*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
his movements are too eager in some ways, before he is made aware, to draw back, to shy away - his fingers stutter a line from the other's face to his jaw; he parts a little, to suck in some uneven line of breath against the dampness of the other's mouth, callused palm tight against the curve of his nape to throat to shoulder, traversing.
briefly, within the myriad of sensations and thoughts that light up between them, underneath palms and fingers and teeth, he feels the rounding off of mirth, some faint echo of it - and lan wangji is truly, only a man, to feel such things made of human blood and human warmth. to not be always so austere and cold as some wintry mountain peaks do.
and how wrong he has been, about it, about him.
jiang cheng thinks, as he is pressed, till he is gasping, against the wall. how wrong he has been - it is wrong to compare lan wangji to the mountains, to relegate him to some distance too far to measure with the span of his hands. he is as the first melting of the stream, the water that flows over rough rocks and quiet ponds. he is someone who, reaching the base of the mountains from whence he came, becomes a steady flow, a torrent that cannot be moved nor change its course as rivers do.
he has to pull away first, when lan wangji presses their bodies flush together, angling him with the hand that fits itself over his hip. jiang cheng shivers - the nervous strumming drum beat in his blood pounding in his ears, and he leans his head back, stares up, up, up at lan wangji with eyes rimmed faintly in red, flushed and not knowing where this road quite takes them, whether he would like it at all - but he would, he would.
he is - one of three. lan wangji tells him in so little words - that he is one, he holds some measure of space in his heart, that jiang cheng holds, in his hands and within his ribs, the blue glow trembling, his heart unsteady like a baby animal learning how to walk the first time.
jiang cheng does not, or did not, think that he would be - even in the early days of their conversations, the words falling intermittently like moths being allowed to beat themselves to fine dusty powder, crazed by the light.
he feels more than a little crazed now, his blood sings wild and hungry - but jiang cheng stands, he waits. ]
no subject
he follows and all in lan wangji stirs, as though in heady aftermath of drinking. he does not protest, as jiang cheng parts only enough to cast his eyes up to him, to watch lan wangji and all he does. instead, it is lan wangji that makes the starting sound. it is a soft breath, the softer flutter of his lashes down as his fingers work through further buttons, steadier now. and yet, it is the fever that builds beneath jiang cheng's skin that spills too into him. eyes rimmed, the wet catch of his exhalations— lan wangji must remind himself that jiang cheng has not been touched as this, has not been made vulnerable to this. and it is that thought, that brings to light the bitter thread of lan wangji's possessiveness, the hunger that he too feels even as coaxes his own wishes down.
instead, lan wangji imparts something else. he presses to jiang cheng kisses, unhurried and slow. he presses them to the corner of his mouth, the dark part of his hair, the crease between his brows. he presses kisses to reddened apples of his cheeks, nudges down. it is all right, lan wangji tells him as much as he tells himself. he noses beneath the stern cut of his jaw, catches his breath there amid the thicker scent of him, the way his pulse beats hard against lan wangji's dampened mouth.
is this all right? it is said, as much as it is felt.
jiang cheng is though the tang of ozone, the moment before the sky parts. he drapes across all of him, all of lan wangji, as though a welcomed humidity. he sticks to walls of lan wangji's heart, makes his head full more of the wants that wei wuxian so impressed into the flesh since he was young. lan wangji knows nothing of what it is not to love. he knows nothing, if not to carry tenderness and sincerity. he knows nothing, if not pining in months and years and decades long. and now, it is jiang cheng's fingers that implore. they do not know what man he is beneath the tight of his control, though he crumbles now in wake of asking.
is this? the hand upon his waist dips, circles low to the small of jiang cheng's back. it presses up, his roughened palm hot, to meet the languid roll of hips. ]
no subject
[ finally, he finds it in himself to speak up from his place in the doorway, hands laden with bags full of additional items that he's procured for their household. organizational implements, a few additional blankets for their juniors, and so on and forth. the items have found their way to the ground at his feet, hands now clutching his cheeks as though a maiden who has seen something scandalous. wei wuxian's face, a pale shade of pink ( excitement, not shame ), mirrors the sudden outburst as he plays at being scandalized by what he's walked in upon, shocked by the heated expressions on jiang cheng and lan wangji's faces; the places their hands have gone, the pale blue glow of their chests as they touch.
it's quite the sight, and he's stopped to enjoy it for a handful of seconds, before he's unable to keep quiet. ]
If only you two would put your hands on one another while I was around, I feel as though I've missed out on something extraordinary and scandalous! Two handsome, talented men feeling one another up - my own boyfriends at that! [ there is a pause only as he tries the word on for size, licking his teeth to taste it, eyes turning up into the curious arch of his brow. it sounds lovely, to him. his boyfriends, as though able to claim the two of them with words alone. time will tell if jiang cheng can accept such, as wei wuxian understands that lan wangji will devour what is freely given to him. ]
Please don't stop on my account. [ chel.gif ] I've been blessed, I am so lucky that I am alive to witness this. Why aren't you moving anymore, do you need instruction?
[ BLUNTLY ]
no subject
he feels as if he is afire. he feels as though those fields that are set alight for the coming of winter - jiang cheng is lit from within, as the other's fingers work upon the neat row of buttons of his shirt. he breathes out heat, his eyes and skin damp with it, as lan wangji presses his lips and tongue to him, into him.
but he too, is impatient. he is not a good man, he is not gentle. he is selfish, yes, and jiang cheng turns his face into the fall of the other's hair, exhales damp and hurried breath against the shell of lan wangji's ear as their hips press, rolling even and unhurried, and-
the sound of things falling to the ground has him look up, half shadowed behind lan wangji, and his expression is all at once stricken, horror and anger and embarrassment some strange thing of guilt that passes like clouds over the sun, all in quick succession.
a distant, close-to-heart part of him, the pieces of him that are still young, still green, wishes that he could just fly and slap wei wuxian senseless.
another part of him catches uneven, stumbles as one would upon that word, the thing that wei wuxian tastes - the thing wei wuxian gladly sinks his teeth into, has jiang cheng suck in a slight, small breath in retaliation - and another, a little more audible, when lan wangji also reacts - to any or all of those words - making it known to jiang cheng that their hips are still flush together, that his hands are still upon jiang cheng, to mold and press him against his own.
all at once, he knows what they must look like to him - to wei wuxian who stands at the doorway. it is the sort of self realisation that has jiang cheng scrambling away, palms flat against lan wangji's chest, his stomach, to push at him - to drop his gaze and try to ignore the buttons of his shirt that now lay open, across his chest, the flush that travels even to his collarbones and past it.
he runs - there is no other way to really explain it, to give an excuse that would somehow change it from something cowardly - he runs, roughly pushing past wei wuxian and, throwing the shoes that had lain so neatly, now haphazard on the ground in his hurry, disappears out the door. ]
no subject
and what is acidity, to all of lan wangji's envies? what is it at all, for these are things from which they cannot divest themselves? no matter how it is lan wangji has tried, no matter for his shame and insidious wants, he finds within his affections lays plain the tang of vinegar that he drinks directly from the pot. and what was it, that was said? should one drink a poison and expect another to succumb? lan wangji had tucked these things within his heart. and he tucks them away deeper still, even as he feels the frenetic beating of jiang cheng's heart. and then—
wei wuxian's voice catches him, seizes him. it has always and somehow still, regardless of obscenities he spills, lan wangji hooks memory into the term he calls them both and warms. hazy, his eyes still dark, he turns his head from the dampened lines of jiang cheng's neck and feels jiang cheng gasp as lan wangji too draws breath. he feels it again and it stirs him all the more, before jiang cheng's emotions loop from the outward whip of his aggressions to something else and lan wangji takes an unsteady half-step back before jiang cheng makes break for the door, his hands shoving him back and lan wangji obedient in how he follows.
he had thought that perhaps— but, it does not matter now. instead, what is left is a nervous coil of some flustering, the way heat settles against his ears again in the same familiar ways ( his ears, so pink before, now redden as he turns his eyes for a moment from wei wuxian ). and it is something of frustration and confusion and concern that flits across what is left of the pale of his eyes, thinned and sharpened and hot. and then, it is his mouth that works for sound, the heavier way of his breaths to silence and drown. ]
Wei Ying, [ he exhales, eventually. it is without real reproach, but it takes a moment longer still for lan wangji to turn the weight of his eyes to him, his own teeth catching at the inside of his lip.
there is a question in it, perhaps. an unvoiced worry beneath even that. ]
no subject
he laughs, and it is not cruel laughter, but it is utterly charmed by their lack of discretion. imagine, he knows, if it had been one of their juniors to walk in instead of him. ]
Lan Zhan, am I not satisfying you? Do I not give you enough kisses, are you unhappy?
[ he teases, because he can. because there is no reason he cannot do this to the second jade of gusu-lan. he teases, and wordlessly presses a kiss to the high, flushed arch of lan wangji's cheek. there there, their blue connection soothes, there there. and that betrays him to lan wangji, in the end. though he giggles madly over the hilarity of the situation, there is no anger or betrayal inside his heart. perhaps a morsel of disappointment, that jiang cheng has fled, but he is not cross. there is no need for the man before him, gentle of heart, to worry himself over wei wuxian's reaction. ]
Did he leave you all wound up, then?
no subject
but: ]
You have made me very happy, [ he assures, with neither hint of insincerity nor guile, his breathing coming still soft and short and warm. ] In each of these ways. [ he clarifies, just before he turns to nose against a palm, an action in contrast to the set of his mouth. he frowns, if only just a little. he is being teased, as he is always teased, and yet he feels only the firm lap of strictness in the truths and affections that break from his mouth.
it has been said by his own brother that lan wangji has always been gentle in this way. he has always been sensitive and stubborn in the most peculiar ways, for what should have expected of a man such as hanguang-jun is not what wei wuxian holds within his hands and presses his lips to, full of need to soothe the sting of his embarrassment and the blister of his shame.
he leans down, makes easier the stretch to reach him. instinctive now, an arm comes to settle about the low of wei wuxian's back, a steadying weight to counter the balance of his toes. careful, is what he says in all things. and softer, still: wei ying.
but, lan wangji has not been entirely broken of the discomfiture of his wants. and now, as wei ying speaks so openly, it is only the mildest furrow of his brow that gives way to an answer.
he has, he did. and still, lan wangji cannot say it, his lips moving about the absence of sound. ]
no subject
[ as if to impress this falsehood upon lan wangji, he clutches his chest as his face begins to redden under the impact of those words - direct, unwavering. he makes lan wangji happy, radiates within him, fills him from top to toe with something soft and warm. it is the feeling of how much he likes this man before him, saying sweet things though he has been working himself ( and jiang cheng, the silly coward! ) into such a state. he is both a gentle and a roughened man, depending on what beasts possess him - but, he is a man. to see lan wangji, untouchable and pure, brought to such a bestial state by anyone - be it wei wuxian or jiang cheng, is an addictive thing. ]
Was he nice to kiss, Lan Zhan?
[ his hands find the man's hips, but no further; wei wuxian awaits an answer, caught on the edges of lan wangji's pretty, thin lips. he leans in, rising on his toes to kiss that soundless mouth briefly, a delicate peck of his own mouth to lan wangji's as he tries to coax words from him. he kisses him again. ]
Did he taste good? What were you going to do to him, why don't you show me now, hm? Show me what you wanted to do to Jiang Cheng here in our new kitchen where anybody could have walked in on the two of you.
no subject
it is a falsehood that lan wangji knows too. it is one he has always understood to be stronger than most, warmer than most— more courageous, selfless. and still, it is that happiness that threads into lan wangji too. it is that gentleness of color that bleeds, the heat of wei wuxian's blush climbing up from his heart to paint faint against his throat.
beautiful.
and it is a thought that surfaces against the skin, that flickers through as readily as wei wuxian's hands settle at his hips. as readily as wei wuxian again raises himself upon the balls of his feet and kisses him, coaxes him. and for all wei wuxian's suggestions, he cannot refuse. he is no longer the boy within the library pavilion that tells wei wuxian "no" in fear of what is he and what he may be. he is no longer the person who can only wish to hold wei wuxian's attention the way that wei wuxian holds his. and so—
lan wangji takes a steadying breath. he takes two, but the palm against the small of wei wuxian's back guides wei wuxian closer still. and still, wei wuxian asks him to show him what it was he intended to do to jiang cheng. what it was he had thought, pinning jiang cheng and all the green of his emotions between himself and the wall. ( and he would never voice that it was like this, that he felt safety in that trust that he would not cage either. he felt relief, that he could hold them for a moment as willing altars upon which to lay his affections, his lusts. and more, they both understood that they were free.
they knew that they were free, with lan wangji. )
but, wei wuxian evidently does not take to lan wangji's warning. he does not take the gradual way his gaze drags across the mischief in wei wuxian's expression with a barely tethered heat. he does not take the way he murmurs out to him enough at length between wei wuxian's declarations. and he does not take the way the dark of his eyes sits heavy against wei wuxian's mouth as he touches upon something that stirs within lan wangji the ugly and possessive things that knot within his heart.
he wants nothing more to show that they are his, that he is theirs.
and yet, he yanks his own reins. he pulls himself back. he tells himself to be patient and starts just as he did with jiang cheng, just as he did before. just as wei wuxian requested.
he curves his other palm to the angles of wei wuxian's face and seizes from him kisses, catches all the obscenities with his own mouth and teeth and tongue. he tastes too wei wuxian, all that he has brought back with him forgotten for the moment as he turns them too back to the wall, his patience and his resolve dissolving beneath the way he conveys to wei wuxian ( again ) that he too wants him in this way, though his love for wei wuxian holds firmer roots. it has become part of his foundations, has weathered and thrived against most anything and he still he does not impress upon wei wuxian that he must keep it all. it is only if he wants it. it is only his to have, in whole, if wei wuxian wishes for it too. ]