[ REPRIEVE ] sender unties receiver during sex so they can finally touch them. (putting the headband to good use 🤭)
Wei Wuxian could feel shame prickling at the back of his mind, sharp and sweet, but it wasn't enough to stop him. Not when every muffled moan that spilled from his lips echoed off the ancient stone, leaving no corner of Gusu Lan untouched by what his husband was doing to him. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that every passing disciple was being treated to the lewd, gasping symphony punctuating the silent halls.
Lan Wangji’s headband, usually wound with such tidy precision around his elegant brow, had been repurposed tonight — tight and merciless around Wei Wuxian’s wrists. The sensation was familiar, the restriction not new, but tonight the need was brighter. Every time he tried to move, the fabric pulled taut. He longed to rake his nails down the ridges of Lan Wangji’s chest, to feel that fevered warmth under his palms, and being denied was agony — nothing short of torture made exquisite by the golden candlelight painting every muscle across his husband’s body.
He almost pitied the rest of the Lan clan; surely, the moment the headband finally unwound from his wrists, there was a collective sigh of relief from beyond these walls. If only they knew — Wei Wuxian’s lips quirked — this was only the intermission, not the end.
The moment he was free, he leapt and twisted, slipping from bondage and surging with sudden, wicked glee. In a heartbeat, he pinned Lan Wangji beneath him, relishing the sight: his beloved stretched out, breathless, hair splayed over the pillow like spilled ink. "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian murmured through a teasing pout, softening his voice to something almost innocent as he grasped the headband and, in a gesture thick with reverence and mischief, wrapped it firmly around Lan Wangji’s wrists.
“It’s my turn.” He leaned close, stealing a long, lingering kiss as he pressed their bodies together. “I want you to know what it was like for me — just watching, only watching.” Wei Wuxian ground himself down, slowly, savoring every inch — the full, unbearable stretch. He shuddered, half from relief and half from anticipation, as he sank onto Lan Wangji’s length, feeling himself split open again, filled utterly.
He started to move. The candles made his skin glow damp and golden; his robes clung and slipped, the fabric falling away from his shoulders, baring his chest to greedy eyes. Wei Wuxian dragged a hand down his torso, watching Lan Wangji watch him — a fire banked behind his golden eyes, liquid and intent as honey. Wei Wuxian’s fingers splayed at his belly, pressing into muscle and flushed skin right where he could feel Lan Wangji the most.
“I can feel you, Lan Zhan,” he moaned, bold and shameless, his head falling back for a moment before his gaze flicked down to watch his husband’s reaction. “Right here,” he choked out, pressing harder. He saw the flush crawl up Lan Wangji’s neck, blooming high on his cheeks, burning at the tips of his ears, and grinned in triumph.
Taunting still, Wei Wuxian rocked and writhed, rolling his hips as his voice dropped to a rough croon. “You want to touch, don’t you? Poor Lan Zhan…” The knowledge that his turn on top was fleeting — that Lan Wangji’s patience would snap, any heartbeat now — only drove him faster, higher, desperate to wring every bit of pleasure before his advantage slipped away.
He leaned down, tongue flicking up between slick skin and spent sweat, tasting, trailing, chasing the salt of Lan Wangji’s exertion until his mouth found his husband’s lips once again. “Lan Zhan,” he whispered into the kiss, sweet affection twisting through the hunger. “I love how you look at me — so hungry, so starved.” His gaze lingered on the man below him, savoring the possessive fire smoldering in Lan Wangji’s eyes, before kissing him again, letting that heat swallow both of them whole.
