*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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[ 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. ]