[ it is this lan wangji marks: jiang cheng is though a figure at a shore. he is defined in all ways and all lines as a man he has come to sit in company of, has become fond of. lan wangji, even with the distance etched into the blood, recognizes him as one who resembles the bared and smoldered tree lines of filial homes. he stands stark in this kitchen, a warmth that that threatens to spark. and yet, though he crumbles and shies, jiang cheng impresses upon lan wangji all that is his life. jiang cheng is pride, is fear, is the nervous energy that comes before the spring ignites. and still, lan wangji abides jiang cheng's time.
he will not force jiang cheng into his arms, will not smother him with the turn of his attentions, the weight of affections ( new, so new ). he will not insist, will not corner, will not fold himself into the grooves that jiang cheng has left within his heart for him. he will let jiang cheng decide, he will let him come nearer if he should want.
he will let jiang cheng turn back if he must.
and still, for all jiang cheng's inexperience, it is lan wangji that does not imply that he is as such. lan wangji, brilliant in ways of learning, complements what it is jiang cheng starts. lan wangji grazes teeth against jiang cheng's lip, returns his kisses and his breaths in even rhythm. he lets jiang cheng edge against his body, tastes jiang cheng with the heat of his tongue. he is not gentle, though he is gentle, because lan wangji angles not at all to chip against jiang cheng's efforts. he angles not at all to keep jiang cheng hostage, the wash of blues painting where it is they join cool.
jiang wanyin, he shapes against his mouth. jiang wanyin, he cradles in his palms. and it is inquiry, that smudges at corner of jiang cheng's uncertainty, a tenderness that offers in its way to stop as his hands drift up. as his lan wangji's hands rest steady - one at the curve of his jaw, one at the pale curve his throat. ]
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he will not force jiang cheng into his arms, will not smother him with the turn of his attentions, the weight of affections ( new, so new ). he will not insist, will not corner, will not fold himself into the grooves that jiang cheng has left within his heart for him. he will let jiang cheng decide, he will let him come nearer if he should want.
he will let jiang cheng turn back if he must.
and still, for all jiang cheng's inexperience, it is lan wangji that does not imply that he is as such. lan wangji, brilliant in ways of learning, complements what it is jiang cheng starts. lan wangji grazes teeth against jiang cheng's lip, returns his kisses and his breaths in even rhythm. he lets jiang cheng edge against his body, tastes jiang cheng with the heat of his tongue. he is not gentle, though he is gentle, because lan wangji angles not at all to chip against jiang cheng's efforts. he angles not at all to keep jiang cheng hostage, the wash of blues painting where it is they join cool.
jiang wanyin, he shapes against his mouth. jiang wanyin, he cradles in his palms. and it is inquiry, that smudges at corner of jiang cheng's uncertainty, a tenderness that offers in its way to stop as his hands drift up. as his lan wangji's hands rest steady - one at the curve of his jaw, one at the pale curve his throat. ]