it myself,” Wei Wuxian starts, leaning down. Lan Wangji bats his hands away.
They both blink in surprise. Wei Wuxian is more shocked at Lan Wangji’s seemingly instinctive reaction than his audacity. He’s normally so controlled!
He isn’t the only one confused. There’s a brief furrow in Lan Wangji’s brow, but he continues rolling up the cloth as though no interruption ever came. Wei Wuxian resigns himself to that funny flip in his stomach and lets him carry on.
The trouser leg reaches his knee, but the curse mark very obviously continues on beyond it. Lan Wangji pauses; Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to offer once more, but the moment passes. Lan Wangji’s even hands continue to fold, if a little faster and perhaps a little less perfect.
He knew it! Lan Wangji’s face can’t really be as thick as his. His satisfaction lasts until he realizes he’s frowning down at a curse mark that’s well up his thigh. Lan Wangji won’t be able to look at all of it, not unless Wei Wuxian disrobes, which, after the many displays he’s already made, he doesn’t really think—
A pinch stops his train of thought. Lan Wangji is grasping his thigh far too tight, so tight he might bruise. The sound of his name doesn’t shake him from the act. He stares down at Wei Wuxian’s thigh like it’s personally offended him.
Is he so angry? What was he supposed to do, leave the thing on Jin Ling?! It’s not like Wei Wuxian has never taken on bodily impurities before.
He snaps his fingers in front of Lan Wangji’s face, which jars him enough that he lets go, averting his eyes altogether.
They’re interrupted by the corpse arm, drawn to him by the curse mark crawling up his leg toward his heart. Discussion of their plans for tomorrow—going to the Nie Sect’s Saber Hall to take a look for what they might have missed—carry them through preparations for bed.
It’s probably fine. Even an esteemed cultivator such as Hanguang-jun is bound to have a little bit of an off day, hm?
He wakes far too warm. The first thing he notes is the press of the bed against his back; Wei Wuxian has a lot of sleeping positions he rolls through during the night, but he never sleeps like this. It’s the sort of thing the Lans do: sleeping on their backs and waiting for the coffin.
The second thing he registers is that his legs have been forced apart. A heavy weight rests atop his overheated body. As he struggles to surface from the depths of his sleeping mind that weight grinds forward, and he realizes it comes from a person.
More specifically from Lan Wangji!
The soup of his thoughts clarifies somewhat in his blind panic. Since they stopped the farce of him pretending to be Mo Xuanyu when alone with Lan Wangji, there has been no need to freeze his body and keep him in the bed. Indeed, his limbs are entirely unfettered; it’s very easy for him to push at Lan Wangji’s shoulders, though it doesn’t have any effect.
So why has he reversed their former sleeping position?
He grinds his hips down again, a slow, lazy motion that nonetheless shocks a squeak from Wei Wuxian’s very awake mouth. He pushes harder at Lan Wangji’s shoulders, but this only causes him to bear down further. Something large and foreign rubs against Wei Wuxian’s stomach through his undergarments.
“Wha—” he manages to get out, tongue clumsy with sleep, “Lan Zhan?”
There’s no verbal response, but after he speaks he feels Lan Wangji’s breath on his neck for a moment before a harsh bite clamps down on his throat. Wei Wuxian lets out a startled cry and pushes aggressively at his shoulders, but all it does is gain less than a cun between their bodies. Lan Wangji is heavy!
He must be asleep. That’s the only explanation for his actions. The Lan Wangji he knows would never hold him down like this while awake…
Trying to speak enough to rouse him, Wei Wuxian digs his nails into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and gives a nervous laugh. The sensation sparks a twinge where Lan Wangji’s teeth are still buried in his skin, his lazy grinding more forceful than it was before.
“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, voice high, “this must be a very nice dream of yours. What maiden has invaded your thoughts? Is she pretty?”
The bite ends abruptly, with Lan Wangji sitting up just enough that Wei Wuxian can see the flash of his pale eyes in the darkness. Success!
“Yes,” he babbles back, relief coursing through him, “Lan Zhan, you’re awake, that’s good, I thought you would be embarrassed, hahaha—”
The nervous giggle is cut through as Lan Wangji rears up; he sits back on his haunches and flips Wei Wuxian onto his front. He makes a sound of surprise, somewhat muffled by this new position. “Wei Ying,” he hears again as one huge, hot hand palms down his back and finds the waist of his trousers.
“What are you doing,” he asks, tone strange even in his own ears, “Lan Zhan, are you awake?”
He pulls down Wei Wuxian’s trousers to the knees, exposing his backside to the cool air. When he flipped him, he put Wei Wuxian’s legs on either side of his body. Now Wei Wuxian feels entirely splayed open, shameful and exposed in a way he didn’t know was possible.
Two warm hands cup his flesh, thumbs parting him wide. He’s been in a shocked stupor up until this point, but there’s something so demeaning about this, about the thought that Lan Wangji’s cool gaze is on his—on his—
He tries to get away, but where can he go? The wall is not far from his head; when he reaches out to pull himself forward, it’s easy for Lan Wangji to tug him back. His hands dig harshly into the soft flesh of his thighs.
“Don’t,” he commands. Wei Wuxian tries to kick him and gets thwarted by the tangled trousers still trapping the lower halves of his legs.
“Get off me,” Wei Wuxian demands. “I don’t care if you’re asleep, you know it’s me, are you dreaming of me?” The thought temporarily draws him up short, his thoughts distracted by this new consideration. He said Wei Ying. If he’s dreaming…
“Quiet.” A slap rings through the room as Lan Wangji’s hand comes down on his backside. It doesn’t hurt, not even a sting, but Wei Wuxian has never been punished this way. It stings his pride so harshly he feels mortification swell.
That is it. He tries to turn and hit him back, fight back, do anything at all, but Lan Wangji has so much control from his position above him, Wei Wuxian’s body already in a prime spot to be made helpless. Lan Wangji grasps him by the back of the neck and pulls him upright, the motion so fast it makes him dizzy. The split second advantage is all he needs; no matter how hard he struggles, Lan Wangji is able to tie his hands in front of him. Where did he get a tie?
Wei Wuxian looks down just in time to catch the white flash, the clouds patterned on the fabric, before he’s pushed face down again. His hands are tied together and trapped beneath him. They brush his cock; another swell of mortification rises when he realizes it’s half hard, still small and soft to the touch but not entirely disinterested.
No, of course he would be disinterested. Is it possible this new body simply has lingering cut-sleeve hungers that are entirely irrelevant to whose soul is housed inside?
“Lan Zhan,” he whines, making his voice as pitiful as he can, “that hurt! This body of mine is more delicate than the last one, you can’t just hit as you please. How can you treat me like this?”
If fighting didn’t work, perhaps he can try a new tactic? Hanguang-jun is known for helping the weak and doing what’s right. Maybe Wei Wuxian is exempt from such things; perhaps, if he can make himself seem sad and downtrodden enough, Lan Wangji will take pity on him?
Lan Wangji does not take pity on him.
“Be still,” he murmurs, his voice coming from a lower position than Wei Wuxian expected it to. There’s a shuffle on the bed behind him, those two hands holding him open again. He is not still. He pulls instinctively away, trying to shuffle forward using his shoulders alone.
“Please wake up,” he asks. “Lan Zhan, you have to wake up—”
A shocked trill bursts from the back of his throat as the sensation of something wet and foreign invades him from below.
He bucks forward and tries to get away, but that only makes his cock brush between his tightly bound hands. The movement wrenches a gasp from him as this cursed body betrays him again. Lan Wangji’s hands slide over the round flesh of his ass, curling around his hips and tugging them harshly backward, shoving his hole back onto his tongue.
It’s wrong, it’s so wrong, it’s—
“Stop!” Wei Wuxian yells, high and panicked. “Stop that!!!!!”
Lan Wangji does not stop. He laps over Wei Wuxian’s hole until he can feel saliva dripping down his skin, messy and undignified. The sounds of Lan Wangji’s mouth are entirely shameless. His hands keep Wei Wuxian immobilized, unable to move away from the torturous feeling; he does his best to clench down, to keep himself private. Shame flushes his whole body red.
“You shouldn’t—Lan Zhan, don’t! Are you—nn—did a lustful spirit possess you?!”
The only answer is the dip of his tongue inside Wei Wuxian, who forgot to clench down so tight while he was talking. He tries again, but the only thing that does is make Lan Wangji moan, low and deep, and the sensation… he shouldn’t do that again. He definitely wouldn’t be able to handle it. Nothing else that might make Lan Wangji moan.
He can’t exactly control it, is the only problem. Lan Wangji is doing things to him that shouldn’t make him feel the way he does. He’s beginning to suspect cut-sleevery is rooted in the body somehow; why else would his cock pulse warm wetness across his now-sticky fingers nearly every time Lan Wangji pressed inside his hole? He’s sure that—his hole before can’t have felt like this, it can’t have been this sensitive, it’s been well over 13 years since he felt any pleasure at all but surely it wasn’t like this, because there’s no way he could have missed something like that about his own body, so—
There’s a thumb over him. It’s. Big. Lan Wangji licks around it, softening his fluttering hole and tugging at the rim. Something about opening him up further feels like too much.
It’s all way too much.
“Stop, stop,” he gasps, “I’m serious, I really, you can’t do this to me, please, Lan Zhan, I thought you didn’t hate me anymore, Lan Zhan!”
He probably isn’t listening. Maybe he can’t hear him. That’s the only explanation for why he begs and Lan Wangji doesn’t listen at all, spitting directly into his hole and sliding one finger inside him.
The force of his hand propels Wei Wuxian forward. The head of his dick slides over his fingertips, soft and warm, at the same time Lan Wangji brushes something inside the dry heat of his body. It sends a bolt of pure lightning through him, fiercer even than Zidian.
Against his will, against all sense and reason, Wei Wuxian comes. It pulses over his fingers and makes a mess of him. Lan Wangji is lucky that his palms catch it; how would he explain those stains on his forehead ribbon?
He’s so shocked by it that he can’t hold back, moaning as if in pain, wishing he was in pain. It’s not bad enough, it should be so, so much worse, but it’s starting to feel like it isn’t bad at all. Maybe he’s been infected, like cut-sleeves are soul contagious. Maybe he’s been possessed by a lustful spirit too.
Lan Wangji’s finger slides from him easier than it did going in. He huffs a harsh breath against Wei Wuxian’s skin, the only warning before he feels two fingers there. They dip inside before sliding out, spreading what he assumes is Lan Wangji’s remaining saliva around the rim.
“Wet,” he hears from behind him, Lan Zhan’s voice almost awed. “Wei Ying is wet.”
“Wet for me,” he murmurs, holding him open and pressing another sloppy, filthy kiss to his hole. Wei Wuxian nearly bites his tongue trying not to make another noise. He’s embarrassed and confused, unable to logic through what Lan Wangji is saying.
It’s not his fault; he hasn’t come in well over a decade, he’s allowed to feel out of sorts about it!
Still, something doesn’t seem right. It is… wetter than before, and that’s not right. Unless Mo Xuanyu was—but that’s not right, he isn’t high enough in any sort of cultivation for—is this something Lan Wangji has done? It feels impossible as anything else, but also true, like Lan Wangji’s hands and tongue have remade him into whatever he wants Wei Wuxian to be.
“What did you do,” he gasps, trying to rub some of the tacky come drying on his hands onto the bed beneath him, “what did you—how did—ah!”
Lan Wangji pushes into him without warning. Even with the—even with, he’s still, it’s still too tight, or maybe he’s very big, he feels so big, he feels really—
“No,” Wei Wuxian moans, trying to shift forward and away, “no, you can’t, too much, stop, Lan Zhan.” He sounds so tired, all the fight draining out of him one cun at a time.
For the first time, Lan Wangji’s voice sounds strained. “Can’t stop.”
That seems important. He tries to hold onto those words, but they slide away in moments. Lan Wangji pulls out and slams in again, a little deeper this time; all he can do is cry out, his shoulders and wrists aching, hair matted to his face and neck with sweat.
Every time, Wei Wuxian’s body manages to take him a little deeper. He’s terrified of what might happen when he’s all the way in.
“Take it out,” he babbles, “take it out, I can’t, it’s—Lan Zhan, it’s too big, I know you can stop, I know you can, it’s too deep, don’t!”
Nothing he says has any effect. Lan Wangji takes him ruthlessly, fucking into his body until he’s all hollowed out, clenching down on his cock so hard he’s surprised it isn’t hurting. He can’t breathe, he feels so full, like his lungs don’t even have room to expand.
Lan Wangji doesn’t seem to care.
He snaps his hips so hard, with such hunger, that Wei Wuxian won’t be surprised if his whole lower half is bruised by the end of this. He tries to care about that, tries to latch onto something that will help him remember why he tried so hard to get away, but every time he pushes in, Lan Wangji hits that spot inside him and his body reacts like a stranger. It shudders and gasps for air and helpless sounds are forced from his mouth, even around his bitten lip.
His shoulders bounce against the hard bed, cheek throbbing against it, his mouth too full of saliva to say anything more. What would he say? Stop? Lan Wangji won’t stop. Don’t do this, you don’t want this? It’s clear that he does. When the feral rhythm he’s set increases in pace and force, Wei Wuxian can no longer stop himself from making a sound every time he hits that thing in his body. His fingers fumble with the head of his cock when the force of Lan Wangji’s thrusts presses it down against his trapped fingers.
Lan Wangji gets impossibly deep all of a sudden, grinding his hips in a slow circle; Wei Wuxian feels the sudden warmth of his orgasm flooding his body. Lan Wangji’s teeth sink into Wei Wuxian’s back as a low groan escapes him. He makes a broken sound in answer, a sob as tears splash down his cheeks—or maybe he’s been crying this whole time and only noticed how shameless he’s become in this moment, when he’s been taken against his will and all he can think of is how good it feels, how he wants more of that wet heat inside him.
There is no room left for doubt. Lan Wangji has literally fucked it out of him.
He shivers there, speared open on Lan Wangji’s cock, and thinks this must be it. Surely his orgasm must have returned his ability to think, to question what he’s doing, to remember Wei Wuxian asked to stop?
That thought alone is almost enough to get him to open his mouth and ask for more; when he opens it, the only thing that comes out is a garbled noise. Slowly, impossibly, Lan Wangji circles his hips again.
He’s still hard. He’s still hard.
“Wei Ying,” he says, voice oddly slurred to Wei Wuxian’s ears. “I cannot—I am sorry, there is something…”
And just like that, between the pleasure of his body and the instinctive desire he feels to protect Lan Wangji—since when had he felt such a protective urge?—he nods, arching his hips up a little bit, pressing back on Lan Wangji and opening himself up that much more. “Okay,” he whispers, “okay."
Wei Wuxian loses himself after that.
Coming does not deter Lan Wangji at all. He fucks into him harder than ever, but it’s easier now. The wetness seeping from Wei Wuxian’s body and the wetness of Lan Wangji’s come filling him up make the slide smoother than before, the numbness of his knees adding a strange layer of pleasure to the way Lan Wangji moves within him.
It’s not about him. Lan Wangji needs this, so Wei Wuxian can open himself up to it without restraint. He’s no longer worried about whether he likes it or not, whether his body feels good or not; that alone drives him into a hard and fast orgasm not long after Lan Wangji’s. He whines as he bites down on the cloth covering the bed beneath him, the sound ending on a piteous sob.
Lan Wangji fucks them both to another orgasm after that.
By then, Wei Wuxian is truly incoherent. He cannot think around the way he feels. When he drops the soaking cloth from his drooling mouth, he tries to say Lan Wangji’s name and can’t get out the syllables. He only manages to spit out wet, hitching yelps of “Ge!” when Lan Wangji rams inside so hard it feels as though he’s going to unravel then and there. Mostly he makes noises he could never have described or identified before—loose animal sounds he won’t remember how to make when he isn’t getting fucked like this, on his belly like one of them, just another bitch waiting to be bred.
“Good,” Lan Wangji says whenever his moans get particularly miserable. “Take it.”
Wei Wuxian didn’t know he could take it until Lan Wangji made him. Maybe he can’t. He passes out when Lan Wangji fills him up again, stars behind the lids of his eyes, body limp and useless in Lan Wangji’s arms.
His reprieve doesn’t last long, though he suspects later that it was a couple hours. When he wakes, Lan Wangji is already inside him. He’s on his back this time, hands unbound, trousers and shirt stripped from him at some point while he slept. Lan Wangji’s mouth is around his nipple, twice as sensitive in this new body than he realized. The sensation causes him to arch up with a hoarse moan, throat dry, body sore.
“No more,” he slurs, properly fucked out, already forgetting what he said earlier, “no more, please, please.”
Lan Wangji’s cock grows harder inside him. He bites down around the nipple in his mouth.
Wei Wuxian curls his fingers into Lan Wangji’s hair and keens, holding on as though his life depends on it.
He’s so filthy wet. He can hear it from below, his body squelching every time Lan Wangji pushes back inside him, easier every time. He cannot help thinking maybe this body was made for this. He cannot help conflating this body with himself—perhaps there is no separation any longer.
This time, when Lan Wangji fucks into him, he carves his nails down his back, pulling him closer, legs around his waist. This time, he manages to speak aloud, voice raw as he babbles it’s okay, it’s good, Lan Zhan, it’s good, make me like it, make me need it, harder, harder—
Lan Wangji gives everything he asks so long as he doesn’t ask him to stop.
Wei Wuxian stops asking.
He sleeps very, very late. When he wakes for the first time without Lan Wangji’s weight on top of him, all he registers is the throb of his muscles—all of them hurt.
Wei Wuxian fumbles out a hand, searching for Lan Wangji’s warm body and finding nothing. “Lan Zhan?” he mumbles into the open air.
In an instant, Lan Wangji’s shadow blocks the light streaming in through the window. He kneels by the bed, hands tightly at his sides, expression closed apart from a slight frown. He looks… distant. He’s too far away.
Wei Wuxian feels a hollow pit open up in the pit of his stomach.
“Wei Ying,” he says, so earnest it cuts, “I am sorry.”
“The plants within the Ridge are not maintained as vigorously as they should be by Qinghe Nie. I believe I encountered one with a strong effect.”
Wei Wuxian’s laugh rings uncomfortably in his ears. “Right. That’s—that makes sense.”
Lan Wangji’s arm moves as though he wants to reach out before thinking better of it. Likely disgusted by the thought of touching Wei Wuxian again, after that. Who wouldn’t be, if they were forced to fuck the first person they found? He knows this body has a youthful, pretty nature, and he isn’t one to feel self-conscious, but considering the circumstances he cannot be surprised.
He sits up, aware of his nakedness but unabashed in it. He did this, after all. The least Lan Wangji can do is witness the results of his apparent loss of control.
“I apologize,” he says again. Wei Wuxian cannot bear to look at him, unwilling to see what lurks behind that pale gaze. He’s sure it won’t be anything he likes. “I remember—some.”
He freezes, turning slowly in Lan Wangji’s direction. “Some?”
“Fragments.” His voice seems to tremble in the air between them, an effect Wei Wuxian has never seen in Lan Wangji. “You begged me to stop. I could not listen.”
The world rearranges itself before Wei Wuxian’s eyes.
Slowly, with great care, he reaches until his fingertips touch Lan Wangji’s shoulder. “That’s not all,” he starts, interrupting to cough a moment. “That’s not all I said.”
Lan Wangji’s confusion is obvious.
“It’s okay, Lan Zhan. I said it was okay.”
Now he looks stricken.
“You did not—you should not have—”
“Was it so terrible?” he asks, unable to help himself. He knows he’s being unfair. He knows if he remembered someone asking him to stop and he didn’t, he would feel the same way, but he can’t help thinking about the parts that felt good, too. The parts he didn’t know could feel so good.
“Not for me.”
With more bravery than he feels, he touches Lan Wangji’s cheek. Attempt the impossible.
“Not for me, either.”
Lan Wangji recoils from his touch, eyes burning with an emotion Wei Wuxian has no name for. “Mark your words.”
“I mean it.” He shuffles over, still under the blanket, unable to let go of shame entirely until he’s certain he hasn’t misunderstood what Lan Wangji’s objections were. “I mean it. I know what I said before, but you can’t listen to me, I say things all the time. What I’m saying now matters most, and I’m telling you it was good.” He swallows once past the lump in his throat. “It was good for me, too.” Maybe he wasn’t sure until this moment, but in the saying of the thing it feels right and true.
“Good for you,” Lan Wangji repeats slowly, sounding out each syllable. Wei Wuxian nods. He moves closer; when he receives no sign that Lan Wangji wants to push him away, Wei Wuxian tugs him into a fierce hold, his hand covering the back of Lan Wangji’s head as he buries his face in his hair and breathes his familiar sandalwood scent.
After a moment of hesitation, arms come around him in return, holding tightly, bolstering his bravery.
“If you wanted to do it again, I wouldn’t say no.”
“Again,” Lan Wangji repeats, voice dazed.
“Again and again,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “I’ll say yes. Didn’t you like it?”
The hands around him squeeze tighter. “I liked it,” he replies, still tinged with some hint of worry. Wei Wuxian strokes his fingers through Lan Wangji’s hair.
“Good,” he says. “Then ask me again tonight, okay? After this thing’s pointed us in the right direction. And the other nights, too, if you want.”
Lan Wangji exhales wetly across the sensitive skin at his neck, still likely to be marked up by the impressions of his teeth.