Lan Wangji (
lightamidchaos) wrote2020-10-16 08:50 pm
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[pfsb] sword forms by the lake
It is late afternoon by the time he makes his way outside.
Lan Wangji is well aware that Wei Ying would probably very much prefer him to be resting again at present, and in truth he likely should be, especially given what had just come to pass in the library not long before.
But. But. It has been three days, and he needs to know how much strength he can regain, how quickly, before he returns to Cold Pond Cave and faces his brother, tomorrow.
(He is fairly certain Shufu did not intend the injuries to be quite as severe this time, either. Fairly certain.)
Bichen flashes into his hand, gleaming along the blade with a faint, icy blue-white shine. Lan Wangji draws a deep breath, and begins to move through each of the Lan sword forms in a slow motion routine, his concentration absolute.
Lan Wangji is well aware that Wei Ying would probably very much prefer him to be resting again at present, and in truth he likely should be, especially given what had just come to pass in the library not long before.
But. But. It has been three days, and he needs to know how much strength he can regain, how quickly, before he returns to Cold Pond Cave and faces his brother, tomorrow.
(He is fairly certain Shufu did not intend the injuries to be quite as severe this time, either. Fairly certain.)
Bichen flashes into his hand, gleaming along the blade with a faint, icy blue-white shine. Lan Wangji draws a deep breath, and begins to move through each of the Lan sword forms in a slow motion routine, his concentration absolute.
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"I am. It looks worse than it is, now. It is almost completely healed."
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"And you are still lovely." No louder. "My Lan Zhan. No matter what they have done to you."
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"My Wei Ying."
He strokes his thumb over Wei Ying's cheek again, then says, a little too casually,
"I knew someone once who told me that a man should have some scars."
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"I love you." He winds one hand into Lan Zhan's hair. "We are here."
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It is slowly beginning to dawn on him that he is sitting with his robes still around his waist, chest bare, cradling the other man in his lap.
"We are together."
He draws his fingers slowly along the side of Wei Ying's face, then trails them down his neck to the hollow of his throat.
"And I love you. I will love you forever."
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(Even if he is dead, it is difficult to imagine any real kind of forever. But if he is lucky enough to have one -- it is good, and right, to know Lan Zhan will be there.)
He catches Lan Zhan's mouth in a brief kiss. Or, well, he intends it to be brief; he can't quite make himself pull away, and when he does, his throat bobs underneath Lan Zhan's fingertips.
"I do not want to say it," he murmurs, voice still tinged with laughter. "But you are not recovered yet. We should..."
He reaches down to grasp Lan Zhan's fallen robes.
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Stubbornness is clear in his expression - if, that is, one is familiar with his expressions.
He leaves his hand resting at the hollow of Wei Ying's throat.
"Especially if it means that you are about to move."
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He kisses him again.
"Very well. I won't move. And if you catch a chill I will simply have to take even better care of you."
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He considers, and reluctantly concludes that Wei Ying has a point.
"Sit still," he orders, and begins to slip his robes back on.
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As Lan Zhan shrugs each layer of his robes on, Wei Wuxian finds the ties and secures them in place. His hands trace over the fine silk with a gentle reverence, as if he were helping to unbind Lan Zhan rather than cover him again. Soon, he thinks. Lan Zhan has been patient for years; Wei Wuxian can be patient for several more days.
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He puts both arms back around Wei Ying and pulls him closer, then kisses him very thoroughly before drawing his head back down to his shoulder.
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His pulse has quickened considerably, thrumming hard enough that he's certain Lan Zhan can feel it. When Lan Zhan coaxes him to lay his head back onto his shoulder, he moves without complaint, trying to school his desire with a few slow, careful breaths.
What can they talk about? Something that isn't terrible, but also isn't so distracting that they fall straight into bed despite all of Lan Zhan's injuries. It's a fine line. There must be something.
Ah, he thinks as it strikes him, and he chuckles faintly.
"I will not retrieve it now," he murmurs. "But I have one of the photographs from when I visited London Above with Ingress, if you wish to see it."
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"...mn."
He sounds a little sheepish, for some reason.
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"What is it?"
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He can almost see the look that Wei Ying will give him if he mentions offering to spar, and prudently decides to refrain from doing so.
"She gave me a number of pictures to give to you. I have them in my qiankun bag."
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He shifts slightly, enough to reach for the bag with one hand, sets it in Wei Ying's lap, and opens it one-handed to retrieve the stack of pictures from inside it.
He hands them over, with the picture of the beaming and waving Wei Ying topmost, the first one that he had seen.
The look on his face is very soft, but his eyes are even darker and more intent than before.
"What are those clothes that you are wearing?"
His tone is low, and very appreciative.
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"Ah." He affects the sort of light innocence that would not fool anybody, least of all Lan Zhan. He meets his eye. "Do you like them? It's very typical of what they wear in London Above."
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He leans closer to Lan Zhan, the better to murmur in his ear.
"The trousers especially. They were so snug I had trouble getting free of them the next morning. I could have used some help."
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"Wei Ying."
It is warning and promise both.
"So shameless."
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"Lan Zhan," he says, "you have hardly kept your hands away from me since I told you I love you." He presses another kiss just beneath his earlobe. "You have said how you dreamed for years of what you would do to me. You have already marked and bitten me."
A small nip in demonstration.
"And you call me shameless?"
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He takes the few steps across the room swiftly, and tumbles them both onto the bed. He stretches his body over Wei Ying's, pinning him, then drags both his hands upward and pulls his wrists together over his head, grasping them tightly, with one hand.
He twists his other hand in Wei Ying's hair and uses it to hold him still for a searing, passionate kiss.
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