CLOSED.

[laozu]

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.

Comments

( later on; the roof )

[sandu]

[ the stars are low in the sky, hidden in the murky, hazy air of the city and jiang cheng narrows his eyes as if it could make him see better, to find familiar constellations in these skies that he could recognise - something that could tell him the path ahead. to read them as the soothesayers would, and tell him what could he do from here, where he could go.

but the stars here are strange things - they are foreign things, forming shapes that he cannot understand nor pick out from the fog, and they tell him nothing, absolutely nothing at all.

do not rely on others, his mother had told him once. do not look to others for answers, you know it already.

but he does not know. jiang cheng burns still, the residual heat faintly spreading beneath thin layer of skin and clothing, his blood still sparking along his veins remembering every touch and every breath. he burns of some age old ingrained shame, and he first runs his hand through his hair, then scrapes his nails, angrily, over the nape of his neck.

you are too serious, his sister had told him, once, laughing. he wishes that she would tell him that again. he wishes - but they are just ghosts of ghosts of memories now, their voices are merely his own.

there is a sound of another, on the roof. some footsteps maybe, some breath of exertion that is not his own, and jiang cheng draws himself further into the shadows cast, a familiar (safe) scowl settling over his features again. ]

[laozu]

[ the sound of footsteps, of weight on the creaking iron thing that served as the brief stairwell to the rooftop, heralds wei wuxian's arrival as he creeps up, over the edge and towards his shidi - catching sight of jiang cheng sullen and scowling once more. his affections come more freely now, now that he's cornered how he's grown to feel about jiang cheng. now that he knows lan wangji feels similar to him, but softer and greener. if his affections towards lan wangji are the hottest months of summer, then his feelings towards jiang cheng are late winter - when the days begin to warm and all things slowly unthaw. between the edge that he creeps over and the width of jiang cheng's shoulders, he does not pause.

wei wuxian's arms slide across those stern shoulders, hands draping soft across his collarbones as he leans in. closer, closer still until his breath blows soft and warm across the side of jiang cheng's throat. he turns his face in, presses it into the crook of his neck and lingers there for as long as he's able to, nosing along jiang cheng's thrumming pulse. ]

Don't be so sour, Jiang Cheng. You were so pretty before, [ he practically coos the words. ]

We both like you, you know. There's no need to run like a scandalized mistress who's been caught by the lady of the house.

[sandu]

Who is the mistress?

[ jiang cheng, for all that wei wuxian says, is all sourness and bitterness of nettles, of thorns that catch at the soft skin unaware. the other's arms snake around him like vines that are stripped bare, stubborn and clinging, his breath and his warmth on skin that is only slightly cooled by the night air, and he only moves, perfunctory, to shrug him away - but with not much effort behind it.

he thinks too much; while others may have one or two jiang cheng does tenfold that, and it must be clear to wei wuxian now that he broods, he worries it between his teeth like some well worn bone, bleached white and smooth. ]

I wasn't running.

[ it is a poor comeback, and he turns, a little, away from the other. ]

You should be thanking me, that I was gracious enough to spare your face from being broken before I left.

cw wwx's mouth is going hog wild with dirty talk already

[laozu]

You did too, Mistress Jiang. You left Lan Zhan behind, he was so worried he'd done something wrong.

[ though he teases jiang cheng as mercilessly as he teases lan wangji, where he would gentle his tongue and recant wild jests that could and have hurt the heart for one, he doubles down on the other. jiang cheng has so often been the recipient of the harshest words and wounds from wei wuxian, though he's come to understand little by little, that lan wangji has also suffered wounds left on his heart by the yiling patriarch. how the two of them could desire him in any way is beyond his understanding; it is that they do, in shy increments and in overwhelmed bursts of passion, that steels his own resolve.

he is wanted. he wants in return. ]

You shouldn't hit me any more, I'm smaller than you and my cultivation base is over a decade behind yours. Only my mind remains superior now.

[ his fingers press to the elegant span of jiang cheng's collarbones, sliding below the neckline of his shirt - skin to skin - to bathe him in the things wei wuxian feels. he speaks in terms of 'superior' and 'inferior', but the affection that rolls off him in waves seems to treasure the old familiarity in their harsh banter. it feels, if only a shadow, like their old selves. ]

Besides, it's not like I said anything I didn't mean. It was a gift, coming home to two strapping gentlemen nearly in the throes of passion. Were you going to fuck on the counter, Jiang Cheng? You know that Lan Zhan's thing is [ here, his voice drops to a whisper: ] really big, he's really really big and even though it hurts at first, he really knows what he's doing. Next time, give yourself over - you'll be so cute, spread open on him.

[sandu]

[ we both like you, you know.

it's childish words. it's simple words, spoken without frills, without any of wei wuxian's usual elaborations that only hint at the real truth beneath all the fluff and the gloss, and jiang cheng flushes dark on his cheeks and his nape. feels, without words, that wei wuxian has yet again seen inside what lay in his heart, the same way that he says you think too much, you are so serious, jiang cheng.

like. it is a thin line, one he is not readily willing to cross, to breathe it out to the very air between them.

does he know? does then, lan wangji know? jiang cheng knows what he feels, that he has felt within the tremble of those fingers upon his face, the mix of nervousness and elation that had filtered through the thin line of connection that had linked them not long ago.

it filters through now as well, his palm pressed warmly to the column of his throat, fingers sneaking beneath the collar of his shirt. it is affection that is age-old - once so familiar, once so assured of that jiang cheng had never doubted its presence, until it had been torn, shattered, ripped from his grasp.

his chest feels tight where the core rests; it is restless, it is a taciturn, impatient thing, and jiang cheng turns his face away from the other as if he could hide anything from the other now, even as he warm beneath the touch as if pulled close, closer, to the welcoming heat of wei wuxian's fire.

what he says next makes him choke on his words, whatever he had wanted to say forgotten in embarrassment, in some scandalised spike of emotion that would surely make itself felt - he is indeed the one with the more delicate sensibilities out the both of them, after all. ]

Shameless! [ he manages to say, and he reaches to push wei wuxian away - this time with a little more force behind it. ] I'll make you wash your mouth out.

[laozu]

[ jiang cheng is a moth's wing aflame, burning even as it chases itself for the scrap of light it has been given in its fragile, delicate life. wei wuxian seeks his own shidi with a heart that has never not loved him, even when confronted with his wrath. he, too, has his share of burdens to bear when it comes to jiang cheng - the madness that overcomes him for his sworn brother is as sweet as the swell of yiling's power within his body on the day he gave his broken, dying form over to it in exchange for might. the might needed to return to the yunmeng-jiang, to enact a campaign of violent, gore-slick vengeance upon the qishan-wen who had dared raise their filthy hands to his family.

when he touches jiang cheng, old habits peer through a veil of fresh wisdom. his madness is a soul-deep thing, not wrested from him even by death itself. at his heart, he is still defiant and deliberate in his methods. it is a thing he fears showing lan wangji, because of the way it had hurt him so deeply in the past, broken his heart into delicate pieces... it had stolen what could have been from himself and lan wangji, from himself and jiang cheng too. yet, he cannot help but yield to it from time to time, to sink into it. because it is power, and power is simply a tool.

wei wuxian shakes from his reverie, the musings fading from him as the warmth of jiang cheng's body does - he's shoved back, the result of his mouth running away from what little manners he possesses. he collapses back on himself, toppling over and onto the rooftop with a bright laugh-cry of shock and incredulity. ] Jiang Cheng, don't be so rough! You know you left our Hanguang-jun in such a state when you fled, I had to take care of him all on my own. I wish you had stayed, I was watching you for a little while before I couldn't help but speak up.

[ his throat, visible now, is littered with the proof of that.

even as he climbs to his hands and knees again, reaching out for jiang cheng's face, his expression is positively carnivorous. a shove won't deter him. ]

Next time, I'll teach you how to take him in your mouth, [ his tongue finds the corner of jiang cheng's lips, as if to make a point, ] you'll look so handsome, wearing him on your face instead of your usual scowl when we're through with you!

[sandu]

[ is it selfish, to want so much? is it truly selfish, the way his heart soars like a bird in flight with the wind behind it, the way the steady beating of his heart stutters, just a little, trembling with the pitch of the bright laughter as if some plucked strings of an instrument?

it is, perhaps, selfish. it must be so. jiang cheng is a moth's wing aflame. he flutters and draws near the blistering heat of wei wuxian, he lets himself stray, stay near for those hands to find his shoulders, his throat again, to cradle his face and look into him as if he were nothing more than a plane of clear glass. he has always looked at him like this, jiang cheng realises, only being able to look directly at the other for a scant moment before looking away again, his cheeks warming beneath the touch. wei wuxian has always looked at him with the selfsame gaze, clear and steady - the same eyes on a different, less familiar face. as if he knows. as if he, too, understands.

even if the rest of him does look as if he would devour him raw. ]

You are awful, [ embarrassment makes him gruff, it darkens his expression, the grey eyes like some storm rising, and he raises his hand as well, lays the thumb of it against, along the line of wei wuxian's throat. presses against the constellation of marks. ] Positively cretinous, saying such dirty things with a straight face. Did you learn nothing? Is that how you pay compliments to Hanguang-jun?

[laozu]

[ jiang cheng is the most maidenly of them all, wei wuxian knows. his heart is a tender and soft thing, ever since he was a young boy playing among their shijie's skirts. he will always remember jiang cheng as a small, bright-eyed thing prone to silent tears when he becomes overwhelmed. even confronted by the angry, bitter man that he has become, wei wuxian can see the heart of him still exists - he is still that boy, not all things have changed. some have, but not all. it's why he can tease him like this, so uncouthly, without any shred of decency. ]

No.

[ slowly, he creeps into jiang cheng's lap; straddling his thighs as he winds his arms around the trim angles of his waist, drawing his shidi's body to his. they are flush together, his hands resting comfortably on jiang cheng's ribs, his body a light weight in the other's lap as he leans to him, swaying like reeds in the breeze. jiang cheng's fingers find the bruises along his throat: lan wangji's markings, signs of the adoration and the possessiveness that are so delicately unburied now. wei wuxian's mouth finds jiang cheng's ear, tongue against the lobe as he sighs and teeths it playfully. ]

It's how I like to tease you, Jiang Cheng. Don't you enjoy it, too?