“Bring Me Tomorrow/Stay With Me,” Chapter Two: Reunion
"It hadn’t taken long for the word to make its way around the cultivation world. Wei Wuxian, the Yiling patriarch, the dark individual who had cast a shadow over the collective peace of mind of all the clans had been defeated.
Captured, beaten, stripped of his legendary weapon, Chenqing, and currently held in the dungeons of Lotus pier, the very place that he used to call his home, it seemed his reign of terror was finally coming to a close."
An AU where Wei Wuxian is captured shortly after Jin Zixuan's death. Hearing his beloved sentenced to death Lan Wangji finally has the impetus to bear his heart and confess his true feelings to Wei Ying. But what happens when new love has no time? When everything you've held precious is shattered and scattered to the winds, how do you find the will to keep going? How do you even begin to conceive of tomorrow?
**TRIGGER WARNING- FOR THIS CHAPTER---Before reading please know that this chapter contains an explicit sex scene with some non-con elements.
This text, and author in no way commend lack of consent in any way and remind the reader that any sort of physical intimacy without both partys' explicit consent is sexual assault plain and simple.
This chapter is not meant to be didactic but rather an exploration of these two characters' canonical kinks **wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more** which if any reader decides to explore in real life, should be done with clear consent and the proper safety measures.**
“You have exactly one hour with him.” Jiang Cheng instructed as he and a group of Jiang guards walked Lan Wangji down a hallway leading to the Lotus Pier dungeons.
It was difficult imagining a place as idyllic as Lotus Pier even having the need for dungeons.
But the war had changed a lot of things.
Since the burning of his original home at the age of sixteen, at the hands of the Wen clan, Jiang Cheng had worked tirelessly to rebuild the grounds and surrounding buildings that had been destroyed. It was not surprising that he had added extra buildings and security measures in the process.
After a few more twists and turns in the hallway, Jiang Cheng finally brought them to a stop in front of a set of heavy-looking wooden doors, guarded on each side by a pair of Jiang cultivators.
The two stepped aside at Jiang Cheng’s approach. Jiang Cheng turned once more towards Lan Wangji before opening the doors.
“Do what you will to make him talk, but know this, I am at my wit’s end.” Jian Cheng’s expression was grim yet resolved.
“Before you came today I had just about reached my decision and contained the Jin clan. If you can’t get him to give up any information then I wash my hands of him. He’ll be delivered to the Jin clan today and they can do what they want with him.”
The slight crease between Lan Wangji’s brow deepened at these words. He knew that Jiang Cheng was serious. He also knew that nothing the Jin clan would do to Wei Ying would be anything short of torturous execution. He nodded at Jiang Cheng.
Seeming decided yet unsatisfied, Jiang Cheng finally opened the doors. Lan Wangji stepped inside and heard them close behind him.
The cell was stuffy and humid, with the hot Yunmeng climate. It contained no windows. Lan Wangji had to wait for his eyes to fully adjust to the darkness of the space. For a moment he only stood by the door, gaze scanning the dim quarters before finally falling upon a grey, curled shadow in the corner of the room.
Wei Ying sat upon the floor, slumped half-consciously against one wall. He was bound brutally, his wrists twisted upwards and lashed behind his back, ropes crisscrossing over his bare chest.
The restraints encircling him let out a dull violet glow, the same color as a length of Jiang Cheng’s Zidian. Lan Wangji knew he wouldn’t be able to remove them even if he tried.
Wei Ying’s dark hair was loose, and hung in a curtain about his face, nearly obscuring it from view. Even from this distance, in the dimness, Lan Zhan could see the patterns of cuts and bruises adorning the whole of Wei Ying’s upper torso along with whip burns from where Jiang Cheng’s Zidian had wrapped itself along the edges of Wei Ying’s back. Lan Wangji felt himself sway.
He had known of Jiang Cheng’s resentment.
He could even force himself to understand some of Jiang Cheng’s blame.
But never, in a million centuries could he have imagined this havoc Jiang Cheng would allow himself to lay upon his brother. If he had bothered to take breakfast, Lan Wangji was sure he would be in the middle of spilling its contents upon the floor.
Quickly he crossed the room and kneeled in front of Wei Ying. Gingerly, he maneuvered Wei Ying away from the wall, turning him slightly so that he lay cradled with his head upon Lan Wangji’s chest. With one fair, slender hand, he smoothed the hair away from Wei Ying’s face, revealing a fading black eye and split lip.
“Wei Ying.” He whispered softly, giving him a small shake, “Wei Ying?”
For a moment Wei Ying’s head only lolled against his chest, breath worryingly shallow. Lan Wangji could feel his heart thud with dim panic. Surely they had injured him far too much. They had pushed him past what was reasonable and now could he even wake up?
But just as he began to contemplate rising and pounding on the door, Wei Ying’s eyelids fluttered. With a soft moan, Wei Ying blinked them open before gazing unsteadily up at him. Eyes clouded with delirium and pain.
“Lan Zhan?….”
“Lan Zhan….is that really you…?”
Wei Ying’s voice could barely be registered above a dry rasp. Lan Zhan had to cradle him closer to be able to hear him.
“What are you doing here?”
Lan Wangji had thought long about how to respond to this question. There was so much that had gone unsaid between the pair of them. You could fill valleys with the years of withheld statements, form mountains with the silences of sentiments left unspoken.
But words had never come as easily to Lan Wangji as they had to Wei Ying.
In the end, he’d always end up relying on simplicity. Simplicity and the hope that his true feelings would be glimpsed in the delivery of the message; in the look he held in his eyes.
To his despair, Wei Ying only issued a bitter scoff in response. “So they finally picked one of you to come end me. I’m surprised Jiang Cheng’s allowing you the privilege. What did you all do, draw lots out of a hat or something?”
“N-no.” Lan Wangji stammered, but Wei Ying continued. Gaze turned firmly away as he rambled hoarsely.
“You need me to get to my feet? Are we going outside? I imagine most people probably wanted this public. I’m not so sure I can stand but I’ll try or you could just have the guards drag me out. There’s no need to pretend to give me any last dignity.”
“Wei Ying, I did not come here to kill you.”
Wei Ying paused in his speech before finally turning back to Lan Wangji’s face, his eyes searching.
Lan Zhan held his gaze determinedly. He repeated the phrase once more, enunciating, one word at a time.
For a moment Wei Ying’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. His throat fluttered as he swallowed hard, shadows crossing over his face. In the dim light, Lan Zhan watched in concern as his eyes dampened then threatened to spill over. Yet when he spoke, the bitter edge from earlier still coated his voice.
“For me? Huh. Why even bother?”
And with that admission, one by one the tears finally did begin to slide down his face.
In the darkness, in Lan Wangji’s arms, Wei Ying wept quietly.
Growing up, he had taught himself to always weep quietly.
Years of mistreatment at the hands of Madame Yu, had made him stubborn, unwilling to let her hear his cries although she may have gone easier on him if she had. Furthermore, he’d always witnessed Jiang Cheng’s inability to cry, in spite of the pained expression he often got at his father’s lack of warmth and their parents' constant fights.
Somehow, allowing himself the release of weeping openly when Jiang Cheng couldn’t had always stuck Wei Ying as selfish.
Especially when he knew, he was not entirely blameless in the causes of his brother’s pain growing up.
Lan Wangji let him weep, slowly wiping away each tear with the back of a knuckle or the pad of his thumb as they trickled steadily over the contours of Wei Ying’s face, leaving clear streaks in the blood and grime. At one point Lan Wangji looked around them and spotted an earthen jar and bowl near their sitting space. The jar was full of water, but with Wei Ying’s bound hands it equated to more of a cruel taunt than a kindness. Getting to the contents would have required knocking the entire thing over and lapping it from the floor like a dog.
With his free hand, Lan Wangji poured a measure of the water into the bowl beside it. Digging around in his robe, he pulled forth a folded white handkerchief which he proceeded to dip in the bowl. With firm but tender strokes, Lan Wangji ran the kerchief over Wei Ying’s battered face, wiping gently at the dried blood near his lip, the sweat dotting his brow, and the coating of dirt covering his face.
Wei Ying closed his eyes and submitted to the treatment, the tears flowing more intensely for a moment as Lan Wangji began. After a while, though, their trickle finally ceased. Wei Ying shifted briefly in Lan Wangji’s arms, a momentary grimace twisting his face as something pained him with the movement.
Lan Wangji eyed the Zidian binds with deep reproach.
“Not more than anything else. Lan Zhan, please, could I have some water?”
Lan Wangji set the kerchief down and reached for the earthen jar, holding it up to Wei Ying’s lips.
“Go slow,” he instructed, propping up Wei Ying’s head and tilting the jar so the water could reach his mouth. Wei Ying drank slowly but deeply, a look of overwhelming relief crossing his face as the cool water ran down his parched throat. After a minute Lan Zhan had to pull the jar away.
“ Enough for now. More in a few moments.”
Wei Ying signed resignedly and Lan Zhan wiped droplets from his chin and the corners of his mouth. For a few brief instances, neither of them said anything. Finally, Lan Zhan spoke.
“Wei Ying. What happened at Qiongqi pass?”
His words held no accusation. No judgment. Just an honest and open inquiry.
For his part, Wei Ying did not avert his gaze when responding. “You were right all along, Lan Zhan. I messed up. I was arrogant. I lost control.”
Lan Zhan gave him space to process the memory. Waiting patiently as Wei Ying’s eyes took on a distant look. “I had Chenqing with me but...I suppose at some point I lost track of the melody. The melody was strange, it was almost like I heard…almost as if I wasn’t the only...” but he stopped himself and shook his head. “Wen Ning was fighting with the other cultivators while I argued with Jin Zixuan. He was only trying to calm me down but at that point I was too far gone. I didn’t care about him, it was his cousin that set the ambush but he was in the way. I think I may have wished him gone and what else could Wen Ning do but obey me? You know he died trying to tell me about how Yan Li was waiting at home. He was trying to remind me not to mess things up for her sake. Then that night….”
A squeeze of Wei Ying’s eyes sends a few more tears out of their corners, his voice dull.
“Why did she have to step in front of that sword? Oh, Lan Zhan... how could I have ruined everything so completely? What am I supposed to do about the things that I’ve done?”
Wei Ying lapsed into fraught silence. Eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling of the enclosed space.
“I should have died that first time in the Burial Mounds. I should have just let Wen Chao kill me,” he whispered.
Lan Zhan gazed into the face of his beloved. The quiet anguish, the burning grief carved upon those features, once so full of light, reflected itself on his heart.
There is a special type of agony reserved for these moments when we find the ones we love in the blackened pit. Our words do not reach them, our offered comforts impotent.
We call and call and receive only echoes.
We rail at the gods to allow us to take their pain as our own, to give us the words to heal them but only succeed in providing the heavens with mild amusement; children in the midst of a tantrum---and besides why would any gods ease the suffering of one when allowing it would gain them double the amount?
Screams of despair make for such dainty offerings after all.
But as mentioned earlier, Lan Wangji rarely ever bothered with words.
Reaching out his hand, he ran his fingers over the side of Wei Ying’s face, careful when brushing past his black eye. Wei Ying turned away from him, feeling undeserving and as such unwilling to accept such a painfully gentle touch. Lan Zhan gripped his chin, tilting his face back in his direction.
For once, Lan Zhan felt no hesitation. Pausing briefly, he allowed himself to take in Wei Ying completely before tipping his chin upwards and leaning in.
At the brush of Lan Zhan’s lips over his own, Wei Ying’s eyes shot open.
The kiss was light, barely more than a finger’s caress and yet the feel of it stirred something in Wei Ying. A memory, hazy with the fog of time and recent pain pulled at the edges of his mind; the distant call of a sun-warmed day, and the rasp of bark underneath his back. Even the feeling of being restrained felt familiar as he recalled that intoxicating sensation of helplessness; a firm body pressing against his own, pinning him down, hands locked like manacles around his wrists, eyes blinded by the cloth he had wrapped around them to show off.
Any lingering doubt he may have felt was whisked away with the next kiss.
Lan Zhan’s lips brushed over his again, this time lingering a little longer. They rubbed delicately over his own in soft small circles, soothing, coaxing Wei Wuxian’s lips to part. When they did, Lan Zhan’s teeth grazed lightly over his bottom lip, sucking slightly.
Wei Ying released a small breath. “Was it really you all this time?”
Lan Zhan’s gaze was soft as he looked at Wei Ying.
“It has been me all along.”
Wei Ying felt the distinct click of something falling into place; a puzzle, years in the making, finally together and whole. He raked his eyes over Lan Wangji’s face, searching for some surety, desperate for confirmation. As if guessing what he was searching for Lan Zhan responded by leaning in yet again. This time Wei Ying parted his lips, fully allowing Lan Zhan to deepen the kiss.
The sensation was like that of the rest of the world falling away.
For a few heartbeats there was only stillness; no cell, no bruised and broken body, no memories of mistakes unable to be taken back. Wei Ying felt himself awash in a deep and healing peace. He felt the way he had when he was young on mornings, slept in, the day’s silken light filtering grayly through his windows and shut eyelids, the warmth of his covers shielding him against the still chill air.
Separating briefly from Lan Zhan’s lips, his nostrils caught a whiff of a cold, alluring aroma and he was reminded of springtime in Gusu and afternoons spent playing among the sandalwood trees surrounding Cloud Recesses.
Leaning forward as best he could in his restraints, he nuzzled his face along Lan Zhan’s, grazing his teeth over his lower jaw and burrowing his nose into the hollow behind his ear. The sandalwood scent here was strong, and he breathed it in, letting it fill his lungs as he inhaled deeply, feeling drunk off of the fragrance. Parting his lips he nibbled along the shell of Lan Zhan’s ear, sucking lightly on the earlobe. He felt Lan Zhan shudder underneath him as the bites sent tiny electric pulses running up and down the length of his spine.
Lan Zhan submitted to the bites, holding himself back from further action, through the tightening of his fingers around Wei Ying’s shoulders told him he yearned to do much more.
Finally, when he could stand it no longer he pulled Wei Ying away from him; His fingers digging underneath his hair and then tightening in a firm grip. Wei Ying felt his head pulled down and back, his neck arched and exposed. The slight pain he felt at the tightening of his hair around his scalp made him gasp. Looking up at Lan Zhan he was suddenly, acutely aware of his vulnerability; hands still wrenched up and tied behind his back, body locked away in a cell, head immovable from the fist of hair in Lan Zhan’s grasp.
“Lan Zhan,” he breathed, “Please…” and as he spoke the words, he was not entirely sure what sort of mercy he begged for.
With the ease of someone carrying a much lighter load, Lan Zhan suddenly swung him around so that he was lying upon the floor, the Lan disciple looming forebodingly above him. Suddenly frightened, Wei Wuxian tried to scramble away, his legs struggling to find footholds to push himself back. Lan Zhan merely took hold of the binds looping across his chest, holding him steadily in place. With his other hand, he slid out of his upper robes then began to undo Wei Ying’s trousers.
Involuntarily, Wei Ying began to struggle, legs failing desperately given his inability to defend himself with his hands. Lan Wangji paid his movements no mind, fingers deftly sliding the roughspun cloth down and over Wei Ying’s hips until he was completely naked and exposed. Looking down, Wei Ying found his member standing hard and erect despite the terror slowly coursing through his veins.
He had never done this before.
Oh, he had played the part of the braggart well, but contrary to the rumors of the multitude of virgins he had kidnapped and defiled, very few people knew that the Yiling Patriarch was as green at the age of twenty as he had been at fifteen back in Cloud Recesses.
Lan Zhan, on the other hand, seemed to hold no hesitation. Each movement was sure and practiced as if he had performed the act countless times. Even in his terror, Wei Ying had the presence of mind to be a little impressed.
“Lan Zhan,” he rasped, as the latter caressed one hip and then slid his hand down into the space right between his legs, “You’ve done this before?”
He swore he saw the Lan disciple quirk a brow, as he looked at him.
“No,” he replied before wetting a finger with his lips and then sliding the digit into the spot right between Wei Wuxian’s cheeks.
The moan Wei Ying let out was deep and throaty. He had never felt such a sensation before. The discomfort it brought, offset by the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, of being taken.
“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian groaned, “No….please...not like this…”
Lan Zhan’s finger was in, several knuckles deep, but beyond it, Wei Ying could also feel the slight pressure of something larger, something warm and hard beginning to slip in after it. Suddenly the object was completely inside of him. Wei Wuxin felt his back arch, head tilting towards the opposite wall as the thick, stiff blade began to rhythmically thrust itself in and out of him with eager, thirsty pulses.
Wei Ying had endured pain over the course of the past few days.
He had been beaten, cut, whipped, starved, and berated.
He had been pushed to the brink, enduring moments where he’d hardly even remembered his own name for the cloud of suffering that enveloped him.
None of that even came close to the excruciation he felt as Lan Zhan’s member drove through him.
Yet pain was hardly the only word to describe the overwhelming feeling.
With every thrust, Wei Ying’s nerve endings seemed to ignite. At the same time, he was aware of a dull heat blossoming somewhere below his midsection, the warmth building in a slow and tantalizing pressure, the feeling of a cloth twisted and creaking from the strain of being tightened by a pair of firm hands.
“Laaaaan Zhaaannn…..” Wei Ying moaned pitifully, his voice low, resounding deep in the back of his throat, the vowels of his lover’s name stretched long. “Pleeease….don’t…”
The Lan clan disciple did not reply, but kept up his movements; eyes closed, lips parted a small furrow between his brows.
“Go slow at least.” Wei Ying rasped, “Go slow. Lan Zhan please, please, please, Lan Zhan, please, I’ve never done this, please, Gege…”
For a moment Lan Zhan did slow and Wei Ying could feel a slight bit of the pressure ease. Opening his eyes, he could see Lan Zhan staring down at him, expression indecipherable.
Reaching out a hand he ran his fingers through Wei Wuxian’s hair, causing his scalp to prickle. The hand trailed down the back of Wei Ying’s head, briefly cupping the curve of his neck. With a thumb, Lan Zhan, traced the lines of Wei Ying’s collarbone, gently allowing his nails to rake little lines along Wei Ying’s chest until they came to a tender, triangular spot right along the swell of his left pectoral muscle. A brand mark with the garish design of the Wen clan’s sun emblem stood in stark relief against Wei Ying’s skin. An old wound, but one that still tingled to the touch despite the years of healing.
A reminder of an earlier time Wei Ying had intercepted someone else’s pain.
The sight of it sent a ripple of darkness through Lan Zhan’s expression and for an instant his movements ceased completely.
Something about the look on his face made the hairs on the back of Wei Wuxian’s neck stand on end. He felt the trickle of something cold drip down his spine.
“What is it?” he gasped, “Why are you--urck!”
Wei Ying’s breath was cut off as Lan Wangji’s slender, strong hand closed around his throat. He tried once more to struggle but found the attempt even more futile than before as Lan Zhan leaned his weight forward onto him, completely pinning him in place.
Black dots formed and swam before his eyes as he fought to take in even a whisper of breath.
“No talking now,” spoke Lan Zhan into his ear, the command staunch, unbending, heavy with the threat of retribution if broken.
Momentarily, the crushing weight on Wei Ying lifted as Lan Zhan shifted off of him and released his throat. Wei Wuxian drew in a gulp of air then immediately began to cough. Chest heaving with relief, but his reprieve did not last.
Grabbing hold of the ropes across his chest once more, Lan Zhan deftly flipped Wei Wuxian over onto his side. Wei Wuxian felt his body enveloped in Lan Zhan’s embrace as the Lan disciple suddenly lay on the ground next to him, embracing him from behind, one arm looping underneath and around his neck, securing him firmly against his chest. With his other hand. Lan Zhan once more began to maneuver his member between Wei Ying’s buttocks.
Wei Ying’s pleas were cut short in a sharp cry as he felt himself run through once more. Yet again he felt himself ignite, the undulations from behind causing his body to become racked with bone-rattling shudders. He was suddenly aware of the flutter of Lan Zhan’s breath against his ear, the inhales sharp and ragged.
“You should have listened.” he breathed hoarsely, exhales tickling the sensitive contour of Wei Ying’s ear, “You never listen.”
“Lan Zhan, I’m sorry---” he tried to say, but the sob that escaped his lips was stopped yet again as Lan Zhan’s arm moved to restrict his available airflow, nestling the curve of Wei Ying’s throat in a confining chokehold. The maneuver sent its message loud and clear; Lan Zhan wasn’t interested in pithy apologies, what he was demanding was penance.
Wei Ying felt feverish. Even in the midst of his ravagment he could discern the threads of Lan Zhan’s meaning and felt no reproach.
All those arguments between the two of them during the war came flooding back in a swell of memory. The number of times Lan Zhan had condemned his use of Chenqing, his persistence that Wei Ying return with him to Gusu. How could he have been so blind?
At the time, Wei Ying had been so consumed with his own damned arrogance and combined self-loathing that he assumed Lan Zhan’s disapproval had only come from a place of inflexible, righteousness.
Of course, someone as skilled, as moral, as beautiful, as overwhelmingly pure as Lan Wangji would take one look at what he’d become and recoil.
After all, weren’t there those in life who became the monsters lurking in the basements of all that was good and those who tasked themselves with cleansing the world of their scourge; between the pair of them, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, it was clear who others would label as who.
But now, caught up in this furious, punishing embrace, Wei Ying could finally read the grey shadows overlying Lan Wangji’s past insistences.
I am afraid of what it’ll force you to become.
“Return to Gusu with me.”
Let me protect you. Let me be near you.
During those years, countless others had felt frightened of him. Wei Ying now realized Lan Wangji was one of few who had felt frightened for him. While others had praised his power, Lan Wangji had seen the lost, defenseless soul underneath.
He had never once thought of him as a monster.
Holding this new knowledge, Wei Wuxian took Lan Zhan’s punishment, feeling close to swooning as his breath caught and he was plunged through again and again. He had said it before on that night he had fled with the Wen clan refugees and the sentiment still held true.
If he had to die by anyone’s hands he’d prefer it be Lan Wangji’s.
Just as he felt himself slipping off into the grayness, however, the arm around his throat released. Wei Wuxian lurched forward breath coming in deep, raw respires. He sobbed with relief, practically groveling on the ground when he felt himself shifted once more; flipped so he was lying completely on his stomach, face pressed into the cold, unyielding floor. He felt Lan Zhan’s hands grip his waist and tug it upwards, felt his ass stuck straight in the air, and felt the accompanying sense of panic.
This was the way wild animals mated.
His body reacted instinctively in defense, and he lurched forward, straining to break out of Lan Wangji’s grasp but to no avail. The Lan disciple’s strength was formidable and Wei Ying was next to helpless, bound, and already in a weakened state from the days of mistreatment. He breathed sharply, inhaling and exhaling through his nose, attempting to steal himself with a clench of his jaw. You don’t get a choice. He told himself. You deserve this. You owe him. Still, when he felt Lan Zhan position himself directly behind him, he couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whimper.
As if sensing his fear, Lan Zhan’s handling of his body became less rough. The frustration, the anger at Wei Wuxian’s past foolishness hadn’t dissipated. He still yearned to instruct Wei Ying in the ways of obedience. To rein in that wild, untamed spirit that had so captured him back in those days in Gusu, but which ultimately only ever caused his beloved to sacrifice himself for the sake of others--- Yet he also knew that Wei Ying had already suffered more than most would ever be able to endure.
“Shhhhh….” he soothed, as eased himself once more into Wei Ying, running his hands down the length of Wei Ying’s back. “Good boy…”
He felt the latter shiver underneath his touch and then issued a small jolt forward with his first full-hearted thrust.
Lan Wangji curled his hands over the sides of Wei Ying’s slender hips, as he pushed against him; the feeling of entering and withdrawing making his head swim. He had spent years imagining in his secret heart of hearts what this would be like; Longing for it ever since that bright day back in the quarters of the Cloud Recesses library.
He sharply recalled the spasm of shock and the accompanying pang of deep humiliation felt upon seeing the pornography pamphlet Wei Ying had slipped into his book as a joke. He remembered being more furious than he had ever been in his fifteen years, and had finally understood what people meant by the phrase “seeing red” as he drove Wei Ying away from the library.
The confusion had set in the moment the anger finally began to ebb.
Try as he might, to distract himself with cultivation practice, meditation and study, he couldn’t get the images of the book out of his head; the crude illustration of a man penetrating a woman from behind—---only every time the sight wafted up, uninvited, in his memory, he hadn’t pictured a woman.
That was around the time Wangji also started having the dream.
He had awoken the morning after the library incident with damp sheets and a distinct stain marking the front of his trousers, lingering visions of tangled limbs on the library floor, a bare chest and wrists wrapped securely in his headband, still drifting through his mind..
The act of dealing with Wei Ying—--which had never been easy before, suddenly became next to insufferable.
Every laugh, every knowing look, the way’s his eyes turned upward, setting his face aglow when he smiled, sent Lan Wangji reeling, the tips of his ears always coloring a bright crimson.
Lan Wangji had lived in a state of constant flux, feeling himself pulled helplessly, magnetically to Wei Ying’s side while simultaneous fearing his very presence, constantly convinced that the words steadily hammering inside his heart were written clearly on his face for all to see; be mine and let me be yours.
Back then, despite his attraction, he had felt the safest recourse was simply to avoid as much contact with Wei Ying as possible. If he entered a room through the front door, Lan Wangji would escape out the back. If he waved to Lan Wangji from across the courtyard, Lan Wangji would simply pretend not to notice and walk in the opposite direction.
It should have all been easy.
Except for the distinct fact that no matter the amount of rebukes or slights Lan Wangji gave him, Wei Ying would just not leave him the hell alone.
And when it wasn’t Wei Ying pestering Lan Wangji on his own, it always felt like others were intent on throwing them together; Xichen inviting Wei Ying and his brother on a mission to a nearby village, his uncle yelling at him to go and discipline Wei Ying for yet another one of his pranks.
Try as he might, Lan Wangji could not rid himself of Wei Ying.
Not during his days and increasingly, even less in his nighttime dreams.
And then all of a sudden Wei Ying was gone. Instructed to travel back to Lotus Pier with his father after having broken into a fight with Jin Zixuan.
Lan Wangji felt his absence should have been a relief.
Instead, it was only what it was; an absence.
His days, no longer entangled in that exhilarating crest and swell of desire, chagrin, and terror suddenly felt exhaustingly empty, like all the candles in an otherwise blackened room abruptly blown out.
And when he’d seen Wei Ying next, had everything gone smoothly? Had everything fallen easily and seamlessly back into place? Of course not.
Weeks of Wen clan indoctrination, one giant tortoise fight, and several days spent trapped inside a cave had convinced Lan Wangji of two things;
One, Wei Ying was the one thing he could count on to incessantly and consistently turn his life upside down.
And two, he was deeply, unavoidably, punch drunk, most devastatingly in love with Wei Ying.
Now as he kneeled behind Wei Ying, Lan Zhan could feel this knowledge ringing through his very being, reverberating from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet.
He loved him. Had always loved him.
If others tried to rip them apart, if anyone even dared to take Wei Ying away from him, he would ensure they soon wish they had never walked the paths of earth.
He would go to the grave for the love of him.
With this thought he suddenly drove himself deeper, hitting, as he did so, a plushy, distinctive spot along Wei Wuxian’s inner wall.
The low that escaped Wei Ying’s lips was dark and deep---purely animal and sensual. Lan Zhan tried to hit the spot again.
Wei Ying felt like he was being destroyed, falling apart into a million little pieces. It was like being submerged in an almost too warm bath after suffering the cold of the day. It was like holding a hand numbingly cool drink in the heat of spring. He was crawling through the heights of heaven and soaring through the depths of hell. He felt that pressure from before begin to build once more, felt his guts rearranged and pulsed through with bright, tingling currents.
Suddenly the currents running through him seemed to intensify, building like someone had turned a dial-in his head, the notes of a symphony reaching a fevered pitch. He felt that spot inside of him hit again and again by Lan Zhan’s member, even shifting his own hips back and up to accommodate each eager thrust. The sounds of skin striking skin increased, the pounding coming faster and faster, Wei Ying trembling with the pleasure of it until he could bear it no further.
For an instant, it was as if the whole world went white.
A field of snow coated Wei Ying’s vision and for a few moments he was simply lost, pulled out to sea by the gentle tug of the tide.
Little by little things came filtering back into his body and line of sight. The floor before his eyes, the dampness of his skin, the feeling of wetness below his midsection. Suddenly he felt himself tugged upwards as he was slowly lifted from the floor and his trousers replaced. Lan Wangji once more nestled them against the nearby wall, Wei Ying resting on his chest.
Wei Ying burrowed his head into the hollow of Lan Zhan’s neck and listened to the still rapid thumping of his heart, steadily beginning to slow along with his breath. He felt himself being tugged once more into grayness, slowly spirited away into the land of sleep.
He felt as if he could sleep for centuries in Lan Zhan’s arms and never again feel fear or pain or worry. Whatever gods there might exist in the world, he felt thankful that they had allowed him such a reprieve…….. even if it could only be once.
Because, of course, was there truly anything in this world that one could say lasted forever?
As if their thoughts were almost in sync, Wei Ying felt a distinct shift in Lan Zhan’s posture underneath him as the afterglow of their lovemaking began to fade. He knew what was coming next but selfishly did not want to be the one to break this last semblance of peace. So he waited until finally, reluctantly, Lan Zhan spoke.
“The Stygian Tiger Amulet….”
“.....perhaps if you told them….”
“You know why I can’t do that.”
“I should have never made it in the first place. And besides,” He shifted to look up at Lan Zhan, whose face was bowed, obscured in shadow. “You know as well as I do that telling them wouldn’t make a single difference.”
“If I thought there might be if I thought there was a chance…. or even if I just trusted one of them, I would tell. I swear. I would do it for us.”
Lan Wangji finally raised his head. His demeanor, stoney.
Wei Ying let out a disheartened chuckle.
Wei Ying looked into Lan Zhan’s eyes, took in the urgency, the determination, and underneath it all, the fear in them. He did his best to keep the sadness out of his smile as he leaned forward and took Lan Zhan’s lips into his own. The Lan disciple cupped his face in his hand and kissed him back fiercely.
Just as it had the first time, Wei Ying felt his breath taken away with the gesture. The peculiar feeling of suddenly free falling.
They were both breathing hard as they drew apart. Wei Ying shifted his aching wrists, resenting his restraints more than ever.
“I wish I could have just gotten to hold you at least once.”
“I wish I hadn’t been such an idiot and that I had kissed you back in Gusu. If I had, maybe…”
They both froze. Echoing down the hallway outside the cell, drawing ever and ever closer was the distinct and ominous sound of several pairs of footsteps.
Wei Ying felt Lan Zhan’s grip tighten around him. Despite his expressed feelings of resignation, Wei Ying still felt his entire being ice over at the steadily approaching sounds.
He swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry, his heart a caged bird beating itself senseless against the bars as the memories of pain from the past few days threatened to come flooding back.
He felt his traitorous body begin to tremble. Then he turned and looked at Lan Zhan.
The Lan Clan disciple’s eyes were wide and burrowed underneath desperate brows. Their gaze flicked back and forth as if looking for some recourse, some way to prevent the inevitable. Wei Wuxian stilled, suddenly submerged in a wave of calm at the sight.
He couldn’t afford to lose himself. Not now, not in front of him.
Lan Zhan whipped his head to face him, his gaze petrified, stubborn and furious. He clenched his jaw.
“Lan Zhan…” he whispered, holding his gaze, ”it's okay.”
This story started off as basically smut and then it somehow acquired a plot. I did not mean to write more past this chapter but hey, if your smut wants to run, let it run!
Thanks as always to those of you who’re willing to read this odd little piece, part smut, part character study, part exploration on the nature of grief. Thanks for giving it and this new writer some time. All my love to you all!
If you want to read the other chapters, check out this story on AO3 at:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/34668886/chapters/86313907
