*seductively crawls out of hell* (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
laozu) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm
laozu) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-04-21 07:05 pm
CLOSED.
WHO: Ancient China Wuxia Crew ( Wei Wuxian laozu, Lan Wangji wangxian & Jiang Cheng sandu )
WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
laozu, Lan Wangji wangxian & Jiang Cheng sandu )WHERE: Various locations.
WHEN: Various times.
WHAT: A catch-all log for literally everything so we don't spam.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Sexual content, discussions of suicide/suicidal ideation, physical violence, difficulties in communication, etc.
no subject
at one point, they have dinner at a moving cafe ( 'here today, gone tomorrow!' proclaims the sign as the attendant chirps about keeping up with the crowds ), where he plys lan wangji with a touch of alcohol. enough to set him to wobbling and weaving, to see the more petulant side of him -- to be charmed by it again, weaving in and out of other bodies, into slender alley ways where he laughs and presses himself to the far wall as he calls out: lan zhan, are you chasing me? and teases him by staying just out of reach. how badly, though, he wants to fling himself into the man's arms!
he runs him through the streets, until the alcoholic flush to lan wangji's cheeks has been replaced with exertion ( maybe a touch of frustration? ) and his words are coherent once more. it is then that he saunters back into his arms, grasping the man's hands to place them on his waist while he links his behind lan wangji's neck and smiles, sunnily, at him. ]
I liked the one with the balcony! It's small, but it was the nicest of the bunch with a good central area for us all to meet and take meals in, and a balcony we could fill with all sorts of things. I want wind chimes and a little pot for a seedling we can water together! My only complaint is that there's no tub to wash in, only a shower and that's a dismal thing, but I'm sure there's a public bathhouse somewhere -- if not, I suppose we'll have to visit New Tokyo again. What did you think, Lan Zhan? Me and you, Jiang Cheng, Riku and Sora. We'll fit nicely together there.
[ on his toes, he dares drag the tip of his tongue over the tip of lan wangji's nose - teasing, excited ]
You're so messy when you drink, it's cute.
no subject
has he not always? he not always found him? has he not always been there to catch him, no matter what height it was from which wei wuxian let himself down?
he cannot remember all, but he remembers some. he remembers that bright tilt of his gaze, the emptiness of alleyways. he remembers the frustration that he housed, the undercurrent of exhilaration as he nearly snared his wrist. once, twice— so many times, as though within the safe house, sated only for a moment before lan wangji could no longer kiss him, could no longer hold him.
and yet, as wei wuxian speaks, lan wangji finds as always he cannot deny him. he cannot, as wei wuxian details all with a particular enjoyment. he cannot, because wei wuxian is wei wuxian and wei wuxian turns the sun of his attention upon lan wangji and all within him warms. all within him softens, comes with the meeting of eyes and the way the pale of his eyes seem clearer with it. ]
If Jiang Cheng agrees, we will take that one. [ he is able to construct it, for a moment. mornings spent in the small space of their kitchen. he is able to see wei wuxian, his dark hair beneath his fingers. he is able to see greenery, pale shoots and pale leaves pressed against the glass. he is able to see it vividly, as vividly as wei wuxian comes into his arms, as vividly as he takes his hands from where they rest to station against the solidity of his hips. lan wangji, in some half-memory, holds on. he grasps, a little firmer than need be, a little firmer than any other might.
but, wei wuxian has fled from his hands. he knows, in small instances. he knows, without even knowing, what it was wei wuxian had done to tease him to start. he only knows that his heart hungers and his heart wants. he only knows it is an eager thing against his ribs, beating hard enough to bruise.
i love you, it has always told him. i love you.
and then, wei wuxian leans up. he leans up and steals breath from lan wangji's lungs, sets the blood beneath the cool of flesh to boiling. he has taken so many little touches, just as this one. he has taken wei wuxian's fingers in his hair, his knuckles against his cheek. he has taken his hands, wandering things, between his own. he has taken so many of these, starved and greedy, and still— the words cannot tell wei wuxian more.
it is the eyes, perhaps, that do it best. it is the way his mouth settles into a conflicted line, the way his dark brows knit. or, perhaps, it is in the way his lashes droop as wei wuxian tells him sweetly that he's cute. perhaps it is any combination of these things, as lan wangji's voice comes steady and low. ]
Wei Ying.
[ it is not a warning. it is barely a reprimand. it is a last hold out for something, alone as they are now. the voices of the city narrow to the point of wei wuxian's smiling mouth, the point of their own contact. he feels wei wuxian's excitement, feels the way he teases. it sparks along his own, along the way lan wangji is tangled in the weave of his affections, the fond exasperation. it hems him in, as wei wuxian hems himself.
his hands draw wei wuxian closer still. ]
no subject
[ and he had drawn his tongue over things, over parts of lan wangji innocent to such a devil's caress. wei wuxian had watched as lan wangji's brows had contorted along with his mouth, the tips of his ears red as they are now. only now, he knows the reason for lan wangji's blushing - it is not modesty that possess him, but impropriety. the great and illustrious and thoughtful hanguang-jun, his mind set to indecent things as the pass of wei wuxian's tongue over his nose leads him to speak his name in such a tone. ( a tone, that says to wei wuxian: again. closer. and how can he deny him that? ) ]
You were so playful, chasing me around and hiding your handsome face.
[ lan wangji is not under alcohol's influence now, coming out of it warmed and dazed - but the focus is back in his eyes, the organization of his words and actions is his own and not the alcohol's. wei wuxian is coming to know him better, and for such things he's eternally grateful. in his youth, he had wanted to befriend this man. handsome, refined and talented. things that he was not, with his roguish wildness, his lackadaisical standards. what he had seen in lan wangji was a good heart, a man that could be trusted and admired above all. and he had so deeply, painfully wanted his life to include lan wangji's presence -- flustered and furious with him, torn from his moorings, he would have taken any of it.
now, he takes his touch ( the brush of his hands, the press of his mouth ) and knows himself as a greedy, terrible creature. but, he is one contented by this closeness. ]
What are you thinking, Lan Zhan? I don't believe for one moment that houses are on your mind anymore.
[ as though to taunt him, he touches his tongue to lan wangji's mouth this time, rising on his tiptoes to reach ]
no subject
he swallows. ]
That time— [ lan wangji begins, but the words seize up in his throat. the flat of wei wuxian's tongue is against the seam of his lips and he feels his chest, his hands, his heart tighten. he feels the burn of his own blood, the way he knows what color blooms into the soft shadows that mark beneath his ears. back then, wei wuxian had only told him very little. the second time, he had told lan wangji even less. but, it seems as if lan wangji too has realization that perhaps it is now them both who have taken without asking. and beneath wei wuxian's palms, there too comes a sense of satisfaction underscored with some frustration, an old and lingering shame.
does he know? he must. he must now, that lan wangji too has kissed him once so long ago. he must know now that lan wangji's temperance is a pliable thing, a thing meant to be wei wuxian's to do away with. he must know, the soft grey of wei wuxian's eyes sharpening. he must, as he leans up on his toes and lan wangji's grip shifts to brace him— palm flat against the arching of his back. but, it is only temporary.
lan wangji is not a man who holds indefinite. when asked, when teased, when demanded— he'd once deconstructed the library he and wei wuxian spent a month in. he'd once challenged wei wuxian to fight with him, bichen drawn and pointed to the pale of his neck. no matter the way lan wangji's heart wavered even then, no matter how he'd done his best to disguise it, wei wuxian still pulled for him. wei wuxian still chased the edges of him, no matter how it was that lan wangji covered his ears and closed his eyes. before he knew it, before he ever wanted it, wei wuxian had worked roots into his foundations. and lan wangji, since then, has known only what it was to desire to be at another's side, to understand when all others didn't that—
wei wuxian was selfless, kind. he was one who would not with intent seek to injure another when they themselves were blind. and it is what lan wangji had learned, in time. it is what he had learned when they were children, when all in the world began to skew and all that was left was ash and blood and fire. even now, lan wangji thinks this. he thinks this, no matter how his patience and his diligence frays until there is nothing left of it.
it happens without much surprise. wei wuxian has always been good at pulling a rise from lan wangji, at bending all within him so far that it snaps as though the stems of lotuses beneath eager palms. if wei wuxian is up upon his toes, suddenly it is more that he spun within lan wangji's arms. suddenly, it is more that lan wangji has bracketed him, nudged him back against the alley wall. suddenly, it is more that lan wangji bridges to catch the mischief that curves the corners of wei wuxian's mouth. like up upon phoenix mountain, the way he kisses wei wuxian now is meant to mark, to bruise. it is meant to convey more than what his words can carry, what lan wangji can bring himself to portray.
clear enough? is what his touch seems to say.
wei ying. ]
and thus begins the nsfw and i have to update the notes of our log
And that time you woke, to find me bare as my first day on this earth, next to you? I was teasing then. I thought if I pretended to have stolen your virtue, you would despise me. I did so many things to free myself from you, when what I really wanted was to be held tighter by your hands.
[ my surname, is lan!, he had said to a man once. ]
I've stolen from you, Lan Zhan. Are you displeased with me? I took the taste of your mouth before you were aware of it. I played with Bichen and made you jealous, I see that now. You're so cute, you're so sweet. I really like you, you know?
[ by now, he knows that lan wangji is anything but displeased. he is shy, he is layers upon layers of gentle heart and wild emotions, so impassioned that he must hold himself as remote as the mountains lest he tumble into their depths. wei wuxian can feel them, through their skinship. through their kisses, through the mere brush of his hand along the second-eldest of the lan brothers. ]
I told you. Once, a while ago. Mister Cain said some things to me, and I had to think them over - he made me realize, I teased you because I wanted you to be close to me. Even if you were angry, I wanted you to be so caught up with thoughts of me - it was irresistible! At that time, I wanted to be friends. I wanted to have fun with you. Now, I want to be more than friends, [ he speaks so much, so quickly; bright and brilliant words, laughter in his voice as they spill from him finally: ] I still want to have fun with you, though. A more adult kind of fun, now that we're older.
[ and wiser, at that.
his voice is finally crushed from him as lan wangji pushes him to the wall behind, he feels the weight of the other man's body, the grip of his hands and each thing is one more piece of the illustrious hanguang-jun that he wants sunken into his skin, carved against his bones. he wants to be cherished. he feels cherished, as he tips his head back and arches his spine to invite lan wangji's hands to find purchase upon his body, to allow him to kiss fiercely in return, all teeth and tongue and the soft huff of breath that could be his attempt to breath in circles ( the way he would, when playing chenqing for hours upon hours ) or his soft, muffled note of desire. ]
What? Right here? Right now? You're so naughty.
[ he breaks only to scold him playfully, his hands falling away from the back of lan wangji's neck to find their way down the front of his shirt, lower still across the line of his belly below and lower still, until he's boldly taken hold between his thighs. ]
no subject
he had thought of no other way, even within the dreams he'd woken up from in his youth, not even within the months since wei wuxian's return. wei wuxian had always filled the empty spaces that lan wangji himself could not. in silences, in mornings, in evenings, in all the moments lan wangji had wanted to tell him so earnestly that wei wuxian was precious and cherished and loved—
but, his words are fleeting and disparate things. they fragment under the touch of wei wuxian's hands. like oars dipped into streams, the current skims about its edge. he cannot hold them, but wei wuxian can. and he pours each sentiment against his skin, makes the blush of his ears evermore red. and what more can lan wangji do than to break under him? what more can he do, than to submit himself just as he is? what more, than to show wei wuxian all that he has wanted to show him since they were young and brilliant things? and now, that wei wuxian is still brilliant and they are perhaps a touch more wise? ]
Like you, [ he hitches against his lips, rasped between the way wei wuxian too kisses him. it is a thin echo, but his hands for once are trembling things against their purchase against wei wuxian's slim hips. and it is a bubble of frustration that rises up in him as they stutter first at the hem of wei wuxian's dark shirt before pushing up beneath it. and like this, they make amends for it as his palms and fingers find each forming muscle, the way wei wuxian pulls against him breath. ] Not displeased. [ nonsensical, he knows. he knows, but still it is the admission beneath. and now, as his thumbs stroke against the curvature of ribs: have stolen from you too. ] All of it, for you.
[ all of lan wangji, all of him. no matter what it was he has taken, lan wangji has surrendered to him gladly. and yet, he would wonder the same for wei wuxian. he would wonder, but he buries the thought. wei wuxian, as he breaks from him, flushed and bruised and beautiful in all the ways that lan wangji remembers, but—
wei wuxian's eyes rest sure against him, as sure as lan wangji's rest against wei wuxian. and it is all that lan wangji can do, to not pursue his mouth again as wei wuxian's hand finds it way down his front and seizes him. it is all he can do, to catch the break of breath against his teeth. his hips twitch up, abortive. ]
Wei Ying.
[ it is a more a hiss, a warning. it fits so neatly, against the thundering of his heart. and lan wangji's hands, they grasp for any and all of him. him, who lan wangji has loved and loves and wants. if wei wuxian continues, he will not stop. lan wangji will take him where they are, press marks into his skin with the edges of his teeth. he will make good on how his fingers move, how they take all wei wuxian gives, hungry and rough and reverent. even now, they stroke along his waist. they play at the curve of hip, the rise of bone. and lan wangji - though he thinks of little pure at all, there is no longer means to separate from wei wuxian the extent of all his longing. like this, awash in all their blues, lan wangji understands again the endless rows of flowers up upon the mountain. love you, is what his father said, had written into soil. want you.
but, wei wuxian was a free and beautiful thing. he had always been unrestrained and untamed, where lan wangji had once counted rules and inscribed into himself control ( do not be as your father ). and wei wuxian is still, even still, as lan wangji allows himself to feel with that enormity, allows himself to be branded in all the ways of wei wuxian's fire.
love you, is what he tells him. beneath his palms, between his palms, wei wuxian's skin is a heat that lan wangji craves more of. want you.
it takes all that he has left, his chest tight with each word that wei wuxian has spoken to him, shameless and sunken in as deep as arrowheads, as deep as all the quiets lan wangji has lived without him. and now, to hear him speak and speak and never stop at once reminds him that all is real and true no matter how once and sometimes still he finds its clip exasperating ( but he is fond, so fond ).
have always.
and still, lan wangji is only just so patient. and still, it is that, that brings his hands against wei wuxian's back. it is that, that makes him duck his head. it is that, that makes him press his mouth to the column of wei wuxian's neck and give no further warning as he nuzzles up against the pulse, parts his lips— sinks his teeth in. ]
no subject
he is a man, in the end. one who wants lustfully, as wei wuxian does, as any other man would. that lan wangji, who should have enjoyed the respectable and powerful match to another cultivator, should want him, yiling's patriarch and all-around rogue? it is flattering, it is emboldening, it leaves him awe-stricken for a moment before he gasps: ] Lan Zhan, don't bite! You always bite, you did this even in the cave! It hurts, you know! Touch me sweetly, I'll return the favor!
[ as he says it, his hands find the front of lan wangji's pants, parting them with his fingertips after some fumbling. he's able to touch his hipbones, tracing them with his thumbs, able to slip a hand across warm skin to grasp him properly and lick the edges of his canines as he finds the illustrious hanguang-jun's eye and looks into it, sly and stung by the rough press of his teeth. wei wuxian holds him, mouth busy against lan wangji's neck as well, tongue and the edge of his teeth busy as he feels the thickness of him against his palm. even this is bold, and he doesn't know how to proceed. ]
Mm, [ he whispers it to him: lan er-gege in a single breath, ] I want to sleep with you so bad. We can't do it in the safehouse and I don't want to wait until we own this apartment, do you?
no subject
and in that way, lan wangji had to remind himself: he would not be as his father, he would not take what was not his to hold, he would not impose. he would not bend too far the rules that had been carved into the stone. and yet—
wei wuxian coaxes him, riles him. he stokes the burning edge of lan wangji's attentions, as much as wei wuxian stokes what is now inevitable between them both. wei wuxian knows. lan wangji knows wei wuxian knows he knows. and yet, wei wuxian's fingers stroke along his hipbones. wei wuxian's fingers make fine work to size him up, to touch him where it is no one else has dared touch. and it is lan wangji's inhalations that go thinner still as wei wuxian marks along his throat with his mouth, presses in against him as much as lan wangji himself.
and it is a pause. it is with his teeth against wei wuxian's pulse, his tongue against the grey shadows that cut beneath wei wuxian's jaw, that lan wangji finally crowds. it is a momentary lapse in all that lan wangji is, a momentary hiccup in his restraint that leads a hand down to seize the errant hand that feels him up. and it is his fingers, over-warm, that encompass wei wuxian's wrist. and it is a directive tug, a returning shove ( measured, in that his other hand still cradles the hot dip of his spine ) that backs wei wuxian against the alley wall. it is a firmer motion, that keeps wei wuxian pinned between it and himself. and it is his knee, that nudges apart wei wuxian's legs to press his thigh up against him.
and for a pause, for a pause it is as though the surge of motion in him breaks as though water at a bank. his pale eyes, dark and fixed, clearing only long enough for lan wangji to seek the corner of wei wuxian's mouth. it is only that and the downward sweep of his lashes against wei wuxian's cheek, the way his voice comes from the throat that indicates what little there is left of all his waiting.
( and still, still— the hand that touches at wei wuxian's back skims along his spine, apologetic. ) ]
Here? [ it is a question, perhaps, that has dual meaning.
he grinds his thigh up between wei wuxian's, once. ]
no subject
[ he breathes the words, lacing his fingers behind lan wangji's neck to better balance his weight. though not as strong as he was in his previous life, he is still stronger than the average human being ( never as strong as lan wangji, nor jiang cheng; one has always been stronger, the other has outclassed his new form given his age and training ). he is still able to rise on his toes as lan wangji's thigh pushes between his own, driving him up with a faint oh -- a sound that shivers from his throat and trickles down the length of his body.
no one has ever touched such a place, save for himself. his hands have been the only thing to know his body; his last life had ended without sharing such intimacy with anyone, regardless of rumor that had flown from sect to sect about his proclivities, about the women he surrounded himself with ( dead ) and the company he kept ( the wens, who surely must have pledged fealty to the great and terrible yiling laozu ). lan wangji is the first to touch him in such a way, and he finds that the sensation that hits him is warm. it feels like liquid, something molten and thick that pours down the back of his neck and pools low in his stomach. lower still, in his hips. ]
You're so handsome.
[ the sweep of lan wangji's lashes. the delicate slash of his stern mouth. the rough pads of his fingertips, from strumming the guqin's strings powerfully, for so long. ]
My, Lan Zhan. [ it sounds like, my lan zhan: ] Right here, right there. Right now.
[ he pushes his hips down, rocking them in small circles against his thigh. ]
You have my loyalty, my faith, my respect -- don't you want my body, too?
no subject
he does. he always has. he has always wanted each and any and all that wei wuxian would willingly grant to him, whether it be the rain of peonies, the brush of his hand. he had always wanted anything at all that wei wuxian would cast to him, whether it be the shape of his voice or the way his eyes would seek him. he had always wanted each and every part that wei wuxian would share with him, if only wei wuxian were willing to have him. if only if he desired him, without need to show gratitude— without need to say "thank you" or "i'm sorry" or anything at all.
and it is the impression of want, lan wangji's want, that pulls tight and warm between them. it is his love for wei wuxian, for his wei ying, that surges up to bank it. and for a moment, lan wangji's breathing falters beside his ear. it falters, as his palms trace out the softened angles of wei wuxian's body and wrap gentle about his waist. ( have you, he says with the ball of his thumbs against the rise of his hips. want you. and yet— ) ]
Wei Ying, [ he murmurs, both humid and close. it is felt, perhaps, more than heard as he presses lips to skin. it is felt, perhaps, more than heard as he mouths against the mark he's left, as he impresses upon him more like the bruised edges of magnolias under cleansing storms.
and as wei wuxian rocks, he hears him say it. he hears the pause between the word, his name. he hears it blend ( my lan zhan ) and it is difficult to suppress the shiver that cuts sharp through the center of his being ( again ). it is more difficult now, as his fingers tremble as he holds wei wuxian, as lan wangji grants to the counterweight of friction. and it is not for nervousness, it is not for strain that his hands do this— it is for the words that he speaks next, the pale of his eyes hazy as he pulls just slightly back, lips both reddened and wet. ]
What Wei Ying wants, [ he starts, the words quiet and rumbled things. his brow knits in some frustration, as if there is more that he could give if only— ] Only if you want.
[ if you will have me lingers just beneath. if you will have me, for myself. ]