*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
it is too much, too much, too much.
they have barely touched him yet it feels already too much ( and too little ). it has not been long since wei wuxian's fingers wrap around him, since lan wangji strokes over the lines of his throat and chest, but jiang cheng already feels torn, ripped open and laid out piece by piece bare.
fleetingly, there sounds a note of panic, a spike of something like fear, of an animal cornered beyond escaping. a feeling that he is already beyond the edge of some unknown landscape, that he had come now, too far, to turn back, but still yet that feeling of apprehension against this change - knowing that something is happening, and he would be changed by it, by the both of them, inexplicable and inevitably.
he cannot help it; his teeth catches at his lip, the flesh that is soon to be bitten and worried beyond all that.
wei wuxian, he says, or he tries to; lan zhan, he stutters out, but his mouth cannot seem to be working properly, as he rolls his hips up into the touch, his body, against the both of them. ]
no subject
[ jiang cheng gasps, lan wangji's breath catches. he feels teeth against his throat and knows that he will be marked in red and soft purple-blues come morning, as lan wangji sets his teeth into his tender flesh and lays claim to him. he wishes that jiang cheng's mouth would find the other side of his throat, his shoulder. instead, he tips his head to the side to bare more skin for lan wangji to bite and kiss, laughing breathlessly and blearily as he fists the ends of their cocks in soft circles and sets his eyes, for the moment, on jiang cheng. his shidi, who looks as though he will die before he gives in to such sensations.
to jiang cheng, he releases him and runs his fingers along his lower belly, tracing the dip and minimal give of his muscle, the sharp angle of his waist. he touches his warmed skin, finds where lan wangji's hand strokes and teases the curve of his chest and joins him on the opposite side - wei wuxian's sets his nails soft against jiang cheng's chest and digs a little, as though ready to seize hold of chunks of his flesh and bring him closer. closer still. he could have the two of them climb inside of his ribs and not feel as though they're close enough. his fingers return soon, teasing the tip of jiang cheng's cock - stroking it with his thumb while his fingers curl and weave over the shaft. ]
You're wet already, Jiang Cheng. [ he whispers to him, leaning in to drag his tongue over the tip of jiang cheng's nose. even in the dim light, his smile is a coy little thing.
to lan wangji, he knows the unique weight and size of him. he's touched him a few times now, taken him inside of his body and thought to put his mouth to him. even now, he'd like to try and fit them both inside of his mouth, but they're all so weak, so tender still from their leap of faith and the death that followed. he can lazily fist a cock, he can't move himself as eagerly as he would want to. while he coaxes jiang cheng, the more maidenly of the two, he reaches for all the spots on lan wangji he's begun to memorize - the ticklish angle of his abdomen, the soft skin of his strong inner thigh, stroking him to fullness and resting him against the warm skin of his hip, using the plane of hip and palm to stroke and grind the head of him playfully. ]
You know, you don't have to hold back. I thought of doing this before Zerzura, too. I almost did this at the holiday party when we found ourselves such a delightful little corner and kisses under the mistletoe. I could have touched you both without anyone noticing, I bet. [ he babbles sleepily, rolling his body to make more room. to draw them closer. he wants them plastered to him, until he has no room to move save for the angle of his wrists and the curl of his fingers. ]
no subject
he has never known touch as this, before wei wuxian. before jiang cheng. to touch for the sake of touching within the cloud recesses was odd, rare. to touch because one wished to touch, one desired to be touched was a curiosity to him. to lan wangji, who further eschewed proximity ( remain neat, remain restrained, remain void of all earthly concerns ), it was something he had not considered. it was not something he knew, perhaps, that he had wanted. and then— lan wangji is quiet, so quiet. he is quiet, even as this, even as wei wuxian's fingers flit playful at his cock-head, as jiang cheng gasps out and bites back.
and yet, he knows. he has been learning, how it is wei wuxian wishes to be held. close and closer still, frenetic and beautiful and alight between the palms of his hands, within the circle of his arms. he knows. and what more can lan wangji do, then to mold to the way wei wuxian presses back to him? what more may lan wangji do, then obey the way wei wuxian tips his head and bares his neck to him? what more might he do, then to tuck beneath him the sturdiness of his arm as wei wuxian shifts up upon his side to face jiang cheng? and so, it is like this, that he slides the hot of his palm down the front of wei wuxian's chest— teethes the skin at the back of his neck, swipes his tongue against the indented aftermath. if jiang cheng will not take advantage, then it is lan wangji who will. it is lan wangji, who will answer the innate itch to make it obvious that it is wei wuxian and jiang cheng who have chosen him, as much as he himself has chosen them.
for jiang cheng, he mirrors wei wuxian without thought of it. he pulls and tugs and does not whisper with his words, but rather with the brush of fingertips. the blue cast from their bodies thrums furious and frantic and alive and it is in that that comes all of lan wangji's want ( banked, still banked ), all of his tenderness. it is that, which couples wei wuxian's efforts to bring him nearer to them. it does not demand, it does not ask, but it suggests. it suggests, with the gentle edge of his nails, the way they kiss the rise and fall of muscled lines about the caging of his ribs. and it is that, the way that wei wuxian's words come obscene and eager and untamed for all of his fatigue, that spurs lan wangji only further on.
( what would it have been like, to have been taken in hand despite the crowd? what would it have been like, to be pressed to the corner of that hall, greenery in wei wuxian's hair— ) ]
... Shameless, [ he grinds out, on a rough edge. ( as if he himself had not too thought of it? as if he had not too thought of establishing what it was that bloomed between he and wei wuxian and jiang cheng? as if— ) his chest tightens, arousal pressed to low of wei wuxian's back, the generous round of his ass. his fingers press past the fullness of wei wuxian's cock, skim warm and rough about the curve of his thigh. he knows what it is that wei wuxian desires, as much as lan wangji knows he wishes to grant him anything at all, everything and all.
here? is the question, as he breathes out damp and shallow close ( so close ) to the pale shell of wei wuxian's ear.
he knows the answer, even so. he gives wei wuxian a moment adjust as needed. ]
no subject
as he is, he can only mutter, stutter out a shut up that loses still none of the furious fiery edge, and he sets his nails against the meat of wei wuxian's thigh. overlapped, for a moment, with lan wangji's arm, as he scratches angry lines down the flesh, enough to sting, hooking into the crook of his knee and hitching it over his own.
close, closer still. it sets off something needy in his veins, something frantic and desperate that makes him tremble as he presses closer. it is the closeness he needs, that he feels, through the blue-lit glow of contact, that they need. he is here, he is here, and he is here.
the rough edge of lan wangji's voice catches at the peripherals of his attentions - like this, he can almost hear the way his jaws tense, the fine brows creasing, narrowing to pinprick point that frays over the light-speckled eyes. his own focus wavering, divided upon and between the two, and - he breathes, the realization somehow ridiculous that it only happens now - that he is even in this situation at all - and it is almost a laugh, almost a sob, almost anything at all. ]
Shut up, [ he says again, breathless and stunned, his body twitching, twisting under the touch of his hand, and jiang cheng is - almost, maybe perhaps, tender, in the way he tilts his head, presses his lips against the corner of that smiling mouth. ]
just.......... cw for wwx's horrible mouth and so much dirty talk
[ for all his merriment, wei wuxian's voice is a delicate rasp - it betrays his own arousal, his own state of semi-exhaustion. in such a state, he's more than willing to allow himself to be manhandled. to be moved into a position that makes the two of them content with the adult things that they're doing. lan wangji had taken his first time, in an alleyway when the two of them were feeling the heat of their own blood and the warmth of drink fading from their systems. this is the first time that he has truly touched jiang cheng's body, for he cannot count the false memories built inside of his mind in zerzura -- though he knows them for fantasies, rather than true lies. if there had been no basis for the world to build upon, no lingering desires, it would not have felt so real.
lan wangji is warm and firm against his back, his chest finding the familiar home against the arch of his spine and hips. he feels him, the calluses on his fingertips stroking his bare skin, the way his hand feels so strong and big against his thighs as he gathers the muscle there in silence, waiting for his consent. the consent is there, trembling blue and bright between them, snagged by the rougher snarl of jiang cheng's hand as it gathers that same thigh and drags wei wuxian into a twist between the two bodies he holds desires for. ]
Ah, [ he breathes out, startled and wanting. ]
Jiang Cheng, don't be so greedy. Lan Zhan wants to fuck my thighs, you have to share. If you let him have my thighs, you can have both of my hands, hm? Doesn't that sound nice? I'll stroke you until you burst, you don't have to hold back - I think I like being used roughly.
[ he speaks to both of them easily, his voice ragged but bright; his own hardness twitches as he palms jiang cheng's, bringing both hands to his cock to stroke him in opposite directions - when one hand slides low, seizing the base of him, the other goes higher to round the head and palm it as though rolling dough across the table. he can feel jiang cheng's mouth seeking his and turns his head with a soft, warm hum to tongue his way past jiang cheng's teeth, open-mouthed and sloppy and asking for something a little harder, a little more earnest. he asks the same, silently, of lan wangji - spreading his thighs wide enough for him to fit between, rolling his hips and shoulders back into an arch so that as much of him is pressed to that man as he can possibly press. ]
no subject
it is a phrase that hums across the skin, digs into the marrow. it is beautiful and brilliant thing, tempting in that it harbors all of what lan wangji cannot break around his fingertips, cannot break over his tongue. but, wei wuxian is giving as lan wangji is giving. wei wuxian has told him with his body, his emotions what it is he wants. lan wangji had learned it in the alley, had learned in the evenings that fell as though the down sweep of wei wuxian’s dark lashes against the soft round of his cheeks. lan wangji had learned it when he kissed him, had dug his teeth into the tender junction of his throat and shoulder. he had learned it, as much as he learns now that wei wuxian wants more to feel of them. that he wants to more to ground, to hook back into jiang cheng and himself. he wants, as lan wangji wants— he wants in all the ways that lan wangji cannot state aloud.
and yet, where lan wangji scrapes the white moon of his nails across the valleys that sit between jiang cheng’s muscled ribs, where lan wangji coaxes back the thigh that jiang cheng had taken from him— and still, the sentiment pushes up against them. it breaks across them, disperses as morning fogs up upon the mountains, as though the frozen surfaces of clear rivers running rife with the fissuring of spring. ( but, more than anything, it is a warmth and adoration that consumes it all. it is a tenderness, a love that does not waver and does not bend for all that it hides within itself the perception of its burden. )
and still, still with that permission, lan wangji binds himself back. even at the ends of all tethers, there lies the last of his restraint as he breathes out soft and sharp, unsteady. he digs his fingers into the meat of wei wuxian’s thigh and again pinches as though a warning for his mouth’s continued turn of language ( but, there is no hiding how hot his lips are against the lifted curve of wei wuxian’s shoulder, how he teethes at the line of it ) as he rolls back against lan wangji.
immediately, the arm that pins wei wuxian close pins him closer still ( i am here ). his hand, roughened as it is, slides to the juncture of wei wuxian’s thigh and hip (i will catch you ). and it is with a low hum against all of wei wuxian’s consent that he shifts to angle himself between wei wuxian’s legs.
there is barely time to startle, the moment he settles up against wei wuxian and rolls his hips— the weight of his cock heavy and hot beneath the underside of wei wuxian’s, between the tremble of his legs. and lan wangji’s fingers dig in ( where? upon both, at the curve of jiang cheng’s waist, the meat of wei wuxian’s hip ) as he sets his pace gradually, his breathing staggered and damp against wei wuxian’s neck.
like this, they’d all dreamed individually in zerzura. like this, they’d all been filled with he falsity of memories between them. here, as lan wangji presses kisses open-mouthed to what he can reach of the heat of wei wuxian’s skin, it is the first time he sees them both as this. it is the first time that slight of wei wuxian’s body is solid weight against his as surely as jiang cheng’s hand is against all that he too can reach of lan wangji's skin. and here, lan wangji loves them as he always has. he loves them, though the words will not unwind themselves until it is that they are ready. ]
no subject
jiang cheng has no name to call this - his heart warms to them in ways that is everything strange and new and tender. his body sings to them as young green grass would to sun, to spring rain, to the first ray of light that steals over the sky. he feels as if all the lines of poetry that sings of love, of fear of love, but with all the elation of a thousand dawns breaking.
he feels the shiver-slight brilliance of lan wangji's breathing near. he hears the raspy hitch of wei wuxian's breaths, and jiang cheng adores them with a reverence that is like that of some child, some spoiled one that holds the things he finds dear in his hands and is loathe to let go. it is a possessive thing, a jealous thing that sets its teeth against sweat slick skin and does not share. but he relents - the hold on wei wuxian's thigh slackening, allowing lan wangji the possession of it once more, and he whines faintly, grinds out the sound through clenched teeth that parts helpless and pliant against the press of wei wuxian's tongue.
the kiss is a messy thing, sloppy with too much teeth and tongue as he presses into it, as he presses into the touch of those hands on him, and when he shudders it is to both of their touch on him - the sharp sting of nails set against skin, the way the other rolls his palm against the head of his cock and all of the breath stutters out of him out of line with the way his heart beats.
reaching out, he curls his fingers against the crook of lan wangji's arm crossed over his hip, their waist, and slides it down to the soft skin of wei wuxian's hip, following the curve of it to lay between his legs. ]