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He realizes what’s been coiling at the back of his mind while Wei Ying’s hands are fisted in his hair, his hips grinding firmly down onto Lan Wangji’s watering mouth.
Well, he assumes it’s watering. Wei Ying is dripping, slick pooling in his mouth and over his chin, enough that it’s hard to tell what’s him and what’s Lan Wangji. Above him, Wei Ying lets out a deep groan and his hips jerk. Lan Wangji follows the motion as best as he can, sucking harder, humming softly.
He has to bring his hands up from where they’ve been groping at Wei Ying’s thighs to keep his hips steady, dig in so he doesn’t press down too hard.
Wei Ying’s orgasm hits Lan Wangji like a lightning bolt. Wei Ying’s cunt clenches and he moans and Lan Wangji squirms with the feeling of being used, of being taken, arching his back into it and giving Wei Ying as much as he can take. He feels like he’s swallowed fire, buzzing with the need and heat and demand of it.
When his husband’s done and panting, Lan Wangji keeps him steady with one of the hands on his hips and uses the other to wiggle down his own body and stroke himself off, letting himself lick sloppily and ineffectually at Wei Ying’s cunt just to taste, to smell, burying his nose in the damp curls and grunting as Wei Ying continues to obligingly hold his head in place.
| | |
In the morning, Lan Wangji slips out early. He’d told Wei Ying he’d pick up some supplies before another long day of discussions (arguments) about what to do with the Wen remnants. The discussions (arguments) are nominally among the elders of Cloud Recesses, since they’d settled on the fringes of Gusu land. Mostly, they’ve devolved into representatives from the other sects butting in and dithering with pointed reminders that whatever decision they make will need to be formally presented at the next discussion conference.
The supplies are mostly snacks that he can slip to Wei Ying underneath the table every time he looks like he’s about to whistle someone into an early grave and more snacks to slip to A-Yuan after they’re done as a silent apology for them being gone so much lately. But after last night, he tucks the blankets a little more firmly around Wei Ying’s shoulders and leaves earlier than he’d planned.
The first shop he goes to is mostly first because he’s not confident he can find it, and he’d rather look for it when no one can ask him where he’s going.
Lan Wangji finds it after a few minutes of careful, subtle hunting, though, and strides in like this is just another errand that he runs all the time, and not one he usually foists off on a very willing Wei Ying.
The shopkeeper’s eyes widen briefly when he spots Lan Wangji’s Lan head ribbon and elaborate pale blue robes — chosen so he won’t have to change before today’s meetings, although he takes a spare second to regret it before discarding the emotion.
The shopkeeper gets over it quickly enough and ducks his head in acknowledgement, opening his arms to gesture further into the store. It’s one of the few set into a building on this street, the goods more expensive but sparser than most of its neighbors.
“Can I help you find anything, young master?”
This would be so much easier if this were twenty years from now, when a new shopkeeper has taken over, and he knows where all the oils he needs are, and he’s well enough known that no one tries to meet his eyes in public. Or if he’d just asked Wei Ying to come here like he usually does, instead of trying to make this a surprise for his husband.
It’s now, though, so Lan Wangji nods. “I’ll take this. As well as something more particular,” he says, picking up plain enough oil without any smells that give him a headache or make Wei Ying giggle. He takes a moment to figure out how he wants to phrase this. Tries to channel Wei Ying’s easy confidence. The shopkeeper is tilting his head curiously, waiting for him to finish. “I have seen illustrations of a belt of sorts for those who would like to penetrate their partner.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes scrunch in a smile, looking thrilled rather than surprised. It’s a relief to Lan Wangji, who refuses to look like this is anything to be ashamed of. Like the gnawing ache of want in his stomach isn’t exposed like this.
“Ah, young master, we have a few options. If we can’t find what you like, it’s easy enough to have made, although that takes a little extra time and money.”
“Mn.” He follows the man to a back corner of the shop.
It’s well-lit, which makes this feel less taboo. On a shelf there are a row of dildos in varying sizes and shapes. Most of them are normal, although there’s one that’s shaped like a twisting tentacle, the outline of the suction cups made into textured ridges. He considers getting it for Wei Ying for a heartbeat, just to see the way he’d laugh delightedly. But neither of them particularly enjoy anything that large.
He looks back to the shopkeeper. “And the belt?”
“Ah, the harnesses are just in the back over there.” Harness is a much better word for it than belt, Lan Wangji thinks a little ruefully. “We only have two, I’m afraid. Not a lot of call for them. But they fit around the base of these dildos, any of them, so if one strikes your fancy, you can pair them together.”
He inclines his head and the shopkeeper nods. “Right,” he says, “I’ll go grab those for you, give you a minute to look.”
He bustles away. The shop is otherwise silent at this time of morning, the sun only barely up and the streets just starting to warm. Lan Wangji soaks in the stillness and controls his breathing, focusing on making it slow and even, past the rush of thrill and anxiety in his stomach.
There aren’t too many dildos, and most of them skew toward long or thick. A few are thicker in the middle, a few have veins running crudely down the sides.
The smallest is about the width of two of his fingers and just slightly longer, with the suggestion of a cockhead in the bulging tip.
Lan Wangji is struck with the immediate need to have it in his mouth, and preferably for Wei Ying to watch him do it. He forces himself to pick it up with a steady hand and turns just in time to see the shopkeeper approaching again holding two harnesses.
One is made of a deep brown leather, the other a lighter earthy brown of thick cloth tied into a series of knots. He stares at them for a few moments, considering — the cloth would be easier to clean and take care of, probably easier to adjust, but. The leather would feel better on the skin, slip less if adjusted right. It looks like it would fit reasonably well on Wei Ying’s waist.
And Wei Ying would look fantastic in it, the dark leather, nearly black, wrapped around his hips and thighs, sitting just under his ass.
The decision was made the instant he saw it, really. He nods at the leather harness. “I will take that as well. If we wanted another made, what information would you need?”
The man raises his eyebrows — Lan Wangji hasn’t once asked about the price, which Wei Ying would laugh at him for, he knows, but this is worth it, if only because the man hasn’t once tried to ask too many questions — and starts to walk toward the counter. Lan Wangji obediently follows.
“The material you want to use. Size considerations, and color within reason. If you wanted a different kind of design than this one, something that looks closer to trousers, say, or holds a different kind of dildo. But mostly it’s just the material and size that people want specifically made.”
“Mn. Thank you.” He sets the dildo and oil on the counter for the man to appraise and then he takes a step back. “One moment.”
Lan Wangji comes back with a second pot of oil, this one lightly scented, because Wei Ying will probably be too excited by the present to make fun of him for a while, and they could use the extra oil, if he has anything to say about it.
| | |
Lan Wangji cleans the dildo, harness, and then hides them with the oil beside their other toys in a chest under their bed when he gets back, while Wei Ying is untangling his hair and wrestling it into a ponytail. It’s early enough that Wei Ying refuses to be observant or curious on principle, so even if he notices Lan Wangji puttering around shiftily, he doesn’t mention it. The snacks he keeps tucked into a qiankun pouch in his sleeve.
And it’s a good decision. Wei Ying chews angrily on his loquats and a small pastry Lan Wangji slipped him during a particularly tasteless tirade from one of the elders. More to the point, Wei Ying does not do his best to slip out of the meeting entirely to hand out with the Wens instead of dealing with sect politics, and only runs his fingers suggestively over Lan Wangji’s thighs a normal amount when he gets too fidgety.
Wei Ying does notice that his flirting is a little more productive than usual, though.
It can’t be helped. Lan Wangji does his best, has an iron will, but his ears still burn pink, eyes lingering on Wei Ying’s hands, fingertips, mouth. All the little tics that only Wei Ying knows, only Wei Ying sees, burning both of them up for hours until finally, finally , they adjourn for the day and can head out into the humid afternoon and relax.
He listens attentively as Wei Ying chatters about how kind Lan Wangji was to bribe him with snacks again, and coo over how much A-Yuan is growing, and consider what kind of crops the Wens will need to rotate to next year like he has an opinion that’s based on more than what Uncle Four has told him. Maybe he does. Wei Ying likes gardening, and helping out in the fields, and has mentioned that he’d helped out on the docks every now and then in Yunmeng, too.
Wei Ying keeps up a steady stream of conversation until they reach the small town that holds the Wen clan, at which point A-Yuan runs full-tilt in their direction and smacks into Wei Ying, already crouched and with open arms, with an audible thud and a screaming welcome. Wei Ying picks him up and spins him around a few times before settling him on his hip and turning to the others who have walked up at a more sedate pace.
Lan Wangji exchanges a friendly nod with Wen Qing, who’s looking healthy and more relaxed than he’s ever seen her. Next to her, Wen Ning is grinning from ear to ear, looking tired but walking along with only the occasional worried glance from his sister. He’d been slow to recover from the attack that had gotten Wei Ying abducted by the Wens (again) after being used as bait. But he looks healthier now, too, and more confident besides.
It’s still a little weird to see him alive at all, with expressions and a heartbeat.
When Wei Ying sees them, he pulls Wen Ning into a one-armed, toddler-filled hug as if they hadn’t seen each other just yesterday and immediately goads Wen Qing into an argument without once letting go of either Wen in his arms.
They stay to chat, and then for dinner, and then after-dinner stories and cleanup, and then at long last Wei Ying looks at Lan Wangji from under his lashes and smiles at him, that warm, secret smile that’s not teasing so much as full of promises.
“We’ll be leaving now!” he announces to no one in particular, dropping an extra kiss on A-Yuan’s head before passing him off to Grandmother, who’s been taking care of him the most during the week, aided by Wen Ning and the rest of the village, while they’re stuck in meetings for most of the day.
| | |
Lan Wangji reminds himself that he might not get fucked tonight. Wei Ying might want any number of things that don’t include copious amounts of oil and sweat.
He kneels down and pulls out the box without ceremony immediately upon entering the Jingshi. Wei Ying wanders up behind him, lured in by Lan Wangji’s focus, propping his chin on his shoulders and squeezing at his hips.
“Lan Zhan!” he gasps. “Are you that eager? I knew you were thinking about it all day, but you really are insatiable.”
“A present.” He turns around without getting up and sets the box between them.
Wei Ying’s eyes light up. “A present? For me? In our usual box? Lan Zhan, every time you touch me is a present, but …“
He trails off as he tips open the box, mouth dropping into an O, eyes wide. He trails his fingers over the harness inside, then the dildo, back and forth, until he pulls out the harness, finally, and starts to play with it, tugging it this way and that, entranced. “For me?”
“Mn.”
Wei Ying plays with the straps some more before standing up suddenly and stripping as fast as he can. Lan Wangji winces as he hears a seam pop.
“Wei Ying,” he cautions.
“If you want me to be careful, then help me!” he says, hopping from foot to foot impatiently and tugging as sashes and ties. “I want to try it on, c’mon, have you cleaned it? Are they clean? Can I use them? This is what I think it is, right?”
Lan Wangji stands up and starts batting Wei Ying’s hands away from the more delicate tasks, taking over the bulk of the work of undressing his husband. “Yes.”
“Ah!” Wei Ying shimmies out of his final layer and grabs at the harness, twisting it around to try to figure out how to get it on. “I haven’t fucked you in ages. I’ve barely even fingered you, Lan Zhan, ah! It’s been too long. How did we not make time for this before now?”
Lan Wangji takes one of the hanging straps and pulls it taut, helping to keep it from tangling. Together, they straighten it out and cinch Wei Ying into it. It takes embarrassingly long, but he doesn’t mind. Wei Ying doesn’t seem to care either, scrambling for the dildo and squinting down at where the harness is tied, trying to figure out how to make it all work, unselfconscious about being naked and eager next to his fully-clothed husband.
It makes the layer of ice Lan Wangji pulls around himself all day melt, pooling in his stomach and warming him to his fingertips.
Wei Ying keeps tittering, too excited to sit still or calm down. “This dick is so cute! Did you pick it out for yourself? I know you did for me, but is it what you want in you? I think my dick was a little bigger than this, was that bad? Lan Zhan!” he cried, beaming, as Lan Wangji finally fits the dildo into place. “Lan Zhan, you’re so smart! My dick can be whatever you want now, whatever feels best. So smart, my perfect Lan Zhan.”
Lan Wangji focuses on not combusting from the filth falling out of his husband’s mouth, and instead beats a hasty retreat to wash himself while Wei Ying pouts. “Your body has always been perfect,” he says as he retreats.
“Lan Zhan,” he whines. “Don’t take too long.”
He ducks behind the privacy screen to disrobe and clean up and smothers a grin when he hears Wei Ying dramatically flop down on their bed. “Mn.”
“No, really! I mean it, Lan Zhan. This dick is really cute and I want it in you as soon as possible. I’ll start without you if you don’t hurry.”
That makes him pause. “Do not put oil on it yet,” he says sternly.
“Oh? Do you want to jerk me off first? No, I bet you just want it in your mouth, hm? You’ll have to hurry if you want to before I get oil all over it, and myself.” He snickers and pauses for just a moment, “And the sheets.”
“Wei Ying.”
“Lan Zhan!”
“I will take as long as needed to be clean.” He tries not to blush as he strips off his last layer of clothing and picks up the basin of water.
“Just bring a towel!” Wei Ying keeps whining. “I promise to only laugh a little bit if I get shit on my hand.”
“You are a nightmare.”
“One you married. That you’re about to marry for the third time, even,” he crows. “So hurry up.”
Lan Wangji does not cave, if only because he really might actually die from embarrassment if he gets their bed too dirty, but he does perhaps rush a little bit.
He finishes and walks, naked, to perch at the edge of their bed.
Wei Ying’s eyes are wide, pupils blown as he tracks him across the room. He scrambles to sit up as Lan Wangji approaches, molding himself to Lan Wangji’s back the moment he settles. His hands skate up Lan Wangji’s ribs, his shoulders, and trace over the headpiece still keeping his hair in place. “May I?”
“Mn.” It’s possible that Lan Wangji is a little beyond words at the moment.
The loss of the hairpiece is a relief, nearly a pound of metal and all the obligations outside the Jingshi sliding neatly off his head and onto their side table, pins and a spare ribbon slipping out in seconds under Wei Ying’s practiced hands. He allows himself a quiet sigh of contentment.
Next, Wei Ying traces his fingertips along his headband. “This off, too?”
They take the ribbon off during sex, or even just on lazy nights of quiet when they’ll be alone for a long time. Still, some days, he can’t bear to let Wei Ying do it instead of himself.
Tonight it feels right, though. He nods silently and tilts his head to give Wei Ying easier access.
Wei Ying mirrors the motion, scrunching up until he can kiss Lan Wangji, open-mouthed and breathtaking in its easy intimacy, while he undoes the knot keeping the ribbon in place by muscle memory. He winds it around his fingers slowly and drops it softly onto the low table beside their bed.
“C’mon, Lan Zhan,” he says, patting the bed closer to its center. “Come here for me.”
Lan Wangji grunts but pulls back, slipping to his knees at the side of the bed. When Wei Ying pouts at him without moving, he tugs at his thighs, shifting his husband until he’s perched at the edge of the bed, legs to either side of Lan Wangji’s shoulders.
“Mn. Like this,” he says, dipping his head to mouth over the spread of Wei Ying’s thighs, the smooth muscles that bulge out slightly even at rest.
Wei Ying moans low in his throat and settles more comfortable on the bed, leaning back on his hands. Lan Wangji takes that as permission to continue, and opens his mouth wide, sinking his teeth into the meat of his thigh, sucking harshly, tonguing at the soft skin in his mouth. It gets him another moan, more demanding this time.
Lan Wangji ignores him. Instead, he takes his time, sucking firm marks into the insides and tops of Wei Ying’s sides, running his hands up and down the coarse hair covering his shins, flicking his eyes up to gauge Wei Ying’s reactions from time to time.
He smells incredible, like sex and wanting. Lan Wangji forces himself to ignore it, to sink into the immediacy of Wei Ying’s skin and the dildo, hard and waiting, in front of him, instead of letting himself get carried away. He can eat Wei Ying out later.
He takes a deep breath and noses along the wild curls between Wei Ying’s thighs. Wei Ying moans again, a reassuring little sound, and tangles a hand into Lan Wangji’s hair. “Is this okay?”
“Mn. Do not pull,” he warns, because it’s good to be clear about these things with Wei Ying.
Hair pulling, or the lack of it, isn’t the point. Wei Ying knows this if he’s not too far gone, not too turned on to think. The point is that Lan Wangji can be on his knees and still Wei Ying will follow his lead, will restrain himself here, in their bedroom, like he won’t anywhere else, for anyone else.
Wei Ying nods frantically and runs his hand softly through Lan Wangji’s hair. See, he seems to say, I can be gentle for you.
They’ll see about that.
Lan Wangji mouths over the base of the dildo, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses up the side. He reaches the tip before he’s done exploring, done learning it with his mouth, relearning how much he loves this.
They have time, if not patience. He works his way back down the sides, back up again, adding long licks between his kisses, sucking here and there, working himself up as much as Wei Ying.
Wei Ying’s hand is firm at the base of his neck, not pushing or pleading, just steady. He’s breathing hard, hips rolling in the smallest grinds against empty air.
Lan Wangji takes pity on him and sucks the dildo into his mouth.
It’s freeing, to not have to worry how well he’s doing. All of the pleasure and none of the pressure of taking Wei Ying into his mouth, all swirling in his stomach, making him ache between his legs, making him want to grind against Wei Ying and listen to his small noises and —
He breathes through the fantasy. They’ll do that sometime too, he’s sure. But he wants this inside him, Wei Ying wants to be inside him. Priorities.
If time passes, it’s somewhere outside the Jingshi.
For a while, all he knows is the weight of the dildo on his tongue, the press of it in his mouth, Wei Ying’s wriggling and the bobbing of his cock, the smell of him.
Through it all, Wei Ying stays propped on one hand, watching him, breathing harshly but not urgently. And to be watched here, like this —
Lan Wangji can be forgiven for taking his time on this.
But finally, Wei Ying’s fingers start to twitch at the nape of his neck, and he starts rubbing the inside of one of his thighs against Lan Wangji’s shoulder. Urging him on, and up, but not demanding. Not yet, anyway.
“I could suck you off for hours without you coming now,” Lan Wangji rasps when he finally pulls back.
It makes Wei Ying whine and grind his hips forward into nothing with more force than before. “Lan Zhan! You can’t just say that! I’m going to die from being this turned on.”
“Mn.”
“Don’t smirk at me, young man! You stop that. Besides,” he says, letting himself flop back on the bed, letting go of his grip on Lan Wangji, “ you already suck me off for hours in this body. The only difference is that now I come so many times I lose my voice from begging, and in my last body, it meant that I had to take a nap between rounds.”
Lan Wangji doesn’t deign to answer that, just surges up so he can straddle Wei Ying and kiss him senseless.
He pulls away with a long, deep bite to Wei Ying’s lower lip. Wei Ying rolls his hips at the pain and arches his back, trying to get more friction. It’s so cute that Lan Wangji gives in, just once more, leaning back in to fuck his tongue into Wei Ying’s mouth, letting his chest drop so that Wei Ying can arch and rub his own chest against him, waiting him out until Wei Ying starts whining wordlessly into the humid space between them, begging for more. Lan Wangji gives it to him, sucking on his tongue and then biting it, far more gently than he did his lip. It still leaves Wei Ying breathless and wanting.
Good.
He rocks back to sit on his heels and just looks at Wei Ying for a few long moments.
His hair is a disaster, splayed out on the bed. He’s flushed a warm pink all the way down his chest, lips swollen.
Lan Wangji squeezes his hips. “Move,” he says, jerking his head up, motioning him to get further up the bed so their legs aren’t hanging off the edge.
While Wei Ying scrambles to squirm his way up and over, Lan Wangji takes the chance to grab the oil out of the box that’s halfway kicked under the bed and settle himself back on top of Wei Ying, letting his cock nudge against his stomach as he gets comfortable straddling him again.
“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. Let me, hm?” Wei Ying asks, circling Lan Wangji’s cock with a loose fist, bringing him to full hardness, licking his lips like he wishes he could get it in his mouth.
Lan Wangji doesn’t think he’d last, if Wei Ying put his mouth on him now. He gives him the oil instead and braces himself on his forearms, pushing his ass up a little bit to give Wei Ying a better angle and bringing his mouth close enough to kiss again.
“Always. Wei Ying can always.”
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying sighs, and then laughs, a little startled as he uses too much force to get the top off the oil and some of it spills on his hand. “Messy. I told you we’d get messy.”
“We can stop,” he says. It’s not a threat — neither of them want to, or will — but he trusts Wei Ying to be as dramatic as if it were.
He’s not disappointed. Wei Ying yelps and brings a slicked finger up to Lan Wangji’s asshole. “I’m moving, I’m moving! Who said anything about stopping. Aiyah, Lan Zhan, so mean to me. Here, hold the oil, I need both hands free. You hate trying to clean oil out of the sheets, just keep it steady for me, hm?”
Lan Wangji bites back a grin and shifts so he can hold the oil and still keep himself from dropping too much weight on Wei Ying.
With his newly free hand, Wei Ying hums a happy few notes and brings it up to wrap around Lan Wangji’s cock again, massaging his thumb around the tip with the same rhythm he swirls his finger around his asshole, keeping it unpredictable, soothing. Teasing.
He laughs when Lan Wangji makes an impatient noise in his throat and grinds back against his hand. “Okay, okay. It’s been a while, I was trying to make sure you were comfortable. Forgive this one for being good.”
Lan Wangji kisses him again instead of rolling his eyes like he wants to and sighs into his mouth as a finger slips inside of him.
It’s good and weird and intrusive but even that loops back around to good, after so many years of this. Having Wei Ying inside him, knowing that he’ll be careful, knowing that they’re both here, is a kind of meditation of its own. He relaxes at the pressure and works his mouth carefully against Wei Ying’s.
The room is lit up with a brassy light from the candles in the room, framing Wei Ying under him with warm gold. The few spaces they’re not connected, skin not starting to slide and stick with sweat, are worship caught between them. He lets himself drift on the sensation, lets himself ride out the way Wei Ying fits a second finger into him and keeps a steady pressure on his cock and pauses occasionally to dip his fingers in more oil.
Wei Ying breaks their kiss to press reverent kisses over his jaw, his chin. “Do you want a third finger? The dick is smaller than three, but it’s a little bigger than two, I think.”
Lan Wangji considers that as best he can, but the want is a wave in him, tugging at his stomach, his thighs, tingling up his spine. There’s only want and Wei Ying. He shakes his head. “In me,” he says, a little beyond words.
It’s enough for Wei Ying, his beautiful, wonderful Wei Ying. He smiles and smooths both hands over Lan Wangji’s sides. “Sit up just a little, then, I’m just gonna —” He coats the dildo with more oil and then takes the jar out of Lan Wangji’s hand, worming his way over the bed until he can set it on the side table before returning to Lan Wangji. “Do you want it like this? Hm, Lan Zhan? You have to tell me what you want, I want to make this so good for you, but you look so good on top of me like this.”
Riding Wei Ying isn’t the most comfortable position, but he doesn’t think he can bear to not have Wei Ying under him right now, right where he needs him, handsome and wanting and watching.
He nods and tugs Wei Ying back to the position they were in before, taking time to grope at the firm muscle of his biceps, the corded strength in his forearms, just feeling and looking his fill.
And then Wei Ying rolls his body invitingly, framing Lan Wangji’s hips with his big hands and squeezing, and all at once the need rushes over him again, pulls him under.
He reaches down and lines up the dildo, sinks down on it slowly, so slowly.
“Good, good boy, Lan Zhan. Fuck, you look so good like this, you know? So good. Lan Zhan, I really do love you like this, just like this, letting me inside you, letting me have you like this. Want you like this forever.” He smiles and tugs on Lan Wangji’s cock lightly, playfully. “And neither of us can come from just this, so I really might. What do you say, Lan Zhan? You, me, nothing to do but this for hours?” He raises his eyebrows, challenging and flirting at once.
Lan Wangji bottoms out and groans at the feeling, at the picture Wei Ying is painting. One of them tied up, even if he’s not sure who. Sweat and oil and slick getting them both hopelessly messy, the sheets filthy, the slow roll of their bodies until it’s not — He drops his head to look Wei Ying in the eye. “Yes. One day. We should.”
Wei Ying whines at that, and how is it possible that he’s enjoying this as much as Lan Wangji? But he is, whining and teasing and chasing after any part of Lan Wangji he can with his mouth.
Lan Wangji sits upright and grinds down, grounding himself in the sensation of this. The dildo, his own cock hard and bobbing, leaving a shining patch of precome on Wei Ying’s heaving stomach, Wei Ying’s hands on his hips digging in rhythmically. He pushes one hand down on Wei Ying’s ribcage to balance himself, cradling it and stroking his thumb along the curve of bone and muscle and a small layer of fat that he’s been doing his best to add to with copious amounts of snacks and home cooked meals. The other he brings up to stroke at Wei Ying’s mouth, grinning when Wei Ying only mouths at him for a few moments before lapping at the first two fingers with his tongue, opening his mouth to let them in, to let Lan Wangji push them in time with his own thrusts.
Wei Ying makes a loud, satisfied sound and laps at his fingers with his tongue, thrusts his hips up into Lan Wangji.
It all blends together, a song as embarrassing as it is natural, desired, needed . Wei Ying lets himself get louder as Lan Wangji picks up the pace, their hips slapping together, the oil and fucking adding a wet slurp that’s echoed by Wei Ying’s mouth on him.
He’s so hard it hurts, and Wei Ying is rubbing little circles onto the hollow between his hipbones with his thumbs, watching him with the same intensity he uses when testing a new talisman, watching for the weak spot, the frisson of danger and now.
And then he’s finally, finally , wrapping a hand around him, firm strokes on his cock out of rhythm with the ripple of their bodies, jarring Lan Wangji’s concentration, wrecking him for anything but this, the heat on his cock and the pinprick of Wei Ying’s nails digging into his hip with his free hand and the feeling of Wei Ying’s hot, wet mouth still working over his fingers and the sounds spilling out of him nonstop, now, egging him on, pushing him to the edge —
He lets go with a groan. He twitches around the dildo, pushing back onto the pressure, onto Wei Ying. The hand on him slows down but doesn’t stop until he twitches, hard, once, and then lets himself collapse onto Wei Ying.
Wei Ying’s arms wrap around him immediately, folding him up and into him. He hums into Lan Wangji’s ear, that same happy tune from before, aimless in its delight. Rocks them both softly from side to side.
After a while, once Lan Wangji mostly has his breath back and is trying to decide if it’s worth it to get up and clean them off or just fall asleep on top of his husband, Wei Ying breaks the silence. “I think that went well. Definitely a mark in the ‘yes’ column for dildos, harnesses, and fucking you. Your thighs are obscene, by the way. I think I came just from looking at them while you were flexing on top of me.”
Lan Wangji can’t help it, doesn’t have the brain function to try right now. He laughs into Wei Ying’s neck. His husband, and his ridiculous pillow talk, and his ridiculous post-sex rundowns of what worked and what didn’t, and his ridiculous, cute face and warm arms and …
He loses the thread of his thoughts a little bit, and tunes back into his husband throwing a fit. “Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, you can’t do that to me without warning. Hanguang-jun, sir, how does it feel to have the cutest laugh in all of Gusu, hm? Are you proud of yourself? Do you practice having the prettiest laugh, or is this another natural talent?”
There’s nothing to do but laugh again, bashful and helpless this time.
“Ah, come here, come here,” Wei Ying says, like he’s not trapped under him, touching every inch of him that he can. Wei Ying nudges and squirms until his legs get free and then he wraps those, too, around Lan Wangji’s hips, so that he’s holding him with all his limbs. It makes the dildo slip out, but even that feels like a release of its own, not sexual but easy, intimate. “Lan Zhan, you’re amazing. The prettiest, the handsomest, really the best.” He pets softly at Lan Wangji’s hair. “You have the best ideas.”
“Mmmm.” His brain is still restarting. He shifts sluggishly until he can cup Wei Ying’s face in his palm and kisses him equally slowly, mindless on the comedown.
Wei Ying mirrors him, not rushing, not pushing for more.
“Do you want?” Lan Wangji asks. The words are a little beyond him, but he could probably get his fingers or mouth to cooperate for long enough to get Wei Ying off, too.
But Wei Ying just laughs and shakes his head. “No. No, this felt good. I don’t want more, tonight.” He strokes down the line of Lan Wangji’s back, fingers pressing down on the muscles, not quite a massage but the beginnings of one. “But you’re welcome to wake me up tomorrow with some extra attention,” he says. And then tacks on a moment later, “The extra attention is your dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or — okay! Okay, don’t tickle me, Lan Zhan! Just surprise me then,” he says, giggling, fighting uselessly to avoid Lan Wangji’s wandering hands at his sides.
Lan Wangji settles down again, hiding his smile in Wei Ying’s shoulder. “Tomorrow then.”