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“Wei- qianbei ! Wei- qianbei !” The near shrill voice of an overly excited Lan Jingyi broke through the mild bustle of visiting disciples. The youth briskly made his way over, at a pace just barely within the confines of proper conduct, with a fondly exasperated Lan Sizhui trailing behind him, having long since resigned himself to the antics of his best friend. The boys were notably enthused. Though this behavior was not out of the norm for Jingyi, even Sizhui looked to be restraining a grin from his usually passive features. “Wei- qianbei , isn’t it exciting?”
Wei Wuxian smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But of course! ‘Tis a most momentous occasion! Honestly, I’m appalled at the lack of fanfare you Lans are so adamant on expressing, or not expressing, in this case.” He scratched at his nose briefly and sniffed, obviously playing up his theatrics. “But, just to be clear, what is it that we’re excited about?”
Jingyi facepalmed while Sizhui’s face was overcome by that pleasant smile that read: this moron is my father and I love him. “The visiting disciples! Don’t tell me you can’t see them!” Jingyi huffed, wildly motioning to the surrounding throng of youngsters.
With a wave of his finger, Wei Wuxian sputters, “Now see here, Lan Jingyi! What tones you take with your elders! The accusations! It’s not my fault I’m growing weary in my old age. My eyes aren’t what they used to be!”
“Or perhaps you simply tend to ignore your surroundings, Wei-qianbei.” It’s Lan Sizhui that replies now, quick as a whip with eyes rolled and one elegant brow raised in a display so emphatically Wei that Wei Wuxian nearly chokes.
“The cheek!” He gasps in mock outrage, heart full to bursting. “I’ll have you know that I am quite aware of your new classmates. I was one of them, once. I know how this goes! My question is, why is this so noteworthy? Doesn’t the Cloud Recesses host disciples every other year or so?”
“Yeah, but we haven’t hosted in a while. According to xiansheng , we tried to host a few years after you died, but not many disciples were able to attend, with the shortage in disciples at Yunmeng Jiang at the time and the tension caused by Chifeng-Zun’s and Jin Quangshan’s deaths. Also, we were too young to attend! Then, the one scheduled for two years ago was canceled because of everything that happened. Now, though, Zewu-Jun said that we can help assist some of the teachers with classes since we’re graduating soon! We start next week!” Lan Jingyi spoke avidly, seeming to speed up with every word on quickly dwindling oxygen. By the end of his speech, he gulped a large gust of air and grinned, almost bouncing on his toes in excitement. It made his recent growth spurt look far less imposing than usual.
“Congratulations! Hopefully your students aren’t as bad as I was,” Wei Wuxian laughed heartily, a swell of pride blooming in his chest. It feels like just yesterday that these two were running after him like ducklings, making mistakes and getting poisoned, calling for their Hanguang-Jun like he had all the answers in life. They still do that, because he does-his Lan Zhan is so wise!- but thankfully, the-soon to be senior-juniors have avoided poisoning and the like in their recent adventures.
“That is why we came looking for you, Wei- qianbei ,” Sizhui explains, gently patting Jingyi’s shoulder to calm him. “We were wondering if you could help us review our lesson plans before then? We included some of your latest talismans and we want to be sure to not spread any misinformation.” Again hangs in the air, unspoken. While Wei Wuxian has been given a few classes to teach himself, the visiting disciples are explicitly off limits. The only reason Wei Wuxian is even allowed access to the younger Lan disciples is because his husband and brother-in-law pushed for it. Without their insistence, Wei Wuxian is sure that Do not interact with Wei Wuxian would still be a rule followed throughout Cloud Recesses. To avoid tensions with the other sects, specifically the minor sects that seem determined to maintain their bias, Lan Qiren forbade Wei Wuxian from helping teach the visiting disciples. In fact, the further he stayed from them, the better.
Of course, Wei Wuxian had no choice but to agree. However, if his children needed help with their lesson plans and subtly worked his teachings into theirs, who was he to question it. “A-Yuan, ah, I would be honored to assist. I am at your beck and call for the rest of the week!”
***
Wei Wuxian has been busy . Sizhui and Jingyi have occupied every spare moment with their lesson plans. He can’t say he’s upset about it, really. His kids are smart and insightful and so attentive. They’ve worked hard to ensure the success of their students and Wei Wuxian couldn’t be more proud.
However, it is on the fourth day of his newfound duties that Wei Wuxian notices something strange has come over his husband. Lan Zhan’s usual routine usually consists of thus: wake up precisely at you-shi , dress, meditate, fetch breakfast, draw a bath for his husband, rouse and bathe said husband, maneuver him into his robes and then to the breakfast table (at which point Wei Wuxian is only slightly more awake than asleep), kiss his husband the rest of the way awake, and then leave to aid his brother with sect duties. They meet for lunch and then again in the evenings.
None of this changes today, at least, not at the beginning. Wei Wuxian half rouses to his husband's soothing baritone as he draws the bath. Lan Zhan is singing. Not loudly, of course, Lan Zhan is never loud. But, in the stillness of the Jingshi , the soft tones of their song wash over Wei Wuxian in waves, soaking into his skin and lighting up his heart with the gentlest of warmth.
A lazy smile creeps over his face as he pulls Lan Zhan in for a kiss when he tries to transfer Wei Wuxian into the tub. He delights in his husband's heat, the smell of sandalwood and camellia oil better than any other perfume in existence.
Lan Zhan slowly lowers him into the water, reluctant to part but quick to resume contact with a soapy washcloth. “Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian mumbles, sinking into his husband’s presence and wrapping himself in it like a blanket. “You spoil this feeble husband so. How will I ever be self sufficient again?”
He can feel his Lan Zhan smile into his hair. “You won’t.”
“This is all your fault, Lan- er-gege ,” he half heartedly bemoans. “You have no choice but to pamper me forever now. I’m utterly useless!”
“Not useless. But yes.” A pause that tells Wei Wuxian he’s about to have his heart caved in. “I will take care of Wei Ying forever.”
The flush that immediately encompasses his entire body proves Wei Wuxian’s point. And what can he do but hide in his hands. “ Er-gege , so mean! I thought we agreed that you would warn me before dealing such fatal blows to my poor heart! How cruel!”
“Mn,” Lan Zhan intones, with no remorse, before effortlessly lifting Wei Wuxian out of the bath and into a towel. “What does Wei Ying have planned for today.”
“I need to help our sons with their lesson plans again,” his voice is muffled by the towel gently rubbing the water out of his hair. “They really are too smart. When did they get so old? The disrespect! I’ll have to invent a talisman that turns them back into babies. What do you think, Lan Zhan? I think it’s totally valid and could be the greatest achievement for parents everywhere!”
Lan Zhan just smooths his hair with the towel one more time before placing a light kiss on his nose. “Mn.” Wei Wuxian wiggles said nose in his best bunny impression. “I will accompany Wei Ying.”
“You don’t have to help your brother today?” Since the events at the Guanyin Temple, Lan Zhan has been taking over some of his brother’s duties as sect leader. Lan Xichen’s original plan was to immediately enter seclusion. Lan Zhan promptly confronted him, urging him to at least allow Lan Zhan to take over some of his responsibilities, if it meant Lan Xichen wouldn’t follow in their father’s footsteps. It took some convincing, but Lan Xichen eventually agreed. Now, almost two years later, Lan Xichen has gradually begun to take on his proper role again.
“Mn,” an affirmation, efficiently wrapping Wei Wuxian in his inner robes. He watches him curiously as Lan Zhan then turns to their wardrobe and pulls out one of his own outer robes - a darker blue than Lan Zhan usually wears but still unmistakably his.
“You want me to wear your robes, Lan Zhan? Don’t you think I’ll stain them? I wear black for a reason you know.” Lan Zhan doesn’t grace that with a response, instead deftly securing the robe over his husband’s shoulders and the belt around his waist. “How do I look, eh Er-gege ? Am I as pretty as you now?”
Lan Zhan slays him with another devastatingly fond smile. “Wei Ying is pretty like Wei Ying.” Wei Wuxian squeaks inelegantly and clutches the front of Lan Zhan’s lacy outer robe, burying his face in his broad chest.
“So cruel to me, husband,” his pitiful whimper barely makes it out of Lan Zhan’s robes to reach his ears.
Lan Zhan wraps his arms around Wei Wuxian’s waist, drawing him impossibly closer and burying his own face in his husband’s hair. “Mn,” he hums into the space behind Wei Wuxians ear, drawing a small gasp from his throat. He takes this opportunity to lightly skim his lips over the soft skin, flushed warm from the bath and the repeated assaults on his fragile heart. “Wei Ying is more cruel.” He rasps lowly into the tender flesh, letting his teeth catch on a pale earlobe. Wei Wuxian’s hands clench tighter in Lan Zhan’s robes, not even trying to muffle the pleased whine that bubbles in his chest and sings the praises of his husband’s touch.
“Lan -er-gege , why would you dress me if this was your plan,” he whispers into the silence, his heart thrumming in his ears. Wei Wuxian is certain Lan Zhan can feel it under his lips, the sweet rush of blood, so attuned to his every move, his every deliberate caress. Lan Zhan’s chest rumbles in a sound akin to a growl, his hands snaking down to grip at his husband’s plump behind.
“Wei- qianbei ! Are you awake?” Lan Jingyi’s voice tears through the once silent Jingshi , grabbing their bubble in his grimy child paws and bursting it.
Wei Wuxian groaned in exasperation. “Can’t a man be seduced by his husband in peace?” Reluctantly retreating from Lan Zhan’s hold, he cupped his husband’s cheek and plants a chaste kiss on his lips. “I suppose prior commitments are important.”
I married you first. Lan Zhan does not say, but hopes that it is projected through his expression. Wei Wuxian laughs and drags him out of the Jingshi by the wrist.
***
Wei Ying is immediately wrapped up in the boy’s papers. Sizhui had made some revisions between yesterday and today, hoping to incorporate a few more of Wei Ying’s innovations. That prompts a spontaneous lecture, the boys listening raptly as he went off on tangent after tangent. Beside them, Lan Wangji shifts slightly. This was seriously not what he had planned for today. Usually, Lan Wangji could barely get enough of Wei Ying’s lectures. His husband was brilliant, full of wonder and invention, a scientific mind hell bent on bettering the world. However, today, that beautiful mind was getting in the way. Lan Wangji was almost certain his husband had forgotten about today. Even his brother remembered, specifically allowing Lan Wangji the day off in advance. Alas, Wei Ying has never been known for his memory. Regardless, Lan Wangji thought he would be able to cajole him into playing along, at least until he remembered by himself. That was the entire purpose of this morning, up until Lan Jingyi burst in on them.
Evidently, plan A was failing. Time for plan B.
When Wei Ying resumes his seat to Lan Wangji’s right, torso haphazardly strewn across the table to point at Lan Jingyi’s notes, Lan Wangji silently grasps his ankle. He makes sure his grip is firm enough to feel through his boot’s leather and watches as Wei Ying suppresses a shiver. He subtly stretches his leg closer to Lan Wangji but remains stubbornly focused on the task at hand.
Tisk.
Wei Ying soon returns to a semi-proper sitting position: one knee propped up and leaning heavily on his arms, almost in Lan Wangji’s lap. It would be proper if only he were actually in Lan Wangji’s lap. But Lan Wangji can work with this.
Again, Lan Wangji reaches out for his husband, slotting their fingers together and lightly pulling, trying to convey his desire through subtle action. Wei Ying does glance at him, this time, but only smiles toothily and resumes his conversation.
Lan Wangji suppresses the urge to facepalm, settling for his brother’s signature move and closing his eyes for a brief respite. This man is my husband and I love him. He tells himself, desperate for a little hope in Wei Ying’s memory, or, at least, awareness. Maybe if he lets it be for now, he’ll have better luck later.
When lunch time rolls around, Lan Wangji feels excitement rekindle in his chest. He and Wei Ying always take lunch together in the Jingshi . He can finally seize the chance to sequester his husband for a few hours, if not the rest of the day. Maybe he can help jog his memory. Obviously not directly, that would be too easy and would not help Wei Ying in the slightest. Also, Lan Wangji is petty and he will milk his husband for everything he is worth. Literally, if everything goes to plan.
“You be sure to eat quickly now,” Wei Ying calls after the boys’ retreating forms, shattering any hope Lan Wangji might have scrounged up. “We’ll continue as soon as you’re done.” Lan Wangji huffs lightly through his nose, turning and briskly walking towards the Jingshi . “Eh? Lan Zhan? Wait for me!”
Lan Wangji sets the table with as much passive aggressive grace as he can muster, keeping his motions dainty and precise. First prepping the tea, then, while it steeps, serving the food, then pouring the tea. Once settled, he swishes his sleeves in an overly posh manner, ignoring his husband’s curious looks, and begins eating. Wei Ying continues to stare in growing curiosity and mild concern, but refrains from asking any questions, knowing full well that Lan Wangji will ignore him while eating. Good. Wei Ying could have been sitting on something much better than curiosity but now he has brought this on himself.
Wei Ying eats faster than usual, possibly in hopes that his haste will make Lan Wangji eat faster. It will not. In fact, Lan Wangji eats slower with every rushed bite from his husband. It is fascinating - watching Wei Ying silently writhe in frustration and growing impatience. His brow is slightly pinched and his plush lips are pulled into a frown not dissimilar to a petulant pout. He is clearly trying to school his expression. His husband is smart, after all. Wei Ying is aware of what Lan Wangji is doing, even if he doesn’t know why. Similarly, he also knows that Lan Wangji will not tell him why until he at least guesses close enough. Asking, during a meal or not, is futile.
Before long, Wei Ying has finished his own food and is staring at Lan Wangji intently. “Lan Zhan,” he begins, tentatively. Lan Wangji keeps his eyes on his rice bowl and brings another prolonged bite to his lips. “Lan Zhan, what did I do wrong?” He’s taken to anxiously chewing on his bottom lip, causing the delicate skin to redden and swell. Lan Wangji deliberately drags his gaze from his rice bowl to meet his husband’s eyes and raises an eyebrow. “Aiyo, I clearly did something to insight this manner of tantrum.” Lan Wangji straightens his back impossibly more, sending his husband a glare that could rival the ones from his teenage years. Wei Ying immediately shuts his mouth and ducks his head, chuckling nervously. “I forgot something, didn’t I.” It is not a question, so Lan Wangji does not answer. He wouldn’t have answered even if it was a question. He pointedly takes another unnecessarily slow bite of his food. “Lan -er-gege , why must you do this? Have you no mercy for your poor, forgetful husband?”
Lan Wangji continues to ignore him and finishes off his food, unable to prolong the last few bites. Regardless, he takes his time compiling the dishes onto the tray and reorganizing the table, deliberately avoiding his husband’s searching gaze. By the time he is finished, Sizhui and Lan Jingyi have arrived and Wei Ying is buzzing with anticipation.
They immediately try to pull him back into the earlier discussion, but he is notably distracted, eyes darting from the boys to their papers before landing on Lan Wangji, only to repeat the process. Lan Wangji feels a smug sort of satisfaction. His husband’s curiosity and caring nature are simultaneously his greatest strength and most unfortunate weakness. Lan Wangji should feel bad for exploiting them, and, perhaps in another context, he would. But here, now, he revels in the attention. Attention he should have had since this morning.
Unfortunately, after about half a shi, Wei Ying seems to have pushed his anxieties to the side, fully engrossing himself in the boys’ work. Lan Wangji takes a meditative breath. No matter. Lan Wangji still has more tricks up his sleeve.
Throwing all subtlety to the wind, Lan Wangji turns to his husband and gently tugs on the ends of his vibrant, red ribbon. The reaction is instantaneous. Wei Ying turns to him, curious and slightly mischievous. “Do you want it, Lan Zhan? Here!” He promptly removes the red silk, letting it pool in Lan Wangji’s palm. It was not a few seconds ago that Lan Wangji felt himself capable of patience. That time has come and passed with the fall of Wei Ying’s dark hair.
“Sizhui, Jingyi,” he states with perfect stillness. “You may continue tomorrow.” Luckily, both disciples were capable of taking hints, hastily packing away their papers and leaving the Jingshi with Wei Ying’s confused eyes alternating between their retreating figures and Lan Wangji.
“Lan Zhan, wha-” Lan Wangji did not let him finish before clasping both his wrists in a tight grip and swiftly trying the offending red silk around them. Eyes wide, Wei Ying sputtered, taken aback but far from protesting. “Insatiable, Hanguang-Jun ! Could you not wait till evening for our everyday?”
Lan Wangji does not grace that with a response, instead lifting his husband by his bound wrists and dragging him to their bedroom. Wei Ying lands gracelessly on their plush bedspread with a winded huff, anticipatory giggles bubbling out of his smirking mouth. “So forceful, Lan -er-gege. Have you no patience?”
Lan Wangji feels an odd kind of spite, heavily tinted with arousal, blooming at that statement. Had he been anything but patient? Had he not waited, encouraged, anticipatory, for his ever forgetful husband? Lan Wangji honestly felt this was deserved, casting aside the last of his patience. “Patience, husband,” he asks, tying Wei Ying’s bound wrists to the bedpost. “What do you know of my patience.” It is not a question but Wei Ying answers anyway.
“Does Lan -er-gege think he has been patient? Tell me, husband, what have you been waiting for?” Wei Ying is writhing in his restraints, pouting exaggeratedly when Lan Wangji climbs off of him and the bed, wiggling his fingers in a pointless come back motion.
“Figure it out yourself.” Lan Wangji pins him with a glare, beginning the methodical task of disrobing. He sheds the layers delicately, taking the time to fold each piece with precision. He can feel Wei Ying’s eyes on him, his silvery gaze a brand that should be only his to bear. With each swath of fabric removed, Wei Ying’s eyes burn ever brighter on his skin, until he is scorching under it, cock twitching lightly and beading the first bits of precum. Finally, he stands naked before his still fully clothed husband, who squirms and whimpers, pulling at his restraints for the privilege of touching the smooth expanses of Lan Wangji’s flesh. His thighs rub together is a poor attempt at generating friction. It fuels Lan Wangji’s resolve. His husband, reduced to near begging at the mere sight of his naked form. As of two years ago today, and until forever comes and goes, only Lan Wangji gets to have this. His Wei Ying. His husband.
“Lan Zhan, my Lan Zhan, my Lan -er-gege, why won’t you let me touch you? How can you be so cruel?” Wei Ying is whining, stubborn lip jutting out in a pout that doesn’t reach his eyes. Lan Wangji, much to Wei Ying’s chagrin, ignores him in favor rummaging around in the dresser beside the bed. Of course, he knows where everything is. There is no need to look around so thoroughly. But he can see the anticipation etching itself onto Wei Ying’s skin and cannot help driving the chisel just that much deeper.
He does not attempt to hide the items pulled from the drawer: their usual jar of lubricating oil, and a large, jade phallus, modeled after his own substantial girth. Wei Ying gasps from his position on the bed and Lan Wangji cannot suppress his self-satisfied smirk. The phallus is new, bought specifically for today. Despite his hopes, this is not the first time Wei Ying has forgotten today. Lan Wangji expected such behavior and prepared an appropriate punishment. Clearly, last year’s plan was not enough to last. Thus, Lan Wangji is prepared to leave a more sizable impression.
“L-Lan Zhan, wha-what do you plan to do with that?” Wei Ying’s eyes are alight with excitement, pink tongue swiping over his suddenly chapped lips. Lan Wangji waits to answer, feigning pension as he climbs onto his husband’s lap, firmly trapping Wei Ying’s thighs under his weight. Lan Wangji bends forward slightly, tracing a finger over Wei Ying’s cheek, down to his neck, over his shoulder and then past his straining biceps, before grasping his bound wrists and holding them firmly to the silken sheets.
“I am going to fuck you with it,” he states, keeping his tone nonchalant, almost bored, as he swipes the knuckles of his other hand over his husband’s flushed cheeks. He watches Wei Ying’s heaving chest rise and fall for a moment, before continuing. “I am also going to fuck myself on your cock, and if you cum before you remember, you won’t cum at all.”
Wei Ying gasps almost on queue, deep blush spreading down his neck and likely over his still clothed chest. “L-Lan Zhan, please, undress me. Please, I’ll remember, I promise, just-”
“You will, or you won’t. Either is of no consequence to me. But I will undress you.” True to his word, Lan Wangji skillfully and efficiently opens Wei Ying’s robes, removing as much as his bound wrists will allow, until he is laying completely bare, excepting the sleeves still clinging to his arms.
Free from the stifling fabric, Wei Ying begins to babble. “Lan Zhan, ah Lan -er-gege, won’t you let this husband please you. You’re so gorgeous, my Lan Zhan, so ethereal. When did I become so lucky?”
Lan Wangji sits back on his husband’s thighs, absentmindedly letting his own hands roam his chest and pinch at his sensitive nipples, each sharp squeeze sending another jolt to his increasingly hardening cock. “That is a good question. Wei Ying can please me by remembering.”
Without another word, Lan Wangji reaches for the jar of salve, uncorking it and scooping a generous amount onto his fingers. Leisurely, he rubs his fingers together, spreading and simultaneously warming the oil. Once satisfied with the temperature, he reaches behind himself and probes at his entrance, gently massaging the oil in and around the puckered hole until it gives. He keeps his gaze on his husband throughout. Wei Ying stares with wide eyes, mouth agape and pupils blown. Lan Wangji had only been on the receiving end a few times before. It wasn’t for lack of enjoyment by any means. Simply that he preferred to watch Wei Ying fall apart on his dick more than the opposite.
However, on occasions such as this, such reversals are entirely necessary. Lan Wangji wants to instill a sense of exasperation in Wei Ying. A lack of control with the illusion that he ever had it in the first place. It would not be a punishment otherwise. Furthermore, if Wei Ying truly disagreed, they would not be in this situation.
“Ah, Hanguang-Jun, so regal. Won’t you even let me watch you open yourself up for me?” Wei Ying is trying, in vain, to lift his hips, desperate for friction, for more contact, anything. Lan Wangji just gives him a blank stare.
“Wei Ying has not earned that privilege.”
“Wha- But how am I expected to remember if I don’t know what I’m forgetting,” the logic is less than sound and slightly counterintuitive, clearly a last ditch effort to gauge information. Lan Wangji flips his hair over his shoulder and pulls off his forehead ribbon, deftly scissoring his fingers for a faster prep.
“Try.” Lan Wangji removes his fingers, satisfied with his preparation, and shifts lower on Wei Ying’s thighs, getting the full view of his cock, standing proud and dripping onto his stomach and the course line of hair low on his abdomen. The head is flushed a deep, mouthwatering pink. Lan Wangji’s mouth salivates, but he ignores it. Now is not the time.
Lithe, musician’s fingers swiftly pull and wrap the pale silk of his forehead ribbon around the base, twisting over and around his balls then tying it off with a bow. Lan Wangji supposes that even though tradition states that the exchange of presents on occasions such as these is recommended, if not imperative, this absolute gift, wrapped prettily in his most symbolic possession, will be more than enough. It’s not like Wei Ying remembered enough to get an actual present anyway.
Lan Wangji, on the other hand, did obtain a present for his beloved, and proceeds to grasp the jade phallus, placing it within easy reach, along with the jar, and shifts back up his husband’s thighs, until he is poised on his knees directly above his straining cock. “Wei Ying, spread your legs for Er-gege. ”
Wei Ying moans wantonly and is quick to obey, spreading his legs as wide as Lan Wangji’s own knees will allow. Lan Wangji hums in approval, letting his knees slide over the silk sheets as he sinks down on his husband’s cock. The stretch is unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, Wei Ying’s cock stiff and hot as he works himself further down onto it. His tender walls flutter and clench around the intrusion, desperately trying to suck him in all at once. But that would defeat the purpose. So, agonizingly slowly, as Wei Ying pants and whimpers and pleads, Lan Wangji shifts and slides until Wei Ying is fully seated inside him.
Experimentally, Lan Wangji shifts the angle, rolling his hips just slightly. Sparks fly over his vision as his husband’s stiffness brushes his most sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing an involuntary gasp from Lan Wangji.
“Lan Zhan, yes, beautiful Lan Zhan. Is that it? Does it feel good? Oh, you’re so hot inside, ah~” Wei Ying is babbling praises, prompting Lan Wangji to try and regain his composure. He shifts again, to avoid that spot, and rises, hovering with just the tip nestled inside, before dropping down all at once, nearly knocking the wind out of himself. But it’s worth it for the strangled moan that tears out of Wei Ying’s throat. His head is thrown back, hair wild and fanning over the pillows as his arms strain in their binds. He is flushed down to his nipples, the small buds rosy and pert. His mouth hangs slightly open, jaw slack and eyes glazed over as Lan Wangji sets a punishing rhythm. Wei Ying is picturesque. An image of pure pleasure drawn by the most delicate hand. Lan Wangji could go blind today and be satisfied with his last vision.
But Lan Wangji still has a mission. He uses Wei Ying’s distraction to grab the jar and lather more oil onto his fingers. He takes advantage of his husband’s writhing and previously spread legs to shove an oil slicked finger right past the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. Wei Ying keens, eyes rolling back as his back tries to arch off the bed, still pinned by the restraints on his wrists and Lan Wangji’s weight.
Lan Wangji doesn’t give him a chance to accommodate the sensation, promptly thrusting his finger in tandem with his hips. He works him open quickly and with brutal precision. Lan Wangji knows his husband’s body as well as he knows his own. It is too easy to locate Wei Ying’s prostate and aim his assault accordingly.
Increasingly high pitched “ah, ahh, aahh~ ”s fall from Wei Ying’s lips, the only other words in his current vocabulary being Lan Wangji’s name, which he chants like a prayer. Lan Wangji adds another finger, and then a third. Wei Ying barely seems to notice, so lost in the dual sensation. Lan Wangji feels his husband’s cock swell inside him, his first desperate attempt at release.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan -er-gege, ah , please, fuck! Ahh, please! ” Lan Wangji halts his movements, sitting heavily while removing his fingers at once. Wei Ying’s shaft drives impossibly deeper and Lan Wangji takes a moment to catch his breath while his husband whines pitifully at the emptiness. Lan Wangji feels so full, it’s too easy to get lost in it. Regardless, he takes a slow, meditative breath, and grasps the jade phallus.
“Does Wei Ying want to cum?” He lathers the phallus with the oil unnecessarily slowly, raising a challenging brow at his whimpering husband.
“ Yes , gods, please Lan Zhan! Fill me up, please ! Let me cum!”
Lan Wangji hums noncommittally. “Does Wei Ying remember?” Wei Ying’s subsequent sob is answer enough, and Lan Wangji shoves the phallus all the way in. Wei Ying’s scream echoes throughout the Jingshi. “Then Wei Ying does not get to cum.” He punctuates each word with a rough roll of his hips, holding the phallus still for the time being. He resumes his punishing pace, purposefully clenching his walls on every upward drag.
Overstimulated tears leak from Wei Ying’s eyes as he moans with each thrust, but he is yet lost enough to be nonverbal. A litany of pleas fall from his lips in between pleasured wails. “L-Lan Zhaan ~ ah! Please! Mercy! Husband, mercy ! Ahh ~!”
“Am I your husband? When did that happen?” Lan Wangji chooses this moment to start thrusting the jade phallus in time with his hips, driving it in with every upward drag. Wei Ying’s eyes roll as a silent scream is caught in his chest, his dick twitching hard inside Lan Wangji. “When, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji just barely slows his pace, allowing his husband to gasp air into his lungs. Barely.
“I-I don’t k-know! I don- ah! S-spring! It was in spring! Oh! T-two years ago! Oh fuck, please~! ”
“Is that it?” Lan Wangji angles a particularly sharp thrust at his husband’s prostate.
“N-no- oh! No! It’s today! I-it’s our a-anniversary! Please, Lan Zhan!”
Lan Wangji smirks, driving himself onto his husband’s cock at the angle he had been avoiding, pushing himself over the edge at the same moment that he pulled the bow around his husband’s dick. With a strangled cry, Wei Ying spills inside him, hot and thick, coating his inner walls in what feels like three orgasms’ worth of cum.
Shaking from his own prolonged orgasm, Lan Wangji releases the jade phallus, leaving it in his husband for the moment. “Was that so difficult.” He meant to sound smug or at least petulant, but his voice is thick with the aftermath of intense pleasure and thoroughly fucked is the only tone his voice can manage. Trying, and failing, to stop the spasming in his thighs, Lan Wangji slowly raises himself up and off his husband’s cock.
Wei Ying is silent below him, eyes glazed over and distant, body pliant and malleable. Careful of his over sensitivity, Lan Wangji unties the ribbons from his husband’s body. He massages Wei Ying’s tender wrists and kisses the skin there, making sure nothing is torn or raw. He decides to leave the phallus for now. If it is removed too suddenly, Wei Ying might react negatively. Instead, he fetches a damp cloth and begins to wipe down the sweat and cum off of both their bodies, placing gentle kisses over Wei Ying’s brow and cheeks, his eyes and lips, his slender fingers and again on his wrists.
“Wei Ying,” he calls, softly, holding a cup of water toward his husband, who slowly rouses from his post orgasmic haze. He drinks the water clumsily, but grins when it’s empty.
“Lan -er-gege, if this is what happens every time I forget our anniversary, I might just start doing it on purpose!” Lan Wangji shakes his head and kisses his husband. He supposes he can work with that.