*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.
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he is not often made to feel as though he is something hunted, the head and the heart set to frantic pacing. however, it is not to say is unacquainted with such things. the moment wei wuxian pulls him to his side, lan wangji feels the anxiety. it crowds the border between their skin, his own warmer than it has been as comes back into himself. it had only been a singular drink that he had been fed, after all. and lan wangji is no longer sure whether his tolerance has increased or wei wuxian had considered his threshold.
perhaps it is both. perhaps it is any number of reasons that coax him back into the smudged edge sobriety. perhaps it is wei wuxian himself, who had always made lan wangji as though he were drunk in another manner entirely. perhaps, in some ways too, it is because he wishes to keep watch as much wei wuxian himself does. had it not been made clear to them all, as of late? lan wangji is not nearly so equipped to handle the world's dangers as he once had been. none of them are. and so, even if he would have followed wei wuxian wherever it was he would have roamed, there is an ever deeper compulsion to follow.
there is an ever deeper compulsion to oblige, even as he hauls them both to jiang cheng's side and brings him too along for whichever ride wei wuxian has decided best to bring them all upon. (and for his part, lan wangji reaches across with a grace and steadiness that indicates that impact of alcohol has waned to keep the cup from spilling across jiang cheng's frame. there would be no good that would come of it, knowing now what he does.)
and what is it that he knows? it comes across in small questions, in the way his pale eyes turn to take in the softer features of wei wuxian's profile. it comes across in the way his fingers brush against wei wuxian's skin, a steady point of understanding and assurance. like this, they have always worked together. like this, even before the advent of what connects them now (lit from within, emotions as though lanterns sent adrift)— lan wangji has always trusted wei wuxian. he has always understood what it was wei wuxian needed from him when they came together to solve any number of scenarios. and now, the dark of his brows do not knit in soft measures and his mouth does not settle into any manner of a frown as wei wuxian releases them both.
instead, lan wangji indulges wei wuxian as he most often does. he leans down to allow wei wuxian to push what mistletoe that once adorned his hair into lan wangji's own, gaze softening under the dark of his lashes as he allows wei wuxian time to adjust the way it settles.
they are missing the best part, he tells them. and he knows the tradition by now. and surely, wei wuxian knows that he knows. lan wangji has never missed opportunity to learn when faced with items and concepts unknown. and so, he only just manages to suppress the milder twitch of his lips as he hums once, but asks to play along with him. ]
Where have you heard this?
[ he does not glance to jiang cheng, not yet. but, he straightens his back and smooths the fabric of his clothes without need of it. and somehow, it is only the faintest flush that touches against the shells of his ears. it is only that and the way he focuses now.
they had discussed this, wei wuxian and himself. they had. ]
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but it is only true to say that that he could not help but be drawn to the flush that rises upon wei wuxian's skin like sunset dyed clouds - and the warmth of the arm that hooks into his.
slighter and younger, the jiang cheng of now could shake him off altogether too easily, less the risk of being drenched from the glass of punch, but the familiarity of the gesture and the brightness of his lips formed in a smile that remains unchanged has something in his chest aching, his heartstrings pulled taut along with the curve of those lips.
hazy and bright, smelling fruity sweet of alcohol and punch, and jiang cheng does not - indulge him, as lan wangji does. he does not indulge, not willingly, not necessarily, and he scowls as he is steered toward some corner that remains unoccupied by any other Displaced. ]
What?
[ he is clumsy - the words are distorted and harsh upon his tongue, sharp like a mouthful of broken glass, and he crosses his arms - only to uncross them to wave wei wuxian's hand away from his hair, but not having the heart to remove the damage already done; the bright leaves and flower glisten in his hair, above the row of neat braid tucked over his ear. ]
Don't be stupid.
[ it is much like him, as wei wuxian would know, to be dismissive - to mask the embarrassment with anger, as he does with most other things. to be so obtuse to the point of blindness. ]
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[ he holds his back to lan wangji, the soft arch of his spine aligned with the back of the man's hand. it's all the better to be able to set his own hands behind his back, to lift his chin and puff his chest up with reckless pride - praise him, both of you! he's given you winter tidings and a gift to go with them, every excuse to properly act in this circumstance. jiang cheng has been warmed properly by alcohol, lan wangji and he have... well, they've given in to their own passions. their own soft, brief conversations over wei wuxian's beloved shidi, who is far more shy and maidenly than his sister had ever been. no wonder jin ling was called "young mistress", as he had inherited the delicate temper of the yunmeng-jiang and the shyness of the lanling-jin!
like this, he connects with lan wangji to silently question him. if he is sure, if his heart is not hurt by the idea of two, if he is unsure even as wei wuxian - whose heart has called for them both since his rebirth, whose heart has seen them together when they are unaware: drawn together, closer and closer - is sure. he has always, always admired and respected them both. for it to have blossomed into love is only the next, most natural step, to him. even in that, he loves them in different ways, each unique and irreplaceable to him. ]
You deserve to be kissed.
[ he is not a shy man, has always been vocal about his thoughts - whether they are proper or not. ]
And I want to be kissed, it's why I've worn so much mistletoe in my hair and nobody, not a soul, dares come to me!
[ in his voice, there is an audible sullenness - playful and roguish - because he feels he has the matter cornered, as cornered as jiang cheng is now. he does not know how else to pursue him, with one hand tucked behind his back into lan zhan's own and the other slyly walking its fingers up jiang cheng's front, up the bare skin of his throat to rest under his chin and tip it down, thumb resting just under the bottom curve of his lip. he is smaller now, than both of them - it means he has to bring jiang cheng's eyes down to meet his, or to stand on his tiptoes to be able to throw his arms around lan wangji's neck. ]
Much less the two people I want kissing me.
[ it's easy now, it comes easier. he cannot tell if this is love, he's scared to call it love, but it is a timeless sort of feeling that overcomes him - nervous and impatient, but too honest, too devoid of ulterior motive for it to be anything but the bare essence of wei wuxian, who holds jiang cheng's chin and then his face, and says a soft you're one, between them - the blue of his chest hidden behind dark red sweater and undershirt - connecting the three of them one-to-one-to-one as he kisses him. it's not a shy kiss, he feels that if he kisses jiang cheng without force, he will not believe the sincerity of it. and it is sincere. wei wuxian is only "drunk" with the energy of the party, he has not touched a drop of punch all night long.
he is, effortlessly and incomparably, sincere. ]
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[ to drag him to this party, to ply him with alcohol until the blood in his veins is somehow warmed, but more heated by the presence of them so near.
jiang cheng has stood in the peripherals this night, as he does, as he has been always. he has looked to the quick-footed fleeting figure of one and the silent, steadier presence of the other through the night, but never directly - never as this, cornered by the both of them, and jiang cheng reacts in the only way he has learned how to - he lights up against the teasing, against the touch of wei wuxian's hand sharply and brightly as solar flares, as the lashings of zidian.
he is not a gentle man, as lan wangji is. he is pieces of the boy he had been held together by iron and blood and lightning. he is the weathering to all their freshness, the wind to scatter the spring petals.
jiang cheng is not yet aware of his own heart; to think of not even one, but the both of them. he is not aware of the conversation that has happened, is happening, between his shixiong and the other. he is not aware of what had transpired between, but his gaze moves sharp and quick as any frightened wings of a bird may take itself to flight, upon the both of them, as wei wuxian walks - fearlessly, but he has always been fearless - his fingers up his chest, his throat, his face, to hold his chin between thumb and forefinger. jiang cheng can feel his face heat, as wei wuxian reaches his touch further still, to cradle his face.
he has never been kissed, has never kissed, and - ( you're one ) - the kiss that presses itself to his lips now is not at all how he could have imagined it to be. wei wuxian is not shy; he is not a reticent man, he is not as jiang cheng is - and it is a nervous thing, his own heart that beats, the blue of his chest faintly hidden. it is a shy and taciturn thing as it has been since they had been children - and impatient.
he closes his eyes tightly. his heart cannot find any excuses for his shixiong, to explain his actions to strangers. jiang cheng can feel -
feel, as if this is what he had been wanting. this is what he had wished for, perhaps, in the wilder, brighter days of their childhood. that this is the reason for his waiting. ]
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he kisses his own shidi, in front of the man that he likes. lan wangji, who he knows can see over wei wuxian's shoulder as wei wuxian presses himself a little further against jiang cheng, as he parts his lips and presses deeper into jiang cheng's own. his tongue moves soft against jiang cheng's, his hand tightens on lan wangji's. like this, his emotions surge for jiang cheng, they yearn for him. the hand that rests on jiang cheng's face drops, finding its way to the slender angle of his waist, gripping his hip as wei wuxian's kiss flows with the steady thrum of his heart. lan wangji lets his heart speak for him, because he is not one to use words when he can instead lead with action - and this, this is wei wuxian following his example.
he tugs, his emotions reaching for lan wangji ( come close, closer still, it calls for him ). wei wuxian leads, a conductor of a long-winded and inelegant musical piece that has been slowly crafted for ten, twenty, thirty years. since the day he and lan wangji were born, since the day that he was permitted to know happiness with jiang cheng -- wei wuxian's mouth pulls from jiang cheng's, his tongue teasing over the upper arch of his lip. and he twists, his hips finding jiang cheng's as his hand reaches up to find lan wangji's chin too. ]
Kiss him too, Lan Zhan. You want to as much as I do.
[ he whispers the words, but leads lan wangji's face towards jiang cheng's. he guides them together, until he is crushed between them and his emotions alight between them, playful and resounding. it echoes an early sentiment he had thought would never come to be, that one and one and one makes three. ]
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you want this as much as I do, wei wuxian tells him with reddened lips and all that is lan wangji's tenderness surges up beneath the flesh.
I do.
even back then, even in the nights that wei wuxian had told him too of all his feelings and beseeched lan wangji for his response (his fingers trembling almost indiscernibly within wei wuxian's as they do now against his against jiang cheng's jaw), it is all he could do to turn it over to the way that wei wuxian looked at him. it was all lan wangji could do, because he could not deny him. he cannot tell wei wuxian no, even then ashamed (and so temporarily), until he was assured.
and assured now that he is, in tandem with wei wuxian's dreams, he keeps wei wuxian close against him. leans for a moment against the palm that guides him, and then it is he who kisses jiang cheng, he who grips them both. it is he, who asks for their affections. it is he, in the bloom of their connections, that seeks that warmth and holds it against himself as though the shoots of pale, green things. the way he kisses jiang cheng is alike and unlike the way he kisses wei wuxian. here, there is less certainty, but no less fervor. he kisses jiang cheng, eventually and true, with force enough to bruise. he catches jiang cheng's lower lip between his teeth, lets his fingers push back into the wild of jiang cheng's dark hair. he anchors himself there, the flat of tongue coming next to drag against where it is teeth have latched, where it is jiang cheng's lips form a firmer seam.
he does not ask in words, even between. he does not ask in starts and fits. like this, he is fluent. like this, the warmth of his devotions and loyalties flit and filter through. the heat of his affections, the shapes of love he could not root once from himself. afraid as he had been (once, once so long ago) - love to lan wangji is a consuming and stubborn thing, an absolute as the mountains of his home. it does not waver, even in the face of all that could be and might be and is. and like this, it divides. like this, it returns home to whom it is it belongs. like this, he holds tightly and conveys not all desire to let go.
you are one, lan wangji imbues. jiang cheng is one. wei wuxian, he knows jiang cheng must now know, is the other. he has always been, to lan wangji.
and to the way he places hands upon them both, both to him will always be. ]
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jiang cheng would not believe ( as he would, as he does now ) in the sincerity of it, would not respond to it the way he had, the seam of his mouth softening, parting, against the press of the other's lips and tongue. he would mistake it for - pity, is one. some ill-intended charity, would be another, even though in his heart of hearts jiang cheng knows that this is wrong. that his shixiong is also someone who feels just as he does, that his heart also reverberates too deeply and too much, and that is the reason for their fracture. they had both ripped themselves away from each other and gone on separate ways, bleeding from the torn edges, and now the roughness of the healed over scars don't fit quite right.
but he tries. he parts, as water may part its flow and course against a bend in the river, against the stems of lotus leaves - he bends, he bows his head, to better try to fit his mouth against wei wuxian's. his heart feels too tight, too much, constricted as if zidian that sits upon his finger has somehow, without knowing, become a whip that has wound itself around his ribs. his brows furrow over eyes still closed tightly.
the eyes that open now, surprise and guilt and tiny pinpoint flecks of jealousy all meshing into some confused, grey swirl of emotions, as wei wuxian parts - as he presses himself up against him, as he calls to hanguang-jun and jiang cheng almost says,
don't be ridiculous
he almost says,
let me be,
even while some tiny, desperate corner of of his heart wants. yet another part of him feels - guilty, guilty yet defiant yet something fierce burns in his heart almost as if that day when he had stepped to wei wuxian's side and called him his. when he could say that with his head held high, with no shred of uncertainty or darkness.
there is none that he could see, in lan wangji's eyes. his gaze is steady, even as his fingers against the cut of his jaw is not. jiang cheng can feel his heart beat erratic and uncertain, can feel it knocking against wei wuxian's own slower, steadier thing, and knowing that the other is nervous as he himself is, is -
as he leans in, as he presses his weight against theirs and adds to it, jiang cheng, he -
their mouths meet.
it is a less certain thing, this kiss. it is a less steadier thing, but the firm press of lan wangji's lips against his own, the cut of his teeth that presses and makes itself known has a small helpless sound to rise from somewhere within the cage of his ribs - only to be caught in his throat and jiang cheng reaches, he grips wei wuxian's upper arm tightly within his grasp, curls his fingers around the bright red of the jumper in a white-knuckle grip because - because.
he twists his fingers as lan wangji's fingers twist in his hair, steadying himself to anchor against the both of them, and jiang cheng does not know what it is that he is feeling, what it is that would pass from him to wei wuxian, to lan wangji in turn. it is an unsteady needle-spikes of emotions, panic into surprise into something almost like happiness and then away in turn, like some fluttering, frightened thing.
he cannot seem to - to control himself as he usually does. he has been ripped open from seam to seam, undone by the touch of their hands and their mouths, and jiang cheng bleeds between them, against them.
with one, it would seem that he had always known, had always wanted - with the other, it is as though steady rain soaking the layers of mourning sleeves. unawares until he is drenched with it, and like this, trapped by the both of them, he can only - feel. ]
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his fingers hold to wei wuxian as they too hold to jiang cheng. they hold them close against him and feels as between them both jiang cheng bleeds as though the banks of summer springs. after so much rain, soaked through to the root— jiang cheng has no choice of it, but to overflow within their current. he and wei wuxian, fingers woven too and knotted, catch each and every part of it. as though nets to flying birds, as though to fish that school and swarm, they haul it up against the shore of skin and do not part from it.
like this, he swallows the soft sound that rises up to catch against jiang cheng's teeth. he licks into his softened mouth, pushes through the sentiment that this too has been decided in equal earnest— in all that he and wei wuxian both are. and lan wangji tastes the cut of jiang cheng's eyeteeth, coaxes for his tongue. he kisses jiang cheng, steadied by the lack of his rejection, the encouragement of wei wuxian.
you want this as much as I do.
and he does. he does, as no matter how he splits along the lines of his attentions, the rise of each of wei wuxian's knuckles are in turn brushed with the roughened pad of lan wangji's thumb.
want you, he imparts to wei wuxian. need you. even as he presses wei wuxian closer still to jiang cheng, as he shifts the hand in jiang cheng's hair to smooth instead along his throat. here, his fingers press down to jiang cheng's chest and feel instead above the ribs the stuttering of his heart. all in lan wangji is alight in blues, his breaths thinned and warmed. if he were to open his eyes now, if he were to look upon them both, how little gold would now remain? how little restraint would be left, given only in the way his hands ( at times ) still shake in effort to make himself stay reined?
like this, he too knows how wei wuxian fears to be ignored. like this too, he knows that jiang cheng is a nervous and flickering thing, a storm that breaks across horizons and makes no sound at all. like this, he keeps them both as steady as wei wuxian keeps them both. ]
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he stutters under the touch, under the press of their bodies like a dying flame, like a candle held aloft in the wind. he breathes out staggered and shallow against the press of lan wangji's lips and tongue and teeth against him and into him, and his other hand ( the one that has not got wei wuxian in a death grip ) move to grip around the other's wrist similarly - like a dying man, jiang cheng grasps - he holds on, thumb pressed against the fluttering pulse point of the pale wrist, a countering beat to his own unsteady, faltering heart.
a part of his mind is still suspended, surprised and stunned by the turn of events. a part of his mind is still disbelieving, unable to process the situation as it happens. first, wei wuxian's lips against his warm and sweet and trusting - and so full of that age-old affection, the familiar summer-air scent of him that has jiang cheng choke on his breath - and then second, lan wangji, like some spring rain that suddenly beset an unprepared traveler walking down strange paths - and jiang cheng thinks, breathless and weak, flushed and wanting, ah.
he has been - caught. not just in body, trapped and cornered by the twin press of weight and twin pairs of hands, but - like hooks into open wound, like barbs that catch at soft flesh and ankles unaware. caught by their affection and their soft-unrelenting will.
it is not happiness that rears its head, with the realisation. he is too old, too jaded, grown too withered and dry in the years. jiang cheng has grown out of hopes the way children grow out of robes, but it is a similar feeling that comes over him now, left to somehow reciprocate the gesture in turn, his tongue moving, sliding before it withdraws, against lan wangji's.
it is some wild, delirious feeling of - relief, maybe. it is ( his ) undoing, it is forgiveness, some blessing, some kind of mercy though he believes not in such things. ]
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so, with jiang cheng, he does not allow his shidi time to protest. not when the man before him has saved his life, has hurt for so long and so hard that wei wuxian can only think to kiss him to show him what he means to him. he spoke to lan wangji about it: those fledgling feelings that the illustrious hanguang-jun felt for the heir of the lotus pier were sweet little things that wei wuxian wanted to encourage. in part, because he does not feel he is fair to lan wangji - he does not know how to say how he feels directly, instead circling around it with a volume of words. and he's seen the way they look to one another, finding peace in their conversations held without them realizing he's awake, or around them. they are handsome together, he thinks, as he watches the way lan wangji kisses jiang cheng at wei wuxian's behest, and he licks his upper lip in anticipation. thinking of his own kisses, remembering the ones he'd received as well - the ones that had left small bruises on his bare skin.
the two of them clutch him, they clutch one another and he holds them too.
slowly, his face rises as he stands on his toes and his mouth finds the angle of lan wangji's jaw, pressing against it teasingly, chasing lips with tongue. he seeks to steal his kiss back from jiang cheng, to show his shidi what a complete circle looks like - his hand tight on jiang cheng's shirt, on his hip, sliding soft under his clothing to find the strong angle of his slender waist and press emotions into his body as well. reassurance ( he kisses them both, because he wants to ) and delight ( wicked and inherent to him, that untameable thing ). he takes lan wangji's kiss, slotting his face between them and it almost, almost leads them into a joining of tongue as he teases the edge of jiang cheng's mouth when he steals lan wangji back from him with a soft, needy little sound.
his belly presses to jiang cheng's, hip slotting against the join of his thighs as he pushes himself closer and drags lan wangji in behind him, crushing himself between their bodies - hold me, his emotions sing, asking for contact, for resolution. his entire being is alight, toying with the excitement of doing such a thing at a part and wanting to steal them away to a quieter location. ]
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still, these drift beneath the surface. still, these remain as wei wuxian leans up upon his toes and presses lips to the cut of his jaw, presses between himself and jiang cheng. jiang cheng, who makes noise against his mouth and goes pliant in wake of his teeth and tongue. he is as though a summer storm and the shift of his emotions rattles against the barrier of skin and bone. he leans against it ( for a moment, for just a moment ) before wei wuxian directs his attention back to his heat and his life— his requests, made vibrant in the tease he casts between them both. and so, it is lan wangji's hand that skims from jiang cheng's chest to the dip of his waist. it is fingers, that find purchase beneath the way that wei wuxian rucks up the fabric.
there is a passing reluctance to draw his hand from wei wuxian's. passing, as he cannot disobey the demand wei wuxian makes to be held, to hold. passing, as the flat of his palm works along the curvature of wei wuxian's arm, dips into the shadows that paint at the crook of his elbow. passing, as his hand for a moment departs only to settle upon the hip that sits closest to his own. wei wuxian, whom he has tasted and felt and moved with before— his touch is no less reverent, no less requesting, no less desirous. and lan wangji puts in work to hitch up the hem of the sweater to push his fingers beneath it, to lay them prone against the skin that he may reach with the span and length of them. and he breathes, in through his nose as wei wuxian presses kisses to his mouth.
and lan wangji, lan wangji goes ( for a moment, just for a moment ) pliant and gentle and warm. and as wei wuxian too moves to tastes him, fills lan wangji with the soft of his sound, it is only that moment he affords as he braces wei wuxian in the lean lines of his stretch with the press of his arm against his back. it is only that moment, before he moves to press the edge of canines against reddened mouth that too kissed jiang cheng. it is only that moment, before he presses that flat of his tongue against where it is he has bitten— presses on to take in the border of wei wuxian's teeth, the seam of his lips.
and this too, this too is no less fervent. no matter how it may be in part something he has long committed to memory, this too offers no less the thrumming of his heart. and it is an adoration, that blooms sharp between them both. it is a tenderness, that chances glimpses at how it is lays heavy against lan wangji's ribs. as though the branches of magnolias, bowed ready beneath snow— lan wangji holds steady beneath all that is pressed upon him, willing and welcoming, no matter the breadth of his tethered wants. ]
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wei wuxian is an untameable creature, a bird set upon a breeze; he does things because he wants to, not because he is forced, and jiang cheng cannot help but admit - like this, pressed to the corner of this crowded room, their lips and their hands burning brands and staining him with their colors - that there is something beautiful about it. wei wuxian is something free and unrestrained and wild, and it has always made jiang cheng either catch his breath or else hold it to watch him - in surprise, in wonder, in something much like devotion that has him stay his fingers instead of reaching out, in moments like this.
touch me, he says, hold me, he demands, and jiang cheng, freed from the kisses, has to grit his teeth tightly to keep any small noises in that may escape - small, silent huffs of breath that he can't quite control, his breathing made shallow with the way wei wuxian presses up against him between his legs, pulling lan wangji close behind him. jiang cheng does not touch - though the grip on his festive jumper does not loosen, it is not bare skin, not the dip and curve of wei wuxian's body as he bends into his space like some young green plant. jiang cheng stays his hands - keeping them balled up into fists, pressed to the wall behind him.
he looks dishevelled - lips darkened and swollen, flushed across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, the back of his neck already feeling hot - and jiang cheng stares at the way wei wuxian steals back the kiss, shamelessly taking - what he wants, but what rightly belong to him. their emotions - for each other, for the kiss, for - everything, flow into him, washes against him in waves too quick and fast to understand, and jiang cheng almost expects to feel some kind of rejection when he reaches out, some sort of blockage that would say, this is it. that is as far as you can come.
his hand finds their faces. his thumb brushes against the soft skin of one, the strong lines of jaw of another. he does not quite skim the edge of their lips where they are joined together - he is not so shameless as his brother - but his eyes are wide, in surprise, in wonder. ]